#this was the first production i worked on after losing both of them so it felt a little weird.

[youremyonlyhope]

Stupidly I decided to watch this video just now.

Today would have been my Grandma's birthday, but we lost her last fall and then my Nanna in the winter.

I did not think that a commentary video on Rugrats would make me uncontrollably sob. But I blocked out how sad the Mother's Day episode was. And combining it with Grandma's birthday...

I've spent the last 10 minutes or so doubled over crying.

[phoenixyfriend]

Ko-fi prompt from @liberwolf:

Could you explain Tariff's , like who pays them and what they do to a country?

Well, I can definitely guess where this question is coming from.

Honestly, I was pretty excited to get this prompt, because it's one I can answer and was part of my studies focus in college. International business was my thing, and the issues of comparative advantage (along with Power Purchasing Parity) were one of the things I liked to explore.

-----------------

At their simplest, tariffs are an import tax. The United States has had tariffs as low as 5%, and at other times as high as 44% on most goods, such as during the Civil War. The purpose of a tariff is in two parts: generating revenue for the government, and protectionism.

Let's first explore how a tariff works. If you want to be confused, then you need to have never taken an economics class, and look at this graph:

(src)

So let's undo that confusion.

The simplest examples are raw or basic materials such as steel, cotton, or wine.

First, without tariffs:

Let us say that Country A and Country B both produce steel, and it is of similar quality, and in both cases cost $100 per unit. Transportation from one country to the other is $50/unit, so you can either buy domestically for $100, or internationally for $150. So you buy domestically.

Now, Country B discovers a new place to mine iron very easily, and so their cost for steel drops to $60/unit due to increased ease of access. Country A can either purchase domestically for $100, or internationally for $110 (incl. shipping), which is much more even. Still, it is more cost-effective to purchase domestically, and so Country A isn't worried.

Transportation technology is improved, dropping the shipping costs to $30/unit. A person from Country A can buy: Domestic: $100 International: $60+$30 = $90 Purchasing steel from Country B is now cheaper than purchasing it from Country A, regardless of where you live.

Citizens in Country A, in order to reduce costs for domestic construction, begin to purchase their steel from Country B. As a result, money flows from Country A to B, and the domestic steel industry in Country A begins to feel the strain as demand dwindles.

In this scenario, with no tariffs, Country A begins to rely on B for their steel, which causes a loss of jobs (steelworkers, miners), loss of infrastructure (closing of mines and factories), and an outflow of funds to another country. As a result, Country A sees itself as losing money to B, while also growing increasingly reliant on their trading partner for the crucial good that is steel. If something happens to drive up the price of B's steel again, like political upheaval or a natural disaster, it will be difficult to quickly ramp up the production of steel in Country A's domestic facilities again.

What if a tariff is introduced early?

Alternately, the dropping of complete costs for purchase of steel from Country B could be counteracted with tariffs. Let's say we do a 25% tariff on that steel. This tariff is placed on the value of the steel, not the end cost, so:

$60 + (0.25 x $60) + $30 = $105/unit

Suddenly, with the implementation of a 25% tariff on steel from Country B, the domestic market is once again competitive. People can still buy from Country B if they would like, but Country A is less worried about the potential impacts to the domestic market.

The above example is done in regards to a mature market that has not yet begun to dwindle. The infrastructure and labor is still present, and is being preemptively protected against possible loss of industry to purchasing abroad.

What happens if the tariff is not implemented until after the market has dwindled?

Let's say that the domestic market was not protected by the tariff until several decades on. Country A's domestic production, in response to increased purchasing from abroad, has dwindled to one third of what it was before the change in pricing incentivized purchase from B. Prices have, for the sake of keeping this example simple, remained at $100(A) and $60(B) in that time. However, transportation has likely become better, so transportation is down to $20, meaning that total cost for steel from B is $80, accelerating the turn from domestic steel to international.

So, what happens if you suddenly implement a tariff on international steel? Shall we say, 40%?

$60 + (0.4 x 60) + 20 = $104

It's more expensive to order from abroad! Wow! Let's purchase domestically instead, because these prices add up!

But the production is only a third of what it used to be, and domestic mines and factories for refining the iron into steel can't keep up. They're scaling, sure, but that takes time. Because demand is suddenly triple of the supply, the cost skyrockets, and so steel in Country A is now $150/unit! The price will hopefully come down eventually, as factories and mines get back in gear, but will the people setting prices let that happen?

So industries that have begun to rely on international steel, which had come to $80/unit prior to the tariff, are facing the sudden impact of a cost increase of at least $25/unit (B with tariff) or the demand-driven price increase of domestic (nearly double the pre-tariff cost of steel from B), which is an increase of at least 30% what they were paying prior to the tariff.

There are possible other aspects here, such as government subsidies to buoy the domestic steel industry until it catches back up, or possibly Country B eating some of the costs so that people still buy from them (selling for $50 instead of $60 to mitigate some of the price hike, and maintain a loyal customer base), but that's not a direct impact of the tariff.

Who pays for tariffs?

Ultimately, this is a tax on a product (as opposed to a tax on profits or capital themselves, which has other effects), which means the majority of the cost is passed on directly to the consume.

As I said, we could see the producers in Country B cut their costs a little bit to maintain a loyal customer base, but depending on their trade relationships with other countries, they are just as likely to stop trading with Country A altogether in order to focus on more profitable markets.

So why do we not put tariffs on everything?

Well... for that, we get into the question of production efficiency, or in this case, comparative advantage.

Let's say we have two small, neighboring countries, C and D, that have negligible transportation costs and similar industries. Both have extensive farmland, and both have a history of growing grapes for wine, and goats for wool. Country C is a little further north than D, so it has more rocky grasses that are good for goats, while D has more fertile plains that are good for growing grapes.

Let's say that they have an equal workforce of 500,000 of people. I'm going to say that 10,000 people working full time for a year is 1 unit of labor. So, Country C and Country D have between the 100 units of labor, and 50 each.

The cost of 1 unit of wool = the cost of 1 unit of wine

Country C, having better land for goats, can produce 4 units of wool for every unit of labor, and 2 units of wine for every unit of labor.

Meanwhile, Country D, having better land for grapes, can produce 2 units of wool per unit of labor, and 4 units of wine per unit of labor.

If they each devote exactly half their workforce to each product, then:

Country C: 100 units of wool, 50 units of wine Country D: 50 units of wool, 100 units of wine

Totaling 150 units of each product.

However, if each devotes all of their workforce to the product they're better at...

Country C: 200 units of wool, no wine Country D: no wool, 200 units of wine

and when they trade with each other, they each end up with 100 units of each product, which is a doubling of what their less-efficient labor would have resulted in!

The real world is obviously much more complicated, but in this example, we can see the pros of outsourcing some of your production to another country to focus on your own specialties.

Extreme examples of this IRL are countries where most of the economy rests on one product, such as middle-eastern petro-states that are now struggling to diversify their economies in order to not get left behind in the transition to green energy, or Taiwan's role as the world's primary producer of semiconductors being its 'silicon shield' against China.

Comparative advantage can be used well, such as our Unnamed Countries (that are definitely not the classic example of England and Portugal, with goats instead of sheep) up in the example. With each economy focusing on its specialty, there is a greater yield of both products, meaning a greater bounty for both countries.

However, should something happen to Country C up there, like an earthquake that kills half the goats, they are suddenly left with barely enough wool to clothe themselves, and nothing for Country D, which now has a surplus of wine and no wool.

So you do have to keep some domestic industry, because Bad Things Can Happen. And if we want to avoid the steel example of a collapse in the given industry, tariffs might be needed.

Are export tariffs a thing?

Yes, but they are much rarer, and can largely be defined as "oh my god, everyone please stop getting rid of this really important resource by selling it to foreigners for a big buck, we are depleting this crucial resource."

So what's the big confusion right now?

Donald Trump has, on a number of occasions, talked about 'making China pay' tariffs on the goods they import into the US. This has led to a belief that is not entirely unreasonable, that China would be the side paying the tariffs.

The view this statement engenders is that a tariff is a bit like paying a rental fee for a seller's table at an event: the producer or merchant pays the host (or landlord or what have you) a fee to sell their product on the premises. This could be a farmer's market, a renaissance faire, a comic book convention, whatever. If you want to sell at the event, you have to pay a fee to get a space to set up your table.

In the eyes of the people who listened to Trump, the tariff is that fee. China is paying the United States for access to the market.

And, technically, that's not entirely wrong. China is thus paying to enter the US market. It's just the money to pay that fee needs to come from somewhere, and like most taxes on goods, that fee comes from the consumer.

So... what now?

Well, a lot of smaller US companies that rely on cheap goods made in China are buying up non-perishables while they can, before the tariffs hit. Long-term, manufacturers in the US that rely on parts and tools manufactured in China are going to feel the squeeze once that frontloaded stock is depleted.

Some companies are large enough to take the hit on their own end, still selling at cheap rates to the consumer, because they can offset those costs with other parts of their empire... at least until smaller competitors are driven out of business, at which point they can start jacking up their prices since there are no options left. You may look at that and think, "huh, isn't that the modus operandi for Walmart and Amazon already?" and yes. It is. We are very much anticipating a 'rich get richer, poor go out of business' situation with these tariffs.

The tariffs will also impact larger companies, including non-US ones like Zara (Spanish) and H&M (Swedish), if they have a huge reliance on Chinese production to supply their huge market in the United States.

If you're interested in the repercussions that people expect from these proposed tariffs on Chinese goods, I'd suggest listening to or watching the November 8th, 2024 episode of Morning Brew Daily (I linked to YouTube, but it's also available on Spotify, Nebula, the Morning Brew website, and other podcast platforms).

[3rdgymbros]

━ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐎𝐟 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞 (𝐕𝐢𝐥).

— pairing; vil schoenheit x ramshackle! reader

— summary; you make out with vil, cue his walk of shame back to his own dorm.

— notes; please donate to my kofi if you like my work. and know that i am mentally smooching everyone who reblogs my stuff.

❋ It had been a surprise when Vil had shown up at your doorstep this late in the evening, bearing some new skincare product or another and insisting that it would do wonders for your acne-prone skin.

❋ He’d gone out of his way to make the long trek over to Ramshackle, and so you’d invited him in, half-expecting him to decline since your dorm was old, dusty, and generally below his standards.

❋ You didn’t think that he’d actually agree.

❋ And you didn’t think that things would . . . Escalate.

❋ (Note to self: Vil Schoenheit apparently has a thing for your granny pyjamas. Or maybe it’s a thing for the person wearing them. Who knew?)

❋ To his credit, Vil tries to exercise some restraint at first. Just a kiss. Maybe two. But every time he tries to pull back, you’ll look up at him with unfocused eyes and a soft plea on your swollen lips, making him lean in again with a smirk and a sigh as he sinks deeper into the kiss, into you.

❋ Somewhere in the heat of things, he loses track of time entirely, and by the time he realizes he should be heading back to Pomefiore, it’s way past curfew. The haze of lust quickly clears once he catches sight of the alarm clock on your nightstand. There's no way he's making it back without attracting attention.

❋ He quickly disentangles himself from you (no matter how much you pout and beg for ‘just one more’), and turns his attention to fixing his makeup.

❋ He’s absolutely horrified once he catches a glimpse of himself in the cracked mirror. Smudged lipstick, mussed hair, flushed cheeks, wrinkled shirt — how positively unbecoming! Vil Schoenheit doesn’t get caught looking disheveled.

❋ Unfortunately, there aren’t many high-end makeup products available to him in Ramshackle right now. Sighing heavily, Vil makes a mental note to start leaving some of his own products in your drawer, especially if these romantic escapades are to continue.

❋ He’s almost tempted to cast a small glamour to cover up the evidence. Almost. He’s Vil Schoenheit, after all, and the idea of concealing a makeup smudge feels both laughable and tragic to him. No, he’ll wear the consequences of your enthusiastic show of affection.

❋ He leaves with his head held high, hoping that with his usual haughty attitude and poise, no one will dare comment on his lateness . . . And more importantly, his appearance.

❋ No such luck.

❋ The first person he encounters on his way back is none other than Rook, who seems to appear out of thin air with glittering eyes and a knowing smile. “Ah, the scent of amour is unmistakable! You must have been at Ramshackle, non?”

❋ Vil can feel his cheeks pinkening as he hisses at Rook to keep it down. “Not. Another. Word. Understood?”

❋ He can’t catch a break in the dorm, either. It seems as though everyone is awake even at this god-forsaken hour, lining the hallways, pointing and staring and whispering. Vil grits his teeth and presses on, unwilling to falter when he’s almost made it to the safety of his room. Internally, he’s wishing he’d come in through the back door or, better yet, stayed hidden in Ramshackle.

❋ Finally, just when he thinks he’s in the clear, Epel catches sight of him, and opens his mouth. Vil raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow, daring him to try, and Epel shuts his mouth (he does start laughing once Vil is out of earshot, though).

❋ Once he’s back in the relative safety of his expansive room, Vil tosses his coat upon his bed and heaves a sigh of relief, catching his breath before he cleans up and does his nighttime skincare routine. His eyes flicker to the smudge of your lipstick on his collar with a little smile . . . Though he’ll never admit he didn’t wash it out right away.

[mesetacadre]

(sorry in advance for the more personal ask, you're the most intelligent person i know of when it comes to these things)

genuinely, how are we supposed to find the strength to go on? it feels like capitalism has won. only a few decades ago my country was openly and proudly socialist, and now we're nothing but an american military base with an economy. everything's been privatised, the unions are broken, the people are starving, and we keep voting for more of this! people are gleefully begging for yet more exploitation! sometimes it feels there's not a drop of class consciousness to be found in the entire country, and that it's pointless to even hope for change. how can i stay sane?

The class struggle is not a team sport which either side can win or lose. It is a historical and economic process, one that's inevitable. As long as capitalism exists, there will be a social majority of workers it must exploit, alienation will still happen, and a portion of these workers will be aware of this fact. The class struggle is also a long process, one that, most of the time, is imperceptible to the individual in physical and time scale. Only sometimes, it accelerates to dizzying speeds and the conditions necessary for taking power are met. We can talk about victories and defeats, but we can't lose sight of the fact that those "only" are points in time, momentaneous advances or retreats in the process that is the class struggle, but they never mean the paralization of this process.

We can only really talk about the bourgeoisie taking power and creating the first properly capitalist states in the late 18th century and early 19th, but the bourgeoisie had lead or taken part in attempts at or glimpes of revolution as far back as the early 16th century. The bourgeoisie never really had an unifying theory of the class struggle, most were never really fully conscious of it. But they still eventually took power, once the development of the national economies advanced so far that it forced the replacement of the feudal mode of production, the bourgeois revolutions became inevitable. Marx and Engels only ever saw one real attempt at the proletariat taking power, in the Paris Commune of 1871, but it only ever lasted a few months. They both were long dead when the first actually (relatively) long-lasting instance of the proletariat in power broke the oppressor classes' veneer of invincibility.

When Marxists talk of inevitability it is not in a conspiratorial manner, or an expression of satisfied optimism, we never mean that "one day the capitalists will get what's coming to them", in a vague way. We mean that, only if communists continue to work towards the revolutionary organization of our class, is a complete overthrow of capitalism inevitable. We should all do an exercise is historical perspective when it comes to analyzing progress, take the Marx and Engels example from the previous paragraph, they never got to see an effective application of their theories. Class consciousness will fluctuate continuously, it always has. The bolshevik party in 1913 had nothing to do with the party that lead the October Revolution, and 8 years after the defeat of the 1905 revolution, I bet many felt like their work was hopeless. My point is that, while the borders of the Communist Party may shrink, grow, or even disappear, and while we might be savagely oppressed, no system of oppression has ever lasted forever.

When it comes to revolutions, there are objective and subjective conditions. The objective we can never control; it's the stability of capitalism, the characteristics of its suprastructure, if there is a crisis or not. The subjective is what's under our control; our own work as communists, the state of the revolutionary party, the degree of influence of communists at the core of the working class. These two sets of conditions interact with one another, with the objective conditions influencing the possibility of development of the subjective conditions much more than the reverse. What makes you hopeless is in part the objective conditions. Capitalism is quite stable right now (though not as much as it ever seems), and, for now, we can't do much about it, because the subjective conditions, the other part of your homelessness, are also very delayed. But these we do have control over, at first very little, but as they improve, the control we have over them also increases. Essentially, friend, all we can do is prepare our class, do our best to gain more workers to our cause, bit by bit, so that once capitalism shows one of its cracks, we can be ready to pry those cracks open and bust the whole system. The Russian soldiers in WW1 were already discontent when the bolsheviks began to agitate up to the trenches, Mao's guerrillas grew to an army taking advantage of the deep fragmentation China suffered throughout the first half of the century, etc.

Once again, class struggle is not a straight line that we move in two directions. It is a complex space. The overthrow of the USSR was a very profound blow to revolutionary organizations all around the world, of course, but the state of communism in general in 1995 was still in a much better position than it was merely 90 years prior. Every defeat also sharpens the tactics and strategies we use. Eastern Europe (where I assume you're from) did use to be socialist, and those worker's states were overthrown. But you are still in a better position than a communist in the interwar period, facing borderline fascistic dictatorship and a future of Nazi-Fascist occupation. They did not have any precedent or much practical experience to learn from, but you do. Every day that we delay work, even in the most hopeless of contexts, is a day more that our grandchildren will have to bear in capitalism, and a day more they're deprived of true freedom and self-government

[yierrem]

dating headcanons - zzzero men edition pt. 2 ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

ft. gn! reader x asaba harumasa, billy kid, and seth lowell ; a follow up to my previous dating hcs (which can be found here) and a response to a request ( ^ω^ ) first post of the year（≧∇≦）i hope you enjoy reading!!

asaba harumasa

very clingy. when you're not together, he'd be texting you random little updates or beg for your attention just for the sake of talking to you if calling momentarily isn't an option. sometimes he tries to use you as an excuse to get out of work, but after he's done it a couple of times, you've become immune to always bending to his whims and suddenly he's whining about how you don't love him anymore.

["wait i'll look at your texts later brb love u ^3^" "so you hate me."]

an avid quality time enjoyer, if i've ever seen one. he's content with lazing around with you or doing mundane tasks that don't require much physical effort. likes cuddling against you when you're just sitting engrossed in doing something with your hands and reading or watching something together.

even though he usually appears and acts lighthearted, deep down, he's genuinely happy with you and the relationship you share. he cherishes every moment you can spend together and wishes it could go on for as long as he lives. you're the person he refers to as family when on one of his much-dreaded doctor appointments.

alongside the nightmares he already has regarding his sickness, he'd have times when he'd wake up in a cold sweat from dreams of losing or leaving you and the people he cares for. thankfully, on the days you sleep over, he has you; he's comforted by the sight of your sleeping figure and clings to you for the rest of the night.

on a lighter note, sharing a bed with this man is probably a chaotic experience on a dreamless night; initially, you'd both fall into slumber comfortably cuddled against each other, but the following morning, one of you would be seconds away from suffocating in a vice grip.

billy kid

loves playing games with you. he's usually competitive when playing against you but when you're both on a team together, he's suddenly the biggest cheerleader there is. if both of you lose, that's totally fine! you'll get it next time. what matters to him is that you had fun together.

deeply appreciates it and enjoys when you match him nerd-for-nerd, even if you don't share a lot of similar interests. you take turns randomly info-dumping about any piece of media or activity you're into and both of you pay genuine attention to whatever the other is talking about. he loves listening to you passionately talk or share anything about any topic because you do the same for him.

adding on to the previous point: both of you make jokes about liking your favorite fictional characters or celebrities more, just to be playfully petty.

["if you had to choose between me or monica, who would you pick?" "...well, yes!" "..." "alright, then. between me and /insert favorite character/--" "that's unimportant."]

after spending so much time with him, you already know which maintenance products he likes for himself or his guns. kind of like how other people know what shampoo or body wash their partner prefers. when you see he's running out and you buy them without telling him, he'll notice and be weeping tears of joy.

if you take a while to open up to him about certain things, he's alright with that and will tell you to take your time or give you the space you need. he's been the same when it comes to sharing his past with other people and understands that some things do take courage to tell.

seth lowell

despite having been in a relationship for a while, he most likely still gets easily flustered from any vaguely flirty quip and intimate gesture that comes from you. you could use this knowledge to your advantage but do have mercy on the poor guy.

[there was one instance where you gave him a quick peck on the lips without giving much thought to it before leaving and all he could do was stay where he was with his brain buffering for a whole minute.]

even though he's somewhat shy about expressing his admiration or appreciation for you and sometimes stumbles through his words when doing so, he's sincere in everything he says and does for you.

you're one of the very few people he trusts with touching his tail and ears. it's come to the point where when you're both just laying together, he wouldn't mind the feeling of your fingers gently rubbing on a certain spot on his ears while you run your fingers through his hair.

he appreciates that you see him for who he is and acknowledge his efforts to get where he is now. your affirmations, whether spoken or unspoken, mean much to him and he feels like he can truly be comfortable when he's around you.

sometimes, he unknowingly acts or does very attractive things and it just blows your mind. he'd steer you by the waist from bumping into things or, if you're shorter, accidentally pin you against a wall/surface when trying to reach for something from a high place because he just wants to help! you should be more careful, you know. but you've already mentally imploded while your sweet, sweet boyfriend remains clueless.

[mymegrokosmos]

cheol bf brainrot that no one asked for bc smth a friend sent me sparked a thought tonight so thank k👑 for this one.

I am so sane and normal about this, yup.

seungcheol insists on carrying everything for you. From your purse to your amazon order and even the groceries. Why would you need to handle silly tasks like struggling up to your apartment with big boxes when he's there to do the heavy lifting for you?

On top of being his passenger princess one of the things you took a while to come to a compromise with in your relationship was being taken care of. Letting him do things for you without feeling like you're taking advantage. He insists he does these things for you because he likes to, that it makes him feel better to know you're eating good meals and that he likes when you take over the aux from the passenger seat or talk him through your day while he drives home after work with you on speaker phone.

At first it made you uncomfortable being so pampered all the time. You quickly came to learn the seungcheol's love language is acts of service. Doing these things for you like ordering you dinner when he can't be there to take you out, or picking you up after a night out with your friends when you lose track of time and miss the last bus. So when you eventually start taking joint trips to the grocery store, it's no surprise that you don't get to lift a single finger.

Pushing the cart? He's got it. Reaching the things on shelves too high for you? He's already asking how many you need. Getting your dairy products from the cold freezer section? You stand watch over the cart and stay warm while he picks out the exact brands and flavours he knows are your favourites. And, of course, he insists on carrying the bags back out to the car. You can take a couple of the lightest ones but only because you sulked about it. He insists that he needs you to have one hand free for the keys so you can pop the trunk for him but you both know that's just an excuse to save your pride.

He pouted when you even brought up the possibility of helping so here you are, watching him load the bags while you wonder what good deed you did in your past life to have earned a partner so full of care and genuine love for everyone in his life. It's also just a little bit unfair how handsome he looks in track pants, a plain t-shirt, oversized hoodie and baseball cap perched backwards on his head. He pauses to lift it when he finishes, running a hand through the dark mop of hair that just seems to keep getting longer every time you blink.

"Hey, honey?"

He comes over to see what you need. "Yes jagi?"

The crease in his brows only serves to endear you further. You don't answer right away, too distracted by your fond musings, and it deepens. He taps your cheek gently. You snap out of your thoughts. He looks concerned.

"Everything okay baby?"

You nod. One hand comes up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing over one half of the set of dimples that just make you want to eat him. He leans into your touch, smiling softly, but doesn't take his eyes from yours.

"You sure?"

You smile. "Yeah. I'm good."

Instead of explaining you just lean up, pressing a kiss to the cheek not currently nuzzling against your palm. He kisses your hand.

"Thank you Cheollie."

"For what?"

"For always being such a gentleman."

He blinks. You know it's just second nature to him. He doesn't think twice about the way he does these things. That doesn't make them any less meaningful or appreciated.

You take advantage of his confusion to plant a kiss on him. He just stares at you when you pull back. Your hand slides down to rest on his chest and that seems to snap him back into action. He pulls you in, one hand on your waist, and blinks at you.

"Baby?"

"Yes Cheol?"

"Do that again." You quirk a brow at him. "Please."

His smile when you pull away, much more slowly and reluctantly this time, is worth it. He isn't even looking when he tugs you a few steps back with him, out of the way of the small car pulling out of the parking spot beside you. When you blink up at him he's still grinning. He holds out a hand for the keys, not letting you go as he gets the passenger door and helps you in.

"Let's go home."

"Mhm."

The smile on his face didn't falter the whole way home. Neither did the hand on your thigh, fingers laced with yours even as he pulled into the parking garage under your building.

Needless to say, you now reward him with kisses all the time. It's the one response to spoiling you that he can't complain about.

[ramp-it-up]

Sugar, Cubed

Photo found on Pinterest

Summary: I revisited Sugar and the boys from the Sugar is Sweet séries, and let me tell you. Bucky and Steve sure have grown up from their college days. They are no longer playing around. And they are coming for you. How do you choose? And do you have to?

Word Count: 3.5K

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader; Bucky Barnes x Reader; boss Tony Stark x reader

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Not Beta’d. Read at your own risk. Roommate/Co-worker au, S MUT! Angst, little bit of slow burn. Main character injury, allusions to sex, sexual tension, indecent proposal, caught between two lovers trope, idiots in love, Tony being Tony, truth or dare, talk of voyeruism, possibility of group sex, eventual polyandry.

A/N: This is related to the Sugar is Sweet au, but can be read alone. This is part one, part two will be posted next week. I hope you like it. This is part of Falloween 2024.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

——

You met the two most hated men in your life while you were living together as recipients of the prestigious Stark STEM Fellowship at NYU.

There was an instant spark when you met James Buchanan Barnes and Steven Grant Rogers, best friends from childhood. They sarcastically named you Sugar because of your initial rudeness, but the nickname just stuck around after you warmed up to them.

In the Stark Fellows program, life was hard work and hard play. Soon it was down to just you, Bucky and Steve, and life was a dream with parties, booze, and almost anything you wanted, as long as you lent your minds to the work.

Tony Stark tolerated anything that would keep productivity high. He knew that all work and no play would make Bucky, Sugar and Steve dull scientists.

So he encouraged you three to play. And funded it too.

Steve and Bucky were so protective of you, their sweet Sugar. The sexual tension that came with living with them was heady stuff.

You basked in the glow of Bucky and Steve's attention, while observant of the lines of partners at their bedroom doors and the competitiveness between the football quarterback and lacrosse captain.

You swore that neither Bucky nor Steve would ever win you, no matter the plays they made. But they each had you sprung in different ways. And they were so damn competitive.

They both wanted your heart.

It was only a matter of time before you gave it to each of them.

You fell hard for Bucky first. And it was urgent and intense.

But after just a year together, Bucky accepted a position with Stark Labs in Bucharest for a term that stretched into two years as he completed grad school at Politehnica. It happened without warning. You were angry at his choice and trapped in New York by your own contract with Stark for graduate work. 

You and Bucky were over. And you were heartbroken.

Steve’s waiting arms were open, and it was effortless and freeing to realize that the golden boy was the one who truly loved you. And he’d always been there. Your heart healed. You thought.

According to social media, Bucky seemed to love his new location, extending his contract beyond the initial year-long contract to finish his degree. It seemed that all he did was work.

Not that you were stalking his IG or anything.

He didn’t communicate with you directly, and with Steve only intermittently. It was like he’d erased his best friend and his best girl from his life. 

It made sense, since his best girl was now his best friend’s girl.

Then, during his second year, Bucky's stay in Romania was cut short,  he came back to New York, although not in the way you imagined.

Bucky had been critically injured; losing a limb. Tony made sure he had the best care, flying with Bucky to Wakanda for experimental surgery and overseeing his recovery. 

You found out via a social media after Bucky was back in town, and not from Tony or anyone else.

You were livid.

You raged at Steve, who had lied to you that he had to go to London for two weeks for work when he was actually in Wakanda at Bucky’s bedside.

The betrayal ran deep.

You and Steve were done after that, although you continued to work side by side at the labs. You felt as if Tony was trying to drive you over the edge, having you work around the clock with your ex. But he didn’t care. He had some insane theory that the tension would yield better results.

Each day, you longed for the hour that you could go to your posh new quarters in Stark tower. Although it was lonely, at least your apartment was private, and you could unwind in peace. Your days were tense, but predictable.

Until they weren’t anymore.

——

One afternoon, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you stared into the monitor to watch the results from the latest compound analysis roll numbers across your workstation.

“Hey there, Sugar.”

You froze, looking up and out over Manhattan through the window above your station. You couldn’t believe it, but you saw a pale reflection of him in the mirrored glass.

You slowly turned around.

Bucky looked good, his pale complexion not all the result of the blue gray skies over the Hudson. His face had grown more angular, his hair was shorter, and his eyes seemed older, but outside, he was the same Bucky. 

You didn’t know what you were expecting. 

Bucky Barnes seemed whole, except his left hand, the “golden arm” that was the pride of Bobcat football, was now black and gold metal. 

Vibranium. 

You stared at it as it reached for you.

“So I don’t get a hug?” 

Your eyes moved to his face while Steve cleared his throat and reminded you that he was there. You tried to forget his existence most days, but Bucky walking into your lab had erased him from your mind completely. For a moment.

“Sugar–”

You cut him off.

“Fuck you, Grant.” 

You looked back at Bucky with tears in your eyes.

“And fuck you, James.”

Despite your epithets, you threw yourself into his arms, sobbing with emotion.

“How could you…?”

You whispered it into his suit coat, your fingers digging into the material at his back as you cried into his shoulder. Bucky held you tight against him, and he felt harder, more solid. 

You realized that under all of the anger and hurt, you were mainly just relieved that he was alive.

Over two years of anxiety and unprocessed feelings were coming out, and Bucky rocked you as your body heaved. Steve came up behind you and hugged you both.

For a minute you relished the feeling, being held by the only two men that you ever had feelings for. You felt safe. But then you remembered the secrets and the lies, and anger flooded you again. You twisted out of their grasp.

“Don’t get any ideas, assholes.”

You moved away from them and wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly cold.

“Do you know how worried I was? No one gave me any information. At all. I had to find out from social media. I felt like a fool, Bucky.”

You scowled at him.

“And you. You knew that, Cap. And you lied to my fucking face.”

You glared at Steve.

You looked from Steve to Bucky, who shared a guilty glance with each other. 

“That’s my fault, Sugar. I– I made Tony and Steve swear not to tell you.”

Your dark haired ex boyfriend looked at his shoes as he rubbed the back of his neck with his new hand. He held it up and looked at it and then at you.

“Didn’t know how you would feel about this.”

You ignored the uncertainty and hurt in his eyes.

"What do you want? A cookie? A pat on the head?  A tear? You are not going to make me feel sorry for you. Not when you let everyone else but me in on your secret."

You cocked your head and gazed curiously at the new appendage, then back at him.

“Bucky, I am stronger than you think. And I loved you.”

Both Steve and Bucky winced at the word ‘loved,’ but both for different reasons.

“I would have accepted you anyway you came. And I would have been by your side while you recovered. But you didn’t want that. But it looks as if you’re fine.” 

Steve sat back down at his workstation, resigned. You shook your head at him. If it wouldn’t have cost you a million dollars, which you didn’t have, you would have walked out of Stark Industries and moved across the world. But you had work to do.

“You’re interrupting our work here. You need to leave.”

You wanted him away from you like fire.

“That’s what I’m tryna tell you, Doll.” 

Bucky strolled over to the locker area and took off his coat, grabbing goggles and a lab coat.

“I’m reporting for duty. Tony assigned me back to the New York lab.”

—-

Tony leaned against the bar in his office, after he downed the drink that he’d offered you and that you’d refused. It was only 10:46 am. You were trying to hand in your resignation. Or at least ask for a transfer to a new location.

“And just where do you think you’re going to go, Sugar?”

You glared at your boss. Bolstered by anger, this was the least intimidated, and most angry, you’d ever been at him.

“Paris, maybe? Tokyo? Hell, even Des Moines. I’ll take anything. I need space.”

Tony shook his head. 

“I need you here. The productivity with Barnes back is about to be through the roof.”

You just stared at him incredulously.

“You’re not thinking with your brain. Your heart and what is pounding between your legs are in the way.” 

Your mouth dropped open.

“...But the tension between you Barnes and Rogers will make me a lot of money. I’ve studied you since your freshman year. I know what makes you tick, what motivates you to do your best work. And the numbers don’t lie. Being right in the middle of Bucky and Cap makes lots of money for Stark Industries.”

You stared out at the view of New Jersey, outraged.

“Besides. I have the exclusive contract over your mind, body, and soul for the next seven years. Might as well make the most of it.”

You sighed and took the drink Tony offered you this time.

—-

Bucky Barnes was the most infuriating man you’d ever met, second only to Steve Rogers.

Your brain was scrambled when you weren’t working, so you worked that much harder to stay in control. You hated when Tony was right.

Here you were, flanked by two gorgeous men whose work clothes only accentuated their powerful bodies. Bodies that you knew very well. Your tongue had traced every plane of each of them. Your hands explored their broad shoulders and taught, muscular frames. Your fists had clenched their throbbing cocks and you had accepted them inside you. 

No matter how mad you were at them, you couldn’t get them out of your mind.

Imagining Bucky crashing his lips to yours as he backed you up against a wall made your core throb. And dreaming about Steve’s hands around your thighs as he lifted you onto a lab table made your nipples tingle.

Working in between them in the lab was torture for your neglected body and soul. You were doomed to work in  between the two men who’d fucked you most thoroughly and recently.

You didn’t even want to think about your heart.

You ignored the lingering looks in their blue eyes, the way they gentled their voices when they spoke to you, and the way they tried to come in contact with you for no reason. The number of times fingers lingered over passed specimens, the way space became so tight that they had to squeeze behind you in the lab, and the uncomfortable number of times you ended up between them in the equipment closet made you lose your breath.

Steve and Bucky never pressed you for anything, and all you had to say was ‘excuse me,’ for them to move out of your way, but it was untenable. You would give neither of them the satisfaction of getting upset. You managed made it through work and home to your brand new vibrator every night after long days of fighting their pheromones in the lab.

After a week of forced proximity, you were experiencing the forced Stark Industries Happy Hour. As you waited for your drink at the bar, you thought it strange that Tony had never made them mandatory before Bucky came back. That was quite the coincidence.

You wanted to pace yourself with your drinking as you realized that you had to stay there for another couple of hours to get the bonus that came with attendance. The word ‘happy’ and the names Bucky Barnes or Steve Rogers did not go together, so you participated in each round to numb the desire that was plaguing you. 

For someone so smart. You were so clueless sometimes.

—-

As you rode the elevator in Stark Tower to your apartment later that evening, it seemed as if the elevator was moving extra slowly. You didn’t know if it was the tequila affecting your senses, or an actual malfunction, so you asked FRIDAY for analytics, but for some reason, she said you didn’t have clearance for the answer.

You were mad and mute for a minute, trying to clear your head for the security code. It was then that one of your fellow passengers, who you were trying to ignore, broke the silence.

“Okay Sugar, truth, or dare?”

You looked at him as Steve watched you both. 

“I said, truth, or dare.”

“Truth is Bucky, we’re not kids anymore.”

“So you pick truth. You don’t get to pick the question, though.”

Bucky ignored your ire.

“Which one of our cocks is better, mine or Steve’s?”

Your eyes widened and you gasped as Steve interjected,

“Buck…”

“What, Punk? Remember she rated them before she experienced them. Did that hold out? Or did she tell you that you were the 9.9 too?”

Steve rolled his eyes and went back to watching the floor count, mouth set in a thin line. You had not, in fact, told Steve that he was the 9.9. 

“Stop being a little shit, James.” 

You were rocked, memories flooding back, dysregulating your nervous system even more.

“So you’re saying you won't answer the truth?”

You crossed your arms and legs as you leaned back against the elevator wall. You looked up at the floor indicator lights, trying to stop the emotions from getting to you.

“You can pass. Or you can take a dare, Sugar.”

You huffed, fighting the urge to just say pass. Some lingering adolescent urge refused to let you.

“This is so fucking ridiculous.”

You spoke it outwardly, but you were talking to yourself, to your riotous body, which was reacting to these two men in this enclosed space in the most alarming way.

Bucky was watching you intently, but Steve hadn’t turned around, just replied in that voice of his.

“Those are the rules, Sugar. You should probably answer the question or take the dare.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath when you realized what this was. You were dealing with male egos and competitiveness. And they wanted to know the answer, hear you talk about their cocks when for some reason the agave gods were making you horny.

You had to get out of there. 

“You’re not making stupid bets and putting notches in the bedposts any longer. Bucky, we were together, and then you left. I thought it was something that it was not. Then Steve and I got together. I loved you both and in return, you both played me. You both won.” 

Steve turned around and faced you as Bucky advanced closer. He licked his lips and you wanted, no you needed, to run.

“You think I didn’t love you, Sugar? Shit, I worshiped you.”

The sensation of Bucky’s firm body crowding you in bed, taking up the mattress, leg wedged between your thighs while he delivered hot kisses and a slow grind against your clit came out of nowhere. You missed it. You wanted it again. But you lifted your chin as you straightened your spine, determined to resist him.

“You left me.”

“Stark made me!”

Bucky’s blue eyes were wide with emotion.

“‘S’okay Buck. She doesn’t believe I loved her either. Even though I always have. And I caught her when you were gone.”

You looked up at Steve and saw the hurt, and you were preparing not to care, but the feeling of Steve naked against your back, his hands roaming all over you, whispering assurances and praise as he rocked inside and made you come apart in his grip almost made your knees buckle.

You had to move, so you pushed at the rock hard wall of them and they let you move them to get to the elevator controls.

“Why. Won’t. This. Thing. Move!?!?”

You pushed too many buttons at once as Steve and Bucky tried to stop you. The only thing that stopped was the slow progress of the elevator. The small room jolted to a halt, and you stumbled, right into Bucky and Steve’s arms as everything went dark.

“Well now, Sugar. You should have just taken the dare.”

Bucky’s sass enraged you and you cursed and batted their hands away from you as you reached for your purse to find your phone.

—-

A half an hour later, you were all sitting on the floor, Bucky’s jacket beneath you and Steve’s jacket around your arms because the climate control was off. There was no telling how long it would be before someone would find you.

There had been silence since you realized you had not cell phone signal and cursed for 3 minutes straight. You were more than sober now.

God, you wished you were drunk.

“Answer the question. Or take the dare, Sugar.”

This time it was Steve.

“Your fucking competitiveness is so annoying, you know that? Can you two accomplish anything on your own, just for your own pride? Or altruism? Or shits and giggles?”

You could feel their eyes on you in the dark. You fought against them in the darkness, or you were just fighting the darkness, because the lack of sight was enhancing your other senses, and lord you didn’t really want to feel those right now.

“Truth. Or Dare?”

Bucky’s velvet voice was undeterred. You shook your head at it.

“Fine. If it will get you to leave me alone. Dare.”

“I dare you to give up control.”

The response was immediate, as if he were waiting for you to say that.

You groaned, a sound that sounded to sensual, even to your own ears. You were going for annoyed.

“Bucky, it’s late. I’m tired. I’m stuck in an elevator with my two exes. This is a nightmare. And you’re daring me to give up a concept?”

He chuckled.

“Not the concept of control. I think you know exactly what I mean. Give me control. One long weekend. It will be just like when we were roommates. But without the endless teasing and blue balls. This time you give us both that we deserve.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Bucky?”

Your head turned toward Steve, whose voice was on edge.

“I get to watch. You and Sugar, Steve. And direct. And participate…and we find out who is the best…”

“Hold on…”

You could feel Steve shifting in his position on the floor.

“Are you talking about….? Watching me and Sugar… what–?”

“Really Bucky? Do you have a metal brain as well?”

You wanted to fight, but them touching you was out of the question. Bucky was pure chaos.

“If we do this, what would that accomplish?”

“The fuck are you entertaining this nonsense for, Steve? Who the fuck–”

Bucky interrupted your rant.

“Well, you’ve entertained both of us, Sugar, haven’t you? Teased us. Toyed with us. Played us against the other. Wore our clothes and nothing else, slept between us in our bed. Teased us with that body well before we could really do anything about it.”

You dropped your head in your hands, exhausted, as Bucky continued.

“And then, when you finally granted us between your legs, one by one, there was always this spector hanging over the bed, or the floor, or the counter, or the lawn that we fucked on, wasn’t there?”

Bucky paused and you heard the bitterness in his voice. 

“The other one of us was always in the closet or the bushes, or in your head, weren’t we?”

"Don't blame me for your twisted predilections, Bucky."

“What about your predilections, Sugar? You’ve played us against each other long enough. Don’t forget. We both know what gets you off.”

Bucky’s voice wrapped around you in the dark, and you wanted to climb on and ride it as your clit began to pulse. You cursed your body’s reaction to him.

“We know what gets you off hard. Steve told me everything. And it was the same as with me. Your fantasies, Sugar…”

Steve spoke up.

“Bucky, this is uncalled for…”.

"Stop being such a boy scout."

“We know you, Sugar. What we don’t know is who you like the best. We deserve to know.”

“Bucky…”

“It would give us all closure, Steve.”

“You’re crazy, Bucky.”

“Put up or shut up, Sugar.”

Suddenly the lights came back on and you scrambled to stand up as the elevator started again, this time moving at normal speed. You looked between one man who was flushed red and the other who had a smirk on his face.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened, as you bolted out, you replied to Bucky.

“Why don’t you just fuck each other? That will kill two birds with one stone.”

——

Next part: Simple Sugar

Let me know if you like it! 😊

[gr1mstar]

Zayne x reader x Rafayel? Love triangle, jealousy.....

I wish you could be mine

notes: i hope you like it, and i’m sorry for the wait :) i didn’t know for sure which one should be the jealous one so i made them both jealous.

contains: zayne x reader x rafayel, love triangle, jealousy, sfw.

Zayne has never considered himself a jealous person. He believed that jealousy is something temporary, which makes you waste time worrying, while you could solve that problem.

That is until, for the first time in his life, Zayne became jealous.

It all started with a conversation, you telling Zayne about the time you spent at Rafayel's house while he was painting. About his fabulous paintings and about the talent the man had.

Talent? Didn't he have talent? He was very talented with his hands, doing many difficult operations. Maybe it wasn't enough...

Jealousy is born from insecurities. Hearing about the time you spent with the other man in your life, Zayne wondered if he gave you too little time to make you fall in love with him. The hours spent at the hospital now seemed too long, and the desire to spend more time with you grew.

‘If I spend time with her, he won't have time to meet her,’ he asked himself.

But that was almost impossible for a renowned surgeon. Operations upon operations, emergencies upon emergencies and many other cases, Zayne was forced to take his mind off the burning desire to be in your presence 24/7.

However, this did not stop him from fighting to win your heart. He invited you to dates more often, he left work faster than usual, and his gestures were sweeter, made with more love.

Late night dinners, candles, compliments. All this made you wonder if you were interpreting the situation correctly or if your mind had gone crazy. You knew Zayne wasn't good with words, his personality being much colder than other people's. However, you liked the warm feeling that dates with him give you.

“We can stop by after work, what do you say? I heard that a new product was added to the menu.” he asked you on the phone, heart beating fast. 

“Yeah, of course. Let me finish here with Rafayel and I’m coming.”

However, after so many attempts, this Rafayel did not disappear from the story. Who was he, so important to you?

Zayne saw him a few times on TV, the man was a well-known and rich artist. He was not so wow. Zayne could recognize, the man was handsome and had money, he was tall with an enviable physique. But he? He also had money, an enviable physique and was tall. And he was attractive, according to many of his colleagues. He was also smart and knew you much better than Rafayel did.

So why not him?

‘So why not me?’ Rafayel asked himself, after hearing your conversation with Zayne.

He was hurt by your words. Now you were with him, why were you talking to someone else? Why were you planning to leave him and go to another one? Rafayel could not explain himself.

"Who was it?" he asked, looking at you, who was sitting on the couch with the phone in your hand.

"Zayne. He asked me out."

"Like a date?"

You didn't give him an answer. That made Rafayel lose his cool. The man was jealous of another man, both fighting for your affection. Is it worth it? 100%

Rafayel saw the doctor several times when he accompanied you for some tests at the hospital. He was tall, handsome and calm. It gave off a cold, robotic vibe.

Did you like this? A heart of ice?

He certainly didn't have it, his personality being the exact opposite of Zayne's, but he didn't feel like he was behind in the race to win your heart. You spent a lot of time with him, giving your opinion on the works he made, many being dedicated to you without knowing it.

Jealousy was a whore. He felt terrible, but if in the end it meant she would be his, he could resist. He promised himself that no matter what, the years spent waiting for the love of his life would not be in vain, so that he will win your love.

Without knowing it, Zayne made the same promise.

But well... When two fight, the third wins, right?

[weemssapphic]

Split in half

Larissa Weems x f!reader

This is a part two to We're not who we used to be set a few months after that fic, from Larissa's POV. It's just as angsty as part one, maybe even worse. It's inspired by the song Stick Season by Noah Kahan. Enjoy 😅

Words: ~1.5k | ao3 link in title

And I love Vermont, but it's the season of the sticks And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed And it's half my fault, but I just like to play the victim I'll drink alcohol 'til my friends come home for Christmas And I'll dream each night of some version of you That I might not have, but I did not lose Now you're tire tracks and one pair of shoes And I'm split in half, but that'll have to do

-

“Ow - fuck!”

It takes Larissa’s eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness blanketing her quarters. She steadies herself against the little table by the door and squints at the floor as she searches for whatever she’s just tripped over that caused her to ram her hip into the corner of said table. 

Now she remembers - she’d changed her mind about her heels that morning and left the initial pair next to the door. She sighs and kicks off the heels she’s wearing now, leaving them lying haphazardly next to the others.

She walks towards the kitchen, not bothering to turn on the light now that her eyes have adjusted to the darkness. Pain blooms in her hip, growing sharper with each step - she can already feel the deep purple bruise forming across her hip bone. She opens the fridge and stoops down, the bright, fluorescent glow shooting straight through her eyeballs into her already throbbing skull, making her eyes water. The fridge is nearly empty and Larissa groans in frustration as she closes its door and blindly reaches for the cabinets above the stove instead, running her fingertips across the smooth, familiar wood as her eyes adjust again.

Her fingers bump into the little brass handle and she opens the cabinet, pulling out the first bottle she finds. Whiskey. She opens another cabinet and takes out a crystal tumbler, then pads across her quarters to her little balcony, clutching both bottle and tumbler to her chest. 

A chill seeps through her stockings and straight into her bones as she steps outside, and she grits her teeth as she lowers herself onto the oversized pillow she’d taken out here when she first started spending her evenings after work out on the balcony. 

It’s a lot colder tonight than it was those weeks - or has it been months? - ago. Fall is as good as over, the trees barren of their gorgeous red and orange foliage, but winter hasn’t fully started yet either, the first snowfall having yet to make an appearance.

Larissa pours some of the amber liquid into the tumbler, raising it to her lips and tossing it back in one go. It burns her throat and the swift motion smudges her lipstick, not that that matters. It warms her a little from the inside, so she pours herself another.

She supposes she could do something productive, or at least try to distract herself, but there’s not really a point - she can’t read books or watch films or even knit without spending the entire time trying to reign in her wandering thoughts. Even her work is suffering as a result.

She should’ve seen it coming, really, you leaving her. After all, she thinks bitterly, as her thoughts once again hone in on you, she had been rather absent in your marriage. Even when you told her you were moving out, that you were done trying, she could hardly wrap her head around it. Hardly believe it was actually over.

On the day you’d left, she’d woken up to a horribly loud rummaging in the closet. It was a Sunday, and she remembered the pang of irritation that mixed with her confusion, the frustration that you’d woken her early on the only day she ever slept in. She’d remembered readying herself to berate you, tasting the words on her sharp tongue as she’d pushed herself up onto her elbow - the words dying just as quickly as they’d come when her sleep-filled eyes were met with the sight of your half-full suitcase (the big one, the one you used for longer vacations) on the floor in front of the walk-in. 

Between stuffing everything from your underwear to a few framed photos into the suitcase, you’d explained your reasoning rather coolly for someone who usually wore her heart on her sleeve and cried at even comedy films - it had unsettled Larissa to see you so casual about leaving. Perhaps it was due to this that she didn’t say much. She didn’t say any of the things she should have said, any of the things you might’ve hoped she’d say or the things she wishes today that she had said. She’d watched you pack, nodding along to whatever you were saying about divorce lawyers - divorce? - and robotically seeing you to the door. 

Your tires had screeched a bit on your way down the driveway - the sound rings in Larissa’s ear as she tosses back another tumbler of whiskey.

Everything had passed so quickly after that, weeks and months blurring together. She’d signed the divorce papers in what she can, in hindsight, only describe as a fugue-like state, not realizing until much later the full consequences of her actions. And ‘much later’, apparently, translated into ‘too late’.

So I thought that if I piled something good on all my bad That I could cancel out the darkness I inherited from dad No, I am no longer funny, 'cause I miss the way you laugh You once called me forever, now you still can't call me back

One tumbler turns into two turns into three, and then she’s abandoned the glass in favor of drinking straight from the bottle. She pulls her phone out of the pocket of her blazer, scrolling to your contact as if on autopilot and staring at it as if it would suddenly come to life.

You’d forgotten an old pair of sneakers at the back of the closet. She’d told you when you’d stopped by with the divorce papers, and you’d told her to just throw them out.

Just throw them out.

It should be so easy. They’re dirty and they stink and the sole is peeling off on the right one. Every time Larissa sees them, she picks them up and wills herself to walk straight to the trash bin. She picks them up - then puts them right back, next to her own rarely-used running shoes.

Larissa clicks ‘call’. She lifts the phone to her ear as she waits, taking another gulp of whiskey. It doesn’t burn anymore.

Her throat gets tighter with every ring, a thin film of tears beginning to blur her eyes. After a few long minutes, the call goes to your voicemail - which is full - and Larissa’s tears spill over, clinging to her lashes before racing each other down her cheeks.

“Pick up, goddamnit!” she growls, her voice hoarse and wet. She tosses her phone angrily onto the floor beside her, not caring if it gets scratched.

There was a time when you’d have picked up the phone in the middle of a packed movie theater if it was her calling - now she hasn’t been able to get ahold of you since the divorce was finalized. It’s at least half her fault, she supposes, but she’s still angry at you for ignoring her. For leaving her. Even if she seemed intent on driving you away.

It’s getting late. Larissa knows this not because she’s checked the time, or because the moon is already high in the night sky, but because time always manages to slip away from her when she’s sitting out here, and because her ass is numb and her knees hurt from sitting in one position for so long. 

She pushes herself up, a bit shaky on her feet, nearly stumbling then steadying herself against the railing of the balcony. She bends, stumbling again, grabs the whiskey bottle by the neck, fumbles with the tumbler, then makes her way into her quarters, leaving her phone on the floor and the balcony door open behind her. It’s been so drafty in her quarters lately.

The bottle of whiskey is placed on the counter and, as Larissa goes to place the tumbler into the sink to be washed, it slips and shatters, shards of glass flying everywhere. She feels the warmth of her own blood on her finger before she feels the sting of the cut.

“Fuck!” 

A little bit of moonlight is streaming into the kitchen, and Larissa raises her finger into the light and stares at it, watching blood form a large bead on her fingertip, then slowly trickle down towards her hand. She sucks her finger between her lips, trying to stem the flow of blood. The metallic taste mixes with the whiskey on her tongue and, as she stands there in the darkness of her kitchen, she suddenly feels tired, so unbelievably tired.

She wants to call you again. She wants to tell your full voicemail box to go fuck itself, all she wants is to hear your voice. It’s all she wants yet it’s all she can’t do. 

-

And I'm split in half, but that'll have to do

x

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[loggiepj]

lizzie

Summary: just an angsty one shot story 😂✌🏳️‍🌈

"TOM SAID she had been using Rooney to gain more credits to her work, always insisting to come along Rooney when she's in film productions, pretending she was only supporting her then girlfriend just so she could give her scripts to producers. And she did this while cheating on her behind her back."

You bit your lip to stop yourself from bursting into tears, hand on your chest, slipping to your collarbone then up to your neck as you willed yourself to breathe.

"That's awful," you heard Lizzie's beautiful voice slurring through the confines of the comfort room, through the door of the cubicle you were trapped in. "I can't believe she could do such a thing. She was so sweet and all, I thought . . . I thought—"

"Oh, we thought so too, Liz," another person chimed in, "but don't be easily fooled. I heard Rooney's lawyer will be filing a case against her sometime soon."

Your other hand went to embrace yourself, clutching against the side of your sweater as you might lose it.

"It was a risk on the producer's part to still include her in this film," said another, "knowing her reputation."

In the following silence, you could hear Elizabeth's sigh. "God, I wouldn't have known."

It was complete torture, having to listen through it all, having to witness how someone you had grown close to in the past few weeks could crush you down in an instant. Five minutes and thirty seven seconds, to be exact.

As if the gods above had acknowledged you had suffered enough, they eventually left the comfort room and began discussing about the next scenes as they walked through the door.

When you heard the door shut close, you broke down. The kind of cry where you seemed to be running out of air to breathe, as if you had been clawing your insides until there's nothing left. You didn't think it was possible to cry for someone like this. You felt like a kid, but you couldn't wail louder since anyone could just walk into the toilet.

The gossips you had endured during highschool, about you being gay, had nothing in comparison to what just happened. Especially the one who was involved was someone special to you. And it felt worse coming from her. To think that Lizzie would actually believe them, believe the rumors circulating about you. To think that she could be different from others. But you'd thought wrong.

It all started with Rooney. She was an actress you fell in love with when you got to work with her and Tom in Carol movie. You had been together with Rooney for almost six years. And yet for one simple action, a drunk crewmate kissing you on the lips inside the producer's room, mistaking you as his girlfriend, Rooney threw everything.

It was all one big misunderstanding. One night, you were just making love. The next, you weren't allowed to enter the penthouse you were both staying, considering Rooney owned that unit and you gave up yours when you moved in with her.

Her sister, Kate, the ever merciful one, contacted you afterwards the sudden eviction, saying that she would try to persuade Rooney to be at least forgiving to let you stay for the meantime while you were looking for another place to live.

But that didn't happen. After that incident, rumors of you cheating started to spread around in the industry, some were exaggerated to give that appeal. And no one trusted you anymore, that you would only use people to your own benefit.

If you weren't only friends with the director of the current film you were working with, you wouldn't have any project.

And then you met Elizabeth Olsen.

You can call me Lizzie, by the way, was what she said when the two of you first talked.

Lizzie had a very distinctive and elegant appearance. She had fair skin, light brown hair, and expressive eyes that were usually a striking green. She was almost an inch taller than you, but if she wore heels, you'd always look up to her whenever the two of you were talking.

You knew her from her massive role as Wanda Maximoff in Marvel Universe films, and you even used to idolize her as someone who's good in everything, no matter what genre the film she was in.

And you both just instantly clicked, like you were made for each other. You could talk to her for hours and hours through the production days, either before the filming would start, during breaks or at the end of the day. She would also share everything to you, with enthusiasm to your mutual interests, as if you were long-time friends. She looked at you without judgment, making you wonder if she knew about the rumors, the one thing that could destroy this newfound promising relationship. Knowing Lizzie wasn't into social media and stuff was what kept you asleep most nights.

You had even asked her to a date that weekend and you both enjoyed it to the fact that she almost invited you inside her nearby apartment when you gave her a ride home. There was this kind of feeling you feel whenever she was around, sometimes butterflies, sometimes longing.

But everything crumbled down when a newcomer saw the two of you flirting with each other.

YOU SPLASHED some cold water into your face as you prepared yourself to face the outside world, hoping it wasn't that obvious that you were just crying seconds ago.

When you went back to the studio to get some work done, you saw Lizzie on one corner practicing some lines with her co-star.

Maybe you were only overthinking it. Maybe she would see you through, talk to you about it, listen to your side of the story. But when you approached them, they only went silent.

"Hey," you greeted, trying to diminish any awkwardness.

"Hi Y/n," Lizzie replied with a smile, "we're just quickly rehearsing for the next scene."

"Oh, okay, sorry to bother you both," you said, "I'll just talk to you later then."

She only smiled back as she went back to her script. You would have just let it go if it weren't for the fact that she would always choose to talk to you.

LATER was no different as you went to knock against the door of her trailer upon hearing Lizzie's laughter inside. Abruptly, the laughters died, and you swore you could hear shushing. When her friend opened the door the second time you knocked, said friend only told you Lizzie wasn't in there even when you knew she was.

THROUGH the days that followed, it was slowly sinking in that maybe they got her too. That Lizzie believed them too.

You tried to give Lizzie the benefit of the doubt. That maybe she was only busy, knowing the most critical scenes were being shot. But you had probably sent her a lot of messages to which Lizzie had only replied words fewer and bland as compared to the older ones she had sent you.

WHEN you tried to approach Lizzie during one of the breaks, surprising her with your favorite cheesecake she said she liked, she thanked you rather hurriedly.

"Thanks, Y/n," she said. "You shouldn't have."

"It's fine," you said back, brushing her off as she tried to return the box to you. "I was in the area earlier when I passed by the store, and I remembered you wanting to eat another slice of it."

What was redness that you used to see adorned on Lizzie's cheeks, was inexistent as she hesitantly accepted the gift. You could tell she was sporting a smile you had seen her do whenever she was uncomfortable during interviews.

It gave you the kick to stop whatever this was you were doing. You then decided not to torture her anymore with how forward you were. It was clear she didn't want anything to do with you. That you were just mere friends in passing. That that date was only that. Nothing more.

"Lizzie!" someone called her from afar, apparently saving her from this awkward interaction. Saving you both.

"Shoot, sorry, Y/n," she said with an apologetic smile. "I have to leave, but thank you again for this. You're too sweet for this world."

You forced a huge smile her way. "Yeah, no worries. See you later."

BUT YOU had avoided her later. You had avoided them. And through the days that followed, you began distancing yourself from the cast and crew, knowing now what they had been talking behind your back. You just went to the studio to help work with the script then went back straight home. No more small talks in the hallway as you passed by them, occasionally wearing a hoodie over your face, wishing it was Harry Potter's cloak of invisibility.

At nights, you stared at the photos of the two of you together during production and even that one dinner date you had at a private restaurant, wondering how two individuals went from these to complete strangers.

You couldn't help but wonder if Lizzie has missed you at all. But when you glanced at her from a distance whenever you couldn't avoid not coming to the studio, laughing and making vlog with her co-stars and makeup artists, you could feel she was glad she dodged a bullet that was you. That she almost went out with someone like you, someone who couldn't be trusted.

You had even stopped eating your favorite cheesecake, knowing it would only remind you of her. Lesson learned. Never suggest your favorites to anyone.

THAT was when you started hanging out with Emma Watson, whom you had gotten closer as you were part of her writing crew in another film you were working for.

She had well defined cheekbones and chocolate brown eyes. But what stood out the most was her English accent. Sometimes, you just wanted to listen to her talk all day.

Emma already knew the rumors about you, and called them bullshit. Maybe it was the British in her, but she told you she didn't care about anyone's past other than first impressions. Besides, if she weren't a fan of your works, she wouldn't have given a chance to know you.

When she revealed to you she liked girls too, you grew more comfortable around her.

You also started to make friends with the other film's crew, and maybe that was what you needed, what you were missing. You no longer felt sad or lonely whenever you were around them. And having to fit two jobs in a day, it felt different having something to look forward to whenever you finished working for Lizzie's film. Good kind of different.

"WAIT, you're already leaving? Are you not going with us?" your director friend asked the moment he saw you packing things up, preparing to leave.

"What do you mean?"

"Liz invited the whole cast and crew for a housewarming party at her new house," he replied.

You had no idea but who were you to receive first invitation from her in the first place. You were a nobody.

"Oh I . . . I actually am needed to get this edit reviewed," you said, easily making up an excuse. Although technically, it wasn't a lie.

"That's a bummer. I was pretty sure Liz said to invite you too." He sighed. "Well, don't work yourself too hard, Y/n."

You only smiled back as you left, staying out of sight from others, keeping distance away from the lobby where you could see the whole cast chatting as they waited for the car service to get to Lizzie's house. And for a brief moment, you caught sight of the woman who once captured your heart, broke it and left to rot. Elizabeth looked so beautiful and fresh even after a day's production, and she was wearing that jacket she stole from you that very first day.

"HAVE you ever loved someone?"

You had been staring at your notifications, watching for what seemed like hours at Lizzie's messages asking where you were and why you weren't at her housewarming party.

You didn't even noticed Emma had asked you a question until she nudged your shoulder.

"Sorry, what?" you asked, slipping your phone into your pocket.

"I asked if you've ever loved someone? Any lovers? Girlfriends? Boyfriend? Flings?" she asked teasingly, "It's just I haven't seen you around with anyone."

"I mean, you've heard the rumors—"

"Fuck all the rumors, I'm not blind, Y/n," Emma interrupted. "You're actually gorgeous. It could cause a scandal."

Avoiding the girl's gaze, you laughed at her. "What are you suggesting?"

There was complete silence, making you look back at Emma deep in thoughts.

"What do you say about you becoming my girlfriend?"

"What?"

"It's just for PR stuff and all," she reasoned. "And for promoting this movie."

"Promoting? They'd hate you. They'd hate me more."

"At least, it would be a distraction from the public. I haven't actually come out as gay but I've provided signs, yet people just turn a blind eye. And this will help confirm my sexuality. If they hated me for dating the rumored you, they'd hate me less for being gay."

You fell silent as you thought about it.

"My PR manager will pay you, of course. You're saving up for a house, right? I want to help you."

Then she looked at her hands on her lap, nervous. "Besides, you're the only one I felt comfortable doing this with." She then glanced back at you. "So . . . Are you with me?"

WHEN you started going out with Emma publicly, the photos of you together holding hands in public immediately spread through the news and gossip channels. You started to become famous, more on the bad side though, of how you were only using Emma again for your selfish reasons and how stupid Emma was for dating you.

At least, there were only a few articles about how disappointed they were Emma turned out to be gay. People were more disappointed she was dating a parasite.

IT WAS almost a month after when you received a missed call from your ex girlfriend Rooney. And she had called you multiple times until you blocked her number. And when she figured out you blocked her, she sent you numerous emails.

Emma was with you as you anxiously worked through the next scene's script.

"You okay?" Emma asked, her hand on your shoulder made you jump on your seat. "Sorry."

"It's okay," you managed to reply.

"What are you worrying about?"

You hesitated, frown growing deeper. "It's just . . . I think my ex girlfriend will finally end my career."

"How?"

"She's going to file a case against me," you said, almost in tears.

"Is that what you think she's going to do?" She chuckled softly.

"What are you giggling about? It's not funny."

"Sorry," she went on still laughing, "but you have to see this."

Apparently, Rooney had posted a public apology addressed to you, clearing you out, redeeming your image, and admitting it was her jealousy that ended your relationship, that she was willing to destroy her career in exchange for yours. And that she wanted so badly to talk to you if you'd only let her.

It felt like a relief as you saw the ones who reposted the post, as you read the comments from people defending you and supporting you, that Emma was a better choice than Rooney. It felt like the weight of the world was taken off your shoulder.

Emma then wrapped her arms around you as you sobbed into her chest. And she only let you.

Some weeks later, Emma asked you out on a date. A real date, saying she was willing to try. Maybe it was Rooney's post that made her trust you. Maybe she was just scared. But you also wanted to try it with her.

Rooney eventually stopped contacting you. The damage has already been done. One day, you may be able to forgive her. But never to forget.

MAYBE the public apology was what made Lizzie finally approached you during the last few days in the production. She brought you a gift, the cheesecake that used to be your favorite. Now, you didn't like how too sweet it was, wanting nothing more than to savor Cornish pasty introduced by your girlfriend Emma.

"Hey, Y/n," she greeted. "I . . . I brought you this."

"Thank you, Lizzie," you said, accepting with haste.

There was awkward silence as she placed her hands inside the pockets of her jeans. "Last day, huh? You want to go for sushi later? My treat."

And maybe it really was the public post Rooney made that made her finally talk to you, as if she was still the same person she was the first time you met. And as if you were still interested in her as you were months ago.

"Sorry, I have to meet Em for dinner tonight," you said, smiling apologetically.

"It's fine, it's fine," she said, brushing you off with a forced chuckle. "So, it's true you two are dating, huh?"

You nodded, avoiding the brunette's gaze. "Yeah, it is."

"She doesn't know how lucky she is."

You paused, wondering why you were no longer feeling any butterflies in your stomach whenever she was around. "I'm the lucky one, actually. Goodnight, Elizabeth."

"G-Goodnight, Y/n."

Like you said, the damage was already done.

[demonvibez]

Showering with Lucifer

·Characters: Lucifer x GN! Reader

·Word Count: 1100+

·Rating: Mature/Explicit (Minors DNI)

·Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Smut

·Tags: domestic fluff, mentions of reader being sick, gender neutral body parts, oral sex, penetration, mentions of fangs and marking

·A/N: was gonna write this for all seven demon bros but I got carried away with Lucifer's part! Lemme know which brother/dateable you'd like to see in this scenario next ♡

Typically, Lucifer prefers to use the shower over taking a bath

Most of the time, he gets down to business in the shower; no time to dawdle about with distractions, he has a schedule to adhere to, titles to maintain and a House to oversee.

Very thorough, he has his showers down to a 5 minute routine in a very methodical order

He has always used the same set of products he enjoys, originally a gift - a Dragon's Blood bath set given randomly by Lord Diavolo; it works for him and he thinks it smells nice, so why mess with perfection? 

However, things started changing the closer your relationship with him grew

At first he didn't really care to shower with you because he often didn't have the time and thought it would be more efficient to shower separately

One evening you find yourself feeling rather sick, which prompts Lucifer to insist on looking after you in his room, despite you already being comfortably curled up in your own bed

"If anyone is capable of bringing you back to health, it's me," he said with his arms crossed, his usual air of arrogance lingering around his words

He gathers up a few of your things and put them in the empty backpack hung on the back of your closet door, before slinging it over his shoulder and scooping you up in his arms

Of course he could keep a better eye on your condition in his room, safely tucked into his silky soft bed sheets

As he watches over you, shock and concern paints his features as he notices that your condition continues to get worse

You're running a fever that needs to be broken, so he draws you a bath and tends to you personally 

Sat behind you in the tub as he leans you against his bare chest, he gently washes your hair with his shampoo, making sure to be careful as he rinses everything out, softly running his gloveless fingers through the strands

His gentleness to you while you're in such a vulnerable state brings the two of you even closer together than before, emboldened with a new sense of trust and familiarity 

After that, you find yourselves becoming increasingly inseparable, which naturally results in you sleeping in his bed and using his shower quite often

Several of your favorite bath products now line the walls of his shower

Some random weekend mornings his hair will smell like your conditioner, and it will give him the most smug of grins for the entirety of the day

He's even more smug and prideful when you are the one wearing his scent, though

He usually tries to stay on task when you shower together, making sure you're both completely clean from head to toe

There are many nights, however, in which he finds himself unable to reign in his urges - to hell with paperwork, he'd rather lose himself in you right now

He lathers his body gel down your body, his hands caressing each of your curves slowly yet firmly as he further commits them to his memory, watching as the water cascades down your body to rinse the suds away

His lips trail soft kisses down your jaw, his fangs lightly nipping at your neck as he hungrily makes his way down to your collarbone, a mark or two of his slowly blooming across the surface of your skin

He continues his way down your body, briefly stopping to swirl one of your sensitive nipples around his eager tongue, before continuing down to truly taste you

He throws one of your legs over his shoulder, holding you up as he helps himself - lapping and sucking away at your sex, pushing you closer to your first orgasm with each deliberate stroke

Your hands can't help but to slide to his crown, gripping onto his horns in order to keep you grounded in reality as you try your best to keep your eyes locked on his

His crimson eyes gaze up at you as he worships every inch of you, and every drop of your sweet nectar on his lips fills him with a sense of pride that only your pleasure can bring, both of you riding those feelings into the stratosphere 

After bringing you to climax, he pushes your leg down and slides up your body, hooking and holding your leg around his waist as he uses his other hand to line himself up with you

He slowly begins to push himself inside of you, strained groans splashing off the walls with the shower's rain as he gradually slides himself deeper 

You feel so good around him that he can't help it when his wings unfurl the moment he finally sinks all the way into you, the last thread of control he had finally unraveling 

He sets a slow and steady pace as he pours every ounce of passion into each individual thrust, his hand gripping your thigh as his thrusts slowly start to pick up in pace

And every thrust fills you with more and more pleasure, building up inside of you, the crescendo threatening to erupt at any moment as your eyes roll into the back of your head - you hear him whisper your name

"Look into my eyes…" he said in a husky tone as he put a hand on your sex and overstimulates it as he continues to thrust into you, his rhythm growing erratic as he pushes you both over the edge into pure bliss

He locks his lips to yours as you both ride that high, wanting to make the moment last as long as possible

Even as you try to gently pull away from him, he whispers, "just a moment longer, my love," as he slides his hold around you just a bit tighter, a small laugh escaping your lips before you steal another kiss from him

As you wrap up your shower together, he helps rinse you off one more time, before offering a hand to help you out of the shower and wrapping you in a warm, fluffy towel

He dresses you in one of his bathrobes before setting off to grab you a set of pajamas, trying his best to hide his smirk when he returns with one of his own shirts and a half assed excuse - you knew you had an extra set in his bottom drawer, but you didn't even hesitate to grab his shirt and throw it on

Once you finish your routine, you both crawl into his bed

You find yourself in your natural place, snuggled up to his chest with his arms wrapped around you

As you both begin to drift off into slumber together, he presses a kiss to the top of your head

"I love you so much," he whispers, "sweet dreams, my little lamb."

And with his final thoughts of the night, he can't help but to think how much better you make even the tiniest aspects of his life, a smile on his face as sleep finally takes him

- demonvibez ♡ - likes/reblogs appreciated - do not repost! -

[flowerandblood]

Play with my heart (Epilogue)

[ modern actors • Aemond x Strong • female ]

[ warnings: semi-public sex, smut, angst, fluff, sexual tension, little domination & praise kink ]

[ description: He gets the main role in a series about a great family and dragons, which could change his career. He is set to play the uncle and love interest of his childhood friend. When he meets the actress who plays her role, he begins to lose track of what is an acting and what is his real feelings. Sexual tension, grumpy, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: Yeah. I talked about it and I did it. You don't even know how much fun I had doing this. Of course, my characters play in a series whose script is an exact copy of my story The Fall from the Heavens. In this universe, Aemond (playing the One-Eyed Prince) and Rhaenys (playing the Princess) are of course not related – the other characters are also just actors. This three-part series is my gift to all fans of the original series, thank you so much for your support. "Rhaenys" in this story is her artistic pseudonym which she use instead of her real name. You can read this as a standalone story.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

The first months after the shooting were both wonderful and terrifying for him. Contrary to his grandfather's predictions, he did not stop thinking about her; moreover, he missed her so much that he did not know what to do with himself.

He got used to their daily conversations, the embrace of her warm arms, falling asleep between her soft breasts, watching Disney movies together with her with a big bowl of popcorn.

She brought a breath of fresh air into his life, a smile, lightness and laughter, forcing him to let his inner child that he had always suppressed within him come to the surface.

With her, he was not ashamed to be weak, tired, sad, discouraged. She gave him the comfort of knowing that all his feelings as a human being were natural and desired by her, no matter how ashamed he might be of them.

They tried to see each other every two weekends, taking turns visiting each other. Although he wanted to spend time with her walking around museums and parks, they usually ended up staying in bed all the time off, trying to make up for lost time.

They also saw each other at interviews to promote the series, for which the producers sent the actors in pairs, and unfortunately, although they tried to hide it, a few gestures and glances during them caused both her and him to be flooded with a wave of comments from fans so large that they had to block them from being added to their profiles.

Nooo, they're not a good match. 😫

It's just a promotional trick. They're going to break up after they finish airing the series. 😒

Leave my prince alone!!! 🤬🤬🤬

I'd love to fuck her myself, not gonna lie 👀

It's already clear where the chemistry between them comes from, lol. Pathetic. 🤮

Both of them were very much affected by the nasty comments and criticism, fearing that the production would draw some consequences against them, but it turned out that this made the whole project generate even more interest before the premiere, which pleased them.

However, in between the nasty, bitter remarks, they also received messages filled with good emotions, wishing them luck, saying that they were great to watch, that they complemented each other perfectly in interviews, that it was clear from the trailers that there was genuine affection between them.

They tried to cope with it all by talking for hours on the phone, sometimes crying together from sadness and exhaustion, falling asleep with speakerphone on, waking up in the morning and seeing that they hadn't hung up all night.

He felt he was ready to move on and thought everything through, at the same time wanting to surprise her.

"– how was your audition? –" She asked softly, excitement in her voice.

"– unfortunately, not very successful –" He lied, fiddling with his pen between his fingers, sitting at his desk, having just exchanged emails with the director of her theatre, with whom he had spoken personally a few days before about the terms of his future employment.

"– oh no – I'm very sorry – how are you feeling? –" She asked clearly worried, making him feel remorseful for a moment that she would believe he was suffering.

"– fine – I wasn't feeling that role – I'm lucky that I can be more choosy now – and how are you, little one? –" He hummed, writing back in an email that, as agreed, he would turn up in three days to sign the contract in their town.

His girlfriend grunted, clearly very excited by the news she had to share with him.

"– apparently they've hired a new actor in our theatre, but no one knows who it is – the director is very mysterious –" She said, her voice light and warm, filled with joy.

"– mmm – are you excited to have a new colleague on stage? –" He murmured as he sent the email, closing his laptop with a quiet click.

He heard her laugh at his words.

"– not in the way you suggest –" She said.

"– are you a good girl when I'm not around? –" He hummed, licking his lips involuntarily, feeling the pulsation in his trousers at his words.

"– well –"

"– are you touching yourself? –"

"– I –"

"– answer me – don't lie –"

She was silent for a long moment making him grin, biting his lower lip.

"– so you haven't been a good girl, or am I wrong? –" He sneered and heard her swallow hard.

"– you know what happens to bad girls, don't you? –" He asked, looking at the display of his screen, feeling his heart pounding fast.

"– but –" She finally mumbled out in embarrassment.

"– mmm – I'll see you soon –" He murmured and hung up, knowing that he had left her in complete shock for sure with her panties wet with her moisture.

The third thing he enjoyed most right after fucking her and talking to her was teasing her.

The next day the removal van took his things to the flat he had rented on short notice figuring they would find something together later, and after two days he drove to her town straight to the theatre building.

He went inside through the main entrance and ran quickly upstairs, praying not to meet her on the way, heading for her director's office. The man welcomed him warmly, saying that he was very happy that an actor with such charisma would be performing on his stage.

From the audience it was impossible to see whether his eye was real or fake, and his scar could be covered up with make-up if necessary.

His grandfather was furious, saying that he was giving up a world-class career for second-rate theatre, but he was relieved.

He didn't want to go through again what he was going through now – being torn apart by paparazzi and fans, being in the spotlight all the time.

He was tired of it and decided that, although it was a great adventure, like her he wanted to work in theatre, where artistic sense, monologues and dialogues counted more than nudity and sex.

It was what he wanted for both of them.

The director said it was time to introduce him to the whole crew.

"– I kept it a secret from everyone so that she wouldn't accidentally find out about anything –" The director laughed, a short, grey-haired man with a warm voice and a good-natured face, a visionary and a lover of the classic literature he was staging in his theatre.

"– I can see you with the eyes of my imagination in the roles of Hamlet and Ophelia – you've been wonderfully matched, I have to give you that –" He said softly, and he nodded, thinking in the back of his mind that indeed, this was a fantastic idea.

He felt excited like a little child and thought in the back of his mind that it was because of her, that she had changed him, making him fight for his fulfilment, his comfort, his joy.

"– my dears –" He called out, stepping onto the stage during their rehearsal for The Wedding of Wyspianski, his Rhaenys dressed in Slavic folk costume and a garland on her head turned towards them along with several other people.

Her eyes grew big in disbelief at the sight of him.

"– I would like to introduce you to your new colleague, who from now on will be playing on the stage of our theatre – I am very pleased –"

Everyone looked at her and she just stood there, looking at him and his grin full of satisfaction, breathing loudly through her mouth, her bright eyes hot with affection, disbelief and happiness that apparently shook her body.

Several people laughed as she threw herself into his arms and burst into a loud, panicked sob, whooping and panting with her own tears, his broad hands stroking her hair and back while his lips placed warm, reassuring kisses on her face hot with emotion.

"– shhh – it's okay, little one –"

She looked at him in disbelief, gushing with energy and joy as she introduced everyone to him one by one. He was relieved by the warm welcome given to him by the other actors, some of whom could have been his parents or even grandparents.

They seemed very close to each other and addressed each other warmly.

He was allowed to stay in rehearsal to see how they worked, so he watched as his girlfriend played a young bride, a village girl marrying a nobleman, during whose wedding many unexplained, mysterious events occur.

He smiled the whole time, watching her, satisfied that apart from one brief kiss there was no intimacy on stage between her and her partner, exactly as she had described it to him in their telephone conversations.

When it was all over she ran up to him in her folk costume, all hot, breathing loudly through her mouth, field flowers entwined together on her head.

"– what do you think?! –" She asked, and he hummed under his breath.

"– I really like your staging – I need to read this drama – you look amazing –" He hummed. He smiled under his breath as she sat on his lap – the seats in the audience were sunk in darkness so the people on stage couldn't see very well what they were doing.

"– I can't believe it – you've been lying all this time –" She muttered simultaneously embittered and delighted. He shook his head at her words.

"– I told you I had an audition – I just didn't say where –" He stated.

"– you said you did badly –" She said, wrinkling her eyebrows – she squealed as he caught her around the waist and pulled her closer, making her feel the hard bulge in his trousers.

"– that was my subjective assessment which was clearly not shared by your director –" He grinned, looking at her with his lips slightly parted. They both sighed as her hips rubbed against his pulsing erection, her gaze hot and misty.

"– my little girl can't stand it? – shall I take you to the toilet? –" He sneered and she swallowed hard, red with embarrassment and nodded.

Nothing more than panting and moans left their throats as they locked themselves in one of the cabins, their mouths immediately clinging to each other in greedy, loud, messy, sticky kisses. Their saliva clicked each time their lips pulled away from each other, his hands pulled up the material of her skirt and petticoat, pulling her panties off her thighs.

"– turn your back to me –" He commanded, and she did so without a word of objection, in a natural reflex leaning over and bucking her buttocks towards him, knowing what he wanted to do. His hands exposed her bare hips to him and what was between them, her opening glistening from her wetness, pink and swollen.

He hit her womanhood with a sharp, short slap and she jumped up with a quiet squeal and whimpered.

"– quiet – I warned you – I said: no touching – didn't I? –" He asked, gently rubbing and massaging the little spot that pulsed all over and leaked from his stroke, teasing the puffy bud between her plushy folds.

"– 'm sorry – I tried –" She confessed with embarrassment, panting heavily, rolling her hips to the rhythm of the strokes of his hand, trying to find a better source of squeeze.

"– the deal was different –" He said coolly, parting and rubbing her throbbing, dripping wet slit, her cheek pressed against the wall all red with pleasure, her lips parted in a helpless moan.

"– it's all mine – the sight of your fulfilment, your moisture, your little cunt is meant for my eyes –" He continued, as if he was explaining to her some essential, eternal principle, something obvious and logical that she could not change. She trembled as two of his fingers slipped between her slick, throbbing walls, stretching her core.

"– yes – I'm sorry – I missed you so much –" She mumbled, rocking her hips to the rhythm of the thrusts of his fingers, which teased and pressed the spongy bud between her fleshy folds deep inside her, from which a trickle of her moisture ran down her thigh.

"– mmm – I know, baby – I missed you too –" He confessed, recognising that although he wanted to, he couldn't last much longer. This sight and the euphoria that gripped his body made him let go of her as his hands slid down to the belt of his trousers, undoing it – her eyes opened in hope, her breath accelerated and uneven.

"– please –" She muttered.

"– shhh –" He hushed her, grabbing her by the waist, the other releasing his throbbing, fat erection, the tip of which he guided to her leaking, swollen slit.

"– thaat's it – there you go – fuck –" He exhaled, slowly forcing his way between her hot, fleshy walls, clenching greedily around his cock, sucking it inside her.

"– yes – yes, God, please, yes –" She mewled, immediately beginning to roll her hips to the rhythm of his impatient, fierce thrusts, fitting his pulsing erection inside her again and again, though they tried to restrain themselves, their panting and moans echoed around the restroom.

"– Rhaenys –" He muttered, sinking his face into her fragrant, hot neck, her scent wonderfully familiar, her insides moist and warm, welcoming him with ease. He thought about it, thrusting into her with slick, sharp stabs – how deep he was in her body, how much they united in this chaotic, viscous act of desire.

"– Aemond – o-oh, fuck, fuck, oh, God –" She cried out as he imposed a fast, aggressive pace on her, pounding into her with the deep, sharp pushes of his hips, opening her wide with his manhood throbbing painfully with longing.

"– shhh – shhh, little one – just a little more – yes, that's my girl –" He praised her, panting heavily as he felt her reach the edge, her breath heavy and loud.

Nothing more than moans and grunts left her lips, her little cunt gave him a few more thirsty, steady squeezes before she shuddered with sweet fulfilment, her wetness running down his thighs as with the last, loud slaps he reached his peak inside her with a sigh of delight.

Since she was taking the pills, he could fuck her whenever and wherever he wanted.

"– fuck –" He breathed out, embracing her tightly from behind, while still rocking his hips inside her and hugging her like a little, longing child.

He wished she would say that they were going to watch some new cartoon or comedy in the evening, that they were going to lie in their sweatpants, spread out comfortably on her bed, cuddled up, eating popcorn, kissing and caressing each other.

"– m-maybe – maybe let's go to my place – we'll watch something and relax – I can cook you something, but we need to do some shopping –" She whispered, stroking his arm, and he purred, delighted by her words.

"– yes – yes, that's what I need –"

[myjisung]

crushing with han !

content. stray kids han, headcanons, gn!reader — fluff.

warning. none

wordcount. 500

a/n. after the love language and kisses series, here comes the crushing series! i will tell you all about how skz acts when they have a crush ( headcanons, they're all my opinion. feel free to disagree, obviously ). tell me who you would like to read about next in this series :o) i missed this account so badly... i hope to be active in the coming weeks! ♥︎

WOULD HE CRUSH FIRST ?

han is the type to start developing feelings the moment he sees that someone expresses romantic interest towards him. yes, he does sometimes admire people from afar and wonders about them but for a real crush to form, he needs the push of someone being interested first. so no, not really. you would most likely be crushing on han first.

HOW HE WOULD ACT.

when han has a crush, it can go two very distinct ways:

either he is crazily obvious about it. han would be blushing the second you walk into the room and giggle uncontrollably at his own clumsiness. he would trip over his words, second guess every answer he gives to your questions and tickle the back of his neck when deep in thought. his friends would be no help at all, staring at him from the other side of the room trying to make him realize that you can see right through him. but sadly for han, he simply cannot help it.

or, he would simply not even look your way. it comes from a place of deep anxiety more than one of trying to look cool. han is too aware of your presence and the way it makes him feel. so much so that he would rather be distant and not look like he cares deeply though it is counter productive. he would ( try to ) keep his cool, laugh nonchalantly at your jokes and look your way when your back is turned. in a few words ; han would care for you in concealed ways.

WOULD HE MAKE THE FIRST MOVE ?

not really. he might if you were dancing around each other for months. han would lose patience then and get over his fear of rejection to try and ask you out.

he would much rather you ask him out or raise the question of what you both were after a few exclusive hangouts. han would not be able to live through the embarrassment of being rejected though he is mature enough to take it. he is rather afraid he would pressure you into saying yes to dating him just because he put you on the spot.

but if it can be any motivation: if you were to ask him out, han would give you one of his biggest heart-shaped smiles. all teeth and adoration.

MISCELLANEOUS.

han is quite a big fan of crushing, if that makes any sense. he feels inspired to create when he grows to know and like someone more as days go by.

he is one to romanticize the entire process of forming a crush / a connection to someone new. which is why he lets the whole 'crushing period' go on for as long as he can. of course he yearns for a relationship, but there is just something so sweet and innocent about dancing around each other. the stolen glances, the shy smiles, fingers brushing against each other's when walking side by side or the jitters he feels everytime he texts you ; han loves it all.

the type to be exclusive when crushing or casual dating. han gives his undivided attention to one person at a time.

taglist. @aeinzzzketchup — let me know if you would like to be added / removed.

© myjisung. please do not copy, translate, repost or claim my work as your own.

[sansaorgana]

— NEW MEMORIES

PAIRING — Erik Lehnsherr x fem!Mutant!Reader

SUMMARY — You're excited to celebrate holidays for the first time in a long time and you prepare the school for Christmas and Hanukkah but your husband's attitude differs, which leads to an argument. You accidentally reveal too soon that you're expecting, which ruins a surprise.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — As usual, Reader’s mutation is NOT specified. I checked online Hanukkah's date for 1973 and I hope it showed me right that it started December 19th, which means it would overlap with Christmas. I also tried not to specify if Reader would celebrate only Hanukkah with Erik or Christmas, too, so I hope it's not very exclusive, because I imagine that even if she is not a Christian or Jewish, she would still want to celebrate Hanukkah because of her husband. In this fic, Erik and Reader are both teachers at Xavier's School, probably after Days of Future Past happened but with less shitty ending for Erik 😂 I also wanted to write a part when the baby is born but I decided the time difference between the scenes would be too big so I'll just write another fic 😁

WARNINGS — mentions of parents' death (Reader's backstory is similar to Jean Grey's)

WORD COUNT — 2,220

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

NEW MEMORIES

December has never been your favourite time of the year. Most of the time it was a reminder that you weren’t normal, that your life wasn’t usual and that whatever all these people in Christmas commercials had was out of your reach.

But in 1973, for the first time in your life, you were actually excited. And since Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters was open again, you had plenty of people to share your excitement with. Lots of students volunteered to help you with decorating the place for the upcoming Christmas and Hanukkah celebrations. That year was one of those when the two of them overlapped.

After all your classes on Friday, you worked on yet another room of the house with the help of a few students. When you finished it was almost ten pm so you told them goodnight and went straight to your bedroom. Erik was already there, reading a history book and making notes.

“What is it about?” you asked him with a smile as you began to take off your clothes. You were so tired that you decided to take a shower in the morning and now just change into pajamas.

“Napoleonic wars,” your husband answered without looking up. “I have a feeling he might have been one of us.”

“Aren’t we, like, a product of this century?” you asked and put a nightgown on. “Come on, it’s late, let’s go to sleep,” you stood behind him and placed your hands on his shoulders.

“I’ve only just begun,” he explained. “I need these notes for Monday.”

When you managed to convince Erik to join you at school and teach history, he was unsure about it but he promised to give it a try. Just like you promised you would leave with him to live in peace somewhere else if he wouldn’t like the life at Charles’ school. But one semester later he was already very engaged in his work. Students respected him although you could see that they were also a bit scared of him, which was understandable.

“You’ve just begun?” you laughed a little.

“I was playing chess with Charles earlier,” Erik answered with a nod and hummed after underlining a line in the book.

“Is this why you’re so tense?” you asked as you slightly squeezed his stiff shoulders. “Did you lose?”

“I’m not tense,” he tried to shake you off.

“Talk to me, Erik. It’s not gonna work if you refuse to talk to me,” you reminded him sternly and he sighed before putting the pencil down and closing the book. “We need to be open about what is bothering us, you promised me we’d make it work this time,” you added.

“Yes, I know. But I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” Erik turned his head around to look at your face. You took a step back and furrowed your brows.

“What do you mean, Erik?” you asked.

He hesitated before saying anything and a million of possible scenarios started to come up to your mind.

“You don’t like it here?” You inquired. “You want us to move out?”

“No, it’s not about that… But…” Erik swallowed thickly and took a deep breath in. “I don’t like what you’re currently doing. I’m sorry. I don’t want to take your happiness out of it.”

“What am I currently doing?” you couldn’t understand what he was saying.

“Christmas and Hanukkah preparations,” he explained and you blinked a few times as your brain needed to process that information.

“Wait, what?!” you raised your voice a little. You didn’t want to scold him for expressing his feelings but you just couldn’t understand his reaction. “We’re going to celebrate for the first time in such a long time, and what’s more important, we’re not gonna be alone in this. We have our friends and students here. For the first time December is a positive time of the year to me… to us,” you tried to explain your point of view nervously. Erik was only looking at you and blinking slowly, patiently waiting for you to finish. “But I don’t do it for myself. I mostly am doing it for you, Erik. I wanted you to be happy, too. I wanted you to enjoy something that had been taken away from you a long time ago.”

“It reminds me of Hanukkahs with my parents,” he finally spoke up and you pursed your lips for a moment before opening your mouth again.

“So you don’t want to ever celebrate again?” you asked to be sure.

“No, I don’t think so,” he shook his head.

“Why can’t you let yourself be happy, why are you torturing yourself further? I don’t get it, I’m sorry,” you tried not to be irritated but you felt utterly disappointed. You sat on the edge of your bed and hid your face in your hands.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be a killjoy.”

“Too late,” you murmured, fighting your tears back.

“I know that most of the students will be celebrating. I think I’ll just leave for a week somewhere. I have already discussed it with Charles and he said there are a few things I can do for him at that time,” Erik’s voice sounded casual like he was discussing business for you.

“You want to leave us during Christmas time?” you moved the hands off of your face and looked up at him angrily.

“(Y/N), please, I don’t want to fight about it…” Erik sighed. “Why can’t you just understand that I don’t want to…” he clenched his jaw and looked away. “I don’t want to create new memories like this because it would remove the ones I already have… with my mother.”

“And you think she wouldn’t want you to celebrate holidays with your new family? You don’t think she’d want you to be happy?” you stood up and looked down at him. You felt like a bitch but his explanation made you even angrier.

“I don’t know what she’d want because she’s dead!” He stood up and raised his voice.

“So, I won’t be able to celebrate ever?! Because you don’t want to create new memories?” you put your hands on your hips.

“I’m not forbidding you to celebrate.”

“I don’t want to celebrate without you, don’t you understand?!” you yelled and rolled your eyes. “And when our child is born, you won’t celebrate Hanukkah with them either?” you asked and then you closed your mouth quickly. Your anger made you reveal a few things too early.

“What child?” you could see Erik’s face becoming pale within a second. “(Y/N)?”

“It was supposed to be a Christmas surprise… But since you won’t even be here, I guess I can tell you now,” you shrugged your arms. “I’m pregnant,” you announced and turned around to avoid looking at his face. You were scared of his reaction.

You didn’t know how long it took him to finally do something. Was it a very long minute or was it ten minutes of a heavy silence between you two…?

“(Y/N), I’m sorry,” he finally whispered. Apologizing wasn’t his strong trait. You sensed him standing behind you and putting his hand on your shoulder shyly. You didn’t push him away but you didn’t lean back towards him as usual either. “For how long do you know?”

“Two weeks. It’s the second month,” you answered, your eyes focused on the wall in front of you as you tried to fight the tears back. “Are you even happy?” you dared to ask and your lower lip trembled because asking it out loud made your heart break.

You were trying to give him a normal life, to give him family and happiness, joy around Christmas time and all that. But he seemed to prefer to dwell on his past. You didn’t expect him to forget about his mother or about the pain, of course not. Your past wasn’t exactly pleasant either. But you wanted to be happy despite that, you wanted to have a family, you wanted a new start in life, another chance.

“Of course I am,” Erik answered and gently turned your body around so you would face him. However, you tried to avoid his eyes. “But I’m terrified,” he confessed.

“And you think I am not?” you looked up eventually as a few tears rolled down your cheeks. “I’m a monster, Erik. You think I’m not scared of hurting them by accident?” you asked.

When you were about twelve years old, you caused your parents’ death after having an argument with them. Your powers were out of control and you were locked in a mental institution for underage girls by people who didn’t understand that you weren’t crazy nor really dangerous. That was where you met the person who made you realize who you were and who was the only person there who wouldn’t treat you like a monster; although that was the word you could easily call him with. His name was Sebastian Shaw – but he introduced himself as Doctor John Smith. He was experimenting on you for a few years and although it had been a traumatic experience, you learnt how to control your mutation thanks to him. That was also how you met Erik – he found you not so long after you turned eighteen years old and left the institution. You started to work as a waitress and he was hunting for the man who had used your pain and suffering to perform experiments on you to deepen his knowledge about the various mutations. You decided to join Erik because your life didn’t seem to have any purpose anyway.

“You’re not a monster,” he sighed and pulled you closer to wrap his arms around you. With one of his hands he held the back of your head and caressed your hair. “You were just a child and now you’re older, you can control your powers. You’re extraordinary,” he whispered the words of comfort and kissed your forehead. “I’m not scared about you hurting our baby, I would never. I trust you with my life,” he assured you and it was comforting to hear that.

“Creating new memories doesn’t wipe out the old ones,” you cried out and pressed your face deeper into his chest. “Believe me, I wish it worked this way. I wish I could forget. I begged Charles to make me forget but he refused to do it to me,” you confessed and Erik raised your chin to make you look at him again. He hadn’t known about that before.

“You haven’t told me that,” his face was full of pain and worry.

“It was when you were in jail. I begged Charles to remove all the pain, the memory of my parents, the memory of Shaw… Even you. I begged him to even remove you from my head. But he told me I wouldn’t be myself any longer. He was right and I hate that. I hate that what I am is made of pain and suffering,” you sniffled. “That’s why I want to make good memories so badly, do you understand? I want to celebrate with you like we never have before. I want to laugh and feel safe. Like I belong somewhere, surrounded with friends and students, with my husband by my side and my baby growing inside of me. Do you understand my point of view now, Erik?” you bit on your trembling lip.

“Yes, my liebling, I do,” he nodded and leaned in to kiss your forehead and then the tip of your nose, which made you giggle through the tears, until eventually he pecked your lips.

“But I don’t want to force you either,” you sighed. Now, when all your emotions were finally out and you calmed yourself down, you decided there was no point in pushing him into something that would make him feel uncomfortable. “If you don’t want to celebrate, it’s alright. We both have our right to deal with whatever that has happened to us in our own ways. I’ll still have fun with all the rest, don’t worry about me,” you assured him.

“No, you were right. About me choosing to torture myself instead of allowing myself to enjoy my life,” Erik caressed your cheek and you cracked a smile. “And I can’t miss my child’s first Hanukkah either.”

“I want them to have a happy childhood,” you told him. “Like we never had.”

“I know. I do, too,” Erik placed his hand on your belly and caressed it gently, like it was made of glass. “I will protect them from everything, I promise. No human will hurt our baby.”

You smiled at him and cupped his face before leaning in to give him a proper kiss this time.

But you didn’t tell him that what you feared more than humans hurting your child was actually the child turning out to be perfectly normal. You were afraid that a man so prejudiced towards humans as your husband wouldn’t love his child fully if they weren’t a mutant. You couldn’t tell him that, though. You didn’t want to fight with him anymore that night. Instead, you just kissed him. After all, you’d still have a few years before you’d find out if the baby was a mutant or not.

MASTERLIST

[enkays-den]

Enkay watches the Imp and Skizz Podcast #128 (feat..... Imp and Skizz?????)

This week the boys took questions from the community and answered them! It's been a long time coming, since the last time they did this was over two years ago!

NOTE: none of these are direct quotes unless they are in quotation marks! I paraphrased a LOT to make this post decently short! This podcast is an hour forty minutes long, you GOTTA watch the full thing! x

"thanks for having me. big fan." i love skizz

Skizzleman name origin! He wanted to make a username for a poker website and the original slant on his last name was taken; a rap stereotype at the time was to slap 'izzle' on the end of it, Skizzleman was born

Impulse name origin! Impulse played marching snare for a drum corp called Impulse! His initials are SV so he smacked that on the end.

Question #1 from Marihl1354: What advice would you give to the other 10 years in the past?

Impulse: Join me. If you have the time, make it because you WILL be successful.

Skizz: Care less about what others think, because you can fly so far if you stop trying to please everyone and follow your instincts.

Question #2 from Hunter-7115: Who's the Better Host?

Both! It wouldn't be the podcast you know and love if it wasn't both of us!

"I complete you" SHUT UPPPPP

Question #3 from nicholashalom1632: Biggest moment that put your friendship to the test?

This story from the first Q&A We were both being you and stupid and drunk and thankfully we've never been that bad since.

Question #4 from IdiotSandwich2087: How exactly would you define your worst day in content creation?

Impulse: Any time where I have my day planned and I'm excited for it, and then something gets in the way and messes up my plan. It's mainly just frustrating and it's something I specifically have issues about.

Skizz: My first Twitch Rivals event, my internet cut out several times, and it was frustrating and demoralizing, but I didn't lose my cool.

Question #5 from iceybruhyt2178: What did you think initially when Grian originally pitched Third Life?

Skizz: I knew it would be a hit. I didn't know the longevity, but I knew it was going to be a success because it had the potential to have story elements that the audience would enjoy. I'm honored that I was picked since my channel was so small at the time.

Impulse: I knew it would work, but I didn't know how well us together would make this perfect ensemble. And it's still an amazing group that gels so well together on and off screen after almost 4 years. Each person wants everyone to have a good time and make great videos.

Question #6 from opalwhisker: What do you do with all the gifts you receive? What's the weirdest/funniest gift you've been given? What's your favorite stuff?

Impulse: Pretty much everything is special, because they all have heart and meaning to the person that gave it to me, and it makes me very grateful for my fans and for what I do.

Skizz: The drawings really impress me because it's such a show of skill and talent and everything is so touching because it's personal.

Question #7 from AgnesBooth-zu7tw: What would you do for content creation if you can't do Hermitcraft?

Skizz: Streaming. I like doing variety game streaming as well as Hermitcraft, the cooking stream with my wife was a lot of fun. Also voice acting (enkay personal note: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE)

Impulse: Anything that shows off my authentic self. I also really enjoy the video production end of things because it makes a great product and it plays to my strengths, I want to persue that more.

Also the Podcast!

Questions #8 and #9 from TrueCDC

Question #8: What video are you most proud of?

Impulse: The Storm the Castle video! I worked so hard on it, I learned a ton of new things, and it was really fulfilling for me to build something that was an experience everyone enjoyed.

Skizz: The Guess the Build series! I pitched the original idea based off of Telestrations and Grian took my idea and really polished it in terms of rules and getting the server mechanics organized so it's sleek. They're so much fun to make, everyone has a great time, the videos are amazing. I love the laughs we get out of it.

WHY WAS THAT BLEEP SO LONG

Question #9: What would you do differently about the podcast if you started again tomorrow?

The name. It doesn't telegraph a lot of information if you don't know who we are, and it doesn't really say anything about what sort of stuff we make.

The thing we DON'T regret is making our podcast NOT centered around a particular topic. It keeps things interesting for us and that's the most important element to keep the podcast going for as long as we want.

Questions #10 and #11 from Ranger12_

Question #10: What have you learned from each other?

Skizz: The importance of planning when it's needed. I tend to be more loose and free but it has it downfalls. I can still plan but have the freedom I need.

Impulse: A bit of parenting advice from Skizz. "If your kid is asking you to spend time with them to make a memory, You Take It."

Question #11: How did marching band change you?

Impulse: It kind of helped expose us to the multitasking that we would see later in adulthood, between school, having to have a job, and practicing. It taught me a lot of discipline and I got to experience the rush of REALLY hard work actually paying off.

Skizz: It really had a LOT of gravity and importance because of how intense and highly respected DCI is. It's a lot of pressure and we all had to pitch in to execute routines PERFECTLY.

Question #12 from LoSDockForBoats: Skizz, when you realize there was never a time limit on living your life to its fullest?

Skizz: A combination of my MS diagnosis in my mid-20s and any time when someone close to me passes away is always a wake-up call.

Question #13 from catfan0_0: Who are your favorite non-Minecraft content creators?

Skizz: For drumming, Estepario simply because he's the best, Brad Owen makes really good poker content and his videos are interesting, insightful, and funny! Sam The Cooking Guy is an amazing chef and host, and the post production is great, and the recipes he makes are AMAZING! (special shoutout to theOdd1sOut and Mark Rober)

Impulse: Harris Heller, he's a tech guy that I get most of my gear recommendations from, and I enjoy his videos.

Questions #14 and #15 from @skizzpulsee (AHHHHHHHH)

Question #14: What's your Roman Empire? (they didn't understand what that meant)

Impulse: Expanding my content to a wider scope.

Skizz: I don't think I have one (Enkay grabs the mic: IT'S SITCOMS)

Question #15 for Skizz: What's the best prank of all time?

Skizz: It was ages ago when I was working at Costco. There was a woman named K would nick little paper/cardboard signs that no one would miss from fast food places and stuff to decorate her room. We went to a Subway for lunch break and she said she wanted a sign that had LED lights in it. I grabbed it as we left and head back to work. She took it and later on I see there's a couple cop cars in the mall plaza and he told his boss to say that the cops were there for K because of the sign. He SOLD it and K is freaking out. I come back and pretend the cops talked to me. I grab the sign again and go outside to "talk to the cops". I put the sign in her car (I stole the keys from her locker) and return and pretend I got a stern talking to from the cops and they have my photo and information.

She got SO anxious about it that my boss felt bad and let her take the day off. She sees the sign in her car and flinches (I have snuck into the parking lot and have followed her). I yell at her to not get too mad, she yells at me good-naturedly, and she takes a well deserved afternoon off. (Kids, don't steal things)

Question #16 from Kiwimarauder: Which guest inspired you?

Impulse: Claire. She motivated me to pull the trigger on lifestyle changes that I'd been wanting to make for a few years now and it's recently been a big impact on me (but also I can't choose, they're all inspirational)

Skizz: My two main ones are Mumbo and Bdubs. Mumbo was such a big inspiration in terms of creativity and not questioning if my ideas are "good enough" and Bdubs because he helped me embrace "I'm happy and healthy and my important people are too, and sometimes that's all the ambition I need"

Question #17 from mariashaw980: Do you ever join the Hermitcraft server to find yourselves enamored by the utter creativity, complexity, and strength of your peers?

Impulse: Yeah, I was a big hermitcraft fan from season 2, and I was watching Etho from before I made a youtube channel. To be in the same space with these people hit me every time I'm with them. They're all inspiring and amazing and it's humbling.

Skizz: ditto to the above, I'm constantly amazed with literally everything

Question #18 from ronaldfelix1850: What other hobbies do you guys have besides gaming?

Skizz: Poker, but it's not a BIG hobby because poker is the fun thing and not gambling. I learned it from my older brothers and I loved the psychological angle of it.

Impulse: Computers and tech stuff, also renovating (probably because of my interior decorator wife). I love working on house projects.

Question #19 from Savannah_831: What's your favorite moment you've had together playing minecraft?

There's so many, but a recent highlight is our prank on Joel early in the season. It was a collaborative moment for us and it's so much fun to get one over on Joel because he has such great reactions and it was a matter of pride

Question #20 from TzainDoesMusic: Who's the one person you want to meet, dead or alive?

Impulse: Matthew McConaughey or Matthew Perry

Skizz: Matthew Perry is also high up there, but also Jesus would be cool. I would ask QUESTIONS. "I bet I could make him laugh"

Questions #21 and #22 from Alchamyx:

Question #21: To Skizz: How in the world do you stay so positive?

Skizz: It's more that I don't show too much real negativity on stream or in videos. It's not really what I want to give as a content creator for you guys, and everyone has bad days, nothing to be ashamed of.

Question #22: To Impulse: How do you see your creative projects come to life?

Impulse: Honestly they're usually spur-of-the-moment ideas, usually inspired by stuff that I surround myself with at the time. My candy factory was inspired by my daughter getting REALLY into all the Willy Wonka stuff. The cyberpunk city and all the lore wasn't inspired by ANYTHING topical. It just came to me, and I knew myself and Bdubs would have fun with the building style.

Questions #23 and #24 from angiesteuck:

Question #23: Skizz, how do you like playing on Hermitcraft?

Skizz: I LOVE it. It's fun being a guy that helps facilitate funny moments. It makes me want to be a better builder and do more for the Hermits, like Tango does with his amazing games

Question #24: Do you ever get recognized when you are out and about?

Impulse: Very rarely. We were once recognized together in the middle of nowhere and it was a really sweet family. But my last vacation I was on a cruise and I was recognized several times! If you see either of us, absolutely say hi when it's an appropriate time!

Skizz: I had a dinner where my waiter recognized me and he was very polite about it, it was such a nice moment.

BONUS PRIMMERS!!!!!

[the-moon-files]

Linked Universe / GN!Reader - Random Headcanons abt the Chain :)

Part 1 (ur here!) / Part 2 / Part 3

Sun: Gender Neutral! Reader (you/they/them), Guide Reader

Orbit: Headcanons-ish

Stars: First, Sky, Four, Legend

Comets & Meteors: Content: None Known & Triggers: None Known.

U have a lot of Nicknames: Guide, Hero's Guide, Prince, Princey, Star, (more to be added?).

☆

First (Manga!Link):

Has "too good" of posture lol

It makes his back stiff and by the time he's in his bedroll he's confused about why it feels better, silly silly man

Just in general tenses his muscles too often, so whenever u offer to massage him, he nearly crumbles on the spot

(the others know exactly how amazing ur massages are, and are fully staring at him in jealousy lol)

Gets little rips and tears in his clothing all the time somehow??

Even tho he wont have a scratch acc on him after hours of battle???

mans could be flying around Skyloft with only clouds touching him and come back pouting telling you he ripped his scarf again :'(

Likes to be slightly in front of you most of the time, especially in new places/other Links' Hyrules

It just makes him feel better knowing he's both protecting you, and that you're watching his back

(Most Links feel at their best/most confident when your voice can be heard just over their shoulder, not that they don't love seeing ur face now too)

Sky (Skyward Sword Link):

Is slowly making everyone he knows a collection of wooden figurines

He usually carves when he's bored or stressed

so needless to say this mission of the Shadow (slow going, stressful at times like Twi getting hurt)

Has made him give u an army of little wooden figures (everyone else gets a small collection bc ur the first he gives one to)

Did i say give? Excuse me, i meant:

sneaks them as a little surprise into your belongings or clothing or other personal effects

This started bc after a week or two of him giving you wooden things you tried to reroute him to other ppl,

so Sky just made it his mission to see how many he can sneak instead onto you on any given day lmao

(Also he may or may not have daydreamed abt being able to carve u things and actually physically give them to you on his adventure before, so he's taking advantage of being able to now)

Has luscious hair at all times, little to no effort, Wars is so pissed abt it lol

Mf responded when asked what products he used (by poor Wars too) with, "wym?? With water??? And soap????"

Never ties his boot laces

You will all be gearing up for battle and go to stalk and stealth kill monsters and right before u get up on them u always have to look over at Sky's shoes and whisper at him to tie them

Is the most likely to plant face first into the ground or trip and fall on his ass from shoes untying

He just didnt need to with being in the clouds on his Loftwing all the time back on Skyloft and so he never rlly adapted to that even on the surface lol

He's also just miserable at doing a decent knot so you've taken to teaching him repeatedly how to tie them-

why didnt the knight academy help with this at all actually??

(Wind makes fun of him be hes a sailor and knows like 10+ knots)

Four (Four Swords/Minish Cap Link):

Loses his tools constantly

Well not really "lose" so much as "slightly misplace"

It drives him crazy, the Minish used to help him with it back in his Hyrule so he got out of the habit of putting things back where they belong

You've gotten to the point where you'll glance over wherever he's working so the next time he comes up to u complaining abt a lost hammer or smth u immediately just "should be over by the fire"

And ur right, 99.9% of the time its so funny

Bc Four's all like "wtf ive moved around so much since then i took all the other tools with me- MF. U WERE RIGHT."

Is rlly good at like color matching, comes in handy for new outfits

Also has aches and pains like in his hands and arms mostly

Bc of all the forge work, and absolutely treasures any massages u offer him

Likes to wear matching jewelry with you! Like earrings or piercings or necklaces etc

Also has good taste in jewelry and what looks good on everyone + you

Legend (Link to the Past, Link's Awakening etc):

Unfortunately the type of person to just shove things in his bag willy nilly

Its the horder tendencies, he just has a lot of stuffs so he gave up trying to organize it

Actually really good at styling hair, Legend would absolutely lie abt it if u asked but he can spend as much time on his hair as Warrior

Likes to experiment with new clothes, like skirts or bright colors, esp if they match some of his clothes already

U ran by some makeup one time in another Hyrule and he knew how to use it rlly well??

Lies abt random skills he has, or like thinks skills he already has can translate well,

like he's rode a horse before wym he can't drive Wild's motorcycle??

Or fly a Loftwing???

Well now its a challenge

Tbh most competitive over stupid things randomly out of all the Links besides Wild, Wind, Wars, and occasionally Hyrule + Sky + Time

Got challenged to try and go shield surfing with u once and thought that horse-riding skill would transfer and it did in fact Not.

Actually kinda scared the other Links watching u two spin out and crash ngl, what with doing an accidental backflip? Midair??

but u both were okay somehow???

Also weirdly lucky, u stg he's got some sort of ring or blessing for that

☆

IT ACCIDENTALLY POSTED I FUCKING HATE TUMBLR ITS DONE THIS TO ME MULTIPLE TIMES NOW 😭😭

All the Links WOULD HAVE been here if it werent for fucking tumblr

Ill post more parts soon if anyone is interested

Peace out,

🌙