#two pairs of my favorite blorbos

[autumndragon]

not to be delusional, but, in a way, viggo and hiccup remind me of will and hannibal—there is just something in their dynamic that keeps taking me back to the episode 'mizumono', to that one famous line,

hannibal: do you believe you could change me, the way i've changed you?

will: i already did

in 'enemy of my enemy', hiccup mentions viggo changed him, got inside his head, like hannibal did to will. hiccup starts to try to be more like viggo, to be ruthless, to go to extremes, to keep pushing until the dragon hunters are all gone.

but in 'triple cross', it's proved that hiccup is not the only one who changed.

viggo: i spent my whole life hunting dragons, killing them, and i've come to respect them as equals. you taught me that, hiccup.

in the end, hiccup changed viggo as much as viggo changed him.

throughout the series, viggo comments on hiccup's innocence, his naivete, how he needs to be more ruthless, or the people he loves will die. viggo even tells him, in 'triple cross', that hiccup is more ruthless than he realizes. but that's not really it. hiccup isn't ruthless, and he doesn't have to be. it's exactly his compassion and bravery that helps defeat his enemies. it was his lack of ruthlessness that stopped him from killing toothless in the first place.

it reminds me of the episode, 'digestivo', the conversation between will and hannibal

hannibal: you delight in wickedness and then berate yourself for the delight.

will: you delight. i tolerate. i don't have your appetite.

viggo wants hiccup to be more ruthless, he believes that hiccup is capable of it, but even if he is, hiccup doesn't want to be. he doesn't see the point of it.

a little food for thought; it's just that every time i watch viggo and hiccup on screen i find myself wishing for another five seasons of them with a higher rating and bigger budget.

[hotvintagepoll]

hello I love you happy anniversary!!! and I would love some hot people action for Christmas if you’re so inclined 👀

Cool! Let's do a silly mini tournament just for Christmas.

WHO IS THE HOTTEST VINTAGE MOVIE COUPLE?

This contest is focused on ONSCREEN HOT COUPLES who, while maybe not romantically involved in real life, appeared frequently together as a romantic team onscreen.

TO BE COUNTED IN THE BRACKET, your submission must:

be a pair of hotties working in movies before 1970

both hotties must be movie stars, in the sense of appearing in (a) starring roles in (b) major feature films portraying a (c) romantic couple while (d) being very hot and charismatic. I'm looking for hotties on equal footing, not Queen Iconic Majoress and her lover Blorbo "never heard of him" Peckins, but I'll use my own judgement if it's unclear.

(3) the couple must appear ONSCREEN TOGETHER as a ROMANTIC COUPLE in AT LEAST TWO MOVIES. i would love to accept one-off pairings but then the tournament would be too big.

Again: your HOT AND VINTAGE COUPLE must be GLAMOROUS HOTTIES who were showcased ONSCREEN MORE THAN ONCE from a time in the movie industry anytime before 1970. This tournament is open to INTERNATIONAL HOTTIES, as long as they fall before the 1970 cutoff!

Also, because the classic Hollywood studio system did not allow for obvious same sex romantic couples, I'm willing to be flexible on defining a romantic couple if I think it would give Louis B. Mayer a heart attack. If you can convince me you shipped them and they could be viewed as an iconic onscreen couple, I'll let them in.

To submit, please include the names of your hotties, two or more movie titles starring them, and a short description of why they are the hottest. You can also include a link to a picture of them together if you don't want to rely on me to find a good one, and video footage proving their chemistry is always approved of.

I am throwing together this tournament extremely quickly so please send your hot couple to my asks asap. I will fill in the gaps where I can and will self-submit couples if I have to, but please don't rely on me—submit your favorite hotties so I don't forget anyone.

I'll look at submissions LATER TONIGHT and start the tournament TOMORROW in time for CHRISTMAS EVE.

[here is my ask box for submitting hot vintage couples]

[shadowsofdread]

inspired by the poll about theron shan's romantic chemistry with each of the origin classes, i wanna pose a somewhat similar question because i love thinking about it. it's a big thing in the swtor fandom that people tend to write relationships between their mains of each of the origin stories, and certain trends/combinations tend to be common - namely, sith warrior & jedi knight, jedi knight & jedi consular, sith warrior & sith inquisitor, etc.

so an open question i'm putting forward for anyone to reply to is what are your favorite pairings of classes - platonically, romantically, secret third thing, antagonistically, etc. you don't have to name an "underrated" one, but my question is based more on the chemistry between the classes, like, in general as opposed to specific iterations of that class. i.e., by all means use your OCs as an example of why you like that pairing, but like. i am talking more broadly about archetypes than specific characters. does this make sense. anyway, some of mine:

sith warrior & jedi knight

you knew this one was coming. i think the SW and JK are positioned pretty well to act as foils to one another, and there's something very interesting about how the transitions between Chapter 2 and Chapter 3 of each campaign mirror each other, with the finales of their respective campaigns leaving them on opposite sides of a current or future antagonist - with the SW ending up on that same side as the JK by ziost. i've interpreted this as a shared sense of personal responsibility - through their actions, one way or another, they make the most sense for being the emperor's number one enemy, which may lead to a sort of alliance between the two characters, depending how you spin it. or, hey, maybe your sith warrior is actually loyal to the emperor even still, at least until they are ultimately betrayed by valkorion. in which case, lifelong, bitter enemies. where maybe they should've had a common cause, maybe the pieces should've been there all along for them to fight together, but against all sanity and reason, the SW chooses again and again to stand by vitiate/valkorion.

sith warrior & imperial agent

next to SW&JK, this is the dynamic i keep coming back to over and over again - there's a reason why taizi's met most of @tiredassmage's agents. it's also the one i have the hardest time explaining why i like so much. there's the appeal of like ... hypercompetent pairing with vastly different skills but very good at those skills. it's kind of like a variation on what scratches my brain about SW & quinn in that there's a lot of toying around you can do with sith/imperial power dynamics - made even more interesting depending on the type of agent you're playing, and regardless an agent who has had their literal brain fucked with by the dark council, i.e. the castellan restraints.

sith warrior & jedi consular

listen. have i actually gotten to use this one much in the "playing blorbo barbies with my friends" sphere? not exactly. it's a very new one that i'm still rotating, and i don't know how to explain what it is i like about it but i really, really want to see more of it. i think it could be delicious, brent. please let your warriors and your consulars talk to each other more. one thing i will put forward is i think SW & JC scratches a similar itch to SW & JK to me, but in, like, a slightly different font? i dunno, man. i just wanna see it more.

honorable mentions:

jedi consular OR jedi knight & trooper: it's like jedi / clone trooper but without the ethical issues and cognitive dissonance! /lh

sith inquisitor & jedi consular: could be taken so many different ways, i just don't think enough about SI to do much with it

imperial agent & jedi knight: only really seen a few iterations - two of them being my own - but like. something in here's really fucking good.

[cer-rata]

Cerata's 2024 End of Year Artist shoutouts! (part 1)

Okay so this year was the first time I'd really participated in fandom in over a decade, but I'm truly glad I did because I met a ton of great people, and even got to work on projects with some of them. So I wanted to put all of the cool visual art that I've received last year, whether it be art trade, commission, part of an event, or...fanart? Because that happened somehow?

Anyway, there are a number of other people that I worked with last year, but a bunch of that art started near the end of the year, and as such is not finished yet, hence why this post will be two parts, one now, and the second when everyone else finishes up.

No particular order, all of these artists are great, and lovely people, so do go check out the rest of their work and tell them how cool they are, yeah? Also, some are currently open for commissions, so keep an eye out for that.

(Also, this is my first time trying to do ID text, so bear with me if they're a little rough, despite being a writer, I hate words?)

So first we have @fiyaharts with a lovely illustration of a number of the my favorite Krypton and Krypton-adjacent children. Shadi is lovely to work with and fast to the point where it spooked me a little bit, go off girl.

Next we have two pieces from my favorite Evil Woman Apologist, @vivictory-draws, one of a divorced Barbara and Kara being totally normal about it, and the other of my child and blorbo that haunts my waking hours, Conrad. Love N to death, which is why I haunt her with threats of commissioning Joker/Desaad Yaoi.

...Maybe for the next list, who knows...

So next we have the art created for the last @womenincomicsminibang (which is going to be returning with a reverse bang in a few months, keep an eye out on that.)

The lovely and evocative cover was done by the talented @breakingthespacetimewall, and the scenes of Cassie trying and failing to get her life together were done by the wonderful @soop-jpg

Working with them was a pleasure and honor, and their dedication and kindness really helped me through finishing that fic, and I remain incredibly grateful for that.

The first person I worked with this last year, and the one who really helped solidify the core of a lot of my projects, @nicodrawings drew a glorious cover for my mania-induced first longfic, and also a character reference for the aformentioned disordered young man who haunts my waking hours. She's a professional through-and-through, with wonderful instincts and great communication. She's also working on a fan-comic project of her own that I think is wonderful and am excited to see continue.

I lucked out and was paired with the super chill, super talented @byeara on my first fan project ever, and they hooked me up with this super fun and detailed cover for the fic I wrote for that one kon-centric minibang. I loved working with them, and would love to do so again, logistics willing.

This jerk @vnekey made me cry by drawing really sweet, totally unexpected fanart for that mania-fic I wrote. I'm still a little speechless really, I'd never gotten fanart of any sort for any reason before, and to receive something so lovely as the first thing really touched me deeply, and honestly kept me writing through some rough patches.

...Fight me!

My first ever art trade! Kind of! @spider-jaysart is super sweet and supportive and made my...second biblically (is there a Source bible? Are there religious Coluans?) cursed son and his hapless, frankly narratively cursed best buddy look so precious that they ALSO made me cry, can we stop that actually--

Speaking of my cursed son and his narratively cursed Kryptonian, @spicy-apple-pie created this really pretty piece that's...a number of weird deep cuts smushed together into something really specific, but neat if you have the context, which nobody does :3

She was so wonderful and patient and I really enjoyed seeing her run with her inspiration, the Kryptonian mural is super neat and not something I would have ever come up with on my own.

@mediaraiz Is really stylistically flexible, and their "Blob" style really scratched that itch I had for something cute and playful, and they were so game in taking on a larger project, and then went above and beyond in making my lanterns looks truly special.

Finally (for now), @riverdeansart drew a sweet little scene of two horrifyingly stressed totally fine spacebros chilling and chatting about how everything is completely okay!

I was super vague about this one and Dean did a great job getting the vibes right anyway, and with haste.

...So yeah, that's if for now! I'll circle back in a bit when I'm forced to let more artists out of my basement everything else is done!

[chronically-ghosted]

bloody kisses — part three: cinnamon girl boy

pairing: shane morrissey/tim rockford rating: E (18+) mdni word count: 10K content: vaguely takes place in the 00s, age gap (shane is 23, tim is 40), internalized homophobia, self-doubt, shame, worries about aging, heavy petting, oral (male receiving), first time giving head, gag reflex training, assplay, doggy style, protected p in a, discussions of dom/sub and top/bottom, bad family dynamics, hints of poverty, discussions around divorce, tim's internal battles, dominant!tim, bratty!shane, nasty dirty talk (anyone who identifies my favorite line gets a gold star), lmk if anything has been missed! dividers: @saradika-graphics a/n: i wanna cry @perotovar let me play with their beautiful blorbos and i had so much fun. i've never written m/m before so they took a HUGE risk on me - thank you so much for trusting me to treat them well!

series summary: shane has been in denial about himself for a while. newly single and with the help of one of his favorite singers, he opens his eyes to a new venture he could possibly take: the cop he sees on a semi-regular basis, detective tim rockford.

series masterlist

for updates, follow @oakslibrary and turn on notifications ♥

(from @chronically-ghosted: if you liked my humble take on this, you can find my masterlist here!) ♥♥

Russet streaks of late afternoon light filter in through the vinyl slats over the grungy carpet when Shane opens the apartment door. He shuts it with a sigh, locking it behind his back, before tipping his head against the frame, closing his eyes, and taking a long inhale. On the exhale verging on a sigh, he tosses his keys onto the ripped and faded black couch to his right before trudging into the linoleum kitchen. 

There’s a note on the counter:

Gone to visit Barry’s kids in New Jersey. Be back on the 10th. Money for food is on the fridge.

Shane’s dark eyes flit to the M magnet that Samantha left here the last time she visited from Maine. Even their father came that time. 

He snorts resentfully when he sees it: twenty bucks to last him two weeks – thanks Mom. 

Chances that she left him anything in the freezer are lower than the chance he’ll be able to stretch this twenty till Friday. 

Shane slips off his leather duster and tosses it over one of the precarious bar stools. He snatches up the half empty packet of cigarettes from the scuffed living room table, takes one out, and lights it. He flops into the cracked leather, stuffing fluttering out of the cushions on impact, one of the metal springs stabbing him in his flat ass. Head against the ridge of the couch, Shane lazily puffs out smoke rings, his lips pursed, up to the ceiling. 

There’s about a dozen – maybe even twice as many – feelings in his chest right now, all bubbling and curling and spitting and scratching at his insides. Some of them are good – most of them are great, actually (god he can’t remember when he last felt this fucking ecstatic about anything) but some of them . . . some of them scare him so much he can barely breathe. 

Call, Tim had said, in his soft, low voice, the smell of sweet syrup still in the air, the plates with pancake crumbs sitting in the sink behind him. Call, if you need anything. 

The detective’s card sits in the left pocket of his duster. 

Shane shakes his head, a grim smile on his face. Can I call if I’m just fucking lonely without you?

He sips at the cigarette a bit, following the hazy trail of smoke as it wafts around the room. His eyes fall on the cracks of his life, this apartment he shares with his mother and her boyfriend. Stacks of newspapers by the bookcase that’s missing a few shelves. A cereal bowl he left by the window two days ago when a few friends invited him out to go check out Maxxx’s new stereo system. Takeout boxes and beer cans. Unfolded laundry in a plastic bin, the edges cracked and torn off. A few pictures when he was a wiry kid, then a wiry teen. He has a few good memories with Samantha, when he was fourteen and she was seven. That was the only time in his life when anything ever made any sense.

When she’d ask if he’d play her a s–

Shane’s eyes narrow at his bedroom door. Without looking, he snuffs the cigarette out in the nearest ashtray and stands up. Barry knows what would happen if he went into Shane’s room without Shane’s express permission – mother’s boyfriend or not – but Shane locks up every time. He keys open his bedroom door and finds everything as he left it. But that’s not what has him moving down onto his hands and knees, laying flat on his stomach to get a long arm under his bed. With a bit of searching, Shane’s face breaks open wide in surprise as he fingers curl around the long wooden neck. Slowly, Shane crawls back and with him comes his old acoustic guitar. 

By the line of dust on it, it really had been several years since he played this thing, but turning it over, the rightness of it settles into his hands, his hips, his bones. This is where it was always meant to be. 

Seems like I’m finding all kinds of rightness out of nowhere. 

He strums once. The strings are horrifically out of tune, but the thoughts swirling around in his brain make him smile. Fist under his chin, he props his head up on the guitar’s body, contemplating. 

He can still smell the sugar from breakfast and Tim’s aftershave from after breakfast. His heart squeezes without his control . . . and his ass twinges. Heat roars up his entire chest and he has to curl in on himself, rolling onto his back, to keep from exploding, a big stupid grin all over his face. The last twelve hours flit across his memory, each moment better than the next. 

Call, if you need anything, Tim had said.

I need you to tell me what to do now. Am I the same person? Do I want to be? If I left all of this and everyone behind, who would I be tomorrow? Would you keep me around then?

Do you even really like me now? 

He takes his hands down from his eyes, sighing and staring up at his popcorn ceiling, not unlike Tim’s. 

Beneath his right hand, his metal bracelets clatter with the wood of the guitar. 

Samantha. 

Samantha likes him, or at least used to. She loved some version of him. Little sisters are always supposed to love you, but maybe he could find that version again. If it’s still there.

Shane sits up and begins to clean his room.

Night comes and the light from the Morrissey apartment stays on a young man gathering trash and throwing it away. 

Tim hasn’t been this on edge since the four or five times he’s tried to quit smoking. He sits in his car, rain pouring down, heating set on low for an early November evening, and he thinks about all the ways this can go wrong. He stares up at the second floor of the tenement apartment, his fingers flexing around the steering wheel. 

Like file folders, he sorts his worries from least to most earth-shattering.

Shane is vulnerable right now. There is no one else in his life he can turn to with questions, and he had been left to fend for himself on and off since he was fifteen (Tim has pulled up his file only half a dozen times for follow up work on the shooting and Shane’s rap sheet often catches his eye). Of course, he wants nothing more than to be the person who Shane comes to with questions or concerns, or fuck, even just an ear to listen to. But, at his age, Tim is all too aware of what a situation like that could do to him. 

He’s already in too deep and he fucking knows it. 

Earth-shattering worry number two: he is a cop and he has booked this kid more times than he can count. Just for petty stuff and he was never the one to press charges – always the DA looking for an easy numbers game to boost his image before the elections. Tim fucking agonized over that and not just in Shane’s case – these kids weren’t in need of help, the attorney’s office said, they were problems that needed to be put down. So how fast would the DA’s head spin around and explode if he showed up to the policeman’s ball with the “Satanic Temple” on his arm, nevermind just another man? While that would be a sight Tim would cherish until he died, he can’t ask anyone – especially someone as new to all of this as Shane – to handle something like that. 

Which brings him to his final worry, the big concern that has him nearly start up his car and drive off, to call Shane on a payphone and apologize for not being able to ever see him again. Tim’s old. He’s fucking old and Shane shouldn’t have to carry decades worth of baggage when the kid’s got a fucking trunk of it himself. He’s old and a has-been and Shane has the rest of his life ahead of him. 

Of course, this is all assuming Shane would ever want something more with him and this isn’t just sex for him. But maybe that’s all it should be. Both of them dirty little secrets to each other that can fuel Tim’s fantasies until his cock finally stops working (which is probably pretty fucking imminent), and something that Shane can laugh about with his partner some day. 

With a sigh, Tim watches a figure move around behind dirty windows on the second floor. 

The only way Tim would walk away now is if Shane told him to take a fucking hike. And that’s a really big problem.

He turns off the car, grabs his tan raincoat, and heads towards the apartment building.

When Shane opens the door, Tim wonders if he had a stroke and is seeing things that aren’t really there. Shane still has all his earrings, his rings with his unusually jet-black hair, but the duster is gone. Shane has answered the door in a black sleeveless shirt, with faded but roughly-intact jeans, and bare feet. He looks –

“Laundry day.” Tim’s eyes snap up and Shane frowns petulantly. “‘S laundry day . . . n’ this is all I had.” His fingers around the doorframe tighten. “You gonna come in or just stand there and make me look like a fuckin’ rat?” 

Tim is very much aware of how much he looks like a cop even in plain clothes, and the tie with slacks isn’t helping. But he can understand why it might make things difficult for Shane to be seen with him.

But, fuck, if he only knew . . .

“Sorry.” 

He steps across the threshold and Shane shuts the door behind him, sticking very close to the wood to give as much space between the two of them as possible. The rain patters in the silence as Tim tries not to stare too much, but that pattern-picking part of his brain can’t help but lurch into overdrive. 

The apartment is empty. That’s the first thing he clocks. The second are several black garbage bags by the front door and the distinct smell of Pinesol in the air, sitting only faintly above the stench of cigarettes. Tim’s eyes fall to the cracked patio door, then the ashtray that has three very freshly stamped-out cigarettes in the bowl. Either two of Shane’s friends just left or –

“You want, um, something to drink?”

Shane moves swiftly from behind him to the kitchen and Tim’s gaze latches to his back. His ears are by his shoulders and Tim gets a brief flash of the borderline fear in those dark eyes before he disappears behind the wall.

“No, uh –,” Tim clears his throat and takes off his coat, then his holster, laying both flat on the counter that separates the living room from the kitchen. “I’m good. Mind if I smoke though?”

Shane returns, a beer can in his hand and slides into the plastic chair on the left side of the chipped table beneath a sickly, hanging fluorescent light. He cracks it and takes two long pulls before putting it on the table with a thud. He picks up his own packet and Tim thinks he might see a tremble in his hand.

He’s not sure if he feels vindicated, even elated, that Shane might be as nervous as he is, or just terribly awkward. 

“Make yourself at home.” Shane indicates the chair across from him with a jerk of his head before he lights up. The chair squeaks on the linoleum as Tim pulls it back and gingerly sits down. He stabilizes his elbows on the table to keep his hands steady as he takes out a cigarette from his own packet and lights it against his mouth. 

The heady rush of smoke combined with the fresh scent of rain soothes something and he forcibly tugs at his own courage.

“So, um, how’ve you been?” Fantastic start, Rockford.

Shane lifts those thin shoulders, eyes skirting the edge of the table. “Good. Went, uh, to see X the other day. He’s getting better. Says the hospital should let him out soon.” 

“Good. That’s good.” 

The room is so quiet, he can hear the paper burn and curl from the smoldering end of the cigarette between his fingers.

“And you? You've been – um?”

“Yeah, I’ve been good. Xavier – sorry – X’s testimony was really useful for identifying the shooter and establishing a timeline. Should be a pretty open and shut case.” 

At that, a wry smirk curls across Shane’s face. He looks at Tim with something that might be described as a teasing grin as he knocks loose a line of ash. “Probably the last and only time X is gonna be helpful to the police.” 

Tim responds with his own grin. “Wouldn’t expect anything different. Where’s the fun in easy cases?” 

They both chuckle, eyes on anywhere but each other. And yet the tension has cracked, just a bit. Enough to let Tim lean back in his chair and breathe out a long, relaxed plume of smoke. 

“But, uh, you called because you wanted to ask me something?” 

Shane’s ink-wet eyes glance up at him and Tim feels the knot beneath his chest bone throb. 

“Oh – yeah, right. Um, I was thinking about something you said over breakfast the other day . . .” Tim’s heart swells; he thinks about that morning all the fucking time too. Soft golden light and harsh black hair, spread across his chest. “And I was wondering if you still talk to your old friend in the NYU music department.”

That is not the question Tim had been expecting.

“John? Who works at the guitar shop on 7th?” 

“I’m not thinking of going to school,” Shane adds quickly, the tips of his ears going red and Tim has to make an effort to keep his eyes on Shane’s face. “I still think school is a fuckin’ racket made for rich people to make themselves richer and maintain authority over –,”

“Yes, I still talk to John from time to time. Why?” 

At this, Shane shifts in his seat, eyes low, shoulders rigid with tension. He taps his thumb on his knee uncomfortably. 

“Iwanajob . . .”

“Sorry?”

Shane scrunches his nose (the band around Tim’s chest tightens – god, he’s so fucking cute) and huffs.

“I want . . . a job. At the guitar shop . . . and I was hoping . . . you could introduce me to your friend. John, or whatever.” He adds sullenly as if Tim hadn’t just said his name twice. 

The buzzing awareness that is always present at the back of Tim’s mind suddenly clicks on. Like a camera taking film, he looks around the room. The trash bags. The tidy apartment. Fucking laundry day.

“Oh,” he says flatly. “Why, uh – why that place?”

Shane stiffens imperceptibly again. He’s got that “caught-in-a-trap” look about him – the kind his suspects get when they’re about to confess something, willingly or otherwise. Shane’s wide eyes glance over Tim’s shoulder as if he had pointed a finger. Tim turns and is rail-roaded again for the second time since coming here.

“Is that yours?” Tim stands, leaving the cigarette in the ash tray, and crosses the room, careful not to touch the shining guitar on its holder but getting as close as possible to examine it. It is a beautiful guitar, the body waxed and the silver of the tuning pegs bright in the low light. It takes Shane a second to answer.

“Yeah.” The admission is breathy, a release from a too-long-held inhale. Tim thinks his voice wobbles a bit but he dare not turn around to see what’s on Shane’s face. “I used to play a lot. I loved music as a kid, thought I was pretty good. Samantha loved it when I wrote songs for her. When we got older, she’d sing along with me.”

Tim clocked a white note stuck on the counter when he walked in, but he was too far away to read it. The way Shane said her name, Tim gathers that she’s not an ex, but someone closer. However, his file never mentioned any Samantha, so she must not live nearby or be someone he sees frequently. 

When we got older . . .

Tim straightens up and looks at Shane. “Is Samantha your sister?” 

Shane stares at him wide-eyed for a minute before shaking his head, smiling faintly. 

“I hate it when you fucking do that.”

Tim’s stomach knots. “Do what?”

“Figure me out as soon as you look at me. Yeah, dude, Samantha is my sister. Half-sister anyway. Mom and Dad tried to do the whole divorced parents who get along thing for a while, but it didn’t last. Now I don’t see her unless she can get the car for the weekend. But she says she won’t come if she’s not invited and I . . . it’s been a while since I’ve seen her.” 

Tim nods, the sick knot in his stomach melting into butterflies.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to pry. Just . . . curious, I guess.”

Shane watches him silently as he rejoins the table. The chair squeaks again. Tim lights another cigarette when he knows he shouldn’t but Shane’s smile has him trembling. 

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” 

Tim swallows. “Can’t help myself do what?”

“Be curious,” Shane says softly, something unreadable and expansive in his gaze. For a second, he looks a decade older and a millennia wiser. He lifts his voice, louder, deeper when he continues. “Guess that’s part of being a cop.”

“You know, technically, I’m a detective, right? Not on patrol, only handling specialized cases.” 

Shane sucks the last bit of his cigarette, his eyes bright with mischief. “A-Cab, Rockford. I don’t make exceptions.” 

Tim wants to kiss that smirk right off him. He squeezes his own knee briefly before leaning into Shane’s space, the corner of the table separating them, to tap out his ash. He relishes in the way Shane’s eyes skitter up his forearm to his shoulder. He’s not the first to be intimidated by Tim’s size, but he is the first that Tim would gladly overwhelm with it. 

“Seems like you did the other night,” he replies, his voice throaty and scratched. It’s not entirely intentional – Tim’s mouth has gone shockingly dry. 

 This time, Shane’s entire face flushes pink and Tim grins. Old dog still got some tricks, don’t he?

“I’m just fucking with you, kid.” He chuckles. “Relax. Your secret is safe with me.”

He hears how that last part sounds and bites his tongue in regret. Of all the things Tim wants Shane to know, assuming he thought their time together was a mistake is definitely not one of them. He does not want Shane to think he is something that Tim wants to keep a secret. 

But by Shane’s unabashed intake of Tim’s forearms, chest, and curls on his hairline, he probably didn’t need to worry too much. 

It’s been years since he was so shamelessly checked out and it makes his heart pound. He wouldn’t dare return the ogling but, fuck he wants to. Last time, it had been all about Shane and making Shane feel good, which he would do without question again and again and again. But he is desperate for an exploration of Shane’s body as much as he knows it needs to be an exploration for the both of them.  

Or it would be, if he could get a goddamn grip. Last time - probably only fucking time, you sleeze. 

“I k-know–,” Shane’s voice cracks and the blush flares again, only briefly this time. He clears his throat and sits up a bit in the chair. “I know that. I know. It’s just . . .” Shane sucks on his cigarette nervously, his cheeks hollowing, like he’s warming up to something. Something sour rolls down the back of Tim’s throat, his stomach clenched, but years of training keeps his face as smooth as stone. Those dark brown eyes, as gentle and fluid as mercury, stare up at him and Tim knows he’s such a fucking goner.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Tim nods. Rolling his bottom lip into his mouth, Shane leans forward, drumming out another line of ash into the glass tray. He straightens against the back of the chair as he tugs one knee to his chest, expression wary, and wraps a skinny arm around his shin. 

At the last second, Shane drops his gaze and instead decides to interrogate a dirty spot on the table.

“When I first met you,” he began slowly, “you wore a wedding ring. But now . . .” 

His eyes flicker to Tim’s left hand, third finger, absent of any jewelry, sitting on his thigh. 

Tim thinks of the first time he saw that irate seventeen year old punk in the station. He had a ripe black eye and an annoyingly smug smirk on when the officer on duty chucked him roughly into a holding cell. 

“That’s perceptive of you.” He flexed his hand into a fist, once, then twice, then met Shane’s stare ahead on. Tim has to hastily swallow a deep lungful of smoke to smother the sudden uptick of his heartbeat. “You’re right,” he says, stiff, on a throaty inhale. “I was married until about five years ago.” 

A large knot visibly slips down Shane’s throat, his cigarette tilting dangerously between his fingers, ash hovering over the carpet. 

“Hm, and to a . . .”

The way his eyes go wide, Tim wants to bury a kiss into that agitated pulse on Shane’s throat, but instead, he just nods slowly, avoiding sudden movement that might startle the wild animal ready to bolt across from him.

“Yeah, Shane, to a woman.” 

Shane continues to tear into his own lip. He retreats before Tim’s eyes – crosses his arms on top of his knees and leans his head back. He stares into the rain outside, the beer at his elbow long forgotten. This isn’t the answer he was hoping for. 

“Oh,” he says. 

Tim leans forward onto his elbows, entering into his space again, but this time more hesitantly. Shane’s bare foot is inches from Tim’s fingers. 

“Shane.” 

“Hm?”

“Look at me.” 

With a steady hand, Shane flicks the end of his cigarette with his black thumbnail, ash falling, and with a very level gaze, he returns Tim’s watchful eye. His face is so blank he barely has any features.

“What?” 

“I’ve fallen in love with women and men.”

The impenetrable ice in his eyes melts and Shane frowns. “You can do that?”

Again, Tim nods, this time a faint smile on his face. How easily he forget how fucking clueless this kid is and how fucking cute his obliviousness makes him.

“But I’ve only slept with women before, am I–,”

“It’s not about who you’ve slept with, to a certain degree. It’s who you are attracted to.” 

“So there’s more than just being gay?”

He wants so badly to reach across the edge of the table and take Shane’s hand. Soothe him. Feel those rough calluses against his skin again. He can feel the heat of his own cigarette coming painfully close to the backs of his fingers so he tamps out the cigarette in the glass bowl, Shane’s eyes watching him the whole time.

“There’s a lot of things, sweetheart,” Tim says softly, the nickname slipping out as it had before, in his own apartment with Shane in his lap. He hopes that sweetheart sounded casual, a nickname more than a reflection of the hot knot tightening in his groin. “But at the end of the day, it comes down to what feels right to you. How you see yourself. You might have to spend some time figuring it out, asking yourself some hard questions, but you’ll get there.”

Shane nods, again swallowing the words that are so clearly caught in his throat. He switches the cigarette to his other hand and stares out the window at the rain. Tim’s mouth dries up at the sight of his long, exposed throat. 

“Is that why it didn’t work out between you and your . . . wife?” Shane asks quietly.

Tim runs his gaze over the piercings in Shane’s earlobe, the delicate bones within the cartilage, then to his set jaw and, finally, over his plush, pouty lips.

“No.” He can hear how hoarse he sounds, how wrecked, but having Shane in front of him again, all those feelings, all those basic urges he denied for the past few weeks come roaring to the front again. He of all people should have known suppression and repression never, ever work. “We were just different people. It had nothing to do with the fact that I also fuck men.”

He watches Shane tremble, the skin on his bare arms suddenly electrified. Slowly, with a shaking breath, Shane twists out his own cigarette, pushing it down roughly with two fingers. 

The thing that has been circling Tim’s mind – like a rabid dog tearing out chunks of his ability to think straight – slides out of his mouth before he can stop it.

“What have your other partners told you?”

Call it twenty years on the force.

Call it a finely tuned bullshit detector. 

Call it whatever you want, but in that moment before Shane opens his mouth, Tim knows he just considered lying to him and Tim’s heart plunges into his gut. He loathes the idea that Shane might lie to him, lie to him about being queer or an aspect of himself he still has questions about. Having someone older and more experienced than him in life alone at Shane’s age would have made all the difference to him as a young man and more than anything, more than his stupid cock, that’s all he really wants. He wants to be there for Shane because no one, not even his own family, has ever told him he means a damn. 

And you mean so much to me already.

Then Shane lets out a shaky breath, the crease in his brown carved deep, but one glance at Tim and it melts away. Without warning, he stands up right and for a split, wonderful second Tim thinks he’s going to crawl into his lap again.

But Tim realizes he’s waiting for something.

With a voice that comes from a very small place, Shane mutters, “there hasn’t been anyone since you.” 

He blinks up at Shane for one second, and then two, and his words register, click in, and everything else fades away. Tim’s on his feet with his finger snagged through one of Shane’s belt loops before common sense or patience can catch up with him.

“Is that right?” Tim purrs as he takes the curve of Shane’s neck in his massive palm, the other going to waist, and Shane instantly gasps at the touch. But that initial elation hardens and he glares at him. Tim is distinctly reminded of an annoyed puppy. 

“Don’t sound so fucking pleased,” Shane snarls through bared teeth. His black nails dig into Tim’s forearm, a warning and a plea. “It’s not like I think about you all the time or anything.”

His eyelids droop when Tim squeezes the back of his neck and Shane lets out a low moan. Tim drops his head against the other man’s forehead. The boy smells like cloves and cinnamon and definitely pot and it’s going to haunt Tim’s memories forever. He closes his eyes and resists the urge to nuzzle that bare cheek. 

“You’re all I think about. Every minute, every day,” Tim hums, “I can’t stop thinking about you and all those little sounds you made when I fucked your ass.”

Another sound, a better one, squeaks out of him – one of protest and desperation and carnal need – and Tim’s control snaps in his hands. 

The hand on Shane slides to the back of his head and Tim all but shoves those pouty lips into his mouth. 

It’s just as fucking fantastic as he remembered. 

Frantic. Needy. Tim kisses him like it’s his job to lick clean the cigarette smoke embedded on Shane’s tongue, on the inside of his mouth, the split cracks in his dry lips. His fingers tangle into that starkly black hair, the strands faintly damp, and his other hand slips to his low back. At that, the boy pulls back enough to let a whine escape from his open mouth before Tim yanks him against his chest. He feels Shane grow hard against his thigh and all the blood rushes out of his brain. 

Briefly dizzy, Tim stumbles forward, his hands catching the table behind Shane’s hips, pinning the younger man between him. He nips at Shane’s neck, trying to get the world to stop spinning.

“Fuck me, baby. You’re going to give this old man a heart attack.” 

Shane guides him into his mouth, his fingers clawing gently at the scruff of his beard, a slower, softer repeat of how Tim had initiated. Warm air puffs across Tim’s beard when Shane retreats, eyes searching for something he needs to find on Tim’s face. 

“Actually,” he breathes softly, “I really do think about you all the time too.”

Tim has never been more grateful for the rough grip on his cheeks because that’s all that’s keeping him from sinking to the ground on wobbly knees. Shane takes another kiss before his hand slips into Tim’s meaty paw and tugs him into the living room. He guides him back to the couch and, with a not-too-gentle push, shoves Tim down against the cushions. The detective goes without resistance.

The pale light from the rain beyond the window and the fluorescent glow behind him etches Shane in a soft halo. Brightness in Shane’s eyes tells him that the man is running on instinct alone – and that’s perfectly fucking fine. Whatever – anything – Shane wants, Tim will gladly offer it up. 

But when his hands drop to Tim’s belt buckle, the rush of heat up his body leaves him almost catatonic. 

“Mhmm, f-fuck, sweetheart, wait a second – d-don’t wanna rush things if you’re not –,”

The sound of his zipper tearing open is like a gunshot and there’s no denying the raw hunger that smears the edges of Shane’s eyes to a dangerous black.

“You have to walk me through it.” He sounds awe-struck.

He sinks to his knees and Tim considers he might actually die on this fucking couch. The heat radiating from those black-tipped hands that run up his thighs has Tim moaning in the back of his throat. He wants to curl that beautiful hair around Shane’s elegant ear – what would he say if Tim told him he has an elegant ear – but he’s using all of his energy to not immediately come when Shane tugs his pants down his hips, just enough to palm him through his boxers. 

As if the sensation of a half-hard cock surprises him, Shane’s lips split apart, eyes locked onto the wet spot beneath his hand. Tim swipes his bottom lip with his tongue, knuckles white as he grips the cushions, watching with aborted breath Shane stroke him gently. He grits his teeth.

“Tell me you want this.” Tell me I’m not forcing you into anything too fast because I’m fucking obsessed with you.

“I want this.” Shane shuffles closer, his hand dipping down to cup his balls, the scent of his cloves hitting Tim again, and Shane quietly gasps as the cock beneath his hand hardens more and more. “I wanna s-suck your cock.”

Tim grunts, his legs opening wider, sliding low into the cushions and now Shane hovers over him. Here is where with other partners in recent years, Tim would lock up. There’s gray in the curls at the base of his cock and his tummy hangs out a bit more, no matter how much he runs. But Shane doesn’t seem to register any of that. His mouth is still open in raw fascination, as if showing off how fucking deep he’s going to take the cock inches from his face. The sight splits heat between his groin and his heart. Tim is not going to fucking rush this. He’ll let Shane touch whatever he wants for as long as he wants even if it makes him come like an overeager teenager. 

Suppressing that peak of heat at Shane’s touch, Tim digs his fingers into Shane’s mop of hair like he’d been wanting to since the kid first offered that drink. At his immediate touch, Shane’s eyes roll back in his head and Tim takes that as an opportunity to scratch at his scalp, with a slight tug at the end. 

“Oh, fuck, please lemme me suck your cock.” 

Shane’s breathing hitches when Tim loosens the grip on his hair, runs his thumb down his temple, scuffs his cheek, and then drags that puffy bottom lip down. He looks absolutely ruined, eyes misty and shoulders slumped forward, and Tim has barely touched him. 

“Take me out, baby,” Tim murmurs, “and I’ll tell you what to do.”

Wide eyes never losing their nervous light, Shane dips his hand below the elastic waistband (why didn’t he put on better underwear?) and cups him, slowly dragging his shorts lower as he pulls Tim’s cock into the light. 

Tim has to remember to breathe. Fuck, it’s so hot in this fucking room. With trembling fingers, he tugs the knot of his tie away from his throat and unbuttons his shirt down to his ribs, as Shane runs an experimental grip up and down the length of his cock. Tim hisses as heat flares brightly and a little too fast. 

Shane’s eyes flick up to his face. “Sorry, too dry?”

Without waiting for a response, Shane cups his hand beneath his mouth and spits, a giant, slick glob. It might be the hottest thing Tim has ever witnessed with his two eyes. Shane’s hand returns and Tim’s eyes flutter shut as he groans. 

“S-s-shit, baby, that’s really good.” 

Tim wants to open his eyes, to see Shane’s face, to get a glimpse of what is going on in that beautiful head, but he can’t drag himself out of the lusty haze long enough. 

And then, after several slow, long pumps that have him harder than he can ever remember being, Tim feels Shane’s palm twist just as his thumb swirls the head and swipes the leaking tip. Pleasure roars up his spine and his hips jerk off the couch. His eyes snap open and find Shane not proud, but surprised. His mouth opens again in glee.

“I fucking love that too,” he murmurs, his hand moving a bit faster now. “Love it when they play with the tip.”

“Mhmm, hmm.” 

As Shane finds a slightly hurried rhythm with his strokes, Tim is greedily storing away images and sensations in lockbox after lockbox in his memory. Has Shane’s hands always looked so thick?

“You can try whatever you want.” Tim murmurs, his gaze jumping between the hand around his cock, Shane’s mouth, and that hand with the black nails against his thigh. “If you like something, I’ll probably like it too.” 

Shane wets his lip, his eyes darting to Tim’s face as if looking for permission. Tim nods, his heart pounding in a completely different way than from exertion, and has to breathe into his stomach as Shane parts his lips and lowers his mouth to his cock. Inch by inch, he takes him deeper and deeper, his hand falling away to Tim’s other thigh, as he sinks closer to those gray-streaked curls.

Tim is genuinely caught on the knife-edge of pleasure and pain. Exquisite pleasure saps his entire body of energy, every grunt and sigh bursts of tiny releases, but with every inch into Shane’s warm, wet mouth, his tongue a rough glide on the underside of his cock, it becomes harder and harder to not buck his hips and god, does he fucking want to. He wants to grab Shane by the back of the head, hold him steady, and fuck that mouth like it’s the last fuck of his life. But he won’t, he can’t – Shane isn’t ready for that and quite honestly, neither is he, despite how the arousal of that mental image floods him with hot satisfaction. He’s going to tear apart this couch with his bare hands, though.

Shane gets about halfway and then chokes and Tim is yanked out of the dream in a panic.

“B-baby, are you okay?” 

Shane splutters and nods, the back of his hand coming to his lips, as if trying to hide his smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he croaks. “My gag reflex is shit though.” 

Tim sighs with relief and a strangled orgasm. He’s so hard it hurts but he doesn’t give a fuck. “You’re doing fine, sweetheart. Better than fine, actually.”

Tim meets his eyes as they go dark and hungry with a flash of that spitfire that Tim only ever saw on the other side of a metal interview table before. 

“Guess you’ll have to train up my reflex, then.”

“Yeah?” This kid has no idea what he’s playing with. Shane kneels between his spread legs, hands gently rubbing the meat of his thighs, those dark eyes swirling almost maliciously. Tim pinches Shane’s chin between his thumb and curled forefinger, thrusting that belligerent mouth up. “You gonna listen to an authority figure for once in your goddamn life?” 

“I’ll try my best,” he pouts, his neck arched back. 

“Blow on it.” Tim commands. “Start from the bottom and go to the top.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tim’s cock visibly throbs and Shane hasn’t even opened his mouth. But then he does, leaning forward when Tim releases his chin. He blows a quick burst of air around Tim’s curls, before opening his mouth wide and breathing heavily, wetly, warmly around the base of the cock in front of him. Then, as he was told, he lifts up and to the very top of that leaking head. 

“Take the tip – just the tip – and suck on it, gently at first.”

Shane does as he is instructed, his eyes never leaving Tim’s face or losing that maniacal glint, and he sucks, making a similar face (Tim assumes) as when he’s slurping up ice cream. Shane sucks harder and a loud, lewd moan rips out of Tim’s throat. 

“Now take it all in, as much as you can. Then swallow.”

Shane dips his head, mouth gliding down his veiny shaft, spit slipping out of the corner of his mouth, going down and down and down until he breathes sharply through his nose. Tim, clutching at sanity as it sprinkles through his fingers, watches the sharp planes of Shane’s shoulders and back churn and roll as he lifts his head up and down. He wants to loop his fingers through those black curls so badly.

“I’m gonna touch you now, okay?” Shane grunts his approval, the blush of air against his groin sending a bolt of pleasure up Tim’s spine, and he soothes his own tattered nerves by digging into Shane’s hair, scratching a bit like he had before. But then he loosens and just lets his hand rest contentedly on the back of his head. 

The drumming beat of rain and Shane’s wet mouth is a narcotic. The sight and sounds and smells of it all makes his brain melt, deep desires usually chained down by his restraint snapping and popping free like fireworks.

What’s he going to feel like when Shane can take all of him?

How long and how often does he have to do this to train him up?

Could he come home after working a twelve hour shift to Shane crawling onto his knees and sucking him off, just like this? Like this, in perfect domestic bliss –

Out of nowhere, Shane swallows and Tim has to claw into his own thigh to keep from coming right then and there. 

“Oh, fucking Christ –,” he yelps. As if encouraged, Shane tries to go a little deeper, swallow a little harder, but he gags again. When he lifts his head, his eyes are wet and Tim wonders if it's possible to black out from being so aroused. 

“Sorry,” Shane mutters, wiping his mouth again. “Your cock is so fucking big. It felt big in my ass but this –,”

Tim’s eyes slip closed. “Shut the fuck up. You can’t – can’t say those things.” 

He breathes heavily, the pounding in his heart only slightly stronger than the blood pounding in his cock. But Shane is suspiciously quiet.

Tim opens his eyes and finds a curious expression on Shane’s face as he stares at Tim’s cock. No, not his cock, a bit below –

Shane turns and tugs the low, tattered table behind him closer. He puts Tim’s foot against the edge, and then does the same with the other. The haze in Tim’s brain won’t let him piece it together until Shane dips his head, tongue already out.

“Whoa, whoa, baby–,” he grasps Shane’s shoulder and he stops. “I can’t ask you to do that. I don’t want to push you too far tonight.”

Shane rolls his eyes, flatly annoyed. “I’ve eaten ass before, Tim. I’m not a blushing fucking virgin.” 

Tim can actually feel the second that sweat breaks out across his hairline. “A-are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I actually know what I’m doing there. I mean, an asshole is an asshole, right?”

He isn’t sure if he likes how fast Shane has grown in confidence, or if it’s the sexist thing he’s ever seen. Maybe he’s the one not entirely ready.

“Y-yeah. Alright. Fire away, then.”

And with that first kitten lick, Tim finally comprehends just how fucked he is. He knew he was, but it’s not until Shane masterfully rims the edge of that ringed muscle does he know, with clear certainty, this kid is going to ruin him.

Shane’s hand curls around Tim’s shaft, his tongue prodding his asshole, and Tim makes a loud, open-mouthed moan that hits the quiet air of the apartment and shatters.

Within seconds, he’s hurling towards a release so violent, his thighs shake. Shane pumps him slowly, his mouth making everything wet and drippy, his eyes eagerly catching every twitch and moan Tim makes. 

When Tim feels his balls draw up, dangling over the precipice, he snatches Shane by the hair and yanks him back. Again, Shane makes a sound like an irritated cat.

“C’mon,” he huffs, his face red as if he had mitigated his breathing. “Lemme do this.” 

Tim swallows everything – his tongue, his orgasm, the desire to lick the brat right out of Shane’s pouty mouth – and shoves it all down as far as it will go. He’s left sweaty and panting, holding Shane by the flat of his hair at arm’s length. He swallows again and sits up, that airless high settling. Shane scowls petulantly

“You still want me to fuck that ass, right?”

His glare cracks in half. Those swollen lips part and he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“Then you fucking listen to me when I tell you to stop sucking cock. Got it?”

Shane nods more insistently, tongue swiping fast against his bottom lip. “Y-yeah.” 

Tim lets go and resists the urge to correct him to how he addressed him before, but fucking Christ, one thing at time.

“Which one is yours?” Tim nods towards the two closed doors across from him. Wordlessly, Shane points to the one farthest from the living room. “Show me.” 

Tim barely grunts as he stands up, his knees dangerously unsteady, his back twinging from the low position on the couch and the fact that there’s more padding on a highway road than inside of those cushions. 

Again, just as he thinks he might tip over, Shane takes his hand, intertwining their fingers, and leads him through the door. 

The sun had set on an already dark day, so in the burgeoning twilight, Shane’s room is a collection of shadows and blue outlines. Beyond the vinyl window slats, the rain pours harder than ever, muffling the sounds of cars on the street and the blunders of other people in the building. With the door closed, the air is warm, but not uncomfortably so, more like a soothing hand against his sweaty neck. The pleasant scent of incense is unmistakable, a far cry from any other smell in the apartment. 

The effect of it all, standing in Shane’s room, alone, is . . . isolating.

“It’s not much,” Shane murmurs, as if he worried Tim would find something about his space distasteful. “But I did clean up.” His eyes grow wide as soon as the words leave his mouth. “Not that I thought, or even expected that this – that you’d –”

Tim brings their locked hands to Shane’s cheek and gently, sweetly kisses him on the mouth. For a man so confident in his ability to drive his partner insane with his tongue up their ass, the boy quivers beneath a soft touch. Tim pulls back and finds blurry, unfocused eyes. 

“What do you want to do tonight?” Tim hums and strokes an errant curl back from Shane’s cheek. 

“This.” Shane says immediately. “This feels so fucking good.”

“Where do you sleep?” Tim asks, quietly, letting the words slow to a rumble, his free hand gently cupping the boy’s neck. The bed is unmissable, but he wants to give Shane as much control as he needs. Beneath his hands, Shane’s breathing stutters for a moment, before biting down on his bottom lip and leading Tim to the haphazardly made-up bed. He sits, big eyes staring up at him, at their bound hands, before releasing his grip and lying back on the bed. He scoots up, nestling that all black hair against his gray pillow.

“Here.” His voice is strangled, choked, his fingers twisting together as he picks at his nails. “Right h-here.” 

“Is that why you look so good right here, baby?” Tim slides the tail end of his tie out of the knot and off his neck. Shane licks his lips, transfixed, as Tim continues to unbutton his wrinkled shirt. The bit of clothing falls to the floor and Tim nearly matches Shane in a white sleeveless shirt. Black and white, punk and cop. There’s poetry in there somewhere.

Tim continues to undress; shoes first, then socks, and finally his slacks. Shane gets a little jumpy as he crawls up the bed. 

“Are you comfortable?” 

“Yes.” Tim raises an eyebrow at the jeans confining his hard cock. “No, sorry, n-no – I’ll take them off.” 

Tim gives him enough space to unbutton his pants, then sloppily jerk them off. He flings them over by Tim’s and Tim grins. He settles back down with Shane nearly underneath him and gently strokes his cheek. Everywhere he touches on the boy, it’s warm. Women aren’t like that, usually, and in turn, it satisfies something deep inside of him. Tim thinks of the tender warmth of the heated skin of a deer after it’s run a long distance. 

“You still want it, baby?” This he asks honestly and without the grungy purr to his voice. 

Again, without hesitation, Shane nods, but then stops. His chest swells like the words he wants to say are caught on the back of his throat, his nails gently biting into Tim’s chest, so Tim presses thoughtfully into the arch of Shane’s jaw, encouraging him. His doe eyes darting across Tim’s face, tension coiling up in his thighs, Shane says,

“I want it from the back this time.”

Oh, fuck. 

With half of a groan and half of a laugh, Tim dips forward and loosely bites Shane on his ear. “You really are trying to kill me, aren’t you?” 

Shane giggles as Tim’s nips slowly turn to open-mouthed kisses. He sucks sharply on the thrumming pulse of his neck, and Shane groans, his whole body writhing to be closer to Tim’s mouth, his skinny arms going around Tim’s broad shoulders. 

“Do you mind?” Shane asks, breaking apart for a moment, his lips brushing Tim’s mustache. “I know you did it last time and if you wanna, um, I mean I can try but –”

Tim grins through the smile pressed onto a corner of that sweet mouth as he sits up on his knees. He smooths a hand up through the faint trail of hair just above Shane’s waistband, then up his ribs, stopping to thumb a hard, pink nipple, before kissing both of his cheeks. 

“No, I don’t mind. I will never, ever mind when you ask so nicely.” 

“But one day – you w-want me too, right?” 

Ribbons of meaning hang over that question, their soft tassels hard to grab before slipping through Tim’s grasp. His brow furrows, his hand resting on Shane’s hip. The boy stares up at him like he hangs the moon in the sky.

Those ribbons drag forward new questions of their own, questions he can’t ask himself, much less out loud. They all clatter and fall into one big heap in his mouth and he can’t untangle them right now, not while he has Shane looking like that, but one slips through before he can stop it.

“You wanna do this again, with me?” The question lingers in the air like smoke, as gentle and insistent as the rain outside.

Shane’s fingers curl around Tim’s wrists. He smiles. “Yeah, of course. I . . . like you.” Blush trickles up his neck and into his ears, but he keeps his grip. “If you wanna keep me around, I mean.”

His voice goes small, from somewhere he never lets anyone see. Just as Shane’s eyes jerk off him, shame hot in his gaze, his body going rigid, Tim leans down and kisses him, the softest kiss they’d ever shared. The scent of cloves comes again as Shane offers his tongue and Tim takes it. 

They kiss in the cover of the rain, in the shelter of the space that is entirely theirs, for one eternity and a half. When Tim opens his eyes, he is someone new, someone changed. Someone he doesn’t recognize and that’s a wonderful thing.

“I’ll take you like you want,” he says softly. Beneath his chest, skin to skin, he can feel Shane’s heart pounding. He hopes Shane can feel his. “But I wanna see your face for a bit. Is that okay?” 

Shane nods and kisses him as he tries to pull away. Tim smirks and rubs Shane’s hip bone with his thumb.

“Remember what I said about preparing? Have you been doing that?”

Shane bites his lip as if caught doing something particularly filthy. “Yeah, I’m up to three fingers now.”

Fucking hell. Be cool about this. 

“Good, baby. Do you have lube?”

Shane rolls his eyes, that blush now blotchy on his throat. “Duuuh. I don’t know why you think I’m some bl–”

“– ushing fucking virgin. I heard you the first time.” Shane narrows his eyes playfully and Tim cannot wait to spank that smirk right off him. “Then go get it.”

Shane wiggles out from between Tim’s legs and crawls over to the bedside table. He digs around a bit before pulling out a box of condoms and a blue bottle. He tosses them at Tim like he’s throwing laundry detergent, before hovering for a moment. Lips between his teeth, he stiffly slips his underwear off and down the floor. His bracelets clink as he moves and Tim can tell it sounds like an air raid siren to him. Naked, he crawls back to bed and settles beneath Tim flat on his back.

“For someone who is so bothered by authority,” Tim begins and just as Shane frowns, wrenching his mouth open to argue, Tim sits back between his thighs and folds his knees up, spreading him wide. Whatever retort Shane had dies on his throat and the only thing left is a soft whine. “You are such a good boy. I didn’t even have to ask you to get naked for me.”

Shane’s cock, exposed for the first time all night, twitches on his stomach. He squirms as Tim picks up the bottle and clicks up the lid with his thumb, his other hand resting briefly on the arch of Shane’s foot. 

“I’m gonna start with one again, but move faster into two this time, okay? Then we’ll see if you’re lying to me or not.” Resistance flashes in Shane’s eyes at Tim’s smirk, but the boy stays silent. 

But that defiant look melts away to aching bliss when Tim drizzles the lube between his cheeks, and then Tim’s own fingers. His other hand curls around Shane’s knee and squeezes, grounding them both. 

“Probably should have gotten a towel,” Tim mutters and the sound Shane was going to use to reply fractures and crumbles, oozing into a throaty moan when his asshole spreads apart around a single finger. 

Maybe it’s his age, or maybe he’s never had his asshole played with in a way he likes, but Shane is so fucking sensitive. He’s twitching and gasping after a few strokes, black nails curling into the bedsheets. His eyes are squeezed shut, not from pain or discomfort, but from trying desperately not to come. Tim recognizes that look; he wore it himself fifteen minutes ago. 

Shane’s cock is trickling all over his stomach by the time Tim adds a second finger. And true to his word, it goes in without much resistance, much to Tim’s delight. This means there can be a bit more fun than just aimlessly prodding. Shane lets out a high moan when Tim’s fingers change angles. 

“What the fuck are you doing down there?” Shane pants, sweat peaking at his hairline. He moans again before Tim can answer, his back arching off the bed. 

“Searching.”

“For fucking what? I–,” Shane’s eyes snap open, horror and heat etched in the dark rims. “You can’t touch that, it’s not fair. You’ll make me come.”

Tim kisses his knee as he adds a third finger, grinning when Shane’s head thumps back against the pillow. “I think that’s the whole point of this, sweetheart.” 

Shane whines his answer; Tim speeds up his thrusting, giving up for now. 

“You’re doing so well, darling, so well. You did so good to prepare for my cock.”

Shane fists the bedsheets, his thigh muscles tightening. Tim thinks he can’t actually comprehend his words, until he wrenches his jaw apart. “Just your cock. I did it for your cock, Rockford, no one else’s. Don’t - don’t want anyone’s cock but yours in me.” 

This is just cock-drunk babble, tongue loose with whatever nonsense fills his mouth, his brain no longer in control.

Right?

Either way, Tim slips his fingers out with practiced precision, easing on the condom, then squirting his cock and Shane’s exposed hole with lube in one go. If Shane has noticed anything, his blissed out expression doesn’t change . . . until he feels the tip of Tim’s thick head expand his asshole.

His stare locked onto Shane’s blissed out face, Tim pushes forward, using Shane’s knees as leverage. 

The boy honest to god chokes. His cock spits up his chest. 

“Ohmy god . . .” 

Tim goes slow enough he knows it won’t hurt, his fingers opened him enough that the lube only adds to the pleasure, but he’s not entirely worried about that right now. He wants him stupid and babbling again.

“This cock, sweetheart? This is the cock you’ve been making room for?”

Shane whines, lips white between his teeth, nodding vigorously. Tim rubs his hip soothingly and Shane’s face breaks open with a loud gasp. His eyes snap down to where he swallows Tim inch after inch.

“You’re so much bigger than my fingers. Holy fucking shit. I forgot how big you are.” 

“But you like that, right?” There’s a collective sigh of relief as Tim finally is flushed against him. Huffing like a wounded animal, Tim pushes the mop of hair back from Shane’s sweaty forehead. “You like how I fuck you, don’t you?”

Shane nods again, as Tim grips his waist and he wraps his fingers around Shane’s forearms, his bracelets tinkling softly, as he settles in for what he can’t even possibly imagine.

“You’re damn fucking right I like how you fuck me.” Shane rasps out. “Wouldn’t let you do it if it didn’t rock my fucking world.” 

“I’m gonna go a bit faster than I did last time. You say stop if it gets to be too much.”

“I know what a safeword is, Rockford, I’m not –,”

Tim rolls his hips forward, knocking a surprised breath from Shane. He stabilizes a bit better with his knees and then picks up a rhythm, slow but deep.

“If you say blushing fucking virgin one more time, I’m putting you over my knee and spanking you.” 

But words fail him.

They fail Tim too, eventually, when rings of heat stack, one upon the other, up his spine. Every time Shane’s asshole clenches around him, those rings drop lower, closer to his groin. 

It feels too fucking good. 

The rhythmic chime of Shane’s metal bracelets clinking together can barely be heard over the rain outside, and the peaks and valleys of the heavy moans piling up in the room.

Shane’s flattened hand against his head board, he grinds his hips down, forcing even more resistance than just his tight hole. 

“Fuck,” he whines high and loud, Tim tightening his grip on his waist as he all but bounces Shane on his cock. “Oh god, I can’t – I can’t –,” 

Tim’s skin is so hot he wonders if he’s giving off steam. He’s sweating from his forehead, his neck, the backs of his knees, a slick wetness spreading across his groin every time he slams that cute little ass back against him. Not another single word of derision has passed Shane’s lips in what feels like forever, his mouth switching rapidly between grinding his teeth and dropping open when Tim brushes up against something nuclear. 

If Tim is steaming, Shane is melting. Every muscle in his body is weak, knees around Tim’s hips to give him better access. Cum rolls in white streaks off his stomach and onto the rapidly shifting sheets. 

Tim knows if he just breaths on the that pink cock, it’s all fucking over – so he slows, and pulls back out of him. 

A Shane with a functioning brain would have demanded an explanation but the gooey mess of a boy in the bed only lifts his gaze. 

“Turn around,” Tim pants. 

“What?” 

“You wanted me too . . .” Tim spins his finger, squeezing the base of his cock with his other hand. “Turn over.” 

“Oh, right.” Despite that almost sleepy murmur, Tim can hear the disappointment. At the head of the bed, a shaking hand swipes away one pillow then the other and Shane buries his face in the mattress.

His ass is already pink as Tim spreads his thighs, his knee nudging his right leg to bend, and lines up. But Shane is murmuring something into the sheets. 

“… stop.” 

Tim freezes, one hand around his cock the other flat against the bed by Shane’s hips. 

“You want me to stop?” 

Shane lifts his head enough to look back and whine. “Don’t — don’t stop.” Crackling with unspent energy, Shane rubs his face against the sheets like a cat. “Please.”

Tim grins as he lines himself up again, his free hand coming to Shane’s thigh when the cockhead spreads his cheeks. 

“Don’t worry, darling, I’m not gonna –,”

Tim stops moving. It’s long enough and unusually fraught enough for Shane to lift his head in confusion, Tim’s cock barely in.

“What happened?” 

Tim is staring, struck dumb and mindless at the sight of Shane’s lower back.

“You’ve got two dimples here,” he murmurs, the growl in his voice thick and rough.

“Yeah? So?”

Without warning, Tim yanks Shane onto his hands and knees by his waist. The sudden movement is rough for his loose muscles and he yelps. 

“Fuck – what’s got you all fucking twisted up now?”

Tim is no longer entirely himself. His shoulders seem broader, nose sharper, mouth firmer. His eyes have been eclipsed by black as one by one, he puts his hands on Shane’s hips, and then twists his thumbs to fit into the divots of his dimples as he, achingly slow, pushes back into Shane’s abused hole.

“You’ve got fucking handles built in, baby.” Tim murmurs and heat radiates from where they are connected, Shane’s skin flushed with red and goosebumps. The sensation jams the signal to Shane’s brain. 

Behind him, Tim kisses his back almost lovingly.

“I’m definitely gonna wreck your shit now.” 

On the first tug, the one that snugs Tim’s groin right up against his ass, Tim knows he only has seconds left in him. 

These strokes are brutal, fast, and short. Whatever sounds tears itself from Shane’s throat is the prettiest thing Tim has ever heard. His mouth goes wet as he watches Shane’s shoulders and back go loose again and on another day, he’s going to clench his fist around that mop of hair and pull until Shane begs him to stop.

Another day. But not today. 

Tim focuses on the things he can control to elongate that enormous orgasm that rattles his teeth. His thumbs in the perfect little divots of Shane’s back; he pushes down, increasing the pressure higher up, and actually hears the cum squirt out onto the bed, followed by a groan that shakes Shane from head to toe. He focuses on his breathing, the short huffs out his nose, mouth closed shut but tiny mhm mhm mhm’s escape anyway. He tries to focus on the glint around his pelvis but that makes things worse. 

He focuses on – fuck, what can he focus on? – Shane hasn’t made a noise in –

“Shane, baby, are you okay?”

He gasps out as though electrified. “I’m trying so hard not to come, I don’t want it to fucking stop, but you hit my g-spot three thrusts ago and I think I’m gonna pass out.”

Tim can’t help but chuckle. He rubs a warm palm up Shane’s spine, then gives his neck a reassuring squeeze, before leaning forward and draping himself over Shane’s trembling frame, never slowing those fast, rough thrusts. He noses his ear as his hand slips around the cock leaking profusely onto the sheets. 

“You can come, but it has to be loud and messy.” 

Just half a stroke down and Shane comes with a cry that paints the inside of Tim’s brain permanently. And he keeps coming, gasping, wet and whining. Over his shoulder, Tim feels a dribble against his knee and that, combined with all of Shane’s delicious fucking sounds, knocks free Tim’s own release, the swell and burst far away from his control. Shane’s elbows are trembling by the time he slumps to the side, trying and mostly failing to avoid his own cumstain. Tim drops behind him in a haze. 

He’s already sore, every muscle tightened then released over and over and over again. He can’t inhale properly and he’s got a stitch in his side. There’s a pulsing all over his body and he isn’t sure if that’s from coming so hard he nearly shot off the condom, or his heart pounding like it’s about to explode. His skin is wet and sticky and he’s hungry but exhausted and he would hate all of this if he was alone, but . . .

Weary down to his bones, the breath settling in his chest and the fog lifting slightly, Tim puts a hand on the narrow waist in front of him. Fingers join his, wrapping together, as the frenetic energy of the room slows to a crawl, each moment plodding along in front of the next like fat water droplets. 

“. . . good, that was good,” Tim slurs to no one in particular, his eyelids flickering open and shut. “You’re . . . s’good.” He knows they should talk, but he’s past speech, or rather anything coherent, his consciousness slipping beneath the churning dark waves of sleep.

The smooth back in front of him, shiny with drying sweat, shakes in a dizzy, silent chuckle.

“Go to sleep, old man.”

Tim knows he should be offended, or he thinks he should, if he could comprehend language right now, so instead he settles into the warmth and the darkness. Soon the only sound he can hear is the rain pattering against the window and Shane softly snoring before reality winks out.

+

[a-couple-of-notes]

I’m curious what makes you ship Rio/Alice (I also love the ship and glad more people are on board)

Oh, boy. Sorry for the wall of text that's about to hit your eyeballs, anon.

First, the main reason is that I love unexplored dynamics. It's more fun for me to write rarepairs that I have to work to justify or understand, that aren't necessarily scaffolded by popularity or a whole canon romantic storyline. Actually, I tend to avoid writing pairings that a lot of other people write or that feature heavily in canon--kind of a strange feeling of "if you don't have anything new to add, don't say it." (Which, to be clear, is not how one has to approach fandom at all. I genuinely enjoy reading my favorite tropes and premises over and over again! I like seeing ten different people gif the same moment! It's just that I, personally, like the narrative space of rarepairs.)

So for me, Rio and Alice occupy that fascinating grey area of having maybe one and a half canon conversations (super rarepair) but also being such strong characters independently that the threads of behavior and backstory are there to connect if you want. (I want.) To wit:

Rio and Alice are two people (person and entity?) whose natures fundamentally oppose each other--Alice is a very mortal protection witch whose natural instinct is to save, to be good, and Rio is the immortal Death, whose job it is to reap, to take, to be villainized. Put them together, and they'll clash in a fun way--especially since, unlike Agatha, Alice is terrible at running away or deflecting. It has the potential to be really toxic, and it has the potential of coming out the other side to actual growth and understanding. (This is what makes Alice so easy to ship/write for me, by the way--I mean, yeah, she's my blorbo, but also her sincerity and instinctive selflessness offer a great counterpoint to, like, every other character. The others, who are balls of lies and deflection and worse coping mechanisms, clarify when placed next to her.)

They also have interesting similarities: they're both bound by duty. Both forced to accept senseless tragedy. Both grieving. Both, in a way, willing to be truthful.

There are so many entry points into it from canon: Rio following Alice through her life via the curse, Alice seeking Rio (death) at some point in her life (which is not exactly canon but you can argue it by...well, Alice's whole deal pre-episode 4), Rio being jealous of Alice saving Agatha (I wrote that one), and of course Rio reaping Alice. Come on. That cheek touch. Like, we saw someone walking beside Rio into her realm, and it wasn't Agatha.

And, well, there's the Agatha of it all. The way I write Rio, you simply cannot cut Agatha out of it. It adds an extra challenge to figure out how Rio and Alice would have a relationship that would stack up in any way to Rio and Agatha's (and what that would look like). If you do it right, it gives extra meaning to Rio/Alice--it's not the destined love, but it's one they had to choose.

And finally, the two other, very shallow reasons:

I wrote a fic about these two, and I put so much of the stuff I like in there that I played myself and got interested.

Aesthetically, Death and her puppy dog girlfriend in a Hot Topic leather jacket? Fire.

[minnarr]

REFERENCE POST: very minor characters of Word of Honor

I originally gathered these blorbos together for a presentation called "Writing in the Margins: finding story in the minor characters of Word of Honor" (sometimes, in a pinch, I title slide deck party presentations like a paper because it's easy). My criteria for this presentation was that I wanted to highlight characters to whom a lot of people's reaction would be, "Who?" So characters like Gu Miaomiao and Gao Xiaolian and Deng Kuan, while my beloveds, are not here because they are just a bit too present in the story.

Why should you click through and read? Well, honestly, I'm adapting this as a resource for fellow fic writers who just want some folks to help flesh out the world. This post is divided into three sections: Chengling's Generation, Tianchaung's Orbit, and The Previous Generation. There's so much just going on in the background; let's take a look.

Chengling's Generation

Mu Yunge

Introduction: Episode 5* Suggested Episodes: 5, 7

* by "introduction", I mean the episode in which their name card appears, officially introducing them; for some characters, as with Mu Yunge, their first appearance in the show happens before that point

Mu Yunge is an interesting inclusion because I don't like him. He's pretty much there to suck, and then die. He's here for two reasons. One, he does a lot to flesh out his world; two, he's in the boyband in the concert they did after Word of Honor wrapped, and that is my favorite part.

I'm really only going to address the first one here. Oh, Mu Yunge. He's there to show how the Department of the Unfaithful operates, and how very present the violent misogyny they address still is in his world. He's also (to all appearances) a young man in good standing in the martial arts world. Deng Kuan is close enough to him that he's selected as one of the friends to take part in the deathmatch in his name. What does this say about the young men of that generation? And his death also has echoes in the background drama in the show: Mu Siyuan (his dad) becomes a loud voice against the ghosts and later Gao Chong.

Zhu Yaozhi

Introduction: 3 Suggested Episodes: 7, 14, & 24

Zhu Yaozhi is fascinating to me because he is such an encapsulation of what Word of Honor does with its larger plot. Because, like, there's all these moving pieces and a lot of them are moving in the background and the main characters don't really notice or give a shit, but they're definitely moving along arcs that make sense from their point of view.

This guy is a disciple of Yueyang Sect, Gao Chong's sect (along with Deng Kuan); we see him multiple times just doing kind of grunt work/investigation for them, most notably when he follows up on the guy Gu Xiang beat up for harrassing musicians and then is apologetic and embarrassed for believing his side of the story (episode 7). He's also buddies with Mo Weixu, Cao Weining's shixiong, and teases Cao Weining to him. (See this gifset for part of the scene in question, from episode 14). Early Zhu Yaozhi is a goofball who's just doing his job.

After Gao Chong's disgrace, he goes searching for Gao Xiaolian and we lose track of him until he turns up again in ep 24 being menaced by Mu Siyuan. Mu Siyuan wants him to say his master was evil and colluded with the ghosts, and Zhu Yaozhi refuses and tries to punch him. It's great. It also gives us Shen Shen to the rescue in the middle of his own loyalty/figuring out how to be truly righteous arc. I have a lot of feelings about this. He's such a useful character for showing us what Yueyang Sect is like and what becomes of it after Gao Chong dies.

Song Huairen (L) & Xie Wuyang (R)

Introduction: SHR: 5 / XWY: 8 Suggested Episodes: SHR: 5 / XWY: 9, 17

I've paired these because they're both Xie Wang’s competition, young men who also call Zhao Jing yifu. They are both disciples of Yueyang Sect; Song Huairen is supposed to be a favored disciple of Gao Chong. Xie Wang eliminates him the same night we meet him and plays it off to Zhao Jing as the shell game with the Glazed Armor going wrong.

Xie Wuyang meanwhile starts off as a character who makes Zhang Chengling’s life at Yueyang uncomfortable—up to and including whipping him during training. Very satisfyingly, Gu Xiang knocks him out when he’s giving Chengling a hard time in episode 11. Later on, after Zhao Jing has settled in at Yueyang, Xie Wuyang serves him in his private rooms doing stuff like giving him manicures. 

Mo Weixu

Introduction: 14 Suggested Episodes: 14, 26-28

Mo Weixu is the son of Mo Huaiyang (Cao Weining's horrible shifu) and Cao Weining's da-shixiong. When he first appears, he scolds Cao Weining for having no ambition but then shoos him off to check on Gu Xiang anyway, and we see this mix of sternness-as-concern and indulgence continue. He's kind to Gu Xiang, and helps guide her through greeting their shishu Fan Huaikong properly, but he also warns Cao Weining that she might not be everything she appears. He's kind of the level-headed ballast to Cao Weining's naivete and worries about him.

Mo Weixu is not at Cao Weining's wedding. Mo Huaiyang says he had to cleanse his sect because his disciple and shidi were bewitched by Gu Xiang. However, in episode 36, Xie Wang specifically says that they never found Mo Weixu's body, even though they definitely found Fan Huaikong's. Fellow fic writers: you know what that means.

Tianchuang's Orbit

Bi Xingming (L) & Cheng Zichen (R)

Introduction: 31 Suggested Episodes: 31

Disciples of Siji hidden in Tianchuang! These two were both taken as disciples by men within Tianchuang and took their surnames; Bi Xingming’s first shifu is Bi Changfeng, the guy who took the nails in episode 1. Cheng Zichen's is a guy called Cheng Xiu. They show up in like one episode but I’m obsessed with them. They lead the party of Tianchuang ducklings who rescue Zhou Zishu and then get inducted into Siji as Zhou Zishu’s disciples. Bi Xingming is specifically shown to be very eager about this, but is told he’ll have to wait to have a ceremony about it till his shixiong Chengling comes back.

Princess Jing'an

Introduction: 1 Suggested Episodes: 1

Talk about one-scene wonders—Princess Jing'an left an impression on me. What kind of past interactions does it imply that she calls Zhou Zishu Zhou-shixiong, but he doesn't know she and Jiuxiao were in love? I have questions and I want to answer them. Also even in her like 2 minutes of screentime we see her sharp and defiant and angry and it makes me want to write her SO bad.

Qingluan

Introduction: [N/A] Suggested Episodes: 30

She is literally mentioned in like 1 or 2 lines in episode 30 so she’s less fascinating for her Word of Honor appearance than for how she is mentioned here paired with her role in Qi Ye (the novel that's the prequel to the novel SHL is based on): In Qi Ye, Su Qingluan (originally named Su Cui'r) is a beauty who becomes part of the crown prince party, gets caught working against them, and is confined to a house as Helian Yi’s concubine for the foreseeable future.

In Word of Honor, she’s one of the people (the list also includes Zhou Zishu, Yunxing, Qin Jiuxiao, and Jing Beiyuan) who swore together in her courtyard to make Jinwang emperor, which implies a much more active role in their party than in Qi Ye. We also know she killed herself before the events of canon (or at least as far as Jinwang knows; in the same section, Zhou Zishu says that Jinwang poisoned Jing Beiyuan to death with a straight face). This seems to be part of the whole party splintering over time. Once more: implied story, free real estate (jazz hands).

Jing Beiyuan's six siblings

At one point Jing Beiyuan justifies being called Qi Ye (Lord Seventh) by saying he's the seventh kid in his generation. (There's a different, much more absurd, justification in the novels). I take him at his word just because that's the funniest option. I don't have more to say beyond just:

Six

SIX!!!!!!

are they worse than him? are they normal?

just

SIX

The Previous Generation

Qin-furen

Introduction: [N/A] Suggested Episodes: 12, 24

SIDEBAR: the moms. The dads have SO much narrative weight in the story in ways that most of the moms really don’t—they’re often nameless or fully invisible—so I leap at even the tiniest mentions of what they’re like and think a lot about them. Qin-furen’s the only one who really lands in the sweet spot for this post: enough info to play with and not make a total OC, not enough screentime that I expect to find many fics with her.

This is the wife of Qin Huaizhang, Zhou Zishu’s shifu. She’s mentioned in just a handful of lines and unnamed. She rescued rabbits and apparently was fearsome with her husband about it. She was friends with Chengling’s mom, who had a similar dynamic with her husband, according to Chengling. In episode 12, Zhou Zishu says, “I wanted to practice martial arts when I was a child. Sometimes, when my master forced me to play, I would seek help from his wife. She always stood by my side and criticized my master.” I have spent a truly stupid amount of time looking at her gravestone trying to glean info, and I’m still not really sure what we should be calling her.

Yue Feng'er

Introduction: 19 Suggested Episodes: 19

The eldest disciple of her generation at Healer Valley and the wife of Rong Xuan. She rough-houses with Shen Shen and is known by her own title as well as being the eldest of the Three Heroes of Healers Valley. She’s presumably well-known in the martial arts world, and woven right into the web of friendships that started off all this tragedy. And she also loved her husband so fiercely that when he was poisoned she used a forbidden technique and took the heart out of a living man to try to heal him. She’s a powerful healer and at least as much a monster as he is and I like her so much.

[five-oh-thirst]

Mine

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Pairing: Jesse/Kix

Summary: When several omegas from the 501st are taken captive by alpha slave traders, Kix steps up to protect his brothers from one of the guards, but it leads to more consequences than he bargained for.

Tags & Warnings: 18+, NSFW, omegaverse, clones with vaginas, rape/non-con, forced voyeurism, rough sex, oral sex, cum swallowing, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, knotting, biting/marking, mating/bonding, mating bites, mating bond, forced bonding, mate stealing, breeding, pregnancy, m!preg, pregnancy sex, abortion, forced abortion, miscarriage, still birth, grief/mourning, violence, blood, whump, eventual happy ending

Word Count: 10.2k

Notes: I decided to cut the fic into two parts because it got obnoxiously long, and I kept adding to it. All the Kix whump is in the first part, and all the soft Jessix will be in the second part. I'll add more tags when I post the second part. This is my first cloneship fic, so I hope it turned out well! P.S. I love Jesse and Kix, but sometimes you need to toss your favorite blorbos into a wood chipper and see what happens.

Read on AO3

Music Vibe:

Kix was startled awake by the sound of his cell door creaking open. The lack of natural light in the room made it difficult to distinguish his surroundings, and the minimal artificial light only strained his eyes further. His body, which was stripped of its protective armor when he was taken, protested against the pressure points from the uneven earthen floor he laid on and the binders connected to heavy durametal chains chafed at his bare wrists and ankles.

He sat up to investigate the late-night visit, although he didn't know what time it was, and even with cautious, slow movements, his chains still rattled. They had a bit of length so he could move around freely within the cell, but not enough to reach the cell door. The cell, more like a cage, was made of thick floor-to-ceiling durametal bars except for a single duracrete wall opposite the cell door where the other end of his chains found their home.

The alpha guard, who captured him and the other omega clones, entered Kix's cell dragging a new, younger-looking clone behind him by the collar of his blacks. The clone kicked and flailed his arms to try and break free from the guard, but was no match for his power, and was tossed like a ragdoll against the same duracrete wall Kix was chained to. The guard quickly fastened the new clone's ankles and wrists with binders, ensuring no hope of escape.

Kix chewed on his lower lip as he watched and waited from his section of the wall for the guard to leave their cell, but his brow furrowed when the guard lingered longer than usual. He had left immediately after locking the rest of them up, but this time, the guard knelt in front of the young clone, smoothed his hand over their knee, and leaned in to whisper something Kix couldn't hear. Whatever was said made the young clone flinch and the guard smile.

After the guard left their cell and the holding room, Kix shifted to face the young clone. "What's your name trooper?"

The young clone didn't look at Kix. He pulled his knees up against his chest but the rattle of the chains spooked him and he jerked back, which only resulted in the chains rattling louder.  His chest heaved, but he eventually settled down and rested his head atop his knees. No one could see it, but Kix could hear him sniffling.

"It's Tully, sir," the young clone whispered.

Kix cracked a sympathetic smile; the poor kid was terrified. "You can drop the 'sir' in here, vod'ika. I'm Kix, one of the medics."

Tully didn't respond.

"Over there is Echo and Denal," Kix said. He pointed to the other two cells in the holding room. "And over there is Dogma and Tup."

Tully picked his head up from his makeshift hiding place and looked at the other clones resting in their cells. They waved at him, but he didn't wave back, and instead, buried his face back into his knees.

"How old are you?" Kix asked. It wasn't an important question, and he didn't care much for the answer, but it would keep the young clone's mind thinking about something other than his current situation.

"Ten," Tully said, his voice muffled by his knees.

Kix chuckled. "You really are a vod'ika. How long have you been with the 501st?"

"This was my first mission," Tully said.

Kix sighed. "Not what you expected, huh?"

Tully tensed and tightened his arms around his knees.

"It's gonna be okay," Kix said. The words of comfort were for the young clone, but also for everyone else in the room, including himself. As the lead medic, Kix wasn't only in charge of his trooper's physical wellbeing, but also their emotional wellbeing and morale. Someone had to stay strong in their bleak situation, and that someone was him.

Tully picked his head up again to look around the dim room. "What is this place?"

Kix frowned. "It's an omega selling house."

Tully snapped his attention from the cobweb he was staring at to look into Kix's eyes for the first time. Kix stared back into his familiar brown irises and found them full of fear. It tugged at his heartstrings but lying wouldn't help anyone.

"What are they gonna do to us?" Tully asked. The fear poured out of his voice like a spigot.

"Don't know," Kix said with a shrug of his shoulders, and he was being honest. It was his first time in this type of situation, too, and he wasn't sure what to expect, but he did know one thing for sure. "But our alphas will come get us."

"Oh," Tully said.

"D'you have an alpha?" Kix asked.

The young clone rested his head on his knees again. "Not really. Well, I do, but I don't. He's just my batchmate, but we've been together for a while. I mean, he's never marked me or anything, and we haven't…" he made an awkward gesture with his shoulders. "You know…"

Kix smiled. He knew all too well. Many of the younger clones were shy or embarrassed about their sexual desires, but in his many years of medical experience, and as a listening ear to his patients, Kix could tell when one of them was pining. "Sounds like he's your alpha to me. And even if he doesn't come get you, I'm sure when you get back to him, he'll want to mark you right away."

Tully smiled for the first time since he arrived. It was a small smile, barely noticeable, but it was there. "Maybe."

"Just think about him," Kix said. "It'll help."

"Do you have an alpha?" Tully asked.

Kix smiled fondly and traced a circle in the dirt on the cell floor. "I do." He chuckled to himself as he thought about Jesse and how enraged he probably was right now with him being missing. "He's a strong alpha. Big, too. And between you and me, Captain Rex isn't the top alpha in the 501st. Mine is."

Tully gasped as if what Kix just said was blasphemous. "Really?"

"Really," Kix repeated. "He's the most aggressive alpha you'll ever meet, and if he's in the room, you'll know it. Just one look from him will make any alpha bare their neck in fear."

"So, he'll come?" Tully asked, letting hope touch his words for the first time.

"Without a doubt," Kix said. There was some doubt, but Kix couldn't say that. He knew Jesse wouldn't stop looking for him, and Rex wasn't about to lose some of his best men to a lousy bunch of omega slavers. He knew they'd come, eventually, but he had no idea when that would be.

There was a long period of silence in the room after Kix and Tully's conversation ended. Everyone became drowsy once the adrenaline wore off from when the guard came in and it was about time for them to go back to sleep. Echo and Denal spooned together on top of a small straw patch in their cell and Tup and Dogma sat back-to-back while leaning their sides against their duracrete wall.

Kix had been sleeping alone since he was brought in. He preferred to sleep on his side with his back to the wall because it felt the safest. Once situated, Kix looked over at Tully, who was still holding onto himself for comfort and he felt sympathy for the young clone. They all knew each other, but Tully didn't know any of them. At least, not in the way Torrent Company knew each other. It would be cruel to let him sleep alone, especially on his first night.

"Why don't you come over here and sleep with me," Kix offered.

Tully picked his head up and looked at Kix, tears streaming down his face. "Are you sure?"

Kix smiled and raised his arm as an invitation for Tully to lie next to him. "I'm sure."

Tully wiped his tears with his sleeve and scurried across the short distance of their cell, chains rattling loudly, then plunged himself into the medic's chest. Kix was startled, but wrapped his arms around Tully and let him cry. He still didn't know what the guard said to shake him up, but whatever it was, he wouldn't let it happen. Tully was a shiny and probably didn't have a scar on him. He was Tully's senior by three years and it was his duty to keep him safe. Actually, he was the oldest of all the clones in the holding room and he was determined to protect them.

The young clone remained inside the safety of Kix's arms while they slept for as long as they were able. It was probably the best sleep the kid could get in their dark, dingy, and damp cell. Creature comforts were non-existent in their little prisons, more like cages, but the best comfort a clone could ask for was always a brother, or better yet, an alpha.

However, the only alphas around them were the guards. They were strong enough alphas to keep everyone in line, except for Kix. He wasn't joking when he told Tully his alpha was strong. Kix never met another alpha on Jesse's level, and any alpha beneath him was a cakewalk to deal with. He could ignore them and their alpha voices. There wasn't an alpha he met that could order him around, and anyone who dared to try was met with Jesse's wrath.

It must've been around the morning when the guard came back to the holding room because he was holding the bag with their rations in it. It wasn't much for one rotation, especially for a clone, but it got them by. Water was the bigger commodity. The cells had automatic watering systems–bowls on either side of the cells, adjacent to duracrete walls, where water pooled once a rotation. If being a clone didn't make him feel like livestock, that did.

Kix opened his eyes and watched the guard's movements from where he lay against the wall. That was the other advantage to his sleeping position–an easy observation point of the enemy. Jesse taught him that. Tully was still sleeping in his arms, but Kix chose not to wake him. There was no point in waking, and scaring, him if the guard was going to leave after dropping off their food.

The guard walked around the holding room and tossed the ration bars into the cells like feed to animals–one per trooper. Kix found it demeaning, but the other clones grabbed the bars after the guard walked past their cells and ate them without a fuss. When the guard tossed the bars into his cell, Kix didn't move. He would wait until the guard left, then wake Tully to eat their rations.

However, the guard lingered in his cell. He stood in front of the door and leaned against the thick bars. "What's the matter? Not hungry?"

Kix didn't respond.

"Answer me, omega," the guard said.

Kix stayed silent.

The guard huffed. He grabbed the keys out of his pocket, unlocked the cell door, walking in like he owned the place and them. Kix gripped Tully tighter against his body as the guard approached them. The guard squatted down and waved a ration bar in front of Kix's face. "I can't sell dead omegas," he said. "Eat."

"I'll eat when you leave," Kix said. He felt Tully's head move against his chest, but Kix kept his hold on the younger clone firm so he couldn't wiggle away as he stirred. This jump scare was the last thing the kid needed.

The guard shook his head. "That's not how this works, sweetheart. You eat when I tell you to eat."

Kix stared guard down.

The guard narrowed his eyes. "You're a feisty one, aren't you? Don't worry, I'll break that out of you."

Kix growled.

"Defiant too," the guard said. "You know what ya need?" He tapped the ration bar against Kix's nose. "An example of a good omega." 

Before Kix could react, the guard grabbed Tully by the hair and yanked him out of Kix's arms, both sets of chains swung and rattled violently, alerting the other clones to the commotion in the cell. Kix tried to hold onto Tully but he knew it would hurt more to be pulled in two different directions and the alpha guard was stronger, so he reluctantly released his grip on the young clone.

Tully yelped as the guard flattened him onto the ground and pressed his face into the dirt with a single hand held against the back of his neck. He kicked and flailed, scraping his fingertips and toes across the floor to try and get away, but the guard straddled his back, pinning him in place with his weight. There wasn't anything the other clones could do to help Tully now; only watched and hoped it would be over soon.

"Tell me something," the guard said to the young clone. He ran his other hand down Tully's spine. "You're so small. Have you gone into heat yet? You ever taken a knot before?" He ground his hips down against Tully's back for emphasis then leaned over to nose at his neck. "All the other omegas have a mark except you."

Tully cried out. "Stop!" He tried to pull his neck away, but the guard followed his movements.

The guard smiled at the young clone's struggle and licked over his unsullied mating gland. "Now I'll deliver on that promise I made and take you as mine. You'll show your friend here what it means to be a good omega. Yeah? You'll be good for me?"

Tully began to cry. "No! I don't want to!"

The guard shifted his weight back onto Tully's legs and slipped a finger inside his waistband. He tugged at the fabric and revealed the skin just below the young clone's tailbone. "Let me see that virgin cunt of yours."

"Please!" Tully sobbed. "Let me go!"

"Leave him alone!" Kix yelled, unable to watch any longer. "Use me instead." He blurted the words out so fast, they barely registered in his mind. It was dumb, probably the dumbest thing he could ever do, but he wasn't going to let the shiny under his care be taken like an omega whore in his cell on his watch. It would go against every one of his ethics.

The guard released the waistband and looked over at Kix. "And why should I?"

"He's young," Kix said, "and inexperienced. You want to have a good time? Use me. I'll be your good omega."

"An omega who's also a hero?" the guard said, seemingly intrigued by Kix's proposal. He got off Tully but kept the young clone pinned to the floor with a well-placed boot on his lower back. "That's cute."

Kix smirked; it worked. "You haven't seen my cute side."

The guard fully released Tully from his hold and stepped towards Kix. "Well, I'm gonna. Present yourself to me. Now."

Kix obeyed and got on his hands and knees, then wiggled his ass at the guard.

The guard looked amused. "Show it to me."

Kix did as he was told and pulled the bottom half of his blacks down and around his ankles to where the binders stopped them from coming off. Baring his backside for everyone to see wasn't as embarrassing as Kix thought it was going to be, since all clones have seen each other naked, but he never had sex in front of an audience before and that made him a bit self-conscious. Besides Tully, they were all marked omegas so sex wasn't something they were unfamiliar with, but most kept that part of their relationships private.

Kix made eye contact with Tully, who had scampered back to the other side of the cell and was now watching in horror. Kix winked at him in an attempt to calm him down, but the poor kid looked like he was five seconds away from having a panic attack. Kix reminded himself why he was doing this and why it was important for him to keep his composure. In the back of their minds, they all knew this was a possibility–even an inevitability–but now it was a harsh reality.

Kix's expression suddenly shifted when his ass cheek was hit with a hard, swift slap. The suddenness of the action made him gasp.

"Pay attention to me," the guard said, his voice stern. He admired Kix's ass for a minute, smoothing his hands over the taught swells, squeezing and kneading them, then spreading them to reveal a dark pink vulva protected by coarse curls. The guard leaned in and inhaled its scent deeply through his nose, then exhaled through his mouth, ghosting his hot breath across the wet opening which made Kix shiver. "What a pretty cunt."

"Thanks," Kix said. "My alpha thinks so too."

The guard shifted forward and laid his full weight on top of Kix's back, nearly buckling him to the floor. He wrapped his hand around the back of Kix's neck and smoothed his thumb over Jesse's bite mark. Kix flinched. "Mention your alpha one more time and I'll make sure you can never be marked again. I'll cut these mating glands right out of your neck."

Kix felt the threat in his bones. Even with his outward sarcastic and calm attitude, he was still terrified on the inside. He was an omega and he wanted his alpha. Jesse's bite mark was the only thing he could cling to in this situation. He wanted him so badly it hurt, but he couldn't let on that he was in desperate need of his mate. He had no choice but to keep up the facade he began and play his part to its completion, or it would be hell to pay for all of them.

The guard shifted his weight off of Kix's back and went back to admiring his genitals–touching, prodding, and licking. By all rights, it was pretty. At least that's what Jesse told him every time he had his face buried in it. Kix thought about the last time Jesse went down on him and he almost hummed when he remembered how good it felt, but he caught himself. There was no use in letting this alpha know he was somewhere else with someone else.

Kix gasped. His happy thoughts were rudely interrupted when he felt the guard's finger breach him. It didn't hurt, but the dryness was uncomfortable. At least Jesse licked his fingers, and even when he was acting like a ravenous alpha, it never took Kix long to get slick. But this alpha? Not a chance. His body would react, as all bodies would, but it wasn't the same thing as wanting it. He winced as another dry finger was inserted, and grunted at the uncomfortable stretch with the addition of a third.

"Not so talkative now, are you?" the guard mocked. He thrusted the three fingers up to his knuckles, hard and fast, not leaving any room for Kix to adjust. It was only a matter of seconds before the thrusts began to squelch as Kix's body released slick to aid in the process.

Kix groaned at the lewd sounds his body was making without his permission, but stayed strong. "Just bored."

The guard stopped and pulled his fingers out, a string of slick keeping them connected which snapped when the guard stood up and then dripped unceremoniously onto the back of Kix's thigh. He could sense the guard was mad, but he kept his composure. With Tully staring at him the way he was, he didn't have a choice.

Kix's ears twitched when he heard the guard unbuckling his belt. He knew what was coming next, and his only saving grace would be if the guard was smaller than Jesse–who was massive. Sometimes, Kix wondered how he even got it in there, let alone hit his G-spot with such precision to give him mind-blowing orgasms. There was no way this alpha would make him feel that good. He and Jesse had lots of practice, and practice made it perfect.

Kix twisted his lip when he felt the blunt head of the guard's cock press against his entrance, but luckily, it felt smaller than Jesse's and Kix sighed in relief when his cock sank in without much argument.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" the guard said. He groaned when he bottomed out. "A real alpha's cock."

"I thought it would be bigger," Kix said.

The guard clenched his jaw and began a brutal pace, slamming his hips into Kix as fast and as hard as he could. Kix's hands and knees bled as they scraped across the ground from the force of the thrusts. He grunted and winced in pain as his flesh was chewed up by the coarse cell floor beneath him. Truthfully, that hurt more than the sex. Jesse was much rougher, in his opinion, but usually, there was something soft underneath him so he didn't get hurt.

Tully looked frightened again, so Kix mustered a smile through the pain. "It's not that bad," Kix said. It was a half-truth. For Kix, it was less intense than what he was used to, but for Tully, who was a virgin, it would've been his worst nightmare.

"I like this cunt," the guard said as he continued to thrust into Kix. "Maybe I should keep you." He leaned forward over Kix's back and flicked his tongue across Jesse's bite mark, not losing his pace even a little. "Make you my omega."

Kix shuddered. That was too close for comfort. Anytime the guard came near Jesse's bite mark, he wanted to vomit. He turned his thoughts back to his mate to try and calm himself down. He thought about when Jesse came back from the battlefield high on adrenaline, stormed into whichever tent Kix was occupying, and took him on whatever object was closest. Kix loved it. He loved giving Jesse what he wanted and he loved being desired by Jesse.

"Wouldn't you like that?" the guard asked, interrupting Kix's thoughts again. He began to pant at the exertion. "To be my little slut? Take my knot whenever I want like a good little omega? Let me breed you 'till your belly swells with my babies?"

Now, Kix might vomit. It was one thing to be this alpha's cum dumpster to keep him away from his brothers, but it was another thing to be impregnated by him. That's where Kix drew the line. "Not a chance," Kix said, his breath also coming out as pants.

The guard clawed over Jesse's bite mark with calloused fingers. "You'll do as I tell you."

It was like nails on a chalkboard for Kix. Fear and anger boiled deep within him. If he touched Jesse's bite mark one more time, he might lose control and buck the guard off. Would he win in a fight against this alpha? Never. But he would try. He'd rather die in a bloody scrap against the guard than lose Jesse's bite mark. "Are you done, yet?" Kix asked.

"You're such a noisy omega," the guard said. He pulled out and a gush of slick followed the head of his cock. The sound of it splattering onto the floor was embarrassing, but Kix swallowed his pride and didn't let his discomfort show. The guard then grabbed Kix by the collar of his blacks and forced him up onto his knees. "But I know how to shut you up."

Kix took a moment to catch his breath then stared silently up at the guard as he walked around to his front side.

"Open your mouth," the guard said. He stepped on the chains that connected to Kix's binders which pulled him forward.

Kix regained his balance and continued to stare up at the guard.

"I said, open your mouth," the guard ordered with his alpha voice.

Kix glanced to the side and watched the other clones open their mouths in obedience, then looked back at the guard with a raised eyebrow. It didn't affect him.

The guard huffed. "You think you're so smart, don't ya? How smart would you feel if I stuffed my knot in your little friend's mouth and split his jaw open?" He pointed at Tully.

Another threat and the terrified look on Tully's face left Kix with no choice but to comply. The abuse to his insides he could deal with. That was easy, but the thought of sucking on this alpha's filthy cock and swallowing his disgusting cum made Kix's stomach churn. And yet, he reluctantly opened his mouth.

The guard smirked and cupped Kix's cheek, rubbing his thumb across his bottom lip. "Such a good bitch." Kix rolled his eyes at the insult, and the guard yanked on his lower jaw so their eyes met. "Bite me and I'll rape every omega in this room and make you watch."

Kix took a deep breath and closed his eyes as the guard slid his cock into his open and waiting mouth. The taste of himself as the shaft slid across his tongue wasn't unfamiliar with the number of times Jesse did the same thing, albeit he loved Jesse and wanted him to do it. Jesse.

That's all he had to think about. He imagined the foreign cock in his mouth belonged to his alpha–the one who would rescue him and kill the alpha that dared to touch his omega. He couldn't wait. The thought almost made it worth blowing this low-level alpha just to make Jesse angrier.

The guard moaned as Kix sucked him off with the same expertise and precision he always used on Jesse; it was all he knew. He let his tongue do most of the work since he didn't have his hands to help him. He swirled his tongue around the sides of the shaft when it slid forward and flicked it over the head and slit when it slid backward. He never could get the hang of deep-throating, so as long as the guard didn't try to choke him with it, he'd be fine. Jesse didn't mind, but that never stopped Kix from trying, and failing every time.

Kix let his mind drift away as he continued to lavish the cock in his mouth. He could hear Jesse praising him, telling him how good he was, how good his mouth felt, and how much he loved him. It almost made him smile, but he didn't want the guard to think he was enjoying his cock. No. He was enjoying Jesse's cock. He knew where every ridge and vein was, how long and thick it was, how coarse his hair was, and how much he could take before it tickled his nose, but it didn't matter. This alpha would never be Jesse.

Kix remained steady in his ministrations, only deviating to add a little flair to the monotony of it until he heard the guard's breath hitch and felt his cock twitch. The guard's thrusts became uneven and sloppy, and Kix knew he was going to come in a few more strokes. To keep from getting a mouthful of knot, he slid his tongue down the length of the shaft and kept his focus on the head. The change didn't seem to bother the guard as he only moaned louder at the extra stimulation.

Kix took a deep breath through his nose as he prepared himself for the deluge he knew was coming. He always swallowed for Jesse, because he was his good omega, and he replayed Jesse's voice in his head until he drank every last drop of the guard's hot, slimy cum.

The guard hummed as he pulled his spent cock from Kix's mouth and stared down at him through half-lidded, satisfied eyes. Kix stared back, still defiant as ever. The guard smirked and wiped a drop of cum that dribbled down Kix's lip. He pushed the finger into Kix's mouth and he licked it clean without breaking eye contact.

The guard smiled. "I'm keeping you." He brushed the back of his knuckles down Kix's cheek. "You have a wonderful mouth when it's full of my cock."

Kix rolled his eyes.

"There's only one problem," the guard said. He turned away from Kix, shoved his softening cock back into his pants, and buckled his belt.

Kix furrowed his brows. What problem could there possibly be? He just gave him two of his holes. What else did he want? His ass? He could have that, too. Maker Kix didn't care what this guy wanted as long as it meant he was satisfied and no one else got hurt.

"Tell me," the guard said with his back still turned to Kix. "What happens when an alpha wants an omega who's been bred by another alpha?"

Kix's eyes widened and his heart pounded. There was no way the guard could know that. Not a chance. He wasn't even that far along. He wasn't showing. The baby was barely the size of an apple and there was only one. It was a rarity for an omega to have only one baby, but still, no one was supposed to know he was pregnant except for Jesse. They decided to keep it to themselves until they could come up with a plan.

The pregnancy was an accident. The heat was an accident. Kix, like every other clone omega, took heat and pregnancy suppressants to ensure it wouldn't happen. It wasn't like the GAR offered maternity leave for clones. Alphas could rut whenever they wanted, it was 'part of their nature', but Maker-forbid an omega went into heat and needed a few days off or became pregnant. It was like the end of the world. And for Kix, when it did happen, it felt like the end of the world, but Jesse was there to help him through it.

Kix immediately thought the guard was bluffing, trying to get him to confess to it. So, he brushed it off. "How should I know?" Kix said. "I'm not pregnant."

The guard turned to face Kix and squatted in front of him. He pulled a knife from his boot and lightly dragged it down from Kix's cheek to just below his sternum. Kix tensed but controlled his breathing. The guard smirked, then turned the point of the blade against his belly and applied pressure. The metal tip poked through his blacks but wasn't pressed hard enough to puncture his belly. Regardless, Kix's instincts kicked in and he growled low in his chest.

"That's what I thought," the guard said. He sat back on his haunches and smirked. "You are pregnant."

Kix felt his blood run cold as loud gasps erupted from the clones in the other cells, which Kix had forgotten about until now.

"How did you–"

"I'm an alpha, sweetheart," the guard said. "I could smell it from your cunt."

Kix was dumbstruck. He knew alphas had the best sense of smell, even better than an omega's, but Jesse never told him they could smell that. There was no way he could deny his pregnancy now, and if he had known in the slightest that there was a possibility the guard could've found out, he never would've started this charade in the first place. In a split second, the game was over and Kix lost.

"I'll ask you again," the guard said. "What happens when an alpha wants an omega who's been bred by another alpha?"

Kix knew the answer. It was buried deep within his omega DNA, but he was too afraid to give it words. He couldn't even look at the guard now. All of his confidence deflated as the consequences of his actions sunk in. The only thing he could muster was a quiet, "Please, don't."

The guard smiled. "So, you do know. Glad we're on the same page then." The guard put his knife back into the sheath on his boot and stood up.

Kix couldn't breathe. He tried, but his lungs refused to expand, like someone was sitting on his chest or squeezing him too tightly. This wasn't supposed to happen. No one was supposed to know. The guard wasn't supposed to know. The more he thought about the situation, the more his body reacted, and a nervous sweat broke out at his apocrine glands, furthering the increase of his heart rate and reminding him he was in danger.

"I'll be back," the guard said. "Don't go anywhere."

He remained still as the guard left the holding room. His fight or flight response was in full swing and it kept him frozen where he was–too afraid to move. He never felt a fear like this before. An insatiable, petrifying fear that burned from the inside out. A tingling, fiery sensation that spread from the depths of his chest to the tips of his fingers and toes. An all-consuming fear that threatened to eat him alive. But it wasn't a fear for himself. It was a fear for his baby.

"Kix?" Tully asked, his voice was tentative but full of concern. He had moved closer after the guard left, but Kix didn't notice. "Are you okay?"

"He's going to kill my baby," Kix whispered to himself, somewhere between a statement and a question. Then he placed his hands on his belly and choked out a sob. "My ik'aad!" His baby was in there–growing inside of him, protected by his body, enveloped by its warmth–and it was going to die because of his stupidity.

Tully didn't respond, but he continued to stay where he was.

Kix shivered, his body reminding him that he was still exposed, and with trembling hands, he pulled his lower blacks up to cover himself. He noticed Tully but didn't see him. His eyes couldn't focus on anything, and he didn't know if it was because his body was shaking or the room was shaking. No matter how hard he tried, there was no mental hoop he could jump through to get past this one–no grand thought of Jesse that would protect him from this.

Jesse. He never needed Jesse more in his life than he did right then. He felt helpless, defenseless, and useless. He wasn't powerless as a clone, but his physical and mental nature as an omega put him at a severe disadvantage. There was no way he'd be able to fight what was going to happen next. He needed his alpha. He needed Jesse to come busting through the door and save him and his baby before it was too late. However, when the door did open, it wasn't Jesse, but the guard carrying a metal case.

Kix backed as far into the cell as his chains allowed him, but it wasn't much.

The guard entered the cell and stepped towards Kix. Each footstep was louder than the one before and it was the only sound Kix could hear besides the pounding of his heart in his ears. The guard crouched in front of Kix and placed the metal case down on the ground next to them. Kix wanted to run or shrink into the wall, but his chains kept him where he was. The inevitable was coming closer and the only thing he could do was cry.

"Shh," the guard said. He wiped one of the tears away, but Kix jerked his head away at the touch. "It'll all be over soon and then I'll fill you right back up again with my babies."

Kix sobbed and yanked on his binders, but it did nothing to help him. The rest of the clones clamored from their cells in protest–yelling and screaming. The guard annoyed by the noise, stood up, turned around, and shouted in his alpha voice, "Shut up!" They immediately quieted and the guard crouched back down in front of a terrified Kix. He thumbed open the two latches of the metal case with a soft click and revealed what was inside.

When Kix saw the glass vial of creamy, yellow liquid, he thrashed against his restraints. "No!" he yelled. Kix knew what was in that vial. He'd seen it before. He'd even administered it to a few omegas under extenuating circumstances. It was an abortion serum. "Please, don't do this!" he begged. "It did nothing wrong!"

"No, it didn't," the guard said. "But this is the natural order of things. Lucky for you we don't use barbaric methods anymore. Such a messy ordeal. With this little advancement in technology, you'll bounce back real quick and be breedable in no time."

Kix's stomach flipped into his throat. He knew all that information, but to hear it from someone else, to be on the receiving end of that drug, put it into a whole new perspective for him. For a second, Kix thought he should be grateful he wasn't going to be cut open, or watch his baby get ripped out of his body and murdered in front of his eyes–as alphas used to do–but at the same time, maybe he would've died along with his baby and been put out of his misery.

The guard grabbed a syringe from the case and punctured the top of the vial to draw the liquid out. He flicked the filled barrel with his finger and then smiled at Kix. "You'll just feel a small pinch."

Every part of Kix's brain screamed at him to escape, run, hide–anything more than stay put. He yanked at his binders, over and over, as hard as he could, the chains whipping wildly by his face. He wished he had the strength to break them, but they only dug deep into the skin of his wrists and ankles, threatening to rip the joints out of their sockets. He didn't feel it, though; his fear overrode the pain. He'd rather cut off his arms and legs than let this alpha kill his baby. 

Jesse would be–where was Jesse? Kix frantically looked around the room. Where was his alpha, his mate, the father of his baby? How could he let this happen? Why wasn't he here to protect them like he promised? The day they found out, Jesse promised to take care of them. He promised to protect them. He promised he wouldn't let anything happen to them. He swore on his life he would. He swore it.

The guard leaned his full weight against Kix's torso to settle him down and then grabbed one of his flailing arms. "Don't fight me. I can still hurt your little friend over there."

"Please," Kix pleaded. His voice cracked. "Please. Don't do this. Please. I'll do anything you want. Just don't kill my baby!"

The guard ignored Kix, pinched his bicep, and sunk the needle through his blacks and into the raised skin.

Kix yelped as he felt the needle pierce his skin. The thick liquid burned as it entered the muscle and invaded his bloodstream. There was no fighting it now. It was already too late. The drug was inside him and would reach his baby in a matter of minutes and kill it.

"There," the guard said as he pulled the needle out. He rubbed the injection site with his thumb, but the gesture was lost on Kix. "Give it an hour and it'll be completely out of your system."

The play on words was cruel. Kix knew how the drug worked. It stopped blood flow to the umbilical cord, causing the baby to suffocate without the oxygenated blood supply, then whatever was in there, at whatever stage, was ejected by the body, and the placenta would follow right after. In an hour, he would still birth his baby. Time for Kix stalled as the world around him blurred into nothingness. He was slipping away from reality.

The guard placed a chaste kiss on Kix's cheek, but he didn't feel it. "I'll be back to clean up the mess when you're done," he said. Then he packed up the metal case and left without another word.

Kix slumped down onto his side until he was lying on the cell floor. He wrapped his arms around his belly and drew his knees up to curl into a ball. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you. Forgive me." He rubbed his belly and cried, wishing he could reach in and cradle his baby to comfort it before it passed. In a matter of minutes, its life would be gone without him ever getting the chance to meet it. He was devastated. "I love you. Jesse loves you, too. It'll be over soon. You won't even feel it. I promise."

The holding room was dead silent. There were no words of comfort in a situation like this, and Kix wouldn't accept any even if they were offered. The only person Kix wanted was Jesse, and the other clones must have known it because they left him alone.

After thirty minutes, the contractions started. Kix choked out a sob when it hit, not because of the pain, but because he knew his baby was dead. It wasn't going to come into the world kicking and screaming and crying like he imagined it would, it wasn't going to suckle at his breast like he thought it would, and it would never meet its father. Instead, it was going to be still birthed on a disgusting cell floor and then disposed of like everyday garbage.

The labor portion wasn't physically difficult, since it wasn't a full-term pregnancy, but Kix still cried out from the pain. He tried to keep the screaming to a minimum, though. It was humiliating enough to have cried and begged like a blubbering idiot in front of everyone, but to be laying on his back, knees up, with all different bodily fluids seeping out of him, was enough to make a man want to crawl into a hole and die.

He tried to think about Jesse, but that didn't help. All he saw in his mind was Jesse kissing and caressing his belly and all he heard was Jesse's whispers in his ear about how beautiful he looked carrying their baby, how he couldn't wait to see his belly grow and meet their child, and how much he loved them both. The memories only made Kix feel worse.

When the final contraction hit, Kix pushed as hard as he could, then gasped in relief when the baby came out. He was sweating, panting, and exhausted, but he forced himself to sit up on his elbows and look at the mess between his legs. When he saw his baby, fresh tears fell from his eyes and ran down the same paths that had already burned their way down his face and neck.

It was just a blob–a purple, fleshy blob of barely formed human body parts–but it was his blob. That was his baby. He gently picked it up off the floor, careful not to hit it with his chains, cradled its small, squishy form in the palms of his hands, and held it up against his heart. He wanted it to feel his heartbeat. Even if it was dead, it should still know its mother. It should know his love. And he continued to hold onto his baby even as the placenta passed through him.

Like clockwork, the guard returned to do as he promised, and he brought another guard into the holding room with him. The usual guard entered the cell, and Kix immediately backed as far away as possible, clutching his baby to his chest. It might be dead, but he was still going to protect it. It was his motherly instinct, and that was all Kix was running on–pure instinct. He needed to protect his baby. He needed to protect it and get back to Jesse. Those were his only two thoughts.

"Ah, omegas," the guard said and stepped closer. "So protective of their young."

Kix snarled and bared his fangs, but the guard didn't flinch. An alpha never flinched at an omega's threat.

"Nice try," the guard said, then stretched out his hand. "Now, give it to me."

Kix growled.

"The thing's dead," the guard said. "It's gonna rot."

Kix growled louder.

The guard shook his head and sighed. "Suit yourself."

With one swift kick to the stomach, the breath was knocked out of Kix and he collapsed onto his side. He was already in pain from the miscarriage, but now the pain had tripled. He faded in and out of consciousness and, during that time, the guard took his baby away from him.

Kix could only watch in horror as the guard dropped his baby into a garbage bag and tied it up, then motioned for the other guard to come into the cell. This one cleaned up the floor, and by the time he was done, the only evidence of Kix's baby was the residue left on his body.

"Toss this in the incinerator," the guard said as he handed the garbage bag to the guard who cleaned up the floor. "It reeks of another alpha."

Kix threw up. That was his baby. He wanted it back. He needed it back. It didn't belong in the trash bag and it didn't belong in the incinerator. It belonged in his arms. He wanted to say something, but the pain from the kick to his stomach continued to leave him breathless.

The other guard took the garbage bag and left the holding room to do as he was told.

Kix stretched out his arm and cried–my baby–but the gesture was futile. It was gone. "Ni.. kar'... tayli… gar… dara… suum," Kix wheezed.

The guard squatted down in front of him and smoothed his hand along Kix's side in a deceptively gentle manner. It would've been a soothing touch if it was anyone else. "Shh," the guard whispered. "It'll be okay. In a week you'll be in heat again and I'll breed you real good. I'll give you so many babies, you'll forget all about this one." The guard leaned down and kissed Kix on the lips, but he didn't have the strength to fight it. "I'll be back in the morning."

Kix sobbed. He didn't want to forget about his baby. He didn't want to go into heat and be bred and have another alpha's babies. He wanted his baby. He wanted to have Jesse's babies, and as long as he had Jesse's bite mark on his neck, he'd keep wanting Jesse's babies.

All he could do now was lay in his cell and weep for what he lost. He had his heart and soul ripped out of him, and for what purpose? The selfish desires of an alpha. He hated it. He hated being an omega, he hated being tossed around like a piece of meat, and he hated that alpha guard for using him like he owned him. Jesse never owned him. He was his mate, his partner, and his best friend. There was a mutual respect between them that transcended their alpha and omega dynamic, but the guard could never understand that.

Kix slept alone that night if he could even call it sleep. Leaving Tully to fend for himself was selfish and it made his stomach ache, but he wasn't in the mood to comfort anyone, especially when he couldn't even comfort himself. He wanted to wallow in his grief, let it swallow him whole until he didn't feel anything. So he lay awake in his cell and stared up at the ceiling, thinking about everything and nothing all at the same time.

How many rotations had it been since was brought here? He had lost count. The mornings and the nights melded together into one long expanse of time, and each second that ticked by was another second he lost hope that Jesse would ever come for him. He wasn't even sure he wanted to see Jesse. Half of his thoughts revolved around everything being Jesse's fault for breaking his promise, and the other half revolved around it all being his fault for wiggling his ass at another alpha, but that could be Jesse's fault too if he wanted to get technical.

Kix flinched when he heard the door to the holding room open.

"Rise and shine sweetheart," the guard said as he leaned against the bars of the cell.

Kix hissed at him. It wasn't a powerful gesture, but just enough for the guard to know he was annoyed by his presence. He wasn't worried about upsetting him either, since there wasn't much else the guard could do to him, other than kill him, but honestly, death sounded nice right about then. He knew he wouldn't be that lucky.

"Aw, why such a bad mood?" the guard asked. "Still miss your baby? Or maybe your alpha?"

Kix didn't answer. The guard was right, though. He did miss his baby and his alpha, but he didn't need to know that.

"I can fix that," the guard said. He entered the cell and approached Kix, but Kix didn't have the willpower to move away. "Present yourself to me."

Kix groaned in protest and refused to move. Half because he didn't want to and half because his lower body ached. He just pushed out his dead baby. The least the guard could do was give him a few rotations to recover.

The guard raised an eyebrow. "You're gonna make me do all the work, aren't you?" He sighed. "Fine. Guess it's only fair."

Kix winced as the guard rolled him onto his stomach, the same stomach that he kicked and left an angry boot-sized bruise on. The chains twisted at the movement and pulled Kix's wrists into an awkward position, but it gave him something else to focus on other than the throbbing pain in his pelvis. The guard then hoisted Kix up on his hands and knees, but his arms and legs trembled as he tried to hold himself up.

The guard stood over Kix and folded his arms. He looked at him thoughtfully, then pushed Kix's shoulders down so that his face was against the floor and his ass was in the air. The guard seemed satisfied with that arrangement and then pulled out the knife from his boot. Kix panicked for a second, but the guard only used it to cut his blacks off–the top and the bottom. He was completely naked and presenting to the alpha. It was humiliating.

"Your cunt still looks pretty," the guard said. He slipped a finger between the inflamed labia and Kix winced because it was still sensitive. "Maybe a little puffy, but we'll manage, won't we?"

"Just get on with it," Kix said, some of his defiance returning as his pain and embarrassment increased.

The guard didn't use his fingers this time but impaled Kix with his cock without warning. Kix gasped and nearly collapsed to the ground, but the guard only moaned at the sensation. "Nice and tight, though."

Kix lay on the floor and took it because he had no fight left in him. Tully was staring at him again, but Kix didn't acknowledge him this time around. He just looked straight ahead at a crack in the floor, trying to dissociate–to ignore the alpha rutting into him. His spirit was broken. Was this his new life now? Was this what he had to look forward to every rotation? This was a fate worse than being a clone, worse than fighting in a war, and worse than death.

Kix's thoughts began to unravel and spiral out of control. He'd never see Jesse again. He'd never see any of his brothers from the battalion again. He'd be chained to this wall for the rest of his life, raped until he was pregnant, raped some more, give birth, and then start the cycle over again. This was his life now–a toy for an alpha's pleasure and a baby-making machine.

Kix grimaced as he felt the guard's knot begin to catch on his opening. He thought the guard would knot him eventually but not right after he gave birth. He was still sore and the stretch from the knot hurt.

The last time he took a knot was the night before he found out he was pregnant. Jesse wouldn't knot him after that because he was too afraid he'd hurt the baby. The worry made Kix feel special, even if it was misplaced. Jesse was such a good alpha–leagues better than the one rutting into him now–and Kix still held out some shred of hope that Jesse would find him and take him away from this place and away from this alpha, but it wasn't much.

Kix cried out when the guard's knot popped into place, tying them together, but then let out a broken moan when his hot cum gushed deep inside of him. As much as his physical body protested, knotting was an intimate act, and it felt good to his omega brain to be filled.

The guard's cock pulsed, releasing more cum, and Kix moaned in pleasure along with it. He didn't want to. Maker, he didn't want to moan, but there was something carnal and deeply satisfying about an alpha's knot that made his omega brain whimper for more. The knot pulsed again, and Kix's endorphins threatened to flood his brain and make him beg for it, so he moaned louder. He refused to beg for this alpha, even if his body betrayed him.

Kix was disgusted with himself. If Jesse saw him–heard him–like this, he'd be disgusted too. Maybe he didn't deserve to be rescued. He let himself get raped, let his baby get killed, and now he was moaning in pleasure because of another alpha's knot. He betrayed his mate, and he wouldn't blame Jesse if he didn't want him anymore.

The guard leaned over Kix's back and kissed the nape of his neck, causing the little hairs to stand on end. Kix hated that. It was too close to Jesse's bite mark and his heart rate increased when the guard's tongue licked over it. Since he was stuck on the guard's knot, he couldn't squirm away from the touch, but he figured it was just a tease. Then he felt the alpha's fangs drag across it and Kix panicked. He tried to pull away but the knot made it impossible and it hurt to tug on it.

"No!" Kix yelled. "Not my mark!"

"Sorry," the guard said, then kissed the offending mark. "But it's got to go."

"Jesse!" Kix called out, pleading for his mate to hear him and help him, but it was too late. The guard bit down hard over Jesse's bite mark and sunk his fangs deep into his mating gland. Kix could feel it instantly in his blood. Jesse was fading away and his new alpha was coming into view. Their bond was breaking and a new one was being formed.

When the bond was complete, the guard released Kix's neck and wiped his sleeve across the blood that pooled at the open puncture wound. He wrapped his arms around Kix's chest and hoisted him to sit in his lap while they were still connected by his knot, then grabbed Kix's chin and pulled it to the side so he could look his new omega in the eyes. "You're mine now."

Kix looked into the guard's dark eyes and couldn't deny it. It wasn't something he could say no to. It was a bond of nature. He belonged to this alpha now. He was his mate. And by no choice of his own, all of Kix's reservations about the guard began to fade along with his thoughts of Jesse. The will to fight was replaced with an urge to please and it made his stomach queasy.

The guard smiled as Kix's pupils dilated–one of the side effects of bonding. "Such a pretty thing."

Kix purred at the praise and wanted nothing more than to nuzzle into his mate's neck to receive more. A part of his brain tried to fight it, but his body automatically reacted without his consent.

"Much better," the guard said. "No more of that nasty attitude."

Kix began to cry.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" the guard asked. "You should be happy. I've got you."

"I'm tired," Kix sobbed. "It hurts." None of it was a lie. All Kix wanted to do was sleep. He was exhausted and in pain. He was still grieving over the loss of his baby, and now he had a new mate. It was too much for him to physically and emotionally handle. He was on the verge of a complete breakdown. "Please."

The guard took pity on his new mate and when he felt his knot shrink down, he popped Kix off of it and laid him on the ground. The sound of cum gushing out of Kix and onto the floor was obscene, but the release felt good and Kix was relieved to be free of it. The guard didn't bother to clean Kix up, only himself, but before he left, he leaned down and gave Kix a possessive kiss on the lips.

He wanted to pull away, but he didn't. His new alpha was giving him much-needed attention, especially after mating, and his omega brain wasn't about to ignore it, so he leaned into it, kissing him back with desperation. When their lips parted Kix felt disgusted with himself all over again. He couldn't believe he wanted to kiss the man that killed his baby. It was in moments like these when Kix hated his omega brain and its stupid instincts.

The guard caressed Kix's cheek with his thumb. "Sleep now. I'll come back later to check on you."

Kix didn't know how many hours of sleep he was going to get before his alpha would come back, and he didn't what he was going to do the next time he was there. Knot him again? He shivered at the thought, but he was glad he could get some rest in between.

When the guard was gone, Tully cautiously approached. "Kix?"

"Hmm?" Kix mumbled. He stayed still on the floor where his alpha left him.

"Kix, I'm–"

"Don't say it," Kix said. "It's not your fault."

"But your alpha…" Tully said, he too sounded defeated. "He'll still come, right?"

Kix chuckled. "He already did. I'm laying in it."

"No," Tully said with a shake of his head. "I mean Jesse. Your alpha."

Tears rolled down Kix's cheek from a broken place in his heart that he couldn't see anymore. "He's not… He's not my alpha."

"But–"

"He's not my alpha!" Kix yelled. It hurt him to say it, but it was the truth. There was no use in denying it. "Just leave me alone and go to sleep."

Tully backed away to his side of the cell and curled up into a ball. Kix regretted yelling at the young clone–he was just worried about him–but he didn't want to talk about any of this right now. He just wanted to sleep.

The longer he lay on the floor, the more cold from the ground seeped into Kix's naked body, and he grabbed the cut pieces of his blacks to try and warm himself. It didn't do much. His new alpha was nothing like Jesse. Jesse was kind and considerate towards him. Yeah, Jesse used to rut him into the ground until he couldn't move the next day, but his aftercare was second to none.

Jesse meticulously cleaned his body, gave him the softest pillows and blankets to lay on, along with lots of water and real food, and always let him curl up against him to sleep. And now, he had none of that. Instead, he had sticky cum to lay in on a cold, hard cell floor, nothing to cover his shivering body with, not a sip of water or even a ration bar, and he was all alone. There wasn't a worse trade in the galaxy than the one he was just saddled with.

Kix didn't know how much sleep he got before he heard the holding room door open, waking him from his dreams of a happier, near-distant past. Without opening his eyes, he could feel the presence of an alpha come into the holding room and he knew it was there for him. Kix didn't want to deal with his new mat yet, he just wanted to sleep. He thought if he kept his eyes shut, the guard would let him sleep longer, but he knew he wouldn't be that lucky. None of this was lucky.

When the door closed, he heard heavy footsteps getting closer, but they were different. Familiar, but different. As the alpha approached the cell door, Kix felt a looming presence that made him want to shrink into the floor. He wanted to run away from it. And yet, it still felt so familiar. Kix dared to open one eye, and he saw Tully, fully awake, and cowering against the wall. The terror on his face made Kix's heart race. What new level of hell did the guard bring him this time?

But before Kix could move his head to look at the cell door, he heard the alpha's voice.

"Kixie."

Tags: @nooneherebutusghosts @whiskygoldwings @ems-back-room @brokenphoenix99

[thegaybluejay]

Just for fun, here are my rapid fire rambling thoughts on the ATLA ships and platonic dynamics hehe (please don’t go full ship wars tho - these are just my opinions as a chill multishipper!)

My Favorite Ships:

• Zukka - My current brainrot and main ship!! I know they aren’t canon but I really love them and their potential okay😭I just feel like their personalities would work so well! Sokka would call Zuko on his shit and Zuko would be good at grounding Sokka when he needs it. Plus I have seen some absolutely breathtaking AUs with this ship! And fire-and-ice vibes except gay! Them <3

• Kataang - Cutiessss!! I love them! They may not be the ship I think about most often, but when I do think about them, they’re adorable! Aang is such a “my wife” guy and Katara absolutely adores him back! Also the last airbender x last southern waterbender dynamic goes HARD! I like that these two are canon!

• Yuetara - Listen I know they barely interacted but THEY’VE ACTUALLY GROWN ON ME SO MUCH LATELY AND I VERY HIGH KEY SHIP THEM! Something about like, Katara thinking about Yue when she bends is so😭Their story would be heartbreaking in the best way!! Sapphic noncanon blorbos <3

• Mailee - These two are SO cute and have so much potential rahhh!! Again, love some noncanon sapphics <3

• Batkoda - Super SUPER cute and silly and fun! The dads fr <3 Bato is either Katara and Sokka’s adopted uncle or their stepdad and I love it for them hehe! This usually pairs well with a “Hakoda adopts Zuko” AU lmao!

Other Canon/Relatively Popular Ships:

• Zutara - A good ship! I see the potential and tbh it’s very very fun to think about sometimes!!! However, some of y’all toxic Zutara stans need to leave my boy Aang alone lmao. Those who are chill tho, I rock with y’all!! Overall, I’m not opposed if it’s done well and I do sometimes seek out Zutara content! I personally do prefer writing them as found siblings tho, especially with the Azula and Katara parallels!!

• Sukka - Canon cuties!! I really like them! Suki my BELOVED <3 She’s so underrated!

• Yukka - Also canon cuties! They make me sad tho ahhhhh😭😭😭

• Maiko - Also ALSO canon cuties!! They have an interesting dynamic that I can really appreciate! And gotta love Mai <3

• Jinko - Jin my beloved! These two had a super cute dynamic during the one episode they had together lmaoooo, tho I don’t think about this ship too too often.

• Tokka - I don’t mind it if it’s them getting together as adults! But tbh I personally don’t prefer shipping them as teens and I think Toph’s crush was just a typical young girl crush on someone slightly older lol. Definitely not horrible and most Tokka shippers are relatively chill! I like to think Sokka sees Toph as a little sister tho.

Now For Some Of The Crackship-y/Less Popular Ships (based on ships I’ve actually seen):

• Zukki (Zuko/Sokka/Suki) - Power throuple fr and I love some polyamory!! While I mostly lean plain Zukka, this is extremely fun to think about and would be a great dynamic!

• Mai/Ty Lee/Suki - Saw this in a Zukka fic once and it was adorableeeeee! I may not have plans to actively write this or anything, but it’s cute! Another power throuple!

• Jetko - I don’t think they would be compatible long term, but by god they are very very fun to think about in a “Jet flirts with Zuko and Zuko is completely oblivious and they share one kiss before everything goes to shit” way lmao!

• Taang - I can respect it!! I will always love them as chaos siblings personally, but it’s a totally valid and chill ship!

• Katoph - Not a bad ship at all! I’ve only come across like one post tho lmao. Also I do think I heavily prefer them as found sisters, but that’s just me personally! Again, totally a valid and chill ship!

• Azutara - I’m very neutral on this lmao. I don’t despise it at all and it could be pretty interesting?? But tbh really not something I plan to seek out.

• Azulaang - I mean?? I’m also pretty neutral on this one. Aang would be kind to her if she was trying to get help but…idk lmao.

• Tyzula - I see the potential, but I personally think Mai and Ty Lee had a healthier and more interesting and more realistic dynamic. Just my preference tho!

(I think I just want Azula to be in therapy before I reallyyyyy ship her lmao, but NOT THE KIND OF “THERAPY” SHE WAS GIVEN IN THE COMICS)

• Zukaang - I don’t love this as a ship honestly. The canon age gap as teens is sketchy for my personal taste, tho I’ve seen people ship them in “Aang was 16 when he got frozen” AUs and that’s…better and I can get behind it a little! It would be interesting! But I think Roku being Zuko’s great-grandpa just still throws me off of this ship. I don’t have any beef with the shippers tho! I’m very “live and let live” and I have seen so much worse lol.

Can’t Forget My Fav Platonic Dynamics!

• Sokka and Aang - Two found brothers who share one idiot braincell when they interact LMAO! Love them always <3

• Sokka and Katara - The siblings ever!!

• Zuko and Aang - Enemies to found brothers!! Canon besties! I love their friendship and their parallels SO MUCH!!

• Toph and Katara - Absolutely ADORABLE as found sisters!!!! Love them!

• Zuko and Katara - I really like their development in a platonic sense and I think they’re very very fun and lovely found siblings by the end!!!! Zuko is 100% the brother that just “yeah my sister can and will whoop your ass” LMAO!

• Zuko and Toph - Also very found siblings in my head!! Only have a handful of solo interactions in canon but I DON’T CARE! I WILL FOUND FAMILY THEM ANYWAY! I’m a “Toph seeks out Zuko for sibling hugs/cuddles when she’s cold because he’s basically a space heater” truther.

• Uncle Iroh and the Gaang - Zuko needs to learn to share because that is ALL OF THEIR Uncle!!!

• Hakoda and Zuko - I thrive in this section of the fandom!! They have exactly one (1) frame together in canon, but I ADORE Dadkoda adopting Zuko! Something about it is just so wholesome and cute!!! My very very fav ATLA fics are this trope!!#LetHakodaBitchSlapOzaiAndAdoptZuko2024

• Uncle Iroh and Zuko - God they make me so ALSNDKSNXNCNSNSNXNX, y’know?

• The Gaang as a whole - Obvious I know, but I really do love them😭They all bonded sm and I adore their little family!! I eat up fanart of the Gaang cuddling like CANDY omg. And yes Suki is included in the Gaang because WHY WOULDN’T SHE BE!

Anyway, thanks for coming to my TedTalk. If you made it to the end, you get a big platonic kiss on the forehead MWAH!

[scummy-writes]

Ikemen Tier List

whoaaa two posts together whoaaa (you guys didn't witness me doing this first to see if I had the energy to post a finished drabble today)

I've had trouble with the tier lists for a while because I feel like it didn't explain how I felt about these dudes half of the time, but I figured out a better way to mark the tiers and I feel like this sums it up great. And now you too can have a handy dandy 'How does Scum feel about X?' list! If Roderic had a sprite, I would put him in the daily thing, or maybe the top one? hm

Anyway, I'm gonna explain the tiers under the cut for extra clarifications.

[*Wants to write fanfics for 24/7*] : The Current Main Blorbo. All tremble before him - for he holds the writing braincell and he's all anyone hears about forever and ever - until another blorbo takes his spot (usually takes a few years). You'll see him as icons and photos and and and--------

On my mind daily, in some form: Sometimes these characters will be paired with the #1 chara, and so by extension they're thought about often. Sometimes they're not paired with them, but still thought about often. Despite my posting habits, I do enjoy these guys still. A lot, actually.

Think about a few times a week, offhandedly: Rubs chin. I think of Chev and Elbert as a rare comfort. A type of quiet one that is a plesant encouragement in some way or another. Or I get perplexed thinking about how they'd look ordering shitty coffee. Not much of an inbetween. But really I sometimes just enjoy the quiet comfort thoughts when i need them with those two.

Think about a few times a month: They used to be higher up in the faves, but I either got enough of them at some point (in a good way), friends love them with such glee that i just enjoy watching them simp for them, or they just got naturally shifted down in the line as more characters came into view. I won't talk about them much but I do like em in multiple ways.

Scared to think about (for my wallet): legally not allowed to like because I cannot max out my credit card (a joke). I really really really like Alfons and Victor but I am terrified they'll shoot the ranks in a couple of months, and that my wallet will be screaming to be spared (darius is still up for debate)

Want to like but (and/or for reasons cannot): hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Random simping once a blue moon (idk why): I read a translated story of roger once when sitting in my car on a lunch break. I was reading as I was getting out, and nearly fell into the horn when reading about his cock. It tormented me for a week. This happens ocassionally with the others... maybe not a translated story, but i'll have a random thought that hits me like a bullet train and suddenly I'm stumbling and struggling to think about anything else for a bit. (Leonardo is here as punishment, he knows what he did)

Was Favorite when playing but ghosted game: Ikerev was the first(?) cybird game I played, followed very very closely by ikesen. I don't see a lot of stuff for them naturally on my dash, and bluntly ikerev just could not hold my attention especially after I lost my data and got cockblocked by shitty gacha pulls, but I hardcore simped for these dudes when I played. Well, jonah did get pushed to the bottom of that tier fairly quickly, but Shingen is still #1 there. Anju (oc) was originally made for him, and I suspect that when his...eternal(?) is released in eng, I'll be feral for a little bit and then go back to gil simping.

No opinion really: I just.....shrug. They're neither bad nor good. These are characters who I was either SUPER excited for and then sorely disappointed, characters I haven't felt drawn to, or characters I just....never....felt anything towards...even after reading their route... I'm assuming they're just not my type and that's why they're here.

No: I hold negative opinions due to XYZ personal reason. Or their vibes are just rancid to me. I don't care if others like them or not, I don't judge others for liking them.

[tarabyte3]

Top 5 favourite fanfic tropes?

For my follow up I will allow you a light cheat:

✨️ Top 5 fics (any fandom/pairing)

and (if you would like)

✨️ Top 5 Andy blorbo fics

You know, those ones that live rent free in your mind and you find yourself coming back to even years later (also your choices don't have to specifically follow your trope picks!).

😘

Before I start, I want you to know I only saw the first bit in the preview and was like, "Oh that's fun!" And then got sneak attacked by the rest when I opened it 😂😭 Anon, I respect tf out of you for this, but also I'm going to have an existential crisis lmaoooo

✨Top 5 fanfiction tropes

- Mutual pining/"un"requited love

Especially if it's paired with angst 🤌 want them longing. Yearning, even. Throw in something like forbidden love to kick it up a notch, and, baby, you've got yourself a stew.

- Sex pollen

Particularly if they aren't in a relationship yet to add extra pining and angst. This is a sacrifice (I shouldn't want this). I would do this for you (please let me). I can't stand to watch you suffer (this will break me, but for you it's worth it). That and the smut of it all 😌

- Hanahaki

Being so in love with someone it's literally killing you. It's love made manifest so violently you choke on it. The pain and suffering would end if only you could let the words out, but the thought of rejection—of having to live with that instead—is worse than death. Plus, there's something a little beautiful and poetic about combining pain and suffering with love and flowers. Doom and bloom. Life and death. The Japanese were so real for this.

- Fake dating

I love it when they're both fuckin dying the entire time because they've caught a glimpse of the thing they want more than anything and it isn't real. It's bliss. It's torture. They don't want it to end, but it will destroy them to keep having it just out of reach.

- Getting together

A simple classic, but there's just something about two people falling in love and coming together in spite of everything. And if it's a slow burn? With constant missed opportunities and misunderstandings?! Staple crop of tropes.

✨ Top 5 Fics

I'm going to go with Qui-Gon x Obi-Wan (shocking, I know) because that is the bulk of what I have been reading non-stop so it's at the forefront of my brain. It was difficult to narrow down my 100+ bookmarks because there are SO many incredible works and writers in that fandom that inspire me, and some of them make me want to eat dirt. (I mean that as an exceptional compliment.)

- Shorelines by outpastthemoat

This is what Qui-Gon has done each morning for the past three days, returning to Obi-Wan with handfuls of treasures he has found: Bits of broken glass, polished by the waves, or intricately spiraled shells, a broken piece of chain; perhaps a stone as wide and flat as his hand. But he always returns to the shoreline the following day, and begins his search anew.

This is one of my favorite QuiObi writers (I would highly recommend ANY of her other works at the drop of a hat as well), and I have reread this fic at least once a week for months. Like, I have it open in a tab and think about it constantly. It's an introspective piece—an exploration of a connection and the peeling back of layers to try to understand what waits underneath. There's a beautiful sort of simple yearning, melancholy, and poetry to her writing that makes my brain go brrrrrr. So much is said in all of the things left unsaid. It's two parts of a series and they're both incredible.

- Malalignment by Tohje

The first time is a pure coincidence, all parties could swear it on their deathbeds. The pelta frigate GRS-20 - informally Generosity - is a huge, maze-like, rusting piece of a stronghold with multiple medical wards and cantinas. It is a sheer stroke of luck that 212th and the River Company are accommodated in the adjacent, overstuffed compartments and share the same cantina for their short recuperation periods. There is no thing such as luck, or coincidence, only war (and the Force, according to the Jedi).

Another writer that I adore who has multiple bangers. This one is an AU where QuiGon lives and is part of the Clone War, but in the most Qui-Gon way possible. Combined with Obi-Wan's lingering hurt from the situation with Anakin, the war, and a several year estrangement and by god it's delicious angst. Plus, I love self-sacrificing depictions of General Kenobi. (The smut is also very good)

- That Cold Affliction by Orphan Account

Obi-Wan tries to surprise his Master on a mission with few comforts by making Qui-Gon's favorite tea. Or trying to, at least. As it turns out, tea is a . . . complicated affair. (A little bit like love.)

Short and bittersweet. Forbidden love. Beautiful angst. I'm so sad I don't know the original author because I've seen several of their works pop up that are also orphaned (they have a very specific summary style) and they're all so good and full of similar themes, but I have no way of seeing if I've missed one or not 😭

- Taking Root by sanerontheinside

Obi-Wan thought he was terribly obvious, really. Qui-Gon thought it was Obi-Wan’s secret to share or keep, as he wished.

*banging pots and pans together* QUIOBI HANAHAKI!! This author does a deep dive into the affliction and combines it beautifully with Star Wars world building, plot, and characterization. It's everything I could want from the trope AND the pairing. They're also another one of my favorite writers. And if you're looking for an abundance of excellent smut, you'll absolutely find it in their body of work.

- How to Grow Vegetables and Alienate People by Meggory

Why had Obi-Wan agreed to this? He had exactly no experience growing anything—hell, he'd killed a cactus once, and he'd heard someone say that was impossible—but now he was taking over Bant's community garden share so she didn't feel she had wasted $150 on the plot? He had $150. He should have just given it to her and told her to get blitzed on the plane.

Cute modern AU with a funny af meet cute, excellent characterization, humor, and a simple, lovely plot of two idiots falling in love. Oh, plus gardening. 😌 AND Qui-Gon has a dog. It's the soul comfort food of fics. This author does an incredible job with AUs (pssst you like time loops?) that are great stories so it was very difficult to pick just one!

✨I both adore and dislike this last part. Because on one hand, it gives me the chance to brag about and hype up my friends, who are not only kind, wonderful people, but also very talented writers that deserve it and more. So I truly appreciate you so much for that. On the other hand, there are more than 5 of them that have written Andy Blorbo fics, and some of them have multiple stories and blorbos. And we've all gushed over or discussed many of them at length with each other, so they hold a particular fondness in my heart. Choosing only 5 from that feels like an impossible task.

So I WON'T be narrowing down my top 5 (I'm so sorry, anon, I'm not god's strongest soldier), but I will be taking the opportunity to drop their Masterlists/AO3 accounts 💖😌😇

afogocado | Alfred Pennyworth

amywritesthings | Kino Loy

citrus-moonlight | Ulysses Klaue

eupheme | Alfred Pennyworth, Ulysses Klaue

squidlywiddly87 | Kino Loy, Ulysses Klaue, Liam Black

stargirlfics | Alfred Pennyworth (+ lots of Alfred and Klaue headcanons and blurbs!)

tarrenterror | Alfred Pennyworth, Ulysses Klaue (+ Alfred, David Robey, and Kino headcanons, blurbs, and edits)

viceofdionysus : Alfred Pennyworth, Ulysses Klaue

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is: Afewproblems! @afewproblems has 17 fics in the Stranger Things fandom and 16 of them are in the Steddie tag!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by @afewproblems:

The World is Upside Down (The King has Lost his Crown)

You Can Only Remember What You Want To Forget

A Quiet Confession

Essential Songs to Woo a Metal Head

A Clear and Present Threat of Tongue

"I love Linz and her writing. Even though she's not as active as she once was, I think she should still be celebrated. As a fandom, we tend stop interacting with authors when they aren't actively making fic, and that's disheartening." -- Anonymous

Below the cut, @afewproblems answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I love the ship! I think it’s mostly to do with the characters and the romantic archetypes they represent. You have two people from different worlds, different social stratas, and completely different personalities that still find common ground in one another. It’s Grease, Wuthering Heights, Titanic -these characters not only balance one another out, but they challenge one another to rethink their preconceived notions about the other. Plus, for that one forrest scene in the Upsidedown to have inspired an entire ship and fanon about these two - chefs kiss, 10/10.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Oh there are so many! For Steddie specifically though, I really like reading stories that explore the fanon around Steve’s not so great childhood. I process a lot of my own stuff through fan works so reading about Steve going through the same thing and managing to create his own found family and finding love hits hard in the best way.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Hmm I don't know if it's so much a trope as it would be considered a genre for fan fiction but I love to write hurt/comfort and angst -angst is my bread and butter! Nothing better than putting your blorbo in an emotionally fraught state and then having someone hold them for a little while.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

I could be honest, I could be human by GerryStAmour. The angst, top notch, the descriptions are so well done! The writing is so great, please check Gerry out as a writer, his works are incredible! I also really love the Cousin!AU by @strangersteddierthings her work is absolutely incredible, please check her stuff out!!

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

Hmm Possibly soulmates I think or soulmarks would be very cool!

What is your writing process like?

So i’ll normally get an idea and kind of turn it around in my head over and over until I can't stop thinking about it and have to get it on the page. Then the snippet or scene will begin to grow and take on more of a life of its own, it's like ‘okay this scene is great, but how did we get here’ kind of thing, that makes me want to flesh out the idea which in turn makes the story and characters expand and grow. I never plot out the whole story before starting, I let it grow from a starting point and let the story kind of take the direction that it needs to go in.

Do you have any writing quirks?

I typically write with Steve as the main character going through as much pain as possible!

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I try to get a few chapters written out before I post my fic, I find it a bit easier to keep myself motivated that way. I don't think I'd be able to keep up with a schedule.

Which fic are you most proud of?

I'm definitely proud of all of them but I think the first Steddie fic that I spent several months on, Warm My Cold and Tired Heart, is still one that I am incredibly proud of and really happy with how it turned out. It was my big jumping off point for the rest of my fics and love for the pairing - which is another point in it's favour!

How did you get the idea for You Can Only Remember What You Want To Forget?

It was inspired by a blend of two prompts in an ask from the awesome @zerokrox-blog “Things you forgot to say and things you were forced to say”. The prompt was a challenge to mix but I wanted to have one prompt reflect Eddie and the other reflect Steve. Eddie forgot to tell Steve the truth and Steve was forced to simply react. The story completely took on a life of its own after that though and quickly snowballed!

When writing You Can Only Remember What You Want To Forget, what was something you didn’t expect?

The table! It was a bit of a throwaway line about the Hellfire club noticing the crack and worrying that they damaged the table, only for it to culminate in Eddie’s apology and confession to Steve when he fixed it. Probably one of the best little ‘Setup’ and ‘Payoff’ moments I’ve ever attempted.

What inspired A Quiet Confession?

This was also inspired by a ask prompt that came in from an anonymous user, ‘You weren't supposed to hear that’. i loved the angst potential of someone saying just how much you love someone, while worrying they don't feel the same for you. Juxtaposing that with the intimacy that normally comes with napping with you partner and you have A Quiet Confession.

What was your favorite part to write from A Clear and Present Threat of Tongue?

Definitely the confession scene. The whole fic was based on the episode from New Girl where Jess and Nick kiss for the very first time and I loved writing down the garbled speech that Nick says when he stumbles over his words. I just had to give that to Eddie - it fit way too well!

How do/did you feel writing Essential Songs to Woo a Metal Head?

I was excited to explore the idea of Eddie completely distrusting Steve and his intentions, which would be fair for the 80s ya know? Why would Eddie believe that a jock and former prom king was being sincere with him, but having Eddie make this mistake and having to turn to the classic 80s rom-com trope of the grand gesture -I loved it! Having Eddie use music the same way that Steve did to confess his feelings originally? I was super happy that it came back around, full circle. (I also worked pretty hard on the music choices for Steve's mixtape so I am so happy people liked this one!)

What was the most difficult part of writing The World is Upside Down (The King has Lost his Crown)?

There were several difficult parts with writing this story, one was figuring out which scenes from the show should be included or left out for the story to make sense and still flow nicely. I didn’t want to spend too much time rewriting scenes to fit the canon divergence but at the same time there were several important scenes that needed to remain in the story for Eddie to specifically react to. Handling Nancy’s character was also difficult but very rewarding. I don’t hate Nancy as a character but I do find her challenging to write. I didn’t want to paint her as a villain either, she cares for Steve greatly but they couldn’t be what the other needed. It was hard to do her character justice but it was really rewarding to get her right - in my opinion.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

I think the scene where Steve smashes the plate in You Can Only Remember What You Want To Forget is up there for me in terms of one of my favourite scenes. Having Steve just completely breakdown, feeling like he's not in control of himself and how frightening that is. It was cool to explore these incredibly intense emotions and having both Robin and Eddie be there to help him process these feelings without looking at him any differently was so so important. It showcased how Robin and Eddie are the two people that Steve could trust with his darkest moments and still love him. Ugh! Still love it so much!

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Oh! I do have a new project that I am working on, I shared a small snippet a few weeks ago but I will be very excited to share the first part soon. It is a Season Three AU exploring what might have happened if Steve and Eddie met in Starcourt mall that fateful summer of 1985. I’ve also been doing some writing for the Psych fandom to get back into writing after a long dry spell, it’s been pretty fun to explore those characters as well!

Thank you to our author, @afewproblems, and our anonymous nominator! See more of Afewproblems's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

Hello

👍

This is a free pass to tell us anything that has been on your mind lately about an obscure Rohan blorbo, if you feel so inclined.

With a preference for Háma or Wídlaf, but anyone you feel like talking about is amazing!

I can certainly accommodate that preference, as those are 3 of my absolute favorite people! I’ve talked a lot of Háma lately (though there is NEVER enough Háma!) so I’ll give you a few facts about Wídlaf instead (Guthláf and Wídfara), as it’s been a while since they’ve last popped up!

—It took Wíd a long time to feel ready to go through Guthláf’s belongings after his death, and it was still a very emotional experience. He worked on it over a few days, sometimes alone and sometimes with friends to help.

—He was surprised to find what really punched him in the gut and what didn’t. He had no real reaction to handling any of Guthláf’s spare fighting gear (weapons, armor, horse tack), but just the sight of his hairbrush, with stray blonde hairs still wrapped around some of the bristles, made Wíd cry.

—He’d always known Guthláf had a ridiculous sweet tooth, but he didn’t realize that he had sweets and candies stashed in literally every little nook and crevice of his room; Wíd couldn’t go more than a minute or two without finding even more tucked away in some improbable place.

—He gave away all the clothes, which were too big for him (Guthláf being both taller and broader), except for 2 shirts. Wíd wore one to sleep in at night, and he kept the other one carefully wrapped up in his trunk, only taking it out on rare occasions just to hold onto it and breathe in that last lingering scent of Guthláf. 

—He also found a few things that were clearly mementos of Guthláf’s family — a square of a quilt, all singed at the edges, and half of a burned baby��s rattle — that must have been scrounged out of the remains of the house fire that killed them. Wíd buried these things in a box in front of Guthláf’s family barrow.

—In the same drawer with the mementos of Guthláf’s family, Wíd found the empty bottle of mead that they’d shared on their first night together — he recognized the distinctive mark on the label as the one that he’d brought with him from the Wold. It was full of smooth little pebbles now. Wíd never figured out the meaning of the pebbles, but they were actually Guthláf’s way of marking time: he put a pebble in for every month that he and Wíd had been together. Adding a pebble to the bottle was the very last thing he did before riding out of Edoras to the battle that killed him.

This is niche content for sure, but if there’s anyone who would appreciate it, I think/hope it would be you!! And thanks for the chance to yammer on about my special-est little rare pair!!! ♥️♥️♥️

(And if anyone is curious who the heck these guys are, you can find Where Now the Horse and the Rider in my pinned post!)

[redroomroaving]

9 People You Want to Know Better Tag

Tagged by the lovely @adoenamedjane (go and read their fantastic Zevlor fic!) @kimberbohwrites (my beautiful server wife and a wonderful writer!) and the intensely talented @captainsigge (check out their amazing artwork please!)

(I was tagged in two slightly different games but I'm gonna combine em like my good friend @lizziemajestic, lets grow this game, baby.)

Three ships: I'm currently hosting a small navy of Baldurs Gate 3 ships, so I'm about to be entirely self indulgent and talk about my own current obsessions/WIP pairings.

Kar'niss x Klaus (aka Klaus'niss), Abdirak x Donnick (aka Soup), and Rugan x Zevlor (HELLZHENT)

First ship: Always Cloud x Tifa (FF7), but to mix things up a bit I'll also throw a shout out here for RIPLEY x HICKS (Aliens, a film I watched at an age I should not have.)

Last Song: I come with knives - IAMX (Soup is haunting me)

https://open.spotify.com/track/3smpkFLy21G6ZvKHbNXAIu?si=5b75cd919ddb4a3d

Last Movie: Mandy

Currently Reading: The Seven Moons of Maali Almeida by Shehan Karunatilaka (still)

Currently Watching: The Bear and rewatching Penny Dreadful

Currently Eating: psssh, food? coffee no 3

Currently Craving: time and freedom, mostly.

Favourite colour: Mustard yellow

Favorite flavour: Lemon or pistachio.

Current obsession: Blorbos Gate, and specifically the endless spiral that has become Circus Husband (Klaus)

Last thing I googled: chain cilice

Favourite season: Autumn

Skill I’d like to learn: Animation. Appropriate task prioritisation. Discipline. Saying no to things, and people, including myself.

Best Advice: 'Why else do we write, if not to fill the world with the kinds of things we would like to read?'

No pressure tags for the lovely @dutifullylazybread @graysparrowao3 @russica @reverieblondie @savriea @my-favourite-zhent @cornflowersisblue @n1ghtmeri and @ankhegs-in-my-salad

<3

[katsu28]

kait's book corner & cafe

update: this celebration is now closed!

note from me to you: hello friends! the time has come again where i must be sappy. i know, i know, just bear with me, okay? i truly cannot comprehend that there are over two thousand of you lovely souls here now. i appreciate every single one of you who have taken time out of your own lives to join me in my delusions, more than you'll ever know. every like, every comment, every reblog with an indecipherable keysmash—i cherish them all. you all are what push me to grow as a writer, and to keep writing. thank you, thank you, thank you <3

navigation, characters, guidelines

rules:

you don't have to be following me to send something in! this celebration is open to anyone and everyone!

you can send in as many celebration asks as you want, but please only send one request per ask.

as always, please pay attention to my writing guidelines, and please be patient with me!

for one shots, please stick only to characters on the list of ones i write for. please also include the actual prompt and which list it's from, not just the number. this makes things much easier for me!

this celebration will last until halloween—so today, october 15 to tuesday, october 31 at 11:59pm pst.

so without further ado, welcome to my cozy little bookshop. pick a book, settle in, and enjoy 📚

feeling hungry? thirsty? i know i always need a little beverage when i read. we've got something for everyone. come on over to our cafe counter, take a look at our menu!

send ☕ along with a prompt from any one of the lists below and a character of your choosing, and i'll write you a one shot to satisfy your craving!

✤ list a ✤ list b ✤ list c ✤ list d ✤ list e ✤ list f

we all know it, we all love it, it's the reason why many of us are here on tumblr to begin with. welcome to the fictional section, home to blorbos and brainrots. if you've ever wanted to know more about a character, here's your chance!

send ✏️ along with a character of your choosing for my headcanons for them. these can include characters i don't write for, but you think i might know.

send 🖊️ along with a character + a concept/thought about them and i'll expand on it. (nsfw thoughts are allowed, but please be 18+ if you do send one in)

wander on over here to the nonfiction section next, friend! here you can read about anyone's life story.

send 📝 along with a short description of yourself (appearance, hobbies, things you enjoy, etc.) and your fandom of choice from this list, and i'll pair you with a character and tell you why!

come along right this way to the romance section! this one's my favorite because it allows me to spread love and appreciation for the people on this lovely site.

send 💌 along with any fics, blogs, or folks you want to give a little extra love to today!

maybe you're more into a little bit of mystery and adventure in your stories? well you're in luck, because we've also got a section for those too!

send 🔎 along with any ask game you can think of (ama, cym, fmk, this or that, would you rather, etc.) and i'll gladly give you the answers you seek.

oh look, you found the bookstore cat nestled in the stacks! murphy only lets a few lucky souls pet him, so here's your chance! (moots only please!)

send 🐈 for a handwritten love letter from yours truly and a song that reminds me of you <3

tagging some lovely moots (signal boost if you'd like, but absolutely no pressure <3): @inkluvs @starryeyedstories @sunlitide @roosterbruiser @headkiss @familyvideostevie @stevebabey @maddipoof @yellowjaxxx @bradleybeachbabe @buckysprettybaby @spideystevie @sokkigarden @alwritey-aphrodite @sunshinesteviee @witchwyfe @astermath @brettsgoldstein @fanboyswhore9 @crappymixtape @annab-nana @boneblushed

[faytelumos]

Jason Todd

Give Me a Character

How I feel about Jason? I love him. He's my boy. He's a martyr. He's a cautionary tale. He's always been doomed since the day he was born. The very universe itself conspires against him because readers wanted him to die. So he dies. Again and again, in every universe, he dies, and he fights, and he tries to make the world a better place, and he wants to be kind, but he is doomed, always, every time, even when he comes back. It's tragic, and I hate what they've done to him, but without it, he wouldn't be the same person. He wouldn't be my blorbo.

JoyFire (Jason Todd x Roy Harper x Koriand'r) is my OTP for this guy. And I will say it out loud, I also enjoy JayTim and JayDick. I like JoyFire because it's like… the family you choose. Each of them has trauma about getting left behind in some sense. So they'll never leave each other. Even if Jason's a jerk sometimes, he will never, ever leave either of them hanging when it matters even a little. And they're the same for him. I like JayTim because Tim thinks Jason is so annoying, and Jason thinks Tim is so smart and capable, and so there's a little bit of pining in there? Especially in the opposite way one would expect by looking at them. But Tim knows that Jason's smart, and I kind of ignore a bunch of the ugliness that happened right around Under the Red Hood with them, to be honest. Not completely, but some of it. I think that Tim can admire Jason's ingenuity and persistence even when he's rolling his eyes at him, and I think that Jason thinks so highly of Tim, even when he refuses to ever say it out loud. And as for JayDick, maybe some of it is just me smashing my favorite dolls together. I freaking love Dick Grayson. Who doesn't? And I freaking love Jason, and they have a complicated relationship, but they love each other, whether you want it to be brotherly, friendly, or romantic. They love each other, and I'll take that in any flavor I can get it.

Non-romantic OTP is also Jason and Dick. You cannot tell me these two don't share the braincell when they're in a room together. But also, they can be hyper competent together. If they're both motivated and working together, they can do anything. Including building a heated roof pool out of cardboard, a carbon metallic alloy, and a "borrowed" shop vacuum.

(Also gotta mention that I adore father-son pair Bruce and Jason. The two of them are just so wonderful together, how Jason brings such joy into Bruce's life and Bruce just wants Jason to heal and realize his dreams, ah!)

Unpopular opinion about him? Willis was a good dad. [lifts a megaphone] Willis Todd was a good dad! He was a victim of a broken system and turned to crime because it was the only means he had to provide for his family! Any time he laid a hand on Jason or Catherine was still unjustified, but it was because Willis was a deeply frustrated and scared man who had no system or room to handle his negative emotions or feel accomplishment in his life! [puts down the megaphone] Domestic abuse is never okay, and that goes the same if a woman is the abuser. But Willis was not an asshole, he was a poverty-stricken petty criminal with the most minimal support system. He loved Jason, and he loved Catherine, and he tore himself up to do his best to provide for them all the way to the end. His story is a sad one, he was not the villain, and I hate it when people say Jason is better off without him and didn't mourn him or feel bad about his death.

There's a lot of things I wished hadn't happened to him in canon, but most of all, I hate what Zur En Arrh did to him.* It was absolutely terrible, and then the fact that nobody was left to give Jason any support at all after the fact because they were all chasing Zur really gets to me. The way that one panel just showed him trembling, so small, alone, asking anybody at all for help…. It breaks my heart. Because it's always like that for him. He ends up alone, on his own, because he's the black sheep and he's mad about it, and he defends people who others leave behind. And it breaks my heart in a way that actually very truly makes me sad. Because there are people who think he deserves it. Including the writers.