#unabashedly sexy - which i appreciate

[starbuck]

you know a film is good when, in the last ten minutes, you're yelling "oh come ON!" (affectionate) at the screen

[secriden]

Going legitimately insane because all my brain has been able to chew on has been this particular callback and what it means for the headspace that Fadel is in at the end of episode 6.

It's insane that Fadel even said that to Bison in the first place because the Fadel of episode 5 knew better than to believe it was possible for anyone to truly bare themselves to another person, knew better than to want to know and be known and chosen despite it all. To the Fadel of episode 5, "laying yourself bare" was an impossibility because of how much power it gives the other person, and Fadel's mind is too practical, his circumstances too complex, his heart too fragile to ever give that to anyone ever again.

But Fadel's walls began to crack in the face of Style's honesty and the shared pain of knowing what it is to loose someone precious; cracked under the weight of Style pressing kisses to his scar and laying Fadel bare to bring him pleasure; shattered in the face of Style giving himself over to loving Fadel for a whole night -- and Fadel woke up half underneath the spread of Style's body and found himself already in love.

And do you know how I know this? Because of all the things Fadel could have said he liked about Style, he chooses this. It's not that Style is effortlessly kind and thoughtlessly generous at times. It's not that Style is hot and sexy and frankly kind of a slut (specifically for Fadel). It's not even that Style has secret, hidden depths and an unexpectedly shared pain which allows him to understand and empathise with Fadel in a way that no one but Bison has been able to for a very long time.

No, it's his cockiness. His arrogance. The way Style is unabashedly himself and makes no apologies for it. The way Style will literally dance to his own tune and sing at the top of his lungs with no care for anyone else's opinion unless it's to appreciate it. The way Style walks into the room and has the confidence to put his body on display and already know that he will be welcomed and wanted -- and this confidence meant that he assumed Fadel would find him attractive, and would not stop until Fadel eventually gave in to that attraction.

It's telling that it's these specific instances that come to mind when Fadel thinks about Style's lips. There are so many scenes and shots they could have chosen (because lbr here Dunk, and therefore Style, really does have amazing lips), so it feels very intentional that Fadel thinks firstly of the time Style refused to back off when Fadel pretended not to miss him, and then the moment when Fadel finally admitted that he did and was rewarded with Style's reassurance and reciprocated vulnerability and wholehearted embrace. Also, because this was the last episode that Style did not Know, and therefore was still being fully honest with Fadel. Both instances are Fadel appreciating in hindsight the way Style's very nature -- the way he would not give up, the way he keeps pushing and pushing even in the face of Fadel's seeming impassivity -- gives Fadel not only the opportunity but the impetus to finally let go of his control and acknowledge his feelings for Style.

It's explicit confirmation that Fadel enjoys and appreciates and has grown to love Style's personality and antics and the way he expresses himself.

So the Fadel in episode 6 dares to ask for Style's honesty and gives with it an explicit promise of trust and acceptance in return. After recognising the effort Style has had to put in to find ways to connect with Fadel (heavy metal vs pop rock), he now asks for Style to be real with him because Fadel understands himself to be ready to love, and in loving Style, is able to offer the very thing he wants the most from Style: "acceptance of who he really is".

We also see the evidence of Fadel's unspoken promise in the way that he now responds with an almost easy openness to Style's questions in stark contrast to the Fadel in the early part of the show. If he wants Style to accept him, he can't continue keeping all his secrets. So now, he gives Style pieces of himself with barely a thought, and lets Style use them to push and prod and drag to light the very things he used to keep hidden because he thought they weren't useful or helpful or worthy of being loved (see @sherrymagic's gorgeous gifset + my tags on it).

It's also in the way he now allows Style to take him outside of his comfort zone because he trusts that the private joys he's kept to himself are safe in Style's hands; that, moreover, Style will look to Fadel's happiness and not make a mockery of it.

I'm obsessed with the moment in the screenshot on the bottom right because Fadel looks so completely out of his element and almost in a state of shock. He's literally standing separated from the rest of the group in the composition of the shot, hesitation writ in every line of his body, while Style, who isn't even a fan of this band or this music, fits in with the band seamlessly.

But this hesitation isn't because of discomfort, it's nervousness and an almost joyous disbelief because Fadel could never have done this on his own, he would never have allowed himself the indulgence of actually showing his love for his favourite band if Style hadn't taken the initiative to drag him there and ask for the photo. And, oh, how wonderful it must have felt to see Style prove his own words by being right there by Fadel's side as he lets himself go, as he lets himself be himself without fear, for the first time in what must have felt like forever.

In a single, perfect night, Style has been exactly, precisely, breathtakingly everything Fadel could ever have wanted; because in a single night of Fadel finally having the courage to bare himself to another person, Style gave Fadel not only acceptance but a celebration of who Fadel is. With everything Style does that night, he ties himself to Fadel; he ties his happiness to Fadel's and his comfort to the warmth of Fadel's embrace. Style fashioned himself into exactly what Fadel wanted -- and now that Fadel has had a taste of it, how can he possibly go back?

Which is why Fadel already knows that it's too late for him, he knows that he is already in love; knows, moreover, that he has rewritten parts of himself to seek out and miss and yearn for Style; has even learned to love Style the way he understands Style wants to be loved.

So Fadel might as well keep the promise he made to Style with his lips pressed shut against the lies he didn't want to keep telling Style. He might as well give Style more days and nights and chances to spin his lies, because at least Fadel has the meager comfort of knowing he spoke the truth.

Because if Style wants to keep playing this game, if Style is able to so be so convincingly deceptive that Fadel can no longer trust himself to tell when Style is lying, then Fadel will take the punishment of choosing honesty in the face of his betrayal. Fadel will fashion himself into a heartless tool and allow himself the indulgence of playing this tantalising part -- because he may just find a way to save Bison in the process.

And to Fadel, it does not matter if his own heart gets broken along the way, because Fadel deserves the punishment of laying himself bare to the man who does not love him in return; he deserves to give Style the power of knowing the hold he has over Fadel.

But doing so is a punishment for Style, too, because if Fadel must love, then he is going to weaponise his own feelings in the fight he now thinks he has to wage against Style. Because two can play this game of cruelty, and Fadel does not care if this sword is double edged because cutting himself to pieces is a small price to pay if it means dragging Style along with him into hell.

After all, what's another crack when his whole entire world has already been so utterly and completely shattered?

[badkitty3000]

Five's Audition Tape

So, here's another one-shot I wrote a little while ago that I originally never intended on posting. But as I try and work on some new things, I figured I'd put this out there. It's another sweet, funny, sexy glimpse into the life of Five and his wife Vivian from my original series Halo. If you enjoy this one, you might like my full one-shot series of my two favorite horny lovebirds.

Summary: Vivian catches Five singing in the shower and secretly records the evidence. When she's caught, she tries to hide from him, which ends in some major rearranging of their kitchen pantry. What she doesn't know, though, is that their little closet bang is not the private moment they intended.

Five x Female OC, 4,179 words, one-shot

Warnings: Smut, Closet sex

Five thought it was a safe space. He thought he was alone. Alone and free to sing loudly and unabashedly in the shower without fear of judgment. He was very, very wrong. Because if there was one thing his wife lived for, it was catching him doing something stupid and using it for her own, personal gain.

No one would ever have thought in a million years that Number Five Hargreeves not only knows the lyrics to Shaggy’s 2000 hit Angel, but also secretly loves it and sings it at the top of his lungs when no one else is around. No one would have thought he’d do the accent when he sang it, either. But yet, there he was, scrubbing his hair behind the safety of the shower door, and singing lines like:

 Looking back Shorty always a mention

Said me not giving her much attention

She was there through my incarceration

I wanna show the nation my appreciation

Unfortunately for Five, he was not alone in the house like he thought he was. Vivian just happened to get home from work early and had come upstairs to change when she heard the speaker in the bathroom blasting out the Reggae-heavy song, accompanied by her husband’s very bad Jamaican accent.

She froze in place outside of the bathroom door, one hand on the doorknob and the other over her mouth to suppress her glee. She didn’t even know what to do first, she was so excited. Should she barge in and surprise him, scaring him and embarrassing him at the same time? Should she keep it to herself as ammo for the next time he annoys her? Or should she sneak in, record an audio clip on her phone, and send it out to his entire family? The choice was obvious.

With her phone in hand, Viv slowly and as quietly as possible turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. The music was playing loud enough that he shouldn’t have been able to hear her enter, and he couldn’t see through the frosted glass of the shower door. Still, she crept in on tiptoes, her phone already recording his secret bathroom concert. As she bit her lip to stifle the laughter that threatened to peal out of her at any second, Five continued to sing about his darling angel being closer to him than his peeps.

After she had recorded several seconds of it, she turned around to sneak back out the door. As she turned, though, her sleeve caught on a bottle of lotion next to the sink, tipping it over with a loud thump. Viv froze in place and Five immediately stopped singing. There was a brief pause of silence, and then the shower door flew open with a bang, revealing Five standing there with a deep frown of confusion on his face. Their eyes locked for a second before he looked down to the phone in her hand and then back up at her face. Viv broke into a grin. Then she made a run for it.

Normally, this would be a futile effort, since no matter how fast or far she tried to get away from Five, he always popped up in a blue flash, cutting her off from her escape with a cocky smile. But she had caught him off guard this time, and when she sprinted out of the bathroom, she slammed the door behind her so that he didn’t get a good look where she went running off to. By the time Five got his wits about him and grabbed a towel to wrap around his waist, she was long gone. Hidden somewhere in the house.

As Five began blinking randomly around the house, disappearing and reappearing in different rooms and closets, he smiled to himself. He was well trained in the art of tracking and hunting another human, but this was a very different game of cat and mouse they were playing. And he was most definitely going to be preying on this particular little mouse when he eventually caught up with her. Five stopped when he blinked into the living room. He pushed a hand through his wet hair and ran his tongue over his teeth with a smile.

“You know I’m going to find you, Vivie,” he called out. “You are a terrible hider and you can’t walk more than two feet without stepping on something or knocking something over.” He stopped and listened, but the house remained silent. “Brat,” he muttered to himself with a laugh.

He continued his blink-and-seek game, teleporting everywhere he could think of that she may have gone. He even blinked up to the attic, which he knew she couldn’t have easily gotten to, and almost bashed his head on the low rafters. She actually had him stumped for a minute, until he appeared in the kitchen and heard a noise. It was quiet, but he’d definitely noticed it. It was a crunching sound, like the sound of gravel beneath a shoe. Five smirked as he honed in on the location of the noise. In one perfectly calculated blink, he rematerialized inside the food pantry closet.

“Gotcha,” he declared just as Viv shrieked and took a step back, her back hitting the shelf behind her and knocking over another packet of crackers that had given her away in the first place. Five was right, she was a bad hider.

Five held her by her upper arms, a devious grin spreading across his face in the dim light, and squeezed his grip tighter. Viv was breathing hard from running and from being startled, but she laughed breathily.

“Hi, honey,” she said sweetly. “How was your shower?”

“It was very nice until I was rudely interrupted. Now tell me, my love, what were you doing with your phone?” Five glanced over at the shelf where Viv had set the phone, the screen still lit up with the family group chat ready to go. His green eyes flitted back to her face as she tried not to laugh again. “Oh, you think this is funny?”

“Do I think walking in on my elderly-but-not-really, ex-assassin, hard-ass, time-traveling husband singing a 2000’s Reggae/rap song in a fake Jamaican accent is funny and I need his entire family to hear it?” She beamed up at him with fluttering eyelashes. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

Five sighed loudly, tilting his head back before meeting her eyes again with a pitying look. “You know what’s going to happen now, don’t you, angel?”

Viv’s nervous swallow was audible in the small space they occupied. “You’re going to blink us both out of this closet and you’ll forget all about it?”

Five closed in on her, his half-naked body still damp with beads of water from the shower, his hair falling in pieces onto his forehead. He leaned in until his mouth was next to her ear, rubbing his cheek against hers.

“Wrong,” he whispered darkly.

He pressed up against her, pushing her harder against the shelves, the towel around his waist doing nothing to disguise his rapidly hardening erection. He moved his hands down to her wrists and held them tightly as he breathed hard against her neck. Viv could feel his damp hair tickling her face; his chest flush with hers.

“I do love it when you misbehave like this. It really gets me going.”

“Five,” Viv weakly protested, letting out a small laugh. “We’re in the kitchen pantry and our son is going to be home very soon. I’m not going to…”

She was cut off by Five’s thigh that he shoved between her legs, as well as the sharp nip he gave her neck as his hands tightened on her wrists.

“You’ll do what I tell you to do,” he hissed. “And right now I’m telling you to turn around and get that skirt up.”

It was dark in the closet, but enough light was coming in from around the door to illuminate Viv’s face so that Five could see the flicker of a smile cross her lips and that look in her eye that meant she liked what she heard. After years of marriage, he could read her like a book. And even if he couldn’t, the rapid change to her breathing would be a big hint.

She looked him in the eyes and whispered. “Let go of my wrists, then.���

Five let his grip on her go and Viv slowly turned around, just like he told her to; her ass brushing against him in the process because of the close quarters. She reached down and hiked up the hem of her pencil skirt, pulling it all the way up to her waist before grabbing onto the wire shelves containing their household dry goods with two hands. She pushed back against him as he let out a dark chuckle.

“Sometimes I think you do things just so you can be punished.”

With a firm tug on her hips, Five pulled her back, the large tent of his towel pressing harder against her backside. Viv’s hands tightened onto the shelves as she felt the towel drop to the floor and Five’s fully erect cock sprang to attention before rubbing between her ass cheeks and the thin material of her panties. His mouth was on her neck, hard and rough, as he started to mark the space next to her shoulder with his teeth. He let out a groaning sigh as he moved to another spot to do the same thing.

“What do you think, bad girl…” he mused quietly as his lips traveled to a new, unmarred area of her neck. “Are you wet enough for me yet?”

Five’s hand found its way around to her front, his long fingers creeping into the side of her panties and sliding up through her silken folds. He paused to bite down on the other side of her neck as a loud gasp caught in her throat. He continued his exploration, spreading her slick over her entire swollen heat, ending at her clit and expertly massaging it. Viv rocked her hips back and forth, wanting more pressure from his hand in front and his cock from behind.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Five smirked as she whimpered sweetly for him.

He considered his options of pushing her underwear to the side or removing them completely. He liked the idea of sliding inside of her while she was still fully clothed. But he also wanted as much access as he could get, so he removed his hand and shoved them down her hips so that they dropped to the ground around her feet. Viv automatically stepped out of them, her heels tapping on the floor as she readjusted and spread her legs apart.

Five wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her in tightly while using his other hand to position himself against her entrance, pushing inside of her with one thrust. The low growl he let out mixed with her moans as he bent her over as far as possible in the small space.

“That’s…oh yeah…that’s good,” Viv whined, hanging her head down and closing her eyes.

“I don’t want to hurt you, darling, but I need to fuck you hard,” Five warned, his voice tight with restraint.

Viv nodded eagerly. “I’ll let you know if it’s too much.”

He didn’t say anything else, just started pounding into her. Viv clutched onto the shelves tighter, Five’s hands wrapping around hers and squeezing them hard to steady himself as he nailed his wife from behind. The shelves began to shake and squeak loudly with the activity, the items on top of them shifting and falling over.

“Fi-ive…f-uu-ck…”

“Too much?” Five rasped between gritted teeth, continuing to drive his dick deeper and harder inside.

“Nooo…” Viv moaned. “No…keep going…more…”

“That’s my girl.”

Five’s grip tightened even more as he concentrated on giving her the fuck of her life. The added intensity shook the shelving unit harder; boxes of pasta and cereal, containers of rice, cookies, and crackers falling over and spilling onto the ground. Viv narrowly missed getting hit by a can of soup that rolled off the top shelf and loose Froot Loops were being crushed into brightly colored powder beneath Five’s bare feet.

“I. Love. You. So. Goddamn. Much.” Five was grunting with each thrust, his hips slapping against her ass while she made little whimpering noises, biting at her lips. “Even when you’re an evil little brat.”

Five…Five…I need…” she was gasping, trying to suck in air and talk at the same time.

“What, baby…tell me.”

“I need my hand,” Viv pleaded, trying to free her hand from under his.

Five let go of his right hand so she could release her own before grabbing back on again for leverage. Viv’s hand dropped down between her legs to finger herself while she was being railed as hard as possible.

“Vivie…” Five grated out, his voice hoarse. “I can’t keep…fuck, you feel so good!”

With Five’s amazing cock slamming viciously inside her and aided by her own fingers, Viv’s orgasm rippled through her body, her muscles contracting as she tried to hold back the loud screams that threatened to erupt out of her.

“Fuck!” Five yelled, clearly not concerned with his volume level, despite the fact that they may not have been alone in the house, or in a private area.

His own climax seemed to last forever as he pressed hard against her, pushing her against the shelves until her body was being crushed. The adrenaline from the intense finish masked the pain Viv normally would have felt if her chest was being smashed into the blunt edge of a pantry shelf. With their bodies starting to relax and their breathing still loud and gasping, Viv brought her arm up and rested her head on her forearm as she closed her eyes and sighed happily.

Five held her to him for a little longer, before slipping out of her and kissing the back of her neck. After a few more heaving breaths, Five moved aside so that Viv could straighten up and pull her skirt down.

“Now hand over the evidence,” Five panted, holding his hand out, palm up.

Viv had almost forgotten what landed them in the closet in the first place, and she glanced around. She saw the glowing light of her phone that had fallen onto the floor, along with all the food items. With a short laugh, she dove for it before Five could get at it.

“No chance in hell,” she smirked.

“Vivie…I swear to god if you send that to my—”

At that moment, from one of the upper shelves, an opened bag of flour tipped on its side and came crashing down, creating a giant plume of white dust that settled over everything and everyone in the tiny closet. They both cried out in horror.

As they stood there, covered head to toe in flour, with pulverized food debris and questionable other things on the floor, they blinked at one another in stunned silence. Viv was the first to start, beginning with a quiet snort that quickly devolved into her doubling over with laughter, then coughing from inhaling flour dust. As she tried to both laugh and cough at the same time, Five started in with a low chuckle while shaking his head like a dog to free the thick layer of white powder from his dark hair.

Just then, they both heard a noise from outside the pantry door. It was the sound of footsteps getting closer, followed by the voice of their son singing along quietly to some song that was playing on the noise-canceling headphones he seemed to wear at all hours of the day and night. As it turned out, this was a good thing, because neither one of them were entirely sure how loud they had been or how long he had been home. And even if they had kept their own noises to a minimum, the sound of crashing dry goods all around them should have been loud enough.

Viv’s eyes widened, knowing their teenage son was bound to be headed to the closet that housed all of the snacks. She looked up at Five, who read her mind and quickly grabbed her arm before blinking them out of there and into their bathroom upstairs.

As James headed in the direction of the sugary treats he was craving, he noticed the unmistakable flash of blue light coming from behind the closed door of the pantry. There were only two people in the house that could have made that particular color of light and he was one of them. He frowned before continuing closer. He took the headphones off and left them hanging around his neck.

“Dad?” he called, confused as to why in the hell his father would be inside a closed kitchen pantry. “What are you…”

James opened the door and stared inside. He wasn’t sure how a tornado could have ripped through one tiny closet while sparing the rest of the home, but that’s what it looked like. A dense cloud of flour still hung in the air and he waved his hand in front of his face and coughed. It was empty of any people, but it was certainly filled with a giant mess.

Boxes, cans, and plastic containers that once stored various food items were knocked over and either lying on their sides or upside down. Dried pasta and beans were mixed with a million grains of rice scattered into every crack and crevice of the floor. When he looked down and saw the remains of his favorite cereal which was now nothing but a bright pink and blue powder, he groaned sadly.

“No! Not my Froot Loops!”

Then he realized what else he was looking at. There, on the floor in a heap, and covered in a thick layer of white flour, was a wet bathroom towel and a pair of women’s underwear. James’ face fell and he couldn’t decide whether to scream or vomit. He clenched his teeth together and balled up his fists, unintentionally mimicking his dad.

“Seriously? In the food?” he grumbled out loud to himself. Then he threw his head back and yelled in the general direction of the upper floor, where he now knew his parents had escaped to. “You guys owe me a box of Froot Loops! And stop being so gross! People eat in here!”

There was no answer, but he sighed angrily and stuck his headphones back on, blinking himself one of the last bags of chips that were still intact before stalking back to his bedroom.

“And they wonder why I don’t want my friends to come over. Maybe because my parents are the two most disgusting people on the planet,” he muttered to himself while shoving a handful of Doritos into his mouth. “This family is so fucking embarrassing.”

Five had managed to blink himself and Vivian into their bathroom upstairs, which was now also covered in flour. Still stifling their laughs, they rinsed off in the shower, trying their best not to make a paste out of the mixture of water and flour in their hair. After cleaning up and toweling off, Viv was squeezing out the water from her hair when Five remembered something.

“Hey, where’s your phone? You still need to delete that shit off there.”

Viv eyed her phone on the bathroom counter and quickly grabbed it, clutching it to her chest. “No way, I’m not deleting that. That’s pure gold!”

“Vivian…” Five started in a threatening manner.

She smiled. “I promise I won’t do anything with it unless you piss me off or I need blackmail for something. Besides, it’s adorable.”

Five huffed. “Shut up.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up. You wouldn’t want to make me mad now, would you? There’s no telling what I might do…” She playfully held up her phone, pretending she was going to send something to the family group chat that had already been opened before their closet fucking had started.

Five frowned. “Why is the text thread blowing up?”

Viv turned the screen toward her and saw that new messages were flying in, one after another, all from Five’s siblings.

Diego: Holy shit, I almost crashed the fucking car

Luther: What the hell? 🤯

Lila: Oh god, I just threw up in my mouth

Luther: This was so much worse than walking in on you

Diego: Seriously, what is wrong with you two?

Viktor: I need to wash my ears out. With bleach

Klaus: Hey, what are we talking about?

Luther: I cannot express to you how much I never want to hear that again

Lila: Vivian, I have lost all respect for you

Klaus: Seriously, what’s going on? I accidentally left my phone on the bus for 5 hours and I just got it back. Eww, it’s sticky

Viktor: Please lose my number

Sloane: Really…that was pretty bad you guys

Diego: You are no longer invited to family game night

Lila: I hate you both

Klaus: Oh hey, there’s an audio message on here!

Luther: There is a child living in your home. Did you think about that? No, you only think of yourselves

Sloane: I’m sure he wasn’t home

Lila: I bet he was. Poor thing. I’m calling social services

Viktor: She’s just kidding, guys, no one is calling social services. But still…gross

Diego: The worst part is that I had just picked up some Thai food. Can’t eat now. Thanks a lot

Klaus: 🤣🤣🤣💀💀💀

Klaus: Didn’t think I could die but I just did

Klaus: I’m keeping this for future use. Next time send a video, I need a visual for maximal effect 🍆✊💦

Luther: Klaus, you’re disgusting!

Diego: Don’t yell at him, he doesn’t know any better. The other two know that it’s wrong. So, so wrong

Lila: Did there have to be dialogue? Can’t you shut up for the two seconds it takes you to blow your load Five? I can’t unhear that

Viktor: This is now the top most traumatizing thing I’ve had happen in my life. Which says a lot

Luther: You two have some serious issues, you know that?

Klaus: Has anyone seen my red sparkly belt? I need it for tonight

Diego: Klaus, how can you ask that now? And no, no one has seen your stupid belt

Klaus: Oh, are we still talking about the Fivey Fuck Fest? I thought we moved on

Lila: I want out of this family

Sloane: If I have to be here, so do you

Luther: I think we need to establish some rules for this group chat

Diego: Who made you ruler of the group chat? But yeah, we do

Luther: Rule #1: NO SEX IN ANY MEDIA FORMAT ON THE FAMILY TEXT THREAD

Luther: Everyone in agreement?

Diego: 🙋‍♂️

Lila: 🙋‍♀️

Viktor: 🙋‍♂️

Sloane: 🙋‍♀️

Klaus: 👎

Luther: Great, majority rules

Five stared at the phone, then back at Vivian, then back at the phone, his eyebrows crunched together.

“Did you…did we…”

Viv cringed. “I think so, yeah.”

Five pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes to gather himself. “Let me get this straight. You just sent an audio message of us doing it, loudly, to my entire family?”

“It would appear so, yes.”

“Vivian!” he cried, throwing his hands in the air.

Viv pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. “It was an accident!”

“An accident that wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t think you were so fucking funny and recorded me singing in the shower!”

The giggles she had been holding back started to bubble out. “I’m sorry. But it’s a little funny, don’t you think?”

“Not really, no.”

“Oh.” Viv snorted back a laugh and then fixed her face in an attempt to look serious again. “At least it was a good performance by you. I mean, it could have been worse.”

Five narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean? When is it not a good performance?”

“Oh my god, Five! You’re making a bigger deal out of this than it needs to be.” She looked down at her phone and started typing.

“What are you doing now?” Five asked.

“Trying to apologize…hang on…wait, why can’t I…oh those assholes!” she said, looking up at Five in shock.

“What?”

“They removed us from the group chat. What the fuck?”

Five stood there for a minute and then he started laughing. “Now, that actually is funny.”

Viv grinned. “Now I kind of want to do it again. Just to fuck with them.”

Five leaned in to kiss her. “I have no problems doing that again. But let’s keep the next session a little more private, shall we? And maybe with a little less involvement of unsecured baking ingredients.”

[chaifootsteps]

i think the dragon fucking thing is the dumbest shit people have gotten on you for because there really truly is no real world equivalent to it. like yeah lizards exist but the biggest ones are about the size of a small or medium sized dog, and all without what likely makes a dragon sexy to you! which is the huge size and sentience and the sharp teeth and all that good stuff! it's just monster fucking to me. because what else is it comparable to?

also i honestly just feel like people want to have their morally right opinions in a community built upon critical analysis that talks about how problematic certain things are in these shows to a sometimes excessive degree for cartoons about demons in hell, while ignoring all the genuine good you've done for helping vivs actual victims speak out and have a voice/platform, to make them feel better about their critical voices, because you dont just. complain that viv is a bad writer who botches adult topics in her adult shows like a femcel 14 year old on wattpad. (although you still do that and it's absolutely warranted because she does, i just feel like part of the reason people feel comfortable coming to you is because you're honest about who you are and what you enjoy in fiction, you're mature enough to understand morality in fiction vs morality irl and the difference between it, and obviously the fact that you're an anonymous voice who can easily archive this info for years to come compared to other websites. and to me there's a major difference between the stuff youre writing and the stuff vivs writing based on scale and audience. you aren't going to make anyone want to fuck their pet lizards, but vivs certainly given lots of people a warped idea of consent and why someone should be harassed if you look at her likes.)

anyway, this ask was kinda long and i dunno what else you could contribute besides a thank you, so if you feel like it, could you give a list of the top 5 fictional (i can't believe im saying fictional because DRAGONS ARENT REAL,) dragons you'd bone in a heartbeat?

Thanks, Anon, I appreciate it! <3

I think it's one of the more unsettling things they come at me for, because let me tell you, the idea that dragons = bestiality came up out of nowhere. A couple of years ago, the big trend in art/writing online was sexy dragons as the preferred love interest for princesses, and it was everywhere. And then, suddenly, they were problematic and I was getting 19 year olds arguing with me that it was "against federal law."

That weird thing you like, even if it's considered utterly vanilla today? I promise you, it'll be next. It's already starting to happen with anthros.

I think liking weird fictional things openly and unabashedly, and being able to argue in favor of why you do, is important. I think it's normal, human, and makes it makes everything safer on the whole, and makes it easier to root out the actual creeps.

But yes! Dragons!

Draco, my second major fictional crush. The first was The Beast.

2. Smaug.

3. Paarthurnax

4.Ventuswill

5. Literally every dragon daddy in the Spyro Reignited Trilogy. That game had me sweating.

[triviareads]

ARC Review of A Tropical Rebel Gets the Duke by Adriana Herrera

Rating: 5/5 Heat Level: 3.75/5 Pub Date: February 4th

Premise:

Dr. Aurora Montalban Wright begins a no-strings affair with Apollo, Duke of Annan and accepts his protection as her underground women's health clinic is threatened by dangerous, powerful individuals.

My review:

THE historical romance of 2025— A Tropical Rebel Gets the Duke is poignant, unabashedly political in its unflinching portrayal of the dire necessity of women's healthcare access, and INSANELY sexy.

Apollo and Aurora's chemistry has built over the course of the series, and seeing it in its full glory is EVERYTHING. Apollo was the secret son hellbent upon revenge against his shitty dad, and now he's claimed his rightful place as Duke. Meanwhile, Aurora served as the voice of reason in the last two books, except it turns out she's perhaps the biggest risktaker in her friend group— For one, she's running an underground women's clinic and is being terrorized by men in power for daring to treat women where other doctors refuse to. For another, this book STARTS with Aurora propositioning Apollo for some no-strings fun.

Apollo is *obsessed* with Aurora right from the get-go; they've had this charming, light enemies-to-lovers thing since book 1 and you get a lot more of that here except very one-sided because Aurora doesn't give quarter, even when Apollo is diving head-first between her legs and basically worshipping her pussy... and her. And to be fair, Aurora has been betrayed by the men in her life, and that too at a horrifically young age. Apollo advocates for her in a way that strikes a perfect balance between progressive and old-school *alpha hero*. Basically, if you like a clever, prickly heroine paired with an enormously charming, quite rakish hero with a chip on his shoulder.... this is the book for you.

Plot-wise, a lot of the story involves Aurora's women's clinic and the increasingly precarious position it's in. Adriana doesn't shy away from depicting the specifics of medical procedures (I learnt quite a lot), and more broadly, the systemic suppression and abuse of young women, often women of color, by the men around them. Apollo and Aurora continue their relationship under the assumption there's a deadline, because Apollo has to marry a proper debutante to increase his social and political standing.

Apollo and Aurora are people of color in relatively privileged positions— both are Afro-Latine and Apollo is a duke, while Aurora is from a wealthy family and was educated to be a doctor— but that does not mean they are immune to both systemic and interpersonal racism, both outside and within the community, especially in Aurora's case. Aurora is mostly content with her outsider status, but Apollo is conflicted about whether he should use his privilege for good from the inside, or if he can take on systems of oppression from the outside. And while I don't think all the villains in this story got their comeuppance, Adriana Herrera did a wonderful job of decolonizing Apollo and Aurora's happily-ever-after in a way that doesn't hinge on white acceptance.

The sex:

BONKERS HOT, like, I genuinely to an extent I have not read in a traditionally published historical in a while. Apollo is a little rough and a lot take-charge, but also just super smooth in the way he coaxes Aurora to let go of her inhibitions until she's just as vocal of her desires. There's a lot of biting, a lot of sniffing, a loooot of pussy worship and body worship in general, and Apollo's dirty talk is TOP NOTCH.

Standout scene is probably a jealousy-induced couch bang after Aurora comes across Apollo entertaining a prospective bride... IN THE NEXT ROOM, after which this man cleans her up and pockets said handkerchief and announces his intention to keep it under his pillow because she smells so sweet, like COME ON. No one's doing it like these two.

Also, I do appreciate the use of condoms throughout the book.

Overall:

This book is proof that a book CAN be political and sexy and in 2025, we could do with more of both. I can't recommend A Tropical Rebel enough for anyone looking for a swoony, satisfying romance that packs a punch in all the right ways.

Thank you to Canary Street Press and NetGalley for the advanced copy in exchange for my honest review.

[aprofessionalwithoutstandards]

ok so like pitch me bushmed. like explain why i should ship it. give me the juice. im intrigued but not convinced rn (please)

Okay so full disclosure: Sniper and Medic are two of my favorite characters and I like mushing my favorite characters together like dolls. I genuinely identify heavily with Sniper tf2 and use him as a representation of myself, and Medic tf2 is a guy I think is really hot and over the years have actually developed like a little fictional crush on. Also my real girlfriend identifies with Medic, so I'm Sniper and she's Medic so we're bushmed irl. I liked bushmed before this, but my more recent surge in interest in it IS bc of this relationship

HOWEVER there is stuff about bushmed, flat and on paper and without any personal stuff, that makes me really like them! I think Medic and Sniper are two guys who are obviously "different" from "normal people" (everyone in tf2 is "different" to a degree, but even among tf2 characters Medic is seen as a sadistic megalomaniac and Sniper is seen as an anti-social recluse [see: how Demo talks about him when he thinks he's not there in comic 4]), in VERY different ways. I think it's not Really that Medic "doesn't realize" that he's different, at least not all the time, but that he's grown to not let it bother him, and I think that would be a really nice really positive impact on Sniper's life. Also there's the obvious element of Medic reviving Sniper in comic 5, which he CHOSE to do, because he wanted to have Sniper back. I don't actually think this "imbalances their power" or anything, I think it makes Sniper supremely grateful to Medic and Medic immensely proud of Sniper and if they weren't into each other before it kinda makes them rethink things. I also just love that element of experimentation as a form of romance thing that Medic ships always get in relation to Sniper - I've seen a couple people say that they think Medic is "too weird" for Sniper, but I disagree! Sniper's probably not as into the hard science of it all the way someone like Engie or Demo would be, but he's still Into watching Medic test the limits of both of their bodies and if anything, enjoys the attention. Romanticizing and eroticizing "unusual" parts of the body and "unusual" interpersonal acts can be suuuper nice when ur a freak, and I think Sniper would appreciate having something like his autopsy scars or his sharp teeth being romanticized or eroticized. I just think someone like Medic, who is like So openly unabashedly weird and horrible and incredible, Really has the potential to bring out a lot of good things in Sniper. They have such a lovely freako scientist/freako test subject relationship. I think I've called it "sexy Frankenstein/sexy creature" in the past and I stand by that. Just adore them

[lovejustforaday]

2024 Year End List - #11

Samurai - Lupe Fiasco

Main Genres: Jazz Rap, Boom Bap

A decent sampling of: Lo-Fi Hip Hop, Abstract Rap, Conscious Rap

Lupe Fiasco is one of those artists that's been around forever ,that I always knew I would probably like, but had yet to check out any full-length projects from. That was, until this dropped and I saw that cover art and was like "fuck it, you got me".

But really, can we just appreciate that sick fucking cover art for a minute? Man's got serious taste.

Lupe was kind of an anomaly in the hip hop world when he made it on to the scene. Here's this nerdy, offbeat conscious male rapper from Chicago, with bars about respecting women, the kinda rapper who would've very rarely reached anything approaching his level of commercial success. But in the late 2000s, he proved that hip hop was already beginning to diversify its perspectives on what a successful rapper could look like. Like Ye (before he went all batshit anti-semite, anyway), Lupe paved the way for other colourful rappers who didn't fit into a very particular archetype of mythologized machismo.

But like I said, I'm not too familiar with the dude's actual back catalogue. To me, he's always just sorta been that relatively mainstream 2000s rapper that was a respectable cool guy. But now I'm kicking myself for it, cause the dude's got some mad bars to match his genuine nice guy persona.

Though it might sound odd given the warlike name and confrontational cover art, I'd honestly describe Samurai as a very comfy listen. It has that in-your-element, geeking out alone in your bedroom kind of vibe. The really breezy, downright sexy jazz rap beats go well with some very unabashedly verbose lyrics. Like a comic book come to life, this record is full of drama, bravado, and just some really cool shit.

I get from this record that Lupe Fiasco is a true logophile, and the man puts his heart and soul into his bars. It's a real pleasure to look up some of these lyrics and just read along, as you can palpably feel the man's passion for the pen oozing out of these songs.

Samurai is also a concept album. Lupe is apparently a long time fan of the late great soul singer Amy Winehouse, and a little known fact about the legend herself was that she originally wanted to be a famous rapper. The story of Samurai chronicles an alternative reality where Amy became a formidable battle rapper, and throughout the narrative he weaves, Lupe draws parallels with aspects of his own career as a rapper.

I'm tempted to say that, in the hands of a lesser artist, this could've been in poor taste, or even exploitative in some way. But Lupe makes it abundantly clear through his wordsmith on the record and in interviews just how much respect he has for Amy, and the project ends up being this really genuine and imaginative tribute that's honestly quite touching. If you're gonna do hero worship, then the one true right way to do it is to keep it classy AF like this project.

The eponymous opener "Samurai" is the album's biggest selling point. This track is a huge blast from the past, while simultaneously feeling so fresh and cutting edge. This is how you begin a story. I get hyped just thinking about that little saxophone riff that heralds the arrival of a truly seasoned master. The chorus was ripped directly from a voicemail left by a young Winehouse when she actually was a battle rapper. The song is such a genuine celebration of the artistry of rap to the point it almost brings a tear to my eye.

"Cake" is an infectiously rhythmic and braggadocious track about Amy's first battle rap victory. The hook on this one has gotten stuck in my head at least a dozen times in the last month.

"Palaces" is pure rainy evening jazz piano class. The lyrics are pensive, reflective, and bittersweet, pondering on legacy and the perpetual vulnerability of fame, with Fiasco pleading not to fall to its many trappings, which feels particularly grim in the context of the record's concept revolving around Winehouse, an individual who was very much hurt by the double-edged knife of success.

The record closes with "Til Eternity", where Lupe posits that art, or rather the process and the effort of making art, could immortalize us as human beings. The song has a splendid and humble kind of sound, as if taking in the simple beauty of life.

Apparently, a few tracks were cut from the record for the sake of making it more concise, and it definitely feels that way at just eight minutes and thirty tracks.I'm conflicted because I love what's here, and it does feel like the narrative comes to a satisfying end. But it also feels like Lupe really only scratched the surface of the concept and the themes he was trying to convey here. What we get is amazing, but it feels like its over all too soon.

Nevertheless, I'm still impressed with what we got. Moreover, Samurai's conception comes off so clean and effortless, despite the obvious blood and sweat that was put into these lyrics. The record tells a short story about two legends and does a fine job at it. This is a very easy listen that I'd gladly recommend as a gateway for anyone looking to get into more lyrically heavy, concept-driven hip hop records.

8/10

Highlights: "Samurai", "Palaces", "Cake", "Til Eternity"

FOR FANS OF: Be by Common Enter the Wu-Tang by Wu-Tang Clan

[engineer-gunzelpunk]

Heavy Harry And The Three Railway Engines (Red And Black Steam On Southern Metals, CW: Some coarse language)

This next one was actually the first RWS-type story outside of Sodor I ever wrote featuring my VR OCs. I was obsessed with the idea that the RWS books did exist within the Island Of Sodor, which is not an uncommon idea in the fandom...

But I don't think anyone did a story where locomotives outside of Sodor and existing in the same reality as Sodor actually read the RWS.

Heavy Harry And The Three Railway Engines

Newport Locomotive Depot and Works, late December 1950

The mighty VR H-Class Pocono H220 “Heavy Harry” has settled in his shed for the night. He has an express passenger train tomorrow to the border town of Albury all the way in New South Wales, the next state over across the Murray River, and needs plenty of rest. He is the largest locomotive built locally in Australia and the largest non-articulated loco in the Southern Hemisphere.

Somehow, it doesn’t really go to his head, probably because he pulls a lot of goods trains as well, overnights to Albury and back (VR seems to give everyone plenty of mixed work, not even the snooty S-classes are above pulling goods trains every now and again). It gives him ample opportunity to show his strength, for no other class of locomotive in Australia is stronger than he.

He is dark and shining in his majesty, painted in standard VR all-black; the imported American bar frames upon which his whole being is built, the pilot out the front and enormous smoke deflectors give him a proud and armored look.

Unlike the suave, stylish S-class Pacifics who are the lords of the fleet; who hid all their machinery under dark blue and gold streamlining, he unabashedly shows off his rugged mechanical lumps and bumps. He needs to be rugged if he is to mount the 1-50 and 1-44 inclines of the North Eastern Line on a daily basis, such as his purpose.

Near him is in the next berth the old fashioned, black VR A2 4-6-0 No 986 “Pluto”, who also pulls passengers, though not as often these days. He’s an older fellow that plays the doddering old man, but he’s sharp and cunning and won’t hesitate to take the piss out of anyone who he thinks is stupid.

“Your driver is coming to tuck you in and give you a kiss, Har’! Has he got a glass of warm milk?” giggles Pluto.

“He might be coming to change your adult nappy, Pluto!” snickers Harry.

“He’d better be dressed all sexy-like in a nurse outfit if he’s going to do that! Give me a sponge bath too! That’d make my night!”

They’re both laughing like crazy by the time Harry’s driver reaches them.

“Ready for bed?” his voice echoes.

“Just settling in, Driver…” says Harry

“Have a squiz at this!” His driver cheerfully, and shows him a tiny yellow book, The Three Railway Engines, “Just published! I bought it to read to me kids! I thought it would be fun to show you, Har’.”

Harry was curious at the little book.

“They have living locomotives in Britain as well?”

“Of course they do!… We’re not the only living ones out there! Its impossible!” barks Pluto.

Driver carefully reads the simple stories and shows up the pictures in front of Harry so he can appreciate them. Their faces are grey, like that of the Australian locomotives, but their classes and types are difficult to discern from the artwork.

Pluto listens in with interest.

“Blimey, Gordon is such a limp prick!” exclaims Pluto.

“That hill looks pissy as! Surely the A3 can’t be as great as they say if it struggles on a little hillock!.. “ snickers Harry.

They go to the next story.

“Pluto, there’s a 4-6-0 in this book!” exclaims Harry.

“Good for him! I hope he’s as splendid as me…” puffs Pluto, then suddenly the sound of snoring came from that berth.

“Heh! Old coot!”

They continue reading the stories.

After finishing the book, Driver asks “What do you think, Har’?”

“I’m not sure…”, Harry is a little uneasy.

“Whats the matter, boy? Don’t you like it?”.

Harry kept flickering his eyes to the side.

“I don’t like the story of Henry getting shut up in a tunnel… I don’t think he deserved his punishment…”, he looks down towards his bufferless footplate.

“He sure deserved his punishment! What a princess! Imagine stalling cuz you’re afraid of a few drops of rain? What a total pillock!” he laughed.

Driver thought it was very funny, but Harry didn’t think so.

“Sir, would you like it if the coppers threw you in jail because you went on strike over something?” he said with uncharacteristic solemnity.

Driver frowned at the realisation. He had joined the strike that year and Harry had struck a nerve.

“Have you been talking to one of the Communist locos, Har’?”

“No! Why? Didn’t you join the enginemen’s strike too? The one we locomotives wholeheartedly supported? And it made things better for everyone? Because that the promises that fucking terrible Pig Iron Bob bloke made didn't come true? ”

“Fair point, Harry… but striking for better pay and conditions is one thing… being silly over paint is another…”

“How do we know he’s being silly over paint? Just because the author said so?

'The stupid newspapers said you were all Communists or puppets of Communists! The other drivers were complaining about it!

‘They made the locos so silly-looking too! Like kiddies and children’s toys! Do they really look this silly in England?” grunted Harry.

“I don’t think these are meant to be literal, Harry…I mean, the paintings aren’t the most accurate depictions of locomotive types.. you can’t even see what classes they’re supposed to be…I mean, Henry’s a 4-6-0 in one picture and a Pacific in another!”

“Pacifics! Feh! Wankers!” yelled Pluto in his sleep ,“Too good for pulling goods eh? Why I oughta take them by the scruff and rub their noses in boiler sludge! ...” , snoring resumes.

“Do you think the Thin Commissioner would come down personally if one of us were to stall in a tunnel just to yell at the passengers, have them try to pull a 200-tonne locomotive with full consist, then lose his temper and brick it up?” asked Harry.

“No, Harry, that would be silly and absurd. But in the book, the Fat Controller is on the train… but I do get your point...”

“That Fat Controller must be a child, if his solution to Henry being silly in a tunnel is to brick him up and leave him there. The board of directors must have been spitting chips at that!”

Driver shrugged, “They’re just stories in a book, Harry. Not a thing to get upset over… I must admit now that you bring it up, it is a bit stupid in the way they seem to run it, leaving a perfectly good engine in his shed… then sending a wholly unsuitable locomotive to do a goods run on a steep hill… then bricking up another one in a tunnel...”

“Anyway Har’, best not think about it too hard… big journey tomorrow! Nighty night!”

Just stories… Harry thought.

And he put his discomfort away, and tried to get some sleep even though Pluto snored like it was going out of fashion.

Here are a couple of true events referred to for context:

Previous to the events of the story, there had been a major strike by the enginemen of the VR for better pay and conditions. Things that were promised to them when the war ended were not given to them. They were exhausted and a lot of the locomotives were in terrible shape because no one could afford to maintain them as often as they should. The railway workers union AFULE called a major strike which lasted for 55 days, and most of their demands were met by the VR.

The "Pig Iron Bob" referred to in the story is Sir Robert Menzies, the arch-Conservative Prime Minister of Australia at the time of the story. He was infamous as Attorney General for letting the sale of raw iron to the Empire of Japan even as it was clear they were allied with the Nazis and were committing atrocities all across Asia, such as the Massacre of Nanking.

The unions and every right-thinking Australian hated this and they refused to load iron on ships bound for Japan:

[suuho]

i’ve been thinking about this since his discharge but i noticed that junmyeon shows less skin than before. like he was never kai/yixing level of sexy but there were gags involving other members ripping off his shirt or him unabashedly showing off his abs. and going back to what you said about his leader image, exo is known for their dark/sexy concepts and junmyeon often looked a bit more mature than the other members, which didn’t really work in his favor because kpop is catered towards younger audiences and everyone loves the “bad boy.” that’s why whenever junmyeon did do a sexy concept, some people didn’t take him seriously because of the whole “grandpa suho” thing or him being the “cool mom”. however, i do think he’s embraced that mature side of himself now that he’s entered his 30s because decanting is pure sex with a capital s lmao. idk if i’m making sense but that’s what i think at least lol.

yeah, i've noticed it, too. i think, back in the day, it was various things at play that caused that: his vanity, trying to deviate from the church oppa/grandpa suho thing, being a dude in his midtwenties with a great body, and simply teasing the fans, too. he's a gemini, so it was definitely in character for him to do that. also, side note, i hate it when they call him the mom of the group, it's so aggravating, lol.

anyways, i mostly just want him to be comfortable in his own skin, and i hope he knows that we appreciate all sides of him. but it is funny, how people would just refuse to see him as someone alluring or attractive until he'd take his clothes off, and even then, they didn't, or turned it into a joke. i know i am entirely biased, because i love him and i think he is one of the most attractive men on planet earth, but, man. c'mon.

happy to report that i died three hundred deaths though when he released decanting, because it's the sort of song i wanted him to release for ages. definite smart move on his side, too, and very much in tune with the junmyeon of the past performing playboy and been through. just, y'know. in a way that is not entirely just his idol side, because he made a conscious decision to not feed into that part of his public persona as a solo artist. he wants to be an indie rock artist, and he achieved just that.

[circle-bircle]

just finished fire emblem: the last promise. i gotta. i gotta talk

play tlp.

ok well don't if you don't want to. but the sheer SCOPE of this is un-freaking-REAL. i think one that really shines out to me is chapter 26 where it's basically a fe4 map in fe7 - you're going around conquering places and also THE SCENERY CHANGES FOR THE TIME OF DAY!!!! plus holton is basically a bootleg valter. always appreciate that. gosh. i just. hnng.

the plot? it's definitely fire emblem. i won't get into spoilers too terribly much but one of the main lords... isn't even playable in the final chapter, where he really should have been to complete his character arc. all i'm saying. but other than that it's good. you fight a dragon in a gaiden chapter

the gameplay? WOOAOW it's fire emblem alright!! lots of characters. gba supports though so i didn't really learn about most of them. but they're all fun and feel like their own characters. but there's lots of weapons, you don't get the convoy until CHAPTER 17!!!! though so be prepared to manage items. a lot of items. i didn't think it was UBER hard but there were definitely some challenging points in it. of course i talked about chapter 26 but one i also liked was with the next chapter; 27 was a DOOZY. it was very tough but very very fun and the boss can teleport (he's also sexy - yes, i have a thing for blondes. obviously.) and kill your convoy!!! so. RIP convoy man but not really. :P there's a few 'solo' fights, where shon (a lord) fights some guys and he goes on a sidequest if you choose to do it which is very cool i think. and kelik fights literal zoro from one piece (no, I am not kidding. it is Zoro from One Piece) and someone else who is a spoiler but it's sick as hell. not to mention the creator really loved the kaga sagas. like, really loved the kaga sagas.

the technicalities of this game? wow. it's built in fe7 - roms nowadays are usually built in fe8 due to... storage, i believe? or just because it's the most polished gba fe - but i haven't played much with fe roms so i wouldn't know for sure. there's voice acting! VOICE ACTING!!!!! and there's even dynamic voice acting for a character where they say something different depending on how far they are in the story. not to mention this was created when fe hacking at all was pretty underdeveloped - it still holds up today IMO. of course there's some jank but it's relatively minor.

ok have to talk about the characters now. first, not actual characters but there are... fe4(?) characters here. claud and julius.

or well. "claud" and "julius". no, i never met claud again. so. :/.

i can't really talk about kelik without going into spoilers. but he is unabashedly sick asf!!! he goes through a great character arc and gets a fairy sword :). there's also a difference in his ending whether or not you win/lose a very specific fight for vengeance or whatever. in his world of worlds every step meets the rest. inb4 weight of your sins. something something. play tlp.

spoilers spoilers spoilers:

i love galagar. he's just very cool. except when you get an infodump right before the final... chapters.... about his life...... you know it'd be nice if we learned a little bit more beforehand but c'est la vie.

tl;dr: tlp good. play :)

[filthforfriends]

Call Me Damia

Read parts 1-3 on my Masterlist

DILFiano CW: morally grey age gap and power dynamics

Word count: 4.6k

Unsure what to do with yourself in anticipation for fall quarter, you began shopping for your dorm room. You watched high school graduates with their mothers debate whether a magenta or mint colored silicone ice cube tray was best. Your mom was permanently M.I.A. and dragging your dad along would just be torture for you both. So you go alone.

It was bullshit that all freshman had to live on campus. It also seemed ridiculous that there were so many dorm room necessities. As if the space wasn’t small enough already, now you can organize your socks by length into color-coded bins from Ikea that you had absolutely no room for. Realistically, you only got this cynical when you were hungry. So, you left the store playing an sonically insulting remix of another remix to get some food.

Past a block of fancy cafes was a taco truck usually open this time of day. You were walking so intently that you almost missed him, sitting alone on a patio. It was like some magnetic pull. He looked up even though you hadn’t called his name.

“Y/n!” There was a moment of uncertainty before he broke out in a full smile. “So wonderful to see you.”

“Hey, Damiano!” Your heart flutters embarrassingly.

“Oh, you don’t have to call me that,” he dismisses. He’s gotten some sun, beauty even more striking with a glowing tan. Slacks, black leather boots, a tank top, and his blazer hanging over the chair. He’s refined and so sexy. Damiano waves you over and you’re more than happy to abandon any future plans in exchange for his company. It's not like he didn’t occupy your every other thought anyway.

When you come to the edge of the table you notice three things. First, he’s wearing new cologne. Second, there's a small book under his right hand like he was reading. Third, he’s wearing new jewelry, which doesn’t include his wedding ring. You try your best not to be thrilled.

“What brings you here?” He looks exhausted, but happy.

“I was about to get some dinner, actually,” you answered, fingers crossed behind your back.

“Will you join me then?” Behind his closed lip smile there's a secret that lies just between the two of you. Buying your daughter’s long time friend lunch when you run into her at a cafe. How chivalrous and admirable, how appropriate. Fate had gifted both of you such an excellent ruse.

“I’m not interrupting anything?” you inquire, coy. What you mean is I’ll have you all to myself?

“I’m all yours.” Besides touch, there is nothing more intimate than having your mind read. Its electrifying to know that he can see through you. To be naked in front of Damiano was a thrill. He was looking, unabashedly, his expression revealing that he appreciated what he saw. It was such a filthy thing to do in front of other people.

He gestures to the chair across from him, reminding you to sit down. These were the moments when your youth caught up and embarrassed you. Damiano was looking at the menu, so you tried to make yourself more poised. Put your hair up, adjusted your blouse, and took off your jean jacket even though it was breezy. When you finally sat he was looking at you with his eyebrows raised, taking a sip of white wine.

“I thought you looked fine before.” There's not a hint of teasing in his expression and you don’t know what to do besides blush crimson. “But this will make it easier to sneak you wine.” He gives you a wry grin, wiggling his eyebrows to make the moment lighter. “Too bad there’s no vineyards nearby, I’d take you wine tasting.” We can’t ever talk about this again. You were branded by those words.

“You changed your mind?”

“I’ve decided to trust you transgression. I’d like for you to trust mine, but that's your choice.” Daminao sits back in the chair, folding his hands.

“I do.”

“That was a quick decision.”

“Well you have more to lose.”

“Ah ha! You trust the situation, not me.” He waves an accusatory finger.

“I suppose so,” you muse, drumming your fingers on the table for theatrical effect. “You’ll just have to earn it somehow.”

“And how am I to earn your trust?” he takes the bait and you’re thrilled.

“If I told you that, I’d have to kill you.” You repeat his words from your last discussion with a smirk instead of a laugh.

“That’s not a real answer!” He sits forward, totally engaged in your verbal sparring match.

“Oh really!? Pretty irritating huh?” You tilt your head to the side flirtatiously, resting your chin in your palm. Damiano gets the reference and throws his hands up in the air!

“Fine! I give up!” His body language is just the opposite, leaning towards you as much as the table will allow, smiling wide.

“So easily?” you taunt.

“How am I to make it up to you then?”

“Well there's plenty of things you can do to please me,” you venture. Even though you’re maintaining an enticing, confident exterior, internally you’re begging Damiano to meet you halfway. His chest heaves and he rolls his bottom lip under his teeth before biting it, like he’s trying to keep something at bay.

“You’re making this very difficult for me.”

“You already said that. I’m officially requiring a different excuse each time.” Damiano looks away and lets out a groan in the place of a response. That sound throbs in your cunt beyond what you can endure.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” you coax.

“No.” He spoke through gritted teeth, hands balling into fists before releasing. His leg starts bouncing. Anyone watching could tell that Damiano was trying to hold back, fighting something that was almost stronger than his moral fiber.

“Why did that make you so nervous?” you push. He holds up a hand, signaling you to stop. The realization hits, that he has an entire life at stake: kids, a career, his whole reputation. He can’t be careless, so you can’t be careless. Verbally accosting him in public wasn’t the way to go.

“I’m sorry, let me find a waiter.” As you stand, your wet underwear rubs against your pussy uncomfortably. What took half an hour with other men, only required a conversation with Damiano.You walk towards the indoor portion of the restaurant, trying to salvage this meeting of happenstance. He catches you by the wrist.

“You’re okay,” he says emphatically, meaning you’ve done nothing unforgivable. He’s earnest wide-eyed to convey his point. You take a deep breath, and he mirrors you. One helping the other regulate. When you pull away to seek out a server you catch Dami’s hand in yours, stroke your thumb over the back of his hand for an inappropriate amount of time. Nail in the coffin, you brush your fingers over the tan line his wedding band left. It's totally self indulgent, but the hair stands up on his forearm in reaction. There's too many places you want to feel his touch. Not just between your legs, but cupping your stomach, playing with your nipples, around your throat, gripping your thigh, bruising your hips. The desire is dizzying and you have to take another breath together before letting go. There's nothing more compelling than lusting after someone so hard you can barely function, and feel them do the same for you.

By that point a waiter has noticed you standing and briskly walks over. You’re glad it's a man, with short red hair and porcelain skin marred by acne scars. Watching a woman gawk at Dami would be too painful of a reminder. He is not yours. He will never be.

“My apologies, I didn’t realize your date had arrived,” he stammered, as you sat down. Dami doesn’t correct him.

“We’d like the wine taster and another menu.”

“Oh, yes, sorry!” Foolish of you to assume that gender would keep anyone from fawning over Dami. His tone is patient, and you realize why. Damiano is so acclimated to people falling in love with him that he gives them a moment of grace to collect themselves.

The waiter places a single sheet of embossed paper in front of you, the type of menu only fancy restaurants have. The prices are exorbitant.

“Can I take your order in the meantime?”

“Give us a few minutes,” he answers curtly, ever the gentleman. The server realizes his blunder.

“Of course, my apologies,” he spluttered.

“I’ll just have whatever he’s having,” you interrupt, getting this awkward exchange over with for everyone’s sake. Damiano takes a beat to give you a sly smile, pausing the entire interaction to admire.

“You’re sure?” He says the words like it's something intimate, no insistence or condensation.

“Yeah, I trust your judgment.” Trust. Another bit of language carrying a secret only you two could decode. There was nothing in your life more riveting than having secrets with Damiano. Everything was boring to the point of obsoleteness in comparison.

“So what did you mean earlier, about your name?” You ask as a peace offering, when the waiter walks away.

“I just meant that, um,” he chuckles, and grimaces. Dami hangs his head like he regrets bringing it up because now he has to explain himself. “Damiano is very formal.”

“So what name should I use instead?” He's visibly relieved that you didn’t ask what it meant to be informal. “Dami is what your family,” and by that you mean wife, “calls you.”

“My friends call me Damia.” He answers with quiet confidence, but then his face changes. “Not that we’re necessarily friends and if it makes you uncomf -”

“We’re friends. Especially considering how much we’ve taken care of Icarus together, and all the dinner parties,” you trail off. Damia visibly finds your tact soothing. “Personally, I think the lack of intergenerational friendships is to blame for a significant portion of the world’s stupidity.” Damia chuckles, and the wine tasting tray arrives. Its four small glasses on a wooden board with indentations for the base of the glass so nothing goes sliding off and onto the floor. The restaurant is fancy enough to have a sommelier, and he stands at the head of the table. You try to mirror Damiano exactly, so no one will suspect that you’re actually 18.

“The first two are both cold soaks from the Bien Nacido Vinyard. All our wines are sourced in state. This glass on the far left is a 2008 Cabernet Sauvignon with light notes of oak and a velvety mouthfeel. It has been very successful in our local tastings and even won -” Despite your best efforts, you tune out the jargon in favor of observing Damiano. He’s nodding along, totally engaged with the sommelier’s lecture.

You use the opportunity to admire his profile, searching for little details no one had bothered to notice in years. There's a small scar halfway between his cheek and perfectly sculpted lips. Maybe a couple nearly imperceptible marks at the top of his cheekbone. A few eyebrow hairs were astray. Smile lines. It was entertaining to try to find imperfections on Damiano. Like Where’s Waldo, but way harder because this man in front of you was art of the finest caliber.

“So,” he sighs, trying to hide his relief that the lecture is over and the sommelier has gone inside. “What's the first rule of tasting wine?” He places both elbows on the table and rests his chin on top of his folded hands. Every gesture is elegant. Even better, you’re the sole recipient of his attention which makes you feel feverish the same way a sunburn does.

“Don’t use it like mouthwash,” you quip, in reference to the other night. He snorts, unclasping his hands because you’ve provided an interruption he wasn’t prepared for. Now Damia is flustered by the memory and shaking his head, like he can’t recall his train of thought.

“Thats – thats, sure. Why the fuck not?” He dissolves into laughter placing his face in the crook of his arm. Everything is hidden but his smile, and there’s a weightlessness in it you’re unaccustomed too.

“Rule number one: don’t swig the wine,” he proclaimed, still grinning. “Which makes rule number two: swirl, sniff, sip.” He picks up the first glass, and you follow, picking up the second. You mirror him, swirling the wine languidly in a movement that comes from the wrist, trying to emulate his easy elegance. When Damia lowers his nose into the glass and breathes in deep, you do the same. When he sips, your gaze fixes the way his lips curl over the lip of the glass, caressing it. Even the way he pulls the wine into his mouth is sensual. You forget to drink for a moment.

It just tastes like the wine you’re used to consuming, but not gross. All the bitterness of alcohol is gone. What term goes with oak and velvety? You’ve already used lush.

“What do you think?”

“It’s well-balanced and…round,” you try. This is apparently an acceptable answer because Damia, hums, nodding.

“Switch.” You exchange glasses, and Damia keeps his eyes on you. Using both hands, he rotates the glass so your lipstick mark is facing him. Carefully, he puts his lips exactly where yours were and takes a long drink, all while holding your gaze. It’s sweet torture, and your hand shakes were it rests on the table. Damia is exacting his revenge.

Glancing down at the rim, there are no marks left from his mouth, and you’re at a loss. Damia isn’t even hiding his enjoyment while watching you squirm. He’s smug, biting his lip as he shamelessly looks you up and down. Unfortunately, you’ve got a competitive streak and no reputation to ruin by being obscene. Using just the tip of your tongue, you trace the rim of the wine glass, placing it back on the tray without taking a sip.

“Do you want to know how that one tasted?” you challenge. Sitting back, cocky, would be the easy way out. Instead, wipe your lipstick off on the back of your hand and take the third glass. Damia is perplexed but takes the fourth, and you sip at the same time. Only after you’re done drinking does he understand. With no lipstick, there are no marks for him to follow. Check mate.

You look at Damia expectantly, genuinely unsure of how he’ll react. You extend your glass to exchange, and with only a moment of hesitation, he takes it, swallowing hard. Feigning composure, you take sips of wine as he bargains with himself, probably giving away more than he’d like to in the process. Finally, Damia looks at you, passion aflame in his eyes, and licks the rim of the glass. Watching his tongue is better than actual sex you’ve had. You rub your legs together, trying to relieve some of the pressure in your cunt. When he sits back up you stare, each waiting for the other to make a move.

“What do you think?” There's a lot of ways you could go with this. The sexual tension in the air is so thick that you decide to give the both of you room to breath.

“They taste exactly the same,” you deadpan. Damia laughs with his head thrown back, taken by surprise that you’d interjected humor.

“They do not!”

“Yes they do! You’ve been lied to,” you dramatically insist, cackling. At one point in his life, Damia probably laughed easily, but that part of him was far from the surface. You were determined to coax it forth again. Eventually you both fall into an easy silence gazing at each other, lent forward against the table. In the most intimate of circumstances, words aren’t necessary. Kiss me for fucks sake. Kiss me, I dare you, and see if I don’t deliver my response tenfold. You stare at his lips, unabashed. How far you’ve come from that first spark.

“My eyes are up here.”

“I wasn’t looking at your eyes,” you tantalize, meeting his gaze. “But I wish I could do that more often.” It was a vulnerable omission.

“You’re too honest.”

“You want to lie?”

“Never lie to me,” he snaps, with so much heat behind his words that it's scary. You lean into that fear, excited by it. Damia is startled by your reaction, and you see you’ve finally made some leeway. He’s revealed something about himself that wasn’t polished and perfectly calibrated.

“Having dinner with you was a terrible idea. I won’t even make it to my entree before spontaneously combusting.” You don’t take offense, because of the mutual understanding of what it would take to ease the tension.

“Should I get our food to go?” He sighs, but smiling softly like he's made a compromise within himself.

“Fine, but what you think is going to happen isn’t.”

“Okay,” you shrug your shoulders amicably. Even as you try to remain casual, getting your take out and the check from the waiter, your heart is pounding. The anticipation is so overwhelming that your reaction time is delayed, like you’re listening to everyone from underwater.

Getting out of the cafe and into the street is a relief. It's easy to just move with the crowd, everything feels less momentous. Damia is deep in thought, placing his feet carefully. You don’t want to interrupt, but the silence is both comfortable and totally suffocating.

“Where are we going?”

“Uh, I was gonna walk you to your car,” he murmured. Damia looks up for the first time, trying to place himself in the surroundings.

“Well we passed my car a couple blocks ago, so why don’t I walk you to your car?”

“Alright,” he chuckled, smile reappearing. He looked down at your hand, and you at his. You both thought so hard about what it might be to touch, for this to be allowed, that you could almost feel the warmth of his skin. In this crowded plaza, a dozen people could recognize you.

Damia threw his arm over your shoulders, in a way that could be misconstrued as comradery. He pulled you closer to him, and turned his head.

“I wish I could hold your hand, too,” he whispers. It nearly breaks you. Fending off the tears takes all your will power. It was the moment you knew that his affection went beyond your young figure and lively conversation. He felt tenderness for you.

“I’m in the parking garage,” he tilts his head towards the big cement structure. “So…”

“I’ll walk you to your car,” you confirm. Whatever may have been calmed from a stroll through the plaza was aflame again as you realized the privacy you’d have. The place was practically empty, and the light was soft as the sun set. A stroke of genius hit right as you passed the stairwell.

“Damia, come on!” You were already up one set of stairs when he responded.

“What? I’m not running up the stairs with takeout in my hands.”

“Be spontaneous for fucks sake!”

“Lemme put it in the car!”

“You’re gonna miss it,” you screech, running up another flight. When you hear Damia’s boots on the metal grating you smile so hard your cheeks hurt.

“What the fuck am I running up the stairs for, y/n?” You wrench open the steel door to find the top level of the parking garage empty. Perfect.

“What the – oh my god.” Damia interrupts himself in wonder. The colors of the sunset splay themselves across the sky, so over saturated that the world looks like a dream. You drop your stuff in the corner and run out into the center of the parking lot, arms open. Damia follows behind, huffs disbelief as he marvels at the sky.

“How did you know this was up here?” he shouts in awe. Orange and yellow hues hit his olive skin with a beauty to potent it ached.

“The sky?” you tease, the wind blowing your jacket open.

“‘The sky,’” he mocks, jogging towards you with a mischievous look in his eye. Damia grabs you by the waist, spinning in circles as you screech in delight. When he sets you down you’re left in a fit of giggles, trying to catch your breath.

“Rooftops have the best view,” you pant. “This is the only one that doesn’t get the cops called.”

“Ah, so you’ve found this out by trial and error then?” he retorts, playfully. Straightening up, you don’t let Damia create distance. Getting close enough to kiss was half the battle. You throw your arms around his waist and pull him in, so your abdomens are flush together.

“Kiss me,” you beg. “For fuck’s sake just kiss me.” Even as his hands are placed loosely on your back, he shakes his head.

“I can’t,” he chokes, with absolutely no conviction, not even enough to physically distance himself.

“Why? Because you’ll feel guilty?” His eye brows knit together in surprise.

“Well…yeah,” he puzzled.

“You already feel guilty. When we hadn’t even touched you felt guilty. So if you’re going to feel like shit no matter what, whats the fucking point of holding back?” Damia processes your words, then lets out a harsh breath and looks away. Steeling yourself, you pull back.

“Fine, I –” Something clicks inside him, or maybe something breaks, snaps clean in half after a crappy marriage and millions of people with a negative opinion. Damia wrenches you towards him, so forcefully you instinctively put your hands up to catch yourself. However, a millimeter away, his grip on your waist stops the collision. Your noses are pressed together, and he steps completely into your space. Damia is holding you so close that the only thing not touching is your lips. Forehead, sternum, chest, abdomen, and his arms coiled tightly around you.

He’s waiting for you to initiate the kiss, but there is so much sensory input so suddenly that your brain is effectively short circuiting. You could taste his breath, smell not just his cologne, but his body, feel the bridge of his Italian nose where he rubbed it against yours affectionately. His erection pressed into your thigh, such a contrast to how angelic he looked with his eyes closed.

Damia is holding you closer, tighter than you’d ever fantasized, and you start trembling in his embrace. Your hands flutter from clavicle to shoulder, and end up with one palm on his cheek. He smiles and snuzzles into it enthusiastically, even though the contact was so innocent. Damiano is touch starved.

You kiss him as fiercely as you can without knocking teeth, keeping your mouth soft but demanding. The hand on his face moves to his hair as the wind tangles it around your fingers. You expect some tepidness after all that apprehension, but you get the opposite: the sensation that he’s finally let go. Damia pushes his hand under your coat and grips your waist. His other comes to the back of your neck and the base of your skull, guiding. He’s not kissing you like an inexperienced little girl. He’s kissing you so passionately that a hand has to support your head.

Trying to channel all those days of denial into the embrace results in you letting out a whine without meaning to. Shuddering with pleasure, you kitten lick his lips before each kiss. He responds by opening his mouth, and pushing his tongue against yours. Instead of searching your whole mouth, he slowly massages your tongue, not too forceful, but enough for it to be sensual. This is how experienced men, adult men, kiss, you realize. His grip is tighter than boys you age would dare, yet it's perfectly measured. The hand on the back of your head somehow doesn’t register as aggressive. It’s undoubtedly the best kiss of your life.

Your free hand frantically grabs at his blazer, trying to pull him infinitesimally closer. The words that beg for more come out as a whimper, and Damia rewards you with a moan of approval. Seeing how much you like tongue, he tilts his head to kiss you deeper. His clothes, the movement of his hands, even his smell is mature. This could never be mistaken for a kiss at prom, Damia had raw sexual energy like you’d never encountered before.

It wasn’t just your pussy that ached, pounded with arousal, but your entire groin and lower abdomen. Everywhere your bodies touched was burned by the heat of your chemistry, heartbeat thundering in your ears. You started shaking, aroused to the point of tears. When he felt the trembling worsen, Damia moved his hands as if to pull away. Desperately, you used your grip to hold him close, made a noise of approval and kissed with even more vigor to prove a point.

He made the kisses slower, sexier, less tongue and more passion. You took to stroking his hair with your hand, which he liked very much. Again Damia moved away, and again, you gave chase.

“Mm, air,” he said into the kiss.

“Shit, sorry,” you gasped, lips parting. His chest heaved and his mouth was red around the edges, your presence evidenced.

“Is that enough air?”

“You’re insatiable,” he chuckles, still breathing hard. “Sorry, this isn’t the stamina you’re used to.”

“You’re not giving yourself enough credit,” you huff. Admittedly, it is hard to catch your breath when there's no breathing room. You loosen your embrace, cursing the need for oxygen.

“That’s better,” he pants in relief. Damia takes a couple steps back and turns his body away from you, signaling that the makeout was over.

“Thank you.” This was far more than you’d anticipated, and even if it was over, you were so grateful. He turns back towards you, grinning wholeheartedly. Maybe you’d misread the situation. You try resuming the embrace, and Damia doesn’t outright reject you. But his kisses are conciliatory, oh so gently telling you no. Of course you listen, even though the loss in intimacy is brutal.

“Should we go back down? I can drive you to your car.” As you followed Damia back to the corner where your belongings were deposited, he held your hand. You appreciated the gesture, but wished your fingers were laced together. Meanwhile a wave of anguish overcame you. This couldn’t be over. He may never touch you again.

“Wait!” In a moment of desperation, you fall to your knees in front of him. He didn’t want kisses or sex, so you could give him this. Damia inhaled sharply, a hand hovering over your head, fingertips brushing your hair. He hadn’t decided yet, so you try to convince him. Pushing up Damia’s shirt, you kiss and lick above the waistband of his boxers. The muscles of his stomach react to your lips and his hard cock jumps.

“Sweetheart, please stand up,” he begged.

“Do you want me to stop?” You looked up, had never seen a face so conflicted. The vein in the middle of his forehead was prominent, and his mouth was set in a grimace.

“I need you to get up because if you start I won’t have the strength to stop you,” Damia confesses. I want you, but I don’t want to. You nod, wordlessly, and pull his shirt back down. He extends a hand to help you stand up, and pulls you into a hug. The wind feels so much colder.

“Thank you,” he whispers, voice laden with emotion.

“For what?” You keep your tone low, even though there's not a soul to overhear. Secrets are always told in whispers.

“No one’s kissed me like that in a decade.”

Notes: I think if you just take a deep breath the emotions will subside. Thanks for reading! Please tell me your favorite part! This is some of my favorite writing in weeks so I'm super excited to post it, but the next part won't be this long. Also extra reminder that the reader is a character I'm creating, not me.

@gr8rainbowpunk @homesicam @hiraetheral @l0standn0tf0und @teenyweenynightghost @elvirabelle @immrbrightsideeee @idyllicbutterfly @ilwiwbysmv @superchrystaldrug @que--sera--sera @theimpossiblehologramtree @blackberryblossom @weareoddlydrawn @asianhawkeye @butkutee @iamtashaquinn @maneslut @little-moonbeam-666 @girlnred @maneskinyakaar @obiw4n @thatonebraziliangirl @daisy0gf @bohemianrainbow @boyswillbeexecutied @stardustingold @maneslut @cuzimitaliano @ch3rryc4ke @bieberhoodforever @damoriaa @teacosea @whore4damia @ohdamiano @wasteddoubts @donuts247usa @biancathecool @azertyhug @katyldamusic

[farscaperesource]

welcome to the farscape resource site!

This account is inspired by the @hdbuffy​ tumblr, which has been invaluable in making Buffy the Vampire Slayer accessible to new viewers, and allowing fans both old and new to easily make high quality content for the show. Kudos and full credit to them. It’s also slightly inspired by the Buffy archive on archive.org. I’m hoping that by making a similar resource for Farscape I can help more people find and enjoy this incredible gem of a science fiction show.

Here you’ll be able to find every episode of Farscape, including The Peacekeeper Wars, in 1080p quality. Except for The Peacekeeper Wars, all episode files are around 3GB. I’ve also uploaded English subtitles and all of the DVD extras I could find, including the Farscape: Undressed special that aired between seasons two and three. Most of the extras are in 540p, with a few in 480p.

For those who haven’t seen it: Farscape was an Australian-American science-fiction show that aired from 1999 to 2003, and was produced by the Jim Henson Company. By turns hysterically funny, emotionally devastating, brutally dark, profoundly romantic, and unabashedly bizarre, Farscape pushed the limits of what science-fiction television could be. Although the early parts of season one might seem to have things in common with the episodic storytelling of shows like Star Trek and Doctor Who, Farscape soon became an intensely serialized, character-driven epic about love, trauma, and galactic war. Featuring a protagonist that deconstructed the imperialist, American masculinity of typical scifi heroes, a romance so exhilarating and well-executed it’s impossible to describe, and a refusal to let its characters ever forget the things that happened to them, Farscape is one of the most brilliantly creative and subversive works of genre ever made. Beneath the colorful animatronic creations of the Jim Henson Creature Shop, the show is ultimately a philosophical exploration of identity and home. What does it mean to be an alien, and to be changed by the things that happen to you?

That, and it’s fun and sexy too.

I’m hoping that this account can be as comprehensive as a resource as possible. If you’ve made any scenepacks or have access to other content that you think fans would appreciate, please feel free to reach out! I’d be happy to host and share them. Follow if you’d like to receive updates any time I upload something new. Here are some things I’d love to track down, below the cut:

- Audio Commentary - 1x09 DNA Mad Scientist - Rockne S. O’Bannon & David Kemper

- Audio Commentary - 2x01 Mind the Baby - David Kemper, Lani Tupu & Andrew Prowse

- Audio Commentary - 2x05 The Way We Weren’t - Guy Gross

- Audio Commentary - 2x15 Won’t Get Fooled Again - David Kemper & Rowan Woods

- Audio Commentary - 2x15 Won’t Get Fooled Again - Rowan Woods & Richard Manning

- Audio Commentary - 2x22 Die Me Dichotomy - David Kemper & Rowan Woods

- Audio Commentary - 3x16 Revenging Angel - Animation Director Athol Henry, Animation Designer Pablo De La Torre & Animation Producer Rodney Wiltham

- Audio Commentary - 3x22 Dog With Two Bones - Ben Browder & David Kemper

- Audio Commentary - 4x01 Crichton Kicks - Andrew Prowse & Gigi Edgley

- Audio Commentary - 4x07 John Quixote - Tony Tils & Sean Masterson

- Audio Commentary - 4x11 Unrealized Reality - Anthony Simcoe & Andrew Prowse

- Audio Commentary - 4x17 A Constellation of Doubt - Anthony Simcoe & Andrew Prowse

- Audio Commentary - 4x22 Bad Timing - Gigi Edgley & Andrew Prowse

- The Peacekeeper Wars making-of documentary

- Any other DVD extras not already uploaded

- Any other official interviews or behind-the-scenes content

- Audio description files for the blind. I don’t know if the DVDs ever came with them, though.

- Non-English subtitles. I’ve found a few, but due to not speaking the languages I’m unable to verify if the timing works with the video files I’ve uploaded or if the translations are good.

- Transcripts or subtitles for DVD commentaries or other extras. johnaeryn.com used to host a bunch, but only a few are still accessible via the wayback.

- Promotional photos and stills. Some are still online, but many are missing now that johnaeryn.com is down.

- Academic books or articles about the show

- Anything else I didn’t think to ask for!

[captain-buckyyy]

take me for a ride

summary: the sexy biker next door with the long hair and arms covered in tattoos is no good, he’s trouble but it’s a good thing you love trouble.

pairing: biker!bucky barnes x reader

word count: 1,013

warnings: swearing, mentions of sex

a/n: this part one of a lil scandalous biker!bucky series please bear in mind this series will be 18+. also gif is not mine!!

The small town you call home is beautiful, at its peak in summertime birds chirp idly in the blue sky, flowers line the streets and kids come barreling down the street on bikes laughing and smiling. It’s picturesque but there’s one thing you love about summertime more than anything else, it’s the way the sun beats down and brings with it an intense heat that is too blazing to ignore. Your neighbour, six feet of pure muscles, long hair and two arms full of tattoos can't ignore the heat, no, instead he opts to spend his time working out on his bike in nothing but a pair of low hanging sweatpants.

Bucky, he’s like a god, chiselled and perfect in every way and you can’t help but gawk at him like a middle-aged woman seeing a topless man for the first time in months. He is simply irresistible, there’s no other way to describe it.

The real-life greek god moved into your little suburbia only six months ago and ever since he blazed in on his motorcycle, covered in leather and tattoos you were a goner. There was just something about him, the way he commanded every room he was in, the way he smirked at you every time he caught you unabashedly staring at him at every chance you got. Just like right now.

Bucky is always aware when a pretty lady is looking at him and he always knows when you’re gawking at him. Always. He’s playing around with his bike, this Saturday morning was bright and beautiful and the biker couldn’t resist the chance to give you a little show so early in the morning. His shirt had naturally come off as soon as he stepped out into his driveway knowing you’d love the view and boy do you love it.

Sweat drips down his naked abs as the sun beats down on intensely, you watch from your spot in your own garden, your chair angled so you’re looking directly at the shirtless man in his driveway. You can’t help but lick your lips as your eyes find his chest and see the droplets of sweat trickle down his chiselled abs. God, he’s delicious. You can’t help but think as he looks your way, giving you a cheeky wink before his tongue peeks out between his plump lips.

“You know doll, you should stop staring and come over here and join me”, Bucky’s deep voice breaks you out of your thoughts about how you want him to bend you over the nearest surface. Bucky lets out a deep hearty chuckle at you as you break away from your fantasies. You can’t help but question his laughter to which he responds with another chuckle.

“You seem very distracted doll, I hope I’m not disturbing you”, Bucky says with a knowing smirk, licking his lips and relishing in the way you practically drool as he does.

A smile finds its way to your lips as you get up off your garden lounge and walk over to the fence that separates you and the biker. You lean against the fence and bite your lip as your eyes naturally wander to his shirtless chest. “You’re definitely not disturbing me Bucky, I’m just simply enjoying the view.” You say with a smirk matching Bucky’s smirk.

Bucky stops his work on his bike and strolls up to you, the fence being the only thing that separates you. God, I wanna climb over this fence and ride him into oblivion. You can’t help think as your eyes trail appreciatively over his body until they stop at the very obvious bulge in Bucky’s grey sweatpants.

“Enjoying the view? Hmmm, you've been doing that a lot lately, doll?”, Bucky remarks as you shamelessly stare at his hard dick confined in his sweatpants. Bucky has noticed your staring, of course, he has but recently your eyes have been on him all the time, not that he’s complaining.

Your eyes finally flitter back up to his face and you can’t help but laugh, unfazed Bucky has noticed your little staring habit. “What can I say, Bucky? If you’re gonna look like that then, of course, I’m gonna stare.” You bite back, smirking at the small blush that creeps up the biker’s face.

Bucky can’t help but laugh at you, he loves the way you give it right back to him, never shying away from his flirting. “Then feel free to keep staring doll as long as I’m allowed to keep staring at that ass of yours.” The laugh that leaves your lips at his words comes out without even thinking but it doesn’t deter Bucky and his eyes even trail down to ogle your boobs in the pretty little sundress you wore especially for him knowing his penchant for your short dresses. Once or twice you’ve seen him staring at your behind in those dresses and you even once caught a glimpse at the bulge in his leather trousers because of your dress.

“Oh Bucky, I implore you to keep looking”, you reply leaning slightly forward inching closer to the biker, you could feel his hot breath on your neck.

Bucky’s laugh is like music to your ears, oh how you yearn to make him laugh every day, there’s just something about it that makes you a mixture of horny and warm and fuzzy inside. 

“Keep wearing those pretty little dresses and I will babydoll because you are the prettiest little thing I have ever seen,” Bucky says biting his soft plump lips in a way that goes straight to your core, you can feel the wetness drip down your thighs as you watch his teeth rake across his lips, those lips you desperately want between your legs.

“I can definitely do that for you Bucky but only if you do something for me.” You state trailing your fingers up his flesh arm.

The smirk that takes over Bucky’s face can't be contained, “and what exactly do you want from me babydoll?”

“I want you to take me on a ride.”

[queer-and-dear-books]

Title: What If It’s Us

Author: Becky Albertalli & Adam Silvera

Genre: YA Fiction | Romance | Friendship | Drama | LGBTQ+

Content Warnings: (Brief) Homophobia | Mentioned Infidelity

Overall Rating: 9.5/10

Personal Opinion: If you’re looking for a hilarious and romantic book about two boys trying to find each other in the big city of New York, then this is definitely the novel for you. Come for the gays, stay for the chaotic straight boy that just barely toes the line between heterosexuality and bisexuality. You’ll laugh out loud, clutch at your chest, and fall in love with Arthur Seuss and Ben Alejo. And also Ben’s chaotic best friend, Dylan.

Do I Own This Book? Nope. Maybe one day if I see it in a book store and feeling spendy.

Spoilers Below For My Likes & Dislikes:

Likes:

- I have to start with the best character in this book, Dylan. I love him. He is hilarious on so many levels. A chaotic straight boy who is comfortable enough in his sexuality to constantly flirt with Ben, his best friend, and suggest orgies. His advice to Ben sending an email to Arthur was, “Speak from the dick” and he shouted, “WE’RE HAVING SEX!” when Ben had knocked on the karaoke room door and like, this dude really swaggers around with a whole comedy skit in his head and I appreciate him so much. And I especially love how supportive and unabashedly mushy he is with Ben. 

- Arthur and Ben have such great chemistry too. I mean, not gonna lie, there were a lot of points where I felt like they wouldn’t work out. Their initial first date, for example, was a disaster. Arthur clearly wasn’t enjoying himself as much and Ben was way too into winning than he was showing Arthur a good time at the arcade. That being said, I love how they just kept trying again and again to get it right. And every do-over, despite some disasters, still allowed them to get closer and closer. They got to know each other better and they learned more about how to behave with each other and it felt so natural to me. I especially love, on their fourth do-over (double date karaoke with Dylan and Samantha), they talked about the things they were conscious about with dating. How Arthur felt like he wouldn’t measure up to Hudson and how Ben felt this pressure to make Arthur’s firsts extra special. And then they kissed and it was magic.

- All their kisses are honestly so romantic to me. But I really love when Ben was trying to apologize to Arthur and Arthur just kept interrupting him with kisses until Ben said, “You kissing me while I try to say sorry is not a bad problem to have.” Like, their banter felt so good once they got it going. I also cannot get over their first date involving them talking about sexy cartoon characters. It’s hilarious and utterly random which is fitting for teenagers. Also, their conversation about the least attractive words for sex was so good too. I just, I love the progression of their rapport. Starting awkward and becoming natural.

- I have my issues with Ethan but can I just say, when he and Jessie and Arthur were all physically in the same room together and Ethan sent that text saying, “I love you, dude” to Arthur, my insides melted. And then he climbed onto their laps and I just knew that this was a good friend group. I love the friend groups, all of them.

- Speaking of friends, Namrata and Juliet are awesome. They are both working women just doing their best and they are hilarious. The way they took their boss’s son to Panera and then Namrata dragged him to Hudson to see if he was the mysterious Box Boy was just hilarious. Especially when she said, “Whoops, you’re not Hudson Panini.” Like I cracked up at that. And I also cracked the fuck up over Namrata’s boyfriend’s roommates being the handlebar mustache twins who draw dinosaur erotica comics. No you did not read that wrong. More power to those dudes honestly. I can’t believe they actually made a whole comeback at the end of the book. And Namrata and Juliet showing up to Arthur’s house so he wouldn’t be alone for his birthday? Queens.

- Sharing your stories with someone is quite possibly the most intimate thing I’ve ever seen anyone do. Although I’ve seen it done before in Charm Offensive. That being said, this was different because it was a self-insert. Ben wrote a novel that involved people from real life and that included the happy and bad times he had with Hudson. But he still allowed Arthur to read it. And while he watched Hamilton for Arthur too. That was just so touching how they were sharing these things with each other and also authentically enjoying them.

- When Ben lost out on those tickets and Arthur got mad at him, I felt that. But instead of leaving, Ben put an earbud into Arthur’s ear and sang a song for him, something he couldn’t even do in a karaoke room. He sang a song for Arthur from the musical and then Arthur chose another song. And they had a whole conversation on the curb with different songs and that was how Ben apologized and it was honestly just so sweet. It makes me so happy that they fixed the issue then and there. That rarely happens in books.

- I’m a sucker for extreme mush and I don’t like how Ben shot down Arthur’s desire to attend school in NY because he didn’t want Arthur to build his plans around him. Like, I understand it but also, you guys love each other. At least try to make it work better. At the same time, I’m not too mad at the epilogue with the two of them being broken up but staying best friends. Like, it felt hopeful without being depressing which is the usual M.O. for most of Silvera’s stuff. Arthur is still Ben’s biggest fan and Ben still has hardcore feelings for Arthur. And I love that the do-overs from their first dates turned over into something where friends can try to do better and they also leave the possibility that Arthur and Ben might have a do-over of their own.

- Also love both sets of parents. Almost forgot to mention that. They’re great.

Dislikes:

- Hudson. Dude. You thought that your boyfriend broke up with you even though he never said it explicitly, but you never tried to talk to him? I’m not even too mad about that, Hudson was going through a rough time and shit was getting to him, whatever. But the fact that Ben ended up doing the same exact thing as Hudson is shitty. He literally said that he wanted Hudson to chase him down. And Arthur wanted Ben to fight for them instead of just sending him a singular text after their fight. But even though Ben was hurt and broken, he didn’t try to fix it at all! It shouldn’t have had to take the possibility of his best friend dying for Ben to actually reach out to Arthur. Especially as it was his fucking birthday. I’m going to be mad about that for a while even though the day still worked out nicely. Ben shoved people away for no reason.

- Ethan. Dude. I get you were going through a confusing time but you could’ve at least replied to Arthur’s totally innocuous text about a musical set in Georgia called Ha-Milton. Like that’s a funny joke. And he shared it with you specifically and you just did not reply. How else was Arthur supposed to take that other than you being weird around him for being gay? I’m glad that he took accountability but I feel like he needed a better reason for not texting Arthur at all other than it being weird that he was suddenly dating Jessie. Also, he compared hiding his relationship status with Arthur being in the closet and nah, that’s too much for me.

- Don’t know how I feel about Arthur putting up that poster. I feel like a Missed Connections posting on Craigslist would’ve been far less creepy. I get it, it was the photo of Ben that caught Ben’s attention but still.

- The reverence of J.K. Rowling and Harry Potter did not sit well with me. They even celebrated her birthday? I am willing to give it a pass though because it was 2018 so this was before the Big Bullshit she spewed. Meaning it just aged very poorly in the span of three years. Still, it does drop the likability of the book because I wouldn’t want to buy a novel that praises that TERF.

[taetaespeaches]

“I miss you when we sleep.”

taehyung x reader (oc) genre: fluff word count: 1.2K

a/n: Happy birthday @honeytae​!! I had absolutely no idea what to write when I started this so I just started writing... But that’s kind of perfect for you, Kenna. I think I often have your warmth and humor in mind when I write for Tae and Peaches, and this fic is an example of that. Just Tae and Peaches in their easygoing, warm, and flirty element. I adore you, Kenna, and I’m so thankful for our little tumblr friendship. I hope we continue to get closer and closer <3 happy birthday to my favorite wholesome thot, my twin flame, my fellow taehyung simp! 

It was one of those lazy mornings where you were awake, but reluctant to open your eyes and fully embrace the new day. The rustling of the comforter from beside you, however, alerted you of your boyfriend’s growing restlessness.

As two hands found your frame, one positioning on your hip as the other met your t-shirt covered abdomen, you groaned, a giggle sounding from the man that just nearly had your lips curving upward. His fingers began bunching the material of your top up, his palm flattening against your tummy, the touch of his slightly chilled hands eliciting a forced groan from you.

“Don’t smile,” he teased, you pulling your lips inward to prevent the expression from appearing, Taehyung chuckling in response. When his hand slid from your hip to your side, threatening to tickle you, you whined, pushing his arm away before turning onto your front and burying your face in the pillow.

Suddenly, the blanket was pulled off your body, only to be replaced by the weight of your boyfriend as he quickly situated himself atop you, his chest flush with your back. Groaning at him, he giggled against the back of your neck where he began to trail sloppy kisses across your skin. “Wake up,” he told you between ministrations, his voice laced with amusement.

“Leave me alone,” you mumbled into the pillow, Taehyung’s lips traveling toward your ear.

“Peaches,” he smiled, pressing a small lingering kiss to your lobe. “You don’t really want me to leave you alone, do you?” He whispered, his morning voice soothing you and exciting you at once.

Turning your face so your cheek was exposed to him, your lips pouted due to being partially squished against the pillow, you attempted to shake your head in the awkward position. Taehyung laughed first, followed by your own amusement. “No,” you told him through a mumbled confession.

“No, what?” He questioned teasingly, a smile on his face due to his own hilarity with himself and your cute sleepy features.

Sighing, you stretched your arm behind you to playfully smack his body, the motion awkward and mostly useless. “No, I don’t want you to leave me alone.”

Without a verbal response, Tae simply let out a boyish giggle as he pressed his lips to your cheek in a series of sweet pecks.

Shoving against him, you began turning onto your back, Taehyung lifting his frame just slightly to allow you to move underneath him. Once you were positioned and stopped adjusting for comfort, your boyfriend dropped his weight back onto you, a giggle leaving the man in response to your huff of feigned pain.

Your hands dragged up the sides of his body, Taehyung smiling at your touch. Lifting his weight off of you just slightly, your palms soothed over his chest, Taehyung licking his lips casually, though you had a feeling he knew what that action did to you. Scoffing at him, he smirked.

“What are you making me for breakfast?” You asked, the unexpected question causing Taehyung to let out a breathy chuckle as he flashed you an adorable grin.

“What do you want?” He questioned in his low morning voice, the sound beyond pleasant to your ears.

“Surprise me,” you told him, dragging your finger along his chest, leaving a trail of chills in its wake.

“I know how to make about,” he looked above your head at the pillows in thought, “three dishes,” he decided.

Grinning, you let out a small giggle. “And you’re a pro at all three,” you complimented sincerely, though you also intended to tease the man, Taehyung smiling stunningly at you.

“Really?” He questioned, his eyes wide with excitement.

“Of course,” you told him simply. “I wonder which dish it’ll be,” you joked in a game-show style voice, Taehyung laughing as he pressed his forehead against yours. His lips made contact with the tip of your nose for just a brief moment before he was shaking his dark curly locks in your face playfully, making you scrunch your nose at the tickles he caused.

“I love you,” he told you suddenly, your eyes widening as your smile followed suit.

“Well, I love you too,” you told him softly, puckering your lips, immediately tempting Tae to press his own to them.

“I miss you when we sleep,” he pouted adorably. “I never dream of you as much as I want to.”

“You’re so sappy,” you told him fondly, brushing his messy fringe from his face, only for it to fall right back over his forehead and into his eyes just slightly. He looked stunning, sexy, handsome; the whole package just resting above you, his eyes drinking you in as if you were a masterpiece hanging in a museum. The way he looked at you, it felt as though he was appreciating the brush strokes in a Monet painting that captured the light in all the most stunning, colorful ways. You were Taehyung’s favorite piece of art, always tempting him to reach out and touch you to feel your features, ensuring you were real.

And he did touch. His finger dragged across your face, dipping down the slope of your nose, trailing over your cheekbones, pushing adoringly against the plushness of your cheeks, tracing your jawline, and slowly feeling the softness of your lips.

“I never get used to you looking at me like that,” you whispered, your voice just barely breaking through the comfortable silence that encased the room as your hand reached for his own, intertwining your fingers.

“That’s because I never get used to looking at you,” he replied with a hint of a smile, though his eyes were mostly still busy taking in everything that was you. “I’ve admired you too many times to count, and I still haven’t been able to appreciate you fully.”

Feeling your skin warm as you tried to bite back your bashful grin, you averted your gaze, choosing to look at his chest that was pressed against your own. “See? Sappy.”

“I mean it though,” he told you, the words pulling your gaze back up to his face where you found him smiling warmly. “I’m going to keep admiring you, ok?” He asked you, as if he was asking for your permission. “For forever.”

“Ok,” you whispered, your lips curving up. “But only if you let me admire you too.”

“Deal,” he replied easily, his smirk cool and attractive, but warm and playful.

“Can we admire each other after breakfast though?” You asked, Tae’s youthful orbs meeting your own. “I’m starving,” you admitted, Taehyung dropping his face to your neck as he laughed.

“Ok, fine, food first, then admiration,” he agreed, mumbling against your skin. Kissing you gently, he smiled into the crook of your neck.

“I love when your sappy, by the way,” you added before the moment could end. “Keep doing it.”

Popping his head up, his eyes bright and his smile brighter. “Is it really sappy if it’s sincere?” He questioned, you immediately nodding with a giggle. “Well then don’t worry your exquisite mind,” he said, full of sap and love that had you smiling unabashedly. “I’ll keep it coming.”

[basedkikuenjoyer]

50 followers, yahooo! For the character opinion bingo, how about your top two Tobi Roppo? And a general question - if you were suddenly ten feet tall but just for one day, what would you do?

Hmm...if I were 10ft. tall for a day. I'm already fairly tall to begin with so there's not a whole lot of wish fulfillment, but I know I'd get a kick out of looming over people to intimidate them. Give em the ol LBJ treatment. Maybe stand in the deep end of a pool to mess with people. Shoot several videos of silly walks. Oh, and trim the hell out of the annoying pine tree that takes light from my garden. Oh! Tobi Roppo! Black Maria & Who's Who. Let's do Maria now and give WW a bit more love separately:

I go for stretches of time thinking I'm more or less straight, then I'll stumble across a lady like Black Maria or real life counterparts and that shit goes out the window. Then like...as far as monster girls go the sexy spider-centaur thing just clicks for me. All that to say, Black Maria did not have to do much for me to enjoy her. This is a character that was basically designed to be a good opponent for Nico Robin and that concept was executed perfectly. Top notch design. I adore her little gag of attack names using puns on "Maria." Such a fun, lively personality and unabashedly evil which is a trait I like in a villain.

She's the other side of our classy Wano women. Someone with all the way with words and social IQ, but selfish and cruel. Sanji's trust in Robin and Robin's smackdown on the spider wouldn't be as impactful if Maria wasn't making such a good effort to demoralize and demean. It's something we haven't seen a lot, and I appreciated it. Only gripe is that I wish we got a little more. You could've woven some friction with Maria/Robin into the earlier part of the arc in a lot of ways. Borrow a bit of the social conflict you'd see in something like HxH's Succession War.