#whatever most of this is in the tags and that's stupid oops

[lv56steelix]

by default i'm constantly imagining conversations and social situations where i am either fucking up or the people around me are upset at me. how tf do i channel that into imagining like. a cool sword? or at least people being nice to me instead of hating me ;-;

[ghostsstolemymoxie]

A request here for smut! enemies to lovers hot hate sex on a mission then people over the intercom back at the mansion here oops 🤭

AHHH OK I love this ideaaaa, just hoping I did it justice <3

【You're so gorgeous - then you start talkin'!】

Logan x F! Reader - Enemies to lovers: Hatefuck edition Divider credit @cafekitsune Tags: No use of Y/n, explicit content (18+, MDNI), unprotected p in v (be smarter than Logan and reader folks), rough sex, spitting, unintentional voyeurism, accidental exhibitionism Please don't click read more unless you're over 18 and willing to see 18+ content and the above tagged content. WC: 3k words

"He's the most arrogant, boorish, misogynistic, vile bastard I have ever met in my life!" You hissed down the comms, trying very hard to hide the scowl etched into your features. "Yes, but he's also your partner on this mission," Ororo replied, calmly, her voice crackling somewhat as it travelled into your ear through the wireless bud for your communications.

All around you, all you could hear was chatter, laughter and bawdy noises.

Serves you right, really. After all, you'd been so desperate to get back into the swing of things and get onto the missions since your injury, you had begged Charles to assign you the next mission, not even caring what it was.

Lo and behold, it leads to you and Logan being sent out on an intel-gathering mission at a casino just by the Canadian border. All you needed to do was listen out for some plan to do with Sentinels being built. Charles had been stingy with the details, though you weren't quite sure why. You supposed he'd given the brief more to Logan - the experienced X-man.

As though summoned by your distasteful thoughts, Logan soon joined you in the casino, already holding a glass in his hand. Whiskey, no doubt, with plenty of ice. He stepped up alongside you, glancing you up and down and taking in your black-tie attire with a smirk on his face. "You scrub up nice. Makes sense. You're only here as arm candy." He grumbled, taking a sip of his whiskey. In truth, it was a wonder that his muscles didn't burst free from the white suit he was wearing, but this was no time for gawking at the wonderful body attached to this awful man. "Has anyone ever told you that you're the worst person they've ever met?" You mock, even as you follow him to one of the tables. "Has anyone told you that you've got a smart mouth? That's not an attractive quality in a lady, y'know." Logan's retort was fast and icy, barbed in a way that only Logan's tone could be.

"Both of you, you need to focus on gathering intel, not on bickering." It was Scott's turn this time, shrill down the comms as he made sure that both of you heard. From the scowl on Logan's face, he heard perfectly.

A friend of Bolivar Trask was on the roulette table tonight - and apparently, he got loose lips after enough scotch. So, Logan took his seat at the same table, keeping his head down and focusing on looking inconspicuous, whilst you lingered at his side, playing the part of the pretty girlfriend attending alongside her man. Logan chugged the rest of his whiskey, holding out the glass to you. "Get me another one, won't you sweetheart?"

Sweetheart. God, that was the worst word he could use for you. It only made you angry. He had that stupid smirk on his face, too, that said he only knew how mad it made you. Despite his mockery though, you kept your composure, putting a smile on your pretty, painted lips. "Sure thing, hun." You said, leaning in, feigning a kiss on his cheek as you whispered: "Call me sweetheart again, and I'll cut your dick off."

He replied only with a scoff, as you headed to the bar, a scowl plastered on your face. The only way you knew it was because you glimpsed it in the mirror whilst waiting to be served. Once seen, it was schooled quickly, though that didn't stop a passerby from noticing.

Whilst you waited for the bartender, idly listening over your comms to hear whatever was being said at the roulette table, you barely noticed his presence, until he sided up right alongside you. He was a handsome guy, though regrettably not as handsome as your begrudging date for the evening, who remained at the table, unaware.

"Now, what could possibly make such a pretty face look so grumpy?" He asked, cooing the words so condescendingly. "I'm not grumpy." You reply, sourly, before forgetting that whilst you can always hear on comms, they can always hear you. A creak across the room sounds as Logan turns to look at you, and a look of something spreads across his face at the sight of the younger man quite obviously coming onto you. You didn't know what that something was, but it lit a strange, desperate spark in your stomach for just a brief moment.

Still, you needed to deal with the interloper first, so you turned back to him. "I'm kind of in a rush. I'm just here to get my partner a drink." "Partner, huh?" He chuckled. "I get it. Long-term relationship but no ring… has he convinced you that being partners is just as good as being married?"

He had clearly gotten the wrong end of the stick, though it was probably more your fault for saying partner rather than boyfriend. "It's not like that." You reply, trying to think of the best phrasing to get him to just leave you alone. "Then what's it like, gorgeous?"

The moron was grinning, missing the point as if he was a professional. All you could do was just roll your eyes and try to catch the bartender's attention. Sooner rather than later.

As you turned to speak to the bartender, the guy spoke up again, this time laying a hand on your arm as he did so. "Come on, Honey, you can tell me. I've been told I'm a wonderful listener. I've had my shoulders wet once or twice. I've got something else I'd love for you to get wet too."

The crudeness wasn't lost on you, and the thought of doing anything with this guy made your nose crinkle in disgust. But before you could reply with anything, you felt the guy's grip get snatched off of you as another, larger hand slid its way around your waist.

"Somethin' I can help you with, bub?" Logan's voice rumbled from behind you, and it clearly rattled the other guy to be challenged by him. After all, Logan was 300 lbs of muscle and adamantium and had the mug of a mean bastard to go with it. Even if that mean bastard was ruggedly handsome and carved from the finest Canadian oak.

You could have defended yourself. You knew this easily, and you were certain Logan did too, though the intensity of his gaze whilst he stared down the other guy forced a needy sensation in your core, betraying any lingering sense of feminism you had.

"No, just talking to the lady here." The guy replied, as politely as he could muster up, despite the fact he was no doubt shitting his pants. "Botherin' her, more like." Logan scoffed. "That cologne of yours is vile, by the way. You should probably try and wear something that doesn't smell like shit next time you try and flirt with a lady. Especially one who's spoken for."

The guy stammered, tripping over himself in trying to respond, his eyes running from you, then back to Logan, lips flapping comically but with no sound coming out.

Logan took this opportunity to tug you away from the bar instead. "C'mon, Sweetheart. Let's go have a talk." He snarled. "Logan, what are you doing? You need to focus on the meeting! Now is not the time for it!" Scott's voice down the communicator was cut off when Logan tore his out of his ear and yours as well (though he was uncharacteristically gentle as he plucked it from your ear).

He stuffed them both in his pocket, dragging you past the roulette table and the blackjack and into the men's bathroom. A single cubicle, with a lock on it that he immediately clicked shut the second that you were both in.

"What the Hell are you thinking?" You snap up at him, tearing your arm from his grip. Logan didn't reply instantly. His nostrils were flared, his beautiful mouth twisted in a vicious sneer and his whole body vibrating with the kind of energy that was more animal than human. His arms were tense, you could see the seams of his jacket nearly fraying at the effort, whilst those Hazel eyes of his burned into yours.

"I'm thinkin' about how furious I am." He snarled in reply, after a moment to think. "I'm thinkin' about how idiotic you are for even strikin' up a conversation with that guy in the damn first place. I'm thinkin'…" One tantalising step forward, and all of a sudden you were braced against the tiled wall. Thankfully the casino was clean, or at least looked it. Logan loomed over you, his breath heavy and stuttering, and for a moment you wondered if he had finally snapped and was going to drive those claws of his into your chest and finally be done with it. "I'm thinkin'… Dammit, that dress is good on you."

You blink, a few times as you look up at him, trying to confirm that you'd heard him correctly, that his eyes truly were raking down your body like that and not that you'd just dreamed it.

"Logan-" "Shut up." He snapped, cutting you off. "Just… shut up. Stop talking. God, you're so gorgeous and then you start talkin'!"

Despite your indignation, you didn't get a chance to reply. In moments he had gripped at your ass, squeezing full handfuls and lifting you from the ground, only to move you, seating you along the counter where the sink was, his eyes burning into yours all the while. He dropped you onto the counter with a thud, and in moments he was ruching up the fabric of your dress, the fabric slipping upwards from your ankles up to your mid-thigh. Hastily, you tried to tug it back down but he was far stronger, and it was a better option to have the dress lifted than torn, especially considering you'd both need to head back out to the floor. Now that there was a little give, he burrowed his strong thigh between your own, until his body was firmly planted between your knees.

"God, what am I doing?" He groaned, hanging his head, his hands planted on either side of your hips, trapping you in place. "You don't want this. You hate me as much as I can't stand you. But… I can't take this anymore. The… the tension, the burning, the need. The ache." His voice trembled as he spoke, his shoulders jerking with his difficult breaths.

As if all at once, you seemed to realise his intention here. He wanted you. Needed you. In a way almost primal and carnal, that seemed completely separate to the mission, or their usual distaste of one another.

A searing hot coil tightened in your gut, pulsating with desperation you didn't know you had in you. It had been a while, that much was for certain. 6 months? A year? Longer? Too long, by all measures. Too long since you'd shared your body with someone so vulnerably, so intimately.

And God, how you longed to share it with Logan.

"Shove me away." He demanded. "Shove me away. Smack me. Tell me I'm a brute and a bastard and you don't wanna fuck me. Do it. Because if you don't, I'm not stopping, mission be damned."

Instead, disobedient to his pleading, you slid your hands up his chest, feeling every ridge and valley even through his tuxedo. There were no words shared, no refusals or acceptances. Only a gentle touch between the fiercest of enemies.

His eyes flared, bright and incensed, and in moments he had shrugged off his jacket, tossing it haphazardly backwards, not caring where it landed, before dropping to his knees.

His hands planted themselves defiantly on your inner thighs, holding them open as he brought his face towards your core, whilst your needy fingers kept your skirt bunched up and out of his way. Logan didn't even bother to pull your panties aside, at first. He pressed chaste kisses at first to the seam of your womanhood, feeling how it slicked at his attention, enjoying the way you reacted to his attention, the way the scent of your desire seemed to permeate the air around him from every angle. He hummed into his kisses as well, the vibration only making that coil in your gut tighter. At the attempts to close your thighs, he only snarled, his grip getting firmer as he held them apart, shooting a glare up at you as if to warn you that if you didn't stop, he wouldn't keep going.

You relaxed your thighs, and he quickly crooked a finger around the gusset of your panties, tugging them to the side, taking in the sight of you with a cocked, eager eyebrow.

"You got a pretty pussy, sweetheart. She's a needy thing, huh?" He teased, before toying with his thumb, running along the seam a moment before holding you open, just in time for him to dive in again.

He kissed you as if he wanted to devour you like a hound starved for days on end would lap at the sweetest, most delicious meal. Quickly, he shrugged your thighs onto his shoulders, holding you against his face, as he slung one arm around you, holding your thigh in place on him and sliding his hand over the plane of your hip before he began to rub at your swollen clit, whilst his tongue diverted his focus to your weeping honeypot.

There couldn't be a finer sight anywhere in the world. You didn't care you were in a casino bathroom, or that you were meant to be working tonight on an important mission. Life or death meant jack shit compared to the sight of Logan kneeling between your legs and devouring you. He even seemed to hum in delight as your hand tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, nearly drowning him in your need.

He pulled back a moment later, strings of your desire still connecting you to his lips, before he swiped them away, licking them from his fingers.

At your whine, he only scoffed. "You don't finish anywhere but on my cock. You understand me?" He grumbled, standing up again, and unfastening his trousers, letting them and his boxers fall in a puddle on the floor in one swift, easy movement. When you glanced down, you could see he was already at full mast. Larger, thicker, veinier than any you had ever had before. It throbbed in his hand, with 3 beads of precum already leaking down his shaft. He palmed himself a moment, letting out a groan, holding his head in line with your clit as he rocked back and forth, gently. Just enough to soak himself in you.

"Mmm… I don't think you're wet enough." He grumbled, a smirk on his face. You were dripping on the counter, you could feel that already, so you knew he was lying, leading up to something. "So what are you gonna do about it?" You ask, locking your gaze with his own.

He pumps his fist along his cock still as he grins back at you, not averting his gaze as he spat, a thick glob of saliva landing right where his cock met your cunt. He smeared it on himself, on you - on where you both would soon become one - and he chuckled. "I always wanted to spit on you. Never thought you'd get so red from it." "I'm not red from tha-" You went to protest, but before you could finish, he had bucked, his entirety sheathed inside of you in one agonisingly ecstatic movement. All of him was buried in your warmth, and your walls shuddered around him. You didn't know which one of you had let out that moan - but you had a sneaky feeling it was both of you.

Your hand gripped his shirt, holding onto the fabric tightly, seeking to anchor yourself however you could, feeling how your body pulsated around him, acclimatising to his invasion. "Fuck," He cursed, resting his forehead on your shoulder, forcing himself to remain in place, not moving until you'd gotten used to him. "What, has it been so long since you've had a dick you re-virginised? You're so tight…" He ground his hips against your own, not yet pulling out, but making sure to give you that friction that brought another moan from your lips. "This pretty pussy's been needing a stretch. Don't worry, Princess, I'll give her a workout."

With that, he pulled back, each inch that he rescinded leaving you clenching down on nothing, feeling desperate without him. Against your will, you whined, tangling your fist further in the fabric of his shirt, urging him back again. Even after pulling out so slowly, he bucked in fast, torturous and barbaric in his speed. He bucked so hard that your entire body jolted with the collision between you, but he pulled back as if he wanted to watch you crying at the loss of him.

"What's the matter, Princess? You look about ready to sob." He mocked, before grunting as he thrust back in, just as hard, and you cried out in your mixed delight and pleasure. "You're the worst," You retort, through gritted teeth, trying to maintain your brain function even as every slight movement of his cock penetrating you seemed to make you want to melt into him, drooling and moaning like a moron who knew nothing other than taking Logan's cock. "Am I?" He purred in return, grinding his teeth as he let out three sharp thrusts in succession, robbing you of your breath as you forced your nails into his chest, drawing a groan of animalistic delight from him.

"Sounds to me like you're 'boutta cum, Princess. If I'm the worst… maybe I'll just stop." "No!" God, your voice sounded so breathy as it echoed back around the room, and Logan lit up at the sound. "No?" He parrotted, lips pursed and eyes amused, before he tutted. "No what? Use your words." "No, don't stop." "You don't want me to stop. 'cause I'm not the worst, right?" "N-not the worst…" You repeated. "Not the worst. Good girl, Princess. I'm the man who's 'boutta make you cum all over my cock, ain't I? I'm the best I am at what I do. And what I do is fucking girls like you 'til you're stupid. Right?"

By now your tongue had gone numb. You couldn't form a word in your mind, let alone in your throat or mouth. Instead, all that passed your lips were gasps and mewls and needy moans, as you forced yourself to nod, trying to get your point across.

It seemed Logan was too far gone as well, as he grinned down at you, feral and angry and delighted.

He leaned in, pressing heated, feverish kisses all over your neck, up and along the column of your throat before his forehead rested on yours.

"Fuck, Princess. I'm not gonna last much longer…" He panted out, his thrusts becoming faster and faster, no longer taunting you, and instead chasing his peak. His free hand reached down as well, his fingers splayed over your womb whilst his thumb played with your red, sensitive clit, eliciting another loud moan from you.

"Where'd you want it?" Logan snarled. "Tell me, and fast before I… ngh." He bucked, his movements sloppy and desperate. You longed for his warmth inside of you. To feel him spill and buck and ride out his afterglow whilst still nestled in your perfect pussy. To watch the look on his face as he pulled out and saw his own seed oozing from you. "Inside," You demand, the only full word you've managed in a long while. "P…please… inside. Inside." "Wish is my command, darlin'." He grunted out.

His lips crashed against your own, tasking of whiskey and pine and your own sweet nectar, the sensation of receiving a kiss from Logan so tender and desperate finally being enough to tip you over that final cliff.

Your legs wrapped around his middle, tugging him closer, as your pussy fluttered all around him, milking him for all he was worth, as a wave of white-hot euphoria rolled over your mind. Your moans were swallowed by Logan's mouth, as he kept kissing you, letting his own moans and grunts escape as well, the shared sounds of your pleasure rumbling in the caverns of your mouths. "Just like that." He rumbled, between open mouth kisses, murmuring into the plush flesh of your lips. "Cum all over me baby. Make my fuckin' day."

You barely even felt the sensation you'd so longed for as Logan buried himself as deep as he could inside of you, spilling every drop of his cum inside of you, whilst you squeezed every ounce he was worth, the pair of you riding out your orgasms at once.

It took a few seconds for you to catch your breath. Both of you had heaving chests and red faces. Logan pulled free from your lips, though not before offering one teasing, apologetic lip to the seam of your mouth, as though to apologise for kissing so hard and leaving you swollen.

You slid an arm around his shoulders, a silent plea not to pull away, as you pulled him in for one more kiss.

But he froze halfway, and glanced down at his trousers, his eyes growing wide and his jaw tensing.

"Logan? What's the matter?" You ask, leaning forward and glancing down as well, brow furrowed. "I didn't mute the comms." He replied, bluntly.

Didn't mute the comms. The comms that had been in his pocket, and would have picked up their activities.

"Get back to the blackbird, you two. Now. Before you're kicked out of the casino." Scott's voice, tinny and furious, escaped the two comms, even from where they were buried in Logan's discarded trousers. "And don't think for a moment you're not going to be punished for this."

Logan chuckled, reaching down to fasten his trousers back on, returning his gaze to you. "I dunno about you, Princess… but I don't care if I get punished. We're doing that again on the way back. C'mon."

You slid your panties and your dress back into place, stood from the counter and took his hand, heading out of the casino with him, already brimming with excitement for round two - this time with muted comms.

I hope you enjoyed and hope I did this justice - I've not really written enemies to lovers before so this was super fun <3 Feedback is super appreciated so please let me know if you enjoyed!! If you're interested, my requests are open so please feel free to send me any questions, ideas or headcanons you'd like me to explore (please just make sure you've read my pinned post first) TYSM for reading and hope you enjoy <3

[modern-gremlin]

Rivals with Benefits | Lance SDV Expanded (FWB to Lovers) 🔞 PT. 1

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

PART 1/2

Summary: If it weren't for Marlon, you wouldn't have bothered to help Lance out with his research, especially not by the way he gets on your nerves. You tried to give him a piece of your mind, but you might have given bit more than you intended.

Pairing: Lance (SDV Expanded) x afab!reader Tags: Smut, kind-of-tsundere reader, Friends with Benefits situationship, detailed depictions of sex. NSFW Tags below the cut. Word Count: 7k (oops) A/N: I just kept getting ideas for a Lance Rival to FWB to lovers story line and now I’ve word vomited it all here. IMAGINE, I had the intention to make this whole thing around 2,000~3,000 words?! lmfao, a fool I am. Well, here's to Part One~ I've written it in the perspective of a foolhardy, tsundere-ish farmer who's been trying to work their way up as an apprentice to Marlon. They're such a little shit on the outside but a softy in the inside <3 They have no idea how down bad they are for Lance, but they find out soon enough. I had so much fun writing this one, hope you enjoy xoxo

NSFW Tags: dry humping, fingering, unprotected sex, riding, backshots

When you first met Lance, you couldn’t deny that you were a little more than curious about the "mystery man" who greeted you at the top of the Caldera. You were smitten, more like, but you wouldn’t dare admit that now. Lance has been getting under your skin ever since he��s been asked to join the Adventurer’s Guild. Marlon might think he's a reliable and experienced combat mage, but you see right through that façade.

He's more like an over-confident killjoy who thinks he knows everything, you think to yourself. He's always quick to make objections to your suggestions — "That seems rather risky, don't you think?" he says. "You should carry more medicine with you," he says. Please, as if you couldn't handle yourself in the mines. You've been down there countless of times; so what if you've come out very a little battered every now and then? For whatever reason, he seems to single you out the most out of all the adventurers who visit the guild. To make matters worse, he never seems bothered whenever you make verbal jabs at him. He always maintains that arrogant smirk on his face and pretends that you've won the argument. Screw him and his stupid handsome face.

Your rivalry with him is no secret to the rest of the guild — almost every meeting starts with a battle of wits between you two, until Marlon practically has to pull you two apart from one another. "Get a room, you two," Gil would often remark something of the like, just barely raising himself from his regular spot by the fireplace. You hate how Lance just chuckles under his breath as you try to explain to the old man how the tensions between you two are "strictly from annoyance". You definitely don't sneak glances at him when he's none the wiser, and surely you just "coincidentally" bump into him at least twice a week (as if he hadn't already given you his schedule.) He just gets on your nerves. That's all, isn't it?

That's certainly what you convince yourself until one day you're sent to the Highlands Outpost to help him with a special research initiative. You wouldn't have taken the job if Marlon hadn't been so insistent that you'd be a perfect fit for the task. It wouldn't be wise for an apprentice to reject their mentor's request when they point out their strengths, so begrudgingly you agree. There's a clear enclosure in your greenhouse set aside for Lance's "little experiment". Good thing you've made decent enough clearance around your fruit trees — these plants are almost vicious as the creatures that drop them. Some are poisonous, some emit a strange dark aura, one of them is just downright creepy. To say this project is completely unorthodox would be an understatement, but admittedly, you are intrigued by the monster crops and the arcane powers they might possess. It only comes with the minor grievance of having to report to Lance every so often; tending to these crops every morning does seem like a cruel daily reminder of your rivalry with him. But with the final monster fruit harvested and stored, your mission is finally about to come to an end. Placing each of the crops inside a burlap sack, you make the trip out to the Highlands.

Upon arrival at the outpost, you notice that there's no one in sight. Just the peaceful view of the cedar trees stretching to the top of the mountain side, occasionally lit by the blue flames Lance had decorated around the area. From this safe distance, the view from the Highlands is breathtaking in the late summer evening. If you hadn't known that these fields to be riddled with monsters galore, you'd bet this would be a pretty nice place to camp out for a while. The sun slowly dips below the horizon as you breathe in deep swaths of fresh air. Not a bad spot to be stationed to, you think to yourself. Sure, the valley is modestly beautiful too, but you do wonder why Lance had accepted a job there when his schedule already has him spread thin. Besides, the Highlands Outpost is quite scenic itself. You really can't complain for the extra help though — as much as you hate to admit it, he's been a valuable asset to the guild. Now with Lance, once again, entering your mind, you remember the purpose of your visit. Taking in a last few breaths of the evening breeze, you slowly make your way to the outpost tower door. Like always, you announce yourself the same way; three quick knocks against the wood and an "it's me" signals to Lance that is you, in fact, at the door. "Come in," he routinely answers.

Once you enter the room, you see Lance sitting at his desk. He's too busy scrawling notes in his journal to greet you just yet. The room echoes when he gently slaps his journal shut to turn his attention to you. You swear he keeps a list of things that piss you off in that little book of his, because it's like he knows just what to say to make your face turn into a cherry tomato. "Good evening, farmer," he greets you cheerily, "have you come to keep me company tonight?" The peace and tranquility from your nature walk quickly dissipates the moment he teases you. "Yeah, you wish," you remark with a sneer, "I've come to give you the last of these." Raising the burlap sack toward him, you gently place the crops on the desk in front of him. His mouth curls into a smile as you retrieve each plant from the bag and place them before him. "Wow, these are quite fascinating. Truly remarkable specimen," he says as he carefully examines the freshly-harvested monster crops, "I'm surprised, they're in such perfect condition-" He's surprised? Really? You've been tirelessly caring for these venomous, god-forsaken crops for weeks now. They've been taking up precious greenhouse space that could've been used for ancient fruit and yet, he still has the gall to tease you about it? "Hmph, you're 'surprised?' I thought you'd be smart enough to know I'd be your best bet in cultivating these crops," you scoff, turning away from his gaze in a meek attempt to hide your pouting face from him, "A 'thank you' would have sufficed." Sigh, what was I expecting? You curtly head towards the door with the job finally being done.

"Pardon me, I didn't mean any ill-will. I'm only surprised because I had thought it would be impossible to cultivate these kinds of seeds," he places a palm on his neck as he corrects himself, "I've tried several times with no success." This stops you from storming out of the outpost tower and he continues in response, "I truly am impressed. Marlon was right to entrust you with this task, thank you." His sincerity is almost believable, but you know better to believe his charismatic antics. You march back toward the desk he's seated in front of, readying a pointing finger toward him to confront his sweet-talking attitude. But this time, without Marlon to stop you, you're determined to let him have a piece of your mind. "You know what? Everyone thinks you're so eloquent and great. Oh but I see through that act of yours," you annoyedly remark, pressing your index to his chest. "What is it about me that you dislike so much, hm? You think just because you're some… good-looking, combat mage prodigy, you get to push me around? You've been nitpicking my every move for months now!" For a moment, Lance is at a loss for words. He just stares up at you with wide eyes, which causes heat to spread across your cheeks.

"Dislike? I know I enjoy a little bit of banter with you every so often, but dislike? Do I really give the impression that I dislike you?" he asks earnestly. You retract your finger and hesitantly take a step back. His question takes you by surprise; it never really occurred to you might have read his intentions wrong in the first place. But still, you're much too stubborn to give in now. "Y-yeah? I mean, you're always picking on me and never any of the other adventurers at the guild. If you don't dislike me, what gives?" You pray he didn't catch the shakiness in your voice, but if your trembling lips didn't give it away, the flush that's spreading from your cheeks to your ears quickly reveal how nervous you are. His familiar chuckle escapes from his lips and now he's looking at you with a playful grin. "It might be because you're always the most charming person in the room. In any room, if I'm honest."

Now he's done it. The blush on your face has gone from cherry tomato to actual-cherry-red. You can't even spew vitriol back at him to hide how giddy you actually are. It's like your heart is lodged in your throat and its beating prevents you from speaking. "I don't dislike you in the slightest. My apologies, I didn't realize I was coming across as harsh." His smile subtly switches from sly to warm, as if he's trying to convince you to believe him. "Pfft... me, charming? Th-that's hard to believe, considering how you've been targeting me since you arrived at the valley," you retort nervously, your eyes shifting away from his. Almost as if he knew you were trying to plan your escape, his next words glue you to the floor. "Perhaps I have been singling you out too much, but I promise I don't do it purposefully — I'm sorry. I admit I do enjoy teasing you, though. I've grown quite fond of that pout of yours, it's rather cute."

Ugh, no. This wasn't how this was supposed to go, you think. He wasn't supposed to have you speechless and red in the face. This isn't fair. You want to be furious but your heart is betraying you. It's clouding up your mind so much that you can't even stop the smile creeping on the corner of your lips. He's not making it much easier for your ego now either, because he's enjoying your bashful display a little too much for your liking. If only you could stop him from doing that thing; the thing where he chuckles and send butterflies rushing through your stomach. You just want to wipe that stupid, handsome smile off of his stupid, handsome face. And to both of your surprise, you actually do.

You don't even take time to consider your actions before you're catching his mouth onto yours. A deep, longing kiss — something you've secretly wanted since he first appeared in front of you. At first, he's rendered motionless from the shock, but soon you feel the heat rise onto his cheeks and he sinks into you. Your lips are even softer than he imagined and you never realized how intoxicatingly good he smells. It's only then when you realized what you've done; your mind is screaming at you to pull away but you can't. His mouth on yours is quelling the fire in your heart and besides, you couldn't move away even if you wanted to. You simply couldn't by the way his hands have trailed to your waist to pull you deeper into him. You, so badly, want to pretend like you hate this but it's like your whole body has given up and given in to how you truly feel: you are undeniably, foolishly, attracted to this man. Really, it's almost stupid how eager you are to be touched by him. At least one part of you is honest to your feelings. The only remnant of anger left in you is how mad you are at yourself for being bested by him, again. As always.

Then, it occurs to you: weren't you the one who pulled him into the kiss? Aren't you the one who's making him lose his usually composed demeanour and making him groan under his breath? You grin against his lips when it finally hits you: you are the one in control right now. He can tease you with words all he wants, but you've landed the first blow. Now, the nature of the game has changed. All caution has been thrown into the wind, and you've dedicated yourself to completely making a mess of him, even if you make a mess of yourself in the process.

It's your turn to make the next move. Kissing him with much more purpose and fervour, you gently take his bottom lip in between your teeth causing him to return the action. You tactfully graze your nails across his chest upwards towards the back of his head, letting his pink hair run between your fingers. He's pulling you in tighter now so your chest lies flush onto his — so close, you can feel each other's heartbeats rattling in your ribcage. You're not sure if he's doing this on purpose, but your breasts are pressed so nicely against his toned chest that even his breathing elicits a small whimper from you. His hands rub lightly up and down the small of your back, keeping you stuck against him. The arousal of it all threatens to throw you off track, but he unwittingly reminds you of your plan when he pulls away to tease you, "If I had known this is what you wanted, I would have revealed my affections for you sooner." His grip upon your waist had threatened to make you abandon all wits and give in to his touch, but when that dastardly smile appears on his face again, you're reminded of what you must do.

You're absolutely relishing in satisfaction when you shock him once more, because now you've wrapped your legs around his, straddling his lap, purposefully resting yourself on his growing bulge. For once, he's not quick to retaliate at your advances. This time, he's just mesmerized by your brazenness. He'd be lying if he said that he hasn't fantasized about this exact scenario countless times, that you weren't the first to come to mind on particularly lonely nights at the outpost. But he never, in his wildest dreams, thought he'd be spoiled like this today. He lets you make your next move by staying still; as if he were to move, he'd accidentally wake himself up and find this was all a dream. However, his hesitance is what's getting to you now. Why is he so quiet? Does he want me to move? Shit, if he doesn't like this, I should get off of him, ramble the doubts running through your mind. But as you attempt to shuffle off his lap, he catches you by the back again to keep your weight on top of him. You can't believe how needy he looks right now, so needy for you touch him. You have your confirmation — he's wrapped around your finger.

"Wow, you're so quiet now. That's very unlike you, Lance" you tease. "You need me to move, hm? Or would that be too much for you?" You smile at him smugly as you place your hands on his shoulders. "You don't need to hurry the pace on my behalf, sweetheart. Only go as fast as you can handle," he says, retaliating with a smirk. You think I can't handle this, huh? I'm gonna make you eat your words, you think to yourself. In a quick grind of your hips, you graze your clothed cunt against him causing both of you let out a sharp breath at the stimulation. God, maybe he was right. Maybe you can't handle this because this movement alone is driving you crazy. I mean, it definitely has been a while since you've hooked up with somebody, but this feeling is much more overwhelming than anything you remember. There's no way you'd be able to live it down if you were to cum on him just from this. Maybe I should stop while I'm ahead, you think to yourself. But he's giving you a look he's never showed you before — he looks so hungry and dazed. You can't stop now, not when you have him against the ropes like this. So you ease into a rhythm, using your grip on his shoulders as leverage to rock your clit onto his length.

This is bad. Really bad. You're absolutely dripping on his lap and moaning into his ear, and you're not even going that fast. Definitely not as nonchalant as you hoped you could be. Lucky for you, Lance doesn't seem to notice. Judging by how hard he is, he's probably too turned on to care. You just hope your wetness isn't soaking through your clothes. Still, you consciously slow down your pace to let yourself calm down. This, however, does catch Lance's attention. "Come on, what happened to that vigour? You can do better than that. Here..." he scolds, now grabbing the fat of your ass in each of his hands. "...allow me to help you with that." You whine at his sudden movements as he makes you rub faster against him. Moans keep slipping through your mouth no matter how hard you try to bite your lip to hide them. You can feel him buck his hips under you in perfect rhythm to his hands that pull you against his length. Fuck, why does he have to be so fucking good at this?

You can feel the knot in your stomach beginning to untie itself, ready to make you burst. Not good. You have to think of something, and think of it fast. He's still grinding you on top of his cock when you lean in for a kiss yet again, this time, pressing the weight of your chest entirely on top of him. You push forward against him so hard that the chair you're both supported upon nearly tips over, until he grabs table before you both fall. "Don't get too carried away now," he says with a smile. "Says you," you retort back breathily. His words are unwavering but you can see it; there's a bead of sweat dripping from his brow and he's breathing is erratic. He's not faring as well as he's leading on. It's time to make him pay for taking the reigns away from you.

With his grip loosened, you free yourself to stand in front of him, standing with your back facing toward him. He opens his mouth to tease you again, something like "It felt good for me too, darling. No need to be shy," but really, his assessment of the situation couldn't be further from the truth. He couldn't get the words out before you begin unbuttoning the top of your blouse, slowly and alluringly allowing the fabric to slip off of you. You can't see him, but you can practically feel his eyes burning a hole through you; he's got to be fucking you with his eyes by now. You peer over your shoulder as you slip your bra straps off of them, and oh my god, the look on his face. He's basically salivating at the sight of you and you're not even fully naked yet. You sneak him a cheeky smile and unclasp the last of the hooks on your bra, letting the article fall to the floor. He grabs at his throbbing cock while shuffling in his seat when he realizes how his pants are fitting much too tight right now. He badly wants to reach forward and turn you around so he can get a full view of your front, but before he can even get up from his chair, you're already slowly pulling your pants down to reveal the black lacy underwear underneath. Every obscene word he's ever known is threatening to leave his lips all at once and ruin his eloquent reputation — he can only contain himself by running his fingers through his hair; an act of self-soothing. You turn around in an unhurried pace leaving him to wait with bated breath, waiting to catch the full glimpse of you. And when you're fully exposed, he's completely awestruck.

"Stunning. Absolutely stunning," he praises, shaking his head in disbelief. You've never smiled wider than now as you watch him scan every part of you up and down. Still facing him, you sit yourself upon the bed. "Wanna take these off for me?" you say while darting your eyes down to your panties. Grinning from ear to ear, he gets up and walks toward you in response. You fully extend your arm and with an open palm, stopping him from approaching. "Hm actually, nope. It's your turn now," you chide. "Show me what I'm working with first."

He lets out a chuckle at your command, but he's quick to oblige. "As you wish, sweetheart." You can't even get yourself to hate the little nickname he attaches at the end of his sentence — it just sounds so sexy when he's stripping down in front of you like this. He expertly unbuttons his shirt to reveal his muscular body. You hope that your inner thoughts can remain hidden because right now, they're screaming about how incredibly attractive he is. You would have bet that he'd be well in shape but god, he's a work of art. Much like yours, his shirt falls to the floor with a light thud, allowing you to take in his every feature. He's so hot, it's almost unfair. Soon, the sound of his belt buckle being undone echoes around the room. He stops himself after unbuttoning the top of his pants before looking at you, "Is this what you're looking for?" gesturing his eyes towards his bulge. Swallowing thickly, you mumble as clever of a response you can muster, "Maybe, not bad so far." He knows you're lying through your teeth by the way you bite your lip, how your eyes track his hands as he slowly slips his pants down past his waist. Your lips are raw and slightly swollen from how much you've had to bite down on them today because your pride truly depends on it. But the moment his pants hit the floor, your pride seems to matter much, much less than your need to have him entirely.

You're too mesmerized by his near naked body that you hardly notice he's standing right in front of you now, leaning inches over you with his arms supporting his weight upon the bed. Face to face with one another, you stare into each other's eyes intensely — anticipating the next move. "Well, what are you waiting for?" you say with a provoking smile, "Take these off of me." He dives in for a kiss, one that leaves you breathless and lightheaded. Before long, he's placing kisses down your body, grazing his fingers over your nipples to make you squirm beneath him. His hands tease around your body until they land themselves under near the waistband of your underwear, and with a swift tug, he pulls them past your ankles. Instinctively, you want to close your legs to shield yourself from exposure, but his hands are already placed upon your knees, preventing you from covering the view he wants to see so badly. And what a view it is. The sight of your pretty wet pussy makes him swear under his breath.

"Fuck..." he curses softly then quickly clears his throat to conceal his profanity, "So perfect." He runs his fingers from your knee up to the inside of your thighs, itching to reach your centre. His touch sends shivers down your spine — you just can't believe this actually happening. You've touched yourself an embarrassing amount of times to this fantasy and now, his hand is gently resting upon your pelvis. Any animosity you think you had for him has disappeared almost entirely as you quiver beneath him. He hovers his hand over your desperate cunt for what feels like an eternity before he looks up at you to ask, "may I?" At the nod of your head, he glides two fingers over your slit. A loud moan unabashedly escapes your mouth and he strokes from your entrance up to your clit. His calloused fingers are both rough and sickeningly soft at the same time, it's all too much to bear. You subconsciously reach out to the hand dipped between your thighs, trying to restrain him from sending you over your limit. This only prompts him to apply more pressure to your clit, gently rubbing circles around the bud. Your hips uncontrollably buck against his movements and he just watches. Watches how you throw your head back in pleasure and how you desperately try to hang on to your bearings. He's going to have to check his ego later, because it's absolutely being stroked by the way you convulse from his touch.

He just can't help it. Your slick just coats his fingers so perfectly, he just has to plunge them inside your needy cunt. That's what you're waiting for, isn't it? It must be, by the way you let him slide in his digits in with such ease. His fingers are are so much longer and thicker than yours; they fill your pussy so much deeper than you can by yourself. Just two fingers is all is takes to arch your back in pleasure and grab a fistful of his bedding for stability. You're already losing your mind, but this is just a sign for him to keep plunging in and out of you. A sign for him to curl his fingers upward as he pumps them inside your cunt, coaxing your orgasm out from the deepest parts of you. Oh god. You can definitely feel it now. Your high is clawing its way out with every push into your core. It's too fucking good, is all you can think but your lewd cries are begging for more. Begging for more fullness, begging for his cock to bury itself deep inside you. Setting aside your pride, you muster a pitiful plea that targets his primal instincts, "P-please." Your tone makes him stop, yet his fingers are still buried to the knuckle inside you to feel how you clench around him. The headstrong adventurer beneath him has been reduced to a meek little lamb, and his hero's intuition wants to soothe the small voice that's begging for his attention.

"What is it, angel? Are you not satisfied?" he asks softly, lightly scissoring his two fingers inside you. "Please what? I can't help you if you don't tell me." His words would usually suggest he's teasing you but the way he's caressing your cheek has you thinking that he is actually looking to offer you some relief. So you answer him in kind by reaching out with both of your hands, caressing his face and breathily pleading, "Please...let me ride you. I wanna feel you." Placing a soft but deep kiss on your lips, he catches the whines falling from your mouth when he frees his fingers from inside you. "As you wish," he obediently assures you against your open mouth. You stare at the ceiling, panting erratically to calm yourself from the loss of stimulation. Meanwhile, Lance is already positioning himself to lay flat on the bed, his head at the top of the headrest. The bed's shifting weight snaps you back down to earth, just enough for you to turn around for the sight that, quite literally, lays before you.

He's pulled down his underwear to reveal his thick, throbbing cock — patiently waiting for you to mount him just like you asked to. For a moment, you're just stuck. Completely hypnotized by his length, your mind races with thoughts of him entirely enveloped inside you. The hunger in your eyes must have been enough of a clue to him, because now he holds himself by the shaft for you to ogle at. Then, as if your body is moving on its own, you slowly approach him. Presenting your hips on his lap until your slit is mere inches away from his dick. You're just taking the time to admire his length, but your hesitance is like torture. You're so close to him, yet so far away. The way your pretty pussy is drenching his thighs tempts him to bully himself into you, but suddenly your hand reaches for his tip. He sharply exhales as you palm the head of his cock, making his whole length glisten in his precum. Just moments ago, he was fingering you to submission, but now, he's at your mercy. Gripping the shaft, you grind his wetted tip against your clit; mixing your wetness with his. You'd revel in the way you make him shudder for much longer, but your own patience is reaching its end. Your knees planted on each of his sides, you guide him to your entrance.

"Come get what you asked for," he begs with a growl, his voice bellowing from the recesses of his throat, "give it to m-" His words end abruptly when you lower yourself onto his length. "Holy shit," you whisper — his tip has barely entered your wet hole yet you feel yourself being stretched by his size. He's groaning and gripping your thighs tightly from the way your cunt squeezes him. You place your hands on his abs for support to push his thick cock deeper and deeper into you, all the while trying to ignore the jolts of pleasure coursing through you. And with a soft clap of your ass on his thighs and pained moan from his mouth, he's entirely inside you — pulsing and throbbing against your cervix. His girth fills you so perfectly that your legs start to shake. You're already so drunk on his cock that your words come out slurred, just barely coherent. "Big..." you lazily mumble, making him hum in response. "It's so...big." Utter overwhelm washes over you both, so much so that you can't muster the strength to tease each other. Completely humbled by the pleasure of just being connected.

You're both still for a moment, like you've made a silent agreement to savour the feeling — not daring to move at the risk of reaching your peaks before the fun had begun. But every second you wait allows you to feel how he fills you to the brim, his shape moulding into you. He's not doing much better, not when your needy cunt is threatening to milk him dry. As soon as you feel accustomed to his size, you ask for his permission to move, echoing back his earlier gesture, "may I?" His hands find place above your hips, his eyes fixed with furrowed brows to where you're connected. Finally, he grants your wish, "Please."

Lifting yourself up by the knees, you pull yourself to his tip just to ease him back into you. A mess of slick leaking out of you as you push his hard cock into your depths. The first thrust is intense but oh so addicting. So you lift yourself up again, this time, lowering yourself with more enthusiasm. The sound of your dripping cunt smacking into his base is quickly followed by a slew of groans from both your mouths. The sounds, the heat, the rollercoaster of pleasure…it's so hard not to indulge in it all. So, naturally indulge is exactly what you do. You lock into a rhythm, bouncing up and down on his dick like it was made for you. The caution in your movements have long disappeared as you grind and rock his length into you over and over again. The sight below you just encourages you to fuck him into you with more fervour, plunging his cock as deep as your pussy allows. Lance looks into your eyes like he worships you, heaving and muttering profanities under his breath. Can you really blame him? His view of you is tantalizing; your greedy cunt gushes all over him as his cock disappears inside you, tits bouncing at your rhythm, and your face. God, your face has him going feral with admiration of you. So honest and revealing of how much you've wanted him this whole time.

Your pace is becoming off-beat the closer and closer to cumming you get. A small part of you was clinging onto the hope that you'd make him cum first, but that plan is damned by how good it feels. I don't care anymore — I just wanna fucking cum, you think as you bring a hand to your puffy clit, rubbing rough circles around it. You're so goddamn close but your legs are giving out before you can feel your release, just edging you away from your orgasm. But like he can interpret your petulant whines, he lifts you by your waist and bucks his hips violently upward into your spasming cunt to resume the pace. "Don't slow down now," he commands with ragged breath; his sentence fragmented by his careless thrusts into you, "You're so close, I can feel it. Don't stop, cum for me." He fucks up into you with so much strength that you reach one arm backward to hold on his thigh for stability, the other listening to his demands and rubbing you anxiously toward your orgasm. The clapping of your bodies get faster and faster, then suddenly, it stops. Only the sound of his name echoes around the room and he rocks deeply into you through your orgasm. Your head is thrown back as you convulse wildly on his cock, still nestled against your cervix. It's the only thing you can feel as the earth shatters around you. You're only brought down to reality by his soft coos entering your ears, "that's it, angel. That's it."

Your body slumps weakly as the tension slips away. Leaning forward, he presses kisses on your neck, whispering praises against your skin. Praising you for how well you took it, for how good you're being right now. Even if all he could do today is make you reach your high, he'd be more than satisfied. That's why it's so surprising when you turn yourself around and bend your tired body before him. Your face rests steadily on the bed as you gently wiggle your hips to invite him in. You can't see it, but his face lights up into a wide grin. "My god, you're insatiable," he teases, giving your ass a light smack as he lines himself up to you. Even in your fucked out bliss, you find the strength to tease him back, "Gotta finish what I started, don't I?" Without much thought, he shoves his cock back into you with rough thrusts. Your overstimulated pussy takes him back with ease, letting him plow harder and harder into you. Your muffled cries sink into the sheets as he pounds you, you can't hear anything but the sounds of sex and his grunts. He leans over to whisper to you, now thrusting deeper than he could before, "Don't worry, I'm c-close. So…close." You're so eager to please, you lean backward into him, coaxing him closer to his own orgasm. He moans louder and louder until one word signals his impending high, "Y-yes…" He was so close to filling you before he pulls out, spilling his cum on your back while he strokes the top of his dick. With gravelly groans, he lets his hot seed spurt out of him, covering your backside in white.

Still leaning forward on you, he rests his sweat-covered forehead near the nape of your neck, spreading hot breath down your spine. And just like the way you started, you fall back into the silent agreement of stillness. The thick air in the room slowly thins as your breathing grows slower, and slower in pace. You shiver from the cool air of his body leaving yours, only to have him return to wipe you clean with a cloth from his nightstand. Once he wipes you down, he tosses the cloth to his desk and lays himself beside you. Rolling over to look at the ceiling, you find yourself perfectly parallel to him; your shoulder just grazing his. The moment is both awkward yet comforting — lying quietly beside him as you wrap your head around about the night's events. It's rare for you to find peace within each other's company like this, so neither of you decide to break the silence for some time.

Your eyes begin to flutter closed until his voice spurs you awake, "Well, I was certainly not expecting this today," he chuckles, "But I'm not foolish enough to complain." For once, you laugh alongside him. "Yeah, but you are foolish enough to get seduced by me," you snicker. He perches himself up by the elbows to beam at you, "Is that so? Am I incorrect in assuming you enjoyed it too, hm?" he probes, hoping to call you out on your bluff. With a hiss leaving your gritted teeth, you admit, "Ha, yeah. Fine. You're not wrong... But don't get used it." You smile at the ceiling with your eyes closed, amused by your back and forth. Even with your eyes closed, you can tell he's still looking you until you feel him lie back down beside you. He's just staring at the ceiling too, pondering his next words carefully.

"Well, that is a shame. If I'm honest, I wouldn't mind this being a regular occurrence." You wish you could stop yourself from smiling at his admission but it's impossible — there is simply no restraint left in you to hold back. He continues on, "But, if you'd rather this be an isolated incident, I'll honour your wishes. It'll be hard to forget tonight, but I will try my best to do so."

You let out a deep sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose with your index and thumb. You take a few seconds to listen to the arguing voices in your mind. On one hand, this was totally unexpected and definitely not what you intended when you started the confrontation. You're still a little scorned from his nitpicking over the past few months, but is there really a way to go back to where you two were before? On the other hand, god, you needed this. You've sworn yourself off relationships for a while the moment you packed your life away from the city. You just want a simple life where the only drama you have is from adrenaline-fuelled adventuring. But nearly two years into the valley, your fingers and toys are hardly enough to satisfy you. You've got needs too, don't you? And yeah, fine. You admit, you couldn't ask for a better person to meet your needs if you tried. The prideful side of you wants to scoff and shoo him away, but every other part of you knows exactly what you want.

Against your better judgement, you blurt out, "Okay…so what if this was a regular occurrence?" Wait, did you just say that out loud? Well, it's too late now to take a step back isn't it? He's already looking at you with his eyebrow raised, so you continue, "I mean…I'm not sure if I want a relationship right now, exactly. But…" It's your turn to perch yourself on your elbows to look at him.

"Okay, look. You're busy all the time, and so am I. But we're adults with needs, right? So how about we continue—whatever this is—no feelings attached, hm? No need for labels or expectations, just two adults blowing off steam." God, this is embarrassing. You've never attempted a relationship like this before and now you're trying to establish one with the guy you swear you hated up until an hour ago? What the fuck am I doing? Doubts start creeping on you again, nearly causing you to spit out a mess of words to take back everything you offered, but he cuts in before you can.

"Hm…yes. I think this arrangement would work for me," he ponders with a hand to his chin, not noticing your mouth agape from his agreement. "I am busy, that much is true. With my schedule, a committed relationship hasn't been able to fit in with my lifestyle. And it would be ideal to do such things with someone I could trust…" his sentences trail off with a lilt, as if he's thinking out loud before trailing off.

You catch him off guard and complete his thought, you sit up to face him and extend your right hand. "So is it a deal?"

Sitting up to match your height, he stares at you for a moment, contemplating what he's about to get himself into. Then, he cheekily smirks and with a firm grip on your hand, he seals the agreement.

"It's a deal."

PART ONE — EPILOGUE

Marlon grunts as he lifts himself up from the edge of his boat, stretching out his aching knee from the lengthy voyage. It's no secret that the adventurer is getting older, but these trips are still a breeze for him — minus the small tinges of pain from his joints, of course. After laying down his anchor and tying the ship to the dock, he retrieves his lantern among his belongings to make his way up to the outpost tower. The Highlands is his last stop to report to after his meeting with the Castle Village Guard. The sun has just dipped below the horizon now, so he hopes it won't be too much trouble to ask to rest up in the guard tower before setting sail again.

Once he reaches the top of the steps, he notices that Lance isn't stationed in his usual spot by the balcony. This is an uncommon sight, but not unheard of. More than likely, it usually means he's locked in focus with his research inside. But as Marlon approaches the tower, he's alarmed by loud groans sounds coming from within the room. Resting his hand against his scabbard, he slowly approaches the door, so as to not alert whatever creature has made its way into the outpost. Carefully stepping inches within the door, he gently places his ear against the wood before pulling quickly away. "Oh for fuck's sake," he mutters, his face now red with embarrassment. He released his grip on his weapon to plant his face firmly into his palm. Quickly stepping away from the tower, he mumbles annoyedly under his breath, "It's about fucking time."

Climbing back into the boat at the docks, he decides he'll just sleep there instead. Looks like Marlon has a long night ahead of him, at least until you finish up and notice him in the morning.

—

END OF PART 1/2

[unexpectedbrickattack]

old. man. yaois.

tiny gnome has very good senses and smells everything so much and so strongly. help him.

actually. going to keep this contained in the post and not in the tags bc its kink stuff and i think it should stay behind a readmore oop

spreading the 'old man engages in freak behavior' agenda...its not even freak behavior it is so tame for other shit i am writing w them LMAO musk is like whatever. its WHATEVER ! (its good) but my homebrew gnomes are based off of rodents and they have heightened senses of smell and hearing because of it and i think it is so funny to give my fave characters the most benign, yet debilitating kinks. Like bro im fine dw also u need to not be right next to me bc im going to go feral and i dont have it in my soul to explain why

i think its sooooo silly to have him already devote so much of his time to peppino and this business and now hes like god. what is that stickman meme picture of someone gripping their leg so hard its bleeding? thats gus hes like in his own hell. i think i wrote it before that peppino is sooooo aware of like. being a sweaty man and it makes him uncomfortable and he tries to avoid it but its like an inevitable facet of life and he deals w it the best he can. hes not smelly hes sweaty n musky and so working in the back w a hot oven means he ends his shifts absolutely drenched and miserable.

and gus is like👁️👁️ but hes a respectable man (tm) and he doesnt openly gawk n fawn. But. He is not shameless; he absolutely steals a shirt or two when he can and works w that for a while. he steals a shirt, keeps it, then rotates it w another shirt and when peppino is like WAA! My shirt !!! where did u disappear to??? Gus has to pretend he didnt snatch it away for like a month like the squirrel he is.

it (the thieving) would start before they get together and he would get caught a little while after they get together. like hey. not that i think that you think im stupid. but um. for like two years my shirts would disappear when u came over. like. after a couple of months it stops being a coincidence. so like. explain urself maybe?? and its definitely like a New feeling for gus, who is generally regarded as a dom (albeit a sweet one) to feel bashful about this but like in timid way that doesnt usually come naturally to him LOL. and i like the idea of peppino being an anxious little freak about soooo many things including sex, but when he gets more comfy w someone hes way more of a dick and blunt asshole (affectionate) and he absolutely would bully gus about this.

okay thats all i got just imagine my vision of gus and his little tail shooting straight up bc hes huffing this fucking shirt before he passes out for the night okay? and avoiding brick the next day bc beast to beast communication is real, okay? for me? thank u ....

[dangerous-disposition]

Gerry's WIP Wedneseekend!

This was hugely helpful for me last week in just getting Words Down for the strap!verse which has now become an actual fic rather than a series of smutty one-shots oops so now I'm gonna do this to focus on my fics for Lex's Summer Challenge!

DISCLAIMER: I am only calling it WIP Wedneseekend because it stresses me out to "limit" myself to one day and I think it's fun!! Please do not feel like you also have to do a whole thing too if you're tagged or see this.

The Rules

I post the two prompts I claimed as a poll

Y'all vote in the poll and send me asks requesting a snippet of the fic of your choice

For every vote a fic receives, I will commit to writing 100 words on that fic. For every ask I receive, I will commit to writing an additional 100 words. (So if one gets 10 votes, and 5 asks, that's 1500 words)

At the end of the weekend, I will have completed fics to prepare for posting by the end of the month!

I will post a snippet of what I wrote and tag everyone who requested a snippet!

The Snippet - "Can I braid your hair?"

“Can I braid your hair?” Eddie blinked over at Steve, eyebrows high on his sweaty forehead while he held his hair up off the back of his neck. He could swear he felt heat pouring out of his head. Summer had descended on Hawkins with a vengeance, as if in retaliation for the brief handful of weeks in the Spring when the portals to a frigid hell dimension opened up and attempted to take over their world. Granted, summers in Hawkins tended to be hotter than Satan’s taint, especially around Independence Day, but Eddie figured he was allowed to be noisy and bitchy about it if he wanted. He almost died—first at the hands of a town full of angry, scared hicks, then by a swarm of demobats—and this was his first summer officially free of Hawkins High, the other frigid hell dimension in that shitty town. If Eddie had to spend the summer in the sweaty armpit of America because of dumb bullshit like “recovery” and “physical therapy” and “being under observation,” he was going to bitch and moan and throw all the tantrums he wanted. It helped that all the stupid bullshit (like recovery, and physical therapy, and being under observation) meant that Eddie got to spend a lot of time with Steve outside of the apocalypse. They were both lucky enough to be Under Observation together, courtesy of both of them being the favoured chew toys for the demobats. From there, Steve just started staying close to Eddie, taking him to and from physical therapy, helping him with his exercises at home, coming over when Eddie was in too much pain to get up to use the bathroom, let alone get up and locate painkillers and take them. It had been a while since Steve had to help him on a particularly bad pain day, at least one that extreme, but Steve still came over almost daily. Usually, they would just hang out and eat junk food, smoke a bit of pot sometimes, usually watch whatever movie Steve brought over from work. Sometimes, Steve would suggest they go for a drive and they would just do that, make like they would leave completely. “We could get out of here, never look back.” Worded like a comment, spoken like an oath. “You wanna run away with me, Stevie?” Tone teasing but lined with a hollow desperation. The air in the Beemer would change the moment that question fell from Eddie’s lips, the way Steve’s arms flexed as he squeezed the steering wheel captivating. Most of the time, Eddie doesn’t hear an answer from Steve, other times he hears a quiet but teasing, “Of course, Eds.”

The (no pressure) Tags

These are mostly just so people can vote if they want ;p

@scarcrossdlvrs @patchworkgargoyle @stobinesque @inairbinad @legitcookie @thefreakandthehair @sidekick-hero @yournowheregirl @judasofsuburbia @wynnyfryd @steddieas-shegoes @pizzaqueen @starryeyedjanai @starrystevie @scoops-stevie @lets-try-to-be-normal-otakus @xenon-demon

[sweetshelluvaau]

wait when was fizz ooc /gen

like tbf we didnt know a lot about him off-stage before oops so even tho he wasnt what he expected i wouldnt necessarily say it was ooc

same for ozzie

Maybe ooc isn't exactly the right term (at least in Oops case, the Mammon episode, oh he was completely ooc imho. I explained my thoughts about this here) more than how the narrative has everyone in the show be like 'isn't Stolas great?' and just defending him like Fizz you barely even know the guy! That or the writers fear that they can't write an abuse victim which happens to also be a horrible person. They have to be the 'prefect victim'. They took Fizz's bite away in the Mammon episode where he couldn't stand up for himself let alone have these insecurities he didn't have before out of no where?

Fizz not being able to protect himself physically? Okay I can buy that he's not a fighter. Fizz walking on eggshells around Mammon? Completely understandable being he's both his idol and his boss. But I'm sorry he wouldn't have sit there and take Glitz and Glam insults without snapping back? He'd also chew out that obsessed fan as well (which would also show how he grew from a timid teenager to a Snarky Shit). Yeah he may get a word from Mr. Christmas Tree after for the fan thing, but with G&G? C'mon, a little drama is great entertainment Mammon would eat that shit up if it means more view and money.

However with the case of Oz: He was written as if he was a complete idiot just to make Stolas look better in Oops. Yeah thankfully he didn't kiss Stolas' ass and seems to not like the guy (and I know Viv is gonna recon that in the future because god forbid we have a character that isn't a villain not like Stolas) but the whole thing with the lawyer and and Ozzie making really rash decisions (I mean yes he's hot headed but he's not stupid) and really Stolas NOT needing to be there.

Also saw someone in the critical tag mention this today: I'm sorry, Ozzie would sense something is up with Stolas and his 'feelings' for Blitzo. We had this ham fisted consent speech that went over owl boys head and you're telling me a man who's lived for thousands of years and has most likely dealt with some of the worst of humanity and demons Earth and Hell have to offer isn't gonna sense any red flags? And considering how much he hates people like Mammon, I'm sure plenty of the Ars Goetia aren't any better.

In other words Ozzie could smell bullshit from a mile away.

Also I'm ranting about this again for the hundredth time but Ozzie wouldn't sit around listening to some lawyer, he'd go to rescue Fizz himself. The guy can teleport anyways so I'm sure he can easily sneak into Crimson's compound and lay down the smack down like it's no one business because he's a SIn for crying out loud! And maybe after seeing Blitzo keeping Fizz safe and having that conversation with Stolas, Oz would likely just give Blitzo the crystal as a thank you suppose to giving to Stolas to give it Blitzo being again, he's picking up bad vibes.

That or have Fizz deliver it at a later date. After all, it was Fizz who said he 'earned it' and who's word do you think Ozzie is going to take to heart? It sure ain't Hooters.

That being said I'd also blame the fact that the same character can act one way in another episode and then have a completely different personality in the next if it means fitting the narrative. No one character is consistent and can change if it means making a character look better or again, fits the narrative of that said episode. What did they have some character development the last few episodes ago? Never mind that we're back to their old self or better yet, they have a completely new personality all together the fuck?

Honestly, I'm kinda drained from making the same agreements all time. All I wanted was a silly demon show about some silly demon assassins, not whatever the fuck we got now. At this point I just want to focus mostly my AU and other projects.

[sphxremint]

(man this art is really old but im usin it anyway lol)

☆ Heya heya一it's me, Mint!

I'm the guy that does the funny draws (and music (and sometimes edits)).

Some of you have definitely heard that line way too many times before. Or some of you probably just know me as the Simple Yet Stupid guy. If you haven't seen me before, congratulations! You've successfully met "that guy" (me) for the first time!

This is my tumblr. I reblog stuff I think is neat and post art/music/stuff I like once every [unspecified time frame]. I dipped (sort of) from Twitter (ah, sorry一ECKS [X] as it's called now) like a year or two ago because some guy had too much fun ruining it. Now I'm here more often!

Right, this is an intro post. lemme get on that...

☆ cool things you should know

• I'm 20 (born July 4th, on MINT day. not whatever the hell independence day is. eugh)

• I'm aroace (certain of it now! we out here)

• I'm black (there's like no way to make this funnier it just is what it is)

☆ some other neat stuff

• I draw!

I'm definitely not consistent with it at all, but I'm trying, 'cause it's fun and I like doing it. I may be into a lot of medias too, but I'm mostly an oc artist, and it's a curse I will bear until the end of time

• I make music!

I'm also not very consistent with it, but I'm a bit less open about it... I do it for fun, really; though it's more of a personal thing compared to my art.

• My timezone is CST

...which is about UTC -05:00. if you need to know that. i know we all got varied timezones

• I'm very good at being inconsistent!

(such as basic punctuation and grammar. cause thats important. sometimes i'll actually use apostrophes and sometimes ill just completely forget mid-sentence. lmao)

☆ my 5 core interests

aka. The main things I like! I switch between the 5 of these on a whim. You can inquire me about any of these. Be ready when it happens.

• Sonic The Hedgehog (he's just THAT GUY, yknow. just a guy who loves adventure. ultimate life forms and whatnot)

• Kirby (i'd forfeit everything for him. #1 blorbo living life)

• FINAL FANTASY (esPECIALLY XIII and XIV. but it's mostly XIV. two lalas ready for Dawntrail WOOO)

• Celeste (#1 game ever. i love everything about it so much, i naturally get my friends to play it. i'm also pretty good at speedrunning. smile)

• and anything osc! (though I'm not part of the fandom "like that". just on the surface layer, yknow? bfdi, ii, boto, ppt2... funny shows go brrr)

☆ cool and awesome tags

□ #mint.txt = probably some random garbled text i spat out one night

□ #mintdraws = i sure do! and you should go look at it!

□ #mint.png = funny image included (not guaranteed)

□ #mint.mp3 = rarely use this but i still want people to know i make music

□ #mint.ask = because i get those. sometimes art, sometimes stupid funny stuff

□ #simple yet stupid = yeah its for those funny objects i talk about. i put this one here just in case

□ #mint's expoboard = i'm probably talking about one of my ocs

☆ and some extra stuff i guess

□ my sonas and stuff if you need that

□ my carrd! go read it cause most of my extra links (and contacts) are already there

□ my toyhou.se Did you know I have a toyhou.se? because I never shut up about my characters, and sometimes people just need the Repository of Information. well... here it is.

Okay. I'll update this post more as time goes on, but... that's about it. That was probably like a read and a half. oops.

Remember: if you do follow me, you are (unofficially) officially consigning yourself to my presence and any stupidity and/or brainrot that follows.

...if that's cool with you. lmao =ᴗ=)b

(big shoutouts to the old pinned i had. you will forever be missed)

last updated: 08 / 27 / 2024

[thesilliestofgals]

Ok silly little people in my computer, "yes" won for a Rosabella Beast drabble poll so, I started writing... and it ended up way past 100 words.

Oops.

I hope it's enjoyable! I'm not totally satisfied with it, but I took my best shot! A little warning: The characters that appear will likely be OOC!

And also, a quick note: if you've stumbled upon this and have absolutely no clue who or what Rosabella Beast is, I suggest checking out my rosabella beast tag, or my hypothetical eah rewrite tag! If you do, however, be careful, as there are spoilers within those tags!

Now on with the story!

Rosabella was all too familiar with the phrase don't judge a book by it's cover. It'd been implanted by her mother before she was conscious enough to understand what was being said to her. She'd made the mistake of not listening to that advice, and she'd paid dearly for it. Since then, Rosabella had held that as her mantra, swearing to never make such a foolish mistake again.

Now, as Blondie Lockes stood in her doorway, she couldn't help but wonder if she was going to just that. Rosabella hated to admit it, but Blondie was one of the few people she couldn't read. Even when peering over her glasses, the big haired girl's colors were constantly changing and melding together. That frustrated her to no end.

Her anxious and angry musings to herself were broken by Blondie giving her a smile, one that didn't quite meet her eyes. "Can I come in?", she asked, but it didn't really sounds like a request- more like a demand. Narrowing her eyes, Rosabella stepped aside, allowing her entry.

She slammed the door shut, turning to face the blonde as she surveyed the dorm. Taking a deep breath, Rosabella replied to Blondie's question with her own, being sure to lace it with extra sweetness. "How can I help you, Blondie?"

The other girl rolled her eyes and scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. "Oh, drop the act," she huffed, "you don't need to be a Beauty here when it's just the two of us."

Rosabella's train of thought crashed and burned into a fiery grave as she gawked at the amateur reporter. What, she wanted to roar, are you talking about? But instead, she clasped her hands behind her back and tilted her head slightly. "Whatever-after do you mean, Blondie?" she asked through gritted fangs.

Blondie smiled again, and this time, Rosabella felt a genuine twinge of... discomfort. The blonde seemed to staring her down like a predator with prey. Ironic, Rosabella mused, considering my heritage.

"I've been watching you," Blondie began, as if that wasn't the most creepiest thing someone could say to someone else. "and you may have everyone fooled, but not me. I see that look in your eyes, when you're talking to any of the Royals... or even some of the Rebels. Anger and disgust, like you know something about them that nobody else does. I was also about to figure out your own little secret, but I must admit, you're fairy good at hiding it."

Rosabella's stomach dropped. "Hiding what?" she all but snarled. The amateur reporter giggled behind her hand. "The fact that your destiny calls for you to be the Beast, of course!"

She couldn't take it anymore. Her self control snapped, and she lunged, feeling her human form give way to what had been carefully hidden away underneath. With powerful, clawed paws grasping her shoulders, Blondie was pinned against the farthest wall. Rosabella curled her lips back, showing off the fangs Blondie had remarked about. "What in Ever After do you want, Lockes?" Rosabella rumbled, tail lashing behind her, "Tell me, or you might have to put your stupid little podcast on an indefinite hiatus!" Her voice rose to a fever pitch, and she could feel the fabric of Blondie's sleeves begin to tear.

Impressively, Blondie remained physically unbothered, but her aura told a different story. A quick flash of fear- but before Rosabella could sink her teeth into that, the confidence quickly won out. "I don't need to be bribed," the blonde scoffed, lifting her chin, "I came to you with a proposition."

Rosabella arched her brow at that, and with great reluctance, released her and crossed her now-furry arms. "A proposition?" she grumbled, shoving the beast back in her cage and pulling the beauty from her prison. That was... a surprise. Rosabella hated surprises. "I'm listening," she growled, "but don't dawdle."

Blondie observed the transformation with a hum, the corners of her lips curling upwards. At Rosabella's demand, the blonde rolled her eyes. "Yes," she huffed, brushing a loose curl behind her shoulder, "I have a feeling that you and I both have very similar desires. I'm always searching for the next scoop of truth, and while you don't always show it, you're quite the... humanitarian.

I think we'd make quite the good team, you and I. Nobody can bear being five feet in my vicinity, but with you? You just be the Beauty, and everyone's spilling their guts to you. Am I wrong?" Rosabella cursed to herself. Blondie was like a nagging gnat in everyone's ear, but she could be quite observant if someone didn't know she was around, or let their guard down.

"...Not exactly, no." The brunette grumbled, eyeing her over the lenses of her glasses. Blondie's mouth split into another unnerving grin, and she clapped her hands. "That brings me to my proposition: you and I could work together. We could reveal everyone's dirty secrets, you know? Dust off all the skeletons stored away in those musty closets and display them for the world to see. Not for entertainment, no- for justice. I'm sure some people have some skeletons stored away that they would kill to keep hidden just because of how sensitive those secrets could be! And that's just not right, is it?"

Rosabella pursed her lips in thought. Blondie was crass about it, but... she had a little bit of a point. She could see some particularly nasty auras in passing conversations sometimes, camouflaging particularly nasty nuggets of information. It would be gratifying to see those sinister and secretive students get their just deserts.

"What's in it for you, though?" Rosabella hummed. The amateur reporter flipped a strand of hair again. "I'm a reporter- or a journalist, whatever after you want to call me. It's my narrative given duty to gather details and deliver these to the public in a fair and unbiased perspective!" She said this with a dramatic flare, waving her hands about. "Also, I like seeing people squirm. So, what do you say?"

Rosabella stood as still as one of the statues in her mother's garden, thinking. Don't judge a book by it's cover. She squinted, looking down through her glasses. Once again, she was met with a murky, swirling mess of colors. Working her jaw, she pushed them back up. "Okay," she rasped, stepping closer to the other girl again. "let's do it." She held out a hand, and Blondie firmly grasped it. Quickly, Rosabella pulled her close. "But I swear to Grimm," she sneered, "if you even try to stab me in the back in any way, shape, or form, you'll regret even knowing my name. Understood?"

Blondie's grip tightened, and she nodded. Huffing, Rosabella pulled away, releasing her hand. "So," she asked with an arched brow, "do you have any actual idea on how exactly we'll work together?" Blondie's eyes gleamed, and she pulled out her Mirrorpad from her messenger bag.

"Oh, I do." She tapped at the screen a few times before handing it over to the brunette, and as Rosabella scanned over what she'd been given, she realized that she had indeed made the same mistake as she had years ago, but this time, under completely different circumstances.

But maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't regret this.

[raccoonfallsharder]

Chapter 13/20+. Window Across the Galaxy [added 9/21]

girl falls first; raccoon falls harder.

When he opens his eyes and hazards a glance in Jo’s direction, she’s already facing the screens again, rereading whatever the Sovereign listing says. “Jo?” She hums a distracted sort of acknowledgement, saves the transmission, and closes out the screen with her back still to the room. Rocket feels his shoulders tense. He racks his brain, but he can’t think of a time when she hasn’t immediately turned toward the sound of his voice like a little Xandaran field-daisy searching for the sun. Which is a stupid thought to have. Of course there must’ve been times when she hadn’t responded. Nope, some shitty little part of him argues. Not even when she’d had her leg busted open and crushed in by that shitbag Ronan.She was still looking for you. Always.

Chapter XIII. Don't Wait. in which a lost sister is found and Drax grapples with the concept of sarcasm.

all aboard the angst train. the next few chapters are a lot of sad so please take care of yourselves. come back later if you need to. or message me and i'll send you a quick and more painless summary.

General summary/notes + links to recently preceding chapters behind the cut. let me know via comment, message, or ask if you'd like to be added or removed from my fanfic/headcanon/doodle taglist ♡

General Summary~

Rocket is captured by a Ravager crew hoping to get rich off the excessively large bounty on his head. Throwing a wrench in everyone’s plans is the Terran girl they hired to do some freelance assessing on a recent haul of goods they’ve seized from a Xandaran luxury liner. Oops.

let me be real with you: this fic is really about wish-fulfillment. not just the eventual smut (but that too). mostly i just want someone to be nice to my best raccoon

Chapter I. A Delicacy. in which our reluctant heroes meet atop a crate of Sovereign porn in the bowels of a Ravager ship. Chapter II. Monster For A Pet. in which one hero wrestles with his inner Groot, and the other is quite possibly a moron. Chapter III. A Kindness.in which Rocket gets in his own damn way: not for the first time, and certainly not for the last. Chapter IV. Got There First. in which our heroes obtain an arsenal and street food. Chapter V. Things No-One Has Said Before. in which one hero refuses to babysit and the other refuses to leave. Chapter VI. Two and a Half Billion Units. in which we lean into the “they were roommates” trope. Jolie has misgivings, while Rocket has fantasies - about getting rich, of course. Chapter VII. I'm Here.in which we visit Knowhere. Chapter VIII. The Care & Feeding of Human Pets. in which our heroes practice breathing and we lean into a new trope: “there was (technically) one bed.” Chapter IX. Scrapmetal and a Dream. in which we redefine homemaking. Chapter X. Thin Fucking Ice. in which our heroes get fucked. Not in the good way. Chapter XI. Let It Be. in which Xandar is saved and good lives are lost. Chapter XII. So Much It Hurts. in which we try not to fuck up the vibes. Chapter XIII. Don’t Wait. in which a lost sister is found and Drax grapples with the concept of sarcasm. Coming Soon: Chapter XIV. Exactly Like a Flower. in which comfort is shared.

slight AU starting pre-GOTG volume 1 (but will hit most of the same major plot points). slooowww burn + eventual smut with a lot of pining in the middle. kinda enemies-to-lovers? (but only one of these idiots thinks they're enemies). elements of hurt/comfort because rocket is the saddest-angriest boy. rating will go up and tags will be added to as needed.

@evolvingchaoswitch ♡ @wren-phoenix ♡ @pretty-chips ♡ @suicidalshitstick

[vivi-in-the-sky-with-diamonds]

What Goes On In Your Heart? (MedStudent!reader x Paul)

(Photo by Linda McCartney <3 also to note, I personally imagined 1964ish Paul in this but you can imagine whatever you like since it really has no impact on the story lol anyway, I chose this photo for *ahem* reasons)

This wasn't my original post plan (especially given I was due to post yesterday, oops) but I remembered I wrote this a couple weeks ago and thought I'd post it instead! It's heavily inspired by this post by @mysweetgeo (not connected but you should read theirs first because I said so /hj) and my stupid amount of knowledge on the cardiac system (thanks, autism!). That said, that hyperfixation was awhile ago, though I did research while writing it, but if anything is inaccurate, let me know and I'll make changes! Originally written with a specific character in mind, but changed to be a fem!reader, so if there are any remnants of her written Scouse accent, please ignore lol. Proofed in UK English, like all of my Beatles fics. Anyway, enjoy c:

CW: light nudity, brief sex joke (can tag if needed)

I walk into the bedroom I share with Paul. “Paul?” He hums a response as he continues flipping through the book he’s reading. “I have an exam coming up tomorrow, and I was wondering if you could help me study.”

He sets his book down. “’course I can. Not sure how much help I’ll be in your field, though.”

I giggle. “That’s alright. I mainly just need you as a dummy.” I stop before saying, “Not a dummy, like a mannequin!”

Paul chuckles. “I dunno. I fit the dummy quite well.”

I slap him playfully. “You do not! Er, could you strip to your pants for me? Professional reasons only!”

He smirks as he does as told. “What exam could you possibly have that needs me like this?”

“Exam on the cardiovascular system. Well, it’s less of an exam and more of a project. I’m supposed to give a cardio exam to someone I know and report the results,” I answer. “I’m gonna be using my stethoscope, alright?”

“Whatever you need, love.”

I straddle him—only because it’s the easiest position for what I’m doing—before beginning my run-through. “Right, so first I’m supposed to check a bunch of things; make sure you don’t have cyanosis or oedema or things like that.”

He chuckles. “I dunno what any of that means but I put my trust in you.”

I laugh slightly. “Well, you’re not blue, pale, or swollen and you’re breathing fine so that part’s finished.”

I run through the rest of the visual things very quickly. “Alright, now, give me your wrist, please.” He follows my directions. “Ninety. Interesting.”

As I write the number down, he asks, “Is there somethin’ I should know about that number?”

“’s normal, if that’s what you’re asking,” I reply. “Well, a bit high but still in normal range. Something on your mind?”

“Oh, no,” he answers sarcastically. “Just watchin’ my bird straddle me, stethoscope round her neck, lookin’ like the sexiest doctor I’ve ever seen.

I blush slightly. “Shut up! Can I have your other wrist, please?” I feel for a moment before saying, “Okay, good, that’s in sync. Right arm, please.”

“Aren’t you gonna explain any of what you’re doin’?” he asks, giving me his arm. “Most patients, includin’ me, don’t have a clue what you’re up to.”

I blush. “Right, I forgot that part. Alright, what I just did was check your pulse and made sure it was synced in both arms. Now, I’m checking your pulse in a different spot.”

He chuckles as he watches me. “How many times are you gonna check it?”

I stick my tongue out. “Well, I only had two more, but now you’ve earned a third, since you wanna ask stupid questions.”

He pouts. “That’s no fair.”

I roll my eyes with a smirk. “Bollocks, where have I left my— oh, it’s right here.” Paul chuckles at me as I continue, “Blood pressure. Checking it in both arms. Professor said lying and standing aren’t both required so we’ll just do lying.”

“I don’t like that thing,” he whines as I strap on my blood pressure cuff.

“You’ll be alright,” I reply. “’sides, you agreed to this, didn’t ye?”

He pouts again. “That was before I knew it entailed all this.”

“Keep quiet, I can’t hear!”

A look of pure sarcasm covers his face.

“126/80.” I write the number down as I continue, “A bit high but normal, to match that ‘a bit high but normal’ pulse you’ve got. Gonna check the other arm now.”

“How do you even know what you’re listenin’ for?” he asks when I finish the other arm.

“Identical,” I murmur to myself before saying, “Come here.” I strap the cuff around my own arm and situate my stethoscope. “I’m gonna squeeze the cuff. You’re gonna hear a thump, alright? That’s what you’re listening for.”

He nods—though I’m not sure he completely understands—before closing his eyes to dedicate his attention to his hearing. “Oi, I hear it!” he says after a second.

“What’s the number?”

He squints to read the tiny numbers on the metre. “110.”

“Alright, tell me when the sound is gone.”

A silent moment passes before he speaks, “There. 70.”

I give him a sly smile. “Congratulations, Macca. You’ve just done your first blood pressure reading.”

He gives a proud smile. “Alright, what’s next?”

“Take a wild guess,” I answer sarcastically.

He rolls his eyes. “Where this time?”

“Neck, but I’m gonna listen first. Chin up.” I place the diaphragm of my stethoscope against his neck. “Breathe in and hold, please.”

I can tell he’s getting a bit put out with the number of things I have to do in an exam.

“Right, nothing wrong there.”

“Pardon me for askin’,” he interrupts, voice dripping with sarcasm, “but what was that for?”

Ignoring the tone in his voice, I answer, “Just checking for murmurs and bruits so I don’t give ye a stroke.”

He quirks an eyebrow but chooses not to pursue the question. I place two fingers on his carotid pulse.

“Everythin’ good?” he asks, his voice vibrating my fingers.

“Yep, still ninety,” I reply. “Right, time for your punishment pulse check. Spread your legs for me.”

He blushes and asks, “Why?” as he follows my directions.

“Gonna check the pulse in your femoral artery,” I answer. I place my hand where his leg meets his groin, putting my other hand on top. “Interesting how the pulse here is 115.”

He blushes deep red. “I dunno why I agreed to this.”

“Because you love me, yeah, yeah, yeah,” I sing. “’sides, my professor didn’t ask for that pulse so I’m not writing that down. Right, here comes the fun part. Well, fun for me. Checking your pulse again but on your chest this time. Hands to your sides.”

He does as I ask before I place my hand on his chest. I check in a few different spots before he says, “I’ll bite. What you doin’ now?”

“Making sure I can’t feel any murmurs. You can feel some of ‘em, ye know.”

He makes a surprised face. “I actually didn’t know that.”

“Now this is my favourite part,” I say emphatically, donning my stethoscope. “Mainly because it’s the easiest since I’ve never actually seen a patient with a murmur.”

He chuckles a bit and asks, “Well, what do I need to do?”

“Be very quiet.”

He lets out a little chuckle before going silent as I begin auscultating every area of his heart with both the diaphragm and bell.

“How’s it soundin’ in there?” he asks, startling me slightly.

“Still ninety, if that’s what you’re asking,” I reply after gaining my composure. “Or are you asking for a listen?”

“Askin’ for a listen on you,” he teases.

I roll my eyes with a grin. I know he’s not serious, but I humour him anyway. “Mitral. Tricuspid. Pulmonary. Aortic.” I move the diaphragm around with each word. “And just for you, Erb’s point. Not a valve but we listen there anyway. Don’t ask me why because I don’t know.”

“Mitral’s my favourite,” he blurts.

“Don’t go all ‘cardiologist’ on me, Macca,” I laugh. “Don’t worry, it’s mine too. And with that, I can safely say you, Mr. McCartney, are healthy as a horse, as far as your heart’s concerned.”

He smirks. “So, what do I get for participatin’ in this?”

“I’ll give you a stress test later.” I give him a quick kiss before climbing off him and reporting the rest of my findings.

[jiabeewrites]

Golden Light, Silver Hues

Thranto (Grand Admiral Thrawn x Eli Vanto) ft. Ezra being stupid

(aesthetic by @aesthetics-and-fuckery, yeah, that's me. do NOT steal this!)

CW: romance, just fluff in general i think, probably ooc, spoilers for literally every single piece of star wars content imaginable so..., i think i wrote this just because i was sad so i think that's it

Summary: What I thought happened after the events of SW Rebels.

SONG: When The Sun Loves The Moon by Reinaery

A/N: I heard this song and went: "THIS IS THRANTO AND I LOVE THRANTO"

This is literally not canon and has probably been done a million times, but whatever I miss these two idiots so this is what you get. Most of the chapter is literally not even them it's just buildup and honestly I hate myself for that but WHATEVER

this song is meant to be a wlw song oop-

HOW TO READ: Each lyric is like a pov divider! You can find more stories like this one by looking under the tag #ryn writes songfics

<Cheunh>, Basic, Minnisiat, Sy Bisti

When the sun loves the moon

He watched as the young Jedi paced back and forth, never taking an eye off of him. As if he was afraid Thrawn was going to try to attack him.

"You can stop worrying. I won't attack you, you know."

Ezra Bridger just glared at him. "I can't know that for sure."

Thrawn merely raised an eyebrow. "Why would I attack you when you're the only one who can get us out of this?"

"What do you mean?"

Thrawn explained the way sky-walkers navigated through the chaos, and how, since Ezra possessed knowledge of the Force, he could lead them through it.

Ezra glared at him. "And how do I know you're not lying?"

"You don't. But I would be a fool to kill us both, especially since..." Thrawn trailed off and didn't speak after that.

"Especially since what?"

Thrawn stiffened ever so slightly. "It's not important."

"Since. What?"

"Do you want to get us out of wherever you've jumped us to or not?" Thrawn glared at him.

Even the ocean feels her pull

"You can stop now."

Ezra looked out the window. "Where are we?"

Thrawn stood at the window, gazing at the planet below them. "Ttin'abi bah cavpet. That is what I have known it as, although I do not believe it has a proper name."

Ezra opened his mouth to speak when a ship appeared out of nowhere. The ship jolted, and Ezra realized what Thrawn had done. As the ship pulled them into a tractor beam, he began to yell at the blue man. "I should have never trusted you!"

"That is not an Imperial ship, Commander Bridger."

Ezra turned to look at the ship, and his brow furrowed. "Then what is that?"

A smaller ship pulled up towards them, and a woman sent a message through their comm system.

The only thing that worked on this hells-forsaken ship.

"<Thrawn. It is good to see you alive.>"

Oh, and the stars align every night to spell out their love in tiny bright lights

"Lieutenant Commander Vanto." Eli looked up and saw a familiar blue face staring back at him.

"Admiral. Is there something that you need?" Ar'alani just smiled and shook her head.

"No, Eli Vanto. However...there is someone I would like you to meet." She turned and walked out the door, and Eli sighed before following her.

Oh, when the sun loves the moon

The two of them were pulled out of the cruiser, if they could even call it that.

They were pushed through the halls of the ship, and as Ezra looked around, he realized that all of the people here looked the same as Thrawn.

Blue skin, dark blueish-black hair, red eyes.

"What is this place?"

"You'll find out in a moment."

Never touching but never far

"Who is it?" He asked. Ar'alani didn't answer, but a faint smile remained on her lips.

"Admiral. If this person wasn't important then I think I should-"

"You will soon see, Eli Vanto. Do not worry."

She smiled, not unkindly.

"You will soon see."

His brow furrowed. Why was she being so secretive? Usually she told him who he was meeting beforehand, even if he was actually meeting someone.

Eli just sighed and followed the Admiral. Hoping that it really was worth it.

Oh, at the break of day, a summer's ray

"<Mitth'raw'nuruodo.>" A voice greeted them.

Ezra turned to see a woman who had short, curly blue-black hair. She had a smirk on her face, and seemed to know Thrawn.

"<I am he.>" Ezra stood there, confused. The two were speaking a language unknown to him, and Thrawn must've noticed.

"Commander Bridger, this is Senior Captain Kiwu'tro'owmis."

"You may call me Wutroow," the woman said with a thick accent. "<So who exactly is he?>"

"<He has the power of the sky-walkers.>" Wutroow shot him a confused look.

"<But he's so old! And he's a male!>"

"<Yes, he is. But you cannot divulge this information to anyone else, you must promise me that.>"

"<Why not?>"

"<You'll find out in a moment.>"

A moonlit night that casts away

"Stay here."

Eli nodded, and sighed.

Then a stern voice shocked him out of his daze.

"El'ivant'o."

Eli's eyes widened in realization.

"I am he. Are you Supreme General Ba'kif?"

"I am he. Do you know why you were summoned here?" Ba'kif asked.

"No, sir."

"Ah. Well, then, you'll have to forgive me for not wanting to reveal anything quite yet." The older man chuckled

Eli raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Sir? What do you mean?"

And then he saw him.

Their love remains, their love remains

Ezra followed Thrawn and Wutroow as the three of them made their way down the twisting halls.

He couldn't help but think that Thrawn seemed at home here. Not acting the part of a villian. Not trying to kill Ezra, not detaining him, not scheming to destroy the rebels.

Not under the Empire's control.

Actually, Ezra wasn't sure about that last part. For all he knew, these people could be conspiring against him. But somehow...it didn't seem like that. He couldn't place a finger on it.

But Thrawn was not going to hurt him. He knew that, and it confused him to no end.

Ezra was so lost in his thoughts that he walked right into Wutroow's back.

"Why'd we-"

A human man in a dark gray uniform walked up to Thrawn, an expression of disbelief on his face.

"Thrawn?"

"Good day, Lieutenant Vanto."

Oh, when the sun loves the moon

It was him. Thrawn.

Standing right in front of him.

"Thrawn?" His voice sounded weak, even to him.

"Good day, Lieutenant Vanto."

Those words, those damn words. The words that had haunted him for the past five years.

"Hello, sir." Hells, why did his voice have to be so shaky?

Her golden light

"Hello, sir."

His gaze softened. He knew the rest wouldn't be able to tell.

But Eli...Eli Vanto was different.

Eli understood him, a feat that many couldn't bring themselves to accomplish. Not just as a military officer, but as a person. He understood why art was so important, because he felt the same about math. He understood Thrawn's artistic sensibilities and matched it with his own mathematical prowess.

Eli Vanto completed him.

And Thrawn would be damned if he let his other half go. Not again.

Her silver hues

Not again.

Eli knew exactly what he was doing.

Because nobody else understood Thrawn the way he did, and no one else would know Thrawn the way he did. They didn't care to learn.

"I trust that your mission went well, then?"

"Yes." His red orbs softened when they met Eli's brown ones. "<It was enlightening. The Empire will not be a threat to the Ascendancy...nor will they be an ally.>"

"<What do you mean?>" Bakif asked.

"The Empire is already crumbling. They won't be able to uphold their system for much longer.>"

Ar'alani just nodded. "<Then this is where I take my leave. Wutroow, please show the young human his quarters. Ba'kif, if you would?>"

And then there were two.

Eli turned on his heel and started the quick walk back to his office.

"Where are you going?"

"Just follow me."

A beautiful song, oh how they long

"Eli."

"Yeah?"

Eli turned, only for Thrawn to pull the shorter man close to him. Eli wrapped his arms around his torso, and closed his eyes.

"I missed you, you <ebeucot>."

"Where did you learn that?" Thrawn asked, amused.

"Ar'alani taught it to me. Said she used that word a lot when you did something stupid." The taller man chuckled.

The two of them just stood in silence, comforted by the presence of the other. Enjoying the company of the person they loved most.

Because after five years...

Mitth'raw'nuruodo had finally come back to his home.

Eli Vanto.

For dawn

tender hugs/forehead kisses >>> long mushy smooches

tagged (the people who reblogged the thranto post, which thank you btw! + some frends): @keldabae @roobgumball95 @ohdamnlad @lbelleofficial @owlpartytime @antisocial-mariposa @aesira-of-orion @itsjustmesuckers @inner-space-oddity

[esotericjerks]

BEHIND THE MUSE MEME THING

Nobody tagged me, I just saw one and wanted to do it.

Name: Sarah (pronouns are WHATEVER YOU FEEL LIKE CALLING ME, I’m just a freaky sickass little gremlin)

Age: OLD AS FUCK (I was born in the early 1990s)

How old were you when you first started RP-ing: Jeez��� eighteen? Nineteen?

Height: Idk like 5’6ish?

OC’s or Canons: OC’s for the most part.

Prefer to play females or males: I’ve mostly played women or vaguely femme genderweird creatures, but I’m not opposed to playing male characters or anything.

Favorite faceclaim to play: I do not choose my RP characters by faceclaim???

Least favorite faceclaim to play: See above

Worst RP experience ever: Okay so one time back when I was first starting out, there was some kid who got VERY attached to me and my character and basically kinda lost it whenever I wrote with anyone else. Early tumblr RP was wild. Like my dude my guy we are strangers on the internet playing make believe, please chill.

Fluff, angst, or smut: ALL

Most overused FC: Idk???

First character you ever made: A terrible Harry Potter OC.

Worst character you ever made: Worst as in “the most poorly written”? See above. Worst as in “this character is an absolute garbage heap of a person”? Gilles. 

Favorite type of plot: iunno, whatever type sounds fun and exciting for me and my RP partner. Depends on a lot. I DO like something with romance, though; I’m shipper trash.

At what time of day is your writing the best?: Probably the morning. I’m a morning person. I like to write while I have my coffee.

Are you anything like your muse?: There are bits and pieces of me in all my characters (except Gilles- fuck that guy). Addie is a baker because I like baking. Alex is a hick because I grew up COUNTRY. Sitri is my fun “gender is dumb I wish I didn’t exist in a stupid flesh prison” outlet. Also I, too, am a Dom vers pervert OOP.

Worst thing about RP (in general or on Tumblr): Trying to match length!!! Sometimes I can write for miles, sometimes I barely manage two sentences. Y’all write such glorious hefty prose, and I struggle to keep up sometimes. (I mostly write poetry aside from this, so blame it on that. Sidenote, who wanna read my weird poems???)

To end on a good note — best thing about RP?: Shamelessly basking in nerdery and making friends with other weirdos!!!

Tagging: ANY OF YOU. ALL OF YOU.

[bloombubs]

Firstly, yes, you did tag it correctly! And second, please feel free to give me all of your thesis statements on Adrian Chase, if you wanna write a 10,000 word essay about that man best believe I will read it.

I also really love the idea of him having someone to come home to, to take care of and be taken care of by (and by God I love imagining I’m that person). I just want him to feel loved.

thank you for the ao3 help!!

adrian needs to be taken care of like the precious lil person he is and someone who accepts his....quirks for him.

As for thesis, of Adrian showing how he loves.......here we go:

Okay, small disclaimer before we delve into this: this is solely based on the perception I have in my head of Adrian Chase. This also isn’t listed in any particular order (just the order I copied and pasted it from lol). The more i wrote the more carried away I got oops. this isn't edited or revised but just pure nonsense spewing from the depths of my mind

Words of affirmation

In my mind, Adrian will constantly tell you that he loves you and that he misses you–especially when appropriate after the relationship develops. Without a doubt, he would compliment you on your looks, your new haircut, if he likes an outfit, if you smell good. He’s a chatty guy, he will say whatever comes straight to his mind. As for other things, I think you would tell him if you like hearing if he’s proud of you or deeper words of affirmations like “I value you”--he would say it, but he definitely says it in his own way. He definitely shows his appreciation better than words because in my head, I don’t see him being the best at articulating his feelings into words. But like, “you’re awesome!” or “dude (affectionately), you have no idea how cool you are for doing that.” Again, not as deep or romantic, but you know the intention of it. 

In bed? Different story. He loves praising you and….he loves being praised too. He will tell you how good you feel, how good you make him feel, complimenting anything his eyes land on, your skills, how in love he is with you. 

Quality time

Adrian is a sucker for quality time. Adrian in my mind is a bit clingy, but not in a negative way. I’m sure he gave you the proper space when you ask, but as mentioned in my other writings–Adrian wants to do everything with you from the most mundane activities to the most exciting. Doctor’s appointment? He’d be there holding your hand. Sitting on the couch with you and doing separate hobbies (Idk, I can see him cleaning his weapons and you’re doing a normal hobby, with the tv on in the background)? His favorite. Cooking dinner? He’s right beside you, or sitting down nearby to talk and ramble. Dancing in the living room together? He’s throwing it back. Singing horribly in his Vigilante mobile? You know it. 

Oh, don’t even get me started on his rambles. I’m not sure where this one falls in since it’s between physical touch and quality time, but I can vividly imagine this: two of you sitting on the couch, eating dinner, the tv playing in the background, your back is pressed against the arm of the couch and his is on the other, legs intertwined. Adrian is just talking, telling you random facts, stupid details about his day, going on about his missions that he promised he wouldn’t disclose with you (but does anyway), he talks about movies, the news—honestly, all everything and anything. 

Just seeing you in his line of sight is comforting enough for him. 

Coming back from patrols and missions truly makes his night when he comes home to see you, or knowing he’s hours closer to having you in his arms again.

He doesn’t want to miss a moment with you. 

Physical touch

This one definitely develops in the span of a relationship, all for different reasons. Emotionally, I think it takes a bit for him to understand what feels nice to be comforted and how you want to be comforted because each person is different. But also for him? He gives me touch deprived energy before you came into his life. 

He loves having you in his arms, making sure you feel safe and comfortable.

Basic things I’ve mentioned: massages, dancing, lotions on the leg, coming home and embracing you and lifting you off the ground with a twirl, peppering your face and neck with kisses, caressing your skin, needing to be touching you somehow, anyway. 

Brushing your hair, taking baths and showers with you, love bites, holding your hand while driving, back rubs to help you fall asleep, laying his head in your lap, his hand on your thigh when sitting together, totally fine with being either the small or big spoon. 

Obviously he can’t keep his hands off of you and you wouldn’t want them off of you. 

This man will make sure you’re satisfied before the night ends. He’ll keep going until you both can’t anymore.

Acts of service

Adrian shows his love with acts of service. I feel like this one tied with quality time, just in the sense that in the beginning of the relationship, these were the top two dominant ones. The basic act of service would be doing anything to protect you, right? It’s a given. Domestic wise? He would spoil you with simple things. I mentioned this before, but he definitely would love helping you apply lotion to your body, massages (physical touch, I know, but your body aches and he just wants you to be feeling your best self), if you cook, he cleans the dishes–or sometimes he cooks too. Holding doors open for you, developing photos you take together, killing the scary bugs, definitely pampering you wholesomely and in a risque manner—this man ALWAYS asks what he can do to make your day better. 

I can see him running a nice bath for you, pouring you a cheap glass of wine, heating up a towel for you when you get out, wrapping you up in one of his shirts or hoodies before pulling you into bed.

 Receiving gifts

This may not be the typical gift, but I can’t see him having a whole lot of money, but he sure is thoughtful. He’ll surprise you with your favorite snacks (this could be acts of service too imo), if you have a favorite show/band/book he will try to buy you something that reminds you of it, or even merch. He’ll fill your gas tank up without telling you because he wants to surprise you. He’ll definitely come home with dinner from Fennel Fields too. Oh!!! If they go on a mission a bit far, Adrian will pick up something random, but something that reminds him of you.

Do dick pics from days being apart count?

[jaelijn]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Was tagged by @quordleona03, thank you! It still blows my mind we're talking, haha.

I'd like to see this spread to the B7 folk, so if you've written for B7, even if you haven't in a while, consider yourself tagged!

How many works do you have on AO3?

227 - though as ever I need to remind people that this is not the total of my fics and certainly not the total of my fanworks (I have none of my art on AO3).

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

985.865 (I always have to do math here because I'm "co-author" on a fic I did the art for. So this is my *actual* words on AO3, not what AO3 says.)

CUT because oops it got long.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

At the moment, Blake's 7 only, unless you count Drake's Venture, but then again I have no active projects on that.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

This is in no way representative because my most kudos-ed fic will probably always be said "I did the art" fic that doesn't count, and my fandoms are vastly disparate in size, so my older SPN stuff is automatically up there. But anyway - Destinies Entwined (SPN), The Kindness of Strangers (SPN), There is no sin except stupidity (Canon Holmes - this one actually crept up there! I archived it, backdating, but people seem to have found and loved it!), Fields of Gold (SPN), and finally, With Every Single Word (B7) - and with the exact same amount of kudos, Bitter Days, and Sweet (B7).

5. Do you respond to comments?

Absolutely! Sometimes it takes me a while, but yes.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

*filters works by MCD warning*... I mean I've written a lot of bleak things, but not every MCD thing is necessarily bleak - on the other hand, I am probably forgetting some angsty ones that have no MCD. Most recently, or most in my memory, are a few of the Whumptobers, which always seem to bring out the darkness: Impending Destiny is up there, as is Bitter Almonds, Death's Kiss, perhaps, though that has some measure of catharsis, A Grave Man, Poisoned Apples. Then there's Earth, Earth Sector, Greyscale... Whatever you consider angstiest, it's probably a B7 fic. If you'd asked me to pick one, it'd probably be Impending Destiny because it hurt me to write and I feel it's underappreciated.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I'm in a similar boat as Quordle - these universes are angsty. Most of SPN ones are just... kind of even, all things considered, nothing to happy and nothing too sad, same with the Holmes stories, as they are all set somewhere in the middle and I can't give an Ending if there is more canon to go (and I rarely write AUs). But when it comes to B7, I've written some incredibly sappy stuff that doesn't really have "happy endings" because it's a fluff one-shot in the first place. Longfic with the happiest ending is probably Bitter Days, and Sweet, if only because it's a happy ending PGP. I do tend to prefer bittersweet endings to "fix everything" endings though.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I've got some... strange comments, but no outright hate, no, not on fic. But I also enable comment moderation on anything that might attract things, as a precaution. It hasn't been necessary, but perhaps people don't bother if they feel they might get moderated anyway. This is not an invitation to start sending me hate!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Not really. Being ace probably has something to do with that... I've found myself writing some intimacy, non-sexual or bordering on sexual kink or "draw the curtain" sex scenes lately, but I don't really get anything out of sex in fic for smutty reasons (and for a long time disliked pairing fic because it seemed so focussed on sex). I could see myself writing something more explicit if it served a plot point, but mostly I don't feel explicit detail is necessary for character development/plot progression. Intimacy, yes. But who cares who sticks what where and where the body fluids go?

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Yes, though I wouldn't say I do it *often* - I am generally more keen on conceptual mashups (what if B7 characters were in Victorian London) than pure crossover (what if B7 characters met Holmes characters), because I tend to be interested in single fandoms at a time rather than more at once. That said, I have done them. The most out there is probably my Doctor Who / Pirates of the Caribbean crossover, Dancing Star. I vaguely recall it being for a longfic challenge, but don't remember which. I'm still fond of that one and it's not even on AO3 (yet).

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of. (Don't do this.)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have been asked, and I think I had a Holmes fic translated once back in the LJ days? I'm not generally against translation if it's with my explicit consent, but there are some fics where I don't feel comfortable with it, often long or very personal work or stuff that I'm still working with. It helps if I already know the translator before they come to me with translation requests.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have made attempts, yes - some never worked out, some are yet to be published, others were collabs more in the sense of "let me add a sequel to your thing" rather than true co-writing. I have done a few fic/art collabs, on either side of the line, but I don't think there's anything currently on AO3 that has been co-written, unless you count my meta with @comarum.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

I am not going to make a claim on an "all time" favourite, particularly as I still feel I only found my niche with shipping fairly recently, and there are a few... fan-favourite pairings that I never really shipped but where I'm now wondering whether I would have jumped in more readily if I had been aware that this niche existed. Also is it still a ship if the pairing is canon, or is that just enjoying the original work?

My most long-standing active ship at this point is Avon/Vila, however.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

When someone says "doubt you ever will", I always immediately think of a project or two where I get defensive about the idea that I will never ever, even though I haven't touched them in decades. They are in long-term hibernation, but I balk at the idea of them being abandoned. That said, I have a good number of Red Dwarf fics that I'll probably never polish up. Dimensions was important to me, but this is where it'll probably end. Something about that fandom doesn't work for me.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I like to think: characters, dialogue, angst and long-form fics, though of course the short things will always outnumber the long ones because they take so long to write!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Finding endings for fics that are supposed to be short. Writing characters that aren't neurodivergent. Writing characters/relationships that aren't ace, though I feel I've been getting better with that. Anything that demands I actually pay attention to the characters' gender. Homonyms.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Depends on the extensiveness. If characters are always speaking a different language, sprinkling single lines in that actual language is weird and having the entire dialogue in a language that isn't the fic's is tedious, but if a few lines of dialogue are in a different language, sure. I feel the same way about strong accents.

Besides, I'd argue that characters in my current fandom aren't speaking English (the language I write in) in the first place, but a future common tongue I call Standard, so unless I want to invent a conlang, I'm not using their actual language anyway. On the other hand, rendering other languages in English can ignore some special characteristics of that language - something I specifically think about when I write about SIGN (my concept of sign language in the B7 universe). In general, I tend to emphasise readability over accuracy.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Depends on what counts. The first things I called fic were for SGA. Never published. The first published stuff was Canon Holmes.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

This changes constantly, and I also feel like I keep developing as a writer, so there are things I was very happy with at the time that I would not write that way now. They still were a favourite once - and in the same vein, if I didn't feel any of my recent stuff were favourites, I'd be doing something wrong with the craft. Consequently, right now I am very fond of Impending Destiny and my current longfic project.

[zanyana626]

Thoughts on Helluva Boss Oops episode! 😈🤡

Everything’s tagged as #hb spoilers until tomorrow for those who haven't seen it yet!

Not a cuckoo c**k for a clock!

Wakey-wakey Ozzie (not a morning person apparently)! *airhorns*

"Burger time! Burger time! Burger Time!" Ok, Fizz is starting to become my new favorite character! Also, why he pronouncing vibrators like that???

Greed Ring having a city named Ransom? Yep, that sounds about right for the ring.

I FUCKING KNEW HE CALLS HIM BIG DADDY!!! AND "Fizzie-frog"?!?!?! Too cute, <3.

And look at them big ol' eyes, I definitely couldn't say no to that face:

"We're so NOT in love!" "Yeah! Love. Is. STUPID!!!" Denial's not just a river in Egypt, you two!!!

"I'll be SUPER low-key!" ... Riiiiight.

The Queives (plural for Queefs, according to the subtitles). And the little disabled one??? VIV, WE WANT NAMES FOR THE LIL GUYS ASAP!!!

Enter Blitzø, who's complaining about some shitty coffee place!

"Well, at least I'm still actually working for my shit & not getting everything handed to me like some pampered attention wh**e!" VS "Plus, my horns were always bigger than yours... weren't they?"

Crimson & Striker teamup! Guess Blitzø & Fizz are gonna have to put their beef aside and work together to get away from them!

Ozzie & the Dildo Factory

So asking for an asmodean crystal was real! Poor Stolas being conflicted about how he feels towards Blitzy.

And Ozzie respecting people's hookup intentions and having the idea of lust as a consensual thing? Glad to know he's not like Valentino, who as far as we know, monetizes sex & treats his workers like shit/his property.

"My partner-um BUSINESS partner" Yep, keep telling yourself that Ozzie, at least you and Stolas are in the same boat for that!

Jeez Crim, what's your problem with Ozzie???

More Blitzø VS Fizz drama

Also Blitzø, Stolas does seem to care, he just has a tough time trying to say it to your face and plus, you're no better by bottling up your true feelings for him & then push him away like whatever!

Fizz, I love you now, but also envy you for having Striker grab you by the neck like that!

"I SAID WATCH 'EM, NOT F**K 'EM!!!" Typical Crimson

Damn, Ozzie could've signed over Fizz's head to be one of Crimson's wall trophies if Stolas wasn't there to help him out!

Nope nevermind, that wasn't the real contract! Also, why does Crimson want more dildos after failing to convice Moxxie that they're around the house for "his liking"??? I'm guessing he's trying to recuperate the funds he lost after Millie murdered all his goons & trashed his place!

Happy owl noises:  "I love words!" He's such a dork, I'm living for it! <3

Blitzø always having something up his sleeves when it comes to escape plans!

FINALLY, FLASHBACK/ANSWERS ON THEIR FALLING OUT!!! No wonder why Fizz & Barbie hate Blitzø's guts & Blitzø acts the way he does.

He's very much aware that he screwed up big time even if it was an accident and never meant to almost kill his bestie, traumatize his sister, & HIS MOM!!!

I'm guessing Cash was the one who tried splitting them up. He went as far as to give Fizz a birthday card that literally says "I wish you were my son"!!!

"WE'RE TRYING TO HAVE A F**KING EMOTIONAL MOMENT HERE!"

Using Blitzø as a human/imp? shield does kinda serve him right in a way

"Kaiju C**k". Yep Fizz, we're very much aware that Ozzie's a big boy

"Look At This" has been stuck in my head since listening it for the first time. Perfect distraction musical that makes no sense other than just being a distraction musical!

"So, f**king, BYE BYE!!!" 🎶

Damn, cowboy daddy's starting to go insane in the brain! He's most likely gonna have burned scars now the next time (yep, he got away again) we see him!

You can take Blitzø out of the circus, but you can't take the circus out of Blitzø!

THE BOIS HUGGED IT OUT!!!! Hope this means they're on more neutral terms now! I get that it might take Fizz a while to fully forgive & start over with Blitzø now that they're aware of the whole misunderstanding on both their ends, but still, it's a start!!!

"Woooould it f**k up the moment if we made out now?" Blitzø please, we're aware you had a (love) note for Fizz before the incident, but he's clearly happily taken by one of the 7 sins!

Fizzmodeus/Fizzarozzie reunited & it feels so good! <3

At least they're trying to be more open about their relationship, even if it's limited to their coworkers/entourage at the moment!

Welp, looks like Stolas is getting that crystal after all!

I'd say this is the best episode so far out of Season 2, Fizz & Ozzie were totally worth the wait and have now become part of my top 5 characters of the show!!!

[monachopsissssss]

I posted 28,325 times in 2022

That's 28,325 more posts than 2021!

1,253 posts created (4%)

27,072 posts reblogged (96%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@orangekingfisher

@jewishdainix

@nervousmonolith

@apollos-boyfriend

@ladydragonkiller

I tagged 27,324 of my posts in 2022

Only 4% of my posts had no tags

#things that i didnt do - 25,670 posts

#words out of mouth go br - 1,250 posts

#save 4 later - 711 posts

#foolery on the spot - 199 posts

#write ref - 128 posts

#life tips - 120 posts

#prev - 107 posts

#what - 99 posts

#oops erin postin - 93 posts

#kyermaniac - 79 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#when people try to do the whatever mythologgy or ancient something but modern and then they completely fuck up the characterization like no!

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

love watching trope talks and being like well Actually Yes some writers Will end the world as we know it they Will kill the entire setting. have you perhaps heard of undertale or perhaps ddlc or perchance the mechanisms or maybe callas. yes actually writers Will kill off so many major characters. have you read anything in the mcsr tag

43 notes - Posted November 27, 2022

#4

wow i am so depressed its not even funny

57 notes - Posted October 11, 2022

#3

you ask this literally as I make tea anyway it's this thing it's a jug for heating water (this is my household's electric one there's stovetop ones as well)

thats insane im too asian for this shit :0

63 notes - Posted December 4, 2022

#2

Purpled is a pathetic wet animal. Not only does he speak like he got vomited out of the 18th century, because not even they want him around, he’s also deeply stupid and no one loves him. He is a perfect example of wasted potential, a phenomenal tennis player who sweats Hypixel Bedwars. He also tryhards Valorant, and has no space for anything funny in tournaments. Instead of celebrating his graduation he went home and streamed Valorant.

78 notes - Posted June 15, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

i am sooo normal about dainix btw. if you even care.

110 notes - Posted August 28, 2022

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