#you can be fully consumed by what loves you—ic.

[azzagrazt]

@totyranny rolled 64 for a Spotify wrapped starter — Burn Your Village, Kiki Rockwell

Deep within Wyrm’s Rock, a mirror was doing something it should not have been. Basic principles of light and reflection should have mandated that the polished glass simply reflect the room back to itself, as mirrors were known to do, but its surface had gone strangely dark and murky like the harbor waters at night. It was a dark darker than dark, that seemed not to reflect but consume the light around it, and only when the very newly-coronated Archduke of Baldur’s Gate entered his office would it change.

          Graz’zt seemed to dissolve out of that blackness, eyes glowing and his face marked by a lazy grin.

          “You are very good, Your Grace.” The honorific was not quite a sneer; the man had earned it in spades for being clever and bold enough to claim it, but the question wasn’t in the claiming. It was the keeping, and that was going to prove much harder. It always did when gods and monsters were concerned, and Enver Gortash had entangled himself thoroughly with both. The Brain was stirring, and he was losing control.

          “But your grasp on the situation is… slipping. And you are running out of time.”

          The Prince disappeared from the surface of the mirror, and then there was Luz in the flesh, emerging from an inky corner in black silk and fine leather boots. Two different faces, but the same eyes—the same smug, unbothered smile.

          “As much as playing the hero suits you… three days. Three days is all it will take to untangle everything you’ve worked for. And your Lord leaves you scrambling like a rat in the dark while the Temple of Bhaal collapses on itself.” Thorm dead, Orin now followed. It would be Gortash they came for next, but he already knew that.

          “Whatever could your plan be?”

[azzagrazt]

“His submission would bore you to resentment.” Little else needed to be said on the matter.  A man like Goldriver would fall into his Queen’s bed as dutifully as her executioner’s axe swung at her command, bore her terribly, and the end result would still be the same.  Somewhere within these halls marched a dead man who did not yet know he was on borrowed time, the clock ticking away precious moments, grains of sand falling.

          But Graz’zt was not impatient.  An impatient creature would have already dashed Iggwilv’s skull to bits on these polished stone floors, unspooling the wicked inner workings of that brilliant, mad mind of hers;  an impatient creature would have broken itself free long ago, laid brutal waste to its captor and her soul, and descended back into the seething, vile pit from whence it had been pulled.

          But she was too interesting to waste.  A witch who could contain him was a witch who could contain his enemies, and he would have her in Azzagrat one day.  With Verin playing regent in Graz’zt’s absence, he had all the time in the world to play Iggwilv’s game, knowing he would ultimately win.

          Her question prompted a jagged smile, his heels clicking dutifully after her because there was no use in resisting the thrall.  Let her enjoy the hand while she could play it:  for now, she could rule a ruler, command a commander.

          “You have my undivided attention, as always.”

"and what's wrong with dutiful? i'm sure there is quite a lot he would be very dutiful about with a woman like me. perhaps you could learn a thing or two about that?" she taunts, though she doesn't disagree. general goldriver was handsome enough and were it any other demon her consort, perhaps she truly would lust for the man. but, he was becoming useless to her, and so what was a better way than to send him to his death without her own hands in it than to enlist the rage and jealous nature of her favorite demon lord.

she gazes up at graz'zt, dark eyes glittering amusement. she savors his expression - perfectly crafted as much as the rest of him - for a moment longer. before, she turns her attention to other matters.

"are you terribly busy, right now?" a superfluous question, as if he wasn't bound her her every whim and wish. perhaps he could be busy, theoretically, but he wouldn't be for her. "i have hideous sins to get up to and your assistance is useful." she turns on her heel and begins walking away, snapping her fingers as if calling for a dog.

[be-with-me-so-happily]

il gran finale

ONE SHOT

Summary: As photography apprentice to Lloyd Wakefield, you have been around Harry quite a lot on tour, capturing all the mesmerizing moments on stage. But at the after party of the final show in Reggio Emilia, he seems to be the one zoned in on you.

AN: I don't know if this is any good. I haven't written smut in so long, but with Love On Tour coming to an end, I needed to do something!

Warnings: Some explicit language, alcohol consumption, mild exhibitionism kink, fingering, public unprotected intercourse (wrap it before you tap it people)

You've always known Harry Styles is a gentleman. Even before you took on the role of apprentice photographer to Lloyd Wakefield, you only ever heard positive comments about the man, about how kind and caring he is. No one ever has a bad thing to say, and touring with him has only proven those things to be true. He is a sweet guy, just as everyone claims him to be.

That's his reputation. His public reputation.

But the way his enchanting and lustful green eyes have locked in on you for the past several minutes has made you think of nothing but the other reputation he has. The dream that you and thousands of his fans indulge in. The fantasy of him taking control of every single part of you, of using you, of pleasing you. Of giving you everything he has while you are under him, and on top of him, and in front of him, and…

You reset yourself as nearby laughter pulls you out of those delicious yet indelicate thoughts, ones you may need to draw upon later in the privacy of your hotel room.

It's bad enough that he has a flirtatious side. The subtle winks, the cheeky smiles, the wiggles of his eyebrows when a mildly indecent comment has been made. Usually by him. Both on and off stage, each of those gestures can easily get you flustered.

And it definitely doesn't make your job any easier, especially considering it's your assignment to watch him, to photograph him, to view him in a variety of different angles, none of which could be considered unflattering. He always looks good.

The outfit tonight, the shaggy silver get-up, showcasing his glistening pecs and chiseled abs, only added to the assortment of desires you only dwell upon alone at night. You're usually very composed, for the most part. You know how to play it cool.

But right now, as his stare exhibits something primal, you feel as if your entire body is on fire, and you can't help but be engulfed by the flames.

Clinking of the ice in your glass as you bring it to your lips alerts you to the fact that your drink has been fully consumed, and you decide to head to the bar for a refill. If not just for another drink, then for the moment of solidarity to gather yourself and bring some air back into your lungs. Because you are sure it's not the alcohol that's causing you to feel so dizzy.

"Hi, could I please hav-"

"Another margarita?" You hear in a deep, sultry, British voice sounding out from behind you. Right behind you.

"Yes please." You utter, almost inaudibly, to the bartender, the heat from before intensifying with each breath of Harry's that you feel on your neck.

"And I'll have two shots of Tequila, please sir." He states, so casually, as you stand frozen in place.

A cold breeze hits your skin as you see him move around and position himself to your left, leaving you to miss the warmth he was just providing.

"You look like you're having a good time." He states, as he brings his glass to his lips. You watch as the rim rests on them. You watch as the liquid slides between them. And you watch as a smirk pulls in the mischievous dimple that he is so well known for, unintentionally licking your own lips in the process.

"Sorry… what were you saying?" You ask, attention moving back to his gaze and finding those glistening green irises already locking in on your eyes.

"Enjoying yourself?" He chuckles in response to your question, leaving your heart pounding with embarrassment.

"I am!" You exclaim, quicker than anticipated, clearly not playing it cool like you believe you usually do.

"Good." He replies simply.

"Are you?"

"I am." He nods, his eyes quickly flickering down your body, before switching their focus back to the bar, creating a warmth between your legs, and you try desperately not to squirm.

"Good." You reply, with a giggle, finally taking the sip of margarita that has unknowingly been sitting in front of you for a few minutes. "So we're both enjoying ourselves."

He chuckles along with you, shaking his head as he throws back his second shot. He swallows it harshly, drawing your eye to the way his Adam's apple bobs with the consumption of the liquor. You notice his body begin to turn towards you, and as you glaze up his neck to his gorgeous face, a lustful expression falls over it. His brows narrow, and deviancy sparks in his eyes, turning them to a deep, enticing emerald.

"Want to enjoy each other now?"

"Sure, that-" You begin to respond, but your eyes begin to travel down to his lips, noticing how his teeth dig into the bottom one. His look of determination makes you wonder if there's a more devious meaning behind it, and that thought alone causes an extreme yearning between your legs. "Wait… what do you mean?"

He leans against the bar, his tattoo-covered forearm resting on top, as the palm of his right hand gently slides over your hip and draws you closer with the mildest press of his fingertips against your dress.

"YN, I just had one of the best nights of my fucking life! I want to celebrate. Really celebrate."

"And… how-... umm… how do you want to really celebrate?" You chuckle nervously, every hair on your body standing straight, every nerve on high alert.

"I can show you. If you want me to." He utters, almost a whisper, barely audible in the jumble of conversations surrounding you, but loud enough that it sends the coldest shiver down your spine. He leans closer, his body following along until you are only inches apart. "And considering how tightly your thighs are clenched together right now… I think you do."

Your mouth instantly drops open, and if he wasn't actually correct, and those contracted muscles weren't holding you upright, your legs would have buckled beneath you.

"C'mon." He whispers, softly running two fingers down your arm and grabbing your hand, pulling your body to follow him.

"Harry, wait." You manage to get out, surprisingly, considering the daze he's just put you in. "This… is your party..."

"Yeah." He states, shrugging so casually as he turns back to look at you. "So?"

"We can't just leave!"

Harry stops his trek, along with your heart. He swivels around, the most salacious smirk wide across his face, and to your surprise, you manage to clench your core even tighter.

He leans down to your ear, his lip barely grazing the bottom, his breath steady but thick.

"Who said anything about leaving?"

An exhale releases all the air held in your lungs, leaving you unsure whether it is the margaritas or his suggestive statement that's making your head spin.

He turns back and maneuvers through the crowd of people that have come to congratulate and party with him. But he seems to be a man on a mission.

Through the dim lights and the loud thumps of the music filling the room, you somehow find yourself looking at a staircase leading up the the second floor of the venue.

"Just us?" You hear Harry ask the security staff member guarding the way.

"Yes, Mr. Styles." He responds with a quick nod.

Without hesitation, Harry leads you up, each step building the anxious anticipation inside of you. It's not even clear what may be waiting for you at the top, but if Harry's apparent determination is any indication, it won't be boring.

As you reach the landing, you do a quick scan of your surroundings, seeing a couple of purple velvet sofas pushed against the wall. He takes you further in, letting go of your hand and placing both of his large palms on the thick, black railing in front of him. You stand at his side, copying his stature, though feeling the sweat of your hands being transferred to the metal within them.

The neon flashing of lights is the only thing brightening the venue, as the music sounds and provides a rhythm for the rest of the attendees to move their bodies to. You feel Harry's closest arm glide its way across your back, settling itself on your opposite hip, and squeezing with enough firmness to tell you he wants to be gentle with you, but also wants not to be.

The rest of his figure moves along behind you, pulling you closer to him, as if your bodies had an unretractable magnetic connection. The warmth of his lips suddenly hits right below your ear, causing every muscle you have to practically melt under that simple touch.

"Harry…" You utter, unsure if you've been heard over the sound of the new song beginning to play. "People could see us…"

"Doubtful." He mumbles, his breath tickling down your neck. "No one's looking anyway."

Another kiss moistens your skin, and your head falls backwards to him, resting against his broad, strong shoulder, encouraging him to continue his tantalizing exploration.

He grazes your hips with his palms, running them up and down the tops of your thighs, letting out a heavy exhale when he stops at the hem of your dress. His fingertips tease the edge, sliding around to the front. One hand lifts up to your waist, while the other glides around to your inner thigh, and you could swear your panties are already soaked.

"Do you like this?" He whispers in your ear, and with the state of daze he currently has you in, all you can manage is a subtle nod. "Tell me. Do you like this?"

"Y-yes." You breathe out.

"Do you want more?" He asks in the lowest tone he's ever spoken in, barely needing to convince you that he'll give you whatever you want.

"Yes." You reply, anticipation thick in your stomach.

His fingers run up and under your dress, and you thank yourself for picking the shorter of your two options when you were getting ready for the party.

You attempt to push him back a few paces to the closest velvet sofa for some privacy, but he stands solid in place and you stretch your neck to get as good of a look at him as you can.

"Stay." He states simply, not a demand that you couldn't reject, but the way his tone hit your soul, you can't even imagine refusing him of almost anything he wanted.

Suddenly your body jumps, as you feel mild pressure slowly moving up the center of your panties.

"Soaked." Harry whispers. "Didn't realize I got you this wet, this fast."

His teeth begin to nibble on your earlobe, as his fingers snap the fabric of your underwear, causing you to let out the most pathetic and needy whimper.

"Harry… please." You whine, desperate for something, anything, that he is willing to give you.

"What do you want, YN?"

"Touch me." You reply, your legs already weak at the thought.

He listens, running his index along your center, feeling how slick he's made you. Suddenly, he dips it inside of you, and you worry he could make you cum right here and now. But god you want to feel so much more. You want him to give you so much more.

Slowly, his finger pulls out, but immediately glides back in, accompanied by another, pumping them both in unison, and sending your head into a spin.

"Do you want more?" He asks into your ear.

"Yes." You barely reply, hoping with all you have that he heard your response.

He adds one more finger, and the trio pick up their pace as his thumb puts the perfect amount of pressure on your clit.

"Oh my god." You whine, feeling a sensation ripple through your body. Nothing you've done to yourself, alone with just your thoughts of him, could ever compare to the feeling of what he's doing to you now.

In and out, his fingers pump, and you're sure if the music suddenly stopped, the noise of his motions would echo from wall to wall.

"You're so tight." He utters. "Don't know if you'd be able to handle my cock."

Just the mention of that word has you moaning, so you reach your arm up to grab onto the back of his neck, and you tilt your head towards him.

"I want that."

"You want what?" He asks, quickening his pace, and halting your words until you swallow the lump that's caught in your throat.

You look down, scanning the crowd for any prying eyes, only to find everyone distracted by their own activities below. Although, at this moment, you aren't sure if that matters to you. If that would stop you.

"I want your cock." You admit, using your free hand to push in between your two bodies and palm over his hard bulge, the feeling of his thick girth creating an even deeper yearning for it.

"Fuck." He growls, his cock twitching under the fabric of his pants.

The emptiness created as his fingers leave your body almost has you wishing you hadn't made any other request, but as you feel his waistband tug down, and the bare skin of his cock as it springs out from its confines and back into your hand, you get wetter than you've been in any moment before.

A strong thigh parts your legs, the back of your dress inches up, and as you feel his long, thick cock glide between them and coat itself in your wetness, Harry lets out a deep, rumbling growl. He runs one hand up your spine and pushes slightly on your back, getting you to bend over a bit and prop yourself up with your hands gripping the railing.

There's never been a desperation so intense as now, as you feel Harry's tip tease your entrance. You've never wanted anything more than the sensation of him pushing into you, stretching you out, giving you everything you've ever fantasized about.

"Think you can fit me inside there?" He asks, the smugness more enticing than you could have imagined possible. But his words, his touch, his everything is overwhelming and rendering you speechless. Then you hear Harry hum, as if knowing your inability to reply, and answering it for himself. "I think you can."

And just like that, he slips in. Slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size each time he pushes in a little further. Filling you completely with every inch he goes deeper, until all you feel is him. Until all you know is him.

"Oh my god." You moan out, unaware if it has been drowned out by the music and chatter of everyone else.

He quickens his pace slightly, and your hold on the railing tightens, not only to steady yourself, but also to possibly disguise your actual activities as simply enjoying the rhythm of the song.

"All these people… and no one knows what we're doing up here." Harry grunts as he thrusts into you, drawing out another, yet much heavier, moan from your chest. It's followed by a pleased groan from behind you, the sound almost as good as any song he's ever sung. "But I wouldn't care if they did… if they saw how well you're taking me… and if they heard much you love it."

"Harry…" You whine, as an extreme sensation builds in your core, feeling every nerve peek, alerting you to the fact that at any moment now, you'll be completely taken over by the intense amount of pleasure he's giving you. "I need to-"

"No." He states sternly.

"Please!" You beg, all dignity being tossed aside.

"Not yet." He replies, and all of a sudden, you feel hollow. Something is missing, and as you feel yourself clear out from the heightened state of a daze you've been in since you reached that second level of the venue, you realize his glorious cock is no longer inside of you.

"What-" You begin, stepping back and turning around to face him, finding his teeth digging hard into his bottom lip, creating an even stronger desire to have him fill the gap again.

"I need to fuck you harder, and faster." He explains grabbing both hips as he backs up and lowers down to take a seat on the sofa. "And I need to watch you when you cum all over my cock."

A shallow breath makes its way out between your lips at his statement, and you slowly lower yourself to straddle his lap, feeling a throb inside yourself as you feel another underneath you.

Your hips begin to grind on him, hoping to create an impatience in him as strong as the one in you. You cup his cheeks within your palms and bring your lips to his, smiling against them as they part and release a deep moan. You move to kiss his jaw, letting the stubble tickle your skin and you make your way down his neck. His hands begin to roam your body, exploring more than they had been able to when standing at the railing. They grip your back, your waist, and settle at your hips, gripping just tight enough to guide them back and forth.

"All I've thought about tonight… is having you like this." You hear him utter, the words hitting deep into the pit of your stomach. "Hell, all I think about most nights is… fuck… is having you like this!"

You pull back, your eyes immediately locking in on his, as if your bodies are confessing their deepest desires to each other in a secret, seductive language. Without a word, you push up on your knees, hovering over and inviting him back inside of you, where you want him the most. One of his hands holds his cock steady as the other remains on you, helping you to lower back down onto him. In this position, you can feel him ever more, much to your surprise considering he filled you so well just moments ago.

"Then fuck me how you've been wanting to." You state, your focus still fully on him.

As soon as he's given that permission, both palms squeeze tighter to your body, pulling you down on his cock as if to meld your bodies together.

"Oh god." He exclaims, throwing his head backwards to rest on the sofa, dropping his mouth open as you begin to bounce.

Almost instantly, with the new depth he's hitting, you feel your body reignited and a release drawing near.

"Harry, this is…" You mumble, the pleasure hindering a complete coherent sentence. "It's… how…"

"Tell me, baby." He replies, holding you down as he starts to thrust up into you, leaving you unable to feel anything other than him.

"This is how… oh my-… I've been wanting you… to fuck me, too…"

"F-... fucks sake!" He exclaims, no longer holding back his vigor as he goes as fast and gets as deep as he possibly can, causing moans to burst out from both of you.

"Harr-... I'm gon-..." You whine, trying to plead with him to get you over the edge and fall into a pool of ecstasy. The sight of his hair becoming messy with sweat, the feel of his hands holding you down, the taste of his skin on your lips, the smell of his cologne exuding off his chest, the sound of his breathy moans in your ear. He has completely taken over all of your senses, and you know this is the best experience you've ever had.

"Say it, YN. Look at me and say it." He growls, and as your eyes find his, the amount of lust in his begins to push you off the ledge.

"I'm gonna cum."

"Where?"

"On your cock!" You blurt, the level of volume coinciding with the intensity of your desperation. "I'm gonna cum on your cock."

"Do it." He commands, and with his permission, you immediately let go, completely melting into him as that desired ecstasy rips through your entire body.

Your face falls into the crook of his neck, only leaving enough room to draw in some shallow, labored breaths. You can feel Harry squirm beneath you, his stride becoming less rhythmic with each stroke into you, his chest rising and falling in the same, unsteady way.

"YN… if I can't cum inside you, tell me now, 'cause I'm… fuck, I'm so close."

Your head lifts and pulls away, looking into his gorgeous green eyes, pupils blown and a glaze covering them. You lean down to his ear, letting your breath puff gently over his skin.

"Cum inside of me, Harry." You whisper, placing a kiss right below his ear.

"Y-yeah? You want my cum?" He fumbles, his breathing becoming more random with every sloppy thrust. "I'll give you… f-fucking all of it!"

Harry grips tighter, bouncing you on himself with a determination you aren't sure if you've ever seen before. He lets out a moan so gritty you know it originated deep in his chest. The sound alone could have you orgasming again if it drew out a few seconds longer. It's accompanied by one last thrust of his hips and a powerful, pleased throbbing of his cock, as his cum coats your walls.

If the dj wasn't blasting anything through the speakers, the sound of your synchronized, labored breaths would be enough to fill the room. You sit up straighter, still straddling Harry's lap, and you finally take in the mess of a man in front of you. His head still rests back on the sofa, his eyes now shut, and a blissful smile stretched across his face.

"That's one way to finish a tour." You chuckle, pushing your palms against the fabric of the shirt now sticking to the drizzle of sweat on his chest.

His palms shoot up to your face, holding it so gently, but with an untapped passion behind his eyes. They flicker to your lips and he dives in for a taste, running his tongue along to part them, and sighing as your own tongue dances along. A pop sounds out as you pull apart, with just enough room for an inhale of air, and he rests his forehead against yours.

"And cheers to the next one."

Main Masterlist

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[strangelysamantha]

heart to heart ❀

steve harrington x fem!reader.

warnings: mention of being drugged, but otherwise pure fluff.

words: 987.

summary: at the starcourt mall bathroom, you and steve have a heart to heart.

request? no

a/n: it won’t let me insert links anymore and i’m very upset about it. but i’m happy to be writing again so i guess i have that going for me! can’t wait to produce a bunch of stranger things content.

my masterlist

—————————————-

you lay on the floor of the bathroom, your back slouched against the wall. your head wasn’t spinning as bad so that was good, but now the spiral to sobriety made your mind rush with thoughts. the starcourt mall had harsh lights, and you struggled to stick with any thoughts, overwhelmed by the torture you had barely escaped from. steve harrington was quiet in the stall next to you. a groan emitting from your lips. “are you okay steve?” you find the courage to question. you were nervous to break the silence, but if you had to endure it any longer you would explode. he hesitates, “yeah, i think uh,” he waits, “i think im alright.” you nod, although he’s unable to acknowledge it. “how about you? are you okay over there?” you stay quiet, unsure how to answer. “hello?” there’s worry in his voice, and he doesn’t wait to slide under the stall door to comfort you.

you grimace at him, “do you realize how gross the bathroom floor is?” you crack a smile, amused. he shrugs, “after all that fighting today, i already needed to wash the uniform, what difference will it make?” the two of you break out into laughter, “maybe it’s not fully out of our system yet.” this makes you laugh even harder. you take a moment to catch your breath. “steve?” he hums in response, “i’m glad i was with you in the battle against the russians.” he makes eye contact with you, “true, i’m pretty badass aren’t i?” you bite your lip nervously, “yes but you did deal with alot though.” he looks away, “i just want you to know im here for you. i mean what else can we go through that’s going to top breaking into a hidden russian lair?”

“i hope nothing… but this town is crawling with bad people. you can’t ever be safe.” his demeanor hurts, the pitiful comment causes your heart to sting. “yeah that’s what scares me.” you admit. “we’ll get through it together okay? we’re a good team.” you nod at his reassuring words, “let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.” you collect your thoughts, “it’s funny to think that just last week we scooped ice cream for a living, and then we almost died.” steve smirks, “it’s quite the story to tell though.”

“don’t you miss high school? the only worry we had was about homework due dates, and trying not to fall asleep during lectures?” he reminisces, “it was easier, but time moves forward, and you get hardships thrown your way. i don’t know where i’ll be in a few years.” he continues, “it’s hard to think about the future, when the present is not enjoyable.” “i know, we should be out having fun, not worried about our hometown being invaded.” saying the words made the situation real, and the idea of your future was unimaginable. “do you still love nancy?” you question. he sighs, “yes, and no.” he thinks about it, you can tell by his face. “i miss what we had, the love was real, but time passed. we both grew into ourselves; there’s no point in ruining that growth.” his stance caught you by surprise, but you appreciated his honesty. “i had a first love too. it was different; it was a love that consumed me, but i lost who i was in the process. it’s hard to go back to someone when you know it didn’t work out for a reason.” he silently agrees, “have you moved on?” he asks. “yes, and no.” you giggle, “i’ve moved on, but sometimes i long for it. it was safe, predictable, but i know in my heart that things will work out for me.” steve’s eyes lock with yours.

you can’t read what he’s feeling, you’re filled with nerves. “i like you steve.” his lips curved, “you do?” you laugh slightly, “of course i do steve. you saved my life today. you make working at scoops ahoy fun. you’re playful, and witty. you treat me with so much kindness. and maybe i’m misreading this thing between us.” you back peddled slightly, worried you might have overstepped. “i like you too, today you brought out a side of me, one i hadn’t seen in awhile. you gave me hope, a reason.” you stomach fills with butterflies as his gaze lingers over you. you scooch forward, placing your hand over his. “steve, i really-.” unfortunately dustin and erica barge into the bathroom, before he rolls his eyes. “okay… what the hell?” steve and you glance at each other before returning your eyes to dustin. together you both emit into hysterical laughter at dustin’s comment. “get up we have to go.” he urges you up and rushes you to the door, erica’s face is stern and her hand is on her hip as she impatiently waited for you two to stand up. the four of you leave the bathroom, determined to escape the mall. you stay back, letting erica and dustin lead the way. you glance over at steve, your hand instinctively reaching for his as the nerves wash over you. he happily holds it, he looks over to you, his teeth bright. “you make me really happy.” he squeezes your hand. “you make me really happy too steve.” he chuckles slightly. “maybe after we escape, i can take you on a date?” a rose tint lifted to your cheeks as shyness crept up. “yes please.” the two of you continue to hold hands as you hurriedly tried to blend in with the crowd of people leaving the theater; however you see men in all black, guarding the exit. dustin tells you guys to abort and to turn around, and you frantically run to the lower level. fear was instilled inside you, however; with steve by your side you felt confident that you would make it to your guys first date.

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[heretherebeturtles-comic]

How long does the process take you to get one (or more) comic page done? I love the idea of making comics but i suck at structure, you know with the script and posting/layout. I was wondering if you had any tips or what you wish you knew before you started.?

Sorry if this had been asked before

OOOooooo a fun question for me!! I love talking about comic creation :D

I do my best to keep the full process under 2 days (or 12-14 hours of work) per fully coloured page. I'm trying to get faster, but speed comes with time and experience.

Hmmm as for tips and things I wish I knew... so many things... I should let it be known that I am an artist and not really a writer, but your questions are focused on script/planning/structure, so I'm going to focus the advice on that.

Start with something small - Learn about making comics and find a comfortable style through making a couple smaller comics and then try your passion project. Writing and planning smaller comics with fewer pages takes a different kind of puzzle solving and thought process. Smaller page limits can force you to try new things which you can then apply to larger projects to save time; limitations breed creativity after all. Every attempt made (even an unfinished project) is knowledge gained that you can apply again for future projects.

Study comics! - It's hard to create if you aren't feeding the mind and giving it things to learn and create from. Read comics made by professionals and study how they handle pacing. How many pages are they dedicating to each moment? What do you think of their pacing and what would you change? Take a sketchbook and make small rectangles and draw out the panel layout from that comic. What are they doing that works and what don't you like about it? How would you do that differently? ... I think this is me assigning homework... i am so sorry.

Set a hard page limit - Try to get your story told within that limit, and then add more pages if necessary. More pages = more time you have to spend working on it. Most standard single issue American comics are roughly 24 pages. I try to work inside that limit using a rough 5 page per scene structure.

Condense or Cut - I struggle so hard with this one, but comics aren't written in the same way as a novel is. They have a slightly different plot structure and a much more limited amount of pages to tell the story in. Obviously it depends on the story being told, and what kind of scenes are important to that genre of story, but in general, unnecessary scenes should be cut out. examples...

CUT! Having the characters go out to get ice cream is cute, but you don't need to show them each ordering their ice cream unless the flavour they choose is an important plot point. Skip to the last one receiving their ice cream and turning to the others who already have theirs and are having that deep discussion. OR skip that scene entirely and have a quiet panel of them sitting in the park at sunset, already holding their ice cream, before delving into the deep emotional conversation they will be having.

CONDENSE! You can combine two scenes if you need to. If you have one scene where two characters are having a casual conversation and another where they are sneaking into a building? Stick them together. They can sneak AND talk and now you've only used up 5 pages instead of 10.

Comics take a LONG TIME to make!! - you have to make peace with that _(:Ⅰ」∠)_ Comics, especially full colour ones, are an extremely labour intensive and time consuming way of telling a story. If one page takes 1 day (8 hrs of work) and you have 24 pages, that is 24 days of working on one comic.

Thumbnails! - Draw the pages small and rough first! It's easier to plan things and mess around with the layouts when you don't have an emotional attachment to how the art inside looks. Once you have a layout you like, you can then draw it again in full page size and work on it from there.

Page and panel layouts are my favourite part of the whole process, I could talk forever about it, but I do not have the energy for it right now. I'll save panel/page layout for another time.

It doesn't have to be perfect!!! - IT DOESN'T HAVE TO BE PERFECT!!!! (shouted with excitement btw). Panels can be boring! A page can be extremely simple! The art can be messy! The dialog can be simple! The plot can go nowhere! In fact it is really really fun to make a messy imperfect comic on purpose. Destroy the perfectionist in you, because they will always and forever hold you back from actually creating things. "what if it's bad?" what if it's fun? what if you learn cool things?

Anyway, those are my tips/advice, idk if I actually answered what you were asking... sorry about all the time commitment ones, that is something I really wish I had figured out a few years ago lol.

Comics are fun to make and a lot of learning how to make them is just jumping in, encountering a problem, and then learning how to solve it.

[azzagrazt]

At least once every few days, he wondered when she might actually try to kill him.  He’d seen it in her face on more than one occasion—that particular glint of madness in her eyes from the understanding that, possibly, she could—and even encouraged the thought in her.  He invited it a hundred little ways, through the faintest of gestures:  a single moment’s pause in his defenses, leaving his back turned on her just a beat too long.  It was not because he trusted her better judgment.  It was because she needed to feel it.

            Astoria’s hunger was sublime; he would use it to grip her tight and raise her higher.  Beneath the guidance of his steady hand, she would be made new and sharp, as much a goddess as a threshing sledge, and she would beat mountains small.  She would make hills as chaff.

            But first, she would be broken.  And, oh, she was just on time, wasn’t she?

            “Oh, Astoria.” Graz’zt rose from his chair in his typical languid manner, crossing the room in no particular hurry to reach her.  Or, rather, to stop just beyond her reach.  “You mistake effort for art.  I am exactly what I am, and you prefer what suits you when it suits you.”

            He knelt beside her, his towering presence no less suffocating for the fact that he lowered himself to her level. A six-fingered hand reached out—not to touch her yet, but to hover just close enough to remind her of the distance between what he could do and what he chose to do.

            “But you are correct that I will not allow you to die.  Not because you amuse me but because you are not yet whole.  It pleases me to chip away at the pieces of you which are unworthy.” And then his hand brushed her chin, tilting her face up slowly to look at him directly.  “Kindness is a vulgar notion.  What I want is you.  You, who hungered your way to divinity.”

            His thumb traced the line of her cheek, sallow and sunken.  “Tell me:  what frightens you most about godhood?”

@azzagrazt / spotify wrapped starters.

At least once every few days, she thinks about killing him. Not that she expects it to stick, of course—he is too powerful by far to be done in by something as minor as death—but it might be satisfying. About as often, she thinks about him with all the genuine warmth of an eager student, her bright eyes fixed on him in wonder, the patience in his hands and his voice as he guides her through the steps of her godhood. She is his doll, to be maneuvered and posed as he wishes; she is the stray howling at his door, demanding a warm place to sleep in the bitter chill of winter; she is more like him than she would care to confess, clever enough to know how she's been manipulated, empty enough to want it, masochistic enough to enjoy it.

"You don't need to put so much effort into the mask," she says finally. It's not the first time Our Lady of Endless Hunger has taken refuge in his home—who keeps a vampire tower if they don't want it occupied?—but it is the first time she's been properly honest with him. She does not make deals. She does not make promises, or ask it of him. They enjoy lying to one another in the way that only the most consummate liars ever do. "I prefer your monstrosity."

It is because she knows what he is, what they both are, that she has been careful not to let him know how lost, how frightened she is. Divinity suits her, and she may not be as skilled as Graz'zt in giving people (the appearance of) what they want, but she knows how to guard herself by now. It should be clear, then, that she doesn't have any other options, if she's come to him like this. Astoria turns her face towards him, too exhausted to sit up and address him as she normally would.

"You won't let me die because I amuse you," she continues, "and we are alike enough that I have come to like this about you. And you are the only thing still living, besides my father, who has seen me like this. Tell me what you want in return for this. I know it's not kindness."

"hunter" by Paris Paloma

[hiyashortking]

Drunk Dialing Lucifer

Disclaimers and credit: read this post before reading any of my content, please.

Extra warning for this one: There are two suicide comments in the forms of “dark jokes” from the you/reader character. These comments are not challenged and they might hurt to read. Take care of yourselves, darlings. Suicide is not funny and if this was a full novel I would make sure to address that.

Summary: You drunk text and drunk dial Lucifer. He does the same for you later to help you cope with your embarrassment.

Text Message Exchanges

You: i want to duck you so bad, and ducking call you daddy the whole ducking time

Lucifer: Angel, are you okay? Do you need me to come get you?

You: this is not angeldust

You: duck, luci, it’s y/n

Lucifer: Yes, of course, darling. Where are you? Are you with someone? I tried calling but you’re not picking up. I’m worried.

You: im drunk

Lucifer: It appears so. Where are you?

You: i dnt know

Lucifer: Who are you with, darling?

You: vag char ad nifffff f f ty

Lucifer to Charlie: Cherub, can you check on Y/N and let me know if they’re okay?

Charlie: They’re fine. Should I take their phone?

Lucifer: No, that’s okay, sweetheart. Thank you! Have fun!

Lucifer to Vaggie: Maggie, can you check on Y/N and let me know if they’re okay?

Vaggie: Yes, Sir.

Vaggie: They are intoxicated. It appears 3 Long Island Iced Teas have been fully consumed. With their weight and height, this does not appear to be concerning, though I will prevent any further intake. They appear to be in good spirits, though unable to stand without assistance at this time. I will provide ongoing monitoring and support. Is this satisfactory?

Lucifer: 👍

Lucifer to Angel Dust: Angel Dust, can you check on Y/N and let me know if they’re okay?

Angel Dust: oh no Y/N and I are in big trouble, we need a powerful, strong, sexy man to come save us

Lucifer: Are you serious? Tell me where you are and I’ll be right there!

Angel Dust: relaxxx, daddy, all of your princesses and princes are just fine, but hmu later if you’re feeling lonely

Incoming Call from Y/N

Lucifer: Hi, sweetheart. I’ve been reassured that you are safe and well.

You: You are so pretty. Do you know that? I hope you know that.

Lucifer: Why, thank you. That is very sweet!

You: You have gorgeous eyes and I love your teeth. I bet it’s easy for you to make someone bleed; I bet you can’t even nibble on someone without piercing their skin.

Lucifer: Oh my. I should be sitting down for this.

You: I should be sitting on your face.

Lucifer: That- that can be arranged, darling. I didn’t know you felt like this about me. Or is it the alcohol talking? Shoot, should I be ending this conversation to prevent any miscommunication or possible embarrassment? What is the social protocol here? Oh- well, I guess you can’t tell me that right now-

You: Ssssshhhh

Lucifer: Oh! Of course. Yes, shushing. Shushing now.

You: You talk SO MUCH.

Lucifer: Ah, yes, sometimes I do.

You: I love listening to you talk.

Lucifer: You did just shush me, but I’ll try to believe you.

You: Oh fuck, I’m sooo sorry-

Lucifer, laughing: I’m joking, darling, it’s okay.

Lucifer: You okay? Are you still there?

You: Yeah, hold on.

You, muffled: Huh? I’m talking to Luci. I’m trying to tell him how much I want to ride his dick.

Lucifer: Oh my!

You: What do you mean am I sure? I don’t know. Are you sure? Wait-

Call Ended

Text Message Exchanges

Vaggie to Lucifer: Sir, I believe Y/N to be making poor decisions. I have confiscated their phone and will bring them home shortly.

Lucifer: You’re the best!

Vaggie: Update. Y/N has been properly hydrated and brought to their room. They have fallen asleep.

Lucifer: Thanks, Magz. Charlie home okay, too?

Vaggie: Yes, Sir. Getting ready to sleep, as well.

Lucifer: Excellent, you rock! 🔥🔥🔥

The Day After

Text Message Exchanges

Lucifer to You: Good morning, beautiful. I hope you’re feeling well. Would you like me to bring you some breakfast?

You: I’m grounded. I’m not allowed to eat or drink and I’m definitely NOT allowed to text you. I am fucking mortified. Vaggie said I had the audacity to call you? I’m so sorry, Your Majesty.

Lucifer: Oh, stop! I was wildly flattered by what you were saying, but surely you didn’t mean any of it and it was just the alcohol speaking.

You: You’re too kind. I’m a degenerate and I will punish myself accordingly.

Lucifer: Hey, now! All you said was that you wanted to duck me! I’m not even sure what that means. I am so very old, you see. 😜 For all I know, it means you’d like to hold my— hand.

You: I wish I wasn’t already dead.

Lucifer: Beautiful, please stop! I will wipe the night from my memories if that is your wish.

You: PLEASE.

Lucifer: Okay. Can we start over?

You: Yes, please.

Lucifer: I think you’re very pretty.

You: Stop!

Lucifer: And I’d very much like it if you sat on my face.

You: AAAHHHH delete my number, I’m blocking you and setting myself on fire.

Lucifer: Nononononono I’m joking, please don’t!

You: 😭 How am I ever going to be able to look you in the eye ever again? I am MOVING and changing my name.

Lucifer: Okay, okay. I have an idea.

Lucifer: I’m going to get drunk and call you tonight.

You: That … might actually help.

Lucifer: Excellent! I’ve been known to make a huge fool out of myself while intoxicated, so this should cancel out your behavior, and even earn you some credits to say plenty of lewd things to me in the future.

You: 🤦 We’ll see about that.

Later That Night

Incoming Call From Lucifer

You: Wow, you’re really doing it, huh?

Lucifer: I did not think this through.

You: What do you mean?

Lucifer: Well, now I’m drunk, and I’m alone in my room, in the hotel, very close to where your room is, and I’m having a really hard time not just walking over to you.

You: Oh yeah, and what would you do then?

Lucifer: I would ask for permission to kiss you.

You: Damn, even drunk you are polite.

Lucifer: Not polite, just bare minimum decent.

You: I’m wet.

Lucifer: What?

You: I said, I bet.

Lucifer: Hm, well, you see, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what it would be like to kiss you. Your lips seem so plump and soft. You once struggled to lick something off of them at dinner and I’ve come to that image of you in my mind.

You: Oh shit!

Lucifer: Is that okay?

You: Yes. Fuck yes. Tell me more.

Lucifer: I love the way you smell and desperately want to taste you.

Lucifer: I want to taste your lips and your tongue and your face, your neck.

Lucifer: I want to feel your skin and squeeze your ass. Fuck, I can’t talk about your ass.

You: Yes, slow down. What do you want to taste after my neck?

Lucifer: Your tits. I want to see and inhale and touch and tongue and gently pinch. I want to worship your body. I want to make you come by sucking on your tits.

You shake a little as you let out a breath.

Lucifer: I want to fucking devour your thighs. They are magnificent. I want them around my head, around my waist. I want my hands and tongue all over them, every inch. I want to see your fat jiggle when I slap my cock down on them.

You, whispering: Oh for fuck’s sake …

Lucifer: Darling, I think I’m out of liquor.

You: Wha-

Lucifer: Have I done a good enough job for you tonight, or would you like me to continue? I could go down to the bar and get some more.

You: …

Lucifer: Precious, are you there?

You, clearing your throat: I-I’m here. It’s okay. I have completely different reasons now to feel embarrassed and like I can’t look you in the eye.

Lucifer: Oh no, that was not the intention.

You try to settle your breathing.

Lucifer: I’m outside your door.

You: No. No, go away.

Lucifer: My safe word is Duckling. Use it and I’ll go away.

You: …

Lucifer: Open your door, beautiful. I want you to be comfortable around me.

You: I don’t know why I didn’t see this coming.

Lucifer: You are entirely in control. Say the word, and I will go back to my room, or I’ll go downstairs for another drink. Tell me what you desire and I will make it real.

You twist the handle and pull open the door.

Call Ended

[azzagrazt]

@avernach liked for a starter

The Elfsong was uncharacteristically rowdy that evening, its usual haunting melody drowned beneath the din of patrons swapping stories, barmaids dodging clumsy advances, and mugs clinking in spirited toasts. Tobacco smoke hung heavy in the air and mingled with the acrid tang of spilled ale, and shadows gathered thick in the corners, untouched by ever-burning lanterns.

            She entered like a storm, and it did not go unnoticed. Nothing Karlach and her new acquaintances did had gone without his notice since Archduke Gortash’s coronation. It was rather difficult to miss them when news of troublemaking adventurers was spreading ‘round the city like untamed wildfire, in no small part thanks to the machinations of the Absolute’s dark-eyed architect. Still, most of the Elfsong’s patrons glanced away as quickly as they glanced up. The little cleric’s frigid, forbidding gaze kept unwelcome eyes from lingering long, and if she was not enough to dissuade onlookers, the sharp grin of the vampire spawn and more or less everything about Karlach hanging over her shoulder promised trouble twice over.

            From his vantage point at a shaded corner table, Luz watched as her party made their way hastily upstairs and out of sight. But she did not join them; she lingered near the bar, shoulders tense. 

            He stood and took his place just a few seats down, then did a double-take.

          She had changed much in the last several years—not that this was a surprise. He knew where she had been, and even if he had not, the engine burning in her chest gave it away in an instant. Luz, for his part, had not changed much at all: he was smartly dressed in a rich, dark jacket, and he was holding a half-full glass of something dark and expensive. His expression was one of mild surprise but just warm enough to suggest that he was not about to make her night any worse.

            “Karlach? By the gods, is that you?” 

[mothdruid]

Happy birthday!! Can I please get "you’re freezing, come here.” With Hangman?

Fast like Rain

pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x gn!reader

word count: 1k

summary: Your childhood best friend, Jake, is home from deployment. The two of you spend the day together and it ends with a cold but sweet treat.

a/n: sorry this took so long to write! my blurbs keep end up being longer than just blurbs lmao. i hope you enjoy!!

The day had started out great. Jake was home on leave for a little bit, meaning that you finally got to see your best friend after months of his deployment. He had promised you one full day of hanging out when he had left. So, it was time for him to honor that promise.

The day had started with brunch from his favorite local diner, to which he ordered his classic sunny side up eggs with crispy bacon and toast. You ordered your own favorite meal, earning teasing when you ordered your classic cup of orange juice. Jake never let you live that down, always joking that you were never going to fully grow up.

The two of you spent the next few hours doing whatever. It was so refreshing to finally have Jake home. He was your best friend no matter what, even if you happened to have a little bit more than just platonic feelings for him. It was hard not to like him. He had that Texan charm you had grown up dreaming about.

Charm with a bit of asshole to him, and it honestly made your heart sing. Maybe that's because he didn't intimidated you, instead it pushed you to be an asshole right back at him. Which Jake himself loved about you. Every time you ever swore at him and yelled at him, he would later that night think about it in bed, wondering if you would speak that way if you were underneath him.

The two of you were currently in some random field outside of town. Jake had decided to drive the old beater truck he had during high school while he was in town. So the tailgate was currently down, the both of you sitting on it with your legs dangling. The soft yet dry tall grass was brushing against your ankles.

"Are you serious?" You laughed after asking.

"Come on, of course, how could you not believe me?" Jake retorted.

"You weren't a track star in school, that's why!"

"I played football," Jake reminded you.

"As a QB, not a running back!" You could help the laughter that came from you.

"Fine," Jake hoped off the tailgate, "let's race."

The laughter immediately stopped when you heard him. You both had been too caught up in each other to have noticed the darker clouds starting to consume the sky. You gave Jake a serious look, tiling your head as if to question his seriousness.

"Hey, I'm being serious here," Jake threw his hands up in defense.

"One hundred percent?" You questioned.

He took his right index finger and drew a cross over his heart. You hoped down off the tailgate and stood face to face with him. You crossed your arms, signaling that you meant business.

"What's in it for me?"

"I'll buy you ice cream," Jake said.

"Fence line?"

Jake shook his head yes, that stupid smirk on his face. Without a second thought you took off running. You heard Jake yell from behind you about how he never said start. All you did was throw a middle finger back at him. Jake chased you all the way to the fence line, huffing once he finally caught up to you. You had been waiting for only a few seconds since reaching it. Your own breath was heavy, lungs struggling to keep up.

"Guess you aren't that fast," you chuckled while trying to steady your breathing. You looked over at Jake and then leaned again the fence post next to you.

"I don't know if that counts," Jake joked. He moved near you, putting a hands on the same post you were leaning on.

The two of you were close, only a few inches separating your bodies. Smiles adorned both of your faces while you stared at each other. You could never get tried of staring at him. Yeah, he looked like a generic jock, but he was your generic jock. Those green eyes never left yours, and a part of was starting to wonder if the two of you were moving closer towards one another.

Suddenly there was a loud rumble through the sky. It was only then that both of you noticed the dark sky. You examined the sky, a small drop of water hit your skin. Jake felt one too, looking at you quickly. It was seconds before a complete down pour started. You howled in laughter and shock as Jake just started laughing. After a few more seconds of taking the rain in, you ran back towards the truck. Jake was right behind you, stopping to lift the tailgate back up while you climbed into the cab.

"Holy shit," the words were breathy from your laughter.

"That was a surprise," Jake said.

The both of you were practically soaked. His t-shirt was practically a different color now. Yours was about the same though. Little goosebumps were starting to prick up along your skin. Jake noticed this when you wrapped your arms around yourself. He reached out hesitantly, brushing his knuckles against your skin.

"You're freezing," he whispered, "come here."

Jake opened his arms and gestured for you to move closer to him. You hesitated for a minute, eventually moving into his arms. Jake's arm were so warm, they were like one of his old sweatshirts that you had stolen forever ago. The sound of rain filled the silence between the two of you.

"I missed you."

The words came out of your mouth before you could stop them. You sat up a little and looked at Jake. There was worry weaved through your expression as if you had done something wrong. Jake moved a hand to your jaw, cupping it then leaning in.

Neither of you fought it, leaning into the kiss and your emotions. For so long the both of you had fought them, telling yourselves that this couldn't be real. But it was.

Jake pulled back and just stared at you, a small smile on his lips. He rubbed his thumb against your cheek, marveling internally at how soft your skin was.

"I missed you too."

[wildemaven]

saturdays with javier : unconditional | javier peña

-> pairing: javier peña x f!reader

-> word count: 1744

-> content warnings: 18+ blog; soft smut, kissing, coffee consumption, lots of fluff, baby cows, mentions reader wears a necklace, zero descriptive features of reader, established relationship

-> notes: what was once known as Coffee, Cows & Cock. The final title nowhere close to that lol This was just another random thought and another excuse to write in some cute baby cows. Big thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey who not only coined the CCC title, but helped cheer me on and beta this as well!!

series masterlist / main masterlist

“Amor, it’s time to get up.” His voice is low and warm against your ear, mindful of the early hour and the way sleep is still so firmly wrapped around your listless self. 

“Mmm, Javi. It’s too early, let’s stay in bed a little longer.” You manage to say, turning your body towards Javier, where he is laying next to you on top of the disheveled bed sheets.

You’re not a morning person per say. At least not if you don’t have to be. Sleep is a sacred function, especially when your husband delivers mind blowing evenings night after night. Sleep is needed. You rise with the sun and start your mornings together. But on a rare occasion, you will wake while the moon is still shining dutifully, bidding it a farewell as you begin your day at an ungodly hour. 

“Against my better judgment, I’m ignoring your plea for more sleep, so time to get moving if we want to beat the sun. The minute we get back, you can crawl back under these covers— I might even join you.” His alluring words murmured against your bare shoulder, the softest kisses in their wake. 

You hold him close. Fingers tangling in his freshly washed hair, smelling of the citrusy mint shampoo you recently bought him— finally running out of his all-in-one bar of soap. He pulls back to look down where you’re still lying comfortably among the heap of pillows. Your hand settles on Javier’s cheek, the coarse stubble is rough and resistant as your palm rests against his cheek— he must have opted out of shaving at this early hour. 

“Promise you’ll join me when we get back and you have yourself a deal, Javi.” 

“Te promeso, mi amor.” His lips mold over yours, sealing his promise with the softest kiss. A promise he’s sure to keep, but he has other plans for the time being. 

Javier works well under pressure. Years and years of elaborate training and risky operations requiring quick thinking on the ground, has made him proficient in his ability to do things in a timely manner with exquisite detail and stunning results. 

Instincts thrum through you. Your body is well versed in the way your husband is capable of pulling you apart— even when sleep is still within reach. Giving yourself fully to his control and allowing yourself to feel every single breath, kiss and graze of his mouth over every curve of you. 

Bedsheets thrown from your body, the cool air of your bedroom is like ice on your skin— a devastating paired with the warmth of Javier’s body over yours. Your legs fall open, welcoming him, a silent plea for him to give you all of him— fully and completely. 

It’s astounding how Javier has the ability to bring you to life. His voice, all smoky and smooth, dances across your dewy skin. His nose pressed to your cheek. Praise pouring from him as he continues to worship you. Beautiful. Perfect. Amazing. 

Javier is all consuming. From the way he makes your toes curl to the way your leg muscles tense as he hits that heavenly spot within you, every bit of him is intoxicating. All you can think about is him— Javier, your everything. 

Before you’re even able to realize it, he has you both free falling. Bodies brimming with a satiated bliss. I love you’s exchanged silently as he kisses you breathless. His body vibrating and warm under your fingertips. 

“Mmm, that was just what I needed to wake up.” You humm against his plush lips. 

“I’m glad you’re feeling more awake.” He kisses you gently. “Time to get up and get this cute ass moving now. I’ve got coffee waiting for us in a thermos. Go get dressed, Amor, so we can get on the road.” 

*

Minutes after Javier has left to warm up the truck, you’ve managed to extricate yourself from bed. You quickly brush your teeth and wash your face, you’re throwing on a comfy pair of Levi’s, a Sherpa lined denim jacket over your thick thermal shirt, some wool socks and your well-worn brown boots. You make sure to grab your camera and a few rolls of film before you’re heading out the door. 

As promised, there’s a thermos of coffee waiting for you in the cup holder when you slide onto the bench seat of Javier’s old pickup truck. Javier is sipping from his own coffee as you settle in, then places it in the holder next to yours. “You’re too far away, Querida. Scooch over here.” He pats at the open leathered space between you. A gentle kiss to your temple as he pulls the lever down to drive, once you’ve reached the spot right next to him. His right hand settles between the warmth of your thighs and rests there as he heads in the direction of the ranch. 

There’s a comfortable silence in the cab of the truck. Your head finds a spot against Javier’s shoulder as you gaze out the windshield. The familiar road is still recognizable even under the dark morning sky. 

There’s a slight jostle, and the truck rolls to a stop. “Baby, wake up. We’re here.” Javier whispers, the arm you had been sleeping on coming up to wrap around your shoulder. 

“Sorry, Javi. I didn’t even realize I fell asleep.” Your eyes slowly open, your shoulders scrunching up to ease the ache in your back from the awkward sleeping position. 

“It’s a good thing you’re my favorite sleepy passenger.” His hand tilts your face towards him, his lips softly molding over yours briefly. “I’ve got to get the gate. Save my spot?” 

“Always.” You beam at him, watching as he climbs out and opens the large metal gate and entrance to the Peña Ranch. 

It’s not long before he’s back and the truck is heading down the dirt road. The headlights guide the truck to its final resting spot for the morning. Beneath the giant old tree that still sits on the back side of the ranch. The tree where you had exchanged your vows, now a regular visiting spot for the both of you.

It’s not nearly as dark as it was when you left your house. The sky now a light blue as the sun slowly starts drifting up over the hills. The light fog slowly burns off, making the pasture a bit more visible.

“How many are there now?” You ask in between another round of sips of your warm coffee. 

“Pops and I counted 10 yesterday. Wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a few more this morning.” He grabs for your thermos, having drunk the entirety of his while you were sleeping, you hand it over as you continue to watch the herd of cows in front of you. 

The newest calves joined the Peña ranch over the last few days and you had been begging Javier to bring you this weekend. In the distance you notice a few little heads pop up above the brush line, awake and ready for their morning milk. Their little legs still not quite acclimated to being earth side as they try to make their way to their mamas, who were enjoying tuffs of the dry grass as they waited for their young to join them. 

Pulling out your camera, you start snapping a few pictures through the window. The tree’s canopy perfectly framing above and the heard off in the distance with a wash of pinks and yellows as the sun finally crests the hilltop. Javier watches you take it all in, his elbow propped against the window of the driver's door, nursing the rest of your coffee. 

“This was worth it. Thank you for the early morning wake up and bringing me to see them.” You settle back into the seat. 

“There might be something else for you in the glovebox.” You sit up, turning to look fully at Javier who's got a handsome smirk on his face. 

“Javier. What do you mean there’s something else in the glovebox for me? I thought we agreed on no gifts this year.” You should have known he wouldn’t adhere to the agreement the moment he agreed to it. 

He gives you a nonchalant shrug and smile that makes you feel like you won the lottery with him— sometimes you can’t believe he’s yours. His arm draped casually over the back of the seat, his chin slightly raised and pointing in the direction of the glovebox.”

You open the small metal door on the truck dashboard. There, sitting on top of the truck's registration and insurance papers, is a small box. You grab it and sit back against Javier, before opening it. You look back at him again, his brown eyes filled with pure adoration and love for you. 

When you lift the lid, you find a small gold pendant and chain. 

“It’s a locket— it belonged to my Mamá.” He says, watching as you delicately remove it from the box. 

It’s a heart shaped locket, etched with intricate details of a flower. You turn it over in your hand, admiring it entirely. When it hinges open, you find a tiny picture of you and Javier on your wedding day already nestled into one of the slots. 

“It’s beautiful, Javi.” Wiping the few tears that have littered your cheeks. 

“I know how much you like that picture. I left the other one open for you to choose.” His hand rests at the base of your neck, thumb gently kneading over your skin. 

“Thank you. I love it so much.” You hand it to him so he can secure it around your neck. You tuck it into your thermal, where it perfectly rests next to your heart. 

You turn in the seat, your hand cupping the side of his face, you pull him to you for a kiss. His hand cradles the back of your head as the kiss lingers for a few minutes. 

“Happy Anniversary, Javi. Now take me home. I think someone promised to crawl back in bed with me.” He kisses you one last time as he turns the key and the engine comes to life. His hand settles back on your thighs, close just how he likes you. 

You don’t know what you did to deserve this life with Javier, to be loved so unconditionally by him, but you’re grateful for another year together and looking forward to many more. 

[racefortheironthrone]

The Unwanted Guest and Grand Lysis

As part of my ongoing obsession with a certain transcendental plural entity, I re-read "The Unwanted Guest" with an eye towards what was Palamedes thinking about Grand Lysis and the nature of spirit magic shortly before the transmutation.

While a lot of the discourse on TUG has focused on the permeability of the soul (for good reason), I found myself on this re-read focusing on a different bit of Sextus' Poirot reveal:

PALAMEDES It’s all so messy … so much messier than we ever imagined. I’ve been in Camilla’s body for months now, and I’ve started remembering things I never saw. This is the real truth of Lyctorhood, Ianthe—it’s not some bloodless swapping-out of batteries. It’s grafting; transplantation. When you absorbed Naberius Tern’s soul, you didn’t swallow a diamond. (emphasis mine)

When I initially wrote my essay about Grand Lysis and Paul, I had thought of the Sixth's version of the Eightfold Word as a megatheorem that was enacted in the very moment as we saw it in Nona. That's certainly how it appeared at the time, but this paragraph above strongly suggests that the process we see later with Paul on the Ninth was in a certain sense already underway throughout their time on New Rho.

This certainly explains why Palamedes was so confident in his psychic duel that he had out-thought Ianthe about something so core to her core area of expertise: the nature of the soul. Because contrary to Ianthe's arrogant presumption that only she had "eaten ice cream," Palamedes and Camilla had been experiencing transplantation-leading-to-lysis for months and had been thinking really hard about what it all meant about the soul and the nature of Lyctorhood.

Moreover, one of the things I absolutely love about TUG is the way it completely recontextualizes and makes us rethink one of my favorite passages from Nona:

They dashed toward the abandoned body of Ianthe Naberius—an abandoned body that was now propped up on its elbows, staring out with pale, distrustful eyes, an expression on its face of commingled hate and despair. “So there was another way, Sextus, after all,” the body murmured. The figure crouched down and extended their arm. “I know how hard it is for you to kick against the goad,” said the new person. “But there are more worlds than this. Come with us. We are the love that is perfected by death—but even death will be no more; death can also die. There’s still time, Ianthe. Time for you, and for Naberius Tern.” The abandoned body stared at what had once been Camilla’s hand, at what once had been Camilla’s face, then at the hand again. After which it said brightly— “I bet you say that to all the boys.”

As I said in my original essay, one of the things I originally thought was so funny about this sequence is the idea that Ianthe would ever have contemplated the idea of Grand Lysis with Babs. But now that we know what passed between Ianthe and Palamedes during their psychic duel, it explains exactly why Ianthe is consumed by "commingled hate and despair," because she's just had a core element of her worldview, her ambitions, and her sense of herself comprehensively debunked and sees the proof of it standing before her.

And it also throws in a different light Paul's offer to Ianthe, which is rendered far more sympathetic and compassionate than before. They’re not just trying to convert Ianthe to their way of thinking, they’re recognizing that lysis is actively happening to Ianthe regardless of her will. Unwantedly, the inviolability of Ianthe's personhood has been compromised because she never stopped to count the cost of ascension, and thus Ianthe Tridentarius no longer exists - she is Ianthe Naberius (not Tern) now. Better to fully embrace the comingling of "proteins and lipids and molecules" and become something new and whole, rather than poison yourself with resentment and denial for a myriad.

And thus the tragedy that Ianthe refuses Paul's good news.

[yougottalovebuckybarnes]

Hi, I’m so sorry that you have been having a hard time and that you can’t graduate when you wanted to I know that must be hard but you’re taking the time to look after yourself and that’s the most import thing!!!!

If and when you’re up to it I’d love to see a part 3 of forgive me, also maybe with a bit of Sam included? I’m a strong believer that Sam would 100% be on Bucky and Y/n side

Forgive Me, Pt. 3 (Bucky x Reader)

A/N: This request for a third part was from AGES ago, so I apologize for the long delay lol. On the plus side, I’ve finally graduated from college so that is no longer a worry! :) Anyway, this series will definitely be getting a Part 4. I couldn’t stop writing and coming up with more ideas lol. I hope you all enjoy!

==========

“Hate” had always been such a harsh word to me. Of all the feelings that existed, that was the one that I never could seem to grasp fully. Perhaps my heart was too soft or my nature too forgiving, but I had yet to find a person that I truly hated.

I could not even find it in me to hate Steve Rogers, despite all that had happened. Forgiveness was still a work in progress, but perhaps one day I would forgive him completely.

It had been three months since Bucky had found me in our bathroom with an open medication bottle in my hand, and it had been equally as long since he had spoken to the rest of the team. While I found it impossible to hate any of them, Bucky could not stand to even look at them. We had moved out of the compound within twenty four hours of his confrontation with Steve and hadn’t been back since.

Our little apartment in the city was comfortable, but it was not home. I knew that Bucky felt the same, but he refused to admit it out loud. Several attempts to urge him to reach out to Steve had not gone well, and my heart ached as I witnessed his anger consume him. Bucky had reassured me that I was all he needed now, but I knew deep down that he needed his friends, especially Steve. This anger would destroy him if not confronted properly.

And that was why I reached out first.

I found myself in a quiet little cafe in the city on a early Tuesday morning, sipping on an iced late as I watched people make their way down the street to work. The chair across from me scrapped on the ground, and I looked up to find Steve Rogers taking a seat. His face was solemn, almost shameful as his eyes made contact with mine. It was a version of him that I was unfamiliar with. The weeks of sneering and secret glares had melted away into shame and regret.

Part of me thought I should be content, seeing him humbled in this way. But I could not find it in me to rejoice in this. Steve Rogers was doing just as bad as Bucky was, losing his best friend the way that he had. There had to be a way to remedy this.

“Good morning, Steve.” I spoke softly, watching him evenly.

“Good morning.” Steve nodded in response, looking a little uneasy. “Look, Y/N-“

“You know why I asked to meet with you.” I prompted, pushing past the need for small talk to get into what really mattered. I was also quite honestly not ready to accept his apology either, if that was what he trying to do.

“Yeah.” He sighed, looking away briefly. “I don’t know what else I can do. Bucky won’t respond to any of my messages and I wouldn’t dare show up uninvited to your apartment.”

“That would not have gone well.” I agreed, sipping again on my beverage. “But we need to fix this, Steve. I’ve never seen him like this before. He needs you.”

“No, he needs you.” Steve replied, his voice remaining even. “And I realize that now. I didn’t know how much he cared for you until that night. Hell, I’m surprised he didn’t tell me that you two got married.”

“That really surprised you?” I asked with a slight scoff. “After how you all treated me?”

“I’m not looking for a fight.” He held up his hands slightly. “I’m just wanting to fix things.”

It was silent for a moment, and I let out a small sigh as I nodded in agreement. We were both in agreement for at least this one thing. While I did care for Steve and the others like family before this mess, all I cared about now was making sure Bucky was cared for and supported. In order to do so, we had to work together.

“Is Sam in town?”

“He is.” Steve nodded. “I’m thinking he might be able to help best since he was nutural in this whole thing. Just talk things over with him. If it doesn’t work, we can figure something else out.”

“I agree.” I glanced at my phone, seeing a text from Bucky asking where I was. I began to rise from my place at the small table. “I have to go now. Let me know when Sam can come over to see him.”

“Wait.” Steve’s voice caused me to stop and I looked over at him. “I…I never gave you a chance to explain your side of things, and for that, I’m sorry. I should not have treated you the way that I did.”

I looked at him evenly, my heart aching in my chest at the memories of the day prior to my attempt and Bucky’s hospitalization. After a few moments of silence, I gave him a sad smile. “If you want to know what happened, look at the Tony’s camera feeds from that day. The journalist stopped me at the front entrance to the building so you should have clear audio. It’ll tell you all you need to know.”

And without another word, I grabbed my purse and made my way back towards my apartment.

===========

Bucky’s POV

It had been odd waking up without Y/N by my side. That had been all but established as part of our routine, early mornings spent together in bed. But for some reason that had been broken on a random Tuesday, and part of me wanted to investigate why.

But her return only an hour later had washed all my worries away and our regular life routines resumed as normal for the next week. Part way through the week, Y/N had left the apartment to run a few errands so I was left on my own on the couch watching reruns of ‘The Office’. But a sharp knock on my door interrupted my plans of relaxation.

I approached the door, assuming that Y/N had forgotten her key inside after I had locked it behind her. But the familiar face of Sam Wilson surprised me as I found him on the other side. “Sam?”

“How’ve you been, man? “ Sam smiled.

“How do you know where I live?” I returned a smile hesitantly, wondering if the others had sent him as one last resort to connect.

“I saw Y/N on the street.” He replied casually, and my shoulders relaxed slightly. “She thought it would be a good idea for me to visit!”

“Of course. Come on in.” I stepped aside, letting him into our apartment and shutting the door gently. “I haven’t heard from you in months. Where have you been?”

“Long term mission abroad.” Sam sighed, sitting down on the couch. “It was quite an interesting experience. But not as interesting as finding out you moved out of the compound. What happened?”

I froze slightly at his words. “Did Steve send you?”

“Can’t I just be concerned about my friend?” Sam replied, scoffing slightly.

“I’m not saying you can’t.” I snorted, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch. “But this feels like an interrogation. I have had enough of those to last a life time.”

“I did speak to Steve, but he only gave me a few details. But I also don’t want to hear just one side. I want to hear from you.” Sam replied, glancing at me. “You two are incredibly close and now you live far apart from each other. What happened?”

All that had happened began to play again through my mind. The article published, the attitude shifts from the others, the gunshot to my shoulder, finding Y/N with the medicine bottle in hand. It was almost too hard to handle. But I willed myself to speak, telling my friend all that had happened.

“How can I forgive him for this?” I asked, my voice cracking slightly. “How can I forgive all of them for this? They did not give her a chance to explain herself, and made her feel like she was worthless. I could’ve lost her forever.”

“How does Y/N feel about this?” Sam prompted gently.

“She wants me to reach out to Steve.” I sighed, sinking back into the couch. “I don’t know how she can forgive him so easily, after all that has happened.”

“Y/N talked to me too, Bucky.” My eyes flickered over to Sam, surprised by his words. “She is worried about you, deeply. “

“I’m doing just fine.” I scoffed, but slightly concerned by his words. How had I not known she was worried about me?

“So you say.” Sam replied, almost skeptically. “Don’t you miss everyone? Steve at least?”

“Of course I have!” I bristle slightly, my metal fist clenching slightly. “But how do I move on from this?”

“I know you can’t immediately forgive the others for this, and that is understandable.” Sam spoke firmly. “But you can’t stay this angry forever. It will destroy you.”

“I can be as angry as I damn well please!” I snapped, glaring at him. “They almost caused her to end her life!”

“Bucky-“

“No!” I rose from the couch, a wave of rage flowing over me. “You don’t get it, and why would you? It wasn’t your wife!”

“No, but she is my friend!” Sam did not move, keeping his gaze steady with mine. “And she is scared that she is losing you, Bucky!”

“I need you to leave.” I shake my head, walking to the door and pulling it open. “Now.”

Sam clenched his jaw slightly but did not respond as he rose from the couch before walking to the door. Just as he was about to step through into the hall, Y/N appeared with a handful of grocery bags in hand. Her smile of greeting faded as she sensed the tension in the room. “What’s-“

“Please leave, Sam.” I repeated firmly, watching him leave before shutting the door behind him. “Why did you invite him here?”

“Maybe because he’s one of your friends and you could use a visit from one?” Y/N walked into the kitchen, placing the groceries on the counter before turning to me. “Why did you throw him out of our apartment?”

“Because everyone is insisting that I must forgive Steve!” I snapped, my jaw clenched. “I can’t even fathom how you can stand the thought of him!”

“Bucky, I still haven’t forgive him yet! It’s too hard!” I shake my head as I watched him through pained eyes. “But I’m not as angry anymore. You can’t let this anger consume you!”

“I heard the exact same thing from Sam.” I let out a bitter laugh. “I can be as angry as I want!”

“Bucky…”

“Did you coordinate this with Sam? Steve too?” I scoffed, not even hiding my anger anymore. “Why are you working with the people who want you dead?”

Y/N’s face went blank for a moment before her eyes filled with hurt. Deep hurt. I had never regret speaking as I quickly as I did in that moment.

“Alright.” Her voice was quiet, trembling slightly as she picked up her purse from the counter. “Dinner’s on the counter. I’m going to go stay somewhere else for the night.”

“Y/N…” My voice cracked as I reached out to grab her hand, but she slipped away from my touch and out the door, slamming it hard behind her.

I walked over to the couch, sitting back down quietly before the first tears began to fall. I could not remember when they stopped, if ever. Perhaps the anger had already destroyed me. And perhaps I had already lost the love of my life because of it.

=====

TAGLIST (from the last part! If you wanted to be added or removed, just let me know lol)

@missvelvetsstuff

@erinallene

@ladyalexandranna

@angelwatson

@buckyalpine

@ada728

@bwhitewolfbarnes

@kjah97

@ineverybreathofyou

@sarbear94

[azzagrazt]

And just like that, he was on the board.  It was a sensitive game to be playing–heroes and gods and aberrations abound—but one he was well-versed in.  He had played it an incalculable number of times across the ages against opponents far more formidable than the Dead Three and a handful of mortals, but they were making a commendable effort.  If not one that was quite obviously doomed to fail. 

          All this trouble over a brain and a crown.  It was almost funny.

          The Bhaalists were sloppy, particularly with the rabid little changeling calling their shots, and so he knew where to be and when to be there to most strategically make his opening move.  The heroes were chasing shadows around the city, trying to save worthless lives, and they were wanting allies—the Gentleman was a good one to have.

          The wine festival went roughly as expected:  a deeply foolish public assassination (delivering the poison during the festival; amateurs) thwarted by the plucky, intrepid adventurers.  And there to jump into the fray alongside them was Luz, who was not half so much a fighter as he was a passable magic adept.  But it had been enough.  All he needed to do was appear minorly injured from the scuffle, and there she came—the little cleric with the sweet face and bleeding heart.

          Luz looked up as she approached, a healing spell prepared at her fingertips, and he smiled.  The wound on his arm was enough to bleed but was otherwise completely negligible to the Dark Prince, but Luz was just a man.

          “Thank you kindly,”  he responded, touching his fingers to the arm of his coat.  They came away vibrant red, and he winced.  “Gods, that was strange, wasn’t it?  What in the hells just happened?”

The fight hadn't been something that Aubrey actively participated in... in fact she had been the one to guide the innocents to safety while the others fought in the middle of a wine tasting festival. It was a damned shame, really, all that wine wasted because shapeshifters had a hit list out for others. A hit list Aubrey was determined to save...

But right about now that wasn't important. What was important were the ones that had been injured amongst all the chaos. Approaching one tiefling that had jumped into the fray, Aubrey's expression was exceedingly kind as she neared him.

"Here, let me tend to that," she urges, her hands held up with the faintest cast of a glow that signified she was about to use a healing spell on him.

@azzagrazt

[smallgodseries]

[image description: A white sign with thin red and blue lines around its edges and held to a rusting wall with small silver nails. It shows an iconic soft-serve Ice-Cream cone character in a running position, giving a thumbs-up. His pupils are shiny dark hearts, but what is most unusual is that he himself is a work in progress, appearing in notional pencil to the left, and becoming a fully realized… ice cream cone at right. Text reads, “Yippee for Mister W.i.p.py!  ~ small god of Works in Progress, #259”]

• • • • •

Golly gee, friend-o, it looks like you’re struggling with structure and motivation!  With foreshadowing and intent!  Need to get that gun on the mantle in act one so you can fire it off in act three, or else you’re going to be short a corpse!  Gosh, is this all too much to keep track of?  Do you need an outline?  Do you need a rubber ducky?  Do you need a nap?

You’re walking with Mister Wippy now.

Mister Wippy is a transitional god, between Anna Spiration, Small God of New Ideas, and Long Hal, Small God of Finished Projects.  He knows he won’t be with you for long, but that while he is, he’ll be all-consuming, swallowing your waking hours, dominating your days.  He can live with that.  He’s not a god of Once Upon a Times, but the god of what comes after, the long inhale between story’s start and “happily ever after.”

He isn’t a cruel god.  He’s not a kind one, either; Mister Wippy is neutral, devoted only to the stories he’s here to see told, and when they’re finished, so is he, melting like the memory of summer sweetness, off to his next worshipper, the next hand he needs to hold.  Mister Wippy is grateful that you spend the time with him, that you support the network of literary gods to whom he is bound.

He loves this project, for there are so many gods to be documented that we will always be among his congregation, however many others we may also be a part of.

We try not to let that worry us.  Some gods wonder and some gods wander and Mister Wippy…

Mister Wippy watches us sleep.

[snoozisworld]

Kung Lao Headcanons (SFW & NSFW)

A/N: I love kung lao so much im gonna explode. i hope i did him justice cuz hes been my fav since mk9

SFW:

Talks/brags about you a lot whenever he hangs out with Raiden and friends. Johnny has to cut him off every time just so they can get him to talk about anything else.

Refuses to eat out now that he's met you. "Why do we have to waste money on restaurants when your food is soo much better?". You're totally welcomed to slap some sense into him.

Tells you he doesn't like when you touch his hat, but secretly loves seeing you wear it. Whether it's because he finds it funny how much bigger it is on you or because he loves that you admire his weapon choice.

Will purposely go shirtless while sparing if you're visiting him at the Wu Shi. Swears it's not because of you but Raiden and literally everyone else says otherwise. (Not that you're complaining)

Loves the beach. Owns a surfboard but no longer knows how to use it (Surfed when he was younger but now the Wu Shi takes up too much of his time)

ADORES when you dress up for him. The fact that you were thinking about him while picking out a hot outfit? He's getting down on one knee as we speak.

Shamelessly checks you out. Everywhere, at any time. I don't fully believe he even knows what shame is.

Would pay for you to become his personal hair massager. The feeling of your nails on his scalp, the little kisses you leave on his head every now and then, loves everything about it. Quickest way to get him to sleep.

Heavy sleeper. Like HEAVY heavy, scares the crap out of you 8 times out of 10.

"Babe, the ice cream truck is here" *sigh* "Fine go get my purse"

NSFW:

The type of dude to say he doesn't like condoms cause they're "too tight". Will wear one if you ask him to regardless.

He sweats a lot during it. Its almost as impressive as it is incredibly hot.

Has the stamina of a horse. Round 2? No, round 47 baby buckle up.

Doesn't think to deep about positions, but if he had to pick favorites it would be either doggy style or cowgirl.

You thought he was cocky normally? You haven't seen nothing yet. This guy will tease you so much it will probably be your cause of death.

DO NOT wear his clothes around him. It drives him absolutely nuts and unless you want to forget how to walk, choose your battles wisely.

(IN MY OPINION) Is not a fan of toys. Especially dildos, no silicone replacements around here partner, he wants to be the only one for you.

Is down for practically whatever as long as he gets to fuck. Whenever, wherever, doesn't matter, just say the word and he's in.

Marks you up literally everywhere. Especially in all the annoying, hard to cover up places. Gets a surge of pride whenever you give up on trying to cover up a hickey of his and just end up going out as is.

A/N: Thats it!! Again, feedback is always appreciated! Also about the surfing thing... I had a random thought about it and now its consumed me. Will definitely explore it in the future ;)

[otgo-brooklyn]

Big Brother Slider, the true Mom Friend™

So we all have that friend, who is 100% the mom friend. And listen, are both Slider and Ice little shits of their own devices? Yes, but i'd say that Ice can be a solid Mom friend, when needed. BUT, when with Slider it just goes out of the window, and pair that with Big Brother!Slider, and you have one hell of a head cannon there.

Every time that they go to the bar, Slider doesn't even leave Ice's side, guards his drink like a feral dog, and rounds Ice up when it's time to go home

Stops Ice from having fun recklessly endangering himself

Once at the bar Ice was on his 5th Whiskey sour before a table sent over 3 shots of tequila, Ice smiled and brought one up to toast, and using his mom senses common sense, Slider abandons his chat with Goose and is at Ice's side in about 3.5 seconds saying "no no no no" takes the shots and whiskey sours out of his hand and drags Ice home

Nearly had an aneurism when he found out Ice let someone else (Goose) drive him somewhere

"YOU LET SOMEONE DRIVE YOU? WHAT IF THEY WERE TRYING TO KIDNAP YOU? KIDNAP THEN KILL YOU!? YOU KNOW PEOPLE HAVE A THING FOR YOUNG BLONDES" "WE WERE BOTH GOING BACK TO BASE, AND IM 24" "SO?? YOU'RE PRACTICALLY A BABY" "IT WAS GOOSE! AND YOU'RE ONLY A COUPLE YEARS OLDER THAN ME" "AND?? HE HAS A MUSTACHE! YOU'RE TELLING ME YOU'D TRUST SOMEONE WITH A MUSTACHE??" "YOU WERE IN THE CAR WITH ME!" "SO??"

Slider always, ALWAYS has snacks and Capri-Suns on his person incase Ice gets hungry

It's like clockwork, every time Ice starts to get hungry, hangry, cranky etc. Slider is there handing over a Capri-Sun and some carrot sticks or apple slices

"Well maybe if you didn-" Ice starts before being interrupted by Slider shoving an apple slice into his mouth mid sentence, and stopping what seems to be the next arguing match between him and Maverick in it's tracks. Ice just glowers at Slider with a pout and starts chewing on his apple slice. "I told you not to skip breakfast, now you're gonna be cranky" "Bite m-" and once more Ice is silenced with an apple slice, as Goose and Mav along with the rest of the flyboys watch on in fascinated horror as Ice's temper is swiftly and expertly derailed by Slider and his apple slices. When they're finished Slider promptly procured a Capri-Sun from somewhere and quickly shoved it within Ice's hands before he had a chance to protest. "No" Ice said looking at Slider "Drink it" "No" "Ice" "I don't want to, so im not" "Toma Mikhailovich so help me god" Slider starts, pinching the bridge of his nose, and Ice just huffs and starts to drink. The flyboys never recovered from this.

Once when filing paperwork Ice got a paper cut, as people do, and the cut is small but the tiniest, tiniest, itty bitty drop of blood wells forward and Slider already has a portable First Aid kit spread out on the desk, Neosporin on a bandaid before being wrapped around Ice's finger and Ice doesn't even blink

It's a whole 10 second ordeal and they just continue on with their lives like nothing happened

Ice coughed once after accidentally being caught out in the rain and Slider straight up commandeers the kitchen to make more soup than Ice could ever possibly consume fully convinced Ice is coming down with something

Admittedly, Ice did in fact get the flu, but Slider was too concerned to say "I told you so"

Despite everything, Slider and Ice (platonically) love each other, and Slider is 100% the mom friend between the two of them

If I forgot anything feel free to tell me!