#i just have to make it about me because i got so attached to this and its my fault for doing that

[brixbraxium]

I think the funniest thing about the Mike room is the fact that literally everything the Green Pippins says is true. Like, haha, yeah! look at all the silly parodies of the fan theories! Isn't it crazy how we all made such a big deal out of Mike when he wasn't really that important? Except... Who is he, actually? It's still unexplained. And the Mike room even gives us new pieces of evidence that make the whole thing even weirder. Like, Tenna's known mike "Since TV World":

Which presumably, judging by this vague shuttah dialog implying a massive shift in the landscape:

Means "Ever since Tenna was bought and installed in the Dreemurr Residence", right? But that'd be... well before Tenna met Spamton, since he only met Spamton after Kris and Noelle brought the laptop home:

So unless this happened literally like immediately after the TV was purchased, it seems that Mike isn't, for instance, a Spamton thing Tenna is trying to emulate. But it also can't really be the other way around, because Tenna clearly doesn't know anything about Mike? He gets fooled by three entirely different impostors, and gets pissed if Mike isn't there in his room. Which seems really weird if Tenna is actually in the know. None of the people in TV World have ever seen Mike. AND YET!!!! Spamton is VERY insistent that he knows something they don't;

And this answer is EXTREMELY WEIRD when you think about it, because, while right now it kinda seems like this was foreshadowing for the Mike Room... That doesn't really make sense? In September 2024, CHAPTER 4's main content was completed:

And yet, Pluey- which we now know is related to the Mike Room- wasn't implemented yet.

Pluey only got added in February!!!! The Mike Room content was seemingly quite last minute. And we can be fairly certain that he isn't saying that they still need to implement Pluey for Console versions, because he really made it seem like the only reason the Bonus Room was added was because of the Switch 2:

All together, what that means is... For some reason, even way back in the days of the original Sweepstakes, it was already known to Toby Fox that Tenna's Crew has no clue who Mike is, but Spamton does, even though this information wasn't originally intended to be actually shown to us???

Which makes the Mike stuff even WEIRDER!!! WHO IS HE!? WHY HAS NOBODY EVER SEEN HIM? WHY DOES SPAMTON KNOW WHO HE IS? WHY IS TENNA SO EASILY FOOLED??

WE KNOW THAT HE MUST. EXIST??

IT SEEMS THAT HE IS ACTUALLY OUT THERE DOING STUFF? 'IT JUST SORTA HAPPENS' !?

IS MIKE, LIKE, A SHAPESHIFTER OR SOMETHING!?!?! IT DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE!!!!

But Lo, on Hopes and Dreams they send. Potential for Relevance appears at CH5'S END.

This TV... Surely this TV is relevant to something, it's right there in Flower King, and it isn't really the setup for any jokes or anything. It's just... sitting there. Waiting. My current conspiracy? Mike is relevant to Chapter 5. And, much like King and Queen kind of have a shared history, and Tenna has a history with Queen, Mike (Potentially this TV????) has relevance to Tenna. But the community got way too attached to the idea of Mike in the Ch2 days. That's why Toby needed to clarify via the Sweepstakes that Mike and Tenna were different- because Mike was important. And the reason the Mike room exists is because he was already making bonus content, and figured that he might as well use the opportunity to politely tell us all of our theories were wrong, while also calming us down a bit by making us think that Mike is less relevant than we thought, while also prodding the mystery a little deeper. People will tell me it's cope, that Mike was nothing. But I say all of this as someone who genuinely thought that Mike was Nothing in the Ch2 days. The information we have literally just doesn't make sense. The Pippins' rant is funny, but, it's also entirely true- every single point he makes is accurate, and I don't think that's a mistake. Mike for Chapter 5..?! Trust..

[justwinginglife]

Stuck With You

I feel like no one is gonna read this cuz it's objectively so, so dumb, but honestly, this is the kinda shit that goes through my head on a daily basis and I just thought it would be funny to write it out. Anyway, here goes.

Synopsis: You're handcuffed to Sylus and he decides to make it the biggest pain in your ass. Approx Word Count: 1300 Tags: There's really nothing of note unless you get grossed out by the happenings in the bathroom. This really is just me fucking around for roughly 1300 words.

You held out as long as you could. You really, really did. But you couldn’t hold out forever. 

You cursed heaven, hell, and everything in between for your bad luck. It seemed there was no getting past this now. You cleared your throat, already regretting the confession that was to come, even before it’d left your lips. “Alright…the moment we’ve been dreading has finally come.”

Sylus raised a brow at you curiously. 

”I… I need to go to the bathroom.” You admitted, crimson soaking into your cheeks, as you shifted your weight around. 

A grin spread across his face, slow and smug, as he processed this new information (leverage). “Well, I, for one, have not been dreading this moment at all. If you have to go, then go, sweetie.” 

Your eyes narrowed, threatening to gun him down with nothing more than spite and spite alone. “You- you know damn well it’s not that simple! You have to… turn around or something!”

He lifted the wrist that was currently cuffed to you, and had been cuffed for the last two hours. The two of you hadn’t figured out much about the link that conjoined your bodies besides the fact that it was extremely inconvenient, and now, it was even more inconvenient. 

“Not very much turning space in here, is there?” He gave shaking your wrists a weak attempt. An hour or two ago, he might’ve actually tried to escape these restraints (the asshole even suggested cutting your hand off at one point), but not now. Not when you’d single-handedly, willingly provided him with the most entertainment he’d had in decades. 

You knew this. And you refused to be his shiny, new plaything. ”So close your eyes then, damnit!”

”Ah, but the thing is, kitten-“ He leaned forward, arrogance and audacity dripping from his lips, “I just don’t feel like it.”

”So what? You’re just going to watch me pee???”

He shrugged casually.

You scoffed before slouching back against the couch. Apparently you’d have to hold it a little longer until you could figure out how to sever the connection between the two of you. But how exactly were you supposed to sever it? The more you struggled against it, the tighter it got, but it was impossible to just completely relax- not when he was looking at you all beady-eyed and brat-faced. And the longer you pondered the situation, the more you regretted admitting to Sylus what your current condition was. Because he was insufferable. 

He feigned playing a game on his phone to cure his boredom, but you knew he was behind the random waterfall noises that had begun to drift into the previously-quiet air. And even though he’d shown no signs of being thirsty before, he soon began to gulp down his water (that he’d seemingly procured out of nowhere!) as loudly as he could. And then there was his absolutely ridiculous dialogue. 

“You know what sounds good right about now? Some peas.”

”Or maybe a piece of pie.”

”I hope nobody peeks into our room and sees the situation we’ve found ourselves in.”

”Goddamnit-Sylus! I already said I’m not gonna pee with you attached to me!” You huffed, whacking him across the face with a decorative pillow. 

“Well, kitten, we’ve got another issue now. Or at least, you do. I have no issues with it whatsoever.”

You threw your head back, groaning in frustration. “WHAT, Sylus, WHAT? What’s the issue? Just spit it out already!”

He grinned, the devil in his eyes. “Well, you see, after drinking all that water, it appears that I need to pee now. So you can either watch or turn around.”

”What happened to no turning space??” You yanked at your joint wrists angrily. 

“So watch then.”

”Can’t you just hold it?!” You exclaimed, exasperated.

”I could but where’s the fun in that?”

”Sylus- this isn’t funny!”

“On the contrary- I find it to be quite amusing. Up we go.” He slipped one arm underneath you, giving you no choice but to accompany him to the bathroom, as he carried you squirming and squealing all the way. 

He didn’t waste any time dropping his trousers (without warning- mind you!) and positioning himself over the toilet (to which you very quickly squeezed your eyes shut). You heard a low chuckle rumble in his throat- the irritating evidence of his enjoyment. 

“Bastard.” You grumbled under your breath.

”Ahhhhhhhh, feels so nice to just…let go.” He narrated.

”Yeah, yeah, I get it! Just hurry it up!” You groaned, squeezing your legs together tightly, trying to ignore the overbearing pressure building up in your bladder. 

”Why? I’m quite enjoying myself.” He leaned in so his breath tickled your ear, “And you could be too if you just let yourself.”

You bit your lip. 

You knew he was right. You knew you would feel so, so much better if you just relieved yourself. After all, your legs couldn’t squeeze together any tighter at this point and your core muscles were already strained beyond belief from holding back the raging floodwaters. But you couldn’t help being stubborn. You’d barely gotten used to having Sylus being around you at all let alone gotten comfortable enough to let him see you piss. This had to be some cruel twist of fate; someone somewhere had to be laughing their ass off, just thinking about how tormented you were. You didn’t want to give them, or Sylus, the satisfaction. So you squeezed your eyes shut and began thinking of random numbers to distract yourself… but you didn’t realize you had started mumbling them out loud.

”Fourteen…fifteen…sixteen…”

Sylus caught on quickly and proceeded to antagonize you further. “Seventy three…twenty one…one hundred and sixty four…five million…” 

You glared at him as he interrupted your train of thought. 

“Just helping.” He teased.

”Shut up, I don’t need your help.”

”But you do need to relieve yourself at some point.” He poked your nose. 

You waved him away but, once again, you knew he was right. 

You glanced down at your joint wrists and made one last, desperate attempt to sever your connection to him, but it remained as strong as ever. At this point, your options were either you pee in front of Sylus or you pee your pants in front of Sylus; both options unfortunately required a sacrifice of your dignity, but one a little more than the other. So you made your choice. 

”Fine, fine. Move!” You tugged him out of the way and sat him on the ground in front of you. 

“We’re sitting now?”

”Yes, we’re sitting! When was the last time you saw a girl pee standing up? You know what, never mind, don’t answer that. Just- face that way.” You planted your hands on his head and turned him towards the wall, attempting to maintain some small semblance of privacy while you went about your business. 

When you were finally sure he wouldn’t peek, you let loose. You didn’t remember the last time using the bathroom ever felt so good, but today, it felt incredible. So incredible that you almost even forgot that there was a 6’2 man sitting on your bathroom floor waiting for you to finish. But, of course, Sylus never stayed quiet for long. There was always a new button to push, a new nerve to unravel. 

As if testing out the new level of intimacy you’d accidentally reached together, he decided to push the boundary even further, because, well, he was fucking Sylus.  “You know, now that we’re in the bathroom, I may as well try to empty my bowels too-”

OH, HE DID NOT JUST- 

“Abso-fucking-lutely not!”

Taglist: @tbaluver @pixelcafe-network

[habaritess]

"I like this"

One of the things I noticed about The Bear is that every first episode has a SydCarmy moment that defines the rest of the season. It is always a moment where it is just the two of them, and what happens usually has a major effect on how the season turns out. First season it was the meeting between Carmy and Sydney, and it was her being hired on at The Beef that finally got the restaurant moving in a direction of professionalism. In the second season, it was Carmy’s failed attempt at asking Sydney out in the first episode, and that failure lit a fire in him that helped kickstart a speedy reconstruction of their new restaurant. Third season, it was Sydney and Carmy together after he got out of the freezer, and it was her disapproval of Carmy contacting Claire and trying to make up with Richie, that ended up building up his guilt towards Claire, which added on to so many of his other traumas that he was refusing to deal with.

This time around, the defining SydCarmy moment of season 4 epi. 1 was a very poorly timed confession. In the start of their conversation, Carmy apologizes for not being good enough, which Sydney disagrees is the source of the problem. Here, she speaks frankly. It’s the chaos that the article speaks of, and she tells Carmy how she does not like it either. Who is the main source of the chaos- Carmy. Carmy is hearing a double meaning. You don’t like Chaos and I’M the chaos…so you don’t like me? He tries to get confirmation. Does she really associate me with chaos, which she just admitted to not liking? He then asks her if she thinks he likes chaos. She pretty much confirms his fears when she tells him how he could be so good if he didn’t have this need for mess. He is the chaos, the thing she openly states that she doesn’t like. And that hurts him. Badly. He tells her:

“Congrats. That knocked the wind right out of me.”

Sydney is confirming his worst fears. That she doesn’t feel the same way about him. And that hit him right in his soul. Sydney, at that moment, doesn’t understand the enormity of what this moment is feeling like for him, and she continues on with the conversation about his love of chaos:

“You don’t need it.”

And Carmy really replies with “Air?” because the dude is truly stunned at this moment.

As the conversation continues, Carmy tries again to defend himself about how he doesn’t like dysfunction. He is trying to convince her that that is not him, do not associate me with something you don’t like. When Sydney asks what does he likes, he takes it upon himself to push further, further than he ever gone before with her because he truly thinks that she is confessing her dislike of him. He tells her “I like this”, what they have, being together at this moment. He likes HER. But Sydney scoffs at it and criticizes his delivery…and Carmy took that as confirmation of his worst fears. He ducks his head and tells her “That hurt”, and after she walks off, he stares longingly at her, eyes slowly watering.

Carmy spends this season believing that Sydney rejected him, and when you really think about it, she kind of did. Just by the way she looked at him when he tells her “I like this”, I do believe she understood that he was referring to what they have, but she was not in the mood to consider any of that because Carmy has been dismissing her for too long for her to give anything other than a negative reaction. She doesn’t want Carmy as he is now, someone so miserable to be around, and she tells him so. She can't take him seriously. Say it without all that misery attached to it. Unfortunately, Carmy takes this as a complete rejection, and this changes so many things for him.

Carmy has an incredibly complex relationship with food. In his desire to impress his brother, he goes to school for cooking and discovers that he is really good at it. So good that for the first time in his life, he is being recognized and openly praised for his skills, and he took much pleasure in being the best and besting his competition. It was his way of proving to his brother that he is good enough to work at his restaurant, because that is truly what is this was all about. Carmy love of cooking is not only tied to his ego, but also who he shares it with. He became the best cook in the world so that he could be worthy enough to cook alongside his brother. After his brother died, Carmy took it upon himself to continue on at The Beef and make it successful, but Carmy had so many shortcomings while also still dealing with his brother’s death, that his attempt wasn’t going well at all…until Sydney showed up. It was Sydney who turned The Beef around, but she also transformed Carmy. She showed herself to be the perfect partner. Incredibly knowledgeable about cooking, so much so she could finish his sentences. She was very business savvy and a great leader, he knew he could depend on her to lead it, especially when the pain of reality got too much for him. She took the spot of the person he loves to cook with, and that inspired Carmy to dream for more and fight for his old dream- the dream to build up his own restaurant, and he does. And all of this is because of Sydney. She became his muse.

Working with her made him love working at the restaurant, he even admits to Claire that Sundays are his least favorite days. The days he doesn’t get to see her. Sydney fueled his creativity. Not only would he design dishes based on what she was wearing, but he also took out his drawing tools just to draw out the imaginary dishes for her and impressed her with it. What she desired, he worked hard to get it for her. Much of his motivation throughout these three seasons was trying to be the best for her. Now, in season 4, Carmy is confronted with the possibility that she might not feel the same way. That she might even dislike him a little and in his mind, and this changes everything. Carmy saw how unhappy she was while he was trying to get her a star. He definitely noticed how she never signed the partnership agreement. Dude probably started to think that maybe he got ahead of himself. Maybe she does not want to be with him as he does with her, and there was even a possibility that she plans on leaving him eventually.  Carmy probably correctly predicted that the thing Sydney wanted to tell him was that she was leaving. The argument at the beginning of season 4, probably confirmed his worst fears. She didn’t sign the agreement because she was never going to be a permanent member. She was one day going to leave him like she did in the first season, and probably sooner than he would like. So he starts preparing.

This leads to some serious soul searching for Carmy. Carmy was truthful with Sydney when he told her how he didn’t want to do this without her. If he could not make her happy then she will eventually leave, and if that happens, then being the owner of The Bear was not something he wanted to do. The Bear was a restaurant he originally created that he and his brother would own. It then became the restaurant that he wanted him and Sydney to own. It was never something he wanted to go in by himself, and none of the people that currently work at The Bear, not his sister, not Richie, not any of the Faks, were what he wanted in a partner. Sydney was it and if Sydney was not going to be part of it, then that was that. His motivation left him this season. He wanted The Bear to succeed for the people who worked there, but he did not want to be a part of it. Cooking, by itself, never gave him much enjoyment. The love of cooking was sharing that love with a special someone, and that special someone, in his eyes, does not feel the same way. 

In episode 1, Richie new hires implement an effective system that is bringing life back into The Bear. Despite that, in episode 2, Carmy is incredibly depressed. He starts thinking of his mistakes and trying to make things right, and for the first time, considering leaving the place he worked so hard to build. So he starts backing off and allowing Sydney to take more control. He starts seeing her talent as not a competition( he is still a competitive person after all) but as a sign that he isn’t needed. He seeks to apologize to Claire, something he probably would have done a long time ago, but didn’t do because he was respecting Sydney’s wishes. He starts listening to his crew and giving them what they needed to succeed.  He starts to explore his other interests and is fully focused on finding himself outside of the restaurant. He created an updated agreement, removing himself completely from the equation because at this point, he figures that since he is the wrong thing in The Bear, the chaos that Sydney doesn’t like, removing himself is best for everyone. 

And his fears get confirmed when Shapiro calls him while Sydney is at the hospital. This time around though, Carmy is prepared to lose Sydney. He isn’t going to freak out like season 2 and 3 Carmy definitely would have. He accepts that she doesn’t feel the same way and plans accordingly. He seeks out Claire as he eases on to a possible future without Sydney. This is happening all the while, Sydney has no idea that Carmy has given up on them as a partnership.

And when she finds out, it crushes her. Something interesting to note is that Carmy finds Sydney outside, and when he asks her about what’s going on, she replies how she “is getting some air.” Carmy leaving her has left her similarly breathless, the same way Carmy felt when he believed she turned him down. It is a great way to show that the strong feelings between the two are mutual. She does want him as much as he wants her, but she keeps him at a distance so well that it has fooled Carmy into thinking that she doesn’t.

And in their big confrontation, Carmy is confused as hell. Why are you upset at me leaving when I am chaos to you, something you didn’t like? Why are you upset when you were going to leave me anyways, now you have a restaurant of your own? And Carmy tries to explain to Sydney what he feels about cooking. He tells her that hasn’t been enjoying it lately. He doesn’t have anything to draw from anymore. There is a Sydney sized hole that he feels he no longer has, so that enjoyment is gone. It’s gone because he believes Sydney is leaving for Shapiro, so it’s best if he leaves and let her keep the restaurant because the love of it will leave with her anyways. And through the argument, with Syd not getting it, he lays it on her and explains why her owning the restaurant is for the best, why this is a great opportunity, and why he wont leave her in this mess and will make sure the business is okay. And Sydney, damn Sydney. She pulls every excuse out in the book why she isn’t happy with him leaving to avoid the main reason. She made it out as if him leaving her a failed business is why she is so upset, but after he promises that he will make sure it doesn’t fail, she couldn’t use that excuse anymore. As he cites the reasons why this is a great opportunity for her, there is no happiness there for her, because none of that matters. She loves the crew, she enjoys the business, but the one and only reason she chose to stay and sink with the ship was purely because she wanted to stay with Carmy. And sadly, it’s at the end of their confrontation when Sydney finally gets to the real reason why she is upset. She doesn’t want to lose him. And we get cut off once Sydney finally admits the real reason why she hates seeing him leave, and we miss how Carmy reacts to it too, but the way he stares at her as she is crying after Richie interrupts, he might be putting two and two together.

Can’t wait for the next season.

[rainrot4me]

Raaahhhhh sub Jeff my beloved. He definitely would not go down without a fight but I think with enough time and persistence you could have him begging…

AHHHHHHHHH AH AH AH. I am clawing my skin off I am drooling everywhere oh my god oh my god give him to me NOW.

๑ Warning: Implied vaginal/anal, choking, forced submission

── .✦

Jeff would absolutely refuse at first. He’s a rabid animal, all bark and bite, fighting for top dog status. But the moment you get your hands on him the right way, talk to him the right way, he crumbles—there’s a desperation in him that’s basically starving for someone to dominate and love him at the same time.

You can either be controlling or comforting in your approach. Force him down, yell in his face, outmatch him—or coax him, rub your hands all over his body, tell him how amazing he’s doing. Either way, if your conviction can outlast his ego, you’ve got him.

๑ Sex:

He hates admitting it, but the second you put a hand around his throat, the fight drains right out of him. It’s like grabbing a cat by their scruff—his eyes unfocus, his breathing is shallow—it’s like a temporary reset switch that silences all the chatter.

“If you think you can make me beg, you’re outta your mi—hhnd— ohhh, fuck—”

He’ll still try to act tough while you ride him, spitting curses, hips bucking to regain control, but he’s melting inside. “Fuck off— you think I’m gonna— shit—” He just can’t keep up, and it’s sending him spiraling.

“Oh, fuck— don’t stop— fuck, please—”

Once you praise him? He’s goneee. “Good boy.” “You’re doing so well.” “You’re making me feel so good.” That’s all it takes. You’ll see his whole body twitch and a wrecked gasp break through. His mouth moves to make fun of you, but it’s interrupted in the way his body moves to please you again and again.

“You… you gonna let me come? Say it. Say I can, or I’m gonna lose my fuckin’ mind.”

Grabs the sheets, claws at your waist, tries to rut up into you until you pin him back down. He fights like all get out, like trying to put a new collar on a street-mutt. He’s stronger than you, but there’s something about letting you hold him down that has neurons firing in his brain and telling him to just take it.

“I swear to God, if you tell anybody I let you do this, I’ll— fuck— keep going, keep going—”

๑ Romantics:

He’d lie with you after, face buried in your chest, letting out those little frustrated whines because you ruined him, and he secretly loves it. Jeff wouldn’t let something like that happen willy-nilly. If you’re able to knock him into a sub-space, that means subconsciously he’s attaching himself to you—mentally and physically.

If you trace your fingers down his back, he arches into your touch like a cat. He’ll preach that he doesn’t like to be coddled, but scratch the back of his head or rub his shoulders and you’ll see just how well that statement holds up.

“Don’t think I’m your fuckin’ pet,” he growls, but the second you twirl his hair around your finger, he’s practically purring.

Will never in his entire life admit it to anyone. He has to uphold this facade of being a douchebag with a big dick, no way in hell is he letting others know you’ve got him wrapped around your finger. But when you give him a look or say his name in a stern voice, it’s clear how he gets skittish and gruffly apologetic.

“D-don’t look at me like that— like I’m— yours or somethin’.”

๑ And a little blurb for good measure:

Jeff had been running his mouth all day. Cocky, violent, tossing you around just to show he could, acting like he was untouchable. So you decided to teach him a lesson.

You had him pinned, wrists tied to the headboard with his old leather belt, slowly sinking down on his cock with a smug smile while he cursed under his breath. Jeff still had the gall to grin at you, eyes wild.

“Shit— you can’t just—”

You cut him off with a hand against his throat, pinning him back against the pillows. “Shut up, Jeff.”

The look in his eyes was feral—a shiver ran through him. He wanted to fight you for control so bad, but couldn’t. You started to move, slow, torturously slow, rolling your hips in an agonizing rhythm. Jeff’s nails dug into his palms, knuckles white.

“Faster—fuck, come on—”

You tightened around him, grinding down, but never sped up. His whole body jolted. You could see him trembling, sweat dripping down his temple, jaw clenched so hard it might break.

“Beg.”

He shook his head, stubborn even now. “No— I’m not— gonna—”

You squeezed around him again, deliberately slow, letting him feel every inch of you, dragging him out of you to the head of his cock before slowly sinking back down again. His voice broke, a strangled moan slipping out.

“Say it, Jeff. Beg me to go faster.”

He writhed under you, trying to buck up, but you pinned him down easily. Your hand stayed on his throat, reminding him exactly where he belonged. His eyes glistened, frustrated and desperate, cheeks pink from shame.

“Fuck— baby— please, please just— go faster, please, I can’t—”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider. “That didn’t sound very convincing.”

He whined, actually whined, his voice cracking as he completely gave in.

“Please—I’m begging you—fuck—ride me harder, baby, please, I can’t fucking take it, please—”

You rewarded him, picking up the pace, slamming your hips down until the bed rattled. Jeff’s head fell back, eyes rolling up, mouth open in a silent scream. He tried to grab your hips, but you pushed him down again, using him how you wanted.

“Good boy,” you whispered, and his entire body twitched.

He came hard, nearly blacking out from the intensity, babbling incoherently under you, praising you through choked breaths:

“S-so good, you’re so fucking good—don’t stop, please don’t stop—”

You didn’t stop. You kept riding him, milking every last drop, until he was crying and shaking, overstimulated and ruined, hands still fisted and pulling against his belt.

“You’re— fuck— you’re evil.”

꩜ .ᐟ

[gali-vue-la]

do y'all ever think about what happened after the third movie.

i dont, often, because i dont like the third movie. ive only watched it once, so i could be wrong about some things, but i was just thinking today about how things would've gone on in the days and weeks and years after.

mostly, about hiccup, because all i ever think about these days are hiccup and toothless. i was thinking about how, for a large part of his life, everything about hiccup has revolved around toothless and dragons. how it was, really, the first thing he'd ever done that got more than a glance from someone else. more than a "get back inside before you mess everything up more" from his father, from anyone.

we see two of hiccup's inventions in the first movie: first, the mangler, which was built, designed, and operated with the intent to help his village, to hunt dragons, to be like everyone else. it is dismissed outright, he is dismissed outright, and later, it is crushed under the foot of a monstrous nightmare that intends to kill him. we don't ever see it again, it is never thought of or acknowledged again, and i can just picture the wood rotting apart, the metal sinking into the earth until no trace remains.

then we see toothless's tailfin. everything it represents is contrary to what the mangler was; it does not help the village, it does not hunt dragons, it makes hiccup even more of an outlier than he already was. it is the only of hiccup's inventions thus far to have been taken seriously, the only thing anyone else has ever put value in. we see gobber, at the end of the first movie, with a tailfin he constructed for hiccup, for toothless, from hiccup's destroyed design and what must have been his notes, because it is the only invention that they have ever cared about, the only one they have bothered to take a closer look at. it comes, in turn, with the arrival and acceptance of dragons.

following that, we see so many, countless, of hiccup's creations. i wont even delve into the shows, because i could be here for hours.

in the second movie, we see his glide suit, his sword, his leg. even little things, like where he stores his map, his little compass, and the tailfin, which carries over from the first movie, with improvements—every single one of these once again revolves around toothless and dragons. every one is important when it comes to saving berk and the dragons from drago's clutches.

his glide suit, we later see, is furthered in the third movie, and by then, each of the "main gang" has their own flight suit. it's vital in defeating drago and outsmarting/outmaneuvering him. it is something hiccup so clearly adores, something he needs toothless to use and something that furthers the connection between them. he uses it to fly alongside him, he uses it to soar the skies, he uses it like a pair of prosthetic wings.

his leg, too, is so entangled in what has become him-and-toothless, that it is specifically designed to be different to the walking attachment when he's flying with toothless. there was no need to make it different, and yet, flying and dragons and toothless are so important to him that they have their own spot, their own design, their own piece of themselves in something hiccup cannot live without. it's like a key in the lock that is toothless's tailfin; they cannot fly without this specific, unique design of hiccup's prosthetic leg. this specific, unique design of hiccup's prosthetic leg that serves no purpose other than flying with toothless.

this brings me to my original thought: his sword. Inferno.

It is a blade, yes, but like everything else hiccup has made since the first movie: it is so entangled in everything that makes dragons dragons that it is almost inseparable. Zippleback gas and Nightmare gel are what make it Inferno and not a mere skeleton of a sword. except it's not infinite, and it's not forever, and with no dragons around after the third movie, he will run out of gel, and he will run out of gas, and inferno will become a skeleton of itself. something that no longer works like it should, like hiccup designed and built it to.

what do you think happens, when that day comes?

hiccup is so entangled in everything that makes dragons dragons that they are almost inseparable. what do you think became of him, in those days and weeks and months and years after? do you think he broke down every time he had to give up one of his creations? do you think he became numb, despondent, as he watched so much of his hard work become unusable? useless, once more, like he had been? do you think he fell back into the boy he once was, before dragons? do you think he felt worthless? Hiccup, the dragon master, without dragons? do you think he struggled?

I do. I think it was horrific, and excruciating, and enough to break a lesser man.

i think he used that blade until the day he ran out of gas and gel. i think he couldn't bear to use it after, strong as it still may be, because it didn't work right. it didn't work like he intended it to. i think he hides it away, because he can't bear to look at it, but he keeps it close, under his bed, maybe, or in a chest that's always closed, because he can't bear to be apart from it, either.

I think he used his scale armour until it broke apart, reached for shedded scales to grind to paste and fix it and instead scraped fingernails against the bottom of an empty bucket.

i think he ran his fingers over his glide suit, over every one of toothless's prosthetic tailfins over and over and over again until he realized they were wearing beneath his touch and the oil from his hands, and then i think he hid them away, so he'd never be tempted to touch them again. so he could never lose them, so he could never ruin them. so they'd last forever, even though they'd never be used again. i think he can picture them, perfectly, in his mind, every single detail and every single second he spent making them, but he's terrified that if he touches them, if he ruins them, he'll forget, and he'll have nothing left.

i think he did the same with his notebooks and designs, filled to the brim with sketches of not only his inventions, but of dragons, of toothless, of his tailfin, of every gear and mechanism he used, because he's terrified of losing them. he's terrified of forgetting how he made it, of just how long each metal boning had been, of how he fastened the leather, the angle of the curve it needed to be to fit perfectly against toothless's tail without chafing or being too loose. i think that it stays in him, in his hands and in his bones and in his mind, instinctively, that even five or ten or one-hundred years later he could still make that tailfin with his eyes closed and his hands behind his back and i think that it would be perfect, but i also think that he is more terrified than anything that he will forget how to. i think his breath stutters when he works with pulleys, and i think he has trouble wrapping leather around metal for the rest of his life.

i think that one day, with the wear, and the tear, and the strain of use, that his leg breaks. i think it shatters apart as he gets out of bed one morning, because his hands shake when he tries to check on it, when he tries to maintain it, and he hasn't been able to do more than oil it in quite a while. i think it breaks apart like glass, with metal strained and torn and weak, and i think that he falls apart when it does. i think he doesn't move, for a long, long time, fallen to the floor without anyone to catch him like there used to be, and he holds the pieces in his hands like they're more precious than gold, than anything else, because to him, they are. i think he tries to piece it back together, but the important parts are shattered, and it keeps falling apart and he doesn't have enough hands or fingers to keep it from doing so. i think that he stays there until someone finds him, and i think it takes hours even then, while someone holds his hands in their own to stop them from shaking, until they get gobber, and I think gobber makes his new leg for him, because hiccup can't.

i think gobber makes his new leg with a flight attachment, i think he makes it exactly the same as the previous one, because he can't imagine anything different. i think he does it because he's scared of what it'll do to hiccup if he doesn't.

i think that at the end of the third movie, so much has been taken from the village, from the people of berk, and from the dragons, but i think it takes and takes and takes even more from hiccup. how many things, do you think, he has made, that he holds and sees and touches after, that are rendered useless? how many things was he working on? how many designs are in his notebooks that will never become real? that he will never get to test and try and experiment with? how many ideas do you think he had, waiting for the right moment, that he now can't even bring himself to write down?

how many ideas does he have, after? how many times do you think he starts reaching for his notebook, for a piece of metal in the forge, for a hammer, before he realizes, what for? What's the point?

how many times do you think he realizes that so many of his ideas are useless once more?

[avsanderoth]

Writing Techniques #3: Scene Transitions

Hey again! Sorry for the lack of an upload yesterday, I don’t have much of an excuse. Today’s topic is fairly phoned in, and that’s because I couldn’t think of a larger subject that scene transitions belongs to (and even if I could, the post for that thing would end up WAY too long). Anyway, enjoy!

Almost always when I get into a writing “zone”, it ends with a scene coming to a close and me hitting the brick wall that is transitioning to the next scene. Sometimes it’s making the shift feel natural, other times it’s deciding what scene should simply come next. Over the years, I’ve made some tips for myself that make the process a whole lot smoother. Now, I’d like to share them. 

Scene definition

Before we start, what even is a scene? Is a scene the place that your characters find themselves in, regardless of the topics they discuss or how the move during that discussion? Is it the whole chapter, or just a part of it?

Personally, I define a scene as a stretch of a story wherein a character or characters find themselves in one particular location and/or are discussing a specific topic. A scene ends only when the author decides that it does by cutting to the next important moment. Even if your characters are moving throughout a scene, so long as there is no cut, it is not a new scene for every location or street or otherwise that they pass through.

With that in mind, I like to think of my scenes as knots in the red thread of my story, where events are “collaged” and attached to certain areas or topics. 

The precursor

Scene transition starts with the final moments of the scene you’re ending. Here, you must lay the groundwork for what is to come next - give the story a reason to move as it shall, and through a variety of means. 

First, character motivations. Having done one thing, your character now wants to do this other thing - simple and reliable, so long as it makes sense. A character who just got saved from drowning probably shouldn’t have a hankering for going to the swimming pool right after, nor should a criminal feel like visiting the coffee shop straight across from the police station. These things obviously have exceptions depending on the characters in question, but it’s important to consider the world’s logic as it appears to the reader, as it may very well differ from you, the author’s!

Then, you have events. Sudden happenings that scrap plans and force the making of choices. The first question to ask yourself is: precisely how aware should the reader and/or the characters be of the encroaching event before it occurs? This will really depend on the event in question: a bomb going off at someone’s workplace can very well be a total surprise, but the reader ought to know what’s going to happen when the villain uses a macguffin taken from the protagonist to enact their evil plan. Not everything should be a surprise - sometimes, letting your reader tense up at knowing things the characters do not is far more effective. 

A very tiny note: try to avoid using “suddenly” as the segue into every surprise transition. You can very well just say “a rumbling echoed through the halls, and every alarm in the building started blaring red” and skip on that first word. 

How did we get here?

Making a transition feel smooth is equal parts the above, equal parts the means of transportation. Both in terms of how they physically move between locations, and how the characters’ mood, motives and states of being shift with time. 

Unless your story has some magical means of transportation you haven’t fully described yet, the second part is rarely an issue. Your character can walk, or take the bus, or use any other means to move about, and you won’t need more than a sentence of implications to get that across to the reader - sometimes nothing at all!

Did your character take the bus? Have it drive away behind them at the scene’s start. A carriage? Basically the same, or maybe they step off and the chauffeur waits for them there. Did they get there on foot? 90% of the time, you don’t need to say a single thing. Provided they didn’t walk a really long distance, then you might want to make that clear to the audience. 

A lot of the time, you really don’t need to place any emphasis at all on the means of transportation - again, so long as they aren’t of your own invention and the reader hasn’t been fully familiarized with them yet. 

The second aspect can be trickier. You don’t want to start a scene with a complete tonal shift, rather, you want to ease off of the “vibe” of what came before. If your preceding scene ends with the MC huddled in an alleyway, crying, the next scene shouldn’t be them back at home watching TV with no lingering signs of what they just went through. More appropriately, it could be them walking home, fighting a mixture of despair and exhaustion, and then maybe masking those feelings under the aforementioned sense of nothing being wrong. 

As far as your side characters go, the reader naturally doesn’t have the same look into their mind as they do with the protagonist(s). Still, it can be good to pretend that they do - write out their thought processes and conclusions like you would if their perspective was being followed, then use that basis to make their shift in beliefs and goals feel reasonable. This is just a fancy way of saying “know your characters and they will be easier to write”, but I think it’s worth saying anyway. 

The end

Thanks for reading! This post is much more reasonably sized than the last one, and hopefully doesn’t have as bloated examples. They’re a lot of fun to write, but I have a hard time keeping them small enough to where they don’t get me sidetracked. 

Also, I had an idea for something  to try!! If you have any techniques you use for scene transitions, even just ways to describe characters shifting locations or otherwise, feel free to describe them in the comments! Chances are you know at least half a dozen things I don’t and haven’t included here. Bye!!!

[thistle-wrote]

Alone Time

John Price x F!reader CW: Sexual content, BDSM, consensual restraint, mildly suggestive language.

Your husband, God bless him, doesn’t always know how to deal with you, which, to be fair, is completely valid.

To understand his exasperation with your general aura and personality, you must first understand Johnathan Price. As an SAS captain, he’s had enough danger, excitement, and spontaneity to satiate him for the rest of his life.

This is what had originally attracted you to him, truthfully: how peaceful he made your life. No dramatic arguments, no real issues, actually. Sure, he’s a tad controlling, but it’s nothing overbearing, and truth be told, you never minded giving him that control. It’s no surprise the wedding happened so quickly after meeting; who wouldn’t give up today’s very questionable dating scene in favor of a man who finds whiskey and the newspaper “fascinating”?

Despite what most may consider ‘boring,’ you love your husband and his strange little interests. You think he must feel the same way about you, but in reverse: you’re the woman who barks at men in the pub just to weird them out enough to leave you alone; the woman who puts karaoke on the TV just to make him laugh; the woman who says things like, “How do we feel about me learning the harmonica?” and “What if I turned into a chicken… what would you do?”

He adds peace to your life; you add some much-needed energy to his. Your husband’s ‘boring’ nature, however, does not extend to the bedroom, because thank God, he was neither shocked nor put off when the third brown Amazon box this week showed up to your home.

“What’s that?” he hummed from his spot on his recliner, blowing out a plume of smoke as the words left his lips.

“Straps for the bed,” you said nonchalantly. Any embarrassment you may have once had pertaining to sex left your head a long time ago.

“Good purchase, love.” He chuckled and smiled. You knew that look: he was going to put that to good use. And good use he did. That evening, you two thoroughly tested the restraints, had what was honestly probably some of the best sex of your life, and knocked the fuck out.

The straps, your new favorite toy for the time being, got broken in a few more times in the next few weeks before you both inevitably lost a little interest. Despite the fact they hadn’t been used in over a month now, they still remain attached to your bed. “Just keep ’em there,” John had said. You figured maybe he planned on having one of those days he plays a little rough in the near future and left them. However, you were incredibly deceived.

Because your husband, while he loves your wild nature, also values his alone time, and he found his way to get it.

“Lovie,” John’s voice called from the bedroom. He typically doesn’t have to call more than once; that loud, deep voice could get anyone’s attention. So you made your way up the stairs to your shared bedroom, only to find John standing beside the bed.

“C’mere,” he said, the sound deep in the back of his throat. As you walked up to him, to put your hands on his bare, hairy chest, he lifted you, surprising you a bit, but you definitely were not complaining. You let out a little squeak as he placed you on the bed.

For a moment, your interest was quite piqued when you watched him grab hold of one of the straps to fasten it around your wrist. He hadn’t undressed your clothes, but you figured maybe that was part of the game.

“Oh?”

“Mhm.”

You lay there, waiting patiently as he tightened all four straps. You didn’t speak much, just watched him. However, what was turning into excitement died and turned into confusion as he grabbed the remote to the telly once he’d adequately had your hands cuffed.

“What are you doing?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him, the confusion visible on your face.

“Bunny rabbit,” he began with a little smirk, a mischievous look on his face that you very rarely see.

“Yes, sir?” you asked, laughing at him just a little bit, more out of amusement or confusion than anything else.

“I have been trying to read that book for three weeks. Do you know why I can’t?” he asked you. His question had no genuine irritation or anger; his words were followed by soft laughs.

“No?” you asked. If you were being honest, you hadn’t even realized he didn’t finish that book yet.

“Well, I can’t concentrate, because you’ve been humming that song nonstop, and I can’t focus… so I’ve come up with a solution. I’m gonna turn on a movie, and you’re gonna stay here until I finish my book.” He smiled. Both you and he knew that if he had just asked you to stop humming, you would’ve. Clearly, this was fun for him. You weren’t in any harm, you weren’t upset, so you decided to go along with it. It’s been forever since you’ve actually sat down and watched a movie anyway.

“Seriously?”

“Dead serious, rabbit.” And so, through your giggles, you watched as he checked the straps, turned on some ’90s movie, and left the room. Actually, you ended up falling asleep in the middle of the movie, but John finished his book.

Only John would think to use the sex toy you bought just to get some alone time.

CoD Masterlist

[joaosnovia]

Can I ask João something? Where the reader is disappointed with her brother for treating her badly because his girlfriend doesn't like her. So João, the reader's best friend, ends up helping her – he likes her – I don't know if that got confusing... That was the dream I had about him It was so cute and sweet, that I woke up bursting with cuteness!

love you girl 🫶🏻💞

ꨄ - 3005.

WARNINGS:: none?

WRITERS NOTES:: first of all my bad for this taking too long but IM DONE WITH EXAMS atleast! best believe all the fics remaining will be posted 🥰. also ive come to the conclusion that fics WILL be named after songs if i can’t find a good title

TAGS:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp @universefcb @mariejuli

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you’re sitting on the curb outside your house when he pulls up.

joão doesn’t ask questions. just parks, gets out, and sits beside you. hoodie low over his forehead, rings on his fingers, quiet warmth in the way he bumps your shoulder.

you don’t say anything.

not at first.

because how do you explain that your own brother, your built in best friend since diapers, has started acting like you’re too much, just because the girl he’s dating can’t stand you?

‘was it bad?’ joão asks gently.

you nod, eyes stinging.

‘he told me to grow up. said i make everything about myself. all because i asked if we could hang out for a little. just us.’

joão goes silent.

too silent.

then:
‘you know he’s wrong, right?’

you shrug, wiping at your cheek. ‘maybe he’s not. maybe i am too much.’

‘don’t say that.’

you almost laugh. not because it’s funny. because it hurts.

‘he’s my brother, joão. if he doesn’t like me, who will?’

he turns to you. fully. and it’s like the whole world stills.

‘me.’

you blink. heart stopping.

‘what?’

‘me,’ he says again, quieter now. ‘i like you. i always have.’

your lips part. nothing comes out.

joão’s hand finds yours on the cold concrete. his thumb brushes your knuckles like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

‘you’re kind. you’re loyal. you’re real. you care too much, which isn’t a flaw, it’s the best part of you. your brother’s lost in his own world right now. but i see you. i always have.’

your chest tightens. something sweet and unbearable rising in your throat.

‘why didn’t you ever tell me?’

he smiles, soft and sad.

‘because you always looked at me like your best friend. but tonight? i couldn’t just sit there and let you believe that you’re hard to love.’

you stare at him. warm eyes, hands on yours, like he’s been waiting for this moment without even knowing it.

‘you don’t have to say anything,’ he adds quickly, nervous now. ‘i just wanted you to know. you’re enough. more than enough.’

i see you. i choose you. always.

it’s just easier that way. soft little moments stolen in between life, his fingers brushing yours under the table, his voice in your ear when no one’s looking, his lips on your forehead when he thinks you’re asleep.

he’s gentle with it. with you.

like love should never have to be loud to be real.

and you’re so full of it, the quiet kind, that you don’t even care that it’s secret.

until your brother finds out.

it happens one weekend at a family lunch. you hadn’t planned on it. joão was just supposed to drop you off. but then your mom insisted he stay. and your brother, already moody, already attached to the girl who still doesn’t like you, was just… waiting to pick a fight.

so when joão grabs your hand under the table and you forget to let go?

yeah. game over.

‘are you serious?’ your brother blurts, eyes flicking between you two like he’s seeing ghosts. ‘you’re dating him?’

you flinch a little. not because he’s loud, because you weren’t ready for this to turn into a thing.

‘yes,’ you say quietly. ‘we are.’

he scoffs. leans back in his chair like it personally offended him.

‘you’ve got to be kidding me. is this some attention thing? or are you just trying to piss off my girlfriend?’

you freeze.

and joão, ohhh he’s already sitting up straighter.

‘don’t talk to her like that,’ he says, calm but sharp.

your brother narrows his eyes. ‘stay out of it, man. this is between me and her.’

‘not anymore,’ joão says, jaw tight. ‘you lost the right to speak to her like that the second you started choosing your girlfriend’s opinion over your own sister. and for what? because she’s kind? because she wants time with you?’

your brother’s mouth opens. then shuts.

you just sit there. stunned. breath caught in your chest.

joão turns to you, voice gentler now.

‘you don’t have to take this. not from anyone. not even family.’

and something clicks in your chest.

because for so long you thought standing up for yourself meant starting fights, or walking away, or crying in secret. but now, now there’s someone who looks at you like you matter. who backs you without needing to be asked.

you reach for his hand.

he squeezes it tight.

your brother is quiet for a while. then:
‘so this is serious?’

joão doesn’t hesitate.

‘it is.’

and you… you smile.

because yeah.

it is.

[brucewaynehater101]

I have this concept of a world where Batman truly only saw the Robins as sidekicks and nothing more, abandoning them when they became what he saw as a liability. Talon Dick, A Jason who became hood, then realized how Bruce really saw him and focuses on trying to protect the city as a crime lord and do more good than batman does, and a Joker Junior Tim. Not sure where Steph would end up here, perhaps just as Spoiler.

Then Damian comes into the picture. In this AU i'd imagine Talia doesn't realize that this Bruce is a piece of shit and thinks that Damian will be okay with him.

Damian is NOT okay with him. Damian has high expectations of his father, and his father ends up arguably treating him worse than the league does. Bruce tells him not to kill but doesn't give him a real explanation of why, puts him in danger and doesn't care too much if he lives or dies. Tries to mold him into his perfect tool. He wasn't treatedwell in the league but he knew talia loved him. Something happens and he runs away.

A boy with green hair( the dye faded but he's taken to redying it) and a pale-makeup face meets him and they end up forming a strange alliance.

Eventually they meet the others, grow to consider each other brothers, and either get out of the city and/or take down the Bat for good.

I imagine in this au JJ's personality would be very attention-seeking, but with a good heart (previously-repressed wish to be aknowledged combined with Joker trying to make him into a murderous comedian). Cannot stand 5 seconds of silence. Fond of calling Damian nicknames that start vaguely relevant then become more surreal and detached from anything (think Ninja kid to Ninja turtle to various turtle species.) Carries a baseball bat like Harley and since he in canon likes baseball JJ has various "bits" he likes to do relating to it.

Damian in this AU would have a major blow to his self-esteem after what happened with Bruce, and after seeing what happened to the others oscillates between trying to convince himself to return, ("i'm the blood son, surely he wouldn't do that to me?" type thinking, plus thinking he deserves whatever Bruce does after he ran away, something the League would have never tolerated) and accepting Bruce as a monster.

JJ gets Damian a turtle.

Oh ~ How I love JJ AUs and bad Bruce ^^

Alright... Let's really delve right into the background of this AU. You stated that Bruce/Batman threw away his Robins when they weren't of use to him anymore. This would include them being uncontrollable or ineligible for the field. Also, Bruce is hella fucked in this. Forewarning you now.

For Talon!Dick, let's say he had dormant Talon juice(?) in him from when the CoO was interested in Haly's Circus (so around when Dick was nine). Dick got recaptured by them either right before or after he became Nightwing. This led to the Talon stuff being activated/added to, but he still retains a bit of sentience/independence. Bruce kicks his ass to the curb after this and puts Dick on a watchlist.

Jason is picked up by Bruce afterwards, a Batman looking for a replacement. Bruce got attached to having a Robin, sees a free orphan, and yanks the little dude. I am undecided on whether Jason knows an abridged/Bruce-version of what happens to Dick or if Jason assumes Dick is dead/no contact. Unfortunately, Jason still dies. He comes back later as RH and realizes everything he thought about Bruce was fabricated, manipulated, and tinged by a child's perspective. Jason initially has beef with Tim still, but he eventually decides to wash his hands of all Bats.... Until Talon!Dick hunts him down and practically imprints on Jason (recognizing Jason as a former Robin abandoned by Bruce) [though this occurs much later].

Tim goes to Batman because Bruce still loses his shit (depending on how bad you want Bruce, maybe Batman is more upset at losing out on a chess piece he spent so much time training/cultivating). Their relationship is hella weird in this because Bruce only sees Tim as a sidekick/pawn, but Tim is trying to manage/control Bruce. Let's say Tim lasts in this role until he's just after 16 (so we can have the 16th birthday ^^). Instead of Jack finding out about Robin (maybe Jack never wakes up or dies afterward), let's have Tim instead become JJ. Thus, while Tim is kidnapped, Steph becomes Robin. Obviously, Tim is dumped by Bruce after he is rescued.

For Steph, we'll say she's 17 when she becomes Robin. Because of this, she is not as young and impressionable as the other Robins. She challenges Batman more, questions his authority, and isn't blindly obedient (which is all good btw). Bruce becomes fed up with not having a controllable pawn, fires Steph, and her whole dying stuff happens. While Steph is "dead," she finds out about how Bruce abandoned all the other Robins. This is why it takes her so long to tell anyone else she is alive.

Damian arrives after Steph "dies." Bruce is ecstatic because he has a new, young, impressionable, and easy to guilt Robin. It's even better because this one is related to him (extra manipulation points). Damian, at first, is glad that he has no competition. He's happy to be with his father... but he ends up realizing it's even worse than with the league (not that he thinks of the league as "bad" at this point). His mom, for safety reasons, won't take him back either. So, Damian decides it's better to run away. While he's trying to hide from Batman, he catches the interest of JJ.

Eventually, Talon!Dick will find out about Tim and Damian (more abandoned Robins) and imprint on them as well. Jason, Tim, nor Damian are happy with this arrangement at first. Unfortunately, Dick forces em to bond until they all like each other (and maybe they trauma bond a bit when Batman starts hunting each of 'em).

For Steph, she joins a bit later. She does come back and join the Abandoned Robins Club, though (Damian is technically an honorary member).

Idk about Cass and Babs in this

[rhindou]

back to you ♡ — oliver aiku

notes. friends with benefits to lovers. alcohol consumption. references to explicit content but no explicit acts. kinda angsty but with a happy ending. word “bitch” used in an ironic/funny context.

side note. happy birthday oliver, one of my fav bllk bois.

you knew you should’ve stayed at home. he could never miss one of those parties where everyone can invite everyone.

despite not being in contact for multiple months, your circles are still really close. nobody knows exactly what happened between you and oliver, and it’s for the best.

you knew that a friends-with-benefits type of relationship wasn’t a great idea, but you still agreed and threw yourself into a sinkhole. it was the worst decision that you ever made.

“uh, hi” his voice surprises you. you slowly turn your head, just to be met by his wonderful eyes. they’re still as attractive as the first time you’ve seen them.

“hi, aiku” you mumble, trying to keep your reaction as calm as possible.

“damn, we’ve hooked up with each other for months and now you’re calling me by my surname” he laughs, then proceeds to take a sip of his gin tonic.

“say it a bit louder, so everyone can hear you clearly” your voice sounds bitter, making oliver chuckle again.

“i thought everything ended in good terms between us” he says, “or am i missing the signals?”

yeah. signals were missed. from both sides.

besides how good he made you feel, you can’t erase that memory where, after a heated night, you asked him to stay. he could have replied in a thousands of different ways, but he chose “that’s for the people who are dating each other” and, right after it, he got up and disappeared quickly from your apartment.

you also can’t forget how many times you were at the same parties, events and festivals, and you found yourself looking around to meet his eyes. he also did that. sometimes you noticed him staring at you first.

and then, how can you forget the slight jealousy painted on his face when you introduced him to your closest male friends? all that, as if he were scared of losing you.

“i don’t remember” you brush it off coldly. his expression is getting a bit annoyed.

“have you perhaps being seeing anyone? like, dates or whatever?” oliver asks, sipping what remains of his drink.

“why are you interested in my answer?”

“because” he seems unprepared, “… i don’t know, i just wanted to know how have you been, how’s it going on with your job, studies, relationships and stuff like that”

“it’s all going good, nothing to complain about” you basically ignore the question and answer with the standard response to avoid extra small talk, but the young adult in front of you doesn’t seem completely satisfied with your answer.

“i’m sorry for my behaviour” he breathes, “i’m sorry for leaving you and disappearing”

“why are you telling me this months after we broke up our friends with benefits thing? as if i haven’t moved on” you continue, hoping to close that conversation as soon as possible.

“because i could not move on” he confesses, “and a part of me thinks that you haven’t either, so i’m trying to do what i should have done months ago”

you blink a couple times. it’s true, kind of. you haven’t been seeing anyone recently, just because the wounds left by what you thought was going to be a serious thing but wasn’t. this thing’s name is oliver aiku.

“some days ago i’ve read that even if there’s a no-strings-attached deal, the involved people actually develop feelings, since they associate the other person with dopamine and stuff”

oliver quoting facts that seem like to be scientifically valid. you blink again and stare at him. he muffles a laugh.

“why are you looking at me like this? you look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

“it’s not that, it’s just that… you have a valid point”you have to admit that not only he had a great argument, but it was also true for you. you definitely have some feelings for him, but you’re too proud to admit them to yourself.

“i was thinking about proving that theory, what do you think? wanna give it a serious try?” he purposes, with his signature, attractive and elegant grin.

“uhm, well, i don’t know if it really needs to be tested, since i already have my answer” now your voice is noticeably calmer than before, since you understood what’s oliver’s plan.

“what do you think?” he asks, curious of your answer, even if he can imagine it.

“that’s true” you nod, observing his expression change into a big smile that he can’t hide.

“so… are we back then?”

“we do, i guess” you shrug and turn around, already walking to reach the table where a large selection of drinks is available.

oliver laughs and throws his plastic cup in a bin. “bitch” he smiles at your behaviour, which immediately changed when he let you intend what he was going to ask you next.

he’s madly in love with you. he has always been. he was just very skilled in hiding it. and now, he’s back to you.

written by @ rhindou | 01072025

[cosmowgyral]

Book of Memories: Silvio and Azel

This is a fan translation so please don't expect it to be 100% accurate. Creative liberties have been taken. All content belongs to Cybird. Reblogs are appreciated but do not repost. Hope you enjoy!

video credits: @.mapleibara ♡

⊱ Chapter 4

Silvio: …That bastard wanted to come back no matter what it took.

Silvio: Do you know why?

Azel: No, he’s never told me himself.

Azel: And besides—am I even supposed to ask about that?

Silvio: Probably not.

Silvio: …But the fact you’re asking that way means you’ve got a guess, don’t ya?

Azel: Yes, well… more or less.

He looked up at the night sky and let out a soft, quiet breath.

Azel: Because I was a "slave." Wasn’t I?

The prince laughed quietly, lifting his eyes to the same enormous moon.

Silvio: I had drinks with him once, back in the day.

--flashback--

Silvio: …I could get ya back to Tanzanite.

Silvio: But if someone who’s been exiled tries to go back, wouldn’t they risk gettin’ executed?

???: If I’m caught, yeah. Even if the god tries to stop it, the High Priest will make sure I die.

Silvio: You’d still go back? It’s not like you’re even attached to your homeland.

???: …True. But there’s this adorable little brother of mine in that country. He's like an angel.

Silvio: Thought he was a god, not an angel.

???: I hate the word “god.”

Silvio: Didn’t mean to offend ya, but far as I’ve heard, Tanzanite’s god doesn’t have any nasty rumors around him.

Silvio: He oughta be treated well, right? Can’t see what you’re so worked up about.

???: Gods… are just slaves to people.

Silvio: Huh?

???: People beg the gods for salvation and selfishly wish for miracles.

???: My little brother has always listened to countless prayers… and granted them.

???: So what’s the difference between that and being a slave?

???: Even though he’s saved so many, no one ever thinks to give anything back to him.

???: Because saving people is just “what gods are supposed to do,” right?

???: They work themselves to the bone, used and discarded—how’s that any different from a slave?

Silvio: …That how it is?

???: You’ll see when you go to Tanzanite. That country still chains my sweet little brother down like a damn slave.

???: Technically, I guess he’s being threatened.

???: He’s smart. But after his two older brothers were tortured half to death… he didn’t have a choice but to obey.

Silvio: …If all that’s true, then maybe this god ain’t anything like I imagined.

???: Yeah. That’s why, even if I get killed or tortured again… I can’t let him live like a slave.

???: You’re the eldest too, right, Prince Silvio? You’d understand.

Silvio: Tch

--flashback ends--

Silvio: …Wasn’t sure what to believe, honestly. Thought maybe your brother was just talkin’ big.

Azel: But after chasing me around all day, you realized the whole "slave" thing was true.

Silvio: …Don’t make it sound like I’m some kind of stalker.

Azel: My apologies.

Silvio: So, you really think of yourself as a "slave" too, huh. Your brother didn’t want you hearing that word, ya know.

Azel: Gods and slaves aren’t so different, really. The only thing that changes is the name.

Silvio: …Like that desert rose?

Azel: Exactly.

At nearly the same moment, their eyes turned to a patch of wild grass.

The plant, called a “rose,” had taken root firmly in the wasteland.

Silvio: …Doesn’t it bother you?

Azel: Of course it does.

Azel: I used to dream of freedom too. But I’m a god.

Azel: As long as I sit on this throne, I have to keep being a source of salvation for the people.

Azel: The people of Tanzanite can’t live without their god anymore.

A cold wind swayed the wild rose in its place.

Silvio: …That’s just bullshit.

Azel: Bull…shit?

Silvio: Huh?

Azel: I’m sorry, it’s just not a word I’m familiar with. Is that a Benitoitian term?

Silvio: Hell no.

Silvio: For someone who knows everything, ya sure don’t know the useless stuff.

He downed the rest of his drink and set the cup down on the mat.

Azel looked genuinely curious, his divine eyes silently asking for an explanation.

Silvio: "Bullshit"’s what ya say when somethin’ just pisses you off—when ya can’t take it anymore.

Azel: Hmm…

Silvio: Guess it’s kinda filthy for someone holy like you to be sayin'.

Azel: But it has a nice ring to it. Bullshit.

Azel: I especially like how far it feels from anything sacred.

Silvio: Hah. Then on days like this, go ahead and shout it out.

Silvio: Like—“You damn bastards! Let me rest already!”

Azel’s star-filled eyes widened, then broke into bubbling laughter.

Azel: That’s good. Next time I feel like swearing, I’ll say bullshit.

He chuckled for a while, shoulders shaking. Then, with a more serious expression, he turned to Silvio.

Azel: Thank you, Prince Silvio.

Azel: I feel like I’ve learned something truly important… something deeply human.

Silvio: …What’re ya on about?

Azel: Because "bullshit"—that’s a word only humans are allowed to say, right?

Silvio: ……

Azel: As expected of Prince Silvio… not just a first-rate source of gold—but a truly great seafarer.

Silvio: Hey, I heard that.

Azel: I was so deeply moved, I’ve decided. Starting today, I’m your loyal servant. I’ll follow you for life.

Silvio: You think butterin’ me up like that’s gonna make me throw cash at ya—

Silvio: Hey—wait, don’t actually try to lick my boots!!

The quiet desert night swallowed their voices, still warm with laughter.

It was the first time the great seafarer and the sacred god truly opened up to one another.

It was the beginning of a bond that would last a lifetime.

[Chapter 3] [Masterlist]

[kedreeva]

I’m having a hard time picturing your quail waterers. Could you possibly post a picture or diagram please?

So, the water system is on top and on the sides of the cages, and the towers are too heavy for me to move safely by myself to get a good view of the whole thing, but I can post what it's made of and some of the parts I can access.

The reservoir is one of these:

You can use any size that won't be too heavy for your build when full of water. Mine are the pretty standard "storage tote" size. I got the water tight ones with locking lid, but actually it doesn't need it because the system is valved. But they were the clear ones so I could see water level and know when to fill and if there was anything going on (like algae growth).

From the side of that, we cut a hole and installed a water tank outlet fitting like this:

A tube connector screws into that:

And then you attach clear rubber aquarium tube to the ridged side (the screw side goes into the tank fitting). I suppose it doesn't have to be clear tubing, but clear lets you see if there's a problem.

The tubes will be in short pieces, and a T joint connector at each level:

The straight side goes up and down, the center stalk goes to the cage with a short tube.

Each cage will have its own end fitting, which consists of a bit of PVC cemented together with PVC cement and sealed with aquarium sealant. Technically the PVC cement SHOULD seal it, but that shit is SO HARD to get exactly right and you're better off just not even worrying about it and sealing it with silicone.

The PVC will be whatever size fits into these little shits

We were unable to find them in stores, so had to order online. The drinker cups we used WERE available in stores but they only came in 2 packs and were extremely expensive compared to the larger packs, and they're a bit fickle (I have a pair of the expensive ones, it's the same shit).

and then you need an end cap on the PVC.

So this is one of the completed end fittings. You can actually put in several cups if you want, but I haven't found a need with the smaller groups I use. If you're keeping more than 6 in a cage, you might want to add a second cup (1 cup per every 5-6 birds seems to be just fine). The thin grey line to the left near the end cap is a zip tie (we zip tie the whole thing to the caging)

You want this end fitting to be lower than the T fitting!! so that water drains down into it and air flows back into the main line to exit into the reservoir. If the end of this points up or is higher than the t fitting, you will end up with air in the lines, and the potential to vent air when they press the tongue valve. If that happens, it can actually startle birds into no longer wanting to use the cup, which is obviously not ideal (you CAN retrain them but not doing it to them in the first time is better). You also want to check these fittings daily- make sure they aren't leaking, and that they are expressing water when the valve is used. The only problems i've had were when I trusted the cement to work on its own, and I had to remove the system and reseal these end fittings with silicone.

This tube/end fitting will need to go through the wire. The 1x2 wire you can just stick the tubing through and attach the end fitting unit. 1/2" you'll have to be careful to put your end fitting up on the cage and then figure out where that means the tube needs to enter through, before you cut. It will likely be a short fat rectangle of wire removed, not a square.

Lastly, you want the tubing to go down below the last cage, and end in a drainage valve.

This allows you to drain the system for winter, or if there's a problem and you need to take it apart. The tube should be long enough you can place the end into a bucket (this one was serving time as a spider house, with a free spider takeout meal webbed to it).

here is my terrible rendition of the system as it looks attached to the side of the towers.

You can also look up "gravity fed quail water system" and find other examples to get an idea of what one looks like in general.

I would, before you add quail, fill the system and leave it for 24 hours with plastic under it, or at least on a surface where you can tell if it leaks. You don't want to be fussing with a water system while the quail are thirsty.

I would also advise you to have bottle waterers available in case of system failure and/or for winter, unless you plan to heat the area. When I enclosed the quail area in my barn with butcher plastic and put down straw on the floor, the birds kept the area pretty warm for a long time; the system only froze once it dropped below 15F (this doesn't mean yours won't, just that I found a way for my own situation). I didn't drain it on purpose to test this, so I would know for the future when I HAD to disconnect and drain it for winter and when I could get away with leaving it connected for a liiittle longer.

And for very last- the quail likely will not intuitively know how to use a drinker cup. For the first week or so, go out a couple of times a day and depress the tongue valve, to fill the cup with water (you may need to do it a few times, but usually once they start drinking their activity will continue to refill the cup for a bit til they've all had a drink). Continue doing this a few times a day until the quail don't all immediately run over and start gulping water like they will never get another chance (one or two might still, but they shouldn't all act like this). That's when you know they figured it out and are drinking on their own.

I hope that helps!

[marsdql]

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗲: 𝗵𝗶𝗮𝘁𝘂𝘀 / 𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 (???) — MAIN PINNED

✾ ─── 𝘵𝘸. 𝘝𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘙𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵

Hi everyoneeee I’m sorry in advance for all the typos in this messy lil rant … I’m not read proofing this lol

I don’t know what’s up with me but I suddenly got a huge chunk of guilt and shame thrown at me when I looked at my fanficion, more specifically my posts containing smut. — I’ve never been the one to be very religious and I have no idea where this came from??? So it was really random but it just gave me the urge to remove everything and start over.

At first I was telling myself that I’d remove the smut posts and I’d continue with fluff/angst fics but then remembered about the fact that people can still see my posts from the reblogs and that just rlly sank in and added more to my shame .. like .. it’s done I can’t remove it completely even if I wanted to . I feel like I’ve sinned and I’ll continue sinning each time someone comes across the posts

Now like I’m scared to stay on here because I’ll get reminded about the fanfics I made in the past each time someone likes it from a reblog and I just know I can’t handle remembering about it I just want to forget it completely

I don’t wanna take a break off of the app either because I know it wouldn’t change anything, id be stressed the entire time off the app and then when I’m come back, those posts are still there so like nothing rlly happend???

And I know this is my fault and this is js me dealing with the consequences of my actions and I’m not blaming or asking anyone to delete their reblog of my ffs I’m aware this is all a me problem concerning my life stuff wtv BUT IT STILL KILLS ME IDK I know I shouldn’t have done this but I Gen never felt such guilt after « sinning »?? It’s like I never really cared about this stuff and I don’t know where this came from but it’s gen ruining my mental health so bad to the point I feel disgusted even trying to write anything close to smut again . I feel unpure and dirty in a way I can’t explain it and the problem is I don’t feel this way when reading it, only when I make it and idk man 😭😭😭 recently I’ve been having so many things go wrong in my life and I feel like this just added on top of it even tho writing was what usually made me forever about my problems

At the same time, I know I’m really attached to this account and my followers. It’s my very first account where I started writing so it means a lot to me.:: I’ve been thinking about this for a while, but I just haven’t been able to bring myself to delete it EVEN THOUGH I’d probably flop without it since most of my followers are here for the smut more than the fluff or angst. I feel like removing the smut might kind of ruin the whole vibe of the account. I’m also too scared to leave tumblr forever or to remake an account and flop even worse or to not regain my current moots on it (I know I’m too scared to tell everyone « oh hi this is my new acc » blah blah) and I’m so embarrassed of this post so I’m not tagging anyone either

I have no idea what I’m talking about anymore. Sorry if this was so so messy. I’m too embarrassed to look over at whatever I just wrote and fix anything . All in all Im so confused on what to do and that’s leading me to possibly quitting my account for good even though I know that doesn’t change the fact my posts will still be available here (I js wanna forget abt it) . This is why all my posts have been removed and if I stay, i won’t be making smut anymore or even keep my reblogs available bcz I’m took scared of becoming bipolar about posting then wanting to delete and not being able to fully delete it from the app

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

hii!! hope u doing well

if this aint too freaky can u plz write smth where like reader is begging a lot for 00s dave take her out to shopping but hes denying, she goes under his skin with begging for him to take her to the mall and he just decides punishing her putting a vibrator inside her and taking her out for the damn mall, obliging her to act normal when she just cant 🥴

btw i love ur writing 💗

Warnings: Smut, public sex, oral (m receiving), use of toys (in public), orgasm denial, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

After begging for weeks on end for Dave to take you shopping he finally agreed, on the condition that he gets to pick your outfit.

"Seriously?" You asked, peeking over his shoulder to look at him as he sat at his desk in his studio. "That's it, you want to pick my outfit? You're not gonna make me go in, like, a pig costume or something, are you?"

Dave chuckled and shook his head, pushing his chair away from the table as he got up. "No, nothing like that, I'll pick out your outfit and you wear every last detail." He wrapped an arm around you, sweetly kissing your forehead as he made it way out of the studio.

You followed him back to your shared room, a hop to your step as you went, finally getting what you wanted. He had you sit on the edge of the bed with your back turned to the closet while he picked out an outfit for you.

Dave had good taste and a good sense of fashion so you weren't too worried in that aspect, it was the 'every last detail' that had your attention. You heard him flipping through hangers and setting down clothes on the bed behind you, you tried to sneak a peak but he just turned your head back.

A drawer opened and closed, your first thought was a watch because Dave had a good collection of those, but he never let you wear them so it didn't make any sense. "Alright, get ready." He said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Your eyes widened at the sight, not because of the outfit he'd gotten for you -a short skirt and a band shirt of his, an older one from the eighties that fit you much better than it would him now- but at the toy he'd set on top. Vibrating panties; thin black lace panties with a toy attached inside, a two inch nub to make things worse.

"Every last detail, darling." Dave mused, a devilish grin spread across his face as he caught you eyeing the outfit.

"Dave, you can't be serious." You said, arms dropping to your sides.

"We don't have to go if you don't want." You were about to protest but he cut you off. "Don't worry, I'm not going to humiliate you in public, I just want a little fun." You supposed that was something, but you were still wary of his wording. You really wanted to go shopping, if this was the price to pay... Maybe it could be fun, at least you hoped it would be fun.

You took the clothes, including the panties, and went to the bathroom to get ready. Returning a moment later Dave was waiting on the bed, changed into jeans and a shirt of his own, having already tied his shoes even -he wanted this to go fast, he wasn't much for shopping. "You've got it on?" He asked, to which you nodded. "No you don't." He sat up, patting the spot in front of him.

"I do too!" You said, even lifting up your skirt to show him.

Dave nodded. "Yeah, I see you're wearing them, but I'm not calling you a good girl for cheating, you didn't turn them on."

You scoffed, fixing your skirt. "I did too."

"You didn't."

"I did!"

Dave flashed you a remote, thumb pressed down on the button with no reaction whatsoever from you. Your face flushed a deep shade of red at being caught.

Dave stood and got to you in a few short strides, grabbing you roughly by the shoulders and bending you over the bed. You didn’t argue, only sighing and looking back at him over your shoulder. He stood behind you, hands roughly grabbing your hips and holding you still. He leaned down, lips going right by your ear. “You’re really gonna behave through this?” He asked, massaging the flesh of your ass. You gave a small nod, a pout tugging at your bottom lip. He gave you a quick smack before standing up and letting you get up as well. “Alright, come on, then.” He said, heading for the door.

You huffed and followed him, barely making it out the door before he turned it on. Your knees buckled and a moan slipped from you, your hand gripping the doorframe to keep you standing. Dave laughed and walked back to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Better to get that out of the way now instead of at the mall, huh?” He asked, giving your hip a light squeeze.

He led you out of the house and to his sleek black car. Living outside of town was beautiful and scenic, but it also gave Dave a long chance to torture you. Almost an hour long drive into the city to get to the mall, he’d keep the toy going, getting right close to the edge -your chest heaving, heavy breaths leaving you, loud moans filling the car, your hips rolling on the brown leather seats. Then it all stopped, he took his thumb off that button and you were left whining and holding back tears, couldn’t risk ruining your makeup.

He found a spot further from the doors, it would be easier to park there. He wrapped an arm around you and led you up to the doors, so far not touching the button. You had a few stores you wanted to go to, the first three were easy, you found some shoes you liked, a few shirts. Dave was supportive as usual, complementing your choices and picking out a few of his own.

After the third store Dave spotted one he wanted to check out. “We’ll be quick.” He assured, tugging you along.

You pouted. “Davie, we’re supposed to be here for me.” You whined, tugging back on him to get him to stop.

Dave shot you a look, a brow raised. “Oh, are we? You didn’t make that clear.” He said, a little meaner. You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest, leaving him to make a decision. “How about I go in my store and you go in your store?” He suggested, tugging a strand of hair behind your ear. You smiled widely and nodded, already waving.

You made it barely five feet before stumbling, a jolt going through your body. You looked back at Dave who was grinning from ear to ear. “Problem?” He asked, pressing harder on the button to increase the vibrations. You bit your lip and shook your head, leaning against a nearby wall for support. Dave came over to you and held you to his side. “So, my store?” He asked, you reluctantly nodded and followed him into the store after he stopped the toy.

He let you sit down while he looked around, he’d come over to you every few minutes with something new to show you, acting as if nothing was wrong or awry. Then you were off again to another store, and the next which was farther away.

You were talking about something else, going on and on. Dave was listening but he was also looking around, when he spotted a lingerie store. He smirked again and squeezed your hip to get your attention. “What about that, huh?” He asked, knowing you weren’t allowed to say no. You shot him a look and nodded, heading in with him.

They had some nice things, a few things you liked, some things Dave liked. You got five or so things to try on before slipping into a dressing room while Dave was still looking through a few other things, checking the prices and internally crying for his wallet.

“Sweetheart?” He called in the dressing room area, unable to find you. He didn’t say it loud so as to not call attention to himself, but you didn’t hear him. He waited a minute, feeling weird standing in such a store by the dressing rooms with a few sets all by himself. He stuffed his hand in his pocket and pressed down all the way on the button. There was definitely noise behind one of the doors, Dave walked over and knocked.

The toy had a lot more power than you thought it would, it brought you to your knees in the stall. With a hand clasped over your mouth you reached up for the door and unlocked it. Dave pushed it open and slipped in, locking it behind himself.

He smiled widely down at you. “What? Having a hard time?” He asked, holding the remote out, his thumb still on the button. You nodded, desperate for some relief of some kind. Dave wasn’t that nice, he reached down to undo his belt and fly, pushing his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his semi-hard cock. “Be a good girl.” He purred, tapping the tip on your cheek.

You did your best to not make any noise as you opened your mouth, taking the tip in to muffle any other noises you wanted to make. You let him do the work, rolling his hips into you, his cock quickly hitting the back of your throat. Your own hips were desperately bucking against nothing, the toy doing its job well. You were basically riding the air. Dave smirked, struggling to hide his own groans.

He pushed his boot under you, pressing it right up against your clit. Your eyes shot wide open, tears that had been threatening to fall freely gliding down your cheeks now. Drool was starting to slip past the corners of your mouth, dribbling down your chin. Dave grabbed a fistful of your hair and began thrusting into you faster. You knew you’d be caught if there was too much sound, so you grabbed his balls.

Now it was his turn to cover his mouth. He gave a nod, looking down at you with dark eyes, letting out a heavy breath. His hips rocked into you more aggressively, chasing his high while still torturing you, making you ride his boot with that stupid fucking toy making you lose your mind. Massaging his balls was working, making him throw his head back sooner.

“Mmph, fuck…” He groaned, doing his best to keep himself quiet. You were getting far too close to begging him to fuck you right here in the stall. He was pulsing down your throat, balls tightening in your hand. Dave bit down on the meat of his thumb, his hips sputtering as he shot his load down your throat.

All of a sudden the vibrations stopped. Dave’s head fell back in ecstasy, holding your nose in his bush until he came down from his high. He pulled away from you, tucking himself back into his jeans before helping you up. He took the chance, with his arms around you and his lips right close to your ear, to speak. “Crazy you thought it would be that easy.” He teased. “Don’t worry, the ride home will be much more fun.” He assured, patting your ass before leaving the dressing room, leaving you to finish trying on the sets.

[slamncram]

you hear me realize - 2.6k words - Stavier

Well, it's been a few years since I wrote (and posted!) fic for any fandom, but @andlatitude and I recently rewatched Narcos... And then started rewatching it again. And are about to start rewatching it... again. One thing led to another, and, honestly, who was I to refuse when the motivation to write came surging back? Starting off with this little bit of stupid, yearning men - but there will absolutely be more to come. Got the bug, now. Theoretically, I cannot be stopped. (Also, teeechnically I'm waiting until tomorrow to post the second part of this on ao3, but I'm just going to put the whole bit here, because I'm feeling both giving and lazy! So... Enjoy!)

also on ao3

______________

Maybe the heat was getting to him.

That, he knew, was a stretch as far as an explanation went. Steve Murphy had been living, working, and hunting down drug dealers, in Miami, for Christsakes. Heat was something he could handle. It didn’t make him crazy. Hell, Bogotá was usually cooler than Miami on any given day. Medellin? That was basically business as usual.

But, if he lied to himself long enough, maybe it could explain things. He just needed to be able to turn a blind eye and ignore the truth he was all too familiar with, and blaming the heat gave him the ability to do just that, if only to himself.

Surely assigning the heat, some other, outside factor, to this would work. It was only because everything was new, and he was still settling. Colombia was a foreign country, where he didn’t know anyone, really, outside the embassy staff, and any touchstone he could get outside of the apartment he and Connie had moved into, any person that he felt a connection with, of course he was going to get attached.

Maybe he was just reading too much into it. That would be the best scenario.

“You all right?”

“Hm?”

It was an altogether useless response, and Steve knew it. He could see the way Javier Peña’s eyebrows furrowed just slightly as he stood just inside the door to their office, fresh mug of coffee in hand, and knew that he, too, wasn’t sold on that. It wasn’t like Steve to not be on it.

“Ah, yeah, yeah, just…” Steve shrugged, waved a hand. Sitting forward at his desk he turned back to face it, staring down at the photos he’d been looking at, before.

Before Javi had gotten up, walked away, and made Steve start hoping that the completely familiar heat in this country, mixed with being a fish out of water, was just getting to him. It was telling, to him at least, that he hadn’t flipped away from the photo on the very top of the stack since Javi had left their office, minutes ago.

Unlikely that Javi would have been looking that closely, though. The photos Steve developed weren’t usually his concern until Steve started waving them under his nose.

“Thinking.”

“Huh.”

Glancing up, Steve could tell that Javi was aware there was more to it than that. ‘Thinking’ was hardly an explanation from Steve, and he knew that already, even though they’d only been working together a few weeks.

To his credit, though, he didn’t push it.

And Steve liked that, about Javi. He pushed it when he needed to. Right now, he didn’t need to.

Neither of them needed him to do that.

“Well, don’t do too much of that, yeah? You might—“

“—hurt myself? Yeah, Javi, I’ve never heard that joke before.”

It was hard to look away from the grin that broke out on Javi’s face, but Steve did, flipping him off as he went back to what he’d been working on. That only made Javi’s laugh, when it came, a little louder, as he went to his own desk again.

Thankfully, he sat down and shut up, and let Steve focus.

Focus was something that was getting harder these days, too, and he knew he shouldn’t ignore it. Sure, he was driven, and he was motivated. He wanted to catch and deal with these son of a bitch narcos just as badly as he had when he’d first landed in Bogotá. 

But, that didn’t change that sometimes, some nights, hell, some days, focus seemed to enjoy going in and out like a bad radio signal. He couldn’t get a handle on it, and maybe that was because he was spending countless hours with the person that was causing the issue.

Admitting that, though, admitting that maybe it wasn’t just fish out of water syndrome, felt dangerous, because Steve knew that meant he needed to look another diagnosis in the mouth and stop pretending.

Give up on the illusion that there wasn’t a hint of obsession lurking in the corners of all of this.

Obsession was a hell of a thing. Steve couldn’t afford to let it creep in, but he could tell, despite his best efforts, it was. Admittedly, maybe his best efforts weren’t much, but they were something. Day after day, slowly, but surely, he could feel it settling in, making itself more comfortable and, in the process, making him less so.

It was different from the obsession to nail these assholes, too. That was like someone had dangled a perfectly cooked steak in front of him and he was a starving dog. This was…

Steve glanced at Javi, settled back in at his desk, then back down at the photos.

This wasn’t unlike that.

It was just something he hadn’t really thought about in a while. Since his early twenties, at least. And not like this.

That was then. This was now, and this was Colombia and the goddamn cartels and there was way too much on his plate to be getting distracted.

Distracted by the sound of Javi moving, shifting papers, opening drawers, digging a paper clip out of a cup on the edge of his desk, flipping a folder closed. Distracted by the sound of him pulling in a breath, the kind that preceded words.

Steve knew the sound of his name – any damn part of his name – passing those lips too damn well, already.

“Murphy.”

There it was.

Looking up again, Steve made eye contact with Javi. How long had he been watching him? He’d been over there, working, filing, and yet, somehow, Steve felt like he’d been caught. Not that he was giving anything away. He hadn’t been sitting over here with his Javier Peña-related personal concerns written all over his face.

Probably.

It felt like he could’ve been, though, with the way Javi was looking him over. That simmering heat under Steve’s skin flared for a few long seconds, daring him to do something stupid, to say something fucking stupid, before he reigned it in and shoved it away. Ignoring it, again.

In general, ignoring it was not going as well as he’d hoped. He needed to get better at that.

“You want to get a drink tonight? Unless something good happens in the next two hours, I’d call today a bust. A bust calls for a drink or three.”

Say no.

Would be easy.

He had excuses.

“Sure.”

Javi’s smile was reason enough to have not said no. Confident, assured, clearly pleased as he sat back in his chair, the wooden frame creaking under his relaxed weight. Probably, he had expected Steve to say no, but, here they were, and Steve would be an idiot to pretend there wasn’t a part of him that was intrigued to see that Javi seemed pleased with that easy, unloaded ‘sure’.

“Don’t got any other plans. Might as well work on getting even more sick of you.”

Javi snorted, shaking his head and glancing towards their office door. Steve pretended not to be watching his profile, taking in the sight of his smile from this angle, before Javi turned back, leaning forward again. Back to business now that their evening plans were made. Easy as that.

“Funny. That’s the whole reason I asked you in the first place.”

That, Steve thought idly, might actually be as big of a lie as the one Steve himself had just told.

But time would be the judge of that.

_____

Javier Peña was not a man who was prone to being driven to distraction.

Oh, there were probably those who would say otherwise. People who didn’t agree with some of his methods, assuming that he was going all on nothing butdistraction, and leaving nothing to motivation or garden variety investigation. He was fine with letting those people have their interpretations.

It didn’t get in the way of him doing his job.

If he was being honest, this didn’t get in the way of him doing his job, either.

If anything, it was a bit of added incentive to show up every day, and it had been a while since Javi had thought he could ever need or want something like that.

He was no stranger to it, of course. Steve Murphy, awful Spanish speaker, brilliant DEA agent that he was, wasn’t the first man that Javi had looked at and thought something beyond the usual ‘yep, that sure is another man’. It was old news, really. Happened now and then, and life went on.

But what Steve was, however, was the first man in a while that got under Javi’s skin in a way he hadn’t planned for. A partner, someone to track down the narcos and their sicarios with, that was what he’d bargained for.

What he’d gotten, he couldn’t entirely put his finger on. He liked Steve. More than he should. Liked his drawl and his stupid polo shirts, and the way he held a cigarette between his fingers. Liked his smile and his affinity for good whiskey, and the fact that he’d fallen into sync with Javi so easily, because he refusednotto be in it with both feet.

Maybe that was what made this such a problem. Lately.

It hadn’t been at the start, but gradually, over the course of pouring over tips, and following leads, and sitting in cold cars waiting for late night informants, a problem had formed, and Javi wasn’t sure what to do about it, now.

Spending hours on hours together, in cars and on the streets and in this office, though, that wasn’t helping him keep his head clear. Under the guise of reading over what he’d just put down with his typewriter, Javi watched Steve.

Driven to distraction, caught up in the way his fingers slid between the photos he was checking, callused fingertips flicking at the edges while he squinted at them.

Maybe coffee at this hour wouldn’t be a bad idea.

“Be back.”

Javi stood up, moving around his desk, heading for the door.

Before he pulled it open, he could make out the shape of Steve’s silhouette in the glass, his head turned, eyes watching Javi without a word as he left.

That.

That was why this was becoming more of a problem.

Javier Peña was not a stupid man. He knew when a woman was looking at him like she wanted him, and he knew when she was doing that because he was paying for the illusion of it. He knew when men were looking at him with annoyance, or envy, or amazement.

The way Steve Murphy looked at him…

He couldn’t place that. Sometimes it was nothing, but other times he had a bad feeling that his distraction was running away with him.

At top speed.

It was insane to get to thinking about things like that, anyway. Steve Murphy was a straight man, had to be. A straight married man, and Javi was fairly sure there were a lot of things said in a whole lot of moral codes about things like that. It might not have been the sort of thing he, personally, felt he needed to adhere rigidly to, but there was no pretending that a lot of people did, and he liked Connie.

All this he turned over in his head as he poured hot black coffee into a mug, ignoring the chatter of voices around him, other embassy staff coming and going from this room. They all had their own issues to worry about, and so did he.

Which was why he really shouldn’t be letting his mind wheel away from him, agonizing over Steve fucking Murphy.

Leaving the coffee machine with only a mug for himself felt like a victory, in that sense. He wasn’t bringing Steve coffee, wasn’t thinking about him at all. Like all distractions, this one would eventually fade, and Javier could get back to focusing completely on work when he was at work.

It was a funny joke for him to tell himself, he thought, as he stepped back into their office to find Steve much the way he’d left him, staring, unseeing, at a spot on the wall to the left of the door, side of one of his fingers brushing back and forth across his lower lip. His other hand had drifted, forearm braced on his thigh, wrist limp, fingers dangling by his knee. The universal position for being lost in thought, but a quick glance at the photos on the desk top showed that he hadn’t flipped through them since Javi had left.

“You all right?”

Steve’s ‘hm?’ in response, that quiet, questioning sound, like he really hadn’t heard Javi, said it all. Frowning slightly, Javi waited for him to expand on that, telling himself that Steve had absolutely not looked caught for a second.

“Ah, yeah, yeah, just...”

A shrug, a wave of the hand, that southern drawl trailing off as Steve sat forward again and seemed to realize that he’d left the photos waiting, unexamined, unchanged.

Maybe that was just Javi’s interpretation.

“Thinking.”

“Huh.”

That was an easy one to pick up. Steve had left himself wide open, and Javi chose to focus on that, over the way Steve looked, questioning and a little cautious, maybe, when he looked up again, meeting Javi’s eyes.

“Well, don’t do too much of that, yeah? You might—”

Javi had seen Steve’s expression change, watched the way the smile crept in at the corner of his mouth, before he cut him off with, “—hurt myself? Yeah, Javi, I never heard that joke before.”

Easy. Simple. In sync.

Javi grinned, letting himself laugh when Steve flipped him off. Dropping back into his own desk chair, he set down his coffee mug and glanced over the paper still sitting trapped in the typewriter, just waiting for him to retrieve it, stamp it and file it away to land on someone else’s desk for review.

Getting back to work was the easiest thing, now, so he did, doing all of that and loading more into the folder as he did, other reports, other documents. Steve had left a stack of photos on his desk, earlier, and he slid a paperclip on to them, adding them in and closing the folder.

“Murphy.”

The sound of his own voice almost surprised him, the name having come out before he’d actually decided to interrupt his partner’s work. Ignoring the obvious distraction had lasted all of ten, maybe fifteen minutes.

He was getting better.

Looking Steve over, his relaxed posture, the open buttons at the collar of his shirt, the way his watch glinted in the shitty lighting above them, he had to congratulate himself. Anything better than five minutes had to be considered a win, at this point.

“You want to get a drink tonight? Unless something good happens in the next two hours, I’d call today a bust. A bust calls for a drink or three.”

For a long second, Javi thought there was a good chance Steve was going to say no. He had plans, he needed to go home, he was tired, anything. It would have all been understandable, and legitimate, and, really, Javi had no leg to stand on, asking for any more of Steve’s time.

“Sure.”

Pretending not to like that answer wasn’t in the cards, no matter how much Javi had told himself he wasn’t going to dislike any answer he got. Leaning back in his chair, he smiled as Steve continued.

“Don’t got any other plans.”

Interesting.

“Might as well work on getting even more sick of you.”

Javi snorted, shaking his head and looking towards their office door. If he looked too amused, was someone going to show up, there, and call him on it?

“Funny.”

Looking back at Steve, Javi raised an eyebrow, leaning forward again to focus on his work.

“That’s the whole reason I asked you, in the first place.”

Things would get easier, eventually. Javi was sure of that.

But, for now, he’d take the minor difficulties in stride.

What else was he supposed to do?

[cake-chad]

Me, enjoying the return of my favourite campaign, knowing something like season one couldn't have kept going on in the same way, pleased that they found a way to pivot away from the heavy grief filled topics that it was heading towards, and that the entire cast is happy about the changes they've made