#// the only solution is for you to jack straight into my head and eat my thoughts maybe then my skull won't feel like it's going to burst

[m0e-ru]

[radiance1]

Vlad Masters. Ceo of Vladco, survivor of Ecto-acne, first halfa to have ever come into existence and brilliant scientist.

Is currently lost.

He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before reopening them. He crouched down, before jumping up and over a nearby fence, determined to wander around in hopes of finding a solution to this perdicament.

Curse you, Jack Fenton. He didn't know how, but everything is always, undeniably that oaf's fault.

===

Billy Batson dashed into a nearby alley, urging his legs to keep moving despite the burning feeling in both his legs and chest that demanded he stop. His eyes quickly scanned the alleyway, looking for anywhere to hide, or a path to continue his escape, only for despair to consume his heart.

A dead end.

A loud bark came from behind him, and he turned, blood rushing in his ears as he backed away slowly. He slowly moved his hands forward in front of him, a weak, fearful smile on his face. "E-Easy there, doggies. We can, we can talk this out. Yea?"

The biggest of the three dogs currently chasing him stepped forward, and he stepped back. The dog was all skin and bones, so much so that its ribs were clearly on display, the two smaller dogs behind it weren't faring much better, and only looked to have just a bit more meat on their bones than the one in front. The dog growled lowly, taking another step forward, while Billy took another step back.

"Ok uh, just- just wait a second okay...?" Billy slowly reached a hand up to the strap of his old bag and lifting it from his back. He slowly unzipped it and reached inside, digging around while keeping his eyes straight on of the dog in front of him, his hand hit his desired object and he slowly pulled it from his bag, before throwing it in front of the dog.

The dog sniffed the object, before taking the pack of jerky and slowly walking backwards, eyes trained on the human in front. Billy felt like crying.

That was supposed to be my lunch and Dinner...

The dog threw the pack of jerky over its shoulder, and the two dogs behind didn't waste a moment before ripping open the packaging and chowing down on the jerky inside. With each and every chomp, Billy felt more and more like he would cry. From his position, he could see the amount being reduced down to the single digits under seconds, before the two dogs stopped eating, instead licking the crumbs from the packaging and then raising their heads to bark happily, causing Billy to almost smile.

Almost.

If he weren't lamenting over the fate of his lunch and dinner for the next few days being gone in under 10 seconds.

The dog in front barked again, taking another step forward and Billy flinched. "Oh, oh! Uh, I'm sorry but I don't have anything else. So, so uh." Billy take another step backwards, cold sweat running down his face as he felt his back hit the wall. "So how about you guys, you know, leave me alone now?" He squeaked out.

The biggest dog growled lowly before, with surprising speed, ran forward and sank its teeth into Billy's bag. "He- HEY! Wait!" Billy struggled to both pull the bag back into his arms and not cause it to tear at the same time.

Unfortunately, very difficult to do in this situation.

"How are you so strong!?" Billy nearly sobbed, he's losing to a dog! "I only have one of these you know!? So let go already!" Billy held onto his bag's straps for tear life, struggling to gain more ground in this tug of war, before the sound of leather starting to tear reached his ears.

"My bag!" Billy tug his feet into the ground, finally succeeding in gaining from ground when he readjusted his hold from the straps to the top of it, before the other two dogs joined in.

He thinks he's going to lose a bag.

"Meow."

All movement ceased. The sound of struggle being replaced by silence as both human and dog(s) looked for the source of the sound.

"Meow."

They looked up, and a singular (extremely fluffy) black cat with fully red eyes stared back. The two younger dogs whined, ears lowering as the biggest began to growl.

"Meow." The cat meowed for a third time, staring down the three dogs intensely. The smaller dogs instantly let go, and fearfully backed away while the biggest ears lowered, yet their teeth was still lodged into Billy's bag.

"Meow." It meowed once more, fixing the biggest dog with the full brunt of its stare, and paralyzing it from fear, before a few seconds later it let go of the bag and backed away, turning around and barking at the two smaller dogs as they ran away from alleyway.

Billy blinked, staring at the retreating backs of the dogs until he couldn't see them, in disbelief. He stared back up at the cat, who licked the back of its paw and raised it up to its head to groom its fur. Billy quickly stared at its neck, seeing the lack of a pet collar of any kind.

"Meow." The cat stared at him with one open eye, and Billy jolted. "Oh! Uh! Thank you!" Billy nodded his head in thankfulness, before staring at his bag. "Oh right. My bag."

Billy felt like crying. Staring down at the nearly broken bag covered with bite marks. Actually, scratch that.

So he started crying.

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

December Drabbles

Prompt 16: Skiing Characters: Jack + Vizzie (OC) (Shippy) but there is no good combination of their names sldkfhlksjdhflkj --------------------------------------------------------------------- ".....I want you to know that I have full confidence that you can ski this....but I'm still going to guide you down it the first time. You can see it's a lot steeper than the beginner hill." Viz peered down at the slope below her as she and Jack went up the ski lift. "I'm going to be honest with you....getting off the ski lift is more intimidating than the hill." She laughed a little nervously. "Your skis will hit the ground before mine do because you're taller. What if I get stuck on the lift?" She looked up at him, visibly worried. At this point, he was well aware she was contemplating all the worst case scenarios, and he tried to come up with a solution to ease her worry, his tail wagging a bit as he did. "Well, if you think you won't be able to get off right after me, I...I guess I could hold your hand to pull you off in case you get stuck..." He turned his head away from her a bit. "But if you don't want that I can see if the operator will stop before you're taken down the mountain via the lift." She smiled a bit, and just reached for his hand. "I think I prefer this option." He looked down at their gloved hands, tail wagging a bit faster as he gently squeezed her smaller hand in his as he tried to keep his smile from getting "too" big. He could hear her heart starting to beat faster as they reached the top of the hill, and tried to squeeze her hand again to calm her down. She squeezed his hand much harder in response, to the point he could only assume her knuckles were turning white. "You're going to be ok. It's scary the first time but it gets easier....but if you don't want to go again that's ok too." He tried to give her a reassuring smile, but she had her gaze locked and set in front of her, too distracted to register what he said. As expected, his skis hit the ground first, but he shuffled out of the way a bit and pulled Vizzie gently out of the lift, tugging her towards him so as to get her out of the way of the next passengers. She hugged him, laughing in relief as she had made it safely to the top. He didn't know how to react at first, his ears folding back in surprise, before he somewhat awkwardly hugged her back. It was only for a few seconds though, as he cleared his throat a bit. "You ok? Are you ready to go down?" Viz let go of him and looked down the slope, shuffling so her skis were pointed straight. She gave him a shit eating grin as she leaned forward slightly. "I'll see you at the bottom!" He startled a bit at her sudden take off, but started after her, watching to make sure she wouldn't go too fast for her own comfort or crash, or seven forbid, hit a jump she couldn't see. But it became abundantly clear that she had taken all the advice he had given her to heart, as she started to zigzag rather than go straight down to help bring herself to a more manageable speed. He found he relaxed a bit, and met her a few seconds after she stopped at the bottom, pleasantly surprised by the elated expression she wore. "THAT WAS SO MUCH FUN!" She all but yelled it when he was within 50 meters of her, oblivious to the looks and chuckles around her as she kept her eyes on Jack. He came to a calculated stop in front of her, chuckling softly. "You want to go again?" She grabbed his hand and started moving towards the lift again. "Until it's time to go, the answer is going to be yes." He couldn't help his tail from wagging. "Do you still want my help to get off the lift?" She gave him a cheeky look. "Are you tired of holding my hand already?" He would blame any sort of flush on the cold, but skied a little closer to her and squeezed her hand gently again. "As long as you still want my help....I'll hold your hand as long as you want."

[companywrath]

[A lot of people want to characterize Jack as a bad guy who does bad things just for fun and I feel like that directly contradicts canon. He's not the fucking Joker. He felt that all of his actions were justified. He has line in canon where he says "everyone thinks they're the hero of their own story." He has always been trying to do the right thing, or at least he started out trying to do the right thing.

He genuinely wanted to clean up Pandora and make it a safe place for people to live. He wanted to kill the people making it unsafe, the people who would shoot you in the back just for fun or to steal a couple dollars out of your pocket, and civilians ended up as casualties. A lot of that was "70% of the people in this town are criminals, it's worth it to just blow the whole thing off the map," and a lot of it was jumping to solutions without addressing the root of the problem. If people are killing to get scraps to eat, address the fact that they don't have access to food or money to afford it- Jack viewed it all very black and white, if people are killing for any reason, kill them before they can strike again. He tried to rule through fear, punishment, and intimidation because he felt it was the quickest way to achieve his fairly altruistic goal.

The thing is, his goal was never rooted in empathy, and that's why it's been so easy for him to not notice or care about the innocent people getting hurt in the process. It's always been rooted in a selfish need to have people go "You changed my life, Jack! You saved me! You made a difference! You matter!" which is definitely rooted in his upbringing. Which isn't to say he was doomed from the start or that he had to be this way because of the abuse in his childhood; What I'm saying is that if he'd been more introspective and taken some time to look at his own motivations instead of constantly just plowing straight ahead without pause, this could've been avoided.

I really don't think he fully understood that he had, at some point, turned into the bad guy until his death. He was trapped alone with his thoughts for years and had a lot of chances to reflect. Which brings us to Rhys. He's very conflicted about Rhys; all he's really certain about is that Rhys is important. Rhys and him are very similar; ambitious programmers who want to do something more with their lives. He sees a lot of himself in Rhys and it's extra easy to live vicariously through him when Jack is living in his head.

He desperately wants Rhys to fail. If Rhys fails just as hard as Jack did, then it's evidence that it wasn't Jack's fault. That the odds are stacked against them. That anyone in his position would've responded the exact same way that he did and it wasn't his fault.

He desperately wants Rhys to succeed. Rhys is his do over. If he can guide Rhys to success, it's like he's succeeded. He can take credit. Rhys only succeeded because of his help. He got it right on his second try. 

Rhys is Jack's whole universe, everything's riding on him. And Rhys is just trying to survive. He did not sign up for Jack's mid-afterlife crisis but here he is.]

[ira-hydrangea]

Can you please write something where the boys at RSA meet Yuu and try to convince her to leave NRC and join their school. Yuu is super pissed at the First year gang so she says that leaving might not be a bad idea (as an empty threat of course). The boys take it seriously and now all of the Twisted Wonderland boys are trying to come up with a way to convince Yuu to stay. Would this be alright?

Thank you for the request and enjoy this chapter~.

A little threat. (Feat. First years)

Ace Trapolla

Ace just laughs at that. Yeah, right. Like you have a gut to move to RSA ...right?

Okay. Now he is paranoid. You have seen walking out from the Headmaster's office a few times now. His head keeps replaying that threat you told the group yesterday.

Mode panic!

He starts pacing around their room with sweat. Riddle literally asks him what the heck is he doing? After that, he told Riddle what happen yesterday and what you been saying to them.

"WHAT?! IF THIS REALLY HAPPEN, I SWEAR ACE. YOU WILL WEAR COLLAR UNTIL YOUR GRADUATE!"

Not a very good idea to told Riddle that. Ace try to use his head to think about what he should do to apologize and he got one idea.

By baking some sweet.

You are pretty surprised when Ace shows up in front of the Ramshackle with a box full of cookies and an apology.

"H-hey, Y/n. Here. I bake you some Cookie and I w-want to say sorry for my action a few days ago. It very immature of me. F-Forgive me." He said with a red face.

Deuce Spade

Unlike Ace, he panic by the time you said that word.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN MOVE?! Become extra paranoid after seeing you take a stack of papers to the headmaster's office.

He didn't know what to do for apologizing so he goes to his upperclassman. Cater-senpai.

"Eh??? Is that why your face keep showing this glare? Well, if that the case. I have a list you can do to earn someone apologies. Guarenteed to work!"

"Really?!"

He blindly followed the book instructed. If the book told him, to go assist Y/n, he do it. If the book told him to buy you some nice gift, he do it. Some cleaning? Sure. How about dancing in front of you-

Thankfully, you have already asked him what he doing. And when you heard that the reason he doing it is to earn your forgiveness. You straight-up laugh but appreciate his attempt.

"HA?!?! SO YOU MEAN CATER-SENPAI PRANK ME WITH THIS BOOK?!" He asks you shockingly. But after seeing you laugh, maybe this book is not a complete failure. Cater is recording the whole thing behind the tree while snickering.

Jack Howl

This tsundere boy tries not to show that Y/n threat affecting him. Which did not convince many people because his ears drop the moment he heard it.

Try to be subtle about his approach. Do you want to go to class? Sure. He can carry you there. Do you need help with that documents? Sure. Did you forget to bring your pocket money? Just eat his lunch.

Ruggie basically tease Jack for acting like a puppy which Jack denied strongly.

"Why you try so hard anyway?"

"N-no Reason."

"Ho?"

He maybe not saying it in front of you but you know he trying to appease you because of what you said a few days ago. You feel guilty for hurting this big pup. So you just said that it's just a word that got out in the heat of the moment.

"I-I know but I just want to make sure. Hmph! Is not like I'm worrying over that."

You giggled at Jack tsundere moment. You can see the blush on his cheek but decide not to tease him too much. He has done so much for you after all.

Epel Felmiere

"Oh, Monsieur Cherry Apple. To think you able to make the so kind prefect angry. I wonder what Roi du Poison will think about this." Rook said pop out from the tree behind Epel.

Epel is screwed. Not only does he make Vil mad but also because Y/n will transfer school because of his action.

He didn't care for any extra lesson that Vil forced. He needs to find a solution for all of this. And what better way than to give you something.

He craved the most beautiful apple with an apple pie that he made using his family recipe. He goes to your dorm the next day with a basket full of goodies.

You open the door only to find him standing there while fidgeting.

"A..Ano, Y/n. I'm sorry for the way I act yesterday. That is my fault. I also bring you this as an apology gift. I hope you will accept this." He said with such an adorable voice that makes you squeal internally.

You accept his apologies and told him that you just give him an empty threat. Epel can sigh in relief hearing those words.

Sebek Zigvolt

Hmph! Who do you think he is? He has no problem if you decide to move out to that rival school. Is not like you have any use in NRC.

"Uh... Sebek... Why did you look at Y/n like you want to murder them?" Silver points out.

"HUH?! WHAT KIND OF NONSENSE IS THAT?! I DIDN'T LOOK AT THEM BECAUSE I'M WORRIED THEY WILL TRANSFER SCHOOL."

"..."

"AGH! YOU ARE SO ANNOYING, SILVER!!"

"zzz...." Okay, Silver maybe ends with a few bumps in his head but at least he is alive.

Lilia needs to drop a few subtle suggestions to Sebek because this boy is too prideful to ask for someone's help and also he wants to give Malleus poster as an apology gift. I accept the poster

In the end, Lilia just gives Sebek a box full of Tea to Sebek and told him to give it to him as a gift.

"HUMAN! YOU SHOULD BE THANKFUL TO RECEIVE THIS GIFT! THIS IS SOMETHING YOU COULD NEVER DRINK FOR YOUR ENTIRE LIFE!" yeah, You almost shut the door again if Sebek didn't whisper the last part to you.

"...And I'm sorry for my action few days ago..." Sebek said in the whisper before shoving the box to you and bolting. Claim that he still needs to find Young Master.

If you like my writing. Maybe give me a little tip by buying me a coffee?

[ericspinkhair]

quarantine longings

pairing: best friend!kevin x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

synopsis: you and your best friend have sex because quarantine made you horny

warnings: best friends to lovers, takes place during the pandemic, spoiler of 356 days (but not the end, just generally the plot), no use of condoms but only the pill, creampie, sexual fantasies, fingering, hand-job, sex, slight angst at the end if you squint

a/n: I would literally die for kevin, I love him so much. I'll be writing a multiple parts series about him after I'm done writing scenarios for every member first.

requests are open!

masterlist + requests

you slammed your foot hard against the wall and cursed in pain. you hopped on one foot to your bed, holding your other leg in agony and tasted blood as you bit your lip to keep the volume of your suffering groans in check. someone knocked on the door.

'are you okay?' your roommate asked concerned.

'no, leave me alone, kevin,' you croaked out. you wanted to suffer by yourself.

there was an awkward silence and then you heard him sigh. soon after, the door next to your room closed shut.

why were you so frustrated, one might ask? well, the pandemic was kicking your butt and you just couldn't take it anymore. when the news of the virus had first spread, no one thought it would become this serious. but suddenly everyone was walking around with masks and spent most of their time staying at home.

after graduating high school, you and kevin had decided to move in together for college because both of you were broke and couldn't afford to live alone. you had been best friends since middle school and had been convinced that it was a smart idea at the time.

and everything went smoothly for the first one and a half years. however, after not seeing anyone else since the start of the pandemic over a year ago, it became increasingly difficult to share an apartment, but not in the way one might assume. you were neither sick of each other nor did you fight a lot. to tell the truth, it was quite the opposite.

earlier, before you had kicked the wall in anger, the two of you had painted together. kevin was majoring in art and, since you didn't have anything better to do, you joined him while he did projects for his classes. you might have been majoring in journalism but you had always liked drawing and painting, even though you weren't particularly skilled. you were a naturally clumsy person, always tripping over air and dropping things. today you were hecticly moving around your hands while telling him about a stupid video you had seen and you accidently let go of the brush in your hand. it hit the side of kevin's face, leaving a wide splodge of red paint on his right cheek.

to get back at you, he jerked his paint brush and splattered some green color on your white shirt. you saw this as a challenge and soon both of you were both drenched in the colors of the rainbow, laughing hysterically on the floor, not caring that you were spreading the paint on the poor carpet.

you turned your heads to look at each other and you felt absolutely in peace. you loved this man and couldn't be more glad that it was him and not anyone else you were stuck with inside of this apartment.

he stood up to take off his stained shirt and your smile quickly faded off your face. your lips slightly parted and you couldn't help but stare at his now exposed biceps and abs.

your mouth watered and you felt heat pooling between your legs as you took your time to study his architecture. thoughts about how badly you wanted him to thrust into you while his strong arms held you up invaded your mind. you tried to shake them off but it was impossible.

occasions like this were slowly becoming a common occurrence for you.

having mostly stayed inside for over a year, also meant that you didn't have sex for that long. it's not like you were the horniest person on the planet but you still had needs that were being neglected. with kevin being home all the time you didn't even dare to masturbate, scared that he would be able to hear you through the frustratingly thin walls. you must have gone insane with all the lust building up inside you and that's why you suddenly craved to have sex with your best friend. this whole thing was destroying everything. it was hard to act normal when he was making you this nervous and heated but you tried to pretend that everything was fine anyway for the sake of your friendship.

that was the reason why you were angry and had hurt yourself. you hated the way you felt about your best friend and you hated the pandemic for not giving you an outlet to escape so you could recollect yourself.

what you weren't aware of was that kevin was no stranger to the exact same frustration.

he would need more than his ten fingers and ten toes to be able to count the amount of times he had to run to the bathroom to hide his boner because he had done so much as look at you bend over or stretch. he didn't want to make you uncomfortable but it was a challenge to try and calm down his hormones.

whenever he jacked off, images of you flashed through his mind; your sweet curves and pink lips drove him insane.

last week, you two were cooking together and you had asked him to get the salt. he stood behind you to reach for it on the highest shelf. he was forced to press his crotch against your butt cheeks and his dick hardened against his will. he quickly handed you the salt, excused himself and ran off before you could figure out what had happened.

he might not have known the cause of your sudden outburst but he sympathized with your fury because he had a lot of pent up anger towards covid as well.

he lay in his bed and tried to focus on the book he was reading but he couldn't tune out the groans coming from the room next to his. he cursed.

'stop it!' he was panicking as he saw a familiar tent forming in his pants. your sounds triggered some weird perverted part of his brain that sent signals right to his genitals. his dick was hardening and he saw no other solution to his problem than to give in to his subconscious desires.

he pulled down his pants just far enough so that his cock had enough room to spring out. it only needed a few strokes before it stood tall and angry. kevin pressed his head into his pillow and moved his hand fast. he wanted to get over with it quickly. he emptied his cum on his stomach while imagining your greedy little mouth being stuffed by his cock. he lay there panting as yet another round of shame flushed over him.

'get yourself together,' he whispered, mentally slapping himself.

***

'do you want to order japanese or italian?' you asked kevin. today was friday which meant it was time for your weekly tradition of ordering take out and watching a movie.

'definitely italian. we've already had japanese for the past four days. I need something else for a change,' kevin complained and shuddered at the thought of having to eat sushi again. the japanese restaurant prepared absolutely delicious food but he just couldn't stand it anymore.

you laughed at his pained facial expression. 'fine, italian it is.'

within twenty minutes the doorbell rang and after about half a minute kevin came back with two huge boxes.

he opened them on the small table situated in front of your couch and the smell of freshly cooked pasta seasoned with basil made your stomach growl.

kevin wanted to dig in already but you stopped him. you had to choose a movie first.

'let's watch tall girl. I saw everyone hate on it on tiktok,' you suggested.

'I think we should watch 365 days, that was all over my for you page as well,' kevin argued. you hadn't heard of it so you weren't sure whether it would be the right movie for you. the rule was that it had to be as bad as possible.

'according to what I have heard, it's apparently even worse than 50 shades of grey,' kevin added which piqued your interest. the both of you had watched 50 shades about two months ago and you were honestly shocked by how awful it actually was. you couldn't understand why everyone had been so obsessed with it when it was first released. if 356 days was really worse, then you'd hit the jackpot. you clapped your hands.

'fine, you win. I swear if the movie isn't as horrible as you say it is then you owe me something!' he intertwined his pinky with yours to promise.

watching horrible movies was way better than watching good ones. making fun of bad storylines, stupid characters or horrible editing was one of your favorite past times.

'I guess I'll have to add are you lost, baby girl to the top 10 worst lines ever spoken. who thought ah yes this is sexy, let's have him repeat it over and over again', you complained, shoving some pasta into your mouth.

'so he's like I won't do anything without your permission while he is literally groping her boobs against her will, like make it make sense, massimo', added kevin, ruffling his hair in frustration. he almost completely forgot about the food.

'so let me get this straight: he drugged her, kidnapped her, tied her up, hung up a painting of her just because he saw her face when his dad was shot?'

'totally relatable.' both of you giggled.

you were enjoying complaining about the plot. it was horrible.

there were plenty of erotic scenes but they were honestly so funny and kinda gross that you could bare it without really being affected by them. kevin, on the other hand, had placed a pillow over his hard-on to hide the embarrassing fact that these terrible, smutty scenes had turned him on.

and then the infamous boat scene came.

massimo and laura had a huge fight, she fell of the boat, he saved her and now she was suddenly so in love with him that she begs him to fuck her. which he does.

you felt your panties become increasingly wet as the couple had steaming hot sex.

'this is embarrassing but I'm so horny,' you admitted but in a way that should have suggested that you meant it as a joke. something about this statement stirred something in kevin.

'well, what can I say?' he replied and lifted the pillow. your pupils widened at the sight of your best friend's bulge.

his eyes darkened and he looked at you with lust clearly written on his face. you reciprocated his stare with the same intensity. you tried to focus on his dark brown orbs instead of his boner but the image you had just seen was present in your mind.

his gaze shifted to your lips and, before you knew it, kevin climbed above you and pressed your back flat onto the couch.

your lips locked and you immediately buried your hands in his hair to pull him closer. you moved in sync, his lips fitting perfectly onto yours. you bucked your hips up against his crotch and earned a moan from kevin. he opened his eyes in shock as realization hit him. he quickly pulled away and jumped off the coach.

'I'm so sorry, y/n. I shouldn't have just done that. I don't know what came over me,' he apologized profusely, staring at his feet. did he really think that you didn't want this?

'give me your hand,' you told him and held out your hand.

'why?' he raised his eyebrows in confusion. you rolled your eyes.

'just do it.'

you took his hand and led it to your crotch.

'what are you- oh my god.' your juices had completely soaked through your panties and your sweatpants. 'you are so wet.'

'for you,' you added. 'there's no need to apologize. I'm literally begging you to continue.'

you didn't have to say that twice before he pulled you closer to him by your hips and engaged you in another desperate kiss. his hands were groping your butt while you let yours slide under his hoodie. you felt his naked skin and toned abs, as you rubbed his stomach. you lowered your hands and bravely palmed his boner through his clothes.

'y/n,' he hissed out against your lips. you hooked your thumbs in the elastic of his pants and underwear, and pushed the material down to his thighs. he struggled to get them off.

you stroked his hard dick as he slipped his hand into your panties to massage your pussy at the same time.

he slipped one finger inside and began working it in and out. you finally were getting the relief you had been desperately craving for for so long. kevin was skilled and your walls were trying to swallow his slim finger. you were quickly coming close to your orgasm after having abstained for more than a year. you pulled his hand out.

'I bet you can make me come even better with your dick,' you challenged kevin.

'you bet I will.' he was confident.

'let me just look for a condom.' he was already turning away to go search in his room but you held him back by the arm.

'forget about it. I'm on the pill and I want you raw. I want you to come inside me and not spill into a stupid condom.'

the idea of this sounded very tempting to kevin. he picked you up and threw you back onto the couch, drawing your hips closer to him so he could pull off all the pieces of clothing that were hindering him from accessing your pussy.

he propped up his arms next to your sides and spread your thighs apart. strings of arousal were hanging from your folds and he saw your hole desperately clench around nothing. his dick hurt from how much he wanted to finally be inside of you. he wanted to find out how close he had been able to imagine how you would feel around him.

your hole took him in easily, welcoming him happily by embracing it tightly. kevin swore he could've cum right here and there.

he went slow at first to give you a chance to adjust but you were already fully ready, rocking your hips forward to meet his thrusts.

he crashed your mouths together and you kissed him like he was oxygen and you were short of air. you smiled and your eyes rolled back, satisfied with how things had played out today and the prospects of coming looked fairly promising.

desperate for release, kevin picked up the pace, his eyes closed while fucking into you like a horny animal. he couldn't help himself and all the 'faster's and 'harder's spilling from your mouth only encouraged him to drive himself deeper into you.

you wrapped your legs around his torso in an attempt to regain the control you were losing.

'fuck fuck fuck,' you cursed, feeling your muscles starting to contract. kevin brushed away some hair that was stuck to your sweaty forehead.

'it's fine, I'm coming too,' he announced and it took only a few more thrusts before a body shaking orgasm flushed over you, making you see only white. this drove kevin over the edge too and he spilled inside you, filling you up with his hot cum. he continued to slowly ease his dick in and out of you, fucking his semen right back into you until you had ridden out both of your orgasms. he let himself fall onto the couch right next to you, panting hard.

'I very much needed this,' you sighed in content.

'same, I wasn't sure whether I could hold out any longer without having a proper orgasm.' he watched his cum drip out of you.

'we should've thought of this sooner,' you said. 'this was a great idea.'

kevin hummed in agreement.

***

so now you and kevin were having sex on a regular basis, your high score being five times in a day. it felt good to finally live out your sexuality and not having to restrict yourself. sure, you guys did it more than necessary but it was a great way to pass time and it felt fucking amazing.

today you had done it in the shower after waking up, then on the kitchen counter and you had just finished having sex in his bed.

he was spooning you from behind, his cock still placed inside of you. he nuzzled his nose into your neck.

'stop, that tickles,' you chuckled.

'sorry.'

after a while of comfortable silence you heard him let out a big sigh.

'what's wrong?' you asked as he pulled out of you. you turned around to be able to look at him.

'I don't think I can do it like this anymore,' he confessed.

'what do you mean?' you asked. 'are you talking about us having sex?'

he nodded. your heart dropped and you started feeling dizzy. you tried to search for answers in his eyes but he avoided looking at you.

'w-why?' you stuttered, trying to hold back the tears that were welling up in your eyes.

'it was amazing at first,' he started and finally raised his head to meet your gaze, 'and I went into it without much thought. I went crazy during quarantine and began fantasizing about having sex with you. then it became reality but now I understand that was probably wrong of me. I've always thought of myself as a gentleman, yet I slept with you without much thought. you see, my issue is this…'

suspense hung in the air and you were impatiently waiting for him to get to the point.

'I like you.'

you quietly gasped in surprise. you had been expecting him to say you were bad at sex and that he regretted everything but not this.

'I shouldn't be sleeping with you unless you were my girlfriend,' he finished off his ramble. you felt immensely relieved.

'do you want me to?' you asked him.

'want you to what?' kevin was confused. he had been a hundred percent sure you'd immediately jump out of the bed in disgust when he confessed.

'be your girlfriend. after all, I like you too, you moron.' you realized that you had known this for a while. you might have even been crushing on your best friend since way before the pandemic struck but it was kind of hard to track your feelings. still, you were sure you liked him too. now that he had admitted his feelings, you were able to admit yours not only to him but to yourself as well.

'wow, I didn't expect this,' kevin confessed surprised. you laughed.

'yeah, we should've realized this sooner.' he pulled you closer and kissed you. it was different than the other times. his lips moved softly against yours, in contrast to all of your rough and passionate kisses you had exchanged these past few weeks. he conveyed his emotions through the kiss.

'you're ready again?' you groaned as you felt kevin's dick harden against your upper thigh. he chuckled.

'sorry, you just turn me on so much.'

so then you did it for the fourth time. that day, you set a new record of having sex six times. you might have been happy now but still just as horny.

[oogaboogasphincter]

The 50/10 Method (Agent Whiskey x f!reader)

Summary: Jack makes the most of your 10 minute study break. 

Word Count: 2.7k+

Rating: E (explicit) 18+ ONLY! bc this is just cringey smut lmfao

Warnings: smut (oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (obvi use protection irl), very easily and conveniently reached orgasms (this is a fantasy i can do what i want skjfkd), dirty talk, one (1) allusion to thigh riding and one (1) instance of 💙spitting💙, fingering, positions i hope i've given enough detail so y’all can imagine what i was picturing💀), pet names (sweetheart, honey, cowboy *affectionately*, good girl, baby), there’s a sentence about reader having long-ish hair, reader and jack have a dog, swearing, reader is afab and is called things like good girl and the like, just overall trash grammar and structure 😇

Author’s Note: so this is very poorly written and extremely self-indulgent, as i myself use the 50/10 method 🙃. but i had a lot of fun with it, and i think that’s what writing is supposed to be all about! :) also i was heavily inspired to write this after reading “Take a Break” by @mellowswriting​ and “Study Buddy” by @pascalpanic​. please go check those out because they’re absolutely fantastic!!!!! +while you’re at it, i would highly advise you to read anything on their masterlists bc they’re just 💜exquisite💜

gif by @thernandalorian​

The lines of text on your computer screen are starting to blend into each other, creating a single run-on sentence that one of your previous English teachers would ridicule the author for. The sharp curves and angles that distinguish each letter from the next are becoming soft and dull, blurring into each other until your brain can only recognize it as a smeared streak of black on white.

It’s 11:00am on a Saturday, a big exam set for the upcoming Monday’s morning. You don’t feel rushed for time, or overloaded with unknown material, and the early hours of the day have been quite productive. Following a shared breakfast of homemade waffles in bed with Jack, your boyfriend, you didn’t complain when setting up your study station on the living room’s large oak table. If anything, you had been excited to begin studying early in the hopes of finishing your review by the end of the day. That way, tomorrow would be free for you and Jack to do whatever you pleased.

However, as the hours went by, your motivation was slowly but surely diminishing. The serene study atmosphere that you usually thrive in is now driving you mad. You yearn for a noise, any noise; a bird to sing a song in the tree outside your window, the smack of your dog’s loose wrinkles against each other as he attempts to shake the sleep out of him, a pencil unable to stop itself from rolling and dropping onto the floor with a tink.

You’re momentarily gifted with the crisp sound of a page turning. You flit your eyes over to gaze upon the source of your granted wish and your heart flutters in reaction to the sight: Jack’s resting on the couch, cowboy hat balanced on the back of it, deeply absorbed in the next installment of his favorite murder-mystery series. You find it curious that his desire for an adrenaline-filled challenge doesn’t stop when he comes home from mission after mission that nearly cost him his life. You’ll ask him about his insatiability one day, but for now you categorize it as fictional research for his Statesman assignments.

Your short glance quickly turns into an entranced stare. Jack looks... divine. Fetching. Luscious. As he’s lying on his back, neck propped up against the arm of the couch, his book balanced on his chest, relaxation radiates off of him in waves and utterly seduces you. You’re surprised that he hasn’t been a greater distraction to you throughout the morning. How have you managed to ignore the denim-wearin’, plaid-shirted, pornstache-sportin’ cowboy of your dreams that is only a few steps away?

Involuntarily, the thigh muscles of your crossed legs contract in an effort to bring some semblance of friction to your now weeping core. Similar to your imaginings of your dog earlier, you shake your head to force these heavy, unwanted feelings to dissipate and turn back to the work in front of you. Of course, Jack does the opposite of what you’d like him to do and takes an interest in your fidgeting. He peeks over the top of his book, “You cold, sweetheart?” 

His question is reasonable: you’re purposely wearing a skirt that’s so short it rides up quite high when you sit. You don’t dare to meet his eyes and answer while pulling a textbook close and opening it up, “No, I’m okay.”

Fortunately he returns to his reading. Your attention is able to retain itself for about a paragraph, but then your mind takes a sharp detour back to those pesky, steamy desires. You mentally huff at your inability to remain concentrated on your studies and rifle through the options of what you can do to satiate yourself for the time being. 

You could switch texts and force your brain to recognize the change and therefore become distracted. You could pick out some colored writing utensils and bring some fun to active reading. You could say fuck it, go straddle Jack and beg him to use you in whichever way he would like.

Jack interrupts your brainstorming, “Are you sure you don’t need a blanket or sumthin’? I can go get my jacket for ya.” 

The attentiveness of your southern lover melts your heart. You turn to him, “No, really, I’m okay, thanks.”

“I wouldn’t count a bathroom break as taking away from your 50 minutes, honey, if that’s what’s makin’ you twitch.” 

You had been implementing and strictly adhering to the 50/10 method all morning: study for 50 minutes, take a break for ten. Its effectiveness was never doubted, as it has proven to work for you for years. Only ten minutes into this 50 minute period, the devil of restlessness pokes at you and makes you think could time go by any slower? A hand comes up to cover the blush creeping across your cheek as you dismiss Jack’s suggestion, “No, that’s not it.”

Behind your embarrassed hand, Jack cocks an eyebrow at you. Your simple choice of words has given the Agent a hint, that there is something that’s bothering you, he just hasn’t figured it out yet and you don’t want to admit what it is for some reason. He returns to his book, however lost in thought about what your problem could be, while you task every cell in your body to pay attention to your studies. 

35 minutes remain on the clock, and Jack guesses, “Did you have too much coffee?”

You can’t help but grin at his sleuthing, “No, I just had my regular.”

He conjures up another possible solution five minutes later, “Are you itchin’ to get out of the house? We haven’t left in two days.”

He’s getting warmer. Both of you know exactly why you haven’t left the house in two days: you’d been occupied with activities of the sinful variety. You can’t gauge yet whether or not he knows he’s dancing around the answer, “Baby, you’re distracting me. And nope, it’s not that.” 

He smiles apologetically, “Sorry,” and uses his book as a partition, blocking your ability to procrastinate and just visually drool all over him.

Silence fills the next 20 minutes. Even though Jack is out of your sight, details from your observations exaggerate themselves in your mind to the point that they’re all encompassing, intoxicating. The way his jeans wrap around his legs ever so perfectly, the worn denim hugging those muscular thighs that he loves for you to grind yourself against when you’re feeling especially desperate (like now). How his plaid flannel slopes over the swell of his belly, stretching tight against his skin as his diaphragm contracts and deflating when he exhales. Even his large feet, strewn about lazily on the couch, his toes pointing in different directions, amuse you. 

Ten minutes remain in your study session. Feeling guilty about spending the majority of the last hour envisioning the seductive intricacies of your boyfriend, you actually start to study. 

“How many times do you think I can make you cum in ten minutes?”

Your eyes are ripped from your material and land on the menace lazing on the couch. He’s put his book down, one arm behind his head while the other is crooked, allowing himself to palm his cock through his pants. Jack’s wearing a shit-eating grin, bewitching your crossed legs to switch which one is on top; an excuse to apply more pressure to the yearning area between them. You fidget in the chair, shamefully trying to get the seam of your underwear to rub against you in just the right way. You shrug, “I-I’m not sure.”

He gets up and comes over to you, standing behind you and leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder. He murmurs in your ear, “I think we should find out during your next break.”

You turn to face him, “I think so too.”

He gives you a quick kiss, “Well, you better be a good girl and study for these last few minutes. Earn that break.” He places his large hands on either side of your head and turns it toward your materials, making you both laugh.

Somehow, you’re able to pay attention. Jack’s impending promise of ravaging you for ten minutes straight quells your jittering nerves and gives you something specific to look forward to. Before you know it, your alarm is beeping, alerting you that your break has commenced. Jack cages you by reaching forward and grabs the clock, programs it to ten minutes and keeps it in his hand. He grips the sides of your swivel chair, pulls it back from the table and spins you around to face him, the speed of the turn making your hair swoosh across your shoulders. Through mutual giggles, Jack lifts you up, winding your legs around his waist, your arms doing the same around his neck. “I want you to count for me how many times you cum.”

Breathlessly, you simply obey, “Okay.”

He practically runs to the bedroom. He sets the clock on the nightstand and turns the face towards the mattress so you don’t lose out on studying time. Tossing you onto the bed, your giggling continues as you bounce from the force. Jack hooks his fingers in your underwear and yanks them down, pulling them out from under your skirt and over your shoes. The way he wastes no time ridding you of any other garment makes blood and heat flood your center and air rush out of your lungs. He pushes your lost air back into your mouth with a kiss and then immediately retreats back to in between your legs.

He flicks the fabric of your skirt up onto your belly, letting himself have complete, unobstructed access to his early lunch. His fingers fondle your folds while his lips place sloppy kisses along the inside of your thighs. After he’s had his fill of that step, he sits back and stares at you: spread out for him, more than willing to take anything he wants to give to you. He blows out a whistle, eyeing your core, and you say, “Hey, you’re on the clock, cowboy. No time for dramatics.”

He nods, a smirk pulling at one side of his mouth, “You’re right, sweetheart.”

He spits onto your cunt, forgoing his usual gentle licks to adequately wet your pussy. A quiet fuck escapes your mouth as he plunges his tongue into you. Your fingers wind themselves in his chocolatey locks and pull, extracting an excited moan from your lover. His fingers knead the soft flesh on the backs of your thighs as he eats and when his mustache starts to tickle your clit, you’re done for. Your grip on his hair becomes vice-like and your whole body seizes up, constricted by enrapturing pleasure. You strangle out, “One.”

Jack unlatches his mouth only once he’s certain your first orgasm is complete. He stands, admires your wrecked expression, takes his cock out, spits into his hand and pumps his dick a few times. Hands slithering around your waist, he flips you onto your stomach and pulls your ass up, positioning you on your hands and knees. You’re a little bit dizzied by his manhandling in combination with his expert tongue, but this type of vertigo is the most enjoyable you’ve ever experienced. 

When he pushes into you, it’s a bit of a stretch because he hadn’t warmed you up with his fingers. He relaxes you by leaning forward, pressing his chest against your back and peppering soft kisses to your shoulder blades. The clink of his belt comically punctuates his thrusts, but your laughs are swallowed by intoxicated groans. You don’t know, and you don’t really care to figure out, how he already has you teetering on the edge of cumming again. Heightened senses tell you that you’re close; the fabric of his shirt feels unearthly soft as it brushes against patches of exposed skin, his fingertips are delightful lead in their clamp on you, his grunts and pants angelically reverberate in your skull. And then, suddenly and all at once, “Two.”

Jack’s pride shows itself in a smirk while he flips you onto your back. He makes a show of hooking your calves over his shoulders, eliciting laughter from the both of you. Resting almost all of his weight on top of you, your knees find your chest and his hands find your hair. The intimacy of it all is almost too much; his thumbs stroke your temples, palms cradle your head, those goddamned puppy-dog eyes bore into you. You turn your head in his grasp to check your timing: five minutes left. 

Jack’s tongue darts out to lick the pads of his fingers before he snakes it down in between the two of you to rub your clit. Your moans come out uncontrollably, your eyelids stutter and he eggs you on, “That’s it, sweetheart. Give me another one.”

Hearty moans are reduced to desperate gasps and you’re unable to verbally acknowledge the third orgasm that rips through you. Nonetheless, Jack can tell from the way your eyes roll into the back of your head and his name tumbles ferociously out of your mouth that you’re cumming. “’Atta girl.”

Jack takes his cock out of you and the whine that escapes your lips embarrasses you. He can’t help but laugh at your whimpering before he scoots down the bed and starts to eat you out again, framing his head with your quaking thighs. You find the strength to check the time, “Jack, there’s only a minute and a half left.”

He moans deeply into you, unaffected by your comment, and eases three fingers into your fluttering center. Like earlier, your hands fly to his hair like a magnet and find purchase so tight it makes your knuckles go pale. In a matter of seconds, circling your clit with his sopping tongue and tapping your g-spot with his deft fingers, Jack has you cumming yet again. This time you yell out the count, “Four!”

The sounds his ministrations make are lewd and exhilarating, pushing himself to his own precipice. You look down your body to find Jack’s other hand jerking his cock and his seed spilling out of him moments later. He groans into your pussy while you pet his hair, praising him for his efforts. 

Simultaneously, you both remember that you’re being timed. Your eyes meet the clock at the same time: 30 seconds. Jack springs from the bed and pulls you up with him, grabbing your discarded panties. He squats and taps your ankles so you lift your legs up, sliding each leg hole over your body and pulling your underwear up underneath your skirt. 

You fumble with his mussed clothes, stuffing his still-hard cock into his boxers, hiking his jeans up over his ass and zip and button them closed. You snake his belt around his waist and let his fingers do the work of buckling it before he picks you up bridal style and ushers you out of the bedroom, grabbing the clock off of the nightstand on your way out. 

Unhinged cackles follow you two down the hallway as you return to the living room. He plops you down in your chair, straightens you out, gives you a kiss on the cheek and then your alarm goes off. You raise your eyebrows at him, “Jeez, you didn’t waste a second.” 

He hums, then mumbles, “You get back to work now, babygirl,” and leaves you with a yearning kiss on the part of your hair.

Both of you return to your respective readings, hopelessly trying to downgrade your panting gasps to normal breaths. The absence of Jack’s warmth is already painful. But you rationalize that the indulgence of the last ten minutes is more than enough to get you through this next hour of studying, if not for longer.

Little do you know that Jack feels the same pain. His ache for your touch, sexual or not, will overtake him later and he’ll be unable to resist the temptation of coming over and distracting you again. Determined to finish your studying, you’ll propose a compromise: you can sit in his lap while he is lulled to sleep by the ambience of the afternoon rain and the enveloping comfort of you. The two of you can try to beat the record of four orgasms next semester. 

💘taglist: @pascalpanic​, @mellowswriting​

[ambertea]

fatherhood

Tentoo prepares himself for the birth of his child by trying to become the perfect dad.

It was strange, being a human.

It wasn't just that he had to watch his sugar intake now, or that his hair was receding at a worrying pace. It wasn't even the extraordinary amounts of drinking and eating he had to do, the peculiarity of human existence that forced him to constantly shovel things in his mouth.

(Read on AO3)

It was a culture shock, more than anything else. He had lived among humans for years, shared hundreds of years of his life living with their habits. But it was different, somehow. It was as though he was living abroad, rather than simply taking a holiday, and he often found himself struggling to untangle their bizarre social norms.

“Are you listening to me?”

He looked up, his eyes darting around the room. He had been engrossed in the newspaper, ticking off inaccuracies or improbabilities, and drawing tiny TARDISes in each white square of the crossword puzzle.

“Yes.”

Rose looked doubtful. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course.”

“So, what do you think?”

He hurriedly scanned the room, looking for something to have an opinion on. The walls were the same colour. The curtains, too. Even the windows looked just the same as yesterday.

“Good.” He nodded forcefully. “Good. Very good.”

“Great.” She grinned, and he relaxed.

She threw herself on the sofa next to him and stroked his shoulder.

“So, when should we start trying?”

He kissed her forehead, trying to gain some precious thinking seconds.

“Uh. Tomorrow?”

She held her head in his lap, gazing up at him with some strange human emotion.

“I can’t believe we’re going to be parents.”

Oh.

He wanted to have a child. He really did. He loved kids, enjoyed their brutal honesty and vivid imaginations. He had had children before, of course he had, and although he didn't spend an awful lot of time thinking about it, he still thought of himself as a Dad.

The responsibility of being the father of Rose’s child, though, was something else.

Everything about her was perfect. She had a beautiful face and an equally magnificent soul. Hell, she had literally been a Goddess at one point. What if his silly genes were more dominant than hers, and rather than the wonderful baby that she deserved, she ended up with a child just like him?

The only solution, really, was to just become the perfect dad. So far, Netflix had told him it included a lot of DIY, and sometimes crossing his arms.  He could do that. His last body had been a wonderful mechanic, and he was sure he’d folded his arms at some point in 900 years.

The drill looked a bit scary. He would have felt better using his sonic screwdriver, but it wouldn’t have looked nearly as cool. Rose was watching him, looking concerned.

“Do you have to hold it in your mouth?”

He tried to talk, and spat the drill out, exasperated.

“Yes! I need to be holding your hand too. The baby needs to feel how good of a dad I am.”

She squeezed his arm and leant into his body.

“I’m sure they’ll know either way.”

He doubted it. Probably, they would be watching perfect Simon next door, with his massive toolbox and fancy shed, wishing that their dad could be equally handy.

“What are you drilling, then?” She asked, and he looked around the garden in panic.

He hadn't thought about that bit yet. He'd been flabbergasted by the sheer amount of attachments, and then annoyed over the stupid power chord that needed at least 3 extension leads to go anywhere useful. He'd had a vague image of himself drilling a bit of wood, and Rose clapping at his brilliance. But there wasn't any wood out here, the garden empty but for a few gnomes.

One looked up at him judgmentally, and he made a mental note to kick it when Rose wasn’t around.

“Uh – I thought I would practise, for now.”

“What, like just…turn it on?”

“Yep,” he said frantically. “A test run. See how, um, spinny it is.”

Rose dropped his hand, and he turned to her, offended. She was clutching her stomach, her eyes lit with – was that fear? Happiness?

“Rose? Are you okay?”

She nodded slowly, a small, gentle smile growing. Retaking his hand, she pressed it against her stomach, and he felt his single heart jump when he felt it.

“They’re kicking,” he whispered, dropping to his knees and pressing his ear against her stomach. The baby kicked him straight in the head, and he stared in wonder.

“It’s nice to meet you too.”

Okay, so maybe the drilling thing had failed. It was no wonder, really, he was a highly intelligent part-time lord, who couldn’t be wasting his time standing around all day just pointing hand tools at walls. His baby was unlikely to be properly impressed with that, anyway, being of superior intellect themselves.

Perhaps he needed to talk to an expert. An actual parent, one that had managed to raise an impressive child.

He thought about Jackie for a second and instantly squashed the thought.

Pete wasn’t laughing at him, exactly, but he certainly had a strange little glint in his eye that the Doctor didn’t appreciate.

“You want me to teach you how to…parent?”

The Doctor groaned. This had been a stupid idea. He turned to go, but Pete quickly grabbed his shoulder.

“Sorry. I was a mess when Jacks was pregnant, so I guess this is no different.”

“It is different!” The Doctor said, offended. “It’s Rose.”

“So just be there for her. Help her with things. I’m sure the baby would…respect that.”

The Doctor stared, wide-eyed. Pete was right. The baby was going to love Rose, just like everyone else who met her, and if he could be seen helping her…

“Thanks, Pete, bye.” He yelled, legging it out of the room.

“What are you doing?”

He frowned, offended, and the wooden spoon rolled off his tongue and onto the floor. Rose eyed it, eyebrow raised.

“How are you doing today, my darling?”

“When did you start calling me that?”

“I can call you something else!” He offered desperately. “Sweetie? Sugar? Love? Babe?”

“Do not call me babe.”

“Honeybunny?”

She was looking at him as if she was slightly concerned for his health.

“I’m making dinner.” He said quickly, gesturing to the wok. She walked over, suddenly interested, and peered down with a look that he couldn't decipher.

“Malteasers?” She asked faintly. He nodded.

“And bananas. And tea, too, for the sauce. All your favourites!”

She kept her face down, shoulders shaking. Probably, he thought, stunned in the face of his great generosity.

“Thank you, Doctor.” She finally choked out between gasps, patting him fondly on the shoulder. He puffed out his chest and went to go sort out the crockery.

“I think we should start buying things.” Rose said one day. Her legs were draped over his lap, his hands massaging her feet.

He looked at her in shock. He hadn’t even thought about all the things the baby would need, being more focused on Rose and her ever-changing moods. They were going to need so much stuff, and it was all going to have to be perfect, as well, lest the baby grew unhappy with its drab surroundings.

He knocked her feet off his lap and set off into a run.

“Why,” Rose asked, her hands on her hips, her stomach peeking out under her bottom, “do we need five cribs?”

“The baby needs options!” He insisted, gesturing at the cradles circling the room. They were all in different shades of white, with tiny little mobiles hovering over them. He had made the mobiles himself, fashioning tiny little Earth, Gallifrey and TARDIS charms to hang over the crib.

He frowned, wondering if he’d done something wrong. Maybe he should have gotten some different colours—he knew humans' fixation on pinks and blues for their offspring. Perhaps he should have picked up a few more.

“You don't think the baby will like them?” He asked, feeling a bit crushed.

Rose smiled, and hugged him, her round bump pushing into his belly.

“They’ll love them.”

Rose was in labour, and he was having a heart attack.

He didn’t like only having one heart on a good day. As a Time Lord, he’d loved Rose, but he’d also loved space, and the TARDIS, and pretty much any fascinating person he met. Now having only one, it felt like his whole body was focused on just her – everything else seemed so less important, less crucial for his day-to-day survival.

What if one heart wasn't enough? What if he couldn’t love their baby properly? What if the child grew to be unloved and unloving, unable to feel the wonderfully wide spectrum of human emotion, all because he had one, stupid heart and it was already used up.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Doctor,” Rose moaned, and he hurried over to clutch at her hand.

Rose was holding her baby.

No—his baby. No, theirs.

She looked up at him, her face pink and drenched in sweat, a soft, beautiful smile stretched across her face.

“Do you want to hold her?” She whispered, rocking the pile of blankets gently, and he nodded, dumbstruck.

Carefully, the baby--his baby!-- was settled into his arms, and he gazed at her, tears trickling down his face.

“Hello,” he whispered.

She opened her eyes and blinked up at him. Her tiny, pudgy little arm stretched out to him, reaching out towards his face, and his singular heart stretched and grew.

"She's perfect." He told Rose, who nodded, looking at him with yet another expression he couldn't untangle.

He looked back down at his daughter and ran his finger over her cheek, marvelling over how soft, how precious she was.

"I'm going to look after you," he choked out. "I'm going to be the best dad on Earth. You'll see."

The baby looked up at him, eyes filled with trust, and he thought that maybe, if he tried really, really, hard, he might just be able to do it.

[abarbaricyalp]

Idk if you are still taking prompts, but you know the vine two dudes chilling in a hot tub 5 feet apart cause they're not gay, and a girl quoting it in a park about two girls in the distance and one of them hearing and going "Actually I am gay" Like that scenario, only involving them fixing the boat? Maybe Sarah quoting it to give Sam shit when she thinks Bucky cant hear and Bucky goes "Wait, no I'm gay" or something, or just the general gist of that. Sorry if this us too specific, I've never sent anyone a prompt before :P

Hello Friend! Thank you so much for sending anything in at all! I know the vine you're talking about, but I couldn't find it on Youtube. (I did find a two day rabbit hole of old compilations though) This was also my first foray into writing Sarah as a fully fleshed character! I was excited to get the practice 'cause I had an idea bouncing around in my head about her and Bucky talking after he wakes up in the Wilson house. I kept her a little more like she had been in my other fics pre-show here. I so wish we got a little more of her!

Feel free, anyone, to send me Sambucky prompts!

The North American Superhero in a Domestic Situation

Sarah Wilson loved her brother deeply. The kind of soul crushing love that could only be formed through family, loss, and approximately four thousand brawls around the living room throughout their life. She looked up to her brother more than she could ever imagine looking up to anyone. Even when they were fighting or picking on each other, she couldn’t help but feel a swell in her chest when he came into her line of sight.

That didn’t mean she understood him. In fact, from the age of eight, watching her brother interact with the world had become her go-to pastime. Why did he have to roll every pea around the plate individually before eating them? Why did he and his friends spend seven years socking each other in the arm to prove friendship? Why did he talk to himself in the mirror, even when he knew Sarah or someone else was standing in the doorway?

Sam Wilson was just deeply weird. She had no idea how he had tricked the Avengers, a plethora of bad guys, and half of the media world into thinking he was remotely cool. She saw a news story once that had King T’Challa standing on a platform with Sam and the newscasters talked about how impressive Sam’s suit was. It was unnatural, the effect he had on people.

And in all her years, she never thought she’d see anyone weirder than Sam. But then James Barnes had showed up. It was like a complete reversal of Sam. Sarah was taken in for approximately three hours by his charm and face before she realized he too was deeply, deeply weird.

She justified sitting on the edge of the Paul and Darlene, watching her brother and James Barnes spar off about some dumb trivia fact, by deciding it was an anthropological expedition. The North American Superhero in a Domestic Situation. She watched Sam watch Barnes take a long pull off his beer. She watched Barnes kick his feet up near Sam’s legs and then draw them back quickly when a current jolted the boat. She watched Barnes’ fingers tap-tap-tap against the edge of the boat, inching closer to Sam’s shoulder before he chickened out and brought his hand back to his own lap. She watched Sam suggest Bucky take his jacket off, ‘unless you plan on sun blinding me with the robocop arm.’ She watched Sam look away when Barnes did shrug his jacket off.

When she was seventeen and Sam was fifteen, she had found Sam crying in his room, pillow pressed to his face to muffle the noise. They were at the age where going into each other’s rooms uninvited started international conflicts, but Sarah, who watched her brother intently, felt like she knew what was going on. So she let herself in through their Jack-and-Jill bathroom and shut the door behind her.

Sam didn’t stop crying, not even to yell at her to get out, so she sat on the end of his bed and rolled a baseball under her foot for a while. Finally, she’d said, “You don’t have to tell Mom and Dad, y’know.”

Sam had just about wailed and bit the corner of his pillow to stop himself.

“That’s gross, stop it,” Sarah ordered and pushed Sam’s shoulder back enough to yank his pillow free and then reached over to wipe the tears from his cheeks. “I should make you do the laundry this week so I know I’m not touching your snot germs,” she teased softly.

“How did you know?” Sam hiccuped out. Tears were still brimming at his eyes, but they didn’t fall.

“I’m your older sister. I made you. Like a doll. You think there’s something about you that I don’t know?” she joked. And when the tears did spill over his long lashes, she sighed and pulled him closer to her side. “I just know the way you interact with that boy from the basketball team ain’t just friendly.”

“Jesus, do you think he can tell?” Sam asked and she could hear the mortification in his voice.

“Sam, he’s a freshman in high school. The only thing he knows is that he’s scared of everything too. No one’s paying that much attention to you.”

“Screw you,” Sam muttered.

“What’re all these tears for you if you didn’t make a move and get shot down?”

“God, Sarah, can you not say things like that?”

“Watch your mouth,” Sarah warned with no heat in her voice. “Come on, tell me what’s wrong. I’m not leaving until you do.”

“I just…” Sam sat up and worked his jaw for a while. His chin dimpled and his eyes watered but he managed to control himself. “I’m scared, Sarah. I’m scared of never being in love. Of having to leave if I am. I’m scared to say something and I’m scared not to say something. I’m so scared of...losing any of it.”

“Sam,” Sarah sighed and pulled Sam into another hug. “You’re fifteen. You’re not supposed to be in love yet. You don’t have to think about any of that. You just have to focus on passing Geometry, alright? Mom’ll whoop your ass more for failing than anything else.”

“I have a B+, that’s not failing!” Sam snapped. He kept his face against her shoulder for a second long before he sat up and wiped his tears away. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“Who am I gonna tell? I told you, my friends don’t like you as much as you think they do.”

“Your friends like me more than they like you,” Sam shot back and he almost sounded normal.

Sarah smiled softly and patted Sam’s cheek. “I won’t tell Mom or Dad. Of course not. That’s for you to do. But--”

“I’m always going to tell them when you sneak out the window.”

“No! Sam! You can’t! You owe me now!”

“Going to field parties is not the same thing!” Sam said in a shriek as Sarah leaned over to pinch his sides. They grappled for a second before Sam managed to push Sarah off the bed.

“You owe me,” she reminded him as she walked back to the bathroom.

Sam wiped his eyes again and nodded. “Sure, Sarah. I do.”

Sam almost had the same look on his face now. Like there was something he wanted to reach for that he thought was too impossible to hold. The Older Sister Instinct to Antagonize into a Solution kicked in.

“Two bros, chilling on a boat, five feet apart ‘cause they’re not gay,” she sing-songed. Sam looked mortified again but masked his face into something more irritated with a roll of his eyes when Barnes looked over at him.

“Ignore her. It’s this old video--” Sam started.

But Bucky interrupted to say, “Actually I am gay,” as he looked back over at Sarah. “Sorry if I got your hopes up,” he added with a grin that really did get the hopes up.

“What?” Sam asked and Sarah, ever watchful, could see the beer bottle shaking in his hand.

“What?” Bucky repeated innocently.

“He said he’s gay,” Sarah clarified.

“Thank you, Sarah,” Sam ground out. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Bucky snorted. “When would I have said anything? ‘Sorry for ripping your wings off and kicking you off of a hellicarrier, by the way I’m gay.’?”

“You did what?” Sarah asked.

“‘Sorry for claiming I didn’t bomb the UN only to be reverted back to the assassin who would have done that and then fighting you again. By the way I’m gay.’ ‘Thanks for saving my life. Sorry about the giant undersea prison. By the way I’m gay.’ ‘There’s an imminent battle with weird ass space dogs that want to eat our faces. By the way I’m gay.’ ‘Sorry about Tony Stark, whose life I kind of ruined. Lovely funeral. By the way I’m gay.’ ‘I’m in the middle of being pissed at you about the Shield. By the way I’m gay.’ ‘Maybe don’t take me rolling through a field of flowers. It does things to me ‘cause I’m gay.’ ‘John Walker’s fucking insane. I’m gay, but definitely not for this bullshit.’ I mean, come on, Sam.”

“Flowers?” Sarah asked.

“Besides, why would you care? I don’t make it a habit of telling straight guys I’m into guys.”

“You don’t seem to make a habit of telling many people that,” Sarah pointed out. “I googled you. Nothing suggesting that came up.”

Bucky shrugged. “I’m a guy from the 30s. It was trained out of me.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sarah said quickly. “Back up away from that because we’re not gonna try to Oppression Olympics our way through our histories. Did you just say Sam was straight?”

“Sarah!” Sam hissed.

“Sure. I mean, I saw him with Romanov. Hill. He has Tinder on his phone.”

“Samuel Thomas, you better not,” Sarah warned lightly. “You’re better than that.”

“He’s a lady-killer.”

Sarah snorted and had to bring her hand up to her face. “He definitely is not. There has been no lady-killing on his end for a long time.”

“Sarah!” Sam tried again.

“You explain it to him then. Mr. 30s is gonna need the long way round explanation.”

Sam sighed and dragged his hand over his face. “Dammit. Fine. I’m not straight either, alright? I’m...bi, or something. It’s been a while since I’ve had to think about it.”

“What?” Bucky asked, not unlike Sam had.

“He said he’s bisexual. Interested in both parties. Swings either way. Hit a homerun and then hasn’t really swung since.”

“Sarah, Jesus Christ,” Sam groaned.

“What?” Bucky asked again.

“I was engaged. To a man,” Sam said.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Bucky asked, clearly missing the irony.

“Oh, it was inconvenient for you but I had plenty of opportunities, huh?” Sam asked. “Ms. Tell-It-All over there wasn’t joking. I haven’t swung any direction in a while. Not since before I met Steve. My fiance died. And then it never came up.”

Bucky blinked at Sam. He kept bringing the bottle halfway up his body and then setting it back on his leg without ever taking a drink. “Fuck, Sam, I’m sorry,” Bucky said, which was not what Sarah was expecting and it clearly wasn’t what Sam was expecting because Sam finally moved closer to Bucky on the bench.

“What for? You didn’t do anything. This time.”

“Yeah, but if I’d known you were into me too, I woulda kissed you in Germany.”

“Oh, I am so not into you,” Sam denied. “And I wouldn’t have our first kiss ruined by immediately running into the government’s roving show monkey.”

“That’s the worst,” Bucky agreed and also finally moved over on the bench until they were pressed thigh to thigh. “Tell me how much you don’t like me again,” he challenged.

“I can’t stand you,” Sam answered and brought his hand up to Bucky’s jaw.

Sarah couldn’t fight down the grin that came to her face and turned to prop her feet on the pier, back to Sam and Bucky. Just this once, she didn’t need to watch her brother to understand him.

Read on AO3 here!

[leejeongz]

nsfw a-z YOSHI (treasure)

🔅 for @ateezwhorez i hope you enjoy this honey 🥺❤️ dw the others should be written soon tooooo 🔅

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

he just feels cuddly and swoony. he’s in love with you, even more so than before even though he didn’t think that was possible. he loves to cuddle with you, just until you catch your breath again at least. he’s still still high from the whole experience, it’s the perfect time to be open and show your vulnerability even more. it’s less about the physical things he does for you, more about how you two deepen your relationship even further. he uses this time to have deep chats that slowly fade into more light hearted conversations before drifting off to sleep.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

his eyes are his favourite thing about him i think. he likes how you can understand what he wants just from looking into them. they’re intense and needy, oppressive even. they’re infatuating. they’re his secret weapon to make you obey him without even realising what you’re doing.

on you, he likes your lips. he likes how they feel on his own lips, on his neck, around his dick, anywhere and everywhere. he also just thinks they look pretty and are the perfect colour naturally, actually something he noticed about you first which he found really attractive.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

doesn’t like to make a mess at first… might even cum in a tissue the first few times because he thinks it’s more respectful.

but when he’s comfortable and such, he’d love to cum all over your hands after you finished him off with a handjob, he thinks it looks really hot and it’s enough to get him horny again hehe.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he often imagines how you'd look tied up in front of him. at his disposal. his fantasies are actually super kinky but he very rarely tells you them. he’d probably never tie you up to the extent that he dreams of doing because he doesn’t want to hurt you and he thinks of you as quite fragile 🥺

i wanna do another because my wild card was kinda short this time but he would l o v e to do a life drawing of you. like this isn’t even sexual but i don’t wanna get attacked if i write this on something that is fluff lol. it would be something that he’d treasure and something that he would be so proud of. to make it dirty since it’s a dirty secret 👀 he had a few intrusive thoughts while he drew you and found it super hard to stay hyperfocused on the drawing. if you tried to flirt with him while modelling, he’d just tell you to save it for later and that’s when he’d unleash the beast lol.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

1 sexual partner with whom he was in a relationship with. he doesn’t think about it much and when he’s with you, he’s very much focused on you. one look at you and he’s forgotten about them already.

he knows what he’s doing for the most part, but sometimes he just wants to learn new things with you, together.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

he likes facing you: missionary and cowgirl, depending on what feels natural at the time. he likes bringing his face close to yours and hovering his lips over yours, occasionally touching with every thrust. enough to feel the other’s breath, but not enough to actually kiss.

once the pace has slowed a little, he’ll give you the kiss he’s been teasing you with for what feels like hours just so that you’ll appreciate it and enjoy it all the more.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he’s quite serious in the moment. he wants to make sure that you’re enjoying yourself and that he’s doing the absolute most to exceed any expectations each and every time.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he naturally doesn’t have much hair down there. he trims what he has and keeps it tidy since he feels it’s more intimate.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

most of the time, he’s extremely romantic during sex. he’s very into slow and sensual sex that allows you two to bond physically and emotionally. it’s important to him that he understands your wants and needs as his partner and vice versa, making the whole experience super romantic.

but that’s not all the time. sometimes he just wants to rip off your clothes and have his way with you and that’s ✨totally fine✨

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

i feel like he’s a typical laptop on desk, tissues besides him type of guy. he doesn’t do it too often, but when he does he has to fully commit because there is absolutely no way he’s stopping for anything/anyone that isn’t you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

he’s not that kinky, he’s a vanilla man. i’ll just list some sexual things that he likes hehe

whispering- he likes when you whisper close to his ear and he likes doing it to you. the tingling down his neck is intoxicating, he can’t help but want to feel it again and again. what you say is important too. he likes receiving praise. saying things like “you make me so wet” or “you turn me on so much” makes him so happy, it’s a great way to drive him crazy.

ropes- not to an extreme level, just one rope to tie your hands together behind you or in front of you.

eye contact- he likes that his eyes intimidate you of course, but you pushing past that and maintaining eye contact makes him feel a rush to MAKE you feel intimidated. he wants you to feel like he’s in charge (even if he’s not) and if he can’t do that with his eyes, then it’s pretty much over for him, but he likes that fact that you stood up to him and it turns him tf on.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

he likes sex in bed or on the floor. anywhere that he or you can lie comfortably. he likes fucking you in hotel beds. although it’s not really that dirty, it is for you two.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

gentle strokes- he likes when you trace his jawline or collarbones with your fingers, especially when you have long nails. he almost always returns the favour. he likes gently dragging his finger up and down your thigh before and between rubbing your pussy.

directness- tell him you’re turned on. tell him why you’re turned on. tell him how he turned you on. tell him how you feel and why you think he should feel the same way to. by the end of your talk, he’s gurenteed to feel the same way.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

angry sex/sex during an argument.

he wants to settle things properly first. sex isn’t a solution nor is it forgiveness. the only way he can truly be intimate with you is when you’re both happy and when you’re both on the same page. “angry” sex like that is meaningless to him, the argument mustn’t have been important if you can just forget about it so why can’t you just talk it through?

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he’s naturally a giver and oral (sex in general) is no exception. he wants you to be able to allow yourself to receive instead of forcing it upon you if you’re not used to it. he introduces his tongue slowly and always asks if what he’s doing is okay. even if you are used to it, he’s always gonna build up to it. he likes when you take the lead even when he’s eating you out, he likes when you’re giving him directions or your hands are in his hair, controlling him, because then he knows that what he’s doing is right.

not too fussed about receiving head. of course he would never say no, but he’s not one to ask for one just to finish without pleasuring you. he’s eyes are closed during the whole thing and and he lets out small, quiet cusses which he knows turn you on. also says nice stuff to you (when he can get the words out) while you’re sucking his dick because 🥺 he is nice.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

as i mentioned before, he’s slow and sensual. he keeps the experience extremely romantic and memorable. it leaves you wanting more and he knows.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

not his style. at all. he likes to draw out the details, take his time with you, ensure you've both been treated and pleasured sufficiently.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he’d only experiment with things that you’d tried before or things you’ve researched. he doesn’t wanna try anything new to the pair of you especially early on because he doesn’t wanna hurt you or leave a bad impression or anything like that. he’d never spring anything on you that you hadn’t discusssed either.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

2-3 rounds, but it totally depends on you. how much you want, how much you turn him on after, how tired you are etc.

he usually lasts for around 20 mins but needs like a 10 second breather sometimes

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

i don’t see him owning any toys but i don’t think he’d be opposed to using them. if you wanted to use them, great fantastic he’d get straight to it. he would definitely like to try them for himself at least once too.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he doesn’t tease you much, because he’d rather just do it? but i guess if you’d consider extended foreplay to the point where you have to beg him to fuck you as teasing then he’s the master lol. oH and also doesn’t just kiss you during sex, he definitely teases with those.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

tries to hold his moans and cusses back but fails lol. they’re quiet and soft but you can still hear them. he gets kind of shy about them after sex too and he doesn’t really like it when you bring it up.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

“take it off” he orders, looking directly at your chest. you remove your tshirt on command and throw it to the ground. he walks towards you, backing you into the wall behind you. it was a harsh and sudden coldness on your back, but there was something even colder in front of you. his eyes glared at you, which subconsciously made you remove your bra.

“so fucking beautiful” he growled while taking one of your breasts in his hand. it wasn’t long before he started with his tongue. he circled your nipple with his tongue while he played with the other one in his hand. your head automatically fell back, luckily resting on the wall. he slowly began to flick your nipple with his tongue before gently kissing it and moving to the other one.

your hand found its way to his hair, grabbing it and pulling it a little. you occasionally let out small gasps, which almost always made him look up at you and smile.

after a few minutes, he stood up once again, head buried in your neck as he whispered what he wanted you to do for him next.

“please, make me cum. you've turned me on so much tonight.”

that’s when it all started making sense. you’d been bowling that night with friends. this involved a lot of bending over, a lot of casual skin touches when neither of you were bowling and a LOT of whispering closely in his ear since the music was so loud. you knew he liked it when you whispered, but you didn’t know even in that context that it would send shivers down your spine. you stored that info, maybe you’d use that against him one day after he’d been teasing you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

i think average, with just a little under average thickness. i’m not sure if you can ever call a dick pretty but i feel with yoshi it would be justified, especially when it’s hard.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

i’m pretty sure it varies depending on your type of relationship. if you are a romantic partner, 3-4 times a week. if it’s just a fling, once maybe twice a week at most. he has a naturally high sex drive, but he’s less likely to take his time with someone he has no feelings for meaning he doesn’t really crave sex as often as he would with someone he’s romantically involved with.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

as i mentioned above, yoshi wants to talk to you and connect with you even further after sex. he falls asleep when he’s ready to fall asleep, which is after he’s learnt something about you that makes his heart flutter, that he can tease you about later on.

[philliamwrites]

Ocean Eyes, Golden Mind

Fandom: All For The Game (Nora Sakavic)

Pairing: Neil/Andrew

Tags: #math nerd neil, #neil with glasses, #no exy

Summary: In which Neil hates his new prescribed glasses until they attract the interest of a certain Andrew Minyard.

Commissioner: Ziegenkind

Notes: Title taken from Billie Eilish’s ‘Ocean Eyes.’

Ocean Eyes, Golden Mind

Dude, it’s just a frat party. Who doesn’t go to frat parties?

     The message flashes Neil’s screen white, its sender none other than his roommate Nicky who is supposed to study for an upcoming test in Public Policy in exactly nineteen hours. That’s what Neil writes him. Nicky’s reply comes instantly.

Those who study tend not to party. You know. Like you.

     Neil leaves him on read. If he wants to party, he’ll lock himself inside his room, two bottles of Jack Daniel’s by his side while watching every existing compilation of cats attacking people on the small screen of his phone. He knows how to have a good time, alright. Not everyone has to set their scale like Nicky: More than once Neil has been the spectator of him coming back to the dormitory completely wasted, but still eager enough to get frozen waffles from the fridge. Being too drunk to put them in the toaster, he usually just climbs up to his top bunk and puts them between his thighs to eat them partially defrosted. It’s this fragile line between genius and stupidity that has Neil doubting if he should fill in a request for changing roommates or just live with the fact that Nicky Hemmick is one special kind of man.

    So instead of spending his night curled into himself, wall against his back and eyes on every stranger distributing awful shots, Neil sits at the Math Tutoring Centre on the west side of the campus and gives group tutoring sessions.

    Math comes to Neil like breathing. Like Bertrand Russel said, not only does Mathematics possess truth, but supreme beauty—a beauty cold and austere, like that of a sculpture. It is sublimely pure, and capable of a stern perfection such as only the greatest art can show. It is poetry—elegant and deep—of logical ideas to create harmony in a written line. Once he tried to explain that to Nicky over microwaved Mac n Cheese with Girls running in the background, clearly overestimating him, because Nicky only stared into space for a few seconds, and replied, “You really need to get laid, man.”

    Reluctant at the beginning, Neil only agreed to join the Tutor Program because his math professor promised to throw in some extra cash. Something about raising the graduate numbers in order to get the board of education off his back. That’s where Neil’s jurisdiction of interest ends, but he has enjoyed it more than expected—the empty hallways, the harsh light of the ceiling lamps, the smell of chalk, the faint echoes of students still lingering in classrooms. There’s this magic about the Palmetto State University at night—a vulnerability that can only live once the sun sets behind the horizon. When else would he find a kid sleeping under a table in the library, or seniors breaking down in tears for exact 10 minutes before continuing their studies as if nothing has happened.

    There’s another reason he’d rather spend his evening on campus, one Nicky doesn’t need to know because then Neil won’t hear the end of it. That reason being 5’0’’ tall chemistry prodigy Andrew Minyard, sitting in the last row of Neil’s math sessions each Friday. He only knows about him thanks to Nicky’s never-ending complaints, but that never really stopped him from throwing a few or more glances in Andrew’s direction. Just curiosity, of course.

    So when he stands in front of the blackboard now, putting away his lesson papers which are full of numbers and equations—the kind that has enough letters to look like sentences—he feels dozens eyes burn holes in the back of his neck, and one pair belongs to Andrew. No one asks why he’s here, but everyone knows he doesn’t need to be.

    In his one year of giving tutoring sessions, Neil has learnt that exactly three types of students exist: Students who are really good, certainly not in need of the extra lessons, but going anyway for some extra ego-buff and unnecessary brain-flexing. The second type is students who are okay, doing their tasks, following the lesson, not really attracting any attention safe for some crude jokes. The last type has Neil questioning his belief in the educational system of the whole state because he doesn’t understand how they are allowed inside the sacred halls of PSU.

    Andrew is a special type on his own—the enigma that keeps Neil awake at two in the morning because he’s desperate to solve it, but without knowing where to start, he’s just running in circles. His fingers itch to solve an equation with multiple variables, to find the solution to a problem and get it off his mind.

    He doubts it will be this easy with Andrew.

    “Before we continue to look at scalar products in R- and C-vector spaces, we’ll consider bilinear and semi-bilinear forms in general, and link them to matrices for their representation to chosen bases.” Neil’s hand flies across the board, leaving letters and parenthesizes that look like bizarre drawings—art in its most complex form. Once he’s finished, he takes a step away, wipes the chalk on his fingers off on his jeans, and turns to his audience. “What happens to this equation with the semi-bilinear form σ?”

    Two hands shoot up immediately. He ignores them; no need to feed their ego, and instead picks a freshman who’s been staring at his phone for the last ten minutes. Making way, Neil moves back to the student’s seats and leans against a desk.

    Is it the farthest place away from the board? It is.

    Is it the closest that will get him to Andrew? Might be so.

    It certainly gives him a good look at what Andrew’s been doing since Neil started—and that is not solving a single task on the paper Neil has handed out at the beginning of the session. Andrew, apparently bored before it even started, has taken out a slip of paper with a sudoku puzzle on it and is solving it against his leg, completely linked out of the instruction.

    Neil tries not to stare too much at Andrew’s bare arms, and instead looks back at the board.

    “Does that look right?” the freshman—Rhys or Rheeze or something like that—asks, turning around.

    Neil narrows his eyes and squints at the board. He can’t make out a single thing, and that’s bad, yes, but his feet betray him, staying rooted where they are instead of reducing the distance until he can distinguish σ from a.

    “Where does the l come from,” he asks. Multiple heads snap in his direction.

    “That’s a j, Josten,” someone says from the other side of the room.

    Neil squints harder. “And the u?”

    “A μ.”

    “No, it’s a v,” a girl next to Neil says, and that’s when the everyone starts shouting about what’s on the board and what isn’t.

    Neil bears it for a solid minute before he surrenders. He pulls a small case from his pocket, opens it. Puts his glasses on.

    The whole room goes silent.

    Neil checks the equation, nods. “Correct. Who’s next?”

    Multiple people stir, one manages to get up, and walks straight into a table leg. Neil questions that ‘straight’, because only then the freshman guy stops staring at Neil and steers his attention to the equation on the blackboard.

    It was a bad idea, and Neil still hates Allison for forcing him to go. She’d dragged him to the doctor last week to get his eyes tested, annoyed by his never-ending questions of ‘What’s written there?’ or ‘Is that a six or an eight?’.

    “They’re my eyes,” Neil had said, arms crossed as he sat in the office and waited for his turn.

    “And it’s me who has to see your ugly squinting face,” Allison had replied.

    Two hours later Neil had finally his prescriptions but that didn’t mean he was free from Allison’s clutches. He would have been fine with some glasses from the dollar store, but she insisted that if he’s going to wear them more than once a day, he should get designer glasses—thin frames and a color that matches his copper hair. She suggested gold. Neil picked black. The look of disappointment on Allison’s face was something that deserved its own painting to commemorate it. But once they’d finally chosen the right pair, she’d given him the very same look most of the students are giving him now—a mix between slight awe and disbelief as if he’s grown a second head. Or owes them all a month’s worth of lunch money.

    “Well,” had Allison said at least, turning away to pack up and go home. “Tigers have their stripes. I have my eyeliner.” She threw him another scrutinizing look over her shoulder. “You have your glasses.” If it was supposed to make him feel better, it didn’t work, and right now he regrets nothing more than allowing Allison to drag him around.

    Neil’s eyes land on Andrew’s sudoku puzzle, now half-hidden under his papers, and he sees now that he isn’t even solving the thing, but simply coloring in the empty squares.

    He takes a second too long and meets Andrew’s eyes staring back at him.

    “Problem, Josten?” Andrew asks with a blank expression, tapping the end of his pen against his monochrome picture of black and white squares.

    Neil wants to see how far he can push until he walks against a brick wall and breaks something. He returns his gaze to the board but feels Andrew’s eyes like a solid touch on the back of his neck.

    After the session, the students hurry outside, still throwing curious glances over their shoulders at Neil and if he could merge with the back of his chair and disappear forever, that would be totally okay. It isn’t until a shadow looms above him that he looks up from his own homework and draws in a careful breath when Andrew towers above him.

    Neil raises an eyebrow. “Problem, Minyard?”

    Andrew’s face gives nothing away, and when he stretches out a hand, Neil doesn’t flinch. His glasses slip off easily, held between Andrew’s thumb and index finger.

    “Nicky told me he’s trying to convince you to join him tomorrow,” Andrew says. Neil needs a second, because that is the most words he’s heard out of Andrew’s mouth.

    “I have no reason to go,” Neil says, his eyes jumping up and down, from the equation that makes his sight blur to Andrew leaning his slender waist against the table.

    “You have one now.” It’s barely neutral enough to not sound like a threat, but Neil stares at Andrew nonetheless, and when he puts Neil’s glasses on, Neil’s heart does a weird stutter. He’s still starring at Andrew when he leaves the room, and no, his eyes don’t stray, they stay on Andrew’s broad back, and if they dip lower it’s because of the light.

    Once he’s alone, Neil takes a deep breath, exhales slowly. Puts his head in his arms and counts to ten in French first, then again in German. His heart still does this weird thing, trying to bruise his ribs from the inside.

    He gets his phone, texts Nicky he’ll go to the frat party tomorrow and puts it away, not interested in his roommate’s reply. There’s still the equation he needs to solve, but for the first time Neil’s heart isn’t really into math, and he is quite alright with it.

[bitemealiienboy]

Stay With Me | Dhawan!Master X Reader

REQUEST: ‘I have a request (with possible smut if you are ok writing it!) Dhawan!Master saves a female reader from something involving the Doctor (maybe the  reader is bait for a monster that the Doctor is trying to take care of or something?) and takes her back to his TARDIS. They both have feelings for each other and at this point the reader is fed up with being at the whim of the Doctor and doesn't want to turn down the Master's advances any more, so she agrees to stay with him.’  (anonymous)

NOTES: Thank you so much for the request, I really liked this one, it was great fun to write, the ideas just came to me with this one so I kinda went crazy. Although there is no smut in this there is some making-out. This is set after The Timeless Children, so spoiler warning I guess. Hope you enjoy xX

WORD COUNT: 1728

WARNINGS: A lot of sadness, mention of injuries, slight mention of death, and some making-out. The gif is not mine, as always.

You had known the Doctor for years now, first meeting them when you were a teenager and they were a dark haired northern man. You never stayed with the Doctor for long, you’d stay for a couple of journeys and leave. But you’d always find yourself coming back to them and going on another journey. You’d seen the Doctors many faces, you’d seen them at their best and at their worst. But you’d never seen her like this.

Yaz caught you up to speed. She told you everything that you missed, spearing no detail. She told you about the Master's return to the Cybermen. From being sent to prison to Ryan and Graham deciding that their time with the Doctor was up. It was a lot, you understood why she was acting the way she was, but you didn’t like it. The Doctor was taking more risks not realising it was at yours and Yaz’s expense. She wasn’t thinking past tomorrow, this was why you stayed with her. The universe needed the Doctor, but not like this. She was also lying more, but that didn’t surprise you much. The Doctor had been lying long before all this, and you could hardly judge, you had secrets of your own.

You had seen the Master since the destruction of Gallifrey, he showed up on your doorstep, hurt and broken. Despite not seeing this new form of his, you knew it was him straight away. At first you wanted to slap him, for Martha, for Bill, for Missy. But the hopeless and painful look in his eyes made you stop. He was more damaged than before, you found yourself pitying him. Despite all you knew about the time-lord you let him into your home and helped him recover from his bruises and scars. He made you promise not to tell the Doctor he was alive, but not with his usual threats of violence. He sounded like he was begging you. He eventually left your home, but he kept coming back every so often. Sometimes he would have something new to say, to get off his chest and other times he’d say nothing, you presumed he just needed the company. As it became a regular occurrence you reluctantly gave him a spare key. You’d talk to him for hours, he was rather good company. Something you never thought you’d say. Over time you knew he was a changed man, he was far from Harry Saxon or Missy. The Master was an entirely different person. He was the reason why you met up with the Doctor again. You had to find out what was going on.

Which brought you here. Stuck on an alien planet, hiding from giant, hairy, flesh eating monsters who had a particular craving for humans that day. The three of you were hiding in an area of long grass trying to think of a way back to the TARDIS, which they happened to be guarding. Of course the flesh eating monsters had to be somewhat smart.

“I’m gonna see if there is another way,” the Doctor said as she army crawled out of sight.

“She’s gone too far,” you said to Yaz, keeping your voice down.

Yaz nodded in agreement, “I can’t keep doing this. But I don’t know how to tell her.”

“I understand,” you wished you could tell her that leaving the TARDIS was an easy thing. But it wasn’t. No matter how many times you had done it, it was always tough. You looked over at Yaz, “You should take Jack’s offer.”

“How do you know about that?” Yaz questioned in a hushed tone.

“Jack texted me about it, he probably wanted me to chase you up about it.”

“I just don’t know if I can leave the Doctor, not while she’s like this.” Yaz looked as if she was about to cry, you placed your hand on hers, to steady her.

“You’ll see the Doctor again, it’s never the end,” you said.

"I just don't think I could do it."

"Yaz, your life doesn't revolve around the Doctor," you said, getting a small laugh from Yaz.

"Maybe you should listen to your own advice," Yaz smiled, it was soft but there was a hint of sadness to it. “How did you leave the Doctor the first time?” Yaz asked.

“The first time I had no choice, the Doctor sent me and Rose home. Rose managed to save the Doctor, but I didn’t see them again till later that year. But the first time I left on my own was when Rose got trapped in another world. She needed some time alone to think.” You and Yaz both had a lot of time together to share stories of your travels, you told her the Doctors whole life story, well what you knew of it anyway.

“You think she needs some time alone again, to heal?”

“Yes,” you muttered just loud enough for Yaz to hear. “She needs to move on.”

The Doctor started shuffling back towards you, her face wasn’t showing any signs of hope. “Do ya want the good or the bad news first,” she said.

You and Yaz shared a look.

“Well, the good news is that I have a way out. The bad news is that it involves using myself as bait.”

“How are we meant to get back to Earth?” you questioned, “We can’t fly the TARDIS.”

“Didn’t I teach you, Y/N?” The Doctor said

“No.”

“I could have sworn I did," the Doctor scratched her head, thinking. "Huh…Maybe it was someone else.”

“Doctor use me as bait,” you said.

“No,” the Doctor looked at you, it was a look of warning. A look you never took any notice of before.

“Well my idea saves more of us and I wasn’t offering.” You didn’t dare look away from the Doctor. You wanted to try and see what she was thinking. You needed to outsmart her, just this one time.

“I just need more time to think,” the Doctor breathed.

“You’ve had hours,” you sighed, looking away from the Doctor so she couldn’t see what you were thinking. “Fine, five more minutes to come up with something Doctor,” you said, sternly. 

You watched as the Doctor placed her fingers on her temple and began to think. You knew that she would probably be counting down the five minutes in that big brain of her as she thought of a solution. Two minutes passed, you looked over at Yaz as you slowly rose up from your spot. You smiled at Yaz, she knew what to do from here. You gave her a wink goodbye and started to sprint towards the monsters. You looked back, seeing that they were all following you. You could also see Yaz, putting the Doctor in the distance. You ran as far away from the TARDIS as you could, only stopping as you heard the little blue box leaving.

“Goodbye Doctor,” you whispered as you turned to face your death.

The sounds of the TARDIS came back, the monsters stopped in their tracks as they heard the sound.

“NO!” You screamed, “You weren't meant to come back! You idiot!”

It wasn’t the Doctor’s TARDIS that landed. Instead it was a little shack. The Master opened the door and didn’t move. He just slowly raised his arm and shot down all the monsters. It happened quickly. You just stood there blinking, struggling to process your thoughts. 

“Are you coming or what?” The Master called out to you. He was a couple hundred meters away, he hadn’t moved from where he stood. He held out a hand, waiting for you to come to him.

You ran to him, you reached your hand out and grabbed his. He pushed you into his TARDIS, kicking the door shut with your foot. 

“She shouldn’t have done this,” he began saying, his eyes searching your body for any injuries.

“It’s just a few cuts and bruises, Mas—”

“She really shouldn’t have done this,” he cut you off. His hand let go of yours, as he walked towards the kitchen and began rummaging through the draws. You followed him, jumping up onto the counter to sit down. He grabbed your arm again, putting plasters on your wounds. Even the small scratches.

You looked at your arm, now covered in plasters and back up at him. You raised an eyebrow.

“Too much?” He asked.

“Too much,” you confirmed.

He looked at you, contented, you could feel his warm breath on your face. You gave him a small half-smile.

“Thank you,” you said quietly. Your hand found his, your fingers touched his.

“It’s the least I could do,” he took your hand, his thumb gently traced the palm of yours. “Stay with me,” he said softly, “travel with me.”

“You want me to travel with you?” You were shocked. “What about my life back on Earth?”

“We both know you're addicted to this life,” the Master said the thing you could never admit to yourself. You always struggled to settle down on earth for a reason, it was the reason why you kept running back to the Doctor.

“I’ll think about it,” you said. You kissed the Master’s cheek, it felt like the right thing to do. You pushed yourself off the counter, your intention to leave the room.

“Y/N,” the Master grabbed you by the arm. He pulled you back. He looked at you for a moment, his eyes full of lust. He pulled you closer and then crashed his lips onto yours. You fell back in to the counter, while the Masters hands found their way to your waist. You thought about pulling away, never in a million years did you expect you’d be doing this. But at the same time it felt so right, like something you wanted for a long time. So, you placed your hands on his shoulders.

You eventually pulled away, both panting for breath. He pulled you into his chest, his chin rested on top of your head. You took in his scent, it was warm and calming. Your worry for the doctor slowly disappeared from your mind.

“I guess I could stay for a trip or two,” you said into his chest. A small smile appeared on his face as he planted a kiss on top of your head.

[ducktracy]

176. porky’s garden (1937)

release date: september 11th, 1937

series: looney tunes

director: tex avery

starring: mel blanc (porky, chickens), george humbert (neighbor), earle hodgins (salesman)

this would be tex avery’s final black and white cartoon until 1941, and his second to last porky cartoon. how time flies! i enjoy his porky entries a lot. the blow out, the village smithy, and of course porky’s duck hunt are all shorts of his that i find myself coming back to frequently. but, of course, greater tex cartoons lie ahead. interestingly enough, this is also the second and final credit for animator elmer wait, who passed away in july of 1937. chuck jones once described him as “a fine young assistant animator who died too young." i’ve heard speculation that tex’s little-known character elmer fudd was named in wait’s honor--i’m not sure if it was that, or the fact that every other cartoon character in the 1930′s was named elmer, but this is a claim i can find myself believing with more conviction than other animation claims. for now, we visit farmer porky, who’s eager to enter the local contest for the largest home grown product. however, his stereotypical italian neighbor seeks to out-perform him at any cost.

this cartoon is a peculiar anomaly in the tex avery-verse, in that it feels much more like the 1936 avery porky cartoons than the 1937 bunch—and almost deliberately, too. the cartoon starts off very similarly to his first directorial entry, gold diggers of ‘49, laying out the time (1927), the place (podunk center), and the population 500 502 — mrs. castle bottom just had twins!). though tex would constantly reuse gags all throughout his career (and quite well, often elevating the hyperactivity of the gag), it’s rather uncharacteristic for him to reuse a gag for nostalgic purposes. nevertheless, the opening is amusing, and faster paced than its facsimile over at gold diggers of ‘49. the sound of the baby wail as the 500 is replaced with 502 is an extra bonus.

a sign gag featuring the tried and true income tax gag (which has been used, and will continue to be used, in a number of cartoons--tex’s milk and money is another porky entry that uses this gag):

porky is amongst the group crowding around the sign, joyfully declaring that he’s going to win first prize with his garden. cue the antagonist of the picture, porky’s curious italian neighbor, voiced by george humbert. humbert was an italian actor, starring in a large number of hollywood films throughout the ‘30′s and ‘40′s. if i recall, bob clampett once mentioned that tex would go to the movies to get ideas, no doubt his reasoning for getting humbert to do the cartoon. humbert’s vocals shine and add a lot of vitality to this otherwise tame entry. speaking of, italian neighbor is quick to contradict porky: “ohohohoho no, i gonna ween with my cheeken!” with that, he leapfrogs over porky, who is quick to bumble along after him.

we get a brief overhead shot of the two neighbors and their respective houses, the overhead shot once again calling back to earlier porky entries such as milk and money. the competitors both go to their gardens to out-perform the other. cue a short gardening sequence with porky, who uses his straightened out tail to dig holes in the soil, big enough to drop seeds in. his neighbor, on the other hand, concocts a meal full of vitamins and tonics for his chickens cheekens, narrating all the way. the underscore is a stalling favorite, “chicken reel”, and if my memory is correct, i BELIEVE this is the first instance it’s used in a warner bros. short? cue a seemingly arbitrary cut back to porky, who finishes the job of planting. back to the neighbor who summons his chickens to eat his mystery feed of who-knows-what. the chickens dig in... only to halt, spit out the food, and hold their noses (beaks) in disgust. great timing--the drawings especially of the chickens rejecting the food feel quite avery-esque, which is nice: it’s always nice to feel the personal touches of the director.

cut back to porky, a cue of “carolina in the morning” (which is impossible for me to hear without thinking of daffy kaye’s rendition of it in the anomaly that is book revue) underscoring his plan to use hair growth tonic as a means of growing a quick, hearty, full harvest. the scene is cute, yet sluggish--if the cartoon were made even 5 years later, it would have been twice as fast, if not more so. nevertheless, his plan works: the ground shakes beneath him, and crops as tall as the eye can see spurt out from the soil. satisfied, old pigdonald strolls inside, “uh-veh-vuh-vo-do-de-oh”ing and “uh-uh-eh-beh-beh-boop-de-oop”ing all the way along (to remind our audience that this cartoon takes place in 1927--because, why not, right?)

meanwhile, pesky neighbor pops his head over the fence, equally as impressed with the results as porky. perfect food to fatten up the cheekens! the animation of the neighbor is rich and full, humbert’s vocals of course magnifying the quality. with that, the neighbor loosens up one of the boards in the fence, sparking the feeding frenzy: “come an’ get it!”

the chickens do just that. calling back to the days of porky the rain-maker (where there were vegetable gags galore), we get a montage of semi-amusing “chickens eating vegetables in creative ways” gags. one chicken uses a tomato vine as a straw, sucking out the pulp from all of the tomatoes connected. another rolls a line of peas straight into its mouth, rolling up the shell like a toothpaste tube. 

though the gags rouse polite chuckles at most today, the most uproarious gag is the last one: a chicken and a baby chick fight over a watermelon. big cheeken asserts its authority by flicking the baby chick away, spouting tearful insults at the bully chicken. just then, fortune: the chick spots a patch of spinach, the seeds belonging to jones (yes, that chuck jones--whose birthday is today! happy birthday, chuck!) garden company. i can’t say this with staunch certainty, but i do have reason to believe that this cartoon was backlogged for a few months: chuck jones would have been at bob clampett’s unit during the time of this cartoon’s release, but the allusion to his name, the animation of this scene looking peculiarly reminiscent of bob clampett’s animation, and the lack of irv spence animation leads me to believe as such. nevertheless, as you may be able to surmise, the chick transforms into a caricature of popeye, complete with jack mercer-esque mumblings and popeye speak. the newly transformed chick socks the chicken right in the face, usurping the half-eaten watermelon slice and gobbling it down all in one go. easily the highlight of the cartoon, and a gag that can be appreciated regardless of time period.

one last eating gag of a chicken plucking a ripe worm from an apple (fittingly scored to “in the shade of the old apple tree”). the joke suffers from constipated timing, more on the part of carl stalling than the animator. there is a nice, quick, shiver take as the chicken attempts to rip the apple open into two halves. fade out.

fade back in on the feeding frenzy. porky takes notice, and is not happy about it. he does a lumbering, quick little run that calls back to the 1936 porky entries where he was much more short and squat (virgil ross animation?), zooming out of screen, then back in again to retrieve a nearby broom. porky swats the chickens frantically, but to no avail: despite his angry demands for them to get out, they continue to eat.

virgil ross animates the next scene as porky confronts his neighbor: “hey, n-nn-ne-neighbor, eh-teh-teh-tell your cheh-cheh-cheh-chi-chickens to keep outta my uh-geh-eh-geh-eh-geh-garden!” the neighbor complies, his vocals hilariously disingenuous as he haggles with the chickens, who, predictably ignore him. thus sparks an overly-profuse string of excuses from the neighbor, who doth protest too much. “you see? i talk to them! but a-they don’t listen to me!” he pauses. “i’m too sorry for you.” another pause, just as we think he’s finished. “...but i cannot talk-a cheeken talk!” one more pause. “i can no make-a the cheeken coming out!”

neighbor finally leaves the disgruntled pig to his own devices, laughing as he talks to the audience. “eet’za too bad...” he looks at the audience and gives them a knowing wink as he finishes “but not too bad!” overall, a great scene. humbert’s vocals are divine, as is the comedic timing. porky’s befuddlement by the rapid-fire responses from his neighbor is another plus. 

back to a downtrodden porky, who mournfully sulks along to a succinctly timed rendition of “am i blue?” (if you listen closely, you can hear the beats lining up exactly with his footsteps.) suddenly, a thick vine growing out of the patch catches his eye. he follows the vine, pulling it like a rope... 

and the perfect solution awaits on the other side of the fence: a giant pumpkin! perfect for the harvest contest. 

porky lugs his new prize out from the fence, which instantly attracts the attention of the hungry chickens. spark the ever transformative avery moment, where the cartoon halts to make a big production out of nowhere--in this case, football. the favorite “freddy the freshman” score serves as the backing track of the makeshift football game as the chickens line up to take position: “HIKE!”

the next sequence appears to be animated by chuck jones: porky runs long, pumpkin in hand as he swats away the oncoming rush of chickens. the extra touches of making porky do some twirls and swivels as he attempts to maintain balance are not taken for granted. a nice straight-ahead shot of the football field turned garden, with a trellis in the foreground and clothesline in the background to form goal posts--very clever! 

it’s not the chickens who serve as porky’s pumpkin demise, but rather a spare crate left on the ground. porky trips, horrified as he watches his pumpkin launch into the air and across the yard. we get a tashlin-esque concealed pan as porky darts through his house to retrieve his prize, the action obscured: we only see a brief glimpse of the house’s facade, the drumroll and sound effect of the airborne pumpkin being our only indicator to the success of the stunt. thankfully, porky shuffles out of the other end just in time to catch his pumpkin (topped off with a triumphant “ta-da!” fanfare.) wasting no more time, porky dashes down the road and off to the fair. meanwhile, the neighbor’s chickens are all plumped up, ready to win the first-a prize. 

“the merry go round broke down” scores the scenes at the fair as we catch our hero bumbling along with his prize pumpkin into the fair, neighbor and cheekens not far behind. there’s a line of posters advertising the various attractions at the fair, including a caricature of bobe cannon (once more reinforcing the idea that this cartoon was back-logged: he would have been at the clampett unit by the time of the cartoon’s release.) 

earle hodgins voices the salesman (a specialty of his--he played the pill-peddling salesman in porky the rain-maker, as well as the oil huckster honest john in get rich quick porky) peddling the miracle “reducing pills”. his test subject? an elephant. the salesman pops a pill in the elephant’s mouth, who stares at the audience nonplussed as he shrinks to the size of a mouse... literally. 

the next scene of the salesman is great, as it’s full of energy, zaniness, and fervor. i wonder if it’s a clampett scene? the voice of the salesman rises into astronomical pitch as he describes the size of “teensy, weensy, weensy, bitsy, weensy, teeny little mouse”, capping it all off with a flamboyant “WOO!” and pose. the pose looks similar to the same one struck by daffy in clampett’s entry the henpecked duck 4 years later, hence my reasoning. nevertheless, a great scene of zany eye candy. 

peddling his wares, the salesman accidentally knocks over a spare bottle of reducing pills, right in the trajectory of the passing cheekens. and, predictably, the cheekens devour the pills in no-time.

cue a rather blunt cut to porky, who’s about to receive first prize for his pumpkin, standing on stage and politely soaking in the glory. just as the judge reaches to give him his dough, he halts, spotting the ginormous array of poultry behind the pig. the judge is quick to take back his bag of money, much to the awe of porky (which also gives us this intriguing little error for a few frames). neighbor accepts the bag--that is, until the pills kick in. the chickens revert back to the size of chicks, and there’s just enough comedic pause to let the joke sink in before the chicks revert back to mere eggs. 

we iris out--or so we think. just another declaration of tex’s love of playing with the iris out gags. that is one steamed ham.

not the snappiest entry in the avery repertoire, but not exceedingly dull, either. george humbert steals the show with his acting, and the popeye gag with the chick is wonderfully amusing. the cartoon mainly suffers from sluggish pacing in some parts, tired gags in others, but not enough to exclude a watch-through. it’s a fond look back at the earlier days of tex’s directing, and asserts just how far the cartoons have yet to improve. so, for that, i’d say i’m relatively neutral on whether or not to persuade you to watch it: the porky lover in me and ‘30′s cartoon lover in me say go for it! there are bits of greatness that you should definitely seek out. but it won’t kill you to skip this one either.

here’s the link! (excuse the butchered titles/credits: opening title music is the merry go round broke down which is wrong, and the title card music is the opening to porky’s tire trouble--also wrong, as is the porky “that’s all, folks!” ending over the written script) 

[laowai-on-a-bike]

Yinzu, Yinzu, Yinzu… these words echoed endlessly in my head. It all started when I was back from Jiu Gong Mountain, on the highway with my friend Freddy. I was impressed to admire such beautiful landscapes so close to Wuhan. It's weird that we are always drawn to faraway destinations, like Yunnnan, Guizhou or Sichuan provinces but ultimately, there are already plenty of places to explore near our home.

Besides, I will be moving to Guangzhou soon so I might as well explore the area before leaving. And then, starting a bike tour directly from home without the hassle of bringing your bike to a distant destination by train or bus or by mail is really much more convenient. Well, I'm already digressing...

At one point on the highway, then, an exit sign appeared with the name "Yinzu" written on it. I didn't know why, but I was immediately drawn to the name, maybe because it sounds good, I don't know. And then the obsession started: "I'll go by bike to Yinzu". I didn't even know what Yinzu was: a village? A town? Regardless, it seemed like a good pretext for an adventure.

Then Freddy, who speaks Chinese much better than me, managed to find the name in Chinese character. Yinzu was there, on my Baidu Map app (equivalent to Google Map in China), 90 kilometers away from Wuhan.  Ideas for routes were starting to take shape in my head for some time.

In the middle of June, I was having a three days weekend for the Dragon Boat Festival so I said to myself: "Yinzu, I'm coming"!

One day before leaving, I checked the weather forecast: they announced rain for 3 days and a very hot weather (33-35 degrees) ... Ouch ... But, if we are still waiting for the right moment to leave, we will never go on a tour right? “It's raining”, “it's too hot”, “it’s too humid”: these are no excuses! Especially in the Wuhan region, where there are only two seasons (very hot and humid or cold):  that doesn't leave many opportunities to ride if we wait for the perfect weather. So I decided to leave, raining or not.

The last time I rode my bike in bad weather, I wasn't prepared. I ended up with plastic bags around my shoes and a soaked underwear. After this experience, I had searched the internet for the perfect solution to ride in the rain. Overshoes? Good brand raincoat? 10 yuan plastic poncho from street grocery stores? The solution finally came from my British friend Jack: "You must embrace the rain ! Just remove your shirt and ride in sandals"! He was not wrong: in fact, why bother ? Especially with temperatures around 35 degrees, you are dry in 5 minutes ... So I grabbed a 15 Yuan rain shorts (a kind of ugly short made by trash bag material) because I don't like having my underwear wet - yes I know, I'm a little princess -, Decathlon sandals, and for the t-shirt, well… I'm really not a fan of riding with a cycling jersey, so a punk band tee-shirt will have to do !

The day before departure, I loaded my two bike rack bags, I took food (oatmeal and dried fruits for breakfast, and some dehydrated dishes), some clothes, a raincoat which in the end I didn’t use, an Italian coffee maker (instant coffee, no thanks), repairing tools, then equipment for camping (tent, sleeping bag, mattress etc.). Sleeping in a hotel is for a looser, I am a real adventurer... well that's what I thought before leaving…

Sunday 8 am, departure. It didn't seem to be raining, so now was a good time to go. The first 50 km were on a big dusty expressway, I could feel that I was in the suburbs of Wuhan: here and there, construction sites, bridges and roads under construction. I hadn't done 30 km before my bike was already very dusty. No problem, it gives me a feeling of adventure.

The Expressways in China are widely used by trucks… not necessarily super fun to ride, but it allows you to get out of town quickly. Well, positive note, the roads are often very wide here and you really have room to ride. I was trying not to think about the trucks and enjoy my trip, much like when your buddy is snoring next to you, if you start to think about it too much, you will go crazy and it will be impossible to think of anything else. But everything went very well and I never felt unsafe on the road during the whole trip.

The advantage of going on a short 3-day test trip is I learned a lot.

First lesson of this trip: do not trust the weather forecast. The rain they predicted? I hardly saw it…  In fact, it was under a blazing sun that I had to ride the entire trip. They have an easy job, those weather broadcasting guys! Basically they write that there's a 50% chance that it will rain… not a big risk-taking on their part…

So finally, I rode in the blazing sun, and on an express way, there wasn't a single patch of shade. The sun hit hard! As I had already tanned well on my previous bike trips, I figured that I was not too prone to sunburn.

Second lesson: always wear sunscreen, even if you already had sunburns before! And above all, do not wait until you are sweating to put it on, otherwise, it makes a kind of mixture between sticky perspiration, sunscreen and dust...

Well, the sun didn't worry me more than that, at worst a sunburn. ... it was more in terms of hydration that I had to be careful. So I decided to tape bottles on the frame of the bike.  DIY spirit! I also had with me some rehydrating powder to add to the water, since you lose a lot of salt with perspiration.

Anyway, I rode like that for quite a long time, and on the way, I passed a little hand-built house where people were selling water. Seeing me sweating heavily, they invited me to sit on a stool placed in front of a fan. So it was true: when people see a cyclist arriving on a trip, moreover a foreigner coming out of nowhere, smiles and kindness appear.

We talked a bit about the usual topics: Where are you from? What is your job? Are you married? What are you doing here? Then, after a few minutes, the father invited me to eat. At first I politely refused, but eventually I gave in. It is heartwarming to see the hospitality of the people especially at this time, when many Chinese people are scared to see a foreigner, thinking he may have brought covid-19 from abroad. It’s a bit tiring sometimes to see people pinch their noses when they see me on the street, I have to admit. But not at all here. They apologized for only offering me vegetable dishes, no meat, but in fact I was more than happy to eat fresh vegetables from their garden. We chatted about everything and nothing during the meal and it was already time to leave. I would have liked to drink beers longer, but I hadn't come to get drunk. I had a trip planned: Yinzu was waiting for me.

I got back on this big road but after a few kilometers I started to wonder. I hadn't come to go for kilometers on a boring road while being shaken by trucks ... Hence my third lesson of this trip: prepare your route well. Basically there are different types of roads in China that start with a letter: the S and G are the expressways where there are a lot of trucks, little shade, but that has the advantage of going straight and faster. Perfect for traveling for kilometers quickly and out of cities. But the X and Y are much more interesting country roads. Even if it takes detours, it is a change of scenery guaranteed. After these three days of biking, I learned that you have to know the right balance: ride the expressways to go quickly and far, especially when the landscapes are uninteresting. And take the small roads to ride peacefully, to discover rural life and be amazed by the landscapes.

So I changed my route on the GPS. Good decision: I crossed my first rice fields and I was finally over the moon.

Gradually, the landscape started to be really amazing and the colors of the landscapes became greener and greener.

Further on, I began to see mountains in the distance. It was my destination, it was these landscapes that made me want to go to Yinzu !!! The trip was finally starting to make sense. I was as excited as a kid over his Christmas present and all my doubts melted away

I rode like this all afternoon, with a smile on my face, despite the scorching heat.

Gradually, I began to wonder about where to sleep. I am always on the lookout when I ride, looking to see if there is a possibility of wild camping.

Lesson number 4: the rice fields are beautiful in photos but not ideal for camping ... It is not always easy to find a flat and, moreover, hidden place to have a good quiet night's sleep. The rural countryside is incredibly dense with crops and cultivated fields, so it's really not that easy to find a spot to camp. The solution might be to ask people in the area. Well anyway, I was heading to Yinzu and I could decide there.

I arrive near a pagoda and a temple in the middle of nowhere, on the way. What is that ? I asked a passerby, she reply "nothing". I thought she must have been surprised to find herself face to face with a smelly foreigner on a bicycle and told herself that I don't speak Chinese. In fact she was right: the buildings were completely empty, probably a future hotel still under construction.

Finally, a Yinzu sign. I was approaching my goal, but what exactly? I didn't even know what Yinzu was ...

So finally, Yinzu, is a small town which consists of a big main street with its restaurants, its stores. Everyone is surprised to see me there and I have fun seeing children speechless when they meet my eyes: "What can this foreigner on a bicycle be doing here?" I was so excited to have arrived at my destination that I didn't even take a photo of the city. I would also have liked to take pictures of people, but I didn't dare to do it.

I had to make a decision. Get out of Yinzu and find a place to sleep in the wild - I was still quite exhausted from the day's travel and the sunburns - or go and try to check in at the only hotel in the area. I say "try" because not many Chinese know it, but in China, many hotels do not accept foreigners. It is not really out of racism. No one really knows the reason: some say that cheap hotels do not have the computer system to register foreigners, others think that China wants to show only beautiful things to foreign tourists and they must therefore go to beautiful 4 star hotels. Well, I'm not criticizing, it's like that here and I accept it but it's still frustrating to live 15 years in a country, to work there, to be married there and to be refused in a hotel because you're a foreigner…

It makes it hard to plan a bike trip if you're not even sure you can find a place to sleep.

Anyway, whoever tries nothing has nothing and finally, I walked to the hotel without really believing it. The owner who ran the establishment did not even ask a question. I told him that I am a foreigner (sometimes people think I am from Xinjiang Province) just in case. He asked me if I had a Chinese identity card, but I replied with a smile that I only have a passport, that I came from Wuhan by bicycle and that if he wants, I have a photo of my Chinese wife's ID card. But he was very nice and gives me the room card, chatted a bit and even offered me tea.

I went upstairs to take a well-deserved shower. I was really sticky ... I realized that the sun had scorched me today ...

Lesson number 5: apply sunscreen everywhere, including your feet!

I was still a little disappointed with myself. Watching videos of people cycling around the world and camping in nature every night, I told myself that going to sleep at a hotel is a bit cheating, isn't it? But after 5 minutes under the air conditioning, I told myself that it was not that bad in the end. I travel for myself, not for others, and after a little over 100 kilometers in the day, I admit that a shower and a good bed made me feel good. Too bad for my adventurous soul...

I went out to eat something. In the street, I had the impression to rediscover the feeling that I had had when I arrived in China in 2006. It is a felling rather hard to explain. Once again, may be the surprise of people who greeted me with a warm "hello" and wanted to take a photo with me, or the number of street foods vendors who are hard to find in big cities nowadays. I ate a bowl of Lanzhou noodles, returned to the hotel and quickly fell asleep.

 The next day, I woke up feeling very tired. It was undoubtedly linked to the heat stroke of the day before. My feet didn't hurt too much. I had few small blisters on my knees but it could have been worse. I told myself that I shouldn't hang around too much. Better ride early to avoid the heat of the day. By arranging my things scattered all over the place and loading the panniers on the bike, I was already sweating profusely… The day was going to be hot… I put on sunscreen (I had understood my mistake of the day before). I decided to go towards Wuhan but not by the same road because it is boring to take the same route as on the way there. There is a big lake 50 km south of Wuhan, which is perfect because I have never been there before.

The road to the lake was once again beautiful. I passed through villages and small towns, lakes, rice paddies, cornfields. Such a nice place to ride a bike.

Every now and then, I chatted with people at a gas station, or with a watermelon vendor who kindly offered me his stool to eat in the shade and chatted with me.

It was still very hot, but the sun was not too strong. In fact, I can handle the heat really well. I can ride in high temperatures with no problem but on the other hand, when the sun is burning my skin, it's really hard for me, especially from 10 am to 4 pm.

While riding under the sun, I was wondering about my next trips. Since I got back to cycling, I have dreamed of doing part of the Silk Road by bike from Lanzhou to Dunghung in Gansu Province, basically a road through the desert (with cities between). I was starting to realize that my dream was not going to be so easy to achieve. How to ride all day without shade? I guess someone should really be prepare for a trip like that.

I tell myself that in the end, I was smart enough not to jump straight into such a long adventure. Rather than directly embarking on a 20-day adventure and experiencing difficulties, I did things gradually: first short distances in Wuhan to get used to the bike, then trips of 100 kilometers in Wuhan, then a two-day trip, a mountain to climb to test my willpower and finally a slightly longer trip.

Around 11 am, the sun reappeared but I decided to go to the lake without taking too many breaks. I still should have left two hours earlier though (I left at 8 am) to avoid the strong sun radiation.

Gradually, the landscapes changed a little, the mountains in the distance disappeared and the vegetation changed. I would have liked to stay in the area longer but I had to go back to work. Next time I should ride longer.

When I got to the lake, I realized that in fact, I was not really in the place I hoped for. Make no mistake, it was very beautiful, but it wasn't really a big lake. Rather square ponds designed for fishermen.

But I was still super happy to find myself a little shade by the water with my friends the hens who came to visit me and sometimes fishermen who came to chat with me.

The place where I was, however, was not really ideal for camping because it was too close to a road. I didn't want to be woken up in the middle of the night by strangers. Besides, my mate Jack told me that while sleeping near this lake, a farmer kindly asked him to leave in the middle of the night few years before.

So after I had rested for an hour, I left to look for a more hidden place. The camp spot I found was not perfect - It wasn't by the water – but I could be invisible at night. I know that many travelers love to set out to find a place to camp. It’s like a game for them. Me, I always have a little apprehension of doing wild camp. This must be probably related to my inexperience in wild camping. But hey, after an hour of imagining the worst, I told myself that I was not risking much and I had to try to make the most of the present moment.

So I made a meal while waiting for night to fall to put my tent discreetly. I didn't want to attract the attention of the local fishermen either.

As I entered the tent, ready to sleep, I felt really stupid. The tent was like a real sauna!! In terms of insects, I was well protected by the mosquito net but the heat was really difficult to bear. I couldn't open the tent door or else I would be eaten alive by the bugs… I could hear them circling around the tent, attracted by a sweating smelly human and my phone light. So I had a hard time falling asleep. Usually, after a day of cycling like this, you can easily fall asleep around 9 p.m... I still told myself that the hotel in this season is nicer and that would save me from carrying a tent and sleeping gear (and a new lesson learned, a sleeping bag is useless in this season). The hammock could be the solution, I have one with an extra mosquito net, but I don't sleep very well in it... a new lesson learned on this trip !

Finally, I woke up at dawn. After packing all my mess, I had breakfast and a little coffee for the road.

I had around 50 kilometers to ride that day to get home and I had to work in the afternoon. The return went well, I followed a few roads lined with fields of tea and corn, but the landscapes were gradually less pleasant and more and more urban.

  I finally arrived around midday at home. I had ride 230 kilometers with 1200 meters of elevation gain. That was not bad in this heat.  At the end, I was super happy doing this trip: I had learn a lot for my future trips, I enjoyed the ride, saw beautiful landscapes, and met some nice people… I had beautiful memories in my head and only one desire: to leave again as soon as possible!!!

[kinglazrus]

When the Time Comes

Phic phight 2020

Submitted by @pipermasters: how does Vlad react to having to spend ten years watching Dan destroy the world

Summary: Knowing you caused the end of the world isn’t easy, but Vlad's had to live with that fact for ten long years. A surprise visitor forces him to reflect on his role in Dan's creation and the destruction he brought to the world.

Word count: 2077

People say not to dwell on the past, but when the present is a hell of brimstone and fire, there's little else you can do. Ten years is a long time to watch the world burn, too long. Vlad often wonders what right he had to survive for so long, wasting away in the crumbling remains of his manor. He doesn't sleep, he doesn't eat, yet still he lives. Even with his ghost half long removed from his body, he lives. It must be some cosmic punishment. His debt to pay to the world. Everything is his fault, and for his crimes, he must witness humanity's slow demise.

Vlad didn't realize what he was unleashing all those years ago, what havoc it would wreak. How could he? When he sank his claws, quite literally, into young Daniel's chest, he truly believed he was helping the boy. It seemed like such an easy solution. Ghosts, despite all their emotions, have always been simple beings. They are not restrained by heartache and loss, left to frolic in the life-after-life without worldly concerns.

At the time, Vlad wished someone had been around for him in his college years, the same way he was for Danny then, to rid him of his pain. Abandoned by his best friends, left aching, alone, and—he believed—dying, a younger Vlad would have revelled at the thought of release. He only wanted to give Daniel what he himself could never have.

Daniel, sedated and unconscious, felt nothing. Despite all his villainy, Vlad wasn't cruel. At least not unnecessarily so. There was always a chance the procedure could hurt, and Daniel had been through so much already. Vlad wanted to spare him whatever pain he could.

The procedure was a resounding success. His modifications to Jack and Maddie's Ghost Gauntlets worked like a charm, not leaving a single scratch on Daniel's human body. The ghost in Daniel resisted at first. Vlad did not expect it to fight back, and he almost stopped, believing Daniel didn't truly want this.. But then he remembered his years of pain and misery and spurred himself on. His arms trembled, sweat beading his brow, as they fought their little battle of wills.

Vlad won out, in due time, dragging the ghost out of Daniel's body, a pale shade of itself. For a moment, the sudden success shocked him. He always had faith in his smarts and his abilities, but there was a little part of him that whispered it wouldn't work, that something would go wrong. When Vlad raised up his arms, Phantom hanging off his claws, that voice was silenced.

Until the monitor watching Daniel's vitals started shrieking. Phantom reacted violently. His eyes, so much duller than they should have been, snapped open and he threw Vlad across the room. Vlad knew, then, that something was terribly wrong.

Daniel's heart was slowing, his lungs failing. Phantom looked moments away from destabilizing, the wounds on his chest bubbling and seeping ectoplasm.

"Wh... at... did y... ou do," Phantom asked.

Vlad wishes, now, that he had tried to explain. If only he had found the words, he could have told Phantom, this was is you wanted, isn't it? Neither of them could have foreseen it going wrong. But Vlad's wits failed him in that moment.

Maybe it's just wishful thinking, wondering if he could have stopped it all back then. Perhaps Phantom would have listened. Or he could have ignored Vlad's harried excuses, and nothing would change at all. Vlad will never know.

His next memories are lost to a haze of pain. After getting his own ghost half brutally torn out of his body, he was left on the verge of death. Spirit broken, his very being ripped apart, he collapsed in agony. He remembers only the shadows and how they writhed as Phantom tried to overpower Plasmius.

Mercifully, he did not witness Daniel's death. Vlad awoke, cold, alone, consumed by a gnawing pain, and found the body. It was mangled beyond recognition, but he knew it could be no one else.

Vlad didn't know what horrors followed that harrowing night until weeks later. He secluded himself in his mansion, mourning everything he had lost. Without Maddie, without Daniel, there was nothing left for him beyond these walls. His wealth meant nothing if he could not have them. Locked in a prison of his own anguish, surrounded by riches most men could only dream of having, he was resigned to wallowing in misery.

He wishes that's how it happened. But Vlad had a price to pay. Fate, the world, whatever or whoever, refused to let him die. So, Vlad watched. Hiding away in his manor like the coward he was, he watched Dan destroy the world.

The killings were brutal. Violent displays of power that levelled whole cities. Nothing could placate Dan. Like Vlad, he was consumed by greed, hellbent to obtain something he could not have. No amount of destruction could bring back the people Danny had lost.

That pained Vlad the most. Dan was a monster, a cruel beast with no remorse. But inside he was a child in mourning. He was confused and scared and hurt, and Plasmius' influenced twiste him in horrible ways.

Vlad tried to stop Dan, but only once. Four years after Dan began his crusade against the world, Vlad finally crawled out of his manor, a pitiful slug, and made his way to Amity Park. By then, it was well on its way to being the last city on Earth, the only place fortified against Dan's power. Vlad stood outside its walls, an ecto-pistol in hand, and waited. He didn't have to wait long.

"What a surprise! I never thought I'd see you again, old man," Dan said. He looked so much worse than Vlad ever imagined. Sickly pale, purple veins throbbing under his skin, bloodshot eyes. Despite all that, he gave off a suffocating aura of power. Vlad was instantly reminded of his own weak state. For the first time, he felt afraid of an opponent.

"Daniel, you have to stop," Vlad said.

"Daniel. I always hated it when you called me that." Dan raised his hand, firing a single beam of ectoplasm from his finger. Vlad flinched as it shot over his shoulder, singeing his cheek and burning his hair. The sight of it made Dan chuckle.

"Danny," Vlad amended.

Another beam shot over his other shoulder.

"That's not me anymore," Dan hissed, his forked tongue slipping between his teeth.

"Dan," Vlad finally said. When Dan didn't immediately attack him, he continued. "You can't do this forever."

"Funny words from someone like you."

"This won't bring them back." Vlad instantly regretted saying it.

Dan rushed forward, grabbing Vlad and pinning him against Amity's barrier. Despite not having a ghost half anymore, the barrier remained firm against his back.

"Don't act like you know me, old man," Dan growled.

"But I do, because you're part of me as well! Is this what Maddie would have wanted for you?"

"It doesn't matter what she would have wanted! She's gone! They're all gone!" Dan roared in Vlad's face, pulling him forward and slamming him back, over and over, against the wall. The back of Vlad's head struck the barrier, rattling his brain. It was like getting hit in the head with a sledgehammer. His vision blurred, dark spots filling his eyes, and he didn't realize Dan had stopped until he blinked and found himself on his hands and knees over a puddle of vomit.

The back of his head felt warm and wet.

Dan, disgusted, sneered. "It's not even worth killing a pathetic thing like you." Turning, he started flying away.

"Stop!" Vlad called weakly after him. Struggling to his feet, he raised the ecto-pistol in a shaky hand. "I will stop you, Dan. I can't let you do this anymore."

"Funny, you seemed okay with it so far."

Vlad pulled the trigger. The bullet shot out of the gun, flying straight for Dan, and... it did nothing. A hole opened in the middle of Dan's back, letting the bullet pass harmlessly through him. He didn't even look back. The gun fell from Vlad's hand with a clatter. He dropped to his knees, useless. That was the day he truly gave up.

—

"Why are you telling me this?" Danny asks.

Vlad pauses his tale, giving Danny a long, considering look. To Vlad, Danny's motives have always been scrutable, his face as easy to read as a children's picture book. Dan shares the same trait. He may be more brutal and more cunning than Danny ever was, but beneath all that sadistic violence are signs of the boy Vlad once knew.

Having Danny in front of him now is such an odd, yet liberating experience. It reminds Vlad of a time untainted by his machinations. This boy's future still has a chance. Vlad despises it.

"Since meeting you, little badger, my one wish has always been to impart my wisdom. You can't blame me for that. Humans are so attached to their legacies." Vlad leans back and gestures to the decrepit room. "This is my legacy."

Rising to his feet, he points to the ceiling. "That, out there, is my legacy. It is not one I want people to remember. I suppose, with how few people remain left, that won't be an issue for much longer. Is it so wrong for me to want to change that?"

"You want... to help me," Danny says.

Oh, how Vlad missed that slow wit of his. "Yes, Daniel. I want to help you."

"Why?"

"Because, as hard as it is to believe, that's all I've ever wanted."

Danny pressed his lips together. Nodding stiffly, he motioned for Vlad to continue.

"There isn't much else to say. I returned here and took up a silent vigil. If it is my fate to see this through to the end, then that's what I will do."

"That is pathetic."

Vlad's eyes hardened into a glare. "I don't expect you to understand."

"You're right. I don't." Danny gets up from his seat on the floor and gestures to the portal. "You all just gave up! So Dan beat you once, and you decided to never try again? That's just stupid. If you had all worked together, you probably could have stopped him. You guys might not care anymore, but I do."

Bitter, Vlad smiled. "Don't you see, little badger? That’s exactly why everything rides on you. Dan is both of us, even though he likes to pretend there's none of me in him. If your human half were still alive, Dan would be as much his responsibility as he is mine. I had my chance to stop him and I failed. Now, it's your turn."

Danny accepts, of course. A hero with a bleeding heart. Vlad removes the medallion from his chest, although not without one last threat, for old time's sake. The second it's out, Danny pops out of existence like a bad cutaway. One second he's there and then the next he's not.

Vlad stares at the empty space for a moment, then turns back to his chair, abandoning his gauntlets on the way. The medallion he keeps in his hand. It's been a very long time since he's seen one.

"It was you all along, wasn't it?" Vlad asked. He didn't need to hear the rustle of cloth to know Clockwork was hovering behind him. "How did you do it?"

"Time is a relative experience," Clockwork says with his familiar lisp. "Not everyone experiences it at the same pace."

"That's a lofty way of saying you kept me from dying so I could be here for Daniel when he finally arrived."

"Yes. Yes, it is."

Vlad turns the medallion over in his hands, running his thumbs across the gold surface. If he puts it on, here in his own time, he could live forever. But it would be in a hell of his own making. Sighing, he sets the medallion down on the arm of his chair and turns to Clockwork.

"What now?" Vlad asks.

Clockwork's gaze his kind, the wrinkles on his pale face tugging as he smiles. "I think you've paid your price."

Vlad closes his eyes and leans back, feeling older beyond his years. "Yes, I think so to."

Ten years is a long time to watch the world burn. He hopes it was worth it.

[writingismyhappytime]

Marry Me

Ricky Horror x Reader

Warnings: Language

A/N: Okay, here’s the Ricky fic you’ve been waiting for and I’ve been teasing about! It’s gonna be a slowburn, longhaul kinda deal for this relationship, full of cutsey, squeezy, fluffy moments that’ll be so sweet you won’t be able to stand it! Well, hopefully. 

"This is gonna sound weird, but I need you to marry me."

You raise your head from the car you're working on, giving your best friend a startled look. Your eyes widen, and you blink a couple times, wondering if you heard him right. Did you hit your head on the hood or something?

"Uh, what?"

Ricky shifts uncomfortably, crossing his tattooed arms. He knows it's a weird question, but it's necessary. He's standing in the auto shop you own, the smell of tires and grease making his stomach churn a little. It's Sunday, so you're the only two there, and the garage doors are open to let the cool air in. Tools are on the ground, some boxes --- your shop looks no different from every other repair place in the world.

"We need to get married." Ricky says, the words leaving a bad taste in his mouth. This is the first time he's really said them out loud, not just in his head, and he doesn't like them. He promised himself he'd never get married, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

"Usually I prefer lots of alcohol before someone asks me to marry them." You say after a moment, leaning up from between the car hood and the motor, a tool Ricky has no idea the name for held in your hand. "Or, y'know, at least some dinner."

You take a step back, your hands flecked with black from where you've been working. You're a mechanic, you own your own shop, passed down from your father.It's an odd profession for a female, but you enjoy it, cars are your passion.

Honestly, it's how you met Ricky.

He has no idea how to even change a tire.

If it wasn't for you happening to stop and offer him help, he'd still be stuck on that back road trying to figure out how to use a jack.

"(Y/N), I'm serious. I need you to marry me." Ricky stares at you, tugging his lower lip between his teeth nervously. He didn't know how to broach the subject before, so he just decided blurting it out would be better. You're his best friend, he trusts you more then he does anyone else, you're the only person he could come too with such a ridiculous request and you not laugh quite as long in his face.

"Why would you need me to do that?" you ask, growing confused. You reach for a rag, hastily wiping the black off your fingers, your red nailpolish starting to gleam once more. You like Ricky, he's good looking, incredibly intelligent, and the way he plays his guitar is kind of sexy, if you're being honest. However, as attractive as he may be, you've never fantasized about a relationship with him, you're just friends. Hell, the two of you have never even flirted!

So what's this about marriage?

That's a rather big step, isn't it?

"Ricky, you better explain what's going on." You frown at him, your hands going to your hips. You're wearing a blue jumpsuit, the front open down to your waist, showing your tank top. It has a low neck, revealing just a hint of cleavage, black smeared across your sweaty skin; your shop is hot despite the fans, you can't help it. Working around cars creates a lot of heat, after all.

Ricky exhales heavily, nodding his head in resignation. He reaches for one of the rolly chairs you have, duct tape across the seat where it's been torn. He drags it to him before turning it backward and sitting down, resting his arms along the back of it while you sit on top of a stack of pallets, still frowning.

"My custody hearing is coming up soon," Ricky finally says, tapping his fingers nervously against the back of the chair. "I'm supposed to get joint custody of Chloe, where I get her one week and her mother gets her the next. But Claire is fighting for full, she doesn't want me to see the kid. She's gonna use the fact I'm a musician who travels a lot against me. I gotta show that I can provide a stable home life, somewhere Chloe can be with someone."

"And you think us getting married is that solution?" That's the dumbest fucking thing you've ever heard. Also, it's kind of endearing.

Ricky and Claire had dated for three years before she wound up pregnant with their daughter. You'd never liked her, she was kind of uppity, a groupie in your eyes. You always thought she only dated Ricky because he was in a popular band and so that got her a lot of the attention she always seems to be seeking. However, you never voiced your opinion, it wasn't your place, nor would Ricky have appreciated you meddling.

So, no surprise, when she had the child, a year later Ricky and her were splitting. Chloe is almost six now and Claire has drug Ricky to court so many times in the past few years, you're pretty sure that's the only time the child got to even see her father.

"Rick, I'm not sure us getting married is going to solve that for you," you say hesitantly, your hands resting in your lap. Honestly, it'll probably make more problems, right? The two of you aren't dating, everyone knows that, and a sudden marriage isn't going to make him have anymore credit.

"But I think it will," Ricky insists, pushing off with his feet, sending the chair rolling towards you. His knees bump yours, causing the chair to finally come to a stop. His baby blue eyes find your own, almost pleading. "I have to prove I can provide a stable home, (Y/N). You're the only shot I got. I live with another member of the band, so when we go on tour, Chloe can't be with me. If we get married, I could say she could always be here, with you. You own your own business, you're a successful woman --- it'll look good. It'll show I've settled down."

"Not when we've only been married a month! It'll look like a desperate last ditch effort!" You argue, shaking your head. "Ricky, we can't get married. Do you even know what that means? I'll have to switch my name, everything that's mine is yours, we'll share everything! What if one of us incurs intense medical bills? The other will be responsible for it! Ricky, we can't ---."

"I'll buy you a ring," he interrupts you, as if that's what'll make you change your mind. "A big one, really fancy. We'll have an extravagant, ridiculous wedding with flying pigeons ---."

"I think you mean doves."

"--- and a fucking, I don't know, mariachi band if that's what you want. Look, as soon as I get custody of Chloe, we can get it annulled, okay!?"

"You realize we can only get it annulled if we prove we were both incompetent to get married in the first place, or we never fuck, right?" You arch a brow at him. He pauses at the latter part, which you know is what gets his attention. This is a foolish idea and he has to realize that.

"Well, we don't have to fuck then," he says decisively, and you roll your eyes as you lean back. "I'm serious! Won't that be an easy out?"

"So, let me get this straight. You want to get married, which also entails us moving in together for aesthetic purposes, and then never have sex? So when you get your daughter, we're going to have to go to court and say we want our marriage annulled, and then explain we never consummated the marriage. They're going to want to know why. I mean, I guess I can say your dick doesn't work," you pretend to contemplate, seeing the horrified look on his face. "Say I didn't realize how much Viagra you needed just to get it up ---."

"So we'll figure something else out!" He huffs, glaring at you. "Look, I --- I don't know what else to do." He runs his fingers nervously through his hair. "She's gonna take my girl away from me, (Y/N). She's gonna make sure I never know my daughter."

You bite your lip, gazing at him. You understand, you really do. Ricky is a great dad, you've seen him with Chloe --- he adores that little girl, and she loves him to death. If his ex girlfriend wasn't such a vindictive bitch you'd like to hit with one of your cars, everyone's life would be so much easier.

"Is there nothing else you can do?" You finally sigh, your heart aching. You want to help Ricky, but you're not sure that getting married is the best route for the two of you to take. You're not even his girlfriend, the two of you have never done anything more then bump fists and share the occasional beer --- or in his case, coffee while you drink beer. "You can see if you can't prove she's an unfit mother."

"I've already tried. Apparently having a string of boyfriends one right after the other doesn't prove that fact. She has a job, she has an apartment, Chloe never misses school --- I can't prove anything without hiring someone to follow her around and analyze her every move. Chloe seems okay, she's not unhappy." Ricky shakes his head. "I'm out of options, I've tried everything. I can't keep paying for this lawyer either, he's already eating at my savings. At this rate, Claire is going to have me drained where I'm gonna have to play at fucking bars again just to pay my half of the rent."

Shit.

You didn't realize it was getting so bad for him.

You chew your lip, your brows furrowing. Conveniently you're not dating anyone, otherwise that would be a big complication. You've never been married, no one has ever been close to even proposing to you. Every relationship you've ever had has been a big failure, ending with you crying a little and ordering pizza to eat by yourself. The last guy you'd dated had turned out to be a big jerk and you'd punched him, breaking his nose and really messing up your hand. Ricky had been the one to hold the ice on your knuckles and clean away the blood, and you'd sworn then you wouldn't date again until you were sure you found someone who wasn't an asshole.

Ricky had just laughed at you.

You get his valiant cause, wanting to see his daughter, raise her. Claire is a total bitch, but so far she's been a good mother. You've never seen Chloe hungry, she's always wearing cutesy clothes and giggling, so she seems happy.

Really, Ricky just wants everything to be fair. If he's going to pay child support, he deserves to see his daughter, and maybe... well, really, it's not the worst idea you've ever heard. It's pretty high on the tier, but... this can help you too.

"So what happens, if --- and it's a big if --- I do agree?" You ask after a moment, pursing your lips. Ricky straightens a little, the miserable look on his face starting to dissipate. "What do we do?"

"We... get married, I guess. We tell our friends and family, we plan a hasty wedding, and get married." He makes it sound much too simple.

"Ricky," you're about to bust his bubble. "It's not that easy. We have to get a marriage license, find someone who can legally marry us. If you want a serious wedding where we even invite people, we need a venue. A time and place. Arrangements. I want fucking balloons flying over my head as I say I do."

"Are you serious?" Ricky frowns at you. "Balloons?"

"If I'm going to marry you for the sake of you getting your kid, you could at least give me the balloons." You huff, crossing your arms. "White balloons. Big balloons. And rice. I like the whole rice being tossed over the head thing."

Ricky actually rolls his eyes, and you kick his shin lightly, causing him to roll back across the concrete floor of your auto shop, an errant wrench finally stopping his departure. He has a half-smile on his stupid face.

"So... you agree then? You'll help me?" he asks after a moment, his eyes searching your face. "You'll marry me?"

"I haven't said yes," you say hastily, not wanting to get ahead of yourself. "You realize we'll have to live together. We can't get married and then you continue to live with Ryan, that'll look bad. You'll have to move in with me." Your brain is already three steps ahead. "I'll actually have to get my license and all that shit changed over to your stupid last name, too. Ugh, I'll be an Olson," You crinkle your nose."Plus, I mean, planning a wedding isn't super easy either. I want a white dress ---."

"I thought only virgins wore white for their wedding." Ricky quirks a brow at you, interrupting you.

"I want a white dress," you repeat, ignoring him. "With a train, and a veil, and lacy sleeves. The white balloons, maybe Devin can be my bridesmaid ----."

Ricky snorts.

"I foresee an arch, with white lilies woven into it." You spread your hands in front of you, like you're creating a rainbow. "I see water behind us, we're on a pier. It's dusk, someone is faintly playing 'here comes the bride' on piano --- Balz can do that for us. Ooo, we're cutting a triple decker cake with a guitar on top because I think those little topping things of the bride and groom are kind of tacky, and ---."

"Okay, you can stop bullshitting me already," Ricky groans, running his hands down his face as you begin to grin. "I get it, you're high maintenance, you have big dreams. Shouldn't we focus on the small details first?"

"Ricky, the small details to you are so small you completely miss the big picture. Don't focus on one tree, focus on the forest," You say,  shaking your head. "You know divorces aren't cheap. It's going to cost us a lot of money to end our marriage, one that isn't even going to be real. And hey, what if I meet the guy of my dreams?" you suddenly say, frowning. "What if I want to hook up with him and stuff?"

"Well, you better hope he's into married chicks, then. Maybe he'll have a hot girlfriend and we can say we're swingers."

You roll your eyes, swatting at him with your grease rag.

"Ricky, you're so full of shit!"

He grins, catching the rag and jerking. You don't let go, so he merely manages to roll his chair back to where you sit, his knees coming to rest beside yours.

"So, are we in this, then?" he asks, his voice growing serious. You're eye level with each other, and he reaches out, taking your hand in his. Your eyes flick nervously to his face, suddenly feeling your stomach tighten.

Are you in this?

Will you marry Ricky so he might be able to get custody of his daughter?

"There's no guarantee us being married will get Chloe for you, Ricky. This might just be a disaster, or make the situation worse." You worry, squeezing his hand. "Claire might have a mental breakdown and never let you see her."

"This is my one shot, it's all I got left in my arsenal against her." Ricky shakes his head, his black hair brushing his shoulders. "It's downhill from here anyway. If I lose Chloe, I don't want her to think it's because I don't care about her. I want her to know that I fought tooth and nail against her mother, and that I did absolutely everything I could."

"Include marrying a woman you don't even love."

Ricky hesitates at your words, and you swear there's guilt in his eyes.

"I don't... (Y/N) ---."

"No, Ricky, it's okay." You shake your head. "I get it. Your intentions are noble as shit. You're probably the only guy who's ever gonna want to marry me anyway, I should probably jump on this ship before it finds another harbor."

"Okay, you and your comparisons have got to stop." Ricky shakes his head. "First trees, now ships --- you're killing me."

You merely shrug your shoulders; you can't help it, you're quirky. No one so far has found it appealing, maybe that's why you still do it. You want someone to like you for you, for all your bad traits and all your good ones, and that includes your stupid expressions and smart ass comments; you were raised by your dad, he taught you well.

You're not going to give up who you are just to make someone else happy.

"You know one day, when all of this is over, you'll meet the right person," Ricky suddenly says, drawing your eyes back to his. "He'll ask you to marry him the right way, and you'll say yes. You'll get your fairy tale white wedding, with balloons, and pigeons ---."

"Doves."

"--- and all that stuff that you want." Ricky reaches forward, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I can't give it all to you, except maybe the balloons. That I can do, although helium is pretty expensive ---."

"Ricky."

He chuckles, giving you that goofy grin of his. "What I'm saying is... well, no beach wedding, not this time. I have a couple thousand saved up that we can use, but it's not gonna be anything grand. Most of my cash is going for the court fees, and ---."

"Ricky, I was just bullshitting you, don't worry about it. Besides, typically the bride's family pays for the wedding anyway. Or at least I think." You shrug your shoulders, aware he's still holding your hand. "We can do it at the park or something. Sit on the swings, get married, it'll be simple."

"We'll have to invite people, we'll need a witness for the wedding." Ricky sounds a little nervous now, as if it's suddenly hitting him what he's asked you to do.

"I'll tell my one cousin to show up," you say dryly. Your mother passed away when you were young, and most of her family is gone now. Your dad passed away with a heart attack a few years ago, leaving you the shop, so you have some money put back. You have an aunt on his side who lives in town, and her kids, so you suppose if it's necessary, you could invite them to pose as your side of the family.

"Or we could just --- elope. Not even fool with any of that." Ricky hesitates. He knows what he's asking you is a big deal, but it's just fake. There's no point in putting a lot of effort into it, getting a bunch of commotion stirred up. He wants something simple, something quick, and then for it to be done. "Go to one of those quick chapels or something."

You frown, disliking the idea.

No, you don't want that at all.

If you're going to get married, and it's very possible it's the only time you ever get the option, you want it to be memorable. Just because it's not for love doesn't mean it can't be enjoyable. You want the dress, you want the photos, and the cake, and the memory of people throwing rice over your head as you and your husband race for your car with Just Married written on the back of it --- it's ridiculous, it's something you've seen in movies but always wanted.

So no.

No quick chapel.

"No." You shake your head, brushing your bangs out of your eyes; your hair is in a loose bun on the back of your head, you know you honestly look a mess right now, and you smell like grease. You doubt there's been a time Ricky hasn't seen you like you haven't just crawled out from under a car. "No, if we're doing this, we're going it the right way. I want a wedding."

Ricky hesitates, staring at you. "(Y/N)..."

"I know it's not real, but, well--- it's real for me." You withdraw your hand from his, hopping to your feet. You feel awkward, but Ricky just doesn't understand. "We might have our reasons for doing this, and it might not be because we love each other, but we're going to pretend we do. We're going to have to announce to our friends we want to get married, quick, and everyone is immediately going to assume I'm pregnant."

Ricky cringes at the word.

"Don't look like that, you know they will. Why else would we do something so stupid?" Your hands go to your hips as you stare down at him. "We're going to have to hold hands, put on a show --- if you're going to convince a court, first you have to convince the people around you. You know Claire will want to be at the wedding, she'll bring Chloe just to be a snob. Make her wish she wasn't such a bitch and hadn't dumped your scrawny ass. Show her the wedding that could have been hers."

Really, you just want the experience of a beautiful wedding, you don't care if it makes his ex feel jealous or not. But, you know what will convince Ricky, just how to pull his strings, and already he's nodding his head in agreement with you.

"I guess... I mean, that makes sense." he mutters, finally get to his feet, brushing at his pants. "You're right."

"Of course I am. So, pretty wedding is decided." You say, a tad gleeful. You can always rent a wedding dress, not buy one, so that'll save some cash. "And I'll need a ring. I wear a size seven, surprise me."

Ricky snorts, crossing his arms. He guesses by the way you're talking, since you've never actually said yes, is that you're in. The way your eyes light up though, just at the thought of planning something so redundant... it's cute.

You seem genuinely excited about this.

But what you said... do you really think you'll never have a chance at a wedding? Is that why you want to go all out now?

Is there even time for it?

"We should go to the courthouse tomorrow for the marriage license," Ricky says after a moment, a little relieved. He'd honestly expected to have to beg you for the next couple hours, to  get on his hands and knees in the grease and oil and bow his forehead to the floor. This is actually going better than expected. "We can go early, your guys can open the shop for you, right?"

"Yeah, shouldn't be a problem. So we get it, then what?" You want a solid plan, after all. "Should I start calling around? What date do we even want to set?"

"I don't care," Ricky shrugs his shoulders. "Just as soon as possible."

Right, that's completely helpful.

You sigh, crossing your arms. "Fine, I'll find us a place, and I'll take care of the judge who can marry us. You find me a pretty ring, I'll see if we can't find a place to rent a dress and tux --- no nose curling, you're wearing a tux!" You say firmly. "Plus, we'll need a cake! And someone to cater for the reception ---."

"Reception?"

"Of course! All weddings have receptions where everyone can mingle. Plus, we need music, we'll have to have a first dance. And one of your friends is going to have to give a speech saying how happy they are that we found each other and all that bullshit. Hmm, I'll need a bridesmaid." Maybe you can sacrifice your cousin to that spot. "You need a best man."

"Uh ---."

"And we'll have to start getting the decorations in order." You continue, ignoring Ricky's look of growing dismay --- you're suddenly making this complicated and he's going to panic. "Flowers, I still want an arch even if there's no beach --- do we want it outside or inside? Do you care if it's a church?"

Ricky leans his hip against the car, watching as you pace back and forth in front of the car you're working on. You're getting all excited and girly on him, and that's not something he's used too. You're so tough, always covered in grease or some other kind of car grime, he can't actually think of a moment where you haven't had something on your face or skin. He's having a hard time imagining you in a white wedding dress, or even with makeup on.

He figured you wouldn't be the type to want something like that.

Maybe he doesn't know you as well as he thinks he does.

"You get whatever you want," he says after a moment, seeing you turn to look at him over your shoulder. "You pick everything."

He owe's you that for doing this, doesn't he? He figures you can have your dream wedding, even if it's all just a show, and in return you can help him make sure his daughter grows up with a father. It's not a bad trade at all.

"Are you saying that to be nice or because you don't want to fool with any of it?" You question dryly, seeing him roll his eyes.

"A little of both, actually. I don't know the first thing that goes into a wedding and you already seem to have everything down."

You might have thought about it a lot. You like the pretty weddings in TV shows and movies, you always imagined something grandiose and over the top --- so although there's not going to be fireworks going off in the background, or a big church with a steeple and old ladies weeping with joy in the pews, you want something nice.

Something your dad would have wanted to come too.

"Are you sure about this?" You bite your lip as you turn to Ricky, finally facing him. He's only a little taller then you, so your eyes are almost level. You don't want to go through all of this and then he suddenly back out last minute. "I don't want to be that girl who gets left literally at the alter because you decide this is a bad idea."

"I would never do that," he shakes his head immediately. "I'm serious about all this. I need it for Chloe. You plan the wedding, get the balloons, the bird, the rice or whatever, and I'll take care of everything else."

"Everything else?"

"Uh, announcing it to people? Making it public where it's believable. I'll..." he grimaces. "Have to post something about it on Twitter, we'll need some photos together."

"We've had photos together before."

"Yeah, but... you know what I mean. And we'll have to kiss ---."

"You make it sound like kissing me will kill you." You frown sourly. "I'll have you know, I'm a fantastic kisser. You're the one who needs to work on your technique."

"What?" Ricky scowls at you. "What does that mean ---?"

"I've seen you kiss other women, Ricky. You're all tongue and no technique. You need to work on it." You shrug your shoulders. "I don't appreciate someone sticking their tongue down my throat and not knowing how to use it."

"I know how to use my tongue!"

"That remains to be seen." You gaze at him, trying not to smile at his irritated expression. "Now, I need to finish working on this car so it's ready tomorrow. You sit, and we'll start working over some of the details. Who we want to tell first, who we want to come, stuff like that. Think you can handle that much of the details with having a coronary?"

"Maybe." His answer is so sullen.

You chuckle as you turn away, tucking your hair behind your ears once more as you lift up your tool, gazing down at the car.

You're sure this is going to be interesting.

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