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taylor, listen, youre so talented at rationalization (truly a gift!), but i feel like you mightve failed to realize that leaving a teen girl at the mercy of her bullies and leaving a civilian at the mercy of a huge fuck off water monster are, while both objectively bad, events of slightly differing orders of magnitude
#worm#parahumans#worm lb#worm25#ch 8.5#just barely#also another thing youve failed to realize#which i feel is more fascinating#is that gladly couldve helped you#but in this situation theres not much *you* can do for him#you cant take a hit from leviathan in his stead#you cant hit him hard enough to buy him time#you could make a bug clone to use as bait but thats not gonna be very useful#theres no guarantee leviathan would go for that instead of him#so interesting to see her take the blame for leaving him to die#rationalizing it#making excuses#while failing to see she shouldnt take the blame to begin with#<- has 'put most of your thoughts in the tags instead of the main fuckin post' disorder
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Your tag a few posts back, why do you hate the cat books?
Okay so to preface: I genuinely adore warrior cats. I do. It's been my "main" special interest since I was around 9. I have thought abour warrior cats daily since then. However these books straight up fuckin SUUUUCK. This isn't a matter of "Why aren't these childrens book for children appealing to me as an adult?", they are bad AS CHILDRENS BOOKS. I can forgive shitty writing, but warriors tries its HARDEST to make itself as unappealing and godawful as possible through bland worldbuilding and characters, and the absolute RAMPANT myraid of issues, with misogyny and ableism as the two most frequently discussed. Female characters are CONSISTENTLY written as being "unreasonable" when compared to their male counterparts, who may be on their level OR WORSE in terms of bad actions, but get excuses for their actions BY THE NARRATIVE ITSELF whereas the women don't. Disabled characters are treated as less than, once again, not just by the characters, but by the narrative. Firestar literally tells Cloudtail that Brightheart, his MATE and AN ADULT, is going to be his apprentice and responsibility because she's disabled, and that Firestar "knows" she'll never be a "real" warrior. This entire conversation happens with Brightheart present in the scene, yet she is never spoken to by either character. She is an object given zero agency in her own life because she is both disabled and a woman. Fuck, the ENTIRE FIRST ARC ends with the concept of "Our religion makes us moral", as Firestar is DIRECTLY TOLD by Barley that Scourge and BloodClan don't believe in StarClan and therefore don't feed or take care of the sick, young, or elderly. As it stands I refuse to read or engage with the current arc, as it's extreme misogyny is too much for me to tolerate without just pissing myself off.
From a story perspective, and putting aside the actual real problematic elements, the worst part of warrior cats is the lack of follow through on genuinely interesting concepts. We are consistently told StarClan is a perfect utopia and is never wrong (Which is a problem within itself), and then are given an entire arc abou StarClan making a mistake. Instead of an actually interesting discussion of how dead cats are just that, dead cats, and not mystical paragons, the books end with "Well that was sure a weird one-off occurance! Nothing about this system will change." Warrior cats has SO MANY good concepts and ideas and does NOTHING WITH THEM.
Now, the question is, why do I still enjoy warrior cats if I hate it so much? Well, frankly, that's because 90% of my engagement is taking the skeleton that is warriors worldbuilding and make 5,000 OCs. That and, there are genuinely really good aspects of warriors. Yellowfangs death scene, I feel, is actually an emotional and well written scene, and the forest fire directly beforehand is legitimately tense. Squirrelflight is a fantastic character! While I'm not a huge fan of her character in general, I think basically every concept behind Hollyleaf is incredibly interesting. There IS a lot there, its just gritting your teeth and sitting through a million pages ranging from "mediocre" to "ungodly boring" to "downright rage inducing".
Unfortunately all of my favorite OCs are also warrior cats and I own the official Squirrelflight plushie so uh. I'm not going anywhere!
#thanks for the ask i love talking abt the cat books and how conflicted i feel abt them :3#also [coughcough] uhhh feel free to ask abt my ocs warrior cats or not i have a lot [coughcough]#also if you want more warrior cat posting ive got a warriors blog over at Petalstem#(psst thats also one of my wc ocs and my favorite one at that)#also sorry if this shows up in the main tag. ily warriors fandom sorry for the angry rant
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more than words, pt.3
A/N: Thank you for all the love! 🥺🥰 overwhelmed by the reaction I’ve had to this story! Super excited that so many of you are coming along for the ride! There is a tag list for this—let me know if you’d like to be added! (I apologise if I’ve missed anyone!) I hope you enjoy! ❤️
Pairing: Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x f!reader, best friend!Benny Miller x f!reader
Word count: 3.3k
Warnings: swearing, alcohol, general first date nerves that trigger my anxiety x10
pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.4 / pt.5 / pt.6
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He was trying to listen. He really was, but God, how many times can you hear the same thing over and over and over again before you start to drift away from the conversation? He knew the answer. He had a very short attention span when it came to certain subjects – he’ll admit that freely – so when you continued to gush about his best friend, his main man, naturally his attention fell to the couple seemingly having an argument by their truck in the parking lot. Hmm… wonder what they’re fighting about? He purses his lips, watching the girl deliver one hell of a slap across her boyfriend’s face and strut away, tears streaking mascara down her face. Cheater. Definitely a cheater.
“Benny? Are you even listening to me?”
His eyes roll back to you, taking in your narrowed eyes and angry chewing as a slice of pizza dangles from your hand. Was he listening? Well, he did for the first few minutes… does that still count?
He finally answers, tone flat and uninterested. “No.”
“Ben.”
He shrugs, gesturing to the scene outside the window with a flick of his head. “Malibu barbie just smacked the shit out of her beau.”
Your head snaps to where he was looking, shamelessly curious. “Cheater?”
“That’s my bet.”
You both fall quiet, watching the strangers play out a scene that really should belong in a cringe-worthy daytime reality show while you chew. It’s almost depressing, how eagerly you both watch someone else’s life seemingly crumble in public. But the longer they scream and cry, the longer they yell and fight, the harder it is to tear your eyes away.
“Shit.” Benny sighs, reclining in the booth and stretching his arms up and behind him once the couple in conflict goes their separate ways. “That was the most interesting thing that happened to me all week.”
“Not me,” you sing with a smile, fondly remembering the phone calls and texts you had been sharing with Frankie the past few days. Benny sighs in irritation, neck cracking as he rolls his head on his shoulders.
“I swear, if you talk any more about Fish, I’m gonna throw myself out of this fuckin’ window.” He levels you with a challenging stare, lips twitching as you eye the glass critically. “I’ll do it, too. Try me.”
Deflating, you sag in your seat and fiddle with the peeling label on your beer bottle, realising with a wave of slight shame that you had been talking about Frankie ever since you sat down at the table. “I’m sorry, Benny. I’m just excited. He seems really cool, and nice, and –”
“Alright then.” He stands abruptly, kneeling on the worn leather to brace a shoulder against the glass panel with a look of severe concentration.
“Okay! I’m sorry, I’m sorry – sit down, you idiot!” Laughing loudly, you tug at his shirt until he sits with a lazy grin and you shake your head. “God, you are such a child, Benjamin.”
He snorts, pinching a cold fry from the basket in the middle of the table and waving it at you. “You love me.”
Grinning, you snatch it from his fingers, and chew it loudly, grinning at his pout. “I sure do, especially when you set me up with your gorgeous fri–”
He groans loudly, “Enough, woman. I’ll throw you out of this fuckin’ window in a minute. Get me another beer.”
-
“You’re callin’ the wrong friend, angel.” Benny drawls lazily, “I’m no good with these kinds of pep talks.”
“Benny, I’m freaking out, please –”
The car feels small, cramped. The open windows letting in the cool evening air does nothing for you trying to suck in a lungful of oxygen as you pull nervously at your jacket. Have you overdressed? Underdressed? What would he be wearing? You hadn’t been on a first date in months.
“Look, I can almost guarantee you he’s somewhere having this exact conversation with another friend of mine. You’re both stress heads. Just relax – he’s gonna love you.”
You stare vacantly at your steering wheel, swallowing around the lump of anxiety stuck in your throat. “I think I’m gonna puke.”
He snorts in amusement, “Well, if you’re gonna do it, do it now – puking on the poor guy isn’t a first date thing. And don’t forget to rinse your mouth out.”
Leave it to the younger Miller to make you feel ten times worse. “Oh God. Ben –”
“You’ll be fine. Now get out of your car.”
“But –”
“Get. Out. of your car.” He waits, listening intently to the mechanical whirr of your windows as they close, smiling when he hears the loud thump of your car door shutting. “There we go. Now breathe, and get marchin’ – you got this. And don’t call me again – I’m watching a fight. Pay per view isn’t cheap.”
“Right. Sorry. Thanks Benny.”
“Anytime, angel. Have fun.”
You ring your hands as you start walking the short distance to the bar, running through a last-minute check of your appearance. Nothing in your teeth. No stains on your clothes. You fidget with the hem of your skirt, brushing the non-existent dirt from the fabric and making sure it’s not horrifically tucked in to your underwear at the back.
Oh God, your palms are so sweaty. What if he shakes your hand? His hand will slide right off. He’d be mortified. Who even goes for a handshake on a first date anyways? You’re being silly. Everything’s fine. You look great. Did you put deodorant on?
The twisting of your stomach and panicked rush of thoughts thankfully pause when your eyes catch Frankie standing outside the bar, hands buried deep in his pockets and dark eyes flickering around at the passers-by somewhat nervously. When they land on you, the apprehension seems to melt from his shoulders and he grins. Unable to stop the smile creeping on your face in response, you now walk without the sick feeling of anxiety creeping up your throat.
He strides forward to greet you, and for a brief second, you wonder how you should greet him. It’s not like you were strangers, per se, you had been talking on the phone all week, but where did you stand in the physical sense? Certainly not a handshake.
Throwing caution to the wind, you bounce forward and greet him with a hug, hoping to high heaven he doesn’t push you away and call the whole thing off.
He doesn’t.
Inwardly screaming, you melt at the feeling of a pair of strong arms winding around your waist, a small quiet chuckle brushing past your ear. Oh shit, oh fuck… he smells divine.
“Hi,” you mutter shyly when you pull away, a flush of warmth flooding through you from top to toe when he smiles kindly and hovers only a step away.
“Hi,”
You can’t help but admire his features up close; the ones that were lost on the photo Ben had shown you when first trying to convince you into this arrangement. His eyes were a lot darker, tousled curls longer than they had looked when they were hidden under a well-loved hat. A light flush of pink sweeps up his neck and along his cheeks, and you watch it fondly with a wild flutter of your heart.
Okay, you could just stand here all night and stare at him, but that might freak him out a little… maybe try speaking. Talk. Just talk. Say something smart – something stimulating. First date impressions and all that.
“It’s fucking freezing.”
What? No. You did not just say that. Seriously? That’s what had to bubble from your mouth? Are you kidding?
You want to face palm, want to just turn around and march right back to your car with a text to Benny saying ‘thanks, but we can’t be friends anymore’ and just disappear from the face of the Earth. God, he’s going to give you so much shit for this.
Thankfully though, Frankie doesn’t seem bothered by your blurted out statement in the slightest, and even grins, nodding in agreement.
“Yeah, it is.” He watches you shift on your feet, smile widening just a little more at the look of complete horror that had just washed your features before he had spoken, and then half turns, “Shall we?” Oh God, what was that? Pope’s gonna kill him. You’ve got his head in a complete spin and now he’s forgotten Pope’s whole pep talk. Shit. Shit. Be cool. Be cool... what the fuck does ‘be cool’ even mean?
The bar’s warm when you both walk in side by side, Frankie’s hand placed softly on your lower back as he leads you to the bar, and then through to a spare table, nestled out of the way and tucked into the farthest corner after he buys your drinks. He lets you sit first, and you’re pleasantly surprised when he stays close and, instead of sitting opposite you, he sits to your right, knees bumping yours softly under the table.
It’s not until you both sit, quiet and fiddling with your beers while sharing nervous smiles, that you remember something you had been meaning to ask all day.
“Oh. How did Mena’s appointment go?” You ask immediately, recalling his slight worry the day before over her slightly warmer than normal forehead and uncharacteristic crankiness. Your stomach plummets when he shoots you a startled look.
Oh no… have you blown it? Were you not meant to ask about kids on the first date or something? What were the rules for this kind of thing? You’d never dated someone with a baby, you had no idea what was okay to ask and what wasn’t. You guys had literally only just sat down, and here you were, ruining it already. That’s got to be the quickest end to a date, well… ever.
Panic creases your features and you frown in worry, “Sorry, should I – should I not have said anything? I’m sorry, I’ve never –”
“No, no – you’re fine! I just… I didn’t expect you to remember.” And then he smiles. Blindingly. The dread crushing your chest quickly morphs into something sweeter, something that has your heart quickening. “She’s okay – she’s getting her molars. Thank you for asking.”
You smile, turning bashful under the pure admiration shining in his eyes, and shrug lightly.
“It’s alright. I was worried for you.” You’re quiet when you admit it, unsure if that’s something you should be upfront about with only knowing him for such a short period, but he seems to take it in stride, smiling fondly at you and reaching a hand to cover yours softly. The immediate heat from his skin encompasses yours, shooting wave after wave of electric tingles up your arm and straight to your chest.
If your pulse was racing before, it’s downright wild now.
He flushes when your fingers part ever so slightly, letting his nestle in between yours, and then you’re smiling at each other, laughing quietly as the awkwardness all but evaporates.
You talk about everything. Growing up, moving around, Frankie’s time in the military being a pilot. You have so many questions, but pick up on the wave of tension that rolls through him at the mention of flying. For a short moment, you wonder why he didn’t want to talk about such an achievement – being a pilot was incredible, but not wanting to ruin the easy-going atmosphere that had fallen over you both, you leave the topic of flying instantly, and switch for talking about Mena, thankful to see the light return immediately to his eyes as he gushes about his little girl.
“Can I ask a question?” You ask sometime later in the evening, now comfortably closer to Frankie as your legs tangle under the table.
He hums, sipping on his third beer and nodding, “Of course.”
You watch your fingers play with his on the table, before grinning up at him slyly, “Why ‘Catfish’?”
He groans, throwing his head back with a chuckle, and wipes a hand across his face.
“My whiskers.” He finally admits with a playfully defeated sigh. When you frown in confusion, his grin widens, and he scratches his fingers along his jaw and through the patch of facial hair. “The guys used to give me shit because I can’t grow much more than this.” He gestures to his face, rolling his eyes. “Used to say I had whiskers – like a catfish, apparently.” He chuckles, shrugging light heartedly. “It just seemed to stick after a while.”
You’re laughing, and it keeps the smile planted firmly on his face. What a sound.
“Well, it’s an interesting nickname, but I think I prefer Frankie.”
He softens, unable to resist melting closer to you, and nods, “Me too.”
He likes the way you say it… sweetly, softly. He’s desperate to hear it fall from your lips more, in all sorts of ways.
Disappointment floods you both when you notice the late hour, Frankie explaining dejectedly that he should probably go and relieve his babysitter before said babysitter gets too comfortable with his refrigerator and the beer in there. You can hear the fondness in his voice when he tells you about his sitter for the evening, Mena’s tío – another close friend of Benny’s apparently – as you leave the bar, his hand automatically falling to tangle with yours.
“I’m this way,” you point a thumb over your shoulder, fully expecting to say your goodbyes outside the brightly lit bar, but frowning in slight confusion when he merely nods and starts to walk the way to your car.
“Oh – are you parked over here, too?”
He shakes his head, pointing to the complete opposite direction. “No, I’m over there. I don’t want you to walk to your car alone.”
Your insides turn to jelly, smiling to yourself as you grip his hand a little tighter. Thoughtful. He returns your smile, but hates that you seem so surprised by the notion of being walked to your car in the dark. What kind of losers had you dated previously that either didn’t walk you safely to your car?
“Thank you for tonight, Frankie.”
He grins, thumb rubbing soft circles over your knuckles. “Thank you – I had a great time.”
“Next time, it’s my treat.” You say, hoping you weren’t thinking too much of something that wasn’t there. Would he even want a second date? Was he just being polite saying he had a good time? Is that what people said before never calling them again?
Unbeknownst to you, Frankie was having a hard time reigning in the enthusiastic excitement that had flooded through him the second you had spoken. You wanted another date? With him? He had to mash his teeth together to stop the eager grin threatening to break his face completely in half. Thank God he hadn’t blown it. You were… God. You were fucking incredible. He owed Benny – big time.
“I can deal with that,” he eventually agrees, face warm and giddy at the prospect of taking you out again.
You turn and envelope him in a hug when you reach your car, breathing in one final lungful of whatever delicious aftershave he had used, and smile to yourself against his shirt when he folds his arms around you, a hand cupping the back of your head to keep you pressed tightly against him.
Pulling back to say one final goodbye, you’re struck by how close his face seems, eyes flicking across his face before meeting his dark ones.
Suddenly trapped in a gaze that had a fire licking up your spine, your breath goes in a stuttered exhale. Rough fingertips trace your jaw, and then you’re holding your breath entirely as he leans in closer. Anticipation kicks in, heart thumping through your chest as he closes the distance much slower than you would like, and you fight away the wave of impatience that screams at you to just push forward and kiss him.
You don’t expect him to stop however, only a breath away from your lips, and you panic for a small second, wondering if you’re doing something wrong, but when he murmurs a quiet question, it takes all the strength in your legs to not fall to the fucking ground in a lump of melted goo.
“Can I kiss you?”
God yes. Please.
Unable to stop the shy smile that tugs at your lips, you try not to nod too eagerly and definitely fail miserably. You want this, more than what you’ve ever felt with anyone else. Frankie had you feeling like a giddy teenager with a huge crush and you were desperate to feel more of it, to see where it goes and what it could develop into.
At your nod of approval, he moves in the rest of the way, hand moving to cup the side of your neck below your ear, and he sighs lightly when your soft lips finally meet his. The kiss is tender, warm, and does nothing to soothe your raging pulse. He can’t hear your heartbeat, can he? God, can you hear his? He briefly worries, but when your lips move against his, his mind blanks.
His moustache tickles your lip, nose bumps gently with yours. Your hands find his chest, fingers gripping at the soft material, and for a moment it feels like you two are the only ones in existence, floating in a hazy whirl of space.
You take a minute to open your eyes when he eventually pulls away, and when you do, you find him gazing at you with a shy smile and a rosy flush across his cheeks. Lashes fluttering as you blink, you try to get a hold of your heart beating heavily against your ribs while your lips tingle from the aftershocks of his kiss.
Holy shit.
Before you can even think it through, his shirt tangles in your scrunched fist and you pull him back to you, replanting your lips against his with a desperate urgency he meets head on and returns eagerly. His hands, previously gentle, now grip at your waist, squeezing the flesh greedily as you let him walk you back into the side of your car. The metal is cold, even through your jacket, and you arch into him, moaning softly when his tongue traces your lip.
Your knees buckle when his tongue tangles with yours, and he presses you harder into the car to stop you dropping.
“Holy shit.” He breathes huskily after separating, lips widening into a grin when he sees you mirroring his breathlessness. You giggle softly, the fire roaring in your stomach turning into an affectionate warmth that floods your system when he brushes his nose along yours tenderly. “You’re so beautiful.”
“Stop.” Your smile turns shy, teeth digging into your lips as he chuckles again, dark eyes shining. He watches you wrangle your breathing into something semi normal, glad he wasn’t the only one that got swept up and carried away with the moment.
He traces your cheek, planting one more, less hungry and more affectionate, kiss to your lips.
“Goodnight, mystery girl.”
“Goodnight, Frankie.”
He backs away, face split as he smiles, eyes admiring you before he turns and starts to meander away to wherever he was parked, turning to look at you over his shoulder every few steps. You climb into your car, grinning at the final wave he sends you before disappearing around the corner.
Finally alone in your car, you let out the disbelieving chuckle you’ve been keeping in all night, face feeling hot as the aftereffects of such a great date rests pleasantly in your stomach, mind running through every little moment of the night. Starting your car, you start the drive home, unable to stop touching your lips every so often, insides clenching at the memory of his lips moving against yours.
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Tags: @anu-simps @seasonschange-butpeopledont @withasideofmeg @you-got-me-starry-eyed @emilykjh @peterhollandkait @sara-alonso @starlightsearches @bookishofalder @empress-palpat1ne @shadowolf993 @rosiefridayrogersunday @canyonmirrors @eoz-stuff @blackonemasie @layniapetrovnaaa @alberta-sunrise @goldielocks2004 @betterthanbucky @linkpk88 @afootnoteofhappiness @livilottie
#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales x f!reader#frankie morales x you#francisco morales x reader#francisco morales x f!reader#francisco morales x you#frankie morales#francisco morales#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal#triple frontier#triple frontier fic#benny miller x reader
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yo nadia <3333 i'm bored in my online classes and u reblogged the questions thingy at the right time lmao, so get ready: 1, 4, 5, 9, 10, 17, 23, 24, 28, 30!!!, 34, 38, 39, 40 (the intimacy of being understood) (imma stop here lol) (also i'm sorry u're not feeling well, ily and hope u'll feel better soon!! <33333)
ELE ILY. (and thank you, i’m stayin home today cause,,, yeah. i appreciate you sm.) you’re the literal best, i adore you.
1. How long ago did you start reading fanfiction? Writing fanfiction?
The first fanfiction i read was for The Lunar Chronicles when I was like 11?? and it was 100% on accident and it scarred me because it was a hardcore porn one with a period kink and i was like WHAT IS THIS??? OH MY GOD???? LMAOOOOO i didn’t pick it back up until i was 13-14 and really got into the Fairy Tail fandom. I still reread my favorites on ff.net cause i love them.
As for writing, I wrote a horrible, terrible x-men fanfiction when I was twelve. (my friend still brings it up and REFUSES to delete it so it still gets comments and views, that shit HAUNTS ME ELE.) then tried again for Fairy Tail, posted like two chapters before taking it down cause i wasn’t really feeling it. And then I posted The Intimacy Of Being Understood and here we are.
4. Link your three favorite fics right now.
OMGG okok
@murd3rm1ttens ‘s The Problem How Time Works IF YOU HAVENT READ THIS YOU GUYS NEED TO HOP ON IT ASAP. MITTEN’S WRITING SO SO SO SO GOOD. SAKURA AND INO ARE TOTAL BADASSES. KAKASHI IS A SIMPPPP. ITS SO FUCKING GOOD.
@mouseymightymarvellous ‘s We Were Screaming In Color (Only A Possibility) yes, yes I KNOW. i always point into mousey’s direction but i WILL always advocate that everyone reads her fics, they’re literally so beautiful???? i just happen to be rereading WWSIN rn
@safelycapricious ‘s Shaking Up And Breaking Down series. I found this like?? idfk but i’ve been raving about it ever since. ALSO CHECK OUT THEIR FICS IN GENERAL.
fuck i have more than three but also check out @ambivalens999 ‘s Masks
i do wanna make a fic rec thing where i just rav about my favs,,, might do that later or sum
5. What are your fanfic pet peeves? Do they have a huge effect on whether or not you decide to read something?
Omniscient third person. I don’t like it. Like I can understand that it can be a little hard to stay in one person’s perspective but, in my opinion, if you can, it shows how disciplined you are as a writer. Plus, i just get so confused when I go from A’s thoughts to suddenly what B is thinking about A.
When writers use ‘ ‘ instead of “ “. When writers put thoughts in ‘ ‘ instead of just italicizing them. It’s small things but like they just bother me sO MUCH. most of the time i can ignore it and try to enjoy but other times i just dip.
9. Tag 3 fic writers you think are underrated/unknown in the fandom/fanfiction community.
@espoir-et-reves !!!!! THEIR SHISAKU FICS ARE SO SO SO SO SO GOOD. And they have a warring states one going on THAT I AM SO OBSESSED WITH.
@writer168 idk if they’re really “underrated” but THEY HAVE SUCH GREAT FICS ON AO3. Like theres an AU with sakura, kiba, and shino that i reread constantly because it just. is. so. fucking. GOOD. and they posted a new one that i’m YELLING about.
@eggtoasties okay they only have 2 in the naruto fandom (one shisaku which is still ongoing) BUT THEIR WRITING STYLE IS SO NICE?? I ABSOLUTELY LOVE IT. I still go back and reread their shikasaku one cause UGH i can’t get enough. I love it.
10. What’s your favorite fandom, pairing, or character to read fic for?
Fandoms: Naruto, Soul Eater, The Old Guard, ATLA
Parings: KakaSaku/ShikaSaku/ShiSaku/MultiSaku, SoMa, Joe X Nicky, Zukka
Character: SAKURA. I will read anything with Sakura as the main character and her being a fuckin badass or becoming a badass. I love her.
17. How obsessively do you sit and stare at your fic after you’ve just posted and wait for feedback?
aha.. haha.. well. I check my email like three times an hour. its the first thing i check in the mornings too. I’m literally a whore for praise and literally eat up feedback like its going out of style. I also reread a lot of my stuff because i make so many mistakes and spelling errors, or the spacing is weird oR SOMETHING. plus, literally any and all comments make my day, i go back and reread them cause they just make me feel so tingly and warm like “wow. this person enjoyed the fic/my writing enough to tell me. thats HUGE!”
23. What’s your absolute favorite trope to write?
Angry, feral, bloodied, morally gray women. They aren’t bad guys, they’re probably the good guy, but that doesn’t mean they cant be fucking raging at the world with raw knuckles and blood on their teeth. I just love an angry woman who struggles with her emotions and just has so much inner conflict but that doesn’t take away from her character or badassery, it adds to it.
24. What’s a trope that you’d like to never hear about as long as you live, let alone write?
The fake dating or miscommunication troupe. LIKE GUYS JUST TALK. AND TELL EACH OTHER OMFG. the entire like obliviousness of “nah they dont like me” while the They holds their hand and kisses their cheek. MOFO WHAT. it makes me so impatient and like mad HAAHHAHA. its probably because i’m a pretty confrontational person so seeing stuff like that just “cmon bro, USE YO HEAD.”
28. How do you deal with writing pressure (ie: pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines, etc)?
I have yet to receive a negative comment! Which i was really surprised about tbh. As for deadlines or pressure to update, i just kind of do whatever. I do set goals, but i set them flexible enough that hey, if i can’t do it, that’s okay.
I have a lot of mini goals, like “i want to write this chapter and get it done this week” and then the large goal is “FINISH BY END OF MAY” so i have time.
Actually, now that I think on it, the entire pressure to update thing is probably why i’m waiting until I have all of OL&W written to post it weekly,, cause well. I wouldn’t wanna leave you guys waiting as I tried to write and work out the next chapters and stuff, you know?
30. Post a snippet from your current WIP without context - no more than 300 words.
AAAAAA YOU KNOW I LOVE THESE AHAHAHAH
Have you seen the way the dead dance, World Breaker? They roar, half mad and starving. Do you not wish, do you not hope to see them twist and bend and dance to your will?
Shikamaru snarls, looking behind his shoulders to where his Shadows lay. “Patience.” He spits. “Is of the essence, Things of Ancient. Know your place as the dark you are.”
34. How much of yourself and your life experiences do you put into your writing? What do you think your readers’ image of you is?
None of my experiences match up to anything I write tbh,,, probably the only thing that is me in my writing is maybe the emotional turmoil? I’m pretty emotionally and mentally mature because from a pretty young age i started forming my own opinions, started looking into the world around us and being like “dude what the fuck this is not what disney advertised”. Then i started talking (read: arguing and debating) with my dad about a lot of it. So, like emotions are kind of hard for me. Like i’m pretty good at controlling them or understanding them, but still. idk its hard to explain ig.
Like the weight of stress, the anger, the sadness. It’s kind of therapeutic to write. Cause i don’t know how to put those feelings to verbal words so writing them really helps.
As for my readers’ image? Probably like some kind of hunched over figure typing away in the dark with a maniacal grin on their face. I honestly don’t know AHHAHAHA but it is fun to think about. I think they’d see me as someone with potential but a lot of room to grow and someone who is imperfect but in a charming way LMAOOOO
38. What does your writing process look like? How chaotic is it on a scale of 1 (very tame) to 10 (you can’t handle this kind of chaos)?
I’m gonna be real honest. Its probably like a 2. I’m a bit of a control freak so I almost always go in chronological order, my writing is pretty linear. Unless, i get bored and jump to one of my fav parts. It's pretty much i sit down, i open the doc, read over my notes and just start writing.
It’s a little boring to explain AHAHAHA but once i get into the groove of things its really fucking great, I can like feel myself in the world, I can feel what i want the characters to, i love it. I catch myself mouthing the words as i type too, which i find hilarious.
39. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?
I rather like how raw my writing is sometimes. Which might sound really vain, but i do like the way i word things or describe things. I love juxtaposition and repetition, or making a good ole circle back to some minute detail that wouldn’t stand out until i repeat it at the end and you’re like “omg” AHAHAHAHA.
Like those little poetic snippets or certain wording i just sit back and go “damn thats kinda good nadia! go you!’ HAHAHA
40. How did you come up with the idea for The Intimacy Of Being Understood?
AAAAA this fic is like my first child, my pride and joy LMAO
so the idea initially came when i was reading some fic, idk if it was even naruto, but i was like “i don't like this, but i do like the rain symbolism.” And I knew i wanted to write something kind of slow paced, something a little sad and angsty, but would show KakaSaku slowly but surely falling in love.
Idk if you’ve noticed but a lot of my fics, the pairings don’t change each other dramatically. They accept each other as they are and then they grow with together. Like that acceptance is something i just love writing, its so subtle, it isn’t something you declare. Its simply “I am going to love you. I am going to love you despite your flaws and faults. I am going to love you unconditionally because I know you, I understand you, and there is nothing you could do to drive me away.”
The fic kind of wrote itself after that first scene. I kept going back to the rain, go being ghosts, and resurrection, and the small epiphanies one gets. I wanted to focus on each character’s growth with each other. They didn’t find light in life because of each other, but with each other. And i think that’s my favorite thing about that fic.
I wanted something raw and real and just something beautiful. I’m actually really proud of it tbh. Would i go back and rewrite/edit it? Oh of course! I’d do that with every single one of my fics, but i’m not gonna cause i think its in its rawest form right now. :))))
ask me shit plz
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How do you get people to always buy your dragons? Genuine question
i was gonna say something like “haha i have no fucking clue” but that would be a lie i think about this a lot actually so i might have some insights i’ve been breeding dragons as my primary activity on FR since i started playing FR (in 2014...) and people have only started actually buying dragons from me consistently like, 5-6 months ago, despite 2-3 attempts at running a genuine hatchery onsite that always died due to lack of interest & not really being worth the effort.
so ive thought a lot about what the hell is happening now and why my dragons are suddenly consistently selling and I think ive come down to these being the main points of advice i can give: 1. make friends! be friendly! don’t be weird! be a cool and fun person to interact with! 2. post consistently. post your dragons consistently. post about other stuff consistently. just be an active member of the community 3. POST YOUR SHIT IN THE “#FLIGHT RISING” TAG. THIS IS PROBABLY THE ONLY TRUELY HELPFUL THING I SAY IN THIS POST 4. make pairs that are sexy as hell and be openly proud of them. make dragons and pairs that you like, not what you think will necessarily sell. people can tell when you like stuff and being genuinely passionate about something, whatever the fuck it is, will get other people passionate as well longer versions/explanations under the cut because man this got a mile long. i wasn’t kidding when i said i think about this a lot and i am so sorry if you wanted something concise and useful
1. to be a little glib. i am mutuals/friends with more clout in the FR community than I do kjdshfdsfdhjhkfdf shoutout to everyone who draws their dragons really good on a regular basis because i am riding on your coattails to sell my dragons. i love you this was never my intent, obviously! DO NOT BEFRIEND PEOPLE BECAUSE YOU THINK YOU WILL GET STUFF FROM THEM IT’S JUST A REALLY BAD THING TO DO TO PEOPLE!!! i wouldn’t be friends w/ people if i didn’t genuinely like and get along with them! no amount of pixel cash is worth putting up with people you dont like or abusing people you admire! but i’d also somehow feel wrong to just... neglect mentioning this factor. idk it’s probably a self-esteem thing sjdkgfhdsf i just Don’t feel like my #success has been totally out of my own effort because its not like im #hustling or whatever i just posted dragons and stuff happened
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2. being consistent! just. posting consistently! posting Every Hatchling I Have and Talking About Them On Tumblr! Once I had a couple nests just sell super fast likely due to aforementioned clout, i was emboldened to just post more of my nests more often and I swear this has more effect than anything else. i just needed the self-esteem boost to Start Doing That posting consistently makes ppl follow u for ur content which gets even more people to look at your dragons which gets more people to buy your dragons.
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2a. Also just post a lot in general, even if you aren’t necessarily posting about your dragons for sale. it definitely helps! just be friendly and active and people will come
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3. post your shit in the tag. not in “#dragon-sales” or “#fr-dragon-sales” or anything weird like that because I don’t know if anyone actually looks at those, but people definitely browse “#flight rising”. no matter how many followers you have, more people will see your content if you post it in #flight rising than if you just chuck it into the void.
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3a. however! do not put links into the post if you want it to actually show up in the tag. tumblr is cool in that it doesn’t actually matter that much when you post something, the same way it really matters on twitter bc twitter has algorithms that decide for you what it thinks you want to be seeing whereas tumblr just shows you everything in chronological order. if you post something into the tag at 1am... it will still be there at 2pm when people log on and start scrolling.
the only thing tumblr seems to consistently hide from a tag (and possibly a dashboard, but idk) are posts with links in them, as a half-assed attempt to limit spam. instead of linking to your sales tab/to the dragons directly in the post, reblog it with the links instead. to reduce latency between a post going up and the links being available, i type out the links in the initial post, cut them, post the thing into the tag, then very quickly reblog, paste the links, and post the reblog jdhfsdf. i don’t know if that benefits anything really? but it can sometimes take me a while to type links, so if i posted, pressed reblog, typed up all the links, then posted, it’d be like ~15 minutes where someone may see the post, think “oh i would like to buy those dragons”, then can’t find the link, think “oh well, i will just find it later”, scroll on, and just... completely forget about it. so uh. go quick?
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3b. the armchair sociologist in me also thinks self-reblogging has the added benefit of like... you know how people are more likely to tip a barista when a dollar is already in the tip jar? or how people are more likely to take one of those little tabs on a flyer if one of them is already missing? i think that works with notes, too. i don’t know why i think that or why it happens i just swear once a post gets 1 note, suddenly it gets Even More Notes, and if it doesn’t get any notes for a while it will sit at 0 notes until the end of time. so giving yourself 1 obligatory note makes people more likely to interact. i think
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4. all of these are hard to quantify but this one is especially so: have cool and unique dragons. make your pairs sexy as hell. don’t put all your eggs (hah) into the one basket of selling dragons that are technically “popular”. we have all seen triple white/triple obsidian/triple orca/triple any other popular colors and cherub/pere/stained or wasp/bee/glim pthahlos or whatever. they’re pretty! we get it! but everyone has had one and everyone has had those pairs and market for dragons like that can be super oversaturated. try to break free from that and sell dragons that people can only get from you. I can’t tell you what to do though bc that rly depends on you. make pairs that you find exciting or interesting and people will feel that. i have a very specific theme and aesthetic that i don’t feel like is especially common on FR and i am genuinely very enthusiastic about it. marine shit is my Thing:tm: both on and off FR and dragons are one of my many ways of expressing that if you have a Thing:tm:, either some fr-centric aesthetic (like being super into plague or earth or light or something) or something more general (such as any of the -punks or -cores)... just fuckin roll with it honestly. if you’re goth? make got h dragons. like scene stuff that looks straight out of a middle school in 2010? rock that hot-topic lair. outdoorsey type? make dragons that look like you’d meet them on a hike in the woods. it really works with anything! people can tell when you really love something and i know that seeing someone really love something, even if it’s not necessarily MY thing, makes me really excited too!!
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4a. never show fear. people can smell fear. never be like “well this one isn’t that good” because suddenly now you’ve planted the idea that it’s ugly in other people’s heads when they may have really liked it had you not accidentally suggested to them that it’s an ugly dragon. people are EXTREMELY suggestible to even VERY minor cues so be always a little bit bolder than you think you should be you’d be surprised at how many times ive been like “eh, this one’s kind of a dud, i’ll probably have to exalt this one when the auction expires” and then that hatchling is the first to sell. never ever ever ever decide what other people like for them. always act like your dragons are the hottest shit in all the land and Believe It. this is what people mean when they say “fake it till you make it”
- 4b. also, idk if it’s true of everyone but it’s really off-putting to see someone having serious pity-parties for themselves, on sales posts or otherwise. ive had bad experiences with people who are uncomfortably quick to self-depreciate (because they were using their genuine self-hatred to manipulate me or my friends), so i might be a little more trigger-happy about avoiding this behavior than others, but don’t weaponize your sadness to guilt people into doing what you want. it’s really not cool.
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okay i think that’s my entire manifesto on how i do dragon selling. anon i am so sorry im sure you were expecting like “believe in yourself :)” and here i am dissecting dragon selling like it’s a frog in a science class
edit: AFTER ALL THAT I STILL THOUGHT OF ONE MORE THING. It’s not really a Point, just a Reminder:
i don’t post about all the times i have to exalt dragons that don’t sell. you are seeing me being very selective about what i post. you dont sit and stare at my lair or click through offspring lists or check old sales posts. there are a lot of times where someone just doesn’t sell. even now when i’m selling stuff pretty consistently i will still sometimes have dragons that don’t sell for seemingly no reason. even dragons I think are sure to sell will sometimes just... not. and that’s ok! you gotta just be.. ok with that. it’s par for the course. i typically list dragons for 7 days on the AH, give them a couple more days after their auction expires (partially because i forget, partially to give them a grace period for people to pm/ask me about them), and then exalt them after that point. w/ some dragons that i don’t think got a fair shake for one reason or another (such as the sales post not showing up in the tag or something) i do a little clearance (like the halloween dragons i recently posted) but for the most part if they don’t sell, i just exalt them. 90% of the time i don’t even bother to level them up i just press the exalt button and call it a day. it’s fine
#if anyone is interested i can make a post about my process for finding new dragon pairs?#i’d just include it here but this post is long enough as it is oo;;#Anonymous
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tianshan drabble. 💞 on behalf of an anonymous donation to the BLMUK organisation, this was created (with permission) for Eylül @eed752. if you would like to donate to an organisation supporting black lives in return for a drabble, please see here for more information. 🌸
tags: chef!guan shan, media exec! he tian, reality TV. tw: non-consensual kissing
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‘I don’t need your fuckin’ help,’ Guan Shan says, teeth gritted. ‘I didn’t ask for it.’
On the other side of the resaurant’s foyer, Zhengxi lowers the camera. He’s familiar with Guan Shan’s belligerence, and he knows when to stop rolling without waiting for anyone’s call. He turns to He Tian, who’s already making his way over to Guan Shan while he rolls up the cuffs on his shirt sleeves. His smile is tight.
‘Do you want to say that off camera, hm?’ he says quietly, when he’s only a few feet away. There’s something sharp beneath his words that makes Guan Shan’s spine straighten. ‘Stop being a prima donna because you don’t want to follow my suggestions. You and I both know you couldn’t do this without the show.’
Guan Shan looks away. This. His father’s old restaurant had been an empty husk until he bought it, the inside like walking into a warzone. There was graffitti on the walls, smashed crockery covering the floor, burst pipes in the bathrooms and kitchen, some scene from an apocalypse movie.
The PAP had done nothing with it since they seized the property fifteen years ago; when it came to auction, Guan Shan bought it without thinking, emptying the savings he’d been stockpiling from his job as a waiter. He’d planned to give half to his mom and pay off her mortgage.
He doesn’t have the money to rennovate now, or to repair. He barely has the strength not to revisit the memory of the raid each time he walks through the restaurant doors, bile burning his throat, nausea rolling through him as if he’s at sea. Sometimes, it feels like it, the earth unsteady beneath his feet, his surroundings beginning to spin, a high-pitched ringing starting to keen in his ears—
‘Hey,’ He Tian says, brows drawn in. ‘Hey, did you hear me?’
Guan Shan mumbles something, and his expression must throw He Tian enough because he calls out for a break in the shooting. The crew lower their cameras and mic booms—Take five! someone shouts—and a caterers rolls out a trolley with cans of soft drinks and snacks.
Guan Shan doesn’t go to it; nor does he collapse into the fold-up chair that has his name printed across the back. Instead, He Tian grips him by the elbow and steers him, not ungently, out of the main restaurant and towards the kitchen.
It’s a building site still, most everything covered in sheets of plastic and a dusty layer of concrete residue. They’ll start filming this part of the show in a couple of weeks, and use a demo kitchen for now while they work on the recipes for the menu. It’s the nature of the show—Overhaul, it’s called, building someone’s business quite literally from the ground up.
You couldn’t do this without the show, He Tian had said. He’s right. Guan Shan couldn’t have afforded anything on the scale that He Tian is giving him. That’s the whole point of this fucking venture. The furniture, the esteemed clientelle, a Shanghai-based HR agency to find the staff. Some chef from SHIC will help him with the menu, and his contract promises the review of a Black Pearl critic who will visit a year after opening. The restaurant will be a success, by default of He Tian’s purview. He’ll allow nothing else to damage his name.
When the kitchen doors swing to a close behind them, He Tian releases Guan Shan and leans against an old counter with his arms folded. He’s frowning. In here, with the dust and the absence of windows, Guan Shan finds it difficult to breathe. He rubs at his chest, easing a pressure that refuses to dissipate. He’s trying to imagine himself running this place one day, cooking in here, where his father used to—and he fails.
‘You asked for my help,’ says He Tian, slowly. ‘You went to Jian Yi, who came to me. You signed the contract. You agreed to this.’
‘I know what I fuckin’ agreed to,’ Guan Shan mutters.
He Tian is unimpressed, and Guan Shan realises he hasn’t brought him away from the eyes of the crew because he pities him. He’s just making an attempt not to air any dirty laundry. He’s being professional.
He says, ‘Then you can stop with the chip on your shoulder and stop being a bitch to the rest of the crew. They’re not your enemy. Neither am I.’
‘I’m not—’
‘If you want sympathy, then play it up. Start crying. I don’t give a damn—the audience will love it.’ He Tian stares at him flatly. ‘Maybe at the end we can have a father-son reunion—’
‘Don’t you fuckin’ dare,’ Guan Shan growls. The thought sickens him. Already, he knows that his father might see this in the papers, or have access to the show on the prison’s communal TV’s. Guan Shan hasn’t told him. He hasn’t visited in over a year. By the time the show airs, He Tian’s name will be emblazoned in lights; it wasn’t written in the contract, but the restaurant will become He Tian’s has much as it has ever belonged to the Mos.
‘You’re in the entertainment business, Mo Guan Shan,’ He Tian reminds him coldly. ‘You should take what you can get and don’t stop.’
‘Is that what you’ve done?’ Guan Shan sneers.
‘Isn’t it obvious? Look at me.’
Guan Shan is looking. He’s spent two months looking, and he could spend even longer doing so, if only for the fact that he doesn’t want to. His preocuppation with the looks of a pretentious media executive worth millions is really fucking unfortunate. He hates himself for it.
Granted, sometimes things are good. Sometimes they joke with each other and have moments off-camera that make Guan Shan’s spine tingle. Sometimes he thinks He Tian’s hand touches him when it shouldn’t, and sometimes Guan Shan’s eyes linger longer when they shouldn’t, too. There have been no sordid, insidious rumours staining He Tian’s name as with other media execs in the industry, but that means nothing. He Tian has the money and charm to keep it quiet. Probably, He Tian plays this game with all his entreupeneurs. Probably, Guan Shan is being fucking stupid. He hates himself for that, too.
‘I don’t wanna be like you,’ Guan Shan tells him eventually. ‘You look at people like they’re ratings.’
‘Spare me,’ He Tian remarks dryly. ‘If you had enough of a moral backbone you wouldn’t be using me at all for this. You would’ve worked and worked until you had what it took to make this place work.’ He smiles, almost tenderly. ‘And even then it wouldn’t be enough.’
‘Fuck you.’
‘No, fuck you, Mo Guan Shan. You’re going to be whatever the camera makes tries to make you.’
‘You mean what you make—’
‘Shut up. Do you want to be the arrogant, angry chef with an overruling passion for food? The kid from a broken home with too-high dreams of running a business? Is this all some grand venture to repair your paternal relationship? Or maybe something else entirely. You have the opportunity of a life time. If I were you, I’d think about taking it.’
Guan Shan opens his mouth to argue, and He Tian swears—in frustration, in anger, in bemused disbelief that Guan Shan still won’t back down from the fight when he knows he’s lost. The outcome was pre-determined, and Guan Shan’s still wincing at new bruises and spitting blood onto the tarpaulin of the derelict kitchen.
He can only stare as He Tian marches forward, and he only thinks to take a step back when He Tian is a few feet from him— In front of him now— Grabbing his shoulders with two hands—
He Tian’s kissing him.
He Tian doesn’t wait for Guan Shan’s too-slow reaction. He takes what he wants, pillaging the intimacy, tongue forcing itself between Guan Shan’s lips—and lets him go. Immediately after, He Tian staggers back slightly, narrowly avoiding the fist that swings in his direction.
Guan Shan heaves. He doesn’t have the energy to try a second time. ‘You—’
‘There,’ He Tian says thickly. ‘File for harrassment. Put my name down in the mud and rebuild yourself from the ashes.’
‘You fuckin’... You...’ Words fail him. His head is reeling.
He Tian lifts his hand as if to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, but his fingertips linger on his lips. His face is slightly flushed.
‘I’m giving you power over me.’
He says it like an apology.
‘I’d never win,’ Guan Shan chokes out. ‘Me against you in court? I’m nothin’.’
‘I’d agree with your story. If nothing else, I’ll pay out a settlement fee and you can do this whole thing yourself.’
Guan Shan shakes his head. His mouth feels bruised. The worst part is that he’d imagined this before. Different. Better. He’d wanted it. No, the worst part is that he wants it still.
‘Still dirty money,’ he whispers.
‘It doesn’t have to be,’ says He Tian. Guan Shan realises he sounds a little shocked—as if he hadn’t had control over his actions. As if he hadn’t expected its consequences. Guan Shan realises: He Tian hadn’t done this with the others. ‘Make your choice, Mo Guan Shan. You can quit, you can file a claim—or we can carry on and get this thing finished.’
‘Shit,’ Guan Shan breathes, dragging a shaking hand over his face. ‘How the fuck am I gonna just... carry on after you...’
He looks to He Tian, expecting some cool answer, something stemmed from exploitative experience, but He Tian only grimaces and says, ‘The same way I’ll have to.’
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🌸 in the footsteps of @nightfayre’s wonderful initiative, i’m filling any drabble requests following a donation to causes in support of black lives. please read here if you would like more information! ✨
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Bakugan Live Blog Experience Part 2: Electric Boogaloo
Episode 2
-So our tsundere girl gets jumped by a grown man in a mask and I think there’s a phone call I need to make
-Tag yourself. I’m Marty McFly’s reject clone
-Free my man Drago from his ball prison you cruel child. Release his shackles and let him consume the world
-So PedoMask stole Bluedere’s Cancer huh? I don’t think that was the only thing he stole
-PedoMask is the new number one instead of Sasuke. Not a big surprise considering he’s an adult and can just knock a child unconscious
-Are the going to use that fucking cowboy stand off music every time Sasuke appears on screen? I hate the taste but I yearn for a bottle of alcohol right now
-Our protagonists are slaveholders forcing the Bakugan to battle for their own amusement. I think PETA targeted the wrong company
-Is this fat kid gonna be in every episode just to get stomped by main boy? I half expect him to show up during the final clash between Drago and White Power Dragon for a d-d-d-d-d-duel
-Everytime a kid battles with these beasts, the completely mind control them and force them to fight. This is dark for a kids show
-PedoMask was sitting in the dark watching three little kids. I don’t think stealing everyone’s Bakugan is his only crime
-I just realized PedoMask has a duel disk. Guess Bakugan isn’t the only children’s game he’s interested in
-THIS MAN SENT THE BAKUGAN TO FUCKING HELL WHAT IS THIS
-Yes, him messing up your game is his worst crime. Not spying on little kids or sending creatures with cognitive thought to their death. It’s your game that matters the most. No wonder Sasuke doesn’t hang around this kid
-Drago is best waifu
Episode 3
-We start the episode off with PedoMask stalking a child and confronting them alone in the woods to give him power. Moushi moushi keisatsu desu ka?
-So our MC is training to defeat PedoMask. I think he’s better off getting self defense training and an alarm
-MC questions why Drago, a sentient being who’s dimension is at war, is angry yes trapped inside a ball. Also he continues to refer to this as a game even though BAKUGANS ARE DYING
-My waifu Drago’s world is being destroyed while he’s powerless to do anything and I’m supposed to care about the MC. Nah, let me see World War B
-If the MC doesn’t get his fingerless gloves off my waifu Drago, I’m gonna go to jail for child murder
-The fat kid appeared again for fucks sake.
-Bluedere’s talking Bakugan has too deep a voice. It makes me feel things I shouldn’t be feeling during a children’s anime
-These two kids are fighting on a bridge clearly made for car. Like, they’re not even doing it on the pedestrian/bicycle area which is clearly shown. They’re just talking and fighting on the road.
-PedoMask’s apprentice also has a duel disk. I’m guessing that’s part of the dress code for his club
-Apprentice-kun has a fucking Gundam mech. I’m rooting for him
-THIS KID HAS ANOTHER MECH. FUCK YEAH!!!
-Apprentice-kun killed not only two more of MC’s Bakugan’s, but also sacrificed his own. This is a kids show right?
-Our MC is a psychopath. This...this kid just brushed off his own Bakugan’s deaths while putting down Drago for feeling anything for losing his kind. I feel genuine anger right now.
-Luckily best girl Drago saw through Apprentice-kun’s plan and negated the ability. This is why he’s my waifu
-BEST WAIFU DRAGO SPITTING FACTS
-I’ve become a dragon fucker. Catch me posted outside the Cave of Flames with a bottle of lube in hand
-I want to throw MC off the bridge. This man has the FUCKIN AUDACITY to claim that he’s the one being hurt right now cause Drago never really trusted him. Fuck that. Drago watched four of his comrades sent to hell where they’ll never return from and he has the gall to act like he’s the victim.
-Bakugan Battle Brawlers more like Bakugan I’m About to Brawl With a Kid
-HE YEETED DRAGO INTO THE OCEAN WTF
I’ve never felt more anger for a child character in my life. I hope he gets sent to the Doom Dimension
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Just Another Day at the Office Series - The Sexperiment
George MacKay x Reader Series
Part Three: Meeting Andrew
Masterlist
Summary: Y/f/n Y/l/n is doing better than ever; she’s finally in a relationship with the man she’s been constantly thinking about, she has some great friends, and she’s thriving at her dream job. Except, there’s one problem: being in a relationship with one of your coworkers can get really steamy, and can cause a lot of sexual frustration. Her new pitch idea may solve exactly that problem, but will George be okay with it?
a/n: I have absolutely no personal experience in magazine/journalism career, so the information in this fic will be provided with the knowledge I have conducted from research. With that being said, please don’t be mad if this is not accurate!!! **“The Sexperiment” is inspired by an actual Cosmopolitan article (here’s the link!) I also have no personal experience being in a rehabilitation center, so I apologize if the descriptions aren’t accurate. I imagine Andrew as Timothee Chalamet (it won’t let me put the accent over the e on here) but his description could also match Harry Styles, so choose your fighter.... you could also just imagine him however you please, it doesn’t have to be either of them :)
Warnings: This is a slow burn fic, their relationship won’t happen in one night, so if you’re not into that, check out some of the beautifully written imagines that you can most likely find under the george mackayxreader tag. I might eventually write some of my own too :P At least one person’s saying “fuck” and there’s NSFW content..aka smut. You have been warned. TW: mention of rehab and drug use. This part is kinda long :/ Sorry!
I sat in the passenger seat of George’s car, staring out of the window at the highway signs passing by us like a blur. George’s hand rested on my thigh, a foreign feeling but nonetheless amazing, as his fingers drummed against my jeans to the beat of the song playing softly on the radio. Dean insisted that I sit in the passenger seat, which I’d felt guilty about but after reminiscing on the sex George and I had just the day before on the very seat, I didn’t feel as guilty. I turned my head enough to examine George’s focused eyes, his side profile as perfect as one could imagine. The shape of his nose to his furrowed eyebrows, the way his waves were in perfect tact on his head, ruffling only when he moved his head to check his blindspots.
As we pulled into the parking lot, he turned to me, giving my thigh a gentle squeeze before removing it from my leg and turning the car off, shoving the keys into his pocket. We unbuckled ourselves and made our way into the building, stopping at the entrance. George turned his head to me, as if making sure I was okay to go in. I gave him a nod of confirmation, following the boys inside.
The first thing that I noticed was that the building was cold. It wasn’t warm and welcoming, and I’d hoped that the patients’ rooms weren’t as cold as the entrance. There was an older woman at a large desk, which the boys led me to. George spoke a few words to her and she gave him a clipboard. I didn’t pay attention to their conversation, instead, my eyes examined the room, noticing a woman as pale as the white walls of the building. Sickly dark circles rested under her eyes and her hair was tangled down her back. Her facial structure looked hollowed, her cheekbones sticking out and her eyes looking sunken in. I watched as she followed a doctor down a hallway, away from the entrance, away from my eyesight. My eyes stilled on the place they’d been standing, hoping that this woman would get the help she looked like she desperately deserved.
“Y/n.”
I turned my head, noticing George, Dean, and a man looking similar to the doctor I’d seen stood ahead of me, motioning for me to follow them. I quickly caught up to them, following as they headed down another hallway and turning into an elevator. As the doors closed in front of us and the machine jerked us upward, I felt George grab my hand. I looked down at his large hand engulfing mine, intertwining our fingers.
“How is he?” Dean asked, crossing his arms.
The doctor shrugged, the shoulders of his white coat wrinkling as he did so.
“Good,” he began. “He didn’t make a single sarcastic remark in therapy today, so that’s progress.”
The boys chuckled beside me.
“That’s him, alright,” Dean confirmed, his laugh fading as the elevator doors opened.
We piled out of the confined space, walking down a hallway with multiples of doors on each side. We turned into one as the doctor opened it slowly, leaving it open for the rest of us.
“You guys can go down to the courtyard, just have him back up here in an hour,” he notified us, sticking a block in the bottom gap of the door, and leaving back down the hallway.
My heart raced in anticipation as a bed came into view, a man sitting upright with his legs hanging off the side coming into view. I remembered distinctly how he looked in a few of Dean’s Facebook photos, but it was much different seeing him in person. Much like the woman I’d seen before, his appearance was sickly, his skin pale and dark circles settled under his eyes. He had dark brown hair–almost black–with bright green eyes. His freckles were much more apparent than George’s as they settled on his tiny nose. His eyebrows matched the dark locks on his hair, and they were bushy alike Bree’s.
He wore grey sweatpants and a black sweatshirt with slippers and hospital socks peeking out of them. His face brightened at my appearance and he leaned away from the bed, moving toward me. George watched with a smile on his lips as Andrew held his hand out to me, which I gladly took.
“I’m Andrew,” he spoke, his voice deep and American, a welcoming difference from Dean and George’s accents. “AKA the drug addict.”
I snorted, giving his hand a firm shake.
“I’m Y/n, AKA George’s whore,” I mimicked him, showing him my own humorous side.
Dean gasped a laugh and George rolled his eyes, a blush spreading over his cheeks at my bluntness whilst Andrew nodded, turning to look at his friends.
“I like her,” he stated in approval.
“C’mon, let’s get going,” George muttered, still embarrassed, grabbing my hand and leading us out of the doorway.
We walked through the hallway in silence, heading back into the elevator we were previously in with the doctor. We entered the confined space, Dean pushing the main floor button, before the doors slid closed and we were jerked downward. George reached for my hand again, offering a comfort for the surprise of the janky machine.
“So,” Andrew began, clicking his tongue a few times and looking around the closed-in metal walls. “What’d you guys do today?”
Dean shrugged, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“Same old, same old,” he replied.
George nodded in agreement.
“This guy, must have been his first day here, whipped his dick out in group therapy; looked as cracked out as I did before I got admitted here,” Andrew explained, earning a chuckle of amusement from Dean and a groan from George.
“Can we please avoid talking about dicks while Y/n is here?” George pleaded in annoyance.
Andrew put his hands up in defense, turning toward me and bowing down to me sarcastically.
“Won’t happen again,” he apologized, making me softly giggle as the elevator doors opened.
We headed down an unfamiliar hallway, coming to a wall of windows in which two security guards were standing in front of. The windows revealed a large courtyard, including multiple benches scattered about. Walking a little further, we reached a door, which allowed us to enter the courtyard. George held the door open for us, joining my side as I slid in lastly.
They chose a bench by a tree, fallen leaves scattering the grass around it. We all seated ourselves, distinct conversations of others across the courtyard filling the air.
“Being here is causing me to quit smoking, cold turkey,” the green-eyed man revealed, looking down at the grass below us.
“Shit, I forgot about that,” Dean admitted, bringing his bottom lip between his teeth worriedly. “How’s that goin’?”
Andrew shrugged, his slippers gently kicking some leaves aside as he thought to himself before speaking.
“I suppose it’s a good thing,” he confessed, lifting his head to look at the fellow brunette boy. “It’s hard as fuck, though. I feel fucking awful sometimes, and there’s just nothing I can do about it.”
“You could ask the nurses to bring you straws,” I spoke up. He turned his head toward me in curiosity. “It’ll mimic the feeling and act of smoking; it could help when you crave nicotine.”
He nodded, a small smile taking form on his lips.
“I never thought of that,” he admitted, nudging my shoulder. “Thanks, Y/n.”
I smiled in response, turning my head to George, who was seated at my other side. He smiled down at me in admiration at his friend and I’s interaction, wrapping an arm around my torso and gently squeezing my side.
“Has George cooked for you yet?” Andrew asked, changing the subject.
I nodded, a blush spreading across my cheeks as I thought about the many times George had cooked me breakfast, lunch, and dinner, the last time being the ratatouille in which I had interrupted with my appearance in lingerie.
“Yeah, he’s an amazing chef,” I complimented, turning my head to look at George again.
His skin seemed to glow under the setting sun, his hair appearing golden and his eyes bluer than ever. He winked at me, giving my side another gentle squeeze.
“Don’t take it for granted,” my new green-eyed friend warned as I returned my attention back to him. “He used to make us breakfast and dinner everyday and all Dean, here, can do is poach a fuckin’ egg.”
I snorted at this, George joining me in laughter as Dean’s jaw dropped and defensive murmurs left his lips.
“I can do a lot more than you can, bastard,” Dean defended with a roll of his eyes. “And, by the way, I don’t miss goin’ in the shower after you’ve had a wank.”
Andrew’s eyebrows furrowed at this allegation, George continuing to laugh at their bickering beside me.
“How the hell can you tell when I jerk off?” he interrogated, crossing his arms in his loose hoodie sleeves.
“Oh, I can tell,” Dean replied with a scoff.
“Guys, I said no talking about dicks,” George reminded them, still softly laughing.
The two brunette boys looked at each other with slitted eyes of suspicion, shutting themselves up whilst their expressions continued to argue.
“One time, when all three of us were living together, we had a party,” George began, looking down at me.
“Oh, I love this story!” Andrew exclaimed beside me, raising a shy fist in victory.
I looked at the two brunettes with curiosity, trying to decipher what George was about to say from their expressions before returning my attention to my lover next to me, looking up at him as he spoke.
“What was supposed to be a small gathering of our closest coworkers turned into a huge party with one invitation on Facebook,” George explained, motioning his head toward Andrew, signifying that he was the one that sent out the Facebook invitation.
Dean shuffled in his spot on the bench, moving his body to face the green-eyed brunette.
“Yeah, I’ll never fuckin’ forgive you for that, by the way,” Dean groaned. “Someone broke our bloody tile floor! How the fuck do you break a tile floor?!”
“Anyway,” George interrupted, continuing with the story.
He proceeded to tell me about a story of him mistaking a pan of brownies someone had brought for pot brownies, resulting in him getting his first–and quote “most likely his last”–high. He went on to explain how he was convinced the entire flat was physically spinning in circles, causing him to profusely vomit. With cuts in from the two brunettes beside us, I was a giggling mess, imagining my lover as high as a kite.
Before we knew it, our hour was up, and we returned back to the room in which Andrew was staying in. I stepped away to let the boys speak to him privately for a moment before we bid our goodbyes and exited the building.
After dropping Dean off, I politely asked George if he would stop at my apartment for me to “get a few things”. Without question, probably thinking I needed a tampon, he obliged. I quietly thanked him, hurriedly speed-walking into the building. As I reached the door, I sprinted inside, running to my bedroom to grab my slip, shoving it into my purse. Fixing my appearance quickly, I sprinted out of the complex into a casual speed-walk back to his car.
As I reached his car, almost entirely out of breath, he started towards his house. With my heart beating in my ears and butterflies taking over my stomach, I awaited the exciting unknown. I watched the way he stared, concentrated on the road in front of us to distract my nerves; watching his jaw clench and unclench at the agonizing traffic. I nearly gasped as he returned his hand onto my thigh, making small, comforting circles with his thumb onto the fabric of my jeans, which I’d been gratefully able to change into before we met with Andrew.
He turned his head to look at me, his lips turning up into a small smile before returning his eyes to the road. I attempted to bite back the grin that fought to take over my lips, resting my hand over his own on my leg. The back of his hand was smooth and soft, small valleys of his raised veins under my fingertips. My fingers drew shapes at random against his skin, attempting to distract myself from my nerves.
Finally, we reached the parking lot to his complex. After shutting the car off, he quickly came around to my side, opening the door for me. Blushing, I got out, following him into the building. Going up the stairs, we reached his door, which he fumbled with his keys before finally opening it. Walking inside, I quickly held my purse close to me, remembering what exactly I had up my sleeve.
“Can I use your bathroom?” I asked, trying to sound the least bit suspicious as I could.
He nodded, furrowing his eyebrows.
“Of course, you don’t have to ask.”
I smiled gratefully at him, scurrying to the bathroom by the kitchen. After closing the door behind me, I looked around, noticing the similarities and differences the features of the room had with the upstairs bathroom. This one was much smaller, and had a washer and dryer in place of a shower. Don’t take too long, I reminded myself. Opening my purse and grabbing the bunched ball of satin fabric, I peeled my clothes off, including the mismatched bra and panties; the slip alone would do the job.
Staring at my reflection in the small mirror above the sink, I admired the way the royal blue of the fabric complimented my skin. I hoped he would think so, as well. Leaving my pool of clothes on the floor, I slowly opened the door, walking out to his sitting figure on the living room sofa, his phone in his hands occupying him. Leaning against the wall, I cleared my throat, making my appearance known. Bringing his eyes up from the screen in confusion, his pupils grew large at the sight in front of him, dropping his phone in the process. Without bothering to pick it up, he stood from the sofa and made his way toward me.
He brought a palm to my cheek in which he slowly dragged down to my breasts, the buds of my nipples hardened through the thin silk. He ran his thumb over a bud once before moving his hand down to my waist, grabbing my thigh and pulling my leg to his side. I moved my hands to his shoulders, resting my weight on him whilst I brought my other leg around him. His eyes examined my face before bringing his nose to gently brush against my own. Our lips ghosted over one another’s, wanting to savor what was to come.
Pressing his lips to mine, he began his way toward the stairs, lips gently moving against each other’s as carried me up the staircase. Holding my bum and kicking his bedroom door open, he treaded to his bed, tossing me onto it. Breathing heavily from the breath he’d lost while kissing me and the adrenaline rushing through his veins, he panted, eyes scanning my vulnerable state over his comforter, stilling on my parted legs.
He breathed a laugh.
“No panties, again, love?” he taunted, moving closer until he was hovering over me.
He moved his hand between us, running a finger with the gentlest touch over my entrance. I could barely feel the pad of his finger against me, and the ghost of his touch made my back arch; I needed him.
“You’re dripping already, angel,” he whispered, spearmint breath against my face.
My lips parted at the dirty words escaping his mouth, escaping the kissed-swollen lips of his. He brought his finger to his mouth, sucking on the skin, wet with my own juices. I watched in awe, snaking my hand around the nape of his neck and bringing his lips to mine. We kissed sloppily for a moment, tongues dancing with one another’s without any rhythm, before he pulled away to remove his shirt. I admired his torso as always, the pale, toned skin with moles scattered at random. I sat up, undoing the buckle of his jeans and pulling them down to his calves.
He kicked the denim off, leaving him in his briefs with an obvious tent at the crotch. He ran his fingers down my sides, slipping the silk over my body with the help of my raised arms, tossing the lingerie to the floor with his own clothing. Moving himself over me and scooting ourselves up toward the top of the bed, our lips met once again. My legs parted for him, allowing him to rest himself between my legs as I tangled my fingers through his dark blond locks. He pressed his clothed bulge against my bare entrance, making me gasp against his lips at the pleasurable relief of built up tension within me.
Smirking at my noise, he rolled his hips against me, pressing where I needed him once more. Feeling him against me again was like ecstasy, I hadn’t realized how much I needed him again already. I peeled my lips away from his own, unable to conceal my moans any longer as he continued to roll his hips against me.
“George,” I begged, half-lidded eyes meeting his own. “I need you.”
He smirked, stopping his movements.
“Not just yet, Y/n,” he grinned devilishly.
I didn’t have time to register what he’d meant. Within seconds, he got to his knees and rolled me over to my stomach. I gasped at the quick movement, turning to look at him in confusion.
“Get on your hands and knees,” he ordered, yet his tone still soft.
I smirked, watching his chest heaving up and down, his cheeks blushing, but I obliged. I got on my hands and knees, facing the headboard, my heart racing at the unexpected. I felt his hand gently grasp my ass, rubbing softly; I knew exactly what he was going to do. As soon as his hand left, it joined my ass again. I gasped as I felt him spank me, a slight stinging lingering afterward. I turned my head to look at him, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked at me worriedly. I grinned.
“Do it again,” I egged him on.
A smirk took over his lips once again, grabbing my hair in one hand, forming a makeshift ponytail in his fist and bringing his other hand to spank me once more. I gasped, followed by a moan at the sensation of his hand against my bum.
“Didn’t expect you to be such a dirty girl,” he tormented, leaning his torso against my back as he whispered behind my ear.
Feeling his hot skin against my own, his clothed cock against my core again, my lips parted in bliss.
“You bring it out of me,” I admitted, my voice barely existent through my words.
He chuckled softly; I could feel his warm breath against the back of my ear, his ghostly presence making me more eager to want him.
“My dirty girl,” he corrected himself, his voice a mere whisper.
His torso left my back, his fist letting go of my hair as I felt him shuffle on the bed. As I turned around in confusion before realizing that he’d taken off his briefs and tossed them to the floor, he flipped me onto my back, wrapping his arms around my thighs and dragging my body closer to his. Moving back on top of me, his forehead rested against my own whilst he rubbed his cock against my folds, his tip teasingly collecting my leaking juices before slowly entering into me.
My legs wrapped around his waist instantly, attempting to push him into me further as I ached for any sort of pleasure I could get. Pressing a sweet kiss against my lips, he looked at me cautiously–as if he were worried he’d hurt me–before slamming his hips into mine. My back arched as my head dropped backwards, my body practically going into shock in pleasure. He moved his hips roughly against my own, his pace moving slowly but deeply. I could feel his length already brushing my most pleasurable spot within me, and I found myself moving my hips against his own in an attempt to feel him deep enough.
HIs hips began moving faster, growing impatient himself and needing to reach his own orgasm. He moved his hand up to my neck, grasping underneath my jaw as his blue eyes watched my eyes roll back in awe at the feeling of his hand wrapped around me.
“Faster, George,” I pleaded, my voice cracking as I watched him smirk, grabbing one of my thighs and hiking it up to reach the side of his chest.
Finally, his length reached the spot within me, hitting it over and over again with every thrust. I squirmed beneath him, staring at his face helplessly, my stomach knotting as I felt myself clench around him. His lips parted, hips thrusting just enough to ride out my high before stilling, feeling him spurt inside of me. He released his hand from my throat, pressing a long, tender kiss against my lips before slowly pulling his length out of me.
I laid there, chest rising up and down before moving myself to lay against him. I rested my head on his chest, a leg sprawled over him. I moved my hand to his chest as well, watching as my fingers ghosted over the auburn hairs that sprouted between his pecks. I felt his hand go to my head, combing his fingers gently through my hair as our breathing patterns calmed down.
“Stay the night.” His raspy voice accentuated his accent.
I breathed a laugh.
“I can’t,” I sighed, my tired voice cracking.
He pressed his lips to the top of my head.
“Why not? We can go to your apartment and get your things for tomorrow. And, we can carpool to work together,” he suggested, his voice almost a whisper.
I lifted my head up, resting my chin against his chest whilst I gave him a look of confusion.
“Are you sure?” I affirmed.
“Mhm,” he hummed, wrapping an arm around me and pulling me closer to him.
He began to trail his fingers up my bare back, raking his fingertips gently up and down my spine; my eyes were beginning to close as I rested my cheek back against his chest.
“Do you have the energy to get up right now?” I interrogated, my voice beginning to rasp. “Because, I sure as hell don’t.”
He sighed, rubbing my back with his whole palm, comfortingly.
“Well, love,” he began, “if it means I get this for the night, then I’ll do whatever I can.”
He spanked my bum, making me gasp, which in return, earned a chuckle from him. I rolled my eyes, removing myself from him as he got up from the bed, stretching, before attempting to find his clothes on his floor. I watched his body contort as he slipped his clothes on, his muscles contracting as he pulled the fabric over his skin. Watching as he reached into his closet, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt, tossing them to me onto the bed.
I didn’t hide the fact that I wanted to smell the clothes, to smell him, this time. I slipped the soft fabrics over my naked body, engulfing me with the sweet scent.
I, Y/f/n Y/l/n, was about to sleep at my boyfriend–also my coworker–’s house on a work night, risking multiple bad scenarios involving my dream job...but why didn’t I care?
#george mackay#george mackay x reader#George Mackay smut#fanfic#x reader#x reader fic#1917#1917 cast
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73 questions tag! tysm @goodlesson , can’t say i’ve ever had anything like this before but hey it’s not like I have anything better to do rn 😅
answers under the cut! i tag @rene-royale @teenager-confused-tired @sawafilmtoday @onedoesnotsimplystormthebastille if you feel like it, but no pressure bc this is a LOT and took me a couple days to finish lol
on a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now? um. could be worse, could be better?? so 5.
describe yourself in a hashtag? no. twitter and all its shitty hashtags can go to hell.
if you could do a love scene with anyone, who would it be? weird question. nobody?? i wouldn’t want to??
if your life was a musical, what would the marquee say? not to be all dan smith on main but like...’come to this please’
what’s one thing people don’t know about you? uhhhh idk. i’m very open about most aspects of my personality i’d say
what’s your wake up ritual? stay in bed as long as possible and then YEET at maximum speed so i don’t waste the day
what’s your go to bed ritual? tell myself i should go to bed. pick up my phone instead. regret it in the morning.
what’s your favorite time of day? 2pm or 9-10pm
your go to for having a good laugh? macdoesit or drawfee videos on youtube. truly the best.
dream country to visit? i wanna go back to england and france, also i’d love to visit literally anywhere i could
what’s the biggest surprise you’ve ever had? falling in love with my college roommate probably,, didn’t see THAT coming
heels or flats/sneakers? bitch i’m 5′10″ with size 12.5 feet. converse.
vintage or new? vintage looks cool. i am not cool. so new.
who do you want to write your obituary? idk man i don’t wanna think about that now???
style icon? if you knew me irl you’d know style is not a word in my vocabulary
what are three things you cannot live without? my cat, my friends/gf, and my cd collection
what’s one ingredient you put in everything? i do not bake or cook, the real world is going to kill me immediately
what 3 people living or dead would you want to make dinner for? i’d be too stressed to make food for people but i’d love to like. go OUT for dinner with...dodie, dallon weekes, and pj liguori. they’re all just cool people i follow and i wanna know what they’re LIKE.
what’s your biggest fear in life? failure due to lack of confidence, motivation and direction in life :)))
window or aisle seat? i’d say window but i am long boi so aisle is usually nicer unless i trip someone by accident
what’s your current tv obsession? still supernatural, also brooklyn 99
favorite app? tumblr :D
secret talent? despite my crippling procrastination issues i’ve almost always been a straight-A student 🤷♀️
most adventurous thing you’ve ever done in your life? drove myself two hours to a concert in february, or maybe the time i did a really hard ropes course or went to the badlands?
how would you define yourself in three words? introverted, distracted, nerdy
favorite piece of clothing you own? maybe my waterparks sweatshirt bc i had a dream last night that i donated it and then went back to the store to buy it back lmao so subconsciously i must really like it
a must have clothing item that everyone should have? you gotta have that one pair of black jeans that goes with anything imo
a superpower you would want? flying. it’s the only recurring dream i’ve ever had and it’s my only answer ever
what’s inspiring you in life right now? all the people doing big or little things to help. the ones doing instagram lives or sending money or supplies to people in need or just giving me more faith in humanity
best piece of advice you’ve received? can’t remember any. why doesn’t anyone give me good advice
best advice you’d give your teenage self? do your laundry on time. don’t wear...whatever that was to school. just wash ur fuckin clothes. also don’t let it bother you that you’re single the whole time. you’ll get there.
a book everyone should read? they both die at the end by adam silvera. you WILL cry. but you will love it.
what would you like to be remembered for? i have no idea. being a non-shitty person at least.
how do you define beauty? happiness.
what do you love most about your body? idk being tall is kinda nice
best way to take a rest/decompress? get a blanket. comfy clothes. my cat. put headphones on. put some music on or watch youtube.
favorite place to view art? on tumblr and instagram! i follow soo many wonderful artists it’s great
if your life was a song, what would the title be? Oh No (What Is She Doing Now?)
if you could master one instrument, what would it be? piano or guitar. i suck at both and if i could be good at ONE i’d be happy
if you had a tattoo, where would it be? been thinking about this tbh. somewhere on my arm definitely but idk where D:
dolphins or koalas? dolphins!!
what’s your spirit animal? a cat?
best gift you’ve ever received? for christmas my sister bought me a cute lil box meant for displaying concert tickets and it was the most thoughtful thing ever. also the AMAZING studio headphones i’m currently using that my mom got me like three years ago for christmas
best gift you’ve given? probably when i bought me and my best friend tickets to see the Sherlock S4 finale in a movie theater
what’s your favorite board game? cards against humanity, one night ultimate werewolf/alien, settlers of catan
what’s your favorite color? porpleee 💜
least favorite color? hmm they’re all valid except for like. puke green.
diamond or pearls? neither lol
drugstore makeup or designer? neither 😜
blow-dry or air-dry? blow-dry but i never do bc it takes y e a r s
pilates or yoga? yoga!
coffee or tea? both but only hot tea or frozen coffee
what’s the weirdest word in the english language? thanks to tumblr the word ‘defenestrate’ has entered my vocabulary and I do not regret it
dark chocolate or milk chocolate? either. chocolate is chocolate 🍫
stairs or elevators? tbh stairs, i’m just a lazy bitch
summer or winter? winter. cold > hot
you are stuck on an island, you can pick one food to eat forever without getting tired of it, what would you eat? i’d still get tired of it :( i need that variety!!
a dessert you don’t like? none. dessert is dessert and it is all valid if i can eat it
a skill you’re working on mastering? writing, working from home, playing the guitar
best thing to happen to you today? currently watching mike gross play old brobecks tunes :’) he also just saw my comment yay
worst thing to happen to you today? i had cheesecake for lunch. sounds good but it’s the only thing i’ve had today besides a piece of chocolate and my body is Not Happy
best compliment you’ve ever received? someone on fanfiction dot net once left me a comment saying they’d almost cried at my story and called me “a true writer” and it’s honestly one of the only thing that keeps me writing...i’m still mad they weren’t signed in so I’ll never be able to thank them for it.
favorite smell? lemon, cookies, fresh-cut grass
hugs or kisses? hugs!!
if you made a documentary, would it be about? somethin gay probably
last piece of content you consumed that made you cry? honestly...probably “who the fuck is keith” fjadskljfd
lipstick or lipgloss? like peyton said chapstick is the only valid answer
sweet or savory? depends how i’m feelin, love both
girl crush? besides the obvious one (my girlfriend), honestly not many? there’s this one girl i follow on insta who’s big in the panic! fandom and jESUS SHE’S SO PRETTY. also the girl who plays kaia in supernatural is CUUUTE
how do you know you’re in love? has only happened to me once but for me...i already loved her platonically for months and then suddenly one day i was like oh. why am i getting the urge to kiss you rn. oh no.
a song you can listen to on repeat? anything by idkhow or bastille. never gets old.
if you could switch lives with someone for a day, who would it be? not to copy peyton but i would love to know what goes on inside my cat’s head
what are you most excited for about this time in your life? next semester of college!! i got into a super-competitive dorm and i’m gonna have my own room and live with nine other people and gahh i’m just so excited to be chaotic with all my friends again and meet new people :’)
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Editing tips, I guess?
Hey uhhhhh, so I've gotten lots of new followers over the past few weeks and wanted to do some kind of thank you?? Also, I have seen a fair share of "omg HOW" in the tags on my edits (which??? always make my day?? my week??? my life????)
Anyway, I thought I'd share some of my ~techniques with y'all? So here goes:
(lmao this got really fuckin long so cuuuuuut)
1. Make EVERYTHING a Smart Object
Okay, maybe not EVERYTHING, but seriously. Do it. It will save ur editing life. You ever shrink something down and then an hour later change your mind and decide you want it bigger? If you're not using a smart object, it’ll get blurry when you scale it back up and you’ll be fuCKED!
To make a layer/group a smart object, just right click on it in the layers panel and select "convert to smart object". This makes Photoshop store the layer's original data in a separate space for safe keeping (an embedded .psb file, to be exact) -- so you can shrink it and enlarge it as many times as you want without any lossiness.
As soon as I paste/place a screencap, texture, or whatever into my document, the first thing I always, ALWAYS do is convert it to a smart object!!
Why, you might ask?? Continue to item No.2 :)))
2. Harness the POWER of Smart Objects!!
The reason I am obsessed with Smart Objects is because I am obsessed with making any edits as non-destructive as possible. If you use “Image > Adjustments > Levels/Selective Color/etc” on a regular layer, that’s a destructive edit. Same goes for any Filters (such as blur/sharpen) and transforms (Warp, distort, perspective). You lose the original data that was there and the only way it can be undone is with ctrl+z. Might not seem like a huge deal at first, but if you keep chugging along for an hour and decide, “hmm, maybe i went too hard on that levels adjustment after all...” your only options are deleting the layer and starting over, or uh... hoping it’s still in your history panel.
However, it's really easy to avoid destructive edits when you use smart objects!! Because all those adjustments, filters, and transforms become “Smart Filters”. Smart Filters have all the non-destructive advantages of performing these adjustments via adjustment layers, but have the added bonus of ONLY effecting the layer they’ve been applied to, instead of cascading down and effecting all the layers beneath. (Which can be a good thing sometimes, but that’s a whole other topic)
Smart filters are attached to their ‘parent layers’, and can be hidden, deleted, or modified (by double-clicking their names) at any time:
Can I hear a wahoo???
Other cool things about Smart Objects:
You can copy a Smart Filter with all its settings to another layer by alt+click+dragging it over
You can change the order in which Smart Filters are applied by clicking and dragging them around
You can edit a smart object independently/in a sort of 'isolated' mode by double-clicking on its thumbnail!! I like to use this for edits that are specific to a given screencap-- like cutting out the background and any initial adjustments, like levels and selective coloring. Once you’re done editing the contents of the smart object, hit ctrl+s and it will automatically update in the main document!
But really, the biggest thing for me here is psychological. I know I’m much more willing to try things and experiment when I know that I can easily go back and tweaks things at any time. Otherwise, I’d stick with adjustments I don’t really like all that much simply because it would take too much time/effort to redo them.
3. Don't even THINK ABOUT using the eraser tool or I will STOMP YOU to death with my hooves!!
Use a layer mask instead. Please I am begging you. It all comes back to making your edits as non-destructive as possible. If you erase something, it's gone forever. When you mask something, you can make changes to which parts are visible/not visible as often as you want.
For the newbies or the otherwise unacquainted, a mask is a greyscale ‘map’ attached to a layer (or layer group) that controls its opacity. Black areas give the layer 0% opacity, white areas will give it 100% opacity, and you can use shades of grey to achieve partial transparency. You ‘draw’ on these layers with the your trusty brush and paint bucket tools.
You can create a mask by selecting a layer and then clicking the little mask icon at the bottom of the layers panel (it’s the one with the little circle inside the box). Draw black on the parts you want to hide, and if you erase too much on accident? Just paint back over it with white!
I love masks, and sometimes i will throw an already masked layer inside a layer group and apply a second mask to said group. This way I have two masks that can be edited independently from each other. Like layer mask-ception.
So anyway, yes. Eraser tool? Don’t know her.
4. Try using channels to create masks!
This is a technique that works REALLY well for cutting out complex shapes, such as wispy hair (or feathers!) -- provided there's strong contrast between the subject and the background, and the background isn't too busy.
This is also a fantastic method for capturing alpha transparency. For example: If you have a neato paint stroke/splatter/watercolor texture you want to use as a mask, but has a solid background that’s getting in the way of things. This method will capture all the semi-opaque areas flawlessly!!
While editing your image (which you had better have made into a Smart Object!!!) do the following:
Switch from the "layers" panel to the "Channels" panel.
Toggle through the R, G, and B channels, and decide which one has the most contrast for the areas you are trying to mask.
Ctrl+Click that channel's thumbnail. This will create a selection marquee.
Switch back to the layers panel
Click on the target layer/group (the one you are trying to mask)
Click the mask icon at the bottom of the panel (the one with the circle inside a box)
Release the selection and invert the mask if necessary
If you're using this method to cut out a subject from its background, you probably won't want alpha transparency. In this case, select the mask thumbnail and use a levels adjustment on the mask itself to bump the contrast until you have more of a cutout effect!
It sounds like a lot of steps, but it’s really simple! So I made this handy GIF: (click to view from beginning)
Sometimes you won’t want to use this method for the entire image, but just a specific part. For example, if you’ve cut out a character with some other method (magic wand, manual brushwork), but are having a hard time with their hair in particular. Use this method to create the selection, but instead of converting the whole selection into a mask, use the brush tool to apply the mask only where you need it! You can invert the selection itself with shift+ctrl+i.
5. Outlining text
The font I used here is Salomé, which is actually a solid typeface with no outlined version. But you can make virtually any font into an outlined version if you so desire!
There's two possible methods here, actually:
The Easy Way:
Add a stroke layer effect to the text layer (by selecting the layer, clicking the little “fx” button at the bottom of the layers panel, and choosing “Stroke...”)
As far as settings go, aligning the stroke to the inside usually yields the best result/maintains the integrity of the letterforms.
Make the color of the text itself match the background.
If necessary, use the lighten/darken blend modes to create the illusion of transparency.
If you need true transparency (which I didn't until I decided I wanted to apply a gradient over the text), you'll have to try something else-- The Also Easy But Less Than Ideal Way:
Right click the text layer in the layers panel and select "convert to shape".
Now you can edit the fill/stroke the same way you would any other vector shape.
Again, you’ll want to set the stroke alignment to ‘inside’. For vector shapes, those settings are a little hidden. You’ll wanna open up that little dropdown in the toolbar with the line in it, and click “More Options”.
This is semi-destructive, so if you're working with a lot of text you might have to edit later, consider duplicating and hiding those text layers first so you'll have a 'backup' of it.
And while I’m on the topic of text...
6. Try breaking up your text layers!
I know a lot of people like to draw a neat little text box to put their text in, and then they center it all nice and neat and probably use a small font size to make it subtle and stuff... and that’s cool. Everyone’s got their different styles and things they like to emphasize in their edits and there’s absolutely merit to that sort of thing (case and point: the bulk of my dear @herzdieb’s work), but. Listen.
I love typography. I love a good typeface. The stroke widths, the letterforms, the ligatures, the serifs... I get like, horny on main for a good typeface. I like to make the text on my edits BIG, so that those details can shine. I also like doing interesting things with the text. Jumbling words/letters around, distorting them, deconstructing them and just... letting the text really ~interact with the rest of the composition instead of just kinda politely floating on top of it.
I’m not saying you have to do that kinda stuff. Or that I think neat little floaty text boxes are boring, or lazy, or whatever. It’s just... personally, I get really inspired by type. Fun type treatments are one of those things I LIVE FOR, something of a ~signature of mine, and I encourage everyone to just... try it? To use text as more of an integral Design Element and less of a... idk. A caption?
So if you have a quote, or even just a word... put each word (or letter) on its own text layer. And then: make ‘em different sizes. Make the words so big they don’t fit on the canvas. Rotate each one at a fun angle. Scatter them around. Go nuts. Use masks to chop parts of the letterforms off. Make ‘em overlap. Just have at it. Or, as the kids these days are saying: go absolutely fuckin feral.
If that really just isn’t your style, or doesn’t work/make sense for the edit you’re doing, fine. Delete all the layers and just do a text box or whatever. But. I’m tellin u.
Give it a try.
At least once.
Just... a lil taste.
7. Understand the difference between lighten/darken vs screen/multiply
For a while in my photoshoppin' youth, my understanding of these blend modes basically amounted to "darken makes things darker, and multiply makes things really darker", and vice versa for lighten/screen. But there's an important difference between how these blend modes work, and if you understand them, you can use them more... strategically? I guess?
Darken and Lighten are kinda misnomers tbh, because they technically don't really darken or lighten anything. What they actually do is make it so that only the areas of the layer that are darker or lighter than the content of the layers beneath them are visible. This produces some pretty nifty layering effects that you can't achieve with screen and multiply.
Here’s an example: (if you’re reading this on a phone with the brightness dimmed down you probably won’t be able to see the differences)
Without any the texture applied, you can really see the noise/graininess of Crowley’s jacket in the screencap. You can also see the ‘seam’ where Crowley fades into the background-- the jacket is a green-ish black, while the background it’s fading into is more of a purple-black.
With the texture set to ‘Screen’, the whole image becomes lighter across the board. Crowley’s jacket gets lighter, and so does Aziraphale’s jacket and the pink cloud thing. This does little to nothing to obscure the poor image quality and disguise that ‘seam’.
But with the ‘Lighten’ blend mode, ONLY the dark parts of the image appear lightened, and not only do they appear lightened, but they get kinda equalized. Notice how the patchy jpeg artifacts on Crowley’s jacket disappear, how that color seam smooths out, and how the brightness of Aziraphale’s jacket and the pink cloud doesn’t change at all.
This isn’t to say that lighten/darken are better and that you shouldn’t use screen/multiply. They each have their uses. But most often, I find myself using lighten/darken because the way they work is honestly really helpful? And just cool af?
8. Masking individual frames on gifs
If you ever feel like torturing yourself by making a gif that has frame-by-frame masking, my advice is don't try to mask each frame from scratch. You'll get patchy/wobbly results from the masks being slightly different on each frame.
Instead, mask the first frame, then alt+click and drag that mask onto the next frame. Make any minor adjustments to the new mask as needed, and repeat for each frame. This saves time and more importantly, keeps the masking consistent on areas with little to no movement, which makes a HUGE difference in how smooth the final product will be.
If you look at the edges of the animation, they’re nice and steady and consistent. It’s only the parts that have a lot of movement (like the back of his neck) where you can see any ‘ghosting’/wobbly-ness happening.
Sometimes the mask will move when I copy it to the next frame. Like, for the whole document. It gets nudged 20 pixels down or to the left or s/t every time. I have yet to figure out why, but I’m betting it has something to do with shooting myself in the foot with the frame 1 propagation settings at some point during editing?? ANYWAY, when this happens, just unlock the mask from its layer (click the little chain icon between their thumbnails) and move it back into place.
In these cases, I also like to pick a spot with a hard edge (such as the shoulder in the above gif) as a reference point of where it needs to be moved to. It kinda sucks having to do this for every frame, but you already signed up for some suckage when u decided to mask every frame of a gif, so I mean... 👀
9. Don't be afraid/too intimidated to do manips as needed!
Manips can be tricky if you're really striving for realism. There's light sources and color grading and perspectives to reconcile!! But when you're doing an artsy Edit with a capital E, odds are those kinds of discrepancies will be thoroughly camouflaged by all the levels, black and white, etc adjustments you're doing!
Something I run into often is, "I like this screencap, but the top of their head/hair is chopped off :(" But if I go back through all the screencaps from the scene, there's usually another frame where the camera is planned/zoomed out enough that I can steal the rest of their head/limb from it! And since it's from the same scene/shot, the lighting and color grading should already be a perfect match!
A super simple example:
So I wanted to use this picture of David and Michael for this edit, but 1) They’re standing on the wrong sides for their characters, and 2) part of David’s arm is covered up by Michael’s.
Of course, the easiest course of action would be to just mirror the photo so they’re on the correct sides, but 1) mirroring faces tends to yield wonky results, and 2) that still wouldn’t give me a perfect, free-standing cutout of Crowley to place wherever I want in my composition (as opposed to being forced to awkwardly position him off the edge of the canvas to hide the fact that the other arm is missing)
Fortunately, it only took all of like, two (2) minutes to draw a crude selection around his good arm, copy and paste it into a new layer, flip it around, and add any necessary masking to get the shape right.
My point here isn’t to teach y’all how to do manips, or to pass this off as an impressive example of one. Because it’s really, REALLY not. My point here is to demonstrate that even something as tiny and simple as this can really open up your options for what you can actually do with an edit/composition.
So next time you’re feeling limited/inconvenienced by the crop of a screencap, just... you know. Consider whether or not it’s worth attempting a quick and dirty manip to fix it.
Another Example:
Sometimes you’re torn between two screencaps. You like one element from Screencap A but also want some other element from Screencap B. What to do? Just frankenstein ‘em together. Layer one on top of the other, get them lined up, and mask out the necessary parts.
It’s easy to get hung up on stuff like “Uh... should Crowley’s shoulder be doing that?” but let me assure you that like... the people looking at the final product are none the wiser to your butcherwork and will not notice. Especially if you’re going to add a bunch of contrast and color adjustments later on. (in fact, sometimes I’ll apply those adjustments first so I’m not distracted by any discrepancies that are going to come out in the wash anyway)
“I dunno... 🤔🤔 doesn’t seem anatomically correct... 🤔🤔🤔🤔” thought no one.
Point is... point is... dolphins you can get away with a LOT more than you think you can. Don’t let the desire to make these kinds of manips perfect get in the way of just... making them good enough. The bar isn’t that high, I promise.
10. Know what inspires you
What types of edits get you EXCITED? What kind of work do you see on your dash and go, "oh, I'm reblobbin' THAT!!1!"
I know for herzdieb, she's all about emotional pieces. She likes matching words/lyrics/poetry to on-screen moments and punching you in the feels with both. She hears a song, or reads a poem, and the lightbulbs go off for her, and she does her thing.
As for myself, I just live for the aesthetics of an edit. The colors, the fonts, the composition. I almost never know what text/screencaps I'm going to use when I start an edit. I just see a font I like, or a color palette, or a texture, and think, "I wanna use that!"
And once you know what inspires you, collect that inspo! I hoard textures and fonts. I have them organized into neat lil folders. When I wanna make an edit, that’s where I start. I just browse through them all until one or two start calling my name. Herzdieb collects songs and quotes and poems. Maybe your thing is color palettes, or aesthetic-y photos. Or whatever.
The point here is make the kinda stuff you like/want to see. Not the kinda stuff everyone else is making or the kinda stuff you notice gets the most notes.
11. Be able to let go of things that aren't working
I often begin an edit with a rough idea of the style, colors, or layout I'm going for. And I almost always end up doing... something totally different.
So don't get too fixated on what your initial ideas are. Be open to experimenting and just let the edit be what it wants to be. If something looks nice, do it. If it doesn't, don't try to force it just because, "well, I was inspired by this piece that did xyz and I wanna try it too".
When you see a certain effect that inspires you, just keep it in mind as a possible solution for the next time you make something-- don't make it into a benchmark, or some imaginary 'goal' you have to meet for This Edit You Are Working On Right This Moment. In fact, sometimes the elements I end up ditching are the very ones I started with, that initially sparked my inspiration. And that's okay. Inspiration can be a moving target, and if your vision for something changes, let it.
You wanna know what inspo reference I was looking at when I started that “Temptation Accomplished” edit?
Fucking this: https://search.muz.li/YTdiNjkwN2Rh
You might be thinking, “how the fUCK was that the inspiration??!! Your edit looks nothing like that at all!” ...and you would be 100% correct, and that is 100% my point. I spent a good hour or two trying to incorporate that cutout text layering effect before finally accepting the fact that it just wasn’t working for the edit I was making. And it wasn’t until then that it actually started to come together.
12. Be patient, and take the time to explore all your options!
I’m not gonna lie, y’all. I spend hours on my edits. I usually complete them over the course of 2-3 days/sittings. I rarely have a plan. 99% of the time I'm just throwing things at the wall and seeing what sticks. When I get stuck (when, not if), it helps to step away from it and come back later with a fresh perspective/set of eyes.
Every single edit I've posted, I have at some point felt like giving up on because I thought it looked like garbage (and not just because I was being self-deprecating/doubting myself, but because at those points, they simply weren't finished/something about the composition just wasn't working for me)
Work through those moments, and if necessary, take a break/sleep on it. It's always after I've exhausted my early ideas that the really good ones start to come to mind!
Here’s how the character poster edits I did progressed:
In Classic Me™ Fashion, I literally started off with just... textures I liked, and a font that I liked. Now, there were obviously a lot more ‘steps’ involved in both designs, but hopefully at the very least this gives a sense of how things get from point A to point B.
So uh... thanks 4 comin 2 my TED talk. I hope u learned at least one (1) cool new thing or maybe just feel vaguely inspired by this rambling mess?
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[My Hero Academia Fanfiction]: Like We’re Running Out of Time
For the DabiHawks Gift Exchange 2k18!
@how-to-train-your-kirishima , Surprise! I was your partner for the exchange! Sorry for being a day late, hope you enjoy the fic <3
Rated E
Word Count: 6.2k
Tags: Hooking up, on the DL, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Handjobs, Semi-Public Sex, Exhibitionism, Light Dom/sub, Light Bondage, quirks used for sex, Overstimulation, Sex Toys, Gift Exchange, dabihawks gift exchange, #NSFWDabihawksGiftExchange, Bottom Dabi (My Hero Academia), Bratty Bottom Dabi is my life force
It’s funny to him how Dabi is both the main source of his stress and the relief at the same time.
Read it on || AO3
1.
Hawks learns early on that Dabi is capricious by nature.
He often wonders if it’s a villain thing or a Dabi thing to be as fickle and unhinged as he is; probably both. So when Dabi unexpectedly grabs him by the sleeve and pulls him into a bar, Hawks decides it’s not worth the effort to fight it. He’d been in a sour mood for most of the night, for reasons which remain a mystery to Hawks, given that Dabi is not much of a sharer.
But now, two hours in and an untold number of tequila shots later, Dabi seems to be in much higher spirits and is once again tugging at his sleeve-- this time they’re headed for the bathroom.
“If you stretch my sleeve out you’re buying me a new jacket,” Hawks mutters. It barely registers over the booming bass coming from the stage at the other end of the bar, and Dabi doesn’t react, so Hawks assumes his complaint went unheard.
They’re barely in the door before Dabi grabs him by the collar and shoves him into one of the stalls. Between the four of them: Dabi, Hawks, and both of his human-sized wings, it’s cramped as all hell in the tiny stall but that makes no nevermind to Dabi, who looks wicked and determined.
“Here ?” Is the only thing Hawks can say when Dabi bites at his lips. Dabi likes to kiss with teeth.
“Yeah.”
This is a popular bar. It’s crowded. There’s people walking in and out of the bathroom as they speak; some laughing, some puking, some thoroughly wasted. Hawks flushes, arousal and anxiety growing the more packed the bathroom gets. He’s not known for his expert silence during sex, and the walls in this bathroom are the kind that carry sound a little too well.
His only saving grace is that, whether for ambiance or frugality, the lighting in here is shit. No one would be sober enough to recognize his silhouette.
“People are gonna hear us, you know.” He whispers.
Dabi kisses him deep and slow, completely unguarded as he wraps an arm around Hawks’ neck. He tastes like a night full of bad decisions. He can feel Dabi smiling against his mouth between kisses and nips, but he doesn’t say anything for a long while. Gradually, his free arm slides down his back, the heat enough to set his feathers quivering against the cold stall wall, over his hip, down between them to cup the prominent bulge in Hawks’ pants.
Dabi is capricious. He lives and fucks like he has nothing to lose.
“Then we’ll make it good for them, too.” He finally says.
And, fuck, it is impossible to say no to him when he starts to sink to his knees, looking up at Hawks with those cold blue eyes as he tugs his zipper down.
Hawks huffs, resigning himself to a blowjob in a dirty toilet stall in a shady bar. This isn’t how he used to spend his Thursdays.
“Or...we can go back to your place, if you’d prefer?” Dabi says with a teasing smile. Hawks glares back down at him. Like hell I’m going anywhere like this. His cock is rock hard in Dabi’s warm hand, and the warmer it gets, the more of a fog Hawks’ mind falls into.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Dabi says quietly, laughing. Hawks doesn’t care enough to respond. He leans back against the stall wall, sighing every ounce of tension out of his body as his eyes slide shut. It’s been a long week, and right now, the thought of his cock in Dabi’s mouth is the only thing that is keeping his mood and stress above water.
It’s funny to him how Dabi is both the main source of his stress and the relief at the same time.
He tamps down a throaty moan when Dabi takes the tip in his mouth way too tenderly, gently flicking and circling his tongue over the tip for a bit before taking it a little deeper. The wet sounds of Dabi’s mouth moving over his cock seem to reverberate in the present quiet of the small bathroom.
Right now, it’s empty, so Hawks allows the soft groan that’s been building in the back of his throat to finally escape. Dabi hums around his cock in response, quickening the pace.
“Fu-fuck, Dabi…” Hawks grunts when Dabi takes his full length in his mouth, mouth vacuum tight around his cock. His leg jolts when Dabi releases him with a wet, lewd pop, taking some time instead to suck one of his balls.
His phone starts vibrating in his pocket. It is then that Hawks vaguely remembers that he is still technically on duty, so he’s obligated to check who it is that’s calling. But just as his hand starts to slide into his pocket, Dabi licks up the underside of his dick so torturously slow that all conscious thought leaves him in that moment.
“God, Dabi, I love your fuckin’ mouth,” He moans out loud, the words not coming from his brain, but from every inch, every nerve in his body.
“Yeah, I know you do.” Dabi says with a chuckle before leaning back in to finish him off.
“Do the thing, pl-please,” Hawks begs-- he absolutely hates hearing the need in his tone, but he needs to end this week on a high note, and there is no higher note than the sheer euphoria that comes with the orgasm that Dabi can give him.
“Man, the live band is really awesome tonight, what’s the na-”
Fuck. Some guys just walked in, disrupting the perfect heat and tension in the room. But it’s only for a second. Dabi has him fully in his mouth again, his cockhead hitting the back of his throat hard and fast, and he knows Dabi heard him. He knows Dabi knows what he needs.
If they hear him come, oh fucking well.
Truth be told, his body has been aching for this for weeks, and it will not be denied for a second longer.
“Yo, shh… I think someone’s getting blown in one of the stalls…” Hawks overhears one of them say. He could laugh. That’s putting it pretty fucking mildly, he’d say.
The cat calls start not long after, but Hawks is too far gone to be irritated by it. If anything, it only adds to the mood.
“Suck him good, baby,” One of them says, and he can feel Dabi pause. He slowly pulls back, giving Hawks’ cock a teasing lick.
“Oh, I am,” He calls back, effectively silencing the lot of them, “Now either shut up or fuck off.”
Hawks loves the silence that follows. He’s not sure if they’re still there or not, but he could care less.
Dabi takes him by the tip again, head bobbing good and slow over the turgid flesh. Hawks’ hand flies into Dabi’s hair on reflex, wordlessly begging for that sweet heat. And Dabi always obliges him, if only to hold it over his head later.
His mouth falls open, letting his shuddered and uneven breaths come out unhindered. Dabi’s mouth starts to get hotter as the seconds go by. He doesn’t alter his pace, keeping Hawks on a smooth, slow gradient. But his mouth is fit tight around his reddened cockhead, his soft moans as he moves sending pulses up Hawks’ body as the temperature rises.
Dabi has truly mastered every aspect of his quirk. Hawks both loves and hates how impressive his control is. Both over his quirk, and over both of their bodies.
His climax is not silent, and it’s not gentle.
He chants Dabi’s name over and over again, gripping Dabi’s hair and the stall wall behind him hard as his body spasms and twitches in Dabi’s grip. Dabi keeps blowing him even after he’s spent, relishing in the squeaks and pitchy whines Hawks lets out at the overstimulation. His mouth is still so deliciously hot as it moves over his cock.
“Fuck, you’re so good…” He purrs, delirious with bliss and very, very drunk. Dabi finally lets him go after a few minutes, but not completely. He licks and kisses along Hawks’ cock, from the still oozing tip to the thick vein along the underside.
“...Damn… Can I get next?” The person in the next stall suddenly says.
That's the first and only time Hawks ever sees Dabi genuinely laugh.
2.
Turns out, the call he had ignored was from his overlords at the hero commission. And come the next morning, they are none too pleased with him and his spectacular lack of reportable intel.
“How close do you think you are to gaining entry into the league?”
Hawks sighs. “Frankly, not any closer than I was last time. My, uh-” His cock is still pleasantly sore from the searing blowjob Dabi gave him last night, and it takes a lot of focus for him not to zone out thinking about Dabi and his hellishly hot mouth around his cock.
“-my liaison in the league isn’t known for his… what’s the word I’m looking for here… his, uh, chattiness ,” Hawks helps himself to the glass of water one of the secretaries set down for him. “It’s taking a little longer to crack him than I anticipated.”
His phone buzzes twice while his boss continues to lay out their plans for the league. Hawks discreetly peaks at the screen.
Speak of the devil.
Where r u
Rude. Hawks scoffs as he quickly types a reply.
Busy rn ill text u later
“Hawks, did you hear a word I just said?”
Hawks quickly snaps back to attention. “Yes ma’am. Sorry, got a text from one of my sidekicks. Nothing serious.”
She looks unconvinced, but lets it slide. “Fine.”
His phone buzzes again a few minutes later.
Does it look like i can wait til later?
(1) New image
He shouldn’t open it. Not here, not now. Hawks knows this. This would be the literal worst possible time to see whatever it is Dabi sent him. He knows it’s probably dirty, probably a little x-rated.
And yet, here he is, with his finger still hovering dangerously over the attachment.
Hawks chews his lip. Fuck it.
He opens it. Dabi’s unfairly pretty blue eyes stare back at him, looking incredibly smug for someone who clearly has no clothes on. He’s lying on his stomach, butt naked. From the angle he took the picture at, Hawks can only get a small glimpse of that tight, pert ass over Dabi’s shoulder, but he’s sure that was the point. Dabi only ever shows enough to entice. To incite a reaction.
He’s definitely gotten what he wanted, in that regard.
“Motherfuck,” Hawks pants out loud. Luckily for him, everyone is listening rapt to the presentation and no one hears him. He studies the picture a little more, drinking in the little subtleties. Dabi looks damp, his hair hanging more in his face than usual and curling at the ends. Droplets of water are visible on his bare arms and the top of his chest.
Now it’s Hawks turn to ask.
Where r u?
But after he sends the text, he stares at the picture, sharp eyes zeroing in on a very familiar sight. That plaque on the wall behind Dabi is all too familiar. Because Hawks’ name is on it.
And Dabi’s response confirms what Hawks already knows.
I'm in your room. Hurry up and get here.
Another text comes before Hawks has a chance to fully process the first.
I’ve been lying here fingering myself for the past half hour. Prepping for you.
Hawks can’t help but smile at the marked change in grammar and punctuation that takes place when Dabi sexts him. It’s kind of cute.
Oh yeah? He texts back, Are you nice and stretched for me?
He can feel his cock starting to harden in his pants. Shit.
Dabi’s next text gets him rock solid. He can practically see the smirk on Dabi’s face as he types it out.
No resistance.
“Sorry to interrupt everyone, but I have an emergency that just came up.” Pfff. Understatement of the fuckin’ year.
He waves off their protests and races out of the room without looking back once. He doesn’t bother with the stairs or elevators. Instead, he pushes open a nearby window and jumps out, letting the wind catch his wings. His place is a ways off from this building, but he’s a fast flyer, especially when something worth the strain he puts on his wings is waiting for him.
Because when Dabi says ‘no resistance’, he isn’t just talking about his body.
***********
“I was in a meeting.”
“Don’t care.”
“It was important .”
“And yet here you are, in bed with me.”
Hawks grins against Dabi’s skin, gives it a slow lingering kiss, savoring the tingling in his lips from the warmth. “What can I say? You’re very persuasive. I saved that selfie, by the way. In case I ever need to blackmail you.”
Dabi groans something unintelligible into one of the pillows as Hawks rolls his hips once last time before finally pulling out and lying down next to him on the damps sheets. They lie in comfortable silence for a bit, each coming down from their climaxes, letting their bodies cool off. Hawks’ eyes fall shut and he slings an arm over his eyes with a satisfied sigh.
“I needed that,” He says after a while. His hand moves from its resting place on his stomach, slides down his front to reach for his cock. He tugs the condom off gently and ties it off before tossing it vaguely in the direction of his waste bin. It lands on the floor instead.
Dabi mumbles something in agreement before shifting to a more comfortable position. Well, about as comfortable as he can get really; Hawks’ feathers are tight around his wrists and wrapped around the metal bars of Hawks’ headboard. The bright red against black lacquered metal quickly reminds the both of them of Dabi’s current captivity.
“Are you gonna take these off of me any time soon?”
“What’s the matter sugar , are they too tight?”
He gets the reaction he was hoping for. Dabi turns to him slowly, eyes sharp and irritated behind heavy lids.
“They’re fine. And don’t call me that again.”
Hawks chuckles, biting his lip. He fishes around under the sheet, feeling for the tiny remote that had gotten lost in the midst of the vicious, frantic fucking that had taken place not twenty minutes ago.
“You’re tied to my bed, Dabi,” Hawks says when he finally finds it. He taps “ON” and dials it up to the second setting. Immediately, a soft buzzing whirs from underneath Dabi’s body, and the other man hisses a curse. “I don’t think you’re really in any position to be telling me what do right now.”
He dials it up to three as he lies back, propping himself up on his side. “You bought this ticket, now you’re taking the fuckin’ ride.”
Four.
Dabi’s already panting softly and writhing at the suddenly way too intense stimulation; Hawks licks his lips with a pleased noise as he watches Dabi’s hips start to grind into the mattress. But the bullet strapped to the underside of his cockhead isn’t going to be moved so easily. He made sure of that.
“Fuck,” Dabi moans, his voice rising a couple of octaves. But Hawks can see the smile on his face as he struggles against the intense sensations. He loves this.
“Want it higher?”
Dabi mumbles something that barely sounds human, let alone Japanese. Hawks leans over and gives him a swift slap on the ass. He never thought he’d see the day where he got to hear Dabi, serial arsonist and murderer, leader of the Vanguard Squad of the League of Villains, and Shigaraki Tomura’s right-hand man, yelp like a child, but since they started hooking up, it’s become a sound that Hawks is not only familiar with, it’s one that goes straight to his cock every single time. He strokes himself a few times as he sits up and walks in his knees to seat himself between Dabi's spread thighs. It doesn’t take much effort to get himself fully hard again. Dabi makes for a hell of a sight.
“Words, Dabi. Use your words.” He instructs as he rips open another condom and slides it on.
Dabi licks his lips. “Ye...yes. Higher. Please.”
Hawks shuts it off instead.
The feathers around Dabi’s wrists come undone briefly, if only long enough for Hawks to immediately grab him and roughly flip him over onto his back. They return to their previous position as Hawks makes himself comfortable between Dabi’s spread legs. He scoots in closer and pulls Dabi’s legs further apart, one resting on each side of him and giving him full access to any and every part of Dabi’s body he wants tease.
“That's better,” He says with a chuckle and dials the bullet up from “OFF” all the way to seven.
The noises Dabi lets out are primal.
Hawks strokes himself in time with Dabi’s harsh pants, letting his free hand caress over Dabi’s thighs, his abs, down to fondle his balls, and finally back up to ghost over his cock. Not that that needs any extra help. It’s thick and purpled, and pre-come is already leaking out onto his stomach.
“God, Dabi, you look so fucking hot right now,” Hawks whispers as he reaches for the lube sitting off to the side. He squirts a bit on his fingers and rolls them around to coat evenly.
No resistance. Those are Hawks' favorite words.
He loves the way Dabi’s back arches up off the bed as he slides a finger inside him, his name coming out like a breathy sigh. Hawks likes this side of Dabi the most; the pliant, primal, submissive side, the side that likes to lose itself in pure sensation, in pure ecstasy. Nothing else matters, if only for a while.
He slides a second finger in as he dials it up to eight.
“God, Hawks,” Dabi moans loud, breathing ragged and uneven as his body shudders and squirms and he rolls his hips in Hawks’ grip, wordlessly pleading for the slightest touch. Hawks swears he could blow another load from hearing Dabi say his name like that alone. It won’t be much longer until he loses control and gives in to the urge to plow right back into that perfect, addictive heat, but he staves it off a little longer. Watching Dabi unravel is half the fun, after all.
When he dials it all the way up to the highest setting, Dabi screams bloody murder.
“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” He chants over and over, furiously tapping his hand on the bed. Hawks grins down at him and shuts the bullet off. Dabi moans hoarsely as his head falls back onto the pillow, his entire body visibly unclenching and relaxing into the soft mattress. “Holy shit,” He pants out, trying to catch his breath.
“Aww,” Hawks coos, raking his fingernails up the inside of one of Dabi’s thighs, thoroughly pleased at the violent shiver that travels up the other man’s body at the sensation, “Had to tap out on me, Dabi?”
Dabi tries to kick him. Or at least, that’s what Hawks thinks he’s trying to do, as the only thing Dabi can really manage at the moment is a mumbled curse and a weak spasm of his leg.
“That one...that one is way stronger than the other one,” Dabi chokes out after a minute or two, “I need a few minutes.”
Hawks sits up on his knees and stretches out on top of Dabi, hands on either side of his head.
“Gimme a kiss,” Hawks says quietly.
Dabi leans up obediently, or as much as he can with his hands still bound, still breathing hard and struggling against Hawks’ feather bindings. “Come closer, asshole,” He mutters, trying a few times in vain to reach Hawks, who keeps playfully rearing up out of range. Dabi growls, frustrated, and starts snapping, trying bite instead of kiss.
“Whoa, easy,” Hawks chides, licking his lips, and then he leans down to lick Dabi’s, too. The second their lips brush, Dabi’s mouth falls open and the other man quickly flicks his tongue against Hawks’.
“Want it back on?” He murmurs against Dabi’s lips, licks at them again. Underneath him, Dabi groans and shifts, grinding against him as he wraps his legs loosely around Hawks’ waist.
What he wants doesn’t need to be said.
Hawks fucks into him slow as they continue to kiss and tease, indolent tongues and teeth tasting and biting at the other’s lips and jaws. Sliding inside of Dabi is like sliding into a hot bath; the heat is all-encompassing and travels up his core, up his spine, to every single hair and cell of his body, up to his heart and jars its rhythm. It’s quickly become one of Hawks’ vices, and one that has him in a death grip.
The instant the bullet comes back on, the pace grows feverish. Hawks feels a little lightheaded from the heat in the room; his forehead and back are damp with sweat and beneath him, Dabi’s body is covered in a glistening sheen of sweat, too. But the drag of his slicked cock moving in and out of Dabi’s ass, the low hum of the bullet vibrating between them, steadily growing louder as Hawks dials it back up, and Dabi groaning his name, voice breaking and his body arching against his own… it’s all maddening. He couldn’t stop even if he wanted to, he thinks.
He lets the feathers come undone and hauls Dabi up onto his lap, pulling him flush against him and crushing their lips together. Dabi barely puts up a struggle, even as Hawks roughly yanks his long legs and secures them around his waist. Being the taller of the two doesn’t mean much, they both realized early on. Dabi may have height, firepower, and an attitude problem, but not much else. Hawks is stronger, much more powerful, body rough-hewn from hero work, and he loves to remind Dabi of that fact every time they fuck.
Dabi leans in his ear. “Oi, your phone’s ringing.”
Hawks responds by sitting up on his knees and hoisting Dabi up higher, grip firm on his thighs and ass as he bounces him on his cock.
“Fuck it,” Hawks grunts as he thrusts hard up into Dabi, “It can wait.”
It keeps buzzing on Hawks’ nightstand, but it barely registers when Hawks dials the bullet back up to max.
*******
“I called you four times last night,” Miruko says loudly when he meets her for breakfast the next morning, their weekly tradition. “Where the hell were ya?”
“I turned in early last night,” Hawks lies smoothly. Too smoothly, he thinks with a grimace. It’s become second nature.
“You? Sleepin’ early ?” Miruko parrots as she stares at him, unconvinced, “You sick or somethin’?”
Hawks shakes his head, stifling a yawn. “Nah, I’ve just been going a little too hard lately, maybe.”
That’s a definite understatement, he thinks to himself. Too hard is right. His entire body is still sore from the ridiculous, straight-out-of-the Kama Sutra position they finished each other off in. His lips snag his bottom lip as the events of the night before play on a reel in his mind. God, that orgasm was more than worth the effort and the soreness. Dabi rides dick like no one else Hawks has ever had. It’s a little unfair. Hawks knows he’s good, but Dabi is like a divine being when he’s on top.
His cock twitches to life in his pants and Hawks flushes. This is really not the time to be thinking about this.
He tucks into food with forced vigor, eating quietly as Miruko recants the story of her latest criminal conquest, dropping in the odd “wow” and “you’re amazing, dude” at the appropriate times, but inside his head, he’s miles away, back up in his apartment with Dabi wrapped around him.
3.
It’s been nearly three weeks since the last time they hooked up, hell, since the last time he saw or heard from Dabi period, and Hawks is irritated and, if he’s honest with himself, embarrassed, by how on edge he’s been since then. His leg is bouncing under his desk at a hundred miles an hour, and has been for most of the time he’s been sitting.
His sidekicks are giving their reports on pending cases and cleanups, but Hawks just can’t seem to focus on anything anyone is saying.
“Hawks, sir?”
“What?” He snaps. His sidekicks all jump back at his tone. Hawks is a tough boss to work for, but he’s never once yelled at his sidekicks. He sighs apologetically, leaning forward to rest his head in his hands.
“Sorry,” He mumbles. “I’m not feeling like myself tonight. I didn’t mean to take it out on you all. Sorry.”
One of his sidekicks hazards a step forward. “Uh, should we, um… should we give you the rest of the stats and stuff later?”
Hawks inhales deeply, lets it back out. “...Yeah,” He nods after a brief pause, “That would be better. Give me ten minutes.”
They all nod in affirmation before filtering out of his office one by one. Hawks pays no mind to the hushed chatter or concerned looks over their shoulders as they leave. When his office is empty, Hawks stands up from his desk with a tired groan, stretches his arms up until his back cracks as he crosses to the other side of the room, and flings himself face first down onto his couch.
“Fuck this,” He mutters into the couch cushion.
He lies there for a long time, unmoving, just breathing and thinking. Thinking about nothing in particular, about everything.
His phone buzzes loudly over on his desk just as he starts to drift off, and Hawks considers just letting it ring. But he’s gotten yelled at enough lately for missing important calls, and he’s over that. He pushes himself up off the couch, cursing softly to himself. It stops ringing the second he reaches his desk and picks it up.
(1) Missed Call from:
Crispy Bacon McMurder
Hawks snorts, his mood instantly lifting. Oh boy, if only Dabi could see his nickname in Hawks’ phone. He’d roast him alive.
Hawks hits redial, waits for a few seconds. Dabi finally answers on the third ring. Over time, Hawks has learned to differentiate regular, moody Dabi from genuine emotion Dabi. Dabi’s face isn’t nearly as expressive as his tone.
“Where are you?” Tonight, he sounds annoyed.
Nonetheless, Hawks cradles his phone in the crook of his neck as he leans against his desk, folding his arms across his chest. He hasn’t exactly been shooting rainbows out of his ass either, and he’s in no mood for Dabi’s bitchiness tonight. “Tch, hello to you, sunshine.”
Over the line, he hears Dabi suck his teeth.
“I’m working.”
“You on patrol?”
“No, I’m at the agency, finishing up some paperwork right now. Is this League business or you business?”
Silence on the other end.
Hawks waits, listening to Dabi’s quiet breathing on the other end. After a beat, Dabi sighs and chuckles, his low, smooth baritone enticing and disarming, no matter the tone in it. Hawks feels a smile pulling at his mouth. He shakes his head at himself.
Dare he say it, he actually kind of missed Dabi over these past few weeks.
“I guess it’s a little of both, ” He finally says, his tone taking on a lighter, more playful edge. Hawks wets his lips, smile growing a little more. He likes it when Dabi gets playful. He can’t even really explain why, beyond the obvious reason that he’s sure he’s going to get laid at some point in the near future. Right now, that’s enough for him to go on. He’s running on fumes.
“Wanna meet up somewhere?”
“Yeah.”
Just then, there’s a knock at the door.
“Okay. The usual place, ten minutes.” He mutters quickly into the phone and hangs up just as one of his sidekicks pokes his head back in. “Listen,” He interjects before the guy has a chance to even greet him, “I’m gonna head out really quick. I’ll be back in half an hour.”
“Oh, uh, but-”
“I’ll hear the rest of the stats later.” Hawks says impatiently as he shucks his coat on and adjusts the collar, along with his visor.
“Is this something you need help with? One of us can accompany you if you want, sir.” His sidekick calls out after him.
Hawks doesn’t even turn back. “Nah, this is something I need to do alone. Later.”
********
The warehouse is a bittersweet place for Hawks. Coming here always makes him uneasy, but it’s the most convenient place for both of them, equidistant from Hawks’ agency and from Dabi’s-- the League’s-- hideout, though the exact location is, as of yet, unknown to Hawks.
Dabi is already waiting for him when he gets there exactly ten minutes later on the dot, leaning against a large crate and halfway through what is probably his second or third cigarette. He blends into the darkness like a bad dream, the only hint that he’s there is his eyes shining and the orange tip of the cigarette as he inhales.
He looks so fucking good right now.
And frankly, Hawks had intended to talk League business first; he told himself over and over on the way that his mission must always take priority. It’s a talk he’s had with himself many times since meeting Dabi, and it’s gone out the window virtually every time once things got physical.
And tonight, he concedes, defeated, will be no different.
The second they lock eyes, Dabi smirks at him and he flicks his cigarette away, his eyes flashing with an intensity that pushes what little rational thought that is left out of Hawks’ mind as he closes the distance between them.
Coats and shirts begin to litter the floor within minutes of their heated collision, the both of them needy and eager. And pressed for time. Hawks can feel it in the way Dabi claws at him more desperately than usual, hands roving over every inch of skin he can get his hands on, greedily drinking in his moans as they kiss hard.
A few more minutes , Hawks thinks. He’ll allow himself a few more minutes and then it’s down to business.
But then Dabi moans something filthy in his ear and then starts to suck at his bottom lip. Fuck it. That’s also something Hawks finds himself saying and thinking often, nowadays. His sidekicks will just have to wait for him, for once.
He immediately shoves Dabi hard up against one of the man-sized crates, fumbling with both of their belts.
“We gotta do this quick,” He says between grunts and kisses.
“I know,” Dabi responds with equal fervor, already shoving his pants and boxers down.
“Give me the lube.”
Dabi pauses to look at him, eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t have any lube.”
Hawks freezes. “Shit, me neither.”
The two of them stand there for a beat, staring at each before finally, Dabi’s head falls back against the crate, a rueful smile on his face. “Well, fuck us.”
Hawks leans in and kisses him deep. Despite the time crunch, it’s slow and languid and deliciously warm. Fuck it. Seriously. He’s been so high-strung these past few weeks, he needs this. It doesn’t have to be full-on sex, he just wants to be close to Dabi for a bit. And clearly, Dabi is having similar thoughts.
The other man cups his face, angling his head to deepen the kiss. Between them, his hand creeps down and brushes over Hawks’ bare cock, stroking it.
“Mm,” Hawks moans low when he pulls away briefly. He mimics Dabi and takes his cock in his hand, stroking it in time with Dabi’s hand.
“I can get by with a handy,” Dabi says against his lips, “For now, anyway.”
Hawks chuckles. “Yeah.”
By the time their paces reach fever pitch, his phone is already buzzing in his back pocket, his sidekicks wondering where the hell their boss has run off to, no doubt. People really have the worst timing, Hawks thinks. But their passionate fervor makes quick work of the both of them. Dabi groans into his neck just as it stops, coming in a few quick spurts into his hand, Hawks’ name falling way too softly from his lips. Hawks had finished only seconds before, and is still coming down from his own orgasm as he brings Dabi to his.
The two of them take a brief moment of respite, kissing and touching, basking in the altogether much too brief afterglow their respective obligations allow them.
“So,” Hawks begins after some time, pulling away to make himself decent, “What did you want to tell me?”
Dabi is already dressed again and lighting up another cigarette, back to his usual aloof self. The only evidence of what just transpired between them is the faint flush of his face and his ears, and his still somewhat heavy breathing.
God, if only they had the time. The things he would do to Dabi all over this dirty warehouse.
“I have some exciting news,” Dabi says, exhaling smoke in a thin tendril, “Boss wants to meet you.”
Hawks pauses. “Really?”
“Yeah, Hawks. Really.”
“When?”
Dabi shrugs. “Dunno yet. He just happened to mention it the other day, and asked me to pass the message along. But relatively soon, I figure.”
Dabi pauses to take a long drag. “He’s got some plans in the works, currently,” He says before exhaling the thick plume all in one shot, “and he’s gonna need someone on the inside. He’s ready to give you a chance to prove yourself and your loyalty to our cause.”
Hawks remains silent, contemplating Dabi’s words --and the thinly veiled threat in his tone.
“What do you think?”
Dabi takes one last puff before flicking his cigarette butt away. “What do I think of what?”
“Do you think I’ve proven myself?”
Dabi doesn’t respond right away, instead taking the time that they don’t have to calmly finish his cigarette. Hawks quickly gets the sense that Dabi is purposely letting him dangle, relishing the suspense. There’s always time to see someone squirm, as far as Dabi is concerned.
He only gives in after Hawks make an impatient noise and shrugs his coat on with more force than necessary. “I told him that we can trust you.” Dabi says quietly, pushing himself up off the crate and once again closing the distance between them, this time with none of the urgency from before.
Dabi cups his neck, thumb over Hawks’ jaw tenderly. Or at least, there is an illusion of tenderness. Dabi’s eyes have taken on that cold, hard edge that sinks like a stone in Hawks’ stomach.
“I can trust you, right?”
He’s gotten way too good at lying lately.
“...Yes, Dabi. You have my loyalty. I swear.”
Dabi presses his forehead against Hawks'. It's much too affectionate, Hawks thinks, starting to feel anxious. Certainly much too out of character for Dabi. Hawks swallows hard, hoping Dabi can't feel how tense he is. He can handle bitchy. He can handle needy and horny. Hell, he can handle rage and he could handle it if Dabi had his hand on his throat to choke the life out of him. But this is the one version of Dabi he hasn't trained himself to handle yet: vulnerable. And because of that, this is the most dangerous version.
Because nothing is ever off the table with Dabi, especially when his guard is down. He knows how fickle Dabi can be, after all.
The other man closes his eyes, sighing as he brushes their noses together. His warm hand is still firm on Hawks' neck, easing the tension in Hawks' neck and shoulders.
Again, Hawks positively hates how Dabi can be both the source of his stress and the source of his relief from that stress.
"Good, because I want you with us when we make our move," Dabi says quietly. His grip tightens slightly, massaging into Hawks' skin.
"Don't ever betray me, little bird."
And with that, he pulls away completely and departs without another word, leaving Hawks vulnerable to the sudden and intense chill that passes through the empty warehouse; though, Hawks can't quite say how much of it is simply the night breeze and how much is his nerves fraying at the ends.
He takes flight not long after Dabi leaves, the other man's words still echoing in his head as he lands on the roof of his agency, where a few of his lead sidekicks are already waiting for him.
Don't ever betray me, little bird.
I won't. Hawks had wanted to say out loud. But in the end, it's best if he keeps those words to himself, because he's not sure he doesn't mean them anymore.
#NSFWDabihawksGiftExchange#dabihawks#spicywings#how-to-train-your-kirishima#fanfiction meme#bnha fanfiction
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tagged by @icxrusat as the jrwicord in general so i am Doing This
1. Number of works
10 on ao3, like 35 in the depths of Google docs
2. Word count
fuck knows- 23k ish on ao3 so I'd say 50k ish total?
3. Fandoms
The main ones of the year would be angel the series and just roll with it, with around the world in 80 days coming in as a late contender
4. Relationships
angel/lorne okay. it is a rarepair in an incredibly quiet fandom and i love it so much
5. Top kudos/bookmarks/comments
Kudos- Volatile with 193 kudos :D
Bookmarks- I'll give you one guess- (it's Volatile)
Comments- also Volatile with 14 comments
6. Work I'm most proud of- Voices! It's an AtS fic that fits fully within canon from before series 1 to just after series 5, it is short but it has a Proper Ending and i just like the tone of it :D
7. Work I'm least proud of- there are a couple of half-formed crossovers of dghda and angel in my docs that are honestly kind of shit
8. Favourite Review- THIS ONE
look at it!! there's so much thought put into it and Emotions and i love this comment so much
9. A time when writing was hard- i don't actively try to write consistently so I don't really know...i just go into Writing Mode sometimes and don't exactly feel the loss when I don't have ideas
10. Something that surprised you- how fuckin MUCH i wrote this year
11. Favourite excerpt
12. How did you grow as a writer- i finished a lot more stories! most were oneshots but they still had An Ending and that was a new thing for me
13. How do you hope to grow- maybe i can write a fic with more than one chapter for once /lh
14. Greatest positive influence- fandom in general! comments made me realise that people actually Like my writing style(and that i have one in the first place), other works inspiring me to contribute, it was all very cool
15. Anything from real life show up in your works- autism /lh.
i have written a fair few neurodivergent headcanon-centric fics in the year, and i find it very easy to project that kind of thing onto characters :)
16. Any wisdom to share with new writers- Write Shit and then Post It! despite what some people say you don't need to polish your work until it's perfect. I'd advise a quick read-over for typos, but even if some make it through you can just. edit your ao3 post. Sometimes it's better to just trust in your writing instead of constantly doubting yourself, yknow?
(however please do check for typos or you'll end up writing a character calling someone a nonce instead of a ponce and nobody wants that)
17. Projects you're looking forward to- im gonna write more shit about around the world in 80 days and nobody can stop me
18. tag time!- anyone else from jrwicord or gayheughell! also anyone who sees this. literally go for it
i have copied out all the questions for ease of tag game for anyone else who's gonna put this on tumblr
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tagged by the lovely @britneyshakespeare to answer these 10 questions & come up with 10 of my own. thank you !! 💗
psa i wrote way too much please don’t read this. just skip to the questions at the end if i tagged you
1. What are 3 songs that mean something to you, and what do they mean?
that’s hard because i don’t usually find personal meanings in songs. i’m a lot more interested in what the song means to the artist who wrote it. but let’s see if i can think of some
-um. after all by david bowie was always Highly Relatable. like. prattling on & on waxing philosophical only to suddenly realize everything i said is wrong and don’t hate me and also now i’m having an existential crisis and i shouldn’t have started talking in the first place? M e
-when i was first getting into rush i was a big fan of Self Isolating To Cope and also i had no friends and was proud of it (bc if i couldn’t find a way to take pride in my [perceivedly] unchangeable flaws my entire self image would come crashing to the ground and that just wasn’t a good time . anyway). so the lines “nothing can survive in a vacuum / no one can exist all alone” from turn the page pissed me off. but now! now i have loads of friends and i feel legitimately cared about and i feel like i can comfortably reciprocate that and now when i hear that song i think you know what neil? you’re goddamn right.
-uh i s’pose i relate to another brick in the wall pt 3 which is not a good thing but. i dunno i really love being angrily in denial of needing any help whatsoever along to this song. it’s my flaw-pride anthem (don’t worry i don’t take it literally. it’s just fun in the moment)
-shit i know this said three but the one person who i relate to EVERY FUCKING SONG he’s ever put out is bill wurtz. never have i felt so understood than when i listen to bill wurtz’s music. god it’s the most uncanny feeling, i really really understand it a lot
ok i have to stop thinking of more . turns out a lot have meaning to me ive spent like an hour on this question alone Moving On
2. What’s your ideal self like?
. this was The Worst question to ask me because i can and will ramble on for hours given the opportunity
well i’d be able to execute my ideas, for one. instead of just having a half-baked - quarter-baked - fleeting concept with no real idea of how to achieve it. more specifically i want to be able to write songs. more more specifically i want to be able to write the music aspect of songs. i can’t do it. i dont fuckin know why i just can’t. but if i could i think i just might be content with life.
but that doesn’t mean there aren’t still things to improve. i wish i was funnier. i like my weird brand of humor/abstractity online but that’s hard to replicate in real life. i wish i was better at thinking on the spot. i wish my memory didn’t only retain stuff when it feels like it. i wish i was better at putting my thoughts into words, more concisely and accurately and effectively.
um i wish i didnt have executive function issues. like i wanna just do stuff and not have it take all the energy out of me. wish i had the energy to do it to begin with. wish i could keep up with socializing and not ignore people for hours/days because i can’t get myself to maintain conversation.
ok clearly this is leading down an endless tunnel of what i’d change so . i’ll just say my ideal self is a successful musician with a good social life but also an element of mystery and intrigue. my ideal self is just david bowie
3. Who, of all your family members (immediate or extended), do you think has had the most influence on you, for better or for worse?
my mom for a lot (a looooooot) of reasons but if i go into it this is gonna push it over the line from a tag game into a therapy session (if i havent crossed that line already)
4. What’s your main outlet of expression?
writing. journalling. fuckin , social media. actually yeah that more than anything. my Self is on display here if you look at my tumblr(s) my twitter(s) and my instagram(s) you’ve got a pretty goddamn decent picture of who i am
5. What was the first album you ever bought for yourself?
uh i mean i listen to most stuff off of youtube if i don’t already have it so like,,? i dunno. does itunes count? the first vinyl i ever got was wish you were here (for forty fuckin bucks god) but i paid with my aunt’s money so does that even count. i don’t know.
6. Do you like to go shopping?
depends on a lot of things. lately i’ve been in the mood to just get out of the damn house whenever possible (love being a high school dropout !) so the answer is pretty much yes anytime. but it really depends.
7. Kind of cliche but, if you could have dinner with any person, living or dead, who would you pick?
i wanna be the fourth person at the dinner with rush table. just to observe. i’d be terrified to actually have a conversation with any of my idols. okay but if i had to get over that fear i guess i’d pick..... bowie? todd? i don’t know this is hard. alex lifeson circa 197something so he can take me back to his place afterwards you pickin up what im puttin down
8. What TV show do you watch when you’re feeling stressed or low and you need a quick feel-better fix?
i don’t watch tv like ever not even in this case but i guess full house
9. What was the last intriguing conversation you had about?
everything my girlfriend said to me today (edit: yesterday but i did this last night) was great everything my girlfriend’s ever said to me was great
oh that didn’t answer the question at all i just realized. uh they were telling me about the star wars prequels (which i have not seen) and earlier we were having a very analytical conversation about a particularly interesting rush photo
also me & @swanky-trash were discussing our plans to take down trump and all the rest of those bastards while wearing jareth from labyrinth costumes and eating mushrooms. because it’s our destiny as clones separated at birth. yknow just life stuff
10. What’s something about yourself that you don’t think comes across as painfully obvious online, but is, in fact, in person?
shit are we at the end already? damn. i was enjoying this (can you tell).
okay here’s another one i could go on for 12 years about. but uh. i probably come across as way more perky irl? like my voice is all high pitched and i talk really fast and smile and laugh at everything and i have a whatever the opposite of monotone is voice. i don’t like that. i try to combat it online with the all-lowercase typing and shortening of words and omission of punctuation and that sort of thing. i think it’s worked. also i may be terrible at typing but i am WAY worse at speaking. i’m scatterbrained as hell and if i seem at all interesting or witty online that all goes to shit irl. also i can’t fucking talk to people who i only know in person? it just doesn’t work. thank god i have you guys
haaaa okay sorry for the rambling here are the questions
1. what’s the best day/one of the best days you’ve ever had?
2. how important is your social media presence to you?
3. what achievement are you proudest of?
4. describe your sense of humor.
5. is there anything you’re good at or like to do that people who don’t know you well probably wouldn’t expect?
6. what’s your most interesting family story?
7. favorite color palette?
8. what’s something that would be very “out of character” for you to do?
9. yknow that thing on twitter that’s like “pick 1 & rt for good luck” and the options are good grades, meet your idol, money, or crush texts you? which one would/did you pick and why?
10. what’s a song you either wish you’d written or feel like you could’ve written?
i tag @thetemplesofrush @thumbnailoak3 @swanky-trash @lavender-layne @realalexlifeson @davies-jones @goallines-and-musicrhymes @fruitthemed @graveyarding @cosmikdebris99 and anyone else who wants to do it and dont feel pressured to do it etc etc god i hope none of you actually read this whole thing i am so sorry
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ALL THAT IS IS SO FRICKEN CUTE I LOVE IT. TELL ME MORE!! :D I WANT TO HAVE A FULL REPORT! XDD!!
Ahahahaha, okay. I’ll do one big explanation of everything that went down for you guys (as much as I can, I tried explaining it to my mum and she was very confused) and then I think it’ll be time for me to call it a day and stop harping on about the show stuff in general. ^^;;
I do apologise for this slight deviation in content, we’ll be returning to your regularly scheduled FFVII blogging shortly. And I’ll keep all the youtube-related stuff on the sideblog I created just for that purpose, I don’t know why I’m so bad at keeping things where they’re meant to be.
Also this will probably get super long, so under the cut we go. (Also beware spoilers for the Markiplier show!!! If anyone’s worried about that.)
Hoo boy. Okay. Where do we start, howmuch detail do you want? xD Are we talking just the going on stage part all thewhole evening?
(I’m going to go for mainly just the on stage part because I’ve left it very late alreadyfor answering this and I need to sleep. >>)
But!! The day was pretty hectic cause Ihad 9am to 2pm straight lectures and labs, and then took a taxi straight to thestation and left for Nottingham then, which meant I had to do my lab in mypoofy dress. xD So that was amusing to start with.
Got to Nottingham, checked into my hotel(such a sweet glory to have a proper hotel room all to myself compared to thehostel I had for Manchester, aaahh), then went pretty much straight to thevenue from there after dumping all my stuff.
I was weak and bought too much merch. I’dalready bought one of the beanies in London, so I thought this time I’d justbuy a sticker set and some badges, that’s pretty cheap right? Well, yes. Thosewere. Until I stood in the queue for too long looking at the merch and beingmore and more tempted by one of the hoodies. I didn’t buy it originally, butthen I gave in and went back for it because I have no self-control lol.
There was the VIP section! Mark’s beenill for like, most of the tour thus far, and for a while his voice was totallygone. Poor dude. Normally he sings in the VIP section, and he did most of hissongs for the Nottingham one. I posted a video of a section of one!! There wereone or two songs he didn’t do because his range wasn’t back up to 100% justyet, but that just meant we got a bit longer for Q&A stuff.
(Uuugh every time I see how far he’s comemusically it reminds me how much I love singing to myself and writing dumbsongs and I want to do things too. ;^; It was a fit of inspiration afterwatching Mark before that led to me buying my whole mic set up I have.)
So then there’s a break between the VIPpre-show and the main show while everyone else comes in and I hung aroundsinging obnoxiously to myself the whole time because Mark put in the mood forsinging oops.
Then the main show!! The way the show is structured is that it’sthe same games and stuff each time, but there’s three different themes thatthey can go with for the show, and the theme is determined at the start. Themethod of determination is that there’s cases you have to pick from, kind of like a deal or nodeal style. Mark and Bob chose a case each (marking their choices with a redor green sticky respectively), and then the audience had to decide who theyagree with via the application of these coloured paddles they give out wheneveryone’s entering the theatre; hold up the colour you want to vote for. Butthe boys are cheaty mc cheatfaces and will never go with what the audiencewants. xD They have to pick one person out of the audience to make the finaldecision. (That was me!!!)
Also the final decision is made by stabbingthe holder of the case you don’t want with a foam sword.
(We got the horror theme for theNottingham show. :D)
I chose Bob’s box and didn’t stab Tyler,so I got to sneak in a hug from him for that. x3 But I also got put in thepunishment corner for not listening to Mark (not complaining 👀). Regardless of the decision, the gag is that Bob decides totry and take over the show anyway by kidnapping Tyler. Ethan and Wade came inas the inept henchmen dressed in ridiculous costumes, and then it was Mark andI, armed with swords, against the others in a stupid slowmo staged sword fightand honestly idek it was the most fucking surreal thing I’ve ever done in my life.
(I found this photo on Twitter!! Creditto Craig Frewey for it.)
So that was how I ended up having a veryone-sided swordfight with a shark??? xD
Man, I hope there’s video of this becauseit’s REALLY HARD TO EXPLAIN WTF WAS EVEN HAPPENING.
Anyway, I rescued Tyler! But while I wasbusy slaying the shark and stealing the golden key of rescue, Bob went and tookMark hostage instead and then I had to choose between saving Tyler or savingMark. Like goddamn, stop giving me so many impossible choices. D:
I may have eeny meeny miny mo’d it.
(But tbh I did kind of want to save Markmore anyway I’m so sorry Tyler but if I had to pick a favourite…… anyway, Iscrewed Mark over earlier not choosing his case, so making it even? xD)
Also look at this fucking pouty babytrying to make me feel bad and convince me to save him.
(Photo from this photoset here, credit to @giggles3475!)
You deserve only to be saved by atechnicality of eeny meeny miny mo, sir.
Anyway, since I saved Mark, I got to goon a ‘date’ with him; got invited for a candlelit dinner loooool. This is theonly date my aroace ass will accept, I’m good for life now. xD
((One day I want to have thisconversation:Someone: You’ve never had a relationship?You’ve never dated? :0Me: Well there was this one time I had a fakestage date with Markiplier…))
Anywho, the point of that is that it’s anopportunity for Mark to ask a bunch of questions(or Tyler in other cases if the poor sod who gets calledup to take part in this ridiculousness saves Tyler instead), because the next part of the show is that they make an improvisedmusical about that person’s life! ….and I have a fuckin’ weird life.
So Mark started asking me questions aboutwhat I did and stuff, what my poofy dress was all about (‘cause I’d dressed upin my pretty Lolita dress just because why not I never get the chance to dressup), it was all relatively normal at first.
Oh, and Mark asked me if I was seeing theshow with friends or family or anyone; I was just like “nope, I’m here alonelike a sad loser!” and apparently that’s the line that people liked ‘cause I’veseen it quoted somewhere in the tags and in the discord server I’m on inseparate incidences. xD (Mark’s reply was a highly cheerful “alone like a sadloser? Me too!” bless him.)
So it started off normal but then oncethe crocodiles came up… that just got even more surreal, ahahaha. I bet Mark’snever heard that one before. And I did the ‘born in England, moved toAustralia, moved back to England, moved to Australia, back to England again,and then we were in India for a while too…’ spiel that is the quickest way Ican summarise all the back and forth we’ve done. That got brought up in a song.In the most ridiculous way possible fuckin’ honestlyI was just crying over in my corner.
Tiny snippet of that:https://twitter.com/LilyRooney31/status/966821044739854336
And then my poor dear sister, I said shewas my favourite ‘cause she’s cute, she got a skit about her and somehow itended up in a song about pants??? xD Also my mum is apparently now a spy. Thesethings just happen.
There’s a bunch of footage starting fromthe end of the first musical bit and the whole of the second part here: https://www.pscp.tv/w/1djxXdaZXmjxZ
(In the very last few seconds of thatvideo in the side of the screen there’s a me!! I got to hug Mark!!)
I’m slightly worried though that everyonein the audience might think I was bullshitting about a lot of the stuff I said,like I was making stuff up to try and make myself seem cooler?? ‘Cause who the fuckhas crocodiles?? Apart from my freakin’ family. Honestly if I was gonna lie Iwould’ve made it more believable. xD
So, yeah!!! That was what I got to do onstage. I don’t think I embarrassed myself hideously at any point, probably someminor awkwards but I got through it okay. I’m just absolutely fucking kickingmyself now that I had the opportunity rightthere, but I was so worried about not messing it up and like, ‘performing’for the audience that I was hardly paying attention to Mark. There was just. Alot happening. @_@ I feel like I barely even looked him in the eye throughoutit ‘cause I was like what the fuck do I focus on should I try to talk to theaudience so they can see what’s happening? (‘Cause during the sitting downtalking thing if I’d turned to look at Mark properly my back would’ve beentowards the audience, and that seemed rude to them then, so I ended up with akind of sideways thing looking at neither. orz) I feel like I was up there onstage with Mark, but I never talked tohim, if that makes sense?
I really want to find more videos andphotos of my part because it’s still so surreal I’m like wait what did thateven really happen??? I did give my email address to someone who said they hadvideo of the date section so I’m really looking forward to that, and I knowsomeone else has photos, so it should be all good on that front! I needevidence that it wasn’t all just a weird fever dream. I mean. I did have aswordfight with a shark so the fever dream thing is always a possibility.
But anyway. xD That was only the firstpart of the whole show!! I’ve already written and entire damn essay trying toexplain how things went down, so I’m not going to expand on all the otherimprov games they played, but it was a really good time watching the rest of ittoo, and then hanging with people outside, and getting Taco Bell on the wayback to the hotel.
I did not get nearly enough sleep becausehow the heck could I sleep after that I was too pumped, I didn’t fall asleepuntil like three in the morning. And now it’s 1am again ‘cause I spent waaaaaytoo long typing this up, and I reallyneed the sleep, so.
If anyone actually read all that, Isalute you, and also dear god what are you doing with your life.
Lol, but thanks for asking about itAisha! :D
#rp-sephiroth#personal dumbassery#adventures in real life#the tale of that time i had a fake stage date with markiplier#xD#oh man but it was a good time#fuckin' surreal#but a good time#now to the goddamn sleep @_@
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NSFW #07: Second Chance
One last check. John Bishop Church and Mike McGuire stood before the vanity mirror of a makeup table. John winced slightly as he adjusted the knot of his tie so it laid flush against the collar of his dress shirt. In the silence of this prelude, John’s soft breathing was ragged. His cheeks were pale and cool to the touch despite a layer of perspiration already accumulating on his forehead. He retrieved a handkerchief from the inside of his suit jacket and dabbed away the sweat before returning it back to its pocket. He averted his gaze from Mike even through the reflection. “Okay. Let’s do this.” “Hold up. One sec.” Mike looked to their partner with furrowed brows, an expression of genuine, heartfelt concern on their face. Reaching out, they place one hand on his arm. “It’s not too late to not do this. I mean if you want to hold off for this week I totally understand, and I bet Ashley and Iggy would too. I mean, no offense, you know that… but you look kinda awful.” “They don’t make that decision.” John looked down at her hand and smirked. The expression, imagined possibly, brought a little color back into his face. “I’ll be okay. I’ll have to be.” “If you say so, then I believe you. I mean, shit. I know how bad we both want this. Like, real fucking bad, more than anybody.” “Then, let’s show them.” The camera moved through a pair of doors into a magnificent reception hall, all vibrant, lush red and gold-veined white marble. Gilded alabaster pillars line the balcony, bordered by elegant black wrought railings. It took the viewer up the claret carpeted stairway, beneath the grand crystal chandelier, through another pair of doors into a gorgeous theater in the same color scheme, the high ceiling decorated with gilded scrolling and the seats upholstered in ruby. Finally, the camera stopped, its wielder taking a seat in the front row. The stage’s ceiling was blocked in burgundy and slopes back, the backdrop also deep red and white, the wooden planks of the stage floor slightly scuffed from years of use. The house lights dimmed, and at the center of all this majesty two spotlights hit the stage, one at each side. Into these, Bishop Church stepped into the left one, Mike McGuire the right, and the lights trailed them until they met in the center. Mike slowly, deliberately slipped her aviators off, grinning a bit. “Evening, EWC faithful. Look at where ya boys are at tonight! Check these digs out. Fancy, huh? Just perfect for a big occasion, and trust me on this- this is a big fucking occasion. And we were gonna pull out all the stops for it too. You wouldn’t believe the sheer level of ridiculous hijinx we had planned for this. But…” She gave a glance over to her partner. He, however, did not remove his shades. “Better reserved for our opponents. That is, after all, their modus operandi.For fun. Remember that? Mr. Lutter assembled a group of super friends that failed to live up to that ideal. And after a purge, he seems to have it just right.” John shrugged. “Swango. Brizzie. Don’t take that as a dismissal of your talents. Your detractors will label you inexperienced, ineffectual, and irreverent. However, at Night of Champions, they could only call you winners.” The lights rose just slightly, the ambience brightened a bit. From somewhere unseen, a soft, uplifting tune began to play. Not loud enough to be obstructive or drown out the words the pair were saying, though- just audible enough to be heard clearly. “You two got magic. The same kinda magic we had when we first started out. You literally just got your kite off the ground and you’re flying like a couple’a fuckin’ pros, and that’s badass. It’s not easy to do that, y’know. Tag teaming ain’t easy. Contrary to popular belief you can’t just throw two people together, no matter how capable, and expect them to win goddamn matches if they ain’t got a drop of chemistry. Heh, ask Merc and Jerk about that.” “You won’t get a real answer out of either of them.” And then John removed his shades as well. Normally his gaze was passive and distant but at this time, blue eyes stared at the viewing audience. Perhaps at NSFW’s opponents. “But that night. The very night that we broke The Limit, the landscape of the tag team division started to change for the better. Many will attribute it to our new Tag Team champions. Some even to Mike and myself. I would say that a bit of the credit belongs to the efforts made in the face of seemingly insurmountable adversity. So it is no surprise to me that you stand opposite of us. With the opportunity that we have been fighting every inch of the way for.” The lights brightened a little further. “You’re the challenge we’ve been waiting for. This division as it stands right now? It’s the division we’ve been wanting to fight in. And right past you? The chance we’ve been working so fuckin’ hard for, since day one. I’m pumped for it. Church is. We got electric in our veins, but… do you?” Mike’s brows furrowed, the lights dimming back down almost somberly, with a slight blue tinge. “Brizzie. You don’t have that For Fun mojo going on much right now. And I get it. I got nothin’ but respect for Nos, and I don’t blame you if your head ain’t in the game. But you gotta understand… you ain’t gonna beat us like that. Not by a long shot.” “As your fellow employers. Perhaps even your friends, we are deeply concerned with what has happened. But understand something.” He stepped forward. The lights began to brighten, the blue beginning to fade away. “Monday Night. Houston. The main event. Our very first main event. With the chance we’ve been asking for on the line. If your music plays. If you two walk out. If you get into the ring with Mike McGuire and Bishop Church, you are telling us one thing. That you are ready. The bell rings. Our concern takes a backseat. Losing this match means that we are deprived another chance to represent this division. This business means everything to me. It is the most important-” Mike reached out. Her hand rested comfortably on his jacket-sheathed bicep. “It is one of the most important parts of my life. I think I understand my partner enough by now to know that she agrees. I am not content to be on the sidelines however. That’s what losing that match will do to us. Losing means we sit back another night and watch other people take what we have earned with our blood. It would be foolish to make ultimatums. The world doesn’t end with one shortfall. But after all this time, it doesn’t feel right. So ask yourselves? With circumstances as they stand, what would a defeat mean to you? Chalk it up to inexperience. Momentum not being on your side maybe.” “Yeah. You guys are brand new, right out of the box. We ain't exactly old news ourselves, but we kinda got the ‘new car smell’ knocked off us by now. We got, in a way, more to gain from this than you two, and a hell of a lot more to lose. I don’t know how much you guys want the tag titles, but I can fuckin’ promise one thing. It ain’t near as much as we do.” The intensity of the lighting was almost at full house strength now, the coloring shed of its melancholy blue and, instead, tinged with gold. “We came here with two goals. Revive the tag team division, and be its fucking champions. I think we can consider Goal One met. Two? Like I mentioned. Runs right through the Rockin’ Dreamland you got going on. But we can’t stop. We WON’T stop. No Sympathy For Wifey- at least, not in between those bells. And I’m sorry if that seems mean. Trust me, I wish to fuck this thing with Nos wasn’t happening at all, much less now, but gold waits for nobody.” “So that is what I meant. You two come down and you forsake all of that strife for that moment in time. Iggy, Ashley, you took everything from two teams that didn’t give you a chance. We consider you two our greatest challenge.” He turned his head and addressed his partner eye to eye. “Mike, remember the last time we had a chance like this? We thought of ourselves to be the heirs apparent.” “And we came up fuckin’ short. Just by a hair, but you know what they say about horseshoes and hand grenades. We played it cool, y’know, ‘tomorrow is another day’ and all that positive happy crappy B.S. but you know what? It fuckin’ stung. And it’s a feeling I never… and I think I can safely say, WE never… want to deal with again. The fuckin’ feeling of seeing a golden opportunity slip through your fingers. We ain’t gonna let it happen again, no matter what we gotta do.” The soft gold illumination intensified, became sharper. “So come out. For Fun. And we’ll take everything you have and throw it back at you. No jokes. No time machines. No more silly names. No song and dance. No more platitudes about respect.” “This is our second shot for a shot. And it’ll be our last one, because after this one, we won’t fuckin’ well need another one. We’ve been put through a fucking meat grinder this summer. We’ve been table’d, chair’d, thrown off shit, beat to a fucking pulp, my partner damn near got disemboweled, and in the middle of all that, we’ve gone through damn near the entire division that WE rebuilt. Our literal blood, sweat, and tears are all over the fucking place.” More intense now. The entire stage was bathed in vivid golden light. “You guys got the magic, but you haven’t paid your dues. You haven’t earned it. You don’t have the rights to it, not yet.” “So we offer the same courtesy that we did to the Unholy Two. Sure, we’ve met. But we haven’t been formally introduced. Where it matters. Iggy Swango. Ashley Brizzie.” John put the aviators back on. “I’m Bishop Church.” Mike followed suit. “And I’m Mike McGuire.” “We are NSFW.” “And we’re the next EWC Tag Team Champions.” The golden light intensified so brightly that a bright, gilded flash was all that the camera could pick up. When it faded away, NSFW were gone. What does a team do after they rent out Heinz Hall for their own personal statement on their most important match to date? Go grocery shopping. John’s hands were ringed with the loops of plastic grocery bags. He let them slip from his fingers gently on the kitchen table. He also had a week’s worth of mail tucked under the opposite side of his wound. They fell out onto the table and unfolded like an accordion. Mike closed the front door behind them. They had all of the bags full of things that needed to be in the refrigerator so they made a beeline to it. He looked suspiciously at a party sized bag of peanut butter M&Ms that had managed to make it into their cart. But then something else caught his eye. One of the envelopes. “Hey. You got a letter.” She was a phone call or text away. Not too many miles between them. His eyebrows raised quizzically. But it was addressed to just Mike. So not really his business. “From Natalie.”
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