#I have a lot of business casual clothes (like. all of my clothes that aren’t pjs are business casual)

[hawnks]

I have to become howl pendragon. This will fix me.

[weirdsht]

cale with idiots in love trope

- "You're cute" "hm?" "I said you look like a boot."

- casual displays of affection, hand holding bc s/o would space out and may or may not get lost (directionally challenged)

- pretending everything is casual, but they're soooo in love with each other

- "I look like a mess" "the prettiest mess"

- the kids absolutely love when they get cuddles with cale and s/o

- maybe braiding cales hair??

- whenever cale goes somewhere and can't bring them, they'd go like "I'll be going for a while" (cale) "I'll always be here" (s/o)

- stealing cales clothes bc its comfy!!

- "are you asleep?" "...no" "wanna talk?"

- "I love you" "I've loved you my entire life"

Can’t Two People Be Friends? - Cale/Gn! Reader

tags: gender-neutral reader, deputy commander reader, getting together fic, vague novel spoilers, is told from Alberu's perspective, tired Alberu, save Alberu from his dumb dongsaeng, use of degrading words (e.g. stupid) but it's in a loving way, have I mentioned Alberu is tired of Cale's shit?

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read navi)

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another anon said: cale who acts like a lover to his "closest confidant", though they are not in a relationship, they certainly do act like one– to the point that his crew would question them, to which they'd respond "We're just friends" "What do you mean? They look at you like you're their entire world"– which then starts their operation, get cale a lover

Cale Henituse is someone who has a lot of people under his wing. He's a heroic person busy saving the continents– no, the world. Which was why it is no surprise to find out that he has a close confidant. He has a second-in-command who helps him plan everything and is in charge of backup plans in case something goes wrong.

All of that is normal. Expected even.

What isn’t normal is how they act towards each other.

They act like… people who have a deeper relationship than just friends, for lack of a better term.

Like right now. [Name] is holding onto Cale’s arms as they navigate through this tiresome ball. Looking at him as if he had hung up the moon and the stars.

“Your Highness, you are quite close to the both of them… are we sure they are merely close friends?”

One of the nobles talking to Alberu Crossman questions as everyone watches the commander-and-deputy-commander duo dance in the centre of the hall.

“Of course they are. They have said so themselves.”

Alberu adds on at the end about how they shouldn’t inquire about another person’s private life.

However, Alberu himself is quite frustrated.

It was the truth when he said the two are nothing more than friends. And that’s what frustrates him. The two idiots can’t see the way they stare at each other. Can’t notice how they are unconsciously each other’s priority no matter what happens.

Alberu also knows that he isn’t the only one feeling this way.

No, as a matter of fact, everyone in Cale’s group feels the same frustration the future king feels.

“When will they get together? They deny their feelings as if we didn’t see them cuddling last night while reading a novel.”

On complained one day while eating the crown prince’s cookies.

“I’ve always known that our young master was quite dense in the aspect of love but… hmmm, I must say that this level is getting frustrating.”

Ron shared his own opinion as he served everyone tea.

Well everyone except the two people who are the topic of their discussion. Of course, they aren’t. For they were busy cuddling in the newly installed swing in the garden of the black castle while reading a novel. [Name] is busy platonically nuzzling their head in Cale’s chest, while Cale himself is busy platonically draping his legs over [name] as they lay down on the large swing.

‘Merely friends my ass’

Alberu thinks to himself as he watches the two from the window while sipping on the tea Ron served.

The people inside the room merely complained about Cale and [Name]’s relationship. They did not say anything about forcing them to get together and be in a romantic relationship.

And it’s not because they respect what the two have now.

No, it was simply because they didn’t need to say such things out loud. The complaints they have said out loud are enough confirmation to ensure that everyone is on the same page.

That everyone will be doing their best to show those two knuckleheads that what they have is more than platonic.

“You do know that you only let [Name] braid your hair like that. Do you realise just how much special privilege you give them?”

“What special privilege? The kids also braided my hair.”

Alberu’s dumb dongsaeng stared at him in confusion and the crown prince swears his about to have an aneurysm.

“Yes, but they are your kids. Of course, you’ll indulge them.”

“That is true…”

For a moment Alberu thought that they were finally heading somewhere.

“But [Name] is the only one who can braid my hair neatly like this.”

Turns out the only place they are heading to is back to square one.

Alberu pushed down the urge to smack a chair in his beloved dongsaeng’s face. How could he forget Ron’s existence? The Ron that does every task perfectly, but still could not braid the redhead’s hair because ‘only [Name] can do it perfectly’.

Cale better be glad Alberu didn’t transform Taerang into a hammer and threw it in his face.

“I love you, you know that right?”

[Name] had asked Cale during one of their cuddling sessions and Raon’s ears perked up.

“Of course I do.”

Cale answered casually and it got Raon’s hopes up.

“Are you guys together???”

He asked, eyes full of hope.

“What do you mean silly? Of course, we’re together, we’ve been friends for years now.”

That night Raon did not speak to any of them, and the two idiots only thought he was sick and tried to coax him to talk to them.

Subtle advances like that continued for a while before they all admitted defeat. One day Rosalyn even straight up asked [Name] how they felt about Cale. To which the deputy commander only responded with “he’s my best friend of course” before going on their merry way to steal another one of Cale’s clothes.

Just when all of them are about to give up Alberu caught the two of them talking in that same swing one night. 

He was about to go back to the palace. Only went to sneak into Raon’s castle to talk to Cale about an important business that cannot be said through a communication device. However, just as he was about to teleport back he heard the two.

“Why are you still awake?”

“I couldn’t sleep. You weren’t in bed.”

“Wanna talk then?”

Alberu silently scoffs at them. Even their conversations sound like their married already.

They talk for a few minutes. Topics vary from the mundane to philosophical questions no one can answer. 

It didn’t look like Alberu would get anything from eavesdropping so he thinks about going home.

But then…

“I know we’re both too busy. I know this will only add more burden to you. However, I must say it.”

[Name] spoke gently. Their eyes which were previously watching the stars shifted their focus to stare at Cale’s face.

“I love you. I love you so much. I love you more than life.”

That made the crown prince stop in his tracks. For a moment he remembers Raon’s complaints about how they seem to say “I love you” to each other without it meaning anything. For a moment he doubted if it was a confession.

Of course that didn’t stop him from recording the whole thing.

“I love you too. I’ve loved you this entire time. I’ll love you even after death.”

At Cale’s reciprocity, Alberu finally moved to give the privacy. He may want to see the two of them get together, but he does not want to see them kiss. A confession was enough to satisfy him.

But the irritation he feels from waiting for them to confess did not go away.

Hence why instead of going home he first went to his instructor, Choi Han.

Alberu Crossman did not say to the swordmaster. He only hands him a piece of paper before going back to his palace.

In that paper wrote:

The two idiots are finally together. I have a recording if anyone is interested. I’ll show it in exchange for a recording of you lightly smacking my lovely dongsaeng head upside-down. I’m sure my instructor will understand where I’m coming from.

Choi Han does. He greatly understands where his student was coming from.

That’s why, the next morning he was setting up a hidden recording device with a smile on his face.

Oh, he also got everyone’s permission before he set it up. In fact, most of them cheered at the thought of him physically knocking some sense in their young master’s head. 

[talewrites]

Fragile Part 4

Remember Sophie from Howl’s Moving Castle? Well, that’s you this chapter :]

Generation: Bayverse TMNT

Tmnt x Reader Fanfic

Pronouns: Gender Neutral (except ‘dudette’ and ‘princess’)

Warnings: injury, wholesome, lots of cleaning, not proof read

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

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“You IDIOTS!” A crash resounded in the room as Stockman knocked over a table full of metal tools. “How could you let go the ONE MUTANT that survived all the testing phases!” Another crash as beakers and chemicals were knocked off a table. “I never should have left you FOOLS in charge of guarding the lab. This could set us back months of progress. If we don’t find that girl, Karai will have my head!”

With an angry huff Stockman fell into his dusty office chair and spun over to his computer. He was working on updating all the computer systems there in the old Sacks building. He had joined the Foot in taking up residence there since you had compromised their position at the warehouse laboratory by the docks. They couldn’t risk a raid from the turtles and losing all his research. This location wasn’t the most inconspicuous considering its history, but since the Shredder’s initial defeat at the hands of the turtles and April, the building had been deemed unstable and labeled condemned. Since it was difficult to dismantle such a large skyscraper in the middle of the city, it had been mostly left unoccupied for the past several years. Making it the ideal base for Foot activity.

As he was sorting through old records on the computer, he came across an interesting clip in the archived surveillance videos. 

“Hmm…. interesting…. Yes, if I do that- yes…. YES! This will work nicely.” Stockman chuckled darkly to himself as he got up from his chair. Bebop and Rocksteady shared a confused look and shrugged, not understanding the sudden change in the scientist’s mood.

“Uuuuuh, hey boss, so what are we going to do about them?”

“You two aren’t going to do anything. …. yet.” Baxter’s dark chuckle echoed as he disappeared down the hallway.

It has been 2 weeks since you met the turtles. 

Initially, April had brought you a duffle bag full of comfy clothes a little bit too big for you, and some essential toiletries. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a hot shower with conditioner and soft sweatpants to put on after. Leo’s bed was warm and clean, Michelangelo cooked you delicious comfort food, and Donatello downloaded all of your favorite movies and shows you had missed. Raph one night had even knit you a cozy cardigan. The boys were all making an effort to make you feel more comfortable. But you couldn’t help but notice the reason. 

You were still scared. 

Every night you woke to terrible nightmares. And every day you felt like you were still walking on broken glass. Startling at any sudden sound or slightest touch. You noticed how Leo looked at you with pity, and Mikey wore a faltering smile. Donnie kept busy working on tracking the Foot, aside from regularly changing your bandages, and Raph- Raph just tried to keep his distance. 

You didn’t blame them. You were a stranger in their home. You were finally in a safe place, but it was like your body was still in survival mode. High strung and anxious. You wanted to do something for them. Anything, to repay them and make yourself feel useful. A distraction.

Master Splinter had on many occasions noticed your stressed and mousy demeanor. He felt the unease in their home and the distance his sons kept with their new ward. Like neither party knew how to find common ground. 

One night, he requested you join him in his meditation room for tea. You obliged.

“I sense your unease.” He stated casually.

You hesitated, then nodded. You didn’t know how to respond.

“There is nothing to be ashamed about. For so long, you lived every day, not knowing if it would be your last. You lost your autonomy, your freedom. And yet you escaped all on your own. You are very brave.”

 “….Thank you. I just wish I could feel that way. I feel so… scared. Like I’ll wake up back in that lab again and all of this would have been a dream. I… I don’t know what to do with myself.” You fussed with the teacup in your hands. 

Splinter reached across the table and offered you his hand as a comfort. You took it gently and sighed. 

“It will take time before you begin to feel like yourself again. My boys can be a little… reserved at times. It is not often we get to interact with friendly humans. Trust me when I say, they also wish for your comfort and safety. It just may take some time for them to get used to another presence in our home. In the meantime, perhaps there is something you can do that will make you feel more at home?”

You were surprised by his suggestion. They had already offered their home up to you, you wouldn’t dare ask anything more of them. But maybe…

“….a-actually… there might be something. If I could have your permission of course.” 

Splinter smiled at you.

Once your injuries had fully healed, Splinter had called upon April and Casey’s help to assist you. There was some materials you needed of course, and Mikey was let in on the big secret. You felt guilty roping in so many people just to help you feel more comfortable, but there was something you wanted to do for them, as a thank you for taking you in. April seemed ecstatic at the proposition and was eager to bring you the supplies. Casey just seemed confused that this was something you wanted to do of your own free will. And Mikey- well, he was just excited to share a hobby with you.

The cooking part, that is. Not the cleaning.

Ever since you had been brought down to the lair for safe keeping, you had noticed one glaringly obvious thing. This was a man cave in every sense of the word. The lair was terribly dirty. Dust and grime everywhere. The only clean places you noticed were the dojo, Leo’s room, and Master Splinter’s quarters. You understood that they were all living in a sewer, and they had clearly made a bit of an effort to keep it clean. But you were through avoiding sticky spots on the floor and sitting on a dirty couch. 

First things first: Donnie’s dirty coffee mug hoard. The purple turtle was currently napping in his room after an all nighter doing surveillance in coordination with the police, so now was the perfect time to clean up his station. You were extremely grateful to April for including a pair of rubber gloves in the bags of cleaning supplies she brought for you. Mikey helped you collect all the mugs and bring them to the sink, where he was in charge of washing them while you cleaned off all of Donnie’s work tables where he tinkered. You were careful not to move any projects, but wiped it clean of all its dust and stains. Then carefully sanitized all his keyboards and mouse, cleaned all of the monitors (yes all of them), and swept away the crumbs on the floor around his chair. 

Once that was complete, you moved on to the living room. Leo was currently preoccupied meditating with Master Splinter in the dojo, so no one was around to notice you swoop in and descend on the couch. Thankfully the boys no longer had a couch made of empty pizza boxes, and had upgraded to a large sectional that Casey had found them used for cheap up top. You were certain that the couch covers had never been washed since it was brought down to the sewers. You were doubly certain that the boys probably didn’t even know the cushion covers could be removed and washed. You threw the covers into the washing machine on hot water with a healthy amount of soap. Mikey then helped you move the couch so you could clean the floor underneath, and smashed the cockroach that had scrambled out from underneath. The coffee table was wiped down, the rug was taken to a railing to be hung and the dust beat out by Mikey with his nunchucks, and the floor mopped clean. 

Next was the workout room. Raph had just finished his exercise and left for the bathroom to take a shower, so you rushed in and started cleaning off every dusty and grimy sweat covered surface you could find. There was a musky scent of dirt and sweat permeating the room. All the dumbbells had a build up of grime from their sweaty hands using them for so many years. You also made sure to sanitize all of the mats and floors as well. By the time you were finished, Raph was leaving the shower and went to his room. You hid so he wouldn’t notice you as he passed by, unassuming. Then you were left with the big task.

The bathroom.

You were certain if there was a soundtrack playing in the background, dramatic horror music would be playing. You rolled up your sleeves and went in. Toilets, showers, sinks, and the massive bathtub, all scrubbed down with an unholy amount of bleach until every tiled surface shined. By the time you were finished, Mikey had come in to tell you he was ready to start on the kitchen. That was Mikey’s domain.

You were grateful that all the dishes were already clean by the time you entered the kitchen. But Mikey needed your help when it came to the cupboards and fridge.

“Mikey? ….Why do you have 3 year old expired sour cream in the fridge?”

“Huh? Isn’t it supposed to be ‘sour’? It still looks good, doesn’t it?”

“Mikey there is black mold growing in it.” 

“Oh, so…. That’s not pepper then.”

By the time you had finished clearing out the fridge and cupboards of everything expired or moldy, you had filled 3 trash bags full of garbage. Mikey helpfully took out the trash while you cleaned and organized the fridge and cupboards, and wiped down all the surfaces. By the time Mikey returned, you were rifling through the brown paper bag April got you full of ingredients and spices you had requested. 

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” Mikey cheerfully greeted you as he rejoined you in the now clean kitchen. 

“Well… if I remember the recipe correctly, I want to make the dish my mom always made for me…”

Mikey looked at you surprised for a moment, then excitement overtook him. “Cool! Can I help?” 

You perked up at the suggestion. “Will you? I’d,… I’d love that, thank you!” Your expression melted into a warm smile, and Mikey felt his heart skip a beat. 

You looked so pretty when you smiled, he thought to himself. 

He wanted to see you smile more, just like that.

You both washed your hands and got to work. On the freshly clean kitchen counter, you had Mikey kneed cold butter into flour to make a dough, while you cut vegetables and cooked chicken on the stove. By the time Mikey was ready with the dough, there were 6 pie tins lined up to add the crust. The oven dinged and the base crust went in to brown while you stirred a large pot on the stove. Then you took out the pies and added the filling, and covered the tops with more dough. You were surprised at how large their oven was, but they were 4 giant mutant turtles and a rat. You had no doubt that each of the boys would eat a whole pie themself. The extra 2 were for Splinter, you, April, and Casey, who would be joining everyone later.

Once the oven door closed, Mikey turned up the radio that had been quietly humming tunes in the background as a fun song you hadn’t heard before played through the speakers. (‘Bad idea right?’ by Olivia Rodrigo started playing.) Mikey’s head started bobbing and he grabbed the wooden spoon you had been stirring with and began mouthing the words into it like a microphone. You giggled at his antics as he pointed a green finger at you and beckoned you out into the open of the room. You felt drawn to join him as the pop song got your head bobbing to the beat. You felt a feeling well up in your chest as the chorus started building up. Excitement bubbling until the chorus peaked and your head bobbing turned into jumping around. Before you knew it, you were dancing around the living room with Mikey holding your hands and spinning you around. You lost yourself in the freeing feeling of the stress and anxiety getting washed away by the music. All the cleaning you had done was so stress relieving you were starting to feel like yourself again.

Little did you know, the music had drawn the attention of the other brothers. Leo and Master Splinter came out from their meditation to watch in the doorway, Leo smiled and crossed his arms as he looked at you. Raph came out freshly dressed and looked surprised but shared a look with Leo that made them smirk at you and their little brother’s antics. Then Donnie trudged out and leaned against his door frame and fixed his glasses to make sure he was in fact seeing you correctly. 

You were smiling, laughing, and dancing.

“It seems as though we are seeing Miss (y/n) for the first time today.” Mused Splinter, the old rat brushing his beard.

Just then April and Casey walked in, carrying boxes they had brought down from up top.

“Hey guys, what’s going on?” April asked putting down her box.

You were happily giggling as Mikey spun you around at the end of the song. April grinned, happily surprised at the scene. Casey walked in behind her and started looking around the lair like he was seeing it for the first time, setting his box down next to April’s. This prompted Leo, Raph, and Donnie to also take a better look around their home. They slowly all walked out into the living space, looking in all directions. 

“.... Where did all my coffee cups go…?”

“Hm? Oh! They’re washed and in the cupboard!” You answered cheerily.

“.... Does…. Does the gym smell like oranges?” Raph said, baffled.

“.... Where did all the dust go? ….Does the couch look clean to you?” Leo nudged Donnie to bring his attention to the freshly washed couch covers.

There was a beat of heavy silence as the boys took in the new state of their home, then the timer above the oven dinged and you ran over to put on your oven mitts.

“The food’s ready!” You called out cheerfully.

In the next few minutes, everyone was sitting around the small kitchen table. Each turtle with a full pie in front of them, and large slices cut for Splinter, April, and Casey, and a smaller cut for yourself.

“Damn, what’s this? Smells great!” Casey exclaimed. 

“My mom showed me how to make this, it’s chicken pot pie. I hope you like it!” You said a bit shyly now that you had calmed down a bit. 

You watched as all the boys and April picked up a spoon and dug in, taking their first bite. There was a chorus of groans of approval as the boys hummed approvingly around their bite.

“Oh my god my mouth is singing!” Mikey exclaimed, trying to shovel the pie into his mouth. 

“How did you manage to get this level of flakiness into the crust? Was there any special preparation when kneading the dough?” Donnie questioned. Then Mikey mumbled out around a full mouth, ‘cold butter, dude’ which Donnie had to ask him to repeat when his mouth wasn’t full.

“Wow… I’ve never had anything like this before. Did you make this?” Leo asked. Raph was grunting in approval with each new bite he took, absorbed in his food from across the table.

You blushed and nodded. It didn’t take long for everyone to clean their plates. Casey, Mikey, and Raph all fought for seconds. Master Splinter and April were sharing very pleased looks on their faces, like they were conspiring all along. Once everyone was finished, you stood up and started to collect plates from the table.

“Oooooh no, you did enough cleaning today, let someone else take a turn, shortie.” Raph stood up to stop you.

“I don’t mind, really!” You urged, but you weren’t paying attention to where you were walking and bumped into Mikey who was taking his own plate to the sink. 

The plate dropped from his hand in surprise, and faster than anyone could react, your freehand shot out and grabbed the plate. There was a cracking sound and everyone froze to look at you. There you were, balancing 5 large heavy ceramic plates stacked in one hand, while your other hand was holding onto Mikey’s plate that had cracked and fractured in your grip. You were stunned.

“Woah… what just happened?” Mikey broke the silence.

Part 5

@itsberrydreemurstuff @thecreat0r64 @eli-chris @kurlyfrasier @autisticnutcase @drenix004 @donniesgirlie @cherryp-op @foggyturtleknightangel

If anyone else wants to be tagged for the next update, let me know in the comments! :]

[thefandomdirtymind]

Casual

18 +

OPLA - Vinsmoke Sanji

Part 2

Sanji series : SFW Shiny Offering NSFW The Small Favor - SFW The Mermaid Dream - SFW The Magic of a Kiss

A/N IMPORTANT: I didn't know exactly why but I wanted to write that fun and casual conversation between Sanji and reader remembering their sexy time. But I had to put a little bit of difficulties in it and I hope you will like it. I think to do a second part but I'm not sure yet...

Warning : Mention of a lot of sexual stuff : Oral Man ! and Female ! giving receiving, small bondage, penetration, bruises.

* English is not my first language, I tried really hard to correct myself but, I hope you will excuse me if some mistakes are still there.  

---

The golden light of the sunrise was reflecting in the calm water when Sanji put his feet in the restaurant. Redressing his freshly knotted tie, entering the kitchen like if he wasn’t fifteen minutes late, he suddenly stops on his track. At the instant he saw you, he knew he was screwed. 

Not that you looked at him directly, way too busy with the prep for the approaching brunch, neither that you seem mad ,even if your chopped carrots should've been smaller. In fact, he clearly recalled that when he had left your bed this morning, kissing your lips one last time, your naked form reaching for his warmth. You looked quite satisfied and relaxed. 

It was not either a sudden burst of love who struck him, even if he always had affection for you, that night was from the start nothing but casual sex. 

No, the reason he knew he was himself in deep shit wasn’t either because as he watched you, he could remember every inch of your skin he had feverishly kissed and bite. The problem is if Zeff discovers it. After all, even being his sous chef and prodigy couldn’t help him with the fact that he had fucked all night long his mentor daughter. 

" Don’t stay there like if the kitchen was on fire, little eggplant, put on your uniform and start helping " The man himself ordered, busy in his own corner.

Turning your gaze of your carrot to observe Sanji, you smiled. 

" Good morning Sanji " You said, your tone letting know nothing of your previous meeting in the dark. 

" Good Morning Y/N " He replied, as he put on his white jacket, a thin smile you didn’t quite know, of his lips.

" Did you sleep well, you seem a little bit…tired" You sweetly replied, returning to your carrots. 

" Yeah I had a short night…" He confessed, watching you, a warning in his eyes. 

" If you would stick to the menu, you wouldn’t be up all night thinking about some recipe I won’t allow in the restaurant and sleep like everybody else. " Zeff declared, lifting the heavy potato sack. 

" If we didn’t serve the same stuff everyday that restaurant would be less shitty " The blond retorted, starting to peel the vegetables, his anxiety slowly melting as he returned to his usual fight with the old man.  

— 

It seemed an eternity before you could remove your cooking clothes. Due to the celebration yesterday, many cooks were sick, making your father and the other employers double their shift. Like if you needed it, with the little sleep Sanji and you had. But, as you return to the empty kitchen, already dreaming of the softness of your bed, you notice the blond chef still busy chopping mushrooms.

" What are you doing ? " You couldn’t help yourself to ask, curious as to why he hadn’t headed to his bed for a well deserved night of sleep. " You should go to bed I’m pretty sure those mushroom will still be there tomorrow "

" Well, I kind of have a hard time trying to get out of my head the idea of your dad discovering what I have done to you" He replied unamused, stress and guilt clearly eating him from the inside. " You see I have a sentimental attache to most of my limbs and other parts" 

" Sanji, I would never tell him, we have been super discret and if I recall it clearly you aren’t alone in this. I had pretty vivid memories of sucking your dick until you begged me in french to stop " You teased, sitting on the counter. 

" Like if you hadn't melted at the minute I put my mouth on you" He mocked, this time his tone almost like his usual confident self. As he abandoned his task to face you. " And I really had to remind you that cute gasp you did when I push my finger on that sweet spot you never reach yourself " 

" It’s true it was a great discover, that you proudly celebrate " You conceded showing the hickeys on your clavicle "Maybe you didn’t gasped, but, I heard you a lot moaning and groaning, particularly when I was on top" 

" I have no excuse, your vision was magnificent and the feeling was incredible ." He replied " But I still regret the death of my tie " 

" It was for a great cause, that orgasm was one of the best I had. It’s a good thing your hand had muffled my scream because I was pretty sure I would have awake all the ship" You laugh, gladly remembering being hang by the hand to the wooden bedpost as Sanji was supported your leg around his hips thrusting in you as his life depended of it. Lucky for both of you, your bedroom was at the far end of the bedrooms corridor with no express neighbor.“ I will buy you a new one since I broke it. Even if it’s, you, who had bring it in bed "

" No need, I have many that look similar. Nobody will notice. But I will have to be careful to not be seen topless for a while. I'm glad your nails are short for cooking, my back looks like I had a fight with a cat over a fish. "

" It’s your fault, my leg was already shaking and you didn’t stop, I was on the edge of passing out ! "You protest laughing. " You deserve the scratch for making me lose my mind." 

" It’s an honor I accept gladly “ He proudly said, joining you in your laugh. " I admit that my own orgasm was way better than usual, I remember you moaning quietly in my ear even if I’m not quite sure what you said." 

" Sanji, at this point I’m pretty sure I could’ve whispered to you the recipe of an Apple Pie and you would have come. You were so close, trying to keep your control, I still have a faint bruise of your hand on my hip." 

" Isn't it when I eat you out during round two that I left that mark ? I had to keep you in place pretty hard, you were rolling your hips and didn’t want to stop moving "He recalls, a huge grin now on his face. " I still can heard you - Please Sanji don’t stop, don’t stop " 

"Ha ha ha " You rolled your eyes, still smiling at the memories." Sanji, I think we both really need to sleep, but I had to know...are we okay ? I will not talk to my dad about it, you will not too and we will live with that happy memories without a problem. We are just two friend and coworker who’s during the anniversary of their restaurant decide to casually fucked. Right ? " 

" Yes, exactly," He confirmed, cleaning his area. 

" Perfect, good night Sanji " You said, kissing his cheeks before jumping off the counter and exiting the kitchen. 

" Good night Y/N " The blond replied, watching you go.

Now he knew  he was totally screwed. Even though he hadn't truly lied, he was now reassured that your father will never know. He knew that he wasn’t clearly okay with this casual arrangement anymore. He knew at first that it wasn’t the idea of the century but after that night and the sweet way you look at him, always caring for him when nobody seem to, he couldn’t hide the issue anymore, he was slowly falling for you and he already know it, it's will hurt like hell.  

---

Part two ?

[moonlitraven]

Tasteless Engine (2)

Suddenly, the puppet’s eyes flutter open and the doll stares at you.

Flabbergasted, you jump back and stop touching them. The porcelain puppet slowly, weakly sits up with numb arms. All you can do is stare at the living doll with wide eyes, while the mass elevates itself until it stands up before you.

“Who are you…?” the porcelain puppet asks with a low, groggy voice. Definitely a boy.

“I could return you the question! My name is […] and I’m a toy maker.” You reply.

“Good. I have been looking for you.” Says the puppet casually, as if he was not crying on your floor a few minutes ago. He starts walking in your bungalow with his chin raised high, as if he was the owner of this land. His torn clothes barely cover himself, and his joints and articulations creak with every move he makes and you decide to go after him.

“Wait! So, you know me, but what’s your name and how are you… Living?! Aren’t you a puppet?” You ask while walking behind him, in pure confusion.

“That’s none of your business. As for my name, I don’t have one.” Replies the doll boy. “What’s that?” he asks, pointing a book with his hand.

“Just a theater piece. It’s La Comedia Del Arte. You never heard of it?” You reply, taking the book and handing it to him. The nameless puppet takes the book and examinate it carefully.

“Well, just call me Scaramouche then.” He says after reading a few pages.

“Scara?

-Scaramouche” He objects, refusing the nickname. He puts back the book on the self.

“This bungalow is pathetic, but it is not the reason of my visit. I saw the sign near your house saying that you are a toy maker. It kills me to say it but I need your help.” After saying that, Scaramouche takes off the clothe that was hiding his bust. At the place where should be his heart if he was human is a huge hole, the porcelain is fissured and painting is damaged all around the hole and even slightly melted. You stare at it in awe for a few minutes. Never, in your life, you saw a human-puppet with a hole in the chest. Look then up at him in his eyes, which are a bit damaged too.

“… What happened to you?” You ask, shocked.

“None of your business too.” Answers the puppet with a dark face.

Promptly, you put him on your table and observes his features with a lot of caution.

“I never saw a doll this damaged. I’m not sure I’ll be able to fix all of that.

-What about my heart?

-You had a heart?

-Yes. But in an access of rage, I pulled it out of my chest, that’s how the hole… You know…”

You look at him, you can’t help but feel bad for him. Sure, he is not human at all, but it is almost like it, is it not? And mostly, he had a heart. You don’t know how it is possible, but you stopped asking yourself question when a living puppet started to cry before you.

“Sadly, I can do nothing for a heart-broken puppet, asides from repairing the damage, I can’t give you a heart.” You tell him softly, looking at him in the eyes.

“Then I’ll find someone who can.

-No one can. Scaramouche, a heart isn’t a clock! It is not mechanical, you can not buy it, or repair it with a hammer, nails and tools. I can’t do anything for this heart, nor no one can.

-You’re worthless! I should have known it when I crossed your door! I’m leaving, now.” The enraged doll jumps off the table and heads toward the living room.

“If you go outside, you’ll be even more broken!” You protest. “I can fix you! And maybe your heart will grow back! I bet you’re not that stupid…”

After you said that, Scaramouche looks down, lost in thought. Leaving the bungalow would be counterproductive, and after all, maybe those promises you tell him are true. In this case, it is not in his interest to leave. He turns to you.

“Alright, you win, human.

-I have a name.

-Don’t get me started or it’s you who’ll end up broken.

-So you’re staying here?

-Unfortunately.” The puppet rolls his eyes.

[xrenjunniesx]

to my first ! nct dream

how their first relationship ends and why.

mark

you were too different from each other. it was a shame really. he put in so much effort for you, and you did the same for him, but you two constantly fought. it wasn’t like it was big fights, it was just arguments and you both got pissed off and because he lived a busy life, you never get much of a chance to fully talk about it without getting angry again. the fights end up lasting days because of things. it causes a shift in the relationship, and after a while, you both stop trying.

he comes into the house, his clothes slightly wet from the heavy rain outside. he walks into the lounge room, dropping his bag on the floor and joins you on the couch in front of the heater. you take your blanket off you and pass it to him, to which he happily takes and covers himself.

“mark… we need to talk.” he looks over to you, his head leaning against the back of the couch casually. he urges you to continue, so you do. “it just.. I don’t think we are working well anymore. I don’t know we used to fight a lot but we don’t even do that anymore and I thought it was good but I realised it’s just because we don’t care anymore and we don’t try and-“ he places his hand on yours, making you look back to him. he was sitting up straight now, actively paying you attention despite his tired eyes from a long day at work.

“you can talk slowly,” he said quietly, “I agree with you. we aren’t working.”

you look down to your lap and retract your hands from his, fiddling with your nails. “do you think we should break up?”

silence fell over you both for a while. It felt like minutes passed before he spoke again.

“yeah, we should.”

renjun

you two didn’t connect like you used too. you realised this when you noticed how little the both of you talked to each other. you lived your life’s together as if it was a routine. kiss, each breakfast, leave with a goodbye, see each other again, do your own thing, have dinner together, kiss goodnight. a routine because you never did much together outside of that. your friends were the first ones to notice this before you even noticed it, and it made you realise how you almost didn’t care for him. you cared about his well-being of course, but you didn’t care much about how his day went and what he did.

upon this realisation, you knew you had to tell him. so when he came home that night, instead of leaving him alone after a simple hello, you took his hand and led him to the couch. he followed you, despite being confused, and sat down next to you. before he could say anything, you spoke, “Renjun, I don’t think… this is working anymore.” he closed his mouth and waited for you to continue, but when you didn’t he spoke up.

“if we are being honest, I don’t think we love each other anymore. we haven’t for a while.” you both sat there on the couch, and spoke for hours about everything. It’s funny how the end of your relationship is when you both spoke to each other the most.

jeno

you both had been feeling this way for a while. you grew apart months ago, and hadn’t found a way to grow back together. you were barely affectionate and it got to the point where if you kissed, it felt like it was sudden and odd even if it wasn’t an odd time to kiss.

you two had been in denial until last night, when you were on a phone call with your friend, phone on speaker as your friend spoke about her relationship with her boyfriend.

before you even realised, she had switched the conversation to pointing out all the problems that she had seen in your relationship. she wanted to know if you and jeno were doing well, it wasn’t her fault - she didn’t know she was on speaker and jeno was right next to you on the bed, on his own phone.

you and jeno slowly looked at each other. you stared at each other as your friend said “hey? hello? I’m sorry.. I was just wondering if you guys were doing okay..” You instantly clarify that it’s okay and you would call her back tomorrow, never clarifying about your relationship with jeno.

the next morning, as you made breakfast, jeno sat down on the chair by the bench and looked at you. “we should break up… shouldn’t we?” you paused, looking up at him. he seemed sad, but not the type of sad you’d be after losing someone you loved. more like the type of sad where you feel bittersweet and like you’ve lost something you used to treasure so much. you go back to making breakfast, as you say “yeah. let’s break up.”


haechan

you two were really close friends before you started dating, and when you two started dating it was perfect. until it wasn’t. it started out romantic and full of love, at least that’s what you both thought. Being each others first everything, you couldn’t decipher what your feelings truly were.

you two were on a walk by a river when this conversation happened. it was early morning and the sun was still rising. haechan had woken you up and asked to go for a walk, he said he really needed to clear his head, so you obviously agreed. the silence between you two felt different, and you just knew it wasn’t going to go well. but in a way, you felt relief building up in you.

“I just… i feel like we aren’t in love,”he slows his walking down, looking to you as you look back at him and also slow down. “I feel like we are better as friends.” you didn’t say anything, but you nod your head and wait for him to be by your side again before continuing to walk.

“we aren’t in love haechan, but…” You look up to meet his eyes, smiling your weakest smile yet, “I will always care for you. I may not have loved you the way I should have, but I loved you so much as my closest friend.” he couldn’t help but agree.

jaemin

all your friends thought you two were a perfect couple, and you did too. you two were so in love. until you weren’t. it wasn’t a big difference really. it wasn’t like you were fighting and being toxic to each other. you just didn’t think of him as someone you would ever marry. you didn’t love him. you were nervous on how to tell him, since he had loved you so much and he used to speak of marrying you when you were both young and early in the relationship.

but despite your worries, he came up to you. he approached you when you came back home from a night out with your friends. The whole night you spent basically talking to your friends about your situation, and they all said you should just end it tonight instead of leading him on.

jaemin and you sat on the couch, and before you could say anything, he spoke. “I’m really sorry… I really am but I… I don’t think I love you anymore.” you feel relief instantly and you nod, “I feel the same way.” he looked slightly surprised but also like he understood you completely. despite not loving each other, that night you both cried to each other while talking for hours on end.

chenle

you loved him, at least that’s what you thought? why was it that when you two kissed you felt nothing. over time, you noticed chenle stopped overall being affectionate with you as well, before eventually it was cut off all together. everything was the same, except it felt more like a friendship than a relationship.

so one night, after a movie finished playing, the two of you sitting beside each other but not cuddling like you used to do, you started the conversation.

“chenle, are we in love?”

he froze, as if he had been caught. he grabbed the tv remote and switched the tv off, turning to face you. “I…” He didn’t say anything afterwards so you figured you should tell him how you felt first.

“I don’t think this is working… it’s just… we are more of a friendship right now. like look at us we just watched a movie without once even touching hands. We used to always hold hands and we used to always hug and kiss. we don’t anymore.”

chenle nodded along to your words as you spoke, and when you finished he started.

“I’ve been feeling like this for a… while as well.” safe to say you both talked for a little while before you left, promising to come and get your things from his place tomorrow.

jisung

you and jisung had been together since you were both 18, and despite his job, you two had been able to make it work. and the truth is, you could continue to make it work. except for the fact that you didn’t love each other.

they were obsessed with the idea of love that they didn’t realise they didn’t love each other. so here you two sat, in his bedroom, the same place where it had all begun years ago. you were sat next to him, looking at his side profile as he looked away and thought to himself. you had told him how you felt about everything, and he had yet to reply.

“I get it…” He said slowly, “I understand what you mean.”

you looked down when he turned to face you. you weren’t sure if you could face him as he spoke. “I think… I liked the idea of us more than… us actually being together.” you nodded, thankful he at least felt the same way. you finally looked up and smiled at him, to which he smiled back. it felt better now. there was no tension.

“so this is the end?” you asked, making sure you understood completely. you didn’t want to him to think otherwise. “yeah.. I guess it is.”

[kabie-whump]

✧･ﾟ Ripe, About to Fall - Part 11 ✧･ﾟ

This is an 18+ slowish burn pet-whump story with added romance.

Title from 'Liquid Smooth' by Mitski

Series First | Previous Summary: Ventis still isn't talking, and Athos takes advantage of it. Theodore visits Athos and has a chat with Ventis. Content: non-con oral onscreen, beating mentions, degradation, trauma-induced muteness?, character death mention, (let me know if I missed a tag I'm brain soup right now)

Onthyes does not belong to me. He was created by my wonderful gf @sapphicccici and I have kidnapped him.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Ventis’s whole body ached as he sat at his master’s feet. It’s been at least two years since he was last beaten as badly as he was yesterday, but still not a word escaped his lips. 

He didn’t really know why he wasn’t talking. He’d like to believe it to be a brave act of rebellion, except he really did want to give in. He didn’t like being beaten up, didn’t like the threat in Athos’s eyes every time he responded to a question with a nod or shake of his head. Ventis was a lot of things, but he wouldn’t consider himself to be brave.

But the words just wouldn’t leave his lips, no matter how desperately he tried to convince them to.

At least he didn’t have to wear such revealing clothing today, since Athos wanted to keep the worst of the bruises hidden.

“He really is beautiful, Mr. Landleigh. You’re a lucky man.”

Ventis blinked himself out of his thoughts, glancing up at the source of the words. Dwen. One of Athos’s newest business partners - a man probably only ten years older than Ventis. He stood out in a room otherwise filled with people old enough to be Ventis’s parents or even grandparents. Dwen was a hungry young man in more ways than one, and he never kept his eyes to himself.

“Indeed,” Athos hummed, reaching down to pat Venits’s head. Ventis couldn’t help but lean into the touch, finding comfort in the gentleness despite its source. “He requires a fair amount of training and upkeep, but he’s certainly worth the trouble.”

“I’ve been considering getting a pet of my own. You do nothing but rave about yours. But I fear it would be challenging to find one that lives up to him.”

Ventis looks up at Athos, watching a smirk cross the man’s face. The look that means he’s up to something, and Ventis isn’t going to like it.

Athos ran his fingertips along Ventis’s cheek lovingly. “Isn’t that sweet, treasure? My friend here envies your rare beauty. Do you want to give him a taste of what it’s like to own you?”

Ventis swallowed hard, shaking his head. He knew exactly what Athos meant. Athos had let his friends use him before, but it was a rare occurrence and only when he was particularly upset with him.

 “Hm. I don’t hear a ‘no’.” Athos said with a grin. “That’s very generous of you, darling.” He stood, grabbing Ventis by a horn and dragging him over to kneel in front of Dwen.

Dwen smiled down at Ventis, his hands moving to his belt. 

Ventis’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach.

“I know you haven’t been feeling well recently,” Athos said, leaning down to speak softly into Ventis’s ear. “If you aren’t up for this, just tell me. I can make it all stop.”

Ventis shook his head again, pleading with his eyes. 

Athos’s lips were still set in a smile, but his eyes shone with disappointment. “Oh, you don’t want to stop? Alright then. He’s all yours, Dwen.”

Ventis steeled himself as Athos returned to his seat and struck up a casual conversation with his other partners. He could deal with this. He had plenty of experience. It wouldn’t kill him, and his veins were thumming with Nightspill, helpfully numbing the sharper of his emotions. 

I’m fine. I can handle this.

Dwen’s hand found Ventis’s hair, guiding him in closer until his lips touched hot flesh.

Just tune it out. 

Ventis closed his eyes, praying that Dwen would at least be gentle. Not that anyone ever was. His training took over and he opened his mouth. His fangs dug into the scarred-over spots on the inside of his lips. Better they pierce his own skin than the skin of his master, and the taste of blood wasn’t too bad once he got used to it.

Ugh. He needs to bathe.

Ventis focused on shutting down his need to breathe. He wouldn’t (couldn’t) choke, thanks to his elemental ancestry. That didn’t stop his throat from burning at the slight stretch. He clenched his fists in his lap.

Dwen let out a shaky groan, his hands grabbing for his horns to pull him even closer. “He’s… cold,” Dwen said with a chuckle. “Even on the inside. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“An air genasi quirk,” Athos quipped. “Not every man’s cup of tea, but I find it quite enjoyable. If it’s too bothersome I have a fix for that.”

Ventis couldn’t help but whimper at the thought. The ‘fix’ in question involved him chugging scalding hot water. He hadn’t been able to swallow without pain for a week after the last time. 

“It’s alright. He’s plenty tight, so I don’t mind it.”

Thank the gods.

Luckily, Dwen didn’t last long. The men Athos lended him to rarely did. As awful as his situation was, Ventis found himself somewhat prideful of his skill in this area. He couldn’t step outside on his own, but at least he could deliver a world-shattering orgasm in mere minutes when he needed to. 

He returned to his place in front of Athos, subtly stretching his sore knees as a nearby servant rushed over to fix his hair and wipe his face clean and polish the fingerprints off of his horns. Ventis’s tongue ran over the twin spots inside his upper lip where his fangs had inevitably pierced the skin. The blood masked Dwen’s taste well. Still, he was grateful when Athos offered him a sip of wine.

The guests left soon after, leaving Ventis and Athos alone. Ventis looked up at his master, unable to stop himself from glaring at the man.

“I asked you if you wanted it,” Athos said with a shrug. “You didn’t say no.”

The two spent the next couple of hours outside in the garden, in a sitting area under the shade of a tree. Ventis allowed himself to enjoy it - the taste of fresh fruit on his tongue, the sounds of wind rustling leaves and soft flutter of Athos turning the pages of his book, the scent of roses. Seated at his master’s feat like always, Ventis rested his head against his thigh and closed his eyes, clinging to the sliver of peace.

Ventis heard a servant appear and have a short conversation with Athos, but he didn’t care to decipher the words. The servant left and Ventis started to drift off, lulled towards sleep by Athos’s fingers in his hair.

Then, “Ah, the young Lord Riinturuth returns!”

Ventis sat up straight with a jolt, his eyes snapping open. There, escorted by the butler, was his younger brother, Theodore. Ventis squinted at him, curious about why he had returned after that awful dinner, but Theodore made a point of not even glancing in his direction. His eyes were on Athos alone.

“Come, sit down! What brings you back to my humble manor, my Lord?”

Anyone else would find Athos’s voice nothing aside from welcoming, but Ventis knew better. He knew that edge of caution hiding under his words. 

Theodore sat in a plush chair and the butler poured him a glass of wine. “Please, just call me Theodore, Mr. Landleigh. There is no need for formalities with me. I come to you today as little more than a student.”

Ventis resisted the urge to snort. Theodore was never the ‘student’ type. He’d always been more interested in hunting and fighting and honing his magic.

“Oh? You intrigue me, Theodore. Do go on.”

“Well, I have a request for you. You are an influential person in this city, which is why my father wanted us to have dinner together at the start of my stay here. But the truth is, he looks down upon those who find their power through economic pursuits. To him, business is too fickle of a thing to rest your legacy on.”

Athos hummed, displeased.

“But I could not help but respect you, sir,” Theodore pressed on. “Being born into power is one thing, but having the ability to take it for yourself? To me, that is much more impressive. My time in Nimbria was only meant for me to study leadership with the Venturas, but I believe it would benefit me to learn from you as well. If you will have me, I would love to observe your business practices from time to time. And in return I can promise that your business will always have a friend in my kingdom’s ports.”

Athos considered Theodore with a raised brow. “And you are certain that this proposition has nothing to do with your long lost brother here?” Athos’s hand rested atop Ventis’s head.

Theodore’s eyes flicked to Ventis for a second before he fixed his gaze on Athos once more. “I can assure you, sir, that he means nothing to me. It is thanks to his absence from home that I was able to ascend to my position as our father’s heir. Our shared past will cause no issue.”

Athos hummed, absentmindedly stroking Ventis’s hair as he thought. “Very well. I have no children of my own, so maybe it will do me some good to have an eager young mind to shape.”

“Thank you, sir. You will not regret this.”

The two sat and chatted for a while as Ventis tried to come to terms with the fact that his brother would be coming by even more after this. Had he not been humiliated enough already?

“Ventis, go fetch more wine,” Athos said after he and Theodore had finished off what was left of the previous bottle.

Ventis stood with a short nod and walked inside.

Moments later, as he was just passing through the doorway into the servant’s corridors, a hand grabbed his arm. He gasped sharply as the fingers dug into bruises. Ventis turned, his eyes going wide when he saw his brother staring back at him.

“Jasper,” Theodore said, his voice low. “I’m here to rescue you.”

Ventis took a small step back, shaking Theodore’s hand off of his arm. Why was everyone trying to save him all of a sudden? More importantly, why would Theodore want to save him? They’ve always been rivals. Theodore said himself just earlier today that Ventis’s absence had been good for him. Ventis couldn’t believe for a second that Theodore actually cared what happened to him. His actions five years ago had proven that all too well.

How was Ventis supposed to believe that the very same person who had singlehandedly ruined his life actually wanted to help him?

Theodore definitely saw the blatant disbelief and confusion on Ventis’s face. He leaned in closer, dropping his voice even lower.

“Listen, brother. While you are still under Landleigh’s thumb, Onthyes Ventura will not train me, and that is the entire reason I am in this city in the first place. I am helping you whether you want me to or not, so I suggest you make this easy on both of us and not be so fucking stubborn for once.”

Ventis’s heart stopped.

“Onthyes is alive?”

Those were the first words he had spoken in days. They came out as a broken whisper. A tiny sliver of hope in a world that had seemed so dark for so long.

Theodore looked taken aback. “Yes, of course he is.”

“I…” Ventis sunk to the ground, squatting on his heels and threading his fingers through his hair. His breaths came with far too much difficulty and his vision blurred. “I thought he was dead.”

Suddenly, everything was different. There was hope. And Ventis didn’t know what to do with it. He choked out a sob, covering his face with both hands.

“Jas- Ventis?” He could feel Theodore getting closer and squatting down in front of him. 

“How?” Ventis croaked. “I don’t… I don’t understand.”

“After he failed to rescue you, his guard friends knocked him out and left him there. They didn’t kill him.”

“I-If you’re lying, Theo-”

“I’m not lying. He can’t come to see you himself, obviously, so I’ve come in his place. I will get close with Landleigh, and at the first opportunity I will get you out of here. But you have to work with me. You have to trust me.”

Ventis glared at Theodore through his tears. “Trust you? After what you did to me? Are you joking?”

Annoyance flashed across Theodore’s face before he schooled his expression back into neutrality. “You’re still on about that? It was five years ago. I was fourteen. Grow up and move on.”

“Move on?” Ventis hissed. “That would be easy for you, wouldn’t it? You’re not the one who…” he trailed off, not wanting to say the word. They both knew what it was anyway, and it hung between them, unspoken.

Died.

“You came out fine in the end,” Theodore muttered. “I am not responsible for the way you decided to cope.”

Ventis glared at the wall behind Theodore. “I do not want your help.”

“You do not have a choice. Onthyes is useless to me without you.”

Theodore extended a hand down to Ventis. Ventis glared at it, then rose to his feet on his own.

“Like it or not,” Theodore continued, “I am currently your only hope of seeing him again. I can not force you to cooperate with your own rescue, but I would encourage you to think it over.”

With that he left Ventis alone, headed for the exit. Ventis took a moment to collect himself, scrubbing tears away with his sleeves, before he resumed his journey to the wine celler. 

When he returned to Athos’s side with a fresh bottle the man’s eyes searched his face immediately. Ventis glanced away with hope that he wouldn’t notice his watery, red rimmed eyes. 

Athos took Ventis by the chin, forcing his face up towards his own. There was a little smile on his face as he brushed his thumb across Ventis’s bottom lip.

“You look beautiful today, treasure,” Athos said gently.

“Thank you, master.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Next

I'm sorry this one took so long omg. I'm at a point in this story where I just want to skip to the recovery but I gotta get there first, so I keep writing scenes for the future because that's more exciting to me right now. Luckily, that means I'm impatient and Ventis is probably going to get out in the next chapter or two! Yay!

@scp-1296 @sapphicccici @acer-gaysimpstuff @morning-star-whump @yeetmyskeet

@sleepyiswhumping @bitchaknso @unicornbeck @wounds-seen-and-unseen @3-2-whump

@looptheloup @rainydaywhump

[tigreblvnc]

BLUE LOCK MATCHUP — @krowedes

Your match is...

— Karasu Tabito

✦ For you, my decision didn’t take long to arrive.

✦ Usually, when I make matchups, I keep in mind the characters' preferences regarding the qualities they like, what stimulates them, or what could create an interesting chemistry.

✦ Eventually, one of them ends up stepping up to the starting line when I read something that makes me think, "Ah! I know who I’m going to pair you with."

✦ And this time, it didn’t take long, and for the first time since I’ve been doing matchups, it’s our crow boy who took off from the starting blocks.

✦ (I’m thrilled because I think he’s one of the coolest characters in the entire manga)

✦ From memory, Karasu is attracted to strong, intelligent personalities who know what they want and won’t give up. Lions thrown onto the battlefield who aren’t afraid to take the plunge and can make decisions quickly.

✦ "I see myself as someone who is very decided. If I have a dream or a goal, every decision and every move I'd make will be made all so that I could make my path toward that goal easier and smoother." Well, that's exactly the kind of temperament that can leave a strong impression on him. Someone who doesn’t give up and fights to the end, methodically, without losing sight of their goal.

✦ Because there are those who rush in without a plan. But the ones Karasu prefers are those who have thought their plan through well in advance, taking into account all possible parameters. Since he’s of the same caliber, it means he’s facing someone who could potentially challenge him, and he likes that.

✦ I see him mainly in a relationship of balanced rivalry, you know, where it could tip at any moment.

✦ "My tongue is loose, and that makes me unafraid to share my opinions, even if said opinion is harsh." Yes, again, I don’t see him getting attached to someone shy who can’t assert themselves.

✦ "I’m also very fond of sweets and eating meat – I could eat on and on and on without gaining weight, which is a huge win for me, especially in all-you-can-eat restaurants." Oh dear, you’re speaking to my carnivore heart... Out in public, we’ve seen Karasu well-dressed and liking to talk business, so to me, he’s clearly someone who has his head on straight and knows how to handle his affairs to generate profit. In other words, like Reo, he’s business-oriented and knows how to manage his finances. So five-star restaurants with all-you-can-eat buffets, exceptional cuts of meat cooked by award-winning chefs; he knows them and knows where to take you.

✦ "BECAUSE I DO NOT LIKE COOKING" Haha, that’s why you go out to eat so often.

✦ "I also like dressing up a lot and putting on makeup that is vibrant and shiny, so much to the point that I have an Instagram account that I use to track all of the makeup styles that I do." But isn’t that how you met? I imagine Karasu more on the casual chic side in terms of fashion. He’s rather sporadic on social media but follows carefully selected accounts, and I can see him talking about big brands or things like that with the people he follows.

✦ For me, his use of social media is to keep up with sports and business news, but also to stay on top of luxury products, clothing, furniture, and maybe even cars because he likes traveling on Japan’s highways (no joke, they have super convenient rest stops with incredible and massive shopping centers).

✦ I’m sensitive to the way texts are written, and I can sense a lot of pep and curiosity behind your words! These are qualities Karasu would really appreciate. He needs someone dynamic and adventurous. At the same time, not someone who’s always hyper because I see him also having his moments of solitude, even though he’s very grounded in the real world.

✦ And because the idea obsesses me, yes, you and Karasu regularly go on road trips across the country to find the most beautiful landscapes (often with the idea of posting the photos on Instagram because honestly: they’re too beautiful). You’re the couple, you know, who takes a selfie together while wearing sunglasses, with the beach and seagulls behind you.

✦ As cliché as it might sound, you exude luxury.

✦ And at the same time, you’re the couple friends love inviting to parties because besides being super well-dressed, you’re cool, laid-back, and have that touch of sarcastic humor on your tongue when something happens. Even when nothing happens.

✦ (I’m sure Karasu would love wearing Lacoste) (The polos and the cologne)

✦ (The pair of sunglasses tucked into the shirt collar...)

✦ (Really the slightly bourgeois but cool couple, and that’s what makes the difference)

A word about your match: No hesitation really, the crow showed up on his own and never left.

© TIGREBLVNC 2024 | AUGUST '24 MATCHUPS EDITION.

[amirsirwrites]

Hello!!!! Could you write friends to lovers headcanons with Sniper??? (Male!reader btw) Thank you!!!!

Yep! Oh right, this is actually my first time writing headcanons. I think it sorta transformed more into a one-shot near the end. If you would like me to try and rewrite it, please send me a message, anon.

Friends to lovers headcanons with Sniper ❤️

Requested

Sniper x M!reader

------

Sniper didn’t think much when you first joined as the new mercenary. You were just the new guy. He greeted you, introduced himself and that was that. 

You would’ve continued to stay just acquaintances from that point on but a few days later, you saved him from a pesky Spy trying to backstab him. That was the start of your friendship and eventual romance. :)

Most of the other mercs are always busy doing their own thing and rarely keep an eye out for Sniper so he was touched by your help. When you finished the battle and headed back to base, he approached you to thank you properly. One thing leads to another and you two find out that you share quite a lot of interests.

Sniper started chatting to you more often, he likes the way you really listen to him and how you are much calmer compared to the other mercs. You are perfect for a low-energy man like Sniper. 

He doesn’t even realise it but he starts staying in base more often rather than staying in his camper van so that he can see you more. Speaking of the camper van, he even lets you stay inside there sometimes if you want. 

During weekends, you two pack up and drive to a hiking trail together in his van. Sniper loves to tell you all he knows about the different animals and plants you see during the hike. You take a lot of pictures together, set up a campfire, roast some marshmallows and sing. Hiking trips with Sniper are the best.

A few months later and Sniper starts to get that nervous feeling, like butterflies in his stomach, whenever he sees you smile or laugh. He was.. confused. 

‘Aren’t I supposed to get this feeling with sheilas..?’ was the question that would be stuck in his mind for a while. He’d never felt this way for a guy before and it overwhelmed him. 

Sniper started avoiding you, despite the ache in his heart that would appear when he saw how sad you looked whenever he went away from you. You tried several times to talk to him but he would always come up with some lousy excuse to get away. He was cold and distant.

But don’t worry, because fate has its ways of fixing your relationship. 

In another battle a week later, you were out in the field with the other mercs while Sniper stayed slightly behind, aiming at the enemy team from a high point, like usual.

He often glanced at you to make sure you were safe. He may be avoiding you but he still cares very much about you. When he saw that a Spy was trying to shank you, he quickly aimed and shot. 

You heard the gunshot and a body thud and looked behind you to see a dead Spy on the ground. You stared up at Sniper with a wistful smile, gave a thumbs up and continued on. He gave you a sad smile back but he was too far away for you to see it. Approaching him would have to come after the battle.

You decided to go to his van after finishing your dinner. Knocking on the doors of the van, they open slowly to reveal Sniper who was in more casual clothing without the hat and sunglasses. You got in and sat on his bed beside him.

The conversation started with you thanking him for killing the Spy earlier. You added, “It’s funny. I saved you from Spy a few months ago and now you’ve done the same for me.”

He chuckled, nodding his head. “Yeah…” he paused, his hands gripping tightly together, “Hey, y/n. I’m.. I’m sorry about the whole avoiding you situation.” Sniper was looking into your eyes now.

You waited for him to continue, encouraging him with a gentle smile and nod.

Before continuing, he hesitantly took one of your hands and held it against his chest. You could feel how fast his heart was beating. 

Sniper suppressed the urge to run away and spoke again, “Listen, y/n. I.. I’m.. in love with you, mate. That’s why I’ve been avoiding you and-” He had to stop and take a break. His eyes were getting misty and his throat felt so tight that it hurt.

You cupped his face in your hands and made him look at you. “Mundy. Don’t cry, love.. I love you too.” And now you were both crying, happy tears, of course, holding each other tightly. 

You ended up spending the night in Sniper’s van, cuddling together in his bed. You both agreed to take things slow so it was going to be a while before you did more intimate things together but he loved you and you loved him so you don’t mind the wait.

------

'Sheila' - Woman/Girl (Australian slang)

Is this how headcanons work? I'm so lost 😅

[ecargmura]

My Happy Marriage Episode 8 Review: Stepping Away From The Cinderella Story Now

I do like how My Happy Marriage is now stepping away from the Cinderella story aspect and diving more into the supernatural fantasy premise that it had been teasing in previous episodes. While the cinderella story portion was good, I’m most excited to see what the fantasy aspect of this show has to offer now.

The entirety of this episode focuses on a looming threat regarding Grotesqueries that Kiyoka and his squad are trying to investigate. They meet Prince Takahito who is the ruler and also the one who overviews the supernatural stuff. He is also a bit of a prophet as he does foretell that Miyo might play a role in this situation, but he says it in a very vague manner that worries Kiyoka. 

The Grotesqueries are summoned from a grave where a group of people fell unconscious after opening it. Kazushi has abilities that can dispel spirits and such, so he tried using it on an unconscious man, but realizes that the power of these spirits are far stronger than his own. This sounds like bad business because Takahito did allude that these spirits are so strong that they could threaten the whole country if they aren’t stopped. Kiyoka’s gonna have a lot on his shoulders in these next few episodes.

Kiyoka does investigation as he believes that the Usuba family might be tied to all of this, but Usubas are very secretive and secluded, so it’s hard to tell if they actually exist or not; Miyo’s mother Sumi is the only known Usuba on record. The two people from the previous episode might be tied to Usuba family as they are aware of Miyo’s existence and such; that’s my hunch. Speaking of Miyo, her nightmares are getting out of control to the point that she dreams of Grotesqueries; she becomes so scared that she stopped sleeping because of it.

In regards to Miyo, her training of becoming a proper lady continues. Seeing Miyo in western clothes is a nice sight! Miyo usually dresses in kimonos, so for her to have a change in outfit is a novel but welcome feeling. Blue suits her a lot. Though, my only issue with the dress is that it feels a bit too modern for Meiji/Taisho era fashion—this was back in the late 1800-early 1900’s. However, do correct me if this was the actual fashion back in the day. It’s nice seeing Miyo taking these lessons seriously as she’s trying her best to improve. While the relationship between her and Hazuki are getting closer, there’s still a bit of a wall; Hazuki even points this out as it’s because Miyo’s still too polite towards her. Hazuki wanted her to call her “Big Sister”, but the abuse from Kaya still affects her. Instead, she calls her by her name casually, which Hazuki is okay with. I hope that Miyo can warm-up and call her “onee-san” by the end of the show. I think the best part about the Miyo segment is seeing her grow without relying too much on her fiancé.

I don’t trust this Arata guy one bit. The fact that he came into Kiyoka’s office, spoke what he needed to say, and then went vague about Miyo and such by beating around the bush about his engagement and such. All I want is for his bespectacled big-ass forehead away from Miyo. What is this guy’s motive? What are your thoughts on this new shift in this anime?

[saintseed-family]

“I think I’ve outgrown these as well,” Janus sighed, trying his best to lace up the front of his trousers.

He had gotten by so far in this experience with his already baggy and large clothing, but he had to admit he was much larger now in the belly and chest and things were beginning to get snug.

“We’ll have to get you some new clothes then,” Thorn replied.  “My mother might still have some of her maternity robes that may fit.”

Janus frowned.  “That’s fine and all, but I’d rather have some clothes of my own,” said Janus, “Your mother is a lovely lady, but I ain’t walking around town wearing her clothes.”

He knew Thorn didn’t fully get this.  Firbolgs didn’t really have a concept of “men’s clothes” or “woman’s clothes” - clothes were clothes, and they were handed down regardless of gender.  Normally this was refreshing, but when Janus has been feeling a bit like a bloated beast with wide hips and a swollen chest, he craved a bit of the normalcy of wearing his own clothes.

In his infinite wisdom, Thorn didn’t push the issue.  “You’re absolutely right,” agreed Thorn.  “Perhaps we can ask Dale to do some modifications to your clothes?  They were always quite good with sewing.”

“If they aren’t too busy,” Janus grumbled.  “I don’t want to bother ‘em too much.”

“Janus, you know my siblings have been dying for an opportunity to help us, my darling,” laughed Thorn. “Dale would be delighted we asked, if you’re comfortable with that.”

Thorn was the eldest of four children.  There was his identical twin sister, Thistlefont, his younger sibling Ferndale, and his youngest brother Mossimo.  Ever since finding out Janus was pregnant, they all had been constantly stopping by his home to offer their assistance with everything: meal prep and laundry, and of course the newly started construction of the second story of their house for the baby’s room.

 Janus was overwhelmed by it, and sometimes it even felt like they were underestimating him.  Learning to accept the help had been difficult, but as the pregnancy went on Janus found himself more and more exhausted.  Thorn’s daily spell helped a lot, but it didn’t change the fact that he still had a baby growing inside him, and it took a lot out of him.  

Thorn assured him that Thistle, Dale and Moss knew Janus could take care of himself, but they wanted to help because they were happy for the two of them and excited about the baby.  Janus figured this was a sibling thing, which he just didn’t understand having been alone his whole childhood.

“A’ight, Dale can help,” Janus sighed.  “As long as they don’t do anything too wild with m’ clothes.”

A week later, Janus found himself sitting on a chair in the living room while Dale rummaged through a bag of the modified clothing they had worked on.

Dale looked very much like Thorn with dark gray long hair and pale soft gray fur, but they wore their hair in a more loose and dramatic style that framed their face with long, messy bangs.  They also had more piercings than Thorn, including a nose ring with a long chain attached to one of their ears.  Janus couldn’t see much of the work they had done while the clothes were in the bag, but he could see lots of colorful patterns that he did not recognize.

“I added extra fabric to some of your looser tops,” they explained, handing Janus one of the tunics.  The side seams had been split, and a wide piece of fabric had been sewn in between with large stitches.  “Added lacing to some of these as well.  You’ll have to do without the leathers for a while for anything but chest support, but the rest of this should be comfortable and functional.”  They pointed at the large stitches.  “These will be easy to remove once your pregnancy is over, and we’ll be able to restitch your tunics to their old size.”

“Thank ya kindly, Dale,” Janus said, taking the offered tunic.  Even though they didn’t quite match, the added fabric was sewn in well enough that someone looking casually might not realize they’d been altered.  He removed the robe he had been wearing and pulled the tunic over his head.  It was loose, but it did not feel too much different than his old clothes had been.

“Mama sent this as well,” Dale said, digging in the bag to pull out a long piece of bright red fabric with yellow stars.  Janus recognized it as some of the specially dyed patterned fabric this village was known for. “She says it’s to help with your back.” 

Janus thought of the wraps he had seen expecting mothers in the village wear.  Long, bright scarves that they wound around the underside of the belly, and then cross their back and around their shoulders.  He hadn’t thought much of it, but it made sense that the scarf was helping support the mothers as they carried such a heavy load.

He took the scarf in both hands, and tried with futility to figure out how to wrap it in a way that would let the fabric actually stay on his rounded body.

“Damn it,” Janus muttered, and he heard Thorn laugh.  “How the hell do they tie these things?”

“Allow me to help, my lovely peapod.”  That was his newest nickname for Janus - the cub was their pea.  The fond laugh Janus found himself giving offset the mild irritation he was feeling about not being able to tie the sash.

Taking the scarf, Thorn got behind Janus and carefully wrapped it around him.  He couldn’t quite see how Thorn was doing it, but he could feel the fabric crossing his back and looping around his shoulders, and that provided just a touch more support than he had before as it lifted his belly, taking some weight off his back.

“Wow that… that feels pretty good!” Janus said as he felt Thorn tying off the scarf.

“You’ll have to practice putting this on without me,” Thorn chuckled.  “I believe these can also be used as a baby sling, so we’ll definitely be getting a lot of use out of it.”

Janus had the fleeting impression of himself with a tiny baby strapped to his back with the bright and colorful scarf, and he suddenly started to tear up.

“Oh no darling, are you alright?” Thorn asked, taking his hand.

“I-I’m fine,” sniffed Janus, doing his best to keep the tears back.  “Just thinking… about the cub.  I know we’re still a ways off, but I just can’t wait to meet them.”

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Can I get setting prompt 29 for Finny or Snake please?

absolutely! I went with Finny bcus sunshine baby excited about flowers <3

↪ 𝑺𝑬𝑻𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺

The greenhouse on your property is something you’re very passionate about.

It really is the envy of many other households; while your estate itself is nothing overly grand, your garden and greenhouse are what you’re known for. You can definitely thank your gardener for that, but to say you don’t spend a lot of your time here tending to it as well would be a lie.

While your brother talks business with Ciel Phantomhive, you’ve been able to slip away to the garden. The greenhouse in particular is where you feel happiest and most at peace, lying on the ground among the bushes and potted plants. It’s quite warm inside, so (much to your brother’s and the gardener’s exasperation) you often end up taking a lovely midday nap there on the dirt amid the flowers.

You’re there right now, although you haven’t fallen asleep quite yet. You’re simply relaxing, soaking up the sun and breathing in the exquisite mix of fragrances the flowers give off.

Sometimes you feel a bit trapped in the manor, having not found the talent for business that your brother has, and with no other hobbies. You think you’d be rather more content to just stay out here and garden. Who cares if you get your clothes and hands dirty? If it makes you happy, then why not do it?

The sound of the glass door opening jolts you gently out of your lazy daydreaming. You push yourself up, though you’re mostly hidden by the plants to whoever’s come in.

However, you can see him. It’s a young man with short blonde hair, tucked back with hair clips in a few places. He’s got a wide-brimmed hat strung about his neck, dressed in very casual, revealing clothes, and… those eyes. They’re bright teal and sparkling as he looks around the greenhouse.

“Incredible!” he breathes, almost a whisper of disbelief. He takes a step forward, only for his focus to be pulled in every direction all at once. “Stargazer lilies… Lenten roses… gladiolus… chrysanthemums… daffodils… look at them all…!”

Oh, this sweet thing! He’s named every flower he’s looked at perfectly. You can’t remember the last time a person got one of these right, unless they were looking at a common rose or tulip. Most people aren’t half as interested in plants as you are.

He’s a visitor, isn’t he? Maybe he’s with Lord Phantomhive. Even if he’s some kind of intruder, he’s the most pleasant one you’ve ever heard of. The idea of a burglar who breaks into a house just to fawn over someone’s plants makes you giggle.

“There are more over here!” you call. You lift a hand up to wave at him. “We have some gorgeous sunflowers just starting to bloom.”

The boy lets out a squeak, instantly turning toward you with those big doe eyes staring in shock at you. He does step toward you, although his face is starting to turn pink. “O-oh, goodness… I’m so sorry! Lord (Surname) said there was no one in here if I wanted to look around…”

You get to your feet and smile at your guest. “He’s my brother. He probably thought I was in the main garden instead of the greenhouse. I’m (Name), and it’s nice to meet you. If it weren’t a stupid question, judging by the way you rattled off all those flower names, I’d ask if you liked plants. So instead I’ll just say… I’m impressed that you knew them all!”

“O-oh… oh, (Lord/Lady) Name!!” He’s quick to offer a bow, and clutches his hands against his chest when he straightens back up. “I’m sorry! My name’s Finnian, but you can call me FINNY if you like. And… and thank you! I’m… Lord Phantomhive’s gardener. This place is amazin’… your own gardener must be a real dab hand!”

“Of course, she’s great. I spent a lot of time out here myself, though, so… I like to help where I can. This isn’t all my doing, but I love being out with the flowers.” You won’t pretend that your own face isn’t a bit red by this point too.

After all, you haven’t met anyone who likes plants the way you do. You’re actually not even sure the gardener is nearly as passionate as you are. “Actually… I spend a lot of my time out here. It’s a treat to find someone else who’d sleep in a garden if they could,” you laugh.

“Would if I could, certainly!” He beams at you, and though he’s still blushing, he’s refreshingly unabashed about showing his excitement. When was the last time you saw someone smile so big? You’re only too happy to turn yourself toward him, like you’re a flower and his smile is a ray of sunshine. “The best part of my day is realizin’ I’ve been workin’ in the garden so much I got dirt under my fingernails that ain’t scrubbin’ away.”

Just like that, his blush deepens, turning red all the way down to his neck. “Ahah, oh, gosh, no… th-that makes me sound like I ain’t clean or somethin’, though… I just mean…”

You shake your head. “No, I understand! I wish I could just roll around in the garden and get my clothes as covered in dirt and grass as possible without someone scolding me. You’re not alone in the feeling.”

After a few seconds of thought, you hold your hand toward him. “Would you… like a little tour of the greenhouse? I could show you the garden, too, if you like.”

He blinks owlishly at you, as if you’ve just offered him something he never knew he wanted but now he can’t live without. “That… that would be alright?”

“Would I have offered if it wasn’t?” you tease, and quickly take his hand before he has a chance to overthink it. “Why don’t I show you those sunflowers first?”

“O-oh… yeah…” Almost in a daze, he just nods, letting you guide him. “Please. Lead the way.”

Oh, you intend to.

[lucysweatslove]

Trying to put together outfits for this clinical thing… I only need 8 “business casual” outfits but aside from my one favorite dress everything in my closet that is close enough to business casual either doesn’t fit or I can’t find something to pair with it to make it look good. I guess I have a couple other dresses that I can “make work,” and I have some A-line skirts, but like all my blouses pull too much at the bust or aren’t meant to be tucked in or are tank tops and I’d need a blazer but somehow I don’t have a black blazer??

Basically I’m going to have to go shopping, and where I live isn’t plus size friendly at all, so my options likely are going to be the terrible plus size clothing at Kohl’s. Which means my shit experience is now going to have to be in public instead of just at home, and idk how much I’ll have to spend or what Rob will think about me spending that much since we’ve had to spend so much lately on everything else.

I know this isn’t very body positive or even body acceptance of me, but even at my current “size,” I just wish my body shape wasn’t so hard to dress. Genuinely I don’t think I look good in a lot of mainstream silhouettes, especially ones that are common for “professional” clothing. Trying to find good fabric, colors, patterns, and cuts in my size that doesn’t look frumpy on me is so damn hard.

Montana is weird and a lot of people wear jeans and we generally “dress down” around here, but this is my first med school clinical thing ever, I’m meeting people for the first time, and I was told business casual specifically. So I don’t think what I wore for teaching labs or office hours is appropriate (jeans, tank, and a cardigan, or casual dress and a cardigan), and I don’t even think “smart casual” (like trade cardigan for blazer and no rips) would be appropriate either.

I know that obvs leggings and workout clothes isn’t appropriate for this setting but I wish I didn’t have to wear clothing I don’t feel good in. I wish my body hadn’t changed to the point I need new blouses. I wish my waist wasn’t straight and wasn’t up so high. I wish my bust was more proportional.

Or, I wish I had access to clothes made for bodies like mine.

[lazyscience]

fat clothes bullshit

As it is a fact universally known that once you hit double-digit sizes, clothing that isn’t fugly, uncomfortable, or both becomes hard to find on almost a logarithmic scale, I’ve always got an eye out for somewhere that doesn’t appear to hate its customers in order to spend my fat fashion dollar.

Most recently, I succumbed to the Universal Standard hype. The tl;dr: it is well-fitted decent quality basics for people of all sizes (from US size 00- 40). Every piece is available in every size -there aren’t different ‘plus’ styles - and most pieces come in a wide variety of colors.. It’s slightly more expensive than Torrid (about equivalent with Lane Bryant), and unlike either of those options it doesn’t look like 2003 threw up on it and died.

That said, when I say “basics” I do mean basic. There’s some pieces with construction interest to them like the Meridian asymmetric zip jackets, and there’s some tunics and dresses with interesting shapes, but for the most part it is very much wardrobe-staple type items in simple styles and almost zero prints/plaids/pattern of any kind, even just stripes.

In my opinion, that’s perfect because a) I have a deeply ambivalent relationship with girly shit, and b)  I’m a scarf/shawl/cowl knitter and a jewelry maker; solid colors are a great canvas for statement accessories. But if your jam is more high femme and print/detail interest than clean-lined bordering on gender neutral (a good amount of their clothing, although sized and tailored for AFAB, could certainly read nonbinary or agender depending on the pieces), you might find it uninspiring. However, you may still want to consider their pants and tees  as potential infrastructure to rotate more trendy/dainty pieces around if Torrid or LB is doing that for you now and you don’t love the (lack of) durability.

If any of that sounds like you would like to know more, more specific product reviews behind the readmore.

1) the T-rex/V-rex t-shirts are cotton/modal, soft but heavy enough that I didn’t get bra lines, the colors looked pretty faithful to how they were on screen (enough that I was able to match a pair of pants from another vendor and was still happy when able to physically put the two together) they’re neither baggy nor mad clingy/revealing, and they don’t feel like the hems will be unraveling and holes growing around the stitching after a season. The V of the v-neck does what it needs to do without showing bra; the crew neck that I was ambivalent about getting (wanted the color but generally don’t like crew necks) is cut wide enough that it’s got a little style and doesn’t feel like it’s strangling a person. They’re both decently long enough to not ride up and expose your back when you bend over/long enough to tuck in if that’s how you roll (I am 5′7″ for reference). They feel a lot more quality than Torrid’s basic V-necks and come in a LOT more colors, as long as they wash decently these are worth getting. Keep your eye out for sales.

2) the liquid jersey Genevette top - the fabric is amazing, it’s a slinky rayon that for something as soft as it is just falls straight down without sticking weirdly to any lumps, bumps or bulges. It’s an asymmetrical piece that on me at least falls long enough to be a good length to wear with leggings (same place as on the skinnier model displaying it, kudos to the people who graded the pattern and actually knew what they were doing). I’m just praying I don’t dump coffee on it or something. Will definitely acquire more pieces in this fabric if it washes well.

3) The Meridian Zip jacket’s two-way zipper is actually metal and heavy. It’s almost pure cotton and more structured than I was expecting; if you are looking for “cozy” this isn’t it. It is however warm, easy to wear and fashion enough to get away with in a business casual environment iif like me, sweaters make you itchy and blazers are annoyingly constricting and sweaty. (the autistic person’s go-to office layering piece!) Unfortunately, they’re out of a lot of colors right now after their Mystery Box event. II hope they restock or add more, I would definitely buy another one in the steel or navy if they had it in my size.

4) The sweats I got as a “mystery bonus” item I think they are the Hathaway Jersey Jogger - annoyingly, any “mystery” items you get still don’t have what product they are on the tags when you get them. This is dumb, because how are you supposed to order them again if you liked them? Anyway, they are heavy and soft - not fuzzy, but very drapey/silky unlike the Meridian jacket. They DO have pockets and DON’T have a drawstring, which are exactly what I’m looking for in lounge pants, hooray! I don’t know that I would have paid upfront what these cost for something that’s around-the-house or errand pants, but I’ll definitely be keeping my eye out for sales.

5) Universal Standard’s claim to fame are their jeans. To get a taste without a huge price commitment, I got a mystery box with some. I think the ones I ended up with are the Seine skinny midrise in dark wash (again, irritatingly, they are not labeled wth a product name because mystery box.) They are true to size (US gives both size measurements and individual product dimension measurements which is super nice), the waistband is not pinchy and nor does it gap in the back, pockets your whole hand fits in and they don’t creep if you’re getting up and down a lot (LOOKING AT YOU TORRID). The real test of jeans of course is how they come out of their first wash, but they’re a win on try-on and if they wash well, I’d be willing to buy at full price. It gives me some more confidence to try their work pants too, now that I have more faith that their sizing is actually as described.

[vivantesopales]

motive

tomarry, M, ≈ 600, dubcon footsies but no one gets to come, implied future power dynamics

Since the storm front hit, all means of transport had been declared unsafe in the mountains. "... downed power lines ... disturbance in ambient magic ... heavy snowfall ...," droned the gloomy weather witch, day after day.

Unable to Floo, unable to Apparate, we were stuck with the canned beans and shitty coffee he stoically called breakfast; snowed-in, stuck with boredom. Sweeping, impetuous, neverending boredom, forecast indefinitely for the safe house.

And he was, so very unfortunately, stuck with me.

Warily, he squinted at me when I settled down beside him, my legs drawn up onto the sofa, socked feet pressed against his thigh. I could feel his body heat radiating through the fabric of his joggers, and his muscles bunching up, locked in a prolonged freeze response.

It was adorable how he thought a survival strategy for bear attacks could possibly stop me from teasing him, the way he sat unnaturally still with his hands folded nicely upon his lap, two spots of colour high on his cheeks.

"Are you not feeling well?" I feigned concern, peering at him from behind the pages of an astronomical almanac, the arch of my foot pushed slyly towards his hip. "You're running a temperature."

"I'll be fine if you keep your toes to yourself," he mumbled vaguely, pink-eared, but did nothing to move away. I noticed, surely there was plenty of space for him to do so.

He was either a compulsive liar or got off on playing hard to get. It didn't matter which. I’d figured out his rules; all that was left to do was winning his game.

"Why act like you've got everything to lose? I’m practically harmless,” I told him, dropping my other heel between his thighs.

He glared at me in answer, and yet I felt him squeezing his legs tight in what was a coy but unmistakable manner; felt the curve in the seam of his crotch brush just so against my foot.

Hurriedly, he scooted away. Not with a lot of conviction and soon interrupted by the lightest pressure on his clothed cock. A tilt of my ankle; the ball of my foot slowly rolled forward, and up. His awkward throat-clear caught in his chest, and instead of taking its intended, polite shape, became drawn out and breathy.

“What was that?”

“What was what.” He scowled, furiously blushing.

“Why don’t you tell me?” I suggested in a business-light tone, glanced down at the hardening outline of him. “Just use your words. Tell me everything, starting from your filthiest fantasy, tell me exactly how you’d like me to make you co—”

“I don’t know! I—” he broke off, closing his fingers around little violet sparks of magic as he rocked up, haltingly, for friction. “I want … I wanted you dead, Riddle, you sick, murdering fuck.”

“That I am,” I honeyed; kept the suggestive press of my foot in rhythm until his mouth fell open on a low groan, his core tight, a small shudder entering his body like a leakage current, “amongst other things. I’m rather good at this, aren’t I?”

He stared at me, unfocused, baffled, protesting with a quiet noise and a frown when I simply ... stopped. I began removing myself from him neatly, from the sofa – oh his face – then, smilingly, made to exit the sitting room.

“What the hell!” He scrambled to his feet, all mussed-up hair and sweet, sweet desperation. “You can’t just ... the fuck was that for?”

“Your mixed signals bore me, Auror Potter,” I said casually, “and I’ve changed my mind. I’m afraid you'll just have to beg for it so nicely, from now on.”

•

22.11.22 – @liquidluckdrabblechallenge: snowstorm, violet, shy

[scrumpledorph-writes]

Koben's Day Job (Underworld Hits)

I have something to live for now other than just marching through life for its own sake, and that means it’s time for some requisitions. Decent speeder for one thing, trudging through sand is considerably more taxing than marching drills. Casual civilian clothes, people keep mistaking me for a trooper for some reason, and also seem not to like them—I’m not quite sure why. Maybe a blaster pistol, every other person carries a blaster pistol around here, but my blaster rifle draws eyes. All those things take credits; a lot more credits than I’ve been earning.

It’s a fresh new subcycle, I’m up before the suns, my armors structural integrity exceeds military standard, and I took my blaster apart for a complete maintenance check last night. As far as killing for credits goes: I couldn’t ask for more optimal parameters.

The only wrinkle in the plan is I don’t know anybody on this planet willing to pay me—yet. There has to be at least one crime syndicate; the Empire has too loose a grip for them to not set up shop. Where there’s one, there’s usually two; and where there’s two, there’s usually conflict. Conflict leads to killings, killings lead to revenge, revenge causes collateral. Leave two people alone without a Storm trooper telling them to move along and eventually someone gets shot. Just need to make sure someone too lazy to do the shooting knows I’m really good at it.

Just got to town and the last sun’s already up. Speeder’s definitely my first purchase. Now, where would I find a congregation of low lives around here? I think criminals have morning shifts – I’m a criminal and I’m awake. Not that everything around here doesn’t look like a breeding ground for crime, but that’s the problem; it all blends together. Guess I should start walking down alleys.

Oh, perfect, this one leads down a side street, half the businesses are abandoned: got to be a front. An alien’s leaning against the wall, good start. He’s pointing a blaster at me now—this is going great! ‘Hey who the hell-’ Grab his blaster, twist his wrist – not hard enough to break it – start negotiating from a position of power.

‘Hi! I’m looking for work: do you have a crime boss who’s willing to hire people freelance? I don’t really have the option of being tied down right now, but as you can see I’ve got nerves of steel and great combat abilities. If he has a shooting range I’d be willing to demonstrate my blaster prowess too.’

‘I just keep a lookout for troopers you freak. Aren’t you a trooper?’ ‘This armor is stolen.’ Half true. Definitely not telling him I deserted, but every piece of gear I took with me is technically owned by the Imperial Armory, so continuing to use it for unsanctioned work is theft. I really wish I didn’t have to spell it out all the time. Maybe I should put a new paint job on the shopping list. But black and white are both such good base colors, and those are already official. Silver maybe, blaster metal gray?

‘Well, I guess stealing a trooper’s armor is pretty hardcore. Fine, lemme make a call.’ Better disconnect the battery so if he tries to shoot me I don’t have to deal with a nasty welt. Gun’s holstered, datapad’s out, door’s open. Give him a thumbs up and walk inside. This is going really well so far! If negotiations are quick I might even be done by lunch.

This place certainly looks like a crime den. Spice heads staring off into the middle distance behind curtained off rooms, vaguely erotic moans so thoroughly permeating the air that I can’t pin down a source, a bunch of scowling aliens of species’ I can’t quite identify with muscles and blasters to keep the peace. Did they use the Imperial information broadcasts on how to identify crime dens as a blueprint? I guess if they want to avoid people stumbling in here by mistake it’s better not to be subtle about things. That’s smart, these guys are smart.

Alright, in front of their boss, my hands are up and there’s four blasters pointed at me: standard protocol, liking the professionalism. That regular office chair she’s sitting in undermines her authority, but a very solid grasp of the fundamentals of power projection. Reminds me of an Imperial officer. Of her.

Her henchmen look nervous, why? Oh, my fists clenched. Unwind them slowly. ‘So, you’re looking for work?’ ‘Yes Ma’am!’ Not sure why they’re all laughing at a standard greeting, but it broke the tension and this negotiation is back on track.

‘You’re in luck. One of my men decided to form his own little gang. Ten thousand if you kill him. Take out as many of his pals as you can too – I’ll throw you an extra thousand per head. Ten of ‘em altogether. Ah what the hell: I’ll round it up to twenty thousand if you kill the whole crew.’ Oh that’s a good warm up to get me back in the habit, I guess she figured this wasn’t worth wasting her real members’ time with.

‘Before you ask, I’m letting you do it because it’s suicide: either you prove yourself to be a very dangerous, and thus very lucrative, partner – or you get out of my hair.’ Oh. I might need to look elsewhere for future career opportunities. But credits are credits. ‘I accept, I’ll get right on it.’

Alright, better look through the summary on the way. Apartment block at the far side of town. One of them’s out front shaking down anyone who tries to get to their home, two diluting spice in the basement to stretch for a profit, three putting together shoddy homemade weapons to sell folks, four relaxing on the top floor.

Wow. This operation is terrible! She could have just waited six cycles for it to collapse from being stretched too thin or dying of fumes or blowing half the block apart with their jury rigging. Oh well, her impatience is credits in my pocket.

Half hour walk and I’m there, not too bad. Big guy out front, they at least know to play to their strengths. Walk up towards the door, not him, he’ll put his hand out to stop me. ‘Hey that’ll be fifty-’ Knife from the utility belt on the other side of my body, push his blaster aside, aim behind the nape of his neck, clean my knife off on his shirt, stuff the collar into his throat to muffle the gurgling, wipe the blood off my visor – blue with white spots in it, nasty. Scan his face and I’m up a thousand credits. Good start!

A few murmurs from the crowd out front as he slinks down, but a finger over the mouth port is a gesture understood by almost every sentient. Would be nice to handle this without getting shot at.

Should probably work my way up from the basement. Boots thump all the way down the rickety old stairs. ‘Hey, who the hell are-’ I’ve had enough of exotic blood colors for today. Fingers cradling the neck, knuckles supported against the wall, thumbs on the trachea, pop!

He slinks down; hands on his throat twitching and scrabbling around like if he finds the right angle he’ll be able to un-collapse his trachea. He has a box cutter right there, this is just embarrassing. The field tracheotomy wouldn’t help because I’m standing right here, but if you’re not gonna do that at least die respectably.

His partner’s coming out to investigate. Human, I’m familiar enough with that one. Knife to the temple on her way out the door, spin her around to at least keep most of it off me. Swipe each side down the back of her shirt, let her fall. Two more scans, two thousand more credits.

Hope those stairs don’t give out on my way back up. A blaster just went off. Missed me by a few degrees, but the Twi’lek just died with a smirk on his face. Clatter and shouting upstairs. I didn’t give him enough credit.

Double time up the stairs, the luxury of surprise is gone and this basement is a death trap. Three of them at the hallway intersection, blaster pistols in each hand. I beat them to the draw, but none of us have time to aim. Blind fire for each of their midsections, clip two in the arm. Good enough. They have a smaller target, but more shots.

Close the distance leading with my left side; not coming out of a point blank shootout feeling good, but a melee gives me decent odds. Feel warmth, then heat, then searing pain ripple in waves through my arm as each successive shot connects. It only becomes a problem if I stop feeling it. Pin the one I didn’t hit to the wall. He’s bigger, but with the suit I’m heavier. A few stabs to the midsection is all I have time for. Just have to trust that my old Lethal Puncture Drills were ingrained deeply enough.

Throw him at his friends, their blasters clatter across the floor. Hard to line up a shot while the feeling’s receding from my fingers. Might just have to stab them. Why’s there an electrical whine coming from down the other hall?

Really wish I’d heard the other three setting up a turret, the barrel’s already glowing. Just jump back and hit the floor, it looks like that thing can’t pivot downward: they were expecting their friends to last longer. Taking a second look, I don’t recognize that model.

Oh, I see. It’s custom built. Those must be the engineers. There’s two dozen rifle grade bolts cracking through the hallway on separate angles. That’s clever, in a way. Much easier to hold ground when you can put fire downrange of an entire corridor at once instead of needing to swivel a traditional turret. These people would have had a great career in Imperial R&D.

Can feel at least five points of impact from my legs up through my back. Hear the battery whining again, I should have at least a few seconds to assess the situation. Just need to roll over and sit up. Body doesn’t want anything more than to lay here and die, it’s fighting me every step of the way. I’ve beaten stronger enemies.

They’re using the armor plating as a seat, and the battery’s facing me. All that effort put into this killing machine, and they mounted it backwards. Unbelievable. I’ll definitely be insulted when I have the time.

It’s an easy shot at this distance, even one handed. Haven’t had a chance to appreciate my visors light equalizing tech lately, but that ball of plasma rupturing and flaring up all at once would definitely have blinded me otherwise. It blinded them, but that’s because their eyes boiled and popped once the heat hit them. Hope there’s something left of them to scan.

Alright, up on my feet. See scorch marks on the ones I was fighting, friendly fire is a bad way to – wait a minute this one’s not dead. Oh hell, they’re one of those fluid based species’. The heat dispersed under their membrane enough not to kill them instantly, but now their bodily functions are shutting down one by one as they boil alive from the inside.

That’s nine accounted for, last one’s probably the type to send other people to die for him so I should be able to handle him even banged up like this. Got time to put this one out of their misery. Never really studied xenobiology, but a cut straight down the middle should do it.

There: the steam’s escaping, the fluid’s pooling on the floor. Mercy killed by an enemy combatant isn’t a bad way to go. Hope whoever gets me gives me the same courtesy. Nine scans, nine thousand credits.

Retire the blaster rifle for now, arm’s in too bad shape to brace at the foregrip, pick up one of their pistols. It’s about as low power as they come, but still enough to kill an unarmored target. Sights are a few degrees out, trigger’s stiff, corrosion on the battery terminal. All fixable, but why spend the time and effort on something that barely passes the threshold to stop being classed as a stun weapon?

I should pick up a good sidearm when this is done, something that can blow clean through the armor on a speeder bike in one shot. Not too worried about concealment, just need something I can fire one handed. Everyone’s always way more impressed by blaster pistol deadshots than blaster rifle point troops. I’d have an excuse to do a ton of firing practice too, only ever got trained with longarms.

Maybe get a blaster proof vest and some heat diffusing leggings and learn how to fight like those holovid adventure stars. On the other hand, I’ve killed scores of idiots who looked and acted like the holovid stars, so maybe that stuff only works from the other side of a projector.

Stairs. Three flights of stairs between here and the top floor. Probably a bigger challenge than the target at this point. A damage evaluation should help pass the time. The skin on my left leg is probably cooked and peeling considering the pain recedes somewhat whenever I take the weight off it. Right leg has sustained minimal blaster fire, might even escape with just a bruise. Left arm is limp but I already knew that. Right arm and head both uninjured. Dull aching in my back, but I have enough mobility through the pain that I doubt there’s any spinal flash fusion or damage beyond the musculature. Nothing that bacta can’t solve.

As for my armor, the heat weave will definitely need a proper evaluation, might even need to replace a few pads. Haven’t bothered looking, but I have to assume the polish is ruined. This has also been a pretty gore spattered mission now that I think of it. Strip the plates, strip the heat weave, soak each one in cleaning solution and plain water respectively, see if there’s any meaningful damage, reevaluate from there. Should give me time to do a quick cursory on the circuitry, but nothing seems broken so far.

The stairs are behind me. A locked door is in front of me. The only electronic door in the whole building. More foresight than I was expecting, honestly. The walls in this place are pretty thin though. Fire a few rifle blasts, don’t have to worry about accuracy, to compromise the structural integrity and they should cave to my body weight. Take a few steps back, draw the pistol, brace for a lot of pain trying to get these legs to run. Three. Two. One.

Two screams as I hurtle through the wall, one his and another from the woman he’s using as a shield. Shit. Really don’t want to cause collateral. Killed enough civilians for one lifetime. They don’t know that though. All they can see is two meters of jet black imperial steel cast in blood and tempered with blaster fire. Play it cool. Play this ice cold, Koben.

‘Drop the blaster or I’ll kill her! She’s a mother, you want a mother’s blood on your hands?!’ ‘I’ve killed plenty of mothers.’ Can’t shoot him yet, his last twitch would pull the trigger on her. ‘Whatever she’s paying you I can match it!’ ‘I can’t buy credibility.’ Point it at me, what’s one more burn?

Take a tentative step forward. ‘Don’t come any closer, I’ll do it!’ ‘I’m waiting.’ Pure theatrics, but I’m the only one who knows it. Hostage takers know they can’t kill their leverage: the second they do their position collapses. The fact I’m already here to kill him complicates that though.

He’s soft. Played at the criminal life and fell in too deep too fast. I can see the sweat on his brow, shake in his hands. Barely holding the blaster any more. Just have to bait him with a sliver of hope, then spring the trap when he bolts for it.

‘What’s your plan? Stay here, wait for the Empire to follow up on those blaster shots?’ ‘There’s a fire escape! I’ll go out the back, take my speeder, skip town! Skip the planet! Skip the system once I can afford it!’ Pause to let him think I’m entertaining that stupid idea. ‘Fine. Twenty thousand. On the table, then go.’ He’s shifting his body to reach for his credits. He doesn’t know his wrist moved, messed up his grip. Line of fire would just singe her chin. Skin grows back.

This trigger feels awful. Good thing I keep my gauntlet calibrated, might have missed otherwise. His face isn’t holding up well, maybe this thing packs more punch than I thought. Not quite sure what just splashed across her face, it all blends together once it gets flash fried. He’s down. She’s really lucky his blaster slipped off his finger. Better disconnect it, prevent any last minute misfires from making all that effort to avoid shooting her pointless. Ten bodies, twenty thousand credits.

She’s screaming. Of course she’s screaming, she’s probably never seen a man die before. Can’t sit her down, people don’t respond well to being touched when they’re in hysterics. Best thing I can do is probably get her something to wipe her face. I burst through right next to the bathroom, which is good because that’s about as far as I can walk.

Grab a cloth. Slightly damp already. Throw it towards her and fall to the floor as gracefully as I can manage. That breach was already pushing it. Can I scan him from here, will it reach? Just barely, but good enough. Scan locked in. Should probably do a few stretches, get the blood pumping again. I have a long walk back to get paid.

‘What the hell are you doing?!’ ‘Stretching. You can go by the way. Might want to clean your face. I threw you a cloth.’ I don’t know what her expression is trying to say, but I doubt she does either. She picked up the cloth at least. Not wiping very well, but the emotional numbness as her adrenaline responses level out is probably setting in. Hard to focus on wiping dried viscera like that.

Time to get up. Feeling a little better, should probably keep trying to get the blood flowing in my left arm. Looting rights are practically implicit contract text in bounty killing jobs, so I should see if he had anything worth taking. Speeder keys, not bad. Pocket change. Of course he wasn’t carrying twenty thousand, nobody does.

She’s crying in the corner. Right, that’s what happens to your emotions if you’re not experienced. I guess she probably thinks I meant all that stuff I said. She’s unarmed, the helmet can come off. On the coffee table it goes, next to both blaster pistols. ‘I didn’t mean those things I said. I was just bluffing so he’d flinch.’ She’s still crying.

Not really sure what else to do. I should try to get some of this blood off of me, it’s really been building up on the edges of my visor. He only had the one cloth. I think I saw a dish cloth in the kitchen. The tears have receded into a rocking sob. ‘I’m sorry you had to watch your boyfriend die after he pointed a gun at you.’

She’s looking up at me. That’s progress. She’s angry too, so she’s at least past the numbness. ‘He wasn’t my boyfriend you...fucking idiot! He was a client! He was a regular. I thought he was pretty okay. He tipped a lot and he was always really up front about when he wanted to do weird stuff and sometimes we’d chat and one time he got his friends to really scare a clingy client and. I’ll miss him.’

Oh. She’s sobbing again. I don’t think I can make her feel any better. She got all the anger out so it doesn’t eat her up inside like a necrotic wound at least. The visor’s clean. I can help her plan at least. Always thought forward pretty well.

‘Can you get home?’ Her head just moved up and down between her knees. ‘Alright. I need to leave now. You should leave too. Sex work is illegal. It doesn’t matter to me, but the troopers will arrest you if you tell them the truth, and if you don’t they’ll still probably take you in for questioning and make you relive the whole thing.’ She’s getting on her feet. My helmet shows more emotion than her eyes are right now. ‘Yeah. Thanks. Hope I don’t see you around, but this is a small town. If you ever need a thrill, I guess I’ll take your credits. Bye.’

Decide to give her a few minute head start so we don’t have to stare at each other in the hallway. No bacta spray in the medicine cabinet, mostly just cheap street drugs. Some painkillers and antiseptic though, could use those. Probably already pushing it on the troopers showing up, so no time to strip down for some proper first aid. Got them wrapped up in a bag for later, making my way to the fire escape. That part of his plan was sound.

Half tempted to just throw myself over the edge. It would be faster, and if I land splayed out enough it might hurt less than walking down all those flights of stairs. Better not. Gravity is one of the few things it’s really hard to make armor for.

I’m shocked that his speeder is brand new. Guess he was a speeder guy, spent his first haul of ill gotten gains on it. More flashy than practical, but it should do the trick. Five minutes to get back, I could get used to not needing to march everywhere. Injuries notwithstanding, this job wasn’t a bad way to get my foot in the door on this planet. I saw a few eyes peeking out at me from the apartments during the gunfight, the HoloNet will be talking about the gang that just got taken out. Doubt she’ll go talking to the troops, so no names: just the jet black trooper who killed ten gangsters by herself. Word gets around, folks will want that trooper doing jobs for them, and I’ll have more credits than I know what to do with in no time.

One step out of the speeder and I’m on the ground. The fall knocked the wind out of me, and my good mood with it. Really have to ask them if they have any bacta spray, that was not a lot of pressure to put on that knee. Take a few seconds, breathe, push up on your less bad leg. There. I can already see that shifty doorman. Not fast enough to get the blaster out of his hand right now.

‘I’m the one your boss hired.’ Back in the holster. ‘Oh, right, sorry. You look like shit. What the hell’d the boss have you do?’ ‘Kill a rival gang.’ ‘Oh, like what, hunt them all down? You got that done pretty quick.’ This guy could go all day, and I really can’t right now. ‘I want to report back to her, not you.’ A clueless nod, quick ping on the datapad, the door opens. Mercifully.

I can put up with a few chuckles from the bouncers watching me limp and wince my way to the back room as long as the credits are good. Her Empire aping veneer of disinterested professionalism didn’t last long, I barely got in the door.

‘You lived? I’m already seeing news broadcasts about the gang being massacred. Half the video is blurred out. Why the knife, what happened to those three burnt ones, good Emperor on Coruscant why did you have to dissect that watery one?’ Too tired for professionalism or entertaining inane curiosities. ‘I could talk better after a bacta spray. Figure you don’t have a tank so I won’t even ask. Also my credits.’

Got a booth to myself and as many vials as I need. She offered to get some very pretty working girls to help spray me, but I’ve always preferred handling this myself. Armor plates still come off well, nothing’s been welded together. Body glove still slides off easily—oh yeah there’s a bunch of thigh flesh hanging off of it. Mostly bruising otherwise, minor first degree burns. Oh hell some necrotic flesh on the left arm. No way around that problem other than through.

Can’t use the usual method of testing what’s still alive considering I can’t feel anything below the shoulder, so I guess I’ll just have to settle for carving out the black parts. Burn goes deeper than I thought, I’m faced with a problem: it won’t heal right if I don’t carve out every last piece, but as soon as I do I’ll start bleeding out faster than I can bandage it. Nothing else for it I guess. ‘I need some help with this. Don’t pick a cute girl, they’ve gotta have medical experience.’

An alien half as tall as he is wide is waddling sideways through the door. ‘You know first aid?’ ‘I’m a doctor.’ He has an accent I couldn’t place with an astronav, but I’ll have to take his word for it. Flop the arm down on the table, four of his six hands start poking and prodding for a response. I don’t have one for him. ‘Not good, but with your field dressing I guess you already knew that. You used a combat knife for this? Why not just lop the thing off, cauterize it on a speeder exhaust?! I’ve got tools.’

He wasn’t lying about his medical skills. I can’t physically feel it, but watching him work is a relief. Finer and finer flakes of black carbon are starting to pile up on the table and not a drop of blood. Medical droids didn’t used to do this clean of a job, and all he has is a magnifying glass and a scalpel! This man should be serving the galaxy’s richest and finest, not working out of a place like this.

‘Why are you working out of a place like this with your skills?’ ‘Imperial officer came into my clinic. Told me he had a son with a rare neurological condition. Needed a full neuroskeletal graft or he’d never move again. Very tricky job.’ ‘And you didn’t succeed?’ ‘Hell no! He was a dick. His son was a bigger dick. Insulted my looks, insulted my staff, insulted the art I had up on the walls. Waved a credstick in my face like that’d make it all okay. I have my pride – I botched it on purpose. Didn’t just botch it, made it so nobody could unbotch it. That takes talent. Now he breathes in with a pump, out with a vacuum!’ He’s laughing so hard he has to pause.

‘Then he tried to have you killed?’ ‘You got it. So, don’t make fun of how I look, how I talk, or anything else; and I’ll stitch you up as good as a bacta tank!’ All I can respond with is a slow nod. ‘Speaking of, all done. Only a tiny bit of good flesh came out with it, but even that set off the waterworks. Keep it wrapped up for a week and it’ll be like it never happened.’ ‘What about the nerve damage?’ ‘What about the nerve damage? Bacta it, keep that armor off so it has room to work and you’ll be able to juggle before morning. You can pull a spray nozzle, can’t you?’ I’m starting to understand the hostility that led him here, but the spray is already starting to soak in. Second coat, it’s starting to leave a thin film, done.

The only parts of me that didn’t get hit were my feet and head, which means the only parts of my suit I can wear are the boots and helmet. Glad I always wear shorts and a tank top under the glove. Still feel naked walking back to her office with the rest of the suit bundled up in my arms.

‘I’ve given it some thought, and I don’t want to hear the story. You seem to value discretion, and you’ve shattered my expectations – I took you for a lunatic with a deathwish who’d only gotten this far through a string of bad decisions; but consider that opinion retracted. You solved a lot of problems for me today, and set the groundwork for a good deal of credits in my future. Consider the medical treatment a professional courtesy, just this once. Your payment.’

Suits me. ‘Just put it on the pile. Could you break change though? I can’t exactly do it at a bank, and paying in ten thousands looks suspicious. One of those, nine thousands, and ten hundreds please.’ ‘That’s the least I can do. You never gave me your name by the way. If we’re going to forge a friendship in credits, I’ll need something to call you.’ Her attitude changed completely now that she knows I’m useful. Maybe she really did used to be an officer.

‘Trooper.’ ‘Trooper. Trooooperr. Vague enough to be plausibly deniable, but not something that comes up enough to cause confusion. Well then, call me Vranki—and enjoy your credits Trooper.’

‘Affirmative Mrs. Vranki. If you have any contacts who could use my skills, pass my call sign along.’

I put enough bacta on that most of the pain has already receded. The skin isn’t visible through the film, so I can’t judge the actual healing, but at least the dull ache has been replaced with a gentle tingle.

The suns aren’t even at their apex yet. I should head home, rest up. Get started on that maintenance. Haven’t been injured that badly before midday since my jedi hunting days.