#Some things just need structure... And this is coming from the least structured person

[artsekey]

Disney's Wish

Look, Disney's Wish has been universally panned across the internet, and for good reason.

It’s just…kind of okay.

 When we sit down to watch a Disney film—you know, from the company that dominated the animation industry from 1989 to (arguably) the mid 2010’s and defined the medium of animation for decades—we expect something magnificent. Now, I could sit here and tell you everything that I thought was wrong with Wish, but if you’re reading this review, then I imagine that you’ve already heard the most popular gripes from other users across the web. So, let me focus in:

The biggest problem with Wish—in fact, the only problem with Wish—is Magnifico.

Whoa, that’s crazy! There’re so many things about Wish that could’ve been better! The original concept was stronger! The music was bad--

I hear you, I do. But stay with me here, okay? Take my hand. I studied under artists from the Disney renaissance. I teach an adapted model of Disney’s story pipeline at a University level. I spent a ridiculous amount of time getting degrees in this, and I am about to dissect this character and the narrative to a stupid degree.

First, we need to understand that a good story doesn’t start and end with what we see on the screen. Characters aren’t just fictional people; when used well, characters are tools the author uses (or in this case, the director) to convey their message to the audience. Each character’s struggle should in some way engage with the story’s message, and consequently, the story’s theme. Similarly, when we look at our protagonist and our antagonist, we should see their characters and their journeys reflected in one-another.

So, what went wrong between Asha & Magnifico in terms of narrative structure?

Act I

In Wish, we’re introduced to our hero not long into the runtime—Asha. She’s ambitious, caring, and community-oriented; in fact, Asha is truly introduced to the audience through her love of Rosas (in “Welcome to Rosas”).  She’s surrounded by a colorful cast of friends who act as servants in the palace, furthering her connection with the idea of community but also telling us that she’s not of status, and then she makes her way to meet Magnifico for her chance to become his next apprentice.

Quick aside: I'm not going to harp on Asha as a character in the context of Disney's overall canon. Almost every review I've seen covers her as a new addition to Disney's ever-growing repertoire of "Cute Quirky Heroines", and I think to be fair to Asha as an actor in the narrative, it serves her best to be weighed within the context of the story she's part of.

As Asha heads upstairs for her interview, we're introduced to the man of the hour: Magnifico. He lives in a tower high above the population of Rosas, immediately showing us how he differs from Asha; he’s disconnected from his community. He lives above them. He has status. While the broader context of the narrative wants us to believe that this also represents a sense of superiority, I would argue that isn’t what Magnifico’s introduction conveys; he's isolated.

Despite this distance, he does connect with Asha in “At All Costs”. For a moment, their goals and values align. In fact, they align so well that Magnifico sees Asha as someone who cares as much about Rosas as he does, and almost offers her the position.

… Until she asks him to grant Saba’s wish.

This is framed by the narrative as a misstep. The resonance between their ideals snaps immediately, and Magnifico says something along the line of “Wow. Most people wait at least a year before asking for something.”

This disappointment isn't played as coming from a place of power or superiority. He was excited by the idea of working with someone who had the same values as he did, who viewed Rosas in the same way he does, and then learns that Asha’s motivations at least partially stem from a place of personal gain.

Well, wait, is that really Asha's goal?

While it's not wholistically her goal, it's very explicitly stated & implied that getting Saba's wish granted is at least a part of it. The audience learns (through Asha's conversation with her friends before the interview) that every apprentice Magnifico has ever had gets not only their wish granted, but the wishes of their family, too!  Asha doesn’t deny that this is a perk that she’s interested in, and I don't think this is a bad thing.

So, Is Asha’s commitment to Saba selfless, or selfish? I’m sure the director wanted it to seem selfless, wherein she believes her family member has waited long enough and deserves his wish granted, but we can’t ignore the broader context of Asha essentially trying to… skip the line.

Then, we get our first point of tension. Magnifico reveals his “true colors” in snapping at Asha, telling her that he “decides what people deserve”. This is supposed to be the great motivator, it’s meant to incite anger in the audience—after all, no one gets to decide what you deserve, right? But unfortunately for the integrity of the film and the audience's suspension of disbelief, at least part of Magnifico’s argument is a little too sound to ignore:

Some wishes are too vague and dangerous to grant. Now, there’s visual irony here; he says this after looking at a 100 old man playing the lute. The idea that something so innocuous could be dangerous is absurd, and the audience is meant to agree.

... But we’ve also seen plenty of other wishes that might be chaotic—flying on a rocket to space, anyone? The use of the word vague is important, too—this implies wording matters, and that a wish can be misinterpreted or evolve into something that is dangerous even if the original intent was innocuous. His reasoning for people forgetting their wish (protecting them from the sadness of being unable to attain their dreams) is much weaker, but still justifiable (in the way an antagonist’s flawed views can be justified). The film even introduces a facet of Magnifico’s backstory that implies he has personal experience with the grief of losing a dream (in the destruction of his home), but that thread is never touched on again.

              What is the audience supposed to take from this encounter? If we’re looking at the director’s intent, I’d argue that we’ve been introduced to a well-meaning young girl and a king who’s locked away everyone’s greatest aspiration because he believes he deserves to have the power to decide who gets to be happy.

              But what are we shown? Our heroine, backed by her friends, strives to be Magnifico’s apprentice because she loves the city but also would really like to see her family's wishes granted. When this request is denied and she loses the opportunity to be his apprentice, she deems Magnifico’s judgement unfair & thus begins her journey to free the dreams of Rosas’ people.

              In fairness, Magnifico doesn’t exhibit sound judgement or kindness through this act of the film. He’s shown to be fickle, and once his composure cracks, he can be vindictive and sharp. He's not a good guy, but I'd argue he's not outright evil. He's just got the makings of a good villain, and those spikes of volatility do give us a foundation to work off of as he spirals, but as we’ll discuss in a bit, the foreshadowing established here isn’t used to the ends it implies.

              While I was watching this film, I was sure Magnifico was going to be a redeemable villain. He can’t connect with people because he's sure they value what he provides more than they value him (as seen in “At All Costs” and the aftermath), and Asha’s asking for more was going to be framed as a mistake. His flaw was keeping his people too safe and never giving them the chance to sink or swim, and he's too far removed from his citizens to see that he is appreciated. Asha does identify this, and the culmination of her journey is giving people the right to choose their path, but the way Magnifico becomes the “true” villain and his motivations for doing so are strangely divorced from what we’re shown in Act I.  

Act II:

His song, “This is the Thanks I Get!?” furthers the idea that Magnifico’s ire—and tipping point—is the fact that he thinks the people he’s built a kingdom for still want more. Over the course of this 3:14 song, we suddenly learn that Magnifico sends other people to help his community and doesn’t personally get involved (we never see this outside of this song), and that he’s incredibly vain/narcissistic (he's definitely a narcissist). I think feeling under-appreciated is actually a very strong motivation for Magnifico as a character-turning-villain, and it works very well. It’s justified based on what we’ve seen on screen so far: he feels under-appreciated (even though he’s decidedly not—the town adores him), he snaps and acts irrationally under stress (as seen with his outburst with Asha), and he’s frustrated that people seem to want more from him (again, as seen with his conversation with Asha in Act I).

              But then… he opens the book.

Ah, the book. As an object on screen, we know that it's filled with ancient and evil magic, well-known to be cursed by every relevant character in the film, and kept well-secured under lock and key. But what does it stand for in the context of the narrative's structure? A quick path to power? We're never told that it has any redeeming qualities; Magnifico himself doesn't seem to know what he's looking for when he opens it. It feels... convenient.

I think it's also worth noting that he only turns to the book when he's alone; once again, the idea of connection and community rears it's ugly head! Earlier in the film, Amaya-- his wife-- is present and turns him away from taking that path. In her absence, he makes the wrong choice.

This decision could make sense; it contains powerful magic, and if it were framed in such a way that the people of Rosas were losing faith in Magnifico’s magic, as if what he can do might not be enough anymore after what they felt from Star, going for the book that we know contains spells that go above and beyond what he can already do would be logical. Along the lines of, “If they’re not happy with what I do for them, fine. I, ever the “martyr”, will do the unthinkable for you, because you want more.”

            It would keeps with the idea that Magnifico believes he's still trying to help people, but his motivation has taken his self-imposed pity party and turned it into resentment and spite.

 But, that’s not the case. Instead he talks about reversing that “light”, which has had no real negative or tangible consequences on Rosas. Everyone had a warm feeling for a few seconds. Again, it’s meant to paint him as a vain control freak, but… he hasn’t lost any power. The citizens of Rosas even assume the great showing of magic was Magnifico.

Act III

              Then, we get to the consequences of opening the book (and perhaps my biggest qualm with this film). The book is established as being cursed. Magnifico knows it, Asha knows it, and Amaya—who is introduced as loyal-- knows it. The characters understand his behavior is a direct result of the book, and search for a way to save him. This is only the focus of the film for a few seconds, but if you think about it, the fact that his own wife cannot find a way to free him of the curse he’s been put under is unbelievably tragic. Worse still, upon discovering there is no way to reverse the curse, Magnifico—the king who built the city & “protected it” in his own flawed way for what seems to be centuries—is thrown out by his wife. You know, the wife who's stood loyal at his side for years?

              It’s played for laughs, but there’s something unsettling about a character who’s clearly and explicitly under the influence of a malevolent entity being left… unsaved. If you follow the idea of Magnifico being disconnected from community being a driving force behind his arc, the end of the film sees him in a worse situation he was in at the start: truly, fully alone.

              They bring in so many opportunities for Magnifico to be sympathetic and act as a foil for Asha; he’s jaded, she’s not. He’s overly cautious (even paranoid), she’s a risk-taker. He turns to power/magic at his lowest point, Asha turns to her friends at her lowest point. Because this dichotomy isn’t present, and Magnifico—who should be redeemable—isn’t, the film is so much weaker than it could’ve been. The lack of a strong core dynamic between the protagonist and antagonist echoes through every facet of the film from the music to the characterization to the pacing, and I believe if Magnifico had been more consistent, the film would’ve greatly improved across the board.

I mean, come on! Imagine if at the end of the film, Asha—who, if you remember, did resonate with Magnifico’s values at the start of the film—recognizes that he's twisted his original ideals and urges him to see the value in the people he’s helped, in their ingenuity, in their gratitude, & that what he was able to do before was enough. Going further, asking what his wish is or was—likely something he’s never been asked— and showing empathy! We’d come full circle to the start of the film where Asha asks him to grant her wish.

Pushing that further, if Magnifico’s wish is to see Rosas flourish or to be a good/beloved king, he'd have the the opportunity to see the value in failing and how pursuing the dream is its own complex and valuable journey, and how not even he is perfect.

 The curse and the book (which, for the purposes of this adjustment, would need to be established as representing the idea of stepping on others to further your own goals/the fast way to success), then serve as the final antagonist, that same curse taking root in the people of Rosas who’ve had their dreams destroyed, and Asha works with the community to quell it. Asha’s learned her lesson, so has Magnifico, and the true source of evil in the film—the book—is handled independently. Magnifico steps back from his role as King, Amaya still ends up as Queen, and Asha takes her place as the new wish-granter.

This route could even give us the true “Disney villain” everyone’s craving; giving the book sentience and having it lure Magnifico in during “This is the Thanks I Get!?” leaves it as its own chaotic evil entity.

All in all, Magnifico's introduction paved a road to redemption that the rest of the film aggressively refused to deliver on, instead doubling down on weaker motivations that seem to appear out of thin air. Once the audience thinks, hey, that bad guy might have a point, the protagonist has to do a little more heavy lifting to convince us they're wrong.

Look at the big-bad-greats from Disney's library. There isn't a point in the Lion King where we pause and think, "Wait a second, maybe Scar should be the guy who rules the Pridelands." Ursula from the Little Mermaid, though motivated by her banishment from King Triton's Seas, never seems to be the right gal for the throne. Maybe Maleficent doesn't get invited to the princess's birthday party, but we don't watch her curse a baby and think, Yeah, go curse that baby, that's a reasonable response to getting left out.

What do they all have in common? Their motivation is simple, their goal is clear, and they don't care who they hurt in pursuit of what they want.

Magnifico simply doesn't fall into that category. He's motivated by the idea of losing power, which is never a clear or impactful threat. His goal at the start seems to be to protect Rosas, then it turns into protecting his own power, and then-- once he's corrupted-- he wants to capture Star. The problem is, there's no objective to put this power toward. Power for power's sake is useless. Scar craves power because he feels robbed of status. Ursula believes the throne is rightfully hers. Maleficent wanted to make a statement. Magnifico... well, I'm not really sure.

[talks-with-the-void]

Fluid kintypes - identity doesn't need to be static

I used to be a wolf, once. Not in a past-life sense, but in a therian sense - I was a wolf therian and then I wasn't. Sounds weird to you? I'm not surprised!

Something that I have repeatedly been told by other therians and otherkin is "you are what you are and if you find out you are something else - well, then you never were the first thing at all." Especially when I joined the community several years ago, I saw this statement everywhere. But let me tell you: it's not true. I had several different kintypes over the years (side note: we are plural and for the sake of this post I am simplifying some internal structure things. if you want the complicated details, feel free to ask! /gen), started as a wolf therian, then I was a cryptid, a dinosaur, a dragon and some kind of monster. Now I am Khhanivore (from Love, Death and Robots) and Mewtu (from Pokemon, Mewtu is the German spelling) - and a raptor kintype is coming back. (I am also a werewolf, but that's not a kintype, that's just Purely Me And My Whole Essence)

"Okay Istasha, but isn't that just questioning or maybe flickertypes?", you might ask. Fair point, but no.

I honestly never really questioned my kintypes - if I truly question something, it turns out to either be a hearttype or Nothing at All. As for kintypes, I just know - all of us just know what we are, it's like chilling and one day, suddenly, one of us is like "oh, I am a horse. alright, carry on" and that's it. Our kintypes stay with us for several months at least, theoretically they could stay forever but tend to change along the way - which brings me to the next point. They aren't flickertypes either. We only really get fictionflickers and sometimes animalflickers and those are extremely short and always tied to media we are currently consuming - they feel, technically, like kintypes to me. For example, if I watch a lot of Supernatural, I sometimes get an intense feeling of belonging there, of being a non-canon character, of being part of the story, etc. I am this non-canon character in that moment, I might even get pseudo-memories or shifts, but as soon as I don't engage with that show too much again, it instantly fades.

Our kintypes don't work like that. Take my re-emerging dinosaur kintype as an example. I was walking somewhere a few days ago and suddenly had a pahntom sensation in my legs and feet and in the same moment I knew "ah shit, new kintype". I gave it a day because maaayyybe it's nothing? But deep down I already knew what was going on, so I have an Utahraptor kintype now. I am this. I identify as this through and through and it feels like I've always been this way. But it wasn't - a week ago I wasn't a dinosaur and now I am. I did not choose it, I did not engage with any dinosaur media at all, it just happened.

My kintypes have always been changing and trust me when I say I had a complete identity crisis when my wolf kintype first went away. But over the years Ive learned to accepot it - my identy is not static, it never was and it never will be and that's okay!

It doesn't make my kintypes less important or less real and it also doesn't mean I never was a wolf. I was. And then I wasn't.

I honestly think it is so, so damaging to still have this "kintypes are static"-sentient floating around in the community, because that's simply not true for all of us. For me, it honestly even makes more sense this way. Our brain has always been unstable, I lacked a true identity for so long. We grew up with untreated BPD andf although the symptoms are 95% under my control now (read: it's in remission), our brain still has a ton of habits from that time, like clinging onto different things to try and form an identity, to try and fill the void where a person should be. And the fact that the void is filled now, that I finally am enough of a person to fill it, this habit never changed. Our brain still randomly grabs things and makes them one of us, leading to fluid kintypes.

Let me end this with saying: being wrong about a kintype is fine. Figuring out you are X instaed of Y and never were Y is fine. But it is also fine to be X today and Y tomorrow.

I think I've said this before but I'll say it again: we, as a community, need to take our identities less and more serious at the same time. Let's stop the gatekeeping and policing others, let's stop overanalyzing ourselves so much. Let's stop looking for rules and asking "is it possible to be this?" over and over again - because the answer is yes. There are literally no rules as to how, why and what you can be. In order to be otherkin you need to do exactly one thing: identify as The Thing in question. Nothing else. On the other hand, we need to kindly educate those who confuse identify as and identify with, we need to kindly educate young therians who "choose their theriotypes", we need to make sure we are not watered down to being "a fun thing you can do".

I sometimes feel like the focus and effort of this community is in good faith but in the wrong place - static kintypes is one of them.

There are no limits. Be who you are today and if you are something else tomorrow, be that then. <3

[avelnfear]

This is a snippet that might someday make it into my fic.

“He’s the least dangerous one.” Jason snorted at Ra’s Al Ghul’s words. “He’s the civilian in a family of Bats.” Jason let out a short laugh, clamping his mouth shut as soon as he heard his voice. He was clearly struggling to hold in his laughter, but no one could deduce why. “By taking all of you first we have taken away his support, making it easy to deal with him.”

Anyone who knew Ra’s Al Ghul knew that he’d just told them that he’d captured the heroes and then ordered the death of a person they’d left behind. By the destroyed look on all but one of the heroes faces, this person would be dearly missed.

Jason tried to keep from laughing, he really did, but the combined looks of horror on his family’s faces and the smugness coming from a man who was so very wrong proved to be too much. He burst into laughter so hard that one might think he’d been hit with Joker’s Gas. The room’s occupants looked at him with varying levels of confusion, concern, and disbelief.

When his laughter didn’t dissipate for a long time, Ra’s became angry. “What do you find so funny? You’ve just been informed that your beloved will be killed, and you find that funny?” His tone was biting even in his clear confusion.

Abruptly, Jason stoped laughing. The change was so sudden that it was unnerving. Several people, captive or otherwise jolted with the jarring shift in attitude as all amusement had left Jason’s face.

“I don’t find it funny.” Jason leaned forward as much as the chains binding him would allow, locking eyes with Ra’s, his face deadly serious. “I find it fucking hilarious.” Jason waited until Ra’s opened his mouth to continue as everyone else watched in stunned silence. “You think he’s the normal one, the civilian in a group of heroes. You think he’s not very dangerous if dangerous at all. You think your assassins can do anything to him. You think he needs us for support. You think you’ll be able to kill him. You think you are safe. You think he’ll never be able to find you. You think you’ve won.” Jason’s voice was soft and quiet yet piercing. He leaned back, expression blank. “As for me? Of course I don’t find it funny. The sheer amount of things your wrong about it hilarious all on its own, without any context. I can’t fucking wait to see the look on your face when you find out just how wrong you are. You’ve fucked around, now it’s time to find out. Your brilliant fucking strategy is an absolute shit show because of misinformation. If I were you, I’d start praying, hoping that some god is willing to further piss off the one you call a civilian by protecting your sorry ass to the best of their ability. It might buy you an extra minute to exist.”

There was a massive thud from down the hall, coming from an impact that struck the whole structure. Jason tilted his head down, grin sharp and inhuman and eyes flashing green.

From down the hall was clearly heard, “Cucumber on a stick! I overshot!”

The other captives tensed, that was Danny! What was he doing here? How was he here?

The assassins in the room tensed. That voice belonged to the civilian lover Red Hood was just ranting about. How was he here? How was he still alive?

Ra’s felt something odd swell in his chest, tightening his muscles and making his heart race. He knew it was a civilian on the other side of the door, he knew it. There was nothing special about Danny Nightingale except that he’d changed his name from Daniel Fenton. Then why, why, did Ra’s suddenly feel like prey that had wandered into the path of a predator?

[olderthannetfic]

I found AO3 pretty intuitive. Took me like 5 minutes to realize how all the little buttons work. They're pretty straightforward. Apart from the AND filters - took me a while to realize what type of filters AO3 used. Beyond that, I'm not sure why people have a hard time? Wattpad and FFnet are way more of a pain in the ass.

--

It's all about familiarity.

I mean, look, AO3 works how my brain works. When we first set it up, it was what we were all used to, more or less, but an upgrade. It was hard to even see how it could ever be unintuitive because this was just How Things Were. From the style of trope tags to the fact that there's an index of fandoms by media type, it was all familiar.

But that thinking is a trap.

It's easy to say "Oh, well, that person's just an idiot", and sometimes, the problem really is laziness or sleep deprivation, but a lot of the time, it's different cultural context.

By the time we were designing AO3, I'd had many rounds of formal instruction in how to use library catalogues of various sorts, familiarity with Delicious, years in LJ slash fandom whose assumptions form the metadata structures of AO3, etc.

There's nothing strange about going "Why are ship types a top level system of organization?" or "How do I search for genre X in any anime fandom but not in non-anime fandoms?"

It's strange to me, but it's not strange in the context of people who read fanfic overall.

It's not just about learning the search features that do exist: it's about unconscious assumptions about what metadata must exist.

If you don't know to look for something and you aren't coming from a culture where poking buttons is encouraged, you're going to take a lot longer to find things than if you already have a good idea of what's probably there somewhere.

To pick two very obvious examples:

If I were designing a gen-focused archive, I'd make genre a top-level organization system, like on FFN.

If I were designing a more x-reader-focused or One True Character-focused archive, I'd make the ship searches work like Character X/Anyone instead of having to click on each ship of your blorbo or each ship with Reader.

If someone has years of experience searching for some bullshit 'trickyfish' style nonsense ship name because they're on sites with garbage searches, they'll go to AO3, plug some words into the search bar at the top, and then feel like they can't find any relevant results because everything that turns up is just that word in author's notes on an irrelevant fic. They might even go to advanced search...

...and then totally miss that the sidebar filters are the best part of AO3, and they don't appear when you do a search search as opposed to starting from a tag.

Isn't Advanced Search the most... well... advanced search? On every other website, it is, but not on AO3.

--

Each new site/technology/culture/etc. a person has to learn takes time and attention. If you're exhausted and burnt out, that's hard. Even if you're not, it takes at least some effort. It doesn't Just Happen, not for every person and every new thing.

We should tell people to read the damn FAQ, yes.

But I can't say I always do that myself on every site unless I'm both having a problem and invested enough to care about solving it.

--

On an average day, most of us don't need to care why some people have a hard time figuring out AO3.

But if anyone is planning to design a site or needs to teach a bunch of kids how to use the library or something, it's worth keeping in mind just how many unconscious assumptions are hiding behind the idea of something—literally anything—being "intuitive".

[ohbo-ohno]

Kinktober Day 25 - Human Furniture

Ghost x Price - 1.8k (on ao3)

summary: Price helps Ghost settle after a hard mission.

cw: person used as an ashtray

note: this is the least sexual of this month's prompts! there's actually no sexual acts in this at all, it's more of a sort of study of a priceghost dynamic i enjoy :) definitely inspired by this comic

“Settle,” Price rumbles quietly, watching the way Simon shudders and forces himself still, muscles trembling.

He’s not quite used to the sight of Simon so submissive beneath him, such a large powerhouse of a man gone soft between his feet. You’d never think it, looking at them, but uncertainty still hovers in the back of John’s head every time he has Simon like this.

It’s taken them a while to reach this tentative understanding, for Simon to be even slightly open about what he needs. Price isn’t sure either of them could really put it into words, this odd sort of dynamic they’ve developed, but it works.

As best he can describe, it’s like this - Ghost needs a handler, someone he can trust blindly to always point his aggression in the right direction. But Simon struggles to trust, to give up any bit of control he doesn’t have to. 

So Price takes it from him. 

It’s an odd sort of dynamic, he’s well aware, and it only works because on some deep level Simon wants it to work. That’s the thrill for John - the knowledge that at any moment Simon could hurt him, could probably kill him, but he won’t because he knows that nobody else can help him control himself like Price

It’s a responsibility he doesn’t take lightly. Ghost is probably the most dangerous soldier he’s ever met - ever will meet, if he’s lucky - and he’d slit his fellow soldiers; throat without question if John gave him a reason to. That kind of power isn’t given for long if the receiver is a fool, and while Price is a lot of things - ornery, strict, bull-headed - no one could call him a fool.  

Price knows that Simon accepts their dynamic, but he plays at disliking it sometimes, almost like a test. Trying to see if Price will put his foot down when Ghost needs it, see if he can stretch the boundaries he’s been given.

He can’t. Price has no problem reestablishing which one is freshly Captain and which one is still Sergeant when it’s needed. And after a few weeks, the little tests phase out. Price can’t help but feel like he’s passed a test once he realizes.

Ghost is volatile still, even months into their shifted dynamic, but he rarely lashes out against John anymore. The mask had helped, being under Price’s hand helped more, but there are still moments when he slips, where he needs more help than he realizes.

Which is what led to their current situation.

Simon had come back from a mission relatively uninjured - a few bruises, a few scrapes, but nothing he had even needed a medic for. But the Lieutenant he’d been lent out to had done a number on him mentally.

Part of the source of Simon’s inner turmoil is his own constant war between the desire to be a good soldier and his inability to trust. It leaves him short-tempered and aggressive around unsure COs. He’s a bit like a dog being retrained - he knows when his superiors are weak, and he knows they have no right pretending to be above him. 

It’s hard to lead successful missions when the Sergeant spends the entire deployment glaring and intimidating the Lieutenant. It’s even harder when the intimidation works, and the power structure crumbles.

Simon always comes back unsure after missions like that. He comes to Price, snarling and biting, looking for reassurance in the power structure. Looking for affirmation that Price is still his superior, that he’s still his leader.

It’s what he’d come home needing today.

The mission had been rough - a Lieutenant just promoted never knew how to handle Ghost, and this one had been no different - and John could see it in every line of Simon’s body as soon as he’d come knocking.

Neither of them had said a word as Price opened his office door enough to let Simon in, then closed and locked it behind him. He lights a cigar as he watches Ghost move, taking a long puff from it.

Simon stands at parade between the two guest chairs he’s forced to have in the office, and after a few moments Price moves back to his desk, settling back into his seat and folding his hands on the table.

He watches Simon for a few long moments, takes a puff of his cigar. The soldier’s not quite still, his shoulders trembling from pent up energy and his knees locked. His jaw is clenched so tightly, Price wouldn’t be shocked if he’s managed to crack a tooth.

“Debrief, Sergeant,” he finally commands, voice hard and leaving no room for debate. Simon’s shoulder’s stop twitching as he starts to speak, relaxing into a less straining position.

There’s nothing of note to be reported, really. Ghost isn’t the type of man to stand and rave about what’s really bothering him, he wouldn’t make anything that easy. He tells the story as it happened and leaves Price to pick up the hints he drops.

They’re easy to spot this time - unnecessary civilian casualty, a close call with a fellow Sergeant, a flustered Lieutenant and their absolute refusal to listen to any of Ghost’s suggestions. It’s nothing he hasn’t dealt with before. But that doesn’t matter - for whatever reason, this mission and this CO on this night has dragged Ghost to the very brink of shattering.

And Price won’t let that happen. Not when Simon has placed so much faith in him, not when he needs to prove to himself that he can take care of his men.

Simon’s nearly panting when he finishes his debrief, the stress working him up all over again. John knows he has to work quickly, or things will spiral.

“Good, Sergeant,” he praises, leaning back in his chair and planting his feet wide. “Now strip.”

The relief is palpable. It’s taken them a long time for Ghost to reach such a comfortable point, and Price can’t help the surge of pride at the way Simon almost eagerly takes his clothes off. He’s a good boy, even remembers to fold his uniform when he sets it on the coffee table.

Price taps his right foot twice and pushes his chair back from the desk a bit, the boot loud against his hardwood floor, and takes a long drag. Simon is on his knees between John’s feet in the next heartbeat.

He hums a pleased note, nodding down at Simon. Even just that tiny bit of praise coaxes a bit more tension out of his frame, leaving him angled towards Price instead of kneeling straight. He debates within himself for a moment, then decides to drop a heavy hand onto Simon’s head, stroking slowly over the fabric.

He’s still got the mask on, but Price doesn’t make any move to take it off. He knows the fabric isn’t a barrier between the two of them, more a safety net holding all of his pieces together. 

John would collect those pieces if Simon dropped them, but he would never take them from him. He’s the one who gave Ghost the mask, he’d never take it away.

He considers his plan of action for a few long moments. With each breath, each pull, each slow stroke over his head, Simon relaxes a bit more. It’s soothing for John too, this physical evidence that he knows how to take care of what’s his. Calming in a way little else is in their line of work.

“You’re a good soldier, Simon,” Price finally says. “Sometimes too good, I think. Makes it difficult to stop sometimes, doesn’t it?”

Simon pants, nodding and leaning further into Price’s hand. “Yes, sir.”

“Hmm, I know. You’re alright, boy, deep breaths now.”

He listens, and a few moments later relaxes further. Simon’s body slumps to the side a bit, leaning his weight onto Price’s leg. It’s difficult to not jerk away, but John plants his foot and tenses his muscle so he doesn’t send Simon sprawling. If the Sergeant notices how hard his thigh is, it doesn’t seem to bother him.

“I think you need to stop being a soldier for a bit, yeah?” Price asks, shifting his hand to lift Simon up by the chin. He moves slowly, tugging the mask up until it rests on the bridge of his nose. Ghost flinches a bit at the air against his skin, and John hushes him, stroking over his jaw.

If they were different people - or even just further into their dynamic - Price might slip his cock down Ghost’s throat. Push him down until his lips meet John’s stomach, hold him there for a few hours while he gets some work done. He thinks it would be good for Simon, to have a mindless task he can succeed in.

But they haven’t reached that point. Price isn’t sure if they ever will, if they ever should, so he contents himself with an alternative.

“Tongue out for me, Simon,” he says, putting a bit of a command into his voice. It’s not necessary - Simon’s mouth opens, pink tongue coming out to rest on his lip immediately. “Good boy,” Price praises, stroking a thumb down the muscle.

“Stay still for me, now.”

He takes the cigar from the corner of his lips, presses the glowing bud to the center of Simon’s wet tongue. He doesn’t react much past a grunt and some tension returning to his muscles.

“You’re alright,” John dismisses, tightening his grip on the soldier’s jaw and pushing the cigar a bit further in, twisting it. He knows Simon, knows he needs to feel this pain, needs to feel it from John.

Simon whimpers when he finally takes the cigar away, pushing his tongue a little further out.

“I know, you’re alright. Good boy, Simon. Relax for me, now,” he comforts, stroking a thumb over his chin while he leans forward to set the now useless stick on his desk. “You make a good ashtray, boy. Just stay down there and relax for me, you’re alright. I’ll let you go in a bit.

He shifts back into his seat, staring down at Ghost for a few moments.

His tongue still rests on his chin, a little drop of spit dripping down the center, right down the ring of soot left behind. His eyes are clear but his pupils are blown, like he’s still here but his emotions are trying to drag him away.

Simon shifts on his knees, tongue twitching like he wants to take it back into his mouth.

“Settle,” Price rumbles. Simon exhales loudly and obeys, shifting back to his knees. “Tongue out, come on. Might need to use it again.”

He smiles when Simon obeys without question, gives him a comforting pet to the head and an approving hum.

Price shifts closer to the desk, locking Simon more securely beneath him, and lights a cigar. He’s got a few hours of paperwork to catch up on, and he knows Simon can last far longer than that using an ashtray.

He takes a deep breath, settles himself, and gets to work. The cigar smoke fills his lungs, and Simon breaths deeply beneath him. Price feels centered, steady, as he picks up his pen and starts reading.

[kanmom51]

It's been over a week

And I'm still trying to digest and come to terms with it.

I know I said that I take comfort in them being together, and I got to say, that is a big big help in dealing with their departure, and yet, can't help but be sad and worry like a mom that just sent her kids off to the army.

Watching JM's live with JK's that followed (a few hours later and after their family dinner) was heart wrenching. JM struggling with his shaved hair was heartbreaking.

This clearly was not easy for them.

JM the next day (in the BTB).

I can't help but wonder, after the initial annoyance of getting a minute or a little more from the two's enlistment day, if the whole thing was just too emotional and more than what they themselves wanted to share publicly.

Again, seeing how JM is struggling, and JK knowing and comforting him. That look on JM's face when JK does that. Ugh, how I wish they didn't have to go through this. But they did. They are. And now it's time to come to terms with it.

I guess having lived it, done the army thing, gone through basic training and military service I have a little more insight as to what they will be going through, and that also gives me some comfort, because yes, it's going to be hard, both the physical and mental aspects of it. The structure, the loss of individuality, the harsh physical and mental training. But, a. they are 2 of the most driven people I have seen, a work ethic and a need to excel, and they will attack this (so to speak) no differently; b. they have been through so much getting to where they have gotten. Yes, the structure is a little different, but they are no strangers to being in a structured environment, told what to do, when to do it, how to do it. Basically, they are used to doing what they are told. Strenuous physical activity is no stranger to them as well. Experiencing struggles teaches you that you can prevail. Teaches you that you are strong enough to get through it. Teaches you that there is a light at the end of that tunnel. And knowing that, at times of hardship, can mean everything to the person going through that.

Their age, being mostly older than others enlisting (most do so at 18-21) has it's advantages and disadvantages. Advantages being having that insight and life experience that they have, especially starting their careers at such a young age. Disadvantage being that at this age they are all grown up, as in mostly know who they are, what they want to do with their life. Having to leave all of that at the door is not easy and takes adjusting to. But they are resilient. And their life experience and struggles they went through over the years will, as mentioned, definitley help them get through this as well.

For my sanity and mental well being I'm going to ignore the geo-political fuckery going on right now. Does willing things not to happen make them not happen? I'm going to go with yes on this. Don't you dare contradict me here. Let me live in my fantasy world at least on this one.

So yeah, it definitely won't be easy. Having each other's back there will definitley help, although having to keep their hands off each other in public will definitley be a challenge they will have to deal with. I digress. They will be ok. They have each other. They will get through this, and who knows, perhaps at some point (probably not basic training, cause that sucks) they might even enjoy their service (enjoy what they will be doing, feel satisfaction in their contribution to their country, who knows...).

And yet, knowing all of this, I'm still sad.

Because I already miss the shit out of them.

And it's kind of funny, because I know there is plenty of content coming up, including actual Jikook content, like just the two of them without the group as a buffer content, and that is definitely something to look forward to. And it's not like we were seeing them on a daily or even weekly basis before they enlisted (there were periods of time we were parched with them not to be seen or heard from for ages).

But this feels different. I guess knowing that even if they wanted to reach out, at the moment, they can't. Knowing that there isn't a chance of a JK restaurant visit popping up, or a surprise live makes it all so very real.

I'm not going to do the day counting. For me, that makes dealing with it harder. Maybe when we are down to two digits, definitely not before. I think I will just sit back, enjoy the new content they share with us, go through old content (there is so much out there, enough to definitely get me through the next 18 months, sob sob).

As for myself, well I'm not going anywhere.

Yes, I have something going on right now and am posting less often, but I'm still here, still around and will be posting and answering your messages.

We will all get through this together.

[genshin-scenarios]

android au - personal assistant droids

Summary: In a modern-futuristic world, it's possible to create androids that are so advanced, they’re more or less human. There will be 5 android au posts total, each focusing on a different group! 

T.D.H. is a line designed to help busy users! They were intended for corporate higher-ups for personal assistant work around the workplace, but because of how attractive their designs are, it's not uncommon for regular people to save up for them to make their everyday lives simpler (and livelier).

Characters: Diluc, Childe, Kaeya, Zhongli, Ayato, Thoma

More like this: Anemo companion droids, Anemo droids who lost their previous user

To have Diluc as a personal assistant feels out of place, to say the least; his demeanor is a little too prince-like, or at least, you can easily imagine him as the heir of a corporation if he was human. So within the first few days you’re quick to ask him to address you casually - you don’t think your conscience can handle having someone like that treating you like a superior.

Diluc does prefer having some sense of structure however, so he still arranges your appointments and keeps track of everything else he was designed to do. He finds comfort in ticking off the tasks on his list, though he’s not sure why you request for him to wear fake glasses every now and then ‘for personal reasons’.

If you have guests over, Diluc makes a talented bartender! Though to your dismay (or joy, depending on you), he’d always limit the amount of alcohol in your drink or omit it entirely. Something about how he’d rather have you conscious even if your guests aren’t, and that if you really wanted to drink, you could do so once you two were alone.

‘Why, do you want me just for yourself, Diluc?’

‘...If that’s what you’d like to hear, I wouldn’t be opposed to taking that as an order.’

Childe is the kind of assistant droid who you never see actually doing work. He makes it seem like all he does is chat with people and dote on you, but you’re aware that once you aren’t around, he makes sure to run through his checklist and finish off the accounts for the month in his head. Such was the wonders of technology, to allow him to upload files to a cloud system without needing to physically type things down. 

He’s also very attentive, though you didn’t realize this at first because of how talkative he was. Distracted by his jokes and charms, you almost forget that Childe really is looking out for you every step of the way until he has his arm around you - not to flirt, but to keep you from bumping into the crowd of people on the street.

Childe is a good cook, but what he likes even more is asking you to taste-test his creations. While he can’t actually consume food, he has sensors on his tongue that allow him to detect flavors (very useful for when he’s buying desserts or snacks, and needed to try samples to see if they fit your taste).

‘A house-husband? Well, I guess that’s technically what I am. But don’t forget I can fight too, Master~’

Have someone you need to email or call but you really don’t want to? That's where Kaeya comes along to take care of your social interactions!

Jokes aside, he really is the most talkative model in this collection. Sly as he is, Kaeya isn't a stranger to figuring out which people or tasks you dislike, and rewards you with a gift after you finally drag your feet to get it over with.

He’s good at countering procrastination in this way, such as buying your favorite snacks or preparing a movie night for you when you get home. Kaeya sometimes dries your hair for you too after you shower, and quietly muses that you probably had a long day, when you doze off before the movie manages to cross the fifteen-minute mark.

Kaeya enjoys driving or escorting you to places too, knowing full-well he looks like a doting boyfriend when he does so. He dresses stylishly and would talk to passersby while waiting, telling them about this wonderful and super-important person… only to welcome you with the same amount of grandeur. He finds it cute when you half-heartedly scold him for it, saying he’ll make people misunderstand the situation.

‘What is there to misunderstand, Y/N? I thought you said we’d be together for as long as you lived? I was rather looking forward to that.’

An encyclopedia of knowledge, Zhongli has an elegant personality and voice that you could listen to for hours. He’s rather adept at keeping track of your accounting needs in particular, though you’ve learned quickly that he has a rather skewed sense of money when he spends it himself—you had to send him to buy last-minute groceries because you already started cooking at home, only for him to return with… way too many of the same ingredient, because it was on promotion.

That aside, Zhongli does emphasize the need to manage your mental and physical health quite a lot. He makes you medicinal teas and offers to give you massages quite regularly, though there’s nothing scarier than his offer to do chiropractic maneuvers at home… you tried to change the topic quickly after that, telling him you’re feeling great - so there’s no need for such a thing!

As much as he likes to ramble about topics that he’s interested in, Zhongli is an android that listens to you very well. He’d take note of information that might be useful in the future, such as things you said you’d like to buy or were curious about.

‘Today I thought it’d be beneficial to attempt an acupuncture treatment. …Just kidding. I heard that the flowers in the park would be blooming this season. Shall we go on a walk?’

Ayato's a little picky with his users. They don’t have to be rich corporate heirs or someone of prestige, but Ayato is an android with a personality that gets bored easily; he even comes with a warning label that he might get up to shenanigans if paired with an incompatible user, but once he finds a person intriguing enough, he’s loyal to a fault.

Sure, he still enjoys teasing you and keeping you on your toes, but for the most part Ayato practically sees you as the center of his world, though he presents himself to suggest otherwise. His work record is absolutely spotless, and sometimes he even predicts what you might request from him before you have to, getting it done while saying it’s all in a day’s work.

Just make sure you don’t let him cook unsupervised, as Ayato is quite curious about… experimenting with flavors, you could say. By which you mean he’d add the randomest ingredients into an otherwise normal recipe, which would sometimes be too adventurous for your palette to handle.

You realize just how much he dotes on you during one rainy day, where Ayato walks you home under an umbrella as he asks how your day was. In moments like that, his expression is just soft enough that you might be fooled into thinking it was love.

The perfect model for tired users, Thoma has a caring personality that warms the heart. Cooking, cleaning, and making sure you wake up on time? He's got it all covered!

Honestly, you don’t think your place has felt this homey until Thoma got here. During the first few days he asked you what you’d like out of your home - what activities you do to wind down, how often you work on your laptop, and other details. You thought these were just conversation starters at first, until weeks later, you started to see the vision of what he wished to give to you: 

A place where you could shed away the worries and expectations of the outside world. To rest safely and feel reinvigorated by the time you had to go out again - sometimes with Thoma in tow as he busied himself with self-appointed tasks (related to housekeeping). You realize after a while that Thoma views the upkeep of your home as a source of pride.

He likes to knit and crochet items for you whenever he has time, too. Little accessories to put on top of headphones, beanies, and even blankets to use around the house. Once, when the weather was unbearably cold and the heater wasn’t working, Thoma forgot his lack of body heat and attempted to warm up your hands with his own. 

[desceros]

me: [looks at calendar, gets a wicked idea, looks into the camera] happy springtime, turtle fam! who's ready to celebrate the season?

...mating season, that is. hehe. [dodges the tomatoes]

so! i had the idea that it would be super fun to have a community-wide event where we all have a prompt and then everyone fills it in their own way.

...i then decided all the prompts i came up with were too good not to use, but also none of them were Good Enough to use exclusively, so i changed my mind and the prompt is now just MATING SEASON. with a few suggestions at the bottom of this post if you're looking for some.

since spring is coming upon us, i hereby invite everyone to join in the vernal festivities... which in turtle parlance, of course, means only one thing: write, draw, whatever your version of "mating season", then join me on march 1 to post it with the tag #TMNTSpringShellebration. we then shall browse the fine selection of our mutual artistic efforts, and basically just have a good time as a community.

here are the prompts i came up with as starters-slash-things-to-include if you're looking for a place to get started. feel free to use these at will, or use them to come up with something of your own:

“Please don’t make me explain this. It’s humiliating as is.”

Oops, Looks Like Mating Season Came A Week Early This Year

“…In all of my mating seasons, this has never happened before.”

“I told you not to come by! It’s mating season!”

Probably should have expected it to be different now that he’s not going through it alone.

Because of Shenanigans, you have to wait. Wait… Wait… ok now.

They’re not the right person for mating season… but they’re the one who’s here, so…

“Show me where it hurts."

so yeah! see you all on march 1 for the, uh, spring shellebration. party popper emoji

questions i imagine will be popping up and i hope will clear up here before my askbox swells beyond capacity under the cut to keep this post from being Way Too Long. also it's really not that serious it's just an excuse to write slash draw for everyone Please Don't Take This Thing Too Seriously It's Not That Serious:

"can i participate?" yes! it's literally just an invitation to do something. nothing fancier than that. no need to be following me or in my friend group or whatever.

"can i write (insert fic idea here)?" yep! so long as it's related to the idea of mating seasons, it flies. reader insert? hell yea. oc? hell yeah. solo turtle and his favorite pillow? go for it.

"can i draw (insert art idea here)?" yep! uh. i know tumblr has the cops watching for sin bin material, but you art people know how to deal with that. and if you don't, uh, ask the other art people. im just a feral cat in a trench coat

"how do i participate?" write/draw/collect songs for/whatever. then, on march 1, post it and tag it #TMNTSpringShellebration. also, for funsies, keep it hush hush what you're working on so we can all be super shocked when the day comes! except, y'know, that you're planning on joining in. totally do that.

"when do i post it?" march 1. whenever on that day. waves hands around in a vague gesture at time zones not mattering. seriously don't take this so seriously it's just me wanting to create cool shit with my friends with a little more structure to it

"does it have to be horny?" i mean. it's an event about mating season. so by definition it's going to be at least a little horny. but however you interpret it is cool. even if it's just. idk. leo sitting sweatily in a chair looking longingly at a glass of water bc he's thirstier than usual. be smart about things, people. i'm not your dad.

"which tmnt verse is this for?" whichever one you want it to be for!! rise! bayverse! 2007! your fan iteration! your friend's fan iteration! your mortal enemy's fan iteration! yes!

"will you be reblogging everything?" absolutely not, but this isn't an event About Me. i am incidental to the thing. it's about Us. coming together as a community. for horny turtles. puts my hands on your shoulders. do it for you. for your friends. for the community.

[tkaulitzlvr]

I NEED A PT2 TO THE 'DID U MEAN IT' ANGST PLEAAAAAAAAAASE IM BEGGING

DID YOU MEAN IT (2)- T. KAULITZ

synopsis: you see tom for the first time after calling off your casual hookups - unsure of what to make of tom’s confession after he says something that makes them so much more. it seems that he has had a change of heart, determined to put things straight, no matter how hard you resist.

content: angst & smut

a/n: lowk forgot i even wrote did you mean it LOL, i meant to write a part two a few days after but that never happened😭i’d recommend u read part one before this to remind urself of what happened cause this has sat in my drafts for weeks and i have finally found the motivation to finish it🔥

“truth or dare guys come on!”

a noticeably tipsy voice shouts over the loud music, everybody placing their drinks down and walking over to the large circle that begins to form in the centre of the living room. i contemplate joining, swirling the drink in my hand aimlessly, praying that no one will notice me. normally i would rush towards games like this, enjoying the thrill that came along with them. but that excitement is replaced with dread, because he is here.

my friends hadn’t told me that tom would be at this party - knowing that i would never have agreed to come if i had found out. but it was far too late to leave now, my breath catching in my throat when i had spotted him from the other side of the room, my heart aching as the wound of whatever we had is still fresh. and he spotted me too - his eyes locking onto mine, no longer paying attention to the small blonde clinging onto his frame. though a couple weeks had passed since i had walked out, i know that i’m not ready to speak to him yet, so for the rest of the party i ignore him, despite the obvious glances that he sends my way.

and i was able to do so easily - until now. a game like truth or dare means that i have to face him directly, something which i have strictly avoided. my eyes are glued to his frame - adorned in baggy attire as usual - as he joins the circle himself, no longer accompanied by the girl he was with when i arrived. and just when i think i have managed to get away with missing out on the game, i am dragged over to the circle by one of my friends, unable to resist her strangely strong grip. as i near the circle, tom’s eyes dart to mine, somehow spotting me out of his peripheral vision. if my luck wasn’t bad enough, my friend sits just a few seats beside him, tom now not even a metre away from me, this the closest we have been since we last fucked. i ignore his eyes clearly burning into mine, focusing on the glass bottle that is placed in the centre, watching as it begins to spin around.

“the first person it lands on has to choose truth or dare, the second chooses what they have to do.”

the bottle begins to slow after a few seconds, everybody’s eyes fixed on it - everybody’s except tom’s, who still refuses to tear his gaze away from my body. i groan internally when the glass bottle finally stops, landing directly on me. it spins again, landing on some random guy who i hadn’t seen before.

“truth or dare?”

“dare.” i state confidently, deciding that if i am sitting here, i might as well do something fun, rather than answer a shitty question that would probably be along the lines of ‘what’s your body count?’ or ‘where’s the craziest place you’ve had sex?’

“i dare you…” the guy pauses, visibly contemplating over what to instruct me to do, adjusting himself in his seat before continuing. “to sit on the hottest guy in the room’s lap for five minutes.”

seriously? i scoff quietly at his dare, wondering how he failed to come up with something at least a little more interesting. though when i lock eyes with the brunette that had been eyeing me up the entire night, it suddenly doesn’t seem that bad. he is cute, soft brunette curls adorning his structured face, deep green eyes and plump lips, i had spotted him almost as soon as i had entered the party. and he had seen me too, sending me quick glances and smiling at me. the opportunity seems perfect as i grasp it with open arms, standing up and adjusting my dress that was probably too short.

though as i begin to walk over, my steps are quickly restrained as a hand wraps itself firmly around my wrist, pulling me backward to sit on their lap. i turn around, a familiar pair of brown eyes looking back at me, his expression harsh, jaw clenched and gaze darkened. he doesn’t seem at all fazed, his hand remaining firmly on my wrist as he adjusts himself, ignoring the quiet gasps that sound from the people around us. all i can do is stare, somehow unable to scold him like sober me would. i don’t even contemplate getting up just yet, far too shocked to do anything but stare into his eyes, ones that i hadn’t seen since i had caused tears to spill from them the last time we had been this close.

“start the timer.” tom mumbles just loud enough for the rest of the circle to hear, his voice low as he refuses to look away from me. he adjusts my position on his lap, his hands moving to rest on my waist securely.

“what the fuck are you doing-”

“who is that guy?” he completely ignores my question, tightening his hold on me and pulling me even closer, diverting his gaze to the brunette who i had intended to walk over to, though like everyone else he is submerged in conversation with his friends.

“i don’t know.” i groan, feeling his arms tighten around my waist once again, pulling me in so my back is flat against his chest. i hear him tut behind me, his low breaths seeming to get closer and closer to my ear. “maybe i would if you hadn’t fucking pulled me over here-”

“i wouldn’t even let you find out his fucking name.” he quickly cuts me off, voice laced with an anger i hadn’t ever heard before, far beyond the heat of the moment frustration he had displayed a few weeks ago. this time jealousy edges it, the idea of me wanting to entertain another man leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. his lips are now centimetres away from my ear, close enough to be able to just ghost over it, but he stops himself. “you won’t speak to anyone else. because we’re talking about what happened, mhm? that guy isn’t going anywhere fucking near you.”

i scoff at his statement, his bold attitude somewhat amusing. he hadn’t been this possessive ever - when we were fuck buddies we would have sex, then he left. he would take me out for food sometimes, though it always ended in the same way - wrapped up in some random hotel room sheets with his dick inside me, leaving almost just as fast as i had entered. this is new. he had always gotten tense at any mention of me with another guy, yet he never had the guts to call me out. maybe he was jealous, but the most likely explanation is that he simply didn’t care. so why now?

i open my mouth to speak, though i am quickly cut off by the sound of a dull alarm ringing from the other side of the room. the guy that had given me the dare pulls his phone out of his pocket, ending the timer and uttering a quick ‘times up guys’. tom however doesn’t budge, keeping his hands firmly on my waist, despite it being literally impossible for him to have not heard the alarm.

i quickly detach his hands from my hips, standing up and exiting the circle before he can attempt to stop me, wanting nothing more than to be as far away from him as possible. though not because he frustrates me, not because i am seconds away from punching that jealous look off of his face, but because the butterflies that erupt in my stomach from his touch shouldn’t be there - not after i had ended things. my mind had told me that i would be fine without him, and until now i had believed myself. but fuck, i would be stupid to ignore the feeling that his presence ignites, his touch almost enough to make me run back into his arms. though i know that would be irrational, the alcohol in my system not helping my ability to make the right decision, forcing the morally correct part of me to get the fuck away from him before i make a mistake.

the music gets quieter and quieter as i carry on walking down the hallway, pressing my ear against one of the doors on the left, sighing in relief when i hear silence. my hands reach for the handle, pulling it open, silently thanking god that it is not only a bathroom, but an empty bathroom, something that is a luxury at parties of this size. i close the door behind me, turning to face the large mirror above the counter, adjusting my makeup and pulling my dress down - knowing that tom is the reason why it has rolled up so much. the mere thought of him leaves an uneasy feeling in my stomach, his actions totally unexpected and more than anything - annoying.

sure, i had been confident in my decision to cut things off before, but seeing his face and being so close to him proves too much to handle, the unexpected realisation that i am not where near over him beginning to set in. i groan loudly, resting my elbows on the marble counter and placing my head in my hands, quickly realising that i should never have come here in the first place.

the door handle begins to turn, though i don’t even have the energy to see who it is, mumbling a small ‘someone is in here’, hoping that they will move on. though the door fully opens, creaking quietly as i hear footsteps behind me.

“are you fucking deaf? i said-”

my mouth falls open when i turn around, my eyes meeting the brown ones that are the last things i want to see. his dreads hang loosely along his shoulders, tied in their usual ponytail. his expression is stern as he closes the door behind him, twisting the small lock beneath the handle.

“what the fuck do you want, tom?” i sigh, rubbing my temples as the alcohol in my system creates a small headache that begins to throb painfully. he steps a little closer as i move backward, my back hitting the cold counter behind me.

“to talk.” his voice is calm, still laced with anger as he places his hands in his pockets, his gaze never tearing away from mine.

“we have nothing to talk about.”

“don’t play that bullshit with me. we have fucking plenty to talk about.” he cuts me off firmly, tone lacking the composure it had just seconds ago, becoming more frustrated by my somewhat nonchalant attitude. in my head i am screaming, pleading, my mind thinking the exact opposite of what my voice utters, knowing that if i give in, i won’t be able to stop myself. the room turns silent, the uneasy kind that leaves a sinking feeling in your stomach, one that tempts me to leave the room and sprint home.

“i miss you.” he eventually speaks into the silence, tearing it apart with one of the most heavy sentences possible, leaving my voice caught in my throat, unable to do anything besides stare into his eyes.

“the sex you mean? me and the hookups are two different things.” my voice is harsh, probably harsher than i had intended as he scoffs at my statement, shaking his head and clearing his throat. he takes another step towards me, now within arms reach.

“why did you end it?” he completely changes the subject, tone matching the harshness of my own as his eyes narrow, feet shuffling closer to mine as his hands move to rest at either side of the counter, trapping my body between his own and the counter.

“because you said you loved me then changed your mind within ten fucking minutes. don’t act stupid tom.” i shake my head at his stupidity, wondering how he could ask such a question, the answer totally obvious. he still doesn’t budge, arms trapping me against the counter. “why do you care anyway?”

“you wanted to end it, not me. that’s why i care.” as much as it irritates me, he is right. i was the one to call off our regular hookups against his pleas not to. “and that guy is lucky he can walk out of this party alive. he’s been eye-fucking you all night.”

“so what? i’m not your’s tom. i never was. all we did was hookup, i can do what i want.” his jaw clenches at my response as he turns away from me, hands remaining fixed on the counter whilst his head is turned towards the door. he exhales loudly, his grip on the counter seeming to tighten as he grits his teeth, swallowing before looking at the ground.

“what so that’s it then? you don’t even care?” his voice raises now, not far off yelling as he finally backs away, eyes darkened as they scan my own, his expression hurt.

yes i care. of course i fucking care. my heart begs me to scream the words out, to bring him close to me and kiss him like we aren’t complicated. like we have the most simple relationship ever, even though it is everything but. we never dated, nothing beyond a regular hookup, and my heart shouldn’t ache the way it does over somebody who was never mine. somewhere within me, my rational side manages to take control, prompting me to speak after a few painful seconds of silence.

“care about what? look, i don’t understand what you want me to say. we had sex sometimes, now we don’t, that’s all there is to it. bye tom.” each word stabs me in my own heart as i speak them, knowing deep down that i don’t mean any of it, that i will regret pushing him away one day. when my hand reaches for the door, not able to spend another second this close to him, i know that i want nothing more than to show him how i really feel. though the second my palm twists the door handle, it is forcefully pulled backward, my entire body pushed harshly against the counter.

i am unable to object or even question what is happening as tom presses his lips onto mine firmly, silencing any attempts to fight back before i can even utter them. his hands attach themselves to my waist, pushing me further against the counter as his body presses against my own. my eyes close, lips moving to kiss him back without any real thought.

“don’t say shit like that.” he mumbles angrily against my lips, groaning quietly into the kiss as he deepens it, his tongue sliding into my mouth. his lips are soft, just as i had remembered them, always contrasting with the harshness of his metal lip piercing, something which i had grown to love over the course of our hookups - not that i would ever tell him that. never breaking his lips from my own, his hands reach under my thighs, lifting me up and onto the counter in one swift motion. he uses one hand to move my legs apart, standing in between the gap as his mouth works against mine. it is this change in position that soon makes me realise where he is going with this, and no matter how much i want to, i can’t give myself up.

“we can’t.” i mutter against his lips, my words getting through with little success as he mumbles a quiet ‘hm’ against me before kissing me with just as much hunger as before. i place my hands against his chest, pushing him back, though he only takes this as a sign to attach his lips to my neck, planting sloppy kisses all over the skin as his hands run up and down my waist.

“tom we can’t do this.” my voice is much louder this time, firmer than before as he pulls his head from my neck, not moving far as his face is inches from my own.

“why not?” he is breathless, chest rising up and down as his hands still rest on my waist, body resting in between my legs. when i don’t respond, he sighs lowly, moving his head back into the crook of my neck, resuming his lips’ movements on the skin.

“tell me to stop.” his grip on my waist becomes tighter as he presses our bodies flush against each other. the kisses on my skin become much harsher, bordering messy as they aim to caress every inch of my neck. and when i struggle to form words, i realise that tom knows exactly what he is doing, his kisses pausing momentarily to speak. “say you don’t want this. say it and i’ll stop.”

“i-i….” i pause, thinking things through for a second. i choose my words carefully, deciding what to say, wondering if i even mean what is about to leave my mouth. because we both know the real answer, the one that my heart pleads for me to say, even when my words come out as a choked whisper, saying the complete opposite. “i don’t want you. stop…”

“you’re such a bad liar.” he breathes out against my skin, moving to rest his forehead against my own, his eyes flicking between my own gaze and lips, swollen and slightly parted. he doesn’t waste much time though, capturing them in to a harsh kiss, even more desperate than the ones before. his hands move under the small dress that hugs my figure, the pads of his fingertips now dancing along the bare skin of my waist, his touch creating goosebumps along it as i moan lowly into his mouth.

slowly his hands begin to trail down, my mind paying little attention to these small movements, until his finger teases the waistband of my lace panties. my breath gets caught in my throat, lips momentarily stuttering against his own when he wraps his fingers around the lace, tugging it down at a slow pace. his lips still work against mine, only much slower now, pulling away once my panties pool at my feet.

“you have no idea how much i’ve needed you.” he shakes his head whilst his fingers scramble to undo the button of his jeans, pulling them down and stepping out of them. he reaches for his t-shirt, not getting far as i stop his movement, my hands taking the fabric and pulling it over his head, revealing that toned upper half that i had been close to so many times. but no matter how many times i had seen it, i would never get used to it. the muscle that lines his frame, broad shoulders and slightly built arms, trailing down to his somehow perfectly crafted six pack, god he looks good.

and he knows it too, a soft smirk tugging at his lips when he registers that i am staring. “it’s all yours. it always has been, but you had to be fucking stubborn about it.”

he reconnects his lips to mine, spreading my legs apart even further as one finger slips downward, teasing my entrance as i moan into his mouth. i gasp against it when he slowly inserts one finger, knowing just when to curl it to elicit those sounds out of me that he longs to hear. and he knows that whatever he is doing is working, my lips stuttering against his as my head falls backward, legs subconsciously spreading wider. just as i feel myself getting close, he pulls his finger out, placing it in his mouth as his tongue swirls around it, releasing with a small pop. all i can do is watch, my eyes glued to his fingers, staring as they move toward his boxers, hurriedly pulling them down as his dick springs free. his size had always been something that excites me, though now, after being without it for two weeks, my thighs clench together at the sight, needing nothing more than to feel it inside me.

he takes his shaft in his hand, pumping it slightly whilst the other reaches behind my back, undoing the zipper of my dress and pulling it downward. he uses his other hand to pull it completely off of my body, stopping in front of me for a few seconds to take in the view in front of him. his tongue comes out of his lips to gently poke at the metal piercing that adorns it, eyes widening slightly once they make contact with my breasts.

“you’re so beautiful, want you all to myself.” he mumbles quietly, spreading my legs apart and lining his tip up with my entrance. “you ready?”

he waits for my consent, smiling weakly when i nod my head. that is all he needs to begin sliding into me, his head falling backward at the feeling. my walls attempt to stretch out to accustom to his size as i hiss in pain, hands clutching onto the countertop. though i never tell him to stop, deciding that any pain is better than ruining this moment, waiting patiently for it to subside. he finally bottoms out inside me, and i swear i feel his tip prodding at my cervix, the sensation causing my mouth to fall open, tom’s already placing messy kisses on my my chest.

he slides out slowly, almost pulling out completely until only his tip is inside, before thrusting all the way in without warning, my entire body jolting forward at the feeling. he repeats his motions, my body practically on the verge of giving out, hands flying to his chest in search for any form of support. my teeth sink into my bottom lip, hissing quietly as dull flashes of pain wash over me, eventually becoming less and less frequent, instead replaced by pure pleasure.

tom finds a steady pace, his head still buried into my chest as his lips work against it, leaving purplish marks in place of their kiss. my ability to speak is long gone, desperate mewls of his name spilling from my lips as he grabs my hips, using them to speed up his thrusts even more. he moves his head closer to mine, somehow managing to kiss my lips at a slow pace, tongue exploring my own whilst his cock thrusts in and out of me far more relentlessly than ever before.

“doing so good for me, missed this pussy so much…” his praise is cut off by short and almost inaudible groans every few seconds, his nails digging into my waist whenever i clench around him. he pulls his head away from mine, and through half lidded eyes i see his own gaze flash to the large mirror behind us, his pace faltering momentarily as his expression changes, eyes darkening. and before i can question why, he quickly pulls out of me as i whine at the loss of contact, not having long to complain as he takes my body, bending it over the counter as i now look at myself in the mirror, mouth falling open as he thrusts into me once again.

the new angle is almost too much, my body now fully bent over the counter as i almost lose my balance, eyes squeezing shut and eyebrows furrowing. i can feel every inch of him inside of me, every vein seeming to leave its mark inside my walls as i clench around him. my head falls downward, close to being flush against the counter, though tom reaches around to grab my face, forcing me to be level with the mirror once again.

“no no no.” he mutters breathlessly, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he pauses, holding my face harshly in his hands, his grip likely to leave a mark. “watch yourself. look at those pretty faces you make as i fuck you.”

my eyes almost roll backwards when his tip prods directly against my g-spot, fighting the already strong urge to close, determined to comply with tom’s request as he continues to hold my face, his eyes locked on mine through the mirror. his muscles tense with each harsh movement, face twisting lightly after each thrust, the noises he lets out becoming more and more unrestrained as he gets closer and closer to his release.

“i’m so close.” he groans, finally letting go of my head, trailing his hand downward to rub fast circles on my clit, pushing me closer to my climax as the knot in my lower stomach begins to tighten. my legs buckle at his movements, quickly becoming overstimulated as i try to keep myself upright, pressing my body firmer into the counter. tom’s dick begins to twitch inside of me, signalling that he really is close, the soft groan that leaves his lips quickly followed by a much louder one as ropes of his thick cum begin to shoot into me. his head falls backward, low curses pouring from his lips as his cum continues to spill into me, his fast and deep thrusts fucking it upwards, followed by my own release. my hands clutch onto the counter desperately, using whatever little strength i have left to hold myself up, eyes locked on tom’s face as he cums, milking his cock slowly until he can no longer keep going.

he slides out of me, a mix of our juices seeping out of my hole, soon collected by the tissue that tom grabs from the side. sweat lines his body, showing just how tired out he is, if the loud and heavy breaths that leave his parted lips don’t show it enough. he lazily lifts me onto the counter, standing between my legs and pecking my lips softly, doing so repeatedly until our breathing has returned to its normal pace. he slides my panties on for me, grabbing his own boxers and quickly slipping them on, leaving the rest of our clothes on the floor. his forehead rests against mine, hands reaching to move any loose hairs out of my face.

“i meant it.” he states quietly into the silence, his lips ghosting against mine as i look back at him in confusion.

“you meant what?” i ask, my arms wrapping loosely around his neck. he smiles weakly, his thumb coming upward to stroke my cheek gently as i lean into his touch.

“when i said i loved you. i meant it.” no matter how daunting his confession is, he never looks away, his brown eyes searching my own as he blinks slowly. “i know i was a dick when i said it the first time. i didn’t want to scare you away, because i know it was just sex. and don’t get me wrong the sex is great, but it’s been more to me for a while. it did slip out, but i meant it, and i still mean it.”

my eyes widen, unsure of what to say, slightly hesitant to believe him instantly and instead wondering if this is just another ploy to fuck with my head, like he had done the last time. after a few seconds, i attach my lips to his, the kiss much softer than before, lacking the lustful intent behind it that had brought us to this position. he smiles into it, his hands resting on my lower back as his thumbs creates soft circles over the skin.

“i love you too.” his eyes light up at my response, arms wrapping tightly around my waist as he pulls me into a hug, lips pressing short kisses to my shoulder. he pulls away after a few seconds, smiling and reaching down to hand me my dress, quickly slipping on his own clothes and helping me down from the counter. he glances at the mirror, noticing that it is steamed up, his eyes lighting up as a childish idea flashes across his mind.

‘we just fucked :)’ i giggle quietly as he guides me out of the bathroom, glancing quickly at the mirror and reading the messy writing spread across it, hitting his arm playfully. he flashes me a quick smile, placing a hand on my lower back as we rejoin the party, my eyes immediately locking with the boy from earlier. tom quickly spots where i am looking, his eyes darkening as he refuses to look away. instead of walking toward him and starting a fight like i had expected, he places a hand firmly on my ass, kissing my lips roughly, his eyes still locked on the guy as he scoffs, shaking his head and walking elsewhere.

“i told you that he wouldn’t go anywhere near you. you can’t tell me i don’t stick to my word baby.” he smirks in my direction, taking my hand in his and leading me through the crowd, glancing behind him every so often to make sure that i am okay.

thank god for truth or dare.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[harryforvogue]

a blurb where harry is a big schedule guy and yasmine is a big "it happens when it happens" girlie. they fight (sorta).

***

Harry and Yasmine have never lived with other people after moving out of their homes, and they alternated whose place they’d be staying at back in graduate school. It was always an unspoken rule that if Harry was at Yasmine’s house, she was the boss. And vice versa. 

But now that they're living together, how are they supposed to adjust and split responsibilities? More importantly, how the hell are they expected to create a rhythm?

Harry is a very structured person. Gets out of bed at a certain time, has lunch at a fixed time. Dinner as well. He considers himself a pretty laid back guy too. He’ll skip cooking some days to order takeout – or swap his laundry days with his bedsheet changing days just to switch things up. Yasmine calls him a relentless Aquarius. He's not supposed to be offended, right?

He’s always known that Yasmine is… less serious about all that. So, really, he always knew what he was getting himself into. Especially when it’s nearly 11 on a Sunday and Yasmine’s still buried in the sheets, gripping him tight to keep him from slipping out of bed despite his groaning about how he just wants to take a shower and eat something. (Probably the worst habit of Yasmine’s is skipping breakfast nearly every morning and that’s just not something he’s going to stand by.)

After graduation, Yasmine and Harry are employed at different universities, and the first few months are filled with settling into their new jobs. Their work hours are very similar, with the exception of Wednesdays where Harry has a later recitation class to teach. Regardless, Harry went into the new job with the mindset that he’d always get all his work done on time so that he and Yasmine could focus on figuring out the layout of their place still. Not to mention, Harry’s dedication to at least 2 dates a week (and going grocery shopping is NOT a date no matter how much Yasmine insists it is). 

He has a calendar in his office above his desk that tells him what days he needs to get his deadlines done so that he and Yasmine can have some time for themselves. He crosses out all the things he gets finished and circles the days he’s free.

Yasmine is the opposite. She always gets everything done, but it’s never as planned as Harry. She has the ability to sit down and bang everything out in one day … and also the ability to procrastinate until the night before.

It’s baffling to Harry. Harry’s routine is annoying to Yasmine. Really – where’s the fun in all that planning? And what if something suddenly comes up and there’s no wiggle room to fit in a doctor’s visit or something just because you’ve meticulously scheduled all your work to be back to back on weekdays.

This comes up one day when she’s working and he’s bringing her dinner to her study.

Harry pulls up a chair on the other side of her desk with his own plate. “Yasmine.”

“Mhmm.”

“If you’d gotten this done yesterday, we could have gone to the shop you wanted to visit.”

“We can go during the weekend. I can’t just align everything with your schedule to free up some time.”

Harry smiles, but it’s clearly tense. “We get home at the same time, Yas. If we can just finish all our stuff for the next day of class before, say, 5pm, we have the rest of the day to be together. Doesn’t that sound great?”

Yasmine glances up at him over her glasses. “I don’t want to do more work as soon as I get home though. I want to relax.”

From Harry’s face, she knows he’s thinking about the hour-long nap she took on their couch as soon as she came home. 

“Right, but. Now it’s almost 8 and we won’t make it to the store on time.”

“We’ve got weekends for that.”

His mouth twists into something that’s very much not a smile. “We’ve got other stuff to do over the weekend, remember? We agreed on two dates a week–”

“No. You decided that.” 

Harry stops. He tilts his head back to look at the ceiling in an attempt to calm himself down. When he looks back at her, he reaches across, shuts her laptop in a not-so-nice way and says, “What?”

Yasmine crosses her arms over her chest and leans back in her chair. “Well, you said the two dates thing. I think going to the shop counts as a date.”

“Going shopping isn’t a date. Having a romantic time out is a date.”

“Any time I get to spend with you is a date, Harry. It's about being with you, not where we go.”

“Have you maybe considered that I want to take you to restaurants and little getaways simply because I enjoy them too? That I like to see you have fun with me?”

Yasmine sighs and takes her glasses off. She rubs her eyes tiredly. “You clearly have a certain work ethic. And there’s nothing wrong with that, but I don’t. I get my work done when it gets done and I don’t want this structured, super formal scheduling of our time together. We live together, Harry. I see you all the time. Isn’t that enough?”

He doesn’t say anything for some time, but it’s clear he’s taken aback.

“It’s not enough,” he says, anger in his voice. “It’s not nearly enough. We’re dating, Yasmine. We’re not roommates.”

Yasmine blinks. “We technically are roommates.”

He runs a hand through his hair. Yasmine knows she's pushing him more than necessary. "Don't do that."

“All I’m saying is that I don’t want to schedule times with you. Won’t that be boring? Like, oh! It’s 6pm! Gotta go watch a movie with my boyfriend. It’s 7. Gotta have dinner. It’s 8, we should probably have sex before we get too tired. I’ve never had that type of schedule and I don’t want to.”

“It’s efficient.”

“I’m not having sex with you at 8pm every night just because it’s efficient. What -- are you going to break up that time too? 15 minutes for foreplay, 10 minutes for--"

He looks really mad now, his eyes alight. “That’s not what I mean! I’m saying that if we’re on the same wavelength – if we’re getting all our work done on time, then we can spend time together. That’s all! You're being way too difficult just for the sake of disagreeing with me.”

Yasmine frowns deeply. “Why don’t you adapt to my schedule then? I get all my work done too. I’ve got Saturday and Sunday’s open too – just like you.” From Harry’s expression, she exclaims, “See? It’s not about our time together. It’s about us sticking to your routine.”

Harry pinches the bridge of his nose. “We live together now. Don’t you think we should have some sort of rhythm? Be in sync?”

“That’s boring Harry!”

“It’s–”

“Don’t you dare say efficient!”

“It is!” Harry stands, putting distance between them. “This is ridiculous, Yasmine. And you have no right to say that I’m only making you adapt to my way of living.”

“Why can’t we live my way?”

“Because you don’t have a way! You get up and you just make things up! I can’t do that. I want to have breakfast together, lunch together and dinner together. I don’t want to be eating alone while you’re working just because you didn’t want to finish everything before 6. This past week alone, we’ve yet to do anything but ask about each other’s day because when I’m working, you're not, and when you’re working, I’m done with everything. You see the problem?”

Now, Yasmine can handle Harry when he gets like this. She’s put up with him before – and she’d be lying if she said she doesn’t see his point. He wants to spend time together as a couple. And he’s figured out a great way to clear up time for himself. Now he wants her to follow his regimen.

But the thing that makes Yasmine get angry is his volume. He’s got no right to yell at her.

And, okay. He’s not really yelling. He’s just annoyed and getting his point across loudly. But, it’s too late.

“Clearly we’re not going to do anything together tonight so why don’t you just let me finish my work and then we’ll talk about this later.”

Harry grabs his dinner and starts to leave her office. “No, we won’t be talking about this because by the time you’re done, I’m going to be asleep!”

“Well maybe don’t sleep so early?” she snaps back.

“Why should I change my schedule to match yours?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you!”

“You don’t have a schedule!” Harry says, visibly trying to keep his head from exploding. “You do things whenever you feel like doing them. So whenever you realize you’re more than a roommate to me, find me.”

He shuts the door behind him, leaving Yasmine alone in the room.

***

Harry can hold a grudge.

Yasmine, as fiery as she can get, has harsh anger hangovers. Once her anger at Harry is gone, she goes to find him. Sure enough, it’s late and Harry’s already in bed.

So she gets ready for bed too. And when she slides in, she waits for Harry to say something. He must still be angry because he doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t even turn to give her a kiss.

Yasmine sighs to herself. He’s the one who never likes to go to sleep angry, so she inches closer to him and rests her head on his shoulder. “Harry.”

No answer.

“Harry?”

Nothing.

He’s not wrong, but she’s not either. So she sits up and pokes his biceps hard to wake up just in case he’s already out. When he offers her nothing, she huffs and rolls her over him, looking at him sideways with half her body draped over his arm. 

“Hey.” She goes back to poking, this time on his face. “Hellooooooo.”

“What are you doing?” he grumbles, turning his face away. Yasmine finishes rolling over so she’s now on his side, looking up at him. She nearly tumbles off the side of the bed, but Harry’s quick arm on her waist prevents that.

"Yasmine," he hisses.

“Let’s talk about it.”

“I don’t want to. Go back to your side."

“Oh come on. No going to sleep angry, remember?”

“I’m not angry. I’m annoyed. We can definitely go to sleep annoyed. In fact, I can't think of anything else I'd rather be doing."

“Hmm, no we can’t.” She tangles her legs with his. “Harry. Look. I understand what you’re saying. But I’m not going to apologize. I don’t think we’re that type of couple that needs to do everything together.”

“Not what I was saying but thanks for showing me you were listening."

She rolls her eyes. “I get that you want to spend time together, but don’t you think blocking out certain hours of the day is kind of ridiculous? It's so military."

"Military?"

"You get what I mean."

“Yasmine, if you had a 9 to 5 job, what time would we have to be together?”

“That’s not fair considering we don’t have 9 to 5s.”

“Say we did.”

“We’d have time after 5 and weekends.”

“Wouldn’t that be a schedule?”

“Well I don’t imagine we’d do something every day. I love you, but I do need to be away from you sometimes.”

Harry’s jaw tenses. He closes his eyes again. “Goodnight.”

“Hey wait, I didn’t mean it like that!” Yasmine laughs, throwing her arms around his neck. “I only mean that we’d get sick of each other.”

“I’d never get sick of you.”

“You’re saying that now but if we’re attached at the hip, then I’m totally sure–”

Harry’s eyes open and he grabs Yasmine’s face, tugging her close. “Never,” he says, voice deathly quiet. “I’d never get sick of you.”

She stops laughing, eyes wide. Something flutters in her chest. And…elsewhere too.

"Fine," she says, all breathily. "It would be a schedule, but only because we'd have no other option. We have flexibility as professors. We have more time, but more work load we bring home. It's not the same thing."

The hand on her waist tightens and suddenly she’s beneath him, his entire body hovering over hers. He lets go of her face, but leans down to kiss her instead. She holds him tight, her fingers tangled in his long curls that keep falling into their faces and tickling them.

“Harry,” she murmurs against his mouth. “Why are you so worried about us spending time together, hm?”

“I haven’t had a single meal with you all week, and I just remembered that you spent Sunday catching up on work, which is unfair because I forced myself to finish all my work so that I could have time for you. I don’t want to be the only one doing that.”

Yasmine sighs. “Harry, I’m not working just to avoid you.”

“I know that. And I know that us living together is enough for you. That sleeping and waking besides me is good, but it's not nearly enough for me.” Then, quietly, “I’m being petty about how you get your work done. But Yasmine, I didn't ask you to move together with me just so I could see you every day. I want a life with you." He traces her cheek gently, kissing the corner of her mouth. “And you’re right – we don’t have a 9 to 5 but is it so wrong for wanting to cut out a part of my day just for us? No talking about work. Just you and me, with a lot of this, preferably.” He kisses her again.

She's getting all mushy inside again. “It’s not wrong,” she whispers. “It’s not.” She wraps her legs around him, making him lean all her wait onto him. He holds his out against the mattress to stop himself.

“Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“No. Lay on me."

Harry does so, just for a total of five seconds until she’s gasping for air. Satisfied, she rolls out from under him and lets him lay comfortably. She straddles him then, bracing her hands on his chest. “Okay, let’s come to an agreement.”

Harry runs his hands up and down her thighs. “Let’s.”

“How about this: no talk of work after 7.”

“6.”

“Done.”

“And I will try my best to finish all my work by then also, but in the event I cannot due to circumstances overlooked in your calendar, you have to leave me to finish up so that I can come back to you as quickly as possible.”

“Done. And on weekends, nobody works. Don't bring any of it home on Friday. Not even a mere word about it.”

“Unless absolutely necessary.”

He pins her with a stern look. “I’ll be the judge of those conditions.”

“Anything else, professor?” Yasmine grins knowingly down at him, drumming her fingers against his chest.

Harry pinches her side. “And I will be a little less annoying about the whole two date thing.”

“And I’m sorry that I’ve kind of neglected you all week.”

“Thank you.”

Yasmine blinks expectantly at him.

He says, “Oh, are you waiting for an apology from me?”

“That would be nice.”

“Is that right?” 

She feels a thrill rush up her spine. “I’d appreciate it.”

“Yeah? Would you, baby? Good to know.”

“Or you can make it up to me in a different way.”

He shrugs. “Sorry. It’s almost 10. I’m strictly a no-love-making-past-eight-pm kinda guy.”

Yasmine sighs. “What a shame. And to think I went through all this effort coming to bed without a bra or underwear on in hopes I’d get to–”

Harry sits up and wraps his arms around her, roughly pulling her down into bed. “C’mere.”

[zimthandmade]

Funny Idea that Occured to Me:

Mello comes out to his mafia in the most threatening way possible. In so doing, he terrifies them out of using homophobic language.

Something like ... "I am the indispensible brains of this outfit, but I am perfectly willing to be the psychopathic executor of the most unhinged violence you have ever seen. The next person who uses a homophobic slur in my presence--I've prepared a handout, don't worry--will experience that unhinged violence first hand. Because I'm gay, and tired of hearing it."

One of them complains, "But these are all my favorite insults!" And Mello is instantly at his throat with a razor, hissing, "Then come up with better, more inclusive insults. Or I'll literally [redacted] [redacted] and [redacted] with your own [redacted] so you have to [redacted] with a magnifying glass."

Jump forward two weeks, and instead of his mafia calling their enemies "faggots" or whatever, they now say inventive things like "Taco Bell customer" and "spaghetti breaker".

Dude.

DUDE. I LOVE THIS.

(I'm pretty sure that's Matt's knife btw >:3c)

Also: I think Matt talked him into this.

“You know what? If the system sucks, why don’t you just change it? Make new rules.” ”Matt, I can't just single-handedly change long-established gang structures overnight." "I mean, what are they gonna do of you try? Fire you?" "Kill me. And you right after. I’m just ONE GUY - how do you think that should go??" "You’re not just one guy - I know of at least one person that would personally smash a blokes head if they pulled a gun on you for whatever reason and that’s the fucking BOSS, dude. Rod had your back from the very beginning. He'd be a gormless moron if he got rid of you because you were shagging a guy. He needs you. They all need you. And Ross knows that, I'm pretty sure. And besides, if anyone can change long-established gang structures overnight, that’s you, innit?? Who was it that brought Rod a head as an initiation gift, huh? The one who infiltrated the bloody mafia on his own?? I think it's a smaller task to get your subordinates to stop hitting on gays, don't you?" "Well, if you frame it like that..." "Also, you're forgetting the most important thing: you're fucking Mello. They're all scared of you and rightly so."

----- My other socials Commission Info Let's drink some Ko-Fi! 🍵

[lets-try-some-writing]

How would the first meeting between the Autobots and the humans have gone? With their more alien and most likely more imposing forms (due to their Cybertronian vehicle modes) I assume the government agents / military personnel sent to investigate were rightfully afraid. (Personally I think seeing 15-30 foot robots with optics that pierce through the presumably kicked up dust would be a little scary) Perhaps they would’ve spoken in a mix of Cybertronian and English? Would they have simply stared and watched, like in your Grim Dark Archives AU? I dunno it’s just something I thought would be interesting, but I already sent you a few requests, so feel free to delete this one. (To clarify this is a request for a longer writing post)

I have thought about this probably more than I should have. Writing The Grim Dark Archives gave me ideas for this ask, hence my IMPOSSIBLY slow response. Annnnnnyway, here you go!

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

The Autobots had plenty of time to prepare for their inevitable interactions with humanity during their journey. At the time the team consisted of Ratchet, Optimus, Bulkhead, and Bumblebee. As such, they were too few in number to go for any real intimidation tactic, not that they would have gone that route anyway. There was no choice but for them to learn to communicate.

But of course, due to the HIGHLY varying methods of human communication across Earth, it was decided that each of the team would specialize in different methods of communication to ensure that at least someone could talk. Ratchet went the technological way and learned how to communicate in human morse code, the various computer coding languages, and digital texting. He hated every single moment of having to figure it all out, but at least he wasn't Bulkhead. Poor Bulkhead was tasked with learning the more physical methods of communication just in case things went south. He spent hours upon hours watching traditional dances and physical activities from around the world meant to express certain intentions. Let it be said that he is not a good dancer.

Bumblebee of course went down the route of non verbal communication for obvious reasons. He learned all the various sign languages available, practiced miming, learned various whistles, and familiarized himself with music in order to create ambiance as needed. Some species worked differently after all. Optimus for his part actually learned the spoken languages of Earth. Being a former archivist made the process far easier than it otherwise would have been, but he still spent a ridiculous amount of time practicing to get it right. With all of this having been done, when the team finally arrived on Earth, they felt they were ready.

They were incredibly wrong in their assumption.

They spent a handful of weeks undercover, but a few too many security cameras ended up getting them caught. Soon enough they were confronted with quite a few armed vehicles surrounding them and what had to be around a hundred soldiers with weapons raised. The team had learned what surrender looked like and so raised their servos up to show they passivity. That action seemed to give the gathered soldiers pause, and not too long later, a speaker was sent before them.

"I am Agent Fowler from the Department of Defense. What are you and what are you doing here?"

"We are Autobots. We come from the stars."

"You are aliens?"

"Affirmative. We arrived in a spaceship."

"A spaceship?"

"Affirmative. We came to find our bullies."

"Your... *wheeze* bullies?"

"Is that the incorrect term? We seek our... brothers?"

"Right, you came here to find someone. What do you plan on doing here while you hunt them down? Are you planning on blowing anything up?"

"Negative. Combustion of native structures and lifeforms is not on our wishlist."

"Wishlist?"

"Affirmative? Is that not how the term is used? I apologize."

"No no its fine. Let's talk this out."

Optimus did his very best to get the point across, but due to the many similar words in the English language, his ability to use words in context was rather limited. It also did not help that he spoke as though every single word was coming from a script, which unknown to Agent Fowler, he absolutely was reading from his translation program. He was disturbing and hilarious to speak to and Agent Fowler had to step aside and laugh more than once before going back over to the bots to continue talking in a secure facility. But this was noticed rather quickly, and so eventually the team swapped tactics. Optimus stood quietly and stared to try and figure out how to adjust his speech patterns while the rest of the team worked in tandem to communicate differently.

Fowler was not pleased when he had to fetch a technician to try and translate what Ratchet was typing up, which largely amounted to very very complex code going into the extreme details of their situation. Ratchet almost flipped a table when the technician gave up two lines of code in. The medic was not at all happy to have to think about learning the native language. At least with code he could fudge it a bit. But if the squishies couldn't even read the most "basic" of code strings, he was doomed. Bulkhead didn't fare much better in his attempts to dance in various American styles to show how the Autobots were trying to be friendly. His moonwalk was the only thing he was able to do right and all it did was leave the entire collection of human personnel laughing themselves half to death. Humiliated, Bulkhead made way for Bumblebee who managed to convey more vital information through sign language. He got across about as much as Optimus did, but finally there was some sort of answer for the humans present.

Then of course, there was the mess that way asking for names.

"The military will decide what we are going to do with you, but for now you all can stay here. Do you have any names to do with your files?"

"Affirmative. Our names are not pronounceable in your language, but they can be translated."

"Well lay it on me."

"This is Bumbling Bee. Or perhaps Honey Bee? Striped insect? I am afraid I do not have a proper translation."

"Bumblebee it is. What's next? Cargo lift?"

"Negative. This is Dividing Wall."

"Dividing... wall."

"I believe that is the most direct translation. A close synonym would be Bulkhead."

"Right... who is the red one then?"

"My companion is named after a tool on our homeworld. I do not believe you have the exact same tool here. The closest object I could find was the tool you call a ratchet."

"So his name is Ratchet?"

"It is close enough. Is "he" the correct referral for us on your world?"

"You look more masculine, so unless you want to be a she-"

"No, your masculine referral is sufficient."

"What is your name then big guy?"

"I am... Best First? I believe that is the most direct translation of my designation."

"Best First? You must have quite the ego."

"I did not choose my designation, it was given upon my rise to my station. However as my designation seems to be offensive, I will attempt an another translation."

"Wait-"

"Optimus Prime is sufficient. That is the designation by which I believe I can be referred to."

"Alright then. This is going to be a headache."

The Autobots were kept in a facility until the military questioned them more and understood their intentions. But there were more than a few miscommunications and both Ratchet and Bulkhead lamented the many hours spent learning what they now knew to be a useless form of communication.

[unofficial-writing]

Brown Eyes

Pairing: Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Warnings: Some angst, fluff, soft Din, that should be it

Summary: After being separated for almost two years, you were finally reunited with Din.

Word count: 1k

Translations: Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum - “I love you”

«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ «̶ ̶̶̶ 　　　　 ̶ ̶ ̶»̶  ̶̶̶ ̶ »̶

One year, nine months, two weeks, and five days since you last saw Din. You had no idea if he was even alive, but you clung to the last words he said to you like your life depended on it. “No matter how long it takes, I’ll see you again.”

Ever since you two were separated a hole occupied space in your heart. Despite the effort to ease the ache, nothing worked. So over time you slowly began to fall further into your own mind.

You had built a small home on a remote planet beyond the outer rim. Remote was an understatement. Other than the animals that inhabited the surrounding trees, you were convinced nobody else lived here. Nobody that would be able to speak at least.

The land was mostly forests. A shallow but fast moving river ran through the trees, coming down from the mountain that sat a few miles from where you stayed.

Over the past year and a half, you built yourself a house and a system that kept you alive. At first it was merely for survival— just to get yourself by one day at a time— but now, physically at least, you began to thrive.

The lifestyle wasn’t bad at all. Most days you roamed the surrounding area, finding anything you could do to keep you busy. But time crawled painfully slowly.

The longer you spent here, the lonelier you got. You’ve already spent a year and a half without seeing another person. And to think of it, you couldn’t remember the last time you heard your own voice.

Now you walked through the trees, mapping your route without much effort. Mindlessly, your feet followed their normal track and allowed your thoughts to slip away from you. Your alert state faded over time since you no longer needed to look over your shoulder every few minutes.

Your bliss was ripped away from you with the sound of a ship flying quickly overhead. An N-1 Starfighter flew over the trees, headed in the same direction as you— which was also the same direction as your house. You cursed to yourself, thinking back to the fire you left running.

The smoke would be easily visible from the ship’s cockpit and the last thing you wanted was an unwelcome visitor. As far as your knowledge— which you couldn’t be sure wasn’t outdated— the starfighter was used on Naboo years ago so you couldn’t imagine who was flying it now.

Your feet were moving before you thought about it and your fingers fumbled for the blaster you kept concealed in your thigh holster. At least you had that. Your preferred weapons were left behind that morning. Approaching your house from behind the trees, you spotted the ship in the only clearing for miles, at least on this side of the river.

Worry trickled into your system, pooling in your stomach while you came up with a plan. As silently as possible, you moved to just under your window to see if you could get a glimpse of the pilot. You saw nothing so you stood cautiously, moving to the door to enter the little structure.

The pool in your stomach filled quickly as time passed without establishing who or where the pilot of the starfighter was. With your blaster in hand, you turned to go through your door, pointing your weapon in front of you.

The breath was stolen from your lungs as your blaster came face-to-face with the familiar beskar armor. “D-Din?” You whispered, your voice trying to get used to being heard again. His helmet came off slowly, revealing himself to you.

The face you had seen seen only a few times but knew more intimately than any other was now directly in front of you. The only thing that broke your trance was the makings of tears in his eyes.

Once your mind had caught up, your arms were around him. He caught you and wrapped his arms tightly around your torso, burying his face into your neck.

You were in tears, overwhelmed by your emotions. It had been so long since you had felt anything more than your usual stoic disposition and empty mind. And now your heart ached in the opposite way.

“I’m so sorry.” Din said, sounding like he was choked up. He lifted his head so he could look into your eyes, without moving his hands away from your waist. You lifted your hands to cup his face. It almost felt like he wasn’t really there, but he was.

His brown eyes gazed at you with guilt, longing, and adoration. Which mixed together to make the expression he presented to you. You examined his face for a moment before pulling him down to you. Your lips met for the first time in almost two years but it felt like no time had passed at all.

Din melted into your kiss instantly, pulling you closer while you sighed into his lips. After a long minute, he lifted his lips from yours and pressed slow kisses onto your cheeks where tears stained your skin.

Your eyes stayed closed while he kissed your face, finishing with your lips again. “Please don’t leave.” You whispered against his lips. Din’s hand went up to your cheek and your eyes met for the second time.

“I’ll never l leave you again, y/n.” He stated quietly. His voice sounded smooth and velvety in your ears. As he spoke, his breath tickled your cheeks. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum”

You didn’t understand all of Mando’a but Din had taught you that phrase when he had first said it to you. It caused your heart to flutter— a much preferred feeling to the previous emptiness.

For the first time in almost two years, you smiled. Din pressed a kiss onto your nose and rested his chin on the top of your head, silently promising he would never leave you alone like this again.

After all that time, all you wanted was to stay there in Din’s arms. Neither of you wanted to let go.

[middlenamesage]

What each sign teaches us plus some hard truths each might need to ask!

KEEP IN MIND we all have all the signs in our birth chart; whether those houses are “empty” or not, they still have influence. We also all experience transits through all the signs, and we even have progressed charts that account for the archetypes we get more into learning later on. So take WHATEVER resonates for you with any of this!

♈️🐏 Aries teaches us action and that action comes from us with the least resistance when we know and trust who we are as an individual.

Hard truth: Aries, have you been seeing yourself or living your life as though you’re a one-man island? You might think you’re stronger than others for your hyper-independence, but at times the greatest strength for YOU is recognizing and embracing what others have contributed to your life and to who you are. It could also behoove you to think of others or to think more carefully through potential outcomes before you act sometimes.

♉️🐂 Taurus teaches us personal peace by aligning our focus on what we need for material and psychological stability.

Hard truth: Taurus, have your values, personal preferences, or your attachment to possessions become overly rigid? While honoring our values and preferences and ensuring we have the necessary items for material security and comfort are an important part of the process in finding peace, total inflexibility about these things can end up sending you in the opposite direction of peace.

♊️🌬️ Gemini teaches us to gather objective information from the world around us, and how to communicate information.

Hard truth: Gemini, have you been looking down so many avenues of knowledge, that you haven’t allowed yourself the time and sustained focus to sort out your own philosophies, or go more into depth or meaning, around the subjects you’re learning? At times you should also strive to keep better track of what you’re communicating to people, and to focus on understanding the meaning you project with your words, not just the information provided by them.

♋️🦀 Cancer teaches us how to emotionally support ourselves and others (self nurturance is key for support of others to be most functionally helpful)

Hard truth: Cancer, have you become so focused on protecting yourself or others, that you’ve started to see danger where it doesn’t even exist? Careful, paranoia is not a good look for anyone, but especially not you. There’s a reason you have instincts to build walls around you, not unlike a crab retreating into its shell. 🦀 But if this becomes a default action and not just used when it’s actually needed to protect your space or safety, the function of your energy to support and nurture can not be as well realized.

♌️🦁 Leo teaches us confidence in authentic expression of self. Where the first fire sign teaches us confidence in establishing self, the next one teaches us how to implement authentic expression of oneself.

Hard truth: Leo, have you been going out of your way to seek input from others that your self expression is valid? Well cut that out if so, because that would defeat the entire purpose of practicing YOUR expression. YOU decide if it’s valid. I could also advise something like “be less self centered!”… but honestly that’ll just start to happen naturally once you’re actually authentically relying on your own validation only. 🦁

♍️🌾 Virgo teaches us how to take care of things in the practical realm. We wouldn’t have a functioning world around us in this physical plane if it weren’t for Virgoan energy assessing all the details of structures, systems, and routines… makes sense I’ve read from at least one source that Virgo is the most common Sun sign!

Hard truth: Virgo, have you gotten so up in your head, Mercury style, about the details of your routines or the tasks you need to do, that it’s become challenging to actually successfully or efficiently attend to them? When Virgo energy gets dysfunctional like this it could really take a cue from Mars/Aries. “Just do it!” Also, whenever you start to find yourself being especially critical of yourself or others, you could stand to remind yourself of the big picture dynamics, concepts, or goals you have in mind.

♎️⚖️ Libra teaches us interpersonal peace by putting the focus on compromise and balance.

Hard truth: Libra, if you’ve been going out of your way to appease others, you might need to ask yourself if this is because you truly care about what’s best for them, or if it’s a behavior more connected to lack of rootedness in YOURSELF that makes you averse to conflict? It’s important for you to try to get to know and exercise your authentic individuality. The South Node currently in Libra with the North Node in Aries can help anyone who wants to make progress here.

♏️🦂 Scorpio teaches us how to face our shadows and ultimately how to integrate them so that we may transform.

Hard truth: Scorpio, have you been so obsessed on analyzing your past for answers to why you are as you are, that you’ve forgotten to just focus on finding some personal peace in the moment? You could take a cue from your opposite/sister sign Taurus if you find yourself in this position. 🖤 Also, when it comes to your trust issues, two big things will ultimately help: 1.) Build your SELF trust through giving yourself the opportunities to make and carry out your own decisions (Scorpio is Mars too and needs to act!) and 2.) Use/cultivate your deep instincts about people to ensure it’s supportive people you have most around you, while doing whatever you can to keep the toxic ones out.

♐️🏹 Sagittarius teaches us how to form our beliefs and find meaning however it encourages you to expand.

Hard truth: Sagittarius, have you fallen into the trap of thinking the philosophies that give YOUR life meaning are the same beliefs that others need to adopt? WHOA back up there buckaroo! It’d behoove you to remember that Sagittarius is a fire sign, so it deals with some personal aspects of our individuality. Not everyone will find inspiration to expand from the same designations of meaning as you, and you need to learn to not try to push your worldviews on anyone who isn’t receptive.

♑️🐐 Capricorn teaches us how to build structure and commit to a long term goal/vision/plan.

Hard truth: Capricorn, have you become so blinded by your personal standards for quality or by what it is you’re trying to build to be a certain way, that anyone or anything that does not fit neatly into your structure appears as a threat or a reason to give up hope to you? At times you could stand to gain a little more flexibility and optimism. Setbacks do not mean the end, and if you could fast forward over your life you would see this, so if you’re having trouble seeing it now, try to see if you can regain a bit of the hopeful outlook from the sign that came just before you. I promise the capacity is within you. 😉

♒️🏺 Aquarius teaches us the ins and outs of society so that we may reflect on what we as an individual can bring to it or help liberate it.

Hard truth: Aquarius, have you been viewing yourself so much as an outsider, that it’s tempting to see yourself as separate from the rest of society? Well I have a hard truth for you: You’re not separate from it and not above it; no one is. And it’s especially dysfunctional for YOU to see yourself as a distinct and separate entity not influenced by society, or as too different from everyone else to be able to relate to them- society needs your insightful contribution!

♓️🐟 Pisces teaches us empathy and fosters our imagination through the understanding that everything is connected.

Hard truth: Pisces, have you been seeing yourself as the victim? You really need to hear that if you would just cut that out and start seeing yourself instead as an empowered dreamer with strong intuition you can continually cultivate, your ability to manifest* would be arguably the most insane of all the signs. (*Not that I support the idea that everything can be attained through manifestation alone.) Take it from a Pisces rising who learned the hard way and is feeling inspired to expand on this one: victimhood is The most detrimental trap for Pisces. Not only because it keeps your reality feeling like that of a victim, but also because Pisces energy is nearly functionally useless if it’s too self absorbed to ever see or act according to the Piscean message of interconnectedness. Learning the right amount to give compassionately of yourself, with the appropriate boundaries, is a crucial part of the Piscean journey!

Thanks for reading, and happy astrological evolution! 🌻

[rodolfoparras]

Captain’s boy

Price doesn’t play favorites at least that’s what he says. However there’s no denying he’s got a soft spot for you and everyone knows it.

You are after all Captain’s boy.

18+ | MINORS DNI

Pairing: John Price x Trans Male Reader

Stand alone/ part of a series

Cw; oral sex, clothed oral sex, reference to afab anatomy (clit is referred to as clit and not dick/cock), words cock and dick are used for reader’s genitalia though ( instead of words like cunt etc) alluded exhibitionism, possessiveness, Dom!Price, Sub!Reader, power dynamics, (light) verbal degradation, praise, no after care, plot what plot/ porn with plot

The usual disclaimer: English isn’t my first language so excuse any grammatically incorrect sentences, spelling mistakes, ooc, plot holes… heads up for long sentences as well, who needs proper structure anyway.

A/n: I’m forcing myself to post my drafts since ideas keep piling up. Also pls read the tags bc reading it without doing so might be confusing . This could be better but hey at least it’s something. I hope you enjoy!

Being captain of a squad entails a whole lot of things; one of the most important being that one couldn’t afford to play favorites. It’s bound to end badly. Matter of fact it might very well result in death. That’s why when Price became captain of the 141 he vowed to himself he wouldn’t play favorites.

Sure he might’ve taken Gaz under his wing but if the man were to mess up on a mission he’d be sent out on practice drills in the pouring rain if the Captain deamed it to be fit. And sure he might’ve known Ghost the longest out of all the guys in 141 but that didn’t mean he was any more lenient on him because of that. And despite Soap’s talent to worm his way into the toughest of hearts, Price ensured he’d never reach his soft spot.

But somehow you seem to be the exception. And everyone knows it. Their suspicions were first confirmed when you’d messed up during a mission. Everyone especially Gaz had expected you to be assigned to run laps for days on end but was surprised to see the captain putting a comforting hand on your shoulder with a gentle smile on his face.

That’s also the very first time you’d earn your title as Captain’s boy.

The second person to notice the captain’s lenience towards a certain soldier was Ghost.

You all had just come back from a successful mission and despite the promise of celebration, there was still the ever daunting task of writing a report for it but no one seemed willing to do it.

Everyone had been tasked with writing it, except for the captain of course. Ghost had tried to talk his way out of it but had quickly been shut down by the older man. What he didn’t know was that you had been exempt from writing it. Even with the mask on his face, there was no hiding the sheer amazement he felt as he watched you stroll out the room with the captain himself.

“Captain’s boy huh?” He whispered under his breath as he clicked his pen.

Soap had been the last man to find out about it.

He had heard whispers about it from the previous men but had only chosen to believe it once he had seen it for himself.

You all had been tasked with training new recruits. Everyone had gotten their own little station and Soap had been assigned to the shooting rage. It was fun at first: watching the new guys trying not to shoot their heads off but at some point he got bored of watching over them. So naturally he had wandered over to your station. It didn’t take long before he heard the captain’s voice sounding over your hushed conversation.

“I’m not interrupting anything am I?”Price asked with his arms folded across his chest.

“Not at all” Soap said and flashed him a big grin as he turned on his heel only to be met with a glare from the older man. “Back to your post then Mactavish”

Soap had expected you to face the same treatment.

But as he scurried away and threw a second glance over his shoulder, he came to see the sternness on his captain’s face replaced with something much softer.

He had the mind to applaud you right there and then but had settled for chuckling in disbelief as the words “captain’s boy” left his lips.

Price and you chose to ignore the rumors since at the end of the day rumors were just rumors and no one seemed to mind that the captain seemed to favor a certain soldier.

However they’ll never know just how right they are about the captain and his boy.

You’re laying with your chest flush against the floor, ass up in the air and with a soldier’s body pressed against your own.

It would be rather inappropriate to be in such an intimate position with a soldier but this wasn’t just any other soldier. This was your captain and on many occasions have you found yourself in similar positions.

Your captain who you were supposed to be sparring with had quickly gotten bored and his hands had started to wander on their own.

You didn’t mind the change of plans, however you did mind the fact that his hands seemed to aimlessly wander your body, leaving you worked up and without nothing.

Just as you’re about to complain, finally fed up with the teasing he’d put you through, he roughly pulls down the fabric of your pants, exposing your underwear.

The cool air raises goose bumps all across your skin. But the sensation is quickly replaced with the heat from his palms as they find their way to your naked thighs, trialing up to the sides to finally end their journey at your hips.

You're waiting expectantly for Price to pull down your underwear, bucking your hips up to him every time he slips a finger under the waistband. But every time you think he’s about to pull them down, he allows the boxers to snap back in place and returns to his original spot on your hips, thumb mindlessly tracing circles on the skin.

“Ple-please” you pant, once again bucking your hips at him. However, Price chooses to ignore your plea. Instead he leans down, bodies now pressed flush against each other as he whispers into your ear “What? You want me to take these off for you?” faux sympathy dripping from every word he speaks as his fingers once again pull at the waistband of your underwear only to let it snap back in place again.

“Yes- yes, sir, please”

“Oh no my boy, we have to have some decency ” Price says, tone now akin to the one he uses for recruits when reprideming them but with something darker wrapped around the vowels.

You huff at his words, and feel his hot breath wash over your skin as he chuckles at your whining.

“What? Don’t tell me you want everyone to see you with your cock out. Is that what you want?” You squeeze your thighs, whimpers slipping past your lips as you think of what it would be like for someone to see you like this.

You feel his hands leave the waistband of your underwear to instead run down the side of your thighs.

“Want them to see how you get when you’re with me? “

It doesn’t take long for you to feel his body sliding further down your back, nose nuzzling along the length of your spine and words disappearing into the fabric of your shirts as he says his next words “Want them to see how hard you get for me?”

Price’s journey ends at your lower back where he presses a kiss on it as his hands go to cup your ass cheeks. From where he rests his head, you feel his hot breath hitting your skin and the wisps of beard hair prickling against your ass cheek and a whimper escapes your lips as you buck your hips up to him “Please, please, sir”

Price ignores your pleas as he continues to tease

“Want them to see just how wet you can get for me hm? “ he says as he harshly kneads the flesh in his hands “Answer me”

“Yes- yes sir. I want it please!” You cry out, hips subconsciously grinding in the air; desperate to be given some sort of relief.

“Oh, what am I going to do with you my boy?” he says with a dark chuckle “I know it’s a shame to keep you all to myself but what can I do? I’m not one to share”

It’s simple words meant to be said in the heat of the moment, words that really meant nothing, words meant to be forgotten once the act was over. But by this point you���re far too gone to think about your own words, head feeling too light and airy to really think about the implications of them

“You- you don’t have to share, sir” for some strange reason you felt the need to reassure him; reassure him that you were only his to have if that’s what he wanted , reassure him that he didn’t need to share if he didn’t want to.

Once the words leave your mouth you feel his touch leave you completely, cold air caressing the spot where his hands once had been.

Your words hang in the air for a moment, nothing but your own heavy breaths echoing throughout the otherwise silent room. For some reason you can’t help but feel like you said something you shouldn’t and it leaves you feeling rather embarrassed, eyes squeezing shut and hands clenching into fists. It really isn’t a confession by any means but it is something and that something had been enough to render him speechless.

His voice is low and breathy when he finally, finally speaks “What’s that boy?” You can’t see his face but you can hear his voice and by his tone it sounds like he purrs.

Goosebump raises across your skin, surprise and delight coursing through your body, the light and airy feeling you were earlier feeling, once again returns to your body.

You swallow hard before you respond “I said you don’t have to share sir”

You hear the sound of a sharp inhale before you feel his hand grab your face, roughly turning your head to face him.“Oh” his pupils are blown wide, desire swirling in his iris and he goes to lick his lips before he speaks “you're captain's boy now huh?” His voice is low and hoarse and when he says those words it sounds more like a statement rather than a question.

You whimper at his possessive tone, thighs once again pressing together at his words.

“Say it” he says, hand roughly jerking your chin “Say you’re captain’s boy”

“I’m captain's boy!” you cry out and as you say the words he groans and presses his cock up against your ass.

“Please sir I can’t take it anymore” you cry out, on the verge of sobbing out your words as you push yourself back on his cock.

He hushes you as whimpers escape your lips, hand releasing the grip on your chin to run down the length of your back in soothing motions.

“Let me take care of you, yeah? Let captain care for his boy”

You nod, mumbling something incomprehensible.

“Lay your head down” You do as he says, feeling his hand on your upper back, gently guiding you into the right position.

“Spread your legs” You do as he says and he hums in approval as he helps you adjust your hips.”Just like that. Doing so good for me, yeah?” You nod in response, feeling yourself preen at his approval.

“Now look at yourself boy,”

You turn your head to the big mirror hanging to the side of the training room. From this angle you can perfectly see both him and you.

The reflection shows you sitting on your knees, chest flush against the floor, arms planted into the ground for support with your legs spread wide apart like he’d told you to do before. Price’s also sitting on his knees, broad frame hovering over yours and hands on your hips to keep you close.

Both of you look disheveled, covered in sweat and with similar expressions on your faces that told anyone who’d walked through the doors that the two of you weren’t sparring in this room, at least not anymore.

“Pretty sight isn’t it?” He says with pride in his voice as his gaze locks with yours through the mirror.

You go to respond but before you can do so you feel a sudden pressure on your cock. “O-oh” you groan out as you look down in the mirror only to see Price’s leg lodged in between your own and feel the top of his knee perfectly grounding itself against your dick.

The steady pressure sets your nerves on fire

and a moan escapes your lips as you grind against up him, trying to get more of the feeling.

“I asked you a question,” he hisses. However he must’ve noticed your gaze locked on his leg because he says “eyes up here boy”

You do as he says, once again seeing your wrecked reflection in the mirror. “Pretty sight yeah?” You whimper and nod in response as he increases his pressure on your cock.“That’s Captain’s boy” he says as his gaze burns into your own, threatening to scorch you whole “Now keep looking at yourself, yeah?”

Just as you wonder what he’s about to do, you feel a sudden wet sensation between your legs. You look at him through the mirror, wide eyed and surprised only to see him grinning deviously with spit dribbling down his lips.

“Did you just-“

But before you can say anything else, you feel eager fingers spreading your folds and his mouth on your cock, his tongue laying flat on your dick, slowly dragging it from the top all the way to the bottom of it. As if hit with electricity, your body jolts and you drop your head to the floor as your hips bucks to meet his tongue. “Oh-oh fuck,”

His free hand squeezes the globe of your ass in warning and you’re quickly reminded of what you were supposed to be doing. “Sorry, sorry, sorry” you blabber out in response before you force yourself to once again look at yourself in the mirror.

You look like an absolute mess, pupils blown wide, hair in disarray and chest rapidly rising and falling.

Your face quickly morphs into one of surprise, breath feeling like it’s been punched out of your lungs when Price licks at your cock with renewed vigor, tongue pressing deeper between folds like there’s no underwear separating his lips from your cock.

The pressure of his tongue forces the fabric

of your underwear to directly press against your sensitive clit. And every time he swipes his tongue across your dick, it sends sparks of pleasure coursing through your body.

You spread your legs wider, muscles slightly aching from the awkward angle as you grind up against his mouth. “Please, please, please”

His mouth soon makes its way to your clit,

wet lips lightly nibbling on it before his tongue flickers experimental at it. “Oh-oh” once again your gaze drops from the mirror, eyes squeezing shut as you lose yourself to the pleasure. Luckily Price seems too busy with other things to notice anything.

One lick two licks and he’s full on latching onto your clit, lips eagerly suckling at the engorged numb through the soiled fabric. He alternates between suckling and swirling his tongue around your clit before going back to pay attention to your dick.

The squelching sound that echoes throughout the room sounds straight up obscene and every time you hear it you feel your body burning as you relentlessly buck up into him.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry sir” you cry out, feeling rather embarrassed at your eagerness.

“Nothing to apologize for, told you I was going to take care of you, let me do so” You could’ve cummed right then and there, all traces of embarrassment gone as you allowed yourself to fully lose yourself to the pleasure.

It all quickly becomes too much for you. If his tongue isn’t on your clit then it’s running along the length of your dick. For each and every stroke he goes in deeper with his tongue. And your engorged numb is becoming more and more sensitive to his touch.

At some point you try to get away from him, desperately clawing at the floor and hips bucking away from him but he doesn’t allow you to leave, firmly planting his free hand on your ass cheek to keep you close to him.

“Please- please I can’t “ you sputter out, shaking your head as you try to get away from him.

“This is what you wanted, right? why are you trying to leave now?” He taunts, ceasing all movements as he pulls his mouth away from your dick.

“No!” You cry out, mourning the loss of his touch as you turn to look at him, teary eyed and with pleas threatening to fall from your lips. He’s sitting back on his knees, hair tousled, cheeks flushed, and sporting the biggest grin. But your eyes quickly zoom in on the shine that seems to coat his lips. Not only is it on his lips but it's also on his chin and beard. Your eyes widen as you realize it’s a mix of his spit and your arousal and his grin widens, seemingly knowing what you were thinking.

“What did you say before? No?”

He takes one hand and swipes his thumb over his bottom lip, wetting the pad with remainments of your arousal before swiping it over your clit, rubbing agonizingly slowly whilst putting steady pressure on it as he speaks “This is too much for your little cock to handle huh?” He says, faux sympathy dripping from his lips as he reaches over to pet your hair mockingly.

You shake your head, attempting to respond to him but you’re rendered speechless, only able to mewl in response as he continually circles your sensitive numb. “I thought you were captain’s boy. If my boy can’t handle a simple blowie, how is he supposed to handle my dick?” He says as he grabs ahold of your hair, roughly tugging at it.

“I can- I can handle it sir I can candle it

!” you cry out, feeling his fingers lightly pinch your clit.

“That’s what I thought, lay back down for me again yeah?”

You nod, blabbering something incoherent as you resume your original position, allowing him to once again spread your folds and put his mouth on your cock.

Despite your previous words, you find yourself unable to sit still as you feel yourself tethering closer to the edge of your release. Your toes are curling, fingers digging into the mat below, and hips relentlessly bucking up against his tongue. You feel your cock growing more sensitive for every lick, your hole fluttering around nothing and the knot in your stomach tightening.

“Close- so close, just please, please”

All of a sudden his teeth scrape against your sensitive clit, once again putting just enough pressure to be properly felt through the fabric. And that’s all it takes for the knot in your stomach to unfold: eyes rolling into the back of your head, mouth agape as you furiously grind your hips on his tongue before you finally slump onto the floor, legs and arms giving out from supporting your weight for so long.

You feel Price run his hand soothingly down the length of your back and hear him say the words “There we go. That’s it, that's captain's boy.”

[wilcze-kudly]

If worked for the team who made Avatar TloK. How would you rewrite TloK?

To be completely honest, rewriting tlok wouldn't fix all it's issues. Tlok just needed to have longer seasons, an actually established amount of seasons so they weren't pressured to make every single season a complete story for fear of not getting more time.

But let's say, hypothetically that I murdered mr Crabs or whoever is in charge of Nickelodeon and removed any studio meddling from the show.

My perfect world would include:

More filler episodes that focus on a singular character. Think Sokka's Master or the Painted Lady. The Krew are all fascinating characters with a lot of potential, however, due to the runtime of the show, their storylines are rushed... or completely nonexistent. Give me more details of Mako and Bolin's childhood. Show me emore of Asami struggling with her father's arrest.

I'd try to cut down on the westernisation of the show. I can see why these foreign aspects slipped in, since the closer the Avatarverse inches to our modern times, the more blurred the lines become. At least to my whiteass. I'd try to lean towards silkpunk, rather than the much more west based steampunk. It would be a fascinating endeavour to imagine what a world with mostly eastern influences would look like.

I'd make Vaatu the overarching villain/final boss of the story... it would require a bit of moving around of the timeline but I think I'd structure it as: Red Lotus> Kuvira> Amon> Vaatu. However I'd blur the timeline more. Make Amon a background threat in the eariler seasons, only for him to rise in popularity and power after people see what benders like Kuvira are capable of, for example.

This would also allow for certain villains to become redeemed or at least helpful in some way, later on. Mayhaps Amon and Kuvira team with the Krew to defeat Vaatu in some way.

Also, instead of destroying Vaatu completely, I'm leaning towards Korra absorbing him, in a way. Yes Vaatu is a dark spirit, but 'darker' urges are necessary for humans' survival and happiness. Korra embodies the duality of man very well. I think it would be a fascinating idea to see the Avatar become the embodiment of both light and darkness.

In general, making Vaatu and Raava more morally ambiguous, rather than the simple good spirit/bad spirit thing they had in the og show would be a fascinating concept.

I'd do my best to pull away from the show's original centerist narrative. Have Korra learn from the villains and make active changes to the world, showing her growth as an Avatar and person. Perhaps she's reluctant to see the Red Lotus' point of view at the beginning of the show, but sympathises with Amon at the tail end of the story.

Make the entire Krew queer. And talk about queerness more, in general. Have the characters have open conversations about queerness in their respective enviornments and cultures. Tlok already has a very queer undertone to it, even before korrasami became canon, but touching on this subject more overtly would provide great opportunity for characterisation and worldbuilding.

Have the story span several years. Watch the Krew grow up. Tlok works very well as a coming of age story even in its original form. Have Vaatu and his darkness and chaos symbolise the uncharted waters of maturity at the end of teenagedom. This especially works if Korra merges or accepts him like i suggested.

There... that's some basics. I think that most of my criticisms of the show could mostly be solved if the studio wasn't being a bitch but well. We can't have nice things, can we?

I took a while to answer this ask because it was genuinely such an interesting, but overwhelming question.

Also now I have wayy too many ideas about a potential tlok rewrite, so feel free to ask me about that if you want to hear me ramble.