#Who is the universes sexiest motherfucker?

[fukia]

commander 🥵🥵

The reason wander over yonder was canceled is actually because peepers was already fully booked to star in various k-otome games

Commander peek-a-bangs

[tojisun]

hwb AU but what if the other man was Sukuna instead of Gojo? ofc if he's more of an au and not a curse 👀 i love the Gojo ending btw, happy for yn!

OHHH THIS IS SO SAUCY HELLO??? totally not exposing myself but after toji, sukuna’s the other mf i’m simping for in the jjk universe so what does this say about me as a person-

also how cliche can i make this? [x]

cw: NSFT, club/bar, mentioned oc’s (i really had a hard time just referring to reader’s friends as “your friend”), sukuna as his own content warning, reads like a whole different au

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

it’s been weeks ever since the faithful breakup in the diner. your friends have all learned what happened, and while some of them may have said unsavoury things in hopes to appease you, you have tried your best to move on and forget.

it’s impossible, of course, but at least it is less bitter now that there is more closure between you and toji.

sometimes you still cannot fathom that everything with toji has ended, but sometimes you remember the happiness rolling off of toji and recognize that the breakup was necessary for the good of the both of you.

still, despite your assurances to your friends that you are fine as you can be with the situation, it does not deter them from trying to fend off the sadness. hence this.

“really? a bar?” you ask, watching as chiharu calls for the waiter, ordering sazerac and whiskey for the group, “you all just want me to get trashed, don’t you?”

nagisa chortles. “it’s almost like that’s the plan, babe,” she responds, straining her voice loudly so that you can hear her over the booming music.

the bar was filled to the brim which is not that surprising as it is a saturday night. everyone knows that people get hammered on a saturday night and spend the rest of sunday curing the hangover. people in a stable relationship are the only ones who have decent plans on sundays, and you no longer have yours so the saturday night out with your friends is totally perfect. just not what you were planning to do. 

you were planning on just wasting away in your couch, eating a tub of ice cream as you catch up on the shows you were not able to watch. but all your friends said no to your self-pity party and dragged you out.

so here you are, wearing one of the sexiest yet most comfortable outfit you have, and seriously having a good time. even if it’s for a bit, toji fizzles out of your mind and the sadness bleeds out and shifts into a feeling of joy.

the moment escalates and soon you find yourself on the dance floor with your friends, letting the music sashay you like you are the happiest marionette in the room. laughter makes its way out of your lips and an innate high expands from your chest. 

“oh! sexy motherfucker at twelve o’clock!” ren screams at your ear, the code being futile when they point a ringed finger to the person they were talking about. you follow the direction they were pointing to and, well, would you look at that. the motherfucker is indeed sexy.

and sexy motherfucker is looking at you.

bleached pink hair pushed back at the centre, the sides undyed and trimmed shorter than the bleached parts. symmetrical tattoos running from his exposed wrists and body art of the same symmetrical lines resting on the high of his cheekbones. the tight white shirt he’s wearing isn’t doing well in hiding his well-toned body which could go on par with toji’s. white shirt and black pants combo shouldn’t be that hot, but as ren said, sexy motherfucker.

you’ve been so busy studying him that you did not even notice that he’s crossed the sea of dancing bodies and paused a feet in front of you. 

tall, sexy motherfucker. 

“hey,” he greets, lips quirked in a devilish smirk. 

he looks better up close.

“thanks,” he says, chuckling.

“i said that out loud, didn’t i?” you ask, blush rising and descending from your cheeks to your neck.

he chuckles again and nods, eyes still pinned at you. you squirm, feeling the weight of awkwardness about to fall. 

“want to bounce?” he asks, tipping his head at the door’s direction. you know what he means.

you turn to your friends slightly, having a silent conversation which ended with all of them assuring you that they will not be far for comfort, but that they will give you the berth you need to enjoy your time with nameless, tall, sexy motherfucker. 

you turn back to him, startling a bit when you saw that he was still looking at you with the same intensity.

“let’s go?” you reply, only for it to come off sounding like a question. his smirk just grows.

“let’s go.”

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

you gasp into his mouth when he backs you onto the wall, one of his hands holding the back of your head while the other is gripping at your hips. you feel him snarl when you mewl at his touch, and he deepens the kiss as though time is running out.

it feels like hours had passed when he pulls back enough to let you catch a breath, his lips still hovering on top of yours and grazing at yours at every little hitched breaths that come out of you.

“look at me,” sukuna whispers. you’ve learned his name a minute before he dipped in to kiss you. you peer up at him and giggle when he is just a blur because of how close he is to you. his large hands travelled to cup your jaw and pull you back for another kiss.

the kiss is slower this time and more sensual. the desperation and the hurriedness of a while ago has ebbed away, and all that’s left is the gentle movement of lips and partial moans shared between you two. you twine your fingers at his hair, softly caressing and humming when sukuna purrs.

this time, you are the one who pulls back, head thumping onto the wall. your lips feel heavy from the languid kisses and you smile a bit at the tingly feeling. you look at sukuna from your lashes and delight in the way his eyes have never left yours.

“you’re beautiful,” he says, “so, so beautiful.”

you smile at the praise.

“do you want to go continue this somewhere else?” sukuna asks, hands now caressing at your hips. 

you want to say yes, gods who wouldn’t? but you bite your lip in hesitation and you could see the moment sukuna understood that you don’t.

“i’m sorry,” you say, now feeling shy.

he laughs lightly at your apology. “nah, don’t sweat it.”

he pulls from you completely, standing beside you so he can lean on the wall too. “so what brings you here?”

you huff. “do people need an excuse to have fun?”

“humour me.”

you hum, piecing your thoughts together as you let the high fully subside. “i’m trying to move on from my ex and my friends think the best way to move on is to get hammered in a club.”

“they’re not wrong,” sukuna cheekily says. you bump shoulders with him and roll your eyes when he snickers again. “tell me more.”

“about who? me or the breakup?” 

he shrugs. it is only now that you noticed that he pulled out a lighter from his pocket and is playing with it. you watched as he twirled it around his fingers, occasionally igniting the flame and killing it, only to repeat the process.

“well,” you began, “he left me for his wife.”

sukuna hisses at your confession. “wife better be damn pretty to leave a woman like you.”

“oh yeah,” you say, bobbing your head in a nod to emphasize your agreement, “his wife’s pretty. but also i don’t think that’s why he left.”

“i dunno, doll,” sukuna replies, “if i was him, i won’t leave you for my wife. like what bullshit reason would one have in order to leave their current partner for an ex?”

“let’s see. plausible reasons could be: love? their son-”

“they got a kid? damn, babe, you into old guys or something?”

you punch his shoulders. “oh shut up.”

sukuna pretends to hiss in pain, exaggeratingly rubbing at his shoulder, but you know that he barely felt anything. you roll your eyes again, but you cannot stop the huff of laughter that escaped you. 

you two settle once more, letting silence roll over you two in waves. he still plays with his lighter and you realize that he’s showing you actual tricks instead of just playing around with it for himself. 

“it still hurts,” you confess, breaking the silence. “sometimes i wake up and i want to claw out my heart just so i don’t feel this sadness. during those times, i start to think that maybe i’ll never get over him.”

you stare ahead despite feeling sukuna’s eyes burning on you.

“i wonder if i should’ve fought back harder. if i should’ve cried and begged him to stay.”

“why didn’t you?”

“i...” you trail off, fingers fiddling with each other. your eyes have glazed over and it is like you are back in the diner, watching toji beg you to find happiness somewhere else. “i didn’t want to demand love that should have been given to me for free.”

“oh,” sukuna mutters.

“yeah,” you reply. you turn to him and feel a jolt of warmth at the gentle look in his eyes. maybe he pities you or maybe he thinks you are pathetic, truly you do not care. you are just content that he is taking you seriously.

“i’m a selfish person.”

“who isn’t?” he asks.

you smile. “who isn’t.”

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

after that incident, you and sukuna always meet up for casual hang. sometimes it’d develop into a make out session; fingers fumbling at each other, being come undone at each other’s lips. sometimes it remains as a normal hang out; pizza boxes and movie marathons, either sitting side-by-side or cuddled on his big sofa.

your friends gradually learn you and sukuna’s dynamic. often, though, you’d catch them talking silently but you do not pry because you do not want to unearth what it is they are hiding from you.

after a year of dancing around with sukuna, he declares his feelings for you and asks you out. you say yes and pull him in a kiss as though to seal your relationship.

no one is surprised when you both revealed the newly changed status of your relationship.

[offices-regionalbranch]

As you who follow me know, I'm sleazy, and you who know me personally know I love to make money

So combining these interests, we here at offices are proud to announce:

Tumblr Porn Parodies!

including but not limited to

Randy Your Dicks!

Purple Eyed Slut Fucked By Jensen Ackles

Tumblr University: Magna Cum Louder

Balls Deep In The Pit: Sluts at Dashcon

Wet and Down Deep: Sexiest Motherfucker in the Ocean

You Can't Please My Mushroom in Any Way that Matters

#LustGirlyThings

Color Theory Hospital: Clean Up on Aisle Drawers

I Got A Large Warm Cum (And My Cheeks Got Clapped)

Going Down on the Down With Cis Bus

I met God (And She Can FUCK)

My Three Girlfriends Who Smoke Pole

GoFuckMe Scam

And Many Many More!

[samcrit]

sam is the coolest sexiest smartest bravest iconicest motherfucker in the universe who shot thee biblical god, all while suffering from debilitating stockholm syndrome

[androideyes]

I’m rewatching Insurrection, and the part where Picard and Worf sing a weird old song to Data to try to reach him, with Data singing along, and how bizarre and embarrassing it is and how Worf didn’t want to do it seemingly on that basis.….

It got me thinking about that one post about TNG being about these incredible, hyper-competent people who navigate high-tech high-stakes sci-fi problems, who seem so cool usually when doing so, but they also take the time to show over and over again what complete DORKS they all are.

They do that in TNG by FAR the absolute MOST but it got me thinking about how there is that element in all the shows. I’d say Lower Decks second most, but that’s a given since it’s a comedy. Disco has definitely done it in some notable moments. TOS as well but less noticeably and mostly by accident I think. In Voyager it happens more than you’d think since half the crew are new-by-circumstance-Starfleet and also extremely recent ex-terrorists. Like not super often (besides the doctor) but they definitely make a big point of it.

DS9 has undoubtedly some of the weirdest, dorkiest people around(lovingly), (Julian, Odo, Worf, Rom) but it gets utterly drowned out by how badass Sisko, Kira, and Jadzia are. The epic chad aura of Jadzia Dax, the sexiest motherfucker to ever exist in the whole trek universe, by itself drowns out everything else going on in a giant radius covering the entire station. Like some of the stuff that goes on in that station is so bizarre and cringeworthy but I cannot hold that in my mind when I think of the show and station itself. I cannot think of it as anything except extremely cool. Literally JUST their EXTREMELY POWERFUL influence.

It might not actually work if it was just Jadzia by herself really though, evidenced by how even Guinan couldn’t save TNG from their nerdiness. If she had more episodes, dialogue, and plot though…… who knows.

[unbiasedcabaret]

love death + robots

objectively the most badass name for a tv show

anyways here's my review of the first season. it is ranked. but rankings change depending on whether I wanna look at pretty animation or be invested in characters/story. there are short, slightly (extremely) stupid reviews next to them too.

(Also rankings are so hard. Am I basing it off of rewatchability? how impressed I was on the first watch? would I want to go back to that world? the animation? the characters? my investment in the story? Currently, I'm going off of what feels right and how excited it makes me basically)

18. The Dump: Eh. I couldn’t get into it. Boring animation, like it was definitely good quality, but nothing particularly interesting. Like okay, dumpster monster. Cool cool cool. This felt so long when it was relatively a shorter episode.

17. Alternate Histories: Never have I been so disappointed so fast. The premise sounded so cool, I was really hoping they’d go realistic with this one, explore some really interesting theories/possibilities. If I look at it objectively, pretty okay. I liked hitler’s long legs, did not enjoy the weird prostitute part, and had an okay time at the ending. Eh.

16. When the Yogurt Took Over: I don’t get it. Oh wow, humans are so dumb even the yogurt left us. Or oh wow they were so smart they got everything they wanted genius yogurt. Okay so? I didn’t care about anything happening, because I got over it kinda fast.

15. Lucky 13: Fun. I love pilots loving their ships, especially with this slightly sentient(?) ship thing going on. I enjoyed the rise to the top, could’ve been a less predictable fall perhaps.

14. Ice Age: Great start, I was hooked from the second the civilization started developing. Might’ve helped that I was high as fuck while watching this. Didn’t really go anywhere, there was no resolution, no reason, nothing. Honestly just felt a little underdeveloped, they should’ve pushed it a little. Very cool premise though.

13. Beyond the Aquila Rift: I don’t fully get the hype not gonna lie. Like I was interested definitely but the twist didn’t blow my mind it just seemed like it made sense. Didn’t have the ‘oh fuck’ moment and wasn’t especially blown away by the animation

12. Sucker of Souls: My favourite part of this was when they literally killed the exchange student. Very fun. Also when his head was split in half and it split into layers. Other than that, eh. The cat thing was interesting but then they never actually used it so what was the point. It just went nowhere and wasn’t that cool. Okay, I take that back the chase scenes/fight scenes/anything action was very engaging.

11. Shape-Shifters: I agree with that one guy who said bad-ass. I love it when fight scenes are actually all out because you KNOW motherfuckers tend to hold back for the sake of plot or whatever. I like it as a short though because it’s interesting to think about, I’m just not too interested in seeing where it goes after. (Which is a good thing because they did all the fun things in the short).

10. Three Robots: Really interesting, loved the characters, loved their skewed understanding of human history (kinda makes me question how much we really know about the past). Odd ending but high me was impressed

9. The Secret War: I was super into it. I love a good fight scene, great backstory, great animation. I just watched Aquaman and the creatures reminded me of those guys from the trench, especially with the flare at the end and I’m not complaining.

8. Blindspot: Why does this episode get hate. It’s a heist with robots how is it boring. I personally love heists, especially in the fast&furious style thing. I loved the characters too, and I’m now questioning my ability to get attached to robots this fast. Also enjoyed the murder, because I’m so used to people being saved at the last minute. I would definitely watch the fuck out of this movie because there could definitely be fun ways to fuck with the whole ‘there are no stakes because we can’t die’ thing.

7. Suits: PERFECT. So perfect there is nothing wrong with this like absolutely nothing wrong. I was into it, loved the robots, loved the characters, loved the world. Would wanna go back into this world and see more of it. Just the idea of casual alien encounters is so fun to me. I’d definitely watch this movie. Honestly felt bad when Jake died which is surprising with an 18-minute runtime. Basically, I view this as a little Pixar version of the show and I had a fun time.

6. Fish Night: So pretty so mesmerising so mystical. I wish the fish part went on for longer I would’ve watched the shit out of it. I kinda wanna go and see that whole scene again. Great short. Very perfect.

5. Helping Hand: Gravity but gory. Did not see it coming so it was a very fun surprise. Nothing wrong with this and I would watch again. Especially liked the part where no one somehow managed to save her and she figured it out on her own. (Not from a feminist point of view, more from a predictability point of view)

4. Sonnie’s Edge: Brilliant fucking animation (when the neon outfits/parts thing came I had to replay several times), great fight scene. I shouldn’t have been deceived by that dude’s girlfriend but she was good, so when she extended her nails through Sonnie’s skull it was great. Apart from the animation and the direction, the story did kinda fall flat now that I think about it. Like it felt a bit, okay so? types I think.

3. Good Hunting: Very great animation, great story, great storytelling. Loved the world and the way the world developed. Loved the automatons. Loved the combination of magic and machine. I didn’t expect her to be able to transform at the end so that was extremely fucking cool. Loved that she got her agency back and that the son was able to break away from his father’s habits. Hated seeing that one guy’s dick.

2. The Witness: SEXIEST animation. Spider-verse vibes especially with the bang! or whatever and I wish there was so much more of this. I was definitely more interested in the action sequences than in the weird sex stuff mostly because I saw no point to that. What was the point of the whole vladmir character when we don’t even know what he’s like. Like he was given way too much importance in my opinion. Technically she didn’t even have to leave that room. The loop stuff was pretty cool though like I had to go back to the beginning to make sure because- slight mindfuck. But I think this animation, and this beautiful beautiful world, was wasted on this average ass story. Could’ve been way cooler.

1. Zima Blue: Oh god this was a good fucking episode. Didn’t think it was gonna be this good. First of all the art itself was so cool. The were spray painting literal space rocks you cannot get more anything than that. Then his whole story? His origin? His truth? FUCK me. Also the animation was so distinct. It was so, it’s own. So specific. And it worked so well with the story. I don’t want anymore of this short in the best way possible. Also I thought of this art thing that starts like this but the blue starts becoming better and then a whole universe comes out of the blue and it starts right back where he started - murals of the universe. And his final work is a universe with like a tiny blue square to show that it repeats forever? Idk what that means but I kinda wanna make it but it’d definitely be plagiarism. Also I can’t do art.

[phcking-detective]

Please... I am begging... tell us more about Lazzo (a la ur One Lazzo post on this blog)

oh shit buddy I have no idea

I’ve watched DE once and I was so cry and gay about Nines and Gavin I barely remember Lazzo except him being a dumb awkward lil goof, but like,, if I were anyone at all in the dbh/de universe

I would have a crush on Nines

OK, like who wouldn’t?? this is canon now, everyone has a crush on Nines. and Lazzo gave off very strong “dumb teenager” vibes and I just thought it would be fucking funny as hell if he had that like, 17-19 year old Confidence(tm)

that, now I’m and Adult and my mom CAN’T tell me what to do and I have a PENIS and nooooo bed time, that’s right ladies!! gentlemen (: (: hey sexy theyby what’s up, did you know I’m a legal Adult now??

Lazzo specifically has a second cardboard box filled with genitals. he’s got dicks, he’s got clits, fleshlights, cat ears, butt plugs, one regular but slightly used flashlight, and he knows a guy who can get you some tentacles if you want

like BLEASE just imagine that idiot following Nines around, thinking he’s the smoothest, sexiest motherfucker to ever hit Detroit. he’s got a box of dicks and a head full of Empty!!

Gavin thinks this is the best thing to ever happen. Ever.

Nines is far less amused.

[anboringday]

Tracey x Franklin: Just Friends

Summary: Tracey De Santa, a college freshman, has a crush on the most popular boy on campus, Chad Dillington. Determined to win his heart, she turns to her best friend Franklin Clinton for help. However, she never expected to start developing feelings for her best friend instead...

Word Count: 5.8k 

Tags: Fluff!! And more fluff!! Slow burn. Friends to Lovers. (Post Ending-C)

Read on Ao3 

Franklin barreled through the door of my room.

Carefully applying my eyeliner in the mirror, I glanced at him. Chiseled jaw clenched and hands balled into fists, a frown marred the space between his arrogantly shaped brows. His strong, muscled arms wired tight beneath his white T-shirt, he stood at the ready for battle.

His cognac-brown eyes searched my room from top to bottom for unknown threats. “Tracey? You good?”

“Um, duh. I’m always fine.” I returned my attention to my makeup. “I’m gonna need you to tone down some of that masculinity. It’s totally uncalled for, super distracting, and it’s ruining my good vibes—”

His warm hand came down on my shoulder. I stiffened, his eyes shrewd and accessing as they bored into me. “You sent me a text saying that you were dying, that you needed my help. You sure you good?”

His voice was soft, filled with concern. My gut kicked. Maybe I shouldn’t have sent that overly dramatic text, but desperate times called for desperate measures. I needed help. Badly. Dad was always busy doing movie director stuff, Mom was too preoccupied with shopping and yoga, and Jimmy was a complete idiot, so Franklin was the only person I could rely on.

It’s been that way for months. He picked me up from school, assisted with my homework, helped me take selfies for Bleeter, talked me through every one of my frequent mental breakdowns—he was a life saver, literally. Because he was so selflessly awesome, I decided to keep him around. Mostly because he did stuff for me, but he also had a nice personality to boot.

And we looked hella good together. Whenever we were out and about in the city, people would stop and turn their heads to gawk at our beauty. I was a celebrity after all, the sexiest girl in Los Santos according to my Bleeter stalkers. And Franklin was powerfully built, dark-haired with stunningly amber eyes. He was a man who looked absolutely gorgeous just about every day of his life. It seemed effortless for him, and I would’ve resented that if weren’t besties.  

I confessed, “I lied to get you here, okay?”

“Tracey…” Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You scared the shit outta me, girl. What were you thinking—”

“Don’t be mad. I’m sorry.” I hugged him.

The tension in his muscles relaxed beneath my touch. I took his hand and flopped down on my bed. He sat beside me, our fingers intertwined. “A’ight, Trace. I’m here now, so what’s going on with you?”

“I have news,” I smiled. “The best news. You’re not gonna believe this, but Chad Dillington asked me on a date!”

He stared at me, his expression blank.

“Well?” I tapped his shoulder. “Say something! Aren’t you excited for me?”

“Who the fuck is Chad Dillington?” he asked.

“Are you kidding me?” Energy thrumming through me, I jumped to my feet. “He’s like the hottest, most popular guy at my university! He’s a quarterback for the football team, a committed member of the Alpha Omega Theta Pi—”

“The Alpha Omega what?”

“It’s a fraternity, Frank! Chad Dillington is a big effing deal, literally every chick on campus wants to bone him. He has the prettiest blue eyes and the cutest smile ever.” I twirled on my heels. “I can’t believe he chose me of all people to go on a date with. This is so, like, amazing!”

“That’s cool, I guess.” He shrugged. “You called me over here just to tell me that?”

“No! If there’s any hope in winning Chad Dillington’s heart, I’ll need support. Your support and guidance, in particular.”

His brows furrowed. “Uh…why?”

“Because you can help me understand him! Guys know what other guys are thinking, right? You and Chad have so much in common too. You’re both around the same age, you both like getting sweaty at the gym, you both like getting high—”

“No offense, Trace, but me and that preppy ass frat boy ain’t got shit in common. I’m sorry, but I’m finna pass on this one. Maybe one of yo’ friends at school can help you.” He stood and took off for the door.

“Wait!” I swerved in front of him, blocking the exit with outstretched arms. “You’re right, there are some stuff you and Chad don’t have in common. Like, for example, he’s way smarter than you and his parents are filthy rich.”

Franklin glared a hole into me, a muscle in his jaw twitched. Yikes. Probably shouldn’t have said that.

“But you’re sane,” I complimented. “Sensible, wise beyond your years, and levelheaded. You’re playing with a full deck, Frank. That’s a rarity in Los Santos, you know? Everyone here is crazy.”

“Including you,” he snapped.

“But you love me.” I hugged his muscled arm. “You’re like the ping to my pong, the yin to my yang, the butter to my bread, the chocolate to my milkshake…”

“That was cute until you mentioned the part about chocolate. Now it’s weird.”

“Frank, you have to help me!” I pleaded desperately; my mouth set in a pout. “I’m your best friend, you can’t abandon me when I need you most. It’s not fair! I’ll hate you forever if you do—”

He smothered my mouth with his palm, silencing me. “Fine, I’ll help you on one condition. No more whining and crying like a damn baby, it’s embarrassing. Makes my ears bleed, it’s horrible.”

I smacked his hand away. “Deal. Now shut up and listen.” Standing on the tip of my toes, I spoke quietly into his ear. “Chad invited me to a masquerade ball. It’s a top secret, invitation only party the fraternity is hosting at some old, underground speakeasy—”

“Girl, why you whispering?”

“Because it’s a secret. Mom and Dad can’t know about this, they’ll freak out. Promise me you won’t tell them. You know how overprotective they are, they never let me have any fun.”

“It’s all good, relax. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Swear on it.” I rose my pinky.

“I promise.” His finger curled around mine. “So the most popular douche bag motherfucker in school invites you to an invitation only masquerade ball…”

“Could you refrain from calling him a ‘douche bag motherfucker’, please?” I rolled my eyes. “Anyway, all the cool kids are gonna be there. The party is happening this weekend. Friday night. I only have two days to prepare. This is so short notice, I haven’t even picked out a dress.”

“Hey, you could always cancel.”

“No! A date with Chad Dillington is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I can’t back out now. I have to do this.” My stomach grew queasy and my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. I paced the room, my fingers laced taut until my knuckles turned white. “What if I screw everything up? What if he doesn’t like me?”

Franklin appeared in front of me. I jerked to a halt, riveted to the spot as his searching gaze burned into me, glimmering with golden flecks. Lost in the intensity of his eyes, something shifted in the air between us.

As he stared back, he changed…as if the impalpable wall he kept between us began to chip and splinter. His tough, guarded demeanor crumbled before me, revealing a soft vulnerability in his eyes. A tenderness I had no clue he was capable of.

He patted my shoulder and squeezed lightly, affectionately. My skin tingled from the warm, steady pressure of his touch. “Of course the frat boy is feelin’ you,” he said softly. “He’d be crazy not to.”

My cheeks heated. Since when did he become so flattering? “You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” I mumbled.

“Nah. I mean it.” He reached into his pocket for his phone and started tapping away at the keyboard.

I peeked at the screen. “What are you doing?”

“If you’re going to a ball, you gotta know how to dance.” He pulled up a Bleeter video of dancers clad in silk doing the Waltz. “Think you can do that?”

“Uh, I dunno. Last time I tried to slow dance with a guy was at high school prom. I slipped and twisted my ankle in front of everyone. Super embarrassing.”

“Let’s make sure you don’t trip this Friday, a’ight? We can practice together.” He propped his phone on my desk and took my hand in his, the other rested on the small of my back. “You ready?”

Our eyes locked, I nodded weakly, my breath coming in short and fast. The contact was electric, I could feel the edgy energy radiating from him—like a magnetic pull that grew harder to reject by the second. He started moving, his strapping body gliding across the carpeted floor with confidence and easy rhythm. Jeez, when did he get so good at this? He was a natural! My knees wobbly, I followed his lead to the best of my ability.

I felt so small and insignificant in comparison to him, my movement stiff and awkward. And it didn’t help that I was petite, barely over five feet, and he was huge—a tall, deep brown slab of solid muscle and well-exercised strength. The force of his presence was difficult to ignore in a crowded room, and doubly so in an enclosed place like this, so close to me…  

After a few beats, the heat of his direct, prolonged gaze became overwhelming. I lowered my head shyly.

“Chin up,” he instructed, tipping my head upward with a gentle push of his thumb under my chin.

Sucking in a harsh breath from the mind-boggling intimacy, I lost my footing and tripped over my own feet. He caught me in his arms just before I collided with the floor, his strong-featured face hovered over mine. Hit with all that striking masculinity at eye-level, I could only stare. Stunned. His beard was well-groomed, complimenting the hard lines of his square cut jaw, and his lips were like the icing on the cake…the fullness gave his rugged good looks the perfect touch of sensuality.

He helped me to my feet. “That wasn’t part of the dance, Trace.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Pinching my lips together, I kicked a tube of old nail polish across the floor. “I’m never going to get this right. I’m so screwed.”

“It ain’t the end of the world. You still got time. Don’t give up, girl.”

“I wish I could be as optimistic as you are.” I sighed. “I’m sorry for being a bitch. There’s a lot of pressure on me and I’m taking it out on you.”

“It’s all good. I’m used to you being bitchy. I’m used to the screaming temper tantrums—when you beat yo’ fists against the floor and your legs start flailing like a fish outta water …” He grinned.

My stomach dropped. “It’s not funny.”

His laughter quickly faded. “My bad.”

An awkward silence filled the room. Twisting a finger around the hem of my blouse, I broke the quiet. “I’ve been working on my temperament with Doctor Friedlander. Do you think I’m getting any better?”

He leaned against the wall, his hands tucked casually into his jean pockets. “You haven’t had any episodes recently.”

“Because you calm me down right before I snap. Every time.”

“So why are wasting stacks on therapy, then? You’ve been seeing a therapist for what? Years? And you were still having panic attacks until…”

“Until you came along,” I completed his sentence. “I don’t want to become so dependent on you, Frank. It’s like, totally unfair to you.”

“Shit, I don’t mind. I ain’t going nowhere, unless you want me to—”

“No!” My heart lurched at the thought of losing him. Shocked by the fury of my reaction, I took a careful step away from him. “You wouldn’t leave me. You’d miss me too much.”

He stared at me for a moment, silent and thoughtful, his brow quirked.

I tensed. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Uh, no reason.” He lifted the brim of his black Los Santos snapback to scratch his head. “I should probably bounce. It’s getting late, and you got class in the morning.”

“Wait.” I passed him his phone and gave him a brief good-bye hug. “Do you think you could give me some guitar lessons after school tomorrow? Music class is kinda kicking my ass. I could use the extra help.”

“Yeah. Of course. No problem.” He chuckled, seemingly nervous for some reason. “I ain’t the best with the guitar, but uh, I know a few things so…”

“Are you kidding? You’re way better at it than me.”

“Slightly better.” His teeth gleamed in a smile. “A’ight. I’ll hit you up tomorrow.”

I was a little bummed about him leaving, but he was right. I needed the rest so I could wake up bright and early tomorrow. I returned a smile. “Bye, Frank.”

“Bye, Trace.” He turned to leave but stopped at the door, his gaze shifted to me. “By the way, you don’t have to lie to get me here. You ain’t gotta send no dramatic texts or nothin’ crazy like that. If you need to see me, whatever the reason, just…call. I’ll be here in a heartbeat.” 

A pang struck my heart. I swallowed deep, fumbling for words. Before I managed to find my words, he was gone.

With a heavy sigh, I collapsed on my bed. What was the matter with me? Why were my brain cells starting to fry around Franklin? I had a huge date planned with Chad Dillington, but for some reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about my best friend.

My phone vibrated on my nightstand. I grabbed it and found two new texts from Franklin.

Still thinking bout how tripped over your own damn feet earlier.

Girl, you clumsy.

Oh my god. With an embarrassed grin, I texted him back; Wow. You sure know just what to say to boost a girl’s confidence :P

He responded a minute later. What if I told you that I like when you’re clumsy? I get to pick you up whenever you fall.

I read the message with wide eyes and then powered down my phone, my nerves danced wildly in my stomach. There was an ache in my chest, and I rubbed at it. Jeez. Pull yourself together, Tracey…

Read more on Ao3

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

You have vibes of “would make an excellent Batman villain”

hmm that’s risky because Batman’s villains are either the SEXIEST most over the top bigbrain motherfuckers in the DC universe or absolute pox upon humanity irredeemable Bastards who need to be hit with a car on sight... but this is a risk I’m willing to take

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves]

Since you mentioned that TFP Bulkhead would be like a more experienced version of TFA Bulkhead in bed, can you do some NSFW headcanons of TFP Bulkhead? You've got me curious.

Bulkhead!!;

Is more older, ergo more experienced than his tfa counterpart.

Wreckers have had mad orgies. I've said it. They spend a LOT of time together without much hope to making it back to being a civilian in the city. So yes, that means a LOT of orgies with one another. Bulkhead HAS absolutely railed Jackie while he was blowing another dude. Bulkhead has definitely skull fucked someone. Bulkhead has been in angry, pent up, sexy orgies with these big brutes who are down for ANYTHING. Picture the sexiest gay orgy you've ever seen/ read. But replace it with robots. Its inevitable.

Having painted that image in your mind, Bulkhead was the most gentle of the group. Minus that one time he broke someone's hip in the orgy. He learned from then on not to go so hard.

He's gentle in the sense that he cares about who makes love to. He'll constantly ask if your okay, if anything hurts.

Hes WAY better at oral now that his underbite is more manageable. He has a THICK glossa and will happily stretch you with it. He can do blowjobs too, sure, hes definitely more used to it.

Believe it or not, hes more of a valve mech. Unfortunately back in his wreckers days, no one wanted him for his valve. The smaller wreckers got fragged in the valve, this one was used to primarily spike attention.

His valve is HUGE. You could shove anyone's spike in there and it wouldn't be enough. Well maybe Megatrons, but Bulkhead isn't signing up for that shit.

So what do you do with a wrecker with a full valve?? Well Swindle (I just headcanon that Swindle can exist in any universe if he can make money out of it) sells the big bot bundle. What is that you ask? A box FULL of toys. Stuff as many as you can in him, set the vibrate on high. He will NUT like hes never nut before.

Hes also VERY into you eating him out. You cant very well get your glossa in there, but if you suck on his node, he'd mega appreciate. His valve is way more sensitive than his spike.

Having said that, hes way into blowjobs. You suck him off though, he will nut on you.

Hes a messy boy.

If hes dominating, he will overload on you, but hed much prefer to fill you up.

He will also finger you like a motherfucker if you ask.

Once all is said and done, he still loves cuddling. Hes like one big heater, so you wont even need a blanket.

He takes hints a lot easier than his tfa counterpart.

[lumiereswig]

Do you have any crossovers with/AUs inspired by "Moulin Rouge!"? I know there's a fics list page but my wifi is so stupid slow it never loads so I can never tell.

nope! srry

since u can’t load the fics page im gonna give it all to you right here boo

Lumiere discovers something new, post-curse: Matches

Plumette/Lumiere, pre-curse. Plumette growing up and Lumiere growing close. Lit By The Sun

Plumette/Lumiere, immediately after being cursed: Fire and Feathers

Lumiere meets the prince for the first time: A Showman Through and Through

Plumette/Lumiere as college kids: Modern AU that is not super great but eh i tried

plumiere in love: it’s right here for now (at least until I edit it and make it better)

here’s Scotland

“a maid that has a crush on Lumiere faking being Plumette and trying to seduce him”: hahaha this one still makes me laugh

abandoned ‘kidnapped’ fic—here

lumiere finding out plumette is pregnant: Here.

lumiere sees the baby for the first time:  Here. Aww.

“a one shot in which plumette and lumiere go on a romantic tryst about the castle in the days following their wedding 💕”:  poor cogsworth

Lumiere is the sexiest sandwich in the palace. Here.

Plumette gets sick, it’s really sad: Right over here, pal.

More plumiere falling in love here.

Tale as old as time, older than that guy, Beauty and Maurice.

garderenza backstory? here it is

So, like: what if Mulan showed up.

“can i please have a crack-shippy fic where everybody is in love with the wrong people.” Here.

figuring out how to be human again. here

lumiere/plumette body swap HERE.

“Movie night at the castle!” As you wish.

a bunch of other maids have a crush on lumiere and try to get his attention: a short fic about trapezes

“A group of poor motherless ducklings imprint on Plumette” QUACK QUACK.

“please expand on that night when Plumette and co. got drunk because of Chapeau’s brandy + wine idea…” I don’t know why I like writing drunk!staff so much but i DO

1991, MEET 2017!

What happened to Gaston? The only Gaston fic I’ll ever write, probably. Here.

He is nineteen. She is younger. Lumiere tells Plumette a fairytale. Lit by the Moon.

“How about a fic were the staff play light as a feather stiff as a board with Plumette as the board.“ what the fuck even is this game i am still confused but on y va, i guess

ATTRACTIVE FARMER MAN AND HIS TWO WIVES

Plumette’s last seconds before the curse takes hold. Laughing Still.

Forgotten. [Ongoing]

Plumiere in the rain. Quick mini-fic. I’ve Seen Fire and Rain

“quick question : how often does lumiere get sick?” Here.

“What if the day the curse was broken the staff go batshit crazy over being able to eat again so they eat until their stomachs hurt. Then Chip starts a food fight by throwing a bread roll at Cogsworth.” THIS HAPPENED?

“A dragon comes to try and eat Plumette” Lumiere is a fire-bender

“crack fic where they somehow discover theyre fictional” this one was so fun to write, lumiere picks up ewan’s scottish accent and hates it

“What about a really cute fic were Lumiere and Plumette fake being sick so they don’t have to work and get to spend the whole day together” poor cogsworth part 2  

“Who gets the weird nightmares and who consoles the other at two in the morning because they’re in tears.” Me, because I just want my OTP to have nice things. Here.

”coffeeshop au but its still set in the 18th century“ BUT WHAT DO YOU THINK OF ROUSSEAU, THO??            

“Can you write about Lumiere throwing Plumette a surprise birthday party for her?”  hey

“Chip wants to be maître d’ someday and follows Lumière around the castle as his little protégé” he’s going to be a better one than lumiere here

“don’t think about how painful the transformation must have been for the servants" do i ever think of anything else. [the answer is no]                

“*Whispers in your ear* AMNESIAC LUMIERE”   FUCK. HOW’D YOU KNOW I LOVE AMNESIA FICS?? FUCK. ultimately one of my favorite fics. holy fuck

“*Whispers in your ear* AMNESIAC LUMIERE” part TWO, motherfuckers

“Maybe one during the curse where they can suddenly hear the soundtrack around them?“ poor cadenza

“What if somebody after the curse was broken just out of nowhere started playing the Aria. I NEED FEELS” have you thought about horrible things yet today  

“The castle has to order in pizza” adam would like to register a complaint.

“Ewan McGregor and Lumiere switching universes" here

”A water balloon fight that gets out of hand?“ SPLASH.    

Les Miserabeauty and the Beast. Here.

“Can you do where everyone is turn into a baby” ANGST

STANFOU ROMANCE

“Nutcracker AU?!” aw fuck here

“I Never Really Knew You”—Cadenza & Adam

“He Must Loathe Me”—Chapeau & Plumette

“The Sound of Her Weeping”—Garderobe & Lumiere

“Her Little Satin Slippers”—Cogsworth & Plumette

“Home”—Mrs. Potts & Plumette

“Chapeau’s Charade”—Belle & Chapeau

“Lullaby”—Garderobe & Plumette

“Cake in the Sun”—Lumiere & Stanley

“Like You Used To”—Adam & Garderobe

“Why The Beast Eats Like….That”—Chip & The Beast

“The Boy’s Hand”—Chip & Adam

“The Pink Vest”—Garderobe & Cogsworth

“Draw”—Maurice & Adam

“They’ll Never Meet Again”—Plumette & Garderobe.

“Her Beautiful Maman”—Garderobe & Plumette, in the parents AU. Also: Lumiere & Frou-Frou. Woof.

“have Belle and Adam watch batb 2017?” sure.  

“I would love to see their reaction to singing in the rain! It’s my all time favorite movies!! ❤️❤️"  🌧🌧🌧🌧SAME 🌧🌧🌧🌧

“consider the coconut” MOANA CRACK.

“Plumiere goes to Paris?” Prequel fic! [oh là là]

“thy crackest crack of all - batb but adam/belle and lumiere/plumette swap places” lumiere turns into a dragon

“so. um. amnesiac adam?“ FUCK. FUCK.FUCK.              

”Mary Poppins would be practically perfect in every way!” Feed the fucking birds

“I should have told you a long time ago.” Plumette wakes up, after their first night together. Fits into the “Lit by the Sun” story.

“This is why we can’t have nice things/you don’t see me”—right after the curse, Plumiere cope with their new forms. Angst?

“Prove It/You’re Drunk.” Lumiere had….a night of it. Poor Cogsworth, the Continuing Saga

“great comet” fic: the candle in the mirror

“I’ve been waiting a long time.” finally a happy!cogsworth fic. Tic toc.

“Batb and Frozen crossover pls“—it’s garbage                          

The whole palace body swaps. here

“What happens when Lumiere’s family wakes up and realizes they have a son at the palace?” well SHIT ! there’s a prompt

“Chapeau having to relearn and figure out how to play the violin once he’s turned into a coatrack.” Shh.

a cuisinier fic! this fandom doesn’t deserve him

“Batb and Robin Hood crossover!!!!!” fuck

“how about the castle residents plays a giant game of live clue.” Adam would like to register another complaint

Lit by the Stars. Plumette and Lumiere meet for the first time.

“belle catches a cold?” i’m allergic to fluff

“how about amnesiac belle this time?” FUCK

w o w this one’s about plumette & belle sharing plague stories

“Can you do where Lumiere and Plumette babysit Chip while Mrs. Potts is working”  cute? ??

Wedding Cake: it’s huge

“lightly read fanfiction.” RIGHT?!

“You should let them watch the classic movie Beauty and the Beast” here

“ plumette x lumière modern spies AU” here.

“cogsworth angst” YOU GOT IT dude

“Hi, could you do some fluff and angst headcanons for Madame de Garderobe and Cadenza please xx” the honeymooners

“Shalalalalala my oh my, looks like the boy’s too shy, ain’t gonna kiss the girl” has lumiere ever been shy in his life ?

“Would you care to write a drabble of the castle redoing Mrs. and Mr. Potts’s wedding because Chip found his mother’s wedding dress and was bummed that he missed it?“ oh hey unrelated: i never dated a christmas ornament  

“imagine plumiere first met AFTER they were turned into objects” um: FUCK YES.

“Batb characters in the titanic” too soon, people. too soon.

“Plumiere prompt: A whole new world! new fantastic point of view. No one to tell us no. Or where to go. Or say we’re only dreaming.” ok    

“a touring theatre group comes to perform at the castle” this is more like a headcanon but it’s long as fuck so it ended up here              

“cogsworth discovers he can fly” this is so wrong, this is so right              

“Card Tricks”—Lumiere & Chip

“Coffee & Tea”—Lefou & Mrs. Potts

“Lion’s Mane”—Cuisiner & Plumette & Adam

“the characters read some of your fics and their reactions” o fuck. crack.

“Ok, but what about someone slipping Lumiere a love potion meant for Plumette??” kisses

Plumette stargazes; Lumiere dates someone else. Veronique

“ding dong we need more cogsworth- can we have something with him and mrs. potts bonding over all of their dumb kids” ding dong yes yes yes we do!

the villagers get cursed. a trash fic!!!![[[[ongoing]]]

Seating Arrangementsare! important! here.

“cogsworth sharing plumette’s first dance with her at her wedding, and…” I don’t dance.

poly garderenza/belle. i love this bullshit. i ship this

“Bonjour you wrote a fic about Luimere taking care of Plumette when she’s sick, can you write one about Plumette taking care of Lumiere? 💛💛” cough!

The First Untethered Hot Air Balloon Flight: oh, fuck.

garderenza content FEELS

“amnesiac belle?” COMPLETED, BITCHES. fucking ga w w d

“Can we have cogsworth headcanons?? Pretty please mon ami??” Dulce et decorum est.  

“Eclipse”—Lumiere & Chip

what if the servants came awake again, in modern days? Here

‘do you remember when we were human?’ Plumiere shit.

A history lesson w/Cogs and Lums. Beware the dust. Album.

 GARDERENZA HIGH SCHOOL AU !!!

“Woof”— Belle & Frou-Frou

“Fireworks”—Adam & Plumette

“Amnesiac Mrs. Potts?” Eh.

“a midsummer night’s dream au?” welcome to CRACK CITY [x]

“Plumette has a tragic, existential moment.” Pouf-pouf.

“a touring theatre group comes to perform at the castle. like some kind of magic, they can perform shows that don’t even exist yet” [x]

“I would ​ love if you wrote when Plumette and Lumiere came up with Be Our Guest” BE! OUR! GUEST

“The castle adopts a pet? but not like a cat or anything, like they get a pet komodo dragon or something” welcome to the zoo

garderenza’s glory [x]

“Flicker In, Flicker Out.” The curse takes its toll.

“Who would be into divination? the Supernatural? Spooky Shit™?” HEY THERE DEMONS, IT’S YA BOI.

“If each of the servants could write a book, what would they be about?” The Villeneuve Catalog of Literature, fresh off the presses.  [x]

“Cogsworth + Lumiere switch personalities?”  i fuckin love a good crack prompt. showgirls!

“Socks”—Pere Robert & Mrs. Potts

adam and belle meet as tiny kids

COLLEGE FACULTY AU FIC 

sad maurice fic: :)))))))))

“What do the servants do when they can’t sleep?” Shhhh.

Chip being in town when the curse strikes, here [ongoing!]

Belle gets used to the staff being, well.….human again. “New.”

“Have you ever done a role-swap where Belle was the princess and Adam was the boy from the village?“ CHIP. DON’T FUCK WITH THE TIME TRAVEL. Here.

The useless energy of haunted things. “Freaks of Furniture.” Thanks, JSTOR.

@batbobsession​ collab w/me called “One Moment”—their part is here, my part is there. The servants and the staff take a minute, right before the battle, to face what they’ve become.

“spooky prompt: What If the castle was haunted the year after belle breaks the spell…sadder prompt: What If the ghost was Adams mom…Worse prompt: or his father” THIS IS NOT THE FUN GHOST-HUNTING I ASKED FOR.

“Everyone says that Adam was under the spell ages, so what if the spell went on for 300+ years or whatever, and a woman hiking through the woods kind of went through what Maurice did with the tree being knocked over…” Fucking!!!! Granola bars!!!!!!!!!!!![x] [Ongoing.]  

How desperate I became. To erase. To unmake my mouth, my pulse. / To unlive. “The Writing-Desk.”

“So Very Different”—Cuisinier & Garderobe

“how would the staff and Belle and Adam react to some little kids from the village showing up trick-or-treating?“ Something like this, I imagine.

“Amnesiac Cadenza?” i do fucking love an amnesia ask

“During the curse, Adam begins to see ghostly apparitions of the servants’ human forms.” Dead men walking.

“Spooky prompt: A haunted house in Villeneuve.” i just want to talk to the demons!

“These Two Need More Love”—Chapeau & Cuisinier

“A piece inspired by the song, “A Shoulder to Cry On,” aka, ‘80S MUSIC FICS

“Adam, Belle + staff go to pick out/chop down their own Christmas tree……” Yule fic by me + other people! ho ho ho.

way down in hadestown

The fandom-spanning fic, involving Star Wars, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Doctor Who, and Tulio and Miguel.

“Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said.” Evermore. Thanks Ray Bradbury.

“idk how she got there but Garderobe rules the world.” ❤️

“Oh! How about a story or headcannons of Shane and Ryan doing a Buzzfeed Unsolved Video at the enchanted castle in BatB?” [wheeze] (a FAVE)

“Words”—Garderobe & LeFou.

“what if someone confused the servants with the royals, cuz they dress better than adam and belle?” This happens regularly.

“Pere Robert somehow comes across a Time Turner” ⏳tick-tock⌛️

“Crackfic prompt: Belle is messing around with magic books (AGAIN) and somehow summons dinosaurs.” that’s , uh, that’s chaos theory

plumiere SNUGGLING FOR WARMTH TROPE????

“The BATB characters stumble into The Great Comet” EVERYBODY RAISE A GLASS

“So I’m reading the Raven Cycle by Maggie Stiefvater…..” Here.

“Please give me more singing hair brush!” the fucking hairbrush. Here.

“Please can I have a bunch of adorable hcs where Garderenza are prepping Bassette for their first concert with her singing in it too” that is a hairbrush

arrrrGGHHHH, mateys, that thar be a magical pirates fic, shiver me timbers

“lumiere gets a sunburn” ouCh

“for adelle: maybe the Official Proposal?” Here.

“ what if. an amnesia fic. where they. ALL. Got. A m n e s I a“ —MY BRAND~

“Headcanons for Belle and Adam being the world’s greatest grandparents?” also known as “be a bear, grandpa!”

“Garderenza prompt: ‘You saved my life!’” oh how divine

belle keeps playing with magic and getting everybody fucked

this collab fic with @theteaisaddictive​ is done! “agathe gets amnesia”

“Whisky and Red Wine”—Lumiere and Belle have a night in.

“AU idea: As belle is leaving the second time, something stops her and she turns and whispers ‘I love you’ before running off.” Can you say “two idiots”?

“ have you ever done any asks about what you think maurice/belle’s mum’s life was like before they had belle???” I AM ALWAYS HERE FOR THE MAURICE SAD!FICS [x]

“something sweet with adam and the plumiere child.” sweet as stolen breakfasts.

“Belle messing with magic again finds one that puts the universe into reverse” this one is straight crack i hope you like it

chip is the middle man for some major lumiworth action

“A traveller stops by for directions […] by coincidence, he’s one of Belle’s *very favorite* authors.” Wow I wonder if the world’s biggest book nerd is going to handle this in a responsible manner [x]

“a man attending a ball at the palace spots plumette, and falls in love with her beauty. she receives an anonymous present of heart-shaped chocolates on her bedside the next day, and assuming they are a present from her dear lover, eats them without a thought. moments later…..” Not exactly this trope but uhhhh it’s a love potion fic babyyyyyyy

[rolls-of-the-tongue-nicely]

2018 fanfic summary

Tagged by @flo-nelja​ ;)

Total Number of Completed Stories: 59 (+49 drabbles)

Total Word Count: Between 90K and 100K (ao3 is not a precise tool, and I wrote things on my blog I didn’t post on ao3)

Fandoms Written In: Gotham, Rick & Morty, Venom, Detroit: Become Human, Pokemon, In the Flesh, Spirou & Fantasio, Doctor Who, and the HPverse (the last one is kinda surprising because I’m clearly not a Pottermaniac)

Looking back did you expect to write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d expect: I didn’t expect anything, but it’s the first time I look to the total word count and I was surprised

What’s your own favourite story of the year?: It’s a super hard question !! Maybe Pandora’s box (Gotham)

Did you take any writing risks this year?: I wrote in english (I even did a collab with an artist for A bitter pill to swallow, a Nygmobblepot Detroit AU), I wrote prompts, and about fandoms/ships I am not into (like Pokemon or Naruto, I’m not even these fandoms !!)

Do you have any fanfic goals for the New Year?: Finishing the Miami Rick & Morty serie and some Nygmobblepot WIP with plot (like Cold Heart, for example)

Best story of the year: Seriously dude, this kind of question...

Most popular story of the year: It’s Yellow hoodie in the crowd (Rick & Morty), with 86 kudos

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: I would want more appreciation for my french Gotham fic in general, alas the fandom is smaller than the english one

Most fun story to write:  A bitter pill to swallow (Gotham) with @deathby-nygmobblepot was an awesome experiment because we imagined the story along the way, we didn’t consult each other so the next part the other writes was a total surprise and it was super fun and addictive (especially because deathby is a crazy good fanartist !!!)

Story with the sexiest moment: Lune de miel à Paris (Gotham) is a Nygmobblepot french fanfic with a touch of Gobblepot. It’s an Ed and Oswald sex tape, and Oswald is super shy and Ed a kinky motherfucker but they are really in love, it’s sweet and very hot.

Sweetest story: Probably Es-tu en train de me dire que tu es asexuel Oswald ? (Gotham). It’s an established Nygmobblepot where Oswald makes his coming out like asexual to Ed

“Holy crap that’s wrong even for you!” story:  Breeding season (Rick & Morty) is an english fanfic about Birdperson who needs to breed with a fertile mate, so he uses someone he just saved, our sweet young Morty. It’s a super crack pairing, the porn is totally wtf with alien morphology and xenophilia.

After that, the tentacle porn with Venom was almost normal XD

Hardest story to write: Maybe Pandora’s box (Gotham), a future fic where Ed has a fetish club and Oswald comes in for financial transaction with Ed (he hates this place) but he is sexually harassed by a masked man. I wanna show several things : first, in this fic, Oswald is kinda sex repulsed, or at least he hates sex without feelings. Secundo, he is demisexual, so if he’s very close (and in love) with someone, he can feel some sexual attraction. And third, fetishes. I wanted to write about asexuality and fetishes. I want to explore the non-sexual aspect in some fetishes. I think I will write a sequel to this fic, one day, but I have to brainstorm my ideas...

Biggest disappointment:  First fake kiss - in a dirty alley (Gotham) is a big disappointment. I know the fic has 63 kudos, so it’s kinda popular, but I wrote it for a @selene-yoshi-chan‘s fanart and I’m really not satisfied by the way I put it, because this fanart was really powerful, made me feel lot of emotions, but the story I wrote tastes bland.

Biggest surprise: The enthusiasn for my english R&M fanfics. The french fandom is so small, and suddenly I received so much kudos and hits !

I tag @mrgoldsdearie, my baker, @calimera62, @jainasherself, @hobbitpuff and @my-chemical-romanoff

[vankoya]

Extra Cheese, Please!

✽ Read the indecorous follow-up piece, Less Cheese, More Please!

Genre | Best Friends to Lovers / Housemates AU.

Pairing | Jeon Jeongguk / Feminine Reader.

Words | 9,524 words.

Conspectus | Jeongguk dislikes three things: 1. Having his Overwatch marathon nights interrupted, 2. Dealing with drunk people while he is sober, and 3. Cheesy ramyeon. His best friend slash housemate slash insufferable crush is the drunk girl with an incessant craving for super cheesy ramyeon who interrupts his Overwatch marathon night, and ultimately proves that the aforementioned meal looks just as gross coming up than it does when it is first in the bowl. 

Luckily, there is always a silver lining. Even in the worst of situations.

Warnings | Swearing. Alcohol. Vomiting as a result of being overly drunk. Sexual innuendos. Fondling. Jeongguk cannot deal with cleavage.

Jeongguk guesses that it is nearing one in the morning when his phone buzzes four times in succession. The vibrations occur no more than a few seconds apart against his balls, which is where the device has slipped down to nestle over the course of the past eight minutes.

He knows he should probably reach between his thighs and retrieve it to check the slew of texts that tickle his dick through a pair of grey sweatpants. He is also ninety-nine percent positive that he knows precisely who the sender is. But the military bomb payload is that fucking close to being at the Deadlock Gang’s cave hideout, just having passed Checkpoint B, and Jeongguk is quite possibly playing his best Escort game since he planted his sweet ass on the living room couch. The four instant ramyeon packets that he inhaled at eight o’clock are still burning off in his system. Well-needed fuel for a long, uninterrupted night of Overwatch.

Well, the chances of that peaceful gaming occurring were narrowed to considerably slim once a certain someone had slipped out of her bedroom and announced she was going out for cocktails. She had managed to breeze through the front door before Jeongguk could really have enough of an opportunity to stare at her magnificent ass in those jeans. But if his calculations were correct, he has made it through a solid five hours of tranquility so far.

When he sees the attacking team’s Lucio put up a sound barrier, Jeongguk cannot help but blast a grin of victory. He unleashes his McCree’s deadeye, obliterating the entire team. There is a triumphant shout that is echoed amongst his own teammates, and he nearly throws his goddamn PS4 controller at the television when he fist-pumps the air out of excitement. Through the headset, Yugyeom makes a comment amongst his hooting along the lines of: “McCree, that OP motherfucker!” while Jeongguk spams McCree’s: “I’m the quick, you’re the dead,” voice line over and over in the final seconds that the payload reaches its destination and the game comes to a close.

Earning play of the game was expected after the shit he pulled last minute. Though Jeongguk finds himself surprised when he gets ten votes out of the twelve players, considering the opposing team is currently shouting a stream of insults. Because yeah, McCree is overpowered as fuck. But the sheer laziness in him cannot bear the thought of having to train up on a different hero, at this stage.

“I’m out,” Jeongguk announces to Yugyeom as he reaches down to grab his phone, beginning to vibrate against his balls again due to his lack of response. Yugyeom laughs, the connection slightly static.

“Gotta get your girlfriend, huh?“

“Fuck you, not my girlfriend,” Jeongguk barks before exiting the main screen, albeit with a tiny smile, and then shifts his headset to sit around his neck. When he clicks the home button of his phone, he is greeted by a screen lit up with eight notifications, confirming two things.

It is definitely past one in the morning, and it is definitely who he was expecting to be.

Jeongguk gets his heart stuck in his throat, bites his tongue and stupidly grins at the last text that was sent, chest tight at the thought of her missing him. He can picture that dumbass drunk smile of her’s so clearly; a sight that he has seen enough times to have it burned into the very cells of his brain. It is the one thing that is beyond fucking adorable when paired with her glassy eyes, staring roundly at him while she perches that amazing ass on his lap. Right on the zipper of his jeans so that the jagged metal presses right against his dick and– Fuck, too far.

He chances a glance at his sweatpants and yeah, shit, he is a little bit hard now. Jeongguk slaps himself, firm enough to properly wake up from his unexpectedly lascivious daze, and then he quickly punches in his passcode.

He sputters and incredulously shakes his head, running a hand through his hair because hell yeah, she is a twelve alright. More than that even, a hundred in his books, if numbers had to define her. Maybe Jeongguk should not think such thoughts about his best friend of seven years slash university flatmate of two. But then again, her attractiveness is common knowledge amongst their friends and all those alike who encounter her. As clear as the sky is blue and the grass is green. Simply, Jeongguk is just confirming the obvious and nothing more than that.

Yeah, definitely nothing more than that. Totally still not semi-hard over the thought of her drunk smile, of all the boner-inducing things about her.

Before he can text her back, the theme song to Legend of Zelda is filtering through the living room and the ugliest photo he has of her is appearing blown up on the screen. The image is one that is zoomed right in on her face from where she breaches the ocean, pixelated by the added effect of it being a screenshot. The fast motion of her coming up after a wave had crushed her makes it appear as though her face is being dragged down by gravity; mouth parted in a gasp; completely wet hair plastered to her scalp, and presented at such an angle that she looks bald. 

It is fucking hideous. Jeongguk had laughed so hard that he peed himself a little the first time he noticed it in one of the snapshots that he had taken on his DLSR at the beach that day, and he never let her live it down. But they did come to a mutual agreement to not allow such a monstrosity to be released to the general public on an unfortunate Facebook birthday post, or as a tactic for revenge. Otherwise, Jeongguk would similarly be having a picture of himself exposed as far as the eye can see. The one where he is slumped backwards over their coffee table, blacked out and wearing nothing but a pair of her pretty pink panties, the tip of his sad and soft dick poking out the leg hole.

Jeongguk stares at the caller ID photo a moment longer, eyes watering with hilarity before he swipes his finger across the screen to answer with, “Well, well, if it isn’t–“

“Th–The sexiest motherfucker you know?” slurs through the other end of the line, nearly drowned out by the commotion she most likely sits cross-eyed within. “Who s’about to be joined by a much less sexy motherfucker, hmm?”

“Let me guess,” Jeongguk runs his tongue over his teeth, unhooking the headset from his neck and placing it on the coffee table, “I’m the less sexy motherfucker?” he says as he reaches for the remote to turn off the television.

“Ding ding, ten points to Gryffindor,” she whoops and giggles, and god, Jeongguk melts a little as he stands up but definitely not because he thinks her intoxicated laughter sounds fucking adorable. No way. “Y’gonna come collect the goods?”

He stuffs his feet into a battered pair of Vans and reaches for his black parka, looking like a damn slob and all with nothing but a dark shirt and his grey sweats underneath. He has no plans to stay longer than absolutely necessary at the bar, anyway. “I can’t think of any goods I need to collect,” Jeongguk sighs, swiping his house keys and wallet from the dish atop the entry cabinet and making way towards the front door. “A drunken mess that unfortunately so happens to be my best friend sounds more accurate.”

“At leas’ she’s got a great ass!” she defends herself, Jeongguk mentally agrees, then literally has to slap himself across the face again for focusing too long on the mental image of it, which he has copied in high-definition into his memory. Her voice becomes distant from the speaker, shouts out, “No you may not touch it, fuckin’ perv! Go piss in yo’ girly fuckin’ Cosmopolitan, yeah?!”

“Please don’t get yourself killed before I get there,” Jeongguk raises his voice a little in hopes of her hearing over the music. A smidgen of the tension that is suddenly squeezing at his chest is released when he hears her indignant huff right against the speaker. “I’m gonna be pissed if I walk all that way just to find you’re dead.”

“It’s like, one kilometre tops, pussy,” she retorts, the eye roll practically audible as Jeongguk locks the front door and then heads down the hallway to the elevator. “A light jog’ll get you here in what, five minutes. So start runnin’, boy.”

“Fuck no. I’m hanging up. Stay alive.” He mutters, punching repeatedly at the elevator button as if it will make the doors open faster. 

Distantly, he wonders why he is in such a goddamn rush. He narrows it down to just wanting to get back home again as soon as humanly possible; to return to his disturbed Overwatch marathon. Yeah, of course that is why.

“Thanks babe, you th’ best!” she sings, hangs up before he can, and Jeongguk jams his finger against the button with a greater ferocity until the elevator dings open after what feels to be centuries of waiting. (It was not even thirty seconds.)

He ends up speedily jogging the entire way to the bar to build up his blood circulation because it is cold as tits outside, of course. Definitely not because it means he will get to see her sooner, make sure she is safe and sound and not being leered at by some drunken, creepy lecher.

Nope. No way at all.

They say that there is always a silver lining to every unfortunate and downright dreadful situation. Jeongguk is currently wondering where the fuck such lining happens to be once he finally finds a particular girl that he was forced and threatened to brave the cold in order to collect, only to be met by the pout that she knows gets him all pliable and willing. He does not know it yet, but the silver lining is still coming. Slowly, gradually, but it will.

Even if, right now, that shit seems as likely as getting a blow job from Beyonce.

“How much?” he shouts to be heard over the pounding music, repeats for the second time because he refuses to believe the sum that the bartender first announced. 

At Jeongguk’s hip slouches the self-proclaimed goods. The treacherous best friend, who keeps having to be hiked up by his arm curled tightly around her waist since her bones liquefied by liquor are failing to keep her standing. She has that goofy smile pulling at her plush lips, and Jeongguk is torn between wanting to slap from her face, or to kiss it away instead.

The bartender checks the amount again, then leans towards Jeongguk with a somewhat empathetic expression to call back, “Rounded to one hundred and eighty-four dollars.”

On the inside, Jeongguk might be crying a little. Funny how the reason behind his internal agony is also the same thing that is keeping him slightly sane through his mental calculations of how much money he has left in his bank account. Pressed against his side with an intoxicated, unfocused gaze that stares up at him too endearingly for him to be one hundred percent angry. He is at ninety-nine point nine-nine percent. Okay, maybe on the cusp of no less than ninety percent. Goddamn.

“I’m letting you go for a second,” Jeongguk warns her and begins to slowly recede his arm, giving her enough time to support herself on the bar. Rather than doing this, she wraps her own arms around his waist and nestles under his armpit.

In any other situation than the apparent one, where he has to aid his best friend’s spontaneous cocktail night with his own miserable funds, Jeongguk would be fighting to tame the glee. The kind that would be demanding to tuck her closer, and perhaps press his nose to the crown of her head so he can breathe in the soft scent of her vanilla shampoo. Unfortunately, no matter how much he wills himself to be dreaming that his weekly budget is about to be kicked repeatedly in the balls and that maybe, instead, they are just at home on the couch and it is one of those movie nights where she gets extra cuddly for no apparent reason, Jeongguk is still stuck in the apparent situation.

He glares at his tormenter, who continues to latch like a lock around his body, and barely manages to keep his tears from falling as he retrieves his wallet and flips it open, fingers shaky. An extra tug is required from the bartender to loosen the measly grip Jeongguk’s fingertips have on his debit card when he hands it over.

“Girlfriend?” The bartender politely chips in as he swipes the card through the eftpos machine and then faces the keypad towards Jeongguk. As Jeongguk punches in the pin number, the bartender darts his gaze up to him with a raised eyebrow. “Ex-girlfriend?”

“Neither, and I don’t know if that makes it better or worse,” Jeongguk smiles, the kind that conveys his immense internal suffering. The bartender gives a sympathetic nod and hands back Jeongguk’s card before rushing off to continue serving drinks.

The latest, monstrous attachment on Jeongguk’s side squeezes him with her feeble, jelly-drunk arms. Albeit the situation, something softens inside of him when he grabs her chin so that she will properly face him. She blinks languidly like an overtired kitten, mascara smudged beneath her eyes, lipstick smeared a little on her chin. Not in the way that suggests somebody else had their mouth on her own. It is definitely the familiar mark caused by the back of her hand rubbing against her lips after taking a shot. Jeongguk is still weighing up whether he prefers the latter to the former.

“‘m tired, Jeonggukie,” she whines, slumps closer to him, and he wraps his arm around her waist again, hoisting her up with a displeased sound.

“All that talk about wanting me to have a drink with you, and now you’re making me pay the bill and run?” Jeongguk teasingly chides, and she unabashedly nods against his right pectoral. Alarm bells start ringing in his head when her weight against his side grows a tad too close to the ‘falling unconscious’ side of the spectrum. “Woah, hey– No. Don’t you dare fall asleep on me, ___. You still have to walk home.”

She hooks her chin on his shoulder and conjures that goofy, heart-melting grin that has Jeongguk crying a little on the inside, because he is such an absolute sucker for her. In that moment, her pout becomes the bane of his existence as she says, “Jus’ carry me, yeah?”

“Hell fucking no.”

Jeongguk carries her on his back the entire damn way.

By the time they reach the front door of their apartment, Jeongguk’s knees are weakly trembling and he feels utterly winded. Maybe it is a sign that he needs to get back into the gym on the weekends instead of indulging Yugyeom with Overwatch marathons. Or, more favourably, he needs to find a new best friend who will not 1. have him pay for her expensive, alcoholic ways, and then 2. make him piggyback her through the bitter cold night while she is practically deadweight against his shoulders in her partially asleep state.

“For someone who was calling me a pussy because I couldn’t be bothered walking to the bar, you’re awfully hypocritical in riding my back the whole way home,” Jeongguk says, gasping a little, jiggling the key in the lock and bustling them both inside once the latch clicks.

She clambers off his back, staggers slightly, and then catches herself on the back of the couch. Miraculously, she appears minutely more sober than she was twenty minutes ago. “Could’ve got an Uber.”

Jeongguk kicks off his shoes. “What, and paid him with the moths flying out of my wallet?”

She shrugs. “It would’ve cos’ like, three dollars.”

“That three dollars is lasting us until next Thursday, thanks to a certain someone who just made me blow my pay that I only got four days ago,” he hisses, sliding out of his jacket and hanging it over one of the dining table chairs.

And there it is again. That silly little grin tugging softly at her lips as she wiggles her hips against the couch. Strategically, Jeongguk briskly turns on his heel and strides into the kitchen before she can get her nails in him. Moulding him like the pathetic putty that he is. He can practically hear her pout when he ignores her blatant attempt at melting down his cold facade. Then, her heels unsteadily click across the vinyl flooring to watch him pull out a saucepan and fill it halfway with water, positioning it on the largest hotplate.

Jeongguk does not cast his eyes her way, even if every inch of his body, particularly his dick, is demanding that he do so. Because holy eight-pound six-ounce sweet baby Jesus in his cradle of hay, he did not notice in the dim lighting of the bar, but she is wearing a black v-cut sweater that exposes her shoulders and collarbones and a barely there shadow of cleavage. That, in itself, is saying something since her tits are a size that would fit neatly in his palms without any overflow. Just a nice, small and cute handful. God, he has never seen her with even a hint of cleavage like this before. This is unchartered territory that he has no idea of how to face, especially when he can barely cope with the sight of her amazing ass in any kind of legwear.

Jeongguk, staring blankly at the packet ramyeon in his hands, mentally forces himself not to get fucking hard like a teenage boy in the middle of their goddamn kitchen.

“What’cha doin’, good lookin’?” she hums, now perched on a breakfast bar stool with the side of her face mashed into the heel of her palm, elbow propped up on the kitchen counter. In his periphery, those small, adorable breasts spill from the v-neck onto the white laminate as a result of her slouched over position. Every single one of his nerve-endings is aflame.

Jeongguk releases the air trapped tightly in his lungs and then proceeds to make way towards the slowly simmering pot of water. He dares not a single glance at her, for the fabric of his sweatpants leaves little to the imagination, and she has definitely recognised a semi in them before.

“I’m making you something to eat since you always get hungry after drinking. Also, because I’m the greatest best friend that this world could’ve ever graced you with.” Jeongguk’s eyes are glued to his hands as he begins tearing into the packets. He dumps the dehydrated noodles and seasonings into the water, and desperately tries not to think about how sweet her tits would look in his hands. Praying that she takes the bait, he adds on as an afterthought, “Why don’t you get changed into something comfortable, and the food will be ready when you are?”

There is a pause, a moment where Jeongguk’s tongue pulses like a heart in his mouth, and he tries not to break into a nervous sweat. He can practically hear his own words clicking into place in her mind; connecting, disconnecting, reconnecting; fumbling through the drunken haze that still lays thick on her thought process. Twenty seconds pass, and he ends up so on edge that when she slaps her open palm against the countertop, he startles so abruptly that he rips open a seasoning packet with the ferocity of a gorilla. Beef flavouring bursts over his shirt and the stovetop in a cloud of brown dust.

“I shall go do that,” she announces. Jeongguk, going from nearly hyperventilating out of surprise to having a coughing fit from inhaling seasoning particles, sees her slither like a lizard off the stool out of his watering periphery. Except drunk, and with a goddamn, freshly fucking harvested cleavage.

He only lets a tear roll down his cheek once she has staggered down the hallway. This is Jeon Jeongguk, at the ripe age of twenty-three, accepting that he may die tonight.

Despite this possibility, he goes about cleaning up the spilled beef flavouring, saving as much of it as he can and depositing it in the simmering pot. The ramyeon-making itself goes rather smoothly. He manages to not spill the boiling water all over himself, nor accidentally rub his eyes after touching the chilli sauce like he did that one, hellish time that rendered him blind for just under three hours. He stirs the noodle broth and listens to her clomp around her bedroom, the occasional grunt and groan emitting when she cracks her hip against her desk, or whacks her shoulder against the frame of her walk-in closet.

She remerges in an acceptably less boner-inducing outfit. Consisting of one of his black hoodies that nearly reaches her knees, and assumedly (he prays, at least) a pair of unseeable boyshorts underneath. Jeongguk starts straining the ramyeon into a bowl.

“That’s mine,” he says about the hoodie while she clambers back onto the stool, looking soft and cuddly in her bundle of cotton and fleece. Her attire may not be as threatening to his vulnerable dick, but it is definitely as murderous to his weakened heart.

“Finders keepers, losers are weepers,” she immediately fires back, settling into her previous palm-smushed-against-face position, waiting for him to finish plating up the ramyeon. “Dun’ forget the cheese, either.”

At that, his whole body shudders with repulsion. For the first time since the growth of her cleavage was made apparent, Jeongguk faces her directly and hopes that the sheer suffering she puts him through is perfectly translated through his withered expression when he says, “You are disgusting,” before opening the fridge anyway and retrieving the container of pre-sliced easy-melt. “I will never understand how you can perform such sacrilege against the two holiest foods by combining them into the edible-equivalent of Hell.”

“Excuse you, cheesy ramyeon is the best gift this world has given us.” She frowns at the ceiling, thinks this over for a moment, and then corrects herself with, “Has given me, since I’m the best gift this world has ever given you.”

Jeongguk merely chuckles, does not deny it, because one may call him a deadset liar if he were to do so. Instead, he peels two slices of cheese out of the container and places them atop the bowl of steaming ramyeon, pressing them down with a fork so that they melt faster. 

She makes an iffy little sound, somewhat of a whine, and says, “Extra cheese, please!”

“You’ll make yourself feel sick,” he warns, yet all she does is glare adorably at him until he caves like the weak man that he is and adds an extra two squares. A thought itches at the back of his mind, informing him that he is most likely going to regret this, and he brushes it away just as quickly as it forms. Under that beguiling gaze of hers, she could ask Jeongguk to stick chopsticks up his ass and impersonate a popsicle and he would.

An over-exaggeration, but you get the point.

“Alright, one extra cheesy ramyeon for the drunk girl with disgusting taste in food,” Jeongguk declares, reaching across the counter to place the dairy-laden bowl in front of her before grabbing her hand, putting the fork in her open palm and forcibly curling her fingers around it with his own. He holds her hand a moment longer than necessary between his own, grinning tightly, remaining to ignore the voice that is now screeching in his head that feeding her this is a very, very bad idea. “Bon appétit,” he finalises, and the deal is done.

She smiles up at him, eyes shining and all of her teeth on display. Jeongguk wonders what wars he must have ended in his past life to be rewarded with this girl of starlight and vanilla and honey who winds around him, softens him into warm and easy. Before he can further dwell on such a tender thought, she shovels a grotesque forkful of cheesy ramyeon into her mouth.

“Tfhanksh Jeonguffie,” she says around the stickiness, and Jeongguk, now the perfect picture of nonchalance, wordlessly turns on his heel and begins to clean up the dishes. Anything, really, to distract himself from projecting the small amount of vomit that has lurched up to the back of his throat at the horrendous meal making contact with those lips that deserve so much better.

Minutes slowly go by, stretching past two in the morning and beginning to progress towards quarter-past. Besides the sickening slurps that she makes behind him, and the clattering of the saucepan with a handful of dirty dishes from his own dinner being washed in the sink, no conversation is made, and it is comfortable. These moments are precisely why Jeongguk has not risked it yet; asking her the big question; the determiner as to whether their best friendship will advance into something more. If she were to deny him, he believes he would be able to handle it, but he knows well that such knowledge would be on her mind every time she looks his way. The awkward tension would ensue, she would overanalyse his every move, and he would become distant because he does not want her to get the wrong idea. They would anticipate the day that the lease on their apartment runs out so they can go their separate ways as soon as possible.

So, he keeps quiet and basks in the contentment that they have created together in their little home. At the end of the day, she is his best friend, and he could not imagine a future without her in it. No matter if they were romantically involved, or purely platonic. Sure, he would love to kiss her collarbones and put his hands on her hips and maybe – just maybe – tell her that he loves her in the morning glow of a lazy Sunday, whispered across the pillowcases. But he can live without that. He can be a big boy about it and move on.

He keeps telling himself this, at least. Soon, he will genuinely be convinced that he can do it.

“Jeongguk.”

“Mmm,” he hums in response, turning around when her follow-up is delayed, and he instantly notices how her expression has suddenly transformed.

Honestly, Usain Bolt could not even compare to how fast his ass moves. Jeongguk skirts around the kitchen counter, pulls her off the stool, and hastily guides her towards the sink while cursing under his breath.

“I feel…” she mumbles as Jeongguk takes out the plug and then gathers her hair up as well as he can manage, holding it in a loose bun at the crown of her head and cringing when her torso slightly convulses. “Like I’m gonna– Ugh–“

“Oh my god.”

Jeongguk swears he did not make her that much cheesy ramyeon. But dear fucking lord, the sheer amount that comes up and splashes into the sink is simply horrifying. The noodles must have expanded in her stomach for such an extensive volume to now be regurgitated in disgusting, yellow chunks that make his own stomach turn with wooziness. He cannot believe he thought cheesy ramyeon looked bad in the bowl, because it is appearing to be at least ten times worse in the form of barf.

“You owe me– Ugh, christ– So big after tonight, you little shit,” Jeongguk grunts at her between clenched teeth and gags when he gets a whiff of the stench. Like over-fermented dairy left out in the sun for weeks, doused in a hefty helping of vodka.

The sound she makes is awful when the next heave is unleashed onto the stainless steel, and she reaches one hand back from where it is braced on the counter to weakly pat his stomach. When she shakily murmurs, “I’ll give you the best blow of your life as thanks,” Jeongguk has to bite the wet, fleshy inner of his cheek to stop the visualisation of her words from drowning his mind until it is all he can think about.

“Don’t talk about sucking my dick while you’re vomiting,” he groans with a small tilt to the corners of his lips despite himself, collecting a loose strand of hair that is falling dangerously close to her mouth. She halfheartedly laughs before another surge of cheesy ramyeon makes its departure from her body, and Jeongguk dry-heaves in perfect synchronisation.

By the time the contents of her belly have been completely and utterly expelled, Jeongguk is admittedly feeling much weaker in the stomach than he was before her bout of throwing up. Especially after having to wash it down the drain. Once there is not an inch of cheesy noodles in sight, he gingerly carries her bridal-style into their shared bathroom and props her up on the sink, one hand on her waist to keep her steady and the other reaching for her toothbrush. 

Jeongguk bites his lip to hide his smile when she leans forward and rests her forehead on his chest while he squeezes out a line of toothpaste. He wets the brush a little under the tap, and then takes her chin like he had back in the club, lifting it up so that he can see her sleepy, downright adorable face. Seriously, who looks this cute after vomiting up their breakfast, lunch, dinner, and all of the vodka sloshed in between?

“Open your mouth,” Jeongguk says, moving his fingers so they can squeeze her cheeks and make her lips pout like a fish. His heart weeps like the pathetic thing that it is at the sight.

She waggles her eyebrows to the best of her ability in her sobering, exhausted state. “What’re you going to put in there?”

“Not my dick, unfortunately for you,” Jeongguk chuckles, holding up the toothbrush, and she sighs loudly with faux disappointment. Well, he thinks she is joking. Surely she is.

Obediently, she opens her mouth. Jeongguk abruptly shoves the toothbrush in there and starts scrubbing at her pearly whites before he can think of the way she looks with her lipstick-smudged lips parted so obscenely like that.

His brain is the epitome of a keyboard smash.

It only glitches all the more when Jeongguk gradually comes to realise the entire position that they are both in; taking him over like a virus. His non-brushing hand still cups her small jaw. Glitch. Her bare thighs brush against his hips as she lightly swings her feet. Glitch. She blatantly stares at him, eyes half-lidded and looking like melted butter. Error: Jeon Jeongguk is no longer computing.

At least he can thank all of the deities that she is no longer wearing the Cleavage Sweater of Jeongguk’s Absolute Demise. Otherwise, he would have a bird’s eye view of the goods in question, and he, undoubtedly, would be a dead man.

Before he can linger on the dangerous thought of her small breasts while he is at this high-risk proximity, she makes a distressed gurgling sound. A sliver of Jeongguk’s sanity returns to him and he realises that toothpaste is spilling out of her mouth and onto his hand. With a panicked yelp, he yanks the toothbrush out of her mouth and she hurries to swivel around and spit out the accumulated mass of minty foam into the sink.

“Jesus H. Christ, Jeon,” she rasps, coughing once and wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. Her glare is watery and suspicious. “Were you trying to drown me? Imagine that. Death by toothpaste.”

He sputters, swallowing down laughter. “Shit, sorry, I was just– Uh, thinking about something,” he mutters, sheepishly smiling and reaching around her to rinse off the toothbrush.

“‘bout what?” she hums, dipping her head down so she can cutely shove her face in his own. Jeongguk grunts and cranes his neck away, but she grins wider and follows him, accidentally bumping her nose against his jaw. “What’cha thinking about, huh?”

“Ugh, hey– Stop!” He lets the toothbrush clatter into the sink and smooshes her cheeks between his large palms, holding her still, approximately an inch away from his nose. Cautiously, Jeongguk leans back, redeems the blush that is steadily heating his own cheeks by saying, “I was just thinking about all the ways I’m going to make you repay me for making me deal with your drunk ass.”

She half-heartedly waggles her eyebrows. “Care to elaborate?”

“Oh, you know,” he says as he drops his hands to her knees, but he does not fucking know at all since he was thinking about her tits again. His barely functioning, overtired and exhausted brain manages to conjure a handful of weak options. “I could make you do the dishes for a whole month. Or maybe, I could get you to buy the groceries for the next two fortnights. That’ll wipe your cocktail debt, at least.”

“You’re too soft on me, Jeongguk. Even when I can make your life a living hell,” she sighs, sleepily blinking at him. Unexpectedly, she knots her hands into the front of his shirt and pulls him close, successfully bringing his face back to the proximity that it was only a moment ago; nearly nose to nose. He can very suddenly feel his pulse practically vibrating in his throat. “‘m really sorry. You deserve something better than just some silly chores. I’ll pay you back the money of course, but– … Hey, what does my breath smell like?”

Before Jeongguk can even question her, she is forcefully exhaling onto his face. A gust of peppermint fills his nostrils, powerful enough to make him flinch. “Minty fresh. Why?”

Her lips stretch into a gentle curve, and beneath the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom, it almost appears nervous. “Good, ‘cos here goes nothing.”

Jeongguk is about to frown, about to speak, about to something. He cannot recall. Not now that she has closed the short gap between them and is accurately planting her mouth upon his own.

For a moment, Jeongguk thinks he might well and truly be dreaming. That tonight was some ridiculously real, torturous fantasy that his imagination managed to conjure in his unconscious state. But then her soft, damp lips part ever so slightly. Warm with the heat of her mouth, yet cool from the toothpaste. She opens up to him, her hands sliding up his chest to lock around his nape, the tip of her tongue skimming along the rosy flesh of his lower lip, and he knows.

This is very, very real.

Holy shit.

It takes a second for him to comprehend that he should kiss her back instead of standing there like a startled creature. And so, he slides his hands up from her knees to the middle of her thighs, the soft flesh warm beneath his palms when he gently grips them, and he tilts his head slightly to the side to deepen it. At this, she makes the most pleasant, lovely little sound. The edges of her nails lightly graze against the hair on the back of his neck, and elicit gooseflesh that tingles along his arms. 

Jeongguk parts his lips, lets her in, groans quietly when her tongue brushes against the underside of his own and then recedes. He chases after it, tasting warmth and cool peppermint as he carefully sinks his teeth into her lower lip, nibbling at the plush flesh and releasing it. A thin string of saliva connects their mouths as they separate for the most infinitesimal of moments before they dive back in. They are abstrusely drawn to each other. Like a black hole has formed between their bodies and they are radiant stars, pulled to the centre by gravity, colliding and becoming one.

Jeongguk cannot think straight. His mind has become an unrecognisable labyrinth that he cannot navigate; sent into turmoil by the taste of her, the feeling of her underneath the weight of his hands. He searches higher up her thighs, skimming beneath the hem of the hoodie and over her boyshorts, finding her waist and anchoring his fingers there, pulling her closer. Now, with her torso melding against his own, she loops her arms over his shoulders and her legs around his hips, locking her ankles and hands so that the embrace cannot be broken. Jeongguk melts completely, and he prays that this is not just some measly, intoxicated repayment. That what he feels in the slow movements of her lips and the press of her tongue is what he thinks it is. 

What he has been hoping for all this time.

As if she reads his mind, she suddenly jolts away like she has been electrocuted. Jeongguk, startled and with his lips still parted, stares at her with awed, lovestruck eyes. She gazes back as though she is very, very unsure.

Oh no.

“Woah,” she breathes, then she is untwining her limbs from his broad figure and clasping her blushing face with something akin to embarrassment. Jeongguk would think it looks utterly adorable if the fear was not currently spiking his adrenaline. “Wow– That was– Oh. Geez. I’m so sorry–“

“Why are you apologising?” Jeongguk barely whispers, and he almost does not want to know the answer for the fear of her words shattering his feeble heart like a hammer taking to glass.

“I’m– What? I’m apologising because that– That was something I shouldn’t have done,” she stammers, then sighs, letting her hands fall into her lap and staring down at them. Jeongguk is frozen, his own palms still firm against her waist underneath the bunched up fleece. “It was out of line. We’re best friends. I mean, I could blame it on being drunk if I wanted to and we could forget all about it. But in all seriousness, I’ve wanted to do that for a while. It was a very sober decision–“

Jeongguk exhales, and it shudders reluctantly out of his lungs. “You’re not making sense.”

“Okay, fine, fuck it!” she suddenly shouts, and it makes him jump. Her voice echoes around the bathroom, and she looks up at him again, eyes overflowing with frightening determination.  “Jeongguk. I like you, okay? There. I said it. I like you so much, and I get that saying this might fuck up our entire friendship but I really like you–“

He cuts her off with his mouth on her own and thinks: How were we this blind for so long?

This time, the kiss is brief, yet urgent. A sense of desperation hides in the corners of their mouths. Not searching for an answer, but out of the sheer desire touch one another, breathe one another after being oblivious for so long. Jeongguk begins to laugh, soft chuckles against her mouth that draw mystified, hopeful giggles from her own chest. The kissing becomes quite pointless, for they are simply smiling so wide out of the absolute ridiculousness that they could have been doing this for months, maybe even years, at this stage. 

They were just too foolish and scared of losing the other. Yet none of that matters now.

“Is this you confessing back to me?” she mumbles, and there is so much delight dancing like starlight in her eyes that Jeongguk’s heart races. He pecks at her mouth once, twice, then moves to her cheeks, her nose, her forehead and her chin until she is laughing all over again and holy shit, Jeongguk is quite possibly too in love for somebody who was so firmly denying it no less than two hours ago.

“Something like that,” he hums, squeezing at her sides before slipping his hands out from underneath the hoodie so he can reach up and cup her face. There is something radiant bursting through his ribs. Most likely, his elated heart. “I think I love you. At this stage, for me at least, I feel like I love you. I thought I just loved you as a best friend, but it’s definitely more than that.”

“Oh thank god,” she grins, and he feels it against his palms. “I was going to say I love you instead of I like you, but I thought it might be too sudden and scare you away. So yeah, I love you too, asshole. Also, I’m still a bit tipsy.”

Jeongguk’s face feels as though it is going to split in half from smiling so hard. He tucks her hair behind her ears, dies a little on the inside at the fact that he can do that, and so much more, now that they have laid their cards on the table. Brushing his thumbs over her faintly blushing cheeks, he kisses her, and then says, “Really? Wanna go to bed?”

“Yes,” she sleepily nods, latching her limbs around him again like a starfish. “Onwards to my bed, O’ Noble Steed!”

“God. You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in love, bitch.”

“Wow, there’s the best friend that I know. Thought I lost you.”

“Nope. You fell in love with this, so you’re stuck with this.”

Grin still plastered to his face, Jeongguk hooks his hands underneath her thighs and lifts her up, delighting in the way she giggles with glee in his ear. In navigating out of the bathroom and to her bedroom, he carries her towards all the light switches so she can flick them off. He kisses her cheek with every single one. 

When they enter her bedroom, the overwhelming fragrance of her hits him like a shockwave. Even more so as he carefully lays her down on the bed and then tucks in behind her; the gentle, vanilla aroma lifting from the pillowcase. She rolls over to face him in the dark, and Jeongguk loops his arms around her waist so casually that anyone would think they have been doing this for years.

“Hey,” she whispers.

“Hi,” he murmurs back, pressing his lips to the centre of her brow. At this rate, he believes he may never stop kissing her now that he has started.

Languidly, she blinks, and then mumbles, “This is real, right? I didn’t black out on cocktails, did I? I’m not just having some crazy, amazing dream?”

“Definitely real,” Jeongguk chuckles, pulling her closer. She cranes her neck, angling upwards to catch his mouth against her own, still tasting faintly of mint and pure, unadulterated joy. He licks at her bottom lip, and she groans, pulling away.

“Don’t do that. You’ll make me more horny.”

Jeongguk’s dick, in an act of betrayal, begins to stand to attention for the nth time that night.

“Y-You’re horny right now?” He clears his throat, swallows saliva down his suddenly very parched windpipe.

“Yeah, ’cos I’m still a little drunk,” she whines cutely, but it is nearly lost on Jeongguk. Because now all he can imagine is peeling her out of his hoodie and the boyshorts, seeing her lovely and bare, and then making her cry out his name with every fluid thrust inside of her.

“Fuck, now I’m kinda horny,” he mutters, and she cackles evilly.

“Are you hard?”

“Half,” Jeongguk admits, and she shifts so that she is propped up on her side by her elbow.

“Can I touch you? I’m too tired to jack you off but– I just want to, y’know, feel it,” she is smirking through the shadows and Jeongguk cannot roll the yes off his tongue fast enough.

Then, her small hand is on his dick, almost immediately causing it to swell to its full, erect size.

Jeongguk releases a tight exhalation that whistles between his teeth, draws soothing patterns on her back with his fingertips to try calm himself from potentially blowing his load right here and now. He cannot believe that he has dreamed of this more times than he can physically count on both hands, and now it is actually happening. Out of fear of disturbing the moment, he keeps his muscles locked. She stays rather silent as she feels around him through his sweatpants; gently squeezing his shaft, his balls, her thumb gliding smoothly over the head. 

Then, she nods to herself. Her hand recedes, and Jeongguk feels the loss like a blade driving through his gut.

“I always thought it would be big after seeing your semi that one time, but this is quite impressive,” she very casually states while she lays back down, and Jeongguk’s heart stutters. He cannot decide whether it is torture or euphoria that he is experiencing right now. A concoction of the two, most likely, because 1. she thinks that he has a big dick, and yet 2. he refuses to drill it into her while she is still a few steps away from sober. He wants her head completely clear for that.

Instead, Jeongguk latches onto two of the words that she speaks, smirking himself as he says, “Always thought, huh?”

“Oh come on, you can’t say that you haven’t thought about my body, too!” she accuses good-naturedly, wriggling closer to him so that all of her curves and slopes press against him. His painfully hard dick nestles into her thigh. The desire to roll it against her spreads through him like wildfire. “I might’ve been drunker earlier, but don’t think I didn’t notice the way you were staring at my cleavage like a man deprived. That shirt is a godsend for my tiny titties, right?”

“God, you have no fucking idea,” Jeongguk shamelessly admits, burying his face into her neck and softly biting the flesh there, shivering when she squirms. She is better than he could have ever imagined in all of her reactions to his touches, the sounds that she creates. So real. “That’s why I told you to get changed. I thought I was going to die.”

She threads her fingers through his hair, softly stroking the dark locks. “I’ll make sure to wear it more often then.”

“Well, here’s your cautionary warning that I probably won’t be able to hold myself back when you do. I don’t care where we are or who sees.”

“That’s hot,” she laughs, and then yawns. Jeongguk untucks himself from the nook of her shoulder, licks his lips, and presses a firm kiss to her mouth. When she moves her thigh to wrap around his own, it brushes against the head of his hard cock and he has to swallow down a needy moan.

“Sleep. We’ll talk more tomorrow, okay?” He murmurs. “And we’ll fix this horniness problem. Also, side note: can I hold your ass?”

“Yup, go for it,” she hums, closing her eyes and resting her forehead against his own. Jeongguk smooths his palms down her spine and then over the supple flesh of her ass, and lord, it honestly feels as fantastic as he had expected. He gingerly gives it a squeeze, and she makes a soft, appreciative sound that has all the blood rushing out of his head, leaving him lightheaded and so fucking in love that it hurts. Well, hurts his dick, for the most part.

The room fills with placid silence, yet his heart thrums loudly in his ears, keeping him awake. He focuses on the way her breathing begins to even out, and tries to match his own to her pace. Slowly; in through the nose, out through the mouth. The minutes pass, and Jeongguk feels his body become heavier, heavier, until he closes in on the soothing edge of unconsciousness.

She stirs.

“Jeonggukie.”

“Mmm.”

“I think I’m going to vomit again.”

Jeongguk has been woken up in numerous unusual ways. Being punched in the face is a first, and is quite possibly one of the more painful methods. Even if it was an accident as a result of somebody flailing too close for comfort.

“Ow– Jesus!” He squawks, immediately rolling onto his back and cupping his nose where the fist had made sharp contact.

When he opens his watering eyes, he notices that his best friend is looming over him with a very confused and very concerned expression. The sight of her as the first thing he sees when he awakes is not abnormal, for she has proven to be a much more efficient alarm than his own cell phone on numerous occasions. Even if her method this time around was unnecessarily more painful.

But it is the fact that her bedroom surrounds the both of them that throws him off. Because that must mean he is sleeping in her bed. And why on Earth–

Oh.

That’s right. They confessed. They kissed. Jeongguk fell asleep with his hands on her beautiful ass after holding her hair back while she threw up a second time.

He pushes himself up on his elbows, a sleepy half-smile beginning to tilt his lips.

That is, until she very bluntly says, “What are you doing in my bed?”

The smile immediately vacates his expression, and he suddenly feels as though he has fallen off a cliff face and is plummeting through the air. Jeongguk’s voice trembles in the back of his throat as he quietly says, “What do you mean?”

“Why are you in my bed?” she questions him again, and Jeongguk thinks he is literally about to be sick. “Oh! That’s right. You came to the bar, didn’t you? Jesus. Did we get that drunk again that we ended up crashing in my bed together?” She shakes her head. “I bet it was like last time when we passed out in your bed after that frat party. You remember the one, right? Where we had a full-blown argument over pineapple on pizza–“

Jeongguk swiftly scrambles upright and out of the bed, his chest feeling tight in the worst possible way. Did he genuinely dream everything that occurred last night? Did none of it actually happen? Or was she drunker than he initially thought and she has completely forgotten everything that occurred?

“Don’t you remember, ___?” He whispers, and his voice cracks.

She tilts her head to the side. The sunlight filters through the bedroom window, casting her in a sheen of gold, and she looks so unbelievably, heart-wrenchingly gorgeous that Jeongguk feels something in his chest begin to splinter.

“Remember what?” she says, utterly clueless, and Jeongguk casts his eyes to the ground, confused and hurt beyond belief.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, starting towards the door. He cannot completely comprehend what is happening right now, but he knows that something is definitely off because he swears on his heart that it was not a dream. She was real. Her warm mouth shaped against his own was real. Her voice wrapping around the words ‘I love you’ was very, very real; he knows that he could never imagine such a confession so vividly–

Behind him, she bursts into a fit of laughter.

“Oh my god. Jeongguk, you’re more gullible than a dog running to fetch the ball that its owner pretended to throw!”

He whips his head around, eyes as wide as Jupiter. “W-What?”

“I remember what happened, dumbass. Everything. I kissed you in the bathroom, we confessed our undying feelings for one another, I touched your dick, yadda yadda.” She crawls across the bed until she is kneeling before him, carefully reaching up to clasp his face between her palms and Jeongguk is torn between wanting to beat her with a pillow or kiss her senseless. Huh, he supposes this is what angry sex must be all about. “Was I really that convincing?”

He closes his eyes, furrows his brow. His mind is still suffering from the sudden whiplash, and is now doused in liquid fury. “I’m honestly going to fucking kill you.”

“I love you too,” she placates him, rising up to tentatively kiss him. He cuttingly stares at her half-lidded gaze as she dusts tiny pecks to his unmoving lips until he finally caves through the simmering anger and gives in to her, flicking his tongue out to meet her own. Carefully, as if she is unsure whether he will tear her head off or not at the slightest misjudgement, she begins to travel her mouth down his jaw, mumbling, “I’m sorry, that was mean of me.”

“I genuinely thought for a moment there that I must’ve had the wildest lucid dream,” he mutters, settling his hands on her ribs and angling his head to the side so that she has easier access. “But I feel like I could’ve never imagined the sight, nor stench of regurgitated cheesy ramyeon with such disgustingly intense clarity.”

She chuckles, quietly apologising again, and the exhalation of it on his skin raises the hairs on his nape. She reaches the under of his jawline, plush lips coming into contact with an especially sensitive spot on his neck, and an involuntary moan escapes him when the light suck of her teeth sends shivers down his spine.

Jeongguk can feel the curve of her languid, wicked grin instantly forming against his skin.

“Instead of fucking killing me, how about you fuck me to my grave?” she suggests, and her tone is too saccharine around such filthy words. Unbearable enough to bolster his morning wood to its full capacity, even when the flame of rage from her awful joke is still dying out.

“You’re insane,” Jeongguk chuckles despite himself, and she leans back, divine smile still intact.

“Insanely horny after keeping my sexual frustrations for you locked up in my body for roughly a year now? Yes,” she confirms with finger guns and a wink. He shakes his head out of incredulity. “And, I do believe I have a dick to blow to say thank you for last night. And also to say sorry for scaring you just now.”

“Baby, I don’t think you realise this yet but if we’re really a thing now, then you’re going to be sucking my dick for a whole month to pay me back for the past twelve hours.” Jeongguk sighs, running his hand through his hair and then down his face. His heart soars from the way her expression meekly transforms at the sudden nickname. “I’m going to have to start a fucking tally.”

“Well,” she hums, slips her fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants, and Jeongguk becomes lightheaded, “consider this strike number one, baby.”

The way she says it melts him down like candle wax, and he cannot help but tackle her onto the bed, grinning at her surprised squeal that is soon suffocated by his lips. Jeongguk knows that they have all morning for this. That he can take his time to explore her body in all of its magnificence until he can perfectly map it out in his mind, can understand the raw shape of her, what glorious noises she makes when he touches her, and what specific places on her being elicit them. He mouths his way down her throat, catches the blissful sigh as it releases from her lungs into the early morning, and then detaches so he can sit back and look at her, straddled beneath him.

Jeongguk entwines her hands with his own and slowly draws them above her head. She simpers, her half-lidded, glassy eyes flooded with unadulterated desire, cast in golden sunlight that makes her appear unbelievably ethereal. He slides his palms to her wrists, leans down so that his lips hover just above her own, gazes right at her and thanks his lucky stars for gracing him with an embodiment of themselves in the form of a girl so radiant that she blinded him; enough, that he could not recognise the love cooped up in her eyes until she spoke it.

He murmurs, “___, I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. Even if you destroy my savings account and eat the most repulsive meal known to humankind. You’re my best friend, and I want to escalate our best friendship to ‘best-friends-who-fuck-each-other-and-are-ridiculously-in-love’. What do you think?”

“Well, I love you too,” she smiles, her eyes flicking between his own, a glint of mischief hiding underneath the flutter of her eyelashes. “And I completely approve of such an upgrade. Partly because I cannot even express how long I’ve wanted to hold your hand and tell the world that you’re my boyfriend, and partly because I really want to blow you while you play video games.”

There, the realisation drives straight through Jeongguk’s heart. And his dick.

Ah, silver lining.

Note | I just wanted to write about Jeongguk’s phone vibrating against his balls. That is all. I have also never played Overwatch, so if any of the references are incorrect, I apologise. Thank you all for reading, liking, and reblogging this fun and silly little piece. I would love to hear your thoughts on it! ♡

All Rights Reserved © Vankoya. No translations, reposting and/or modifying of the material is allowed without my direct permission.

[hyacinthetic]

end of the year writing meme 2k17

because i did this last year and i want to gloat over my truly embarrassing uptick in wordcount.

Total number of completed stories: 8 + 1 wip + 1 snippet.  Total word count: 151,100, MOTHERFUCKER. Fandoms: voltron, persona 5, natsume’s book of friends.

Overall Thoughts

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you'd predicted? TOO MUCH VOLTRON. WAY, WAY TOO MUCH VOLTRON.

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January? i have 40k of lotor/matt sitting on my hard drive. it's going to break 60k after edits. i don't want this life.

What's your own favorite of the year? the post-series winter cult au was my favorite bit of writing, but i am gonna clutch the pseudo-utena pastiche (disclaimer: not actually related to utena in any way) to my chest all the more because nobody else will. 36K WORDS, MOTHERFUCKERS.

Did you take any writing risks this year? mmm. i've used the second-person pov before to varying degrees of efficacy, but the junior detective kurusu akira fic and the every day au were the first times i really tried to use it as a proper conceit -- a choice that related to the way the character wanted the story framed. ymmv on how well they worked (ha! ha! most of the second-person punch in the junior detective fic happens in the ~20k after the prologue, oh god, nobody even knows what i'm talking about). at the v. least, i still think the every day au's ending wouldn't pack such a punch from any other perspective.

Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the new year? WRITE STUFF THAT ISN'T VOLTRON, FOR FUCK'S SAKE. i've been reduced to just clawing at doors hissing LET ME GO... LET MY PEOPLE GO ...

From my past year of writing, what was...

My best story of this year: definitely the post-series winter cult. people keep describing it as hard to get into, which, yeah, it is. but it's also the most polished piece from this year.

in general, my best fic is always still the dazai/yosano thing from 2016. i didn't even round out all the subplots for that one, but because it's a crack ship, the whole dynamic is something i made, and i think that earns it a place on the trophy shelf.

My most popular story of this year: the shrine guardian au, i guess? which is bewildering, frankly: it's very fluffy, but i don't see that it does anything better than my other works. not to be all lucille bluth, i love all my children equally!!! and its prose is fine, but i wouldn't call it a standout piece.

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: it is a tie between my two big voltron aus -- i understand why the pseudo-utena flopped as hard as it did (60k worth of fic crammed into 36k, badly edited, had to cut two subplots and it still turned out a mess), but the darkest timeline auniverse fic was decent work with mediocre prose and a fuckton of worldbuilding. i'm this close to digging up a worldbuilding meme and answering all the questions that literally nobody will ever ask. THERE WAS SO MUCH TIMELINE BUILDING IN THAT ONE.

Most fun story to write: fun & joy are lies. all fic is suffering. only the motor fic came close, and that was awful in a different way: two characters with little established personality having to build chemistry and worldbuilding at the same time. fuck you both.

Story with the single sexiest moment: hilariously, despite the amount of porn i like to write, none of my fic's been personally sexy to me since 2013's mikorei pwp in which mikoto blew up some buildings and then convinced munakata to fuck him into a wall. what can i say, i'm an arson kind of girl.

Most "holy crap, that's wrong, even for you" story: nothing posted this year! but i'm gonna talk about my impending january posts because god, fuck, i'm not waiting a year so that i can talk excitedly about my 60k nightmare, i plan to be fucking burned out on voltron by february.

anyway: the first time i tried to explain lotor/matt to my best girl, she promptly texted back in horror: "DID YOU WRITE FIC WHERE LOTOR SOULBONDS MATT AND LEAVES HIM TO GET GANGBANGED." and, like. i want to explain, but the actual explanation wasn't really that much more comforting. so, there'll be that. i guess.

(there's actually no non-con involved! it's not even dubcon! IT'S NOT EVEN MATT WHO GETS LEFT.)

Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters: the fucking motor fic. i knew what i liked about lotor as i was going in -- 90% of my motivation in writing it was "okay, i can't make any of the existing major lotor ships work for me, let's just throw this ridiculous spaghetti galra at a shipping wall and see what sticks" -- but matt was much more nebulous to me. i know fanon matt isn't all that far off from the matt we actually saw in season 4, but i was interested in someone who wasn't an older, cheerful, ingenious, meme-loving version of pidge. and the detail that i really got stuck on was the fact that he was a cadet when he went to kerberos, even though keith was the best pilot in his class and keith couldn't go. why?

obviously the simpler answer's "narrative convenience" and "why would anyone trust keith enough to send him into space with millions of dollars' worth of space equipment". but i really did want to play with the alternative too.

Hardest story to write: fucking god. the european travelogue was downright awful to get out. i think it's partly that there's an emotional density to it that isn't really present in my other fic, and partly that it's 25K OF SHIRO DESCRIBING ARCHITECTURE THAT IS PERFECTLY EASY FOR ANYBODY TO GOOGLE AND LOOK AT WITH THEIR OWN EYES.

i also found sheith particularly hard to build as a convincing slowburn. i have no idea how anyone does it. the ship's selling point, to me, is that keith would give shiro anything. if shiro weren't romantically interested, keith would live and die for him in every other way and be absolutely satisfied by that. i never write keith as secretly wanting more than shiro can give -- he'll do it by accident, when he misunderstands what shiro's capable of, but ultimately that's not what keith wants himself to be. shiro plays by the rules a little better, understands the risks + selfishness of dating someone only to leave them for a dangerous ten-month expedition -- but when it comes down to it, i can't write them as anything other than two people who understand each other at the baseline, where it counts. like, shiro may not actively acknowledge it, but i don't think he DOESN'T know that keith has no breaking point when it comes to him, and that there is very unlikely to be anyone else who could ever be what shiro is to him.

anyway: 25k of no-plot fluff! jesus! it was a fun little experiment, and i'm still amazed and delighted that anyone hunted my tumblr down to ask for fic. but i'll probably never write anything like that again.

Biggest disappointment: can you believe that i wrote 36k of psychic bonding fic and it didn't lead to telepathic porn? there's a lot in the utena pastiche that made me go "mm, not enough", a lot that was flatly messy first-draft fumbling, and i've never been happy about how it turned out, but that's still the biggest outrage to me. like. what was even the point. there's so much about it that makes me itch to rewrite, but the number-one reason that i never, ever will is that i'd have to find somewhere to fit porn to make it worth my time AND SOME THINGS ARE JUST IMPOSSIBLE.

Biggest surprise: i!! posted!! 100k+ words!!!!!!! WITH OVERFLOWING PUNCTUATION BECAUSE I DESERVE IT, MOTHERFUCKER. ficwise, though -- the lotor/matt au. why the fuck would you ship two characters who literally have no screen time together, share nothing in common, and are unlikely to develop a dynamic in future seasons, let alone this one? answer: ME: You have to promise to read the Lotor/Matt thing even though I've realised that their portmanteau is "Motor". MY GIRL: WELL now i have to read it ME: ME: Never mind, your boner killed mine.

but the joke's on me, because the one way to guarantee that i'll write something is a hot girl telling me she'll read it.

i love how most of this meme is grim self-encouragement to finish a fic that feels like it is literally killing me by dint of being the longest goddamn thing i've written in my life.

Most unintentionally telling story: well, it was GONNA be the junior detective kurusu akira fic, but i DIDN'T FINISH THAT.

on a more personal note: the every day au's ending was never in question for me. i'm rarely in the mood for conversation, but i can't stand keeping my feelings to myself: i don't feel real unless someone else can see me. it's why i like to yell in my post tags and do memes even though i follow like three actual personal blogs and a significant portion of this tumblr's designed to actively discourage 90% of people who stumble across it from adding me. the idea that, when you strip the viewer out, the object disappears -- that's probably as 'me' as a story gets.

Highlights + Wrap-up

Favourite Opening Lines (3):

The courthouse's a brushfire of camera lenses.

You wake up. [ ed. nt: not really the most unique or interesting of opening lines, but i've started to appreciate how this echoes throughout the piece and then builds into a clusterfuck chorus by the end. ]

[ nope. the other first lines weren't that great. fuck you, meme.]

Favorite 5 Line(s) Ficbits from Anywhere: [ ed. nt: fuck you, word limits & punctuation. ]

"I knew you were gone—long gone. No one could've called you back. But I just kept saying—if they were really Voltron, you'd be with them. You'd have come back for me."

"You stand," Allura whispers, "on territory that was consecrated by the five rituals of essential transference. You stand within the walls that my grandfather built, the walls for which my father sacrificed everything to keep from enemy dominion. The planet Altea remains because I lay claim to it, because I have not yielded to time and I will not yield. You may have served as Zarkon's witch; but in these halls, your very life hangs on Altea's mercy, my mercy. Either you'll remember an Altean's manners or a prisoner's—but so long as you speak to me, Haggar, you will choose one." -- so this fic was a series of dramatic triumphs that i did not build up to and therefore had no right to put in, but i don't care. if i'm going to write 100k++ of fic in a year, it's gonna be spread out over like ten different fics. and this is my favorite of the dramatic non-love confessional speeches that i wrote this year.

Keith lisps briefly and nastily under his breath. "Why would anyone pronounce an apostrophe?” <-- me throwing shade at a hundred years of scifi.

[ fuck you, listicles. ]

[ fuck you pt. 2. all the other sentences sucked. ]

Trivia left out of three fic:

pidge survives the events of the every day au and does eventually go on to form voltron. i left the fic where i did as a dramatic stopping point; in my head, i always knew where things were going to go afterwards. this clarity was helped in no small part because i had to immediately spill my guts to my best girl after she finished reading and realised in outrage that i'd given her a 19k fic in which her otp kissed zero (0) times. but yeah, everything works out -- albeit with a superdose of trauma -- and keith and pidge in particular have a moment which appeals to all my friendship kinks. i couldn't write the sequel in second-person, though, which is probably why i'll never do it. if i can't be pretentious and tragic, and i still can't work in any porn, then what is the point.

shiro, in the weird tattoo porn thing, has no idea of the effect he's having. in his mind, he's just being reasonable. this ties into my preference for writing s3-4!shiro as someone who thinks of himself as the same man who fell to earth a year ago, someone who has survived the galra over and over, someone who wants to lead in the war and deserves to do it. the trouble with this is that about one-point-five of those things are not necessarily things that the original shiro actually believes. i love this discrepancy between writing the two: there's one who buys into his own mythology of being a hero, and there's one who just wants everyone to survive and be happy and safe. in an ideal world (note: ideal to nobody but me), project kuron would be a thing where they created a perfect clone of shiro with all his memories but accidentally infused it with just enough galra beliefs about strength and the importance of war that it sabotages voltron's mission. that particular shiro doesn't mean to be fucked up, but his beliefs are, and he doesn't realise it until after the fallout of everything he's done hits the team. it's the entire basis for his behavior afterwards. this is one of those character development things that fell into the margins between the tattoo porn and its weird au sequel. i should have written the fic in between, i'm sure it would've been less confusing for everyone who read the goddamn sequence, but honestly, you could not pay me enough to write about keith and shiro's relationship falling apart.

this was never made explicit in the fic itself, though it seems pretty clear to me, but here goes. of the ten photographs, nine are pictures that shiro takes for keith to remember them by. the last is one that keith takes for shiro.

Lessons learned about writing in 2017:

when in doubt during edits, read the paragraph out loud. you don't have to do it very loudly, but people respond to something that flows off the tongue even if they aren't actually reading it out to themselves.

you're a niche writer. you write for you. that means you don't really have to edit if you're tired.

deadlines are bullshit. don't sign up for any more events featuring those.

with the way i write, there's always an element of mistrust. in my shorter fics, people are breaking up because they can't trust each other, or they're teetering on the brink of getting together -- but. in my longer fics, i really, really love to throw an unexplained element of mistrust into the mix (see: the fic where shiro leaves his own dimension and refuses to go back without any explanation) and only 'reveal 'it at the end. mistrust is an easy shortcut to tension. it's a good way to reframe the story, but it's also ... hm. predictable if it's literally all you write? i like to think that i'm capable of writing plots whose value isn't entirely based on the way they're told. i just need to let the story breathe once in a while.

the comma before 'too' is grammatically incorrect when that's the end of the sentence. my entire life is a goddamn lie.

there's such a thing as overdetail. a loose sketch and a twinkle of atmosphere will do better than three dense paragraphs detailing exactly where all the cathedrals are. my god, i never want to leave this continent again.

the best writing feeling is posting something and then tweaking all the small mistakes out of it. the second-best writing feeling is bringing someone you like a freshly-killed (read: edited) piece of prose, then demanding pets and cuddling for your great act of magnimity and courage.

looking back on my life, i should have been born a cat.

Fic-writing goals for 2018

post/finish all 80k of my existing drafts, THEN LEAVE VOLTRON FOREVER, I'M SO DARKLY EXCITED ABOUT THIS EXODUS.

seriously, write for any fandom but voltron. oh my god.

maybe i can just dive headfirst into ocean's eight and write a lot of bantery f/f until everyone forgets my embarrassing gay robolion phase.

a sci-fi au for nirvana in fire, heavily influenced by recent military scifi, in which (contrary to all the imperial death traditions) the chiyan army's memories and consciousness are ostensibly deleted from the imperial archives as punishment for their betrayal. several years down the line, jingyan finds his political influence rising with the advice of a helpful and very insistent ai advisor. IT'S TOO COMPLICATED AND I'M STILL THINKING ABOUT IT.

did you know that the natori/matoba section on ao3 has no explicit fic at all? like, zero. 2018 goals, baby. i don't care that nobody needs to know what horrible things they'd do to each other in bed. i'm gonna be this ship's rule 34, or the arsonist who burns down the house of the person who gets to it before me.

[judgeanon]

Ok judge, tell us about Ullyses, why do you think he is the best?

He’s got the sexiest voice in the entire Fallout franchise. End of story.

Ok, I exaggerate, but here’s the thing about Ulysses: he's not someone you can immediately “get”. Most of the cast in the game, what you see the first time you meet them is what you get. You learn their backstories, you discover their secrets, you help them grow and develop, but by and large they tend to wear their hearts on their sleeves. Ulysses, by comparison, feels like a proper mystery. And a good one, one with actual thought and reason behind him, with an actual answer at the end. He’s not some hollow cryptic ultra-powerful guy who’s always one step ahead of you, but a conflicted, fallible, thoughtful human being on a journey of his own. And piecing together what that journey is and why he’s on it was one of my favorite parts of one of my favorite games.

There’s also a very tangible sense of history to him, a willing link to the past, but in a way that sets him apart from other characters like Caesar (who uses the past as a tool) or Mr House (who literally is from the past and is trying to more or less keep it alive). He’s enthralled by the idea of America as a nation, as a massive country of people who belong there by birthright, but initially he lacks the belief to try and rebuild that idea. It’s only after seeing Courier Six’s actions and their result that he stops being a roaming dreamer and starts believing that one man can change the world, even unwittingly.

And that’s where we get to the main reason why I love Ulysses and why I love Lonesome Road and why I think it’s the absolute perfect way to “end” New Vegas, and it all comes down to Player Agency and Player Responsibility. Open-world RPG’s like Fallout tend to pay a lot of lip service as to how you, as the player, have the agency to decide the future of that open world and all who live in it. But usually, that ends up being just picking between a couple of endings, joining a faction or other, and mostly helping a few hundred folks with their problems, big or small, then completely forgetting about them. And it’s that last part, that abandon, that’s really important.

Because the Courier doesn’t remember the Divide. Doesn’t remember the device. Doesn’t remember the delivery. To the Courier, that was just another quest. Once the delivery was made, well, that was it, move on and let’s find the next quest. To the Courier, it was a simple matter of bringing Item A to Place B, collecting some cash and moving on. Which is the same mentality an RPG player will usually have when faced with a side quest. The player has no responsibility to even complete most quests in an RPG, let alone remember who gave it to them or why. It’s just something that has to be done to gain resources to survive and carry on.

Ulysses is the embodiment, the ultimate in-game result, of both Agency and Responsibility. He’s a person molded and directly inspired by the end result of a “quest” that the player hasn’t played and the Courier can’t remember, a consequence of their actions that neither has ever considered. In a genre where your character tends to be either a tool of other characters to fulfill their goals, or a chosen one destined for greatness regardless of their actions, seeing a character so obssessed with a part of the Courier’s past that was never mentioned because the Courier just plain never thought it even important really struck a chord with me.

And in the end, you sit down with Ulysses and you get a chance to talk to him, it actually feels like a debate. Their dialogue is written not as a hero and a villain, but as two people with different views of their lives, of the world around them, of everything. And you can choose to genuinely try to understand him and maybe find some common ground between the two, or you can reject and kill him. And the choice, while having a bunch of gameplay results, ultimately feels very personal. The first time you play it, you’re not trying to get any particular reward or outcome; you’re just figuring out this guy, this enigma that you’ve been working on for four DLC packs. It's an intensely personal, character-driven moment, but it’s also not one-sided, which is impressive considering your side is a character who up until now has been a blank slate for you to scribble on.

Which is also why it’s so important that Lonesome Road is the last DLC: because by now, you have a history with your Courier. You know them, you know what they do, you know what they’ll do in the future. And here’s this guy dragging your Courier back into a past that has nothing to do with that future you’re fighting to build, but with a very good reason, one that strikes at the core of how you, as a player and as a character, interact with the same world you’re trying to build. Because if you’re given agency to change the world, shouldn’t you also have responsibilities to go with it? Should you be held accountable for your actions, or for the results of those actions once you left? As an aside, this is also why I love the post-ending snapshots that show you those results. How your actions and choices, even your inaction, changed the world.

Look, I’m rambling like a motherfucker, but the point is this: I love the fuck out of Ulysses. To me, he just works gorgeously as both an in-universe character who’s different from everyone else you meet, a mystery to be slowly unravelled and mulled about, a bearer of several thematic elements found throughout the series but seen via a different lens, and on top of all that, as a piece of meta commentary on the general progression and mindset of an RPG.

And he also has a fucking sexy voice. Holy shit.

[flyde]

Happy Birthday Isak Valtersen!

Kjære Isak, It's your 18th birthday today and I wish you the very fucking best that all the parallel universes in existence have to offer. I'm actually planning to take care of some of that myself later, you'll see when you wake up. I know that you're probably most excited about finally being allowed to drink beer, but I, personally, just want to spend this very special day with you. You're an adult now, which means that you have both all the rights and all the responsibilities that there are in life. But that's not new to you. You've been taking care of yourself for quite a while now and I know it hasn't always been easy. What I'm trying to say is, no matter how much I or anyone else might make fun of you for not knowing how to cook tea or for the mess that's supposed to be our bedroom, you're doing so incredibly great, and I couldn't be any more proud of you. Whatever kind of shit life throws at you, you go for it. You nail it. In this last year, you've dealt with a difficult family situation, you moved out from your parents', you've made friends and fallen in love and come out to the world. It seems almost impossible to me that all that hasn't made you bitter or broken, it's made you kind and wise and the best friend there is and the best boyfriend there ever will be and a damn biology genius. Life has been giving you lots of lemons, Isak, but you made lemonade of them and it's the best motherfucking lemonade in all the existing universes. I don't know any braver person than you. I can't possibly put into words how lucky I am to have found you. You are the best thing that's ever happened to me, a knight not in shining armour, but in jeans and a sweater, appearing in the schoolyard out of nowhere on a cold norwegian december night, cheeks red and breath heavy, come to save me when I thought I was lost for good. Sometimes I wonder whether you have the slightest idea what you did for me. What you're doing for me every day that we spend together. I love every second of every minute of it. I love watching you sleep in the mornings, when you look like a beautiful blonde angel in our bed. I love the moment when you wake up and the smile on your face when you see me watching you. I love the warmth of your body and your husky voice when you speak the first words in the morning. I love holding your hands. I love your little nose nuzzles that speak so much more than words when they come from you, as if you invented a secret language just for the two of us. I love it when you're wearing my hoodies that are slightly too large for you but keep your smell in them for me to dream about when I get to wear them again. I love the way you twist your lips and stick out your tongue when you're concentrating on studying. I love the sound of your laugh. I love your talks about science and religion and the world. I especially love them when you're drunk. I love who you are and what you do. I love the way you love me, unafraid of whatever obstacle we're facing. I love how you take life minute by minute when it gets hard instead of giving up. I love how you ended up teaching me how to let love heal myself. I love how you're the single most wonderful thing on earth and you don't even realize that, how you still blush everytime I tell you. I love you, Isak, with all that I am and all that I have and I will remind you of that, every day of our life. Remember when you told me I was the man of your life? Well, you're the man of my life, because it feels like I only started to actually live when I met you. You deserve the world and it's a shame I can only give you so little of it, but I promise to spend the rest of my life trying to make you the happiest I can. I hope you have a wonderful birthday and a wild night with the boys and girls on Friday. I hope you like my present. I also hope you like my other present that you're gonna get to enjoy as soon as you wake up, if you like. I hope the next year, life goes a little easier on you. I hope you become the sexiest nobel prize winner of all times. I hope I'll watch you take the prize with all our ten kids on my lap. I hope you know I'll love you until all eternity. I'm gonna stop here, trusting that I have at least 80 more years to tell you all the stuff I want to tell you. I actually have a cake to prepare. Happy birthday, Isak. An immeasurably large amount of everlasting love, Even