#if this new series fucks them up i riot

[sometimesanalice]

What’s In a Name?

Summary: Bradley really loves the way you say his name. At the grocery store. At the bar. In his bed.

Warnings: fuff, and so much smut. Minors DNI

Length: 9K

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X Female Reader

(This is a one-shot for my ‘Like I Can’ series. You don’t need to read it first, but you might want to. It’s pretty cute! You can check it out here!)

Bradley loved hearing you say his name. 

He’d gone almost two years without hearing it. Back when he was ‘Rooster’ or ‘Bradshaw’ to you. Back when you weren’t sure how you would fit into the life he had built in San Diego when you had moved there for a promotion. Now he made it a priority to show you just how seamlessly your lives fit together, to remind you just how right you were for each other.

There were times when he still couldn’t believe that he was able to have you so entirely. You went from being just his closest childhood friend to being his everything. And now that he had you there was nothing he liked more than the sound of his name coming from your lips. 

He loved hearing it every chance he could. 

He’d never come so hard has he had the first time he’d heard you chanting his name over and over again as he’d fucked you in his bed. Your hair had been a riot on his pillow, your lips swollen from the attention he’d given them with his own. He’d just barely gotten you over the edge before he’d followed, so overwhelmed by your sweet voice so needy and breathy in his ear.

BradleyBradleyBradley

He had even changed his contact information in your phone from ‘Rooster’ to ‘Bradley’ one lazy Sunday afternoon when you had been dozing on his chest, adding a little sparkly heart next to it for good measure. In general, he wasn’t much of an emoji user, but he thought you might find it cute when you discovered it. He was very pleased with himself months later when he realized you’d never changed it back, pink sparkly heart and all.

He loved hearing you say his name at the grocery store. 

He had gone off to find his favorite brand of protein powder, the store had recently rearranged their health food section and he could never remember where it was stocked. He didn’t want to drag you around on the scavenger hunt, especially when he knew you’d rather be doing anything else than grocery shopping.

Once he had it, he’d tried a few different aisles before finding you standing near the baking things and spices, he would have recognized your curves in those jeans anywhere.

You were chatting away with an elderly woman like you were a pair of old friends. It didn’t surprise him, since you’d always been the type that strangers had gravitated towards, your warm energy apparent to who crossed paths with you.

Walking up to you, he put the powder in the cart with the items you had accumulated while he had been wandering the same three aisles over and over again before he found what he was looking for near the bottom shelf.

“Bradley!” you greeted turning towards him beaming, your smile pure sunshine, before cheerily spinning back to the older woman, “See, I knew he’d find us eventually.”

“And he’s just as handsome as you said,” your new friend replied, giving him the once over.

“Yes, he is. Very handsome and very tall,” you told her with a teasing lilt in your tone, glancing back over your shoulder to send him a wink.

He’d happily be objectified by anyone you wanted, including elderly women wearing fuzzy purple sweaters, just as long as it meant you were bragging about him to them. That they knew he was yours, and you were his.

“How can me and my six-foot-two-inch self be of assistance to you ladies?” he asked, putting on his most winning smile. It couldn’t be said that he wouldn’t commit to a bit when the opportunity was presented.

“Can you reach Ruth a couple of those containers of Hungarian paprika, please?” you asked him while pointing to the red and green tins on the top shelf.

He was glad you had waited for him. They were so pushed back that there’s no way you would have been able to reach them on your own without climbing on the bottom shelf for a boost. 

Safety first and all that, but also, he wouldn’t have wanted anyone to see the way your shirt would have ridden up your back. The dimples at the base of your spine were for his eyes only.

“Of course, I am at your service,” he pressed a quick kiss to your temple before stepping around the cart to grab the spice for the older woman. 

“Oh, and then maybe one for us too, Bradley. I’ve never tried making Hungarian Goulash before. You’ve made it sound so good, that now I think I have to.”

“If you want to make it, mine is the number one reviewed recipe for the dish on AllRecipes,” Ruth boasted, there was no hiding the pride in her voice. 

He hands Ruth the tins he had grabbed, and passes the other one to you to add to the collection in the shopping cart. 

“But what I left out is that I always use this specific brand of paprika, and that I make mine with half pork and half beef. I save that tidbit for friends and family, I couldn’t just give all of my secrets away to the internet people.” 

That had you laughing, “So sneaky, I love it! Thank you for sharing your secrets with us. Sounds like we know what we’re having for dinner tonight.” 

You were already opening pulling the recipe up on your phone for later. 

“I’m looking forward to it, especially since we know the tricks of the trade now.”

His eyes catch on the overflowing hand basket resting near the older woman’s worn Birkenstock mules. It looked heavy, almost like she didn’t originally plan on getting as many things as she ended up with.

“Can I carry that for you? Or if you have more shopping to do, I would be happy to go and get a cart for you,” he asks, gesturing to her overloaded basket.

“Oh no, those were the last things on my list,” Ruth replies, waving off his offer, “My youngest daughter is having her 50th birthday and the whole family is having a get together. I thought doubling my recipe would be fine, but I decided last minute to triple it.” 

She bends down to reach for it, but he beats her to it. His mom raised him right.

“No, ma’am, I insist.” He’s pretty sure he catches you checking out his ass when he stands back up, “I’ll be right back, sweet girl. Stay out of trouble.” 

He holds out his other arm for Ruth to take so he can escort her to the front of the store to pay.

“I don’t find trouble, it always seems to find me,” you joked.

“I believe that,” chimes Ruth.

He turns back to get a look at you, and sees you bringing your hand up to your forehead to mimic a full swoon.

He just smiles and shakes his head at you and your antics. Such a brat.

He helps Ruth at the check-out unloading the basket onto the conveyer belt, and then carries her packed grocery bags to her car getting them settled in her trunk. 

Once they’ve parted ways, he heads back inside to find you.

You’re standing in front of the cooler with all the dips and fresh salsas, your head cocked to the side as you deliberate your choices.

What he also notices as he makes his way to you is that you’ve caught the attention of another man, one who should be paying more attention to his bagged lettuce instead of eyeing his girlfriend. 

Sneaking up behind you, he wraps his arms around your middle lifting you up off the ground.

“Bradley! Oh my god, seriously?” He can’t help but laugh at how startled you are, he’s pretty sure if you were wearing pearls you’d be clutching them right now. 

��Here I thought you were a gentleman, helping sweet Ruth with her groceries. It’s rude to sneak up on innocent and unsuspecting women,” you protest trying to twist out of his arms once he has set you back down.

“Ah, don’t be like that,” he settles his hands on your hips pulling you back to his chest, letting his fingers slide through your belt loops, before lowering his voice, “Unsuspecting, maybe. But innocent? There wasn’t anything innocent the blowjob you gave me in the Bronco outside the Hard Deck last night.”

He knows the shiver that goes through your body isn’t from the cold case you are both standing in front of.

Looking over to his left, he sees the man who was checking you out putting down the bag of spinach in his hands. And he is hit with a feeling of smug satisfaction watching as the guy quickly wheels his empty cart out of the section completely.

“No getting handsy by the hummus, Bradley,” you tut, still set on giving him the cold shoulder, but the way you lean back against him gives you away, “Should we get that lemon beet kind again?” 

“Whatever you want, kid,” he murmured against your neck. “Plus, the word on the street is that you think I’m handsome, so that’s got to count for something.”

When you pull away from him this time, he lets you go. Getting a glimpse of the skin above the top of your jeans as you reach up to grab the square container of hummus.

You set it in the cart looking back at him as you toss your hair over your shoulder, before primly stating, “Oh, and Bradley, if you’re going to quote me I do believe I said you were very handsome.” 

And with that final word, you push off with the cart meandering to towards the fruit section, the sensual sway of your hips he knows is just for him.

He especially loved the way your voice sounded when you’d just woken up, when his name was one of the first words out of your mouth to start a new day.

There was nothing Bradley liked better than the nights you spent together in the same bed. It didn’t matter if it was his place or yours, just as long as he was able to wake up to find you warm and tucked away under his arm. 

“G’morning Bradley,” you’d whisper, voice soft and sleepy, a little raspy from disuse, as you turned to nestle closer burrowing your face in his neck.  He knew you liked a gentle wake up, and he was more than happy to trail his fingers along your back until you woke up a bit more. 

He was always up before you, his internal alarm clock permanently altered from his time in the Navy. For as much as you claimed to be a morning person, you were always the one snoozing yours in favor for spending a few more minutes in bed. It wasn’t something he’d ever expected to learn about you, and he liked being the one who got to share those intimately domestic moments with you.

The only surefire way to get you out of bed and moving on those mornings was the suggestion of hot coffee-- that or the promise of his mouth. 

He loved the way you said his name when you were surprised. 

When he’d gone to that furniture store you liked, his only plans were to find a new larger dresser for his bedroom. He had claimed he needed more space for his stuff, but really, he wanted there to be more room for you to keep your things at his place.

The home stylist at the store not only helped him pick out a new dresser he thought you’d approve of, but also convinced him to also purchase the matching king-sized canopy bed frame and set of nightstands. 

He was told the mood was “cozy mid-century chic”, whatever that meant.

Bradley knows he runs hot, you’ve told him enough times that he’s like a furnace. So when the stylist showed him the cloudlike and breathable comforter along with the 800-thread count white cotton sheets, he had them add that to his collection too.

You still wouldn’t move in with him, but he was working on it. He knew he’d reel you in soon enough. And if it took a payment plan, so be it. 

Although, he could only blame himself for the new lamps and giant rug he also purchased. He’d gotten a little swept up in the salesperson’s enthusiasm. 

Hopefully that guy got commission, he deserved every dollar. 

It had hurt a bit when he swiped his credit card, but it was worth it to hear the way you said his name when you saw it all for the first time after it had been delivered and assembled.

“Oh my god, Bradley!” you laughed, “I thought you said you were just getting a new dresser. Did you buy the whole store?” 

“What can I say? The salesperson was very good at his job, sweet girl,” he was trying to not let his leg bounce as he waited for you to say more. A little nervous now that he’d gone overboard and missed the mark, “Do you like it?”

“It’s absolutely perfect, Bradley,” you gushed as you slowly made your way around the room taking it all in. “It’s warm, it’s classic, it’s cozy. It feels like you. You’re going to have a hard time getting me to leave now, I love it in here.”

That was all he wanted.

He felt all the tension leave his body, grinning as he watched you sit down on the bed running your hand over the soft deep green duvet. It had become his favorite color the second he’d seen you in that green dress the night at the seaside restaurant when he’d told you how he felt about you.

“So, do you want to help me break it in?” he asked, pushing off from where he had been leaning against the doorframe and sauntered towards you. 

The way you slowly reclined back on the bed, your lips turned up in a mischievous smile was an answer in itself. 

He loved the sound of you saying his name at the Hard Deck.

Your voice was so familiar to him that he could pick it out anywhere. He was so attuned to the way you said his name that he could be in a conversation with someone in the noisy bar, but his ears would perk up if you said his name in a passing comment. 

It was like he was hearing his friends talk with one ear, while the other was always listening for you.

He could be with Mav catching up and chatting about the new plane he was working on, until:

“Yeah, I could use another one, let me see if Bradley needs one really quick and then I’ll go up with you.”

And then he would find himself standing next to you at the bar. 

He could be playing around of nine-ball with Hangman, until:

“No, you’re kidding me! There’s no way you caught Coyote doing that, has Bradley heard this one before? Oh my god, you have to tell him.”

And then he would find himself abandoning his cue on the pool table. 

“What the fuck, Bradshaw? You can’t just quit because I’m kicking your ass,” Jake would shout at him as he made his way towards you.

After all, you’d said his name and now he was curious.

He could be at the jukebox trying to find something better to put on than whatever terrible song Fanboy had picked, until:

“Oh! Bradley knows how to play that one, let’s see if we can bribe him to go perform it. I doubt we’ll have to try very hard, he’s such a little show off.”

And then he would find himself seated at the piano.

To everyone else he was ‘Rooster’, ‘Bradshaw’, ‘Lieutenant’, and soon to be ‘Lieutenant Commander’. 

To you he was Bradley. 

Seeing Bradley seated at the piano was a normal sight for you.

Since being permanently stationed in San Diego, he’d had all of the things from his storage locker shipped over, including his Dad’s old upright. He liked to play in the evening to decompress after his day and you liked to watch.

There was something about the way his large fingers moved over the keys so gracefully that was always so mesmerizing to you.

You still remembered how embarrassed he would get all those times when your moms would beg him to put on an impromptu piano recital. Usually fueled by a couple too many glasses of Cabernet Sauvignon, you realized later on. 

Your mom and Carole had definitely been the “Wine Moms” at the baseball and tennis games they’d sat through in support of you and Bradley.

He would get a little sulky in the way that all self-conscious teens got, but he could never hold out for very long before pulling out the wooden piano bench. Bradley wasn’t one to purposefully disappoint his mom, their relationship special in the way that only a single parent and an only child could understand.

Once he realized it was a good way to get noticed by the girls in high school, he’d been quick to change his tune. And now it was clear he reveled the attention it got him when he sat down and started tapping out a carefree riff before launching into a song, all preening posturing and smug smiles.

You were usually right next to Bradley when he put on a show, an arm wrapped around his shoulder, always one to want a front row seat to see him in action.

Tonight the bar was a bit more packed than usual. It took a little longer to move around, and a little longer for Penny to make your drink since you had opted for something slightly more complicated than a beer.

Slowly, but surely, you wove your way through the crowd. Careful to avoid any stray elbows to avoid jostling your full drink as you made your way back to your friends where they were gathered around the ancient upright. You were nearly there when a burly man stepped around you, giving you a clear view of Bradley playing. 

And you were stopped short by the picture in front of you.

The performance he was currently putting on at the Hard Deck was different than anything he did at his own home. His leg bouncing in tempo as he shimmied perched on the piano bench, like it’s a struggle for him to be contained to one spot.

He was captivating in the way that he commanded the room. 

Maybe it was the way the way the muscles of his forearms were flexing as his fingers were precisely flying over the discolored keys.

Maybe it was the way the light sheen of sweat was collecting in the hollow of his collarbone.

Or maybe it was the way the veins were standing out against his neck, the way the thick tendon that ran along his throat had you transfixed as he threw his head back to sing at the top of his lungs. 

His sunglasses were sliding down his nose as his head bobbed between glancing down at his hands and scanning the room. He smiled when his eyes found yours over the top of his aviators. Your hand tightened around the glass in your hand, the condensation dripping down your wrist as you stood there and watched. 

You weren’t sure if it was your imagination or the tequila you’d been sipping on all night, but it seemed like he was working the keys of the piano a little harder, a little faster as he held your gaze. 

And then his tongue was slipping out. Just a bit, and just for you.

Thankfully no one could hear the way your breath hitched in your throat over the sound of everyone in the bar singing along. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so turned on. 

The intensity of Bradley’s heated gaze, the way his body was moving, the way you wanted to crawl in his lap and lick the taut line of his neck and taste the salt of his skin right there in front of everyone.

You probably looked as desperate as you were feeling, because his easygoing smile turned more knowing every second your eyes stayed locked.  

“I’ll be right back,” you said to no one in particular as you abandoned your spicy margarita on the nearest surface to make your escape.

You felt like you were about to vibrate out of your skin.

It was easier to slipping away to the bathroom than had been trying to reach Bradley in front of the stage, needing a moment to yourself out of his heady orbit.

Locking the door behind you, you lean against the worn wood that was littered with stickers that had been collected and brought back from around the world. You try breathing in and out a few times, the way you’ve learned to do at your expensive yoga classes, in an attempt to slow down the rapid pounding in your chest. Actively trying to not think about the way he looked at you.

There was no question in your mind that you suffered from an incurable Bradley kink. Now that you could let yourself revel in all sorts of unfriendly thoughts about him, everything he did was a turn on for you.

You had a sneaking suspicion that he might have one too. His eyes always a got a bit more heated, and his hands would grip you a little tighter when you said it. 

You knew that if you were to slip your fingers past the waistband of the dainty lace underwear you had just bought that you would find yourself wet. 

And for a moment, you’re tempted to do just that. To let your fingers skim up your thigh, along the scalloped edge of the panties you’d bought specifically with Bradley in mind, to think of him as you slide your fingers inside of yourself. 

You’re feeling so high-strung that you know it wouldn’t take long to come. It wouldn’t be the first time you would have used the bathroom at the Hard Deck to get off.

Your hand is halfway under your sundress, when you hear the chanting:

Roo-ster! Roo-ster! Roo-ster!

In your mind’s eye, you can picture him standing behind the piano doing his version of a touchdown dance. 

You’ve teased him about it before, calling him a “slutty little songbird”, which he didn’t deny. He thrives off the attention, and you can’t say you mind watching him do that sexy little shimmy he is so fond of. 

You also don’t mind helping him find other ways to work off the post-performance high.

Knowing that he will probably be looking for you now that he’s done, you smooth down the skirt of your dress with shaky hands and make your way to the sink.

Standing in front of the dingy mirror, you can see just how much a wreck your appearance actually is. Your cheeks look warm, your lips are slightly swollen from Penny’s special spicy margarita mix, and your eyes have that certain wild gleam in them that only Bradley brings out in you.

You turn the cold tap on, and stick your wrists under the running water. Hoping the cool water on your pulse points will help ease the heat that is spreading under your skin.

While the chanting has stopped now, you can still hear the lively sounds of the packed bar. Figuring it’s alright to leave the safe confines of the tiny bathroom, you turn off the water and dry your hands, determined to not let anyone see just how riled up you were.

You’re barely five steps outside of the bathroom, when a strong arm wraps around your waist.

“Hey, kid.”

And just like that your heart is racing out of control again. His woodsy smell paired with the faint hit of sweat has your brain going fuzzy. 

“You doin’ ok?” he rasps against the shell of your ear. He has you pulled against his warm, broad chest and you can feel the echoes of his question reverberate throughout your whole body.

You pull out of his grasp to turn and face him, taking a small step backwards towards the wall.

“Uh-huh, yeah. Everything is fine,” you ramble, nodding your head as you try to avoid looking in his honey brown eyes.

“You sure about that?” he asks taking a step towards you, which has you retreating another one back. “Thought I should check on you since you disappeared there for a bit.”

“Just you know,” you trail off briefly glancing at him and gesturing pathetically towards the bathroom like that explains your clearly unusual behavior. 

“Mm-hmm, sure,” he allows, his head tilting to the side as he observes you. 

You know the exact moment when he realizes what’s going on by the way his cheek twitches as he tries to control the wolfish smile he is fighting back. And you’re suddenly feeling very much like his prey when he presses forward again. This time when you step back you feel the wall against your back as he crowds into your space.

“We should probably go back,” you stutter out when he cages you in with one hand above your head.

“Maybe,” he muses, tracing his thumb along your lower lip, “You sure you don’t want to tell me what’s got you so ruffled?”

The way he is looking at you, the way he feels against you, it’s all too much.

“Bradley.” 

You don’t know what you were trying to sound like when you said his name, but there’s no missing the neediness in your voice.

“Yeah, I thought so,” he murmurs, his voice rough and low. He takes your hand in his, guiding you to his zipper, letting you feel him through his jeans. “You got me all worked up too, sweet girl.” 

The sound you make is lands somewhere between a wheeze and a whimper.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

He doesn’t wait for a response before he has you leading the way up to the bar, using your body to hide his hard on as he pays. Not even bothering to wave goodbye to your group of friends as he hustles you to the Bronco. 

He definitely broke the speed limit and a couple minor traffic laws on the drive back trying to get you home to his place.

You had looked so flushed when he had been pounding away at the keys of the upright at the Hard Deck, and you had dashed away abandoning your freshly made drink. He might have sped up the tempo to wrap it up faster so that he could check on you, worried for a moment that you might have caught a bug or food poisoning or something. 

That was until he caught you outside of the bathroom, and saw just how flustered you’d been and he knew.

It took everything in him not to push you back into the tiny bathroom and have his way with you right then and there. He was hit with an image bending you over the sink, and showing you just how good you looked coming around his cock.

However, a hot and dirty quickie at the Hard Deck wouldn’t have been enough for him.

He knew exactly how he wanted you: flustered, flushed, and thoroughly fucked.

So yeah, he floored the gas pedal needing to feel your body under his as soon as possible.  And it didn’t hurt that it probably cleared out some of the engine build up in the Bronco along the way either. 

He pressed you against the door the second you’d gotten inside, letting you rock your hips against his thigh as he sucked along the curve of your collarbone. Your hands coming up to tug at the curls at the top of his head.

“U-upstairs,” you gasp when he grazes his teeth along the swell of your breast.

You didn’t need to tell him twice. 

He lifts you up, and your legs wrap around him immediately. It had taken all of his will power not to slip his hands up your frilly dress at the Hard Deck. He loved any chance to he got to get his hands on your ass.

He almost misses the first step going up the stairs when you drag your hot mouth along his neck.

“Wait, wait,” you pant in his ear, “Put me down.” 

“It’s fine, I got you,” he promises as he tightens his grip on you.

You pull away and shake your head at him, “I don’t want either of us to end up in the Emergency Room for a sex related accident. Could you imagine? Jake would never let us live it down, and Nat would be worse.”

“It’d be worth it though,” he winks at you.

“You say that now, until you’re stuck in a neck brace unable to fly or have sex,” you admonish jokingly, stroking the side of his throat with the scars he earned from that night at Jason Cameron’s homecoming party.

“Yeah, but you could still ride me. The way I see it, it’s a win-win either way,” he chuckles at the exasperated way you roll your eyes.

“You’re handsome, but I don’t think even you could pull off the color of those hospital gowns,” you quip with a quick peck to his lips, “Now, hands off the goods.”

Giving your ass one more squeeze, he lets you slide down his body. He may not have his hands on you anymore, but it doesn’t stop him from admiring your figure as you bound up the stairs in front of him. 

He stops short at the threshold of his bedroom at the sight of you pulling your dress over your head. Of all your soft skin on display for him.

There were times he still couldn’t believe he got to have you like this.

How did he think it could have ever just been a friendship with you?

He liked how comfortable you were in this space with him, liked how perfectly your things fit in with his. 

He liked knowing that one of the pillows on the bed smelled like you.

He liked knowing that if he went in the bathroom he would find your expensive shampoo and conditioner in there next to his. 

He liked knowing that if he opened the drawer on one of the nightstands that he would find your lip balm, your lavender lotion, a vibrator from your place that had found a home here, and a notebook and pen in case you needed to remember to do something because you didn’t like having your phone in bed.

What he currently liked most about his bedroom was the way your dress was decorating the floor, and the way you were kneeling on his bed like a vision.

You were wearing a matching pale pink lace set he’d never seen before. Your skin was peeking through the floral embroidery of the sheer mesh in an all too enticing way.

You were his sweet girl.

“Come here,” you beckon, inching closer to the edge of the wooden canopy bed. 

He’s not one to deny you, he’d willingly go wherever you wanted. He saunters in towards you slowly, putting on a bit of a show for you as he comes to stand before you.

“I like this, it’s pretty,” he hums as he runs his knuckles slowly over the edge of the embroidered cups, enjoying the way you lean further into him. 

Cupping your jaw, he pulls you forward for a lingering kiss. Being this close to you, the smell of your musky floral perfume is intensifying thumping of his pulse. 

Your hands slide under his Hawaiian print shirt, helping to ease it off his body and then tossing it somewhere near your dress. You ruck the tank he has underneath up his chest and he reaches down to pull it over his head as your hands run over the ridges of his abs.

His body has been humming for yours since the bar. The hurried encounter at the door barely managed to take any of the edge off, and he was still just as starved for you as he had been when he saw you holding that drink looking at him like he was something to be devoured. 

His left hand moves from where it’s been settled on the flare of your hip and up your back to the clasp of your pretty bra.

He’s been letting you take the lead, but you’re not nearly naked enough for him. 

“Hands to yourself,” you mutter as you work to get his belt undone, “I’m trying to get you naked you here.”

Part of him wants to take his time with you, to take you apart slowly and see what new sounds he can uncover. The other part of him wants to have you holding onto that rich espresso colored headboard while he shows you just how much he appreciates you wearing this little set just for him.

“You like my hands,” he murmurs against your neck. He is quick to unhook the clasp of your bra with one hand, easing it down your arms and flinging it behind him.

Yet another offering to his bedroom floor. 

And then he is trailing his fingers down your soft stomach, dipping them under the band of your matching panties. 

He groans when he discovers you’re already wet for him. He finds your clit, and teases you there making gentle figure-eights with his finger, “Got yourself so worked up you couldn’t even stick around for the end of the damn song, huh?”

You’re quick to abandon your crusade against his favorite pair of jeans, leaving him unbuckled and half unzipped, as you circle your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you.

“God, your fingers feel so much better than mine,” you sigh against his mouth as he licks his lips before bringing them back to yours.

Your full lips soften under his demanding ones, the sensual slide of your lips against his has him desperate for more.

He slips his tongue in your mouth taking advantage of your gasp as his circles against you turn from teasing to purposeful. The kiss turning messy with need. With want. 

“I know another part of my body that you like just as much,” he murmurs, as he palms your ass.

Your hand starts moving down his chest, down his stomach. 

“Nuh-uh,” he tsks, catching your tricky hand before it has a chance to reach his cock, bringing it back up to rest on his shoulder. 

“I want to touch you,” you whisper against the spot below his ear that you know drives him wild. 

“I’m getting you off right now,” he says firmly as he speeds up his motions against your clit.

It doesn’t take long before he has you panting against his mouth, your hips rocking against his fingers. 

“That’s it,” he coaxes, “Let me give you what you want.” 

He knows from the sweet whimpers you’re making that you’re close, he breaks away from your kiss to hold your half-lidded gaze as you come for him.

He will never get tired of watching you fall apart. 

He will never get tired of seeing you satisfied and spread across his bed. 

Giving you a moment to catch your breath, he shucks off his jeans and his briefs, releasing a small groan as his cock springs free. He’s been hard for you since he cornered you by the bathroom at the bar. Sending you a lazy-half smile at the way your eyes take him in standing there above you as he slowly pumps himself. 

He knows he looks good, it’s literally his job to keep his body in peak condition. 

But you make him feel good.

No one knows him better than you, makes him laugh harder than you, makes him feel as important as you do. Your appreciative gaze of his body is just another bonus to the many ways you make him feel good about himself.

He climbs on the bed, settling between the cradle of your open thighs.

“You gonna tell me what got you so keyed up, sweet girl?” he asks in-between scattering kisses across your cheeks.

“That’s classified,” you retort breathlessly as you wrap your legs around him. 

“Is it now?” he grinned, kissing along the delicate line of your jaw. He’ll let you keep your secret for now, he had other more pressing questions he wanted answers to, “Did you touch yourself when you ran off to the bathroom?” 

“No,” you whine, as he pulls your nipple into his mouth, laving it with his tongue.

“Did you think about it? Think about me?” 

He wanted to know. He needed to know that he drove you just as crazy as you did him. 

“Yes,” you gasped out in confession when he moves to your other breast, giving it the same attention, “I’m always thinking about you.”

Good.

“Already know how you feel about my fingers,” he rasps as he kisses down your stomach, making sure to place one on the little tattoo near your hipbone. “Should I let you have my mouth too, sweet girl?”

“Yes,” you breathe working your hands into the curls at the top of his head, “Please.”

“Yeah, I think so too,” he agrees mouthing at the last little bit of lace still on your body.

He pulls off your pretty pink panties and throws them somewhere behind him, probably landing on that overpriced dresser he bought for you.

He loved that he was the one who got to see you like this. Your hair was a mess from his hands, you pupils were blown wide, and your flushed chest rising and falling with rapid shallow breaths.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he says reverently before licking a firm stripe parting you open.

It’s not long before his mouth is meticulously working between your thighs, his tongue gliding over your clit, one of your legs thrown over his shoulder. 

He’s sliding his finger into you and then another, making room in your body, determined to pull a second orgasm from you.

You’re so wet for him, so soft for him, so sweet for him.

He knows what you like. He’s studied your body just as thoroughly he did the aircraft manuals he was given, if not more so.

“More,” you moan, your hips rolling from the stimulation, “I need more.”

Pulling away from you with one more broad lick of his tongue, he leans his head against the thigh that’s thrown over his shoulder, watching your face as he pushes another finger into you. The way you’re pressing your heel into the muscles of his back has him fighting the urge to grind himself into the bed. 

“You look so good like this,” he praises, taking in the way you writhe against the three fingers he has buried deep in you, as he squeezes you hip with his other hand.

He’s seen a lot of unforgettable sights from the cockpit of his plane, but nothing will ever compete with the way you look as you chase your release. Your eyes fighting to say open as you watch him watching you.

“Oh my god,” you exhale when he hits that spot inside of you, your leg starting to tremble with the need, “Please, I’m so close.” 

Using his fingers and mouth in tandem, he works you with same pressure, the same pace. He feels you clenching around his fingers a few moments later, your back arching in pleasure as you fly apart for him. 

Teasing his lips and mustache along the sensitive skin at the crease of your thigh, as you come down from your high, before kissing his way back up your body. Your greedy hands reaching out for him, pulling him to your mouth. He feeds you his tongue, letting you taste yourself on him.

The way you’re whimpering beneath him is making him feel out of control.

“I want you inside me.”

Wrapping his large hand around his cock, he drags it through your folds few times before he finally lines himself up at your center. 

And then he’s finally pushing into you, savoring the way you cling to him as he gives you a moment to adjust to his size.

“Rooster,” you say with a sigh against his lips. 

He starts to move when your hips start to shift seeking more friction. And then he’s rocking into you with the smooth, deep strokes that never fail to make your toes curl. Once, twice, three times.

“What’d you say?” he asks, as he slows the pace down. 

Your hands are in his hair, and you tug on the strands when he pulls away to look at you. Your lips are swollen, but he knows that look in your eye.  He can already can guess what you’re going to respond with before your lips have even formed the word.

“R-ooster.” 

The word comes out a stutter, as he roughly thrusts into you again. 

He doesn’t know why he’s bothered asking, he should have known that you were going to make him work for the one thing he wants to hear.

“Say my name.”

He was so gone for you, he wants you riled up and feeling the same way as him. He wants his neighbors to hear you saying his name. Wants them to know that he’s the one making you feel so good.

“Lieutenant,” you taunt, not bother trying to hide the self-satisfied on your face.

If he wasn’t going to get what he wanted then neither were you. 

He pulls out of you completely, flipping you over on the forest green duvet. His hand coming down on your ass, a quick sharp slap.

The sting of it has you gasping into your forearms pillowed underneath your head, and your cunt fluttering around nothing.

Leaning forward, he kisses down the length of your spine admiring the way the goosebumps pebble on your skin now.

“Say my name,” he coaxes again.

He tugs your hips up and licks deeply into you once before pulling away. Watching smugly on his knees at the way your hips tilt up after him, your legs spreading further apart as you offer more of yourself to him.

“Bradshaw,” you counter.

Closer, but still not what he wants to hear. 

His open hand connects on the other side of your perfect ass, earning him a sweet moan from you.

Grasping his cock to slide it through your wetness, he stops just short of where he knows you want to feel it the most. 

He wants you dazed. He wants you desperate for him.

You’ve always been the type to take a mile when you’re given an inch. And he intends to only let you have exactly eight inches tonight.

“You want this cock?” he rasps.

He knows he’s got you where he wants you when you don’t reply with another bratty remark, only desperately nodding ‘yes’ into the mattress.

“Look at me,” he demands. 

You’re slow to lift your head up to look back at him, your eyes are a little glazed over as you take him in. You look as wrecked as he feels. He can only imagine what he looks like through your eyes. He can feel the sweat collecting at his temples, can feel the flush that’s working its way down his neck to his chest.

“You know what I wanna hear, kid.”

That makes you whine. 

“Oh, you wanna be my sweet girl now, huh?” he asks, squeezing your hips.

He wants to taste that lower lip, the one that’s pouting prettily at him as you nod for him again. Even now as you writhe against him you’re still trying to get your own way, still trying to get him to break first.

“Well, you know what to do,” he feels like barely hanging on now, “Say. My. Name.” 

He punctuates each word with the rock of his hips, his cock just grazing your clit. Enough to keep you on edge, but not enough to give you the stimulation that you want.

“Bradley!” you cry out.

He’s inside of you before you’ve even gotten the second syllable out. 

Groaning your name, he throws his head back at the sensation of finally being surrounded by you again.

“Good girl. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he tries to ask teasingly, but it comes out more a rumble than anything else. “My sweet girl.”

Your pussy squeezes him harder at the praise as you roll your hips up more to better accept his body in yours. He loved the view he had, loved seeing how wet you were for him, loved seeing just how well he filled you, loved seeing you stretched around him.

He leaned forward a bit, brushing back your hair off your face to see you better. The change in angle making you gasp as you fisted the material beneath you.

“Say it again,” he prompts, smoothing a hand down your back, “I wanna hear you say it again.”

His name. 

The only thing he wanted running through your mind. 

His name. 

The only thing he wants coming from your mouth, other than the sweet whimpers and moans he is pulling from you. 

“Bradley,” you indulge, his name sounding something between a plead and a purr.

Without disrupting the pace he’s set, he nudges your knees further apart. Wrapping an arm around your middle to pull you up against his chest, needing to be closer to you. 

“Go on, let them hear who is making you feel this good,” he grunts roughly in your ear.

“Brad-ley,” the staccato of his name punctuated by his steady thrusts against you. Your hand digging into his hip.

Interlocking his fingers with yours, he lifts your arm to hook it around the back of his neck, holding you to him there. Turning your head, you greedily mouth at the column of his throat, frenzied and wet.

You were it for him, there was no question about it. And he would happily prove to you in all the ways he could think of that he was it for you too. There’s nothing he wants more than to make you feel good. To please you. To give you the best you’ve ever had. 

His other hand slides up from where he had been squeezing your waist to get his hand on your breast. He loves how perfectly you fit in his hand.

He meets you for a kiss, sloppy and perfect, messy and deep. 

He can’t control the sounds of satisfaction escaping him as you move together, feeding off of your sighs and moans. Your hands are grabbing onto whatever part of him is in reach: his hair, his thigh, his arm. 

Enjoying the drag of his cock as he moves in you, he lets himself get lost in the sensation of being connected with you like this. The room filled with the sounds of labored breathing, of your bodies coming together, of you saying his name over and over again.

You’re starting to tremble in his arms, he’s pretty sure your legs would have given out by now if it were for the way he was holding you against him. Your nails biting into the back of his neck, as he slowly drags a hand down your body to where you’re connected.

“I love this,” you murmur into the base of this throat. 

He doesn’t know if you realized you said it out loud, doesn’t know if you meant to say it out loud, but he loves hearing it all the same.

“God, you feel so good,” he can feel the sensation building at the base of his spine, “You’re perfect. So fucking perfect.”

The way his circles his fingers against your clit has you gasping into his waiting mouth. 

“Bradley, please.” 

He’d give you anything. He’d give you everything.

“C’mon then,” he insisted hoarsely, pressing his forehead against the side of your temple, “Say it for me one more time, sweet girl.” 

He speeds up his fingers, set on ending you. Working your body with the precision that he handles his sixty-five million dollar aircraft. Determined to give you what you’re so sweetly asking for.

And it’s his name you gasp as you come undone.

Your is head thrown back against his shoulder as you spasm around his cock, your hips rolling as you are lost to the pleasure of your orgasm. He kisses your neck and lightens the pressure of his fingers on your clit, wanting to extend it out for you as much as possible, enjoying the tiny pulsing aftershocks he is drawing from you. 

It’s only when he feels you go boneless that he starts to lose his own composure. His breathing going completely ragged and hips snapping erratically against you as he chases his own climax.

A few more powerful strokes later he follows you coming hard with a groan, burying his face in your neck as he spills in you.

Somehow, he manages to get you both sprawled out horizontal on the bed without him completely crushing you.

“Holy shit,” he curses flinging an arm over his eyes, his other reaching out to touch whatever part of you he can find. There’s nothing but the sound of the blood rushing in his ears as he tries to catch his breath.

Time gets away from him as he runs his hand up and down your back. It could have been a few minutes or an hour when he feels the bed move, and you slipping out of his grasp as you get up to use the bathroom. 

“No, stay,” he attempts to pull you back to him, feeling the need to have you close again as he tries to settle back into his body. You’re seemingly recovering much quicker than he is at the moment.

“I won’t even be gone two minutes, you can time me.” He can hear the soft affection in your voice. 

“Don’t think I won’t,” he grouses halfheartedly lifting up the arm with his watch on. He manages to raise his head up in time to get a glimpse of your naked figure as you close the door behind you.

True to your word, you are back one minute and forty-seven seconds later. He opens his arms to you as you climb back on his bed and drape yourself half over him.

Much better.

He feels you shift yourself up a few moments later to press a kiss to the scar on his shoulder. 

“I just want to try something,” you murmur before making your way along the bend of his collarbone. 

Up the side of his neck.

He feels his pulse start to kick up again as you work your way up the line of his jaw. He tilts his head away to give you more access to his skin there, basking in the feel of your lips on his body.

“Bradley,” you whisper lightly against the shell of his ear.

The guttural groan that rips through him surprises him. He feels his cock twitch against his thigh, a visceral reaction to you.

And then you’re giggling.

“I knew it,” you get out between fits of laughter, “You’ve got a name kink.”

Your face pure joy at your discovery. He’ll happily let you tease him for the rest of his life as long as you keep looking at him like that.

“Nah, I got a you kink,” he says as he hauls you on top of him.

“I’m already planning on letting you have your way with me again tonight, Bradley,” you proudly declare, propping yourself up on his chest, smiling down at him. “You don’t have to try so hard, I’m a sure thing.” 

If he wasn’t already gone for you, the cheeky wink you sent him would have sealed the deal.

He feels himself already starting to get hard again, one of the perks of being a part of the 1%.

“Sweet girl, you’re gonna be the end of me,” he chuckles, running his hands up your back, “And I remember someone once telling me that they give as good as they get, so I won’t be dialing it in anytime soon.”

And then he is pulling you down for a kiss.

Later that night when you’re riding him so good, you get him chanting your name. 

Over, and over, and over again. 

A couple hours later, he watches you slip away into slumber, satisfied and spent beneath the fluffy comforter on the bed.  

His bed. Your bed. Their bed.

It was just as much yours as it was his, regardless of whether you were officially living together yet or not. He bought it for you, after all.

Even on the occasional nights you spent apart, you were still everywhere. 

He liked the plants you had picked to fill out the empty spaces in the room. He liked that the right side of the bed was your side of the bed. That those were your books on the nightstand, the bookmarks peeking out waiting for you to pick up where you left off. 

There was a trinket tray for your jewelry on top of the dresser right next to the to the leather watch display box that you had gotten him for his birthday. And the drawers of that well-made, but overpriced wooden dresser were filling up with more and more of your things, just like he had hoped for when he got it.

He smiled to himself as he gently stroked your hair. The last time he was at your place, he had accidentally seen the letter from your apartment’s leasing office confirming your decision to not renew your rental agreement and your move out date. He hadn’t told you he knew, he’d rather hear it from you anyways. 

You would always be worth the wait.

The packages that were delivered to the door?

His, for now, until you moved in a couple months from now.

The name signed on the lease for the condo? 

His, for now, until you were ready to ink yours down on a deed for a new home with him. 

The little velvet box tucked away in the back corner of his nightstand? 

His, for now, but always meant to be yours.

You can thank @mak-32 and her photo set of Rooster at the piano for this fic!

Also, many many thanks to @gretagerwigsmuse​ for being my go-to gal! I wouldn’t have been brave enough to post the smut if she hadn’t given me the all-caps go ahead! 

Here’s Bradley’s bedroom, if you’re curious!

You can check my other fics out here!

Taglist:

@sehnsuchts-trunken @top-hhun-main @itscheybaby @prettylittlelauraa @startrekfangirl2233 @marantha @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @itsizzythebell @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @boltgirl426 @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @torres-espana @uzumegui @dont-talk-me-down @fandomunite2107 @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pariahsparadise @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @nina-sj @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @misty-inferno @angellwingsss @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @mrsdaamneron @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @melllinaa @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @mandolin22 @imaginecrushes @soleilgrec @keyrani @finelytaylored @phantomxoxo @viridianphtalo @chicomonks​ @starryeyedstories​

[ohnoitstbskyen]

So, considering what's going on with Riot right now, do you think Arcane Season 2 got caught up in all of this restructuring?

Yes and no. Arcane season 2 is part of the reason for the restructuring.

As I understand it, internally at Riot, after Arcane was a huge (and more importantly: prestigious!) success, the decision was made to basically hand the entirety of the game's lore and story over to the Entertainment division within Riot. These are the people in large part responsible for projects like Arcane, K/DA, Heartsteel, that animated series China got, all that sort of thing.

The writers at Riot were basically told to flat out stop producing new content and lore for the game - that's why there's BEEN no new story content for League for over a year - because everything was going to be consolidated under the Entertainment division from now on. This is why Riot started talking about "One Runeterra" and "Arcane is going to be canon" and so on.

The success of Arcane convinced executives that what League of Legends needs is a singular cohesive brand with its most successful public property leading the charge, Arcane is going to be the gateway drug, the hook on the end of the line that brings new players and new paying customers into the exciting world of the League of Legends multimedia IP universe!

Nevermind that Arcane's story and worldbuilding is fundamentally incompatible with >checks notes< the overwhelming majority of Runeterra as it exists and enormous compromises would have to be made to either the world of Runeterra or Arcane itself to make it work. Arcane is the big shiny prestigious mainstream Emmy-award winning project that every executive wants to put their name next to, and like companies Pivoting To Video in 2015 because Facebook showed them inflated viewership stats, Riot Games is Pivoting To Arcane. It's better than them pivoting to crypto and NFTs, at least, although I know for a fact that high ranking people at Riot tried to make that happen too.

Now, the primary cause for all of these games industry layoffs is that interest rates aren't zero anymore. Borrowing money isn't free, the curve of constant growth has ever so slightly slowed, taking on debt is becoming a little tiny bit more risky than it was previously, and corporations are responding to this with massive rounds of layoffs and constriction to show "financial responsibility" and prove to shareholders that they are prioritizing core growth strategies and blah blah blah etc. They're also trying to kneecap the growing labor movement in the games industry and exert downwards pressure on wages, but the interest rates seem to have been the main thing.

In Riot's particular case, a secondary reason is they want to pivot the focus of the company to support their One Runeterra pipe dream, so a lot of the people who got fired at Riot are writers, artists, creative leads and sometimes extremely senior and successful staff who are now surplus to requirements. This is also why Riot shut down Riot Forge in the same round of layoffs - can't have a bunch of talented indie devs going off making video games that don't adhere to the new One Runeterra policy. What if someone played Mageseeker and got confused how there can be mages all over Demacia but somehow there are no mages in Arcane's Piltover and Zaun. That's a plot hole! People write snarky articles about that sort of thing. It turns off new consumers! What if Cinema Sins makes a video making fun of it?!?

So yeah. A bunch of cocaine-addled fame hungry executive vultures at Riot are absolutely gagging on their own d*cks to put their name next to Arcane related projects, and since they were going to be screwing hundreds of people out of their careers, healthcare, and in some cases their fucking visa status anyway, it seems to have presented a nice opportunity to clear the board for their latest Visionary Scheme for the company IP.

That is as I understand the situation, anyway. I'm a bitter old man and most of what I hear is second hand and anonymous gossip through my social networks, take what I say with a grain of salt, but I've followed this company for (oh god) twelve years now and I have developed a tragically keen understanding of how its executive class operates.

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - I Still On1y Care About...

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Sept 2024 Week 1

Ongoing Series - Thai

Monster Next Door (Thai Thurs Gaga ) eps 7 of 12 - Deeeelightful. They are so damn cute + a nice kiss! The rise of the green flag semes continues. I like it when Diew flirts and shows that he does have some experience in a relationship, and he can/will flex his power. Props to God for being a man who remembers to TAKE HIS DRINK with him. 

Addicted Heroin (Thai Tues WeTV) ep 4 of 10 - Yep I still like it and all its toxicity. It’s fun to see how closely it follows the original. Now I really can’t wait to see how this one ends. Since this time around we get an actual ending.

Battle of the Writers (Sun YT) ep 6 of 12 - How did they know that what I wanted more than anything was a side couple = spoiled prince + demon lord? How clever they are to give them to me. Meanwhile, in a shocking twist, the leads have known each other since childhood. Because why be original? 

I Saw You in My Dream (Weds Gaga) ep 8 of 12 - Oh it’s very cute. I love Ing. I love that Ai was honest with his bestie. Best friend's older brother trope is a go! Also good kisses all round. 

Kidnap (Fri YT) ep 1 of 12 - Ohm has his shirt off less than 5 min in. I guess GMMTV is learning what we want. My boy Title is the creep character again. I’m assuming that’s why GMMTV brought him on board at this juncture. Sigh. New boy, Q, looks like Mek’s younger brother. Ultimately? I'm not convinced on this one. It is doing what it says on the tin, but nothing more than that. I’m not wild about it, but I will keep watching.

The Trainee (Sun YT) ep 10 of 12 - The more OffGun BLs, the more time they spend communicating as characters in those BLs. It’s kind of charming. They've become the pair that advocates for communication in relationships. I like it as evolution for their brand. Flirting via the printer was very fun. Especially as the Thai script is so beautiful.

Live in Love (Sun Gaga) ep 1 of 5 - I guess this is a lockdown narrative? Odd choice. A lot of familiar faces but from more minor rolls. Is this from the Destiny Seeker people? It feels like that. It’s a bigger cast than I was expecting, and a sort of classic university BL of the kind star Hunter produces. Or the end of love people. Pretty classic Thai pulp stuff. I’m mildly enjoying it. Hali is too hot to be the dorky second lead. Nice to see Boat back on my screen. However, it is… what’s the word I am looking for? Oh yes. Boring. Plus singing. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

The On1y One (Taiwan Thurs Gaga) eps 5-6 of 12 - I entirely lost my mind over this show this week. Fuck me it's so good. The delicacy sends me. I keep expecting it to be clumsy and then is just isn't - it's so subtle and it demands we pay such close attention. I feel like I'm holding my breath the whole time I'm watching.

Cliff's notes on these 2 eps as follows:

The pure unadulterated tsundere of it all.

The awesome angst, it aches.

The series of repercussions after the fight was pacing genius.

The brilliant juxtaposition of "the kid who self isolates too easily" versus "the one who has been forced into isolation" meets both of them being smart enough to know why they react out of hurt, but neither can stop doing it.

Baby’s reaction to learning he’s going to be left behind = to instantly make plans to do the leaving in the future hurts my heart in the best possible way.

"Maybe what we call eternity is just persistence."

Maybe one boy simply deciding to be another boy's rock is romance. 

Production better nail the second half of this show! It better be the world against them from here on out or the audience is gonna riot.

And by "audience" I mean me.

Sugar Dog Life (Japan Sun grey) ep 5 of 10 - Oh noes! Poor baby boy!!! My heart hurts. But also gah so cute and next week they shack up together! Hooray! 

I Hear the Sunspot AKA Hidamari ga Kikoeru (Japan Weds Gaga) ep 11 - too much time spent on the girl again. I don’t need excuses for why she’s a bitch. So can we talk about Taichi instead? It’s such a good characterization, this boy who understands everything about other people but doesn’t notice anything about himself, including his own abilities of observation. The person who is special never realizes how special they are, I guess. The soundscapes are so good with this show. The moments where prod decided to be silent are so vital and so pivotal and used with such delicacy and strategy, it’s truly audio magic manipulation.  

First Note Of Love (Taiwan Mon Gaga) eps 7-8 of 12 - I loved how Orca just jumped on the stage. What a great side couple. CHARMED I TELL YOU. Orca was all… singing? Naw. I came back to fuck the manager's brains out. Anything less than that is unacceptable. 

Takara's Treasure AKA Takara No Vidro (Japan Mon Gaga) ep 10 fin - Essentially this was a growth story for Takara and an exercise in patience while the two of them learned each other’s quirks and languages. It was also an exercise in patience for me... who doesn’t like the power differential of a weaker younger character having to do all the pursuing while constantly feeling like he is inferior to the older popular hot character. I know this was a BL that was definitely for some people, since plenty liked it way more than I did, but I didn’t like it very much even though there’s nothing objectively wrong with it. It simply wasn’t to my personal taste. 7/10 

Seoul Blues (Korea Fri? YouTube) ep 5-6 of 8 - Enter an ex or something? Well he certainly has a type. Bah. This whole series seems to be mainly about cheating. It’s very annoying because they are all so pretty. 

Happy of the End (Japan Tues Gaga) - Based on a manga, longer than usual run time. A boy is disowned for being gay, dumped by his boyfriend, and ends up in a dysfunctional co-dependant relationship with his would-be kidnapper. We were due for another messy JBL. Messy gay pain here we go.

Oh it’s exactly what I expected. Do I like it? No I do not. And ya know what? There is plenty airing. I have a bad feeling about this one. DNF 

It's airing but...

4 Minutes (Sat Gaga) eps 1-6 of 8 - Gaga picked this one up so we can watch it there. I'm waiting until the end, it seems angsty and confusing and full of awful people being awful. But also... high heat and I'm shallow. So we shall see which devil wins (and how it ends).

The Hidden Moon (Sat ????) ep 1 of 10 - This is a supernatural romance (my ghost boyfriend trope) ‘เดือนพราง’ by Violet Rain (I Feel You Linger)... A Bangkok writer is hired to write an article about an old mansion in Chiang Mai which is being converted into a café. He gets into an accident and nearly dies on his way there. After that, he sees the ghosts of people who died at the mansion, one boy catches his attention. Was substantially recast. Couldn't find it. Didn't really look.

In case you missed it

Meet You at the Blossom (China) - I'm eating crow, binging the fucker, and live blogging. It's just taking me some time. This isn't really a bingable show, not for me anyway. It's A LOT to take all at once. No new one this week.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Plus:

9/9 Jack & Joker (Thai Mon IQIYI) 12 eps? - Be gay YinWar, do crimes. Dehup gives us Yin, War, Mark and a few other familiar faces in a Leverage sitch, only queerer.

9/14 Love Sick 2024 (Thai Sat ????) ?? eps - Remake of the original. I'm scared too.

9/15 Bad Guy My Boss (Thai Sun Gaga) 10 eps - Assistant to a player boss who is in love with that boss decides to quit to save himself. The boss then makes a move. (A gay What's up with Secretary Kim?)

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

Coming SEPTEMBER 2024:

9/17 Love is Like a Poison AKA Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (Japan Tues Netflix?) 10 eps - Lawyer and a con artist meet at a bar, pair up, fall in love.

9/28 Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YouTube) ?? eps - oh I don't know just Ba Vinh doing his thing with pretty boys again.

9/? The Time of Fever (Korea iQIYI) 6 eps - HoTae & DongHee are back! Side couple from Unintentional Love Story, same actors, same character names I an WILD for this.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Not sure what this is from but I capped it for a reason so, shrug.

The scent trope AND the childhood crush trope? I see you suckering me into one trope because I like the other. Clever, Battle. Very clever.

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in its infinite wisdom doesn't like too many at-ings.

[peterpparkrr]

Banter (ch. 1)

Series: Banter

Pairing: Roy Kent x f!Reader

Summary: You and Roy Kent do not get along. But your mysterious Bantr match on the other hand…

A/N: SEASON 3! SEASON 3! Ted Lasso is the only thing holding my sanity together so I figured I might as well write for it. Enjoy! 

(Ch. 2) (Ch. 3) (Ch. 4) (Ch. 5)

series masterlist

Shutterbug: Do you ever feel like no one really knows you?

SirSwears-a-Lot: Yes. Most of the people I interact with are fucking idiots.

SirSwears-a-Lot: Has something prompted this existential crisis?

Shutterbug: My friends. And work. Everything.

SirSwears-a-Lot: It's hard to be vulnerable with people. 

SirSwears-a-Lot: In the effort to respond to honesty with honesty, I’ve recently been struggling with the question: What the hell am I doing?

Shutterbug: I’m about to start a new job and I’m questioning every decision I’ve ever made.

SirSwears-a-Lot: Same.

You were trying to navigate your way through the AFC Richmond building when you spotted a familiar blonde ponytail down the hallway.

“Keeley!”

Keeley squealed your name when she turned around to see you. 

“EEEEEE! I’m so excited that you’re here!” She shouted as she ran toward you at full speed before launching herself at you, wrapping her arms around your neck tightly as you spin her in a little circle.

To this day you weren’t sure how you’d ended up being best friends with Keeley Jones. 

You’d met on a commercial set when you were an assistant to the photographer and Keeley as the talent for the shoot had charmed your pants off. 

Not literally. You two didn’t have that kind of relationship. No matter how often Keeley joked about wanting to shag you. 

But Keeley’s uncanny ability to befriend anyone and everyone she met had worked on you. Despite being the model-slash-acress-social media star at the center of the commercial she took the time to ask you your name, understand what your job was, and pepper you with personal and ranndom questions.

And as an unmoored creative professional in London, you’d latched onto Keeley as a familiar face in the circles you both ran in (Well, circles that Keeley ran in and you sort of loitered on the outskirts of with your camera). 

And when the two of you’d walked in on her boyfriend at the time shagging the executive for the brand you two were working on the shoot for, she’d slapped him clear across the face (the boyfriend, not the executive, you both wanted to continue working). And you’d let her move in with you until she could figure out what she was going to do next.

It had bonded you together for life. 

Which is how she’d managed to rope you into taking AFC Richmond’s promo photos despite your strong anti-sport stance. 

You were easily swayed by the Keeley Jones pout. And the promise of a well-paying job.

“Ted! Roy! This is my friend-slash-photographer-extraordinaire,” Keeley called out to two men in Richmond jackets that made their way over to you, introducing you all to each other. They both looked a little too old to be players so you assumed they were coaches. “She’s going to be the photographer for the promo shoot tomorrow.” 

“Nice to meet you, I’m excited to work with the team,” You tell them as you reach out to shake their hands. 

“Pleasure to meet an old pal of Keeley’s,” The one with the mustache, Ted, replies as he shakes your hand eagerly.

“Oh! You’re American!” You exclaim in surprise.

“Yes, we are,” Ted replies with a small chuckle. “But I promise we have nothing but the utmost respect for the game y’all call football.”

“I’m not really a football fan to be honest,” You admit with a shrug. 

You don’t necessarily have anything against the game itself. But the fact that the world pours billions of dollars into an industry built around boys kicking balls around seems silly to you. Especially considering the way some fans of the game react – hooliganism, riots, bar fights, increased rates of domestic violence after matches – it all seems like a waste.

“Roy! this is the photographer for the shoot tomorrow,” Keeley tells a man with a head of dark curls and a deep frown etched into his stubble.

You can’t help but give him the once over. It’s part of the artistic nature of your work, you’re always scanning people for their best angles, natural beauty, etcetera, that you might want to work with when you’re shooting.

And he’s pretty. In that gruff, grumpy mountain man kind of way.

“Nice to meet you,” You greet him with a smile as you hold out your hand to him. “Are you a player?”

“Do I look like I’m a fucking player?” He grumbles at you before he pushed between you and Keeley and walks into the locker room. 

“Excuse me?!” You shout after him, completely taken aback by the rudeness you’d just been faced with.

“You’ll have to excuse Roy,” Keeley tells you with an apologetic smile.  “He wakes up on the wrong side of the bed, well, every morning.” 

“Right,” You reply with a glance over your shoulder in the direction he stalked off to. 

“Since he’s not a player at least I don’t have to work with him,” You add with a halfhearted smile. Trying to play the optimist for the sake of your professionality.

Keeley’s eyes widen slightly when you say that and what smile you had managed drops off your face completely.

“Um…” She mutters.

“What?” You groan.

“He’s one of the other coaches,” Keeley tells you apologetically as she purses her lips at you.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” You grumble. 

“Fucking dick,” You mutter under your breath as Keeley leads you down the hallway, explaining what the team owner, Rebecca Welton, is looking for brand-wise from these promotional photos.

Shutterbug: Why are men such assholes?

SirSwears-a-Lot: I feel like you’re expecting me to defend my gender but I honestly can’t.

SirSwears-a-Lot: Men are pricks.

Shutterbug: Agreed. This guy I met for part of my new job was a complete and total dick to me today for absolutely no reason. If I didn’t like getting paid I would have gone full psycho bitch on his ass. See how he liked that.

SirSwears-a-Lot: I would pay good money to see that.

Shutterbug: I did meet another guy at this job today who was actually a really nice guy, like unnaturally nice.

Shutterbug: And you’re nice. 

Shutterbug: So I guess #NotAllMen.

SirSwears-a-Lot: I’m not nice.

Shutterbug: Yeah, you are. 

Shutterbug: You let your niece help you come up with your dating app profile.

Shutterbug: And if you weren’t a nice guy you wouldn’t let me complain to you all the time.

SirSwears-a-Lot: I complain back to you so it’s really an even exchange. Plus most of your stories are hilarious.

Shutterbug: Well, I do usually like my work.

Shutterbug: But my pro tip of the day: don’t work with athletes. 

SirSwears-a-Lot: Noted.

“Hiya,” Ted greets you as you stand in the middle of the locker room on your phone.

You’re so engrossed in your text argument with Bantr boy about whether or not pineapple belongs on pizza that you jump slightly at the sudden noise.

“Ope, sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya,” Ted apologizes. 

“Oh, it’s fine, I just got wrapped up in a text conversation,” You tell him with a shrug as you tuck your phone back into your pocket and smile back at Ted. 

“Boyfriend? Girlfriend?” Ted asks curiously.

“Just a guy,” You tell him.

Ted nods for you to continue. Something you’ve almost never had someone, especially not a guy do to you in a professional context.

“Well, I’m on Keeley’s app. I figure at least one of us deserves to have success. Even if it’s professional and not personal.”

“You’re a good friend,” Ted interjects.

“And I have been flirting with one guy who’s actually funny. And intelligent. It probably won’t go anywhere but it’s fun to have someone to chat with who doesn’t know who I am.”

“I can’t say I understand the appeal of that sort of anonymity, what if you’re chatting with a serial killer? Or a homophobe? Or someone who hates pizza?” Ted replies. “But then again, I’m not young and hip.”

“It’s a valid perspective,” You reply with a nod. “I’m honestly not even sure if he would like me. If we ever met, I mean, I don’t know if I’m his type.”

“Well, you’re an absolute delight, I can’t imagine a single guy who wouldn’t like you, unless he hates, I don’t know, happiness and joy,” Ted tells you.

“Thanks, Ted,” You reply.

“Anything else I can help ya with?” Ted asks as he slaps his hands down on his thighs. “Got any of those big heavy lights you need moved around?”

“The lights actually aren’t that heavy,” You tell him with a burst of laughter. “I think I’m just about set up here. Just waiting on your team and then we can get started.”

Shutterbug: What’s your type?

SirSwears-a-Lot: Why do you ask?

Shutterbug: Maybe I’m getting plastic surgery so that I can look like it.

SirSwears-a-Lot: Whatever you look like, you’re my type.

SirSwears-a-Lot: Unless you’re actually my boss catfishing me.

SirSwears-a-Lot: In which case, fuck you.

Shutterbug:  Damn. You’ve caught me!

You couldn’t wait for this job to be over.

The team was actually easy. Other than a few players who tried to tell you about their best angles (Jamie Tartt had insisted that you needed to only shoot him from the left and seemed unable to not smolder during the shoot which was… an interesting choice), the solo shots of the players had been a breeze.

But these coaches were a whole different beast. 

Ted was happy, almost eager to take your direction. 

But the other three?

Coach Beard hardly spoke during the entire interaction and refused to smile but his pictures came out fairly decent. 

Nathan Shelley was so nervous and fidgety it took you ages to take the photos because he kept breaking the poses to ask you if he was doing alright.

Roy Kent was impossible.

“You have to stay in the pose,” You grumbled as you pushed past your lighting rig to re-adjust Roy for what felt like the hundredth time this afternoon to. 

“I feel fucking stupid in the pose,” Roy grumbled in response.

“Well, you look stupid when you don’t do it,” You shot back.

“Just listen to the nice lady, Roy,” Ted called out, causing a few of the others to chuckle. 

Something of a crowd had formed to watch the entire process. Some of the players who were done with training and the rest of the coaches were standing around watching now that their photos were over and you could tell that Roy hated having an audience.

“Shut up!” Roy shouted at them.

You groaned as he broke the angle again.

“Alright, everyone out!” You shout once you’ve finally lost your patience. You shoo at the men. “Everyone!”

Once it was just you and Roy in the room you turned back to him.

“The sooner you do what I tell you to do. The sooner this is all over,” You tell him. “You’re handsome, I don’t understand why you hate getting your photo taken so much.”

Roy didn’t reply with words, he simply grunted at you as you stepped towards him and lifted your hand to gently tilt his face back to the direction you wanted him to face before stepping away.

“There,” You said a minute later once you’d gotten all the shots you would need. “That wasn’t so painful, now was it?”

“Yeah,” Roy grunted again as he pushed through your set-up and disappeared back into the coaches' office. 

You watched him leave with a puff of mild annoyance before you realized that meant that today’s shoot was over and hurried to back up your things.

Shutterbug: Would you ever want to meet up?

You’d gotten to the restaurant too early. After you’d sent that message you’d thrown your phone across the room and tried not to panic. 

When you’d finally built up the courage to retrieve your phone you saw that he’d already messaged you back,

SirSwears-a-Lot: Yes.

SirSwears-a-Lot: Friday night? Bacco’s, 7 pm?

You grinned at your phone for a moment before typing your response.

Shutterbug: See you then :)

And you’d been riding on cloud nine for the last few days. You hadn’t told anyone about the date. Not even Keeley. No matter how hopeful you were about this working out, you hated the thought of getting someone else's hopes up so you decided to keep it a secret. 

Just until after the date.

But it also meant that you’d finished up the day’s shoot, gone home to get ready, and somehow ended up at the restaurant thirty minutes before your reservation. So you were standing in the waiting area, trying not to look too pathetic while you scrolled through Instagram.

Every time you heard the door open your eyes would flicker up only to be met with the view of a sweet elderly couple or a group of business partners making their way through the door. 

Until you heard to door open and looked up to lock eyes with Roy Kent. 

Your eyes widened before you offered him a sarcastic smile. 

“I’m waiting for someone,” You tell him in lieu of a greeting.

“Me too,” He replies gruffly.

“Good for you,” You reply with a furrow of your brows.

“Yeah.” 

You roll your eyes and look back down at your phone, tapping out a quick message to let him know you’re here. You hit send just as your phone pings with a similar text from him. 

You look up to scan the room again just as Roy’s phone buzzes and your eyes lock as you realize that you’re the only two people in the waiting area. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” You groan.

“Fuck,” Roy mutters.

[buff-muffin]

Random little One piece modern AU thoughts and I guess scenes I had about mainly Luffy

1. Luffy is the best guy to take to karaoke. While he isn’t the best singer he’s also not the worst. However he sings with his whole chest and heart and will sing duets with anyone no matter how lovey or metal. His energy always brought everyone out of their shells he just has a bad habit of singing when it’s not his turn

2. I feel like in a modern AU Luffy would still be friends with a lot of the people he met in series just under different conditions. Like water 7 instead of the mayor almost being assassinated he just. Met him. Like on good terms. idk, maybe Luffy saved tyrannosaurus and now they just exchange animals pics and the occasional “hey I’m heading to insert place where should I go to eat” and Luffy just introduces the Baratie with no heads up to Zeff and Sanji and when Sanji spams the group chat freaking out he just says you’re welcome :D

3. Luffy keeps the contacts of everyone he’s met and keep them under their nicknames. Monster granny, hammock, split head ect. It’s the only way he can remember them after all. When nami had gotten nosy and decided to go through his contacts she obviously asked who tf ice pops was. Imagine her surprise when Luffy confidently answers that it’s the mayor from a few towns over.

4. In a modern AU the ASL brothers were totally still bush kids. Like. Dadan’s (probably community house) was right by the woods and they would have a similar childhood to canon with less killing wild animals. But they also a thousand fucking percent had a Nintendo Wii. Like Ace and Sabo fought tooth and NAIL for player one and Luffy was banished to player three with the dingiest controller known to man (not even the safety strap could protect that thing from getting tossed at the tv) And speaking from my own experience as a younger sibling Ace totally spent a whole summer trying to unlock every character in Mario kart.

5. Law met the straw hats in collage at 2 am when they got kicked out of a bar and he was trying to mind his own business. While they saw him in their intoxicated state and said “you’re my friend now :)” Law was genuinely worried half of them had alcohol poisoning. An hour later he found himself in one of their apartments two of them passed out. One of them throwing up. All while he makes a grilled cheese for Luffy, the so called infamous man on campus who is crying sitting on the floor cause he’s starving. Law stayed the night to make sure none of them drowned in their own vomit and like imprinted baby ducks they have not left him alone since.

6. Luffy has been going to riots and movements for years. He started going with Sabo and Ace growing up when they were teenagers and hasn’t stopped. He also never thought to mention it to any of his friends until they saw him on the news at a protest absolutely fucking SENDING a tear gas canister back at the cops

7. I kinda wanna believe while devil fruits don’t exist in modern AU the character still has quirks semi related to their fruit. Like Robin is just, double jointed everywhere and could bend her arms and fingers in all the worst ways. Luffy can either contort his body to hide in tiny places OR he has stretchy skin. It’s nothing more then party tricks but it is cool

8. Luffy was definitely a gymnastics kid. Not in like. The competing sense. But in like the, one of the adults in his life would drop him off there twice a week for an hour. Did he participate with the other children and learn how to roll? NO! He was flinging himself full speed into giant foam mats and climbing rock walls without a harness. He was a menace to society and he was only taken to blow off some energy and it WORKED. Until he was kicked out.

[extrashotodepresso]

Fake Dating Series:

KirishimaXFem!Reader

(ft. Ex Hawks)

Warnings: SMUT AHOY! (Actual smut- like DNI if under 18) , a bit of Yandere Hawks at the end (can’t help myself), angst, pure filth, cheesy, cheating mentioned

I had an idea a while back about a little fic series around the beautiful cliche trope of fake dating. Overdone you say? YUP! But it’s so tasty I can’t help it! Needless to say, all characters in my fics are 18+. In this one, MC and Kirishima are in their mid to late twenties.

So this is the first one!!! Feel free to reblog if you want, I literally write these for myself but if you like it lemme know if there’s anything else you wanna see!

Summary:

Hawks shows up at the agency and tries to get back together with you. You try to blow him off but he’s pushy. Getting irritated you say you’re dating someone. When he asks who, Kirishima walks over and you get an idea.

“Just go with it.”

“What?”

You pull Kirishima by the harness on his chest and bring him in for a short kiss; what you weren’t expecting was for him to kiss you back.

“Um… still here, (Y/N).” Hawks clears his throat uncomfortably, while you are stuck staring up at Kirishima’s face.

“Wanna get out of here, pebble?” He asks with a sly grin.

“You have no idea.”

You had felt your phone incessantly buzzing in your back pocket all day. You prayed silently that this meeting would end soon; you could hardly pay attention to it anyway.

“Everything okay, Jumper?” You heard someone call out to you. When you looked up it was none other than Red Riot, your coworker and acquaintance. You rubbed your neck nervously.

“Yeah- just have a lot on my mind I guess.” You looked up at him with a soft smile before standing- even if you were tall for the average woman, he stood easily a foot and a half above you, though he was less intimidating than his appearance would suggest.

“Well if you need anything, let me know.” He smiled again kindly, then offered you a small stack of papers. “Notes. From the meeting.” You took them gingerly, looking up at him with a raised brow. “Seemed like you missed some of the info today, wouldn’t want you falling behind.” His face was almost bashful as he said this, his mouth opening slightly like he was preparing to speak again.

“Riot!” Dynamight called out for his friend suddenly and Red Riot gave you a small wave before walking away, leaving you a little dumbstruck. Sure, Red Riot was nice- he had even been dubbed the new gentlemanly hero- but something about the gesture gnawed at you. Unfortunately you didn’t have much time to stare after him in bewilderment as your phone began ringing. Again.

You whipped your phone out of your pocket, turning towards the elevator and making sure you were alone before you hit ‘answer’.

“What do you want?” You spat out, hand smashing the down button as you looked behind you in a paranoid fashion. You prayed as you waited for the doors to open that no one would follow you.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that little bird.” The voice that came over was saccharine and sweet, the syrupy tone making your stomach turn. You waited until you were inside the elevator with the door closed to respond.

“Don’t call me that, Hawks.” Your teeth were grinding.

“I’m downstairs.”

“What? Downstairs where?”

“At your agency. Let’s go for dinner or some coffee- you know you can’t-“

“I’m not going anywhere with you. Fuck off and go away.” You hung up the phone, practically slamming it in your frustration.

Two years. Two years of your life you had dedicated to that insufferable, egotistical, bird brained— ugh! And three months ago, you found out he had been cheating on you with some young up and coming sidekick. You closed your eyes, exhaling deeply before collapsing on the cool elevator wall. When the doors opened, you were in the hallway to the lockers.

You had been throwing yourself into your work since you had broken up with Hawks. You had spent the past few months pulling shift after shift- and now you were being forced to take the weekend off. This was especially frustrating to you at the moment; if Hawks didn’t leave like you asked, you wouldn’t have a good excuse to lose him, and the man had a way of getting what he wanted. You made it to the showers, cleaned yourself then changed into civilian clothing, praying that he had the decency to finally listen to you on your elevator ride back to the lobby. Though, if his incessant harassment the past three months had anything to say about the likelihood of that happening… the doors opened and you steeled yourself, trying to visualize an undisturbed path to the exit.

As you approached the front desk at the lobby, your heart sank. He was still there, casually leaning on the marble counter, blatantly flirting with the receptionist.

“Well I would be crazy not to want that back.” You muttered, rolling your eyes before trying to walk as quietly as possible past him.

“Baby bird!” He called out to you and you stopped, feeling your shoulders hunch over.

“I told you to fuck off.” You spoke through your teeth. He walked over to you, opening his arms as if wanting a hug, then after seeing your expression lowered them slowly.

“Look- I know that-“ he actually looked remorseful as he paused, “I messed up.”

“You messed up?” You barked out a laugh. “Did you mess up the first time when you fucked her in your office? Or the tenth time when you fucked her in our bed?” Your glare was seething now, and his face was heartbroken. As much as the part of you that had loved him wanted to reach out and make him feel better, the part of you that he broke rejoiced seeing him in pain.

“Yes, (Y/N). I fucked up. And I’ve regretted it every single day. I miss you, can’t we just talk about this?”

“No, we can’t.”

“Why not?” Just then, the pinging sound of the elevator caught your attention and you looked over your shoulder to see— the perfect distraction.

“I don’t think my new boyfriend would like it.” You lifted your chin haughtily before you heard the heavy footsteps approaching.

“Boyfriend?”

“Hey! Jumper, Hawks, how’s it goin?” Just as you expected, Red Riot approached the two of you at the desk, smiling brightly, completely unaware he was about to be the perfect decoy.

“Hey babe!” You called out enthusiastically before trotting over to him. He was still in his hero gear, no doubt going for a last patrol on his way home. He looked down at you with a slightly quizzical expression before you whispered so only he could hear, “Just go with it.”

You grabbed his shoulder harness, pulling him down to you and before he could react or protest, kissed him. It was meant to be a quick peck on the lips, nothing too showy but the second after you pulled away, you felt his hand reach behind your head, fingers threading in your hair as he brought you back for more.

His lips were softer than you expected from the hardened hero, more experienced too. His lips moved along yours with a delicate fervor, quickly you lost yourself in him. Your hand that had been wrapped around his harness tightened and you pulled him ever closer, practically whimpering into his open mouth as the kiss heated. His tongue probed your bottom lip, requesting entrance and without a second thought you allowed it.

“Um… (y/n)? I'm still right here.” You heard Hawks behind you and it brought you back to the present. Pulling away, you attempted to gather your breath as you looked up at Red Riot.

He was looking at you with a hunger that made your thighs clench together. You didn’t know what you had expected when you kissed him, probably just an awkward joke and maybe an offer to walk you home, but this was… carnal. He was smirking down at you, sharpened teeth glinting in the fluorescent light.

“Wanna get out of here, pebble?” His voice was gravelly, thunderous and you bit your lip as you nodded.

“You have no idea.” You managed to whisper as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

“Sorry we couldn’t catch up, Hawks.” He spoke, still looking into your eyes as he did. “Looks like my little pebble needs to get home. I’m sure you understand.”

With that, the two of you left, leaving Hawks standing dumbfounded behind you.

“You wanna tell me what that was about?” Riot finally spoke again as the two of you entered the parking garage.

“Not really.” Your mind was still spinning, “Thanks for the help, Riot.”

“It’s Kirishima.” He said, softly as you approached your car.

“Kirishima.” You tested it out. It was foreign on your tongue, but not unwelcome.

“You want me to go home with you?” He asked and you felt a blush bloom across your face before you looked at him dumbly.

“Huh?” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, a blush creeping up on his cheeks as well.

“I mean- to make sure you get there safely and everything.” He cleared his throat, suddenly breaking your gaze. You smiled, your stomach feeling flutterings you hadn’t experienced for almost two years.

“I’m a hero too, you know.” You said, teasingly.

“O-of course, I just thought-“ you giggled, he was too easy to tease.

“I’m happy to bring you back to your place- it looks like you were planning on one last patrol though.” He finally looked back at you, his eyes trying to read your expression. It was stifling, that look and you cleared your throat before rambling on, “I suppose I do owe you a bit of an explanation. It’s the least I could do to give you a ride as thanks.”

“I was planning on another round but it’s late… so if you’re willing to drive me… what I’m saying is…” he stopped himself, “I’d like that.” He muttered.

You nodded, then walked to your driver's side, sitting down and trying to not scream internally as he sat next to you. Your car adjusted with his weight and you felt suddenly self conscious about the state of your car- would he judge you for the smell of stale coffee or the miscellaneous straw wrappings on your passenger side floor? If he did, he didn’t say anything, he just casually provided you his address for the GPS. For the next few minutes, the only sound that could be heard were the incessant directions of your car, taking you on what felt like the longest drive of your life.

“He’s my ex.” You said, suddenly, to break the silence the two of you had lapsed into.

“Who?” He looked over at you, and though you trained your eyes on the road, you could detect surprise in his tone.

“Hawks.”

“Really?”

“Yup.” You said almost curtly. “Broke up a few months ago.” You readjusted, feeling his gaze on you was a little uncomfortable.

“Why did you—“ he let himself trail off, then caught himself. “Actually, I don’t need to know, I’m sorry that was-“

“We have different definitions of fidelity.” You interrupted him. “I think it means you stay loyal to one person, he thinks if someone else wants you and they’re super hot, sleeping with them should be acceptable.” You smirked as you shrugged, though saying it out loud hurt you more than you would like to admit.

You hadn’t talked about the break up with anyone. Not even your best friend. All she knew was you were done, and you didn’t want to go back. Kirishima was now the only one who knew the truth.

“That’s so unmanly.” He said, as solemnly as possible and you barked out a laugh. “What? What did I say?”

“Nothing-“ you said through giggles as you pulled up to his apartment. “It’s just-“ more giggles “unmanly?” You bit your lip, finally turning to him as you parked.

“So… he’s the one that was calling you all day?” Kirishima changed the subject. You sighed, resting your head on the seat as you turned toward him.

“Yeah. He wants to get back together. Doesn’t seem to understand the phrase ‘fuck off’.” You smiled, though it didn’t quite meet your eyes.

“And you think that kiss will be enough to keep him away?” He asked, almost incredulously.

“I would think so-“ you looked at him through your lashes. “It was a pretty great kiss.” You chewed at your bottom lip subconsciously and you watched as his eyes followed the movement.

“I don’t think he’s gonna stop until he really gets the message.” His voice had changed again, all low and sexy and you felt those butterflies again.

“So what do you suggest?” You swallowed, your mouth was suddenly completely dry. He leaned over to you, his massive hand caressing your face and covering half of it.

“Make the message so loud, he can’t ignore it.” He brought his face to yours, eyes looking in yours then to your lips to give you plenty of time to change your mind. In response, you leaned in to close the gap, brushing your lips against his just barely.

He increased the pressure, exhaling in relief as you permitted him to continue kissing you. The two of you quickly became a mess of tongues and teeth- though as things became more heated, the tiny space of your car was hardly accommodating.

“Would you like to-“ he broke the kiss to ask you a question, though you didn’t let him finish.

“Fuck yes, let’s go.” He smiled at this, chuckling as his thumb caressed your cheek.

“I was going to say come up for a drink, but I have a feeling you have a little more on your mind.” Your face reddened in embarrassment.

“A d-drink would be nice.” You swallowed. “I’m a little thirsty.”

“That’s one way to put it .” He said with another smirk and you pushed his chest, smoothing your hair and trying to catch your breath when you heard his rumbling laugher as he exited the car. The sound of it was enchanting. He walked around and opened your door, ever the gentleman, and you unfastened your seatbelt before grabbing his hand and following him inside.

Kirishima had a massive penthouse apartment, with all new everything and expensive furnishings.

“So this is a top hero’s apartment, huh?” You asked as you looked around wide-eyed. “You probably spend in a month what I do in a year.” You mused out loud as he walked over to his massive kitchen, grabbing a couple bottles of water from the fridge.

“I’m comfortable.” He said with a slight chuckle. “But it helps that I split the rent.” He walked towards you, offering you a water before gesturing to a large U shaped leather couch by a fireplace.

“You have a roommate?” You watched him nod, then sat on the edge of the couch, watching him walk away before your eyes continued to drag themselves around the room “Who? Wait, you’re not-“ he shook his head.

“I’m single, don’t worry.” You let out an exhale you didn’t know you were holding. “Bakugo and I have been roommates since college.” Your brows raised at this.

“Dynamight?” You asked incredulously. “Lord-Explosion-Murder—screams-at-children-number-two-hero—Dynamight is your roommate?”

“Yep. Hey, do you want anything harder than water?” You heard him call out to you, apparently in your awe he had returned to the kitchen.

“You bet your ass I do-“ you muttered, then louder; “whiskey, if you have it?” You looked back at him and watched him nod, his back to you as he rifled through the kitchen, moving surprisingly swiftly to grab a glass and some expensive looking amber fluid in a crystal container.

You had been staring into the fireplace, still oscillating between several levels of shook before you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder. You looked up, and Kirishima was smiling at you, handing you a glass of whiskey.

“Do you mind if I go clean up?” He asked with almost an apologetic expression. “I haven’t had a chance yet to change and-“ you nodded

“That’s fine, I’ll just be out here…” you gestured to the couch. “Waiting.” You offered what you hoped was a sexy smile, not missing the way he swallowed before he straightened up.

“Five minutes. Promise.” He was almost childlike as he scampered off, leaving you to collapse into the couch in wonder at the situation you now found yourself in.

What a bizarre series of events. Not even an hour ago, Red Riot was a coworker you barely knew. Just someone who you would idly chat with in the mornings, occasionally fight beside on patrol- now you were in his apartment, drinking whiskey, watching a fire and waiting for him to— you took a drink, hoping the alcohol would calm your nerves.

Kirishima was an incredibly attractive man. Maybe not by super traditional standards; with his spiky teeth and even spikier hair, but there was always a kindness to him you found intriguing. Not to mention, he was absolutely ripped. Nearly seven feet of carved muscle and rugged angles, a sharp contrast to his normally shy and kind personality. Your nails tapped on the glass in your hand as you stared into the flames.

What if this was a mistake? You didn’t know exactly what was happening tonight, though you knew what you had hoped for. He was really too nice of a guy to be a rebound…

As you lost yourself in your thoughts, feeling the pleasant warmth of the fire and the hum of the whiskey making its way through your bones, you were snapped out of your reverie by the sound of a door closing.

“Hope you didn’t wait too long.” His voice echoed out and you looked up, letting out what could definitely be interpreted as a moan.

Freshly showered Kirishima was a god. His hair which was usually styled sharply fell into his face softly, just passing his shoulders and you could see a hint of his black roots at the top. It was weirdly sexy to watch as he pulled his hair behind his face and tied it in a low ponytail, his bangs falling into his face gently. He was wearing a black sweater that did absolutely nothing to hide his hulking muscle and a casual pair of jeans that seemed to strain against the sheer bulk of his thighs. As he sat down, the smell of his shampoo or body wash enveloped you; sandalwood and something earthy- like the smell of rain. You wondered now what you had been so concerned with before, the idea that you had an important thought being the only thing you managed to grasp.

“You alright?” His voice was soft, sweet, as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. You blindly set your glass on the table beside you before leaning in to kiss him again.

It felt so right to kiss him. Losing yourself in his taste was so easy, so comfortable, so— as he pulled you onto his lap, gripping your thighs with his massive hands you moaned into him. His contagious smile could be felt on your lips as the sound escaped you and it almost bothered you how calm he was. You wanted him to feel the same as you, feel this untethered. You brought yourself down to sit fully on his lap, grinding the apex of your thighs against him.

When you found the hardened flesh there eagerly waiting and heard his breathy little groan you finally smiled back before pulling away from the kiss.

“I’m fantastic.” You managed to croak out in response to his question, looking at him to see a darkened expression over his features.

“(Y/N)-“ your name came so easily from his lips, you hadn’t realized he had actually known it until now.

“Yes, Kiri?” You kissed along his jaw, tilting his head to find his exposed neck, kissing him gently before biting the flesh at the junction of his throat and collarbone. His grip on your thighs tightened in the most delicious way when you did, and you licked at the flesh before returning to his lips. But he pulled away.

“What do you want?” He suddenly asked. You paused, over him.

“What do you mean? I want you.” You sat back, studying his expression. He groaned, bringing a hand up to his face.

“I mean- what do you want from this? I’m all for us hooking up to make Hawks jealous and everything-“

“Who?” Your genuine surprise seemed to astonish him. For a moment, you had forgotten what had brought you here, to this man’s couch, practically begging for him to take you.

“Seriously.” He sighed. “I think we should probably talk about what you actually want from this before we-“ you brought your hand to his lips, silencing him.

“I kissed you back at the agency for a distraction. Sure. But-“ you looked around the vast apartment. “I don’t see him here now, do you?” You smiled down at him. “If this was just to piss him off, I would call him while you were breaking me in half so he could hear what a real man can do.” Kirishima blushed at your words. “And while that might be fun to do some other time…” You leaned back, pulling off your shirt to reveal your chest covered by a padded sports bra you had put on that morning when you had no idea you would be straddling one of Japan’s top ten heroes. Kirishima didn’t seem to mind as he swallowed at the sudden exposure of your flesh, “Right now, I’m only thinking about you. And I would have thought,” you gave another experimental grind of your hips, delighting in the almost tortured sound he made, “that what I wanted was obvious.”

Kirishima studied you for a few moments, searching in your expression for the truth in your words. He must have found what he was looking for as he kissed you, immediately opening his mouth to tangle his tongue with yours.

It was sloppy, steamy and downright indecent, but gods if it didn’t spark your need for him. He brought his hands back to your thighs, caressing them before grabbing handfuls of your ass, landing a harsh slap that caused you to shriek into his mouth.

“You’re a naughty little thing, pebble.” He purred. “I didn’t expect you to be this-“ you brought your own hands to the hem of his shirt, dragging them up along his toned abdomen to rest on his pectorals, clawing at them before gesturing you wanted the shirt off.

“Forward?” You finished for him. He pulled his shirt off, then returned to your lips, hardening his grip before standing up, carrying you around like you were made of air.

“Bedroom?” He panted into your mouth. You nodded and kissed him back.

The way to his room was a bit of a blur. He stopped a few times along the way, pressing you up against the walls, letting his hands explore every dip and curve on your body. You thought, distantly, that you might have heard things crash to the ground at some point, but had a sinkhole opened in the middle of Mustafu, you probably wouldn’t have noticed. There was nothing but him. His touch, his lips, his sounds, it was all that mattered right now.

When your back met the plush of his bed and he crawled over you, you felt another moment of awareness at the sheer size of him. He seemed to even block out the light in his room, his face was nothing but shadow. He pulled back again, finally allowing you to see his tortured expression, his hand brushing your cheek as his eyes seared into you.

“Are you sure you want to keep going?” He asked, his voice strained like the idea of you saying no was physically painful. You leaned up to kiss him, your hands trailing down the expanse of his chest to stop at the button on his jeans. You let them sit there for a moment, playing at the hem, enjoying the feel of where the elastic on his briefs beneath his pants met his skin.

“Are you sure you want to keep going?” You mirrored him. “I’m not the one who keeps stopping.” You were smirking, but your heart was racing. He set every nerve you had on fire, you couldn’t remember ever feeling like this.

“Are you kidding?” A lopsided smile graced his face. “You’re all I think about, (Y/N). I’m still not convinced this is real.” Your eyes widened. Did he really feel that way? A blush spread across his face. “Sorry.” You didn’t know how to respond to his sudden confession so you kissed him again, finally allowing yourself to unbutton his jeans and try to wriggle them off his hips.

He seemed to understand your hint and helped you out, standing awkwardly and shuffling his pants down his legs. He stood then, almost bashfully when your gaze was immediately sent to the large tent in his boxer-briefs. Chewing at your lip again, you swallowed. Everything on this man was giant. You slid your leggings off your legs, throwing them unceremoniously to the floor before motioning for him to return to you. He moved quickly, his lips finding your neck and every sensitive point on it as his hands wrapped their way around your torso, arching your back and bringing you as close as possible to him.

“May I?” His fingers were playing at the back of your bra and you nodded, turning your face to him again, finding his lips once more. He unclasped your bra, having to lean up from you to pull it off, one arm resting beside your head. He pulled back a little more, looking over your body with a sort of reverence. A small whimper left you at the seriousness of his expression, which he seemed to take as you missing his lips on you (not that he was entirely wrong).

“You’re so damn beautiful.” He whispered into your neck, kissing down your collarbone and sternum before dragging his tongue over your breast. He found your nipple with the wet appendage, circling around it before bringing it into his mouth with an sultry suck. You gasped, hands tangling into his hair. He continued to lavish you with his lips and tongue, and when you pulled out his hair tie so you could run your fingers through his hair, he bit down on the top of your breast, causing you to shriek at the suddenness of it. He pulled back.

“S-sorry! I didn’t mean to-“ you threaded your fingers to the base of his scalp, tugging harshly.

“Stop apologizing Kiri.” Your voice was stern. “I’ll tell you if I don’t like something. But I’m not going to break.” He still looked unsure, so you tugged again, eliciting a small moan from him. (Hair pulling kink unlocked) “I mean it.” You swallowed, “Do whatever you want.” A choked sort of sound left him, and he kissed your lips again.

“You…” whatever he was going to say, he didn’t. He bit your bottom lip, the sharpness of his teeth caused a slight sting but it felt so good. Kirishima moved down your body again, littering bites and kisses wherever he went.

He crawled down the bed, stopping between your thighs. He sat up then, spreading you before him, staring at the apex of your thighs with a hungry expression.

“Anything I want?” A devious smile formed on his face. You nodded, for the first time a bit unsure. “You might regret sayin’ that, pebble.” He lifted a hand, using his quirk to harden his arm. Your heart was racing as he dragged a sharpened finger down your torso, not hard enough to draw blood, but strong enough to feel dangerous. He hooked his finger into your panties, quickly moving his hand to shred them off of you and expose you fully to the room. He deactivated his quirk, then removing the offending scraps off your body, lowered his head.

He bit your hip harshly, and you twitched at the feeling, legs immediately trying to close but he held you open with just one arm. He kissed the spot he bit, running his tongue over it to soothe the ache before moving to your thighs. He kissed and sucked the inner flesh there too, and you felt yourself clenching on nothing, the part of you he had exposed was yet to be touched and it was driving you insane.

“Kirishima please-“ you whined. He looked up at you, like you were disturbing him from enjoying himself. A switch had definitely been flipped at some point; where he had been eager to please, now you were his plaything.

“It’s Eijiro.” He said with another well timed bite.

“Eijiro! Please!” You begged again. He didn’t make you wait this time, bringing his face to where you wanted him most, he licked a long stripe up your folds.

“Delicious.” He muttered to himself before he began devouring you with a fervor. His tongue dove into your weeping heat, fucking you open with the thick appendage and you moaned, gripping his hair again like your life depended on it. This egged him on, as he brought a finger to your folds and pushed one inhumanly large digit inside you.

You were already so close, it was embarrassing. His tongue moved to your clit, circling around, writing out incantations that had you ready to cream any second. You managed, just barely, to look down at him. His cheeks were flushed, hair mangled by your hands and his eyes were burning into you with a sincerity you’d never seen before. He pushed another finger inside of you, scissoring and curling them to stretch you out, hitting your spot absolutely perfectly- and that was it. With a loud shriek you came, and he eagerly lapped up every bit of you, letting out a satisfied hum that vibrated your core. His fingers slowed their pace to work you through your orgasm, his tongue gently caressing you.

Out of breath, you tapped on his shoulders, trying to communicate to him that you wanted him to return to you. He understood and almost hesitantly, crawled back up your body, kissing you without a word, feeding your taste to you with his tongue.

“Eiji-“ you moaned into him “I need-“ again, he seemed to understand what you meant without words as he slithered out of his boxers, the weight of his manhood slapping against your thigh when he was freed. Your hands glided from his shoulders down the broad expanse of his back, raking your nails down his chest before you wrapped a hand around him.

He was thick. The thought of it had you drooling a little into his kiss. A small, inhuman sound left your lips when you dragged your hand up his length and felt the beads of pre already weeping from him. He broke the kiss with a moan, looking down to see your hand struggling to wrap fully around him while you angled yourself uncomfortably to try to pump him. He thrust into your hand, eyes practically rolling back before he stopped himself entirely.

“Hold on-“ he let out with a hiss before stopping your hand, grabbing it with his and pinning your arm next to your head, threading his fingers into yours. With his other hand he lined himself up with your entrance and slid up and down your slit, lubing himself with your slick.

It felt heavenly. The head of his cock kept barely catching on your entrance, then would move up and kiss your clit. You ground into him, trying and failing to just line him up with your core; though the feeling of him fucking your folds was pleasant, you wanted more.

“Slow down, pebble.” He moaned out into your neck, his voice like liquid velvet against your skin. “We’re gonna have to take it slow.” You wanted to protest, but even just the action of him rubbing against you was sending you toward another release. “Holy shit, are you gonna cum again for me, pretty girl?” Your eyes rolled into your head as your hips increased their pace, you thought you nodded but you couldn’t be too sure. There was something so primal about this experience. The need you felt for him was entirely animal. He chuckled darkly into you, then finally, agonizingly slowly, he began to push inside you.

The second his head made it past the first ring of muscle, you nearly blacked out. It was a stretch far beyond the familiar.

“F-fuck-“ he groaned, trying to keep going slowly but his hips were sputtering like he was trying to hold back.

“I told you-“ you angled your hips up to take another inch in- the stretch was incredible, “I’m not gonna break.”

You would one day wish that you could find the words to describe his expression, or the sound he made at your revelation, but you registered nothing as he lost complete control inside you. With one sharp thrust, he buried himself in at the hilt. There was no pain, just the immediate burst of pleasure you felt as he finally filled you. Your back arched off the bed, toes curling in his sheets while your knees squeezed his sides closer- like he could get any deeper.

“Y-y-you’re-“ he was stuttering, his every movement completely halted at the feeling of you pulsing around him. “Fuck it’s like you’re sucking me in-“ he pulled out agonizingly slowly before returning to you, thrusting tentatively at first before gaining confidence and speed.

His lips returned to yours, kissing you and refusing to separate any inch of himself from you. You were completely enveloped in his body, distantly experiencing the feeling of your damp skin clutching onto his. You couldn’t decide where to put your hands- they traveled from his hair to his shoulders to the sheets back up to his hair and you were sure that you could die in this moment and be completely fine. You were building up to something again, another gloriously dangerous crescendo that threatened to tear the fabric of your being apart.

“(Y/N)-“ he moaned into you, “I’m gonna- I can’t-“ his words were just as wrecked as you felt, and you nodded against his lips.

“It’s okay, Eiji. Let go.” You whispered the last part and he growled, pistoning his hips into you before there was a hitch in his movements, a moment where with a grunt, you felt a warmth spread through you. The feeling of being so intensely full, of being whole and still getting more finally sent you to your final release. Your head fell back, trying to bury itself in the sheets beneath you and as his movements sputtered and slowed he kissed your neck. He was grunting like the sound was being forced out of him, like he did whenever you were in a really tough battle and the thought sent heat over your body.

It was all too much.

Finally, the room seemed to still, the two of you were a collection of broken gasps and whimpers. He continued kissing your neck and face until you felt him soften and slip out of you. With a groan, he rolled himself away, leaving you stunned and a little cold.

You simply stared at the ceiling. The gentlemanly hero, Red Riot had just fucked you to the point that you saw stars at the edge of your vision. The thought made you smile. For a moment, you almost felt insecure that he left right afterwards until you heard a faucet in the distance.

Still catching your breath, you tried to drag your head to look at him when you heard his steps approach.

“How you feelin’, sweetheart?” He asked gently as he sat next to you, his massive form dipping the bed as you felt something warm and wet between your thighs. He was cleaning you up. Gentleman indeed.

He kissed you, rubbing the thumb of his unoccupied hand across the plane of your cheek. You smiled at him, kissing him again.

“Ethereal. You?” He chuckled into you, tossing the washcloth in the general direction of his hamper.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” He laid himself down on his bed, opening his arms in an offer to cuddle and you obliged, not minding the fact that the two of you were still a little sticky with sweat. His arm pulled you into his side, draping your leg over him and holding you there while his other arm rested behind his head. For a few moments all you could hear was the heartbeat in his chest; strong, calm, dependable.

“Did you mean it?” You asked him. His thumb, which had been idly petting your thigh suddenly stopped and he looked down at you.

“Mean what, pebble?”

“When you said I’m all you think about.” It was embarrassing to even ask, it was probably just something said in the heat of the moment. Hawks was like that, he would say all sorts of things when you were in the bedroom and when you were done…

“Of course I did.” He responded without any hesitance. He was blushing when you looked up, which was insanely cute.

“For how long?” You bit your lip. It felt like you were digging your grave here, but you couldn’t help it.

“Dunno. Just sorta noticed one day that you’re all I notice.” He said this so casually, like it was just an irreprochable fact. “I uh… I was actually about to ask you out. You know, before we uh…” he trailed off, suddenly embarrassed.

“I’m so glad it was you that got off that elevator.” You said, seriously. He let out a laugh before kissing you.

“Me too, pebble. Me too.” The kiss that followed started soft, but was starting to heat up as he rolled back over you, his hand cradling your face like you were precious. As your need started to reignite for him, you heard a loud slam.

“Oi, shitty hair! I brought dinner for your dumb ass.” The familiarly violent voice of Bakugo rang out through the apartment. Kirishima groaned into your neck, and you chuckled. “Why are all the pictures knocked down? What the fuck?” As the ferocious blonde started stomping towards his room, Kirishima reached for the covers on the bed, pulling them over you.

“I’m really sorry for what’s about to happen.” He said to you apologetically before rolling out of the bed with a groan. He pulled on his jeans with haste, still jumping trying to wrangle them on while he made his way out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him gently. “I have company, bro! Chill out, you're gonna scare her.” Though he tried to whisper, the urgency in his tone caused his words to carry through the door.

“What the fuck kind of-“ Bakugo’s footsteps stopped. You continued to giggle. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Muttered conversation that was unclear reverberated through the space.

“I didn’t get enough food for a third.” You heard Bakugo yell towards the room, “So if you want to eat you’ll have to feed yourself.”

***

Across the street, on a rooftop that was positioned perfectly to look into a certain Pro-Hero’s bedroom sat a blonde hero with wings crimson as blood and a heart shattered beyond repair. A feather gently floated toward him and he grabbed it, clenching it with all the rage he felt.

He had seen everything. Heard every word, every demented moan. She had never been like that with him.

Though Hawks knew the reason he lost her was his fault, he still felt she belonged to him. His eyes narrowed as he set off, flying high above the city, eyes burning. He wouldn’t lose. Not to him.

His resolve, crumbling as it was, still spilled fire through his veins. He would find a way to get her back, even if it meant hurting her again.

[voidsentprinces]

I said it once and I'll say it again, Shadowbringers was the lightning in the bottle for FFXIV. We were going to a new shard with new possibilities, we just didn't know it yet. The trailer showed of Thancred with one of the series most ICONIC weapons and MINFILIA was somehow fucking back!? Y'shtola was suddenly called Master Matoya which ignited the theory crafting train to wonder if their souls would somehow merge (this proved to be wrong obviously but at the time we didn't know what the fuck was happening), the Crystal Tower was a main focus but we didn't know how yet, the Crystal Exarch was mysterious and still took a couple months before anyone even began to speculate he was actually G'raha, there was a long period where Healers were about to start a Riot because they were down right CERTAIN Dancer was going to be a healing job, Dark Knight the community regarded best written job was a central figure, the War with Garlemald was still firing up as Ghimlyt Dark didn't hit juuust yet, Gaius had just been re-revealed, and the Scions were being dragged away by the mysterious Calling, Elidibus hijacked Zenos's body and Varis had gone stircrazy, Solus was revealed to be an Ascian and up to no good, naturally. And lastly it felt like, for the first time, the story was going to make the Warrior of Light and company the BAD GUYS!?! How!? Are we working WITH the Ascians to fight the light here!? Hydaelyn and Zodiark were PRIMALS!? We had no goddamn clue but MOST importantly of all...Urianger was practically naked so the thirst train that started in Heavensward derailed and drove straight through the fandom taking many of them with it as it just went fucking hard. The fact that it ended up having the best story in theme, atmosphere, and the biggest knee to the gut from level 78 - 80 was SPECTACULAR.

I don't think anything will hit like Shadowbringers did ever again.

[tobiasdrake]

AA 4-1, Turnabout Trump, is the best opening case in the history of Ace Attorney. Bar none.

(To be fair, 1-1 and 2-1 fucking spoil the killer for you in their opening cinematic because they think new players are stupid and 5-1... 5-1 makes me shake with homicidal fury at the shit it pulled. So the competition isn't very steep.)

4-1 had the unenviable task of breaking the audience in to a brand new status quo. Seven years after the events of the original trilogy, we have to introduce our new protagonist Apollo Justice. The easy way to do this would be to have Apollo sign up to work for Phoenix and then have Phoenix mentor him.

Screw you, let's get fucking crazy, PHOENIX IS A HOBO and his law career is DEAD. Oh, and he's not the mentor. He's the defendant. Buuuuut he's also still the mentor because he's smooth now.

Incredibly bold of them to go this route. They had to have known that players weren't going to like this. Phoenix's law career ended in disgrace five minutes after Trials and Tribulations ended!? He's been fucking disbarred for seven years!? WHAT!?

What do you mean he has a daughter!? What!?

And she's a precious cinnamon roll!? What!?

WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE'S OLD ENOUGH TO DRIVE IT'S ONLY BEEN SEVEN YEARS YOU ARE FUCKING WITH ME NOW FOR FUN

This case took a sledgehammer to the Ace Attorney status quo. This was a huge gamble. People don't like it when you tell them that their favorite characters promptly got kicked in the nuts after the credits rolled last time. They like the idea that everything worked out and it was great. And they riot if you tell them otherwise.

Did it pay off? Uh.

In terms of reception? No. Everybody hates this game. It offended the AA fandom on a deep and visceral level.

But me, I love it. I think this kickstarted an interesting shift in the core identity of Ace Attorney. And the biggest mistake they made was going back on it.

And it starts here with this magnificent bastardry of a scheme.

Phoenix does fill in the mentorship role for Apollo in our Tutorial to Ace Attorney case, but it's... twisted. Because Apollo is apprenticing under a professional attorney and close personal friend of Phoenix's, Kristoph Gavin - But Phoenix has made the curious decision to request Apollo's representation over Kristoph's.

That's not to say that Apollo's doing this entirely alone, as Gavin pitches in to lend his struggling protege some mentorship on the job.

But that's the trick. Phoenix has, throughout his career, successfully identified murderers among various witnesses, two prosecutors, and two investigating cops. But this unique setup allows him to do battle with a defense attorney. His own defense attorney, at that.

(He hasn't had to pin down a judge yet but HO-HO he will get to that in two games' time!)

There's shades of 2-4 buried in 4-1. So much so that they even cite the main theme of Justice For All while they're at it.

Literally what Justice For All is about. Dare I say... Apollo Justice for All?

2-4 fractured the relationship of trust that exists between attorney and client, that the trilogy is built upon. So much of the series is about believing in your client and giving your all to their defense, and 2-4 took a crowbar to that case by asking, "What if the client is untrustworthy?"

4-1 sets the stage for the new status quo by introducing the opposite question: What if the attorney is untrustworthy?

This isn't the kind of question that an AA game asks. It's... unsettling, given the franchise's romanticized view of defense law. The notion leaves an ominous discontentment that can be difficult to place, and sets the stage for what will become known as the Dark Age of the Law.

And yet, this is the kind of over-the-top legal nonsense that can only emerge from the realm of Ace Attorney storytelling, which does not give a fuck. A murder has been committed with Phoenix in the crossfire, and he has successfully created a scenario where the killer is not only in the courtroom, but is defending him in court.

Well. His protege is, anyway. Phoenix was very careful not to allow his representation to fall directly into Kristoph's hands, after all. Instead, he takes Apollo under his own wing instead.

What gets me about Phoenix and Kristoph's relationship is that Kristoph is genuine about wanting to help Phoenix.

We've seen plenty of murderer frame-ups throughout the series, and even one case of a murderer entering the courtroom as a defense attorney to ensure their fall-gal gets convicted.

Kristoph isn't planning that. Rather, he has a different target in mind that he can pin this murder to. His relationship with Phoenix is much too professionally valuable to let Phoenix go down like this.

As with 2-4, we have a perfectly adequate suspect to accuse in the defendant's place. A reasonable case could be made for Olga Orly's complicity instead of Phoenix's. Phoenix could go free by letting the wrong person be convicted.

But he's going to shoot the moon instead.

And he's going to do it, he's going to defeat the untrustworthy attorney, by putting his faith in a trustworthy attorney instead. The same way he defeated an untrustworthy client years ago.

4-1 has met with some criticism for the way so much of this comes down to Phoenix vs. Kristoph, with Apollo relying so heavily on following Phoenix's breadcrumbs. But for me, that works fine. Phoenix can light the course but it still falls to Apollo to navigate it, and that works for me as Apollo's very first case in his career.

After all, Mia leaned on Diego plenty in her first case. And Phoenix leaned on Mia a lot throughout the entire original trilogy. This case serves as Apollo's introduction to the Wright method and its unconventional approach, as Phoenix makes sure that special attention is paid to the kind of small details that unraveled prosecutions in his own time.

Ultimately, Apollo is as much a part of this as Phoenix is. None of this would work without him. We see him torn between his mentor and his hero as Kristoph realizes what Phoenix intends, and the jaws of the trap begin to close around him.

But ultimately, Kristoph's presence in this room leaves him cornered like a rat in a cage. Phoenix already saw to that.

Thus, one mentorship is fractured beyond repair while another is forged in iron. Phoenix even finds a moment to squeeze in foreshadowing for the final confrontation in 4-4.

This is such a fantastic introduction to the new status quo of post-timeskip Ace Attorney. It hints at the darkness inherent to the new world of law following Phoenix's disbarment, while also building the relationship between our next-generation hero and his predecessor, and serving it up alongside the maddest gambit ever to hit the courtroom of Ace Attorney.

And Also Payne is nearby but who gives a shit. XD

The prosecutor is less relevant in this case than any other in AA history. He just stands there uselessly at his booth and watches Phoenix's masterpiece unfold.

That this helpless performance is Winston's swan song, to be replaced by Gaspen in future games, is just the icing on the cake. So long, Winston. You won't be missed.

[aikoiya]

LoZ - Yiga!Link is a Riot

I gotta say that the concept of Yiga!Link is effing hilarious. Especially if it's Zelink.

Because, think about it.

In this situation, Ganon has literally everything lined up perfectly. Link, his eons-long, multi-life arch-nemesis is essentially his minion & he likely doesn't even know it.

Kid's probably deep into the sauce too, man.

Then, either along comes this pretty little princess & he's like, "yeah, sorry bro, but I'm gettin' me some of that." Maybe he was kidnapped as a baby & Link & Zelda met previously as kids? Maybe she did something for him that he'd never forgotten, then when they remeet, she does something for him that seals a huge crush on her, & thus can't bring himself to kill her? I dunno, there's a lot of ways this could go. OR, he learns personally that he's the Chosen Hero, the very person he's supposed to despise & kill. Meaning that if the other members learn about it, they'll likely kill him. His whole life comes crashing down around him. The first blow to the cult's programming.

Like, it'd just be such a power move on destiny's part.

Like, as dangerous as Ganon obviously is, he simply does not win for very long. He always looses eventually.

And this would just cement that fact. Like, he had his effing arch-nemesis in the palm of his fucking hand & didn't even know it & he'll still fucking lose.

I dunno about you, but I'd be pretty damn demoralized after that.

I might just need the next 10,000 years dead before my next reincarnation to mentally recover.

---

At the same time, it does make me wonder. Why do non-Sheikah Yiga stick with them? Like, we know the reason why the Yiga was originally formed. A Hylian King from 10,000 years ago forced the Sheikah to decommission their technology, fearing it'd bring about Hyrule's demise. (Which, despite how unfair it was, he was... actually right. Makes me wonder if he actually learned that the Sheikah Tech could be taken over. Maybe he'd been an accomplished mage & had managed to use his magic to take control of the machines, then realizing that he likely wouldn't be around for the next Calamity, he ordered the Sheikah to find a way to prevent the machines from being possessed by magic. But no matter what they did, they couldn't manage to figure it out, or maybe they did for a while, but the king kept testing them to make sure it was fixed. However, much like hacking in real life, there will always be new ways to exploit the system, thus the king was left with no choice but to decommission them.)

But, anyway, what exactly do they tell their members to get them to want to stay? Hell, why were they even still a thing in BotW? Why hadn't they made their move? There were no more guards, or soldiers, only a few trained Sheikah, all of which were either too old to keep fighting or were swiftly getting there, & there'd been no royal family besides Zelda, who was keeping Calamity Ganon sealed away.

Why didn't they take over the rest of Hyrule, asserting their dominance & killing all the loyalists so that when the Hero returned, he'd be an outlaw, thus making his journey harder? (It certainly wouldn't have been the first time something like that would've happened in the series.) In fact, why reveal themselves to him when they meet? Just wait till his back is turned, then Eightfold Blade him in the back! Or have a Yiga replace the Sheikah & Hylian innkeepers/Stable Managers, then when Link rents a bed for the night, give him a poisoned complementary meal! Then, when he collapses, just execute him!

It's that easy! Or it should be, because they're effing ninja!

I mean, they were perfectly fine with killing Dorian's wife, who Dorian had been a member of the Yiga before, thus they've no issue with the act of killing.

Which, btw, why didn't they instead kidnap her, maybe even his daughters too, & use them as blackmail to keep him under their thumb?

LoZ Wild Masterlist

LoZ My Fanfic Masterlist

[libraryofneith]

Old Dog, New Tricks - Chapter Four (Sandor Clegane x Female Reader)

@ladysandorclegane1968 @broadsdrinkwhisky @northwindsdaughter

Series Masterlist

Summary: Sandor's fragile peace is broken

Tags/Warnings: death, depictions of violence, typical GoT stuff

"The night is dark and full of terrors."

Fuck them. Fuck them all. He was going to fucking kill them.

He’d been so close; he’d actually met someone who thought he was capable of change. And he’d almost believed him.

“It’s not too late. It’s never too late.” Septon Ray’s last sermon kept ringing round and round in his head. But now it was too late, for both of them.

He knew something was wrong as soon as he saw those riders, something about them just didn’t sit right. And then he found out why when he’d heard their final words as they rode off, and his blood went cold.

“The night is dark and full of terrors.”

He’d tried to warn them. When Ray came to find him later, he’d tried to convince him that they’d be back, that they should stand and fight, but he’d adamantly refused. And now he was walking among their bodies.

Sandor had heard their screams in the distance and had ran to them as fast as his lame leg would let him, hoping that maybe he’d be in time to save some of them, maybe Ray, or that girl Kya who’d nursed him back to health. But he’d failed them. The brotherhood left none alive. Everywhere he looked there were people lying with blood still pouring out of their throats or entrails spilling out of their stomachs. That was the only movement he could see, and then he heard a crack.

It sounded like a twig or something snapping underfoot. He looked in the direction it was coming from and saw an overturned table, front facing him, large enough for a person to hide behind. A survivor perhaps, or one of the Brotherhood waiting to ambush him. He approached cautiously, trying not to make any indication of his nearing whoever it was. Then, moving quickly than he had in a long time, he flipped the table over. He heard a small cry and saw the person scrambling to get away but he shot an arm out, grabbed their elbow, and whisked them round to face him. She was fighting and kicking, but he recognised her immediately.

“Kya!” She wouldn’t stop fighting. She scrambled in his arms, desperate to get away. “Kya, it’s me, it's Sandor. Look at me!” When he said his name she froze and brought her eyes up to his. There was just a second of lasting panic in them, followed quickly by relief and then she flung herself at him, clutching desperately at his neck. Sandor just stood there for a moment, not knowing what to do. No one had ever seemed that relieved to see him before, except perhaps for the little bird on the day of the bread riots. But eventually the shock and pain of the day and the relief at finding even one of the villagers – especially this one – alive wore him down and he found himself wrapping his arms around her and clutching her to him. He heard a strangled sob and felt her shaking. He looked up and saw that her eyes were fixed to the half-built Sept, a look of complete and utter horror fixed on one point. He followed her stare and nearly threw up when he saw what she saw: the body of Septon Ray, strung up on one of the beams, and swaying limply in the gentle breeze. Sandor broke his hold on Kya and slowly walked to the Sept, never breaking eye contact with what was left of his friend.

“Violence is a disease and I won’t spread it to others.” One of the last things he’d said to him. Probably the only foolish thing to come out of his mouth. He thought he could change the way things were but Sandor knew how this world worked. Violence and death would come to you sooner or later, whether you wanted it or not.

What now? What should he do? What could he do? Before these people found him he’d had no reason to live, except perhaps the wolf girl, but even she’d abandoned him. Now they were gone too, what did he have left? Then he spotted an axe resting in a nearby tree trunk and he knew. At the end of it all he did have one thing left. One thing that had always kept him going.

Sandor yanked the axe out of the tree trunk. There were tracks on the ground that he could follow till he found them. Bloody bastards hadn’t bothered covering their tracks once they’d raised this place to the ground. But before he could go, he saw the girl crumpled on the ground, her body wracked with silent, uncontrollable sobs. He looked at her, and knew he couldn’t leave her.

“Kya.” She raised her tear stained face to look at him. “I’m going to find the fuckers who did this, and I’m going to kill them all. You could come with me, I’d keep you safe. You want to come with me?”

Her body stopped shaking. She was no longer crying. Her face hardened, the horror and the anguish replaced with pure hatred. Hatred he knew he was mirroring. She said nothing, just nodded her head.

[triviareads]

can you recommend for me a good historical romance with a heroine who is in STEM?

I read one good earl deserves a lover on your recommendation and I really liked Pippa. do you have other books with heroines like her?

Sure! Here they are:

In Want of a Viscount by Lorraine Heath (pub date 2/20/24): The heroine is a businesswoman and inventor who invented the typewriter (or a better version of it) and is very interested in engineering. The hero clocks this and even takes her out on dates to see Big Ben (no, not a euphemism but Stuff does happen up there) and to a club so she can disassemble a roulette wheel and I thought he was very hot for that.

Convergence of Desire by Felicity Niven: The heroine is so focused on proving Fermat's Theorem that she agrees to a marriage of convenience to a local rake so she can focus on math while he's allowed to fuck anyone he likes (he predictably can't get it up for anyone but her shortly after their marriage).

My Kind of Earl by Vivienne Lorret: The heroine accidentally incites a riot in a brothel and escapes by using one of her experiments, a beetroot bomb that makes everyone pink. She's generally an inquisitive, experimental sort from what I remember.

Knockout by Sarah MacLean: Another gal with a penchant for explosives, Imogen tinkers with explosives in her brother's basement, but don't worry it's for a good cause, namely her vigilante group, the Hell's Belles. Her expertise is also called upon to investigate a series of bombings.

When a Scot Ties a Knot by Tessa Dare: Maddie does animal illustrations for scientific books for naturalists and dreams of f illustrating multi-issue encyclopedias. A subplot in this books does involve lobsters fucking so Maddie can illustrate them accurately.

The Detective Duke by Scarlett Scott: I'm pretty sure the heroine in this one invented the first electric frying pan.

The Governess Game by Tessa Dare: The heroine goes around fixing clocks in aristocrats' houses before she accidentally becomes a governess for the slutty hero's new wards, and her one true passion is astronomy and looking for comets.

[utronabalcone]

crystal castles: "we predict a riot",  jun 17, 2008 

PART 2

crystal castles gained international attention after a uk record label discovered a rough recording of a mic check dubbed alice practice that the band put on myspace in 2005 and forgot about for six months. this led to a series of limited-edition 7-inches on various hip uk imprints that sold out immediately. suddenly, glass and kath were being courted by labels amidst a whirlwind of touring over the past two years.

“the bidding wars in some countries were pretty intense. they just kept throwing bigger numbers at us. i think it’s because they work so hard promoting bands and then no one cares. no one promoted us and everyone cares, so they all want a piece of that.” - kath 

though their strange success story may be credited to the power of the internet, don’t expect them to be spokes people for the demise of the record label. they want their fans to hear the music, and apparently the fans actually do still want to buy cds. their myspace page is flooded with messages from people trying to find their still-unreleased disc.

“people assume that because everyone talks about us, there’s a cd in the stores,” - kath says.

the label is so concerned that the album might get leaked online that it hasn’t released any preview copies, so we’ve been listening to the disc while we talk. nevertheless, a widely downloaded and reviewed version has been passed around the file-sharing sites, which will cause much confusion when the real album actually drops.

“i originally gave alice a cd of 24 songs to choose from back when we first started, and some kid took 16 of them and put them up on the Internet as the album, and people have been reviewing it. i’ve actually read some very positive reviews for the 2004 demos.” - kath

the real album is sort of a chronology of the band, starting with some recordings from 2005 and ending not long ago. if you only know them from the notorious mic check song alice practice or their klaxxons remix, you may be surprised at how many soft and melodic moments join the high-octane distorto-dance listeners associated them with. the last track, an atmospheric ballad based on an acoustic guitar and 40 layers of glass’s voice, sounds more like the work of a shoegazer band like slowdive than anything you’d hear in a hipster dance club. which brings us to the biggest crystal castles contradiction: they make music for dance clubs but don’t actually like dance music. they see themselves as a punk band that happens to use synths, but you’d swear some moments on the record are gritty underground house music from the early days of chicago. kath and glass hate it that journalists sometimes characterize them as an accident, but how else do you explain how two people who hate disco are so good at it? to add to the strangeness, crystal castles have had considerable critical success crafting dance remixes for other indie bands, the last thing you expect from a pair you’d have a hard time dragging to an actual dance club.

“we started doing remixes because bands were contacting me when we were in desperate need of money. it was just good timing. bloc party wanted to pay us to remix their song, so I just chopped their vocals up over a crystal castles song we weren’t using. the thing I like about doing remixes is that I can get our fans some more crystal castles songs, sneak them another taste, because i used all unreleased songs that were just sitting on my laptop. on the road we listen to sonic youth, the stooges, joy division, black metal bands like emperor, mutilation. we’re not going to be listening to dance music.” - kath 

glass and kath first decided to work together because they loved all the same bands: aids wolf, sick lipstick, femme fatale.

“we wanted to do something like that without copying it, so instead of distorted guitars we’d use fucked-up keyboard sounds. but at the same time, i love new order and joy division, and wanted to use those kinds of dance beats. that’s what we set out to do: aids wolf get into a fight with new order." - kath 

to approximate the brutal attack of noise bands, they needed keyboard sounds that weren’t your usual trance presets, which brings us to the whole nintendo-pop sound they swear has nothing to do with video games. journalists and bloggers love to classify them alongside that whole chip-tune scene, bands that use actual video game technology to make lo-fi electronic music. but arcade nostalgia is the last thing the castles want to reference. 

“we both hate video games. we were just breaking apart electronics and toys to get annoying sounds. aids wolf is going to annoy you with guitars; we’re going to annoy you with the insides of old electronics. it’s circuit-bending, basically. you can get sounds out of any electronic device by opening it up and poking around. you can open up your watch, if it makes a blip, you can sample it and then use it as a synth. a long time ago I collected a bunch of sounds. i just opened up everything I could and recorded it all. my favourite ‘instrument’ was a circuit board from the early 70s that was made to teach budding electricians. every time you fucked up a circuit, it’d make a blip, and that was my favourite." - kath 

even if the similarity was unintentional, you can’t help but associate that 8-bit sound with 80s arcade machines. the fact that crystal castles is also the name of a vintage video game doesn’t help, even if the band is actually named after the home of cartoon vixen she-ra, princess of power. understandably, they might not want their career described as a series of unlikely flukes and happy musical accidents. but as much as they claim they sound exactly as they planned, they’ve still “accidentally” managed to succeed in areas they care little about or were even unaware of. electro-house heavyweights justice and myspace brat-rapper uffie show up to see them in paris, which doesn’t quite make sense for a band that wants to be aids wolf beating up new order. then again, as alice’s absence clearly demonstrates, crystal castles don’t really give a shit what we think and probably love that the rest of us find it hard to make sense of their success.

by benjamin boles, nowtoronto

photo by irene barros

[ping1n]

I think itd be funny if they had the courier show up in the fallout show. but they never actually elaborate on anything that happened in fnv. the courier is always wearing full riot armor. the helmet never comes off except at the end of the series where it immediately cuts away. theres a second, smaller riot helmet underneath. they say they took a bullet in the throat at hoover dam (which side were they on? who won? who knows!) and had their voicebox replaced. Every time another character asks what happened with the boomers, or who took over new vegas they go "Oh that's a great story!" and then the episode just ends. they tell conflicting stories in the same episode. it's never clear whether this is actually the courier or someone pretending to be them. they fuck up the timeline even further.

please todd it would be so funny.

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

cute scenario that came to mind, Killer croc making pals with the reader during one of his stays in prison. They’re like in a cell right next to him but end up striking conversation with Waylon out of boredom, where they hit it off from there as the reader talks to him like any old Joe even knowing who he is. The reader being a surprisingly down to earth sorta person with a way of looking at the silver lining, who never really reveals why they’re in prison in the first place besides “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.”

sorry if this is too much😅feel free to ignore

"Sharing is caring" Killer Croc x Reader

Don't even worry about being too much! I've just been busy with life stuff which... congrats to me I got one of the highest scores on the final in class. Which. Granted it was only a 75 but that gives you an idea of how stressful this class was. And then scarecrow stuff I was working on and was really excited to show everyone. You're good!

TW: discussions of violence

When they'd first been put in Arkham Asylum for a series of terrible and stupid choices, they expected things to go south very quickly. For fucks sake, most in the criminal world knew the story of Warren White becoming Great White Shark in Arkham.

The new person. The "crazies" at Arkham and how violent they could be. By a stroke of pure luck, they managed to arrive at a time that cells were not shared due to a lack of space. No one to try and stab them in the middle of the night.

Yet their neighbor... They'd heard about Killer Croc. Crimes and atrocities committed. Some said he was trying to turn a new leaf. Didn't stop him from ended up here again.

When the new inmate found themselves bored and understimulated one night during lockup, they managed a small whisper to Mr. Jones. Asking if it's always so, so deathly quiet.

"Nah, usually it's a fuckin' laugh riot. Can't get any sleep."

"So you're sleeping now?"

"What do you think, smart ass?"

It was an exchange that could have gone poorly. Yet they ended up talking until they both fell asleep. They'd wave to one another in passing. More conversations to keep the darkness and the silence away. Then when other more famous rogues came to the facility, it was to block out the hum and buzz of disturbances in the night.

Neither of them spoke to why they were there. It wasn't really needed. There were brief comments here and there about being stupid or violent acts. Both of them on medication to attempt to soothe their minds.

Mostly they spoke about their lives surrounding the criminal. His mother and their path to making up. His grandparents and the sprawling property they sat on. Swamps and weeping willow trees. The new inmate shared personal details of their own. Bonding.

By the time an appeal got turned over this way and that and the newbie was given the chance to leave, they'd become quite close. Talked through wounds Jones was given by guards due to his "dangerous" nature and the electrified collar he was forced to wear. Advice on how to knock a man's teeth back into his throat if he got creepy or too aggressive for the newbie. A silent but obvious vow of protection and vengeance should something happen to one of them.

Waylon was quiet when it was time for them to go. Refused to say goodbye at this point.

"I'm gonna see you later, don't act all sad. Just stop doin' stupid shit and I'll see you." A promise.

Life outside of Arkham was going to get very interesting once the both of them were out...

[lewis-winters]

3 and 6 for the positivity meme?

I'll answer this backwards because my answer to no. 3 got long.

6 - what's a headcanon that you'll die on that hill?

Lewis Nixon III was a theater kid and has done drag in his life. This is forreal. The ghost of Dick Winters revealed this to me in a dream.

3 - what are some fics you go back and read again and again?

oh I love this question. in the last ask I did say I left out some creators and now is my time to redeem myself! (also another reminder that I desperately need to finish this massive fic rec post I have been steadily adding fics to since January BUT ANYWAY)

under the cut!

all of @churchkey's Winnix and ToyeMalarkey fics! god do I love them so much. I re-read A Spell of Riot once a year since it was completed.

and of course @anthrobrat's Bob, TP, and Gen Kill fics!

all of BristlingBassoon's Winnix fics - Queen for a Day inspired my "Lewis has done drag" conviction and When we met, you'd never expect this series is just. divine.

@marycontraire's Contact Tracing. of course.

make it up as we go along - Joe drives his cab, Chuck plays Call of Duty, and Babe just wants to pass Biochem; their apartment is like Grand Central at the best of times and that’s without the two possible fugitives they decided to harbor in the guest room; Luz’s life is turning into a terrible romcom about a coffee shop; Harry’s friends are bad at running a bar but they’re trying their best; somebody got punched in the face; and someday there will be a New York Times Bestseller about all of it.

Or, the interlinked soap opera-worthy drama of a group of millennials in Philadelphia, told day by day.

Lie if God is Sleeping - Gene flipped the puzzle over to read the back. “My name is Edward Heffron,” he read aloud. “I killed a man, and now I’m paying the price. 18,000 pieces. It will take approximately seven days to complete me. For experienced players only.”

What the fuck was a curse this nasty doing in a Philadelphia used bookstore?

rivers always reach the sea - my favorite webgott canon era series fic ever

Situation Normal - Winters and Nixon move to the city, reunite with some old friends and find themselves adopting a new, four-legged one.

By Small and Small - Babe wants to keep talking with Gene, but he doesn’t really know what to say. He feels like, in the past, he never would’ve shut up, but now, since Julian, he’s just got nothing. Maybe that’s grieving; Bill says that’s grieving, anyway, but Bill uses the term like a Band-Aid to put over every aspect of Babe that has changed.

Or: The one where Gene is in med school and Babe's messed up over Julian.

Dear Lover - A group of friends who supervise soldiers' mail are secretly very invested in one Major Winters' letters to a woman he seems to be having a secret affair with.

all or SJtrinity's Band of Brothers (webgott) fics and The Pacific (sledgefu and andyeddie) fics

Green and Gold - Merriell has dark magic and a guilty conscious. He never considered how the war would change them.

The American Sublime - "Tactician that he is, he finds the likelihood of still being loved by someone who, thanks to him, has just awakened to a wicked hangover and a face full of cold piss next to nil."

Dick Winters and Lewis Nixon billet together at a farmhouse in Holland for a rare few weeks of peace and privacy, while Dick struggles to process his promotion and his time away from Easy Company. Set during the first minutes of Episode 5, "Crossroads."

Cows. Wildflowers. Feelings. Handjobs.

Black Ink on Some Blue Lines - It’s been sixteen years since the letter was written, but it never found its way to the one it was intended for. The thing about secrets is they eat away at you, not all at once but slowly over the years, and you begin to wonder, to play out the what if scenarios in your mind. Instead, David buried it away and pretended like it never existed. He should have killed it, he thinks to himself, not buried it while it still had breath in its lungs.

In which David remembers his evolving relationship with Joe over the course of the war and decides to deliver a letter.

Baby You Can Drive My Car - Everyone has their thing. Perco takes watches. Nix scrounges for liquor. Welsh continues his never-ending quest for anything that will please Kitty Grogan. Even Eugene robs abandoned apothecaries with only a touch of guilt, making off with as many bandages and sulfa packets as he can carry. And then there’s Speirs, sweeping behind them like a shadow and carrying away anything they leave behind that sparkles or shines.

Babe steals cars. He’s getting pretty good at it.

Come in From the Cold - In which Smokey Gordon's coffee shop 'Bastogne' saves lives by lending cutting instruments and offering a steady supply of caffeine and sugary goodness. The shenanigans are just a by-product.

Call me 'sweetheart', Please? by @mariamegale - A not-relationship in the making. (baberoe)

anthroposcene, interrupted - Three months ago, Ray Person was a Philosophy major at Harvard. Now, he's dodging Runners trying to get from St. Louis to Cambridge without a) starving, b) dying by accident or c) offing himself. However, three's company, and it comes in the form of a dog with no bark and a taciturn Marine Staff Sergeant who's last name is Not-Pitt, which has gotta count for something.

[eddiebrockx]

⚠️ SPOILERS for Venom issues #164 and #165 (the 2016 to 2018 comics in general), Venom: The First Host, and the Venom comics in general. ⚠️

Incoming mini-essay! (TL;DR - Sleeper is the manifestation of everything I love about Venom as a comic series, Eddie and the Symbiote are top tier parents, and Spider-Woman is fucking awesome.)

Okay so, I know everyone jokes about issues 164 and 165 because “wow omg Eddie Brock is pregnant.” However, I feel like there isn’t a lot of discussion (that I’ve seen) around how Eddie and the Symbiote handled raising Sleeper because it reveals a lot about their growth up until that point.

It’s been previously established that the Symbiote has been through multiple abusive relationships in the past. The only people who have treated it relatively well as a host are Flash Thompson and, obviously, Eddie Brock. However, even in those relationships we see that it struggles with unhealthy tendencies. The most obvious being just hiding things to protect itself, which it has developed mostly as a coping mechanism (although sometimes it's just used as an easy way to create drama instead of as a sign of its trauma; the downside of having so many different people creating different comic arcs). Beyond itself, it has also seen all of it's children--Carnage, Riot, Lasher, Phage, Agony, and Scream--become incredibly violent in the hands of their hosts.

Because of this, it rightfully fears the idea of having any more children and seeing them become either like itself or its siblings. Comic issues #164 and #165 entirely focus on this idea because the Symbiote is going to spawn soon. Of course, usual Venom shenanigans ensue; people try to kidnap Eddie and the Symbiote, they escape, etc. But what's important is two things: 1) the Symbiote's dreams for the baby, and 2) we get to see Spider-Woman kick absolute ass.

In issue #165, we get these panels:

“It's true Eddie. Didn’t want my baby to be another monster. Wanted it to be a hero. A hero like you. Like Venom.”

I feel Eddie had a right to be upset at this point in time--what with not being told that your significant other is literally going to give birth--but he also doesn't at all slack on getting the Symbiote what it needs next. A quick run to Alchemax later, and they are able to (with some complications) deliver the new symbiote. They decide they will raise it separate from a host within the lab, Eddie and the Symbiote carefully watching over it's growth. Their main goal is to prepare it for a host, so hopefully it won't join its siblings.

Also (sort of a side rant) but I really want to emphasize how much I love Spider-Woman in this scenario. She, like a lot of people in Venom comic history, initially tries to attack Venom. However, upon learning that the Symbiote is pregnant, and seeing it's side of things, she promptly leaves them alone. On top of that, she steps in to rescue them, even when it wasn't necessary to do so. I don't know, I just really appreciate seeing her here. She rocks, and this also means she's one of the few characters who actually understands the relationship Eddie and the Symbiote have (and she doesn't want to destroy it).

"It's beautiful, Eddie." "It is."

I really loves this for a lot of reasons. Mostly because I'm weak to good parenting in stories, but I really want to emphasize how important it is that they're trying so hard. Eddie and the Symbiote have both been constantly fighting and internal and external struggle against the idea that they are a monster. Their mistakes have defined both of their lives. After a lot of trial and error--being broken up and reuniting again and again--that they are now taking steps to improve not only their relationship, but their overall lives and the life of their new kid.

And their new kid is absolutely overpowered. Sleeper is probably my favorite character in Venom history by a longshot. Sleeper is calm, cool, and collected, AND they're strong as hell. We get to see all of that and more displayed in Venom: First Host.

For those who haven't read it, the gist of this arc is that the Symbiote's first host--a Kree--is on a mission to find it again, along with a Skrull. Meanwhile, on Earth, Eddie and the Symbiote are trying to raise their baby in peace. They save the Kree from the Skrull, who then asks the Symbiote to return with him. It, of course, declines. And then the Kree goes absolutely nuts and tries to steal their kid so they're forced to make a sacrifice: the Symbiote goes with the Kree.

"If that is your choice...I honor it. You have my envy, Brock. You must be a great man." "No. Not great. But together we make something...more."

Stuff ensues. Eddie has to go on a rescue mission with the Skrull from before to save the Symbiote; and his kid is more than ready to help. Which, is awesome, because Sleeper is OP. They have the ability to camouflage themselves, secrete a pheromone that confuses the senses of those around them, AND can live with a dead host (they lobotomize the Kree guy and use his body to go have adventures after Eddie and the Symbiote reunite. All of this is awesome, but the only part I truly wish to highlight to you is this:

"We wanted better for you." "And I'll have it. This body is strong. There are depths of knowledge and memories in this mind. Worlds. Galaxies. I've been kept in a cage my whole life. There's so much to see out there. And I will see it. I know you did your best, father. But I don't need a cage anymore."

Sleeper has grown up; Sleeper is free. Thanks to Eddie and the Symbiote's efforts, Sleeper is their own individual. It's hard for them to accept their child leaving, but it's alright. Not only because Sleeper returns to them in the next couple of arcs anyways, but because they succeeded. While they had hoped that Sleeper would end up with a good host, they've instead given Sleeper the tools to be free on their own. They don't need to rely on a host's whims to be a hero, to be good.

It's powerful, and I love it. It's so compelling to see these character who have had such a difficult time finding themselves, finding their place in the world, raise such a strong and good individual. Sleeper goes on to be a vital asset in the King in Black arc (which I have words for, but I appreciate Sleeper's role in it) as well as a good big sibling to his human brother.

I can't even fully articulate how much I love this entire arc, just that it's the encapsulation of everything I really love about Venom. We get romance, we get parenthood, we get growth, we get all the good shit. I love it. Anyways, I'll leave you with that. I just wanted to share some of my many (many) thoughts about these comics.