#it will take a long time to train my brain to not automatically think the old thoughts

[lace-coffin]

I really want asa with a hybrid puppy reader, just thinking being on his lap and wagging my tail while he scartches my ears softly ;333

Asa Emory x Puppy Hybrid!gn!Reader

Hi! Sorry I’ve been gone so long, I’m hoping to get some stuff written soon! Thank you so much for all the asks!

Thanks for the super cute ask! I have such a soft spot for anything puppy related so I was super excited to write this!

The lights flicker on with a snap, rudely rousing you out of your sleep. You blink once, twice, getting your bearings and groaning, hands balled to paw at your sleep crusted eyes. After a few seconds of collecting yourself, it hits you.

He’s home! He’s home and he’s coming to play with me!

Almost automatically your tail starts to thump wildly against the pile of cushy blankets lining your dog bed. You know by now to stay and sit pretty despite your excitement, wanting to make your owner proud at your display of restraint. Propping yourself onto your knees in your dog bed and puffing your chest out proudly, you wait…and wait..and wait. God he always takes so long, the tension is killing you. At this point you think he does it on purpose, taking joy in rilling you up and seeing how long it would take you to loose your composure, just so he can punish you for it later. (He absolutely does)

After methodically hanging his jacket, kicking off his clunky and probably gore stained boots and throwing his keys in the bowl, he finally makes his way over to you, a small fond smile hidden behind his thick mask. Despite how hard headed and seemingly emotionless Asa can seem, he still has a soft spot for his things, the yappy little mutt that resides at his house included.

Bending down with a slight groan he pats your head gently, ruffling the hair between your floppy ears and scratching behind them in a way that makes your leg kick behind you. hands slide down to cup your flushed cheek before giving one final pat to the squishy flesh and rising back to full height.

You watch as he stalks over to the kitchen, tail swishing behind you, kitchen usually means treat in your brain and now it does for Asa too, even if that wasn’t the original intention it’s practically criminal for him to not offer you one whenever he enters that room now, influenced by your insistence and sad puppy eyes.

“Come”

Master snaps his gloved fingers, pointing to the cold linoleum floor infront of him. Needless to say you basically sprint over to him, waiting for the next command and more importantly waiting for the treat that’s sitting in his balled up fist.

“Sit”

Your butt hits the floor before he can even finish the command, master smirking at how well trained he has you, you’re wrapped around his finger without question.

“Shake”

You slap your hand into his larger extended one, skin meeting leather.

Nodding in satisfaction at your little show, the treat is offered to you from the other hand, now unfurled and hovering infront of your face. You eagerly snatch it up into your jaws, canines hanging over either side of it.

plodding off to the warn down brown leather sofa and sitting next to it expectantly, you fix your eyes onto your master. big doe eyes practically staring into his soul.

“Oh, is it that time pup?”

He chuckles, knowing it’s not worth fighting the inevitable, he slumps into the chair with a grunt and a pop somewhere from his back. The years haven’t been kind on his body considering his ‘extracurricular’ activities of choice. despite this it’s still nice to come home to someone who’s excited to see him, comforting almost. Away from all the gut wrenching screams, pleas that fall on deaf ears and the body’s littering the halls, there’s you. A soft creature completely dependent on him and absolutely thrilled that he’s home. Sometimes seeing a wagging tail at his arrival instead of a paling face makes him feel appreciated.

Shuffling to get comfy, master kicks up his feet onto the recliner, patting his lap to call you up. You’ve done this so many times that words aren’t needed, the physical signal is pretty much a formality at this point too, you’re coming up there whether he likes it or not.

You wiggle your butt/tail and angle the jump, landing successfully into Asa’s lap with a grunt from him, twisting around for a moment to seat yourself comfily across his legs, letting out a content huff once you do. Asa’s reflective eyes flicker to you, catching your attention.

“Have you been well behaved for me today pup? Or is there anything you would like to confess?” He quirks a brow, testing you.

You smile brightly, letting out a cheery bark in response, knowing you were perfectly good in his absence. Pleased with your answer he shuffles you closer to him, reaching over to the side table and retrieving the book he’s currently been stuck into whenever he’s home. You take this as a sign to catch a quick nap as it seems you’re going to be here a while.

As he gets settled back into his book his unoccupied hand cards through your hair, rubbing over your flattened and relaxed ears. Your fluffy tail swings lazily off the end of the recliner at the attention, eyes drooping shut.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

villain x hero where the hero gets seriously injured after a fight and looses a limb, and the villain makes them a new robotic one? :0

It was strange technology, unknown to the hero and definitely not...legal. Their new arm was perfectly fine, without any errors, without any unexpected movements. It was a perfect replica of their old arm and yet...

"It's linked to your brain," the villain explained. "I've constructed one very similar to this one a few years ago. I'm confident that you won't have any troubles."

The hero formed a fist over and over again, training their hand but even that didn't seem to be necessary. The villain looked at the data on their computer, avoiding the hero's eyes. Their ears were red.

"You don't have to feel guilty," the hero said. "You don't have to do this out of pity."

"I know," the villain mumbled.

"We both know you had to cut it off. It was damaged beyond repair."

"I know," the villain said again. They looked at the hero for a split second before their eyes found the monitor again. The villain had always been someone rather nervous. Fidgeting often, a little clumsy even. "You're left-handed. You need your arm in battle."

The hero didn't know the villain was aware of that.

"No, I can't accept this. It's too much," they said. They eyed the arm, perfect in its functionality and pleasant in its aesthetic. It looked futuristic and touching the table, feeling the cool surface was like a memory they had lost coming back to them.

"I'm not gonna take it back. What am I supposed to do with a third arm?" The villain laughed and it was soft. Very sweet. It tempted the hero and almost made them smile.

"You're kind," the hero said. It had been a chore to them, fighting and protecting. The job had made them bitter and a little cold. It wasn't something they wanted to be. They wanted to be as excited as the villain, as optimistic as them, they wanted to be free of responsibility like them. It was unrealistic wishful thinking.

When they had lost their arm, they hadn't spoken for weeks. Because, honestly, once they were old (if they made it that far), how much of their body would be left? In a year they might lose a leg, they might lose their fingers. The arm was nice but it wasn't real. It wasn't them.

"I've been cruel for a long time," the villain said. "And I have made mistakes. But you saved me and you shouldn't suffer because of it."

Their eyes locked.

"I'll be honest. I like the arm. But it isn't the same. I still feel as if a part of myself is lost. As if I am still incomplete. I still feel unnatural. I know I shouldn't...I know it's not my place to..."

"It's not about the arm. It's about the touch. It's about being able to experience life to the fullest. It doesn't matter what it looks like or that the original is lost. It's about experiencing life in the best way possible," the villain explained. "Physical touch is important. It is a universal language that everyone understands...no wonder that all of us crave it. I didn't make this because you're worthless without an arm or incomplete, I made this..."

The villain didn't finish the sentence right away. They looked a little lost in thought. "...I made this for you."

"I have never liked physical touch that much," the hero admitted. "But I have to admit, I did crave it. I craved a gentle form of it."

"You haven't experienced much gentleness, have you?" the villain asked and the hero didn't answer since the answer was quite clear. "Come here."

The hero hesitated but when the villain stood up from their chair, they did the same. The villain took their arm, the robotic one, and guided it towards their face until the hero could feel their cheek pressed against their palm. It was warm and it felt real, it felt kind.

Automatically, their other hand followed until they cupped the villain's other cheek. The villain closed their eyes and smiled softly.

"Can I touch you, too?" The hero nodded slowly and as the villain's fingertips brushed against their cheeks, they felt a peace they hadn't felt in a very long time.

[pristinekanesays]

 🦋 Life Is Strange: Relationship Headcanons.

🦋 some short headcanons on what it's like in a relationship with my six favourites :)

🐺 GN!Reader, no specific pronouns are mentioned!

🦋 warnings: cheesy romantic stuff, swearing, jealousy, insecurities and toxic relationships (nathan)

🎧A/N: I send these out faster than my brain can handle, I have no idea why it hasn't turned to pure dust yet.

🦋Chloe Price:

🤍Wacky, trashy dates that don't cost a ton of money, she definitely cannot afford to go to super expensive places so the junkyard, train tracks and just simply walking about late at night is the best you're gonna get.

🤍On one date, she bought/possibly stole this tacky little lighthouse figure for you so you could put it nearby and when you see it, you'll automatically think of her.

🤍She was SO nervous asking you out even if you guys were super close, like shaking and fidgeting with her hands type of nervous.

🤍Offers to paint your nails sometimes but she literally only owns black nail polish, so you'll have to make do.

🤍She totally believes she's a badass 100%, I'd be lying if I said she hasn't climbed through your window at least once.

🤍Jealous? She's in the middle, she trusts you but is also scared some dickhead is gonna get the wrong idea.

🍂Kate Marsh:

🤍She seems like she'd enjoy those cute little picnic dates or movie nights, as long as it's not a horror movie. Kate can't cope when she's watching ANYTHING horror-wise, she's holding onto your arm the whole time.

🤍She'll buy you a small gift here and there but she also likes sketching you or painting your favourite place to go together, she's pretty artistic.

🤍If you couldn't tell already, she ADORES you, she could literally spend hours just looking at you.

🤍When she finally confesses to you, she cries happy tears and stares at you in pure disbelief as if she's just waiting for you to tell her it's a prank or somethin'.

🤍Kate trusts you entirely and knows you won't just leave her, not after all the things you guys have gone through together.

📷Max Caulfield:

🤍You have to be on pretty good terms with Chloe, she's literally Max's best friend. As long as you aren't a major asshole, you'll be fine.

🤍She takes photos of you, so many photos. Photos at the beach, photos at the diner, photos of you half asleep, photos of you in a banana costume that one halloween, photos of you brushing your teeth.

🤍It's like dating your best friend, even if you guys weren't that close when you first met, you are now motherfucker!

🤍Max can't cook, at all. Do not expect anything other than burnt grilled cheese or off-brand cereal if you were to ever get anything breakfast-wise.

🤍If you can cook then, oh boy! She will definitely refer to you as her beloved private chef with a huge grin on her face.

🤍Max thinks being jealous is for cheesy middle schoolers, she doesn't really care.

 🎭Rachel Amber:

🤍Oh my god, she fucking loves you. In her eyes, you're literally an angel with wings that she scored with pure luck, she 100% hangs out with you nearly all time and is a little paranoid that something could happen to you out of the blue.

🤍Expensive gifts, you're literally collecting them from her at this point. On your birthday, she read out a poem she wrote herself with dramatics and all.

🤍She has to be really close with you to fall genuinely head over heels so, well done!

🤍Unlike Max, Rachel can actually cook like she could serve up a whole 5 star, three course meal with rarely any effort.

🤍She has a box under her bed which is just full of photos and sketches of the both of you.

🤍It's in Rachel's blood to be..a little jealous, she'd be broken if you were to just lose interest in her completely.

 🎬Victoria Chase:

🤍Shocker but you HAVE to get along with Nathan, or somehow tolerate him but I can understand how that could be hard.

🤍Victoria is so damn wealthy and is nearly always buying you cute little necklaces or expensive ass things to put in your room, she loves going on dates with you but she'll freak out if anyone sees you together in public and you aren't nearly as popular as her.

🤍She also takes photos of you a lot, she has a weird nerdy side that only you and Nathan really know about.

🤍If she's open about your relationship, she definitely posts those cheesy middle-school posts about you and refers to you as `her light, her inspiration and the moon to her sun` she 100% sees herself as the sun because she's bright and fun and you're just you.

🤍Victoria gets jealous SO easily. She has to bite her tongue to stop her from saying something she shouldn't sometimes, she'll just look at you with an annoyed ass look on her face if you're doing something she doesn't like.

🎮 Warren Graham:

🤍Ever stayed up till 4:30AM playing shitty ass multiplayer games with snacks in your lap like you need junk food to survive? Well, now you'll be doing that all the time with him! He seriously won't give up and he's the first person to let you know when the new game you guys have been wanting to buy is on sale.

🤍He's a dork but he's a dork that helps you with studying when you need it, he's already outside your door before you can even pick up your phone to text him.

🤍You know those zodiac tiktoks kids make? Yeah, he'll have a fucking fit if they're not accurate and he seriously believes those but will pretend he doesn't.

🤍He'll maybe buy you a cheap ass video game here and there but other than that he'll probably just write you a little love letter and slide it under your door which is SO fucking cute.

🤍Warren can get jealous sometimes and I feel like he'd be kind of insecure about if he's a good boyfriend or not.

 🧨Nathan Prescott:

🤍If I'm being honest, it isn't the healthiest relationship exactly and he freaks the fuck out if you stop replying to his texts suddenly because he needs your attention constantly.

🤍He's terrified that you'll get fed up of his shitty behaviour and bail, so he's constantly trying to make it up to you. He'll buy you a new camera, expensive equipment or just blow up your phone if that doesn't work.

🤍He'd be open about your relationship depending on your popularity and if you're a guy or not, he's still probably going through some denial but he still loves you the same even if he's a complete asshole.

🤍Nathan suffers from really bad nightmares and without warning you'll just wake up to him shuffling around your room in the middle of the night and then ask if he can stay over but pretend he didn't the next day, even though it keeps happening nearly every night.

🤍So jealous, like really jealous, he wants you to only have eyes for him and is a sucker for your attention only.

[ihopesocomic]

Sorry for the mini-essay but I think people massively underestimate how much hard work and dedication goes into a Passion Project. People think that creators who make free content, who do their work as a hobby and not as a job, must only get enjoyment out of it.

That’s not how it works. Doing it purely because you want to doesn’t automatically make the more challenging, frustrating, or (gasps) TIME CONSUMING parts of the project any less burdensome. If anything, it makes it worse because you aren’t being paid for all of that labor. You’re just doing it for the sake of doing it, and as rewarding as it can be, it can also be demanding.

Im finally publishing a fanfic for the first time and don’t get me wrong, it’s been great to get feedback on my work and interact with a community. I love that there are usernames and profile pictures I can actually identify because they’re regulars on my work.

But does that mean I don’t have to constantly redo work because I don’t like how it turned out? No. Does that mean I always update on time? No. Never get burnout? No. I still very much go through all of the things paid writers do, because the Creative Process is difficult and demanding no matter what they paycheck is or isn’t.

And all of that is just if you guys WERE missing updates, which you’re NOT. So like… these complaints are not only very entitled and ignorant, but also just confusing. People really just be mad for the sake of being mad, I guess?

Anyways yeah, free content creators are still content creators, and passion-driven hard work is still hard work. You two are cranking out absolutely STUNNING visuals, compelling characters and engaging worldbuilding every single week and that’s amazing. Thank you for your hard work and I’m sorry about the twerps that don’t appreciate it enough!

Ah the price we pay for being human and having a brain, amirite haha

It's to be expected, to a certain point, that people simply don't understand that things like comics and cartoons take time. General impatience is something that can be ignored. If people asking for updates bothered us, we wouldn't post anywhere ever haha You gotta have at least SOME backbone if you want to do a comic. Or anything really.

Comics are a TON of work, and I knew this going in cuz I've done shorter comics before. It is not to be treated as if its easy. (Well, its easier than animating a whole series by yourself LOL) There's a lot of pre-comic planning that people don't tell you about. And that's just the stuff you have to do before you even start drawing. Of course this only applies to long-form storytelling, there's different rules for different kinds of comics.

And I won't even get into what it takes to making the comic itself, there's a lot of parts that need to be considered like formatting, time-management, what shortcuts you have to take to save on labor, and getting across as much information as you can in a short amount of time, while using mostly visuals. It's a skill, so it can be learned haha

A lot of doing comics is on-the-job training. Which I know can be frustrating for perfectionists, but from a reader's perspective, part of the joy of webcomics is seeing how far the art has come. And you can't exactly get out a webcomic if you keep redoing things over and over. You'll burn yourself out even faster. This is why it's important to have a plan lol it just makes it easier to adjust if you have to change things, than if you have no plan at all.

Even if RJ and I for whatever reason no longer felt passionate about this story, and wanted to move on to something else entirely, we wouldn't leave everyone hanging. We'd tell everyone what happens one way or another. Because too many people just abandon a story just to tell another one, and that's not fair to people who were here to read a story that appealed to them.

But the entitlement of people sucks, the constant heckling, the fact we can't moderate our own comment section, and more importantly Webtoons just sucks as a site anyway. - Cat

[arteastica]

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (17)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26) | (27)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters.) no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?)

wc: 4.1k

“Let me see.” You took the notebook from him, your head resting on his shoulder as your eyes scanned the paper. “Oh! Very impressive. I can understand almost everything.”

“Well, if you want to get better at something all you have to do is practice.” He held the paper away from his face and tilted it slightly, as if trying to get a new perspective. “Practice and practice every time you get the chance to. And, sitting on this bed all day, I can confidently say that I have had way too many of those.”

You stared at him as he rolled his wrist and went back to writing. You couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for being so strict about the things he was or wasn’t allowed to do. However, this thought process was already all too familiar to your brain, and you had learned how to deal with it over course of the last few weeks: All you had to do was remind yourself that everything was for his own good, and the guilt would automatically start to fade.

You were taking care of him exactly like the doctor had advised, and if the satisfied nods he gave to himself whenever he came to check up on the Commander were anything to go by, you were happy to report it all seemed to be working. The horrible fevers were finally gone, and so was the discharge from his wound. And, not only that, but every time he held your hand, you could tell his grip was getting firmer and stronger.

Life seemed to be slowly going back to normal, not just for him, but for everyone at the headquarters. Well, at least as normal as things could get after everything that had happened. The incident with Reiner and Bertolt had taken a toll on every member of the 104th Training Corps, especially on Eren and Connie, who were the closest to them, even though they wouldn’t admit to it. And, although you hadn’t seen Krista since the Summer, when she had been sent to Squad Leader Miche’s base, you could only imagine how affected she had to be by Ymir’s absence.

And, speaking of Squad Leader Miche, you couldn’t believe he was gone. And not only that, but the circumstances of his passing were downright traumatizing. You had struggled to fall asleep for several nights after filing his death report. The testimonies of those who witnessed th-

“What do you think of this one?” The Commander’s voice pulled you out of the disturbing headspace you had slowly started to sink into.

“I think it’s not fair that your handwriting is prettier than mine when that isn’t even your dominant hand.”

He had been practicing how to write with his left hand for weeks now. That, along with daily walks along the forest path, which by the way had started as a way for him to get some fresh air, but that now had turned into his excuse to wander around the castle supervising everything and everyone, were the only things he was allowed to do under your strict care. But now that the risk of his wound reopening was minimal, you couldn’t wait for him to go back to his routine. You knew that would help him recover faster.

He also received regular visits from Captain Levi and Captain Hange, and they would plot things for hours behind closed doors. Fortunately, you didn’t have to worry about the Commander overexerting himself, because Captain Levi was as much, if not much more, inflexible than you were about what the Commander was or wasn’t allowed to do. You knew he wouldn’t hesitate cutting the meetings short if needed.

As for you and what your days looked like lately, well, you had practically moved to the office. If your mother knew, she would probably say you were married to your job. In fact, there were only two places someone looking for you would need to go in order to find you: your desk or his bed.

During the day, your hand never stopped gliding over papers and seemingly endless reports, and you only got up from your chair if you needed his signature or something from another department. And, during the night, well, you spent most of them with him.

You had stopped sleeping in your room; choosing to stay and keep him company instead. Although his body was recovering well, you were still concerned about his mental health. He was strong and resilient. You knew that. In his time as the 13th Commander, and throughout his whole life really, he had probably overcome numerous tragic situations like these, but the thing is…never without a limb. This was a first. And his dominant hand at that, the one that he needed for virtually everything. So, all things considered, you had decided to accompany him, to stand by him, as he learned to go about his day using his left hand instead.

But, as inappropriate as these thoughts were in nature, and as ashamed as you felt for having them in these moments when everyone, on a personal level and the Scouts as a whole, was going through tough times, you had to admit it was hard to spend most nights in his room, on his bed, breathing his scent, all while not being able to climb on top and have him make love to you.

There were nights when you felt as if you were fighting some sort of addiction, and, at the risk of sounding dramatic, you were pretty confident this was some type of withdrawal experience you were having. The half of the winter holidays you hadn’t spent tormenting yourself over his ex-lover, you had spent fingering yourself to the melodic sound of his voice whispering your name, rubbing your clit to the indecent wet noises he had made when sliding in and out of you that night.

Some nights, especially the coldest ones, when you would snug closer to him and bury your face in the crook of his neck, you had to confess it had taken everything in you not to kiss his inviting skin, not to trace that tempting vein with your tongue. And, needless to say, it had taken everything in you not to reach inside his pants and let your hand tell him how much you had missed him.

And, for some reason you couldn’t explain, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about his thick, remarkable eyebrows locked in a frown of concentration, as his impossibly blue eyes stared at you from between your thighs, and his tongue told your clit all sorts of secrets.

Sadly, however, all you could do was imagine what that would feel like. Because the doctor had been very clear: Refrain from any violent movement or strenuous activity that could hurt his wound. And although, you didn’t ask, you were certain that sex, especially the type you craved and needed, fell under one or both of those categories.

“Well, like I said, practice can only make you better.” He said suddenly, and you honestly had forgotten what he was even replying to. He looked so innocent, eyes glued on his notebook, his inexperienced left hand trying its best to hold the pen, and the remnants of a smile still present on his lips. You knew you shouldn’t, but maybe you could get away with blaming his cotton shirt and the way it clung to the muscles of his broad, sculpted chest; or his tongue and that innocent lick it gave his lips every so often… It all reminded you of a question you wanted to ask that night, when he first made love to you.

“Is that why you are so good in bed?” The moment those words left your mouth, and even before that really, you scolded yourself. You knew you shouldn’t, but you also didn’t know better. Both, your pussy and you, were practically starving, and in such critical condition, decisions are not necessarily rational.

You looked up at him, chin resting on his shoulder, your eyes widening out of hunger more than curiosity. “Did you get a lot of practice over the years?”

He turned to look at you, the way his eyes started devouring your lips instantly getting things tingling in all the right places, especially the very specific bundle of nerves between your legs. It was honestly ridiculous how ready you were for him all the time.

“I hope you’re aware of how unfair that is.” He said, his lips looking more inviting than ever. “Saying that when we both know you are not going to let me touch you.”

You had to admit it was unfair. You were not clueless, you had indeed noticed the way his longing fingers would invite themselves under your nightgown in the late hours, or the way they would linger on your thigh for dangerous periods of time when you were cuddling. And you were also aware of how much self-restraint had been required in order to decline the invitation he was so readily extending. It would have been so easy for you to act on it, you knew he would have welcomed your tongue or your hand gladly.

You sighed and climbed on top of him, choosing to take responsibility for your actions. “I know, and I’m sorry. This one is totally on me.” You couldn’t hide the smile that took over your lips, and in all honesty, you didn’t even try. You locked your hands behind his neck, and lost your gaze into those eyes you would never get tired of seeing. Those deep blue eyes that were to your skin what raindrops to the cobblestones on the hottest day of the summer. And you wondered what harm could a short, sweet kiss do?

“Just a kiss. Okay?” You warned, not even waiting for him to nod before closing the distance between you.

It was not like your lips hadn’t touched at all in the last few weeks. Since you had been staying in his room, of course you wouldn’t pass on the opportunity to kiss him good morning and good night. But it wasn’t the same. Because there was something about finally getting to sit on his lap again, something about the firm grip of his hand on the back of your neck, something about the way he was able to change and control your breathing with a single movement of his tongue. It was like going home after spending an entire life away.

And for a moment, somewhere between his hand pushing your face even closer to his, your mouth opening wider and his tongue reaching deeper, just as the first moan escaped your lips, you felt like you were in your little bubble again. Closed off from the rest of the world, from the loss, the tragedy, the mourning, your insecurities, and the weight of his responsibilities as commander.

And you wondered if it would be possible for the bubble to burst from the inside out. Because your chest was now so full. So full that nothing, not even air, could fit anymore. And maybe that was the reason behind your erratic, shallow breathing; and why you felt as if you were drowning in air.

In his lips.

Your brain was desperately asking you to breathe, but any plea would be effectively hushed by the obscene sounds now leaving your mouth. The rest of your body couldn’t hear the orders, and that would explain why you were completely unable to stop kissing him. And, judging by the way his kiss had turned messy, his lips now devouring the corners of your mouth and your jaw indiscriminately, you could tell he was also finding it hard to stop himself.

His fingers, now completely entangled with your hair, made you think of how different this all felt. So different from the gentle, sweet lovemaking he had showed you the first night you were together. This time, there was something in the air, a raw intensity in the moment, something that was now making his lips abuse a particular spot on your neck, and your fingers, grasp his soft, golden strands.

“Goodness, I miss you so much.” You said, a whisper, the only thing that was able to come out of your breathless lungs. Your mouth opened in a silent moan, as you desperately gasped for air.

And maybe it was the way he started undoing the top buttons of your shirt, or the fact that his face was now buried in the space between your breasts, but you started to feel possessive very quickly. And a very specific person came to mind. She didn’t have a face, because you had never met her. But your insecurities knew her personally.

You looked down and contemplated the way his mouth ravaged your cleavage, his eyes closed and brow furrowed as his lips sucked on the soft, plump skin of your breasts. There was something about seeing his face next to the laces of your bra, and your fingers laced into the base of his soft, blond hair. It hit you: It was your chest his face was buried into. It was the lacework of your underwear the one providing the frame to his gorgeous face. It was your breasts the ones making his brow furrow like that. It was your scent the one making him press his nose so desperately against your skin. It was your body the one he was going feral over.

This was your man. Yours only.

“Commander, I hate the thought of you thinking about a-anyone else.” You said in between moans, moans that his tongue needed to take full responsibility for. “I- I hate to think about your hand sliding under- ah” Speaking of his hand, the way it suddenly squeezed your breast made it increasingly impossible for you to speak. “Under her skirt, or your lips giving her anything other than a quick, a-and very uninterested smile.” You managed to confess, and you wouldn’t blame him if he started to wonder where the fuck had all this come from. After all, he had no way of knowing about the mental breakdowns you had over the possibility of him still loving someone else. “I want your eyes on me. And me only.”

“Well, those are not thoughts you need to concern yourself with.” He stopped ravaging your breasts, and you found yourself hoping it was only momentarily, choosing to lock eyes with you instead. Goodness, you swore there were times that blue could burn so hot. “Because, as far as skirts go…” His fingers trailed along the curve of your ass, until they reached your thigh. “There’s only one my fingers want to slide under.” You took a sudden, violent breath. “It was light blue, silky, tight and so sinfully tempting…”

“I wore it just for you.” You reminded him, hands letting go of his hair and resting on his chest for support as you leaned forward to whisper into his ear. “And I can wear it for you again, anytime you want.” Or I can wear nothing at all, you were tempted to add.

“You know, when I saw you in that little dress,” his lips curved into a subtle smirk, while his hand drew dangerous patterns on your leg, “I had so many thoughts. And each one was more indecent than the other.”

“Like what?” Your eyes bored into his, eagerly waiting for an answer they already had a pretty good guess about.

“I wondered if you would mind my fingers sneaking in through that slit.” You gripped the fabric of his shirt tightly, as if you were about to fall and it was the only thing available to hold on to. “The one in your dress.” He said as his fingertips caressed the tight fabric of your jeans. “And despite how perfect it looked on you, I couldn’t stop thinking that it would look even better on the floor, discarded and forgotten,” he leaned in to whisper, soft and slow against your lips, “along with your panties, in case you were wearing any.”

An obscene whimper escaped your lips as soon as those words left his, and vivid images of him pulling your soaked underwear down and immediately burying his face in between your legs made you clench around nothing. He had talent. You had to admit. So much talent to get into the deepest, most intimate and sensitive parts of yourself with such immaculate smoothness.

“I was, but very little.” You confessed, holding his gaze, as his hand squeezed your thigh tightly. You knew it was just waiting for you to grant him entrance.

So you did.

“Just like the one I’m wearing now.”

Immediately after those words, you felt his hand on you, cupping your pussy; the sudden contact making you groan loudly. His lips, now grazing against your ear, barely touching as they whispered:

“You don’t know how much I want to make love to you right now.” But you knew, the yearning touch of his hand between your legs, fondling you, gave it away. His hot breath in your ear was disarming, and you had no choice but to lean in, to melt into the sweet nothings he had begun to whisper with that smoky voice of his. “I wish you’d let me…” He took your earlobe in between his teeth, pulling it softly. “Because I can’t stop thinking about how good you feel…” You writhed and squirmed against his hand “…And about all the things I would do to you.”

His voice was deeper than the forest, and his words felt like velvet in your ears.

“What things?” You took shallow, loud breaths; eyes closed, basking in all the sensations offered by his hot breath against the sensitive skin of your ear. “What things would you do to me, Commander?” You asked, and you could hear a very faint voice inside your head scolding you for feeding into this. And you tried to remind yourself of the doctor instructions, you really did, but your mouth wasn’t cooperating. It chose to let out another desperate sound instead, one that came directly from between your legs, where your soaked panties were proof of how much you anticipated his answer. You never knew you could need someone’s cock this badly.

“Anything to make you feel good, like you deserve.” His hand, still between your legs all this time, gave you a not-so-gentle squeeze. “Princess.”

You moaned loudly, unable to stop your hips from rolling on his lap. You had to admit that last word sounded exceptionally melodic on his lips.

“Just tell me what you want me to do to you and I will.”

And the honest answer left your mouth before you could stop it.

“I want you to taste me, Commander.” You said, and not in a shy way, as you opened your eyes to look straight into his. You took notice of his pretty lips, now slightly parted, and couldn’t help but imagine how soft they would feel between your legs instead. “I want you to make me come.” You slid your hand down his strong, solid chest, as you leaned forward to confess your fantasy. “With your tongue only.” You could feel him harden under your words, his excitement deliciously poking at your inner thigh, making you repeat your wish. “Please make me come, Commander.”

He studied your face, as your heart restlessly awaited for his response. And, although you couldn’t tell what he was thinking, you could tell, thanks to the desperate squirming of your hips against his erection, that you needed him between your legs immediately, and that any part of his body would be welcomed.

“Is that so? And where would that be?” He asked after a while, his velvety voice sliding into your ear, and reaching every inch of your body. And although, you were certain he had perfectly understood what you meant, who were you to deny him the explicit answer to that question?

“Against your lips, Commander.” You confessed, stealing a glance at those very lips you wished to be devoured by. “In your tongue. All over your face.”

“So sweet.” His hand finally slipped inside your pants, not even bothering to unbutton your jeans. “I bet you taste so sweet.”

You shivered under the icy blue of his eyes, or maybe it was because of the cold fingertips now touching the wet fabric of your panties, delicately playing with your clit.

“So warm.” He complimented you.

“So pretty.” His fingers traced your slit gently, from bottom to top. “Just as those sounds you make.”

You smiled, closing your eyes, before throwing your head back, granting his lips full access to your neck. And just as they went back to sucking on that same spot from earlier, his fingers pushed your panties to the side and boldly slid inside your wet folds.

You jerked your hips on instinct, moaning at the exquisite intrusion. You wanted his tongue to make you come, but goodness, you loved being fingered by him. You loved to have his middle and ring finger inside, sliding in and out with such dexterity, controlling your breath as well as the sounds that came out of you.

“Fuck, I love to have your fingers inside me.” You lowered your head and moaned against his shoulder, trying not to be too loud in the middle of the day, when there were people walking the corridors just some feet away. But it was hard, the sitting position you were in allowed you to move in a way you could get his fingers as deep and fast as you needed. “Deeper, Commander. Please.”

As his fingers pushed further inside your hole, you realized you could be here all day. “You feel so good right there, Commander. Yes, just like that ah-” Or maybe not. Because the pleasant warmth that started to build up in your lower belly when he curled a finger inside, and his thumb started circling your clit, told you that you wouldn’t last long.

“Fuck, Commander, you’re going to make me come. I-I’m so close.” Your forehead was resting against his shoulder, and all you could hear was the wet sounds escaping from between your legs.

Until, all of a sudden, his fingers stopped moving. And, before you could react, you felt his lips against your ear.

“Lie down and spread your legs for me, princess.”

You would have been frustrated by the disrespectful way in which he pulled his fingers out of you, just mere seconds before your orgasm. You would have, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t be mad when his tongue was about to make all your dreams come true. So you leaned back, propping yourself up on your elbows. And, doing as you were told, you spread your legs wide open for him, as your fingers impatiently reached for the button of your pants. But, just as you were about to undo them, he placed his hand over yours.

You looked up to find out what was wrong, and when you locked eyes and he silently, and rather commandingly, shook his head, you understood. He would take care of it all, and everything left for you to do was sit back and enjoy.

As you closed your eyes and let your head fall back, a mix of pleasure and anticipation made your lips curve delightedly.

“Erwin.” You shut your eyes wide open, completely freezing on the spot when you heard something you weren’t expecting.

Captain Levi’s unmistakable voice.

The knock on the door seemed to be the sign your muscles needed in order to start functioning again, because then, you jumped off the bed. Your hands, completely at a loss, didn’t know if they should button up your shirt or fix your hair first.

“Come in.” The Commander said seconds before Captain Levi’s face appeared at the door.

He eyed you suspiciously before turning to the Commander and doing the same. You then saw his lips separate and his tongue move around his mouth as if trying to choose which words to say.

“Who’s in charge of running this place if you both are busy doing whatever it is that you were doing?”

“Sir, I apologize, sir. I- I was on lunch break, sir. I will go back to the office right now.” You nodded to both the Commander and Captain Levi before retreating back to your desk, actually surprised you could walk, given the throbbing dissatisfaction you were now carrying between your legs.

-

next chapter

taglist: @elnyrae @angelaevangelion @depitaangeline @ynackerman9499 @afatalheat @pumpkin-toffee @velouria17 @gassytritis @goddessinsweats @nube55 @jeanboyjean @crazychaoticizzy @braunsbabe @mchlist

[aristotlecoyote]

i'm sorry you aren't able to pay for watcher's new service. it was a tough decision for me too - i'm unemployed right now and had to look at my savings and decide to skip on buying a few things - but in the end i chose to support them. there are fans sharing accounts and gifting subs. some people in the fandom want to help with solutions but you can't hear them over everyone blaming watcher for suddenly being in the 1% somehow?? (they're not) this is still in beta mode so we all need to take a breath and see what they announce after seeing the feedback. but watcher didn't ruin the economy and make it so hard for people to get welfare and help - you need to contact some government officials for that - not shane's wife

You are fundimentally missing the point. And why are you feeding a problem when they have clearly show they dont respect their fans with their silence, and their employees and spouses snide comments.

The watcher hate train that you think is clouding my thoughts simply isnt. I look at other fans to see if i my perception is more then just automatic frustration. And its not. I think alot. I get heated when i feel theres injustice. But i think through every single thing in this situation for flaws in my own logic because i know people like you will say i am blowing out of proportion. dont patronize me with those arguements.

Yeah governement stuff isnt their fault but they know where the world is. Or atleast they should and they are choosing to bleeding their fans dry. I never said they were the 1% but they are rich. Being rich doesnt automatically put you in the 1 percent but it does give you a leg up to being safe.

I took a breath. I took a whole breath today and lived my life on an extremely small trip on a train. To get free samples from an event with a discounted ticket. I bought a single nice thing that i wanted and for the first time in three days i didnt think about this shit show.

I wanted to support them but seeing as they dont care that they are making

1. A bad decision that everyone except people like you can see

2. Using a base platform that is notoriously unfriendly to creators

3. Didnt respect their fans enough to do market research and give us a finished product or a timeline for things moving forward

4. Act like they are drowning while they are on a yacht. And show that yacht to the people they kicked out of a lifeboat. Then blame us for needing to get a slightly smaller yacht. (This is an analogy)

Its not the same.

3 shows i like is not worth. 6 dollars.

I dont want Sara rubin's fucking help. I am saying she is showing the reality. That these people dont care. Its a common fact of todays world that very few youtubers actually care. That you giving them 6 dollars for a thing that has never worked in the long term unless years of effort and research is put into it. And you are on unemployment? I dont know.

You are the ones that dont see the reality.

But like i said in my post. I respect that humans can do whatever they want. I just think you should think and ask questions and when you dont get clear answers. Wonder why.

All of this mess is something you need to watch before you jump.

I simply chose to step away from the cliff because i saw sharks in the water.

EDIT: some parts in this feel unfinished. I am tired and working on very little sleep because of how my brain has chosen to process this situation. I wont update this post with corrections unless someone can give me a hard reason to.

[pasiphile]

Hi there! Twiddling my thumbs on how to/whether to say this, but finding your Sherlock fic as a teenager (yeah, we’ve both been here that long, I am now eyeing my thirties in the street) was incredibly formative.

TVD (and Good Girls Don’t) was one of the first brain-changingly good pieces of online fiction I had ever read, and it made the days I worked that soul-wearying first job a little brighter. Or a lot. You gave me imagination and a playground for exploring my own writing, which continues to be a primary joy in my life. So — these two words aren’t enough. Thank you. 🩵

So, on to the writing! I have to ask for a Mormor prompt. Maybe the boys enjoying each other after a long absence, bonus for domesticity?

(gosh. I occasionally get messages like this and I always have to stare at the wall for a bit. I wrote it at a rather shitty time for me too and it definitely helped me get through it, so the thought that I made - make!- other people feel the same way means A Lot. Thank you <3)

The flat feels empty. Too empty.

It’s strange. It never did before. An empty place all for himself had been a luxury for many years. And after that, a necessity, a way to relax, recharge.

Except now all of a sudden the silence is too silent, the order too neat, the spaces too big. It’s absurd, and annoying.

He leans his head forward against the window, looking down at the street below. So many people and yet there’s just one, just one out of seven billion, who feels like –

The door opens behind him and he straightens up. “I’m back!” Sebastian’s voice bellows through the living room.

“I can see that.”

Sebastian starts, only spotting him now, then grins. “And I’m sweating like a pig. Manchester to London on public transport and let me tell you, those trains are not equipped to deal with thirty-five degrees Celsius, so if you’ll excuse me I’ll head straight for the shower.”

And before Jim can even think to react, mind and action sluggish in a way that’s totally inexcusable, Sebastian has dropped his bag and he strides past, already taking off his stained T-shirt and leaving behind a waft of deodorant and sweat and stale cigarettes, disgusting except it isn’t.

“Pick up your dirty laundry, you’re not a teenager,” Jim says, more on automatic than out of conscious thought, but Sebastian obediently doubles back to pick the shirt up, no comment.

The bathroom door closes. A moment later, the sound of the shower.

When did this happen? When he’d invited Sebastian to live with him? Before that, the first time he’d let him into the flat? When did he start to fill the spaces Jim hadn’t even been aware were empty?

He goes to the bathroom and slips in, quietly even though it’s futile to Sebastian with his SAS-instincts.

The dirty clothes are obediently in the hamper, tidied away. The steam smells of soap, not his, all alien and all familiar.

The shower switches off and Sebastian steps out. He grins, again, and spreads his arms as if to present the goods. “Did you miss me, then?”

“Yes.”

Sebastian’s smile slips. It’s too open, too bare, they don’t do this sort of thing, Jim doesn’t do this sort of thing.

“Of course I miss a loud, stinking oaf of a man dirtying up my flat,” Jim adds, and Sebastian relaxes, never mind that it’s actually true. “And you? Pining for home?”

“The moment I stepped out of the door.” Sebastian shrugs and turns to the mirror, absently running a hand through his hair. “You know me, I’m sappy that way.”

Jim grabs Sebastian’s arm and yanks him around, other hand finding his throat and slamming him against the wall, or rather, Sebastian lets him do all that because as always the balance is in his favour, Sebastian could break him like a twig if he wanted to.

But he doesn’t. That’s the point.

“Missed you too,” Sebastian says, voice slightly constricted through the chokehold. “This, especially. Now can you calm the fuck down?”

Jim loosens his grip, breathes out. “You know I should have you killed.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian says, calmly. “But you don’t. Do you?”

“No.” He leans in, nose against Sebastian’s throat, nothing there left now but the scent of soap, the one Jim got him a month ago because he was tired of Sebastian smelling like a locker room full of teenaged boys.”

“All right. Now that’s out of the way, can we  nghk “

Jim gets his teeth from Sebastian’s neck and leans back, smiling beatifically while his other hand keeps a new chokehold on Sebastian’s cock. “Yes?”

Sebastian gasps for air, then smirks, so wide it threatens to split his face. “Whatever you want.”

That’s the point.

Jim returns the smirk, then lets go and without even needing prompting, Sebastian goes to his knees.

[evewritingsteve]

wrong place, wrong time

jesse pinkman x reader warnings: kidnapping, normal breaking bad stuff

summary: You are Lydia's daughter, and just so happen to be kidnapped by Mike. Takes place in the episode before they do the train heist

note: not my best but i needed to get this concept out of my head, enjoy xx

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“Well Lydia, we’ve got the kid so I suggest you come out of hiding and talk this out like the adults we are. You got 4 hours to get over here or little miss y/n gets to meet an unpleasant end. Your choice.” You hear the man hang up the phone, sighing a little. “Well y/n, let’s hope your mother has a little empathy for her secret daughter.” 

You’d reply, and say you weren’t really a secret, just the result of a teen pregnancy, but the gag in your mouth unfortunately stifled any smart remarks. Maybe it was for the best, you didn’t have the best danger meter. Opening your mouth would probably get you hurt. 

But you weren’t hurt, surprisingly, despite the circumstances. Being kidnapped automatically brought your brain to violence, but so far, they hadn’t been overly rough. Certainly not nice, but no harm had been done. You thanked whoever was listening for that. You were hoping this was all for ransom, that your mom would pay, you’d walk out of this fine, and this whole thing would be a terrific story to take back to graduate school. 

Hopefully. 

You were bound to a chair, rope chafing your arms and legs. You wiggled again, hoping for some give. From what you gathered about the kidnappers, they were old as shit. One sounded too anxious and the other just sounded annoyed. At first you had been terrified, but as the adrenaline wore off you felt yourself growing more annoyed than anything. 

You’d been in the chair for hours, and the phone call the first man made was one of the first times you had heard them speak in hours. You were bored. You’d think being kidnapped would be more action and less anxious waiting. Not that you were complaining. 

You hear a door open and steps making their way closer. 

“Yo who the fuck is this?” A younger male voice cuts through the silence. 

Another one? Jesus. 

“Change of plans,” the annoyed older man speaks and you desperately try to see through the cloth covering your eyes. “Can’t find Lydia but her daughter was there so now here we are.” 

“Her daughter? What yo we’re fucking kidnapping random people now?” 

“Jessie!” The anxious one yells and the room goes silent. 

“Both of you, outside, now.” 

So the younger one was Jessie. You definitely weren’t supposed to know that. You hear them leave and somehow the silence is scarier now than when they were in the room. You close your eyes. God mom, you better have a ransom money stash. 

-

“What the hell was that? Saying Jessie’s name? You’re going to get us caught Walter!” Mike jabs his finger into Walt’s chest, fuming. 

“I didn’t ask to kidnap an innocent college student Mike! This- this is insane! What are we doing?” 

“Yeah what are we doing?” Jessie throws his hands up, still clueless. 

“Lydia planted that tracker on the methylamine. When I went to her house to have a little talk Lydia was gone. She knew I was onto her and decided to run, but her daughter just so happened to be there. I’ve dealt with Lydia before. She’s skittish. So we take her daughter to get her to come talk to us so we can put an end to this ordeal.” 

“So what, this chick is our hostage now or what?” 

“Yes Jesse. As soon as Lydia gets here we’ll cut her loose and deal with the real problem. The kid is just collateral that we have to deal with now. As long as she doesn’t see our faces this doesn’t have to end with anybody’s death but Lydia’s. Capisce?” 

“Fuck. Alright I guess.” Jessie puts his hands on his head, following Mike when he gestures for them to go back in. 

When they open the door, they all stop. Lydia was already there, undoing the last rope holding you to the chair. You both stop and look up when you hear the door, slightly panicked. 

So much for the blind. 

“Mike what the hell? My daughter?” Lydia stands, helping you do the same. Your eyes are wide as you scan the 3 men’s faces, growing more confused by the minute. Your mom knew these people? What the fuck is she involved with? 

The one that you’re going to assume is Mike, makes his way over to your mom, grabbing her arm and throwing her on to the chair you were previously occupying, dragging her and the chair to a nearby table. You jump out of the way, Mike ignoring your mom’s protests, pulling out handcuffs and locking her to the table. 

“You,” He points at you, grabbing the gun on his waistband, “Stand next to her and don’t move or I swear it’ll be your last.” 

You make your way over, giving your mom a questioning and slightly terrified look. 

“Jesus Lydia you just had to make this harder on me.” 

“Mike we can talk this out but let my daughter go. I didn’t plant that tracker, I swear to God, she knows nothing of this just please, let her leave.” 

“Mom-” 

“She’s seen our faces, Mike, we can’t just let her go with that information!” The other older man speaks up. The younger one puts his head in his hands. It seemed clear to you that he was dragged into this, and for some reason that put you at ease a bit. They all begin to argue with each other, and you glance at your mom again. 

“She’ll get on a plane right now.” 

They all pause. 

“She’s doing graduate school abroad, she can get on a plane right now and be out of the country in a few hours. Please Mike, she barely knows anything right now, definitely not enough to put you guys away. Just, please Mike.” 

“Mom I can’t leave yo-” 

“Shut up Lydia.” Mike thinks for a while. He didn’t want to kill you. He saw his granddaughter in you and knows he would never forgive himself if he had to kill you to save himself. It was risky, but something told him you really wouldn’t say anything. 

“Alright Lydia. We’ll take her to the airport. But you need to understand one thing,” he turns to you, “I have people everywhere y/n. The second you open your mouth, I’ll know. And then it’s game over for you and everyone you love.” 

You think of your little sister and suddenly realize you’re going to have to take this to the grave. Not that you even knew the entire story, it felt like you walked into the middle of a show and missed all the important parts. But still. Silence was the only answer. 

You simply nod your head in response. 

“Jessie, I would like you to take this young lady to the airport, buy yourself a ticket so you can wait at the gate with her and make sure she gets on the plane. Come back here after. Lydia, you’re gonna make a little call for us.” Mike tosses Jessie the keys, along with a pair of handcuffs. 

“Are these for her?” He gestures to the handcuffs and then to me. If it weren’t for the situation at hand, you might have blushed. 

Mike gives him a look and Jessie almost rolls his eyes. “Alright man shit.” 

He makes his way over to you, mumbling an apology that confuses you even more. It seemed like Mike was the only serious one here, the other two almost acted like they were hostages too. You feel the handcuffs tighten, and you give your mom a final glance. 

“Mom?” 

“It’ll be okay I’ll call okay?” A pit sits in your stomach at the expression on her face, so you try to give her a small smile, not trusting your voice. You really hope she didn’t get herself into something she can’t control. Jessie gives you a small nudge and you can’t fight the tears that fill your eyes. 

-

Once you’re in the car, Jesse says something about the handcuffs looking suspicious and takes them off. You grab at your wrists and flinch as the car is locked from the inside. At this point reality was setting in hard. Now that your safety seemed more or less intact, you were nauseous over the thought of your mom still down there for God knows what. 

The car starts moving and your breathing becomes shallow. Jesse takes notice and steals a glance at you. 

“Hey, it’s gonna be alright okay?” It didn’t even sound like he believed his own words. 

“What the fuck.” Is all you can reply. “What the actual fuck?” You laugh a little, about to go into hysterics over the entire thing. 

Jessie looks at you, even more concerned. He had been through some shit and the only time he laughed was when he was really about to lose it. You're trying to control your breathing, and he feels bad, but he can’t help but notice how pretty you are. He can’t believe that you somehow got wrapped into this. It didn’t seem right. He feels horrible. 

At this point you're no longer laughing, just sniffling and trying to stop yourself from sobbing. 

“What are they going to do to my mom?” You look at Jessie. You were never close with your mom, she was distant and cold but always provided for you. She was your mom at the end of the day. Despite being in boarding schools most of your childhood, she was always there when you came home to visit. She couldn’t just be taken from you like that. “What about my sister? What will she do?” 

“You have a sister?” He sounds surprised. You faintly wonder if you should just shut your mouth, and not volunteer anymore information, but some part of you feels like Jessie isn’t going to use this information maliciously. Still, you don’t respond. 

“Listen, I promise nothing will happen to your mom.” 

“How can you possibly promise that?” 

He goes silent and you realize that he probably can’t make that promise. 

The rest of the car ride is silent and you spend some of it observing him. He seems almost shy, despite the rough exterior and style he possesses. For a split second, you wonder if, in different circumstances, you two would have crossed paths and been friends. Maybe flirted. The reasonable part of your brain stomps that out, and politely reminds you that he was somehow involved in your kidnapping. 

The car rolls to a stop at the drop off spot. Once again, you’re confused. 

“Don’t you have to come in with me? You can’t park here.” 

He looks at you, slightly startled. He half expected you to jump out of the car and run to the nearest security guard. He spent half the ride preparing for his life to be over because of the pretty daughter of a criminal. “Oh, uh, I guess I didn’t think of that.” 

You stare at him for a beat. 

“I won’t run to tell anyone. Honestly getting out of America as soon as I can sounds nice right now for what it’s worth.” 

He turns in the driver's seat, fully looking at you for the first time. 

“I know.” 

“You believe me?” 

“I’m a shit kidnapper huh?” 

Despite the situation, you find yourself laughing a little. 

“Sort of.” 

You both sit for a minute until he raises a hand to scratch his head sheepishly. “Look uh, you can just go. I think it’ll be weird if I buy a ticket and don’t get on the plane.” 

You looked at him, shocked that he was actually agreeing to let you go.

“Oh, okay,” you go to open the door, pausing to look at him one last time. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a real bad guy. It just seems like you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time.” You give him a small smile, leaving without waiting for a response. 

You run across the street, nearly missing an impatient car. You feel like you’re on autopilot as you step through the automatic doors, trying to find the nearest help desk to book a flight. Your brain was in override, trying to make sense of everything that happened. You only hoped that once you landed, your mom would answer the phone and everything would be okay. 

You almost gave in when you saw a security personnel walking by, but thought of Jessie. You couldn’t explain it, but you knew going to the authorities would somehow cause more harm than good. You only hoped that Jessie’s sincerity was real. 

-

Jessie watched as you ran to the doors, seeming more dazed than scared like he imagined you should be. He didn’t understand your final words to him, he was implicated in your fucking kidnapping for fucks sake. But there you were, saying that he wasn’t a bad guy. A car honked behind him, pulling him from his thoughts. He put the car in gear, making his way back to the shitshow he really didn’t want a part of. 

He picks his phone up when he hears the familiar ringtone. 

“Yo.” 

“Jessie, is she gone?” 

“Yeah, we’re good. What’s going on?” 

“We have to rob a train.” 

Oh fuck. 

-

reblog, like, tell your momma (aka me)

[ohsayit]

Zevlor and Nora. Mostly about Nora

I HC'd the name Nora for his horse back in his Rider days. I saw someone mentioned him being a horse man in the server, and then my brain just jumped to gibber. (face palm) A way to keep the old sweetheart from my head is yet to be found. So here I am again, gibbering away.

I must be possessed when I was typing this. This is much longer than I thought -,-

There is something cute and lovely in a short name like Nora. I am particularly fond of names ended in an "a" sound. It's oh so suitable for sighing, cooing, and war cry lol.

The same chat I saw was something about horse breeding in Faerun. I am not sure if everyone enlisted to the Riders will automatically get a horse. Horses are expensive little shits.

Tin foil hat: I know fuck all about horses. The only thing I know is if they proper snapped their ankles, they would be put down.

I imagine horses could be quite picky (aka being a little bitch) with who gets on their backs. So in general, once Riders are "assigned" a horse (given the horse is fine with the person, otherwise, reassign, Riders can't be short of horses lol), they are supposed to take care of their companion personally.

Riders are to build a strong bond and relationship with their horses. So Zevlor definitely took his time taking care of Nora.

However, Nora was definitely not his only horse.

I HC'd him being in his 60s when we met him in the Grove. Riders could get admitted as young as 14 (IIRC). It's quite a long time

Google says horses can live for 20-30 years

race horses irl most retire before 5(?). I think I've heard somewhere on the telly before that their prime racing age is between 3-4

companion horses are supposed to go into combat with the Riders. There are chances for the horse to get hit in combat and leads to retirement

But Nora was his girl. He had her name tattooed under his ribs, a tender spot. It's close to the torso, a place that people would put a lot of protection on.

Nora would be given to him at a rather young age, so she started training at a young age and build up her relationship with her rider. I can see Zevlor investing time and affection on her. He would buy her treats and pretty gears out of his own pocket, put on a stern face and scold her when she was being naughty, give her pats and praises when she did well in training, take her for rides to stretch her legs, let Nora nudge him in his neck and chest and be all cute.

Oh yea, Nora was a princess when she's not at work.

She would definitely make it everyone's problem if she smelled other horses on Zevlor. This would happen after Nora stopped working and Zevlor was assigned a new companion horse. She would super flip and bite him lol If the new companion horse happen to be in Nora's bite range? (You know, horses live in horse houses) Sorry newbie, Nora got scolding, cooing and brushes before you.

After all the time they spent together, Zevlor could guess what goes in that big head. He would shower before seeing Nora if he rode on his companion horse earlier that day. He split his day offs between Nora and the new companion horse. Nora got the prettier trinkets.

Nora died before the Descent because she's a babe to me now for some reason. So in all her life, she shared Zevlor's best days and got the most treats.

I think Zevlor put all the pretty trinkets he bought her in her grave. All he had with him was her name under his ribs and the loving memory of her. She's his favourite girl of all times. Why? Maybe because of her uncanny ability to flip between being a princess and the most loyal and fierce companion horse? They just clicked. Zevlor was her favourite for all her times as well. She was the happiest when he took care of her and going for a ride together.

They must have this goodbye ritual between themselves. When Zevlor was about to go, Nora would grab a bit of his clothes and try to keep him. Batting her lashes and all cuteness. Zevlor would turn around to stroke her nose and say something sweet to her. Princess would then be happy to let him go. I am sure the other Riders would tease him about it but he was a bit cocky "Oh, does you companion not care when you go?"

All in all, Zevlor was a horse person (like all Riders), but he wss even more so of a Nora person. lol Yes he cared about all his companion horses but Nora was something else. He shared quiet moments with her. Some people talk to their stuff toy, Zevlor talk to Nora. I don't think he would put it to words. He would quietly give her care and stroke her gently on a day he felt terrible. Possibly gave her a little smooch when he felt he was good again.

Gods know why theses things come to me lollll This whole thing somehow is about Nora lollllll

[atlasxspeaks]

I was thinking about all the blue-colored characters I like in media, and my brain went, "What if Spider was a mutant and looked/had power like Nightcrawler?" So here's that:

Both Paz and Quaritch have dormant X genes that get passed down to Spider. On Earth, he would have been killed in infancy because mutant babies are deemed too dangerous. If they are thought to be very powerful, then they get experimented on and die before adulthood.

At first, Spider is born looking "normal"; the only odd thing is that he has webbed fingers and toes. However, his “normal” appearance doesn’t stay normal for long as his body begins to develop, and the X gene kicks in, causing his skin to turn dark blue. His fingers fuse together until he only has three fingers on each hand and two toes. His palms and soles also become very sticky, allowing him to stick to surfaces and crawl around, hence the nickname. He grows a tail with barbs he can throw and contain a paralytic substance. His teeth sharpen, and his eyes turn from a warm brown to pitch black. The only thing about him that stays normal is his blonde hair. He gets all the hallmark powers of Nightcrawler (basically teleporting and being extremely agile), but he also inherits the ability to shapeshift like his other ancestor, Mystique. His shapeshifting manifest is the ability to shift his physic in any way to maximize his survival chances - his body does this automatically. child to allow him to breathe Pandora’s air.

Paz, who knew she was a descendant of Nightcrawler, knew this was possible and made a contingency plan. She flies one of those metal bunkers deep into the forest past where the RDA scanners can find and slowly stocks it up with enough supplies for them for years. She also starts learning about Pandora's flora and fauna from Grace, the only person who knows she is pregnant and that the baby could be a mutant. They leave during the Great Battle at the end of the first movie, and Spider grows up as a healthy, loved baby for 15 years until the humans return (he's younger in this AU because Paz gives birth days before the final battle).

Paz and Spider get kidnapped when they're out foraging by Quaritch's team, and Admore tells Spider he can either work for them to shave time off his mother's prison sentence for deserting her post or die with her in an execution. Spider obviously chooses the most self-sacrificing route and goes through very brutal training to become the perfect soldier. He and Quaritch have a very fucked up relationship in this AU because he uses Spider's destress to gain his loyalty, but they're not as close as in AWOW.

When the recoms find Lo’ak, Kiri, Tuk, and Neteyam in the forest, Quaritch calls for Spider’s assistance (a reference to X-men: First Class, where Azazel, Nightcrawler’s father, is summoned using a high-pitched whistle). He appears right before the children’s eyes in a puff of black and blue smoke, and they’re convinced he’s the Devil their dad and the scientists refer to when talking about Earth mythology.

With Spider there, the fight is a lot more brutal. He stabs Neytiri through her ribs and almost kills Jake, but more Navi show up as their backup, forcing the recoms to retreat. Before they do though, Quaritch orders Spider to take Jake, but since he's too heavily surrounded, Spider takes Neteyam instead. His reasoning is that any hostage is a good hostage.

Queue the few months of Spider and Neteyam bonding as Neteyam realizes Spider is just as much of a prisoner as he is to the RDA. He hatches a plan to escape, but Spider often waffles between wanting to help or not because he’s fighting the fear of what will happen to his mom with the fear of freedom.

All this culminates with the recoms discovering Jake in Awa’ulta (the Sullys leave because Neytiri is injured and Jake won’t risk her or anyone else being hurt for him). They bring Spider’s mom along to keep him in line, and that final battle begins with Neteyam crashing the boat when he sees Lo’ak and Tuk on the deck at gunpoint. Instead of Lo'ak and Neteyam going to find Spider, it's Lo'ak and Ao'nung - who gets shot but lives. Paz also is shot on their escape route, and she does die on the rock in canon!Neteyam fashion. Instead of Jake and Neytiri having their “strong heart” talk, it's Neteyam and Spider.

“Spider, Spider! Hey! Look at me!” Neteyam grabs the boy’s face and stares into his black eyes. They look more dead now than ever before. “I need you with me! And I need you to be strong," He places his hand over the Spider's heaving chest, "Strong heart! We have to help find my sisters. No one else dies today.”

Queue Spider going on an absolute rampage on the ship because he’s losing his mind, and Neytiri, Ronal, and Tonowari having simultaneous breakdowns because they knew humans were dangerous, but why is this one blue and disappearing into thin air.

I don't know what would happen after that, but it was a fun thought.

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Some replies! About our Crewel/Deuce art from yesterday + other TWST-related things (and one about OHSHC).

Anonymous asked:

nothing really special to say, but i wanted to let you know that your art has been helping me to draw more!! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ i have a big issue of hating my art, but seeing your passion for your work motivates me to work through it so i can get good at it instead of giving up, so thank you a lot i love what you do!!!!

Anon, this is so sweet ;w; I am so happy to hear that my work motivates you, it truly means a lot! I hope you’ll keep drawing and will enjoy the process of creating art more and more with every new sketch. Passion is one of the most important things when it comes to any kind of art.

Thank you! This is honestly one of the best things to hear.

icedefloweringtornado asked:

I have your blog set to notifications so all I see a lot of the time is the limited description. Today's 'good boy' had me just all oh is it going to be Idia? One of my hearts boys? Deuce. The goodest not goodest boy.

First of all, ahhh thank you so much for having notifications on, this is so nice of you!

Second of all, yeah, there are a lot of pretty good boys in twst lol some of them are only good when they are being bullied (Idia)… and some of them are the goodest not goodest like Deucey <3

Anonymous asked:

Your latest post?? Deuce/Crewel art has actually made my brain explode. I feel like a fool for not even thinking of them as a ship. You (plural) truly do just have the best takes in this fandom.

Deuce, the bad-boy-trying-to-be-good has always struck me as someone very, very eager to please. Then you have Crewel, the strict professor who puts students' in their place with a little *too* much abuse of power. The unequal power dynamics of professor and student? Delicious.

Lowkey, I imagine Deuce would be so used to obeying "commands" at some point another student would just say a command jokingly and Deuce automatically follows the command without second thought before realizing what the hell he is doing.

Thank you so much, Anon!! Whenever I draw these two, we think about how the hell did it take us this long to consider this ship. They are so horrible (=amazing) together… It feels so obvious, and yet…

Deuce is super eager to please and naive enough to be lured into something very dangerous. It’s so fun that he is genuinely trying, but somehow he still ends up in iffy situations. But it’s one thing when it’s Ace’s antics that put him in trouble, but Divus abusing his power is a whole other can of worms. There is no authority figure to help Deuce out this time. It’s super imbalanced, and Deuce is way too easy to take advantage of. Perfection :”)

Ohh, but well-trained puppy Deuce reacting to a command said by some other student…. A pavlovian response 😭 Let’s hope this is just “sit” or “paw” or something and not something spicier…

Anonymous asked:

AAAA THE CREWDEUCE 😍😍💞💞💞 THANK YOU RYUU FOR THE FOOD!!!!!! We need more Sensei ships up in here TBH

You’re very welcome and thank youuu!! Totally agree!

irregardlessly-tish asked:

I began the Glorious Mascarade event and every new facet of Rook's personality and identity is just... What even is this guy? He was just speaking some French words as he always does and someone else said "oh yeah, you're from this area right?" and he's like "No, I'm from the Savanna :)". So, you're telling me he's a fake? A poser? Some kind of weeb but for twisted France instead of Japan??? All this time he's been just the equivalent of someone being "omg >w< that's so kawaii desu ne~ owo!!". I always knew he was a freak and a weirdo (lovingly), I just didn't consider the extent of it... He's a normal weeb, all the signs were there with his idol obsessions... I was just too blind to see...

Ohh, I hope you’re enjoying it, Tish! It’s one of the best events, in my opinion.

“What even is this guy” IS SUCH A GOOD WAY TO DESCRIBE ROOK LOL The more you learn about him, the more questions you get: the fuck do you mean “I’m from Savanna”??? Your family does what for a living??? You can do what with your body??? It’s always like that with him. Even though he is very honest, he is also so fucking fake in a lot of ways. He really is just a Twisted France weeb …

I really wonder what made him love French so much. But then again, I feel like if we learn the reason behind it, it’ll leave us with 5 more questions about this weirdo lol

Anonymous asked:

i know you said the shadows in the deuce and epel skirt art belong to mobs but hear me out…it the other freshmen…freshmen gangbang

(this is about this drawing)

Very valid thought, Anon, I honestly wouldn’t be surprised with how horny some of the other freshmen students are… I feel like if you leave the freshmen all alone unattended, at some point this is the scenario that they are going to end up in.

Anonymous asked:

Random, but imagine a Scott pilgrim AU, but with Twist:

Oh, you want to date, Idia? Then you'll have to beat his 7 evil exes: Azul, the Tweels, Lilia, Sebek, Ortho, Eliza.

((Not sure if you heard/read Ghost's marriage event, but this is where Eliza appeared. Basically, she had an obsession with Idia, lmao))

Anon! This is a very good idea, and funny thing is, we had a sketch about Idia and his 7 evil exes lol I can’t post it here because it’s ko-fi exclusive (if you have access to our ko-fi, here is the post link; sorry, the access to one specific post can’t be purchased separately), but yeah this is basically this line-up minus Eliza, plus Trey. Ace plays Scott’s role… poor Idia, it’s probably so weird for him to be the manic pixie dream boy with 7 exes, he has no fucking clue how he ended up like this.

(Haven’t watched Ghost marriage yet, but I’m excited about it; we’re saving it for later just because it’s guaranteed to be a great even for us lol)

Anonymous asked:

smth I'm just curious Abt, have you seen/heard of ohshc??

Yes, of course! OHSHC was one of the titles we watched back in middle school even before we met each other, so it’s been a while… and it’s been a while since our last rewatch of it…

But still, it’s an amazing comedy that we quote a lot to this day. Theatre of (Tamaki’s) Mind, Homosexual supporting cast, I’m making a hamster home; all of it is so stupid and lovely lol

We tried to find the latest sketch of Tamaki and Kyoya from several years ago, but holy shit we don’t remember the year we drew it lol so I guess no sketches! Well, a reason to draw it all over now that my art looks better anyway.

[simplytheevebest]

Farah the Fern AU

Chapter 8: Farah's giving Saul the silent treatment.

So I'm in the shower this morning and my brain said "haha what if you wrote something for Farah the Fern" and I said "wouldn't that be nice, if only I had the inspiration" and my brain said "jot this down" and I damn near rushed out of there with soap still in my hair because when the muse talks, you listen, quick.

So we all collectively lost our minds at those photos of Eve in Mexico right? The hair, the dress, the vibe, it's everything. I'm gonna scream.

Farah the Fern Masterlist

“Farah please.”

Saul’s been kneeling on the floor so long he’s either lost feeling or he’s numb to the ache. He’d paced a bit earlier, but wasn’t sure if that came across more aggressive, his towering over her like that. So instead he kneels before the coffee table, devoted and apologetic for whatever sin he’s committed. The fern is unresponsive, not a twitch of leaves to show she’s listening, nor even the re-furling of the fronds to show she’s not. She hasn’t turned into a cactus though, which Saul takes as a good sign. He just wishes he knew what he’d done to get the silent treatment.

“I’ll make it up to you if only you tell me what I’m trying to make up,” Saul pleads. He’s not above begging, not when it’s Farah. Maybe asking is part of the problem, maybe this is one of those “you should know why you’re apologizing” issues, and his ignorance is fuel to the fire of her ire.

“I’m sorry, for whatever it is. I didn’t mean it. Or I do mean it, whichever makes you less mad,” Saul tries, knowing he’s either digging himself deeper into a hole, or out: either way, he’s digging.

“What are you doing?”

Saul turns his head to the door, where Farah leans against the frame, arms folded loosely around her middle.

“I’m trying to figure out why you’re mad at me,” Saul answers automatically, then does a double takes, stands so abruptly his cramping legs fail him. He knocks into the coffee table and almost knocks over the not-Farah fern, then is forced to clutch at the nearest armchair, pins and needles lancing up and down the numb appendages. He rubs at them, twisting his neck up to look at her, standing there with her lips pressed thin together and her eyes lit with mirth, then back to the unresponsive fern on the table almost accusingly.

“How long have you been talking to that fern?” Farah asks, and she’s not even trying to hide the tremulous undercurrent of laughter in her tone.

“Depends, how long have you not been a fern?”

“Since this morning,” Farah steps fully into the room, “The girls wanted my opinion on something and I had some magic reserved so I thought I’d make a day of it.”

“‘Bout that long then,” Saul says a little sheepishly, “I thought you were just ignoring me, I got back from the morning training and you- er, it wouldn’t respond to me.”

“And I thought we’d spend a pleasant afternoon together, I never dreamed I’d find you enthralled by another plant. Should I be offended, or jealous?” Farah teases, coming to stand close enough she can straighten the wrinkled lines of his shirt. Unnecessary, because it’s just a t-shirt, not some nice buttoned up thing he has to worry about the appearance of. But she does this, or she’s been doing this, finding little excuses to initiate physical contact when she’s back to her old self. Saul knows she misses it, when she’s not her old self.

“Neither, your fronds are nicer,” Saul teases back, and Farah bats at his chest with a tsk. He reaches up to toy with a bit of her hair: it’s been a while since she’s stood before him like this, and the caramel has lightened to more of a butterscotch.

“Your hair’s lighter,” Saul comments, and Farah huffs.

“I think I’ve been getting too much sun.”

“I like it,” Saul grins and leans in a little, not enough, but clear in his intent, “How much longer have you got?”

“At least until tomorrow morning,” Farah answers; she slides her arms around his neck in a practiced, easy motion at the same time Saul steps closer, hands on her hips.

“Good, clearly I’ve got to make up for lost time.”

“You sure it’s me you want to spend time with? Not your other fern friend?” Farah teases and Saul kisses the tip of her nose; she scrunches it in response.

“You’re the only fern for me,” Saul retorts and Farah bursts out laughing.

[sgtjamesrogers]

Been Too Unkind

Rated: T | roy x jamie | post episode: 0308: We'll Never Have Paris [also on ao3]

Roy’s alarm goes off at 3:40 am the Monday after their Sunday match right on schedule, and when he rolls over to his nightstand and switches it off, the next notification is a reminder from his calendar. 

After his eyes adjust he sees ‘PHOEBE DAY’ in all caps, with three swords emojis and a snake emoji after it. Roy had let her pick out the emojis. 

“Fuck.” He sits up out of bed in the dark, fiddling thick-fingered through his phone to press Jamie Tartt’s contact and then ‘call’. It occurs to him, his brain slowly waking up as he listens to the line ring, that he could have sent a text. Jamie is always awake and ready to go now when Roy shows up for training, these days. 

Too late, Jamie’s already picking up before Roy can think too hard about it. 

“...Coach?” He yawns into the phone from the other end. “You’re like, forty minutes early. And calling me. You don’t call me. Did you get hit by a car on your way? Nah, no you didn’t. You’d still show up, wouldn’t you, holding someone’s bumper and saying summat like ‘Move your ass Tartt, I have some new weight training for you to do’.” 

He sounds sleep-raspy but still manages to tip some more gravel into his voice for his Roy impression. Tragically, it’s not half bad. 

“Was that supposed to be me?”, is what Roy says out loud. “You made me sound like Eeyore.” 

“Ain’t that you?” Jamie responds breezily, the sound of a tap running water into a glass somewhere in the background. “Anyway, what’s going on? I haven’t even mixed my pre-workout yet.” 

“Oh, right,” Roy says, and then continues gruffly, “I’ve got my niece today, she’s off school. We’ll have to cut training short.” 

“Can’t you just strap her into a baby bjorn and we’ll take her with?” Jamie asks, the clatter of his blender bottle like a cup full of Yahtzee dice. “She’s like, two, isn’t she? How much could a toddler weigh? Two stone at max, I bet.” 

“No?” Roy says, making a face. “Add five years to that. She’d hate it, and her legs are too long.” He shoves his sheets off, his free hand automatically feeling out the muscles above his knee like he’s making sure he has enough gas in the tank of his car. They feel loose enough, so he hefts himself out of bed.  

There’s a long pause before Jamie smacks his lips into the phone receiver, the prick. Roy can almost smell the neon green sour whatever of his pre-workout. “Hold on, I might have something else.” 

---

Fair is fair: the pedicab driver is easier to bribe than Roy expected. 

Or perhaps ‘easy’ isn’t exactly the correct term, seeing as Jamie’s pocket ended up roughly five hundred pounds lighter by the time the driver seemed satisfied enough to hand over the cab to them, followed by a warning that he had a GPS marker tacked on, so ‘no funny business!’ 

“What funny business would we do with a cycle rickshaw anyway?” Jamie asks, turning to put his words over one shoulder.

The little shit’s not even out of breath yet; pedaling with his elbows propped lazily on the handlebars as he prepares to make a righthand turn at the next intersection. 

“Oh, I dunno, scamming tourists hundreds of pounds for fucking taxi rides while playing whatever this is—” The inlaid speakers on the passenger wagon are vibrating faintly as they play a hellacious club remix of Karma Cameleon. “—at top volume with stupid flashing lights and feather boa trim, that sounds like funny business to me, fucking HELL!” 

The wagon of the pedicab lists dangerously to the left side as Jamie takes the corner too quickly, the shiny silver Jaguar behind them honking repeatedly and at length. As soon as Roy feels like he’s not going to slide right out of the cab and go rolling across the pavement like he’s an extra in John Wick, he twists around to give the Jag’s driver the finger. 

“If you get me killed, I’m killing you next,” Roy says shortly, checking his phone. A quarter to nine. “Take a left up here.” 

Unfortunately for Roy, Phoebe is just as ecstatic as he thought she might be when they pulled up. 

“Uncle Roy! I always wanted to ride in one of these, Mum always says they’re not for us, they’re for fleecing tourists.” She hops up into the wagon of the pedicab next to Roy, bouncing a little with excitement on the seat. 

“That’s exactly what they’re for,” Roy says. “Tartt’s gonna pedal us around as part of his training, then we’ll get late breakfast at McDonald’s. Sound good?” 

Turning around on his bicycle seat, Jamie gives her a jaunty little salute and a grin. “I’ll be your driver for today, miss. Any musical requests or sights you wanna see, you just let me know.” 

Phoebe looks from Roy to Jamie skeptically and back again. Roy helplessly remembers every time he’s complained about Jamie Fucking Tartt while utilizing every curse under the sun, as well as making up some of his own curse words. Like a deranged Looney Tune. He gives her a wincing sort of smile in return. 

Roy’s niece turns primly back toward Jamie. 

“Do y’have any Little Mix or Jorja Smith?” 

---

They make it through the DNA album and get partway into Salute before Roy takes pity on Jamie and has him stop in front of the McDonald’s on Eden. It’s not quite mid-morning and there’s a shambling group of uni students already queued up inside, looking so violently hungover for a Monday at 10 am that even Roy feels a little nauseously sympathetic. 

Roy sends Jamie inside and attempts to send his card with him, but Jamie waves him off with a roll of his eyes. 

“Put that away old man, I’m good for three McMuffins,” he laughs before heading inside to join the crowd. Roy doesn’t realize until after Jamie’s walked off that he didn’t even try to fight him on it. There’s something a little discomfiting about that, but Roy can’t exactly put his finger on why. 

“Is he your new Keeley?” 

Roy whips around to look at Phoebe so quickly that he feels a crick in his neck. She’s looking up at him with a squinting expression, not quite unimpressed so much as mystified. 

“No one could replace Keeley,” he says quickly, something like a little minnow of panic swimming through his guts while he looks at her. 

Even the fucking abstract concept of Keeley brought up unexpected is calling to mind standing in the Nelson Road car park and feeling words rolling out of his mouth like vomit while he asked for details he did not need, because he’d let himself think that assuaging his own culpability was more important than her privacy. If he hadn’t deserved her before, he certainly didn’t now.  

Roy takes as deep a breath as he can, and rights himself. He looks at Phoebe sideways. She deserves to have a Keeley, even if he doesn’t. “Is that what you think I’m doing?” Just like Jamie, she rolls her eyes at him. 

“That’s not what I mean. Mum says old people don’t really use ‘boyfriend’ or ‘girlfriend’.” Her expression goes a little disapproving. “Boys can like boys, Uncle Roy. Don’t be silly on purpose.” 

Roy puts his hands up in exasperated surrender. “I know that boys can like boys. Girls can like girls, for that matter.” 

Phoebe crosses her arms. “Obviously. Keeley and Jack took me to the Science Museum last weekend. Her new Uncle Roy,” she adds, confidentially. 

Closing his eyes, Roy counts to ten. Considers praying. “You didn’t call her that, did you?” 

Worryingly, Phoebe doesn’t address that question. Instead, she looks inside the McDonald’s, and Roy follows her gaze. Jamie’s waiting for their food, and while Roy and Phoebe look on he visibly checks their order number on the ticket in his hand and compares it with the orders on the overhead screen. They watch him do it three more times in the next minute, as if he’s concerned he might have forgotten their number. 

“See! You’re smiling!” Phoebe accuses him before he can look away. He looks down at her and resists the urge to clap a hand over his own mouth. 

“I’m allowed to fucking smile,” Roy grumbles. 

She crosses her arms, her earlier prim expression returning. It reminds him of Keeley when she knows she’s one hundred percent correct and is being horribly polite about it while she waits for Roy to figure it out. 

“He’s different than you said,” she hedges. “He hasn’t been a selfish moronic cunt or a shallow fucking idiot this entire time.” She pauses. “There was one more you used to call him a lot, but I can’t remember it. It was really good, too.” 

“You should probably forget the first two as well,” Roy says ruefully with a sigh. “...alright, he is different than he used to be. I’ll give you that.” It’s something that Roy knows in an abstract sort of way, but having his niece call it to his attention brings back that discomfited feeling from earlier. 

Before he can get any more words out, Jamie’s back and distributing wrapped sandwiches. He pauses when he hands one off to Roy, tilting his head. 

“Why’re you looking at me like I just shot your dog?” He shoots a horrified look at Phoebe as soon as the words are out of his mouth. “I mean—” Jamie attempts a smile as he reaches back into the bag and offers her a bottle of Tropicana. “Orange juice?” 

“I like this one,” Phoebe says decisively to Roy, nodding at Jamie as she accepts it. 

After breakfast, they head to the park and give the pedicab a rest. Phoebe sprawls on the grass reading The Phantom Tollbooth while Roy has Jamie run drills in the springtime overcast sunlight, and Roy feels prickly with awareness in a way he hadn’t before. 

It’s as if his eyes are independent of his brain, and they just keep noticing. The bunch of Jamie’s shoulders. The tendons that leap out at the back of his hands as they flex. The wrinkle of his nose as he uses his shirt sleeve to wipe his face. 

Roy’s not quite angry that he’s noticing all of this, but perhaps it’s frustration that it’s happening now. He’s had all the time in the world—from their shared locker room to now—to see these things and now his brain is treating them like an I Spy sort of puzzle book. 

“Show me that one again,” Roy says after he’s sat next to Phoebe to check in on her reading, “It needs to be quicker.” 

“And I thought you weren’t even paying attention, Coach,” Jamie tosses out with a grin, but dutifully runs through it as directed. 

Roy wishes he wasn’t paying attention. 

---

“Alright, what do you say to Tartt, then?” Roy prompts as she exits the pedicab and starts hopping up Roy’s front steps. The midday sun is high overhead as the clouds part for a few minutes, and Roy figures he ought to make her lunch from home after having fast food breakfast. 

“Thank you Jamie for pedaling us around and also for the McDonald’s,” she sing songs. Her clear plastic backpack clunks against her back as she waits for him at the door, hopping on the balls of her feet. 

Jamie grins as he gives her the same cheeky salute from this morning. Roy tries not to look at him too hard where he’s sprawled across the handlebars again. “You are very welcome, a girl with good music taste is always welcome in my cab.” 

“You don’t have a cab,” Roy grouses as he follows after her. “You half-borrowed, half-stole this one.” He’s halfway up the steps and expecting a joke, a retort, even a goodbye—anything but a hand on his elbow, halting his movement. 

Roy looks back at Jamie. Down at the hand on him like it’s a wet tentacle wrapping around his arm. Back up at Jamie. 

He’s not even bothered, the fucker. He just points down at Roy’s shoes. 

“Laces are undone. You can’t afford a fall, grandad. That’s when they all start going, you know. Real dark ‘beginning of the end’ business.” Jamie lets him go, and Roy relaxes. He’s in the clear. 

Jamie takes a knee at Roy’s feet. Bending forward, he grasps Roy’s dirty shoelaces and makes them into bunny ears before he ties them neatly and double knots them. 

While he’s bent over, Roy can’t stop staring at the tiny short hairs at the back of Jamie’s neck, at the barely there tan line from a necklace, at the faded roots of his highlights where they’re grown out from the crown of his head. 

Roy’s hands flex at his sides. 

After neatly and unnecessarily retying Roy’s other shoe, he looks up at Roy with a grin that crinkles his eyes. Roy feels like only weeks ago (months ago?), the sight of it made his blood boil and made him assign Jamie adjectives like ‘conceited’ or ‘arrogant wanker’.

Now he sees it spreading over Jamie’s lips and feels like he’s missed a step walking down the stairs. 

“There, all safe now.” 

Roy has never felt less safe, somehow. 

[sakuraryomen01]

Hii ! :) So I recently babysat a kid after class and he was CUTEST tHinG ever, he was sooo much fun- just a great kid. *sigh* So naturally, I thought "omg this would be so much more fun if Yuji was here, he would be SUCH a cutie pie and wtf he would also LOVE this kid!?" So naturally, my brain rotted to thinking about babysitting with him and I would really love to see your beautiful writing about it :)

Also, could you please make the reader gender neutral or use he/they prns if you are going to use prns. I would appreciate it so so much!!! jdijfknefioj

lmao sure, lov! ^^ it has been a while but i was thinking of a small fluff drabble with lots of teasing lol

babysitting w/ itadori / itadori yuuji x gn reader /

#warnings: fluffy yuuji . babysitting child!megumi . some teasing from yuuji . pure fluff/sfw . grammer and/or spelling mistakes [maybe?] . lowercased throughout . megumi was hit with a curse that makes him physically a child . some teasing

#plot: a request read- reader and yuuji itadori babysit megumi after he got hit by a curse. he's turned into a child, physically; but he's still the same stoic megumi we all know and love u.u

#reader: gender neutral (gn) reader; use of they/them or he/them pronouns

#words: 997

#a/n: thank you lovely reader for sending a request! hope you enjoy ur gn!reader drabble ^^

#posted: 12/08/2022

. . .

Thank you for reading this bit! Enjoy!

"so gojo-sensei said for about an hour or so, right?" yuuji's tone was soft and quiet as he leaned over to whisper in your ear. "it's been almost thirty additional minutes. i'm getting extra pay for this, right?"

you slapped his arm as he laughed, looking over at the child you were told to babysit for the day. megumi fushiguro.

sadly, he was hit with a body-reduced curse during a mission and has become a child. he's still mentally the same stoic and proud fushiguro, just in a small package. and yuuji's been teasing him about it ever since you and him had come back to Jujutsu Tech with Megumi in your arms.

"you two know you don't need to babysit me, right?" megumi scoffed, looking up at his two classmates with annoyance. "i'm fifteen, just in a child's body."

"oh c'mon, fushiguro!" yuuji pouted, making you giggle. "y/n and i were kind enough to spare our time to keep you safe and fed!"

"yuuji, shut up." you sighed, standing from your spot on the sofa and heading to the kitchen to grab some snacks. the distant chatter of the two boys bickering making you smile.

sure, you didn't expect to be spending time with your boyfriend taking care of a child megumi, but it was fun. just a few minutes ago, yuuji managed to make megumi smile with a cheesy joke, although the smile didn't last long. grabbing some water bottles and some popcorn, you headed back into the living area of your sensei's home and sat back on the sofa next to yuuji.

pushing the bowl of buttery kernels into his lap, yuuji's eyes trained back on the movie you had put in. yuuji's arm automatically pulling you into his warm side, placing his hand on your hip and rubbing small circles over your clothes affectionately.

"who's she gonna get with?" you asked, glancing over as megumi sat on the couch with you both. "her boss or that assh- ...jerk roomate?"

"sigh.. you don't need to censor yourself either.." megumi mumbled to himself, grabbing some popcorn and looking over at you with a pout. "you spit profanities more than gojo-sensei."

"oi, that's.. hehe.. not true.." yuuji chuckled to himself, holding a hand over his mouth while he was trying to contain his giggles. "h-he doesn't.. hahaha! they doesn't curse that often!"

"stop laughing!" you whined, poking at your boyfriend's side with a blush tinting your cheeks. "it's not that funny!"

"c'mon, babe, i'm sorry," yuuj giggled, kissing your cheek as you turned away from him. "please look at me, i didn't mean it~"

with a sigh you turned back to your boyfriend with a pout on your lips, his soft and gentle kiss making you blush as he apologized more than once. "ok ok, i get it, just pay attention!!"

"to the movie, or you?" yuuji teased, making your blush worse and megumi chuckle. "aha, even fushiguro thought that was good!"

"'even fushiguro'?" said megumi, his small brow twitched. "is that supposed to mean something?"

"are you tuckered out, little guy?" yuuji's voice cooed, petting the young megumi's head. "getting sleepy from having too much fun?"

"shush," megumi's voice was quiet and mumbly as he rubbed his beautiful green eyes, lashes damp with sleepy tears. "i told you i'm not a child.. i'm just little right now."

with a smile, you picked up megumi with little fight and walked towards the bedroom, laying him down on freshly washed bed sheets, blankets and pillows. the warmth of the bed made megumi fall asleep almost immediately as his sore little body started to grow once again. the growing pains of a little boy becoming a young adult again corsing throughout megumi's limbs, chest, and head.

"i'll bring you something for the pains, alright?" you whispered, yuuji's honey eyes looking over your shoulder down at megumi.

he gave a small nod, closing his eyes and letting sleep overtake him as he fell into a dream. not one of darkness or nightmares like normal, but he had a restful sleep, leaving you and yuuji itadori alone in gojo-sensei's home.

"should we get going?" you asked in a hushed tone as you snuck over to the bedroom's exit.

"nah, i'm making sure i'm getting paid," yuuji jokes, nodding to your question and closing the bedroom door once you exited quietly. "we can call him later about how megumi was. thankfully, i didn't get attacked by his shikigami over all the teasing!"

"quiet down, ok?" you waved your hand before playfully slapping yuuji's shoulder, heading towards the home's exit in the living room. "i don't want to wake up fushiguro either."

"alright alright," yuuji sighed, grabbing his box of snacks and any trash before heading out the door with you trailing behind him.

at around 2 in the morning, your phone buzzed with a notification from your sensei about megumi.

but as it turned out, there was more than one simple text. it was a prolonged paragraph about how you shouldn't leave children alone even when they're asleep.

with a sigh, you sat up on your elbows in your bed and replied:

You: Gojo-sensei, it's 2am.. isn't it a little late to be getting upset rn?

Gojo-sensei: as your sensei it's my duty to make sure all punishments are dealt, even though i find them pointless! so, as punishment, you're not getting paid. neither is yuji-kun!!

rolling your eyes, you put your phone down and rested your head back onto your pillow, turning onto your side and snuggling into the warmth of yuuji's chest. he stirred in his sleep for a moment too as he got adjusted to your intrusion, his voice croaky and strained when he spoke.

"is he mad?"

"yes," you answered, growing weary and tired once again. "also, we're not getting paid."

you heard a chuckle, smiling to yourself at yuuji's cheerfulness even when it was so late. "that's fine, he's gonna pay with food next time."

a/n: hello lovely reader! i hope you enjoyed the small drabble even though it was a little goofy and more of a teasing one >< anyways, hope you enjoyed the read and the goofy stuff i wrote ^^

[inchidentally]

I have so many other things I want to focus on but my brain keeps deciding to write for my stupid F1 modern royalty au that absolutely no one needs !!

tw for dubcon - these are snippets from the carlando and dando parts only

“What? You cannot mean this, papa. You can’t. I won’t!”

Carlos Sr looks on as the attendants rapidly pack up his son’s trunk and cases.

“I can and you will, my son. The palace is sending a jet to Paris and we are leaving immediately by car to take a train from London. The less attention drawn before we are out of this grey country, the better.”

With that, Carlos Senior strode across the room and out the door.

Carlos collapses onto a chair, face in his hands. He doesn’t look up even when he hears the door open again moments later.

“Carlos.”

It isn’t Lando, but almost as bad. Carlos sucks in a breath and lifts his head to look Jon in the eyes.

“How much did you hear?”

“All of it. I followed you to Lando’s room - waited outside, trying to decide if I should… it doesn’t matter. Did-”

“No. We didn’t. He said no.”

Jon sags in relief but his face remains so awfully sad. Sadness looks all wrong on him.

“Were you just going to let him think you abandoned him when he refused to have sex with you?”

The laugh scrapes against Carlos’ lungs as it leaves them. It costs him everything to stand but Carlos has to show at least one person in this castle the respect they deserve. 

“Surely it’s better that way? He will heal faster if he hates me. Landito wasn’t made to feel hate for long. You will explain it all to him, yes?”

Jon tilts his head thoughtfully in a gesture so like Lando it makes Carlos’ heart bleed.

“I’m going to explain it all, but I’m going to tell him the truth. It’s what he deserves.”

Carlos nods. It is far more generous than he deserves. Jon is right, as always.

He holds out a hand but Jon draws him into a brief, tight hug instead. 

“You’re not a bad man, Carlos,” he says, keeping one hand on Carlos’ shoulder. “I hope that when all of this has blown over that you can be friends with us again.”

.

.

The blanket is a little scratchy but the earth beneath it is soft enough. 

Daniel’s kisses are different: deep, demanding, rough. It’s all Lando can do to keep up. After a while, his mouth simply remains open, tongue lifting to meet Daniel’s onslaught. His hands slide haphazardly through Daniel’s hair and against the muscle of his shoulder, a nervous giggle bubbling out of his throat where Daniel is kissing it.

“Your beard itches!”

He feels Daniel’s smile against his skin before his lips seal around a single point on Lando’s neck. His teeth dig in and he begins to suck hard. 

Lando’s wail seems to fill the air for miles.

His shirt has been opened at some point and Daniel’s calluses are lighting sparks up and down Lando’s torso. Thumbs flick at his nipples until they harden and are met with a warm, wet mouth. 

Lando writhes and their hips meet, closer together than he’d realized. It’s only the second time he’s felt a hard dick against his own and Daniel is wasting no time popping the button on Lando’s shorts. 

Wait. What’s happening? Wait. Wait.

His shorts and underwear are gone. 

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

“Daniel, I–”

“Shhh.” 

The warmth of a body over his feels grounding and Lando automatically wraps his arms around it. 

“Don’t worry, baby. Won’t be breaking any rules.”

Daniel returns to sucking on Lando’s neck when a hand slips between their bodies and slicks something wet onto both of their dicks. The sensation has Lando returning to full hardness so fast it makes his back arch. But where– ?

Then Daniel is above him, face shadowed and so intense he could be a stranger. He’s maneuvering Lando’s hips and guiding himself one-handed. For a second, Lando wants to drive his heel into Daniel’s shoulder on instinct. 

Then Daniel’s one hand is holding himself between Lando’s cheeks and the other starts jerking Lando in long, firm strokes. 

“Feels amazing, right?”

It does.

“Amazing,��� Lando whispers back in a daze. 

With the way their bodies are moving it looks so much like they’re really fucking. The danger only makes it feel sexier. Each time the head of Daniel’s dick catches as it passes over him, Lando has to dig his hands into his own hair to keep from begging to be fucked properly. 

He’s sure that’s why Daniel makes his thrusts shallower - why his eyes gleam even in the dim light of dusk settling around them. 

For just a split second, Lando imagines his thighs falling apart and being speared and filled without so much as a ring on his finger, the faces of church leaders gaping in shock at the crown prince taking it bare out on the red dirt of the Australian outback. He comes so violently it wracks his entire body. 

Unseen above, Daniel bucks against him and comes thick and hot and sudden. 

Damn. Wiping both hands on the blanket, Daniel begins mentally kicking himself. He hopes that will still be enough to do it.

The sky has gone fully dark and it’s time to leave before a search party is launched. He pushes himself to stand and shakes the ache from his wrist. The creeping sensation that he’s played this all wrong at the eleventh hour has him agitated.

“Come on, kid! Clean up and let’s get you back in one piece, yeah?”

But Lando remains lying down, slender ribs powering through deep breaths, hips twisted slightly where Daniel had left them. Not a soul in the vast wilderness around them bears witness to the band of stars reflected in Lando’s wide eyes. Some galactic pool spills over and covers his unlined brow in a sheen of moonlight like the ghost of a crown.

When he finally sits up, soft and naked below the waist, he laughs when Daniel throws a leg over the seat of his bike and has to adjust himself through his shorts. The smile Daniel sends back is confused but he laughs anyway. Lando wonders if it could be like this all the time.

Then it all goes promptly to hell.

Lando is wincing through the pain and trying to help. Daniel just keeps gritting out shit shit shit and jabbing at his mobile, totally lost to his own freakout. Lando gives up trying to reassure him and focuses on lying in a way that doesn’t make his shoulder feel like it’s on fire.

The jeep arrives and four men get out. Two of them carefully lift Lando into the backseat. One of them is holding a phone to Lando who babbles about it being all his fault, he had gotten distracted, didn’t follow the track of Daniel’s tires like he was supposed to, had gotten sloppy and fallen. The other one is interrogating Daniel. Why won’t Daniel look up so Lando can catch his eye?

–

The hospital room’s lights hurt his eyes. It’s easier to answer all the probing questions with them closed anyway. Hadn’t he answered everything truthfully like he’d been taught? He was always a weakling when it came to painkillers anyway. He sure hopes most of the graphic details won’t be repeated to mum and dad. How embarrassing.

There’s dad’s voice now.

“Oh, I’m going to kill him…”

—

“They have it all recorded, darling. Once they played him what you’d said in the hospital he gave in completely.”

Mum sniffles viciously and squeezes Lando’s hand tighter.

“He took the bribe and left without a word. Didn’t ask to apologize to you or even say goodbye.”

Lying in a pool of unnecessarily cheerful sunshine covering his bed, Lando can’t decide if he wants to cry stormily into his mother’s arms or ask her to leave so he can send one of the many desperate texts he’d begun to Daniel in the days since Lando had been flown back to England. 

Mum smiles sadly, as if reading his mind.

“He knew what he was doing, sweet one. You weren’t the first and likely won’t be the last.”

In the end, it isn’t really so shameful to sob against your own mother’s shoulder at twenty-two years old. 

—

For the second time in four years, Lando opens the daily briefing email from his senior advisor and is confronted with his former suitor’s arm around another man’s shoulders. Beside the young Dutch king, Daniel’s smile is broad and toothy. As if to torture himself further, Lando opens the last selfie they’d taken together. 

Daniel’s smile is exactly the same.

[heronoegg]

Rewatching the anime a little bit to refresh my mind and I dont know if it's just the anime but if I had to get rid of anything in the anime that annoys me the most it would be AND LISTEN TO ME READ IT HOW IM SAYING IT

the way they went about making Uraraka have a crush on Deku

It's so annoying to the point I dont wanna "fix it" I just want it gone.

It's kinda long what I have to say and if you like Uraraka/Deku this post probably isn't for you

See it would be fine if it wasn't her whole personality and if you dont agree with me that's fine but I just.. it's hard to watch them fail my girl.

My most annoying parts of it are definitely.

- when she was taking her exam with Aoyama and him bringing up mention of the fact she liked Deku made her lose all composeture in a situation like that. 13 was literally caught off guard that she let go and the only reason they won is because she didnt wanna rip the children apart using black hole or void or whatever her quirk is called.

-when shes fighting Himiko for the first time in the forest training arc shes in FULL ON ATTACK AND PROTECT TSU MODE she man handles Himiko to the ground and I'm rooting for her. Himiko all of a sudden brings up a love interest cause she can smell it on or in Uararka's blood or something that she knows she likes a person. This takes over Uraraka's mind and she leaves ATTACK PROTECT MODE and is blushing and confused like a yandere simulator when you see Senpai. like... why is this scene needed? We know Uraraka likes Deku why does it have to get in the way of Himiko potentially almost stabbing or ending Tsu's life right in front of Uraraka? They were in a fight, having feelings for your crush is not gonna automatically flip your brain into "☺ oh no I remembered I like him" she could have just been extremely confused and Himiko was talking about how she loves Stain the same way Uraraka apparently has feelings for Deku, this scene is only here to show us Uararka liking Deku is making her mess up and that's why later she says she'll put those feelings away and then doesn't put them away cause she allows this to be in the forefront of her mind, Mina even teases her about it later with the present Deku got her. There's nothing wrong with Deku getting her a present and her cherishing it but she keeps it in her arm shoot thingy and when Himiko stole it season 6 Uraraka chased her to get it back cause it meant a lot to her... if it meant a lot to you leave it home??? I'm not gonna bring my keychain I like a lot or something someone gave me to the battle field leave that home where you know its safe

-in movie 1 Uararka is first scene stuttering because she was eavesdropping in on Deku and Melissia having a normal conversation about the island expo. Momo and Jirou are angry for her for no reason because this is meant to be perceived as Deku "cheating" on Uraraka by hanging out with another girl and it really isn't, they were literally just geeking out about hero gear and being a hero I rewatched the movie with my friend a little bit and she said "it's easy to ship Deku with Melissa because I dont feel like it's being pushed in my face ''THEY LIKE EACHOTHER GIGGLE GIGGLE'' it literally just showed two people who are more alike than they knew cause they are both quirkless and geeks about heroes talking about geeky hero stuff. Your next thing is your gonna probably say I'm hating cause I ship Deku with Melissa, I dont care about shipping the characters I was just making a point I honestly really need Deku and Melissa to stay platonic and friends cause shipping them just isn't my tea but to each it's own, I'm not saying I hate Deku/Uraraka I'm just saying there was a better way to go about making them fall in love or have a crush on eachother cause so far into the forest training arc and onward it's one sided, Deku never really thinks about Uraraka the way she thinks about him next your gonna say but in the beginning Deku was crazy about her cause he was like "A GIRL TALK TO ME" when he came to UA and when he talk to her on the phone he was like "I TALK TO A GIRL ON THE PHONE!" He did say these things, girls dont talk to Deku, not in his old middle school not ever really, he's a 15 year old boy if a nerdy kid talks to a girl he's going to geek out about it cause that never happen before

-it's just hard in general to watch her say "I'm gonna put these feelings away cause they get in my way" and then she proceeds to not do that even when shes putting them away she keeps bringing it up or its shown that she clearly didnt "put them away" cause she's struggling to not think abo it Deku in every trial she faces. I kid you not I remember her saying "what would Deku do" the same way Deku says "what would Allmight do" and it's really annoying.

Thanks for coming to my tedtalk I just wanted to talk about this cause I dont really appreciate how her romance life is handled. If you like Deku/Uraraka power to you but I dont and I can only see them as friends and she had a crush on him but he friend zoned her