#ness cinematic universe

[sere-ness-ima]

Arguments against giving personifications a universal language (or another method of communicating with each other immediately and without any problem)

(Ok, this was a little clickbaity. First of all, I absolutely don’t intend to say that whoever does it is wrong. Like everything in Hetalia worldbuilding, it’s a matter of personal preference and goals we set for our story. Additionally I absolutely think that heavy focus on this matter would be detrimental for the story and unapproachable by audience other than a couple of crazy linguists.

Unfortunately I happen to be a crazy linguist, so here’s what I actually mean by this post:)

Fun linguistic things to consider in the context of Hetalia :D

Now, personally, I feel like the universal language takes away from the naturality of their relationships, *especially* so-called “first contact”, but not only that. Language is an enormous part of international relationships through the ages and removing this part from the equation results in the personifications not experiencing this side of their people’s history.

Sometimes in a story you don’t want two nations to understand each other. It happens. I’d much rather have choice than create a rule that takes this possibility from me.

The question of “which languages these two characters share” is interesting; it silently reminds of their history and points to cultural circles they belong to, as a subtle storytelling tool. (Other than that, deciding that is insanely fun, but this might be a linguist thing?)

Languages can be symbolic for other details of relationships. Think Lithuania speaking outdated Polish, from 19th century at best, because he didn’t have many opportunities to catch-up with the living language after that, now they’re not together with Poland anymore. [/personal hc, but even if they were, I think he’d still lag behind].

Another case, think a weaker country speaking the language of the stronger country, never the other way around, indicating a power imbalance between them.

Think a weaker country [personally I’m thinking a friend’s Serbia] absolutely refusing to speak the language of the stronger country, forcing them to seek compromises or use an interpreter or more drastic measures.

The lingua franca, whatever it would be, automatically carries a huge cultural and social influence with it. I believe the personifications should be prone to it too.

Another linguist thing, but I find communication struggles fascinating and endearing. There’s so much cultural exchange to be drawn from a second language user: which parts of learning are difficult for them, which are easy; what mistakes they make and how are these influenced by their native speech; what words do they choose to use, what do they think a chair’s gender is, do they sound soft or harsh or have an accent? If two Slavs talk to each other in English, is it correct English or do they use Slavic pronunciation and grammar to make it easier for themselves, causing a distress for each anglophone that hears them?

Another linguist thing, but a lot of pairs of countries that technically don’t have a common language can probably communicate with ease anyway. I want to see them go wild. I want to see them make a mixtape out of their French and Latin to talk to an Italian, I want distant Asian countries to talk to each other in English that no actual English person would understand, I want to see Latin America NOT understanding each other despite theoretically all speaking Spanish. And I want to see two distant countries find out that their only common language is something completely unexpected they’ve studied out of boredom.

I want to see the poor couple of nations without decent linguistic skills SUFFER.

Some of you speak like not having a common language was an unconquerable obstacle that would destroy all the fun and be a giant problem in the storyline. But I don’t really see how? Our ancestors did it. They travelled, they met other nations and they had to learn how to communicate with them. Some of them saw the opposite thing happen: they used to understand their neighbours without problem, but as the nations found themselves under different influences, the languages drifted away from each other until the similarities became unrecognizable. People across the ages have been learning languages, travelling and communicating. There are teachers, translators (my friend Laurynas says he’d like to see translators acknowledged), interpreters, etymology, lingua franca and body language all for them to use. I am not 25 yet and I speak 4, with a certain pain I can communicate in 6, and I could probably visit 100 countries of the world without worrying about the language issue at all. My nations are 100 years old. I just don’t think they need additional help. They'll slay :D

There were a couple ideas I’ve seen pro-universal language that I liked, so thought I’d share:

One, as beetroot said, being able to communicate with one personification doesn’t mean the countries wouldn’t have to learn languages, as the rest of the society wouldn’t be able to understand it. Therefore, most of these “fun linguist things” would appear anyway, just not between personifications. For me it’s a bummer, although acceptable. For someone else it can be more than enough.

Two, a quote from my friend Huku:

“Universal language is also a thing that helps them identify each other, which is a cool trick. It explains why, upon finding a personification in a swamp, the nation knows that this child is a personification and not some random mortal. Besides, nations from distant cultures also find it hard to communicate initially, because maybe the language is universal, but the context is foreign, the metaphors unreadable, the wording strange.”

Three, at first I didn't like morgenlich’s version that the language “can’t be written down because of magic”, but after seeing a suggestion that it wouldn’t be an actual language, just a mysterious way of understanding each other, the idea sounds more approachable to me. Cheers!

[sora-of-uranus]

All of those “team cap comes back and just live off Tony’s wealth without care for him until finally someone shuts them up” has the exact same vibe as all the suitors just eating Odysseus out of home during his 20 years away from home. Especially since Odysseus comes home and kills them all. I've read a couple fics were Tony either kills or exiles them (somehow idk the logistics of that ever truly happening in the mcu)

[scarystickers]

can we just restart the mcu cause all the characters i cared about either died, got horrible story arcs or a secret third option happened

[hollybell51]

here me out. Adam Warlock and sex pollen.

It's ok - one

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Part two

Adam Warlock x AFAB!Reader

Marvel Cinematic Universe, Guardians of the Galaxy vol. 3 (outside canon)

Word count: 4.6K

Summary: foreign flora has an unexpected effect on your human physiology.

Content: sex pollen and associated DUBCON, fuck-or-die, smut, maybe very slight perviness (but I don't think it's creepy or really triggering), Adam being down bad, SMUT. Gratuitous smut. Non-explicit masturbation, handjobs (kinda), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, Adam's a virgin, reader isn't, bit on angst, unresolved, there will be part 2. Maybe some out of character-ness, but it's hard cause he only had like 10 minutes screen time so what I've written is based on my own interpretation and what I've read since I watched the movie

Notes: I hear you anon! I actually haven't done sex pollen before, though I always found it kinda fun, so this was new to me. I actually wrote a part 2 which I'll post with this, and that's much of the same xx. Also sorry I haven't done anything in ages, I've been super under the weather and busy so I haven't really had time lmao. Anyways, have fun with this!

“Hey, did you get through those notes?” Your voice echoed in the stillness of the forest, seeming to bounce off the lush petals of the giant flowers towering overhead. The local flora was all supersized, bigger than anything Adam had ever seen, and filtered the harsh light of the planet’s nearest star in sickly sweet hues of pinks, greens, yellows and even blue. 

“Breathable atmosphere, mostly docile wildlife. Predators are nocturnal.”

“Ok, just… How much longer are we gonna be out here?” 

Adam turned, letting the machete you’d armed him with – “bush bashing. Gotta learn those life skills, huh?” – hang by his side. You were panting, face flushed and beaded with sweat as you planted your hands on your hips and frowned at him. Even like this, speckled with bright yellow and orange pollen and clearly uncomfortable, Adam couldn’t ignore the odd swooping sensation in his gut. It was like someone was constantly pulling a rug from under his feet. 

He checked the time displayed on the tablet. “Two hours. Maybe less. Are you ok?” 

You groaned, but nodded and walked the few paces to stand beside him. “Goddamn flower dumped its load all over me. You sure this shit is breathable?” 

The atmosphere. Right, you were joking about the humidity. “If you don’t mind a bit of a steam,” he tried, smiling at the short bark of laughter the remark conjured. 

You tapped his machete-holding hand, jerking your head towards the wall of fleshy greenery. “Nice. Let’s just get this over with.” 

Adam simply nodded. The falling feeling had been replaced by something warm and sticky, the simple touch and your laugh flowing like syrup to sit low inside him. It had been like this for a while now, since he’d started really talking to you, spending time with you, noticing things about you. Like your hair, now dusted with fiery plant spores and stuck to your forehead, and how it caught the lights of Knowhere just right when you sat down beside him to eat. Or the little wrinkles around your eyes and mouth when you smiled – really smiled. The High Evolutionary had disliked wrinkles and other physical signs of ageing, viewed them as imperfect and a blight on existence. Adam could have stared at yours all day. 

“Can I see that?” 

Again, Adam stopped and turned. You were craning at the tablet, your hand absently running around the collar of your suit. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Just… It’s really hot. Do you feel that?” 

Adam shrugged. Temperature wasn’t a huge concern to him, but you looked truly uncomfortable now. “Humidity can often make it feel hotter than it is.” 

“I know, but…” You grimaced, pulling your collar down further and wriggling your shoulders. “I feel really hot. Worse than before.” 

Adam frowned. He knew humans were often sensitive to their environment, much more so than was practical, but you seemed more affected than you should be. There were places on Earth hotter than the current reading, you’d told him that, so why were you–?

The comm on his wrist buzzed, Rocket’s voice crackling across the emergency frequency. “Warlock? You copy?” 

“Yeah,” Adam replied, still watching you. You were taking a semi-restrained drink from your flask, no doubt aware that it had to last the whole trek and back. 

“Is (Y/N) with you?” 

“Yeah, why?” As he watched, you held the back of your hand up to your forehead, then your cheek, then your neck. The suit still seemed to be bothering you. 

“Are you on the ground?” 

“Yes.” 

“You need to get out of there.” 

Adam didn’t think he was imagining the urgency in the raccoon’s voice, distorted as it was over the distance. He was in an entirely different corner of the galaxy, after all. “Why? What’s wrong?” 

A pause, then, “The flowers, they’re… uh, they’re kinda…” 

“They are very powerful aphrodisiacs!” Ah, Kraglin, just as worried-sounding as Rocket. “They can be harmful to humans!” 

Your other hand had joined the first on your face, but it didn’t seem to be doing a lot. You’d managed to get the zipper on your suit down, the neck pulled down to expose your shoulders and collar bones, the skin there just as flushed as your face. 

“What?” 

Rocket groaned, but Kraglin either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Aphrodisiacs,” he repeated. “If she breathes the pollen her body temperature will rise until she develops a fever, and if she doesn’t have sex she could die.” 

His entire (relatively short) life, Adam’s mother – and pretty much everyone else – had been more than generous in pointing out that he was lacking, that he was slower than he should be, that he was not up to the same speed as they were. It was because he’d left the cocoon early, he knew that, but he’d never really felt that much slower. Maybe a little, but he’d always understood where he’d gone wrong and why. This was totally different. For the first time, Adam felt like he was lagging behind. 

“What?” he asked again. “What do you mean if she doesn’t have sex she’ll die?” 

“Makes ya horny, genius. Means what exactly that. Fuck or die.” Rocket took over, clearing his throat. “I’m reading off the notes, bit further down. It’s small, so you might have missed it. It says it works normal for most species, but humans are more fragile so…” 

Yes, that made sense. Adam couldn’t remember that in what he’d read, but he’d also been distracted by your legs slung across his and the little wrinkle that had appeared between your brows as you’d carefully packed your bag, sliding everything perfectly into place. He’d wanted to just reach across and run his thumb over the line, smooth it away forever. 

Now, that same bag thudded as it hit the ground and you frantically fanned yourself, eyes closed. There was no telling if you’d heard the conversation, but Adam didn’t want to waste time finding out. 

“Ok, I’ll, uh, get her back to the ship.” 

“She ok?” 

He paused for a moment, then settled on, “yeah, she’ll be fine.” 

“You got this, golden boy.” The radio crackled and fell silent, and that was that. What a great help. 

“(Y/N)?” he ventured, picking up your pack. “Did you get all that?” 

You nodded, wriggling to get the zipper further undone. Your back was beaded with sweat, and in any other circumstance, maybe Adam would have let himself dwell more on the soft contours of your spine, the roll of your shoulder blades, the harsh line of your bra strap in contrast to your smooth skin. 

“I’m really… It’s so hot, holy shit. Why’s it gotta be so hot?” 

“I think that’s the fever bit. Come on, we should get back.” 

You drew a sharp breath when his hand met your back, your whole body tensing. 

Adam withdrew at light speed. “Sorry, I didn’t–” 

“No,” you cut him off, “no, it’s fine. I’m fine.” 

“Ok.” 

It couldn’t have been more than half an hour since you’d set out, but it felt like a long time to get back. You were slower, for one, stumbling and muttering apologies whenever you became disorientated – which was often – and wriggling like your clothes were full of insects. Your breath came heavy, your skin becoming more and more flushed as you drew closer to the ship, and you looked so uncomfortable it made something twist inside Adam. 

“I heard it,” you panted, stepping clumsily over a root. “What Kraglin said.” 

“Oh,” was all Adam could think of. 

“You don’t— You shouldn’t— You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” 

“Hey, no, it’s ok. You’ll be ok.” 

“I’m– fuck, Adam.” 

“You’ll be ok, (Y/N). We can sort this out.” 

“I don’t wanna force you to do anything–” 

How cruel could the Universe be? Adam wondered as he patted your shoulder – then regretted it when you stumbled. You were the first person he’d really wanted anything with, the first person he’d thought about and imagined and, dare he say it, fantasised about, and now you were worried you were going to somehow hurt him or make him do something he didn’t want to. It was sweet, bitterly so, and ironic enough to feel like a punch in the stomach. If anyone should be worried, it should be him. After all, how were you ever going to look at him the same way after this? How was he going to look at himself the same way?

“I’m so…” You broke off as you emerged into the clearing where the ship was parked, a sob – relief or something else, Adam couldn’t tell – torn from you. 

Your legs were shaking now, your skin so hot Adam could feel it through the material of your suit. He helped you quickly aboard, avoiding your eyes as you peeled the suit from your shoulders and pushed yourself against the cool wall. The pollen still lay over your hair and clothes, insultingly cheerful and innocent. 

He sighed. “We should get rid of that.” 

“Huh?” 

“The suit. It’s got pollen all over it.” 

“Oh, right.” You said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, peeling the material from your body without a second thought. Well. Adam hadn’t expected that. Trying not to watch as you sunk down to the floor, he shoved the offending clothing into the disposal to be dealt with later. 

“You should probably take a shower. There’s pollen in your hair and… on you.” 

You nodded, legs pressed firmly together, arms spread over the cool surface at your back. “Yeah, sure, I… Can you… Fuck, Adam, I’m sorry I—” 

“It’s ok, (Y/N), don’t worry.” It felt like a ridiculous thing to say, but seemed to help a little. “What do you need me to do?” 

“I need…” You trailed off in a low whimper, your legs shaking now. You didn’t even seem to notice you were in nothing but your underwear. “I…” 

Again, that twisting feeling. “Do you want me to come with you?” 

“Yes.” The word fell from your lips with a relieved sigh, your head tipping back. 

So Adam went with you, helping you into the tiny decontamination spray shower, trying to avoid touching you as much as possible – not for lack of trying on your part. You seemed to gravitate towards him, pressing your body into his hands wherever they lay, leaning hard against him. Your breath was still laboured, your face still pink, but it seemed less painful now that you had direction and were free of the suit. You’d stopped wriggling, anyway. 

You sighed as you sank down to the floor, your fingers vice-like around Adam’s. His free hand found the taps easily, turning on a cool jet and directing it to the pollen in your hair. It flowed down your neck and shoulders, an orange river spiralling into the drain. 

“I’m sorry,” you said for what must have been the millionth time, your own free hand pressed between your legs, tension radiating from every line of your body. “I’m so sorry, Adam.” 

“Hey, no, don’t be. It’s going to be ok.” He crouched, ignoring the water as he reached across to lay a hand on your forehead. You practically whined at the contact, your fingers tangling even harder with his, skin hot despite the cold water. 

“(Y/N)?” he said softly. 

“Hm? 

“Rocket, uh… Rocket said the pollen’s an aphrodisiac.” 

“Yeah, I – fuck – I know. Trust me.” 

“He said it works, um, strongly on humans.” Adam paused, heart pounding. Why did it have to be you, of all people? And why him? “If you don’t,” he continued, “you know… The fever might get high enough to kill you.”

“Oh fuck, come on!” Water sprayed where your foot slapped the shower floor, your voice echoing. 

Adam had never felt worse about anything. “I’m sorry, I should have checked the notes first, I didn’t even consider–” 

You didn’t seem to care. “So now I’m gonna overheat and die?” 

“Unless you have sex. With someone.”

Your head thudded on the wall, a sob flopping wetly from your throat. “Fuck this. Does it have to be with someone? Will it work if I just… do it myself?” 

“Uh, actually, I don’t know. Maybe.” He paused, unsure, then, “Do you want to try?” 

“Yeah, yeah I—” You took a shuddering breath, blinking through the water dripping over your face. “Yeah.” 

Adam nodded, standing. “I’ll… I’ll be around. If you need anything.” 

“Thanks.” It was barely a whisper, so wretched it made his heart hurt. You released his hand, and he turned quickly to leave you alone, your relieved moan following him out the door. Adam didn’t like this, not at all. You weren’t quiet, though he supposed that wasn’t your fault, and he hated, really hated the heat your moans and gasped curses sparked in him. It was wrong, so wrong, and he should not be here. But he couldn’t leave you. 

“Fuck, fuck oh my God–” you cried eventually, a wet thud echoing through the wall. “Oh my– fuck fucking fuck!” 

Adam listened carefully, unsure whether or not he should…

“Adam?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I don’t…” You broke off in a sob, genuine fear lacing your voice. “Fuck.” 

“(Y/N)?” He stepped back into the shower, pausing only for a moment to take in the mess that was you. Your hand was still between your legs, thighs spread wide, panties crumpled in a wet bundle in the corner and your bra pulled halfway down your torso. In any other situation, it would have been the hottest thing Adam had ever seen. 

“I can’t… It didn’t work, I’m still so hot, why am I so goddamn hot?” 

Adam cursed as he crouched beside you, taking your free hand only a little gingerly. He cursed fate and circumstance, himself for not reading the notes properly, Rocket and Kraglin for not miraculously having a cure, and you for still looking so fucking beautiful while you were quite literally dying. He swore that if – when – he and you got out of this, he was going to burn that whole jungle. 

“We’ll fix this,” he assured you, gently rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. 

You sighed at the contact, shifting closer. 

He frowned. “Is that…?” 

“Feels better when you touch me,” you murmured. 

That was going to haunt his dreams, he just knew it. This whole ordeal was going to haunt him, and probably not in the way it should have. He already knew he’d be seeing your shoulders silky with the water, your back slicked with sweat and the smooth curve of your thigh for months, let alone everything else. Wrong wrong wrong wrong, he reminded himself. 

“Do you…” He stopped. It was absurd. It was wrong. It was not something he’d ever live down. 

Your eyes were open, overly bright and dark with want, searching his face like he held all the answers. You were still so flushed, hair plastered to your forehead and dark with the water, lips parted and so, so pink. 

“Do you want to have sex with me?” 

“Yes.” The syllable was torn from you, ragged and desperate, followed quickly by another sob. You shook your head. “I don’t want to pressure you, don’t wanna make you do something you don’t want to.” 

He could have laughed. How were you still so focussed on that of all things? It brought that syrupy feeling back, only now it was darker, hotter, and tinged with guilt. 

“It’s ok,” he said softly. “(Y/N), it’s ok. Don’t worry.” He carefully moved his hand to your face, pushing the wet hair off your forehead. 

You leaned into it as you had before, your eyes closed. “Then yeah, I… Fuck, Adam, I want you so bad. You have no idea how much I want you.” 

It wasn’t you. Not really. He did his best to ignore the spread of the tingling warmth, his own want, as he helped you to your feet and did his best to dry you – again, as gently as he could. You just let him, casting your bra away when he paused at it, still struggling to stand and trying your best to get as close to him as you could.

Vaguely, Adam wondered how the hell this would actually work. He hadn’t had a lot of experience with much of anything before he met you and the other Guardians, let alone sex, and he had no idea if you had either. He somehow doubted you were in the same position as he was – you were gorgeous, after all, and so friendly it was a wonder he hadn’t ended up head over heels for you sooner. 

He really wished this wasn’t happening. He wished you really did want him, that he’d worked up the guts to ask Quill about Gamora and how that had gone before he’d taken off, then told you about his feelings properly. If he’d gotten that far, he was sure you’d have shown him how it went with the same patience and care you’d shown him everything, and he’d have liked to have taken his time. He’d have liked to kiss you, touch your pretty hands and hold you close, feel you all over and let you take the lead, tell you about the things he thought about you and everything you did to him. 

But it was happening, and you were probably not going to want to talk to him after it had run its course. At least you’d be alive.

You’d stumbled to a bed – one of the standard fold-out ones – beside him, and now he sat you down on its edge. You hadn’t released your hold, pulling him down with you, hands flying straight to the fastening of his own damn suit. 

“Is this ok?” you breathed, practically vibrating with anticipation. Your hands were flitting everywhere; his hair, his neck, along his jaw, his face, his own hands. You were very clearly trying very hard to make yourself slow down, wait, and Adam’s heart melted. 

“Yeah,” he said, “it’s all ok. You do what you need to.” 

A sigh of relief, a soft “thank you,” and then you were clambering into his lap and peeling his clothes off like it was nothing, your lips hot and hard against his. Adam hadn’t kissed anyone before, but he’d seen enough movies – most of them with you – to know that this wasn’t how it usually went. There was little technique or rhythm, more your tongue licking into his mouth, teeth occasionally knocking against his, so forceful he wondered if it was hurting you. 

You’d completely stripped him remarkably fast, and now your hands explored his shoulders and arms, trailing goosebumps down his chest and stomach. You fit perfectly over him, and he allowed himself to run his own hands up your back, down again, over your hips, finally settling in the curve of your waist. How often had he wondered what it would be like to hold you there? 

You moaned, the heat at your centre slick and wet against his own rapidly hardening dick. And now you were moving, too, grinding against him like your life depended on it and why had nobody told Adam it could feel like this? 

You’d broken the kiss, your lips swollen and even redder than they’d been before, your hands now in his hair, fingers tugging ever so gently. Adam had to stifle his own little sound of pleasure, bending his head to kiss at your neck and those collar bones he could look at forever. You gasped a “yes” when his tongue darted out to taste the skin, the faint tang of sweat mingling with the sweetness of the water that had dripped there from your still-damp hair. 

Your fingers tightened in his own hair, the delicious pull sending more heat straight down. You directed his head in that direction, too, arching your back until his mouth found the soft mound of your breast and he licked, then on a whim, sucked. 

“Oh, yes, Adam–” you panted, your movements becoming even more frantic. 

“Hm?” 

“Oh, that’s– that’s so good.” 

Did you know what you were doing to him? Adam supposed you didn’t, sucking again at a different spot, licking it, placing a kiss there, moving on. Rinse and repeat. 

Then your hands disappeared from his hair – that was a shame, but this wasn’t about him – and the next moment your fingers were wrapped around his cock and you were stroking it better than he ever had, your palm a million times softer than his, sliding easily with your own slick. 

“Can I?” you were asking. “Please, Adam, can I?” 

You could do whatever you wanted, Adam didn’t care. If he’d thought about it, he’d have realised that he actually liked the idea of you having your way with him, using him for your own pleasure, taking what you needed from him. But he didn’t think about it, he was too caught up in the smell and taste of your skin, the little sounds you were making, the wonderful movement of your hand. 

“Yes,” he breathed, “yes, go ahead, (Y/N). Please, just– just go ahead.” 

You were moving, rising on those wonderful thighs and your hand was moving too, something hot and slick rubbing over the head of his dick and then holy shit Adam’s mind went blank. If he’d thought you felt hot before, it was nothing compared to this. He groaned in unison with you as you sank down, taking him fully and gripping his shoulders, your breath fanning his face. You fit perfectly around him, squeezing spongy and smooth, and nothing could have prepared him for it. 

You braced yourself on his shoulders, rising off him – for a second he wondered if that was it, if you were pulling away – before you sank back down. You did it again, then again, and again and again until the only sounds in the room were your breaths mingling with his, your unrestrained little moans and his own half-stifled ones, the slap of your skin on his. 

Adam held you close, hands still anchored to your waist, transfixed by the silken heat of you and the brush of your chest against his, the bounce of your breasts and solidity of your body on top of his. 

“Feels so fucking good,” you panted. “No idea, so fucking – shit – good–”

“(Y/N),” he choked, unable to form a single coherent thought. 

“You’re so good, Adam oh my God.” 

Something was building in his stomach, he could feel it. The warm syrupiness was gone, something hotter and harder and so tight coiling in its place, growing with each moan and sigh and whispered curse from you. It was so much, almost too much, and half of his brain wanted you to stop right there. But the other half, the half that created those late-night daydreams, real dreams, half-formed ideas and scenes in his mind… That half wanted you to go harder, slam your hips down faster and say it again, tell him he felt good, he was doing well. 

“Making me feel so fucking good,” you murmured, as if you’d read his mind. “You’re so… ah, fuck, Adam, I’m so close–” 

Close to what? he wondered vaguely, but the praise was spinning that coil faster, faster, tighter and faster until– 

“Adam, oh, Adam—!” 

It snapped, electric and white hot and rolling up his spine like a damn shockwave. He could hear you crying his name, your movements slowing and your body spasming around his. He’d cum before, of course he had, but never like this. That had been small and so quick he hadn’t even realised what was happening until he was spilling into his hand or the bedsheets, confined to his dick, never spreading through his whole body and never with that glorious buildup. This was something else entirely. 

After what felt like an age, Adam’s mind returned to his body. You were shaking, collapsed against his chest, your arms wrapped around his shoulders and his around your waist, your face pressed into his hair, his own nestled in the junction of your neck and shoulder. You fit so perfectly against him. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice husky even to his own ears. 

You didn’t lift your head, but he felt you nod. 

“Are you sure? You’re shaking.” 

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I’m fine. I feel better, actually. How about you?” 

Adam just nodded, unwilling to move. He could feel himself softening inside you, but didn’t want to lose the warmth and the feeling that he was yours, that he was fully with you. But… “Do you want me to stay?” 

No response, then a deep sigh. “Yes,” you whispered. 

Adam ignored the butterflies and the spark of hope that conjured, opting instead for practicality. He could feel the rapidly cooling sweat on his own back, the coldness of your damp hair, the mess of spend around the place where your body swallowed his. 

“I’m going to clean you up,” he said softly, “then I’ll come back. Alright?” 

“Ok.” 

Slowly, reluctantly, he lifted you off himself and set you down further back on the bed. You whined at the loss of contact, curling in on yourself and shivering. But you weren’t so hot anymore, the flush had been replaced by what he could only describe as a glow and the overly bright look had vanished from your eyes. You really did look better. 

After a moment’s hesitation, Adam rose and turned away, making for the cabinet where the medpacks and other supplies were kept. You wanted him to stay. You’d told him he felt good. You’d held him afterwards, let him hold you, and had made no move to make him leave. If anything, you’d looked disappointed when he’d broken the contact. But still, you weren’t yourself. 

He paused, a horrible thought crossing his mind. Was he going to end up like Quill? Hopelessly chasing a woman who didn’t feel the same way about him? He hoped not, he’d seen how miserable the man was. But you weren’t hard the way Gamora was -- as much as Adam knew her, anyway, which wasn't much. You were soft and open, and you did care about him, he was sure of it. At least you had. 

Shaking his head, Adam returned to the room with a damp cloth in hand. 

“(Y/N)?” he asked softly, pausing at the door. No answer. 

You were where he’d left you, he saw as he stepped around it, still curled up on your side. Your eyes were closed, the rise and fall of your ribs deep and even. Asleep. The surge of tenderness surprised him, strong enough that he was sure he’d been swamped by an actual wave. You really were beautiful, even damp and naked, lips swollen and hair mussed. 

He was careful not to wake you as he brushed the hair off your face, wiped away the worst of the mess, and then pulled a blanket over you. He wondered briefly if he should stay with you, slide down beside you and wrap his arms around your waist, warm you with his body heat and be there to tell you it was all alright when you woke up. 

You shifted, heaving a deep breath and adjusting your position minutely, and that decided it. Adam couldn’t disturb you, as much as he wanted to, and there was still your suit and discarded underwear, not to mention the original task. On an impulse, he bent and placed a soft kiss on your forehead before turning, scooping his own clothes off the floor and making for the shower. 

[arch-obsessed]

Inside the Barbie Dreamhouse, a Fuchsia Fantasy Inspired by Palm Springs

Barbie’s Dreamhouse is no place for the bashful. “There are no walls and no doors,” says Greta Gerwig via email. “Dreamhouses assume that you never have anything you wish was private—there is no place to hide.” That layered domestic metaphor has proved rich fodder for the filmmaker, whose live-action homage to the iconic Mattel doll hits theaters July 21.

To translate this panopticon play world to the screen, Gerwig enlisted production designer Sarah Greenwood and set decorator Katie Spencer, the London-based team behind such period realms as Pride & Prejudice and Anna Karenina. The two took inspiration from Palm Springs midcentury modernism, including Richard Neutra’s 1946 Kaufmann House and other icons photographed by Slim Aarons. “Everything about that era was spot-on,” says Greenwood, who strove “to make Barbie real through this unreal world.”

Neither she nor Spencer had ever owned a Barbie before, so they ordered a Dreamhouse off Amazon to study. “The scale was quite strange,” recalls Spencer, explaining how they adjusted its rooms’ quirky proportions to 23 percent smaller than human size for the set. Says Gerwig: “The ceiling is actually quite close to one’s head, and it only takes a few paces to cross the room. It has the odd effect of making the actors seem big in the space but small overall.”

Erected at the Warner Bros. Studios lot outside London, Barbie’s cinematic home reinterprets Neutra’s work as a three-story fuchsia fantasy, with a slide that coils into a kidney-shaped pool. “I wanted to capture what was so ridiculously fun about the Dreamhouses,” says Gerwig, alluding to past incarnations like the bohemian 1970s model (outfitted with trompe l’oeil Tiffany lamps) and the 2000 Queen Anne Victorian manse, complete with Philippe Starck lounge chairs. “Why walk down stairs when you can slide into your pool? Why trudge up stairs when you take an elevator that matches your dress?” Her own references ranged from Pee-wee’s Big Adventure to Wayne Thiebaud’s paintings of pies to Gene Kelly’s tiny painter’s garret in An American in Paris.

For Barbie’s bedroom, the team paired a clamshell headboard upholstered in velvet with a sequined coverlet. Her closet, meanwhile, reveals coordinated outfits in toy-box vitrines. “It���s very definitely a house for a single woman,” says Greenwood, noting that when the first Dreamhouse (a cardboard foldout) was sold in 1962 it was rare for a woman to own her own home. Adds Spencer: “She is the ultimate feminist icon.”

In Barbie, as in previous films like Little Women and Lady Bird, Gerwig set out to realize a whole world. “We were literally creating the alternate universe of Barbie Land,” says the director, who aimed for “authentic artificiality” at every opportunity. As a case in point, she cites the use of a hand-painted backdrop rather than CGI to capture the sky and the San Jacinto Mountains. “Everything needed to be tactile, because toys are, above all, things you touch.”

Everything also needed to be pink. “Maintaining the ‘kid-ness’ was paramount,” Gerwig says. “I wanted the pinks to be very bright, and everything to be almost too much.” In other words, she continues, she didn’t want to “forget what made me love Barbie when I was a little girl.” Construction, Greenwood notes, caused an international run on the fluorescent shade of Rosco paint. “The world,” she laughs, “ran out of pink.”

[b-is-in-the-closet]

Low key want to write for MatPat egos again

If anyone has any ideas or characters feel free to give them to me,

The “MatPat Cinematic Universe” characters/egos I know are:

Mack

Crewmate!Mack (I call him Wynn)

Dictator!Mack (I call him Richard)

Mad

DarkPat

WarfPat

Matty Patty

Jonathan Harker

Caliban (fan made ego by @wouldntyou-liketoknow )

BendyPat

The Hermit

The Detective

Patty (fan made ego by @wouldntyou-liketoknow )

Ness

And there’s also a few that I kind of know of, but that’s about it

AntiMatter

Dr Matt

Actor Mat

Dominic (Damien?? But MatPat? I think?)

Professor Patrick

Matthais Patthias

Also, for Mack: I have like a bajillion AUs and variants. I can talk about them if people want!

[waitmyturtles]

THE MORNING AFTER: ONLY FRIENDS, EPISODE 7 ("YOU GOT TO KNOW WHEN TO HOLD 'EM / KNOW WHEN TO FOLD 'EM") EDITION

Whew, baby. Well, I found this episode particularly brutal.

I've been noodling this week on the following theme: the mundanity of toxicity. The everyday-ness of bad in people. I think this episode captured this well (cc @lurkingshan, @neuroticbookworm, and @bengiyo, who all got a little preview of this thinking).

But I caught some other themes in this episode, too, which I'll quickly hit and list:

2) The elements of life, and 3) Gambling.

As a devoted meta writer, writing about Only Friends is hard. Because: I want to think that there's a lot more to what I'm seeing. I am certainly missing cinematic references that Jojo and team are making (I haven't watched Queer As Folk, for instance). Mew's face popping out of the bathtub? That has me wondering if I'm missing a cinematic reference there.

But at the same time, I wonder if by just observing the Only Friends crew, that I'm picking up on enough. When I was in my twenties, living in New York City, going to college...I was still trying to figure people out. I was absolutely SURROUNDED by people, and I couldn't help but think, everyday -- what is it that makes these people tick?

And I found myself regularly shocked at how mean people were. Very often, I'd just be like -- what the actual fuck, why are you trying so hard to be a massive dick? And, who knows -- maybe people were thinking the same thing about me.

That was when I was young. I just -- I didn't know that much about people. Really, what I didn't know -- and what I really NEEDED to know, and what I learned about myself in that decade and the next -- was how to manage myself around anybody, so as to preserve myself from any unpredictable pain that might come from someone else. In other words... I needed to fucking grow up.

Part of that self-management was trying on identities. Could I fake being a stronger person? Sure, I definitely tried. I tried with clothes, with new slang, with trying new activities, with drinking. That's just normal for a lass in their twenties.

The Only Friends crew -- they are assholes. Many of them were trying on change a couple of weeks ago. Mew experienced a HUGE identity shift during this episode.

But what they all embody to me, in this moment in their lives, is a kind of everyday toxicity -- a self-absorbed perspective, so tunneled internally into each and every one of them, that none of them are realizing that the energy they put out is colliding and having effects on others.

Like -- it's kind of shocking and twisted to watch. But when I think about it, when I remember what it was like to be in a huge city and to be in college and post-college: there's a part of me that remembers being CONSTANTLY surprised that people were just massive jerks, everyday, and again, who knows -- I think people likely thought that I was a jerk, too, for thinking of myself and leading myself with my life.

People, most people, grow out of these stages, as they get older, get more experienced in their years, maybe get more political in their dealings with others. I can't condemn this group of university students fully, as I hold hope (I'm a mom, damn it) that they'll grow into more fully robust and empathic people. But they ain't there yet. I'm not sure my turning stones gives me more insight to them than in relating to my own experiences as a former twentysomething. It has me thinking, as someone who loves turning those stones in my beloved dramas.

That all being said. Those two other themes in this episode have me thinking -- the elements of life and gambling.

We saw Mew play with fire (fucking finally, my man). And we saw lots of water -- water in the pool, water in the tub with Sand and Ray.

Water puts out fire. Mew tries to fake-drown (lol) Boston in the pool. Later on, Mew lets Boston know that he (Mew) can take Boston down, but won't. Mew is trying to control the fires that he's lit, and the ones that have already been burning.

My question to Mew is: do you know how to do what you are doing, or what you want to do?

I don't quite think so, and I think that "Welcome to Las Vegas" shirt he was wearing at Boston's house indicated as much.

(Uh, first of all, chain life, Book! MORE, MORE!)

Mew has decided to become a gambler. Let's think of all the metaphors! Mew has decided to roll the dice and possibly move past the pass line. He's decided to play his odds. He even STACKED his odds -- going to a new gay bar, enticing Drake Gap, going back to Gap's place, stealing the sex tape from Gap's computer, threatening Gap with reporting him for a crime, going to BOSTON'S HOUSE, TALKING TO BOSTON'S DAD, showing Boston the copy of the sex tape, THREATENING BOSTON, MAKING BOSTON BEG, showing MORAL SUPERIORITY OVER BOSTON, throwing the flash drive at Boston, and walking away. Like, if that were a metaphor for actually playing craps, first of all, lol, the pit guy would check Mew's ID, get him a players' card, and encourage him to move to the high limits room, being like, WHAT is this motherfucker DOING, but we want him doing more of it, he'll make us more money -- once he starts fucking things up.

Mew's trying on a new identity. He already was on the road to it, getting that LASIK for Top. He's just continuing to move forward with it. He's going to play with nastiness, but still try to come out on Top.

Trying on new identities. It is so normal when you're young -- I did that. Trying on what fits for whatever reason you are feeling at that moment -- if you're rebounding, if you're healing, if you're bored. Mew is embarrassed, maybe even ashamed, maybe even regretful that his first relationship ended up as a failure.

And now he's figuring out how to recover -- by taking a gamble, and playing with the exact same mundane, everyday nastiness that he's seen in everyone around him.

P.S. Ephemerality and permanence? That fire burned the memory that Top tried to create with Mew (cc @twig-tea and @lurkingshan here). And, gambling? SO ephemeral. Buh-bye, money and pride. Ray switching back and forth between Mew and Sand? Ephemeral crushitude. (SAND. SMDH. I KNOW RAY'S DAD SAID SOMETHING TO YOU, BUT STILL, SMDH.) Nick turning on Boston. Boston begging Mew to hold back on the permanent impact of the sex tape on Boston's dad's career.

And the ephemerality of movement: the clothes in this episode said it all. Las Vegas, NYC, Stanford. These young folks can just... disappear if they want to. And they just might.

(G'DAY, EPHEMERALITY SQUAD! @ranchthoughts @slayerkitty @distant-screaming @twig-tea @neuroticbookworm @lurkingshan @clara-maybe-ontheroad @thatgirl4815 @chickenstrangers @wen-kexing-apologist)

[gaysheep]

now my experiences might not be universal but as far as im concerned you asked far fewer questions about video games when you were a kid. the first time you encountered waluigi in mario tennis or mario party or whatever other mario spinoff you encountered him in for the first time because they only put him in spinoffs you didnt say "who's this goofster stomping around like he's a member of the crew?" you said oh ok that's waluigi i guess.

super smash bros melee the crossover fighting game starring all your favorite nintendo characters (well pikachu was second party but thats pikachu everyone knows who pikachu is) had a whole three characters who nobody in north america knew who the fuck they were, two of which were from games that weren't localized at all and one of which was from a game that was enough of a commercial failure in the united states hardly anyone remembered it a little under a decade later. now to be fair ness was in the one on the n64 also but its not like he'd gotten another game. "oh earthbound's failure was overexaggerated" you say that but my brother lived the super nintendo era and not a single one of his gaggle of friends had even heard of earthbound it was not on anyone's radar come on. but no one said "hey these aren't iconic nintendo characters" we all went "well i guess they can be here too" and now we say "you cant main a smash character if you havent played their game" like we werent saying "thats marth i dont know who the fuck he is but hes like a brother to me" in 2001

youd just go into the store and look at a game's boxart and decide you wanted that one and yknow what it usually worked out for you. i did this longer than you'd expect too i was in 7th or 8th grade and thought to myself "yknow i havent really played any console rpgs lately" so i looked up "rpgs for the wii" and i saw a gamefaqs rec thread or some shit where a guy went "well xenoblade is coming out." and i looked up xenoblade and found virtually no information about it other than that it was coming out and thought to myself "yeah xenoblade... that looks like an rpg i could get into." and you know what i did? i preordered it this may very well have been the first game i ever preordered i thought "well they were talking about it on gamefaqs so it must be a big deal i wanna make sure i can play it day 1" but i didnt need to reserve a copy of fucking xenoblade chronicles the store probably could have given me every copy in stock for no profit loss when i walked in there with my gir t shirt and my little receipt because i was one of all three and a half people in north america who played this game counting the gamefaqs guy. and xenoblade chronicles knocked me flat on my ass it was one of the best games i'd ever experienced i'd played plenty of story heavy rpgs before but this one hooked me in a way none of them ever had.

fast forward around 4 years the 4th smash game comes out but this one was different. this was when we really started to go in on the crossover fighters, character slots were now real estate that potential entrants had to earn the right to occupy as if one game ago they didnt make a failed NES peripheral a playable fighter and give it an emotional subplot in subspace emissary. no longer was it "cool i guess this guy is here" it had become "who the hell is this and what do they think they're doing in smash bros?"

and thus came that fateful night when amidst crazy new character reveals like the fucking wii fit trainer they unveil a cinematic trailer and announce that shulk from xenoblade chronicles was joining the fight. to which the unilateral reaction was "who the fuck is shulk why was this trailer framed like we already have a rapport with shulk i dont know this man why does he say stuff like 'im really feeling it?'"

but i knew who shulk was.

[ao3feed-irondadspiderson]

Aunt Infestation

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52199920 by Sara (ctrsara) Pepper's out of town, and Peter had sort of invited Tony to spend Thanksgiving with him and May. “You can totally come, Tony, but I gotta warn you about May’s aunts,” Peter had said, his face very serious. “They’re crazy.” When Tony had given him a questioning look, Peter had continued. “I mean, they were crazy the last time I saw them, and that was like six years ago, so they’re probably even crazier now that they’re older.” Chaos and busybody-ness ensue.   Comfortember 2023: 20 - Shopping, 23 - Anxiety, 27 - Soup, and 29 - Sleepover. Flufftober Alt 3 - Wearing each other's clothes (it's barely there, but there's plenty of fluff in this story, so I decided to go with it!) and Cozywinter 2023: 17 - Awkward family visits, 22 - Holiday meals and 24 - Sharing a holiday with friends/found family. Words: 5165, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 13 of Unbroken Strands, Part 7 of Comfortember 2023 Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen Characters: Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Aunt May Parker (Marvel), Friday (Marvel), Aunt May's crazy relatives Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Aunt May Parker & Peter Parker, Aunt May Parker & Tony Stark, Aunt May Parker & Peter Parker & Tony Stark Additional Tags: Comfortember, Comfortember 2023, Thanksgiving, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Crack, Tony Stark is a Tease, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Aunt May Parker & Tony Stark Coparenting Peter Parker, Aunt May Parker & Tony Stark Friendship, Holidays, Thanksgiving Crack, Inspired by a Geico commercial, Why isn't that a tag?, Tony Stark is Good With Kids read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/52199920

[xxno-thoughts-just-chaosxx]

Something else I want to add-

While, obviously, the Mario Movie piqued my interest in these characters, both ongoing storylines are pulled from the feelings and vibes I got from the games when I was in high school. And also from how others interpreted the characters at that point in time.

Hence- the over the top edginess and creepy-pasta-ness

SOMEDAY, I'll do something closer to the cinematic universe because it's honestly so adorable, and I love it. I wanna mess with bird cage Bowser so much. Muah.

[petty-crush]

“Barbie” (2023)

-a big budget, pop art, visually interesting film with a vibrant personality. I love it!

-also, easily the best use of Ryan Gosling since “Drive”

-I’m truly impressed with what Greta Gerwig got away with here.

+she crammed this with energy and made me hearty laugh the whole time

-the story is Barbie discovering sadness, the real world, clashing with the patriarchy, and just the wonderment of being a woman

-there’s a couple small details I want to highlight before the big stuff

-Kate McKinnon’s look is almost certainly inspired by the awesome cult film “Liquid Sky”, another tone poem of a film

-the small, tender scene of Barbie telling the old woman (at the bus stop) she’s beautiful, and said woman saying “I know” with a vicious smirk is magical

+it says just as much as the soon to be famous “being a woman is impossible” monologue in its own beautiful warmth

-the opening riff on “2001: A Space Odyssey” is the film personified; irreverent, playing with greatness, funny, colorful, and just a blast

-(after a man notes he is not part of the board) “I’m a guy with no power...does that make me a woman?

-I like how there are two matrix tributes; picking between two choices/shoes (original) and the at first mysterious Ruth being the Oracle (“Reloaded”)

-“after I found out the patriarchy didn’t include horses, I honestly lost interest”

-alright then, onto the big pillars

-here is a film saying, with all earnestness and actual thought, that we should approach our hearts with collectivism, bond over our shared yearns and desires and messiness

-(only a scold could say this film excludes love, a scold who didn’t actually watch the film and just wants any kind of attention)

-Margot Robbie nails every bit, from first thinking about dying, to discovering tears, to making Barbie’s naïveté to growth a journey of substance

-this film is unapologetic about being feminist (which shocked the fuck out of me) and does so with actual insight, not checking off a list (which is rad)

-note too, cause grumps will try to bury this, it asks men to not define themselves by conquering others, or stepping on necks, but by creating worth on their own goals and just being present in the moment. It asks them to free themselves from their own shackles

-there is a certain richness to male characters when female directors (and writers, etc) take over; new colors are displayed in the rainbow

-it is so immensely satisfying to see actual sets (practical, on camera) and vivid primary colors (after years of blurred muted-ness)

+its value in the aesthetic form and character of the film is immeasurable

-there isn’t a single false note in the “impossible to be a woman” speech, aptly delivered by America Ferrara. It simply presents itself with the courage of its convictions

-said being truly sucks and absolutely rules; the sheer inconsistency is its beauty and power. Neatness does not contain growth

-I like how the film emphasizes the under seen will truly change and save the world

-oh, I almost forgot to mention; I just about rolled out of my chair at the ribbing of zealots for the Synder cut of Justice League

-this is an artificiality to this film that is staggeringly authentic

-this is truly one of the best examples of just being the world and subverting the world in the 2020’s (and frankly all time); this will be studied and admired for years

-also also, the battle at the beach and the dance street fight among Ken’s is an all timer of a scene (it uses the past to power the present)

-I have a sneaking suspicion this may be the “Iron Man”(2008) to the upcoming Mattel cinematic universe; the vast number of following films will largely be less interesting, less full of the personality of its creators (with some exceptions)

-but this film is worth it; it is alive and joyful. It cannot be accountable for the world(s) that comes after it, only how it exists during its run time.

-and, truly, Gerwig has made something special here. It’s just going to make the lives of everyone who accepts it for what it is (love and color of form) many times better. It is a triumph

[sere-ness-ima]

Poland would definitely pick calvary to serve in, but what type of calvary unit would he join? (other than uhlan units)

FUN QUESTION (= i started writing a detailed reply but it turned into two pages of me ranting about winged hussars overhype. i deleted it and took a cold shower. i'm back to normal for some time. probably)

TL;DR feliks would probably join any cavalry unit which offers him a stick to fight with but here's names

the Winged Hussars™

unfortunately and boringly it's aesthetic, it's elite, it's a flex on your rich, all of which are arguments feliks would probably be interested in. and i believe in the golden feliks liberty, which basically says that as a polish noble he can do as he goddamn pleases.

(worth noting that during Commonwealth times feliks usually goddamn pleases not serving in the regular army at all.)

National Cavalry

(not really "unit type") emergency force that functioned during the last years of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. it's where the red-white-blue streak starts btw (and the square hats!!!)

Krakusi

it's a "maybe", a little too peasant-coded for feliks to serve with at the time. he'd like them a lot for their sheer polishness though, possibly drawing some bickering from his companions that he would fit there well because of his,,, insignificant height? (thanks for the hc @/tauremornalome)

Lancers

which is just uhlans under another name, i tricked you

Chevaulégers

wait a second, what do you mean they have NO STICK-

"fine, i'll find one myself" ~Feliks, probably

Chevaulégers Chevaulégers-lancers

aaaand i think we covered most of feliks-coded cavalry types OUTSIDE OF uhlans? but just to make the list complete

Uhlans

them.

PS: maybe he fits the non-winged hussars (of the hungarian variety) temperament-wise and posture-wise, but because of sheer confusion the similarity in names would cause, he's not allowed there

PPS: i assume he was of at least decent weight during Commonwealth times, but his short height is a serious disadvantage in heavy cavalry. light cavalry is his righteous place imo

PPPS: the hussar's kopia is 5m. the lancer's lance is like 2,5-3m. my feliks is 165cm. do your freedom units yourselves

PPPPS: dunno if you've realized already that the lance is a traditional ancient beloved polish weapon of pride? because if not, i'm telling you now

PPPPPS: sorry for my napoleonic focus leaking so immensely but have you known that the imperial guard's poles acquiring lances meant that their twin regiment made out of the Dutch had to equip them too? and they had never been taught how to use it before and weren't excited about that change? and nobody cared cuz would you really take the illegally acquired stick from feliks. WOULD YOU

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks for tagging me, @omgpurplefattie!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

78 😅

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

864,062 - this is apparently just a bit more than Gone With The Wind....twice. I don't know how to feel about this.

What fandoms do you write for?

The Untamed (I have also written a handful of fics for Word of Honor and a very tiny one-shot for Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty, but I'm definitely a CQL/MDZS author lol)

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

You Need Tending - A very young, tiny Wangxian meet as children in Yunmeng and canon diverges sweetly from there.

Unexpected Solutions - LXC POV - What if the other sect leaders got to see the Burial Mounds instead of taking JGS's word for it that WWX was raising an army?

You Are Of Their Ilk - Sequel to You Need Tending, a LQR-centric fic examining what it's like to actually raise the Jades (and WWX) when he's got a Sect to run and parenting insecurities to overcome.

Plans To Make - A Wangxian-centric Time Travel Fix-it AU, technically the prequel fic to my first 3zun fic (in which the fixings-of-it have already been done and the post-canon, 5-years-in-seclusion Lan Xichen wakes up in the altered timeline wondering how the hell he has two husbands who are definitely not dead).

Professor Lan, Babysitter Extraordinaire - Modern AU Professor!LWJ spends an afternoon minding A-Yuan for Mature Student!WWX and is instantly charmed.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Sometimes! I used to respond to every single comment I got when I first started posting, but then I just got really overwhelmed and had to stop, and I've never picked up the habit again. If I feel particularly strongly about a comment or have something specific to say I'll try to respond, but otherwise I bask in them all silently (sorry, and I love y'all, I really do read every single comment I swear).

What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

The Shadow's Call - An extremely depressed Lan Xichen is violently dragged out of his seclusion in the Hanshi 8 years post-canon by fierce corpse NieYao, who definitely aren't sentient at all but still somehow feel incomplete without their third.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Aside from The Shadow's Call all of my fics end happily!! I just can't do the depressing ones most of the time 😅 I think some of my favorite happy endings for various reasons, though, are The Sculptor, After Each Midnight Begins A New Day, anything in the Orville Peck Cinematic Universe, and anything from the 90's Strip Mall AU, Tales From Jianghu Shopping Center. (Everything in the last two especially is just pure feel-good fluff, not only the endings haha)

Do you get hate on fics?

Not anymore! The XiYao troll must have found something better to do so we can now like JGY in peace 😌

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do! I don't know what kind though 😅 the smutty kind? I don't really delve too deeply into kink or BDSM, and I don't write omegaverse or tentacles or anything all that creative; I just write what I would consider bog standard 'I'm ace and I understand people like doing this, I really hope the allos find this enjoyable to read' kind of smut. (Usually for me it's more about the emotional impact/character development use of it rather than the porn-y-ness of it, if that helps??)

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Nope! I like writing AU's of my favorite ships blended with other media I like, but not direct crossovers.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Hope not!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have! Вони — це ми/ They Are Us is a Ukrainian translation by sandbranco of 'They Are Us', El escultor By Eleanor_Fenyx is a Spanish Translation by ellieffect and KabiBaali of 'The Sculptor', and another Spanish Translation of 'The Sculptor' by GabyObando13. I'm always so flattered when someone likes something of mine enough to do such an incredible labor of love as translating it ❤

What's your all-time favorite ship?

3zun, my beloveds

What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Plans To Make - In an ideal world I would finish this soon so I can stop being eaten up with low-simmering guilt about it (along with several other projects, let's be real), but the fact of the matter is that I never actually wanted to write the full fix-it for this universe in the first place. I started Lan Xichen's introduction into this universe after the fix-it has already happened partially because I find that dynamic of a depressed Lan Xichen suddenly partnered with a happily married NieYao really interesting, but also because I don't like all the tangled threads of a universe-wide fix-it and I knew I'd get way too bogged down in details to really enjoy it. That's exactly what's happened, and that's partially why the fic has been sitting so long without an update. I do really want to finish it one day, though.

What are your writing strengths?

I occasionally get comments praising my characterization/character voices, so hopefully that's one. I also like to think that I do a decent job with accurately communicating both relatable and not-quite-as-relatable experiences - queerness of various flavors, neurodivergence, strangely specific life experiences...I usually try to write what I know, and I'm always happy when it resonates with people in the ways that I'd hoped for while writing them.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I feel like I can get sooo long-winded, and I'm also kind of bad for setting up plotty bits in my longer fics that I never actually follow through on.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

The furthest I'll go is honorifics that I'm confident with using, I absolutely do not trust myself or any online translator to attempt whole lines of dialogue.

First fandom you wrote for?

BBC Sherlock - those fics are all orphaned now, though

Favorite fic you've written?

I'm going to choose three just because I can: After Each Midnight Begins A New Day (3zun), The Sculptor (Wangxian), and Main Objective : Destroy Yiling Laozu (Breath of the Wild AU, my beloved)

I'm going to tag: @little-smartass, @wei--wuxian, @scarlet-gryphon, @wishthatiwasnessiesgirl, @threephasebird, and anyone else who writes who wants to play!

[ironstrangeao3]

Cuddle Piles For Valentines

by yellowsunflowerheart

Tony comes home on Valentines Day to a cuddle pile. He loves his life.

Words: 6937, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 4 of Ultimate Supreme Family (SF Including America Chavez and Harley Keener)

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Doctor Strange (Movies)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen, M/M, Multi

Characters: America Chavez, Harley Keener, Peter Parker, Stephen Strange, Tony Stark, The Cloak of Levitation (Marvel)

Relationships: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Harley Keener & Tony Stark, America Chavez & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Stephen Strange, Harley Keener & Stephen Strange, America Chavez & Stephen Strange, Peter Parker & Tony Stark & Stephen Strange, Harley Keener & Tony Stark & Stephen Strange, America Chavez & Stephen Strange & Tony Stark, America Chavez & Peter Parker & Harley Keener, America Chavez & Harley Keener & Peter Parker & Stephen Strange & Tony Stark, America Chavez & Peter Parker & Harley Keener & Tony Stark, America Chavez & Peter Parker & Harley Keener & Stephen Strange

Additional Tags: Valentines Day is for the whole family, Tony says so, Supreme siblings, Family Feels, Couch Cuddles, This time it’s from Tony’s POV, and the whole family is there, Tony Loves To Give Gifts, Harley is embarrassed by his parents being so in love, This turned out way too long, I’m sorry we know I have no self control, this is basically just for me, sorry for the out of character-ness, Good Parent Tony Stark, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, Parent Stephen Strange, Tony Stark/Stephen Strange Parenting Peter Parker | Supremefamily | Strange Family, Family Bonding, Adopted Children

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/45195742

[isagrimorie]

You know what I would hate? If they kept Ezra and Thrawn’s emotional backstory to the time they were trapped in Peridea into a different show.

Because I am 100% convinced they will all move over into a different show— and that would be Rebels 2.0.

It’s one of the things I dislike about the interconnected-ness. This is why I hope season 2 of Ahsoka is completely silo’d from the rest of the Mandoverse.

I need them to play in their own playground.

I loved season 1 of Ahsoka from its highest highs and even shaky lows.

Minimum writers room FTW! As I said, I like Filoni but also proves that no one should Leslie Knope a TV show. And he works better with other writers.

Trek actually did the cinematic universe thing before there was even a cinematic universe.

It had TNG and DS9 and Voyager going and I actually like how the crossovers were treated there.

SNW and Lower Decks continue that tradition.

God I miss seasons longer than 6 to episodes.

[stony-ao3-feed]

The King and his Bodyguard

Read it on AO3

by Perlmutt

Tony enjoys his normal life at MIT with his normal friends where he's just a normal omega and not the crown prince of Lander. But then Steve shows up. Stubborn, boring, old man Steve with his rules, his alpha-ness, and that huge, uh, that stick shoved up his pretty ass, and... wow, uh... Steve's eyes are awfully blue, aren't they?

.oOo.

Updates every Tuesday.

Words: 2775, Chapters: 1/6, Language: English

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Howard Stark

Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Modern Royalty, Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Crown Prince Tony Stark, King Tony Stark, Bodyguard Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Tony Stark, Alpha Steve Rogers, Fluff and Humor, Romantic Comedy, Getting Together, Pining, Age Difference, Silver Fox Steve Rogers

Read it on AO3