#proper anatomy? i don't know her

[lisaanelis]

I'm not allowed to post this anywhere else and its just a pretty messy sketch, but I kinda like it

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Since you've done a mini ask with winged Mc how do you think the M6 would react to a winged Mc that doesn't take proper care of their wings?

I.E Mc should be preening them weekly but only does it when they feel as uncomfortable as they look. Having ruffled, bent, and broken feathers

The Arcana HCs: M6 with a Winged MC

~ put a spin on this so I could apply it to the vesuvia weekly prompt, hope you enjoy it anon friend! ^.^ ~

-- to set the scene --

You like having wings. You really do, but sometimes you wouldn't mind forgetting about them for a bit. Just putting them away, where they can't catch on door frames or whip into people's faces or make you wince every time the sensitive feathers snag on something. Folding them out of sight and being able walk around without the stares is so nice, it becomes your new normal.

Until one day, the pain that's been slowly twisting knots into your shoulders and back becomes too much to bear, and you pull your wings out for the first time in months. They're crushed. Ruffled. Just looking at them is the stuff of nightmares.

Thankfully, your beloved seems to think they're the stuff of daydreams.

Julian

He'd known that something was wrong with your back - the only other person he knows with that many knots in their shoulders is himself - but he'd had no idea it was because of this

Why didn't you say anything? Did you think you'd be asking him for too much work?? Don't you know that taking care of you and seeing you depend on him makes him the happiest man alive???

Rummaging through his overstocked medicine cabinet, rambling between self deprecation for not noticing more and nerding out on winged human anatomy

Doesn't think to ask if it's okay to help until he's already seated behind you, reaching for your wings and realizes your closeness

Excellent at wing care once you tell him what he needs to know, his eyes and hands are trained for spotting physical issues and delicately treating them. He touches you like he's cherishing you

Can't stop daydreaming about how romantic it would be if you ever saved him like this, swooping through the air and snatching him from a burning pirate ship where he'd been held hostage ...

Asra

They'd been the one to teach you about how to manage your wings, and they'd been hinting at maybe taking care of them sooner, but they'd also done their best not to interfere

Approaching you quietly with a pained but sympathetic look on his face, bringing you the stuff you need and telling you however bad it is, you'll fix it together

Has the softest touch, running their warm hands over your shoulders and back as they work through your feathers, easing the pain both in your wings and through your muscles

The funny thing about his daydreaming tendencies (and goodness, does he love to spend time doing that -) is that when he's relaxed, he mumbles

Which is how you begin to hear all kinds of muttered whispers about how gloriously soft they are, how much they just want to hold you in their arms while you shroud them in your wings

All wrapped up in a tiny, feathery, world of your own, with nothing in your shared space but each other - MC, why are you blushing??

Nadia

Let it be known that this Countess is the queen of self-care and values it so highly that she sets aside a weekly budget for it

Which is why seeing your state is enough to horrify her

Your wings! Your glorious wings, they're in such poor shape, you must be in so much pain, her darling deserves so much better

She's dragging you to her private bath. She'll put you in a robe that lets your wings loose and set you up for an afternoon of recovery

Her perfectionist tendencies make for a thorough preening. She'll sit with you between her knees, carding through your wings feather by feather, straightening each one

And with the top quality products from her own personal stash, you slowly begin to glimmer in the sunlight through window

It captures your Countess's attention, making her linger over each feather and cover your wings in loving touches

She wants to see you glorious - she wants to cover you in fabrics and adornments so fine you look like you've stepped from a stained glass window, her own angel on earth

Muriel

He knows you have wings and he'd falsely assumed that the reason for never seeing them was because you didn't want to risk him crushing them with his big, clumsy hands and rough touch

(Note: his hands are not clumsy and his touch is actually quite delicate, he just needs help believing that he's not a danger to you)

Thankfully, the painful state of your wings when he sees them causes enough concern to override his anxiety

He'd be lying if he said you didn't remind him of a very tired, gorgeous bird who's been roughed up by a bad storm

Starts by silently bringing you everything you need, and then standing watchfully nearby until you invite him to help you

He's cared for wings before (though never ones this big, or attached to a human) and he doesn't need much help to get started. Feeling your feathers between his fingers is grounding

He keeps seeing visions of you at peace, the sunlight between the leaves dappling your wings as you walk through the trees, his own heart in the forest bringing beauty and wholeness into the world

Portia

Her first reaction (to someone who doesn't know her well) is anger

How could you do this to yourself? You have the most beautiful wings, they're such a big part of you, and you neglected them like this?? How dare you cause yourself this much pain -

All while she bustles around you, pulling out every product you could need and plenty of other comforting items, pulling up a stool behind you and rolling up her sleeves like it's her calling

She'll figure things out as she goes if she needs to, so don't even think about trying to tell her that you'll handle it yourself

With her background in Vesuvia's version of cosmetology, she understands quickly what you need to get done and already has the skill set to do so. Her hands are fast, thorough, and gentle

The longer she works with you, the more excited she gets. How often are you supposed to care for them? How high can you fly? How sensitive are they? Can she keep one of your feathers?

Soon she's telling you snippets from her favorite novels, about flying together through the sky, an angel and their lover

Lucio

He doesn't really notice how bad your wings are at first, because he's busy being briefly jealous. How come you get to have them and not him? He could totally be trusted with wings!

It's only as he pouts a little closer and gets a better look at the pained look on your face (and the frankly terrible state of your feathers) that he shifts from annoyance to concern

You're the best thing in his life, MC, why aren't you treating yourself like it? Why would you neglect such an awesome thing?

He gets your reasons, but he's also asking right away if he can help

(Because he loves you and he doesn't like seeing you in pain, but also because he really, really wants to touch them, please let him touch them they looks so cool and soft and ... safe?)

It's the safety that gets to him. When you nod and let him sit behind you, literally watching your back, showing immense trust and vulnerability by letting him hold your wings

He wants to know what it's like to hold onto that safety, the brief respite from violence, securely hidden behind your wings ...

[bigfatbimbo]

considering that Rosie is ??owner?? (can you say that?? I hope you understand what I mean) of literal cannibal town, I believe she's really skillful at dismembering people in just right places, so she's good at anatomy. so she knows just what places are least painful to be bitten and what are most and just toys with you, using this knowledge

bonus points if she talks between bites about where she's about to bite and what this part of your body does in most educating tone, which adds to her mommy-ness for sure

ofc it's also helpful in everyday life when you are injured, when something hurts and you don't understand why and such, but it only makes it even hotter when Rosie uses her knowledge in bed to hurt you herself in the best way possible

- 🦊

fox anon i’ve done you dirty SO MANY TIMES because whenever you leave something in my inbox it’s actually so fucking fire and then I literally NEVER POST IT???

Can everyone say justice for fox anon because it’s banger after banger.

ANYWAYS this idea is absolutely canon like I love every aspect of this?!!! Because Rosie is no stranger to anatomy, for obvious reasons, and she’s especially no stranger to yours. I mean, being a cannibal and all, it makes perfect sense for her to know where every major artery, pressure point, and nerve ending is?

Rosie knows exactly where she shouldn’t make you bleed from, and exactly where she can. And I was going to say knifeplay, but Rosie seems like she a teeth and nails girlie. Like imagine her digging her nails into your upper chest, and making a heart shaped mark.

And what you said about her educating tone? HOLY SHIT. I’m going to sneak this in a fic with her later when I have time to do the proper research. But god imagine her marking you up and leaving hickies and bite marks all over your collarbone.

And she’s slowly kissing up to your jugular area and then she pauses, and says something incredibly concerning like, “I have half a mind to bite your throat right out, sweetheart,” but then she’d move up your neck to her usually spot and plant a kiss down, “But wheres the fun in that?”

Anyways, Rosie brainrot.

[spotty-bee]

Hazbin Hotel Headcannon

I've been thinking a lot about Adam, Lute, Vaggie and the exorcists. How they all work and everything that we've learned over the course of the show about them. After looking over the pictures of them without their masks and all the back dealings with heaven I was kinda starting to think...

What if their all related?

Adam and Vaggie have the same skin colour. Lute has Adam's nose. They all have golden pupils (Though Vaggie's sclera is red, many have head cannoned that being from living in hell.) Vaggie and Lute both have white hair. Theres a lot of similarities between these characters physically and while that can be due to the art style, I do start to wonder.

However WHY would Lute , Vaggie and possibly all the exorcists be Adam's daughters? Well it starts to make sense when you remember that Sera wanted to keep the Exterminations under wraps. If you have Heaven Born or Saint (Dead humans who got into Heaven) warriors doing the exterminations, word would eventually get out. These people have lives outside of their work and all it would take is talking to a spouse or one of them feeling guilty before news spreads. IF you have warriors who's entire life was Exterminations, then they would A- be less likely to tell anyone and B- Be less likely to feel guilty if they weren't taught anything else.

As for where all these woman came from, my guess would be cloning. We know for a FACT that Heaven has Science.

A good way to get warriors that won't have outside influence/ loose lips is if they don't have any parents that will be wondering whats going on. Cloning would also ensure that warriors will walk off the assembly line fully grown and ready to train. Adam likely used his DNA and then mixed it with donated DNA from other Heavenly Residents . All he then had to do was train his army.

OF course this opens up some rather dark things to consider. There are at least 100 Exterminators. All of them are female. The likelihood of that happening by happenstance is extremely low. Adam had to have chosen to only have woman in his army, and when you factor in Adam's misogynist, narcissistic attitude, that dose not paint a pretty picture. We also need to consider that Adam was left to train/educate these woman with almost no outside interference. Sera made it clear she wanted as little to do with the Extermination business as possible and she maybe one of the few who knew about the army's creation. IN FACT I know she had nothing to do with the army because, apparently, Adam got to name these girls and nobody, and I mean NOBODY, stopped him from naming Vaggie after female anatomy. (I wouldn't be surprised if Vaggie is a nickname and she's actually just named Vagina.)

They seem to have lived a life of constant training and battle. Its also heavily implied that Vaggie (and Lute to a lesser extent) were taught to view themselves as disposable. Worthless if they didn't have someone to serve. We see it when Vaggie tries to lead the trust exercises, when she beats herself up for not making a proper commercial for the hotel, in fact she seems to have little personal life unless its training or Charlie is involved. Lute herself rips off her own arm just to try and help Adam. If Adam did raise/train them, then these are some pretty bad signs.

These are just some things I was thinking about looking over the show. I am also not making this to bash anyone who ships Adam and Lute. This is all speculation and personal interpretation. I've just never felt anything romantic between Lute and Adam, but they were clearly close. I took that last, tearful goodbye in the finally as a distant, estranged Father- Daughter relationship.

Anyway, what do you think? Its highly unlikely this is true, but could make for a fun, dark fan fiction or Au!

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

I'm sorry if this has been asked before, but what is the full extent of a Gallifreyan's psychic abilities? I know they have basic telepathy and telekinesis. Could they have “Jedi-like” powers if they really wanted?

On a side note, do the "Powers of Creation" and the Master's lighting/electricity powers count as psychic abilities? If not, what are they?

Gallifreyan Psychic Abilities

🧠 Gallifreyan Psychic Abilities

Telepathy: Every Gallifreyan possesses these abilities to some extent, though most are low-level telepaths. They can communicate mind-to-mind, especially with other Gallifreyans.

Telepathic Signature Recognition: Each Gallifreyan has a unique psycho-kinetic signature, enabling them to recognise each other even in different bodies.

Psychic Bridge/Entrelacement Formation: They can establish intense telepathic links, known as Psychic Bridges or entrelacement, with other Gallifreyans, transferring large amounts of information and emotions in a short amount of time.

Hypnotism and Memory Manipulation: They can hypnotise others and block, alter, erase, or implant memories. This is enhanced by intense eye contact. So if a Gallifreyan is closing their eyes while reading your mind, they're respecting your boundaries and signalling they're (probably) not trying to rearrange your mind.

Astral Projection: Advanced Gallifreyans can project their minds through the Astral Vortex over vast distances and through time. This form of psychic ability is particularly strong when contacting different incarnations of themselves.

Soul Catching: A way more esoteric ability is to absorb memories from a dying Gallifreyan, preserving their experiences and knowledge, which is useful for plot, I'm sure.

🚫 Limitations and Extended Abilities

No Telekinesis: Typically, Gallifreyans don't possess strong telekinesis as part of their standard psychic skill set, only minor telekinesis for moving tiny objects, such as pieces in board games. However, specific instances demonstrate that under certain conditions, they can manifest proper telekinetic abilities:

Caleera: Caleera, a Time Lord Academy student, had profound psychic abilities that included telekinesis. Her case was so unique that it was 'controlled' via medical intervention.

The Tenth Doctor: The Tenth Doctor showed some telekinetic ability when he channelled the collective psychic energy of Earth.

Jedi-like Powers: While their psychic abilities are pretty darn impressive, it's a stretch to say they could do Jedi powers on the hoof. Gallifreyan telekinesis isn't about lifting starships or blasting you with the Force into a wall. These abilities, while powerful, are exceptional. They require specific circumstances or an inherent level of talent that's not common among Gallifreyans.

✨Powers of Creation and The Master’s Thor-like Thang

Powers of Creation: This is likely not a psychic ability but an advanced manipulation of physics and cosmic laws. It's more about an in-depth understanding of the universe and an ability to manipulate its fundamental aspects rather than anything psionic.

The Master's Abilities: The lightning/electricity powers of the Master likely resulted from his botched regeneration process, where excess artron energy was harnessed as a weapon. This is different from typical psychic powers and more related to a 'whoopsie' in the regeneration process.

Hope that helped! 😃

→🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (WIP) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine/Monitoring Guides →📝Source list (WIP)

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[dejwrites]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀─── ⠀ ⠀⠀ wicked games⠀ 〳 ⠀ a.hayakawa ‵

❪ ♡ ❫ ─── ( synopsis ) the story of japan's biggest rockstar aki hayakawa

♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — reading discretion is advised: female reader, her/she pronouns, female anatomy, rockstar!aki, therapist!reader, written with black reader in mind, drug usage, alcohol usage, mentions of rehab, dark content, obsessive!aki, panty stealing, panty sniffing, not even going lie don't know nothing about therapist occupation so i apologize now, mentioned bi!aki, solo masturbation, implied oral (m.receiving), implied missionary position, mentions of relationships with himeno & angel, aki's thoughts in italics, wc: 4k, loosely inspired by wicked games by the weekend. can also read & leave kudos on ao3 pls.

♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — entry for @okhotel #XO♡. thee collab

HIS LEGS SPREAD APART AS HE LISTENED TO THE LADY IN FRONT OF HIM TALK. His dark eyes couldn’t stop looking at how her lips looked as she articulated every syllable of each word that rolled off her tongue. Or she would constantly switch legs to cross them so that he couldn’t get a glimpse of the panties she wore. To Aki Hayakawa’s guess, they had to be red, Fenty brand, seamless because it was tacky to wear a pencil skirt and have the seam to your panties showing—and very easy to push to the side to see her pussy lips glisten with her own slick.

What the fuck, Aki? Why are you having these thoughts about your therapist, you fuckin’ perv.

“Mr. Hayakawa, did you hear me?” Her head tilts to the side, wondering where he stared off to.

Aki clears his throat as he adjusts himself in his seat. He leans back to make himself comfortable—spreading his thighs slightly before sighing.

Once again, they’re traveling down to her lips as she repeats the question he somewhat hears. The vivid image of her pretty mouth wrapped around his cock swirled around his head—like a carousel that goes around and around. The thought of how the flat of her tongue could lick at the one vein that pops up on Aki’s cock when he’s hard. Or how those kissable lips would place a kiss on the tip of his mushroom-shaped tip, collecting his salty precum effortlessly. She’ll probably sound so pretty as she gags on his cock. She’ll look even more stunning with a thick cum shot on her face.

Fuck, Aki—there you go again.

“Your relationships with Angel and Himeno? They seem to be very prominent relationships in your life.” She says. “With Angel being your bandmate. Himeno being a longtime friend..”

“They were, but they left. Just like everyone else,” Aki let out the most depressing sigh before his eyes met with the woman in front of him. “But, I moved on. You have to do it when you’re an international Grammy-winning rockstar.”

“Did you?” Her eyebrows raised curiosity as she rolled her black ink pen around her fingers.

“Did I, what?” Aki asked.

“Get over them? If you don’t have the proper time to heal from someone leaving your life, you’re prone to turn to toxic things to help you temporarily cope rather than heal,” She explains.

Aki’s mouth went dry hearing that statement come out of her pretty mouth. The same mouth he just was visualizing his cock was buried in. He sinks further in his seat—realizing that he did cope in such an odd way regarding his past relationships. Himeno broke up with him, and he turned to drinking. Angel left him, and he turned to partying and drugs. He went to defend his actions, but the timer went off, indicating that their hour together had ended.

“I have spoken to your manager and hope to get at least two more sessions in before you go to rehab, Mr. Hayakawa.” She says. “From what I’ve been told, you’ll most likely have a different therapist, but If you’re comfortable, I can set up where we can meet virtually.”

“I would prefer that.” Aki fiddled with the silver rings on his finger before standing up. His hand went up to rub the back of his nervously. “I wish you were stuck listening to my problems all the time.” His crystal blue eyes met with hers as she chuckled at his statement.

“Goodnight, Mr. Hayakawa.”

“Goodnight.”

Their time together always ended like this. Just Aki staring at her as his crystal blue eyes examine her lips and then eye her up and down—then he’ll leave with the lewd image of how she’ll look without clothes on. It was sick that he imagined her like that. She was so kind. So sweet, delicate, endearing, and the list goes on. Sadly, despite her kindness in a world that hated his guts at the moment—he deduced her to be a sexual object. That’s because you’re sick in the head, Aki. Everything you touch, you ruin.

He pushed his hands further into his leather jacket, fishing for his box of cigarettes and lighter. He placed the nicotine-rolled stick in between his lips and lit the cigarette. His eyes stared at the shiny silver lighter engraved with his name—a present from Angel that he held onto even when it was on the verge of being used up. It was the last thing Aki had that reminded him of him. You would hold onto a little lighter if one of the people you’ve loved left you, wouldn’t you?

Aki saw his driver perfectly in the parking lot waiting for him. He is watching a lousy football game when he is supposed to call Aki immediately after his therapy sessions to ensure he doesn’t go exploring around the city. That was a specific task from Aki’s manager after his last sessions with another therapist—Aki landed a very exclusive TMZ story of his dangerous and toxic behavior. It wasn’t that bad. He only nearly cracked his skull in half because he was drunk and attempted to skateboard. Also, maybe he tried to have sex with a stranger too. That night was a complete blur.

“It’s been such a long day, but it’s Friday. Let’s go out for drinks.” He heard a familiar voice.

His eyes glanced toward the laughter and saw her—his therapist.

“Y/N, you’re the therapist of that insane rockstar Aki Hayakawa. You need it more than us.” Another woman says. “I mean, have you read the shit TMZ says about him? What has he done? You’ll probably need a session when you’re done with him.”

Aki’s fist clenched at the words that were being said about him. His head hung low as he lost his appetite to finish his cigarette. He let it fall to the ground, and his foot crushed it.

“He’s a nice person. You guys aren’t his therapist, so you wouldn’t understand. Who is buying the first round of shots at Mickey’s?” She linked arms with her co-worker and eventually walked towards the other parking lot.

Aki now walked to his driver so quickly. The dark-haired rockstar nearly startled the older gentleman when he climbed into the car. He would lean forward, smiling at the man. “Can we make a quick stop before you drop me off?” He gives the man driving him around through highs and drunken hiccups a cheeky smile.

“Your manager made it clear that I must take you home immediately, Aki.”

“That’s no fun. I’ll be quick. I’m just dropping in to say hello and then leaving. It’s just a bar I found out an old friend works at.”

Aki was good at three things. Sex, songwriting, and lying. He honestly thought lying was his best quality about himself. After all, he was sure all celebrities were good at it. Lying and saving face so your precious fans won’t view you as something else despite behind the scenes & signed NDAs, it was completely different. No matter what good morals you had in Hollywood, as long as you were a part of the celebrities—you had some dirt on you.

His driver sighed before he buckled his seatbelt. “I’m giving you fifteen minutes. If you’re not out in fifteen—”

“You’ll call my manager, and he’ll throw me back into rehab. I know the story already,” He says with a smile.

He told his driver the same bar that Y/N would be at. His ears perked up after hearing the GPS state that the bar was only ten minutes from their location. Aki was thinking about what he could say to her. Perhaps buy her a drink before she lectures him about how this environment wasn’t the safest considering his sobriety streak. Yeah, that pretty mouth of hers is going to lecture me.

The weekend for nine-to-five workers who needed a drink to hype up their relaxing weekend started some bar. His driver parked in the crowded parking lot of the bar. Aki assumed that it must have been Friday rush hour for the bar. “Just fifteen minutes.” His driver says to him before he goes back to watching the sports game he was previously watching.

“Uh-huh, sure.” Aki sarcastically admits while he climbs out of the car.

Aki walked into the bar and instantly searched for her. He ignored the murmurs of strangers who immediately recognized those crystal blue eyes from his first album cover. When he spotted Y/N in the back of the bar all alone, he knew that this was the perfect opportunity to latch onto his prey. She was alone, enjoying her Friday evening off—sipping her drink and bopping her head to the music playing. Before he could even step away, two women approached him. One of the women eyed him before the alcohol she consumed finally made her realize who she was standing in front of.

“Oh my god! You’re Aki Hayakawa! I love your music!”

Aki wasn’t sure how a person’s shrieks of excitement could also come out like a horrible slur. He forced a smile on his face glancing in the direction of Y/N. Mentally cursing at himself when he sees some guy approach her. Fuck, there goes your perfect opportunity. Get rid of him, Aki. Get him away from her.

“Can we get your autograph?” The other drunkenly asked.

“How about you find me a sharpie, and I’ll sign where ever you ladies like,” He gives them a grin and watches as their cheeks glow as bright as the pink blush sprinkled on their heated cheeks.

As if he had just assigned them to save the planet, the two of them disappeared into the crowded bar to let Aki continue his journey to claim his prey. The closer he got to Y/N, she finally noticed who was walking towards her, and her smile from the friendly conversation with the guy next to her dropped. She placed her drink on the table where she was standing and decided to bridge the gap between herself and Aki.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Her tone of voice came off as demanding, disappointing, and dreadful.

Here come the lecture and the lie.

“I’m here to meet a friend that’s in town.” Aki’s eyes soften, just like the lie he just told.

“And you couldn’t meet in a cafe or something?” Y/N asks. She didn’t even let him finish his sentence before she’s gripping at the sleeve of his black leather jacket to drag him toward the entrance.

It was a poor excuse to try to get him to bulge, “I’m not going to drink. Plus, I kind of miss the atmosphere of a bar. It reminds me of the old days when my band first started.”

“But your sobriety, as your therapist—I just don’t think this is safe at all. This friend of yours doesn’t per se have your best interest if they want to meet here of all places. Where the hell is your driver?.”

Aw, she actually cares about you.

Aki’s eyes glanced at the bar, searching for something that could cause him to stay. So that he could spend more time with her, his ocean-blue eyes twinkled, seeing the unattended pool table in the corner of the bar. “I’ll go home. Let’s just play one game of pool. Just one game.”

He watches as her lips part to argue against his decision. He knew her so well that she knew he would go back and forth with her until he got what he wanted. She pointed out that he did that a lot when communicating with people when they first met. That meeting didn’t go quite well, but it did help them grow to where they are right now.

Well, when you put it that way, Aki, you make it seem like you are together. You’re not…yet.

“I don’t even know how to play pool.” He hears her say.

“I can teach you,” Aki says. “It’s not that hard.”

He watches as her plump lips part to speak but is interrupted by the two girls from earlier—the group of women huddles around him with so many questions and comments. Not only did they find a sharpie marker, but they also brought their whole group of friends with them. Aki even could see the glare that Y/N was giving him as he was just signing women's boobs left and right. Before he could even autograph the last person, Y/N grabbed his wrist to drag him towards the exit.

“It’s time to go,” She yells as she drags him out of the bar.

When the crisp air hits both of him, he watches as she glances around, searching for his driver. “We’re going home. That environment was not safe for you. You know this, Aki.” She sighs.

As soon as Y/N spotted the luxury car, it didn’t take much as she dragged Aki towards it. She opened the door to let him climb in first before she followed behind him. She sit down next to him after giving his driver her address. The situation felt so familiar to him. His manager once dragged him out of a bar an hour before he had a concert. Yes, he had to cancel the show and nearly got dropped from his record label.

The car ride to Y/N’s place was filled with Y/N asking his driver many questions and somewhat scolding him about even letting him stop at a bar. Aki couldn’t help but chuckle at her words until he could feel the car stop.

“Goodnight, Aki. Be sure to go straight home after this. No more pit stops at any—.” Her words were interrupted by Aki.

“Can I use your bathroom?” Aki asked.

He didn’t have to use the bathroom. Just another plan to let Aki be in her presence, just a little longer. He watches as she rolls her eyes and just nods. They walked into her apartment complex, and he noticed how Y/N greeted everyone who bypassed them. Even down to the little kid hugging their father’s leg as they were in the mailroom. She was so kind. So pure.

“This seems like a nice place to stay,” Aki says as they step into the elevator.

“It’s okay. My neighbor tends to give me baked goods when she’s going through a breakout so that I could give him a listening ear.” She says. “I accept them because the guy makes some pretty good brownies.” She chuckles.

Aki chuckled, and his lips even formed a smile. When the elevator door started moving, the two were standing in silence. Aki’s hand itched to ask if she was seeing anyone. He didn’t see any wedding ring, but he didn’t want to be blindsided by a man in Y/N’s kitchen sipping orange juice out of the bottle when he entered her place. But Aki had to respect her boundaries. He followed her to her apartment, and when she unlocked the door to let the two of them in.

When Aki stepped into Y/N’s apartment, he took in his surroundings as he walked further into Y/N’s apartment. He took in her apartment, and instantly he felt at home. The lingering smell of lavender traveled up his nostrils as he glanced around the place, completely starstruck. His blue eyes scanned around the place, taking in the family photos on the wall, her massive book collection, and even her cat that brushed against his leg to get familiar with him.

“The bathroom is down the hall on the left, right near my bedroom.” She says as she slides her feet into the house slippers and kneels down to pick up her cat.

Aki nods as he watches her kiss her cat's head and mumbles about giving them some food. He made his way to the bathroom, even though he didn’t even have to use the bathroom. He selfishly wanted to savor every second with her, even if that meant pretending to have to use the bathroom. As Aki turned on the sink water, he couldn’t help but stare at himself in the mirror. He did look much better compared to months ago. Formerly, Aki didn’t look like himself. His skin was much duller as if he was two seconds away from his death. His eyes used to droop like he had difficulty sleeping on tour. Since he stopped drinking and doing drugs, he was slowly becoming himself again. Himeno and Angel would have loved that.

As he finished washing his hands, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was because of her. He had gone through so many therapists that he had lost count and his manager grew a headache even having to find another therapist. Y/N made him feel so comfortable. He enjoyed talking to her and being in her presence so much that he could tell he was getting attached. Obsessively attached.

It’s best not to get attached, Aki. She’ll leave you. Himeno did it. Angel did it. What makes her so different?

“She’s different. I know it.” He mumbles as he collects one of the spare hand towels that Y/N folded neatly on the shelves.

He was just drying his hands and ready to drop the towel in the basket that was in the bathroom until a particular piece of clothing caught his attention. His eyes stared at the red lace fabric as his teeth nibbled on his lower lip. A sigh of desperation exited his mouth before he eagerly dug his hand into the basket to collect the red thong on top of the laundry in the basket. He shoved the fabric deeply into his pockets and made his exit. His steps were quick towards the door to avoid Y/N, who was in the kitchen. He didn’t even bother to yell out a goodbye with the newest precious souvenir in his pocket. His heart pounded so quickly, similar to the feeling of him being on stage performing. How can such a little task like stealing your therapist's panties give off the same adrenaline rush from snorting a line of coke and then going to perform for millions of people?

It’s because you’re getting attached, Aki.

Aki Hayakawa could have any person in the world except for her. His therapist. The old him would have been furious at the thought. How can someone like Y/N not pick up that he was interested in her? Aki tonight had to respect her boundaries, respect the rules. So instead, he would only continue to live in his own delusions as he lay in bed at night staring at the ceiling. The crescent moon twinkling through the curtains and the wind blowing against his window caused his room to feel a bit colder.

I wish she were here.

Of course. Y/N could keep him warm. In many ways, he could think of it, but it was one particular way he couldn’t escape. No matter how often he thinks about something else, his mind keeps going to one vivid image. He bet she enjoyed missionary. She probably enjoyed seeing the men who pleasured her face quiver in pure bliss as they were balls deep inside her. Aki would have loved it. The mere thought caused his cock to grow hard instantly. He shifted in bed uncomfortably—realizing that his boner would bother him until he did something about it. It wasn’t like he could call up his ex-flings for a late-night hookup. In his third session with Y/N, he had already established that both of them hated his guts. Then it was beyond a reach to call Y/N. She was so clueless about his feelings toward her.

He rolled over on his back to stare up at his ceiling. The thought of her moving around in his mind caused his skin to be decorated with goosebumps. The way her lips curled into a smile sent a chill down his spine. The sound of her laughter and voice was like an intoxicating drug he didn’t want to let go of. How could she make him feel this type of way?

His slender fingers toyed with the grey sweatpants band covering his lower half. Due to the discomfort of his boner, Aki had kicked the thin grey-colored sheet off his body. The only thing that could be heard in his room was the sound of his faint breathing before he uttered a curse word and eventually rolled the sweatpants down his toned thighs. Aki’s kicking the sweatpants and boxers off quickly before making himself comfortable. He grabs his other pillow and places it behind his head to get a better view of what he is about to do. Just as Aki was about to let his hand clutch upon his cock, he remembered the little treat he had stolen from Y/N’s place that night he took her home. His lips curl into a devious smirk before he reaches in the dark oak-colored nightstand next to his king-sized bed. His hand grabbed the red lace thong he hand took as a souvenir to remember his favorite therapist.

Gosh, you have hit a low, Aki. But that’s okay. You’re so close to becoming a better person for her.

He collected some spit from his mouth before palming his cock. In Aki's mind, he just couldn’t stop thinking about her. He wondered how she did it. Does she let her plush lips suck on the tip while she glides her hands up and down the shaft? Does she ensure it’s covered in as much saliva as possible because the messier, the better? Any way, she did it, turned Aki on. Subtle groans reverberated by his lips as he guided his right hand up and down his shaft. He attempted so badly to mimic how he thought Y/N would do it. His left hand palmed at the red lace in his hand as he groaned out whines of Y/N’s name with each stroke of his hardened cock.

“Fuck.” Aki breathes out while letting his head fall back on the fluffy pillow propped behind his head.

His eyes watered due to the intense pleasure that felt much better than the temporary high he chased when he did drugs. This just felt so much better to Aki. It was better than the euphoric feeling after taking molly. It was better than the mellow feeling after smoking weed.

For another five minutes, Aki was palming his cock until he could feel the pit of his stomach on fire. He was so close to cumming, and he knew it would be so much of it. The grip of the red thong in his left hand was just as tight as how he massaged his pink-shaded tip before stroking his shaft once more. His eyes darted to the red thong in his hand. The thoughts he had in his mind were so sinister he knew that Satan himself was shaking his head. This was going to make him cum. He just knew it.

He brought the lace piece of fabric to his nose; the only thing he smelled was her. A comforting scent that brought him at ease but turned him on even more. If Aki concentrated hard enough, he could feel his cock twitch in the immersive grasp he had it in using his right hand. Palming it quicker than usual as he sniffs Y/N’s panties. His breathing grew uneasy with each pump of his cock. His thumb massaged his tip once more, imagining her doing this to him. That it was her who was palming his thick cock just the way he liked it. He inhaled one last sniff of Y/N’s panties before his body was forced off the pleasurable cloud of cumming. Thick ropes of cum shoot out Aki’s cock; just like he predicted, it was so much of it. He wasn’t sure if it was because he felt like the scent of Y/N’s panties was an aphrodisiac or if he was just a fuckin’ a hornball. Maybe, it was both.

As Aki finally came down from his temporary thrill, he stared up at the ceiling, completely out of breath and exhausted. His eyes glanced over at the red thong intertwined in his left-hand fingers.

Gosh, I will miss that woman when I go away.

TAGS — @maydayaisha @eiflawriting @sailewhoremoon @nanichi0 @sailewhoremoon @stunnababyyabyyy @godessofbucky @chosoguapo @zcmbi @euhmae25 @shamelesshoefairy @takemichiluvr @catherineng0909 @fushisslut @alien-arlert @lexiinanime @xphntmhvx @diorlov3er @atesumu @caribbeanwifey19 @yooniluvbot444 @planetmarz @noriken @jellymantra33 @softimgyu @maginxlia @4522-08 @444yeager @fushisslut @hyuene @ilygetou @soumies @sirenh4ll @dior-fawn @sintiva @sindicas

[sweetly-yours-and-mine]

Tiramisu

Summary: A few days after you find out about his daughter, Marc takes you to a play and then dinner afterwards to talk to you about a few things.

Pairing: Marc Spector x f!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: A continuation of the universe from this single dad au drabble. Don't look at me I switched POVs. This can be read by itself or with the other part for more context.

Warnings: fluffy, angsty, talk of lawyers and custody, brief allude to Marc's childhood, multiple mentions of smutty times (no smut), swearing (it's Marc), reader is oddly possessive

There's a strange comfort that you find in Marc Spector's presence. The minute, everyday movements of his body that would go unnoticed in anyone else but in him, to you, meant the difference between life and death.

Right now, it's the barely there motion of his temple as he eats. It's going up and down in time with his jaw, the same interweaving pattern his heart and his lungs share with each other.

He's taken you out for dinner tonight. He got free theatre tickets and he took you as his date.

Maya, he said, was too young for the subject matter.

And besides, he felt he hadn't seen you in ages, though it's only been ten days since you saw him last, since you've found out about his daughter.

You can't help but feel that it's a step backwards however. You feel hurt that he didn't take you up on your invitation to make him dinner, though you tried chalking it up to difficulties in trying to find someone to look after Maya. 

Should he stay the night. 

A more irrational part of you had been hoping he'd invite you back to his apartment again. Had thought you had crossed the line between public and private dates last time.

Last time, after cooking you dinner Marc had poured you another glass of wine and let it rest on the table, leaving a circular stain around the glass. He had taken you to bed, just as you had hoped it. He had taken you to his bed and fucked you.

He fucked you and then he made love to you and then he fucked you one more time, just because he could and just because you wanted him to. 

You had left Marc the next morning with a delicious ache in your body, his cologne lingering on your skin. Your lips were a little wet from his kiss before he sent you on your way, weak-kneed and doozy.

Maybe it was irrational. Maybe it was more than a little girlish, but that didn't mean you didn't think it.

The heart wanted what it wanted, despite the cool-headed whims of reason.

And your heart wanted Marc. 

Despite everything that told you you already had him. 

You did have him, you mused, looking at his temples moving up and down as he ate his salad.

You have his temples and the warm, roughened palms of his hands. You had him enough to know of Maya.To see her photos on his walls and know that she’s been taking ballet classes for about two years now. 

Despite your best intentions you think for longer than a passing interest about the other people Marc's dated, if they knew of Maya too. If they had met Maya to the point where they felt they could call her theirs.

You swallow done the jealousy with some water, in favour of wine, to keep an illusion of reason about you, so you could pretend you didn't know what he groaned like when he was close to release, what the soft pudge of his dad-belly felt in the palm of your hand.

In time with his temple, the hinge of his jaw bobs similarly up and down. It draws your attention away. It also makes you feel considerably warm inside. Another bit of the man you've come to deeply care for that you can revel in and enjoy. A piece of him that you can kiss and nudge into its proper place of the puzzle inside your chest that paints a pretty (but as of yet incomplete) picture of him.

Marc inspires in you a severe need to learn human anatomy. The names and systems of bones, muscles, ligaments and veins, so you could look at the hinge of his jaw, the bob of his temple and rattle off names in Latin. 

To seek comfort in a dead language because it speaks the parts of Marc's body, his living, breathing one whose hand held yours in crowds so as to not lose you, as if you were something worth hanging on to, and spoke to his daughter in soft intonations.

"Good?' He's looking up from his kale and at you; he's chewing a half bite with the right side of his mouth. His gaze is beady and intense as it flicks from your plate to your face multiple times, but his voice is gentle and casual, as if he really was just making small talk.

As if this were a regular date, as if he were a regular man and as if you felt for him a regular amount.

The main course will arrive soon and you realise you've barely made a peck in yours while he's almost finished.

You find yourself in a pickle.

Marc's taken a gamble on the restaurant tonight, he grumbled about it as you had waited for the play to start. Had trusted (which you know now means more than most mean it) the word of a co-worker that this was a good, new fusion place.

He hadn't even looked over the menu before coming.

For him that was as good as a death sentence.

You know the choice of restaurant and play had been hard ones for him. Both of them having essentially been decided for him by someone else. Yet it conversely meant that you would, supposedly, be judging him off somebody else's choices.

And you know that won't settle well with him. Settle just the way raspberries do in his stomach.  

You want to tell him, on one hand, that his cooking was better. But that also meant his hamster-wheel of a mind would spin it into thinking you implied that you'd rather be at his place.

Pushing at his boundaries like that was the last thing you would ever do.

Besides that strong moral line, your answer would have had another insinuation between the lines.  

It means you don't like the restaurant. The one he hadn't scoped out ahead of time. His co-worker's favourite restaurant that you now will think was his. Even if he’s never come here before, even if he usually checks menus before going. 

And Marc took his restaurants, like everything else, very seriously.

Of course, the other, more plausible and normal option would be to say that the salad is good.

If there was anyone besides Marc sitting in front of you.

You've barely fuckin’ touched it.

You can hear his voice in your ears now. Can see the displeased little downturn of his mouth which he tries and fails miserably to hide.

Marc builds forests out of salads.

You've become attuned to not only his funny American accent and his funny American swears you usually only hear on TV nowadays, but his way of thinking. Which is neither funny nor American in the slightest. 

It's instead the beauty that is the mind of Marc Spector.

It means both calculus-like computations over salad but it also meant his owl-like observations about the costumes, the lighting, the delivery of the lines in the play. It means that he goes beforehand and reads not just the menu of the restaurant but the play itself, even if you highly doubt he has the time to spare to pile through pages and pages of dense dialogue and sort out the meaning underneath, what with a full-time job and a daughter to raise. 

You had sneaked a glance at his copy, at the notes scribed in the margin in his all-caps cramped handwriting.

You didn't need much to figure out just one jewel more about him.

Marc worked in a business consultation firm.

But he had a talent for whatever he put his mind, or pencil, to.

"Honey?" You've gotten lost in thought again and smile at him, he looks nonetheless worried. He looks back at the salad, at the play program sticking out your purse, then at you. "I woulda ordered the Greek if I knew you didn't like kale."

You shake your head and smile helplessly. You've left him alone with his thoughts for too long and he's jumped to conclusions like a frog on lily pads. "The salad's great, and I like kale. Don't worry."

You pick your fork back up to continue eating but you're not sure it'll do much to assuage his worries.

Like clockwork, the divot appears between his eyebrows. Had you been at his place or yours you would have dared to press it away.

In the blinding spotlight of the public, you sit on your hands instead.

"You've barely fuckin' touched it."

He points out the obvious to catch your bluff. And in some sick and twisted way, to tell you to give him the hard, ugly truth and rip the band-aid off sooner than later.

It's so predictable that you feel like laughing but you keep your face intentionally neutral.

"I like it, I really do," you reach forward with your free hand to press on top of his. His temple and jaw are working over time chewing his kale to a pulp. If you looked under the table, his knee would be bouncing up and down, consistently and tightly. "I was just thinking..."

Of him.

But when were you not?

"Of the play?" This is your chance to right your previous wrongs over the salad and you snatch at it, since it wasn't really far from the truth anyways.

You're also a little shy to tell him that the movement of his temple is something that comforts you.

"Yeah, it was great. Thanks for inviting me."

To an untrained eye, it seems nothing has changed in his expression. To you, his eyes give him away, victorious, satisfied, put-at-ease. His temple calms down a little, he lets himself swallow whatever is left of his food.

True to your word you start eating again.

"'Course, honey. "

That was also new. Had started just this evening when you thanked him for opening the door for you.

Marc called Maya baby; he called you honey.

It's the fact that he's doing it publicly, in front of the watchful eye of the restaurant that gives you the courage to press away the frown on his forehead.

He pauses. 

Swirls your action around in his mind like a salty ocean wave stuck in a bay.

He likes it. There are faint twitches of the delicate muscles of his face that let you know he does. 

Like a teenager he's flustered. He flusters you and makes heat rise all over your body.

The entrées come as a saving grace to those bashful half-glances that were soon to follow.

The two of you need some time to adjust to the renegotiated boundaries of the tulips blooming between you. The silence that falls isn't awkward or misplaced. 

It's right. Necessary.

The up and down of his temple is sweeter than caramel to your soul. You're not sure you can do dessert tonight with the way you've hyper fixated on the movements his head makes when he chews. 

You glance up at him from your salmon, him from his lentil curry bowl. You catch his eye and smile furtively. There might as well have been an adult chaperone on your right.

He sends you a wink. An otherwise confident and flirty gesture that coming from him, like that, was only a direct reflection of how you were feeling.

Honey.

You liked how that sounded in his voice. His voice soft and like fresh towels thrown into the dryer to get hot. Its effect on your heart like spun sugar or cotton candy.

You wonder what kind of sweet pet names you can dole out now, like you would tiramisu.

In heaping spoonfuls.

"The main actor was great," he offers up. He's latched onto the one thing he thinks you enjoyed for certain out of the evening and driving that main point home, making sure you remember the good stuff only. "You see the way he switched in those last two scenes? Phenomenal."

He's talking like he's a full-time drama critic, one that had his own column he wrote for every week.

Though you doubt he finds the time to go to the theatre every week.

"I liked the sisters as well," you offer back. Tilting your head to the side you think for a moment before adding on, "Really strong cast."

"That's all in the writing," he wipes his mouth with his napkin. A little less surely he tacks on, "You wanna borrow my copy?"

"Sure, sweetheart, that'd be nice."

Sweetheart.

That's nice.

Seems to have the same effect on him as honey has on you.

He reaches into his briefcase and passes you his book, the cover blue and a little worn at the edges from being used. You treasure it and tuck it away in your purse, not for the words of the playwright, but the words Marc has layered on top of them like lace trim.

"Look I-uh..."

The waiter comes and asks for the plans for dessert.

Marc always lets you choose and you always get the same thing, if it's on the menu. Otherwise something with chocolate.

Tiramisu.

Nowadays when you eat it by yourself at home, you think of his creamy, coffee kisses after your dates. You think of the tiramisu brown of his eyes, warm and vulnerable every time he's done kissing you.

You ask for tiramisu tonight because they had it and turn back to Marc as the boy walks away.

You feel he's going to talk to you about something important.

He's hinted at it gently and implicitly all night.

So you tune your attention into him like a radio station.

"I-uh wanted to talk to you..." the words are the beginnings of your living nightmare. The threads in his jaw and neck rub on top of each other and he runs a comforting hand over his clean-shave as he prepares to keep talking. "About Maya."

"Alright," you lean forward. The sounds of the restaurant have all but faded away into ether.

He seems taken aback by your answer, frowning again, "You-uh, don't have anything to say first?"

Your heart lurches in your throat, "Was I supposed to have thought about something?"

"No!" He flinches at his own voice, and clears his throat, calms down. "No," he shrugs and looks down at the table. "I just thought that maybe you'd-" he hears the rest of his sentence and shuts down. "Ah, forget it. It was stupid anyways."

He reaches up and tugs at his curls, rubs his neck.

"Marc, sweetheart," you take his free hand in yours. "It wasn't stupid, and I won't think it stupid if you want to share it with me."

He looks you deep in the eyes and then shakes his head again, makes a dismissive gesture with his hand that makes your stomach drop. 

"Just thought..." he ruffles his curls the way a bird inadvertently does when trying to groom itself. "We didn't get much of a chance to talk about it the other night. Thought maybe after it settled in you might have had a change of thought."

It bothers you to no extent that he's thought you wanted to end things with him and all the while he's still taken you out to dinner and will for sure insist on paying for it afterwards. 

"Well, I don't," you say it as assertively as you can. "I...well, truth be told, I like spending time with you, Marc. I like where this is going and Maya seems like a sweet girl."

"She is.” The times when he’s talking of his daughter are one of the only instances you hear his voice so self-assured and relaxed. "And you like having her in your future? With me?"

You nod, reach for his other hand, "I've always liked kids."

"You want some of your own someday?" 

It seemed a little early for the kids and marriage talk, but you see the worries inside Marc like pearls in a clam shell and you touch their shiny, translucent surfaces one-by-one.

You shrug, but you make sure to not look away, "I wouldn't be opposed to it."

He tsks, clearly not satisfied with the ambiguity of your answer, "Maya's mother, she was never in the picture. Left as soon as she could."

"Oh, Marc-"

"Well, that was what we agreed on. She'd carry the baby to term if I took full custody," he looks down at his hands. "We even got a lawyer to make sure it was all sorted out, even if we were never married."

 "How old were you when Maya was born then?" The image of him in the hospital, forever ingrained in your mind, conjures itself all over again.

"Thirty, I think."

That made him a handful of years older than you. The greys in the curled roses of his hair speak testament to it.

"Did you want kids?"

A flushed waiter shuffles over, mumbling something about a broken espresso machine, plops an extra plate of dessert in front of you to make up for it. Then he's going, going, gone away with haste.

It makes you both laugh at the intrusion, those stomach-clenching eye wrinkles of his showing up again. You wonder if you could touch them the way he let you press away his frown.

"Well," laughter hangs around his voice like morning dew and sunshine on a sidewalk after a hot day. "No, never really thought of them. Till Maya's mother that is. Then it seemed that it was all I wanted."

You wish the place had booths, so you could slide in beside him and kiss him the way you want to. To make him laugh and touch his face, his throat to feel the vibrations of it in your fingers. 

"It must have been hard, raising her by yourself." 

“Oh, well,” he laughs, shrugs in a way that makes a lock of his hair curl down into his forehead. “She was a good baby. Hardly ever cried.” 

“Did you have any help?” 

Marc has never mentioned his parents to you, nor has he brought up the names of any siblings. There was a cousin he’d told you about last time. 

He seems to you a very lonely man. 

There’s a strange ache in your chest as you think of Marc again, alone with a baby. Barely getting any sleep and making formula milk at three in the morning. 

Your stomach twists in unknown ways as you think of the way his shoulders must have moved as he tested the temperature on the delicate skin of his wrists, of his hair curling every which way, the way it looked like the morning after he had sex with you three times. 

Marc tenses up, looks to his side, the top of his cheek twitching, “Yeah-uh, here n’there.” There’s a crack in his voice that sounds like a tectonic plate shifting. 

You reach over the table, cupping his face. Though you don’t move, it makes him shift to look back at you. There are sand dunes of emotions in his eyes, morphing into one another and shifting every second you look at him. There’s too much there for you to understand, for you to be able to help with. 

The helplessness that drowns you binds your lungs together. 

“She’s a great kid,” you know what he’s going to say again, but you press against the boulder of an excuse. “Great parents raise great kids. You’re doing so well by her-” 

He scoffs and looks away. His hand comes up on top of yours and places it back on top of the table, gives it two reassuring pats and you a raise of his eyebrows. “Yeah…well-” 

“She’s happy, Marc,” you swat away the mosquitoes of his insecurities, the cockroaches of his excuses. “I’ve never met her, but I know that much. You can’t hide that kind of happiness...or fake it.” 

He pauses, glances at you to let the words sink in and then looks at the tablecloth. “I never really got any help with her,” he says grimly. “My cousin moved…maybe a year or two ago. Before that, it was just me n’Maya.” 

You reach forward and take his hands in yours and squeeze them. You’re quiet for some time, the sounds of a jazz band tuning up in the background almost like static. You’re hardly even vaguely aware of it. 

Marc squeezes your hands, catches your attention again, “And you.” 

You frown, the thundering of your heart not sure what to make of it, to believe him or not. 

“And you, now,” he repeats again. “Me, Maya…and you,” there are nerves trailing at the edge of his voice like shorelines, his eyes are warm like the coloured pieces of floor when the sun hits stained glass. “That is…if you want.” 

“That’d be nice,” you want to say that his words set alight butterflies all over your body but that would be inadequate. There are flocks upon flocks of geese, squawking and flapping every which way, you can barely think over the sounds they’re making. 

And you, now. 

“I want that, Marc,” you smile, and then let out a nervous little shudder of a laugh. An easy breath, after the taught tension that had begun to build up. 

“Yeah?” the depths of his eyes light up, the delicate skin around them creases. 

“Yeah.” It comes out breathy and awkward. You think you said yes to your first kiss much the same way. 

“Ok,” he laughs, the tightness draining out of his shoulders, a smile growing on his face like cherry blossoms. “Ok, that…that went better than I expected.” 

“I’m glad,” you don’t dare to ask what he’d expected, to see what kind of image yourself you’d portrayed and how he’d built it up inside his mind. Underneath that as well is the insinuation that this hasn’t gone the way he’d hoped before. Meaning that he’s done this before, meaning that there was someone that sat across from him, just as you are right now. That he cared enough about them to tell them about Maya. 

You don’t mean to be so nit-picky, so jealous and possessive. 

It just sort of happened to you. 

One day, Marc was the guy you were casually seeing, the one with the pretty smile and the intense loneliness that poured out of him like sludge, and the next you were here, talking about your future together, one that had his daughter in it as well. 

You had never been one to get attached so easily. It concerns you how easily and quickly this came to you, like a newly-hatched turtle already dragging itself to the ocean. 

You wonder what’s made Marc different from the rest of the people you’ve gone out with.  

The question strikes an unpleasant nerve, one that’s embedded deep into tissue and muscle, and you leave it alone. Instead, you pick up a spoon and start to pick away at the long forgotten dessert. 

As you’d expected, it’s too sweet for you right now, even the bitterness of the coffee doesn’t manage to balance it out. 

Maybe you’ll take this to go, enjoy it in the morning and pretend Marc is sitting in front of you at your table, frowning as he looks down at his phone. 

In your little daydream, there’s a faint giggle that sounds like what meringue tastes like, a gentle patter of children’s feet approaches the table and-

Something bumps into your table at the restaurant. It makes Marc’s knife hit the base of his wine glass and draws you out of your thoughts again, heart pounding, heat rising to your face, feeling as if you’ve done something wrong. 

An older couple apologises to the both of you and they swirl away again, dancing to the rhythm of the music. 

Though they’re not exactly the picture of grace and elegance, their movements jerky from dried and rusty joints, there’s a certain light that radiates from out of them. It draws your eyes towards them, brings a smile to your face. 

“Hey,” Marc’s voice is soft like the espresso-soaked ladyfingers of the tiramisu on the table. Though his palm is gently roughened over, it’s even softer than his voice as he lets it rest on top of your hand. “You wanna dance?” 

You look back at him, then down at the table shyly, hiding behind your wing, “I don’t know how.” 

He shrugs, gives you a reassuring squeeze, “I don’t know how either.” Having made the decision for the two of you he stands up, takes your hand and leads you towards the dance floor. 

The warmth of his arm around your waist reminds you of the passion he showed you in his bed. It makes you shiver, draws your body to his the way a compass is drawn to the North. 

You don’t do much of dancing, if you’re being honest. Nothing compared to the intricate footwork patterns the other couples are doing. Marc holds you and sways with you, your feet shuffling together awkwardly. 

He hums along to the music, his voice is gentle and soothing. You can feel the vibrations of it in your chest, the warmth of his body spilling into yours like a waterfall. 

Then, with his hand curled around you, he draws you in closer, almost imperceptibly if you hadn’t been able to tell by the brush of his clothes against you. You’re so close now that the only reasonable choice is to press your head onto his shoulder, to take in the smell of his cologne and his skin. 

There’s the wave of a sigh that comes and fades away. His exhale rolls over your shoulder, curls around your heart like a cat’s tail. Though he doesn’t speak, there are words that come with his breath that you can hear. 

You place your cheek against his and hope that he hears your response. 

You fit together like puzzle pieces, a lock and key.

Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.

Masterlist here.

[theflyindutchwoman]

License and registration, please. C'mon, you don't really need that, do you? You should come to the party after work. We'd have fun. Yeah. I bet we would. … All right, I'm gonna let you go with a warning this time. But slow down, okay? Yeah, I promise. Thank you so much. Yeah. Have fun at that party.

| ANATOMY OF A SCENE - CHENFORD EDITION 3.14 - Threshold

Lucy's first solo undercover assignment… and it's already clear that despite her lack of proper training, she is extremely good at this. The way she is able to quickly think on her feet and adapt to any situation, while remaining level-headed is remarkable. We saw hints of this when she was a rookie but now, we get to see this side of her completely shine. Like how she catches Tim's attention : she knows she's in a perilous situation and the second she sees his shop, she immediately seizes the opportunity to get noticed, all so she can warn Nyla about the incoming robbery without raising any suspicion. I've always wondered whether she recognised Tim specifically when she sped up or not… But regardless, once she sees him in her rearview mirror, her anxiety and worry cranks up a level, with Dahrio ready to shoot their way out. And yet, she manages to take control of the situation. She uses her outward panic to sell her cover story, following Nyla's advice to the letter : You know, if you're not nervous, you're not human. Okay? So, use this to your advantage. Be scared. A nice reminder that Lucy is indeed a quick-learner.

This is also where Tim and Lucy's shorthand comes in handy and is beautifully underlined, with how well they can read and understand the other… And this, despite the fact that they haven't ridden together for close to a month. That's not to say it is perfect either : it is not quite as effortless as the next time she'll go undercover - with him. There's a slight awkwardness present between them. But it works for them. Tim getting caught off-guard at Nova's flirting makes their act more credible in a way. And even though he lets her get away a little bit too easily, it still gets the job done, from Lucy passing all the informations she has to Tim understanding her message. But it goes beyond the dialogue. It's how these two have a whole conversation without words. It's in the intense eye-contact. It's in the physical touch, with Lucy putting her hand on Tim's, using this gesture to ground them both, to reassure him that she's fine and she's got this. It's in the softness of Tim's voice when he tells her to slow down : he's no longer talking to Nova here, he's asking Lucy to be careful. It's in his last look before he leaves - a proud look, trying to infuse how much faith he has in her. And this is such a departure from his original reaction when he found out about her wish to do undercover work. He learned his lesson and he's trying to be as encouraging as he can without tipping off the bad guys. It's subtle but judging by Lucy's look, she got his message.

This is their first interaction since she went undercover… But more than that : it's also one of their first interaction since her graduation. Since her last day as his rookie, which incidentally, was when they last talked about her trying to become an undercover cop. When he last voiced his reticence and doubts on the matter. We didn't get to see his reaction at her going back under for a longer period, without immediate backup. So this little moment is the perfect opportunity to show where his head is at… how supportive he now is. Not to mention that it introduces us to that scene at the wedding, where he openly praises her. And I love how Tim will take this encounter as a reason to get involved in the operation - even from afar - and pester Nyla after that. Because truthfully, he doesn't have any reason to insert himself here : Nyla is the one in charge. He is no longer Lucy's training officer so Harper doesn't have to tell him anything or update him. But she knows how important this is for him. It's also reminiscent of their moment after Day of Death, when they were trying to figure out who might better serve Lucy for her first day back. It's worth noting that this is the first and last time so far that Tim isn't involved in Lucy's undercover mission in whatever capacity from the get-go. But it never comes across as a lack of faith in her abilities or as him being overbearing. It always feel natural, as a show of support. She's calling the shots and he follows her lead… It's a bit of a role-reversal from their former dynanic but it demonstrates how well they complement each other.

[hals-homo-blog]

Ponycard Art Dump

I don't remember *when* exactly I did these. I think like, in the fall of 2023? Maybe? Memory Loss? Help?

I HAD SOOOO MUCH FUN DESIGNING PONYCARD. Is he a changeling? Is he an Alicorn God? Who knows, that's the thing about LuLu, he loves to keep people guessing. I gave him kind of a medium build for the usual Alucard form, then I think Vladcard should be a proper Clydesdale, retaining the bat wings and pointy horn. Would pre-vampirism Vlad be an Earth Pony or something?? I dunno, I feel like one of the more knowledgeable Alucard-loving blogs like @/michi-tala would be better able to answer that kind of thing, but for now, this is all I know lol. Allycard gives me Unicorn vibes, esp with the predominantly white color palette, but I haven't read/watched her stories, so again, I don't *really* know. My expertise is in the base Hellsing Ultimate/Gonzo lore XD

I didn't finish the first one bc it looks so good and I was scare of fucking it up. A good artists knows to quit when they're ahead. /nsrs

I'm gonna put all the self-ship stuff under the cut Because I Am Still Shy About This One 😭

I know I have not shared any Halcyon lore on here, so I'll do like, a brief recap. She was a 'Hal' originally (and she was a dude at that time) then she just sort of?? Took on her own character?? As this sort of tsundere kind of Vitorian Era vampiress. She was a peasant to begin with in a no-name village. The village was torn apart by ghouls and Alucard essentially found her dying after fighting for her home, do you want to be a vampire, sexy bite, you get the idear. Then they've basically been married for 250~ years after that.

I made her too fucking small in the last one and it's Pissing me Off that I got the scaling wrong but I got the anatomy and the expressions so Spot On I couldn't redraw it *bites my arm off bites my arm off bites my arm off bites my arm off.*

Halcyon is smaller than Alucard, I mean, he's an Alicorn and she's an Earth Pony for crying out loud, but still, that's too damn small.

I love the way LuLu looks in these ngl. I need to get back to drawing Hellsing ponies, Ponycard was *really* fun to draw.

[at1nys-blog]

Sister and Girlfriend

Pairing: Danny Duquette x sister!reader; Danny Duquette x Isobel Izzie Stevens

Summary: you like Izzie and so your brother

A/N: Daisy is a nick name Denny gave his sister; I think I am late(?) to write for Grey's Anatomy but like until 2 weeks ago I wasn't very interested in this show but now? Damn is good, way better than Chicago Med sorry I had to, maybe. Btw this one contains spoilers from the season2 finale and if you are like me that is just now watching it and you are not on season3 please don't read but if you are like everyone else I know, is save for you to read.

Masterlist

You had been with Danny every step of the way, sacrificing your time to get him in and out every hospital in the country and every time it was just the same. Waiting and figting had started to be so tiresome for the both of you and Danny, he started to think that maybe God had other plans for him.

You were reading some tabloid, Danny was getting checked by a nurse when Dr. Bailey came inside the room followed by three interns.

"I hope seeing you here means they finally found you a heart" she said after saying hi to Danny.

"No offence, doctor, but I'm not a big fan of hospitals" he started with his usual stupid smile on. You rolled your eyes and got next to his best.

"She knows Denny. Doctor Bailey"

"Y/N how are you?" you shrugged it, meh as your answer was good enough for Miranda, especially since she had knew the Duquette siblings for a while now. "Okay, what do we know about Mr. Duquette?"

Denny didn't get a chance to the interns to talk that he started flirting with the blonde, you had to admit, she was very nice to look at but in that moment it was not the case to be all flirty and cheesy. You wanted to tell your brother but Miranda spoke for you, thanks Miranda, you noted for yourself.

"Danny Duquette, 36, admitted today for a heart transplant necessitated by a viral cardiomyopathy" Dr. Bailey asked her something, you didn't pay much attention, you knew what that meant, having heard it a couple of other times before it got stuck into your consciousness.

"That his heart is unable to fill and pump blood normally."

"That his heart is unable to fill and pump blood normally." you said under your breath. Denny looked at you for a moment before he was back at the blonde doctor with his stupid flirty smile on. You rolled your eyes once again that day.

It slipped your ears, the name of the doctor that was going to attend your brother, too occupied to lecture Denny in your mind. You wanted to tell him to act more like a proper patient and stop flirting with the doctor.

You saw the group leaving, for a second and that was your moment to talk to Denny about how he had to stop being so bold.

"You are making a mistake" you said. "I'm serious Denny, is a mistake and you should stop it before it gets out of control"

"Deisy come on, is harmless flirtying. Nothing is going to happen... I promise"

"Stick to your words or I'm going to kill you myself" he snorted at your threats as he always had done since he got sick. "I'm going to call mum. Do NOT flirt with your doctor mister, I'll know."

"Yes ma'am." he gave you the salute and tried to get comfortable in his new bed that year. He never noticed but everytime he stopped smiling you saw it. You were there to see how painfull it was for him this situation and you felt like a garbage sister, powerless and in need to do something even just a little.

The fresh air outside the hospital was a little blessing, staing inside the air started to feel saturated and everything felt so heavy: your head, your eyes, your bones and muscles. Everything felt like someone was crashing you under the weight of a giant rock, and knowing you had to call your mum was not making things better.

"Don't answer, please don't pick up th... Mum, hi. We could be better...yes, yes, is just a chek up so don't worry. No, I don't... mum listen is nothing too serious, Dr. Bailey visited him and for now is all doing... Yes, I'll say to Miranda you said hi, but listen... uhm uhm, okay fine just... Nevermind, I'll call you later. I love you, of course I'll tell Denny you love him" she hung up on you, as always. "Guess it would kill her to say I love you back"

"Problems?" a voice spoke behind you making you jump out of your skin. "Sorry didn't mean to scare you."

"Is okay" looking at her you recognised her from back in Denny's room. "you are dr..."

"Stevens, but you can call me Izzie if you like." pause. An embarazing silence feel between the two of you. "how do you know Duquette?" she asked to cut the tension that was growing by the seconds.

"I'm his sister, and about before I am very sorry. He thinks his problems could get him away with flirting with people"

"He does that a lot?" now that you thought about it, no. This was the first time Denny had been this bold with whoever was treating him and this was a surprise to you. "Is not like..."

"No, he actually never did that before. At least not in front of him but I guess I assumed. You had to take a minute recollecting your thoughts, closing your eyes you ran your fingers over them.

"You need some rest"

"No I'm fi... I guess I really do some good rest." but nontheless you didn't moved an inch, you were dying for some hours of good sleep but didn't want to stay away from your brother. "But what if something happens to him and I am not there?" you could feel your eyes starting to water, more and more. "I can rest tomorrow is okay. I need to stay with Denny as much as possible. See you inside Dr. Stevens." Izzie didn't even bother to correct you, it was not that big of a deal, she knew you had more important things to take care of.

It was during the third time that day that Izzie came to check up on Denny that you knew something was wrong, you had noticed Dr. Burke's expression in the hallway when he had called Stevens aoutside, that look on his face meant one thing: no heart available for Denny.

You scoffed and decided to take a walk around the hospital before your back was going to scream at you for how sore it was going to turn if you didn't move a little.

"Where are you going?" he sounded groggy and very weak, weaker than his usual but yet if he was at the hospital that meant it was way more serious than his usual.

"I need to move those babies if I don't want them to tingle for for ever." you joked, he scoffed before coughing. "Do I need to call someone?"

"No is nothing, go stroll around and bring me some decent food, better if is Dr. Stevens" you smiled at him saying you were going to do your best.

Izzie was the one that found you, she was your brother's doctor and she wanted to be the one breaking the news to you but you knew already, how couldn't you when Burke's face said it all?

Looking at her made it even more real, he didn't get the heart. Once again he was ripped off of a chance to start a new life, all over again. You wanted to cry, no, you needed to. It had been years since you let it all out and now you felt the need to do so.

"Here, if you need anything call me, even if it's not Denny related, I'll try my best to asnwer you" she said handing you her business card. You waited, just until she was back inside.

You were holding into the business card as your life depended on it, and you broke down. You started crying getting everyon's attention on you but you didn't care much right now. It really didn't matter what people had to say seeing you like that.

You felt it was yur fault, how was it possible other wise? Just the night before you had called Izzie and joked about how Denny was doing so fine.

"He doesn't want to see me anymore?" she had said laughing at her own words and you had faked being shocked telling your brother what a jackass he was being, not going to see a fine doctor as her? Unbelievable.

And now here he was, in the back of an ambulance while you were once again shaking, filled with anxiety to what was about to happen this time.

You followed the paramedics once on the site, one of them, you couldn't tell who, was shouting Denny's parameters. Some words, you could understand others just flew over your head as if they were nothing.

"YN?" turning around you saw Izzie

"I...we were... he was fine yesterday Izzie, he was cracking jokes and... now... Oh god Izzie please, help him. Please." few times you had begged for something, you didn't like to do that but in that situation you needed her help, you were useless for your brother.

"I'll do my be.." you couldn't handlet it anymore. Your legs started to feel like jelly and your head felt lighter in a second. You could tell you were going to faint. "Shit. Y/N? Y/N can you hear me? Alex come help me" that was the last thing you heard before loosing consciousness.

The bright white lights of the hospital were annoying, they were giving you a big headache that made you grumpy when you were not in the right situation to be that moody and grumpy.

"Where is Denny?" you only cared about your brother and nothing else, you didn't care if you had to regain your strenght or whatever you HAD to be next to Denny as soon as possible before it was too late "HELLO CAN SOMEONE ANSWER ME?"

"Ehy, easy tiger calm down"

"I will when somoene tells me where is my brother." sitting up you had to take a deep breath, your vision got blurry for a second. "So where is Denny Duquette?"

"They are running exams upstairs in..."

"Can you take me there?" the doctor wasn't answering and you were growing impatience by the seconds "you know what? I can go by myslef" leaving the bed was not a good idea, especially when you were trying to recover from fainting. Loosing a little bit of balance you almost fell onto the doctor.

"Okay, wait here." time started to go painfully slow, everything started moving in slow-motion and you felt like throwing up. It was so unfair what was happening but yet you had to see it coming, why on earth did you started to rest on your laurels? Why now? Nothing was different from your usual visits to the ER so why getting cozy now?

You had to get yourself back together, it was no time to show any sign of weakness not when your brother was in critical conditions.

The doctor was back pushing your way a wheelchair and helping you sitting there.

"Your ride is here ma'am"

"Is not time for chit-chatting, move now" you were never rude to people, but right now you didn't had the energies to have civil interactions with people that weren't Dr. Bailey, Burke, Izzie or your brother.

The walking upstairs seemed an infinite journey and the more you were away from Denny the more worried you were. You started to hyperventilate and in a closed space like an elevatore that was not good.

The doctor handed you a sachet, asking you to start breath in there before the situation got any worst. Following his orders you managed to bring your heart beat slowing down and so your breathing. You thanked him and finally you were on the right floor.

"Hi Y/N how are you doing? I've heard you fainted in front of the hospital" Preston was kind enought to ask how you were doing before saying anything about Denny's medical conditions.

"I had better days, how is..." Denny's machine started beeping in an allarming rate, Izzie was already inside when it happened, the doctor that was prior with you rushed inside followed by Bruke, you heard little to nothing about their conversation but you were sure it was a bunch of medical terms you couldn't understand even if you wanted to.

Nurses followed some minutes later working on the defibrillator and some minutes later they were using the paddles on him. First hit, first round of screaming. It wasn't enough, they went with a second shot and Denny was screaming once again, this time louder than before but at least this time his heart started to slow down his frenetic race, you could tell by the sound of the machine.

Wheeling inside the room Denny looked at you confused, why were you in a wheel chair?

"Are you trying to outstage me here? I'm the sick one of the family don't try and steal my spotlight" he joked making you and Izzie laugh a little.

"Nothing too serious, I just fainted when we arrived at the hospital no biggie" he gave you a little snort before going back to check on Izzie. She was working on his chart but still managed to lecture the both of you, saying how one day either one of you were going to give her a heart attack.

"Look at that my two girls stealing my thunder" there he was, back at cracking jokes left and right.

It had been a couple of months since the surgery, you had come to visit Denny at least once every day and thanked Izzie for staying on his side while you couldn't be there. During your visits Denny had talked to you about his scrabble games with the doctor and how he wanted to marry her.

"Dude you can't drop a bomb like this to me as if it was nothing" there was no way he told you like that, like it wasn't some very important decision. "but if you propose I would like to help you with preparations and stuff"

"Stuff? Really?"

"What? Is not like a cared too much to learn the proper terminology, but I am ready to do my best now that I know your plans for the future. Here" you covered him a little bit more, you didn't want him to feel cold, or maybe it was you that was cold. You didn't know, since Denny got sick you lived to make sure he was comfortable always every hour of the day.

Since the LVAD surgery your brother had more good days than bad ones but still on those no days it was very, very bad. He would yell at you and Dr. Stevens about he wanted nothing but just "walk to into the light" to which you and Izzie had tried multiple times to stop making him say nonsenses, but that only made him more angry at the two of you.

"I'm sorry" you had said sitting outside his room when you saw her leaving "he is usually not like that but.... all of this is just too much for him and he is getting tired to fight. I get it, but... I don't know what I would do without him. We made some promises. "

"I can imagine." she sat next to you "do you want to talk about your promises?"

"Nothing any other big brother is supposed to do, you know? Being overprotective, calling me every five minutes to know where I am and with who. He is supposed to scare away my dates, Izzie how can he do that if he is not there?"

"No, don't say that. He will get a new heart and he will recover faster than you can imagine. In no time he would be scaring away your dates while I tell him to chill out" she scoffed at her own words, she find it funny how she pictured herself with him outside the walls of the hospital.

"But we have to be realistic. He might not get a heart and even if he does he might not survive the transplant." silence. "Izzie? Am I a bad sister if I think he won't be able to survive?"

"No, you are not a bad sister"

It was the second time, you were sure you were calling it because it was not possible. It couldn't be. He had to get better, he had to be better becuase he had things to take care of. He had to marry Izzie and you had to help them with preparation and stuff; he had to scare your dates away and protect you; he had to recover and yet he didn't.

He was gone, just like that. He was doing fine and then, in a blink of an eye he was gone. He had walked into the damn white light to never come back.

"You can't do this to me Denny. For fuck sake man, you were supposed to stay by my side." You hoped it was one of his sick prank that he played on you to give you a heart attack and to fuel your trust issues even more. You hoped he was just faking being dead because there was no way the surgery wasn't going to be successful. As fast as Denny left you started crying, you cried like you never did before.

You were sad, angry, tired and a lot more. You couldn't list all the emotions you were feeling but there was a lot going on in your head and body. Izzie was next, crying her soul out angry by the fact that just a couple of hours ago he was proposing and now he was heading to the mourge.

Dr. Torres and Karev had to try and calm.you too down but how can you do that when a sister just lost her brother and a girl her fianceé? You sure can give it a try but you sure as hell were going to fail.

It had been weeks, how many you didn't know, you just knew that Meredith proposed you to stay with her, George and Izzie so they could make sure you were going to let yourself die. And there you were, in bed (Meredith's) staring at the rooftop, so white it made your eyes tear up every single day. Izzie on the other hand was back on her feet, still broken but yet she managed to move on, a little bit.

A knock on the door, you ignored it, Izzie's voice told you they were leaving and that you had some breakfast just outside the door and they had left some food in the fridge if you felt like eating and the cupboards were filled with junk food if you prefered that. She said her goodbyes and you kept silence, not able to say a word.

It was when you heard the main door closing behind them you started crying feeling like an enormous, huge weight got off your shoulders. Today you gave the time to be weak, today and just for today you allowed yourself to grief in peace without feeling guilty.

[emeraldelysian]

Moon Byulyi ✧ A Fine Taste

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Pairing: Moon Byulyi x Reader

Genre: Smut

Synopsis: With the late and disheveled arrival of your date, you are easily unimpressed by his demeanor and language. However, his lack of presence allowed you to engage in a flirtation with a woman across the bar- leading to heavenly wonders in the bar bathroom.

Wordcount: 2.6K+

Warnings: Brian’s lowkey homophobic, all my homies hate Brian; Reader has F. Anatomy; Bathroom Sex; Eating Out; Fingering; Praise Kink; Exhibitionist; Cum Eating

Note: This is honestly one of the best things I’ve ever written; Moonbyul is so hot in this and I don’t know if y’all will survive.

♡︎ follow, provide feedback, or reblog if you enjoyed but please don't repost or translate!♡︎

MDNI, 18+ CONTENT

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“Sorry I'm late,” he says. 

As he briskly removes his jacket and shakes the rain from his hair, droplets fling onto the white tablecloth. A few land in the half-empty breadbasket, the contents of which are no longer steaming as they had been when the waiter first brought it to the table. 

“I’m Brian,” he says, extending his hand to you.

You scoff, rolling your eyes at the gesture—a bit too proper for someone who couldn’t even be bothered to account for the weather in rush hour traffic. Not to mention that he was interrupting wherever the night had been headed with the beautiful stranger at the bar, the one you had been eye-fucking the whole time you’d been waiting for him.

You shake Brian’s outreached hand anyway, hoping he doesn’t mistake the flush in your cheeks and cold sweat on your palms as a side effect of his presence.

“Y/N,” you say. For one horrific moment when he hesitates, you suspect he might bring your fingers to his lips, oblivious to your annoyance. Much to your relief, he releases his grip and narrows his eyes at the open bottle of wine chilling in an ice bucket between you both instead.

His brow arches. “Oh,” he says, frowning at the centerpiece, digging his wallet out of his pocket. “I see you’ve helped yourself. Not too expensive for a first date, I hope?”

It’s not just his words, but the screech of the chair and the stench of cheap cologne that makes you wrinkle your nose.

You don’t miss the way the brunette’s attention keeps drifting back to your table, her gaze flickering between you and your intruder.

You stifle a laugh. You weren’t invested in being set up with her mother’s colleague's son. But you do find it a little funny, now that he’s finally here, that he’s intruding on his own date.

Your admirer is clearly still interested, setting her sights now on your bare legs. Sucking in a breath, you steel yourself before crossing your knees. Your fingers twitch, but you fight the instinct to stop your skirt from rising to the side where the slit reveals your thigh.

“You’re in the clear,” You say, doing nothing to hide the sarcasm dripping from your tone. “It was a gift.”

His unkempt brows disappear behind his fringe. “Someone you know?”

Not yet. 

“Nope,” you reply, folding your arms, pointer finger tapping against your bicep.

He waits for you to elaborate.

Cocking your head to the side, you opt for playing dumb instead.

“Well, I guess we owe our mysterious onlooker a thank you,” he remarks after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

“My,” You correct.

His lips press together in a tight line. “What?”

“You were nowhere to be found,” you remind him. “So she is my mysterious onlooker, no?”

His pupils dilate, jaw unclenching. “She?”

You stiffen and nod, loathing how much you can anticipate his next response.

“Well, I guess I have nothing to worry about then.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” you counter, sighing at his baffled expression, “I’m not only into men.”

It takes a few seconds for your words to sink in and then, “Oh!” His face brightens, morphing into one of delight, as he glances around the restaurant, like a dog sniffing out his new favorite toy.

“Would you-”

“I need to use the ladies' room,” you snap, cutting off what was sure to be another request for a threesome from a straight man.

It’s not that you have anything against them- threesomes, or straight men in general. But you certainly won’t be entertaining anything with this one anytime soon, alone or with a partner.

Brian’s mouth opens and closes like a gaping fish washed up on the shore. You might have thought he was mildly handsome under different circumstances, but with the mere 5 minutes of his initial presentation, you were already tired of interacting with him.

You straighten your spine and walk tall away from your table. Your neck tingles as you pass the brunette woman, who is still nursing the same glass of whiskey, and her entourage. The sting of her eyes tracking your trajectory prickles every inch of your exposed skin.

You hasten into the bathroom and blow out a deep breath once inside. You blink at your reflection, fixing your appearance. Your palms linger, caressing and squeezing, imagining another pair of hands covering your own.

You could leave if you wanted. Just scrawl your number on a paper towel for your new crush and then sneak out the back. Then start a nice warm bath once back in your apartment, teasing yourself with your favorite vibrator. Dragging out your orgasm until you cum, fantasizing about those sunlit locks tangled through your fingers and soft rose kisses between your thighs. 

Your mother would be livid for ditching Brian, making it all the more tempting. 

With a sigh, you run the cold water into the sink, but just as you’re about to splash your flushed face, the door swings open, startling you. You glance up at the door through the mirror, the coffee-eyed beauty in holding eye contact with you as the door clicks shut behind her.

“Hello,” she says, calm and sweet with a soft hum of approval as her gaze lowers a fraction and your nipples harden beneath her stare.

Momentarily forgetting how to speak, your mouth snaps shut. The other woman’s lips curl into a soft grin, closing the distance to lean around you and turn off the faucet. 

“I’m Moon Byulyi, but you can call me Moonbyul,” she says, resting her hip against the counter, tugging her brown locks to one side to expose her neck, and angling her body towards you in the process. Your breath hitches, as you imagine running your fingers down Moonbyul’s clavicle.

You swallow. “Hi,” you say. Moonbyul arches a brow with such precision that you’re convinced she must have practiced that look at least a dozen times before. You clear your throat before adding, “I’m Y/N.”

“Hi, Y/N,” she murmurs, as a lover might from between the sheets. “It’s nice to meet you.” She doesn’t reach out to take her hand. Instead, she seems to be waiting for your next move. 

You wipe your palms on your dress, before wriggling them together. “You have a fine taste,” you murmur and immediately regret it. Moonbyul’s eyes light up, teeth sinking into her ruby-painted lip to stifle her laughter. “-in wine!” You finish quickly, blood rushing to your cheeks again. 

There’s a startling contrast between how controlled you are when men fawn over you, to how quickly you are reduced to a pool of mush when you’re caught in the sights of a pretty lady. Moonbyul licks her lips and all at once, the only thing you can focus on is how her mouth looks as inviting and red and sweet as the wine poured into your glass, empty and abandoned at the table.

Along with your date. 

There must be something in your expression that’s easy to read, because the next thing Moonbyul says is, “How long before you need to get back?”

You could tell her that you’re already planning an escape route, maybe even invite Moonbyul to come home with you. But the low huskiness of Moonbyul’s voice and the flash of danger in her eyes spark your curiosity past the point of no return. How far would you be willing to go here?

Your heart quickens, as you lift your chin and muster up the courage to say, “However long it takes.” 

Moonbyul’s eyes widen a fraction, apparently taken aback by this sudden forwardness. You wonder if you’ve made an awful mistake. 

You aren’t left wondering for long.

Time speeds up. One moment your feet are steady on the floor and the next your backside is pressed up against the sink while ridiculously soft fingers roam your torso, reaching upwards to trace your jaw, asking for permission. You release a shuddering breath and words escape you, before you’re frantically nodding into the kiss, hands skimming up Moonbyul’s silk blouse to knead her warm flesh.

You swallow Moonbyul’s moan as she moves to ruck up your navy dress. “Can I-”

“If you don’t, I will,” you admit.

Moonbyul beams at you and she melts into a puddle under your touch. “Up,” she commands and then adds, teasingly, “I want to see how fine my taste is.”

You bury your face in Moonbyul’s neck, sucking a mark onto her pulse point and nipping at her shoulder before obeying, hopping up onto the counter. A strangled gasp leaves your mouth when your bare skin hits the cool metal. 

Moonbyul shushes you, a gentle, “I got you,” passing her lips, breath tickling her chin.

Your stomach swoops as Moonbyul glides between your legs. She tugs the dip of your dress down like she’s unwrapping a present and swirls her tongue around your nipple like it’s her favorite flavor of ice cream.

You hiss at the sudden scrape of her teeth. “Wait-”

Moonbyul stills, instantly pulling back to check you over. “What’s wrong?”

“The door-” you pant. “Is it locked?”

Moonbyul’s smile is predatory. “Maybe,” she hedges, “if you want it to be.” Her lips brush against your ear. “But isn’t it hotter, not knowing if that inconsiderate boyfriend of yours will come barreling through here only to find my tongue buried deep in your cunt?”

Your moan is feral and yeah, maybe you should explain that Brian is most definitely not your boyfriend, but you’re not going to ruin this moment.

Your eyes meet again, mouth tumbling after. Moonbyul’s determination rolls off of her in waves, searching every inch of your skin, latching onto whatever sensitive flesh will make you shudder and gasp. Moonbyul rolls one of your nipples between her forefinger and thumb, sucking the other into her mouth with kitten licks and nips.

“You’re not playing fair,” you mutter, as Moonbyul draws her lips away with a pop, rewarding you with a seductive smirk.

“I don’t like rules.” The confession rolls off her tongue like it’s the world’s dirtiest secret. “But I do like keeping track of the ones I break.”

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” you groan while arching her back as Moonbyul slides your soaked lace panties down your legs and stuffs them into her purse.

“I’ll make up for it later,” she promises, the implication alone sending a thrill up your spine. Moonbyul sinks down to the floor. “Spread your legs for me, love.” 

Your head drops back and hits the mirror at the words. The ghost of a kiss finds the inside of your knee. 

“That’s it,” Moonbyul cues. Her praise does wonders to your body, sending a shiver straight to your clit. You briefly wonder if this is the work of some benevolent goddess, given that you were praying for this exact scenario not five minutes earlier.

You’ll worry about which religion to convert to later.

You look down just in time to catch Moonbyul in the act of sliding two fingers past her lips, sucking and coating them in spit. It’s probably not necessary, given that you’re practically vibrating with arousal, but Moonbyul makes a show of it and she’s such a pretty picture like this. 

Hell, you’re not going to stop her.

Moonbyul’s smile is coy when she catches you ogling her like she knows all the filthy thoughts running through your mind.

“Relax,” she says between quick breaths as she presses in closer. You grip Moonbyul’s free hand. Moonbyul flips it over lacing your fingers together, causing your heart to halt and stutter against her. “We’re both going to enjoy this.”

Moonbyul’s nose brushes up against your clit, breathing you in and sending small puffs of air over your center. Then, she pauses, leaving you wanting for a moment. She waits right up until you begin to squirm until a soft please leaves your lips. And then, as if that’s what she was waiting for, one long finger slips inside you with ease, the familiar pressure causing your eyes to roll back. 

It’s been too long since anyone has done this for you.

Moonbyul presses a chaste kiss to your clit before diving her tongue between your folds, humming and vibrating against you. You are up the wall with need, each new sensation igniting a white fire in your veins. She explores your cunt just like she explored the rest of you, thoroughly mapping your entire body with her mouth and tongue, and fingers. 

Moonbyul drags this out until you are dripping and pleading for her to return her attention to that bundle of nerves, before sliding another finger inside, curling at the knuckles, and playing your pleasure spot like a piano key. She learns fast, discovering where to apply more pressure each time you let out the most embarrassing noises, and exactly how much it takes to make you sing. Your toes curl as Moonbyul finds that sweet spot again and again.

“Hush,” Moonbyul murmurs from above your clit, causing you to jerk against Moonbyul’s mouth. “You don’t want anyone bursting in here to check on us now, do you?” You involuntarily clench down on her fingers and you feel Moonbyul’s smirk sweep across your inner thigh. “Or perhaps you do, naughty girl.”

With those words echoing in your mind, your orgasm builds inside you. Every thrust of Moonbyul’s fingers and every twist of her tongue brings you closer to release.

You thread your fingers through Moonbyul’s hair as delicately you can manage, but when they tighten and tug in spite of your care, Moonbyul’s movements grow more eager. She rolls her tongue harder against your clit, crooking her knuckles deeper.

There’s a sharp knock on the door and you gasp; the jump sends you right over the edge. You tighten and snap, riding out your orgasm on Moonbyul’s face, biting your fist to muffle your screams. Your vision whites out and your legs shake. Moonbyul slows her pace, gently licking around your folds as you come down from your high.

The deep voices behind the door grow louder and more urgent. You nearly panic but Moonbyul takes care of it. She pulls away far enough to shout, “Just give us a minute, we’re dealing with some girly issues if you catch my drift.”

You might have laughed if she weren’t so exhausted.

Once the footsteps fade away, Moonbyul rests her head against your thigh, looking through her lashes. “You good?” she asks softly.

You nod and smile back at her, standing to help Moonbyul fix her suit. You think about asking for your panties back but decide it would be better to save it as an excuse to see Moonbyul again.

You hop down and reach for Moonbyul’s hand, stilling yourself. “Will I be able to return the favor?”

Moonbyul cocks her head, licking the taste of you from the seam of her lips. You try not to, but you can’t help the shiver that travels up your spine at the sight. 

“Is that your way of asking for my number?” Moonbyul asks, coy.

Hesitating only a moment, you reply, “Actually I was asking if you’d like to come home with me.”

Moonbyul's smooth brow creases, eyes widening. “That’s rather bold of you.”

You bite your cheek to keep from snorting. “Not nearly as bold as fucking another person’s date on a public bathroom counter.”

“That’s fair.” She hums. “You’re going to break that poor boy’s heart, you know.”

Your nose wrinkles. “Doubtful, we’d only just met.”

“So did we,” Moonbyul counters.

You lean forward, lacing your fingers with hers. “And do I have the power to break your heart, Byulie?”

Moonbyul catches her grin between her teeth. 

“I think I’d like to find out, love.”

[jasper-the-menace]

Hey, since you're interested in scorpion biology, I thought you'd be interested in the idea of... intersex Chima scorpions! Well, sort of.

There's a specific character that's been bugging me a bit. Scutter is kind of the scorpion equivalent of a centaur; he has two torsos, one anthropomorphic, and another of the scorpion body. With scorpion anatomy in mind, it's easy to reach the conclusion that Scutter's reproductive organ would be heavily altered because of his body, making him intersex to a certain extent.

I hope this makes sense. I'm trying to look for possible trans rep in Chima characters (like in this example). What do you think of this idea?

Oh friend, you don't know the essay you just inspired.

You Opened This Can Of Worms, Now Lie In It

Some important bulletpoints before I get going, just to get all of my followers on the same page:

Disclaimer: I am a transgender nonbinary perisex individual. This means I am not intersexed (to my knowledge), I don't identify with the gender I was assigned at birth, and I don't identify as male or female. The closest thing to describing my gender is literally "no".

I am a strong advocate for making as many characters transgender as possible, regardless of "realism". That's why, in my own writing, half of the Scorpions are retroactively transgender (though they don't understand gender on the whole and most of them would probably be nonbinary if someone took fifteen minutes to explain gender, variable social constructs, and the concept of genitalia tying to gender roles) and also Razar is too on account of I said so.

Being intersexed does not inherently mean being transgender. There is a lot of discussion and individual choice between intersexed people about whether or not they're part of the queer community. It's a very individual thing, and I am not part of those discussions on account of not being intersex myself.

When it comes to humans and other beings with a level of sentience and sapience, the term "hermaphrodite" and its derivates are considered slurs. When talking about animals, hermaphrodite and its derivates are scientific terms. So in something like the Legends of Chima series and other humanoid-animal media, the proper term is "intersexed". (I noticed you used the term "intersex" in your ask, and I appreciate it!)

I know too much about scorpion mating and birth.

We're talking way too much about genitalia and gender tonight in regards to fictional characters.

I am genuinely delighted that you decided to drop in here to discuss this, because boy howdy do I have a lot of thoughts about transgender headcanons/representation and scorpions specifically! Scorpions are just. So damn cool.

Note for my fellow arachnophobes: There are no images attached to this post, but it's really easy to find videos of scorpions doing various things on YouTube, which is actually how I've been studying them.

Scorpion Sex, Mating, and Genitalia

Scorpions of both "genders" have genital opercula (singular: genital operculum), and their asses run up into their tails. In order to mate, they don't just do like horses. No no, buddy, they have a really weird, specific method!

In order to start wooing his potential mate, the male scorpion will lock chelae (pincers) with the female scorpion, and they will start to "dance". The male scorpion will drop a sperm packet onto the ground and lead the female scorpion over it. If the female scorpion is down, she'll basically squat and absorb the sperm packet into her body, which is then followed by a "mating plug" to keep it in while it does the fertilization thing.

(It's important to note that the courting process also contains "juddering", aka the male scorpion doing the dance that the stickbug meme did, and may also contain clerchical "kisses". Honestly, pretty romantic for an arachnid. And possibly tail-rubbing and sexual stinging. Scorpions are very kinky!)

(It's also important to note that some species of scorpions have been reported, though not reliably, to reproduce through parthogenesis.)

Post-coitus cannibalism has not been scientifically seen in scorpions, so the male scorpion is generally safe as long as he scadoodles.

Gestation in some scorpion species can last over a year, and different species can have anywhere from 2 to 100 little scorplings - the physical size of the scorpion is not necessarily tied to how many babies they'll have.

Also, scorpions give live birth!

The baby scorpion is essentially folded like a Fedex package and launched out of the womb. It will then unfold and climb on top of the mother to make way for its next sibling. These will hang onto the mother until their first molt, which happens as a group and launches them into the juvenile stage. After this, they will still stay with their mothers until their carapace finishes hardening and gaining color, at which point they hunt prey on their own and will wander off on their own terms.

Hey, Jasper, That's Pretty Fucked Up, But How Does This Tie Into Chima?

I'm getting there, hold your centaur scorpions!

This is where we get into the worldbuilding of the Legends of Chima series, the Character Encyclopedia, and our poor boy Scutter.

See, the Legends of Chima as a series is very much a product of its time. There is some rife ableism and questionable word choices in regards to the Crawlers (and Sir Fangar, but this isn't about him). According to the Character Encyclopedia, Scutter is "less evolved". There's a looong history of racism in using phrases like "evolution" in regards to other humans, so taking that and applying it to an animal world leaves us with some very strange dissonance, because it's used in Chima to mean animals turned into a more humanoid form by the Chi.

Because really, what is the Chi? It's a magical substance that, depending on how you read it, could be the animist spirit of the land (I say, as an animist myself), or it could be drugs. Or it could be any number of other things! I know one person who writes Chi as the blood of dead gods, which is metal as fuck!

Ultimately, it depends on how one is writing the Chi that makes the usage of phrases like "less evolved" more or less questionable than it was intended. We're all dragging around the corpse of a Lego theme across our writing desks anyway. And the way I go about answering the question of "what is Chi" is definitely different from others. (Again, see the dead god blood part.)

The question of whether or not the Scorpion Tribe, namely Scutter, would count as intersexed relies on 1) defining intersexuality in regards to genitalia arrangement (scorpions don't have penises and vaginas by default; and the Wikipedia article on scorpions just uses "genital orfice" or "genital opercula"); 2) determining if the Chi has magically changed how genitalia works for Scorpions (admittedly, I do this because I didn't want to have to use the term "genital opercula" over and over); 3) determining the humanization extent of the Scorpion Tribe as you write them (I lean more towards human than you do, just from what I've seen of your work); and 4) deciding if such terminology even exists in Chima.

But looking at Scutter and going with the assumption that the back end is fully scorpion... No, I wouldn't count him as intersex by default. Intersex implies landing between the two human biological extremes (which, as we all know, is not as cut-and-dry as high school biology taught us), when really he's kind of a secret third thing (a Scorpion who probably doesn't have either a penis or a vagina).

(Of course, there's also what you said, paraphrased to my own wording: the Chi may have just decided to fuck up this poor man's genital situation and do a half-ass job.)

That's not to say he can't be trans. I mean, I made Scorm and about half of the Scorpion Tribe trans already. That's also not to say they're not all trans by default, considering scorpions without the ability to think wouldn't have the concepts of genders anyway.

Okay Jasper, So How Do You Write Him?

So, here's the thing. I'm aromantic-asexual, and I also write smut and, to a lesser extent, romance, which means I think about fictional character genitalia too much. But thinking about Scutter has left me utterly baffled.

On one hand, I usually write the Chi as a magical animist force of the land of Chima on the whole, and part of that is that the Chi tries to get everyone on the same playing field, physically speaking, which is how we get retroactive transgender man Scorm in my Tales of Chima series.

On the other hand, look at him. Look at him. He's a centaur arachnid. I know he can pass the Harkness Test, but I still feel weird thinking about his genitalia. If I go with my theory of the Chi giving everyone penises and vaginas at random, then I don't want to think about how much that would get in the way for the poor boy! On the other hand, his lower body is still mostly scorpion instead of, well, Scorpion, so who's to say he doesn't have a genital operculum?

Too Long, Don't Want Details About Scorpion Sex

Alright, spoilsport. Here's your TLDR:

It genuinely depends on what the Chi does in your version of the story and how bad it fucks up. It depends on how dedicated you are to scientific accuracy. It depends on how much you want to think about scorpion genitals.

And being intersex is not necessarily trans rep, unless it is, unless it isn't. I'm not intersexed, so I'm not going to say what that falls on myself. There is an intersex pride flag that was created by Morgan Carpenter in 2013.

Trans characters can exist outside of being intersexed, you don't have to conflate the two in order to have transgender representation. Just hit the characters with the Transgenderinator 5000 Beam. Fuck realism, this is a series about walking talking animal people. Who's going to stop you? The fun police? Transphobes? Eat them.

Further Reading

Start at Wikipedia and go from there through its sources for anything of particular interest:

Intersex flag (in case you're curious about it and its history, which can also launch you into further reading about humans being intersex)

Scorpion (morphology section)

Scorpion (mating subsection)

Scorpion (birth and development subsection)

So, uh, yeah! Thanks for coming to me with these questions, it's really touching that you value my thoughts this much, and I love talking about my boys and scorpions and the complicated web! I apologize for any errors or too-crass sections, because I wrote most of this in one sitting after playing wayyy too much Skyrim today.

~Jasper

[spotsupstuff]

where should i start reading your Rain World stuff about your OCs and such?

i don't really have any order in it so just jumpin into the oc tag n readin thru it would do, i guess?? though yeah,, tumblr isn't nice with the tags i won't lie, so i'mma compile some stuff for ya

there Are something of intro posts for the characters, though they've evolved a lot over time (originally the Anemoi Iterators were just not a thing, the only one i was meant to have was Fish with Zephyr serving only as a little neat backstory for one of the scugs connected to Fish. so Zeph especially has had a lot of evolution done to her character)

here are the posts: • Intro for Fish Inside a Birdcage, the Seafarer, the Tinkerer and the rest of their little family (x) (out of this Fish and Tinktink are most important n developed, with Seafarer bein a char i wanna work on a bit at some point) • Intro for Murder of Crows (she's a bg character for Moon's group, I rarely actually do stuff with her), Abet Zephyr, the Pan Wielder and few of the Scavs living in Fish's facilities (x) (this is also where The Children of Eo group is first mentioned) • Intro for the rest of Anemoi Iterators of The Children of Eo group, voice claims (Zephyr's is outdated) and the first look at world map, which i'm updating for myself as i'm workin on this stuff and will repost at some point so y'all can see the updates too (x) • List of Iterator City names (x) • Voice claim for Three Sparrows and updated one for Zephyr (x) • Spotto™ Ancients design reference post (x) • -sigh- "Who's Beppi?" (x) (here's him as a baby) • quick off the string in Ancient times AU designs for Euros 'n Boreas (x) • Sparrows' quickly put together art ref (proper one pending) (x)

Three Sparrows' lore is scattered basically all over over the place n she doesn't have a proper intro post yet

Some direct links for the convenience: • How the Great Cycle works in the Serotonin Take (a little add-on to it)

• Iterator anatomy lesson (mostly about the puppets) • Iterator anatomy lesson: detailing of the Hivemind that makes them up • Iterator anatomy lesson: personality development • Rambling about worldbuilding, mostly the Folk Gods (quite disorganized, explains The Saint though) • Ancients' hand mutilation in the name of the Global Religion • Ancients' mask culture • Ancients and their feeding face tentacles • Ancients' "hair" • Ancients and water habitats • Ancients, their venom and Also The Cleaning Slugs • Ancients' gills and some stuff with breathing • Three Sparrows character notes • Little drabble thing for Three Sparrows, though some things might not hold up • "Has Sparrows made any connections while in school?" • Three Sparrows and her slugcat reincarnation (lil continuations of it x, x) • "The Eo Iterators get off the string, who dies who thrives?" (not canon, except the Haboob comic at the beginning) • Zephyr and Moon swap as a characterization exercise that got a lil outta hand (not canon, but neat either way) • A continuation of the above, with Looks to the Moon in the Eo group + some talking about Abet Zephyr as a person • Fooling around with the concept of Zephyr knowing Pebbles, but then big explanation of Mission Self-preservation aka the biggest thing happening in the OC lore • "Can Euros run Doom?" • How did Caper of Euros and Three Sparrows get together romantically • Caper of Euros' priorities the lil comic • "What is Euros like during a Hivemind unsync?" + Three Sparrows the treasured component • Euros and Sparrows married?? • Caper of Euros' first case of the Rot • post 1st Rot reconcilation between the lovebirds • "Did Euros' entire Lab have to be rebuilt after the eradication of the 1st Rot?" • Sparrows' deathbed • Sparrows' Memory Crypt beef (x)• "Who's older? Notos or Haboob?" + Euros 'n Haboob's relationship • Gushing about the ending of the playlist for the group (link to the playlist itself here) • some Tinkerer and the Scavs fooling around content • tiny Seafarer post • what happened between Seafarer and Artificer? why were they separated?

(new text block cuz apparently tumblr has a character limit for that) • Iterator anatomy lesson: the antennas • Iterator anatomy lesson: sexuality and desire for pleasure • Ancients' blood • Ancients' skin texture • "How are Ancient's born?" • "Did Ancients' ancestors have even bigger teeth?" • Farmer Ancients weaponry and tools + Sparrows' encounter with a Red Centipede • "How'd Zephyr end up like that?" • "What are some of Zephyr's happiest memories?" • "Did any other continent have a bootleg Iterator situation like Zephyr?" • What was young Boreas like • Boreas, his batflies and what Desaevio was like • "Very beautiful, very powerful." Boreas animatic made by me sister • Angry Boreas? Let's try to fix him with a controlled shock • Filler Iterators stuff, especially introduction of Orion's Pathway • designing filler stuff a lil: NAE, Gem, high circle Sparrows outfit, first look at the Preacher, Expiation and Spore • Orion's helmet and RW constellations • some lore stuff for Orion • Orion's General • more on the Polar War • Fish and Pigeon Drones • Fish Inside a Birdcage Daycare for scav kits • "What is stored on Caper of Euros' puppet chamber pearls?" • How Boreas and Zephyr took Euros' romantic relationship with Sparrows the comic • Sparrows' daily routine • "Has Sparrows ever seen Euros without his faceplate?" • Iterator baby photos and first appearance of Sparrows' mom, Inkling of an Inbound Daybreak • "Does Sparrows hide her tail in her high circle outfit?" • Movement within an Iterator • "How does it feel like to respawn?"/Sparrows' first death described a little • How did that wedding of Euros n Sparrows' looked • "Does the Rot smell bad?" • "How did Boreas bail Sparrows out of getting fired after the 1st Rot case?" • Grandmama Sparrows • some stuff on Euros' 3rd Mechanic • Euros and his relationship to his memories of Sparrows • "Why do Biting Notos' colony worships teeth and the mouth?" • "Did Notos know something was wrong with its puppet?" • "What does Orion think about Notos' puppet design?" • Biting Notos' sins against its own kind • Inhale in Haboob colony (and herself) notes and ideas • some things on the relationship between Euros 'n Haboob • the Anemoi + Fish as slugcats • Fate of Boreas' Blessing in Saint Time • Ascending Biting Notos comic

[paradoxcase]

Chapter 34 of Harrow the Ninth

I sat on this for a while, because I was trying to work out exactly what was going on. Then I wound up getting my Sims 2 back into a playable state and inadvertently spent a lot of time playing the Sims 2 haha

Anyway

Is this just because BOE is in a constant state of fighting against the Nine Houses and thus all their stuff is a bit battle-scarred, or was this shuttle in particular involved in a fight recently?

So Palamedes will become an animated skeletal arm instead of a talking skull. I should have realized that this story puts too much effort into having accurate anatomy to have talking skulls with no attached lungs or vocal tract

Also, I guess Palamedes is either not attractive enough or not female enough to get a sexy arm-creation scene with Harrow

If Camilla would get in trouble with BOE if they found out Harrow was making animated skeletons possessed by the ghosts of dead necromancers for her, that means they probably don't know and didn't plan for her to meet up with Harrow on this planet. But she knew Harrow was going to be there, she was specifically looking for her in the exact right part of the planet and everything. Probably only Harrow would do - regular non-Lyctor necromancers (like for example, Judith) can't do necromancy on thalergenic planets or in space without a bunch of people dying to generate thanergy, and the other Lyctors have no particular reason to want to do Camilla a favor (most of them don't even know who she is). So, somehow Camilla found out that Harrow was going to be on this planet at this time without BOE finding that out (since I'm sure that BOE would probably have objected to Judith being within range of a Lyctor they don't trust) and convinced BOE to let them go to this planet (I'm guessing, since Camilla later says they are still with BOE, and therefore they didn't like, escape from BOE in this shuttle or something). Based on Judith's dialog about a BOE mole, that leads me to suspect that the mole is Mercy, who is the main person who would be able to engineer Harrow being on this planet by herself for this period of time, which makes some sense, since we know that Mercy has some secret that she is bribing Augustine to keep from John. But if that's the case, I'm not sure why Mercy would share information with Camilla and friends that wasn't shared with BOE proper, since as previously stated, Mercy has no particular reason to do Camilla a favor that I know of

This seems to be suggesting that the poster is of Gideon, but no one was making posters of Gideon, and also, I wouldn't describe her as "unsmiling" and "adamant". But if Commander Wake was Gideon's mom, it both makes sense that there would be a poster of her inside this BOE shuttle and also that her appearance would remind Harrow of Gideon strongly enough to cause this reaction

What dangerous information could per-Work Harrow have thought that Judith (or for that matter, Corona) would have that Camilla did not? Or was there more to the letter that Camilla received that asked her not to talk about certain things?

This is hilarious, I can just see them fighting over the pen here

Is this the rapier that Gideon brought with her to Canaan House, and then abandoned during the fight with Cytherea in favor of her two-hander? Ianthe obviously took Naberius's rapier for herself, but there were several other dead cavaliers whose rapiers were never mentioned again, and whose necromancers weren't around to collect them (Magnus, Jeannemary, Colum) that she could have taken from, and I think Colum's would have even been in the same room as her after he died, and based on the early scene in Gideon the Ninth where they were trying to find a decent rapier for her, those others would probably have been in better shape. I wonder why she took Gideon's

On this read-through, this makes me think that Camilla's letter probably did say something about not talking about certain subjects, and that she conveyed this information to Judith and Corona while Harrow was in the River

So, after the last chapter of Gideon the Ninth, but before the epilogue when Harrow was rescued by the Erebos, BOE arrived at Canaan House, rescued/captured all of the non-Lyctor survivors, including Judith who would have clearly been an enemy officer, and stole Gideon's body. Why? I guess since Judith used regular EM-frequency radio to contact the Erebos and tell them about what had happened, that could have been intercepted by BOE and maybe they thought there would be something useful there? I guess they could have already been in the system, given that Commander Wake probably went to Pluto and died there at some point in the not too distant past. I guess they probably know something about Lyctors, and also how to recognize Lyctors, if they left Harrow and Ianthe alone - Ianthe might have seemed too injured to still be alive, but I don't think Harrow was that injured at the end of the book? And also there's the thing where Commander Wake probably knew Gideon the First personally. I guess they might have just taken them all because they couldn't leave them alive to inform the Erebos about them, and they maybe aren't the sort of people to just kill people like that, but why take Gideon's body? Did they recognize her as Commander Wake's daughter?

John said before that he thought that Cytherea was working with BOE, which sounded like a conspiracy theory back then, but if Mercy is working with BOE and BOE turned up at Canaan House just after Cytherea died, that might actually be a sensible conclusion to draw. BOE probably does benefit from that, there could have been potentially eight new Lyctors as a result of the Lyctor trial, which would have tripled the number of extant Lyctors. Cytherea's main damage seemed to be about the nature of Lyctorhood and not stuff that BOE probably cares about, but I guess she could have been both working with BOE and also doing it for her own reasons

[1mmeee2]

Other Cuddy

Requests:

blueberrycoffee19

Gregory House x reader/oneshot: Where the reader is Lisa Cuddy’s older sister and comes to visit her at work and bring her lunch and while there she meets House.

Keep reading

Reader Pov:

"I got it. I can't believe you forgot it." I said to Lisa my younger sister as I was at her house getting her lunch she left behind. "Yeah, yeah just come to my office and give it to me." Lisa said making me sigh. "You're lucky I finished my work and have no clients today." I said to Lisa as I worked as a Lawyer. "Yeah I really am. Thank you by the way. I'll see you." Lisa said and soon hung up making me head out of her place to head to the Hospital she worked at. -

As I entered the hospital, I entered in the ER as Lisa's office is closer there. As I continued walking I got nudged on my shoulder making me trip a bit. "Hey! What the hell?" I said angrily and saw a man with a cain looking at me with a unhappy face. "You got two legs, use them properly." The man said casually leaving me shocked as he then continued walking or limping off making me glare at him. "Asshole." I said as I continued to my sister's office and soon entered in. "Hey, got your lunch." I said entering her office and saw Lisa on her desk writing some reports. "Oh god, thank you." Lisa said getting up from her desk walking over to me getting her lunch. "You can memorize the entire human anatomy yet can't remember your lunch." I said joking around as she nudges me softly. "You're always so annoying." Lisa said as she took the food to her desk and started eating as I took a seat on the other side of her desk. "Anything new?" Lisa asked me. "Uh... new case on property damage. My client has sued a man who destroyed his shop.... the guy was drunk." I explained to Lisa who nodded. "That's interesting, the drunk guy sounds like an asshole." Lisa said to me making me remember the guy who almost knocked me over. "Speaking of assholes... you got one in the hospital grounds." I said making Lisa look at me confused. "Who?" She asked. "Guy with a cain... doesn't seem to wear proper doctor attire and just wears whatever shirts he likes--" "House..." Lisa said cutting me off making me shocked. "Wait Gregory House? The man who you never decided to fire?" I asked as Lisa would complain to me how much a man named Gregory House would annoy the crap out of her but doesn't do anything. "Yeah... but it is what it is." Lisa said sighing making me chuckle. "I would lose my crap if I worked with a guy like House. He sounds like a nightmare." I said as Lisa and I chuckled but soon I heard the door open making me turn... and saw House. "I see, girl gossip. Please share it with the class." House said making Lisa and I roll our eyes. "What is it House?" Lisa asked him. "You got a very nice man wanting to talk to you." House said making Lisa sigh. "I wonder why." Lisa said getting up from her seat walking out as by what Lisa tells me, House said something rude to him. "You can go if you want by the way, thanks for the lunch." Lisa said leaving me in the office with House there too. "Well, well... we meet again." House said to me as I walked over to Lisa's chair sitting down on it. "Yes, yes we have." I said coldly as I was debating to go but a small part of me wanted to know House a bit more. "So are your the Lawyer Cuddy. I've heard nothing intresting about you." House said to me as I crossed my arms. "And your the Doctor House people complain about." I said back at him making it a horrible start. “Wow, I guess giving attitude runs in the family." House said making me roll my eyes making me pick up my things to leave as I had enough. "Wow, one single comment and that pissed you off." House said pissing me off even more. "You really are a handful.” I said back at House who just continued looking at me with zero amusement. "You complain a lot, don't you?" House said to me making me chuckle.

“I don’t blame you for being the asshole you are though.” I said making House look at me with confusion. “By how you act, you probably had a miserable childhood. From the cain and the pills I've heard and seen you’ve been taking shows how much pain you go through every single day. Using all those issues to let our your rudeness on others who then pities you. And I for once pity you.” I said and saw House’s face turn into a small bit of a shock making me smirk knowing I got somewhere.

“And I know how much you hate that. Keep in mind, us lawyers are very good at analyzing small things.” I said grinning at him then soon walked out of the office leaving House there.

-

Later on I decided to stay in the hospital to catch up with my sister and soon I realized it was getting late making me head home. Heading to the parking lot I had to walk pass a park to get there. "We meet again." I heard a voice making me turn and saw House on a bench grinning at me making me roll my eyes. "What? You're gonna complain I hurt your feelings? I thought the amazing doctor House has no feelings?" I asked but saw him chuckling a bit. "You wish… I wanted to reintroduce myself again. Our first time meeting wasn't very pleasant, I assume." House said making me nod. "I agree, It wasn't." I said and soon House got up from the bench and walked over to me towering over me leaving me shocked how tall he was for a guy who limps to the side. "I'm Doctor Gregory House." He said holding out his hand. "Y/n Cuddy." I said shaking his hand. "Anyways, you think you pitying me upsets me?" House asked me making me smirk. “No, but I know people finding out you care for others, will indeed upset you." I said straight up and soon walked off.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Dr. House.” I said as I continued walking off knowing I did something to him. Writer Note: I'm back, sorry for the very long break as I had a lot of school stuff, work stuff and family issues making me really cut off from many social media and specifically tumblr. I promise to start posting more often! <3

[plethomacademia]

writing patterns

thank you @say-lene for tagging! i have exactly ten works on ao3 (ignoring that one is 60k words)!

tagging @amaranthsynthesis, @todderwodders, @gravedigg, @eregar, @nullshocked feel free to ignore and if I didn't tag you, yes I did

I have two dark urges in here so using names!

Rules: list the first line(s) of your last 10 posted fics and see if there's a pattern!

Reunion (E, Gale/Lae'zel/Shadowheart)

Shadowheart knows that she needs to get out of bed.

2. Respite (M, Gale/Lae'zel/Shadowheart)

When Gale arrives at the threshold of the small little house shared by his two lovers, he does not see either Shadowheart or Lae’zel.

3. Duet (E, Maeve/Gortash)

Lord Enver Gortash has a thorn in his boot. 

4. Hothouse (E, Ballard/Gortash)

The annual ball at the Portyr estate is not a particular exclusive invitation as far as Upper City balls come, but it is still the first one that Lord Gortash has received that allows for him to bring along a guest.

5. Anatomy Lesson (E, Maeve/Gortash)

Lord Enver Gortash despised uncertainty and the Chosen of Bhaal was nothing but uncertainty, a force that refused to stay consistent, refused to be measured and tested against.

6. Counterfeit (E, Orin/Gortash)

The Chosen of Bhaal is kneeling between Lord Gortash’s legs. 

7. You have always needed abundant assistance (E, Maeve/Gortash, aka the long fic, >60k words)

The first time Maeve returned to her father’s temple, she found a rotting tomb lead by ghosts.

8. Intimate Connection (E, Astarion/Halsin/Maeve)

“Hello.”

9. Orin's Sister (My only T, Orin vibing)

One day, Orin’s sister comes to visit the temple. 

10. Fulfilled Potential (M, Maeve/Gortash)

Archduke Enver Gortash had told Maeve not to come to him before she had killed her sister.

Truly, I am surprised that some of these don't have proper nouns in them! I love to start with a hard scene set, some proper nouns of people or place and whatever verb will get me in the space the quickest. My goal is always to kick you right in the ass right at the start. I will note that the one that is long and wordy was cut from a longer fic and that's why it's like that.

Thanks for the tag this was fun!!