#so it is a good sample size even if i have likely left something out

[chlorinecake]

✰ don’t give me that look | l.at oneshot

pairing: switch! producer boyfriend! anton x sub! f. reader

🇨​​💿 ​​🇳​​🇹​​🇦​​🇮​​🇳​​🇸 ꗃ SIZE KINK, kissing, lap sitting, tit & clit play, anton records a sex-tape in the studio, unprotected sex (back shots), roughly 1.8k words … !?

a/n: for @antonitty and her delusions - hope u like it bae !!

You sat idly on the studio couch, admiring your boyfriend from afar as he silently toggled with the sound desk, mixing a few rhythms.

Crossing your legs, you eyed him up and down, taking in the view of his focused frame.

“You’re pretty good at flicking and twisting those knobs, y’know?… I wonder how nice it’d be if you used that same energy to please me…”

He let out a soft breath, eyes still trained on the soundboard as he spoke, “Babe, you know I’d rather spend time with you… I just have to produce this track sample before tomorrow…”

“And then?…”

“I’m all yours,” he finished, flashing you a promising look through his shaggy bangs.

“Fineeee,” you agreed in a sarcastic tone, slightly rolling your eyes at him, “but can you let me try something on the record first?… it might help…”

Anton quirked a brow, turning to meet your face with his own intrigued one, “You mean like… singing?”

You simply nodded in response, just before promptly getting up from the couch to sit on his lap at the music desk.

He didn’t know what to do with his hands now that you were this close to him, so he simply rested them at each arm of the spinning chair.

“You might even learn a thing or two from me if you pay attention,” you went on, knowing that he’d smile at your playful words.

“Go ahead then, superstar… blow me away,” he whispered tauntingly, keeping his thighs firm as you adjusted yourself on top of him.

With his headphones secured around his head, Anton prepared himself to hear whatever it was that you wanted to add to the track project.

Pressing the red “record” button, you let the instrumental play for a few moments as you got a feel of the beat, this one sounding more R&B compared to his usually chill rhythms.

You started by toggling in a few bass notes on the drum-pad, watching Anton’s reflection in the soundproof screen ahead for any sign of reaction.

So far, he only bobbed his head slowly, still anticipating your next move.

That’s when you picked up the mic, bringing it to your lips and letting out the most pornographic moan you could muster.

Anton’s hands flew from the chair arms to take off his headphones, reaching forward to pause the track recording as you suddenly burst into a fit of giggles.

“Babe, what the hell?” He blushed, covering his face with one hand as butterflies rushed through his stomach, the sound of your moan replaying in his mind over and over, “this is serious, y’know?”

You turned around in his lap, taking in your boyfriend’s shy demeanor as you fought to hold back the laughter growing in your chest.

“What? Was it bad? I can do better if you want me to…,” you pouted, batting your eyelashes at him as he put his hands behind his head, slightly smirking at you despite the evidently nervous red flush of his cheeks, “you can even help me...”

“Don’t give me that look, ____,” he sighed, voice sounding a bit more raspy while still maintaining its usual softness.

Was it nerves?

Was he horny?…

Either way, it didn’t matter to you because he sounded so fucking hot right now—

“What look?” you pressed with a feigned expression of innocence before very intentionally wiggling in his lap a bit.

“Like you wanna be fucked,” Anton said with a wince at your actions, letting his eyelids fall slightly while looking down at you with a clenched jaw.

You couldn’t believe those words had left his mouth so smoothly, his confidence alone causing you to squeeze your thighs together, already feeling so eager for him…

You couldn’t handle it when he behaved so switchy with you… starting off all shy before gradually becoming more and more bold.

His eyes eventually wandered back to the soundboard, so you took it as an opportunity to change the subject.

“You never told me if it was bad or not,” you started in the silence, mind just now becoming aware of Anton slowly getting harder beneath you.

“Well,” he hummed, letting his hands leave his head and slip down to your hips, “it was a solid 50-50, if I’m being honest…”

You scoffed dramatically, an offended hand flying to your chest, “How so?”

“Because… I always love the sounds you make for me, but not when you force them…”

His grip on your hips was firm now, holding you in place before just barely rocking you against his lap in skilled motions.

Despite the simplicity of his actions, your body started to feel dizzy with desire, mind fogging up as his clothed tip continued grinding beneath your core.

“Anton—”

“Shhh,” he interrupted, the feeling of his breath below your ear making you internally shiver, a feathery yet steady groan escaping his lips.

“Can I try something now?” he asked breathlessly, even though the question sounded more like a declaration than a proposal of permission.

“Mhmm,” you nodded submissively, eyes feeling heavy as the warmth amongst your bodies only grew, thanks to how stuffy the studio was.

Clicking the sound desk back on “record,” Anton slipped his headphones over your head, feeling himself get even hotter at how cute you looked in this moment, his chunky earmuffs barely fitting around your much smaller head.

By now though, Anton had easy access to your lower half, given the high-pleated-skirt you decided to wear that day.

You almost felt like half of your body escaped to another planet when Anton’s touch started to wander lower, his hands practically covering the entire expanse of your exposed thighs given how big they were.

His breath remained steady in this moment, despite how his heart kept stuttering like a broken record.

Or perhaps, a sexually excited one…

The subtle movements of your legs helped Anton to shimmy your panties down past your hips, all the way down to your ankles, and eventually the floor.

You sat with your soaking wet core atop your boyfriend’s lap now, two of his fingers soon finding your clit in slow, circular motions.

The thing was, Anton had finally let his intrusive thoughts win, having wanted to get a genuine recording of your moans for a while.

The idea always meddled in the back of his mind whenever you pranced into the studio while he was working on beats…

However, the only issue now was that you were feeling a bit shy with the recorder on again…

“C’mon baby, lemme hear you,” the boy nearly begged, words sounding a bit mumbled with the way he was kissing along your neck.

“I know you want to,” he taunted, free hand sliding up to grope your left tit while his other hand continued toying with your pussy, “no wonder you wore this slutty skirt for me today…”

His voice… it practically intoxicated you… the way it sounded so pure yet so condescending at the same time…

“F-fuck,” you stammered with a moan, furrowing your brows as his fingers applied pressure to your clit, the other hand slightly pinching your nipple as he knew just how to get you to those pretty sounds that he wanted out of you.

“Good girl~,” he whispered in a cooing manner, “but I know you can do better than that…”

He guided you to stand up on your wobbly legs, his fingers meddling with your slick as he towered behind you.

And although your ears were still muffed with his headset, you could clearly make out the sound of his belt unbuckling with tingly clinks, your pussy only pulsing with need.

Before you could even beg to be fucked, you felt one of Anton’s hands hike up your skirt, the other forcing your back to arch over the sound board as his hard length pressed between your folds.

He was way too fucking big, but part of you liked the idea of him potentially breaking you.

It wasn’t easy, but your boyfriend eventually slipped himself inside, letting his tip tease along the ridges of your heat before picking up the pace, the soft pants and occasional groans from his body sounding loud and clear thanks to the headphones you wore.

There was also something about hearing your own moans so audibly on top of his… hearing how he turned you into a whiny mess so easily…

Anton’s hazy eyes met your fucked out reflection in the glass screen ahead, your own vision wandering off to the sound wave reader on his music board.

The way it’s lines heightened with each desperate moan that left your sweaty bodies did nothing but crazy things to the knot tightening in your stomach.

“Touch me, Anton,” you practically whimpered, voice coming out in small hiccups given how hard he was pounding into you.

His hands were already so tight around your waist, but your whiny request let him know exactly where you wanted him… where you needed that extra intensity.

He went to grope your tits, lifting your body away from the sound board with ease as the sight of his flexed biceps nearly made you drool.

The pace of his hips remained fast and controlled as he continued fucking into you, the tip of his cock reaching so deep that you’re sure you felt it in your belly button.

Looking down, Anton saw that the recording had reached just over 3 minutes, despite how your pussy desperately clenched around him, a clear sign that you were close to finishing.

His mouth was full of saliva, not even remembering to swallow given how pleasure drunk he was right now.

And somehow, you caught onto this, turning your neck at an angle and guiding his plush lips to kiss you, only a few seconds passing before he inserting his tongue, grunting into your mouth.

“You sound so pretty, baby,” he said in between kissing you sloppily, right before taking his headphones off your head and tossing them on the couch, still connected to the music desk by a thin black wire, “listen…”

He whispered the last word against your lips, maintaining the most gentle look in his eyes as he kept bouncing your ass on his cock.

You meant to say something, but the weak cries of pleasure kept stalling your speech, the words becoming a jumbled mess in your head.

Anton’s strength helped to hold up your shaky body just as you felt your release gush around him, a bit of it seeping onto his thighs as he continued thrusting.

It didn’t take long for him to cum after that too, a beautiful series of moans spilling from his lips as he panted over you, letting his hand slide away to end the recording.

The screen read ‘5:18s’ before Anton reached over to save the track, leaving both of you shocked that you even finished that fast together…

Still a panting mess, your boyfriend held your hips close to his, letting his weight fall back in the spinning chair with you on top of him.

“We should totally do quickies in the studio more often,” you huffed tiredly, leaning back against Anton’s chest as he hugged you close, still inside your pussy.

“Not that I’m disagreeing with you, but maybe after I install an air conditioner in here, we can plan something,” he smiled, not even bothering to wipe the sheen of sweat from his face that inevitably kept your hot bodies clung together.

Your hand found his, fingers idly toying with the rings he wore as he adjusted himself beneath you, “I should probably let you get back to work now since I’ve distracted you enough already—”

“Let’s just stay like this for a little longer,” he interrupted, almost yawning at how comfortable he felt buried inside you in this moment, “please?”

“Of course, superstar,” you replied playfully, nestling into his warmth and letting your eyes fall shut as you listened to the sound of his gentle heartbeat…

✶ taglist: @squoxle, @nikisdubblchococake, @wonbinisbabygurl, @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33 @ot7sevenlvr

✶ 🎀 ✶ check out more works like this on my RIIZE masterlist !!

[scientia-rex]

I had one of those days where I just had too many feelings to fit inside my skin, and I’ll have to recover from it.

Telling a patient she has breast cancer. Telling a patient she has dementia. Calling a patient at 6:30pm, still sitting at my desk, because even though I finished seeing patients at 5pm, I have work to do. Doing an endometrial biopsy on a patient who may have cancer. Calling a company so I can get the password to a website so I can recredential every three months so my clinic can charge for my work. Working with an assistant on whom I’ve also done an endometrial biopsy. My regular MA is out with COVID. I’m getting a year-end bonus for the first time in my life. Some idiot kid thinks I don’t know how ears work. I saw back to back ADHD patients; one is a trans woman who paused her transition because she can’t afford it. One is a kid who did loops around the exam room chairs the whole time I talked to his mother. His mother was frosty towards me at first because I was running late because I was telling a patient she had breast cancer, and she was crying, and her daughter was crying, and when her partner died of a different cancer last year the hospice workers were homophobic and she’s afraid of hospice. A different idiot kid thinks I don’t know how soap works. The ADHD kid’s mom warmed up to me when she realized I cared and knew what I was talking about. The kid said, “AHEM. What’s up, chicken butt?” I laughed and high fived him. I gave his mom the Vanderbilt forms to assess ADD symptoms across multiple environments. I saw a patient who had a certain air about her that I recognized intimately, and at the end I asked what she did, and she was a doctor, too. I knew it had to be something like that. When I explain medical concepts I aim for lay language, but I can see when people get faintly impatient with me for it, and I’ll add in more and more technical language and see when they start looking confused; she didn’t. I could watch every new patient take in my brightly-colored hair, combined with the utterly forgettable rest of me, all browns and grays and dress slacks and comfortable shoes, because the hair is my one concession to my deep need for attention; in the exam room, I need to recede into the background so the patient can be the focus. Studies have shown that patients don’t like it when doctors disclose that they have the same medical issues. It might seem like bonding, but it shifts the focus away from where it belongs: the patient. That island of time is theirs. The breast cancer patient’s daughter said to me, “Thank you for spending the time with us. I know you didn’t have the time.” And I said, “From each according to their something or other, to each according to their needs. It’s lukewarm Marxism.” I don’t think she heard it all, or took it all in, which was good. I had a migraine that made my head feel three sizes too big with a steady drumbeat of pain despite taking two Ubrelvy, two Aleve, and two Tylenol, plus 100mg of caffeine and a propranolol and a Zofran. You have to disconnect each patient from the next. I can’t bring the breast cancer patient’s grief and heaviness into a room where a little boy is doing hand-stands and telling me silly puns. One of the nurses brought me a sublingual Toradol from a stash—someone’s purse, somewhere—because she wanted me to feel better, and I felt tears stinging my eyes because she cared about me. I couldn’t afford to cry. I just told a woman she has dementia and she doesn’t believe me. I told her to bring her husband to our next visit. I ended my clinic day doing an endometrial biopsy, trying to pass a uterine sound through a stenotic cervix, but I’ve done this before enough times to know to have the set of dilators ready. I dilated her cervix gently but firmly, with the back pressure of the tenaculum, until I could get the sound in, and then I left the sound there while my assistant handed me the sampling pipelle, because if you remove it there’s a good chance the cervix will tighten down again and you’ll have to repeat the dilation. The patient was holding her husband’s hand and chanting to him under her breath, in pain despite the Xanax I gave her.

I’m a doctor. It’s everything to me.

[wolfjackle-creates]

Ghost!Robin Arc 2 Part 4

Here's everything I shared during the ask game event with some minor edits. Most of the edits are around the results of the scan, I more accurately described what I was trying to say.

Story Summary: Everything changed the evening Jason met Jazz's brother. Danny introduced him and his entire family to the ghost that is, apparently, haunting him. The ghost of the Robin he had been.

The ghost of the person everyone he's ever known wishes he still was.

All he wants is to make it go away.

Arc 1: First, Last

Arc 2: First, Previous

Word Count: 1.7k

-----

Frostbite looked between them and hummed. “I should like a blood sample from you”—he nodded to Jason—“and an ectoplasm sample from you”—he indicated the ghost—“please hold out one of your arms.”

Jason sighed and gave his left arm. The yeti took out a syringe, thankfully a normal sized one, though it looked tiny in his giant hands. He watched as Frostbite carefully pierced his vein and filled a vial with blood. It went as smoothly as any blood draw he’d ever received from Dr. Thompkins or Alfred.

“You’re good at that,” he commented.

The yeti gave him an amused look. “I should hope so. I have been a doctor for many times longer than you’ve been alive.”

Jason flushed. “Sorry, it’s just… I wasn’t sure how many living patients you’ve ever had.”

“Many ghosts come to us for healing. And of those who were once alive, their ghostly bodies often mimic the ones they had in life. It is not so different, drawing blood from a living body as it is drawing ectoplasm from a ghostly one.”

“Huh. I guess that makes sense. I didn’t realize.”

Frostbite ruffled his hair and it took every ounce of self control he had to not pull away. “That is quite all right. You will learn in time.”

Jason had to bite his tongue to keep from saying he didn’t want to learn.

But the doctor was already turning to the interloper and reaching for his arm. Jason couldn’t help but watch as they made more of those chirps and trills at each other. The ones from Frostbite were much deeper than the ones from Danny or the ghost, but they were unmistakably the same sort of noises.

When Frostbite took the ectoplasm sample, it really didn’t look any different than a normal blood draw. Except the resulting fluid was bright Lazarus-green. He shuddered and looked away.

Frostbite pulled out what looked like a transparent tablet and typed something on it. “A technician will be along shortly to collect the samples and run a few tests on them. Now, Prince Phantom said he scanned you and it showed the two of you are tied together. I should like to repeat the process but with our own scanners.”

“What do your scanners do?” asked Jason.

“I will show you. See this machine?” Frostbite indicated a machine that was positioned in the corner of the room. It looked like an old-fashioned x-ray machine you might find at a dentists’ office. It was about the size of a standing shower and was mostly open. “This part here”—he touched a piece of metal that reached from floor to ceiling—“will circle around the two of you and track your ectoplasm. It serves a similar purpose in ghost anatomy to an x-ray of a human. From the readings, I will be able to assess your core, young Robin, and your liminality, Sir Jason.”

“Just Jason, please.”

“Are you not a warrior of your people? And you are courting Princess Jasmine. No, to call you anything else would be improper.”

Jason flushed. “Then what should I call you? Aren’t you the leader here? Is it King Frostbite?”

“You may call me Doctor or Chief Frostbite should you wish.”

“You’ve got it, Dr. Frostbite. So will you have to scan us together? Doesn’t look like there’s a lot of room in there.”

Frostbite hummed. “I believe three full scans, one of each of you alone and one with both of you together. I apologize for the size; this is the first time we’ve had to scan two individuals together like this.”

Jason scowled, but didn’t comment. He would do anything to get rid of the interloper.

Before they could start, however, a knock sounded on the door. Frostbite opened it to reveal two more yetis.

“Ah, Silverclaw and Snowfur. Thank you for getting here so quickly.” He grabbed the vials of blood and ectoplasm. “These are the samples I want tested.”

“Of course, Chief. We’ll get to work on them right away.”

“I know you will. Thank you.” Frostbite nodded his farewell. Once the two yetis had left, he shut the door and turned back to Jason and the ghost. “Which of you would like to get scanned first?”

Before Jason could even think of volunteering, the ghost let out a trill and flew to the machine.

Frostbite chuckled. “Very well, young one. I shall begin the process shortly. Please remain still as the scan is in progress.”

Jason watched, curious, as Frostbite pressed a few buttons. The machine whirred to life, blue lines lighting up along the metal. Then the panel Frostbite had pointed out before slowly rotated around the ghost. Five times it completed the circuit before stopping in it’s original position by the wall.

A screen lit up on the wall, also transparent like the tablet, and on it images very much like a human x-ray appeared. Only instead of bones, it showed a ball of red-orange light. Tendrils spread out in the shape of a humanoid body. A thick cord of light extended off the screen. The cord was mostly gray and it’s tendrils wound around the red-orange ball and mixed in with the branches that made up the rest of the ghost’s body.

Frostbite hummed, but didn’t comment further, and Jason didn’t know him well enough to know if it was a good or bad hum. “Sir Jason, it is your turn.”

The ghost flew out of the scanner and Jason entered. “Will it feel like anything?”

The doctor shook his head. “Indeed not. You may hear a humming, but the scan itself will not affect you in any other way.”

“So I just need to stand here for a minute while it goes?”

“Indeed. Simply remain still. Are you ready?”

Jason took a deep breath and stood tall, arms by his side. “Go ahead.”

Frostbite hit a button and the device lit up with the same blue light he’d seen before. Then the scanner began rotating around him. As the yeti had promised, he didn’t feel anything but the hum of the machine.

And soon enough, it settled back into its rest position.

Jason didn’t wait for permission before stepping out and taking a look at the results of the scan. The same cord of light that had been coming off the ghost seemed to be stretching to him. Tendrils of it wrapped around the areas where his heart and brain would be if the scan showed human organs. Thinner tendrils stretched through the rest of his body, but the majority clustered around his heart and brain. His light was mostly gray with the red and orange bleeding in.

Chills ran down his spine. The ghost had integrated himself entirely into Jason’s body. Would it even be possible to get rid of him without killing himself? But could he go on living knowing that the interloper, no, the parasite was tied so closely to him? He’d finally started to move on from his death and the anger!

“Calm down, Sir Jason.” Frostbite’s steady voice cut through his thoughts. “We have one more scan and then I shall explain my theories as to what is going on and how we might address the situation.”

Jason gave a single nod and unclenched his fists. He closed his eyes and took a few seconds to go through a breathing exercise Jazz had taught him. “Fine,” he said when he was sure he wouldn’t start throwing out cursed.

Didn’t stop him from stomping over to the scanner.

Frostbite rested one giant paw on his head for a moment. “I understand this is a lot for you. But I will assist you to the best of my abilities.” He glanced away from Jason towards the interloper. “Both of you.”

Jason frowned but didn’t bother mentioning that that was what he was worried about.

“Now, young Robin. If you could come here as well.”

Frostbite took a moment arranging Jason and the ghost within the scanner. This was the closest Jason had been to the interloper since he learned about his existence and the proximity raised goosebumps on his arm. Why did things like this always have to happen to him? He hated it. He just wanted to go back to arguing with Bruce and trading insults with Tim and pranking Dick. But he couldn’t do that if the ghost of who he’d used to be was following him everywhere.

Jason closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see the creature’s stupid uniform or too-young face.

Then the humming started again and Jason could only assume he the scanner was running. He held entirely still, both because the scanner needed it and because he and the ghost were so close that if he moved, they might brush arms or touch.

He held back a shudder and didn’t open his eyes until the humming had stopped.

He couldn’t have said who evacuated the scanner first, they both rushed out quickly and set themselves up on either side of Frostbite while the image loaded.

As predicted, it was as if the two previous scans had been put together. The cord connecting Jason and the ghost was thick and strong. It originated from what Jason could only assume was the ghost’s core and spread out until it latched onto Jason’s brain and heart.

Frostbite hummed again. “I will need to ask both of you some questions that you may not want to answer. I apologize in advance for any discomfort my questions may cause. But let us get comfortable first. Afterwards, I shall explain my suspicions.”

Jason nodded and took a seat on the examination bed that Frostbite gestured to. Robin crossed his legs and appeared to sit in midair. The doctor pulled up a chair for himself and settled in.

Even sitting and with Jason on a high bed, they were roughly eye-to-eye due to the yeti’s large size.

“Young Robin, what do you remember of the time between your death and Sir Jason’s resurrection?”

The ghost, of course, only replied in the trilling language, leaving Jason out of the conversation. Asshole could’ve signed if he wanted to. Jason bit his tongue to keep from saying anything, though.

After a time, Frostbite nodded and turned to Jason. “And now, Sir Jason, I must know how you were brought back to life.”

-----

Ah, Jason really isn't going to like this conversation. None of it is fun, but this conversation will be his least favorite.

And look at Robin being just as petty back! Refusing to bring Jason in on the conversation.

How will they move forward from this?

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[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

Hi all, so, basically I've been having a lot of thoughts and feelings about the state of fanfiction these days. Specifically, I've been thinking about the relationship and interactions between writers and their readers within the fandom (talking about my fandoms in particular, but I know that similar things seem to be happening across the board). I know that authors have been talking about how they've been getting less and less comments and feedback in general on their work. I haven't said much about it because I don't want to appear ungrateful to the people who take the time to leave detailed feedback — I'm incredibly grateful to them and they've played a huge part in keeping me going for this long. If you've left a comment on any of my works and see this and wonder if you haven't done enough, trust me, you have.

Still, if I'm being honest, the amount of silent readers is starting to take its toll on me. It's gotten to the point where when I write something, if it's a decently long piece (let's say over 4k), I'm likely to get less comments on the work than I've put hours into writing it. It sometimes feels like I have to beg for comments and that is not a nice feeling. As an author, it's hard to see that and not think that it says something about the quality of the work you've put out.

I've been trying to think of things that could help, I have a bunch of thoughts that I'll probably try to organize at some point (namely i think a network for writers to have constructive feedback, which doesn’t always mean negative feedback btw, could have a positive impact — feel free to let me know if you’d be interested but also i’ll probably make another poll for that). For now, I wanted to ask: as readers, if you don't leave comments, is it because you're not sure of what to say or how to articulate it? If so, would it help if I made a post detailing things you can tell writers in the comments (other than the classic, but always good 'I loved it')? In general I'd love to know more about why people don't leave comments.

Expect a couple more posts on the subject once I've collected my thoughts and in the meanwhile, here's a poll to let me know if it would help. Reblog to increase visibility/sample size, etc.

[sinelanguage]

i propose lusan and 30 + 45 :excellentemoji:

This is not how Sanji expected this island adventure to go down. 

When the Sunny ported at an idyllic spring island in the middle of an annual festival dedicated to romance, Sanji thought he was in a dream. Everywhere he looked there was a romantic vignette, from the secluded benches with perfect cliffside views off the water to the countless intimate restaurants with oceanside seating. There were food stalls up and down the island’s main road, all selling unique specialities the likes of which Sanji had never seen before. 

There’s never been an island that appealed to Sanji more specifically than this. It's perfect.

And yet he doesn’t get to experience the perfect night of romance with one of the lovely women on the island. No, instead he’s stuck with Luffy.

As soon as they port, Luffy drags him around by the arm and says they’re going on an adventure today, and despite Sanji’s very loud and desperate protests Sanji’s along for the ride. Everyone else on the crew had already left, leaving him the only one to make sure Luffy didn’t either piss off someone important or eat something inedible. 

And despite Sanji’s best efforts, Luffy still eats something inedible. It’s a pastry from a shop that forbad Devil Fruit users from buying anything, and yet Luffy still did. The pastry makes him wrinkle up like a salted snail, and the only cure is apparently a goodnight’s sleep.

What a damn joke.

And so instead of enjoying the festival, sampling the cuisine, romancing the women of the island, Sanji drags a half-catatonic Luffy to the nearest inn so he could sleep off his mistake. 

“So, what? Typical suite?” The inn clerk says, bored. He pages through a book in front of him, not even looking Sanji in the eyes. 

Maybe fighting the inn clerk would make him feel better, but no. He’s on a mission here. Sanji takes one deep breath in and one long breath out.

“One typical suite,” he grits out, throwing a handful of Berri on the counter. Luffy almost falls off his shoulder as he does. “For whatever room you have that’s already set up, I don’t care as long as it’s available now.”

The clerk shuffles through his desk without even looking away from his book, fumbling around until he plucks out a small key with a large pink heart keychain with Room 15 engraved on the front. It chimes loudly as Sanji grabs the thing and shoves it into his pocket. 

“Thanks,” Sanji says. The clerk simply grunts. 

Dragging around an ungrateful Luffy, Sanji ignores any and all protests on his mission to find the room. Each of the doors are brightly colored with little hearts engraved around the side, and it doesn’t take him long to find Room 15.

The door opens easily, creaking up slowly. Shoving Luffy inside, he flops on the ground as Sanji shuts the door behind him. He locks it for good measure, shoves the key as deep into his pocket as he can considering how large the heart keychain is, and takes a look at the room. 

The room is lit only by candlelight, soft flames make the pastels of the walls and decor glow. Despite the obnoxious size of the keychain, the theming of the room is remarkably subtle by comparison; it’s a normal inn with dark wood furnishings and soft floral touches, and one tall, floor to ceiling window with an unobstructed view of the ocean. The smell’s subtle, too, a soft seabreeze with a hint of floral.

Okay, fine. Things are looking up for him, he and Luffy can get a goodnight’s sleep, Sanji can wake up early in the morning, and he can explore the island to his heart’s content. A romantic breakfast isn’t as ideal as a romantic dinner, but he’ll take what he can get. He looks around the room for the beds, and–

With a jolt, Sanji realizes that there’s only one bed.

That makes a remarkable amount of sense. Of course. Of course this is a typical suite on the island of romance. It’s perfect and lovely and he’s here with Luffy. It makes Sanji want to cry on the floor and drown in a puddle of his own tears. 

“Hey, Sanji,” Luffy calls from the floor; he still links wrinkly, but at least he’s talking again. “Sanji, where are we? What happened to the food? And the festival? We were having so much fun.”

“You ate poison, dumbass,” Sanji says. He picks Luffy up by the scruff and sets him down on the edge of the bed, watching as he practically melts into it. Before he has the chance to crush it, Sanji takes off Luffy’s hat and sets it on the dresser. “You need to sleep it off.”

“That’s so lame,” Luffy says, flopping down on the bed. He tries uselessly to grab at Sanji, he’s still wrinkly and weak. “I wanted to do the whole festival.”

So had Sanji; in retrospect, Luffy dragging him around did mean he got to experience as much of the island’s food as possible. Every booth had its own specialty, from freshly seared meats to delicate pastries, and Luffy made sure to drag him along to every single one of them. That was somewhat unusual in itself; Sanji expected him to stay by the barbeque and eat the island’s entire stock of meat, but instead they got the full sample of the island. 

Including the mysterious pastry that somehow took Luffy out of commission. 

“You’ll have time in the morning, as long as you don’t eat anything stupid again,” he says. He takes off Luffy’s shoes then shoves him further up the bed so he’s not hanging half off of it. “What even possessed you to eat that thing? There were plenty of warning signs saying Devil Fruit users shouldn’t buy them.”

“But I wanted to try everything with you,” Luffy complains. “Isn’t that what you wanted to do?”

Sanji snorts. “Yeah, well, unlike you, I didn’t turn into a snail after eating a croissant.”

The noise of complaint Luffy makes is as passionate as it is pathetic.

Sanji could probably leave Luffy now; he’s fine. He’s probably fine, Sanji doesn’t need to babysit him all night. He can enjoy himself on the island himself, like he planned on. 

Luffy tries to hold himself up by his forearms, then falls back down onto the bed with a pathetic groan. He looks truly miserable, his hair mussed unevenly and his skin still wrinkly. He's like a fish set out to dry.

No, there’s no way Sanji could just leave him here. With a dejected sigh, he starts taking off his shoes, and then his tie, setting them together with Luffy’s hat on the dresser. They don’t have actual sleepwear, so just that will have to do. 

“Get under the covers and scoot over,” Sanji says. “We’ll finish the festival in the morning, okay?”

With a hum of agreement, Luffy squirms around the bed until he’s halfway under the covers. He doesn’t seem to be able to manage much more, pouting up at Sanji with his cheek pressed into the bed, one leg fully over the covers and the other just over them.

“Idiot,” Sanji grumbles again, scooting himself in bed right beside Luffy, trying to get the entire bedspread over them both. “You can’t pout, this is your damn fault.”

As soon as Sanji’s horizontal under the covers, Luffy whines and clings to him as much as he’s able to. It amounts to one arm over Sanji’s chest and his nose pressed into his shoulder, his legs still not fully under the covers with how much he’s squirming. 

“But you had fun, right?” Luffy asks, his breath hot against Sanji’s shoulder. “You liked the, uh…” he struggles; Sanji can feel him frowning. “You liked the fruit things. The lemon dragon one.”

“The dragon fruit tart with lemon curd,” he says. He did like those best; the flavor profile was unusual, and he bought a second one just to examine how the baker flavored the tart crust itself with lemon zest, just subtle enough to compliment the curd. “Yeah, I liked those best.”

He’s expecting Luffy to go on, but instead he doesn’t. Then, there’s a loud snore in his ear, and Sanji realizes he’s fallen fast asleep. 

Well, he’s not sneaking away now. So much for Sanji’s adventure on the island of romance; the place offered so much promise, too. Each of the food stalls he and Luffy visited were perfect, and if Luffy hadn’t been taken out of commission, they’d have toured the entire island before nightfall. 

Despite Luffy’s typical reckless adventure, he’d even taken the time to bundle up their snacks to some of the better lookout points, too. His mouth watered the whole time, like he was ready to pounce, but grumbled and dragged Sanji up to one of the benches with a view of the water. They’d eaten their tarts, there, Sanji chattering the whole time about how this island had the perfect conditions for fruit trees. 

It was, frankly, nice. Sanji wished he’d gotten his perfect date, but really, he’d have just done everything Luffy took him on today. 

The soft sound of the waves outside is barely audible over the sound of Sanji’s heart in his own throat. That wasn’t– that wasn’t Luffy’s ideal adventure, Luffy had taken him on Sanji’s perfect adventure, from going to every single food cart to trying everything he could, even if he didn’t like it, up to and including a pastry that made him wrinkle up.

This was a date, wasn’t it? And Sanji didn't mind. Actually, he rather enjoyed it, up until Luffy took himself out of commission. He’d been so disappointed about the night ending, he hadn’t even thought about the details before.

Luffy mumbles something incomprehensible in his sleep, pressing up further into Sanji. Sanji can’t seem to calm down, his face heating as he realizes Luffy essentially took him on a date, and Sanji booked them a room in what amounts to a romantic honeymoon suite. 

“Shit.” Luffy grumbles beside him, holding him closer. “Oh, no,” Sanji says. He just went on a romantic date? With Luffy? “What the hell.”

He hadn’t minded the date. He really hadn’t minded the date, and Sanji has a bad feeling that the thought is going to keep him up all night, and ruin his chances of a date with anyone other than Luffy in the morning. 

Groaning, he tries to force his eyes closed, listening to the gentle sound of waves and Luffy’s considerably less gentle snoring. Then, in a moment of pure curiosity and self indulgence, Sanji puts one hand on Luffy’s head, carding his fingers through his hair. He makes a satisfied sigh, and Sanji’s heart races without his permission. 

Oh, no.

This is not how Sanji expected this island adventure to go.

[merikayina]

hey, can I request lo'ak x fem human reader smut? So basically they've been dating for a while and she keeps asking him to have sex, but he refuses bc he's afraid of hurting her due to the size difference, even though that's kind of a kink for her... Thank you <3

gift ೃ⁀➷

✦ lo'ak x f! human! reader

Tags: aged-up lo'ak, lo'ak as your boyfriend, smut, size kink, p in v, groping

Warnings: 18+ content, nsfw

Word Count: 1500+

A/N: hi, thank you so much for requesting! this will be the first ever fic I post here (and the first smut I've ever written) so I hope this turns out good >.< I've also aged-up Lo'ak and the reader to 20 for obvious reasons, hope you like it! ♡

You plopped onto one of the chairs in the lab, taking off your gas mask and bag filled with Pandoran flora samples and dropping them onto the desk. You close your eyes and lean back, the low buzzing of lab equipment filling the empty lab. "The lab's never been this quiet, everyone must be busy out in the field," You thought to yourself.

It's been two decades since the sky people left Pandora. Born here in Pandora at this exact day, you grew up with the remaining sky people manning the laboratories and the native Na'vi. However, unlike Spider, you were more accustomed to the lab than the outdoors. These days you only ever go outside the lab when tasked to collect fresh samples and, well, meeting up with a certain special Na'vi boy.

The sound of the lab entrance opening broke the silence. You spun the lab seat around to find none other than Lo'ak making his way towards you, hands behind his back.

A gleeful smile ran through your lips with a sudden burst of energy as you ran up to meet the boy in an embrace. More so embracing his legs since he's like 8 feet tall but you didn't really care. "Woah now," The boy chuckles as he tries to regain balance from the sudden hug, "Where have you been all day, I've been looking for you."

"They sent me out to gather more samples," You said staring up at his worried eyes, "Don't worry, Spider was with me. He insisted, saying he knows the ways of the forest better than I do, as if I haven't been living here my whole life."

The boy rolls his eyes while letting out a small chuckle. "Well, while you were out and about," Lo'ak said sitting down on one of the desks his hands revealing a small woven box, "I got something for my birthday girl."

"Lo'ak! You didn't have to!"

Curious and excited, you sat next to him on the desk and opened the box. Inside was one of those glowing fan lizards native here in Pandora. A smile crept up your face as you've never seen one in so long, mostly since they don't show up near the lab.

"I remember dad saying once that sky people give each other gifts on their birthdays so I thought I'd get you something special," He said scratching the back of his head, "Caught it myself."

"Lo'ak...it's dead."

Alarmed, the Na'vi boy hopped off the desk to examine the small creature in your hands. It was limp and shriveled up. "It must've suffocated inside the box," You said eyeing the poor creature.

"Oh no no no, fuck I messed it up," He worriedly exclaimed as he picked up the lizard from your hands.

"Hey hey, it's okay, the fact that you thought of getting me something is more than enough," You reassured him. Thanks to the height of the desk you were sitting on, you were able to cup his cheeks and pull him to a kiss with ease.

Lo'ak sets the lizard in the box to the side and pulls you to a hug, his arms wrapping around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder. "But I still ended up not getting you anything special though..." He murmured, "What kind of a boyfriend does that make me?"

You toyed with his hair for a bit before a sly smirk crept up your face. "Well, if you really wanna make up to me..." You say before brushing his braids and whispering something. The boy pulls back to meet your eyes. His look of concern met yours of eagerness.

"We talked about this, you know we can't. I'll just end up hurting you," He says with a sigh while resting his hands on your thighs, caressing them gently, "I can't bear myself to do that to you."

This was a conversation that was all too familiar to the two of you. You know he wants to do it, both of you do, but he seems to prioritize your own wellbeing over his own. Sometimes, you wonder to Eywa if that's a good thing or not. This conversation has always ended the same way, but not today. Not on your birthday.

You extend your hand to caress his cheek, trailing off to his shoulder and arms, eventually reaching and interlocking with his hand - all the while never breaking eye contact. "Your love can never hurt me," Your eyes reassured him. Time and time again you've made it clear to him that whatever happens - this is your decision and everything will be on you not him. Of course, this won't stop him from blaming himself if anything does happen, but you can't bear to see him like this, sacrificing his own desires for the sake of you. Lo'ak has always been the one to put you first and himself second when it comes to things, which was what made you love him in the first place. He has a good heart. However, this relationship won't work if it's just one sacrificing for the other, now it's your turn to put yourself second. Now, you want to return the favor.

"This is what I want Lo'ak."

The blue boy stares at you with conflicted eyes.

After a long silence, Lo'ak let's out a sigh of defeat as he grabs the back of your head and pulls you into a kiss. It starts off gentle but eventually got rough with you taking off your clothes as things progressed. You were having trouble unclasping your brassiere, which he took notice of. Without warning, the boy rips it open to expose your breasts which bounced in delight. He then proceeds to play with one as he sucked on the other, making you grab onto the back of his head and let out soft moans. He was getting into this really fast, he must've wanted to do this so badly for so long and now he's just letting himself loose.

You lay your back on the desk as Lo'ak starts making his way down your belly and to your crotch. Pulling his head back, Lo'ak gently takes off your pants to reveal your pussy which was already oozing in excitement. He flashed you a sly look and a quick smirk before spreading your legs apart - making your pussy squeeze more juices out. Like a hungry Ikran, he starts eating you out while using his tongue to trace the edges of your entrance and exploring the insides. Moans of delight escaped your breath as you squirm from all the stimulation this boy is giving you. This wasn't the first time he's tongue-fucked you, but this time it feels different. Good different.

After he had his fill, he starts taking off his loincloth, exposing his already hard member angrily slapping at his pelvis as it stood straight up. Propping yourself up with your elbows you could tell it was big, probably too big for a human to handle, but that didn't scare you. All you wanted was him, all of him, inside you.

Lo'ak turns his head towards you with a stern look. "Are you sure about this?" You slowly nod your head as you extend your hand. The boy reaches for your hand and interlocks with it with his. You may not have a queue of your own, but holding his hand alone was more than enough to feel the strong bond between the two of you.

Slowly, the boy lines up his tip to your entrance and starts sliding it right in. The juices lubricated the walls of your pussy making for an easier entrance. "Ngh...So...tight..." Lo'ak groans as he continued to thrust in. You, on the other hand, tilted you head up as you feel his whole member slowly expanding your insides. You tried your best not to but you can't help yourself, you let out a gasp of pain. The boy immediately stops and looks at you worried. "Are you okay?? Does it hurt? I'll pull it out right now-"

"N-no!" You gasped through the pain and tightening your grip on his hand, "Please, go on..."

After a moment of hesitation, Lo'ak thrusts it further until his member is fully inside you. You took a few gasps of discomfort as your insides adjusted to his size before giving him a nod to continue. Slowly, he starts thrusting back and forth. After a few successive thrusts, moans of pleasure finally escapes your mouth as his thrusts began hitting your sweet spot. Lo'ak perks up at this and took it as an encouragement to start thrusting harder, which in return earned him more moans of pleasure from you.

The sound of squelching thrusts, gasps of air, and lewd moans coming from you two filled the once quiet lab. "Fuck, y-yes Lo'ak-" You moaned between gasps of air as his member repeatedly slammed into your sweet spot. "I...Ngh-" Lo'ak can barely speak between his grunts of pleasure as he can feel the friction between your tight walls rubbing along his member. The desk was shaking from the intensity that pens and books, and even the bag of samples, were falling off of it.

Lo'ak pulls you closer and mounts onto you, resting his forehead onto yours. His free hand starts rubbing circles around your clit as yours grabbed onto the hair at the back of his head. This sent shivers throughout your whole body as you can feel a knot building up inside you the more he hit your sweet spot.

"L-Lo'ak...Ngh...I think I'm close,"

"That's good babygirl...fuck...that's good-"

You let out one huge moan of pleasure as the knot finally exploded inside you. Your head tilted back, eyes rolling to the top of your head, and back arching. "I...I think I'm close too-" Lo'ak grunts. You wrap you legs around his waist to secure his place as he gave one last thrust before filling your half filled insides with his own seed. Despite how tight it was, juices started leaking out due to how filled your insides were. "Oh fuck-" He cursed under his gasping breath as he released his warm fluids deep inside you.

After pulling out, he ran his finger from the base of your entrance up to the clit to wipe off the excess fluids.

Lo'ak rested his weary body onto yours, both of you panting like crazy. He looks at you with eyes of pure ecstasy. "Was that a good gift?" He chuckled between breaths, "It didn't hurt, did it? Because I'd love to give you more gifts in the future." You let out a soft giggle as you caress his cheeks.

"I told you, your love could never hurt me."

[the1975attheirverybest]

Being Funny In A Foreign language

Chapter 7- Wintering

A/N: lots of sex. lots of dialogue. lots of feels. just everything is a lot. pretty paranoid about this one so lmk what you think!

warnings: kinky smut, depiction and discussion of mental illness.

***

Amelia couldn’t help but smile, walking backstage, as remnants of the boys’ spirited conversation reached her ears. Their voices filled the dressing room with laughter and idle chatter, like school kids back from winter break, getting caught up on all the latest from their friends. 

“Could I see that picture, again?” Matty giggled, his lilting laugh, distinct to anyone who knew him, was a sound that Amelia hadn’t heard in a good while. “I’m sending it to myself. For blackmail purposes.”

“Don’t you fuckin dare, Matty!” George jumped across the room in a futile attempt to retrieve the phone out of his hand. 

They both paused and redirected their attention as Amelia and Joshua walk into the room. A loud and incoherent greeting erupted from all four boys, gathering around the couple. 

Adam left the room to request that two extra chairs be brought in. Ross gave Amelia’s cheek a quick kiss, whispering a “welcome back, mate. Missed ya,” before turning his attention to Joshua. George, on the other hand, immediately dug into the airport candy, sampling a few out of each packet that they’d brought back for him. Matty and Amelia’s eyes met across the room, and before he could think, he rushed towards her wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug. 

“You’re back.” He whispered, his face buried into her neck. He was sure he felt lightheaded as soon as he caught a whiff of her perfume. Amelia wondered if she’d detected something more than a casual greeting in his words, or perhaps it was just that his voice was muffled when he spoke?  

“How’ve you been, Matty?” she gave into the moment, rubbing his back gently. Matty felt his legs almost give out, wishing he could melt into her. 

“Miss you.” Was his feeble response to her question. 

once he'd finally mustered the courage to pull away, Matty saw that Joshua had been watching them with a puzzled look on his face. He quickly corrected, backing away from Amelia and giving Joshua a warm smile. “Hey, man! How’s California?”

Joshua’s mind recalled what had seemed, at the time, no more than a slightly odd detail from their trip to the exhibit.

As  Amelia and Joshua were getting ready to leave the event, a short and balding man had approached them. Joshua did not consider himself a fashion expert by any means, but even he could tell that this man’s suit costs more than the average Californian’s rent; his pinky ring, alone, was probably worth thousands.

“Mr. Fontana,” Amelia had said, sounding more surprised than courteous.

“Call me Marcus, please.” the man extended his hand out, shaking hers. “I just had to come over here and meet the woman who made Matty Healy give up his  beloved Fender Mustang.”

Amelia’s hand went limp in Fontana’s grip. “Beg your pardon?”

“I’m just sayin,’ sweetheart, if you can get that man to do that for you, you might as well marry him.”

Befuddled, Amelia stared blankly at the man’s face, until he’d let go of her hand and turned to Joshua.

“and you are?”

She shook off her confusion, putting on a deliberate smile, “Oh, please, forgive me. Mr. Font- Marcus, this is my boyfriend, Joshua. Joshua, please meet Marcus Fontana.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Sir, thank you for having us.” Joshua had taken the man’s extended hand.

“Boyfriend? Really?” Fontana asked, sizing him up. After a brief pause, recognition flashed across his eyes, “Oh, I see…” His eyebrow raised.

Amelia dropped the smile on her face, instantly.

“well, good luck, kid.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, walking away. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

That interaction had lingered in Joshua’s mind on their way back to the hotel, so, as they were getting ready for bed, Joshua asked Amelia if she and Matty had ever dated.

“Have we ever dated?” Amelia echoed the question. “No,” she turned her back towards him to brush her hair in front of the mirror. “I mean…there was a moment where we almost did, but no. We’ve never dated.”

“Almost? What changed?”

Amelia smiled, setting her brush down. “I mean, I don’t know if you can tell, but, Matty’s a bit of a whore.” She laughed. “…I say that affectionately, of course.”

“Oh? a handsome rich rockstar likes the company of beautiful women? How shocking.”

She giggled. “exactly.”

“California was great, man! Thanks to you.” Joshua smiled. “You sure we didn’t, like, put you out or anything? Getting us into the exhibit, I mean…”

“Not at all, bro. Glad you had a good time.”

***

Matty rushed to take refuge in the dimly lit corner of the roof party, glad to finally be alone for the first time since this morning. He struggled to sit still in his seat; leg bouncing; hands fidgeting with his sweater; crossing his legs only to uncross them again a few seconds later. He stood up, eventually, pacing  back and forth by his empty seat. 

“Perfect show as always,” Amelia smiled as she approached him. 

He looked up, beaming instinctually, “thanks, bro.”

She loved when he called her that. 

She sat in the chair that he’d abandoned, and he hovered by her side, his feet kicking a tiny pebble on the floor. 

They sat there, quietly, for a long while, watching the after party happen around them. Ross and John had roped Joshua into one of their made up, chess-adjacent games with complicated rules and elaborate levels. He was, earnestly, giving it his best shot. Polly and Gabi hung out by the pool, dipping their feet into the water and drinking, while George and Hann, on the opposite side of the water, looked engrossed in a conversation. Amelia tore her eyes off the vibrant scene, glancing up at Matty. He rubbed his temples repeatedly, keeping his head down, as he swayed in place. She could tell he was deeply uncomfortable though she wasn’t exactly sure why. 

“Matty? you alright?” 

He could barely hear her over the music, but she mouthed her question again when he glanced at her. He nodded, hesitantly walking closer towards her. 

“Hey, you look a bit…I don’t know? Pale?” Her brows furrowed as she studied his face closely. 

“Fine….just a bit, erm, dizzy, I think?”

Amelia jumped to her feet. “Come, sit down!” 

“N-no, it’s alright. Stay….I’ll just…” he sat on the arm of the chair. “That alright?” His arm wrapped around the back, leaning over her. 

“Yeah, yeah.” She gave him a soft smile, but it was really just an excuse for her to look into his eyes and watch him closer. 

“I’m fine, Amelia.” He chuckled, catching on. 

Her eyes shot towards his still bouncing leg. “Mhm.” She nodded knowingly. 

They fell silent again. Amelia wondered to herself what he was thinking about and how he was feeling. Though he was sitting right next to her, he felt miles away.

“Are you mad at me?” Matty asked unexpectedly. 

“What? No! Why would I be?”

He winced when the song in the background had reached a crescendo. He wanted to say because you didn’t text or call while you were gone. Because we haven’t spoken since you literally whipped my ass and left me there. But he figured she wouldn’t take kindly to any of that. Instead, he asked, “so, are you gonna come and see me tonight?”

“Wasn’t planning on it-“

His heart sank “Why not?”

“Last time I did, you said-“

“Please, Amelia. Please forget what I said.” His hand reached for hers, squeezing it. 

“Does that mean you want me to come see you tonight?”

He nodded, embarrassed, but desperate enough to confess, “just….need you to hold me.”

Her eyes shot up towards him, confused by his markedly changed tone. For as long as she’s know him, Matty has never said anything like that to her.

“C’mon then,” she squeezed his hand back, pulling him to his feet. “let’s go upstairs.”

“What about the party?”

She glanced over at Joshua, who seemed occupied with his friends, “Parties are overrated.”

***

In the elevator, Amelia finally asked, “Matty, you don’t look well. What’s going on?”

His eyes squeezed shut to avoid the harsh overhead light. “Everything’s a bit….too much.”

She wasn’t quite sure what he meant but she nodded anyway. 

“Too much sound. And light. And too many people. Everything’s loud.”

Still slightly unsure, she wrapped her arms around his waist, briefly, in an attempt to comfort him then realized that, perhaps he needed the  exact opposite and immediately pulled away. 

***

Matty and Amelia laid on their sides, in bed, facing each other. She took note of the fact that he blushed every time that their eyes met but she kept the information to herself, knowing that if she teased him about it, he’d squirm away. Instead, her hand played with his hair, lightly. 

Matty felt his mind slow down, his body relaxed. In the ambient atmosphere of the hotel room, there was finally less noise, less light. A single person, a singular, sweet, touch to focus on. Away from the cheering crowds and the spotlights following him around onstage, he could finally begin to process his day.

“So, how’ve you been?” Amelia spoke, after a while, her voice barely above a whisper, hoping she could get him relaxed enough to fall asleep. 

Matty shrugged silently.

“Why? What’s going on? You seemed a bit better before the show.”

Matty nodded. “I was. At least I think I was. 

He took a deep breath, “ I’m trying, I promise.”

“I know you are, Matty.” Her hand left his hair, moving to caress his face instead. “How’d you do while I was gone?”

He shuffled closer and closer to her, burying his face in her chest to hide from her expectant eyes, resting his hands at her hips  and hoping she’d get the hint and hug him back. She did. Her arms wrapped around him protectively, but she proceeded with her line of questioning anyway. 

“ have you been getting enough sleep?”

“Doing my best, but….its hard. Sleep doesn’t come easy.”

She squeezed him tighter. 

“Been napping on the tour bus though. In between cities. Better than nothing, right?”

“Right.” She rested her chin on top of his head. “What about appetite? Been eating?”

“Yes; actually! Once a day.”

“Matty!”

He giggled and she felt his breath on her skin. “I’m trying to work my way up to more. Been better about it since the boys have been back.” 

That amendment reassured her. “I’m glad they’re all back. You all function better as a unit.”

She could feel him smile in agreement. 

“What about exercise?”

Matty whined and squirmed in her arms, which, she took as her answer.

 “No workouts at all in the past few days?”

“None.”

She sighed loudly, unsure what words to use in reprimanding him. To an extent, it wasn’t his fault. It’s his illness that sucks the life and energy out of him. But she needed to incentivize him to try. 

“What about the last rule we set?”

The question hung in the air for a moment before he registered it. 

“Oh, that! I’ve been good about that, I promise.” She heard him giggle softly. “Haven’t touched myself at all. Genuinely!”

 “I believe you, Matty.” After a brief pause, she said,  “good. That’s good.”

“If I’m being honest?” he stuttered.  “it’s only partially me being good. The other part is….erm…I’m scared I won’t be able to get it up again.”

His sheepish confession made her break out into a silent chuckle, Matty felt her breathe in and out as she laughed, prompting him to blush, in return. 

“Appreciate the honesty.” She giggled. “Guess we have one thing to reward you for, and quite a few to punish you for, huh?”

He nodded, feeling guilty for letting her down.

He intertwined his legs with hers, getting restless. She felt him shuffle and squirm. He wanted to be even closer to her. Even though he knew it was impossible. He was literally burying himself in her. 

“Everything alright?” She looked down at him tossing around in her embrace. 

“Want you.” He whimpered, meek and small. 

“Hey, I’m right here….literally right here.” It didn’t seem to persuade him. “Matty, are you okay?”

He exhaled, loudly, “sorry, sorry- uhhh, I’m fine.” He went still.

“You don’t need to be sorry, honey…”

His stomach fluttered at the term of endearment, instantly wondering how seriously she meant it. 

“Where should we start?” She asked with a mischievous smile. “How bout this? You get to pick your punishment and your reward, and I’ll decide which one we do first.”

Matty’s heart raced in his chest; he thought for a moment, then, “for a reward- I-“ the words felt heavy on his lips. “Could you maybe stay the night?”

“What?”

“Doesn’t have to be tonight.” He added, quickly, to reassure her. “You can decide when works for you. But….I’d like it if you- maybe didn’t leave afterwards. We don’t have to do anything, either.” He glanced at her, briefly, and saw that she seemed confused. “ Like I’m not asking for more sex. We could just hang out. Get dinner. Or just chill, really.”

“Matty- gosh, I-“

“Is it too much? Would you rather not?” his mind, and mouth, panicked.  “It’s fine. Knew it was a big ask. Forget- forget this reward” he moved his hand dismissively, as if to wave it off. “I have another idea.”

Amelia stared at him blankly, speechless. He took her silence as a sign to proceed. 

“Fuck, this one’s pathetic…. but I suppose I’ve already embarrassed myself…” he giggled, darting his eyes away. 

“What is it? Go on. Tell me.”

“For a reward, would it be okay if…. Like, if you tell me the good things that you like?”

“Pardon?”

“Like- if I do something that you like- can you maybe say so?”

Amelia repeated his words in her head a few times, attempting to decipher them. “You want me to say that I like something? I’m sorry, Matty, I don’t follow.”

 “I’m trying to ask for praise, okay?!” He blurted out, immediately grabbing a pillow and burying his face into it, screaming “fuckkkkk.” He huffed into the fabric. “told you it was pathetic.”

Amelia laughed, heartily. She thought it was the sweetest thing she’d ever heard. “C’mon! Don’t be embarrassed!! It’s really- umm…cute!”

“Oh fuck off!”

“Matty, c’mon. Look at me. Sit up. Eyes on me.”

Despite some resistance, Matty eventually mustered the courage to dig himself out of the pillow and look at her, his face burning red.

“it’s just….it seems- well, okay- Are you saying you didn’t feel…acknowledged or assured enough last time?”

He shook his head, timidly. 

“Okay, okay….good to know. That other stuff you said about wanting me to stay afterwards…”

“You can’t, can you?”

“Well, what I’m hearing is that last time wasn’t a good experience for you. I think we should talk about that.” Amelia’s tone shifted, becoming increasingly more serious. 

“Why?? Was it not good for you? Did you not have fun?”

“Matty,” she placed her hand on his arm, squeezing it gently. “I had fun. More fun than I expected. But right now we’re talking about you.”

“Had fun too.”

“But?”

“But, erm, I- after you left, I felt…” he sighed, “like I wasn’t good enough. Like I could’ve done more.”

“Done more what? Matty, all you had to do is lie there and take it..”

He shrugged. “It’s just a feeling I had. Like….like I could’ve taken more, or- or I could’ve squirmed less, or, could’ve gotten you off, or-“

“We should’ve talked about it before I left.” Realization dawning on her.  “You always made us talk about it afterwards.” Amelia got off the bed, beginning to pace back and forth. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Matty’s head dropped lower, his gaze focusing on the duvet. “I’m sorry. I should have. I’m sorry…”

“No, no. I’m not blaming you!” She threw her hands up in frustration. “I guess- I had assumed- since you were always telling me how important it is to communicate or use the safe word or whatever….that you knew that. That I didn’t have to tell you.”

“I- I just didn’t want to be needy.” His own words made him uncomfortable.

Amelia’s face contorted, pained by the words he spoke. She lunged back on to the bed, grabbing his face urgently. “Don’t say that. You’re not being needy. You hear me? Please, I need you to understand that. Okay?”

A small hum left his lips and she let go of him, sitting back with her legs folded under her. “I’m not very good at this whole….taking charge thing, am I? You always made it look so effortless.”

A smile crept on to his face, “It’s true I do have a tendency to do hard things with easy swagger.” Matty said with seriousness.

She burst into a chuckle. He was finally sounding like himself for a change. She slapped his chest, playful. “Narcissist.”

“You said it; not me!”

“Can I kiss you?” 

“I’d love that.”

She closed the gap between them, leaning in, and holding on to him. Their lips locked, teeth crashing, rendering them a giggling mess, but they kept going anyway. His arms squeezed around her waist. Hers let go of him and found the hems of his sweater, slowly slipping it off of him. 

His chest was hot to her touch. she could feel his heartbeat. She unbuckled his belt slowly, glancing at him to check in. 

“Amelia?” His voice was barely audible. 

“Yeah?”

“This is….erm….a touch humiliating, but I- well, I haven’t…I haven’t showered.”

“Oh.” Her hands paused their fiddling. “Like…after the show?” She knew his routine enough to know that this was odd. 

“Yeah.” He looked away as he spoke, “…or….before actually. Like….not in a couple of days.”

She nodded as he spoke, to indicate that she was listening. “That’s…that’s okay. It’s fine with me if it’s fine with you?”

“Yeah….fine with me I just…wanted to…” he let his sentence trail off. 

Amelia kissed his cheek. “I get it. No worries.” Giggling at his embarrassment. “You’re so cute, you know?”

***

Matty felt a strange wave of anxiety crash over him the further that Amelia got from him. She’d settled between his legs, her hand wrapped around his half-hardened cock, yet his head was too full to enjoy any of it. All he could think about was how much warmer and safer he felt with her body around his, now that he had to lay his head on the bed, instead, everything felt overwhelming again. He propped himself up in an attempt to see her. A shooting pain rushed up his neck.  he screamed out “HOLY FUCK!! Owww!”

Amelia panicked. “Oh my god, what? What’s happened?!!  Did I…was I not supposed to-“

“N-no- ouch! It’s fine-  you’re fine.” Matty hissed, grabbing the back of his neck. “It’s me….my fuckin neck. Cramp. I don’t know.”

She crawled up the bed quickly, sitting back next to him. “Lift up, let me see.” 

Amelia tested the waters, touching his neck lightly and checking for any discomfort. “Looks fine. No swelling or anything. Mind if I touch it harder?”

“Go for it.” Matty said with a scrunched face, bracing himself. 

He gasped when Amelia’s delicate touch turned into kneading, attempting to give him a massage. 

“Does that hurt?”

“not really. I think it’s helping.” He smiled through the mild discomfort, relaxing into her touch as he got used to it. “Think it’s the guitar strap.” He eventually decided. “Had it on a weird spot between my neck and shoulder earlier and….it felt a bit off.”

“Oh, Matty….those things are heavy! You’ve got to be more careful.”

“Excuse me, I’m very strong, you know.” He curled his biceps to prove it. 

“Quit fuckin moving” she laughed. “You’re not. You’re just a baby.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ve been doing this a long time now. Even long before the muscles too! I know how to carry a guitar! Just….didnt want to stop mid-song to adjust it.”

“Whatever you say, tiny baby.” The smile palpable in her voice.

***

“You wanna try this again?” Amelia asked, from between his legs, kissing up his body, from his stomach to his chest.

Matty nodded, eagerly. He watched her retrieve the lube bottle, squirting some on her hand, and on his body, before delicately wrapping her hands around his length. He blushed watching her handle him and whispered “cold” when the lubricant touched his skin. 

Amelia flicked her wrist, stroking him the way that he’d taught her to, but Matty was acutely aware of the fact that he was nowhere near as hard as he should be. His mind drowning in doubt and concern, the more he tried to focus, the more difficult it became. His worries were now turning into frustrations, his hips thrusting into her hand in a desperate attempt to feel something. 

“Fucks sakes!” He groaned. “I’m sorry.”

Slowly, Amelia let go of him, and shifted to sit by his side. She gave his cheek a quick kiss. “Nothing to be sorry about.” 

Matty was grateful for her calm response, but he couldn’t help but feel guilty.

She began to re-dress him, sliding his boxers back over his hips. “Gosh, Matty….” She gasped, “Is.. that from…the- belt?” She’d noticed the welts, now turned blue and purple streaks, all over his ass.

“mhm.”

“fuck,” she whispered, running her fingers over the belt marks. “I did that?”

Matty wasn’t sure if her question needed an answer, or if it was rhetorical.

“Did I over-do it? Did I hurt you?”

“No. I like it.” Matty smiled.

“the pain?”

“the pain, you marking me up, the sting ever time that I sit down or move, that reminds me of you…all of it.”

Amelia let go of her breath, relieved to hear that Matty felt good about it. “Can I- see? Could you…turn on your stomach?”

“you…want me to flip over, so you could see my bruised ass?”

She batted her lashes at him, flashing him a smile that he could never say no to.

“fuck, I mean, this night couldn’t possibly get more humiliating, why not.” He rolled on his stomach, feeling vulnerable again.

 Amelia examined her handiwork, closely, squeezing Matty’s skin and watching him jolt. Then, feeling slightly guilty about her new-found morbid fascination with inflicting pain on him, she kissed all the areas where she could see that she’d split the skin and drawn blood. Matty’s body shuddered, his skin prickling with goosebumps. He moaned into the pillow, feeling exposed. His body was betraying all his secrets, she could see and hear exactly how he felt.

“You gotta see a doctor though, okay?” She finally pulled his clothes all the way back on him. “for your dick, I mean.”

He resigned to his fate, nodding defeatedly. 

“It’s gonna be okay.”

Matty clicked his tongue, “what if it’s not though? What if I’m old and decrepit now?”

She grinned, “you’re not. You’re a stallion.”

He chuckled. “A what now?”

“Like a horse.”

“I know what a stallion is. Just….not very stallion like of me.” He gestured towards his groin. 

“Happens to the most virile of horses…I’ll help you make the appointment. Who do you boys see while on tour? Can you make appointments online?”

“Yeah” Matty nodded. “Yeah, I’ll show you.”

***

“While we’re at it.” Amelia clicked the “+” sign to open a new tab in the browser. “I was thinking we could….buy some stuff.”

Matty frowned. “What do you need to buy?”

It quickly dawned on him what she had in mind once the search results showed a wide variety of sex toys.

“Oh…Christ! Are you sure about that?”

“Okay, so,” Amelia started as her hands ran through his hair. “I think we need to make more of an effort to talk things through.” 

Matty looked up at her, his head resting on her chest. “Mhm.”

“In the spirit of that….what about punishments? What’re your limits and stuff.”

“Don’t think I’ve got any.” Matty shrugged. 

dissatisfied with his response, Amelia began to list off some of the options that she saw on the screen. “You’ve got paddles, chains, rope, spreader bars, cuffs, cock rings, wax, knives, electric pads-“

“Amelia.” Matty looked her directly in the eyes, “these all sound fine to me. Buy whatever you want.”

She sighed. “But what about what you want?”

“I- I want anything that you want. I’ll try anything that you want to try. You can do anything that you want to do to my body.”

Amelia’s heart raced, transfixed by his eyes, she couldn’t bring herself to look away. She didn’t know how to respond to that. Her mouth felt dry, her words a broken stutter. 

“Here.” Matty reached into his pants pocket, producing his wallet. “Use this.”

“Wha-what?” Still thrown off, Amelia needed a moment to come back to her senses

“Take my card. Any of the credit cards in here. If you buy anything.”

“Oh.”

***

“Are you gonna leave me?” Matty asked as he watched Amelia get dressed. 

“Nope. Mind if I stay over tonight?”

His whole face lit up. 

“We could….run you a bath. Or, I don’t know, watch a film? Only if I get to choose what we watch though!!”

“Amelia, I’m depressed — and possibly impotent— not paralyzed. I can run my own bath.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’m gonna pop by my room. Get the bag of weed I brought you from LA. Order us some room service, would you?”

***

The air on the balcony was chilly, but the hotel had provided a space heater that allowed Amelia and Matty to enjoy the outdoors late at night. She sat opposite him, her feet crossed on the outdoor couch, wondering to herself why he’d been so quiet.

“Do you know about the Melrose Place activism thing?” Matty spoke, out of the blue, slouching in his chair and waving his blunt around.

“The what?”

A smile stretched across his face before he’d even spoken, clearly amused by the store that he was about to tell. “So, you know the 90s tv show Melrose Place?”

“Vaguely…”

He nodded, taking a puff of his joint, and hummed, too impatient to move the blunt away before speaking. “Right, so, there was this- university professor, I think….he had this idea for an art exhibit that would be, sort of, showcased on tv. This was in the 90s, mind you, so before streaming and all that…”

Amelia nodded along.

“So, I guess he was watching Melrose Place with his wife or something, and he decided to do it on that show. Like…like display shit in the background as part of the set.”

“Oh, that’s interesting…”

“Isn’t it? Anyway, so, him and his students decide that it would be funny if they did it in secret, right? So, without permission from the network or the producers or anything…” Matty’s grin grew larger as he spoke, his droopy eyes sparkling like the starry sky above. “they found the set decorator, and I guess cuz they decided to put in protest art, she was into it. She like considered herself very leftist, or whatever.” He laughed, bringing the joint to his lips again.

“that’s wild!”

“mhm…so, like, every episode, they would put protest art in the most plain and innocent places. Like, erm….” Matty’s brows crossed as he attempted to recall some examples. “bedsheets with unrolled condoms as a print pattern. Used as the sheets on the bed in a scene where the romantic couple are sleeping together. A pillow with the structure of the AIDs virus embroidered on it. Chinese food containers with human rights  symbols….shit like that.”

“What? That’s insane!”

Matty fixed his posture, leaning forward as his story picked up, “It gets even better. So, they took it a bit too far one week. They featured a painting of the Oklahoma City bombing, or some shit…the producer noticed. But when the set decorator confessed to him, this guy- fuckin goated!- he was really into the idea. So, he let the professor and his students have more access to the show. Can you believe that? Gave them scripts so they could choose art that was relevant to the episode, let them come to set…all of it!!”

“no fuckin way!”

“I know!” Matty chuckled, his smoker lungs giving out, he launched into a coughing fit.

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat.

“Is that what you think about when you get stoned? Protest art in 90s soap operas?”

“well-" he rolled his eyes, "I just think the juxtaposition between, like, a completely apolitical, harmless little tv show, and the protest art in the background as the characters do mundane things is a cool idea.”

“it is.” Amelia affirmed, calmly, amused by his thought process.

A comfortable silence settled between them. Amelia found herself compelled to admire Matty as he smoked in his seat, looking up at the sky every once in a while. She had no idea she’d been smiling until Matty pointed it out.

“What’re you smilin’ at?” Matty asked, his lips involuntarily mirroring her smile. “What? Why are you lookin’ at me like that?”

Amelia shook her head, giggling. “I was just thinking about how pretty you look in the moonlight. It’s too bad we’re not fucking.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I mean….your arms and your tattoos...that hair? You’re looking very…umm,” she bit her lip, smiling coyly.

“What? ‘very’ what?” Matty leaned closer, on the edge of his seat.

“Very fuckable.”

His mouth fell open as he took her words in. “Christ!” He mumbled under his breath, then, with a noticeable shift in demeanor, “well, just cuz I’m out of commission, doesn’t mean we can’t still have fun.” He winked playfully. “I could still get you off without my dick, you know.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I’ve got a mouth, fingers, two thighs if that’s what you’re into….”

“You’d- you’d be okay with that?”

“Okay with what? You using me and my body for your own pleasure? Focusing on making you feel good and giving you what you want without regard for myself or what I might need? It would be my fucking pleasure. Literally and figuratively.”

****

Amelia’s body shook, her thighs clamping around Matty’s head as he licked into her.

“Oh, fuck! Matty, don’t stop!! Ye- yeah, right there…” her hands reflexively reached for his hair, tugging on it harshly as her pleasure spiked.

Matty whined in pain when she accidentally pulled at his hair a bit too harshly, his breath against her clit only spurring her on even harder. She held his face against her core, pulling at his hair whenever he tried to back away for a breather, before long, she was riding his face. Though the natural instincts of his body fought it at first, he eventually gave in, letting her move him however she wanted.

“Oh- matty- I’m close.” She moaned. “I’m gonna…cum. Should I- on your face? That okay?”

Matty tried to nod, but the grip she had on his hair sent a shock of pain through his body. “Uh-huh” he sounded, his voice vibrating against her center and pushing her over the edge. He felt weak and short of breath, but he tried to work her through her orgasm, lapping up at her cunt as it dripped over his face. Her hand loosened its hold on him, her thigh relaxing around his head, she let go as she came down from her high, giving him a chance to breathe.

“That- was…. amazing.” She panted, looking up at the ceiling with a smile on her face.

Matty crawled up the bed to be by her side, kissing her cheek sweetly.

“Oh, wow, look at you.” She chuckled at his disheveled hair and puffy, pink lips. “I think you’re starting to get somewhere?” She pointed at the bulge that had formed in his underwear. Matty blushed, casting his eyes downwards.

“You literally get off on making other people feel good?”

Was it that? Or was it the pain? Perhaps it was both, or simply the fact that it was her. He didn’t really know.

“Mhm.”

“That’s kinda sweet, actually.” Her heart melted at his embarrassed expression. “I could go for round two, if…?”

He nodded, rushing to undress, but stopping himself moments later. “Sorry- I- May I?”

She kissed him, whispering, “good boy,” in his ear. “Yes, you may. Get yourself nice and ready for me, yeah?”

Once ready and lubed up, Matty’s hands fidgeted nervously, wanting to initiate but feeling uncertain. “Umm…where- how do you want me?”

“I wanna be on top.” She smiled, patting the space next to her for him to sit in.

Matty moaned as she sunk down on him taking him a bit at a time, until she went all the way.

“Oh- fuck…Amelia, you- feel so good.” his head thrown vackwards to rest against the bed frame.

“Yeah?” Her hands rested around the base of his neck. Not quite squeezing, just adding some weight, a gentle reminder that she had him by the throat. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Nearly forgot how tightly you fit me.”

“M-mi-missed you.” He whimpered, “missed this.”

“I’m gonna start moving now, you ready?”

Matty nodded, instantly jolting in shock when she began to move her hips. He wasn’t as ready as he thought he would be.

“A-Melia? Am I…allowed to - tou-touch you?”

She smiled, with her eyes closed. “Yeah.” She whispered. “You’re allowed., sweet angel.”

The words were barely out of her mouth before she felt Matty’s lips on her neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses all over her, while his hands cupped her breasts.

Matty felt her pick up speed, her movements less deliberate, more desperate, her breathing shallow, all reminding him that he knew the signs that her body often gave.

“You close?” He asked, kissing her cheek.

“Oh my god, yeah…so close…”

He leaned forward, moving away from the headboard and hugging her tightly. “I’ve got you. I’ve got it from here. You can- yeah…you can stop if you want.” He took over, thrusting upwards, his hips slamming into her.

“O-oh! Fuck! Yeah, thats it!”

He found a rhythm that seemed to get her clenching tightly around him as he repeated his motions over and over, she kept her chest pressed into his, sweat adhering their bodies to each other, her head resting on his shoulder as she moaned and called out his name.

“You’re- shit!- you’re shaking, Matty. You close? Wanna cum to-gether?”

Matty shook his head and kissed the side of her neck before thrusting again. “Nu-uh. No, this….is about you.” He panted, biting his lower lip to conceal a moan.

“Can be about both of us.”

He shook his head again, more passionately this time. “Want it to be about you.”

With a final thrust, Amelia didn’t have time to process his words or respond, she felt her orgasm hit, waves of pleasure overpowering her. Matty held her tight, letting her dig her teeth into his skin and bite his shoulder as she contracted around him, cumming all over his cock. 

He smiled faintly as she trembled in his arms, feeling the aftershocks of her pleasure run through her. 

“You good?” He asked softly. 

She grinned, sleepily, adjusting her head on his shoulder. “So good.”

Once Matty was sure that her body had stopped shaking, he slowly peeled his skin away from hers, dipping his head low to kiss all over her. 

“Mmm…that’s nice.” She sighed. “Tickles.” 

She mustered enough strength to eventually roll off of him. “Oops. Made a mess all over you.” She giggled, “want me to suck you off? That’ll clean it up?”

Matty smiled. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll- uh…get us cleaned up in a second.”

“Wait! You haven’t….you know…”

“It’s okay. I don’t want to anyway.” He waved her off. 

“I’m sorry, you DONT want to cum?”

“If I do….i’ll be tired after... less present…”

“It’s alright. I’ll take care of you." she offered. "unless... Do you not feel safe with me?”

“I do! Of course I do! I just wanna take care of you!!!”

“Matty-“

“No! Wait, listen, you’ve been doing so much for me lately. I wanna do this for you. Okay? Please? Just want you to know that I appreciate you and I- I want you to feel good.”

Amelia felt herself well up. She blamed her emotional state on the post-orgasm high, giggling at herself. “Matty...” She had nothing more to say.

***

Matty felt a quiet joy when he woke up to find himself in Amelia's arms the next morning. he could not believe he'd gotten this lucky. He squeezed closer to her, wanting to memorize every little detail about this moment: her scent, the peaceful look on her face as she slept, the feeling of the soft bedsheets against his skin....

an overwhelming sense of fear followed closely behind the moment of joy. He knew he wasn't entilted to feel as good as he just did. The more he wished he could have her by his side, in his bed, every morning, for the rest of his life, the more he feared that he would lose her. get used to and depend on everything being great only to fuck it up, hurt her, and lose the good thing that he leaned on. He found himself leaning into the fear when Amelia had woken up, in a hurry to get to her room, declining his breakfast invitation.

He watched her walk out on him and feared that she would never walk back in. In a panic, he reached for his phone, quickly scrolling through his DMs to find the messages that he'd once exchanged with a New York - based model.

hey

in town for msg soon

you around?

[britt-kageryuu]

Arrived at Destination!

Next part of the convention series

First | Next

-----------------------

They finally made it to the hotel near the convention center.

A nice little place run by some Yokai, but still accommodated humans, thankfully had parking space for the tank.

And after some frustration with the reservation not showing up, "Ha-Ma-To! I made this reservation with the Official Site. Not a third party!" They got to the rooms to put down their luggage before going to check in with the convention staff.

The new broaches magic was pulling alot of weight since it was shrinking Raphs 7ft+ bulk down to his height as a teen, though still built like an American Football Lineman. Which was necessary for this venture, because there is no way he'd be able to navigate as easy.

They got their badges, found where their booth in the Dealers Hall would be, then went to retrieve their tables and the first group of boxes to set up. Along with the Dragons bringing the tech for a new set up at the booth.

Mikey and CJ broke off from them to get set up in the Artist Alley, since their set up was going to be a smaller scale. Though it would still take them a good bit of time to figure out how they were going to set up the display. Make it stand out a bit more than the other tables next to them.

Back in the Dealers Hall, the group were spacing out the tables in their booth first, then the Dragons set up a corner with a Holo Screen that they will be taking turns with meet and greets with. Hopefully not cause a traffic jam.

The Donnie handed the others a planned layout of how they want VTurtles! merch to be placed. Plus making a small area for the Caffeinated Turtle stuff.

Some of the other vendors came over to talk, mostly curious since they haven't seen them before.

"We work for Genius Built, the merch is for the small VTuber group they own." Donnie calmly answers fully calculating what to say, "The group wasn't officially invited so we just have this small set up. Though we don't fully know how many of their fans will be at this event."

One of the other vendors looks at what was being set up, "Wow, you guys got some fancy coffee, and these characters are kinda cool. Why turtles though?" They ask.

Leo looks up at the curious asker, "Their family apparently sees turtles as some kind of luck charm. Though that luck swings wildly from what we heard about them." Leo says while setting up a small muti tier stand with the sample acrylics and plushies, "Something about them needing to travel for a family emergency. Only to learn the 'emergency' was just an argument of different views."

April let out a laugh, "Yeah, they were so annoyed, had a nice trip though."

"Wait, they all had to go?" One person asked.

"Well they have a unique situation where the group is actually 4 Siblings, who stumbled into the VTubing thing. Said it was just a side gig." April answers back while sending a text to Raph and Cass on what to bring next, and what to leave for later.

There was some more calm trading of information, Donnie learning about some of the usual repeat vendors, local celebrities and some rumors that were floating around surrounding the industry vendors there.

Then after the setup was to their liking, the group decided to walk around the hall. Check out the possible food options, look out for certain merch they would grab later, and talk to some more vendors about the Convention in general.

They even took a detour into the Artist Alley to check on Mikey and CJ. After looking around a bit more the group left to get food. Preferably not in the convention center.

"$15 for a slice of pizza half the size of a personal size pizza?"

"Well the Food Trucks are not much better."

Before heading back to the hotel, and get the Drones ready for the next day. It had been a pain in the tail end to get permission to have them at the con, but after getting a deal to help with some Live Streams, the staff allowed them in.

With a lot of waver signing to say it wasn't the Conventions fault if anything happened to the robots.

The drones were very excited, especially since they were fitted with their new hover gear.

There was some last minute talks over food, about the schedules for the meet and greets, along with checking that all the Socials had the correct information on it.

"Here's to a great event, and hopefully no drama!"

-------------------

Masterpost

As I said in the first I still don't fully know where this is going, and I don't quite know how to approach this. So critique and suggestions are welcome.

[trivialbob]

During our vacation Sheila hired a guide to take us to really local places to try some food and drink. Ours was a walking tour. Golf cart and bike tours are available too. Next year I want to try the bike version.

We started the evening taking a taxi from our place at the north end of Isla Mujeres to the La Gloria neighborhood. We met up with our guide, Jose.

(much more after the cut)

First stop: Dessert! Jose explained that people were getting too full by the end of the tours and skipping dessert. So now he likes to start with that. I don't like sweets and desserts a lot, so this was definitely the way for me to eat some -- on an empty stomach.

We entered a small courtyard in front of a home. There was a stove and griddle and one four-top table under a tin roof. Our hosts served us flan. It was excellent. This is probably the first time I've finished any dessert in years.

Second stop: This was at a food cart parked in the street. A handwritten sign said "Hay Tamales," which I think means "Here are tamales."

We were served elote, a Mexican street corn salad. The portion was decent-sized and the elote was like comfort food. Had Sheila or I made this at home, it would be the sort of thing I would have left on the stove so I could snack on it all night long.

Had there not been five local people waiting in line, I probably would have broken open the foam cup to lick the bottom after I'd spooned out everything else.

Third stop: Panaderia Emmanuel Bakery. Jose explained that Mexican bakeries are open in the evening, unlike the American ones that open early in the morning. We had our choice of various fresh buns, donuts, and pastries. Sheila and I each selected an item. They were tasty and large. Thank goodness we were able to take home what we couldn't eat. Had we finished the bakery items, we would have been too full to go to the next four stops. (Here is the bakery in a Google Maps picture.)

Fourth stop: This was at a small, outdoor kitchen under a canvas roof. Two women were cooking food. We were served pork carnitas on a fresh bakery roll. I really liked this place. The sandwich was huge, and for real I started to wonder if I could keep eating at the remaining sites. I brought home half of the carnitas that night.

Fifth stop: We entered a small, private bar. It was beautiful inside; my phone just didn't capture a decent shot of it. The pandemic killed business here. The place now is open only for small, special events.

We were here for a mezcal tasting. First we sipped Fandango, accompanied by lime and salt. I loved it. Next we sampled some house mezcal, infused with honey, vanilla, and cinnamon. Here's where things get more interesting. We drank this one with some pinches of a mixture of black pepper, salt, and crickets.

Some might think eating crickets would require a healthy dose of mezcal first. But our drink portions weren't of a size that could make me abandon all caution and agree to something like bungee jumping or swimming with great white sharks. Sheila and I didn't hesitate to try the black, powdery mix.

I would have been fine ending the tour right here, assuming I could keep drinking mezcal with the sides, including the non-vegan one.

Sixth stop: This was at a small, yet traditional bar and restaurant named Chile & maíz. The night we did our tour was the start of Carnival. Many people had gone to the north end of the island for the celebration, leaving this restaurant empty for the evening.

The cook prepared for us chicken tinga sopes. Could the food keep getting better that night? So far, yes. The chicken stew on a fried tortilla was delicious. And filling. Sheila and I got a to-go box for some of it.

Apparently Chile & maíz is fairly new. I checked Google Maps to get a daylight picture (below). The logs that will eventually support a sloped roof are visible, but nothing else indicating a restaurant is being constructed. What we saw last night was very well done.

Seventh stop: Jose brought us to Daria's Delivery. The chef is staring up a new business. So far it is a kitchen on the second floor of a building. There is a commercial cook top, a table with four chairs, and one green bird in a birdcage. As we entered, the chef's adorable young daughter (maybe 4-years-old) came out from the living quarters right behind the table and greeted us with a big smile.

Our final dish of the night was chile relleno which is one of my favorite Mexican foods. Daria's didn't let me down. Very tasty.

During the tour we got to know more about Jose, his restaurant experiences, and his family. At the end he walked with us for a bit. He explained how the food tour supports the local cooks.

The tour was really fun because there's no way at all Sheila and I would have found all these small places on our own. It's not like they all had neon signs.

We ended up quite full. Walking around the La Gloria neighborhood helped burn off a few of those calories. I'm sure I'll return to Isla at some time, and this will be on my to-do list.

[brainicusrotticus]

the crucial event that tied doc!sol and vace together:

they set off for the subaqueous swamp. sol drives the transport vehicle, and brings a bag for storing samples. he practically forced a second bag on vace, but that’s alright because vace forced sol to carry a plaspistol, in addition to bringing his own plasrifle, stun gloves, and a hunting knife.

they get to the swamp, and go about doing their thing. vace gets a bit twitchy a few times, but sol gives him the stern “don’t shoot at shit unless we’re about to die” look, and it’s enough to settle him down.

they’re there for hours. sol darting from plant to plant, vace just following and keeping an eye out.

it gets within about two hours of sundown, which means they’re going to need to leave soon. there’s also a heavy looking storm moving in, so sol is trying to get some last readings from another new species of plant that seems to have solid healing properties.

vace seems on edge. he’s usually been quietly pacing about, always looking out for shit. but sol takes a quick breather from this plant, and realizes vace is standing very nearby, and very still.

something feels off, but vace can’t tell what it is. and that’s not good.

sol takes him seriously, because that’s what vace is there for. he unholsters his plaspistol (for show, because it’s not like he actually know how to use the thing), goes for a sample of this last plant, and then they’ll get moving back to the transport.

first rule of vertumna: it’s never just a plant.

this plant turns out to be the hook for a creature fairly reminiscent of a snapbladder. and the second sol touches it, the trap springs.

it gets a decent clamp on sol. across his left shoulder and chest. it’s clearly not sized for human prey, but it’s bite is strong enough. it’ll bruise, and its teeth break the skin, but it’s not all that worrying.

it lets go when vace fires some non-lethal shots into it, and scurried away. vace goes to check on the doc, who assures him that it’s all fine.

but they haven’t been unnoticed. all day, noctilucent has been keeping tabs on them. waiting for a good opportunity to strike. and what better opening than worried distraction?

but he’s mean. he aims for the hard hits.

he drops a tree on them.

vace manages to swing the doc out of the way, and takes the full force of a falling tree on himself. not that solane being present would’ve changed that, then they’d just both take the full force of a falling tree. and it would end much worse for one of them.

it’ll leave some bruises on him. might’ve even left a few small cracks in the bones. but this is vace. he’ll be fine.

there’s only one major problem.

his legs are pinned under it. and he’s strong, but not super strong, and it’s hard to get proper leverage when you’re face down on the ground. sol is managed to catch his breath after being thrown to the ground (really just failing to catch himself), and is about to get up and go to vace…

but noctilucent emerges from the bushes. still dripping, like he’d crawled right out of the swamp water.

(he did)

sol hasn’t met noct before, but he knows about gardeners from sym

particularly that there are a number of gardeners who want the whole colony gone. and who think “dead” is good enough.

and in this particular scenario? he doesn’t really get the feeling this is going to be a friendly chat. he wonders if noct was the one responsible for the looming stormclouds.

noct knows how to threat assess. also, he’s been watching them all day. he knows that one of these individuals knows how to use a gun, and the other is a goddamn nerd. so vace presently being stuck under a tree? means that problem can be dealt with immediately.

so noct goes to him.

and stomps on vace’s head with those ugly ass hooves of his.

but, it’s vace. he’s built different. it’ll leave a bump, and left a little split in the skin that bleeds a bit, but it’s probably not even enough for a concussion.

(sol definitely has that brief moment of “i just witnessed a murder” before he remembered vace’s augment)

but noct keeps going. he gets another 3-4 in before sol throws himself on vace, literally wrapping around noctilucent’s leg like an octopus. screaming for him to stop.

and noct backs up a step. mostly because he’s surprised by the sheer audacity sol is showing.

and sol covers vace’s body with his own.

he doesn’t know how to fight. his plaspistol isn’t in reach, he can’t see vace’s plasrifle, the only thing he has is the knowledge that gardeners don’t die when their body is killed. he isn’t a soldier.

but he has to be.

vace is out of it. he seems to be wavering on consciousness, but his legs are still stuck and he definitely has at least a concussion now.

sol is the only one who can help them right now.

he’s shaking and sobbing, pressed overtop of vace. he can see something like amusement in noct’s eyes, and it pushes him that much further.

noct leans down. he wants to meet this human eye to eye, to mock sol for this before he kills them both. he’s absolutely focused on the full-faced misery of sol.

it’s classic, really. a common trick used by magicians in old holovids.

misdirection.

noct doesn’t see sol work vace’s knife free of the belt. he isn’t as guarded with sol. this human has only ventured beyond the colony a handful of times, and has never shown any prowess for combat.

sol isn’t a threat.

and as the doctor, lightning quick, wraps a hand around the back of noctilucent’s neck and slices so deep he leaves a cut across his own palm, he wonders if noct will remember this. feel some primal unease the next time he sees solane. or if, like his recent memories, all sense of threat melts away with his body.

the sprinkling rain is starting to grow heavier. sol uses a thick branch to leverage the tree off of vace, and wishes desperately that he had the time to fully exam the damage.

but he doesn’t. utopia will probably realize something is wrong soon—probably sent a message to the transport when stratos picked up on the storm moving in, and is waiting for a response that indicates they’re heading back to the colony.

when it doesn’t come, she’ll report them as missing. normal protocol is a search and rescue party.

but the storm would make for hostile conditions. if it raises the water too much, there are parts of the road that’ll flood, and they might not even be able to get a squad to the swamp. unless the storm blows over in minutes (which is possible, if not likely), it’ll be nightfall or later by the time anyone can make it.

and nighttime isn’t a good time for a rescue squad. it just puts more people at risk. in most cases, they’d wait until day. rhett wouldn’t get any sleep over the worry and guilt, but he’d make the choice anyway.

except, maybe, for sol.

he’s a doctor. the only one who knows what to do besides instance. he has more old-school knowledge than instance, and a xenobotanist background. he’s valuable, and he hates knowing that. that someone might consider it worthwhile to risk other lives to save his own.

but others can be trained. medbeds can handle just about any problem, as long as they stay functional. rhett knows that, as much as he knows sol wouldn’t want others to risk themselves unnecessarily for him.

the doctor honestly doesn’t know what choice rhett will make, and doesn’t envy him having to make it.

(he’ll buy something nice for the security chief, if he gets out of this.)

(when. it has to be when.)

vace is conscious enough to move, a little. support his own weight, hopefully. but that’s about it.

sol gets him up, supports his weight on one side. vace has about eight inches and ninety pounds on sol, which is a fucking problem.

sol puts on his best rhett voice, and barks orders at vace. “time to push it, soldier! if you don’t, we’re both dead!”

he can’t honestly tell if it helped. he knows vace can’t do much. he knows he was mostly saying it for himself.

because if sol can’t manage this, they’re both dead.

they might get lucky. rhett might send a squad after all. nem might defy orders to come after them herself. dys might come for sol’s sake, with her or own his own. he might even get word to sym.

but sol can’t act like help is coming. can’t let himself do anything less than as much as he fucking can.

the sun has set by the time he gets them back to the transport, drenched and muddy and shaking. he barely manages to open the sliding door with one hand, and then has to lay vace on the floor from outside, get in, and drag him the rest of the way. he pulls wads of fabric from between his own teeth, put there to keep his teeth from cracking when he clenched it shut.

he can barely get the scraps out, with how tightly wound the muscles are. that’ll hurt in the morning.

(he’ll just add it to the list.)

he locks them inside the transport, and takes a chance to examine vace. he’s semi-conscious, definitely has a concussion. he can talk, a little, and vaguely understand context.

(he swears, mostly. given the context, yeah. sounds about right.)

the bleeding has stopped. there are some cracks in his skull, but nothing that feels imminently dangerous. already bruises and a hell of a black eye, and sol is pretty sure there’s a fracture along his left orbital bone. but those are all things a medbed can handle just fine. as long as he makes it to one.

sol straps vace into one of the bench seats, and gets the transport started. as expected, there’s several messages from utopia, and one from rhett. the storm interferes too much with comms for much to get through, but sol does what he can. a distress signal, canceled after three seconds. three seconds of silence, and then the signal sent again, canceled after three seconds. deliberate enough for them to know it’s a message.

he starts the transport home.

about ten minutes of slow travel down the road, it’s flooded. sol isn’t going to risk it, not after what he just went through. he parks them.

he unbuckles vace so he can lay the soldier down on the seats, and try to get some sleep. sol takes the floor, and sleeps in fits.

eventually, he jolts awake to the sound of a quiet drizzle.

he straps vace back in. he’s relieved to hear the mumbled complaints about ruining his sleep.

the floods come fast in the swamp, but they leave that way, too.

it takes another hour and a half, but eventually he sees the lights of the colony.

utopia and rhett are already at the outer post, pacing and watching the road. they see the approaching transport before the lookouts do, but not before dys and nem.

both of whom are sequestered right next to the security chief, and looking rather dour.

sol can see how much self restraint it takes to wait for the transport to roll in, and not just run to it.

as soon as it’s parked, someone starts trying to yank the door open.

(it’s locked and dead bolted, because sol wasn’t taking any chances.)

he unlocks it, and rhett yanks it open before sol can. all the doctor manages to say is vace’s name, before he’s being unbuckled and carried out in rhett’s arms.

held like a princess, limp and soaked in a way that makes his clothes and hair cling to him, vace looks like the kid he is. barely sixteen, too young to be dealing with this shit.

(they both are. hell, all of them are.)

sol doesn’t need help to move. he knows he looks like shit, but his adrenaline has been running so high for so long that he sprints ahead to prepare a medbed.

instance is waiting, but she knows someone who needs work when she sees it. she’ll be the one who cleans and cares for sol’s own wounds later, in the quiet silence of an active medbed. tang will uncurl from the corner where she’d been watching owlishly, to play the part of nursing assistant.

vace will be under for three days. it’ll heal all the worrying injuries, but sol knows the soldier can’t stand to spend forever in a medbed, even if he doesn’t remember it.

(and he doesn’t remember the medbed. but he does remember a surprising amount of that day. remembers the dissonance of hearing sol sobbing while also feeling deft fingers work his knife loose. knows noct died, and he couldn’t have been the one to do it. gets flashes of the slog back, of sol carrying him when he could only feel frustration at his weak, sluggish legs slipping in the mud.)

they’re different, after that. sol never acts like vace owes him anything, and starts taking self-defense lessons. neither one of them actually suggested it. they just made eye contact across the cafeteria one morning a week after the event, and walked to the garrison together to start.

vace trusts sol to do what’s necessary, and to know what that is. it’s hard not to, when you know the empathetic, xeno-loving doctor willingly killed a gardener. his trust grows from there.

and sol trusts vace to have subtlety, and sympathy. he never says more about that day than what sol himself admits, even after he tells sol he remembers it. he seems to pick up on the days when it’s really bothering the doctor, and finds a way to hover nearby. whether it makes sol feel safe, or reminds him that he saved someone, vace doesn’t know.

seeing the most trusted kids from each ship suddenly get along has a deep impact on not just their peers, but the adults too.

(lum hates it. he never managed to scare them, but he could usually get them to cooperate. now they do nothing less than exactly what they think is right, and the few times he’s tried to control them, they both just fixed him with a stare that said he was a problem they could solve the moment they decided to.)

it’s the start of a new era for stratos-helios relations.

the violent soldier who toughened the kind doctor, and let himself be soothed in return.

(nothing changed in them. not really.)

(they just learned how to balance.)

(and everyone else followed suit.)

[misseffect]

7 snippets, 7 mutuals

Thanks for the tag @otemporanerys!

Tagging a lot of people who have already been tagged: @diaphanouso @helila @dispatchwithlove @kalliesa @angry-jager @dwarrowdams @serendipitys-teapot

All of these are from my Mass Effect F1 AU: Flashpoints

+++

Singapore Shower

One moment Garrus is holding her by the arms, water rolling over his shoulders – there's a knotted look on his face; his mouth is moving but no sound is coming out, which is weird – and the next she's lying on her back on the shower room floor.

"Shepard? Hey – c'mon."

Garrus is kneeling beside her, pinching her arm gently, holding her legs in the air with his shoulder. She feels heavy, like her bones are full of syrup, and the thumping behind her eyes is keeping time with the fuzz crowding her vision.

"Shit."

"It's alright." He sounds further away than he should, and so does the water still beating down on his back. "You passed out for a second, that's all."

+++

Shepard Does An AMA

probinguranus6969 - Would you rather fight 20 duck-sized Jokers or 1 Joker-sized duck?

janeshepard54 - I know your reddit handle joker

probinguranus6969 - damn it

+++

FaceTime Antics

She fishes another biscuit out of the packet while Garrus props his phone up on the side and heaves his suitcase onto the bed. It’s a nice enough room from what little she can see: old-fashioned, like the rest of the place, but in a plush, cared-for sort of way.

“Oh, by the way–” Crunch. “–you don’t happen to know how the dark web works, do you?”

He unzips the case and flips the lid. “Not really. Why?”

“I got called up for drug testing at Paul Ricard and my sample went missing,” she says, chewing glumly. “Joker’s winding me up about it; thinks someone’s selling vials of my piss on the black market.”

+++

Normal Thoughts To Have About Your Bestie's Car

The second he starts to ask the car for more, everything changes. 

It feels familiar – in fundamentals, sure, in throttle and steering output – but there’s something else, too. It’s more pliable than the Hierarchy car, more predictable than anything Omega or Archangel could give him; it's unlike anything he’s even driven, but somehow he knows it. Like catching a familiar smell in a place you've never visited.

And then it hits him.

It's not the car. It's her.

He knows Shepard's driving style almost as well as his own – reactive and twitchy, nose-heavy, late-braking, all faith and guts – and this thing lives and breathes it. It takes everything he's got to give, the good and the bad, and amplifies it tenfold. It grins and says c’mon, I dare you.

It’s not just a car designed with her in mind. It’s like wearing her clothes.

+++

Not To Be Dramatic But I Would Die For Mr Blobby

Shepard rounds the corner into the kitchen to find Mr Blobby loitering by the back door like a pair of cow-coloured slippers.

“He’s in a time-out," Hannah calls through the open window, paintbrush in hand.

“Aww, Blob.”

Mr Blobby makes a mournful rrrr sound. There’s a dab of brown paint on the end of his tail.

+++

Shepard Has PTSD Probably

It's not a nightmare really. Sure, it wakes her up every few hours, sweaty and unrested, and when she closes her eyes again, it drops her right back where she left off, but it's not scary. She's not being hunted or chased. She's not standing at the front of class with no clothes on. Nobody's dying.

Shepard's driving a road car on suburban streets - shifting, nebulous streets; faintly European but also faintly not - and somewhere in the distance, there's a fire.

There's a fire and she has to reach it.

She can see a column of black smoke in the distance, catch the odd lick of orange between buildings, but every turn she takes feels wrong and by the time she doubles back, the smoke isn't where she thought it was. It's in her rearview mirror, or out to her left when it was on her right. Sometimes a fire engine blasts past her in the opposite direction, the wailing siren fading before she can follow.

+++

Everybody Hates Conrad

Mathematically Shepard could win the Championship as early as Japan, five races before the end of the season, and it shows. Media seems to come naturally to her in a way it never has to him, but still; he’s never seen her so relaxed this early in the year. Al’Jilani can’t draw her in with pointed questions about Anderson giving her an easy ride and she doesn’t even bother taking a bite out of Conrad Verner.

“Any comment on rekindling your relationship with Thane Krios?” he asks, his big square face expectant.

Shepard scratches under her chin. “Why am I always the last person to find out who I’m dating?”

There’s a ripple of laughter. Emily is checking her watch and people are starting to shuffle their belongings around.

“Are you going to answer the question?” Conrad calls, but by then there’s enough ambient noise for everyone to plausibly ignore him.

[footballffbarbiex]

The Worst Boyfriend In the World

player: antoine griezmann words: 1233 request: Antoine Griezman |  600+   |  she / her  | buying yet more candles   |  "Antoine and his gf are shopping and she drags him into a candle shop where she forces him to sample every single autumn candle. He does so begrudgingly but secretly loves how happy she is and ends up buying her the candles she can’t choose between (one smelling an awful lot like his aftershave for when he’s away for games) Had to pick a word count but I’m fine with whatever you end up writing

-

The temptation to have a big lunch was there but both she and Antoine settled for something warm to drink and just enough to settle their grumbling bellies. Antoine was more than happy to do his shopping online and have it delivered, not feeling the need to leave the comforts of home to go out in the colder weather. But the lure of food that didn’t have to be cooked by either of them was too much for him and as a result, his appetite was mostly satisfied and so was his need for impulsive purchases.

“What are you wanting to do for Christmas? Shop online or go out and do it?”

“It’s not even December and you want to think about Christmas?”

“It’s always best to prepare, no?” she questions and he chuckles. The cold that autumn brings will barely be settling. He’ll be surprised if she allows the first frost blanket everywhere before she’s pulling Christmas ornaments from the loft and beginning the arduous task of opening up the faux tree branches.

“There is preparation and there’s what you do.”

“Which is?”

“Going too far.”

“But does it look good once I’ve finished?” She turns on her heels and looks her boyfriend in the face rather than remaining by his side.

“I have enough common sense in me to know that there is only one right answer.”

“Then you’ve learnt well, my love,” the latter is said with a hint of sarcasm as she runs the flat of her palm down his cheek and gives it a playful tap. Rather than recoil, Antoine stands with a grin. “Speaking of learning, there’s somewhere else I’d like to go,” she says, spying a store that she’s been edging closer to since they left the eatery.

Those bright blue eyes of his snap away from her, scanning the nearby stores until the muscle in his cheek tenses when it clicks into place. “No.”

“Yes.”

“I said no.”

“And we both know how this will end.”

“Why do you never listen?” He asks as she all but skips away from him, the small shopping bags swinging from her hand with every bounce in her step. A store with a little bit of everything except furniture, it was perfect for gift hunting - it didn’t matter if it was for Christmas, housewarming gifts, or something for yourself. But most importantly, it had candles.

Antoine would outwardly say that she had too many. Far too many throughout the house. Some in the entrance hall, the living room, the kitchen, bathrooms and bedroom. There were big block unscented candles in large lanterns out in the garden. Everywhere Antoine looked there were either bundles of different sized candles clustered together or container candles in every colour and seasonal matched scents.

But she knew different.

She would never call him out on it, but she’d come home a few times, hours after he’d come home from training, and smell the lingering scent of a candle that had been lit before her arrival. The melted wax pool was soft, enough to leave a fingerprint in there if she applied just the smallest amount of pressure - even though the wick itself was cool. She would always trim the wick, making sure the mushroomed tip wasn’t there for the next light and yet, when he’d burnt them, he’d failed to clip it. And still, he would deny liking them. She would let him have these secrets and she would sleep comfortably knowing that he plays a part in the candle scents.

She climbs the escalator with Antoine trudging behind her reluctantly until she reaches the designated aisles, eyes already scanning over the shelves for jars of scented goodness that call to her or unusual jars that could be reused once the candle had been melted.

“Are you thinking of a clean, sweet smell or something smokey and musky?” she asks, hands already reaching to grasp a jar and pull the lid off to smell.

“I’m thinking of getting out of here.” he replies, eyes glancing over the options.

“Sniff.” She demands, holding out the opened jar and thrusting it under his nose. This one is a crisp apple. The same sweet smell as though he’d bitten into a fresh apple himself whilst standing in an apple orchard. “Well?”

“It’s a candle.” Anto replies and grins when she rolls her eyes. “It’s nice I guess. Don’t think it would be strong enough for your tastes.”

She gives it another sniff with her own nose before nodding in agreement, securing the lid back on the top and placing it back on the shelf. Various jars hold witches brew, sticky marshmallow, harvest sunrises, vanilla hazelnut and smokey cedars that hold promises of s’mores undertones. Others make her sigh with happiness at the scent reminiscent of the smell after a storm, and walks through autumn woods or stepping into a seasonal store which has hints of gingerbread and cinnamon. Several boast they contain the devil’s own cologne, and some are seductive, musky and what is classed as a traditional “masculine” scent.

Two of the latter are put into her basket that hangs from the nook of Antoine’s elbow, unable to choose between the two of them but they remind her of his aftershave. It’ll be a comfort to snuggle up in a blanket once the cooler months come and she can still smell him without having to bring something he’s worn to her nose - though nothing could replicate that. Nothing.

“I can’t choose.” She comments, pursing her lips as she looks over her possible choices, not including the two already waiting in the basket, she also has another four lined up.

Antoine stands behind her, hands stuffed into his pockets as he sways from side to side, no longer holding the basket as it was taking too long for her to decide. His nose tingles from the scent overload and he’s beginning to get a headache but as she shoves one of her choices under his nose once more, he gives a small smile, obediently inhales as says he really does like it.

He’s not lying, he does like it but he also knows that she won’t be making a decision to choose just one more. She’ll be skipping ahead out of this store as Antoine carries no less than five candles in a bag for her.

“Which do you think you’d burn when you get home tonight?” he asks, knowing perfectly well that the first one she mentions is usually the one she really wants.

“I have to choose first,” she replies and catches the look on his face. “Really?” she asks in a tone that is much higher to the start of her sentence.

“If you can’t decide, it’s only fair we take them all home.” He nods.

“Sure you won’t be complaining about aaaaaall the candles being everywhere?”

“Oh, I’ll complain.” he grins, “but as always, it’ll not stop you from lighting them.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re the bestest boyfriend in the world?”

“My other girlfriend told me that just yesterday actually,” he says, laughing hard as she pushes him with just enough force to unsteady his feet.

“And for that,” she says, swiping another that she had considered but didn’t want another option to have to choose from, “you’re buying these and cooking dinner tonight with no help with the dishes.”

[moonlight-tmd]

okay, I was just scrolling through my feed and came across angst for the bees in transformers who lost their voices. (TFP, KV, CV, etc)

now let's apply that to TFA and see how bee becomes a shell of himself due to it. I've read fics about it (two) and I wanna know your take on it

Boy they really like to give him that angst do they...

Well, i did read those fics and unfortunatelly, i am a weak weak bitch and cannot take his beautiful voice away(for too long).

I think he would get injured- it's probably Starscream cuz i like the idea of him being a sadist, his voicebox gets ripped and crushed, leaving him mute.

Bee would be so devastated- he tries to talk, scream, anything. There is nothing but painful static.

The others- sure, sometimes they wished Bee would just shut up and stay quiet but they never meant it. And now they are forced to watch as Bee essentially becomes depressed. He can't eat solid foods so he's bound to drinking oil and liquid energon. He almost stopped interacting with others because it's so difficult to let them know what he wants to say; charades are too confusing and writing signs is too slow. All is left of his cheerful attitude is a tiny smile he offers sometimes when he and the others (are trying to)have fun.

Sentinel is the worst, he is oddly untouched at the scout's misery. He straight up says it's good that he shut up when he's not around. Optimus has ended whatever was left of his friendship with Sentinel long ago, but it seems like Sentinel never acknowledged Optimus saying anything- like he's above what the failure of a Prime is saying to him.

They are stuck like this- Bee hanging on by a thread that is threatening to snap at any moment and the others desperately trying to hold onto Bee and help him out of this Pit.

Bee is crafty so one time a radio breaks and he tried to fix it. Static spills over garbled words whenever he's trying to tune it, it remind his of something... He fixed it at last, the static briefly present whenever the channel is switched and songs or radio news play, tuning in and cutting sentences, almost making a new one- That gives Bee an idea.

He spend a a whole week trying to get his own radio to obey him. The others are so surprised when Bee answers one of their questions with cut up song lyrics and words from the radio, but they are very happy- Bee has started to look up, slowly but surely. The amount of relief they felt when Bee used the laughting sound effects to mimic his own laugh. He's still sad that it's not his own voice, but that is the closest he can do.

I imagine it was Longarm that took mercy on the scout- they were good friends, Longarm had grown fond of Bee as a friend. It hurt him to see Bee so sad- just like in boot camp when Wasp tormented him. So- Longarm, being the Data Master, steals Bee's medical info and other stuff and contacts Swindle about it. He has everything- parameters, size, settings, type, even various voice samples from when he and Bee talked to find the perfect voicebox to replace his missing one. Bee might have infected Longarm with his stubbornness cuz he's determined to make Bee talkative again.

Longarm comes to Ratchet and gives him the necessary parts and materials to fix Bee, he avoid any questions like 'where did you get this?' and leaves. Ratchet assumes it because he's a Prime with connections.

Bee has to force-refresh his processor to comprehend what Ratchet just said to him. He goes under a surgery and it's succesful.

He could not stop crying, his voice was back. Primus he wanted to say so many things but this was so ovewhelming he couldn't stop ugly sobbing.

The whole day he said everything that was on his mind- i mean everything. No filter to separate his thoughts from what he wanted to actually say, he spilled so much answering questions and how he felt the others didn't know if they were trembling from happiness or the sheer worry about the minibot.

After that, whenever Bee is annoying, the moment they want to say 'shut up' or something like that, they get flashbacks to when Bee was mute. They never told him to shut up ever again- instead they try to manouver their situation to make Bee go do his own thing and leave them to do that important thing they were doing.

To say the least, that situation was traumatizing to all of them.

And of course, Bee couldn't help but tackle-hug Longarm and repeat 'thank you' over and over again the next time he visited.

[xivu-arath]

"Would be real easy now to just freeze it whole and smash it to pieces. Get it all over with. But,” And he tips his head at the arm and its hungry, glowing whorls. “You haven’t. And you’re not going to.” The Drifter makes a generous offer.

The Drifter walks in on Omen-5 as if by sheer coincidence, wandering into the shelter with his shoulders hunched like all he’s after is a break from the wind and the cold. “Ooh, sorry,” he says loudly as he tosses his gear and fusses with the synth-brewer. “Didn’t know you were in here, cousin.” The exo doesn’t even look up. Typical.

Xyr attention is entirely on the arm xe’s holding out in front of xem, all ridged and gnarled like some funky new glove. Just looking at it gives him the creeps. Even here on the most morose iceball in the system, he’s seen it trying to throw out little twigs and new layers of bark the colour of eggshell. And it pulses, a fake heartbeat all of Light, so eager to grow, to change.

It’s not doing that now, though. Instead the overgrown tips of xyr fingers have gone dark and glittering, and xe is tapping at them until they chip away. What’s left behind is ugly and jagged-edged, more claw than fingertip, the wood discoloured by frost. It looks like it hurts. He doesn’t bother asking.

Omen must have broken one chunk off harder than the others. It goes flying, and Drifter leans in to grab it.

Steely fingers close on his wrist just as he does, levering him back. He stumblingly goes along with it, eyes wide. “Hey now cousin, no call for that – I just wanted a look, that’s all.” Xyr grip doesn’t loosen, a bruising reminder that only one of them is fleshy. He tries a different tack. “Besides, we’re all on the same team here. No harm done, right?”

Xe looks at him for a long moment. “Are we?” xe asks. Drifter keeps looking startled and impatient – but not particularly afraid – right back, not deigning to answer. Finally xe lets go, and he makes a show of rubbing at his wrist, tucking away the little frostbitten bit as he does. “You are not related to me in any way,” Omen continues. It’s an attempt to get him to back off, and it’s almost cute. Drifter smiles, with a shark’s pity.

“That totally literal act must get you out of a lot, huh?” Xyr lights flicker in what he knows is unfiltered annoyance. “But I know you know that I’m just tryin’ to be friendly.”

“I do not need any more friends.”

He spreads his arms wide, open-handed. “No? That’s up to you, sure… but ol’ Drifter’s a good friend to have. Especially if you’re in the habit of letting your friends get a better look at that freaky sapling you got there.” Omen goes more still than xe already is, which is a pretty impressive feat.

“No.” Clipped and rapidfire, so close to defensive.

“Really? Seems pretty close-minded, to come to all of us for help, for… alternative options, and only end up considering Eris’ take on things. I know a thing or two too, y’know.”

“I said,” xe starts, flat in a way that he’s guessing means he’s prodded at xem enough to uncover a temper.

“You’ve never been around to see my ship, right?” he breaks in. “Got an awful lot of interesting stuff back there. Some of it even grows, just… in the opposite direction, let’s say.”

Omen’s eyes brighten to miniature lamps, boring into him. Got ‘em. Pretty standard for a loner hermit type – xe’s never bothered to learn how to hide xyr feelings, and exos are a lot easier to read than they usually think. He leans back, flashes another toothy smile, wider and very friendly. “Figured that might be something you’d wanna hear about. But if you’re sure….”

A pause in which he can practically hear xyr thoughts whirring. “Wait.” Still flat, still pissed off. “What exactly do you want?”

“Just a few samples, the size of the ones you’ve been pruning. Nothing you’ll miss. I hold onto ‘em and mess around a bit, you get to hear about any interesting results. We both get somethin’ out of it.”

Xe’s not convinced just yet. “You will use them for your own gain?”

“Picking a weird time to get holier-than-thou,” he says. “My own gain’s the same as yours – finding out what it can do, with the Light, and the Dark. You’re after that too, aren’t you? Would be real easy now to just freeze it whole and smash it to pieces. Get it all over with. But,” And he tips his head at the arm and its hungry, glowing whorls. “You haven’t. And you’re not going to.”

Omen leans back, calculating. Drifter already knows he’s right.

“Fine,” xe says at last. “Since they will not go to waste this way.”

“Practical. I like it. I remember when I first heard about you, collecting bodies and bones and dragging them over for the Ghosts to look at. Good thinking ahead, that.”

He’s starting to get the feeling Omen really doesn’t like being called out so easily, even on the small stuff, because xe’s clammed up again, biolights cool and steady. “Next time you’re in the City, pay me a visit. Play a few rounds of Gambit.” He flourishes, shuffles a coin over his fingers and flicks it at xem. The exo doesn’t move, and it pings off xyr head, forcing him to scoop it back up.

“Damn.” He acts up the disappointment, salts his tone with just a bit of hurt, not that he suspects Omen will care. But it will annoy xem. “You really are a cold one, huh? Still, think about it. You could give all the young hotshots a taste of the Dark Age. And…” He clicks his tongue. “Get up close and personal with what I’ve been cooking.”

Omen looks at him, through him, dragging out the hope of an answer. Xe’s hoping this will get uncomfortable, but he’s never met a discomfort he couldn’t wallow in. Eventually, xe cracks. Xe wants to get out of this a whole lot more than he does. “Maybe.”

“Great, can’t wait to –”

But xe retreats out the door before he’s even got the sentence out, leaving a fine dusting of frost and bark shavings where xe stood. The Drifter stoops down and starts gathering it up.

Like xe said, no sense in letting any of it go to waste.

[flock-talk]

That last anon answer has me wondering, what in your opinion is the best pellet out there?

At the present moment I don’t believe there is a best pellet. With current research we don’t even know what exact foods wild parrots we keep as pets eat. what vitamins and minerals are actually needed in what quantities for optimal health. Most of the data used to formulate diets for captive parrots is based off studies done on chickens. Pellets don’t run feeding trials and the singular one that claims they do won’t publish any data for consumers to make educated decisions.

We don’t have any of the data necessary to be able to say that there is one that checks the boxes better than another. Currently when selecting pellets the knowledge you’re using is as primal as “is this toxic” and “will this cause harm to the body over time” which is where we are able to make statements on fillers, dyes, and sugars.

I feed three different pellets currently for various reasons

TOPs - the ingredients are wholesome foods, no real fillers or additives, no synthetic vitamins (there’s no studies on whether or not a parrot can actually absorb and utilize synthetic vitamins currently, hypothetically they should and there’s nothing wrong with synthetic vitamins, we just do not have proper peer reviewed knowledge on how they interact in a parrot body) however there’s loads of concern over whether TOPs on its own supplies enough nutrients to be a full diet on its own.

Harrisons - it is formulated by a veterinarian (say about that what you will *cough* science diet debacles *cough*), does primarily use fillers but does also have slightly more hearty things like oats and barley, packed with vitamins that may be lacking in other formulations. Have flavour varieties, tougher texture, and much more varied sizes that can benefit more picky eaters. Frequently recommended by other vets, same company also creates liquid formulas for sick and ill birds. Overall does seem like they know what they’re doing.

Caitec - I primarily started feeding this because Newt is allergic to soy and this has very low soy and doesn’t yield a reaction from him. Has some filler but primarily uses oats, quinoa, millet, sunflower. Then you move in to the added vitamins and minerals. Unique crunchy texture, very palatable to my birds, very large size variety which is great for enrichment.

My choice to feed multiples is because of a safety fallback in case of recalls, I won’t be left feeding seeds trying to quickly do a pellet conversion if I have two other backups they can eat. But also to cover nutritional bases. We do not know what they need and I don’t wish to rely on one specific company to be doing everything just right to be providing optimal health for my birds, serving several will hopefully make it so if one pellet is lacking something one of the others will have it. And lastly is enrichment- various flavours, colours, textures and pellet size make meals more interesting and really liven up mealtimes.

There simply isn’t a perfect pellet because nobody knows what that would even look like.

When looking for a food to feed your bird the ultimately best thing to do is ask yourself “is this product made for the birds or to draw human interest”. Flashy colours, silly shapes, and potent sugars will primarily be used to attract your eye- not your birds. The sugars will make it palatable which converts the bird quickly and make the human happy. But the dyes and sugars are not ideal for long term health.

And secondly “how do birds do on this food” in the dog industry you would just get the paperwork from a feeding trial but for birds this means reading forums or sampling it for yourself. you can tell pretty quickly whether a food is doing your specific bird any good. Dull plumage, inconsistent droppings, weird food intake fluctuations, lack of energy, feather destructive behaviour, would all be potential signs that a food isn’t working for your bird (also potential signs of illness so y’know, correlation is not causation)

I did a deep dive last year where I contacted major pellet brands and tried to get any basic info out of them, you may want to read in to that if you want continued reading!

[undeath1245]

Holding onto hope for Miraculous Ladybug [spoilers]

I want to check for myself, but how many of you guys are still holding onto hope for Miraculous Ladybug? Don't take it personally, since I've been an ML observer since 2014–15, meaning that I have never watched an ML episode so far and only saw it through clips, reviews, and YTP-esque edits. I've also been reading through Tumblr posts on what's been going on with the show. However, I feel like the show hasn't been doing well since season three, more specifically the season finale, "Miracle Queen", and it had been declining more in quality throughout season five.

Don't get me wrong, seasons four and five have some pretty good ideas with the show's plot, like Marinette's responsibility as the new guardian of the miraculous charms, and Marinette revealing her secret to her best friend, Alya. And yet, there are still numerous flaws with the show that I couldn't ignore, like with the storyline involving Ladybug keeping Chat Noir in the dark about Chat Blanc, and yet it never went anywhere in season five. There's also this issue with Adrien's diminished role from deuteragonist to damsel-in-distress when not only that he was revealed to be a sentibeing, but he was also left out from the final battle with Monarch, who's actually his father. And lately, according to a recent commentary on the fifth season finale, Gabriel was meant to be a good guy all along (despite his numerous crimes and him abusing and neglecting Adrien), and the reason why Adrien had to be left out from the battle was because that the writers wanted to see Marinette use both of the ladybug charm and cat charm.

Maybe I'm more bias on the critical side of the ML fandom, and I've been focusing more on the show's flaws over its positives. Maybe it's my critical lens getting the better of me. I'm sure that many fans enjoy the show the way it is, and I can't fault them for it. Everyone enjoys something differently. But, I can't seem to ignore any writing flaws the show has been given lately. I don't know.

Oh, and don't forget to reblog this post for a bigger sample size. To be honest, I have no idea what that does.