#thanks for the ask val!!!

[confietti]

CAN U WRITE FOR SUKUNA IM BEGGING HJFJFJRR

Never Lose Me

you knew sukuna would kill you if he knew where you were right now, but you didn't care. you had it in your airy little head that he was a cheater because of what one of your 'homegirls' told you.

it all started when you were in your shared apartment laid on the bed scrolling through instagram waiting for 'kuna to come home when your 'friend' sent you a picture of him hugging this girl.

you never were the smartest, so you never second-guessed the photo. you on the other hand immediately broke down into tears. sukuna never liked her and always suggested you get better friends for a reason.

he always got weird vibes from her because she continuously tried to make passes at him whenever you weren't around.

you could only imagine your boyfriend's surprise to get drunken texts and voicemails of you telling him to 'go fuck himself' and how you 'don't need him'.

my supersoaker🫶🏼💞: [ forwarded an image ]

my supersoaker🫶🏼💞: nigga FUCJ you

my supersoaker🫶🏼💞: i thoguth we had somethgin anf you trwest me like thid??? i hste you!

hubby💝: ??? baby? who sent you that???

hubby💝: and are you at the fucking club??

you stared at your phone through teary eyes as you blocked his number and turned off location sharing. you shoved your phone into your purse and continued to drink.

sukuna had been watching from across the bar for probably 20 minutes now. he watched you flirting with the guy you were talking to for maybe the same amount of time. he studied the way you held onto his arm and laughed at all his jokes. it made his blood boil.

“what do you say we take this a step further hm?~” his hand slipped up your thigh and you giggled when he started nibbling on your neck.

“nah fuck this.” your boyfriend slammed his drink on the counter and stormed towards you, angrily shoving people out of the way but he didn't care. his main focus was you.

he didn't say anything as he heaved you over the shoulder like a sandbag, ignoring your protests and the weird looks he got as he exited the bar. he practically threw you in the passenger's seat and locked the door.

the car ride to his house was dead silent. except for your protests and complaints about your boyfriend's behavior.

“Bitch why the fuck did you do all that for?” you stared at him with your arms crossed over your chest in annoyance, glaring at him for an answer that never came.

the rest of the ride was just you looking out the window and light curses underneath your breath of “cheating ass”, “hoe ass”, “worthless ass”.

once you got home, sukuna parked the car and dragged you into his house with a tight grip on your arm.

he walked into his bedroom and threw you down on the bed before locking the door. then sukuna finally spoke after what was hours after not speaking.

“you gonna explain your sudden little tantrum or do i have to fuck the attitude outta you first?”

sukuna chuckled when you still had your arms crossed over your chest, not looking in his direction. your eyes were puffy as you let out little hiccups and sniffles. you were still mad at him for spoiling your fun. how cute.

just then he harshly gripped your chin forcing you to look at him. “it’s really rude to not look people in the eyes when they’re talking to you.”

his hands traveled down to your neck and he squeezed it tightly, you felt a breathy chuckle in your ear before he began to speak.

“so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh ma?”

it was about 20 minutes later and your brain was so foggy to the point where you couldn’t remember how you got into this position.

your boyfriend had you on all fours, one of his hands pulling your hair back into a makeshift ponytail, the other wrapped around your neck pulling your head back to whisper the most disgusting things into your ear.

“you think what you said t’me was nice? you thought it was funny to send me those voicemails and texts while i was working? huh? y’had me worrying my ass off you dumb. fucking. bitch.”

he emphasized those last three words with harsh thrusts, before pulling your head back to tap his fingers at the side of your cheek. “open.” he mumbled before spitting roughly in your mouth. “swallow all that shit.” he spat before shoving your face back into the pillow before you.

he took this time to analyze how small your figure was compared to his. you were so much smaller… so vulnerable… so much easier to manhandle.

sukuna decided to tease you. fucking you slowly, working every inch of his thick cock into your little hole as slowly as he could. he wanted you to memorize every vein and inch. he wanted to make sure you never forget tonight and you should never disobey him ever again.

“wouldn’t have to be this way if you were just a good little girl who followed the rules. tsk.” this had been going on for hours now. the rough fucking, the degradation, even after what? 4 orgasms? he still hasnt had his. you figured out by now that this wasn’t a punishment… he wanted to torture you.

“p-pleasee ryo.. i’m- haa~ s-sorry! wan’ you t’fill me up. please!” he chuckled darkly. “ y’want me to fill you up? huh?” “please! hnghh- m’sorry!” “you never did have any shame did ya hun?”

sukuna’s thrusts began to get sloppier as he was nearing his release. you whimpered for him to slow down as your tear stained face was pressed into the pillow. his balls slapping against your clit with each harsh thrust.

“i won’t f-fuck- i wont slow down. you’re grown, right? if you can go to the bar on your own then you can take this shit like a big girl, right?”

before you knew it hot ropes of cum start spurting out filling your tight cunt. your boyfriend’s thrusts began to slow down until they came to a complete stop.

he slowly pulled out of you, replacing his cock with his fingers to keep his seed in. humming lowly before getting up to get some towels from the bathroom.

you woke up the next morning in his shirt. you tried to get up before feeling an immense pain in your back. you groaned before you felt a large hand rubbing at the small of your back.

“y’wanna talk about your feelings now? if you don’t want too then we can always go for round two. i still have some energy left over.” he smirked down at you.

“also.. this was supposed t’be a surprise but… the girl i was hugging in the picture you sent wasn’t anybody baby. remember when we were apartment shopping and you mentioned you really wanted the one in tokyo?”

you nodded as sukuna pushed some of your hair behind your ear to see your face better.

“it’s ours now.” sukuna thought that nothing could compare to your smile in that very moment as you hugged and peppered kisses across his face while murmuring little ‘thank yous’ in his ear.

“yeah, yeah.” he chuckled and hugged you back. “you could never lose me that easily.”

a/n: thank you so much for this request anon!!! it took me a little while but i really enjoyed writing it. hope you enjoy!! </3!!

© confietti, 2024. do not copy, steal, or repost my content without permission.

[valtsv]

This isn't a gotcha, so please don't take it as such, but would yuou be willing to explain what it is about VAL that makes her such a favourite of yours? I can't stand her myself, she comes across to me as a bully given god-like power that she abuses for her own amusement, and I've seen you acknowledge as much, but we draw completely different conclusions from that. I just want to understand your perspective.

i've been anticipating a question like this for a while now, so i'm more than happy to answer for you!

you're right, VAL is in some ways a "bully given godlike power" as you put it, and there's no avoiding that (nor do i want to). and yeah, i do like her in part because of that, because i have a fondness for horrible fictional characters and in particular "bad victim" archetypes, of which VAL certainly is one. but i think what makes her compelling to me, rather than repulsive, is that she is fundamentally a cautionary tale and a tragedy. in-universe, she's the scapegoat. the example. the "make the right choices or this could be you". she's inescapably, heartbreakingly human in her awfulness, and that makes her terrifying, but it also makes her deeply sad (at least to me).

i also strongly believe in rehabilitative/restorative justice, so for me, wanting better for VAL is about my real-world principles to a degree. i can't and won't argue that VAL doesn't function as an uncomfortable allusion to a lot of atrocious crimes against humanity (by humanity) within the narative, and that anyone who finds her upsetting or even hateful for these reasons is absolutely justified in doing so. however, she's still a fantasy entity at the end of the day. she's not a 1:1 stand-in for real-world abuses any more than, say, a vampire or werewolf, which plenty of people are more than happy to explore the nuances of. and there's also the question of what punitive measures would even achieve in her case, beyond personal satisfaction for the one administering or spectating them (which is not to say that wanting to punch VAL makes you as bad as she is, just that her arc is, among other things, about how cycles of abuse and violence perpetuate). the worst that could possibly happen to her has already happened. she's been tortured. she's been taken advantage of for her mistaken belief that working for and with the system has the opportunity to benefit her, and died for it. there's nothing to be "learned" from her punishment that hasn't already been shown to us. that she hasn't already internalised. if she were ever to develop a stable conscience, that would be punishment enough in my opinion.

despite being a victim of people not entirely unlike VAL, i personally am not her victim, so treating her with sympathy and kindness whilst acknowledging the elephant in the room that is her many (fictional) war crimes is not something that requires any cognitive dissonance on my behalf. i would cautiously argue that the narrative agrees with me somewhat in this regard - the few times VAL is treated to a genuine act of kindness with no ulterior motives, it shatters her composure and outward conviction that what she's doing is necessary for her personal satisfaction, and even prompts her to reconsider on occasion (sparing the woodsman comes to mind). i'm not saying anyone needs to hug her and tell her she's valid, but if all it takes is some genuine good intent to get her to engage in introspection, i'm willing to be the person to offer it.

[lucdoodle]

YOUR WORK IS SO COOL!! I do have a question: as a novice artist myself, what do you use to make your animatics look so clean? What software do you use for drawing/editing, how do you upload it, etc. I’ve been trying to figure it out but am having a hard time. Could you explain it to me as if talking to a drooling baby ? Thank you sm 😂♥️

They look clean because i treat each frame as if they were lineart for a fanart (instead of considering them animatic frames(tm) where it would be okay for them to look a lot more rough)

i honestly don't recommend this approach ATRFFYHGJGJHHVGJ XD

Anyway here's how i make animatics!

first i make screen-sized rectangles with the lyrics on the bottom (depending on how i want the animatic to look like, i leave more rectangles for each lyric) (and if that's for a short ~25 seconds video, i don't bother writing the audio below the rectangles)

Then sketch out the ideas until im satisfied with the plan

dedicate a folder for each frame

draw the frames

then i upload all the frames + the audio into Adobe after effect (i have no idea how after effect works but i try my best XD)

then BAM ya got yourself an animatic!

[reborrowing]

💧 for an oc of your choice

have a crybaby (💧)

[ask-valentino-anything]

…oink?

@ask-fat-nuggets

How the fuck did Angel Dust's pet get in my studio? Uh...hello?

[sentience-if]

Mmm... I love Val's denial route because you have these two goober who are very clearly into eachother but are refusing to go any further because Io feels like it would be selfish to expect more from their "savior" and Val feels almost predatory doing what is in their mind taking advantage of Io. Oooo Io seeing Val as a their gallant knight in shining armor and Val having imposter syndrome from how Io unconditionally adores them. Your honor, I am obsessed. I am unwell.

[wowa-bublord]

Hi, I hope it's ok to ask, but you said you've had your ocs since middleschool and it made me curious about how they changed?

it's totally ok! I'll show you, but I'm keeping it under cut cos these drawings are prettyyy old XD (Like 4 years or so, I think I made them in 8th grade?)

one of taylors oldest designs.. the oldest one i have on digital at least LOL

vals OLDEST design I'm like 90% sure this was the first time I ever drew her

and then jay! He changed the most LOL, he used to be one of those like... "So innocent he doesn't even know what sex is and never swears 🥺" type of characters. but now those REALLY give me the ick so I changed him a lottt LMAO

[kuroosdarling]

Share a thot about the f/o currently occupying your mind. 👀

omg okay !!! lets go with something we don’t talk about enough: sleepy kuroo ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

sleepy!kuroo who had to wake up just a smidge earlier than usual, or who went to bed a little later than he normally did, resulting in the same thing: he was exhausted.

sleepy!kuroo who sits up in bed for a moment, trying to blink away the overall feeling of drowsiness but to no avail.

sleepy!kuroo who looks down at you, still peacefully snoozing and he’s mentally kicking himself for not getting enough of it. if he was any crueler he’d wake you up too, so at least you can suffer together. but instead, he settles for giving you a little kiss on the head.

sleepy!kuroo who shuffles his way to the bathroom, taking his time getting there before looking at his reflection for far longer than he meant to — solely because he was zoning out and didn’t realize where he was looking.

sleepy!kuroo who yawns a little too loudly, scratching his stomach and not realizing that he might’ve woken you up from that.

sleepy!kuroo who splashes water on his face, hoping that it would wake him up a little more. only to hold the towel against his face as he dries off his skin, just wishing it was his pillow.

sleepy!kuroo who nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels your warm arms slowly wrap around his waist from behind him, his eyes gently fluttering shut when you pepper his back with kisses with such care.

sleepy!kuroo who mumbles the softest apology for waking you up, knowing that guilt will gnaw at him later once he’s fully awake.

sleepy!kuroo who nearly rejoices when he hears your sleepy voice ask him why he’s up so early on a saturday.

sleepy!kuroo who practically drags you back to bed, entangling his limbs with yours as he pulls you close — absolutely content that he will get to sleep in a little longer today with you curled up by his side.

and with one last kiss to your forehead, he falls back asleep with the softest little smile on his face.

[prince-liest]

oh my god. your wording in one of ur latest anon answers. does…. is val the only one who does the dumping? does vox never dump val??? i always like… idk i assumed that they both broke it off in a never ending downward spiral, mutually. but oh my GOD? you’re saying val is the only one doing the breaking up? i….. this is shifting my entire perspective on vox. HOLD ON. HOLD ON. not to beat a dead dove here (that was a brilliant pun yes i’m stealing it), but……… this is sliding right into my vault where i keep my Vox and Domestic Violence Thoughts. he just seems so…. helpless. he’s helpless all the time and in complete denial about it. at first it was clear he’s pretty helpless around alastor -in both canon and your fic. alastor is stronger, and also, in the beginning had the Extreme emotional upper hand. i knew this, yet, like in canon, i assumed more or less alastor was the chink in his armor. vox DOES run the vee’s competently, he handles val, and he’s arguably the fourth most powerful sinner in hell (behind zestial, carmilla, and alastor). those 3 things are true, AND YET. let’s look behind the wizards curtain. how does vox live his Personal life. not his job or position of power. how does his close relationships define him. let’s see now. the initial intense obsession with alastor, which had ONLY left him rejected and humiliated. helpless. and now val. i Assume vox enacts some physical violence on val, too, but something in his wording in the last installment. vox made the point to compare alastors straight up murder attempts to how val acts. i do not think vox does that with val, at least not in a trivial and common manner (he has said the vee’s have all killed e/o before). and when i said “sure he can act disgruntled and upset in the moment” in another ask, i MEANT that vox could break up with val for a couple days before crawling right back like nothing happened. but NO. NOT EVEN THAT. vox endures, and he ultimately does Nothing. NOTHING. and not even that, he is subjected to val breaking it off in a cyclic manner, for superficial or nonexistent issues. and then after a week val will call and vox will come crawling back like nothing happened, and the timer for 4 months begins again. through everything, EVERYTHING, vox really just seems… passive in the grand scheme of things. it’s paradoxical, because he’s also outrageously ambitious. i think that’s one of his core character traits, a constant greed and pursuit of it. that’s unequivocally true about him. but then we look at his love life, and what do we see? he lets the two men he loves basically do whatever they want with him. and he does it because he loves them, as well as being unable to admit he’s suffering. i will say, from now on it’s clear that his relationship with alastor is veering off this direction, but i want to STRESS that it was actually ALASTOR that cemented that. vox, in a spurt of emotion, let it slip out his history of domestic violence. then, promptly brushed it off to appease alastor. he set the terms of the deal, but he did it as a silly pinky promise. he, again, never allows himself to take it SERIOUSLY. because IF HE DOES!!!! then he needs to set boundaries AND ABIDE BY THEM!!!!!!!! AND WHAT THEN. WHAT THEN. THEN THE NEXT TIME VAL OR ALASTOR CROSS A LINE, HE NEEDS TO END IT. LEAVE. DO ANYTHING. AND HE IS NEVER GONNA DO THAT!!!!!!!! and here’s the real fucking kicker…… he expects them to. to keep hurting him. that’s the root of it. it’s not a real boundary, because it’s an inevitability. valentino and alastor will always want to hurt him, so a relationship without that violence is nonexistent. (that’s what he believes btw. hopefully not the truth). and so, vox has made his choice. he’s a businessman, and he has weighed the pros and cons. the violence and crossed boundaries he faces is outweighed by his love for them, and ultimately, that means they can do whatever they want to him. he is helpless.

(this was an entire rant, dear god. and of course the disclaimer that this is all my personal delusions, and not necessarily your take on vox in your series. i swear, i never know how these asks get so long. i promise i start of with a simple idea, then it all implodes into an essay. so sorry. love you.) -🌓

I have good news and bad news for you, anon!

The bad news is that I have misled you slightly: My actual full perspective of the Valentino and Vox on-and-off dating situation is that Vox dumps Valentino when he feels a sufficiently angry flavor of upset that Valentino refuses to listen to him on some things (usually not, actually, the violence, unless Val breaks something for Vox to be angry about); and Valentino dumps Vox when he wants Vox to annoyedly pretend not to moon after him for a week. In both situations, sometimes Vox ends up giving up the ghost and functionally crawling his way back to Val, but more commonly Valentino decides that he's had enough and rather handily seduces Vox into a round of what Vox promises himself is hate sex and not makeup sex but is inevitably always very sappy makeup sex with a side of lovebombing.

This is. Arguably not that different of a flavor from what you're describing, haha, especially since a lot of Vox managing to be the one to break things off at any given point in time hinges on him being able to frame his rationale as "anger" rather than "upset," the latter of which just gets brushed under the carpet of Emotions That Are Not Taken Seriously. He can act on a great many things if he justifies them as something he is right to be objective and angry over, including outright killing Valentino at least once at some point in the past, but anything that makes him feel vulnerable or, ah, let's deliberately and pointedly use the word hysterical, is a pre-existing internal struggle that Valentino knows how to manipulate to his advantage.

The good news is that this lovely analysis inspired me to almost completely rewrite a section of the next 666 fic that I'd been dissatisfied with. I initially wrote Vox as annoyed; what he needed to be was Very Stressed And Upset in a way that distinctly refused to dare stray into anger because the fundamental concern was about what Alastor wanted - just as you described, Vox fumbling his own distress with his learned helplessness when it comes to intimate relationships. Anyway, now I'm WAY happier with it! So thank you very much for that!

[valhelos]

“That child is staring at you” feels like a hilarious Artemis Fowl prompt 😅

POV: You're a waiter at a cafe about to get insulted by a twelve year old.

(Artemis is just plotting his next romance novel.)

[confietti]

Congrats on reaching 100 omg!! Could I pretty pretty please request a shark 🦈 with Aoi Todo from jjk? Touch starved Todo with a reader who absolutely loves giving physical affection. Cuddley and cute to nsfw if you can 💕 Have a great day!

Touch starved!Aoi Todo x Physically affectionate!Reader

TOUCH STARVED!TODO who even when sitting in silence while working you two still touch elbows, knees, whatever it is to feel the comfort of each others' presence.

TOUCH STARVED!TODO who you compare your class schedules with to find out when you can spend time together

TOUCH STARVED!TODO whose love language is back hugs with neck and forehead kisses. (you cant convince me otherwise)

TOUCH STARVED!TODO who you have to match with at ALL times. he has no problem with it either, whether it be outfits, keychains, or even jewelry.

TOUCH STARVED!TODO who you whine too about school, only to make out and feel better

TOUCH STARVED!TODO who, if you're schedules are too tight, you two text to find time in which you can meet up in the bathroom, storage closet etc. to fuck.

TOUCH STARVED!TODO who fucks you in missionary so he can see your little face and pepper it with kisses, he always wants to feel the warmth of your body and you the same.

a/n: tsym for the request anon!! i'm sorry if i couldn't do more i just really couldn't think of much when it came to him. and you have a great day/night/evening too <333

© strawbrryval, 2024. do not copy, steal, or repost my content without permission.

[wastelandhell]

I absolutely love your character Val! I'm a newer follower so I don't know much about him, but I love whenever you draw him. could you tell me more about his story? or how he ended up with Danse or even what their dynamic with each other is?

Ah thank you <3 I used to post more "lore" stuff on here and theres a bunch if you go way back in his tag, but in the last year I've just been kind of posting a lot of out-of-context and au stuff with no connection.

Him and Danse are both very opinionated men, and those opinions rarely align. They spend about as much time arguing as they do getting along, their relationship through most of the game is equal parts mutual pining and divorced.

They are finally able to acknowledge their feelings for each other shortly before "The Nuclear Option", but mutually split afterwards while Danse tries to find himself and Val focuses on establishing a stable home for Shaun. They reconnect about a year later when the commonwealth is in less of a state of crisis, and are finally able to pursue their relationship.

You know what, I haven't posted anything about him in a while, who's ready for a

This is not going to be very edited or formatted because I am a clown so. Sorry in advance.

A brief overview?

His "real" name is Vasili Gavriilovich Andonov but he goes by Valerie Anderson wherever he can, and does his best to hide his russian ancestry. He prefers people call him Val, though most of the brotherhood soldiers refer to him as Andonov. He hates people referring to him as Vasya or using his patronymic name, though thankfully there aren't a lot of people in the commonwealth who use russian naming conventions.

He's an autistic, bisexual, depressed alcoholic who indulges in stimulants a bit more than he should. He's surprisingly good at playing guitar, especially slide blues with his steel resonator guitar. He loves aircraft and built/painted scale models before the war. He's very lonely, even when around people who like him he never feels like he belongs. His birthday is Jan 12th, which is coincidentally a sort of holiday for the cryonics community.

He'll spend a lot of time looking inward and ruminating, and can identify a lot of his personal problems, but is not very good at "fixing" them. So he just kind of mopes around and wallows in self-loathing and self-pity. He's very gullible, and hates people messing with him. While he struggles a lot socially he is very intelligent, and is a genius with anything with an engine. Before the war he worked on vertibirds for the us military. His support of the brotherhood has nothing to do with their ideals; just that they keep him fed, paid, and let him work on aircraft. He's not particularly concerned with "saving" the commonwealth, he just wants to hurt the people who have hurt him.

Gameplay-wise, he's a melee/power armour build, with his highest stats INT and END. He can built so many weird and wonderful things that either explode or he can beat you to death with. Maybe both. His LCK and CHR are pretty miserable, nobody likes him and things are constantly going wrong. Playing a melee character in survival with MAIM is... a task.

Some sort of timeline?

He's the son of Russian immigrants who met in the US, His father Gavriil was an angry alcoholic who worked for the government and his mother Lidiya was a stay-at-home mom and a fervent christian. He had a sister, Kseniya, who was almost his opposite; a very polite and reserved child.

Valerie was small as a kid; being ginger, autistic, queer, and an immigrant made him a frequent target of his peers. Paired with his fathers physical and emotional abuse at home this made him a very angry and defensive person.

He spent most of his time away from home, preferring to spend his time in the woods around their home or just walking around town. He started smoking when he was 12 and drinking when he was 14, stealing from his father. As he got older he missed more and more school, spending his time committing petty crimes and getting into trouble.

While his father was more directly hostile his mother was equally overbearing in her own way. Val would identify himself as agnostic and having no belief in god, but for all of her preaching he still harbors a lot of “catholic guilt”, and fears that when he dies he will go to hell.

As he got older he quickly sprung from a small kid to a tall, muscular teenager. While he never learned to get along with his peers he learned to adapt an imposing, aggressive and masculine personality to defend himself.

When Val became too large for his father to easily push around he turned his anger towards Kseniya, whom Val was fiercely protective of. This only raised tensions at home, and Val and his father would get in frequent physical altercations. He contemplated leaving when he was 16 and could drive, but didn’t want to abandon his sister.

Eventually things came to a head when both of them had been drinking and Valerie came home late. Their fight got particularly nasty, and Val broke a bottle over his fathers head. He was immediately out cold, and Val was left shocked, covered in his fathers blood, believing he had just killed him. This would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Kseniya was home at the time, and ran in when she heard the yelling. Val tried to convince her to come with him, but she was shocked and terrified and refused to leave. Fearing retribution, and before he could really process what he had done, Val took any cash he could and the keys to his fathers car and fled.

He sold his fathers car and got something less traceable, which he lived out of for the next several years while he jumped around state to state. He picked up the occasional day job, but mostly supported himself by stealing cars and running drugs.

After he left is when he began going by Valerie Anderson. At first it was out of fear that he was wanted under his legal name, but he soon realized how much better people treated him if he had an “american” name.

When he was 20 he was eventually picked up for a minor offense, but given the political climate at the time he was offered the opportunity to join the military rather than face charges. As much as Val hated the government he was still very afraid of being connected to his fathers murder, and jumped at the chance to avoid any legal issues.

In his time in the military he discovered a love for aircraft, and pursued it doggedly. He got his GED, and went on to earn a masters in aerospace engineering. He never bothered with friends or relationships, he put all of his time into education and work. Lived and breathed for aircraft.

While Val enjoyed his job he continued to struggle with his mental health and substance abuse. He would frequently get into fights, eventually he got into a bar fight bad enough he nearly killed someone, getting the scars on his face at the same time.

While he was in trouble with the law he would end up working with his new attorney, Laura Walsh. She was elegant, graceful, composed, brilliant, persuasive, someone who always got what she wanted. And had terrible taste in men. Before the case was even over they started hooking up.

Their relationship was strictly friends-with-benefits, neither of them really cared for the other as a person and it was just sex. Over time, despite their best efforts, they came to see past the carefully crafted personas that they both presented to the world and fell in love with the people behind them.

He was 29 when they met, and they married less than 3 years later. They were moved to Boston for Val’s work, and it seemed like they would be staying for a while so they tried to establish themselves. Val tried to quit drinking around this time but struggled to face reality sober for the first time, and frequently slipped back.

Laura had always wanted children but Val was initially very against the idea. He still held a lot of unaddressed trauma from his own childhood and did not feel that he could ever be a good father.

Eventually Laura convinced him otherwise, and he agreed, again making an effort to clean himself up. When she fell pregnant his anxiety led to him having a breakdown at work, afterward he admitted himself to an inpatient rehab and spent 6 weeks there. From here until the start of the game was probably the best time of his life; sober, medicated and attending regular therapy sessions.

While Val was worried about his capacity to be a father, as soon as Shaun was born he lost that. That kid was his life, he did everything for him. He stayed on a break from work while Laura returned to practice, being a stay-at-home dad and throwing himself into domestic life. He even built a robot housekeeper!

His sister tracked him down somewhere around here and they began communicating through the post. She reveals that his father survived the attack, and was still alive, though she hadn’t spoken to him in years. They were planning to meet in person in the winter, though obviously that didn’t happen.

He was 33 when he went into the vault, and the main fo4 plot takes ~3 years to complete, but I think I’ve made this post long enough and I am too drunk and tired to keep typing. Safe to say hijinks ensue.

tl;dr hes an orange cringefail loser, and im hopelessly in love with him.

[cowboycatss]

i LOOOOVE your killjoy cats i want to hold and pet them all 😭

choose wisely. the girl is in air jail for biting

[red-flagging]

can i have a 💛 reunion kiss/relief pls!

(kiss prompts!)

There’s no one in the rink parking lot when Valtteri pulls in, which isn’t unusual. The front door is unlocked, which is. Valtteri drops her things off in the staff room and wanders towards the main rink. All the lights are still off, but she can hear the quiet scrape of someone on the ice.

They’re on the opposite side of the rink when she walks in. Not one of her students–they’re too tall, and too good at skating besides. As Valtteri watches, they take a lazy half-turn, then pop up, light and airy, into a lovely salchow.

Valtteri whistles under her breath. The sound carries further than she expects over the ice. Whoever it is looks over their shoulder, mid-stride.

The jolt of recognition catches Valtteri dead center in her chest. “Lewis?” she blurts out, before she can catch herself. 

Lewis meets her eyes. Too late, it hits Valtteri–does Lewis even know–but before she can even finish the sentence, Lewis is gliding towards her, disbelief flashing across her face.

“Oh my God,” she says. “Val?”

She doesn’t look how Valtteri remembers. Her hair’s not in the braids that she started wearing during their last season together; it’s tied behind her head in a curly puff that pokes out from under her toque. The frizzy edges catch the morning light streaming in from the high windows. Back when they were younger, she used to straighten it religiously before every competition until Valtteri could practically see her reflection in the smooth, unforgiving shine. She can almost smell the hairspray now. Even the memory of it makes her a little dizzy.

“Lewis,” she repeats. “Fuck. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah, jeez,” Lewis says. At least she looks equally thrown off balance. “Wow. I didn’t–I had no idea you’d be here.”

“I had no idea you were going to be here.” After all, Valtteri’s the one who’s been working nights and weekends at the rink for the past three years. She hasn’t watched a tournament in years. The only times she hears anything about Lewis are when she’s scrolling through the figure skating news accounts that she knows she needs to just put her foot down and unfollow. Valtteri saw a picture of her a few weeks ago, celebrating with George in the Skate Canada kiss-and-cry about going into the free skate in 4th. She didn’t see any more headlines about them after that, so she can hazard a guess at how things ended up going.

Lewis shrugs, fiddling with her gloves. “Yeah,” she says. “Honestly, I didn’t know either, but my flight layovers worked out this way, and then Bono let me bribe him to get in here, and–” she shrugs again. “Here I am, I guess.” She glances up at Valtteri. “What are you doing here?”

Valtteri nods towards the duffel bag beside her. “Coaching,” she says. “I run the youth team here. Hockey.”

Lewis’s face actually lights up. “Oh my God,” she says, sounding genuinely delighted. “That’s so–wow. You used to play, right?”

“As a kid.” And then she’d hit puberty and gotten just tall enough to be able to lift all the girls but not tall enough to take a check from any of the other boys, and that had decided that. “I was never very good, but. Enough for the basics, I suppose.”

Lewis shakes her head. “Nah, come on, I bet these kids love you,” she says. “It really suits you. You look–happier.”

Valtteri doesn’t flinch, exactly, but something on her face must twitch, because Lewis’s expression shutters again, something in her eyes going a little more subdued. She scrapes a skate over the ice, drawing patterns in the bits of slush collecting at the edges of the rink. The sound echoes through the empty air between them. 

“Sorry, I’m–am I in your way?” Lewis asks suddenly. “I kind of just–barged in here.”

Valtteri’s first class isn’t until 10AM. Valtteri should tell Lewis to get out anyways. Valtteri is technically still mad at Lewis–at least, she thinks she’s supposed to be mad at her. At least as mad as Lewis was the last time they talked to each other, in Lewis’s hospital room after the second back surgery, when Valtteri told her she was quitting for good.

You’re fucking running from a fight, Lewis had snapped. She’d been dropping weight that whole season, trying to get her shoulders to look less broad compared to Valtteri’s; she’d looked tiny against the sheets, practically shaking from anger or exhaustion or both. You’re being selfish. Like Valtteri hadn’t bitten the bullet and buzzed her hair short and grown her beard out this season, just to see if it made a difference; like she hadn’t ignored the way her shoulder creaked every time she hoisted Lewis up over her head; like she hadn’t done the goddamn Carmen program, after eight years of resisting. 

Valtteri had been too tired to argue with her; had left and gone home, laid in bed to open and close Instagram over and over and fantasize about posting Fuck the ISU with a picture of herself flipping the bird across all her socials.

In the end, she’d just posted the meticulously-edited, purposefully meaningless retirement statement they’d sent her the night before, then texted Didi and asked him to reset the passwords on all her official accounts.

Want me to send you the new log in? Didi had texted back.

No, Valtteri had answered, and then turned her phone off.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have,” Lewis says, jerking Valtteri out of her thoughts. “This is–I know this is kind of crazy.”

She’s chewing on the side of her lip. She always used to leave an extra lipstick with Toto, in case she picked a scab off while waiting for their group to get called and there wasn’t time to run back to the locker room. That’s how Valtteri learned to do her own lips; ten years of touching Lewis up rinkside, Lewis’s eyes bright and her breath on Valtteri’s numb fingers hot enough to make something in her stomach burn. 

There’s a tube of chapstick in Valtteri’s pocket. If she let muscle memory win, she’d reach over and tug Lewis’s lip down right now. 

She reaches down to take off her own skate guards instead. “There’s time,” she says. Watches Lewis swallow, her eyes darting between Valtteri’s face and the ice. “Come skate with me?”

–

Even after all these years, the way Lewis’s body moves is more familiar than Valtteri’s own. Valtteri doesn’t even notice they’re matching strides until Lewis turns to skate backwards and Valtteri automatically moves to stay on her right as they round the corner. 

Lewis gives her an amused look. Valtteri shrugs. “Old habits die hard, I guess,” she says sheepishly, and feels her cheeks go surprisingly, pleasantly hot when Lewis laughs. 

“Does it translate?” Lewis asks, falling back into stride beside Valtteri. “You know. The–” she mimes shoulder checking Valtteri, lightly bumping against her.

Valtteri hums. “It’s different.” Half the kids on her team are shit skaters, for one. The only reason most of them show up to practice is because they like running headfirst into each other. But Valtteri doesn’t have any real reason to drill them into shape, so she lets them be. There’s worse things to teach kids their bodies are good for than casual, good-natured violence. “Hard to compare.”

“Mmm.” The rink’s quiet except for the soft scrape of their skates against the ice, rasping like breaths in sync. Valtteri sneaks a glance over at Lewis. She’s gotten more piercings. They somehow make her look softer than Valtteri remembers; or maybe she’s just grown into her features, after all these years. There’s a tattoo on the nape of her neck, almost covered by her hair, that Valtteri doesn’t think she’s ever seen before. She’s just as beautiful as Valtteri remembers.

“So, uh,” Lewis says, into the silence. She clears her throat. “When’d you start growing your hair out?”

Ah. So they’ve made it to this part of the conversation. “Basically as soon as I retired,” Valtteri says. As soon as she could. She gives Lewis a wry grin. “My head was getting cold, you know, so.”

Lewis half-laughs, shaking her head. “That was it, huh?” 

Valtteri shrugs. “It’s my hair,” she says. “Did I need a better reason?”

Lewis doesn’t say anything to that. They round the corner, back onto the long end of the rink, before she opens her mouth again. Valtteri internally braces herself for the usual onslaught–if anyone deserves an explanation, or at least an acknowledgement, it’s Lewis, she supposes.

“Is the mullet new?” Lewis asks.

Valtteri blinks. “Uh,” she says. “Yeah. Mullet’s new.”

Lewis nods. “Mullet’s pretty good,” she says, giving Valtteri a grin over her shoulder. Valtteri grins back. It’s not as hard as she expected.

They turn another corner. Lewis tucks a curl behind her ear. The light from the high windows is starting to creep up past the edge of the ice. It’s above Lewis’s ankles now, glinting off of her blades as they skate through the patches of sun.

“I should have said something back then,” Lewis says.

Valtteri’s skate sticks on a chip in the ice. She barely catches her stumble.

“What,” she says. “About–what about?”

Lewis doesn’t say anything. She reaches out to slow herself against the boards, gliding to a stop by the benches. She isn’t looking at Valtteri. “I just mean–” she has a funny look on her face. It takes Valtteri a second to place it as uncertainty. “I don’t know,” she says eventually. “Everything, I guess. They way they–were. About you.”

“They were pretty terrible to you, too,” Valtteri says, after a moment. Her throat feels like it’s been filled with sand.

She’s said as much to Lewis before, though maybe not in such blunt terms. The last time, it was after they’d gone minorly viral after some commentator made a joke about how they were the first pairs team where the man was the one who got lifted by the woman. Aren’t you tired about never being enough for them, Valtteri had said, and Lewis had snapped back, and that’s why Nico and I won Worlds, and you and I didn’t. 

This time, Lewis just makes a vague, noncommittal noise, tapping her fingers against the boards. “More of a reason to have said something, isn’t it.”

Valtteri squints up at the skylight. Swallows. “You’re saying something now,” she says quietly. “Counts for something.”

Lewis shrugs. “Maybe.”

The front door of the rink opens. Valtteri hears a few of the older students’ voices filter in, their laughter overlapping and echoing through the hallway. Lewis’s shoulders stiffen. She half-straightens up, like she’s thinking of leaving.

“You still haven’t told me why you came here,” Valtteri says, before she can. She has some guesses. The slight bulge of a brace along Lewis’s lower back that Valtteri might have mistaken for a fold in her shirt if she hadn’t been looking; the gossip accounts that have all been reporting for weeks about how sources have seen George trialing new partners, that they might do the swap before the end of next season, even. The Grand Prix de France gold medal sitting in her trophy cabinet, after all those years she and Valtteri spent winning everything on the circuit except that one.

Lewis stops moving. Outside in the hallway, a kid shrieks. Someone in skate guards clomps, muffled, up the stairs. Lewis swallows. Valtteri hears her throat click when she does. 

Just as Valtteri’s about to give up on her and change the subject, Lewis clears her throat. “I think I’m going to cut my hair,” she says. “After the season. Maybe sooner.” She makes a chopping motion with her hand, near her temple. “Just–all of it off.”

Valtteri blinks. Lewis is staring over the ice, still not looking at her. She’s chewing her lip again. There’s a mulish, sharp set to her jaw. Valtteri looks at her and thinks, suddenly, of skating into a twist lift, her hands tight around Lewis’s waist; Lewis’s hands resting over hers, steady and sure, certain that Valtteri would be able to let her go and then catch her on her way back down.

“It would look good on you,” Valtteri says softly, and means it. 

The corner of Lewis’s mouth twitches. “Yeah?” she asks, with a small smile. “Maybe I’ll get you to cut it.” 

A gaggle of kids bursts into the rink behind them, their voices echoing over the ice as they dump their equipment onto the benches. Lewis glances backwards over her shoulder. “Jeez, I just ate up your entire break, huh,” she says, straightening up. “I should get going. I still need to–”

“What are you doing tonight?” Valtteri interrupts, before she loses her nerve. Lewis blinks at her. “There’s a bar that just opened near here. If you wanted–we could go check it out.”

“Oh,” Lewis says, sounding surprised. “I–uh. Actually, yeah. I don’t have anything planned for tonight, so.” She looks back up at Valtteri, a small smile on her face. “Yeah. We could do it.”

Something flutters in Valtteri’s chest. “Okay,” she says. “Uh. Great. I’ll see you tonight, then?” And then, before Lewis can answer, she leans forward and presses a quick kiss to Lewis’s cheek. 

Before she can lean away, Lewis grabs her, pulling her back in. It almost knocks Valtteri off balance; Lewis braces against her to keep both of them upright, squeezing so tightly that her chest hurts. Her nose presses into Valtteri’s shoulder. Valtteri cups the back of her head and feels Lewis sigh against her skin, has to close her eyes against the sudden ache in her chest.

It’s three full, long breaths before Lewis lets go. She crosses her arms and clears her throat, taking a step back. “Yeah,” she says. “It–yeah. I’ll see you tonight. But it was–” she looks back up at Valtteri with a small smile. “It was good seeing you, Val. I’m glad I got to.”

Right after retiring, Valtteri would lie awake in bed some nights, making lists of what she’d say to Lewis if she ever spoke to her again. I’m sorry. I forgive you. I don’t. I wish we’d met anywhere else except where we did. I don’t know if we’d ever have been friends without skating. I’m glad I got out. I wish I hadn’t had to leave you to do it. Everything jams up in Valtteri’s throat trying to get out. 

She takes a deep breath. There’ll be time. Lewis is standing there, warm and real in the morning light, for the first time in longer than she can remember. There’ll be time for all of it. For the first time in longer than she can remember, she actually believes it. 

“Yeah,” she says softly. “I’m glad, too.”

[thenwhatthefukcisthis]

Hi darling 😊

Who do you think is the more romantic between Arthur and Eames? What would they consider romantic in terms of gestures or dates?

(if anyone calls me any endearment my cheeks go up in flames so, thank you, I look like a beetroot now)

i really wonder whether arthur and eames have ever given any thought about romance until they met each other. sure they must’ve seen it in others, how beautiful and how destructive it can be, but as a firm believer of “love happen many times but romance happens only once”, I feel like they both find out about romance through each other. and sort of reflecting the core attractions to each other.

for arthur, I feel like he would discover, despite a doer of acts of services, he’d find more grand gestures as romance. it’s not to say he’s shallow (grand gestures can be, at times) but more in the line of he has been an efficient person his whole life and always considered that added comfort as an luxury, so I guess he would be wooed by someone doing those for him. and he wouldn’t know this until eames does these things for him. yes he’d admire a single rose as much as a bunch of them, but he’d have this corner in his heart which gets floored a little more in the later scenario. you know, dreaming a little bigger ;)

for eames, as a person who does the most and makes it seems like the least, I feel like it’s the opposite he expects. a tea made for him when the maker doesn’t really need it, giving him the first chance to have a wash when both need it desperately, paying attention to his forges when he pretends not to care about, the little things. he finds them incredibly romantic and he feels his tiredness, anger, sadness fading away. cause he carries the larger than life persona most of the times, I feel he’d enjoy the mundane everyday-ness more. and lucky for him, arthur has this quality in spades.

so yeah, I think if you’d ask either of arthur and eames “what is romance”, they’d reply with a simple “him”

[skywlker-sluvtt]

literally last night I had a dream where obi my bby made me get off on his boot bc he was “too busy” to pay any attention to my “lustful desires” agh

my dreams are insane

VAL YOU BEAUTIFUL HUMAN JESUS CHRIST

i'm screaming and crying and throwing up because that's so him..

ANYWAYS LET ME BE GROSS AND HORNY FOR A BIT

you sat patiently at his feet resting your head on his thigh while he wrote up a report for the council on his latest mission. for the past 4 hours he's been back on Coruscant you'd only had his attention for 15 minutes of it. it was so bad to the point you were becoming desperate for just a little bit of his time.

"please obi just let me warm you till you're done" you begged. "darling no I'm too busy to pay attention to your lustful desires at the moment" he replied fidgeting with his datapad. "you've been gone for three weeks i need you obi-wan" you whined on the verge of tears. he sighed and looked down at what a needy mess you'd become.

obi-wan moved his leg from under the table and rest his boot in front of you. "use my boot as you will until I'm finished" he didn't actually mean that. no fucking way. "you mean...i-" you wanted him to explicitly tell you. "y/n you either hump my boot for pleasure or you wait silently" he stated running a hand through your hair. "obi-wan thats-thats no!" you tried to seem turned off by the idea. "your decision" he said with no expression.

considering your options you gave in to your 'lustful desire'. you wiggled off your clothes and sat above the tip of his boot nervously looking at him for reassurance that he didn't give you. with a short whine, you lowered your sex toward it brushing your wet pussy along it. a long, shuttered breath left your mouth as repeated the movement.

to say it felt incredible was an understatement. the cold leather felt other-worldly on your warm pussy. you began rutting against it like an animal in heat. desperate for climax. you held his calf while you used his boot for pleasure and he gave almost no reaction. "p-please obi-mmph-please" you whined biting down on his pants to silence yourself.

your arousal dripped down your thighs onto the leather. you rapidly chased your high whining at him for attention. your clit repetitively hit a rough patch of the shoe making you groan. with a small bite to his knee, you finished on his boot panting like a dog. it was now slick and shiny with your cum coating the complete upper side of his jedi-offical boot.

eventually, he looked at you and closed his file. "such a horny little thing aren't you?" obi-wan cooed wiping the drool off your chin. "i really missed you" was all you whispered. "I'm finished now, get on the bed my love you're not done yet" he smirked making your eyes light up once more.

IM SO SORRY IM OBSESSED NOW