#this does not make one better or worse than the other two just slightly different

[anxiouspotatorants]

Once more with feeling guys: Dean is the good boy gone bad, Jess is the bad boy made human (or realistic bad boy) and Logan is the rich bad boy

[lowkeyremi]

That's my man atsumu x fem!reader

notes: I needed to write smthing for my baby's birthday. fwb tsumu does smthing to a me (it'll end up with getting together bc im silly like that), the samu ver is here

Content: slight language, slightly suggestive, fluff

He smiled at her with those sex eyes of his. Yes, he's giving them to her and not you. Atsumu makes everything so hot and cold, it's hard to tell with him.

She giggles and he laughs too, entertaining her for some pussy. The 'why' is something you will never understand, not when you've had that man down on his knees, eating you out like he was on death row and you were his last meal.

Your hope is that both of their stupid asses feel your heated glare towards them. They don't notice it though, mainly because you're best friend pulls you out of your thoughts.

"The sooner you get over him the sooner my life becomes easier." Your best friend jokes. Their attempts at lightening your mood are ineffective. How could you be in a better mood when the man of your dreams only wants sex from you? You want him, badly, but he doesn't want you.

This was something you were aware of before sleeping with him. Yet, you took it lightly, and now here you are, pouting over him being with another girl.

"I know, it's just-"

They cut you off, "'it's different between us, he treats me better than his other fucks.' I've already heard the whole shebang." Your friend rolls their eyes with a quick smirk.

"He's a college frat boy, there's no way he was serious if he said something in bed. It was probably to set the mood." You know they're right, you're just being delusional. You want your relationship to be something it's not.

The rest of your day was pretty foul. Just as you thought it couldn't get worse it did. You had to present your presentation, because your partner who was supposed to do it has covid, and your other partner is so bad with public speaking that she freezes up.

Your favorite coffee is the only thing that brings you some joy to your day. You're seated in your favorite booth at your favorite cafe. You take small sips and check your social media feed. It's then when you hear your name being called out.

You don't bother to turn to look because you know who it is. He sits at your booth, unaware of the anger you feel currently.

"Don't you have someone's pussy to be buried into?" You ask with venom.

Atsumu gives you that cute little chuckle, you hate it so much right now. It feels like a tear to your pride.

"Only if it's yers." He suggests with a smirk.

"I'm really not in the mood right now Atsumu, why don't you go entertain that girl from bio." Shit, know he'll know and tease you. He'll probably cut things off with you and-

"Oh her? I was just tryin' to get her to do my presentation, but she turned me down." He says casually. This is probably the only time you'll be thankful for Atsumu's obliviousness.

"I could have helped you with it." He knows you're smart, and he would have asked you...

"There was no way I woulda asked ya. You always make me do the work, and only give me commentary on my work." He says sighing. You watch as he places those big rough hands of his under his chin.

He's so pretty, volleyball has not failed him once. Even though some of your friends hate his hair; you think it's cute.

Those eyes, so pretty and brown draw you in to him. Also his muscles are just right, he's not too buff but he's also not thin to the point you can't see anything.

"Yeah, it's called improving. I really hope you didn't think you'd get through college with a pretty face and money. College isn't just one big party. At least not for me." You lecture and Atsumu listens, he always listens.

"For starters I do my work now, I ain't slept with a teacher since freshman year which was almost two years ago. Thank you very much." He replies to the shade you send his way.

"Anyway, what is it that you wanted?" You ask with a sigh.

"I wanted to check up on ya s'all. My cupcake seemed a lil' outta it today." Fuck his perceptiveness.

"Just tired is all." Atsumu's eyes narrow at your response. Why'd you think you could lie to one of the biggest liars you know?

"The way ya were acting today wasn't as much 'oh gee im tired' but more like 'my sweetie pie tsumu-bear hasn't been paying me any attention.'"

"If you knew, then why where you trying to force it out of me?" You roll your eyes and look back to your phone as to avoid his gaze and your embarrassment.

"I just wanted to hear ya say it because yer so cute." Atsumu is going to be the death of you. He annoys you to no end.

"Just so ya know, I ain't been sleepin' with anyone besides you, sweetheart."

"How do I know you aren't a big fat liar?" The way he smiles when you hiss at him has your heart melting. Why? Why you?

"I'd be an idiot to sleep with someone else when I got the most beautiful girl in my bed all the time." It's so sweet and sincere, his voice is honest you can tell. It feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest, and that Atsumu shaped hole in your heart is slowly being filled.

"Yeah? What're you trying to say, Tsumu?" You peek up from your phone screen to look at his dark eyes. It catches you off guard slightly, the way he looks at you, like you put the stars in the damn sky.

"I knew ya were kinda clueless but this is something else. I want ya to be my girl."He clarifies and you stop breathing for a second. When you'd fantasize about this you'd never thought his confession would be calm. Atsumu is loud and obnoxious, so this quiet, calmness has caught you off guard.

"Is that a question or a demand?" You ask.

"Not a question, m'already confident in ya wanting me." He's prideful and sometimes it sucks but right now.. it's so hot.

"Okay then, I'm yours." You whisper quietly trying to grasp what you've just said.

"Good, best decision you'll ever make, cupcake." Cockiness is laced in his tone and you roll your eyes.

"I said to stop calling me that," You finally drop your gaze back to your phone, but you aren't even paying attention to the dimly-lit screen. Your brain is exploding right now.

"You're my man now." It finally registers.

"Sure am."

[wordsbyrian]

Bad Days and Zoo Trips - HarderssonKid!R x Niamh and Jessie

Summary: sometimes all it takes to make a bad day a little bit better is going to see your favorite animals at the zoo. (the request was more hardersson x kid!r)

A/N: who wants to guess how many different ideas this started as before it landed on this?

You are having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

It all started this morning when Morsa told you that you had to go to nursery because your babysitter got sick and they couldn’t take you to practice because they had grown up things to do afterwards. Then when you were getting dressed Momma wouldn’t let you wear your Barcelona jersey with Moster Frido’s name on the back (because it's dirty) so you have to settle for wearing one of Tante Simone’s Hammarby shirt’s.

The terrible horrible no goodness continues at breakfast when you have to eat pancakes instead of waffles because there are none. And Morsa doesn’t even put any fruit in it like normally does when you have waffles.

You cry the whole way to nursery, where things do not get any better.

When you get there, a little boy that you don’t recognize is sitting in your normal spot on the rug and Miss makes you sit somewhere else when you ask him to move.

That little boy, Zac, continues to make your day worse at every possible turn.

After the rug incident, he takes the last seat at the lego table even though your friend Jamie had been saving it for you. When your class goes outside, he refuses to let you play football and then when the teachers make him, he keeps shoving you over. But, of course, Miss only notices when you shove him back and so you get put in timeout.

When you get back inside, after naptime, Miss tells the class a story about Vikings from Sweden, and the day improves for all of about 2 minutes when she lets you tell everyone about the Viking museum you went to the last time you visited Stockholm. But it goes sour again when Zac keeps cutting you off and even says that girls weren’t allowed to be vikings, which is just completely untrue.

That unfortunately, is your breaking point and before you even realize it, you’re across the room shoving the boy over. And just as quickly, Miss has grabbed you around the waist and is hauling you over to the timeout stool.

After 5 minutes, she comes back and brings you over to say sorry to Zac, except you don’t. Instead you start a rant in Swedish about Vikings, and well both your refusal to apologize and the Swedish (something you’ve been warned about in the past) land you back in the timeout where you stay for the rest of the day.

You’re not sure how long it really is but it feels like forever before the sound of two familiar voices have you turning around to face the rest of the classroom.

You only need to catch a glimpse of them before you're off the stool and barrelling towards them at fool speed barely dodging the other kids who are still waiting to get picked up.

“Jessie, Niamh,” you all but shout, slamming directly into the Englishwoman's legs, “Why are you here? Where’s my Momma and Morsa?”

Before either of the athletes have a chance to answer, Miss speaks instead.

“Y/N, I know you’re very excited to see your friends but that’s no excuse for running or shouting indoors.”

“Sorry, Miss.” Even to your own ears you don’t sound very sorry. “I’m going to get my things.”

You dart back off across the classroom, only slowing down slightly when Miss calls out after you.

It takes you less than a minute to grab your things and come back, immediately shoving your jumper and backpack into Niamh’s hands.

“No way, kid, we’re under strict instructions to make sure that you wear this,” the defender says.

“No thank you, bye Miss,” you say, taking Jessie’s hand and leading her out of the classroom and the building.

You can hear Niamh laughing as she follows behind, still holding your jumper, and complaining about it, until Jessie eventually stops you halfway down the block.

“Y/N/N, I know you don’t want to but you really need to wear your sweater,” the Canadian says.

“No thank you.”

That earns you a hard stare from the older girl, “I wasn’t really asking you.”

“No.”

“Yes, Y/N.”

With the two of you locked in a very intense stare down, Niamh takes the opportunity to take you by surprise, forcing the jumper over your head. She manages to get it down past your shoulders, making it so you can do nothing but whine as you struggle to get your arms free and through the appropriate holes.

“Not fair,” you say with a stomp of your foot and the slightest pout, once you manage to free yourself.

“Isn’t it crazy how life is rarely fair,” Niamh asks sarcastically. “But since it isn’t fair, I guess that means that you don’t want to come to the zoo with Jessie and I?”

Wide-eyed you look over at the Canadian, who just nods at you very seriously before speaking, “Niamh and I would just have to go by ourselves and it won’t be as much fun without our favorite little girl there to tell us about all the reptiles and amphibians.”

You pretend to take a moment to think about it but anyone watching from the outside, specifically Jessie and Niamh, can see the way you’re practically shaking with excitement.

“Well, I suppose that we can still go,” you say as calmly as a kid your age can, “the two of you need someone to help you see the differences in all the salamanders and newts.”

The two footballers exchange a knowing smirk over the top of your head as you allow Niamh to take you by the hand.

The trip to the zoo takes too long in your humble opinion but you do your best to not bounce up and down in your seat. Once you reach the zoo, all sense of pretense is lost and you just barely agree to see some of the other animals before you attach your face to the glass in the reptile exhibit.

You allow yourself to be dragged to the different primates (where you do your best not to make faces back at them), then to the big cats (where you happily explain that lions aren’t kings of the jungle because they live in the savannah) and finally to the giraffes (where you crack jokes about them being even taller than Millie).

Eventually though, you do make it to the reptile exhibit just in time to see one of the handlers taking a baby alligator out of its habitat.

Immediately, you rush forward with the other kids, getting as close as possible to the zookeeper.

“Hello, I’m zookeeper Jack and this here is my friend Billy, he’s visiting us from America.”

From the second the zookeeper starts talking, you’re hooked, staring in silent wonder as the animal is held on display. The only movement you make is to raise your hand in an attempt to answer almost every question.

Near the end, Jack asks if anyone would like to hold Billy and your hand is the only one that goes up.

“We’ve got a brave one. What’s your name,” he asks, while showing you where to put your hands.

“Y/N.”

“And who brought you to the zoo today?”

“Niamh and Jessie,” you say, slowly point Billy’s head towards them. “They promised to let me show them the newts and salamanders.”

“Niamh and Jessie are your sisters?”

“Yea.”

You’ve completely returned your attention to Billy the gator, so you’re not even aware of the shock that your words have given the two athletes.

“One more question for you, Y/N, and then we’ll let you and your sisters take a photo with our friends here,” Jack says. “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

“A herpetologist,” you say. Then after a moment, “Or maybe a viking, I haven’t decided yet.”

“Well, if you’re as gentle with all animals as you were with Billy, I think you have a pretty good chance at it,” he says, choosing to ignore the bit about becoming a viking, not wanting to break your little kid heart.

Jack the zookeeper then quickly ushers both of the footballers to the front to take a photo. He tries to make them stand next to you only for both of them to stand behind you and as far away from Billy’s teeth as they could.

When he takes the alligator back, you thank him before dragging Niamh and Jessie over to one of the vivariums you noticed on your way in. The large glass habitat is set up to resemble the ecosystem of the rivers and creeks in the pacific northwest and there, peeking out from underneath a rock, is the very animal you’ve been wanting to show them, the rough skin newt.

“Look,” you say, pointing the black and orange creature out, “That little guy is one of the most toxic animals in all of America. Just one of them contains enough toxin to kill 12 adults.”

“That’s scary, why do you know that,” Niamh asks.

“It’s not scary, it's cute,” you tell her. “And cool! There’s only one animal that can safely eat them and most of the time that snake decides it isn’t worth the hassle.”

The smile on your face only grows as you continue to gush about the tiny amphibians and its cousins. It doesn’t go away until well after you return home.

When you do get back home, now armed with a stuffed Smooth Newt and your face still sticky with the ice cream you had leaving the zoo, you excitedly tell your mothers about Billy, completely missing the look Momma sends the two younger players.

What you don’t miss is the way Morsa quickly ushers you out of the room under the guise of helping you find a spot for your new friend, affectionately dubbed Bäcken (She goes right next to Älg in your bed obviously.) And you definitely don’t miss the way Niamh tries to hide behind Jessie to avoid Momma’s wrath as you walk away.

But in the end, you decide not to pay it too much attention because you’re far too busy telling your Morsa the names of all the different reptiles and amphibians you saw at the zoo as she helps you get cleaned up before dinner.

She's not very impressed with the amount of dirt you're covered in, so she makes you change while asking you about it. And she's even less impressed when you tell her about your day at nursery but you immediately change the subject back to the zoo, so she let's it go.

When your clothes are changed and the dirt and ice cream are wiped from your skin, the two of you head out to the dining room joining the others.

Where you realize that you have to start your story telling all over again because Momma didn't hear the part about the snakes and everyone else realizes that this is all you'll be talking about for weeks.

[appleblueberry-pie]

Hello! May I pretty please with sprinkles and chocolate on top request a soft, attention deprived yandere Satoru who wants nothing more than your attention, and affection? When you reject him, he literally starts to fall apart at the seams because he just can’t bring himself to force you into anything you don’t want to do.

Thanks!

This the second one today lol

hm. i need to learn to stop holding back in my writing

"I just.....I just don't think I'm ready to commit....to you." Satoru somehow had to box 1 million emotions crashing down on him. The feeling of his heart being torn into two, the feeling of anger, jealousy, confusion, sadness and mania just absolutely melting his mind. He had to shove all of these emotions into the little compartment called his heart and mask it all with general confusion. Confusion on why he couldn't be chosen? And it's worse that he knows exactly why.

"Oh.....well, that's okay. I know you're talking to that guy from earlier?" You give him a slightly awkward smile before it shifts into one of sympathy. He knows you care for him, but to love him...that's an entirely different thing. He gets it.

"Yeah, he is good for me. I'm glad you understand." He gives you a tired smile and nods with your words. "I'm flattered at your request, but maybe...not right now." Yeah, not ever. At least not with him around. He won't be here long, anyways. Better if you get your final thoughts of him out now.

"I love that you found someone, Y/n. You deserve it." Every word couldn't feel genuine, it was so fake scraping off of his tongue into your ears. He's surprised you haven't caught his lie yet. He watches you bashfully shrug at his words and his heart clenches in anger. So much anger, he has to take deep breaths. And even though they do absolutely nothing to the millions of fantasies of tearing that soulless human apart, the one second of your scent being caught in his nose does wonders to rid him of his pounding headache.

He doesn't say anything crazy when you shut the door after saying good night to each other, he doesn't do anything when he walks down your steps but he swears to himself the second he gets to the sidewalk that he will effortlessly make anyone who ruins his chance with you disappear from this planet without a second trace. That man doesn't deserve you. None of your ex's deserved you, fuck, your family doesn't deserve you either. No one understands you like he does. No one will ever reach the level of understanding he has of your entire life. He just....he just needs you so bad.

But he would never hurt you. He'll always be there when you need him. And if he has to get rid of Justin or Tyler or whatever that fuckface's name was just to get you even an inch closer to his general direction, then he'd take it. He'd take a grain of salt if you had even looked at it. He just needs you bad.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Cycles

Miguel O'Hara x Spider-Woman!Reader

TW/Content Warnings: NSFW, Smut, PIV Sex, Heat/Rut Cycles, Territorial, bit of Feral!Miguel, improper use of webs, pheromones, hormones, predator/prey dynamic if you squint, Unprotected Sex, Biting, Scratching, Bondage(?), Breeding Kink (c'mon we all know Miguel has one), established relationship, boyfriend/girlfriend, rough sex, oral sex, blowjob

MINORS DNI: I am not responsible for the content that you are about to read/consume, if you are upset by the themes in this fic, do not read it and scroll on by!

A/N: For context, you are a Spider-Woman who is one of (maybe the only) the few Spiders who have similar powers to Miguel. This is my first Miguel x Reader fic I've ever written, and my first fic ever posted here on Tumblr! (Header does not indicate reader's race)

Earth 7164. New York. Middle of summer.

The scent hit him the moment he tore through the portal. A heavy, sweet, earthy scent that flooded his whole body with a rush of adrenaline. Even the fat droplets of summer rain that fell from the dingy skyline did little to diminish that delicious, mouth watering scent.

Your scent.

His body was trembling as he rolled his shoulders in an attempt to rid himself of the tension that roped its way through his heavy muscles. His talons flexed as he gritted his teeth, each drag of his lungs pulling your scent into his body.

Miguel O'Hara was a man who would claim he had a good sense of control over his urges. He would also say he was a good boyfriend, attentive. A bit protective (some would say possessive).

But, he had been neglecting you as of late, his duties in the Spider Society and ensuring the safety of the universe had kept him away from you these past few weeks, and he almost lost track until he felt that familiar boiling of his blood, an itch that he knew could only be scratched by you.

And he knew that you would be experiencing a similar situation to him, almost parallel. In fact, he surmised you were probably the only Spider who had similar powers. The only difference was that whereas Miguel's powers were (sort of) intentional, and other Spiders were given to them after being bitten by radioactive spiders... You were born like this. They didn't know why. Hell, you didn't know why.

You had the venom (you could consciously control how much you pumped out in every bite), you had your own talons (although yours were a part of your nails, not in the pads of his fingers and toes), the wall crawling abilities, natural web-shooting...

And your cycle. At first having you around was torture on his senses when it would roll around. It would start with your scent changing; the dampness he picked up from between your legs making the blood rush straight to his dick. More often than he'd like he'd have to excuse himself to his private lab to jerk himself off until he felt some of his clarity return.

But it was always just a temporary relief. It only got worse when your breeding cycle and his rut cycle synced up, resulting in the two of you needing to almost be sedated and kept away from each other. (How Lyla kept that under wraps, Miguel never knew.)

And once your dynamic shifted and you started seeing each other, and eventually getting intimate... well. He was positive that Jess or Peter suspected what was up... Especially when he would disappear to your universe for a week or so, only to come back in a slightly better mood, small dark patches peeking out from beneath the collar of his suit, or you would be walking funny or unable to sit comfortably.

Right now, though, those thoughts were shoved to the back of his mind. The only thing he could think of was you. He could smell you, taste you in the air. This was your territory, and he... Could be considered an intruder, depending on your mood.

A male spider waltzing into a pissed off and horny female spider's web during breeding season.

Shaking his head, he took another deep drag of the air around him, the smell of the city mixing with your earthy, almost fruity tones. Your scent was faded slightly, but he could still use it to track you beneath the smog, garbage, and vehicle exhaust.

It's not like he didn't know where your apartment was... But he knew during this period of time you'd be restless, irritable, angry.

And mind-numbingly horny.

Miguel launched himself up, slinging his wrist out and using his glowing webs to propel himself in between the buildings and skyscrapers; leaping, flipping, arching through the sky in a red-and-blue blur.

He knew he was closing in on you. Your scent was all but strangling him, choking the air and what little sanity he was clinging to right out of him.

He should have known you were waiting.

Miguel was rammed into with the speed of a runaway train, the oxygen he so desperately needed ripped from his lungs as he tumbled with a roll onto the rooftop below, landing on all fours as his talons dug into the concrete and tar, leaving deep grooves as he slowed himself.

He lifted his gaze to see you land in front of him, chest heaving, body trembling.

"I have been waiting for you, for almost two weeks." You wheezed out.

"Hell of a way to greet me, querida." Miguel grunted, pulling himself to his feet.

Beneath your mask, he knew your eyes immediately dragged down to the hard bulge pressing against his suit, the hard outline of it sending a fresh throb of arousal straight to your core.

"The kick was a bit much." He said, trying to maintain a professional composure.

But his control was quickly slipping.

"Shut the fuck up."

The short rebuke didn't surprise him.

"Should have been here days ago." Miguel said, swallowing hard at the lump in his throat. "I know that. But--"

You cut him off by lunging at him, hurling your full weight onto him and pinning him down beneath you.

The heat between your legs felt like it melted through his suit, burning the skin beneath and causing a fever to spread.

You raised your fist to bring it down on his face but his reflexes allow him to catch it, gripping you like a steel vice. His other hand gripped your thigh as he planted his feet on the rooftop, rolling to pin you beneath him, his massive frame caging you in.

He squeezed your hips between his thighs, muscles tensing and twitching, breathing heavy. Your free hand reached out and clawed at him, tearing at his suit, leaving a rainbow of glitched out fabric behind, small droplets of blood rushing forth to drip down his tanned skin.

He gritted his teeth at the sensation, the sweet burn sending another wave of heat through his body that made his cock twitch.

You were past talking, past negotiating and being civil. You knew what you wanted, and you wanted it now.

You breathed heavily, gritting your teeth as Miguel gripped your thigh and forced your knee by your head, squeezing the plushest part as his face dragged down to the dark patch soaking through the fabric of your suit.

Using this new position, you kicked at him square in his chest and threw him off of you.

Before he could right himself, you rolled to your feet and jumped off the roof, shooting a web to sling you away from him.

Sure, you were horny and wanted to ride his cock til he couldn't see straight for a month. But he had been gone for weeks and you had been struggling with your own self-care, your measley silicone toys and vibrators barely able to compare with that womb-punching length that Miguel crammed into you, or his skillful and knowledgeable hands rubbing you until your eyes rolled back. But right now, you were pissed.

He wanted your pussy? He was going to have to work for it.

And if that meant playing your cat and mouse game for an hour, building the anticipation and making his cock leak; aching, desperate for a taste of you? So be it.

You played this game for a while, teasing him, getting within arms reach before yanking yourself away at the last possible second, thwarting his attempts to catch you.

Sometimes you liked to play with your food.

But all games come to an end. And this one had an abrupt ending when Miguel headed you off, tackling you to the roof of some abandoned warehouse, pinning you down on your belly, hands above your head.

"Bout fucking time I caught you. Tu pequeño bromista.." (You little tease.) He snarled, leaning down to your ear as his mask dissipated from his head, letting his wavy chocolate hair fall free, damp strands plastering themselves to his forehead.

His eyes were wild, red and glowing; pupils blown wide.

"Fuck you." You hiss, squirming under him.

"Oh, sucederá en, no te preocupes." (Oh, don't worry, it will happen.)

Miguel raised his free hand and brought it down hard on your ass, making you bite your lip to contain the mewl that tried to claw its way out of your throat.

"Look at you, now, hermosa." He sneered, his chest huffing in a small, humorless laugh. "I can fucking smell you from a mile off."

He reached down and cupped your mound, his fingers squishing slightly in the damp fabric of your suit; but once again you deny him a moan, instead biting into your lip, fangs threatening to puncture your lip.

You squirm an arm free and go to elbow him in the face, get him off of you. (Or under you.)

But he predicted that. That's what always got you going when you were in the middle of your cycle. You liked it rough.

His large hand completely encircled your elbow and forced your arm back down. Quickly, he used his glowing, laser-webs to secure your wrists together before he gripped the fabric of your suit with his talons, shredding it as he yanked you over so you were on your back.

Miguel smiled and yanked your mask off of your head, tossing it to the side before gripping your chin with his fingers, putting enough pressure to keep your eyes on his.

"Now... What should I do with you?" He said contemplatively, tapping your cheek with his index finger, making a show of thinking, his eyes dragging over the flushed features on your face, your tongue darting out to wet your dry lips.

"Ah. That's it." He grinned, his slightly askew teeth gleaming in the dark. He grips you by the front of your torn suit and pulls you to your knees as he stands.

He grips the crotch of his suit, and rips at it with his talons, the torn edges doing that kaleidoscopic glitch of colors as his cock springs free from its confines; large, twitching, angry red tip leaking in excitement.

You have to bite your tongue to keep in your little groan, your heart soaking through and dripping out through your suit.

"Hmh." He grunted, annoyed. "I'll loosen your fucking mouth. I've been keeping myself under control this whole time. But now? I'm not going to be gentle."

He gripped your hair, just shy of painful as he dragged your head to his crotch, the tip of his cock smearing his precum across your cheek.

"Chúpalo." (Suck it.)

You finally give in, your hands bound in your lap as you drag your tongue along a prominent vein in the velvety skin of his shaft, earning a deep, rumbling groan from him that you swore sent vibrations straight to your cunt, making you flutter around nothing.

You pull your head back and swirl your tongue around the tip, pulling and tugging as you lap at his slit, eagerly tasting every drop of pre he was giving you before diving in and taking the rest of his tip in your mouth, bobbing your head in a steady rhythm.

He massaged your scalp, his talons tickling the skin under your hair as he encouraged you to continue.

But you knew his calm demeanor wasn't going to last. It wasn't long before he grabbed at your hair with both hands, forcing you to choke down on his length, just shy of blocking off your airway as he fucked your face, the tension and stress from your cat and mouse game coming out as his tip kept shoving at your throat, your nose brushing the dark curly hairs at the base, his balls slapping your chin with every thrust; saliva pooling around his length as you keep your fangs pulled back as you let him use your throat like a fleshlight.

You close your jaw microscopically, fangs grazing the flesh.

"Míralo!" (Watch it!) He reprimanded, pulling your hair roughly to pull you back, his cock springing out of your lips with a wet pop, saliva connecting the tip with the soft pink muscle in your mouth like a weak bridge.

"Be a good girl." He snarled, pulling you back down on his length, barely letting you catch your breath before forcing you all the way down, tears welling up in your eyes and falling down your cheeks as you choked and gagged.

You knew exactly how to lick, suck, and tug at his cock to get the best reactions, the most delicious sounds from him.

You snuck a glance up at him, watching as he tipped his head back with a throaty groan as you greedily swallowed him down.

You moaned around him; his cock throbbed.

You felt him twitch, felt his hips sputter as he gritted his teeth.

"Fuckin' close." He snarled, looking down at you as your eyes connected with his feral ones.

You rocked your clothed cunt on your heel, trying desperately to get some friction to your aching clit. Miguel caught this motion, and held you down on his cock, choking you from not letting you ease off.

"You're not allowed to touch yourself." He said through gritted teeth, pulling your head back with a harsh tug, letting you get a gulp of air before voraciously fucking your mouth again. You obeyed his command, sitting in your slick that was dripping down and out of you, your folds puffy and neglected.

"Fuck..." He breathed heavily, he could feel that burn, that coil about to snap, his blood boiling and rushing straight to the tip of his dick as he felt his balls draw tight.

You moaned softly around him, gagging slightly before that rush of heat flooded your mouth as you worked your throat to swallow every last drop of the load he was feeding you.

Miguel panted, dragging some much needed air in his lungs as he let you pull back, hacking and coughing as your airways flooded with oxygen again. You grin maliciously and bite down on his thigh. No venom of course, but just enough to remind him you were there, earning you a sharp glare and a slap to the back of your head as you licked your lips.

He ran a hand through his hair, and it wasn't but a moment later before he yanked you to your feet, and shoved his tongue past your lips to overpower yours, tasting his cum lingering on your breath as his heavy rut-scent flooded your nose. You moaned shamelessly into the kiss, biting and tugging at each others lips until a burst of cooper flooded your mouth.

Miguel pulled away and licked at his bloody lip, before his mouth twisted into a snarl. He barreled into you, forcing you against a rooftop air-conditioning unit.

His hand reached down as he ripped at your suit, your breasts bouncing free.

Of course you weren't wearing a fucking bra. Probably no panties either. Because you were just that fucking horny and desperate.

He leaned down and took one of your pebbling nipples in his mouth, biting and sucking roughly as you push your head back against the unit, the metal bumping as you do, a strangled cry coming from you.

He pulled back, before delving back down and putting the same torture on your other tit. This time however he pulled back, biting down on the marshmallowy flesh, making you mewl out as his tongue laves over the mark he made.

"Miguel!" You snarl, thrashing your leg to kick at him, your frustration and neglect finally getting to you.

Miguel caught your flailing lim and forced it up, pinning it against the air-conditioning unit with another shot of his webs, before securing your already bound hands with more, above your head.

He pressed his forehead against yours, his hot and heavy breath ghosting over your sweaty skin, before his hands once again swiped and gripped at your cunt, pawing at it like a cat kneading a blanket.

Miguel lazily dragged two fingers torturously slow up your slit, before punching your clit hard through the fabric.

"You've been misbehaving... But I know you're just going to keep acting out until I give you what you want." Miguel sneered into your ear.

You whimpered, arching into his touch as he pulled away, making a frustrated sob at the lack of contact.

You nearly had the air punched out of your lungs when Miguel dropped to his knees, inhaling the scent of your soaked pussy like it was a drug he needed a hit of. He opened his mouth and dragged his tongue up the soaked fabric, before latching on and sucking.

Now this was new. Getting eaten out through the fabric of your clothes. There was too much contact but somehow not enough as he rutted his nose at your clit, sucking more at your folds drawing more of your slick through the fabric.

You thrashed against his webs, trying so hard to roll your hips and fuck his face, but with the way you were pinned, you were at his mercy, especially when he hoisted your free leg over his shoulder. He pressed two fingers against your covered hole as he furiously suckled your clit.

Your orgasm crashed into you so hard you couldn't even manage a scream, your mouth just hung open on a silent cry, eyes rolling back as a fresh gush of slick leaked through your suit.

Miguel smiled against you and tore your suit's crotch open, and you shivered as the humid, summer air made contact with your slick and creamy folds. You barely had a second to realize what was happening before Miguel plunged back in, his nose rutting your clit once more as I sucked at your cream, your slick covering his chin.

Miguel was the best sexual partner you ever had, he knew exactly how to eat you out to the point you lost your voice without even using it.

Just as your second orgasm was creeping up on you, he pulled his mouth away, wiping his face clean with the back of his hand and licking his chops like a dog eyeing a juicy stake.

His cock bobbed against his stomach as he stood, a steady stream of precum dribbling out of the tip and to the ground below.

He pulled your free leg to wrap around his waist as he slid the underside of his cock against your puffy cunt.

Miguel bit down on your shoulder, hard as he forced himself into you with one brutal thrust, pushing the air out of your lungs as he punched your guts through your womb with his cock, spearing you wide as he set a rapid, relentless pace for the both of you.

You uttered breathless pleas, praises, and incoherent mumblings with each thrust; the two of you grunting and moaning in each others ears like rabid animals, Miguel's cock slamming home into your pussy, squelching, dripping, the slap of skin and hips colliding filling the very atoms around you.

Your body screamed, cried, ached for him to fuck you, fill you up to the brim.

Miguel's tip crammed against your cervix in such a brutal way that you swore he bullied himself into your womb with every thrust. It was a blossoming pain that bled into pleasure, quickly bringing you back to the edge of your second orgasm that he had denied you.

"That's it, baby." Miguel snarled in your ear. "Ah... So tight for me. You want me?"

You nodded, whimpering and sobbing into his shoulder.

"Want me to fuck you til you can't walk for a week? Stretch you til all you can think of is my cock?" He said, his voice edging on a gleeful tone as he pants, turning his head and licking at the sweat on your neck.

"Want me to fucking breed you?"

You bite into his shoulder at that, whimpering as his suit glitches around your fangs and you lick at the blood welling up.

He hissed, and his pace became frantic, almost angry as he reaches down and pinches your clit like before, and your orgasm comes flooding through every blood vessel in your body as you jerk mindlessly against him, your pussy crushing down on him, milking him for everything he can give you.

He moans loudly in your ear, snapping his hips up into yours, balls slapping your ass as you cry out, sobs wracking your chest as your vision blurs and the tension rips out of you.

You whimper, and hiccup against him when he forces himself into you one last time, his tip kissing that oh so lovely spot inside as he pumps his heavy and sticky load deep inside your pussy, dripping out of you with each jagged thrust as he fucks you through his orgasm.

When Miguel's hips still, his hand pets at your hair as he kisses your jaw, nipping the skin there as he slices the webs holding your legs and hands up.

"Mmmmh. I needed that." Miguel sighed into your hair.

You grunted in response, your fists gripping at his suit as you pull him down for a hungry and toothy kiss.

"Take me home and fuck me." You demanded.

All Miguel could do was smile, and carry you back to your apartment. The real trick was keeping his cock sheathed inside of you as he swung from building to building, trying to avoid anybody who may have a camera phone...

But honestly? You didn't care.

However...

The two of you did care, a few weeks later.

When two little pink lines appeared on the stick in your hand.

"Fuck."

[sourholland]

WELCOME TO THE STYLE MASTERLIST

based off of taylor swift’s song style

a/n → hope u guys like this :)

summary → he’s the quarterback of the cincinnati bengals, a worldwide heartthrob with an ego the size of lake erie—but does he have the heart to match it? you’re the bengals newest cheerleader, desperate to prove how much you deserve your spot on the team. it doesn’t take much to catch the eye of joe burrow, however that isn’t necessarily a good thing when you’re told that any romantic relations between cheerleaders and players is strictly prohibited.

warnings → strong language, alcohol

word count → 3.3k

remember to reblog and leave some comments if you enjoy!

SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter 6

“It’s one picture, don’t drive yourself crazy over it,” Joe’s voice came through your phone. “I get why you’re freaking out, but I think we both agree that it could be a lot worse.”

“That’s the problem. This was our first time out together, who’s to say there aren’t more pictures like this but worse? We haven’t exactly been careful about seeing each other, Joe.”

There was a brief silence, the sound of his car air conditioner creating a white noise in the background of your phone call. He texted you back almost instantaneously after you sent him the screenshot from Twitter. He said he would have to tell his coaches he was having an important family matter so that they would allow him to walk out to take the call in the middle of analyzing game film. It took him all but five minutes to get outside and phone you.

“I know,” he sighed, inhaling a quick breath before he spoke again. “We’ll be better about stuff, you know I’ll make sure I’m not so–”

“It’s more than that and you know it. This doesn’t just end with one shitty photo on Twitter, it only gets worse from here. It makes no difference if we’re trying harder to sneak around because at some point one of us is going to fuck up, that’s if we already haven’t and don’t know, and then would all of this have been worth it?” You snapped at him, thankful he could not see the tears threatening to spill over and dampen your cheeks. “The fucking around and being casual hookup buddies. Will it have been worth it? Maybe for you, but that’s because you’re Joe Burrow and we both know we’re not even in remotely similar spots in this situation.”

“What are fucking talking about? That’s all bullshit, you know that’s bullshit,” his voice raised slightly, a twinge of hurt evident. “Look, Y/N–I understand that we aren’t exactly in the same position, but that doesn’t make it fair for you to act like none of this matters to me or whatever the fuck you’re going on about as far as all of this being worth it. What’s going on between us has never had anything to do with me, or my name, or what position I hold on the team.”

“Do you hear yourself right now? Of course it has something to do with who you are, it always had something to do with who you are and you can’t seriously tell me you don’t know that. You’re in the NFL and a star quarterback for fucks sake. You went to the Super Bowl last year! You can’t seriously sit here and tell me we’re risking the same things?”

The line was quiet, save for the sound of both of you breathing. Perhaps you were being petty, but Joe was being inconsiderate of what a loss of job would mean for you. He sounded hurt by the fact that the two of you hooking up was not a good enough reason to lose out on the extra money. The public humiliation you would receive was a whole different factor to be conquered in itself. While you might not know what this was like for him, he sure as hell wouldn’t ever know what it is like for you. 

Social status and money were such fickle things, seemingly unimportant in some scenarios until suddenly they became the center of the universe again. Joe would never again live a fully mundane life, he couldn’t see through the eyes of a college student who already had trouble making ends meet. It felt so unfair to know how this story would end, however if you could potentially stop it from being made worse, you might be thankful in the long run. 

“You’re right, that was a stupid thing for me to say. But Y/N, I’m just as much in this as you. It’s not easy for me either.”

“It shouldn’t have to be hard,” you sighed, face hot with emotion as you stared downward at your feet. “I just feel like we might be better off leaving this where it is, you know? Before things get messy. Which they will, you know they will.”

Joe didn’t speak at first, his silence left a sharp ache to burrow itself deep within your ribcage. His voice came out firm but hoarse, “If that’s what you want.”

As your breath grew slightly ragged, you realized that you hadn’t been preparing for his nonchalant response. Selfishly, you let a hand slide to your chest and then throat as you swallowed and attempted to formulate a response to his words. The line was silent, save for the sound of Joe’s breathing. 

“Is that what you want?” You asked him.

“It seems like that’s what you want, seeing as you were the one who brought it up. And if this is just sex then why should it matter?” said Joe, his tone defensive and his voice breathier than usual. “This is just sex to you, right?”

No, you wanted to shout at him. This is so much more than sex and you know that, but the second you said it aloud it could not be taken back and then things truly became complicated. Joe wished to provoke you, the tone of his voice said as much. This annoyed you, his desire to make this even more difficult for you. 

“What do you want me to say to that?” 

“It’s a simple question,” Joe hurled, clearly irritated.

“No, it’s not. You know that,” you sniffled. “How I feel about you doesn’t matter when we’re in this situation, anyway.”

“Bullshit, it’s not a simple question because you’re making it complicated. How you feel doesn’t matter because you say it doesn’t matter,” Joe answered furiously. “Look, I have to get back inside, but I just want to say that you saying all of this right now is really fucking selfish. Especially after all of the mixed signals you send… I never know what you actually want from me. One second you’re pissed off at the idea of me even seeing another girl and now you’re breaking stuff off with me over the phone.”

You flinched at his assessment, “I’m just trying to do the right thing for both of us.”

“Yeah, whatever you say,” he replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

The line went dead and you knew he had hung up, frustrated with you and the entire situation. You let your hands run over your face, feeling a deep pain in your chest as you buried your face into the blankets on your couch that still held his distant scent. He surely hated now, unable to comprehend how deep your feelings for him went. Much deeper than his for you, you were sure of. When you told him that your relationship would grow messy, you hadn’t been lying. However, a piece of you was not solely referring to the conflict within your work. 

You debated calling him back, but knew that he would have already made it back into the facility. He sounded so upset with you, more so than he had ever been before. Joe was usually quite relaxed and level-headed, though now he was most definitely frustrated by the argument itself. 

Joe made no other attempts to contact you for the remainder of the day. That night, you let your phone sit idly by as you made dinner and still nothing. Maybe the two of you had broken up, that was what you had insisted anyways. He made you act like a complete idiot sometimes, thoughts skewed and rash as if you were once again sixteen. Nothing about Joe was in disarray, he always seemed to know exactly what he wanted to say and do. It never came out awkward or clunky, despite how he described his usual anxiety during interviews.

Attempting to sleep was difficult, your mind racing a mile a minute. Thoughts of Joe persisted, leaving you ridden with guilt and sadness about the supposed no contact. You knew not to text, though. Not only would it have been unfair to you, but Joe as well. There was also the fact that it would never work between the two of you, the carousel of disappointment and pain was unavoidable. 

⋆------------⋆

The Bengals lost their next preseason game against the Giants, the game was close but ended the same as the Cardinals had. The only difference in this game was Joe’s attendance, he wore a headset on the sidelines with his coaches as the team played. Still out on injury, he was helping to give instruction to his teammates most of the game. 

You had briefly locked eyes with Joe before the game began, everyone scrambling about to get into positions. His expression was blank, as if he had no idea who you were and there was never anything there. Your eyes raked over him, the way that the shirt he wore hugged his biceps and back. Joe spared the cheerleaders more glances than usual this game, watching more than he ever had time to while playing. You caught his lingering gaze once or twice, mind racing.

The final preseason game against the Rams played out the exact same, save for the fact that the Bengals won. It had been two weeks between the game and the morning of yours and Joe’s heated argument. The post on Twitter had somewhat died off at twenty thousand likes and his fans eventually found something new to speculate about. 

Sydney and Lena were absolutely furious when you divulged all information regarding the fight you had caused, earning a few much deserved playful swots to the arm. They attempted to coerce you into calling him and smoothing things over, insisting that you shouldn’t just end things on such an awful note. Once you explained more of the predicament and how you felt no desire to be ripped apart on the internet or by your coaches, both girls simply sighed and nodded at your decision. They understood how difficult it was for you, especially after silent tears had begun to fall during the long winded explanation of how seriously NFL executives and management took player-cheerleader fraternization and how it would unfortunately not just be swept under the rug when you two inevitably got caught.

The wallowing in self-pity lasted for another week before the girls had finally called for the bedrotting to end, “Babe, don’t cry. Come on, wipe those tears. We’re going out tonight,” said Sydney, sitting criss cross on your bedroom floor. “It’s Friday night, you’re hot as fuck and you’re an NFL cheerleader. I love you so I’m going to be honest with you right now, I get that you fumbled Joe Burrow, but we both know that he was just a guy at the end of the day. So again, you are hot as fuck and we’re going out. What do I always say?”

“I’m not feeling it tonight, Syd,” your reply was muffled as you spoke into the pillow you lay face down into. “Go without me.”

“Bitch, stop. You’re going out, we’re getting fucked up. Lena’s already on her way over here and you know she’s not leaving without you so let’s go. You’ll feel better, by the time we get to the club you’re going to be like ‘Who’s Joe Burrow anyways?’”

“Somehow I highly doubt that,” you sighed, turning to look up at the ceiling. “You don’t want me to come, I’m miserable and sad and I’m only going to spoil everyone’s fun.”

“I don’t care, Y/N. Spoil my fun, ruin my night, I’d say throw up in my clutch but you already managed that last time we went out. I just want to see you out of this bed for something other than practice, work, or class. You’re like a ghost and I’m not going to watch you throw away your senior year because of some erotic work hookup with a guy who I’m sure couldn’t even hold a candle to you,” Sydney spieled, perched on the edge of your bed. “The only way to get over a man is to get under a new one!”

Eventually Sydney did manage to get you up, it only took ripping all of the blankets off of you and hiding your phone. Once Lena came in and began tidying up the somewhat mess you’d been allowing to collect, you realized getting out was probably the best course of action. Although you had no plans of getting under any new guy, Sydney appreciated your partially willing participation once she began to do your hair and makeup. 

Lena dumped a bag of going out tops onto your bed, sifting through them and throwing each top into a certain pile. Some of them were from freshman year, leaving both you and Sydney to cringe and shout at her to make sure it went into the rapidly growing mass of ‘absolutely not’ tops. Eventually you settled for a fitted lilac top, adorned with sheer lace everywhere but the cups. Sydney wore a timeless black bodysuit that she had swiped from your closet during study abroad and Lena opted for blue slip dress and promised Sydney she would take care of her leather jacket if she let her borrow it.

The three of you Ubered to the club, knowing that you planned to drink. As soon as you slid into the backseat of the SUV, Sydney pulled her purse into her lap and was suddenly handing out shooters. There was one Malibu, a Fireball, and a Pink Whitney.

“Fuck that, I can’t even smell that shit without wanting to throw up,” you shook your head, pretending to gag in a dramatic motion. “You’re better off throwing the Pink Shitney out the window.”

“Throw up?” The driver’s head whipped towards the backseat suddenly. “No, no! If you throw up, I charge extra.”

“Nobody is going to throw up, sir,” Lena reassured him and looked back at both you and Sydney with a laugh. “Well, I don’t want it either. Rock, paper, scissors?”

Sydney and Lena went first, Lena won and chose the Malibu. You faced Sydney now, playing rock as she threw out scissors and proceeded to hunch over in fake despair as you snatched the shot of Fireball. Not that the taste was much better, but after a few horrible experiences with Pink Whitney during freshman year, you could no longer stomach it without revisiting the memories of endless mornings spent hugging the toilet bowl of your dorm floor after drinking with your girls and relishing in the alcohol that tastes identical to Minute Maid once you grew drunk enough.

The drive to the club was about fifteen minutes from your apartment, each of you taking a couple of photos together and dissecting Lena’s texts with her ex from the night before.Sydney was bantering with the driver once you finally pulled up beside the curb out front of the club, a considerably long queue already forming at the front door. 

“You look so hot,” Lena told you, practically skipping to join the line and get inside. “So do you, Syd.”

The bouncer worked quickly, only sending a few people away as he looked over IDs and gestured clusters inside of the club. Thankfully, your fake ID days had passed and you were finally able to toss it. Most of the drinking you had done over the course of your time at school was with small groups of girlfriends and occasionally nights spent at sleazy bars that weren’t strict about obviously fake IDs. Frats had never been your scene, although you managed to go a few times during your freshman year for the experience.

Once the three of you made it inside, Sydney immediately went to the bar after claiming the first round of drinks were on her. There were colorful lights illuminating the crowded atmosphere of those dancing and drinking with friends. The club mix that was playing boomed, your ears adjusting to the insanely loud music as Sydney approached with drinks and held up her phone to snap a photo of you and Lena.

“Drink up!” Sydney called out to both of you, taking a long sip and looking around the club in search of tonight’s target. 

It didn’t take long for Lena to pull both of you to dance, integrating yourselves with a group of sweaty, twenty-something girls who were the level of drunk you hoped to be soon enough. The floor vibrated, moisture collecting at your temples and hairline as you rocked against Sydney in a slightly buzzed bliss. One of the girls you had just met had her arms thrown around your neck, all of you singing at different pitches. 

A rotation of going to grab more drinks and then rejoining your group on the floor had begun, both you and Lena alternating who bought the next round of shots after Sydney found a cute guy at the bar to flirt with. The film of sweat clinging to your skin became unnoticeable after you grew drunk enough to stop caring, your face hot from drinking and dancing. 

“Lena!” You called over the music, drink in-hand. “I have to pee, I’ll be right back!”

“What?” She leaned in. “Bathroom? I’ll come with you!”

“No, stay! I’ll be good,” you promised, knowing she had already made two trips with you.

“You sure?”

“Yes!” You shouted over your shoulder, already making your way to the slightly grungy, low-lit bathroom.

There was a singular open stall, stray bits of toilet paper and a fake eyelash adorning the floor as you drunkenly made your way around the girls reapplying makeup in the mirror. Thoughts of the game washed over you, in turn bringing on thoughts of Joe. Something about going to the bathroom and finally having a few moments of peace allowed you to assess how intoxicated you truly were, which was considerable. The thought of talking to him outweighed the small voice of reason in the back of your mind, ultimately deciding that it would be a problem for your sober self.

As you left the bathroom, rather than going back out to dance with Lena, you leaned against the wall of the hallway and braced yourself in order to stay upright. You pulled your phone from your clutch, sighing and opening his contact. It was late, he might be asleep, you thought. Without thinking much, you dazedly pressed the call button and closed your eyes as the phone rang and you awaited his potential answer.

“Y/N,” his voice came through clear, not even taking two rings to pick up your call.

“Hi, Joe,” you concentrated very hard on your tone and slightly slurred speech, doing your best to sound sober.”M’sorry it’s so late, I just–I was thinking about you, which I know that I shouldn’t because we’re broken up but I was. I wanted to talk to you, I know you probably hate me and everything, or I hate you or whatever. I shouldn’t have called you, I’m sorry.”

“Are you drunk?” His voice comes out level, emotionless even.

The silence between the two of you is palpable, “No,” you hiccup.

He says nothing for a few seconds, “Are you at the club?”

“Why would you ask that?”

“I can hear music and people talking, it sounds like you’re in a club.”

This was wrong, you should not be calling Joe. Why couldn’t you shake him? After all of this, you only continued to want more. All you have done is hurt him and yourself through this situation, unable to make up your mind. Everything you have worked so hard for should be worth more than Joe Burrow, so why didn’t it feel like that?

“Yeah,” you replied, the slurring evident in your voice. “You got me.”

“This isn’t fair, YN… You calling me fucked up and out with who the hell knows isn’t right, not after you call me and tell me you would rather, ‘leave things where they are.’ I like you! I feel like I have made that incredibly obvious, and yet here we are once again.” He rattled off, voice slightly raised. “Look, I’m sorry to be an asshole but clearly you either can’t see or don’t care about how this has affected me or my life. And I get it, you’re still in college and we’re just in completely different stages of life as far as your age–”

“My age?” You finally interrupted his rambling, ready to counter him with what you would most likely regret saying tomorrow. “How come you’re suddenly so fucking mature and I’m just a kid?”

“Well for starters, you are the one who blindsided me a few weeks ago over the phone. You are the one who just called me up at one in the morning, for what? To tell me again that you don’t want to be with me? Or is this some sick joke where you apologize and then can’t remember when you wake up?” He snapped at you. “So yeah, Y/N… I would go as far as to say you’re the immature one in this situation.”

It was as if the wind had been knocked out of you, internalizing Joe’s words as you shifted weight from one foot to the other. Everything was fuzzy, your thoughts askew and irrational as you tried to compile the right words to respond with. He had never taken that tone with you before, nor had he ever sounded so hurt. Maybe he was right.

“I’m sorry, Joe,” was all you could muster without giving away how inebriated you truly are, figuring that would only make things worse. “I regret everything, all of it. We shouldn’t have started anything in the first place, but everytime you come near me it’s just so hard not to want you–” You trailed off, regret was most definitely not the right word, you mean to say that you regret how things have played out.

“Y/N, stop. You’re drunk and you don’t know what you’re saying,” he sighed. “Are you safe? Should I get you an Uber or do you have a way home?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” you say quietly.

“Then I’m gonna get off of here, call me once you’ve sobered up.”

His words stung, your heart cracking at the justifiable dismissal. He was most definitely not in the wrong here, but it didn’t make it any less hard. His usual flirtation and humor was long gone, replaced by obvious disdain due to the way you had ended things. 

“Bye, Joe.”

“Get home safe, Y/N.”

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[blackcherryvelvet0909]

Blooming Red (Riddle x GN!Reader)

Content Warning: Mild angst (mentions of Riddle's mom), mild hurt/comfort

You jogged down the hallway, legs worn out from all the running you’d been doing. First it was to the small store at the hotel; when they didn’t have what you were looking for, you went to find one of your professors. You finally came upon Professor Crewel, who’d just returned from a breakfast outing. Once you explained to him the situation, you both quickly headed to his hotel suite, where he handed you the extra bottle he’d brought. After a quick thank you, you hurried back up the elevator to the top floor of the hotel. Now here you were, skidding to a stop before you knocked on the door at the end of the long hallway. 

Cater was the face to greet you as the door opened. “Oh good, you got it!” He stepped aside to let you in the room, then shut the door quickly before he followed after you. “Poor guy’s really pitiful right now. The ice has helped, but that aloe will do a lot better - hopefully.” 

You nodded as you two entered the bedroom of the hotel suite. The door was slightly ajar, so the first thing you saw before you entered was Trey sitting on the bed. He turned his head to look at the two of you as you came in, his smile a mix of fatigue and worry. “I’m sorry it took so long,” you said. “The shop didn’t have any aloe, and I didn’t want to go all the way down to Sam’s to get some. Thankfully I ran into Professor Crewel and he offered to give me some of his.” You held up the green bottle of aloe vera for Trey to see. 

“Thanks for getting it.” Trey glanced over at the closed bathroom door. “Riddle’s in there - I think the cold bath might be helping.” 

“How is he?” you asked, concerned for your friend. 

“As good as you can be when you’re sunburned that bad,” Trey replied with a sigh. “He’s never really been sunburned before, so it’s taking a worse toll on him than what’s normal. That, and he does have sensitive skin, so…” 

You didn’t have time to ask any questions before, since you were in such a hurry to fetch the little green bottle of salvation. You decided to get those questions out now before Riddle came back. “I thought Riddle was really adamant about reapplying sunscreen every hour or so? How could he have gotten sunburned if he’s that diligent?” 

“I’m not too sure,” Trey answered. 

“But we do have a theory,” Cater interjected. “Riddle actually forgot his sunscreen when we all went out to the pool yesterday. Deuce went back in to grab it.” 

“Did he get the wrong one?” 

“No, he got the right sunscreen,” Cater confirmed, “but he put it real close to mine. Our bottles are pretty similar looking, so Riddle might have grabbed mine by mistake when he went to reapply. We only stayed out for a few hours before it started to rain, so he would’ve only applied it twice.” 

“And he didn’t notice the difference between bottles?” To you, that sounded very unlike Riddle to not notice little details like that. 

“I mean,” Cater scratched the back of his ear as he chuckled, “he didn’t exactly have time to. Floyd was bugging him a lot.” 

“Oooh,” you uttered. That would make sense, you thought. If Riddle was trying to hurry up and apply some and then get away from Floyd, he wouldn’t have spared a glance at the bottle. Since he and Cater’s sunscreens were so similar, he could have easily mistaken one for the other.

Just then, the bathroom door opened. The pitiful sight of Riddle as he stepped through the doorway made your heart ache. His skin was beet red, a direct copy of his hair. The burn stretched over parts of his shoulders, arms, chest, and back. The back was the worst overall, with almost every inch being covered in the sunburn. Somehow, Riddle’s legs had been spared from the sun’s damaging rays. He was clothed in some simple shorts; you watched as he winced as he tried to dry his hair with the cotton bath towel in his hands. 

“Is your scalp burnt, too?” Trey asked, so gently it almost sounded like he was speaking to a child.

“Possibly,” Riddle mumbled. He was clearly embarrassed - you could tell by the pink of his cheeks, which you knew were not sunburned. Trey motioned him to come over, and Riddle did so without argument. Riddle bent his head down so Trey could see his scalp. Trey flinched as Riddle winced when he traced his fingertips over the redhead’s scalp. “Ah!” 

“Sorry!” Trey guided Riddle to sit on the bed next to him, where he continued to examine his scalp, touches featherlike and cautious. “Mmn…” Trey mumbled under his breath as he stood. “Yeah, you’re sunburnt there too.” That sad smile returned to Trey’s lips as Riddle’s head tilted downwards in shame. “But it’s not as bad as the others. It should heal a lot faster than the rest of you.” 

Riddle gave a small nod, though made no verbal reply. You wanted to comfort him, but didn’t know how. You were afraid anything you might say would only make him feel worse. As you were lost in your thoughts, Cater stepped forward and leaned on the bed. “You haven’t eaten today, have you, Riddle? Whatcha want? I’ll go get it from the lobby!”

Riddle thought it over for a moment, his tone level and almost monotone as he replied, “Two hard boiled eggs, a slice of toast with strawberry jam, and a fruit and granola yogurt bowl, if you wouldn’t mind.” 

“Aww, c’mon,” Cater cooed, “I know you want more than that. There’s no shame, y’know - you can cheat when you’re not feeling good.” 

Riddle was silent for a moment…then, his voice a bit shyer now, he mumbled, “And a few strawberry and creme crepes.” 

“Gotcha!” Cater pushed off the bed before he fixed his ponytail. “I’ll go down and get it.” He glanced over at Trey, “You coming? I know you haven’t eaten either.” 

Trey looked hesitant to follow, eyes flicking from Riddle to Cater in quick succession. Finally, you spoke up with a smile. “I’ll stay here with Riddle, you both go on. I know you must be hungry.” 

Trey hesitated for a moment longer, eyes glancing at the three of you for a few seconds. Then, with a sigh, he nodded. “Yeah, can’t take care of Riddle on an empty stomach. I’ll go with you.” 

“Kay-kay!” Cater turned and left out the bedroom door with a wave of his hand. “I’ll meet you out in the hall.” 

Trey pulled on his shoes and got up from the bed. He put a comforting hand over Riddle’s and gave him another smile as he said, “We’ll be back soon. Make sure to put that aloe on the sunburns, okay?” Riddle silently nodded - it seemed to be enough to put Trey at ease. As he passed you on his way out, he stopped to turn and ask, “You want anything? I know you likely haven’t eaten either.”

“Um…” No you hadn’t eaten. The moment you’d heard Riddle’s cries of pain, plus the commotion Cater and Trey had been in, you’d dashed in to help. All thoughts of food had been cast from your mind, along with your plans to eat with Ace, Deuce, and Grim. Oh yeah, those three…you hadn’t even messaged them. Oops… “Just a sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit and some fruit is fine, thank you. Would you mind grabbing me and Riddle some juice, too?” 

“Yeah, I’ll get that,” Trey said as he adjusted his glasses. He then leaned down to whisper, “Make sure he gets all those sunburns covered, okay? They’re really bad.” 

“I will,” you whispered back. 

As Trey left, you turned back to Riddle, who hadn’t moved from the position on the bed. He delicately dried his hair, wincing every time he grazed over his scalp. You frowned - you wish there was more you could do for him. You glanced down at the bottle of aloe vera still in your hand…it didn’t hurt to ask. You approached Riddle and sat beside him. Before you could utter a word, Riddle spoke in a hushed, irritated tone. 

“I’m such an idiot,” he hissed. He glared daggers at the floor, slate colored eyes as sharp as knives. This time, it was not at someone else, but himself. “I should have been more cautious, attentive…”

“Everyone makes mistakes, Riddle,” you said softly. “Besides, Floyd was distracting you, right? It wasn’t like he was going to leave you to reapply in peace; honestly, I would have been in a hurry, too.” 

Riddle gave a small nod, but his expression was still harsh. There was no telling what was going through his head. To try and distract him, you held up the bottle and shook it a little as you smiled. “Would you like me to rub this on your back? I know it can be hard to reach.” 

Those sharp eyes softened a tad as they glimpsed over at you. The redhead forced a small smile as he nodded. “If you wouldn’t mind…” 

“I don’t mind at all.” You climbed back on the bed and positioned yourself behind him on your knees. You softly brushed his red locks away from his neck, so they wouldn’t get drenched in aloe. You popped the cap of the bottle open and squeezed some of the moisture into your hand, then gently brought it to his back. 

You jumped as Riddle, too, jumped and let out a yelp. “Cold!” 

“Sorry, sorry!” You hoped he didn’t hear the laugh you stifled from his reaction. “I should have warned you.” You slowly began to rub the aloe over his red back. “Does it feel nice, though?” 

As you spread the mixture upwards to his neck, Riddle let out a sigh. “Y-Yes, thank you.” 

“Mhm,” you hummed as you continued to work. 

Just as you covered half his back in the translucent liquid, Riddle grumbled something to himself. It was obvious he hadn’t meant for you to hear, but you did anyway. “Mother would have my head for this.” His arms crossed over his stomach as he hung his head in shame. “This is why she doesn’t believe I can be independent.” 

Your mom can shove it. 

Riddle’s head reeled around to stare back at you, mouth hung agape in shock, eyes now wide open. Oh no…had you said that out loud. You supposed you had with that kind of reaction. Well, no point to hide it now. You locked eyes with him as you paused your application of the aloe. “I’m serious. If she would yell at you for such a small mistake, call you incompetent, she has a problem. No one is perfect, Riddle; there’s no telling how many mistakes she’s made in the past.” 

“I’ve never seen her make any,” Riddle muttered as he started to shrink into himself at the thought of her. “She seeks perfection in everything she, I…everyone around her does. Where would she make a mistake…?” 

“I can name one.” Riddle lifted his head to meet your eye again. You meant every word that came out of your mouth next. “She makes a mistake every day she doubts, tries to put down, the amazing person you are, Riddle.” 

Riddle simply stared at you for a few moments, expression one of shock. You could see him process your words, as though they were hard to believe. They might be to him…you felt a little pang of anger simmer inside you at the thought of all his mother had done to him, all the doubt she filled him with. Riddle was a wonderful person, despite his flaws and mistakes. Who did she think she was to-?!

“Hahahahaha!” You were startled when Riddle suddenly began to laugh. He now smiled from ear to ear, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as his hand came to cover his mouth. When his eyes opened again, he noticed your puzzled expression. “I’m - I’m sorry,” he said between laughs. “I just…I’ve never heard someone speak of my mother so.” Riddle let out a deep exhale as he began to calm down from his fit. 

“I cannot imagine how mother would be if she heard you say such things.” 

“Honestly, I don’t care,” you said, no hesitation. “If she can’t take the truth, she shouldn’t be such a…” You stopped yourself for how Riddle might feel of you calling his mother a bitch. 

“I admit, I’m…conflicted by the statement.” Riddle scooted over on the bed and turned around so he could face you directly. “A part of me wants to defend her, but the other…it’s a strange feeling.” 

“It’s called rebellion.” You smiled at him as you sat the bottle of aloe on the bedside table. “Taking your life in your own hands. I know you likely hold love for your mother, but…I just want to see you happy, Riddle - free to be you.” 

In that moment, that was the softest look Riddle had ever given you. His smile, the look in those gray orbs, made your heart flutter. “Thank you…I truly mean that. I’m…” He seemed to grow shy again as his eyes flicked down to gaze at the bed. “...I’m happy you see me that way.” 

“I always will, Riddle.” You leaned a little closer to him to try and get him to look you in the eye again. “I love seeing you happy.” 

You weren’t sure why you did it, but you did: you kissed Riddle’s cheek. Riddle froze as your lips came into contact with his now reddened cheek, and you froze shortly after you realized what you’d done. You stared at each other wide eyed, as though searching for what to do, what to say. Riddle was the first to move, shifting in his spot as he straightened his posture and locked his gaze with yours again. I tension seemed to rise between you two, though it wasn’t scary at all. It was soft, warm…very inviting. Before you knew it, Riddle’s lips were inches from yours. 

As your eyelids slipped closed in anticipation, Riddle whispered under his breath. “Rosebud…”

Suddenly, a surprised, almost violent gasp rattled from his throat as he jerked. As you opened your eyes to see what was wrong, you saw Riddle’s body was now rigid, back arched as though trying to get away from something. “What is it?!” you asked, nearly in a panic. 

“S-Something touched my back!” Riddle replied as he turned his head this way and that as he tried to find what brushed him. 

Just then, a near manic giggle sounded from the edge of the bed. As your heads whipped around to look in that direction, you saw there was a new indentation in the bed - as though someone were sitting there. Slowly, a floating head faded into reality, a familiar cheshire grin upon its face. 

“I heard mew got a lil too crispy in the sun,” Che’nya mused. “I came to come cheer mew up with sweets,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “but it seems I interrupted something~” 

“N-Nothing!” Riddle quickly regained his composure after that outburst, although clumsily. “We…we were just talking, Che’nya. [Y/n] was helping me apply the aloe vera to my burns.” 

“Mhmm~” Che’nya’s smile was now a catlike smirk. “Mewr they gonna kiss them better, too?” 

“T-That’s-!” 

Before Riddle could respond fully, the bedroom door opened. “Food’s here!” Cater cheered as he stepped through the doorway, Trey right behind him. Once they beheld the sight before them, they stopped in their tracks. You could almost see question marks floating over their heads. “Uh…we interrupting something?” 

“Mmmaybe~” Che’nya nearly purred in delight at Riddle’s embarrassment. The beastman was now laid out on the bed on his stomach, hands folded under his chin as he continued to grin. He batted his eyelashes for good measure as he said, “Mew’re just in time to see the happy couple kiss~” 

“Che’nya, stop it!” Riddle demanded, face now stark red, a mix of embarrassment and frustration. “We were just-” 

“Dang, that fast?!” Cater laughed as he sat a plate of food on the bedside table beside Riddle. Trey, in turn, sat yours on the table beside you. “See, Riddle?” Cater winked, “I told you you could do it!~” 

“C-Cater, no!” Riddle frantically looked between the two of you as he held his hands in front of him. You saw that he had begun to sweat, too. “W-We were simply talking, that’s all!” 

“Seem pretty defensive about ‘just talking’,” Cater teased with a wiggle of his own eyebrows. You feared Riddle might explode, his face was so red, all the way to his ears. 

Before you could voice your confusion as to what Cater was talking about, Trey intervened. “Alright, guys, leave him alone.” He handed Riddle a small bottle of apple juice, with a familiar label you recognized. “Let him and [Y/n] eat.” Trey sat in a chair across from the bed, a plate of food you hadn’t seen before now in his lap. “I’m hungry, too.” Trey shot Cater look, almost like a warning, “You should eat, Cater.” 

Cater’s sighed as his fingers twist a strand of his hair. He looked defeated. “Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” Cater stepped out of the bedroom for a few seconds, then came back with his own plate. He glanced down at Che’nya as he passed by, “Sorry, we didn’t know you were coming, Che’nya. You want anything off mine?” 

“Nah, I’m good,” the cat replied with a swish of his tail. “I ate before I snuck over.” His head turned to look in your direction, that cheshire grin back in full force. “When will mew know, I wonder?~” 

“Know what?” you asked, your own bottle of apple juice in hand. 

“Che’nya.” You almost shivered at how hard Trey’s voice cut in, like a dad scolding his child. 

Che’nya held up his hands in a mock surrender, though he kept grinning at you and Riddle. It unnerved you a little, but you continued to eat. All the while, even as the five of you began to engage in conversation, you sometimes caught Riddle staring at you - but he would turn away and pretend nothing was amiss every time. What could be wrong…then you remembered you two had almost…

Just as heat began to creep onto your cheeks, there was a loud series of knocks at the front door. “[Y/n]?” Ace yelled out. “You good? Cater told us what happened; you couldn’t have texted us instead of just ditching without a word, y’know!” 

Riddle didn’t seem too thrilled at another three joining your little breakfast party…unfortunately, you weren’t of much help. All you could think about was the way he called you ‘Rosebud.’

[taki-yaki]

Prompt idea based on Drizzt Do'Urden’s story, where his love interest and all his adventure buddies pass away but years later are reincarnated with their memories intact because the gods needed them to reunite with Drizzt to save the world again. So what if years later Astarion is alone (maybe Lae'zel is still alive since no one ages in the Astral Sea) but Tav and the rest reincarnate to adventure with him again. And just like Drizzt in this life Astarion and Tav have a longer life together and have a kid.

This gives me some angst vibes, but it makes for some good writing. I would see him becoming a bounty hunter of sorts after Tav passed, also in the epilogue, it seems that Withers does hint at him having the ability to just call the group whenever the world falls into danger again.

Astarion x Reincarnated Tav Headcanons

Many years have passed since your death, regrettably leaving Astarion all alone for him to travel across the realm of Faerun. Although in his years of living as an immortal vampire spawn, his past self would never be phased by such a thing, just seeing death as another way of time passing swiftly. 

Most of his former companions have passed on, except for Lae’zel who still wandered the astral plane, in which she never aged after centuries. The two sometimes meet up to talk with each other, but moments such as those are rare. 

But after everything he went through with the mind flayers, with you especially, this felt different, as if he was missing a part of his heart.

Now left all by himself to wander across the planes of Faerun, with the ring of the sun walker you gifted him all those years back, a final parting gift from you allowing him to walk in the sun once again. He even keeps a small locket wrapped around his neck, with a portrait drawn by Oskar Fevras, capturing every aspect of your face that could be contained on such a small canvas.

There are more dhampirs across the sword’s coast than before, thanks in part to the over 7000 vampire spawn who were released and went to live their lives in the Underdark, which makes it slightly easier to blend in with the locals in certain areas. Especially as a bounty hunter, travelling across the planes in search of any beast and bandits to slay, either for some quick cash or a meal. 

Although most residents from outside of the city have forgotten about the heroes who saved Baldur’s Gate and in turn the whole of Faerun from the threat netherbrain and the grand design as a whole, he’d still try to tell tales of your exploits to those at local taverns in hopes that your tale isn’t forgotten.

During these travels, he sometimes helps out with fledgling adventures, mainly in part to not become sloppy, some of these adventures are dhampirs who were raised in the Underdark, whom he gains a weird sense of kinship with.

He lectures the dhampirs about the tricks he’s learnt as a vampire spawn, encouraging them to not see their vampiric heritage as a burden, but more of a blessing in disguise.

Sometimes, whilst travelling with the young dhampirs, he ponders over what he could have had with you if you were here.

Some nights, he would reflect on that moment in the depths of palace dungeons, if rejecting the ascension ritual was the right choice. But he quickly reconsiders it after seeing others throughout his travels who were consumed by the unbridled power that pacts made with fiends from the hells had offered. Twisting what once was a desire to protect their beloved from harm into a lovesick obsession, wishing to keep them chained together for eternity for better or worse. 

Even if he had the means to become a true vampire, the gift of immortality would have been impossible to bestow upon you since your body was irrefutably damaged during your death. Despite the damage done, he would travel to his old grave in the city, leaving your favourite flowers atop his grave, in hopes that whatever remains of your soul, would find your way back to a suited resting place.

One night, after returning from a difficult hunt, he notices a letter addressed to him, written in a familiar fragile hand, simply instructing him to return to the city of Baldur’s Gate to meet in the Elf Song tavern.

Upon his arrival at Elf Song, he recognised a familiar face that he hadn’t seen in a few years, now spouting a few more wrinkles upon her face than before, Lae’zel who was seated at a lone table in the centre of the tavern.

“Tsk, took you long enough Astarion or has your travels across the lands also twisted your sense of time judging by that tail you’ve grown on the back of your head?” she teased.

Briefly reminding the vampire of his curly-haired ponytail that he decided to keep over a decade or two ago.

“Hmph, travelling across Faerun has given me more experience than ever before, all that time up in the stars has seemed to give you a new set of wrinkles since we last met, but I pull them off better than you darling” he’d quip back.

The sound of clattering bones approaching them soon interrupts their conversation. Speak to the two of the return of the dead three yet again, wishing to plunge the world into chaos once again.

“And you expect just the two of us to take all three of them.”

Even the once stubborn Lae’zel agreed with Astarion, nodding silently towards Withers.

“As I would expect, though I invest a portion of power in those who have challenged the gods long ago who are prepared for battle once more.”

His frail arm directs them towards the doors of the tavern. A sight that he hadn’t seen in years, his friends all alive and well, nearly thought that this was a simple hallucination of his mind or a case of some bad blood he drunk the night before.

A loud voice pulls him from his thoughts as a heavy hand clasps over his shoulder, “Fangs! I didn’t recognise you there for a second, gods it feels amazing to be back with the gang again.” Karlach, looking the same way she did during her tadpole adventures, with one or two fewer scars, lets out a quiet hum of approval before standing up from his chair brushing through the crowd for any sign of you.

After a few minutes of looking around in silence, everyone he knew was there, alive and well, with perhaps one or two visual differences, but no notice of you. He gets up to leave, coming up with some half-heart excuse.

Approaching his old grave in the city, flowers that were placed since he last visited now wilted. Perhaps it was wishful thinking that the crusty old skeleton could bring you back alive, staring at the stone in silence before a soft voice interrupts him.

“Excuse me.”

Probably another flower seller here to pester him, replying in a harsh tone, 

“Leave me alone, I’m not interested right now.”

Until he hears the voice speak once more in a quizzical tone “Astarion?”.

A voice he thought he had all but forgotten, turning around to see you alive in the flesh.

Even when the darkness swallowed Astarion, during your absence, you still kept his promise to find him again, as you always do. Perhaps it was the flowers that guided you back to him or your memories of him, but regardless you apologise for making him wait for so long.

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds just staring at you softly, before walking towards you and embracing tightly, softly whispering “If it was for you, it was worth the wait.”

When you both embark upon your new adventure, he always sticks close to you holding your hand as tight as he can, even during the nights, holding your chest close to his ear, just to hear your heart beating in its rhythmic pattern, just to have the peace of mind that you won’t slip out of his grasp, disappearing once again. He tells you the tales of his travels and misadventures along the way, even about the current vampire and dhampir culture within some cities.

After the defeat of the dead three yet again, the gods, under Withers approval, decided to gift you and your comrades with a longer life span, partly in thanks and mostly as a just-in-case cause.

After the dust had settled, the two of you decided to purchase a home using the funds that Astarion had saved from his adventures as a bounty hunter. Enjoying the domestic lifestyle together.

One night he approaches you, sheepishly asking if you would be interested in having a third person in your relationship.

“What so like a child?”

“Only if you want to that is”

“After the tales you’ve told me of caring for the dhampirs I wouldn’t mind, even if it’s our own or another.”

He would spoil the child rotten of course, in his own way. But in the end, he’s relieved to finally find peace again with you by his side.

[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 25 “Endurance Test” [Episode List] Tim gets a bit too cocky and challenges his gassy friend by (jokingly) doubting of his farting skills. Dave, whose farts are being as powerful as usual, if not more, gladly accepts the challenge.

This story was originally requested by StraightFartGods.

POV: Tim

The weather outside, despite being warm, wasn’t the best so our plans for the night, being a group of friends who’s starting to surrender way too easily (it’s because once you’re past 25, you get instantly old), we all decided to stay home, our respective homes even, so Dave and I ended up alone. We don’t mind that much.

Dave likes going out way more than me (though it’s not like I don’t know how to have fun) but he too cherishes some good, safe alone-time to recharge social batteries: we’re much more similar than we’d like to admit, which is why we get along so well. They say we’re “the odd couple”, but I think that weirdos simply attract each other naturally, even though they can look very different at first.

“Alright.” Dave said, walking into the living room. He was dressed as if we had to leave, so a grey shirt and a pair of good old dark blue jeans, slightly loose because he untied his belt. “I’m starving.”

“Pizza?” I simply asked.

“The day I’m gonna answer ‘No’ to that is the day you’ll know a skinwalker took my place.”

The power of pizza.

Even though we didn’t actively plan for it, the night slowly morphed into a “movie night”, just the two of us on the couch eating pizza and watching a cheesy, manly, toxic action movie that we can recite by memory because of how many times we watched it: “Bullet Gore”. Now that’s a title!

“Your face is history.” the male hero said, right before turning somebody’s head to bits with his shotgun.

We cheered as and had a sip of beer as if our baseball team scored the match point and enjoyed the unnecessary but fun gore sequences of the film.

“Too bad they ruined everything with the sequel.” Dave commented.

“Aw come on. It’s worse, but not that bad.” I replied.

“Never watched and never will.” he stated, taking a good sip of beer.

By the time the movie was halfway done (it was a surprisingly long flick), I had to turn up the volume because of some noises next to me making me difficult to hear what the characters were saying.

Indeed, Dave started farting, the way he does during nights like these, with pizza and beer acting as fuel for his already incredible talent. He was resting both his legs on the small table in front of the couch, his denim ass facing the TV, so I didn’t have a proper full view of it. I could, however, hear every single blast echoing in the room, with the terrible scent immediately following each thunder.

I would love to say that he was doing this because of my kink, but this is actually what being Dave’s close friend means: you better get used to his farts, because he’s gonna just casually do it in front of you whether you like it or not. He wasn’t even acknowledging that he was ripping one every few minutes, huge ones nonetheless, though once or twice he did snap his fingers to get me to turn to him, so I could see his smirk as he ripped one. Once again, he does this with our other friends as well, but he does seem to put some extra “care” into the teasing part because he knows I actually, well, like it.

But everyone’s got limits: the farts were huge, not overly long, but incredibly stinky. Even for my standards, it was getting a bit… stuffy in there, so I actually went for it.

“I know this is weird coming from me, but… can you tone it down a bit?”

Dave slowly turned to me with a serious, surprised face, and effortlessly replied by ripping a loud, almost wet one, renewing the stench he was immune to. This time it was one of his longer ones, around 7 seconds long.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you.” he managed to say while farting. “Did you say something?”

After the fart ended and a few moments of silence (ignoring the TV), I opened my mouth to speak again, but my friend’s ass spoke first, emitting another loud, long rip.

Dave gestured to his ear and slowly shook his head, as to say the he still couldn’t hear me, as if we were in a loud nightclub, but the only music piercing through my own eardrums was my bro’s loud fart.

That ridiculous scene actually made me laugh like an idiot, while also giving me the hardest boner so far of the night.

9 seconds and the rip was over.

“So, I did it.” Dave said. “You’ve been healed. I blasted your kink out of you.” he joked.

“Please…” I played along. “Those were like… low-tier farts, for your standards.”

“True.” he playfully admitted. “So don’t tempt me.” he threatened. 

I hated that I found that… hot.

“I’m n-not… I’m just s-saying that the entire room smells like, I don’t know, rotten beer? Is t-that even possible?”

Dave laughed. “If only there was something or someone who could fix this!”

“What are you implying…?” I asked.

“Well…” Dave sat normally on the couch. “I assumed your lungs were better than this. But apparently you just can’t handle my power.” he said, with a cheesy smirk.

“Oh…” I got what he meant. “Well, maybe I’m not complaining because of you’re farting too much.” I leaned closer to him, as if we were doing some shady business. “Maybe I’m complaining because you’re not farting enough.” I dared to say.

My friend replied with a surprised laughter. “Are you seriously challenging me?” he didn’t sound offended or disgusted, just amused. But he can get cocky.

“Wanna bet?” I asked, indeed challenging him.

“Alright, get up.” 

Dave stood up and I did the same: it truly looked like we were doing a business meeting.

“Challenge accepted.” he continued, and we firmly shook hands. “If I win, beers are on you for 3 months.” 

“Deal.” I replied. “But if I win, we’re gonna watch ‘Bullet Gore 2’ later.”

While still shaking hands, Dave looked at me funny. 

“Really? That’s it?” he replied, with a smile. “All of this just to watch a shitty movie with me?”

Funny how that’s the thing he found weird instead of, you know, the boner his farts give me.

“Yeah. Pretty gay, huh?” I joked.

“Okay…” he nodded, still somewhat surprised. “It’s a deal.”

We once again had this super manly handshake going on, just as an helicopter in the movie exploded in a fiery fireball, killing a bunch of henchmen and one of the main villains, with the shirtless muscular hero saying something like “Burn in Hell, you son of a bitch!”. Probably the manliest moment I ever lived through.

“So, let’s hear those toots.” I said, bravely.”

“Toots?” my friend replied. “I’m gonna blast your face so hard you’re gonna regret having this kink…”.

Dave casually threatening me like this… got me instantly hard. I knew he was just playing along but goddammit, why am I like this? Why is he like this? Why the fuck did I even accept this bet?! As my own mind made fun of me, my bro lied on this stomach on the couch, his tall figure occupying all of it, his nice jeans-clad ass facing up, looking like a soft warm denim pillow.

I simply managed to sit between his long legs and planted my face into that ass, still stinky for all the farts he ripped until that moment. My nose wasn’t facing down however, as I didn’t want to make it weird.

“Dude.” I heard Dave say. “Honestly, your lack of commitment to your fart kink disappoints me”. he then laughed, reaching for my head. “Be a man and face my ass.” he said, pushing my head deeper between his denim asscheeks.

I tried not to laugh myself at that weird statement, so I just obeyed and turned my head, facing down, now fully at the mercy of my friend’s powerful butt. I took a good whiff, enjoying the smell of almost 1 hour of loud, post-pizza blasts. As I did that, I felt the ass’ muscles relaxing, a sign that Dave was pushing one out, and indeed it came out immediately: an ear-piercing blast and made my face shake, almost wet-sounding, felt like a slap on my face. 

My task was clear: not a single particle of gas had to reach Dave’s nose, so I inhaled it deeply and loudly as the fart kept erupting straight down my nostrils. I inhaled so hard and for so long that I actually surprisingly outlasted my friend’s 9 seconds: now the only noise we both could hear (besides someone getting shot in the movie) was me breathing his gas in… which made me realize how weird that was.

Am I making this weird? Too… “porn-y” for my straight friend? I love that he has no problems with me and my kink, but I don’t want to cross certain lines you know. He’s not saying anything… but his silence only makes it worse. I had to make sure.

“Dave.” I said, my voice being muffled by his ass, which made him laugh. “Am I making this weird?”

My friend simply turned his head, trying to look at me. I managed to get a quick look of his facial expression but the only thing on his face was a cocky smirk.

“Not weirder than usual to me.” he simply said. He then reached for my head, making it bounce a bit in his ass. “…Ready?”

Another fart erupted, which itself was Dave’s real answer to my question: “it’s fine”, he knows what this kink is by now, and he’s the one who basically challenged me to sniff it all up. Plus, if he was weirded out he knew he could just tell me and I wouldn’t be offended: we’re all adults here after all.

So there I was, my nose enduring some of the worst rips my friend ever gifted to me, the sheer power of those blasts being raunchier than his usual for some reason, maybe because of the beers being warmer or the mozzarella on the pizza being spoiled. No idea.

Or maybe it was just Dave putting extra efforts into his farts, if that was even possible. He’s the Fart King after all, so if he was somehow able to set custom pitch, loudness and power for each farts he ripped I wouldn’t have been surprised. Then again, he could even fart on command, so maybe he doesn’t need more buffs than he already has.

“Your face is history” my friend said, in a deeper voice, a clear reference to the masterpiece we were watching earlier.

And just like the henchman from the movie, my head was blown away by a sheer deadly force, this time in the form of Dave’s being unhinged, each natural blast somehow bigger and better than the previous one. I feel like that it doesn’t matter how this bet goes: I’m winning by simply having a bro like him.

I kept sniffing it all up as the blast rushed down my throat. He was good at farting, but I was also good at taking it. It’s like I said: weirdos work better together!

Yeah, I was taking it all like a champ.

“I could do this all night you know.” he boasted, during a rare moment of his ass being silent.

“What a coincidence: me too!” I bragged.

“Ohhhh… someone’s getting cocky back there.”

Dave really wanted those free beers, huh? He once again reached for my head and, with a firm grip, pushed it deeper down his warm denim ass, now almost sagging.

“Let’s see if you can keep your promise, shall we?” that was a threat.

There was like 10 seconds of silence, 10 never-ending seconds, but I just knew Dave was brewing something big, as he kept my head there (not that I was planning to move it anyway). Finally, he turned to me, with a cheesy grin, purposely trying to look like some kind of serial killer from a slasher movie before finish his victim off. 

And then he hit me with his weapon of choice: the loudest fart I heard that night. It was big, it was powerful, it was deep, long. His hand didn’t move and my whole face was shaking because of the sheer power of the blast; I had to close my eyes ‘cause the gas was making them burn. How was it possible to fart so naturally and casually like this for him will always be beyond me… but I didn’t care. I managed to breathe that monster in with my mouth open, almost choking on my friend’s deadly gas.

Dave loved the challenge, but two can play this game! I could tell he was amused, disgusted and surprised by how good I was at enduring his powerful rips.

And finally, after 16 whole seconds, that impressive display of flatulence was over, not a single particle of gas reaching my farter-friend’s nostrils, as I promised.

“I believe you’re losing your touch.” I mocked him.

“With all the farts you've been eating, of course you'd be talking shit you ungrateful bastard!”

“Ohhhh sorry, someone's a little touchy.” I kept teasing him.

“Alright, I’m done holding back.” he sounded comically annoyed by my impressive endurance.

My friend slowly turned over until he was lying on his back, making sure he didn’t accidentally kick me with his long legs. He now assumed a more familiar position, the one he usually has when blasting me. He cocked his legs up, showing off his denim ass and a tiny bit of his red boxer brief, and wrapped his legs around me, pulling me closer to his gas source. His long legs had an even stronger grip than his hand, and my whole face was now completely planted into my friend’s ass.

“I’m feeling merciful tonight, so I’m giving you the chance to surrender now.” he stated, as his legs held me still, keeping my nose right between the rough fabric of his jeans-clad buttcheeks.

“Never.” I boasted. “…unless, you know, you actually want to stop because this is getting too weir-“

“Shut up!” he cut me off. “You just had to ruin my villainous speech, didn’t you?!” he laughed.

I just didn’t know what to say.

“Again, this is your last chance bro.”

I played along, knowing he was okay with it. “Hit me with your best shot, but don’t wound what you can’t kill.”

We both laughed like immature idiots, but Dave took my words at heart, because once we were done laughing at that ridiculous moment, he felt air being sucked inside his anus.

Yes, he switched to “on-command” mode, his secret weapon, his final secret move. Despite my face being there, my bro didn’t have any trouble at sucking more and more air through his ass like a vacuum cleaner, and the sound that made wasn’t that different from an actual fart. Every time I heard that “air-being-sucked-in” noise, as silly as that sounds, I think of a drumroll, the kind of tension that raises before the beat actually drops, because that’s what Dave’s farts are: something to look forward to… if you’re into it of course.

He’s been sucking air for like 20 seconds now and I started to regret my cockiness: when even a kinky bitch like me ends up being afraid of his own best bro’s farting skills, you just know something big, maybe too big, is gonna happen.

The anticipation made me hornier than ever, and the fact that it was, well, Dave, just Dave, my friend, made it even hotter for me. So casually, undeniably hot.

Finally, he stopped sucked air in, and I could hear Dave breathing (from his mouth) heavily, a sign that he was getting tired… and even his ass was getting sweatier and warmer.

“Your face is history.” my bud said again, in a comically deep voice. 

We love that movie.

What followed, however, almost made me pass out. 

The loudness was almost unnatural, I feared it could make me deaf. Imagine the stock sound of a fart, only longer, more powerful, airy, the most impressive fart Dave ripped in months, something so powerful that he can even feel the recoil as he pushed it out… just like a shotgun.

The more he farted, the louder it got, and I swore he was gonna tear a hole through his jeans this time, there was no way his clothes were able to endure that. I kept sniffing, breathing heavily, the fart’s pace being faster than my own breathing, if that makes any sense. 10 seconds already and the blast didn’t seem to lose any power: I almost got scared.

As the fart kept getting ripped, I felt Dave stretching his long denim legs wide to ease the fart out, which in turn made it sound even louder and deadlier. I felt like living a weird fever dream, probably because of all the poisonous gas in my lungs. But I also felt the luckiest man in the world.

I dared to peek over that denim ass, only to be greeted by Dave having the most evil smirk in the world, completely unfazed by how weird I was, how all of that was… but I could also see how tired and sweaty he was from forcing all those farts out, incredibly enough.

I planted my head back where it belonged, sniffing as much as I could, as if my life depended on it, even though I was almost passing out for all that stench… and the blood rushing down to my boner didn’t help to focus at all.

And yet… I won. The fart was losing power, ending with a quick series of toots, Dave’s legs crashing down the couch, his left one on my right side, his right one on my left side, and I got up myself, my face leaving that gas trap, finally sitting down normally on the couch.

I took a good look at Dave: he was indeed tired, sweaty, sporting a silly smirk.

“Is that how you look like after sex?” I dared to joke.

My friend laughed. “Hey, I love you bro, but you gotta settle for my farts.”

I patted one of his legs in response, as a cheesy way to thank him, and hopefully he knew how thankful I was. I mean, he already knew how aroused I was anyway, so why keep the fact that I’m grateful a secret?

Dave too adjusted his position, this time kicking me on purpose while doing it, and sat back normally.

“I gotta say, I didn’t except you to win.” he admitted.

“…win?!” I replied. “Bro… I was basically done. That last one almost killed me.”

We both laughed at the absurdity of the situation.

“Let’s call it a tie then.” he proposed. “Until next time at least.” he just casually said.

I simply turned to the TV, only to find out that the movie was over.

Did Dave just face-farted me for like… 30 minutes?! Time truly flew by.

My friend then reached for his beer and the remote. We some on-demand features on our TV and, after navigating the UI for a few seconds, he started downloading “Bullet Gore 2”.

“Really?” I asked. 

“Well, if you can endure all of that gas, I can sit through a turd of a movie.” 

I think he was gonna watch this movie with me either way, regardless of any bet, just like I’m more than happy to offer him a beer whenever I could, so all of this fart-bet was for nothing.

Then again, weirdos attract each other naturally...

End of Episode 25

[rose-reveries]

⚠️BEWARE THE EPISODE 4 PJO SPOILERS⚠️

Episode 4: The things I like, the things I don’t, the things I miss but I’m okay with them not being there

The things I liked about the new episode:

I liked the conversation at the beginning in the train. Very reminiscent of the book where we get to learn a little bit more about Annabeth and how she arrived at camp. I found it interesting how here we changed it from Annabeth’s father always resenting her birth to Annabeth’s father considering her “a gift” until her step-mother came along. I don’t mind this change at all and all in all still makes sense as to why Annabeth ran away when she was 7.

“But at least with gods you know the rules” okay Miss Chase your autism is showing (/j)

The flow from seeing the centaurs (which is something I believe only Percy saw in the books) to letting this be how Grover opens up about Pan and why he wants to be a searcher was a nice little combination of scenes to save time. We still understand how Grover feels about humans and their mistreatment of nature but it’s just in a slightly different way than the books and I’m okay with that change.

The BANTER between the trio was SO good this episode. You can really feel the bonds between these characters (especially Percy and Annabeth) forming this episode.

The pacing in this episode finally started to feel a little bit better than the first 3 episodes. I actually do think the change in how they meet Echidna helps with this because it prolongs the hunt whereas in the book the Echidna and Chimera scene IS quite short and fast. Meeting Echidna on the train, having them run and try to heal Percy, Percy gets worse, Percy sacrifices himself to let the other two get away, fight scene, he falls into the river, etc. Just way better pacing than like, for example, episode one where Alecto literally just flies at him and without moving he stabs her and she dies 💀

Okay, my FAVORITE new thing about the episode does have to be making the Arch a temple to Athena. If the gods still rule but have adapted to the west it makes total sense that they still have temples but they’re just modern American landmarks. Super cool and I loved this change.

Also, rather than Annabeth and Grover just heading down in the elevator before learning there’s a monster, I do like Percy stepping in and sacrificing himself to let them get away. It shows his loyalty to his friends, and how he would rather fight a monster than let them die without reason.

Since the Arch is a temple and Athena had to give Echidna permission to enter, and she did so due to Annabeth’s impertinence, this REALLY helps with the shows current message of heroes and monsters and what those terms mean, but also just how the gods are like BAD. I think it’ll help make Luke’s reasoning for turning on the gods make SO much sense for new audience members.

Percy and Annabeth banter?? ADORABLE

TOTALLY CALLED THE WATER REACHING OUT TO REACH PERCY LMAO. I know RR said he had Percy jump into the river because he didn’t realize how far it was from the arch so this is like sort of a retcon but yea, it works. Percy can manipulate water we learned this with how he pushed Nancy into the fountain.

Things I didn’t:

I think Echidna breaking into the train ✨magically✨ was eh. She could have simply just been on the train like how in the book she was just simply in the elevator.

Speaking of Echidna, it would’ve been so cool to see a snake lady :’). They did it with Medusa and Alecto but I guess they spent their whole budget on that because no snake lady to be seen.

I know the Mist would be hiding it from mortals… but even in the book Grover is like wearing pants and a hat. If they spent less cgi on Grover they could’ve animated some other stuff I’m sure.

The choice to keep depicting Kronos as this wraith instead of a voice from a pit is interesting?? We are already not setting up for Kronos reveal (like there was no Kronos exposition in the museum in episode one which I though was weird). Also I’d say that they’re doing this because they want new audience members to believe Hades is the BBG or something, but if they wanted us to think that why not mention the Helm of Darkness? The Helm would definitely help allude to this wraith figure we see I think. Or show us the hellhound. I don’t know. Weird. I think there is a lot of missing information that is IMPORTANT to the story that shouldn’t have been left out.

Things I miss but it’s fine they’re not there

The trio just never lost their stuff, huh? Like…the bus didn’t explode. They didn’t have to return a poodle for money to a train to Denver. I understand this was all probably cut for time and money sake.

Wish we took the time in the arch for Annabeth to talk about wanting to be an architect.

In conclusion, I liked this episode and I am enjoying the series. But this means that the Lightning Thief Musical is still the most book accurate adaptation of Percy Jackson and that makes me lol

[ctrl-alt-tahu]

Counting Turaga

So... open question to the Bionicle fandom: how many Turaga are there? Or, perhaps, putting it better: how many Turaga are there supposed to be?

Without really thinking about it, I have two not-quite-compatible mental images, which we'll call "Plenty of Turaga" and "Turaga are Rather Rare."

Plenty of Turaga comes from the original years of the saga: there are six of them, one per village, as many as the Toa. There's a footnote on BioSector01, on the Turaga page, that Greg said there were more Turaga than Toa left at the end of the story (so, "more than 58" as the page put it).

On the other hand, the rest of the saga really has me imagining fairly scarce Turaga: there's never more than one mentioned in Metru Nui, Jovan seems to have been a Turaga alone. The norm seems to be: one Turaga, one village. Metru Nui, in particular, seems to highlight this contrast: there were 11 Toa Mangai, but there's only one Turaga.

Thinking about this, I suppose that it's partly just attrition: the same thing happening to the Turaga that happened to the Toa by the end of the MU. And not every Toa is going to survive to be a Turaga.

But...

What if it's by design? What if there aren't SUPPOSED to be that many Turaga? A village may need a team of defenders, but does it really need more than one sage leader in the same way? When the Great Beings made the first Turaga, how many Toa did they expect to transform?

What really has me thinking that the ratio of Turaga to Toa probably isn't supposed to be 1-to-1 is Destiny. If it really is the case (I've grumbled about this before) that only certain Matoran are destined to become Toa, why would it be the case that all Toa are destined to be Turaga? Doesn't it make more sense for only certain Toa to be destined to be Turaga?

(Sidebar: destiny in Bionicle is basically whatever you want it to be--it's as malleable as time travel in Doctor Who, but I don't think it matters for this argument if destiny means "programmed from the very beginning," "an ever-changing, ever-adapting plan of Mata Nui to meet the circumstances," or something else. At least as long as you don't stray too far toward the edges...)

I find that I actually really like the idea that Turaga might be rarer than Toa and only the destiny for a few of them, larger because it really makes the Toa Metru take center stage: if the norm is that only a few Toa become Turaga and then an ENTIRE TEAM becomes Turaga, that means they are special, right?

From a meta perspective, of course the Metru as special: they're the archetypes of Turaga for any fan who followed along from 2001. Having it turn out that they're actually a massive reversal of what is normal makes their personal destinies fit really well with the reveal that the island paradise of Mata Nui is not actually where they belong: fans imagine Mata Nui (and plentiful Turaga) as the default for Matoran, because we entered the story there, but an island paradise (and a whole Toa team becoming Turaga) is not what was normal in the MU.

I also like it because it lets you have fun with the "who really is the destined team of Toa" story, where Mata Nui is putting forward the Toa Metru and Teridax is nudging forward the Mask Matoran. If the Mask Matoran couldn't become Toa, then what was the point of that? Lhikan would give them stones, it wouldn't work, he'd take them back, and he'd try again (right?). On the other hand, if they were able to become Toa, what's the advantage to Teridax in picking those six rather than the other six?

My proposed answer: Teridax has no idea. He can just read the signs that Mata Nui wants the Metru, so being the contradictory bad guy that he is, he figures a different set of Toa has got to be slightly worse. After all, Teridax has picked off a lot of great Toa already--the new Toa will need to be superb to do what the Mangai couldn't, and if the new Toa aren't quite what Mata Nui wants...

But what Mata Nui really wants isn't warriors; it's wisdom. The Metru do important and valiant things as Toa, but the single greatest thing they do is sacrifice their power for the Matoran, and that was an act of wisdom. When Mata Nui picked them, he wasn't only picking Toa who could save them once in battle, but Toa who could save them again in transforming, Turaga who could lead them.

I think this takes a little bit of the sting out of the end of LoMN (not necessarily a good thing--bittersweetness and loss is a huge part of Bionicle--but I think we do want our faves to be happy and significant). If being a Turaga is special and rare, then there's a eucatastrophic miracle in all six of them becoming Turaga at the end: a miracle that speaks of hope in a dark hour.

Maybe it would also explain why they founded six villages on Mata Nui: one village for each Turaga.

[ominous-auburn-orbs]

More sick Caine but this time within the circus?

I wanted to do this one for a while, but I wasn't quite sure how.

Heavily inspired by Caine VA's Twitter post about what Caine might be like if he got sick. I can't find it but if you know you know

Also warning for some very suggestive jokes.

The circus troop had just finished doing their theme song and were waiting on the stage for Caine to announce that day's adventure. He always gave them some time to socialise before they started it, finding it also gave them an opportunity to mentally prepare.

However, Kinger had noticed something off with the ringmaster. His voice during his introduction had sounded stuffy, and he could swear he had heard Caine unexplainably say something about a 50% off deal while he was talking to Bubble.

"Uh, Gangle?" She was trying to stay as far away as possible from Jax when Kinger approached her, startling her slightly. "Did you notice anything different about Caine? It's kinda hard for me to tell with this stuff. In case I'm just, y'know, making it up or something."

"W-well Kinger, you know Caine better than anyone, so you're probably right. Something does seem a bit weird with him today. Maybe you should ask him about it?"

While Gangle was concerned, she secretly hoped that whatever was going on would get them out of that day's adventure, or at least delay it. It was also a great opportunity for Kinger and Caine to spend more time together, which was something she always loved to see.

Just when Kinger was about to start searching for him, Caine flew up above the performers, his energy seeming a bit more forced and draining than usual.

"Hello, everyone! Are you all ready for today's- for... AHC[CLICK FOR NEW IPHONE]!" The other's jumped at the sudden yelling. They all couldn't help but compare it to a sneeze, if a very peculiar one at that.

"Huh. I guess Caine's got a cold today. Well, I'm going back to my room, tell me if he starts feeling better so I can try to make him worse again." Jax turned on his heel and walked towards the hall, followed by Ragatha and Pomni's glaring.

Turning back to Caine, Pomni cautiously inched closer to him. "Uh, are you okay, Caine? You don't sound well. And what do you mean about a 'new iPhone'?" The ringmaster looked at the floor, his gaze seeming unfocused before his head snapped up.

"Don't you fret, my dear, I- [YOU'RE OUR 1000TH CUSTOMER]" Caine made a loud string of glitching noises into his elbow, desperately trying to speak through it, "I-I'm doing just fine..."

The quiet groan that followed his words convinced Pomni and the performers otherwise. Pomni glanced back nervously, unsure if this was a regular occurrence. The confusion she found in her friends' eyes told her it wasn't.

Kinger at least now had confirmation that he was right. Something was wrong. "Caine, I really don't think you should host today."

"W-what?! Nonsense, nonsense!! The show- [CLICK HERE]- n-needs- [FOR 10 GRAND]- a host!" The troop had begun to back off while Kinger had gotten closer. While they all just wanted to have a calm day for once, Kinger was far more concerned with Caine's health and safety.

"Maybe you can just get Bubble to do it today." Out of the corner of his eye, Kinger saw the other performers frantically shaking their heads in response to the idea. "...or, rather, we just don't have an adventure today. Take a little break. You definitely sound like you need one."

"B-but-!" Before Caine could say his excuse, his eyes began quickly spinning around in his head, resulting in him having to close his mouth tightly to keep them inside. When they stopped moving, he slowly opened up again. "Alright. W-we'll just have a day off today."

The chess piece moved to put his hand around Caine's shoulder as he lowered further to the ground. While the others immediately went to their rooms, trusting Kinger to handle whatever was going on, Pomni lingered behind to check on the two.

"Are you, um, do you need any help, Kinger? I mean, I-I don't really know what to do, but if I can do anything..." Pomni trailed off, not really sure where she was going with this. She didn't want Caine to be 'sick', just as she didn't want anyone else in the circus to be unwell either. Well, maybe Jax, but that's more than reasonable.

"Oh, no, I've got it from here. You can go and relax, I can handle Caine." Pomni gave him a look of mild uncertainty just to be sure he was being honest. Kinger returned it with a reassuring smile. "It's my specialty! He'll be well again in no time."

The jester smiled, taking his word for it and heading towards her room. As she was leaving, Caine came back into reality again and frantically waved his hand, yelling, "Byyyeeee, Pomniii!!!"

The sudden burst of excitement sent him into another fit of high-pitched crackling noises. Kinger's hands moved to further support him. "Maybe just try and use an inside voice for once, dear."

"S-sorry. Thank you for helping me. I'm- [5 STEPS TO BECOME A BIG SHOT]- still not used to this happening." Caine leaned against Kinger, letting out a light sigh of relief at not having to put as much energy into keeping himself upright.

The chess piece began to walk him to the hall that held their rooms. "Do you know what's happening?"

Caine moved his feet to keep up with Kinger, although he went at a slower pace. "It's probably something wrong with my code. It doesn't seem too severe, so my built-in defences are currently working on fixing it. Buuuut it does take a bit. [TOP 30 ANIME DEATHS]!" The ringmaster looked somewhat embarrassed about his various short outbursts. "H-hopefully it doesn't take too long."

The next time his foot hit the floor, Caine's body suddenly spasmed before his head fell to the ground. His top row of teeth landed close to his bottom, but his eyes bounced and rolled further down the hall. Kinger startled, quickly moving to support Caine again and staring in disbelief at the pieces of his face now scattered across the floor.

"O-oh no- I'll get those back for you, honey!" He only moved forward slightly, not wanting to accidentally drop Caine, while one of his hands flew through the air to catch the ringmaster's eyes. When they finally lost momentum and stopped rolling, Kinger was able to pick them up and bring them back. Not knowing what to do, he placed them in the top of his robe, moving on to putting Caine's head back together.

Kinger started by trying to put Caine's bottom row of teeth back on top of his shoulders, but it was like working with very weak magnets. He eventually got it to stay floating, which allowed him to move to the top row. Caine talked to him throughout, which did make it a little harder, but Kinger could never complain about hearing his voice.

"I'm so very sorry about all of this, my dear. You should be enjoying this day off anyway, I can handle this." Placing Caine's eyes back into his head, Kinger moved his hands around him again to continue walking.

"Don't be ridiculous, I love spending time with you. Even if you weren't 'sick', this is exactly where I'd be." Kinger pressed his face to the top of Caine's gums. "Right next to you."

The ringmaster leaned into Kinger's chest as they walked, chuckling nervously. "O-oh. I hadn't realised. In that case, this is- [HOT AND THIRSTY TWINKS NEAR YOU]!"

Caine slapped a hand over his mouth, or rather his eyes and bottom teeth. He buried his face deep into Kinger's robe, attempting to hide his bright red face. The chess piece was startled, his own face heating up as well. He put his hand on Caine's back comfortingly and smiled at him.

Kinger's voice quietened somewhat. "I know, darling, believe me." Caine let out a quiet groan of embarrassment into the fluff of Kinger's robe, making him laugh. "Come on, I'll just take you to my room. Then you can rest while your system fixes itself."

Pulling his face away, Caine kept walking alongside Kinger. The pair eventually made it to the chess piece's room, with Kinger setting him down in his pillow fort. He sat down next to him, gently rubbing circles on his back. The ringmaster leant against his shoulder, sighing with content.

"Thank you for all of this, my love. I'm already starting to feel better, although I'm still not entirely fixed. Just be wary, in case I have one of those little outbursts again." Kinger returned his sweet smile as best as he could with his eyes. Unfortunately, the moment was interrupted by Caine suddenly yelling again. "[PLAY WITH ME AND YOU'LL BE CU-]"

Kinger quickly put his hands on either end of Caine's head and snapped his mouth shut, waiting for him to finish before letting him go. Both of them were blushing profusely, with Caine's eyes heavily avoiding the other's. Kinger grabbed one of Caine's hands and rubbed his thumb back and forth across it.

"It's fine, dear. I know you can only do so much to keep your programming in check. We can just stay here until it's fixed." Caine gave him a small nod and rested against him once more. The less he did, the easier it was for his code to solve the problem. The chess piece put a gentle hand around Caine's waist. "I don't really mind you saying things like that, anyway."

The ringmaster wrapped his arms around Kinger and held him close, clearly flustered despite trying to disguise it. "Shush. I thought I was meant to be resting."

Kinger chuckled, but agreed, their peace only disrupted by Caine's occasional glitches or advertisements. They eventually stopped, signifying Caine was well again, yet neither of them moved for a long time afterwards.

[stoically]

“Besides, your still a nun. Aren’t you?”

This line comes when Father Vincent attempts to join Beatrice and Ava in the van and Beatrice says no. Ava says she doesn’t trust him either but it’s better for their mission that he comes. Then she drops this line before reminding Beatrice that forgive is kind of her job. 

Proof that Ava’s salty over Beatrice turning down her ‘let’s run away’ plan. 

This season starts with Ava rearing to fight Adriel. She wants to get (back) into it. When one of Adriel’s cultists says she can’t run away from his light she shoves the guy so hard he goes flying. In public. That scene’s set up to show that Ava has changed. She’s no longer the irreverent civilian she was. She’s the Warrior Nun. In action not just in halo. So much so that she almost blows herself up when their initial plan to put the crown on Adriel fails. 

It’s not just Beatrice’s faith that was shaken by that fight. It was also Ava’s. She fell back into the old pattern of survival that she knew. Slightly different, though, because she wanted Bea to run with her. Which brings us to Beatrice’s faith (which is her business, as a nun). This whole season Beatrice’s character arc is figuring out how to be herself (how to live) without relying on the expectations of perfection in a role. Beatrice knows how to be perfect in a role. She’s way less certain how to be herself (and have that be enough for others and herself).

Except when they finally did return to the role that Beatrice can excel at, she fails. Epically. She (thinks she) gets her friend killed by her actions. Worse, the friend who was a trainee under her (Camila), who she was supposed to be looking out for. Along with Yasmine, who was not a Sister Warrior and Beatrice would assume she was also supposed to look out for. And she actively stopped the action that (might) have stopped Adriel. She failed so hard at being a Sister Warrior it was practically treason (in her mind). 

It wasn’t until that moment where her mission as a Sister Warrior was exactly opposite her feelings for Ava. With no time to think, Beatrice chose Ava. When she does have time to think, she regrets it. Not because she regrets saving Ava. Ava brings this up. Ava very pointedly says if Beatrice did what she ‘should’ have done to rescue Camila and Yasmine and the world, Ava would be dead. Beatrice ignores this. Doesn’t even go there. What Beatrice regrets is not being good enough to both do what she should have done (save everyone) and what she wanted to do (save Ava). This calls back to Bea’s first scene this season  and Ava saying “you know, you don’t have to be so perfect all the time”. In this moment, Beatrice’s greatest crisis of faith is between that part of her that hoped Ava was right and that part of her that feared Ava was wrong. Beatrice has no idea how to reconcile those parts. Other than doing what she’s always done, throw herself harder into the role given to her. No matter what it costs her. 

After the whole mind bending Crown of Thorns experience Ava appears a whole lot calmer about what she decided (did she though??). She approaches Beatrice in the van and makes a (kinda awkward) joke. “You look like you could Aikido someone into submission”. Only to get shot down with Beatrice’s “don’t test me then.”

Of course, Ava then proceeds to test Beatrice by saying Father Vincent (y’know, the guy who betrayed her and who directly killed one of Beatrice’s best friends and was tangentially responsible for the death of two others as well as releasing Adriel, that guy) was coming with them on their last ditch effort to save the world. NBD I guess. Beatrice immediately says no. Says she doesn’t trust him. Offers all the logical, mission centric reasons why this should not be allowed. Ava out logics her mission centric reasoning. Then proves she’s still salty (as much as she loves her nun wife) by practically saying “you want to be a nun? Then be a nun.” Very ‘you made your bed, now sleep in it.’ 

Ava very much wants to help Beatrice’s journey to loving herself, to being herself. And not just for the potential sexy times rewards. She thinks Beatrice is awesome and beautiful and wants Beatrice to think that too. She sometimes also gets very frustrated at how Beatrice hides behind duty to such a hypocritical degree (eg: becoming the boss after a month but Ava’s not allowed to blow their cover, being jealous of guys Ava talks to and calling it protection, pretending like she wouldn’t make the same call to save Ava). 

Which I think is why the scene where Ava’s dying after defeating Adriel is so important. Ava tells Beatrice to take the halo. Beatrice says no. Lilith offers a way to save Ava that means Earth looses the halo. Beatrice says yes. Beatrice has time to think (at least more than a split second reaction). She still chooses Ava. Living isn’t about Beatrice not fighting, it’s about Beatrice being true to herself. And the first step Beatrice took to that was choosing Ava.

[yourtouchismidas]

Is being pregnant with twins different/difficult for the missus? How does matty react to the accidental pregnancy when they find out, how does he react to finding out that there’s not one but two babies?

i think with already having three children, and valentine being very little when you get pregnant again, that it takes you a while to notice. matty is on the floor with the two older girls playing dolls and you're undoing baby valentines duffle coat, her cheeks all red from the cold, unsteady on her feet having only just learned to stand. suddenly, a wave of nausea hits you out of nowhere and you have to stand up straight and cover your eyes with you hands to stop everything from spinning. valley's half in half out her coat.

"baby?" matty says, "baby, you ok?"

the wave dulls and you look back out at him and smile, "yeah i'm okay. come on valley, coat off."

you kneel back down again to your youngest's height, but you can feel matty's eyes on you, frowning slightly. you ignore him and smile at valley, who babbles something and pokes your face. the other two girls are starting to fight over one of the dolls, whining, and matty turns back around to intervene, and you stand back up. everything goes blurry again, but this time worse, you see black.

"baby?" you hear.

next thing you're aware of is a few seconds later, your in matty's lap on the floor and he's stroking your hair. shay is screaming. valley too but more because of her sister than anything else. gigi's eyes are wide and you reach out to her, trying to smile.

"mummy's okay," you say, weakly. "i'm okay."

gigi swallows, trusting you, and nods. matty speaks.

"gigi can you get my phone from the arm chair please my love?"

she walks slowly over, still spooked and hands it to him. you try to get up, protesting that you're okay, your whole body aching to get to your baby girls to calm them down.

"no no sweetheart," matty says, "stay still."

he's got his phone to his ear and you can hear it buzzing. then you hear his mother's voice. him explaining what has happened. her voice raising and octave as she says, yes of course. i'll be right round. dont you worry.

matty takes you to the walk in. you're feeling a lot better by the time you get there, but your hands are still shaking when you try and lift the plastic cup of water he has got you to your lips. he takes it off you and feeds it to you, making you laugh mid drink so you spit it all out and both start laughing, him flicking water at you as you've got it all over his trousers. you hear someone call your name.

the nurse raises her eyebrows at the pair of you and you both stop laughing abruptly and then snigger to each other as you follow her into the room.

you explain what happened. the nurse runs through a list of what you ate today and drank and takes your vitals.

"and is there any chance you might be pregnant?" she asks. you and matty both laugh.

"doubtful," you say, "i had a baby a year ago. i've been on the pill since."

"we'll do a test just to be sure," she smiles. you do it. you barely even think about it. it's just routine. it will be just be because you have low blood sugar or something. because you forgot to eat lunch because you had to take the girls to town today to get new school shoes and were running around after them all evening. the nurse comes back in.

"well your pregnancy test was positive."

"you what?" matty says.

"you're pregnant," she says. she scans between both your faces and then says, "you know, birth control isn't one hundred percent..."

matty holds up his hand, "you can save it, we know. believe me. we know."

you lie back on the hospital bed, hand to head, laughing. pregnant. again. when you didnt even think you could have one. and you have three baby girls at home, waiting up for you.

"matty," you say, reaching out for his hand. he grabs it and squeezes. "were having another fucking baby," you say.

"i know darling," he says, smiling at you. he comes over and kisses you softly on the head over and over. "you can do this. we can do this. another baby."

"another baby," you say, thinking of valley's pink little cheeks, and the baby grows you packed away last week, not quite ready to let go of them, and the smell of your friend's new born's head. you start smiling. grinning. uncontainable.

"another baby," matty says. he looks at you. he is grinning too. the same thought process having gone through his head as well. he remembers tiny wrinkly fingers clutched around one his thumb and he aches. "what a miracle."

after you confirm your dizziness was just the pregnancy, you both emerge into the dark cold evening, hospital lights hazy, both dazed. you can't believe it happened.

"i should text your mum," you say, getting your phone out.

"no don't," he says quickly.

"but the girls..."

"will be fine for another hour. we're childless right now," he says, gesturing to around your feet where the girls usually would be.

"you're bad, healy," you say, grinning. he wiggles his eyebrows then wraps an arm around you.

"what do you want love? if you could have anything in the world. right now. what would it be?"

"a cheeseburger."

"a cheeseburger?" matty laughs, "i'm offering you the world."

"and i want meat with cheese."

"fuck it. my girl wants. my girl gets."

you go to a nearby burger place, laughing in a booth next to a steamed up window. matty gets burger sauce all over his face. you talk about music and art and the news. you talk about where you want to travel to. the best places matty has ever seen. how you would do things differently if you lived again. what you would study if you went back to uni. you live out your whole lives, childless and free, writing letters to each other from various beaches and mountains and stages. you pretend to be on the phone to each other, updating on adventures, making up fake hunks and models that you've slept with, trying to get a rise out the other. matty's cheeks go pink at the thought of you with another guy. he rushes the bill. he books a hotel room that you end up in for an hour, an hour and half at most. he makes you his own again. then tangled up in the sheets you begin to talk again. where would i go? who would i be?

it's a game. but as you play, the ache for everything you're describing fades. you hold his warm body closer.

"i would be some sort of marine biologist or some shit," matty says dreamily, "hanging with dolphins."

"i would be gigi's mum," you say. he turns to you. "and shay's."

matty's face softens. he sees you. real you. hotel room. escaped from the kids for a night. clock ticking closer to your eldest's bedtime.

"and valentine's," you say.

"and the new baby," matty says, putting a hand over your stomach.

you nod, smiling up at him. he speaks again.

"and in every lifetime," matty says, "i would be yours."

"yeah?" you say.

"i would tear down all those beaches and mountains and stages. i would drop out of every course. i would get on every plane. just to come home to you. every day."

you check out the hotel and go home to your baby girls. they run at you at the door and you scoop them up, shay in your arms, gigi and valley in mattys.

"are you okay? everything okay?" mattys mum says, meeting you and the girls at the door.

"yes, all good," matty tells her and you nod.

"thanks so much for taking the girls," you tell her.

"my pleasure," she smiles, "they're a pleasure, arent you darling?"

she squishes baby valley's cheeks and makes her laugh. you and matty share a look, knowing in nine months or so she will have a new baby to love. it's a hard pregnancy, you're sick a lot and extra tired having to look after three girls while carrying two. in keeping with your usual style too, a surprise baby means matty can't plan and has to go ahead with concerts and interviews and trips that were scheduled. but he does what he says. he always comes home to you.

[hehe-hoho-ohno]

What if the Muppet guys... were Muppeteers? 🤔

Dialogue taken from the Who's On First skit.

Archeops is a live-hand puppet. Emmet operates the head and right hand, while Ingo controls the left hand. Normally it's the right hand that is controlled by a different puppeteer but Emmet is left-handed so they are doing it this way round.

Archeops is a himbo type character. He is gullible, eager to help and frequently comedically misunderstands what other characters want from him.

Emolga is a Fozzie bear-esqe character who tells bad puns. She often has grand plans that are poorly thought out and never work. She is frequently paired up with Archeops in B plots, where she fails her way through her latest idea while Archeops helpfully makes things worse.

Emolga is a rod puppet. There have been two versions of the Emolga puppet made. The second version has movable eyelids and is generally better quality. The old one still occasionally appears in skits as her slightly lopsided twin sister.

Elesa voices both of them, but Skyla or one of the twins has to puppet the "ugly twin" whenever both are in the same shot.

This has led to many jokes and light-hearted arguments as to whether Ingo or Emmet is the ugly twin. ("Ingo must be the ugly twin. He does not blink."/"Still salty about losing the staring contest, I see.") Skyla takes over just so they will stop.

Skyla mostly works backstage, running the lights. She occasionally helps out in other ways, but mostly she does the lights.

Skyla does have some characters, most notably Swanna, whose reoccurring gag is that she looks elegant and sophisticated but then she does something stupid like eating a tire to the tune of Flight Of The Bumblebee.

Elesa still does model work alongside puppeting. This comes as a suprise to her model fans and vice versa.

However, Elesa has started to lean more towards puppeteering as she gets older. She started out just popping into the workshop during her free time to lend her friends a hand, but these days it's her main job, with modeling becoming more of a side gig.

Ingo and Emmet are more behind the scenes guys than performers. They make the puppets. They really like anamatronics, but the show normally doesn't have the budget for that.

Emmet keeps building Joltik puppets. Everyone keeps telling him to please stop because they already have more than enough. But they are small, cheap, easy to make, and most importantly Emmet finds them delightful. So he keeps making more. He likes to hide them around the set.

The joltiks' appearance has changed over the years as Emmet has gotten better at making puppets. The earliest versions were just pom-poms with googly eyes stuck on.

The twins have gotten more involved with performing as time goes by. Ingo is more camera shy than Emmet is, and he usually sticks to "left handing" for Emmet.

Ingo also plays similar support roles for other performers. He puppets Chandlure, while Shauntal (script writer) voices her. He is the right claw of Clay's Excadrill. He also helps with Drayden's dragon puppets, many of which are huge and require 2 or more people to operate.

Haxorus was initially Drayden's character. But after an injury he was unable to operate Haxorus (a full-body walk around suit). The initial plan was for Ingo to wear the suit and have Drayden dub him in post. However, everyone thought Ingo did such a good job (including Drayden) that they kept his voice lines in and had Ingo keep playing Haxorus even after Drayden got better.

Part of the reason Drayden was okay with this is becuse Haxorus was too similar to his other characters and didn't really stand out: a serious and sarcastic 'straight man' for the other characters to bounce off of, generally fed-up with the rest of the cast's nonsense. Ingo brought some much needed bombasity to the role. Now Haxorus comedicly overreacts to being bothered by the other characters, often in violent ways that result in an earthquake (camera shakes and performers toss their puppets up in the air, higgledy-piggledy).

The other reason was that Drayden liked seeing his nephew being more confident on camera.

Ingo does not get a mic. He shouts through the suit. He's just that powerful. Also he broke the last one.

Ingo also voices and puppets Gliscor. Gliscor was a henchman to a minor antagonist, but he wasn't very good at it - cheering on the heros that came to stop him (he didn't want to be rude). Gliscor was a break out character - becoming a reoccurring presence becuse the fans liked him.

Emmet controls Gliscor's right claw.

[ladypeggington]

One thing I wanted to say before I devolve into an incoherent puddle based on whatever happens in the season finale is that the effects look so much better! Like, aside from the colors, the way everyone uses the One Power is so fascinating to me. I know the Seanchan are already a really obvious and great example, but my personal favorite was in Episode 7 when Moiraine and Lanfear were opening the ways. Moirane makes this big Celtic knot behind her to slowly pull it open, and Lanfear accomplishes the same with the flick of her wrist. I thought that, in addition to their differences in strength in the Power, it also showed the huge difference in the two character’s philosophies towards Channelling.

As much as the Aes Sedai of the show use the One Power, there are still these layers of mysticism built into their traditions, in my opinion largely because of the lost knowledge and residual trauma from The Breaking affecting Tower culture. Lanfear, on the other hand, always Channels in a way that I feel can be best described as brutally efficient. She knows how to use Saidar in a way that literally no one else alive even comes close to (assuming the other female Forsaken are still sealed) and she uses it much like a tool, with so little ritual or fanfare that really it just leaves the Aes Sedai so vulnerable when they have to face her. The difference in speed between her and Siuan was just brutal. Lanfear wasted none of the time Siuan did on posturing (regardless of my personal opinions on her choosing to make a bunch of air knives. But whatever, the other Aes Sedai do this too, the point stands) and instead just knocked her down hard.

Also, Rand using Saidin was fascinating to me too. I really need to see Ishamael or another male channeller work in these new effects, but his style feels so raw and uncontrolled. That moment when he cut Moiraine’s shield and the spike just kept flicking up ever so slightly towards her neck, agh! I might be reading too much into it, but that totally felt like a moment of him struggling to control the power and madness that are just only going to get worse, Plus, Saidin’s effects just looks thicker than Saidar, which I love as a subtle little detail to show the two being different visually(and I hope the show does some great stuff with the combination of Rand fighting Saidin + madness as he progresses).