#this is the point in which i realize uh oh. i may be catching feelings for this kid

[allroseshave-their-pricks]

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[amandacanwrite]

More Headcanons for the Gale Babes: Pining Edition

Tagging At Their Request: @eclecticqueennerd @jeneralmischief @thewizardhole

Tagging Because I Thought You May Want To Know I posted It: @lewdisescariot @ollypopwrites @rissi-chan @foreskinfinder87

Here are some headcanons about Gale behind the scenes as he pines for you/Tav (Goodnatured, Gender Neutral) Bear with some things that are just regular ole canon for a moment and then I will get into the headcanony stuff near the middle.

Upon Your First Meeting

"I'm Usually better at this." "At Introductions?" "Hah...At magic."

Safe to say that he was well aware of just HOW much trouble he was in very shortly after beginning to travel with you.

The words "Do NOT do this to yourself, you ridiculous, touch-starved man," may or may not have been said to the mirror...or to a mirror double of himself.

But godsdamnit, you just had to continue being...kind and courageous and well spoken and your eyes...and your lips and Focus--FOCUS GALE DEKARIOS

And hells, what a world it would be if he could stop putting his foot so squarely into his mouth.

"Gods, Gale. Really did a number with that thing you said, didn't you? They probably thing you're pompous--which you are--perhaps rightfully so, you are a very gifted wizard..."

He uh...talks to himself a lot. Old habit from the tower, you see. You only catch him doing it a couple of times though, and rarely hear what he said.

"Oh, just thinking out loud, you know!"

Once He's Gotten To Know You A Bit

"Go on, Gale. You're among Friends." "I may just be about to remedy that."

It's hard to pin point the exact moment he fell in love with you. But the realization was nothing short of devastating for him.

As a younger man, he may have been brought to tears reading a tragedy like his. Abandoned by a former lover, forsaken in a plight brought on by wishing to do her a grand gesture, falling for a simpler love...one he may never have because of the orb threatening to level a city in his chest.

Sometimes at night, he watches you asleep in your bedroll, wondering if he had met you as a young man...if he'd perchance seen you on the streets of Waterdeep or sitting at the bar in The Yawning Portal perhaps he'd never wound up in this position in the first place.

Perhaps he would have simply been chosen by Mystra, and not have fallen in love with her.

It feels wrong...even to think it. He wonders if Mystra can sense the betrayal in those thoughts--in the wish that he'd never fallen in love with her.

But it's hard not to feel that way when he has to spend every waking moment next to you.

And when he watches everyone else in camp seemingly falling over themselves to get to you as well.

He makes his peace with the fact that there is simply no way that he can compete with the pale elf who is constantly making eyes at you...calling you darling.

He remembers meeting people like that in school. He remembers burying himself in his studies to distract himself from the fact that he'd never felt particularly charming or even efficacious in matters of the heart.

Of course that all changed when Mystra chose him. Before he'd wooed her, he'd managed to have a few dalliances as a teen, even going into his early adulthood.

But you're the first he's ever wanted to have something with since Mystra had forsaken him.

He still carries the charm he'd cultivated. It's hard not to get at least a little full of yourself when the goddess of magic herself chooses you. Harder still to drop the habit after he'd committed to it, even while sequestered to his tower.

He'd been deep in thought on these matters when you checked in on him one night.

"Nothing to worry about. Just a wizard stewing on matters of the arcane and curious, I assure you."

When he finally has to reveal the truth of his affliction to you and the others in the party, he's devastated all over again. He's ready to once again be banished for his crimes, to be newly punished for his folly, however well intentioned he was in acquiring it.

But...you simply don't... It seems you never do what he expects because you hardly bat an eye. Even when Astarion tells you to kick him to the proverbial curb, you let him stay.

It's that night he conjures the image of Mystra in his hand, turning it this way and that to see if it still hurts to look upon her as it used to.

When you wander over to inquire about her visage, he is relieved to find it doesn't bother him to speak of her, and daunted by the ache in his chest that you seem to inspire in him.

He keeps trying to find a way to tell you how he feels, but he simply can't form the words without choking on them.

Until that night with the teiflings...and well...let's just be honest, the generously flowing alcohol.

He just wants to share a moment with you--a foolish idea to help you experience the weave using him as a conduit. A bit cheeky he realizes--knowing perhaps better than you might the sort of sensual, intimate nature that being connected through the weave can be. But he can't help it, it is the only relief he can find for this torturous pining. To be allowed to be of one mind with you for just a fleeting second is too tempting to refuse.

When You Imagine Sharing A Kiss With Him

"I'm sorry...I wasn't expecting...but it is a pleasant image to be sure. Most pleasant, in fact. Most welcome."

How can he convince himself that he won't immediately ruin this? Does he even remember how to kiss? God's it's been so long.

He lies in his tent, banging the heel of his hand against his forehead.

"You should have just kissed them, you damned fool. How long have you wanted this? And apparently they want it, too. And you were linked with the weave! What could have been more perfect? Why didn't you just kiss them, you blithering idiot."

When he doesn't kiss you for a while, you worry you may have made him uncomfortable with the thought. Really, he simply can't find the perfect time between all of the bloodshed and bandages.

He gets sloppy in battle, too worried that someone will take you way before he has a chance to make good on that dream you shared with him. Not the best course of action for a man who can literally implode in the event that he dies.

And then he had to go and say that stupid thing about danger and...other forms of stimulation.

"Perhaps," he tells himself one night. "Perhaps, Gale of Waterdeep, you will actually make a gesture more than a silly joke and a stammering admission of liking to kiss. Your actions so far have not hinted that you will, but perhaps there is hope for you yet."

In the end it's a night where you're near out of provisions that gives him the opportunity to close this blasted distance betwixt you.

He's having a melt down of sorts. About the lack of decent food in camp. How is he to feed all of you with nothing but a few half-eaten apples and a fish head?

You suggest a walk, not far from camp. You're sure you can scrounge up some berries, or some tubers--maybe even a squirrel or a rabbit. In truth, you're not sure you'll find anything, but you can sense that Gale needs time away. Needs privacy. Needs space to simply feel things without an audience.

After walking in silence for a while you ask him if he's alright.

"No. No I am categorically not alright. Not at all. I am filthy. I am covered in goblin blood. The orb refuses to be sated. I cannot find a way to properly feed you so that you'll have the strength to fight another day. And on top of it all--rounding out the depths of my misery--you so bravely showed me the intimacy you wanted to share, yet I cannot for the life of me figure out how to adequately stage that moment so that it is worthy of the splendor that you are."

It's hard not to be touched by his admission, but you don't want him to be miserable. So you make it easy for him. You simply stride up to him and plant a kiss on his lips.

"Is that better?" you ask him. "Now you needn't fret about the last thing."

His simply...gawks at you. Stares in utter befuddlement, his mouth slightly agape. For a moment, you're certain you've broken the poor wizard. You almost have the urge to wave your hand in front of his face to see if his soul has left his body. Then he smears his hand down his face and groans

"NO," he says. "No it is not better. That is not a proper first kiss worthy of how I feel about you. I can do much better than a first kiss like that."

You remind him that that was technically your first kiss with him. He is welcome to show you how it is properly done.

You expect the slow burn with him--expect him to have to ponder that for a few days, perhaps even a few weeks, before he makes good on it.

But he has had enough of waiting. He drops his bag off to the side and unstraps his bow from his back in a quick flurry of movement. He reaches for you, gently grasping the soft curves of your face and pulling you toward him, claiming your mouth with his own.

It is a frantic, desperate thing, this kiss. Simultaneously overwhelming and buoyant. You find yourself lifting up onto your toes and leaning against him as he tilts his head, seeking some opening to taste you, to feel you on his lips.

Your knees buckle, and his hands move from your face to catch you, crushing you against him as if he wishes to match every curve of you to every corresponding curve of his own body.

His lips are soft, though they are posessive. When you finally allow him across the threshold of your lips, he tastes like that fragment of weave you shared with him. He tastes of pure connection.

And then, just like that moment, it is over. You're left panting and weak as he holds you against his chest, his face flush, his brow gently curved with worry.

You blink dreamily up at him. "Oh." you say.

"'Oh?'" he asks incredulously. "Please tell me you have more to say than 'Oh.' Or at least specify the quality of that 'Oh.' Hells, if I'm to get any sleep at all--"

You simply lift your fingers to his lips, pressing the tips to quiet him. "Consider me properly schooled in how it's meant to be done," you say. "You're an excellent teacher."

He heaves a sigh. "Oh," he says. "I know."

I hope you enjoyed this! I'm sorry if it's not as satisfying since it's a lot of like...subtext for canon things. I have more Ideas but this is already quite long. Do let me know if you would still like to see more or if you have anything you'd like to see or expand on with an actual small fic. I have been having so much fun with these.

[noobsquasher]

Love your writing omg, can you pls pls write one where y/n has never had an orgasm before and is really innocent so her best friend Peter (who’s kinda dominant) helps her by going down and fingering her??

Say Yes To Heaven ✮

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: unprotected sex, praising, degrading, fingering, oral sex (reading receiving), swearing, etc

Summary: Your best friend, Peter is shocked to hear that you've never had an orgasm before. So in return, he offers to give you your first.

Notes: Peter Parker x Female Reader

All characters in this story are 18+

I know. 6 months since I've uploaded something, but here's another toe-curling smut for you <3 thanks for all love I've been receiving even though I've been gone.

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“Which one is this for?” You asked, holding the foreign Lego piece, not knowing where to place it. 

“Oh! That’s the last piece I was looking for. Put that on the top, right here.” He pointed to the arch of the plastic building, indicating where to put it. 

You leaned over, carefully moving forward to gently connect the Lego pieces. 

“There! Voila!” You cheered, impressed that you finished about a quarter of your Hogwarts Lego project with Peter. 

“Great! Now we have about… 1,500 more pieces to go!” 

You took a deep breath, already tired of how long you guys have been building this. You took a look outside, the sky was painted with deep rose and tangerine, slight hints of indigo parading the ends of the horizon. 

“Pete, let’s take a break. I’m hungry.” You stood up, making your way towards his kitchen. 

“Uh, sure. What do you wanna eat? I have…” he followed you before opening his fridge, checking to see what he had in store, “Well, I um… I don’t really have much. May hasn’t gone shopping yet.” 

“What about pizza?” You proposed. 

“I have pizza dough. You wanna make it ourselves?” 

“Make pizza with you? The last time you were in charge of cooking, the fire department showed up not even an hour later.” 

“Hey! That was one time like forever ago!” 

“That happened last week, Peter.” 

He narrowed his eyes at you, huffing. You giggled. 

“Look, it’ll be fun! Us two, cooking, creating something homemade. Come on.” Those big brown eyes of his practically begged you with just the bat of an eyelash. 

You gazed at him, a smile creeping up your face. 

“Fine. But I’m in charge of oven duty, not you.”

Afterward, you two started your cooking adventure. Having Peter even be in the kitchen was already a fire hazard, so you took on most of the work, letting him do the easy parts. 

You watched intently as he rolled out the pizza dough, a pretty smile on his face as he enjoyed the activity. 

You couldn’t help but get lost in the minuscule act, something so small doing so much to your heart. You felt pure infatuation run through your veins, your eyes practically twinkling as you watched the person you loved most. 

You knew crushing on your best friend would have you end up in a ditch, a hole deep and wide enough to keep you from crawling out, a dark abyss that held all your pent-up feelings. Emotions that pricked you each time you saw Peter’s heart-wrenching smile. 

You didn’t know if he liked you back, you wondered if it was even a possibility, hoped there was a small part of him that felt the same way you did. 

You’ve known him forever, he’s been your sidekick since you could remember. Even when you found out that he was Spiderman, you still stuck with him through thick and thin, never leaving his side. 

You never thought your relationship would turn up the way it has, but now you are stuck. Adhered to this impending adoration you hold for Peter fucking Parker. 

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t even realize when Peter tried to catch your attention.

“Hey? You alright, my love?” He looked concerned, slight fear on his face. 

“What?” 

“Why do you have that look on your face?” 

“Huh? What look?” 

He gazed at you, studying your features, eyes marked to your chest, 

“Nothing. Um, I’m done with the dough. I already put the sauce on it.” 

You took a deep breath, reaching over the kitchen island to grab the sliced cheese. 

“Here, put the mozzarella on it.” 

When the pizza was prepared, you took the pan and placed it inside the oven, setting it. 

“Okay, we just gotta wait a little while, and then it’s done.” You announced. 

“Alright. So… what do you wanna do?” Peter leaned against the counter, looking down at you. His stance sent strange chills down your spine, you gulped, trying to get your conscience together. 

“I- I dunno. What do you wanna do?” 

“Wanna watch a movie?” 

“If you say Star-“ 

“Star Wars. There are new episodes of the man-“ 

“No, Peter. I’m not watching that shit again.” 

“Why not?! You made me sit through five Twilight movies!” 

“Don’t act like you're not on team Edward!” 

“I’m team, Alice!” 

You gazed at him, a grin staining your lips before you rolled your eyes, letting out a laugh. He couldn’t help but laugh at himself, the two of you cackling together. 

“Okay, alright, we don’t need to watch Star Wars again. For your sake.” He put his hand on your arm, squeezing it. 

You gazed up at him, your cheeks suddenly heating up. 

“Uh… let’s just talk, until the pizza is done.” 

He nodded his head, walking back to the living room to grab a seat on the couch. 

You sat next to him, keeping a safe enough distance from him, for your sake, and your panties, of course. 

“So, tell me something about yourself.” 

You grinned, 

“You know everything about me, Pete. You’ve known me forever.” 

“Yeah, but people still hold secrets. Tell me one of yours.” 

You kept your eyes on him, crossing your arms. 

I’m in love with you. 

“You first, Parker.” 

“Hm… well, this secret is one of my worst. Truly horrific.” You tilted your head at him, “I’m… I’m a Leo man.” He confessed, putting his head into his hands as if he was terrified at what he just shared. 

You gasped in mock offense, 

“Leo?! Oh god, no!” You wailed, covering your eyes. 

He laughed, shaking his head, 

“I know… I know, It’s my biggest character flaw.” 

You giggled,

“My biggest character flaw is not being able to have an orgasm.” You admitted, sharing a personal confession with Peter. 

His brows knit together, his gaze shifting. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well… I’ve only had sex once, and the guy didn’t make me finish. And I’ve you know… experimented with myself before, but I’ve never really had that big O every woman talks about. I’m kinda… embarrassed. I feel like there’s something wrong with me, you know? Guys can get off so easily, but then when it comes to women who are inexperienced and who don’t know much about their bodies, it’s a whole other situation.” 

Peter listened intently, showing care in what you had to say. 

“So, you’ve never had a real orgasm?” He gently asked. 

“Not really.”

He kept his eyes on you, analyzing your body language. 

You felt the invisible tension between you two wrap around your neck, practically suffocating you with your vulnerability. You felt your heart race, wanting to change the subject. 

“Anyway, uh… I um, I think the pizza is ready.” You hastily stood up, making your way towards the kitchen. 

“It's not ready yet, but it smells good.” You say, inhaling the mouth-watering scent that’s filled the room. 

You felt Peter creep behind you, placing a careful hand on your waist. You didn’t jump at his touch, instead, you melted, leaning towards him. 

“You haven’t had an orgasm yet?” His tone held genuine concern as if he really cared about your situation. 

“It’s- it’s nothing, Peter. You shouldn’t-“ 

“Can I… can I show you how it feels?” 

You were nearly thrown back, almost dumbfounded at his words. 

“W-what?” 

“I’m a firm believer that every woman should be able to have a good orgasm every once in a while. You are such a hard worker, honey. You put in so much care and effort into your everyday life and into the people you love and… and I just can’t see how you haven’t blown up with all that stress you must have.” You were completely starstruck by Peter at the moment, you thought your feet had molded into the floor, “Let me… let me take care of you. Show you how good it feels to finally let go, and have that earth-shattering orgasm you’ve been waiting for.” 

You stood staring at him, unable to open your mouth. Had he just said what you thought he did? Propose an offer that would completely change your life. 

“Peter, you- you don’t need to do that for me. I know you care about me and all, but it’s not your responsibility.” 

“I know, but this feels like it is. I want you to have this experience, to step into a new path in your life.” 

You gazed into his honeyed orbs, contemplating the idea. 

This would be a whole new venture for you, a life-altering experience that you’ve been dying for. Denying the offer seemed like a foolish choice. 

“…It’s okay if you don’t-“ 

“I want to. I want to experience it.” 

He blinked, 

“Are you sure? Like one hundred percent positive?” 

“You're right, Peter. I need to experience this, I need to let go for once.” 

His eyes never left yours as a smile stained his lips. 

“So, we’re doing this? We’re really doing it?” He questioned, leaning closer to you. His chestnut orbs sparkled with underlying excitement, as did yours. 

“We’re really doing it.” 

-

As soon as Peter peeled off your sticky panties, your mind started to ramble. 

Has Peter done this before? If so, how come he hasn’t told me? Does he like me too? He wouldn’t do this just as a friendly gesture, would he? How does this affect our relationship from now on? Is he—

“Hey… hey, you're alright. I’m here, Angel.” The nickname slipped out his lips so smoothly, so perfectly, it nearly stopped your heart. 

He was so gentle with you, rubbing your thighs carefully, whispering soft affirmations to soothe you, treating you like something so fragile, a thin layer of glass. 

“Are you sure you wanna keep going?” You felt your heart thump throughout your body as you looked down at him, his face inches away from your velvety folds. 

“I mean- my pussy is already in your face so…” he chuckled, his warm laugh calming you. 

“Alright… if I’m hurting you or anything, please speak up. Don’t be afraid to talk to me.” 

“I will don’t worry.” 

He took one more look at you before his thumb trailed to your throbbing clit, drawing slight circles around it. The instant shock had your head thrown back, soft moans escaping your lips. 

“Shit… you're already soaked. Did I do this to you?” He continued his movements, playing with you like a guitar, pulling each string with pure delicacy, with one prominent goal in mind. You whimpered, breath heavy. 

“Tell me, Angel. Who did this to you?” 

Suddenly, his finger sunk inside you, almost too easy. You let out a roar, chest rising and falling as your gaze narrowed to the curly-haired boy between your legs. 

“You! You did, Peter! All you!” The pleasure was overwhelming, you felt your entire body heat up, your mind spinning. 

His fingers curled inside you, hitting that sweet spot of yours. You gasped, gripping onto his bed sheets as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. 

“Good girl… such a sweet girl. You like that?” He praises, fingers digging deeper. You can’t help but continue to moan, eyes closed as you take in how fucking amazing this feels. Suddenly, you feel Peter’s hand slap your throbbing clit. You yelp, looking back at him. 

“Eyes down here, baby. Look at me while I make you come.” His sugared demands came as a surprise to you. 

Never have you seen Peter in this light before. It makes you feel a type of way, an instant feeling of desire. All you wanted was him. All of him. Every single inch of his cock just buried inside you. 

“Peter! Oh- oh fucking god!” You felt something burn within you, complete ecstasy running through your veins as Peter’s thick fingers continued to destroy you. 

“Talk to me, princess. Tell me what you want.” Your eyes practically burned into one another, Peter’s chestnut orbs were filled with lust. You wished he could always look at you like this. 

“I want- shit, I want to come. Please, please let me come. I’m begging you!” He smiles, diving into you as his hot tongue starts to draw circles around your little bundle of nerves. Harsh moans escape your lips, your legs starting to shake. 

It was as if his lips were a work of magic, moving them in such an inconceivable rhythm that you thought your mind was going to explode. With how he was devouring your soaked pussy and playing with that honeyed spot within you, it felt like you finally reached nirvana. 

Is this what heaven feels like? 

“Such a sweet pussy,” he groans, fingers hooked inside you, 

“God, you taste so fucking good. I could eat this pussy all night. Shit. Why didn’t you let me fuck you sooner?” He dives back into his succulent meal. 

You couldn’t answer him as crying out your moans was the only thing you could do. You started to wonder if this was really happening. Was Peter about to give you your first orgasm? 

You even realize that he’s been humping the mattress this whole time, fucking out his throbbing boner. 

“God! Peter! I’m gonna- I’m gonna come!” Your chest thumps rigorously, all your nerves start to light a fuse inside you. You start to feel lightheaded, bliss starting to kick in as Peter continues to play with your body like his own goddamn toy. “I’m- I’m gonna-“ 

Suddenly, he stops. You quickly look at him, all your limbs trembling as you whine. 

“Why- why did you-“ 

“All this time I’ve been waiting, just fucking dreaming about this baby. 

Now that I’ve got you, I’ll never let you go. I want- no, I need to feel you wrapped around my cock. I gotta make a mess inside you if you’ll let me. I’ll promise to make you cum on my cock for all eternity if you do.” 

You stared at him, completely dumbfounded. You needed at least three to five business days to process what he just said. 

“Please, babygirl. I’m begging you.” 

You laid still, those glossy orbs of yours stuck to the man before you. 

“If you don’t want that it’s alright, I’ll just—“ his ramblings were cut short as your lips connected to his, kissing him with such passion that tiny whimpers escaped Peter. You gripped onto his curls, pulling him into you. 

“Shut up and fuck the living shit outta me.” 

-

To say that Peter’s cock was big was an understatement. You’ve never seen something so beautiful. It was thick, long, veiny, and absolutely angelic. 

“Holy shit.” You blurt, eyes locked onto his leaking tip. 

“What? Is it too big? Or too—“

“No- Peter. Your dick is so… wow.” 

“Really? Do you think so? I always thought it was—“ You shut him up again with your puffy lips, you couldn’t wait any longer to have him deep inside you. 

“I don’t want you to go easy on me. Just fuck me like there’s no tomorrow, baby. I need you.” You plead before ripping off your top, your breasts falling in front of him. His chocolate orbs immediately stared at them. 

“Can I suck on them?” He asks softly, his hand grasping onto your pebbled nipple. You nod your head, biting your lip in anticipation. 

He lays you back down onto his sheets, his pink lips immediately attaching to your chest. You whine with pleasure, his hand reaching down to your abused clit to play with it again. 

His candied kisses mark your body with much love as if he’s branding you.

Never have you felt this euphoric.

You feel his cock brush over your cunt, as if he was asking permission to completely indulge inside you. 

“You have my word, Petey. Please let me feel you.” 

His pupils widen before he catches a kiss on your lips. As your tongues dance together, his large length slips inside you, stretching you out with blazing felicity. You both moan in desire, wanting more. 

His thrusts increase as he brings your knees up to his chest, completely fucking you insane like how you begged him to. 

The bed bangs against the wall as he pounds his cock within you, your cries filling the room. 

“Oh! Just like that! Fuck, Peter!” 

“You feel so fucking good. My god… such a tight pussy. Jesus Christ— I could cum already.” He groans, kissing you. You whine against his lips, arms wrapping around his back to pull him deeper. 

“You fucking slut. You love my cock, don’t you? Can’t get enough?” 

“Never! Oh, my fucking—“ you didn’t think he could sink any further, but when his cock hit your cervix, you completely lost your mind. 

You could feel him throb within you, your walls gripping onto him for dear life, never wanting to let him go. 

Harsh claps ran around his bedroom, you were definitely gonna feel the aches in the morning. 

Peter was right, why didn’t you let him fuck you sooner? His cock was addictive, this was a feeling you could never get over. 

You started to go numb as he pounded you senseless, utter babbles were all you could make out. 

“Already cock-drunk, baby? That dumb brain of yours can’t handle my pretty cock? Huh?” He teased. 

You honestly didn’t even know what he said. All you could feel was that huge cock inside you just absolutely tearing you up from the inside, and out. 

You felt that burning feeling again, soon realizing that you were gonna make a mess on him. 

“Gonna let me feel you? Come on, Angel. Let me feel you.” 

Suddenly, it happened. 

Your back brutally arched as all your muscles tightened, your intense orgasm raging throughout your body. You screamed Peter’s name like a damn prayer, trembling harshly as your cunt gripped Peter’s cock with all its glory. It was unlike anything else you’ve ever endured. Staining his thick length with your saccharine cum is what enlightenment must feel like. 

He grunts, “That’s it baby, that’s it. Good girl, such a pretty slut for me, yeah? Tell me you’re all mine.”

“I’m- I’m all yours. I swear. I swear, Petey.”

He smiles before crying with triumph as he finishes inside you, painting your walls with his delicate seed. 

As the high died down, you couldn’t help but feel fulfilled. A smile pricked your lips as you started to laugh, euphoria clouding your head. Peter looked over as you were giggling like a maniac. He too busted out chuckling as it was contagious. 

“Why- why are you laughing?” 

“Because… because that was the best sex I’ve ever had! I feel so… so fucking happy.” You confessed, a huge grin attached to your lips. 

Peter blushes, softly laughing before catching a much-needed kiss on your lips. His kiss was filled with tenderness, sweet love fusing between you. 

Suddenly, a burning smell pricks your nose. 

“Peter,” you try to break the kiss but he doesn’t stop, wanting to caress you forever, “…Peter— what’s that smell?” 

“Huh? What… oh shit. The pizza!” He jumps out of bed, running butt-naked towards his kitchen. 

You sigh as you shake your head.

“Call the fucking fire department again!” 

———

Copyright © of noobsquasher 2024

[munsonkitten]

Eddie locks his ankles behind Steve’s back, thighs squeezing his sides, and holds him there.

“Stay inside,” Eddie whispers.

“Okay,” Steve breathes, shaking but easy. So soft and so sweet.

He’s still shaking, just resting against Eddie as they try to breathe together.

“You okay, Harrington?” Eddie whispers. He runs his hands up and down Steve’s sides, over the scars that match Eddie’s.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” Steve whispers, muffled into Eddie’s collar bone.

Eddie’s hands still, he freezes. Still blanketed under Steve’s trembling body, Eddie takes a deep, shaking breath.

“Pussy was that good, huh?” he jokes. Because there’s no way Steve meant that. There’s no way he even said it, nah, Eddie’s just hearing things.

Hearing things he wants to hear.

“No,” Steve says. He lifts his head. “I mean, yeah. Your pussy’s great, man, but no, that’s not — I just had to tell you, okay? It’s fine if you don’t feel the same, but you know, I have to be honest because we just… did all that, and it would be wrong for me to not tell you.”

“After we—” Eddie starts, but then all the words catch right up to his brain and he pulls Steve in for another kiss, so heated and full of all the words Eddie wants to say back.

Steve’s still inside him, still covering him with his body. It’s so hot in the room, and Eddie feels gross, but none of that matters because Eddie may feel gross, but he’s loved. Loved in a way he never has been, and that’s—

“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie laughs. He thinks he might start to cry, thinks he might be already. “I mean, hell, I think I’ve been in love with you since, like, middle school, so there’s that.”

“You didn’t even know me,” Steve points out.

“Didn’t need to. Knew you were pretty,” Eddie whispers, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth. “What about you? When did this revelation hit you?”

“At Reefer Rick’s,” Steve answers immediately.

“Oh yeah? Which time?”

“The first time, man. When you had that bottle pressed to my throat. Fuck, all I could think was that you were wild. Wild, but scared, man. Like an animal that shouldn’t be caged, I don’t know.”

“What the fuck, Steve? You’re telling me we could’ve been doing this the whole time?” Eddie jokes.

Steve shrugs. “Didn’t wanna scare you off. You, uh, you’re doing better now, than you were then, and even just, a few weeks ago, you know? And if I would’ve—”

“I would’ve ran,” Eddie realizes.

Steve shrugs. “I would’ve waited longer, you know. Just, you were lying there in nothing but a pair of fucking cut off shorts, squirming, man. You were squirming and whining, and fuck, you would’ve seen how hard I was if I didn’t say something first to beat you to the punch.”

Eddie laughs. “Can’t believe I got you that worked up.”

“You’re a fucking dream, Eddie Munson,” Steve says. “And I don’t wanna wake up from this one.”

And it’s fucking cheesy, it’s so fucking cheesy, but Eddie finds himself smiling, his grin overtaking his whole face. He can’t stop it, can’t contain it, doesn’t fucking want to.

“You sure know how to sweep a guy off his feet,” Eddie teases.

“Did that actually work?” Steve asks, his grin matching Eddie’s.

“Consider me swept, Harrington,” Eddie says with a wink. “My feet are thoroughly off the ground.”

Steve kisses him again, and he moves them, slipping out of Eddie’s messy cunt, but not letting him go, not going far. He grabs the joint and the lighter off Eddie’s nightstand and lights it up again, taking a hit before passing it over to Eddie. They lay on their sides facing each other, Steve’s arm slung over Eddie’s waist.

“Hoping to get me horny again?” Eddie asks as he brings the joint to his lips.

Steve laughs, ducking his head to hide himself in Eddie’s neck. “I’m hoping I’d get a second round without it, but hey, if it works, it works.”

“Don’t worry, baby, you can have as many rounds as you want,” Eddie promises.

Something has definitely changed between them, but strangely, as Eddie lays in his bed beside Steve, smoking the rest of the joint they were working through earlier, it feels like nothing’s changed at all. They’ve been in love with each other this whole time, been living in each other’s pockets for the entire summer. Steve’s seen Eddie naked before, he’s helped him bathe, helped him change his bandages, helped him brush his hair, and makes sure he’s eating.

All these acts of kindness have never been because they’re just friends, and Eddie knows that now, and he thinks he knew that before, too. He kisses the top of Steve’s head, noses against his sweat damp hair, and holds him closer.

Soon they’ll have to get up and clean up, to wash away the evidence of what they just did, and they’ll get in the shower together, not for the first time, but for the first time when they both know what it means, and Eddie will hold Steve close, and he’ll ask Steve to call him angel and sweet boy, and—

They’ll clean up later.

Now, though, he whispers a quiet, “Yeah, I love you,” and holds him tight, and hears the same three words whispered back.

excerpt from strange as angels on ao3

[shautiecultist]

Inked

lottie matthews x tattoo artist!gn!reader summary: Lottie has a crush on you so she decides to get a tattoo to get closer to you warnings: needles I guess

As a tattoo artist, you've seen it all. You've tattooed everyone from famous musicians to those experiencing a midlife crisis, and everyone in between.

One day, a girl walks through the doors, and as soon as you see her, your heart skips a beat. As she sits down, she smiles at you, and you know instantly: this is going to be good.

As she lowers herself into the chair, you have to take a moment to compose yourself. There's something about her that's making it hard not to stare, but you manage to snap out of it long enough to say, "So, what can I do for you today?"

"I want a tattoo, but I'm not sure what to get," she says, uncertainty lingering in her voice.

"Here's my catalog," you say, reaching out to the book where you keep most of your tattoo designs.

The smile on her face is contagious as she glances at all the designs you have on display, seemingly trying to decide which one she wants. You see her eyes linger on one in particular for a moment before she says, "May I see that one?" She points to a drawing of deer you drew a long time ago.

"Sure thing. Here you go," you respond, handing her the drawing of the deer.

Lottie's eyes dart over every inch of the design before she picks it up and carefully examines each of its details. She seems so genuinely intrigued by the work that you feel a surge of pride bubble within you. When her gaze finally settles on the tattoo, she has an almost awestruck look about her. "Wow," she says quietly, as if she's truly taken with it.

"It's beautiful," Lottie finally says, still admiring the design. "Did you create this?"

“I did,” you say, trying to sound humble but unable to keep an edge of pride from your voice. "I drew it a few years ago while I was still in college, but I still love it." You have to admit, it's one of your favorite pieces.

"It's really incredible. I've never seen anything like it," she says, running her hand over the design, seemingly still fascinated by it. "I've been wanting to get a tattoo for a while now, but I've been too scared to commit to anything. But this, this is perfect."

You prepare the workstation, setting up all the necessary tools and double-checking that everything is sterile. To make sure she's comfortable, you decide to make some small talk.

"Are you really sure about this?" you ask, wanting to make sure she has no doubt about getting this tattoo.

“Yep, I’m so sure,” she says, leaning back in the chair and stretching her legs out in front of her. “I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. I think it’s time to finally do it.”

"So what made you decide to get tattooed?"

"I've had a crush on someone for a really long time, and I finally decided to go for it," she admits. "I figured that this was a good way to break the ice with them."

"If you don't mind me asking, how will this break the ice with your crush?"

Lottie hesitates for a few seconds before answering your question. "Well, I've noticed that the person I have a crush on is really into tattoos," she explains. "And I thought that getting something unique like this might catch their attention."

"Oh, that's really… sweet," you say in genuine surprise and admiration at her bold decision. "I can't say for sure how they'll react, but I have to say, I think it's a pretty good way to get their attention. Now, can I start the tattooing?"

After a few minutes of tattooing, the design is slowly coming to life. Lottie glances at it and at you every so often but otherwise tries to stay as still as she can while you work.

At last, you finish the tattoo and sit back with a sigh of relief. The design looks even better than you imagined it would. When Lottie is about to pay, she smiles at you, but then she realizes this might be her last chance to ask you out.

"So I… uh… I was wondering if maybe…" Lottie pauses, trying to gather her nerve, and you glance at her curiously as you listen. She takes a deep breath. "If maybe you'd like to… get coffee with me… someday?" she finally says, her eyes darting back and forth between your face and the counter.

You're taken aback for a moment, but then you flash her a big grin. "I would love to," you say, feeling your own nerves starting to tingle. "I was actually just thinking that I could probably use a cup of coffee right about now. That is, if you'd like to join me?"

[jhoneybees]

Obsession?

Alright! It's back and ready for you all to read! So this one isn't like my other fluffy fics but a spicy type(my first ever!) so if you're looking for a fluffy fic, this one might not be it 😅 My girl @elvisalltheway101 helped me with this and I'm so thankful, mwah mwah to you sista🫶

Thank you so much for your patience!

Characters: 50s!Elvis X reader

Warnings/triggers: spicy fic, mentions of y/n, crying, swearing, Elvis being obsessed, mentions of worship, sub!elvis???, obsession talk, mentions of God

_____________________________________________

There’s just something about you that makes Elvis go weak in the knees. He doesn’t know what it could be that attracted him so much but everytime he tries to find the possible answers, his brain just goes static when his thoughts gradually form into a daydream about when you would pass-by giving him one of those gorgeous smiles of yours or when you would stare into eachothers eyes for a split second, even when he watched you from afar as you laughed with the middle aged women at church and wearing that damn dress that made you look too tempting for your own good at a party you two were invited to.

Elvis' heart and brain might not know that he’s obsessing but that occasional stir in his stomach sure does, It’s almost like he’s worshiping you but how can he not? Your humor, your kind-heartedness, your attentive nature, your eyes, your hair, your voice, your smile lines, your pores, your breathing, your lips, they’re all better than any morning coffee, any fulfilling meal and it sure doesn’t help him when you would ask the simplest of questions like “Sugar in your coffee?” or “How was your day today, Presley?” with that pretty voice it turns him into a blushing, stuttering, shaking mess and when he would get a glimpse of you everytime he walks past the diner you work at.

Boy his heart starts racing like he’s about to have a heart attack.

It’s been so agonizing for him because he’s had a crush on you for as long as he can remember, the first day of Junior year. Others may say to just ask you out and see what happens but to him he can’t do that, how could he? He may act all confident and slick in his daily daydreams of you but in reality he’s just a mere country boy with a funny sense of style and girly eyelashes that everyone laughs at and your the Preacher’s daughter who everyone loves, who couldn’t possibly like someone as foolish as him, you’re divine and he’s just…well him.

But he feels like something’s gonna happen.

He just can’t quite put a finger on it.

One day as he browses around the Memphis record shop, he accidentally gets nudged. looking up to be blessed by those Godly angel eyes. “Oh I’m so sorry! I didn’t see-” His heart skips a beat “Elvis, Hi! It’s been a while”

God must be watching over me.

“Hello?” Elvis shaking his head out of his trance with a sharp inhale “H-Hi” seeing a soft smile grow on your face “How are you?” Elvis grins shyly and scratches the back of his neck “Uh..I-I’m good” his eyes averting away but snap back to yours as he straightens up “H-how are you?” mentally cringing to himself.

“I’m great, Thank you for asking”

You thanked him, you wasted an ounce of that precious voice of yours to Thank him.

By this point, the record he’s holding slips out of his hand, just for a moment he realizes and with a clumsy attempt of trying to catch it, he accidentally steps on it the wrong way causing the record to break.

“Shit-” he swears under his breath, hearing you gasp quietly “Oh…” crouching down to pick the damaged record up. He sighs and moves his hand to grab his wallet from his pocket only for him to notice it’s not there, his eyes widen to which your eyebrows raise slightly “Did you leave your wallet behind?” he glances at you and quickly looks away ”Uh-'' feeling your hand touch his arm making him gulp “Hey, I can pay for the record..” you offer softly, his eyebrows furrow and his head turns up at you “No, it’s-”

“I insist”

_____________________________________________

“Thank- thank you for paying for that, I-I-I-I’ll have ta pay you back somehow” Elvis’ voice falling soft as he nears the end of his sentence making you smile “Don't mention it, wouldn't want you getting in trouble” a happy angelic laugh fills his ears, his brain going fuzzy as he looks at you through his lashes, falling into a short trance until your voice snaps him out of it “Well I better get going” Elvis clears his throat following with a nod, Seeing your small wave but the moment your head turns the other way, his gut feeling urges him to yell out “Wait Y/n!”

Oh God.

“Yeah?” his hand moving to scratch the back of his neck and his eardrums hearing the bottom of your shoe scraping along the concrete as you come to a halt “Um…To- to pay you back…” stuffing his hand in his pocket. His heart punching him in his chest.

Oh Lordy Lord.

“Can I take you out?”

Oh why did I say it like that?

His heart ringing wedding bells as a giggle emits through your lips and his breath stills when you nod quietly “Of course, that'll be very nice, Elvis” his knees are damn. near. weak. Nodding his head silently with his crooked smile showing “Uhm…at 6?....I’ll..I’ll pick you up” he questions to which you nod again.

Did I just?

You walk away the second time, his eyes brightening as you look over your shoulder.

“See you then, Presley”

_____________________________________________

It feels like a dream, how did he manage to ask you out, for you to agree? God, Elvis hopes he doesn’t wake up from this dream, if it is even one.

His palms rubbing along his slacks as his eyes try to stay watching the movie on the screen. By now he's lost the plot of the movie because of his thoughts.

He's alone with you in his daddy’s car.

And lord his nerves are kicking him like crazy.

Leg bouncing nervously and a deep breath escapes his mouth. He's trying, he’s trying to keep his attention on the movie but he’s on a date with you-

a hand falling on his knee and his eyes trail up an arm, landing on your eyes that he couldn't help but soften at.

“About to make a hole in the floor soon” you laugh, making him clear his throat and smile shyly “M’sorry” once again blessed by your smile “It's alright…you seem a little distracted, is everything ok?” pressing his lips together tightly as your eyebrows furrow, shaking his head “Oh, no it's nothin’ “ he inhales deeply when you quirk an eyebrow “You sure?” he nods.

Stupid.

Be. more. discreet.

Elvis turns his head to look out the side window as your attention falls back on the movie then as he begins to bite his nails, sinking into his seat a little, he freezes as he feels your knee gently tap against the side of his thigh, gulping and pushing himself back up to sit up properly, resting his arm on the car door and wiping his palm on his slacks.

“Are you sure you're ok? You seem to be a little off, Elvis” his head whipping towards you “I-I'm fine, really” looking at each of your eyes with so much adoration as your words flow off your tongue “You can tell me…” you say with a slight smile.

A big gulp.

Elvis lowers his head and looks at the floor of the car “It's noth-...” glancing at you as you sit up in your seat, facing him, waiting patiently.

His eyes avert from yours and his heart beats out of his chest, mentally cursing to himself as his hands grow increasingly more sweaty. He’s been dreaming of this moment and he’s been praying for this to happen but…He’s scared-

“I like you”

Glancing up to see your eyes widen, surprised.

He said it.

It's out in the open, he can't take it back.

“Elvis…” your voice soft and quiet, his vision turning back to the floor, brimming with tears “...I’m sorry” his voice quiet, picking at the fabric of his slacks, bringing his palm up to wipe at the tears that manage to escape.

Then…

He feels a hand smooth along the front of his neck, cupping his jaw with a thumb on one side and two fingers on the other. Forcing him to turn his head, His voice releasing a pained whimper of his heart clenching at the sight of your angelically sculpted face.

His breath hitches as you suddenly ever so gently, plant your soft lips on his, closing his eyes. A single tear falling down his cheek.

Absolute. Pure. Bliss.

The slightest his hands begin to tremble as his skin tingles from your exhale through your nose. His spine shivers as your hands cup his cheeks, pulling him closer to bring his lips further onto yours making you lean back a little.

A small whine emitting through his lips as you pull away breathlessly, Elvis looking into your eyes “Y/n…” your eyes that could outshine any jewel before shakily slithering his hands around your waist, pulling you into another kiss. His eyebrows frowning and his body physically melting as you hum against him.

He hums softly, out of nowhere feeling your knee pushing in between his legs, causing him to moan.

With a soft push on his chest, Elvis leans back against the pillar between the car seat and the car door, the sound of your lips separating filling the car as you lean down to peck along his jaw, Elvis' breath hitching and sighing. With shaky hands squeezing your waist gently for you to push your knee in between his legs again with a little more pressure.

Oh Lord, help me.

His stomach fills with butterflies as you nip at his jaw a little and your hands brushing down his neck down to his belt to pull his shirt out of his pants, his breath stutters as you slide your hands under to rub against his tummy, your soft lips returning to his. Hands traveling up to lightly graze over his nipples, making him squirm.

Feeling you smirk against him, A very unexpected noise escapes his body as your palm presses on his manhood, slowly adding pressure, his breathing frantic and groans squeezing out of his throat.

Elvis inhales sharply as you shift onto his lap, his puppy eyes looking straight up into yours as your lips separate, seeing you in front of him, your bodies just a few inches apart.

Tears building up in his eyes, he glides his hands down to your hips, almost about to sob at the feeling of you as he gives you a little squeeze.

Gulping before saying just above a whisper “You’re so beautiful…”

His eyes roaming all over your body from your neck, down to your chest then to his hands on your hips but as he caresses you with his thumbs, his head gets lifted by your finger under his chin. Shocked to find a glimmer of lust, a need but also a sparkle of kindness…Love.

His breath drains out of him as you lift his hand in your small ones, kissing each of his fingers, making sure to keep his eyes on you.

“Take me, Presley”

_____________________________________________

READ PART 2!!! Written by @elvisalltheway101

😵‍💫Addiction😵‍💫

[befemininenow]

Deconstructing the sissy in you (extra)

Let’s go back to the beginning of the tutorial. However, let’s amplify it a little more. You always had a thing for this thing called “feminization”, which involved forcing men into wearing feminine clothing or adopting feminine roles in an embarrassing manner. That kind of thing was your kink/fetish for a good while and imagined what would it be like if it happened for real. Little did you know it was a gateway to explore your sexuality.

You browse the web for TG captions and transformations as a way to spend some “me time”. All of a sudden, you see this post:

“Damn, she’s sexy!” you say out loud. You obviously want to be inside her body, but deep in your mind, you secretly want to be in her body. As in, you want to feel her soft skin, her boobs, her skirt, hair, you want to be her!

In no time, you start to see more pics like this:

Eventually, your feed begins to fill with captions like these...

...while some daring strangers fill your inbox with captions like these...

Soon enough, you start to get into female fashion, changed your way of words, became interested in men, and slowly incorporated your feminization in your public life. Those hypnos and captions have changed your thinking! It got to the point where you opened a Tumblr, started to make "sissy besties", and asked for tips on how to become more "feminine". It felt mutual, it felt exclusive, it felt like becoming a part of the Mean Girls!

But you wanted more. You wanted hypnosis that can destroy your "manhood". You wanted captions that affirmed your "sissy identity". You wanted hormones to grow boobs and ass. You wanted to become a woman at an instant!

But how? Desperately wanting to view more captions, you decide to find more of them on your search bar. You type "feminization captions" and the results are abundant! But as you scroll all the way down to a dead end, you find a picture of a sexy, blonde woman in red that catches your attention:

"OMG! She's so gorgeous! She's the type I want to become! I need to find out who she is!" Just as you click to the image, you're sent to a blog that you're somehow familiar and/or following. You try to find the image and as you keep on scrolling, you found it belongs to a certain blog: @befemininenow. ""Be feminine now?" This is it! This is what I need! Someone who can instantly change me into a feminine woman!"

But as you read the pinned post and the introduction greeting, you feel a little conflicted. You like feminization, but the blog doesn't cater to sissies. Yet, the captions feel so persuasive and alluring, you don't know where to start. You decide to go all the way back and finally found the one that seems the sexiest.

What was the caption that caught your attention?:

Of course the one with Lilly Roma and her tight, revealing, black suit! But instead of being a sissy caption, it's a caption that tells you to be a fellow sister! "Sister? Mmm... I... I like that. Better than sissy!"

You browse the blog and find more than enough caption to your taste:

Some were a dream, some were so sexual, some were unbelievable, and some... hit right at home.

Very few captions mention the word "sissy" and when they do, it's usually not as you expected it to be. That's because the blog is about embracing femininity instead of treating it as humiliating. You try to find if there are more blogs like hers and luckily for you, there's a bunch more...

Joanna's Journey, A Miss Inside, Every Alice, Gym Bunny Candie Hart, GGS-Trans-Inspo, and so much more!

It took a while for you to realize that some of those feminization blogs aren't like the rest, including sissy blogs like Sissypinkfashionfun. They may seem a bit unrealistic at times, maybe a little overboard with the "wipe masculinity" posts. But what you love about those blogs the most is that all of them have something in common: they are not ashamed of femininity, but rather embrace it as their own.

It all makes sense: as a kid, you wanted to be a ballerina:

Later on in life, you wanted to become a princess:

But now...

You just wish you can come out as your true self! Why be ashamed of being feminine? Why do you need to be punished for showing weakness? Why be subject to bullying for behaving a certain way? You don't really want to be a "sissy", but you want to be a girl. You love your feminine side.

But in order to move on from your "sissy phase", there is one step you would have to do:

That's right, girl! It means you have to come out. Whether you like it or not, it's the next step to your change. You can keep hiding in the closet, experiment with the "sissy lifestyle", and reblog feminization captions all you want. But as much as you hate to face reality, she is you. You're transgender. You're a woman inside, even if your current anatomy doesn't match it.

The latter sentence didn't discourage Mikaela Ville nor Angelick Poleth (girl in the next pic) from postponing transition. Look at them now. Don't you wish to want to be like them?

But to be sure of the change, to be sure of what you really want, how far will you go into your life change? Do you want just dress feminine, but still identify as a man? Maybe you identify as a different gender? Or do you want to go further and take hormones to turn into a woman?

Whatever you end up identifying as, know your identity and femininity are valid. Find your nearest gender support group, talk to doctors and therapists who can assist your gender change, and be very safe in today's environment. Remember, you are not a sissy, but a brave woman! Unlock the cages and let the lioness inside out!

(End of guides. Thank you for reading 'till the end!)

[luffyvace]

hello! can i request hairo's kisses?

yes you may nonny! 💗💗

I’m so glad to see someone requested my silly little series!!

Enjoy anon!! And thank you! <3

Hairo’s kisses!

your first kiss would probably happen a few weeks after you’ve become an official couple

And I’m talking past the dating phase

which you likely dated for at least 4 months

Hairo had no interest in romance before, canonly

But when he does get a chance to date, let alone kiss you?

he’s all over you!!

and he’s not embarrassed one bit :)

As for your first kiss 😚

he doesn’t seem like the type to be flustered easily at all

so it would simply depend on what your doing, or- more like where :P

and by this I mean if your inside at the time, your first kiss will happen in private!

if your outside at the moment? pda is fine by him 💞

he’s proud to have you as his s/o so he isn’t afraid to show it at all

in fact he’s not even thinking if others are around

he’s focused on you

i mean of course! It’s not about them!

LOL

he’s also the type of person to see they’re parents kiss and not cringe, or not be embarrassed to kiss they’re mom in front of they’re friends, for a better example

you know? He just sees it as a normal thing, not cheesy or anything

a display of affection—just as it is <3

back to the lecture at hand—

Let’s say you guys were inside at the time

I’m going to go ahead and say he catches you completely off guard

you two were doing whatever you were doing

probably chatting while doing so

and as soon as the conversation ended he leaned in and gave you a 3 second kiss

Now he is a gentleman—so directly after he realizes he didn’t ask first

”oh- uh- oops- did……did you want a kiss?”

”I should’ve asked first really! I don’t even know if that was your first kiss or if I’m moving too fast—my mom told me I might wanna wait-“

”it was fine, Hairo. I loved it”

you announced beaming

and apparently that’s infectious because he got a case of the smiles too 😊

You probably resumed what you were doing before

but not before sharing a comfortable silence while doing something sappy like cuddling for a bit or holding hands 💗

from then on he’ll give you a kiss anywhere

its not like pda is illegal or forbidden or something so he sees nothing wrong with it!

The most common kiss you’ll receive from him is a forehead kiss

to say goodbye, to say hello, to say thank you, to say good luck, to say goodnight

all of the above and more

he more so gives kisses on the lips when you two are being all cuddly n such

like a quick peck after a goodbye hug

or when your snuggled up, cooing little praises to each other

Hairo’s kisses are soft and usually short

so the ‘short and sweet’ type

his lips are actually really soft!

he doesn’t have chapped lips or anything and they’re naturally moisturized

he doesn’t even do anything or put anything on he’s just kinda lucky 😂

let him tell it, it might be because he works out- 😄

I can nor confirm or deny I have no idea I haven’t researched it

but besides the point

Hairo’s kisses are gentle and meaningful

In each and every one of his kisses you can feel the love and adoration

it sends tingles up your spine and gives you goosebumps from how loved you feel

theres always at least 2 seconds of googly eyes being exchanged after your kiss as well

whether a whole crowd is watching or not

if your not into pda you’ll have to tell him because as I said he views it in a casual (yet of course, still romantic) way

So he kinda just initiates it naturally

But don’t be hesitant to tell him your uncomfortable with it! 💓

he completely understands and will keep in all his affection til he can burst it at you in private 💝

if your okay with pda, he initiates it as normal! :)

You might as well call your man the kiss genie

because ask and you shall receive darling

If this guy isn’t the gentlest giant idk who is

💋💪

[gray-ace-space]

so i'm pretty sure i'm demi.

not like, a 100%, but right now it fits, so that's what i've been calling myself.

every person or character i've been consistently sexually attracted to, the attraction appeared after i spent a lot of time thinking about them and getting to know their personality, their soul i felt like. even when completely parasocial - often parasocial, which is kinda sad, but anyway.

it's funny, because demisexuality is actually something i ruled out pretty early in my label journey.

i realized at some point i didn't experience sexual attraction nearly as much as allos, so i began to identify as gray. and i did know it was more common for me to feel it for people i cared about deeply, but i also thought, you know, that's just one of the factors, it's not really like a major pattern.

but over time, while i was running this blog, i kinda uh. figured out that 90% of the times i thought i was sexually attracted to someone were either

💜 aesthetic attraction - they are pretty and cool and i like looking at them, that's the same thing as wanting to see them in a sexual light right? (it was not the same thing)

💖 romantic attraction - i may be in love, i want to be emotionally close to them and exchange affection; i might have sex with them if they asked, provided we've built enough trust (also not the same thing)*

🧡 sensual attraction - i would like to touch them, so it logically follows i want to touch them sexually (nope)

or involuntary physical arousal caused by a sexual context (nothing to do with attraction at all and doesn't even imply actual enjoyment)

(*keep in mind that i am alloromantic. i catch feelings pretty easily.)

here's an interesting thing:

it's not just that romantic feelings for me don't immediately come with sexual attraction. in the majority of cases, the sexual attraction never develops at all, even if i build a connection with the person, even if i am fully in love. i have crushes that gain a sexual element, but most of my crushes are asexual. is this a graydemi thing? potentially! i would like to hear if this is the case for other demis and also non-demi grays.

basically, the longer i think about my sexuality, the more i realize i actually feel sexual attraction much less than previously thought.

the once in a blue moon occurence of me experiencing true sexual attraction always fucks me up though, because it's so intense. and i don't know if it only feels intense because i'm not super used to it, or because there's always an emotional investment there, but it's given me impostor syndrome.

and, you know, sometimes i have to remind myself that, oh, most allosexuals probably don't exclusively feel this way about like, 4 specific people in the first 23 years of their life. (sidenote, if you're allo, how do y'all function? do you get used to it eventually or are you just permanently made a little dumber by the horniness?)

i guess besides my consistent demi feelings i still have these random weak flashes of attraction to other people? which is why i still go with gray mainly. and aceflux is significant for me still, because it does seem to come and go in waves. but i just don't know, because these feelings don't come up often enough for me to fully figure out the patterns. if there even are patterns!

i'm still figuring this shit out! and i would not be able to get as far as i have if i hadn't started running this blog. it's taught me just as much as (i hope) it has taught you.

let this also be a reminder to you that people are bigger than labels. the words are there for us to understand ourselves and communicate better, but words are just words at the end of the day. "close enough" is good enough.

[thatswhatsushesaid]

nice! i will say, i have only seen the show so my opinions are based on that

okay so first off, i agree with you that both the usually portrayed versions of Niè Huáisāng aren't accurate. he's not helpless (though he certainly can seem so at points, i.e. when he and Wangxian are trapped in the cave with the stone fairy) but he's not a strategic mastermind either.

Niè Huáisāng, to me, comes off as impulsive and clever. he thinks quick, and in his younger years, he uses that mainly to avoid the things he has no interest in doing (cultivating, using his sabre- can't say i really blame him for that, given what Niè's usually end up succumbing to). in later years, he's surrounded by a bunch of things he never wanted to do (running the sect, being a leader in general, and paperwork), and he's still trying to avoid those things (playing dumber than he is, whining to Jīn Guāngyáo and Lán Xīchén because he knows they'll dote on him).

and i think, at least in part, avenging his brother is more impulsive than anything else and may not have, entirely, been something he wanted to do. the revenge, in the end, exposed a lot of Jīn Guāngyáo's secrets to several people, and i think Niè Huáisāng just kind of hoped one of them would be angry enough to kill Jīn Guāngyáo (or maybe that his brother’s fierce corpse would) and i really think, in that last moment, when he realized he went to all of this trouble and Jīn Guāngyáo wasn't going to die, he panicked and made someone else take care of the problem. but i also think, up until that moment, Niè Huáisāng was on the fence about killing Jīn Guāngyáo.

Niè Huáisāng wasn't shown to be a violent person in the show. he liked to catch birds, paint fans, and collect erotic novels. but, i can't believe he lost all attachment to Jīn Guāngyáo if it took him that long to actually get him killed. Huáisāng, like i said, is impulsive and even the smartest guy in the room (which, i say this with love, he is not) would have snapped, right then and there, and turned it into a fight. but he didn't. he dug into all of Jīn Guāngyáo's secrets and, yeah, he eventually exposed them, but i think part of him was looking for a reason; either a way to excuse or condemn Jīn Guāngyáo, something that would push him to one side of the fence or the other. and the other part of him was stalling and avoiding the problem until he absolutely couldn't.

sorry for the text wall. Niè Huáisāng is my favorite out of the show so i have a lot of feelings about him

oh these thoughts are so delightfully crunchy, and I think I largely agree with them, to a point. I know I mentioned somewhere else recently (at least, I think I mentioned it on tumblr, tho tbh it might've been through a discord conversation) that rather like nmj, jgy spends an awful lot of his time in the story un-murdered for someone whose opponent's intention was always to murder him. for nmj, I think he lives for as long as he does because jgy genuinely does not want to kill him despite multiple attempts on his life and enduring increasing pressure from his father to make it happen--up until nmj punts him down the jinlintai steps and humiliates him/his mother in front of the entire lanling jin sect.

(pausing here just to say: I am so sick and tired of the comments by the antis on this point that jgy did not deserve to seek any kind of retribution or vengeance in the face of this insult. like is it only fine when the gentry resort to violence to satisfy insults to their honour? anyway)

so, yes, I think I vibe with your point wrt nhs and his revenge quest! not only because I also agree that he just could not, and did not want to decide what to do, but because yes, he absolutely did care about jgy! I think those feelings are especially clear in cql given how the drama reshapes the relationship that jgy-as-meng yao has to the qinghe nie. he is nhs's body guard and protector (and, uh, babysitter), and I often think of that glimpse we are given of nhs anxiously pacing outside the throne room while nmj aggressively interrogates freshly-stabbed (to protect!! nmj!!) meng yao after wen chao's assault on the unclean realm:

this 👆👆👆is not the behaviour of a little guy who is ambivalent or otherwise emotionally uninvested in the outcome of this interrogation. he is fretting! he is worried! and then afterwards when meng yao has been ousted from the nie, huaisang is the one who sweeps up to him to try to support his shoulders. because meng yao is still, you know, freshly stabbed by wen zhuliu in this moment. (you're welcome, da-ge. thanks for the banishment. could he have a bandaid maybe--no? no ok that's fine)

ultimately, tho, even if he waffles and can't make up his mind for over a decade, I do think nhs does want to kill jgy when he finally succeeds in doing it. and maybe he tells himself that he is doing it to avenge nmj, rather than for even more personal reasons (e.g., 'san-ge murdered da-ge, but he betrayed me') but let's be real, we will never know. whatever interiority nhs has, either in the novel or in the drama, remains hidden from the reader/viewer, and all we have to go on is the framing provided to us by the camera lens, and by what wwx shows us in the text.

and in cql, this is that glimpse we get of nhs's face right before he tricks lxc into stabbing jgy:

(sorry you get my meme, I couldn't find my original screenshot womp womp)

anyway, that's the glower of a little guy who has decided he is definitely gonna do a murder.

[trenchcoat-full-of-recs]

Favourite fics of 2023

Now that the year is over, I figured I'd cast my eye back over the previous year to see what were my favourite fics I discovered that year. Notably, they may not have been published last year--just the ones that I read during that time period.

I have absolutely no idea what they will be, so I'm curious to dive into my bookmarks...

MDZS/CQL

Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark -- oooh, apparently it was last year that I consumed this. It's a behemoth of a story at over 700k words; it's a slowly sprawling tale, and I read and reread it during the same year. And it's been one of the rare WIPs that I have been following faithfully. It's an AU in which WWX and LWJ, early on during the Gusu lectures, have the extra-canonical chapters' dreams about each other (that's to say, the ravishing in the library and the peaceful domesticity) and this triggers them realizing their feelings, which in turn changes rather a lot of things. This sounds underwhelming, but the fic really is very good and rather epic in scope! I have appreciated how it depicts WWX--intensely intelligent, precocious, but in need of guidance; and he and LWJ are darling together. I only hope it keeps being this good for the next 700k words or however much it takes!

You'll See Me Again by anon -- oh man, I loved this one. It's sadly a short-ish WIP (12k> words), but the concept is brilliant: it's NHS, who's time-travelled back and is determined to fix everything by getting WWX as his younger brother, and it's told from NMJ's baffled point of view. It's very good! I just wish it were longer.

Mourning Dove by jaemyun - a WIP featuring a dark LWJ who's very fed up with the hypocrisy of the cultivation world. Hasn't updated in a while, though...

SVSSS

This was the year I read SVSSS! Boy, did I ever love it. This naturally unlocked a new fandom for me, so here are some of my favourite fics:

A Transmigrator and a Time Traveler Walk Into the Bamboo House by VeryCharismaticDragon - this is super lovely! This is Binghe who time-travels from after SQQ's self-destruction to the start of the story. And he's determined to change things, even as he's trying to understand them. The whole thing is great.

The More You Don't Know by Neery - this is sweet and angsty in just the right way. Binghe is convinced SQQ only loves him because he doesn't realize he's a demon, and does his best to hide. (There's also a canon divergence in there.)

The Peace Between Divine Pec- ah-hm sorry - uh…Peaks by AceOfDivineChlorophyll - I need to catch up with the latest chapters of this, but I have it bookmarked as "absolutely love it, mega oblivious SQQ thinks he's LBH's advisor and not realizing that he's effectively the empress (something everyone around him sees) and of course not realizing also that he's super in love with LBH."

Particular by thehoyden - a very sweet SQQ/LBH a/b/o!

The King's Avatar

This is also the year when I consumed this canon!

Born of Fire (We Shall Not Fall) by TheDefenestrator - I loved this fic so much. So much. It's my favourite take on omegaverse I've ever seen in any fic, ever. It's got a super lovely Ye Xiu/Han Wenqing slowburn and Ye Xiu joining Tyranny, but it's also set in this universe which brings this omegaverse context into everything and makes it extra delicious. It's so well done. I just hope it updates one day.

here in search of your glory by Synoshian - I also adored this long slowburn long slowburn Ye Xiu/Han Wenqing WIP where Ye Xiu joins Tyranny.

Bond/Q

a bloodless coup by Ark - scorchingly hot, great characterisations, very well done.

There's a lot more fics that I read and enjoyed last year, but these were in my bookmarks as absolute faves, so I figure it's fair enough to end it here!

[aladaylessecondblog]

How to Get Off Skooma (420 day chapter)

Author's Note: This most likely WILL be in Severed Destiny. Martin works for Vivec as a servant, he took the job to avoid getting put in prison for defacing the temple (thanks Sanguine)

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

Never did Haj-deek regret her room being so close to her father's (and Nerevar's, which had had to be added next to her mother's), as she did right now. Several nights in a row she'd wake up, and hear, well...rocking. And moaning.

A pillow over the head did nothing to muffle the noise. And they said SHE had to be supervised. How FUNNY when THEY were the ones acting like this on a nightly basis. And that wasn't even mentioning the racket from Vivec and Uncle Odros - really, they didn't HAVE to stay the night after Vivec and she finished the yearly renewal of their power from the Heart. (Even more puzzling was how her father hadn't realized yet.)

After a few moments she decided to sit up and head outside...she was beginning to feel the need for another dose of skooma anyway.

Haj-deek hastily dressed and headed on outside.

She lit a light spell and headed towards the spot she'd hidden. A little alcove of stone she'd cover up with ash and pebbles and rotted bits of scathecraw leaves. Outside. Her father and Dagoth Ulen were still doing weekly sweeps of her room, and so inside was no longer a safe place to hide it.

There was a hole there and she felt a surge of panic. Had a cliffracer gotten in, knocked it around and out while looking for something to eat? Where was it?

She turned this way and that, looking everywhere--until she heard a couple footsteps behind her.

"Oh, Martin, it's you. I..." and trying to sound more normal, lest he catch on why she was there, she took a deep breath and pasted on a smile to match her tone. "I guess you couldn't sleep either."

"Yes, as it turns out...Lord Vivec invited your uncle to his room for, uh...important discussions. And given I am one door away..."

"That happened to me too. Just...it wasn't Lord Vivec making all the noise. I'd rather not talk about it."

"And neither would I. Perhaps we could discuss something else. Like the walk we both seem to be taking. Though you do look rather upset...I hope you aren't looking for anything."

Haj-deek groaned slightly. "Well, not exactly, but I...I...YOU!"

The need was stronger, and it wasn't a trivial effort to stop herself hitting the man before her. He wasn't smirking or anything, just watching her placidly. But it was still infuriating.

"Yes, my lady, me. Don't look so surprised that I figured it out. When Lord Vivec and I walked up the path yesterday, and encountered you--do you think I didn't notice your eyes? The twitchiness? I was a champion of Sanguine. You can't be showing obvious signs of addiction and tell me you're not on the stuff."

"That stuff was expensive, Martin. And if you think I'm not going to tell--"

"Yes, I'm sure your father would just love to hear that you're taking skooma. Lord Vivec may not have noticed or cared if he did, but I'm sure any decent father would be happy his daughter's supply was cut off. Honestly - Balmora Blue? Do you know what a bad idea it is to get onto such a pure strain?"

Haj-deek gave a slight and frustrated shout. "You don't understand, you can't just--I NEED a dose of it."

"So it's gotten to that point, has it? Well, let me introduce you to what helped ME kick the habit. Healing potions for the pain, and a little thing I managed to get growing here in Morrowind."

From the pocket of his robe Martin produced a couple wads of paper--or what she'd assumed was a wad of paper. They looked like cigars or something. After a bit of smoothing out Martin handed her one.

"Light the blunt and breathe in. Hold it in for a few seconds, then breathe out. And let the plant do all the work."

Grumbling, Haj-deek obeyed. She comforted herself with the fact that even if he had taken the skooma for himself, Vivec would just toss it out.

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

*Thirty Minutes Later* ---------------------------

A hazy cloud surrounded them.

"So Lord Vivec sends me out with the spear, and...the rest is history. Ha, like I didn't know he was just doing that to keep me busy. Get Muatra polished, he says, like I wouldn't know what that means and the joke he was trying to..."

A laugh burst from Haj-deek's lips when she exhaled the next bit of smoke.

"That...ha...that sounds like him." Another giggle. "Sorry, I...I didn't mean to laugh at you like that."

Martin took another drag on his own blunt and gave an easy-toned reply, "No it's fine, this stuff makes you do that."

"Really?"

"Yes, it's...very good for relaxing...mellowing you out. Can result in a bit of laughter." There was a pause. "You know, I just realized something. I haven't seen anything growing around here...what in Oblivion do you eat?"

"Well, we've started growing SOME things, but...but I...I'll just take you to our food storage. We've got some REALLY good sweetrolls..."

[karuvapatta]

I’m only halfway through season 2 but is it going to stop me from writing self-indulgent Jon/Elias fanfiction? No. No it isn’t.

(Okay, the Jon/Elias is only implied, but whatcha gonna do. And it’s a pre-series 1 office christmas party, because the idea of the Magnus Institute throwing an office party is simply delightful)

(also on ao3)

As soon as he sinks behind his desk, Jon breathes a sigh of relief. It hasn’t been his desk for long of course, and it’s a bit presumptuous to already feel like he belongs here; but the Archives are blessedly quiet and calm, away from the noise and too-bright lights. The pressure behind his eyes lessens somewhat. He will have to go back to the party eventually; he is not foolish enough to believe that his absence can go unnoticed for long. Networking is, after all, as important in academia as it is anywhere else. Unfortunately. But he just needs a few moments to collect himself.

And, since he’s already here, he might as well get some work done.

A sharp knock on the door snaps him back to reality. It has been—no, it couldn’t have been that long. He looks down at the cluster of papers before him, and the half-empty glass of wine he had snatched from the party before heading downstairs. The ancient cassette recorder is right there, humming, waiting. He doesn’t remember turning it on.

Another knock. Jon flinches.

“Come in!” he calls out.

It’s—fuck. It’s Elias. Looking distinctly out of place in his crisp, perfectly tailored three-piece suit, next to the overflowing shelves, dusty boxes and the overall clutter.

“Jon,” Elias says. His tone is mild, but the disapproval no less obvious for it. “You do realize what “mandatory” means, do you?”

“Yes, of course—”

“And that “hiding in the corner for five minutes before running away” isn’t the same as “attending a party”?”

“It was more than five minutes,” Jon says, stupidly, and then sighs. “I—I apologize. I have a bit of a headache.”

“Ah,” Elias says. “Could it be because you’re working too much, do you think?”

Jon looks down at his desk, the half-finished statement, and the tape recorder. Belatedly, he presses a button and turns it off. The sudden absence of its sound is strange and wrong, somehow.

“Uh. I’m.”

It’s the stress. It must be. He is – not entirely unqualified for the job, but most certainly inexperienced. And everyone can see it. His own assistants can see it. Even Martin can see it.

There’s a sudden pressure on his shoulder. He freezes, breath catching in his chest, his heartbeat drumming loud—but the weight is still there. Not dragging him down, exactly, but grounding him in place. Warm. Almost—pleasant.

He looks up. Elias is much closer than he was before, staring down at Jon with an inscrutable expression on his face. His hand stays where it is, fingers curled ever so slightly inwards, pressing into the muscles of Jon’s shoulder through the cheap jacket and even cheaper shirt.

“Are you alright?” Elias asks.

He is way too close, half-sitting on Jon’s desk. Jon cannot really move without dislodging his arm, and with every shallow breath, he gets a lungful of Elias’s expensive cologne. It’s all a bit—well.

“Yes,” Jon says. “Perfectly fine.”

It’s disconcerting, is what it is, to be a subject of this level of scrutiny. He can’t remember if Elias used to watch him just as closely during the job interview and the scarce few conversations they have shared since. Or maybe it’s just his own mind playing tricks on him, and he really has been working too much, or drunk too much, and now he’s seeing what isn’t really there.

Which doesn’t bode well for his career at the Institute, at any rate.

“The new position is—something of an adjustment,” Jon says, and then hurries to add: “I’m grateful, of course, for the opportunity, but. It’s a bit daunting nonetheless.” Oh no, now Elias may think he is terrified and incapable and lacking—“I think I just need a while to adjust. But I can handle it. I’m sure of that.”

Elias, bless him, doesn’t point out the obvious lie. He just continues to watch.

“Admittedly, social gatherings aren’t my forte,” Jon says – wondering, belatedly, if discussing his shortcomings with his boss is the smartest possible move. But Elias knew that about him, didn’t he? He must have. Jon was never very good at hiding his anti-social tendencies. Honestly, he seldom ever tries.

Elias smiles. “Yes, that much is apparent,” he says. “I would still appreciate it if you came back upstairs.”

“Of course,” Jon says. “I was—I was just about to go.”

Another lie that Elias either misses, or chooses to ignore. His hold on Jon’s shoulder loosens, and Jon takes in a deeper breath – only for it to catch in his throat, in a startled gasp, when he feels a brush of fingers against his cheek, his forehead, pushing away a stray strand of hair that’s fallen onto his glasses.

Is this normal? His mind races, trying to come up with a possible explanation, possible excuse. It’s slightly inappropriate, maybe, the featherlight brush of skin, Elias’s watchful gaze, the way he sits there, perfectly composed, in between Jon and the way out. He should perhaps be worried, except—there really is nothing to be worried about. What is he going to do, file a complaint with HR? Tell them—what? That Elias was doing—what?

He isn’t even touching Jon anymore. Jon drops his gaze, inconveniently caught at the hollow of the man’s throat, just above the crisp collar of his shirt. He tries to think, but is coming up short. And—damn it all, he just wants to see what Elias does next. Maybe it will shine some light on his motivations. Maybe Jon is just too curious for his own good, and should have said or done something by now. Except it’s unfamiliar, it’s all achingly strange and unfamiliar, and Elias seems to always know what he’s doing, and Jon will admit that there’s a certain appeal to that.

So he looks up, and waits. For a touch, or cold dismissal, for a question or a statement or for Elias to leave without another word – he just—he wants to know what Elias does next. He doesn’t know, and he thinks he’d quite like to find out…

“Um, Jon? Are you—whoa!”

Martin stumbles into the room. Because of course he does, nearly falling on his face as he does so.

“Jesus, Martin!” Jon says, irritably. “Can’t you knock?”

“Sorry,” Martin says. He straightens, somewhat sheepish, and adjusts his glasses. “I, um. I didn’t mean to interrupt?”

It’s a perfectly innocent statement. Probably. There’s absolutely no reason for Jon to flush, or push himself back in his chair, putting more distance between himself and Elias. Not that—not that he needs to do that, of course. They were just talking.

Elias raises to his feet, perfectly smooth and unruffled, and smiles politely at them both.

“That’s all right, Martin,” he says. He’s not looking at Jon anymore, which is a good thing. It is. Jon can breathe a little easier without the weight of his gaze. “I came down here to fetch our wayward Archivist. Has something happened upstairs?”

“No! No. The party is—it’s a great party,” Martin stammers out. “I just—Jon disappeared, and I wanted to find him. Make sure he’s okay, I mean.”

“I’m fine, Martin,” Jon says, through gritted teeth. His nice, quiet office is getting way too crowded, and it’s stupidly hard to think when he can still smell Elias’s cologne. “You can go back now.”

“Right,” Martin says. He makes no move to leave – his eyes are still darting between Jon and Elias, as if he had caught them doing something untoward. Which he hasn’t. And that makes this behaviour even more ridiculous.

“We all should,” Elias says. “After you, Jon.”

He rests his hand on Jon’s shoulder; it takes conscious effort to suppress a full-body shiver at the simple, casual touch. It means nothing, and what does it say about Jon that even this is enough to throw him off-kilter?

“Right,” he says. The rasp of his voice sounds strange to his own ears; his mouth has gone dry all of a sudden, and he picks up his glass and drinks the rest of the wine before he can think any better of it. Before he remembers that both Martin and Elias are staring at him now, Martin with his usual flustered expression, Elias with wry amusement. “Let’s go, then.”

Elias engages Martin in polite small talk on their way back, but Jon can’t bring himself to participate. He still can’t really make sense of what happened, if he should be scared or upset, or if he’s reading too much into a perfectly ordinary conversation between a boss and his employee. During a mandatory office not-Christmas party. With everyone already slightly tipsy, and louder, and more tactile than usual. Which would explain Elias’s earlier behaviour.

Besides – and Jon smiles grimly at his own thoughts – even if he went to HR, it’s not like anyone would believe him, right? Elias is. Well. Well-dressed, sociable, polite, and rather annoyingly attractive. Jon is none of these things. Even if Elias were to compromise his own well-earned position by fraternizing with an employee, Jon would be the last one on that list. Hell, even Martin might be a more likely candidate – stammering and forgetfulness aside, he does have a nice, warm smile, pretty blue eyes and a rather fetching scattering of freckles across his cheeks—

“Jon!” Sasha and Tim grab him by the arms as soon as he enters the crowded conference room.

“Hey—” he yelps, as they drag him away, towards the buffet. “What are you doing?”

“Keeping an eye on you,” Sasha says, and flicks his nose with her fingers, as if he were a misbehaving child, and not her boss. He is tempted to yell at her, but her expression softens, the playful tone of her voice giving way to genuine concern. “We were worried about you.”

“Mostly Martin,” Tim says, with a wide smile and a suggestive wink in Sasha’s direction. Jon isn’t even going to try and understand that gesture.

It is still too loud and too crowded. And Elias disappears, of course, whisked away by the Head of Research. Jon would love nothing more than to listen in – it’s always a pleasure to listen to Elias, whose knowledge of the paranormal is unparalleled – but it seems to be a boring discussion about funding. And also it’d be a bit pathetic and, well, creepy.

“Still with us, Jon?” Sasha asks.

“Yes,” Jon says. “Yes, I am.”

It is loud, and crowded, and he can’t help but think of his cold, empty flat… and, yeah. Maybe it’s not so bad here, with Sasha and Tim and even Martin. Maybe he can have another drink, and a casual chat with his assistants, and pretend, for one evening at least, that he is exactly where he needs to be.

[theadventurerslog]

Discworld | Part 4

The Adventurer's Log

Accidental hiatus but I'm back. To recap I was struggling and needed one more ingredient for the spell to find the dragon's lair. I called my last post a chronicle of errors. It was even more so than I knew. I said may the search not lead me to even more agony. It did, just not in the way I expected. I started out here on the search for the still-needed magic coil.

I did some wandering, checking out places again with no luck until I thought to go back to the alley rooftops as it had been a while since I'd been there and I hadn't checked it out as thoroughly as other places. Surprise, surprise I had missed a tower in the background I could get to. I got over there to dangle off a flag pole and get a nice view of the dragon. Also a conversation with Death who happened to be passing by.

Rincewind is not willing to let go of life at this point in time, so Death headed off. Just another day in Rincewind's life.

The flagpole had a tip at the end to interact with. I was thinking through items that could hang there and the mirror had string to hang with. Of course I had to go back down to ground level since the Luggage wasn't going to be getting up here. Put Rincewind's pockets to use. I do wish he could carry two items though. Have some options.

I wasn't sure what the mirror would do if this worked at all--maybe shine light somewhere useful?

It did work and light was shone around...catching the attention of the dragon who flew over to admire itself.

Then it blew flame at the mirror breaking the string and the mirror fell all the way back down to be caught by the lovely Luggage. I went to check out what the state the mirror was in now and...

and...

Dragon Breath... a breathed-on-mirror for my dragon breath. Which, yeah, makes sense...but...argh! Certainly makes more sense than what I had thought with the hair roller.

The hair roller was the magic coil all along; the thing I'd been looking for was already found... I mean the connection--brimstone!--had felt awfully tenuous but I'd made it before realizing the magic coil was even a thing, thinking I only needed four ingredients and it just...stuck. Not one of my finer moments.

Venting through save file names.

But hey, at least I've got them all now! Now it was time for my triumphant return to the Archchancellor. For real this time.

At last all the ingredients! Forget the bumbling and mistakes!

And the Archchancellor put them all together into a dragon detecting device. Rincewind meanwhile has a whole pile of gold in his head to daydream about it, so decides he wants that detector himself. With the ye olde "look behind you something weird" trick, Rincewind distracted the Archchancellor and grabbed the device for himself. Now I know we're in an alternate universe because book Rincewind would be fleeing at top speed with the device handled and out of his hands. He gets to go back to boring? Yes please! On the other hand the call of gold and riches is strong I suppose.

Anyway, I was thrown back out into the city map and had to run around it until I got some good rapid beeping and a new location was revealed. A barn.

The dragon's lair! Gold!

Gold gold gold! But once all the gold was loaded into the Luggage, the dragon made itself known. Uh oh.

Or less uh oh as it turns out. The dragon isn't happy about being dragged here. A secret brotherhood has control of him and has been using him for their evil deeds. He just wants to go back to his own dimension of rest. So, the dragon makes a request: find the brotherhood and find each of the six gold artifacts they used to summon and control him. Bring the artifacts to him and he can sever the connection they have over him. First go find the one who stole the book of summoning from the Unseen University library. Also get moving because he can feel himself being built up for another rampage. Good times!

And it's time for Act II! Is this a 2 act game or a 3 act game (probably 3?)? Or more! I have no idea.

I missed the Act I image at the start of the game, so here's II at least.

Before I left the lair I also found and grabbed a screwdriver.

Knowing I needed to track down a book thief I headed back to the library for clues. I didn't get anything useful out of the Librarian but I did still have the sleazy man to deal with.

Something I may have forgotten to mention last time, but if not, reminders certainly don't hurt, is that this guy wasn't willing to give his golden banana for anything...except maybe all the gold in the kingdom. So I started handing him all the dragon gold and Rincewind convinced him that was indeed in all the gold in their kingdom, well democracy. Sorry, Rincewind, didn't get to stay rich for long. I was given the golden banana and showing it to the Librarian led him to opening a door into L-Space. So, I went into L-Space.

It brought me to a past night in the Library where I was able to see a thief come in, steal the book and leave through a secret passage. Leaving L-Space and coming back resets things.

I tried taking the book myself and leaving and ended up in Death's Domain. I think that's where it was meant to be anyway.

The four horsemen of the apocalypse were playing some kind of card game and after some silly conversation I was booted back out. I assume my efforts were paradox causing. So no taking the book!

What I was actually meant to do was follow the thief into the secret passage, where I was brought back out to the city but at night.

The thief ran around for a while before he finally settled at a new location to go check out.

There's a drainpipe and rain barrel. Might be relevant but I haven't found how yet. The forbidding door had a forbidding knocker I could use.

Brother Doorkeeper talked through the door slot but refused to say anything because Rincewind is clearly not part of the brotherhood. Not even dressed right. Nothing forbidding or black about him.

I assume I need something black to wear. I see a few possibilities: steal something, dye something, or I dunno, singe his clothing? Probably not that third option but who knows!

I left to explore night Ankh-Morpork some more.

I found Rincewind passed out drunk on the park bench from that counterwise wine had earlier. There was also a butterfly.

I also found a butterfly. A multiverse of ramifications. Of course I tried to catch it with the net; what could go wrong? It flew up to the lamp and stayed there out of reach.

I carried on.

I was able to go to the inn and enter the room. There was the guy who had been...will be? in the Broken Drum. I remembered his story about being scared of some eldritch being entering his room and stealing his gate pass. All the steps were told! But I seem to need some way to get him to seemingly pass out, or Rincewind won't go far because the guy is all alert. The guy had talked about the being bursting through the door, so something there? I also have no need for a gatepass right now anyway. So, something for future referennce?

I went to the Street as well, which mostly didn't have much for me, but Igneous's pottery shop was open and I was able to snag a pot off the window sill. I think he's the same troll as the one at the Psychia-trickerist's too?

I couldn't find anything else to do, so I headed back through L-Space to the current day, figuring I could maybe find something helpful to bring back. Back in the present time I didn't really know what to do or where to go so I did the rounds checking everywhere again. Lots of stuff changed.

Palace: The guards wouldn't let me pass and I couldn't get them to knock each other out to sneak by like before.

Park: The lamp now had water and a fish swimming in it. That was sure some butterfly.

Inn: The rom was now accessible. I found some bubble bath in its bathroom

Cite Gate: A crate with fireworks and a keg of gun powder. I got to take both...

Sator Square: One of the old men was collapsed with a poison dart. Or faking it? The others weren't concerned anyway.

The amazon woman was deciding to take a different approach to the men slaughtering for severity-based attacks based on severity of the lust

The UU chef was in the stockade

Unseen University: The Archchancellor was gone from the room

There was cornflour to get in the kitchen

I was able to light a match and light a lamp in the storage closet so I could actually see. I found starch on a shelf - New Jiffy-bril instant starch - stiffens anything

In the back area that leads to the kitchen I was able to take a garbage can full of garbage. Yay? Street: The fish monger had some different stuff to say that was still not helpful. Mostly punny.

There's a monk of Offler preaching on the corner. He's always been there, but I think I may have skipped mentioning him before. He has dark robes so there's promise there but beats me what to do if there's anything to that. He's also really annoying because the text and his mouthing lasts way longer than the actual voicing and actions are stalled until he shuts up. Briefly. Before the next line.

The bargain bin stock in the toy shop changed and I got a Hogfather doll.

The woman left the barber but I couldn't find anything to do with the now-empty chair.

Alley: The alchemist has made progress towards clickies but hasn't had any luck getting good actors

The tile that launches you up to the rooftops doesn't seem to work anymore.

Livery Stable: I grabbed more corn for the sake of having more corn because why not. Still don't know what to do about the donkey

Hideout: I can now access it in the present, but couldn't find anything to do there. In fact I couldn't seem to even use the knocker.

Broken Drum: Didn't see anything more I could do. That said, I probably could stand to check it out more thoroughly again.

And after all that I'm not sure what to do now. I need Secret Brotherhood-worthy clothing, somehow...

Just because I could, I used my matches with the firecrackers and lit one. So... now I have a lit firecracker hanging out in the Luggage. Not dangerous at all!

Otherwise, I've probably just missed something. That's usually the case. I am piling up a lot of inventory items though. Hopefully I'll be back with mission accomplished and getting a good start on finding those artifacts. Is bringing those golden artifacts to the dragon a good idea? I have some doubts. Dragons are tricky, but we shall see. Either way being under control of the brotherhood is bad too. Or maybe he is totally on the up and up and will go back home when released. For now? I wander! And hopefully solve problems.

[difeisheng]

HELLOOOO???? THATS AMAZING????

god are we best friends yet, when will we become best friends (currently buying decor for my little corner here, how do you feel about hanging ferns and throw pillows?)

I can just imagine the shock at such an intimate greeting. like obi-wan gets all slack-jawed, and anakin has no idea that what’s he’s done isn’t something normal between them

anakin just slides into his seat of whatever café/restaurant they’re meeting at (mostly bc I think padme and anakin have been very consistent on taking obi-wan on what they consider to be very sweet breakfast + dinner dates, while the man himself just assumes it’s a nice time out with his customer-friends) and honestly doesn’t realize what exactly he’s done until he sees obi-wans expression

and then in comes padme to save lives, while also making this very odd experience abundantly clear to obi-wan (who probably slumps into his seat with that same stunned expression)

years later they laugh about it over glasses of wine and obi-wan still can’t believe how smitten both of them had been for him (which they continue to remind him everyday with the sweetest partner worship to ever fucking exist)

ferns and throw pillows sounds great, my friend! (perhaps some fairy lights as well? 👀)

and yeah, obi-wan was under the impression that anakin and padme were just really friendly clients who insisted on treating him to food whenever they met, and maybe he'd be lucky enough to keep up those friendships once his work with them was done. (because he can't let himself hope for more! oh no!). and then anakin strolls in to brunch one day with his brain operating on 'a year into an established polycule' mode, and it's just such an instinctual motion for him for him to kiss obi-wan that he doesn't even notice obi-wan is too shocked to return it until he takes his seat and realizes that up until this point anakin has only been regularly kissing obi-wan in his head, and that, uh, there is a lot of explaining required that he doesn't have the words for because how the hell do you tell your wedding planner "riiiight, by the way my fiancee and i may or may not have been lowkey working under the possible delusion that you're getting married to us too and we kind of got ahead of ourselves, so uh, would that be an acceptable situation for you?"

obi-wan on the other side of the table is completely spiralling from a mix of "i accidentally made one of my clients cheat on their partner i've done the unthinkable" and "anakin skywalker kissed me and i want/need him to do it again". and just as he's trying and failing to work out what he's supposed to do here, padme joins them and he grows even more mortified.

what padme sees when she walks into the restaurant though is obi-wan blushing bright red and apparently on the verge of panic, while anakin is wearing an expression she saw a lot of early on in their relationship, when he would kiss her or hold her hand and then immediately wonder if he messed it up. ah. she looks down at the planner she's holding. on the first page is a note to ask obi-wan if he wants any custom vows added in. well, they're going to need a course correction. so instead padme takes a deep breath, sits down beside anakin, and casually says "so you finally kissed him?"

obi-wan makes some incoherent noise and collapses further into his chair. padme doesn't seem to be mad at him, but that's just even more confusing. until he watches her glance at anakin with complete affection and zero surprise at their current circumstances, and then looks at obi-wan the exact same way.

that's when he starts to catch on.

it takes more than one pot of coffee (anakin), several mugs of tea (obi-wan), and a mimosa (padme) for things to get cleared up. obi-wan goes through a speedrun journey of A. letting himself actually be allowed to want anakin and padme, B. accepting that they want him back, and C. deciding what he wants to do about it. they all take it slow and the wedding gets postponed, while obi-wan takes in the fact that he has actually been planning his own wedding all along and gets to tweak it the way he wants. but eventually it happens!!!

and it's anidala's favorite story anytime to talk about how they wanted to get married, and it was such a fantastic wedding that they got another husband out of it. they DO partner worship obi-wan. they are all so cute it's sickening. sure obi-wan drops "sweethearts" and "dear ones" left and right but we all remember anidala on the roof in rots, right? they're both so absolutely in love with obi-wan it's disgusting and when they direct all those feelings toward him (as well as their joint overprotectiveness; no one is touching a hair on obi-wan's head for the rest of his life) in the end it's exactly the sense of belonging he needs.

whew, that got away from me. hope you enjoy this, anon!

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

Of Princes and Witches (Rewrite) Prologue- Legolas Greenleaf x OC

Legolas Greenleaf x Alphine Barrowes

Description: N/A

Word Count: 1.9k

The aftermath of the Battle of the Five Armies was a brutal sight to behold indeed. It took all Alphine Barrowes had to not just stand there in shock when she and the rest of her kingdom arrived to aid Laketown, Erebor/the Iron Hills and Mirkwood after receiving the request from a sorceress named Roslyn Stardust. She, along with everyone else, got to work in either healing the injured or ensuring their comfort (plus civilians’ comfort). 

She ended up being assigned to healing duty, so that’s what she did. She went around doing the best she could. That is, until she arrived in the healing tent of a soldier named Othelil. His injuries were grave, far too grave for any magic to help him. He would be dead in minutes, so all she could do was sit with him and ease his passing as much as she could. 

“M-My family…” Othelil stuttered out weakly. “Wh-What will…” Alphine gently shushed him with a patient smile. 

“Please, do not let yourself be troubled,” she said softly. “In life they loved you dearly, and in death they will celebrate you. You do not need to worry about them anymore.” The Elf looked comforted by her words, but all he could do was offer her a simple nod. Alphine glanced down, realizing that Othelil was searching for her hand. A small smile appeared on her face as she took his hand in hers, offering it a comforting squeeze. 

“It’s okay. You can let go now,” she whispered, leaning closer to him. Othelil didn’t answer, for he didn’t have to. Instead he let out one final breath, then he became still. Though she didn’t know him well, she couldn’t stop herself from tearing up.

“Be at peace, Othelil Lathlaerilion,” she whispered, resting her free hand on his forehead for a moment before standing. After moving his hands to rest on his chest she quietly made her way outside. A small, shaky sigh left her lips as she took a moment to collect herself, then she nearly jumped out of her skin when she realized that there was someone standing just a few feet away from her, watching her. He was tall, with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She would be right in guessing that he was an Elf, and his pointed ears only further proved that. 

“Oh, hello,” she greeted softly. “Can I help you with something?” 

“I apologize for the interruption,” the Elf began in a gentle but professional voice. “But the King requested a count of the deceased. Othelil…” Alphine had to stop herself from tearing up again as she shook his head. 

“He fought bravely, but his injuries were too severe,” she explained, voice cracking.  The ellon nodded with a sad look. 

“I thank you for your help anyway,” he muttered with a small bow before beginning to walk away. It was as he turned away that the Fairy noticed his arm. There was a rather deep looking laceration that cut through the sleeve of his tunic and into his arm starting from his shoulder and ending in the middle of his bicep that he apparently hadn’t noticed yet based on the fact that it was untreated. It wasn’t too bad, but it still needed to at least be cleaned - or simply healed by a Fairy.

“Uh - excuse me sir,” she said quickly, holding out her arm to catch his wrist and making him turn to face her confusedly. 

“Yes?” 

“Your arm,” she gestured to it, watching as he examined it. “May I? I promise it won’t take long.” 

It was common knowledge that Fairy healing took almost no time at all, especially if the injury wasn’t serious. The Elf seemed to already know that because after a moment of contemplation he nodded. Alphine shot him a smile then rested her hand on his bicep. Her eyes fell closed as she focused her energy on healing him. She could practically feel the magic flow through her as the cut closed up. Upon pulling her hand away she was satisfied to see that his arm was bare save for a little leftover blood. 

“All done,” she said, which caused him to look at his arm once again. It took all she had not to smile as he marveled at the display of magic he’d just witnessed. 

“Amazing,” he muttered before smiling at her. “Thank you.” The girl nodded, though she had no time to say anything before someone called out to her. 

“Lady Alphine! We need you over here!” Her friend called from another healing tent. Both of them looked in the direction of the voice, then the girl in question faced the Elf with a small but polite smile. 

“Excuse me.” With that, she bowed to him before walking off to find her friend, feeling his wondering gaze on her back until she was out of sight.

Alphine awoke from a deep slumber just a few days later with a stinging sort of pain in her back. It was almost unbearable. Her face contorted in pain as her eyes finally opened, and she looked around. She immediately shot up in bed when she realized she had no idea where she was. She didn’t recognize the room she was in, and she knew for a fact it wasn’t any house she’d ever been in. Almost as soon as she was up she regretted it as the pain in her back worsened. It took all she had not to cry out in pain as her confusion increased. 

“Oh, you’re awake,” she suddenly heard an unfamiliar voice speak, making her whip around to face it. There stood an older looking man. He wore a long gray cloak with a matching pointed hat and in his right was what appeared to be a staff with a blue crystal embedded into the top of it. No, this wasn’t just a man. He was a Wizard - the Gray Wizard she’d heard so much about. She was in the presence of Gandalf the Gray. Surprisingly, his presence did not ease her disorientation, but instead increased it. Alphine opened her mouth, then closed it when she realized she didn’t know what to say. 

“I was expecting you to be out for at least another day, but it seems that you are more resilient than I originally thought,” Gandalf continued casually as he moved to sit in a large chair beside the bed. His words are what finally snapped the girl out of her stupor. 

“What…What happened?” She asked, almost scared to know the answer. “Where are we?” 

“We are in the house I created for you,” the Wizard answered. For a moment Alphine just stared at him in bewilderment. 

“Uh, why?” She asked as she leaned back against the headboard. That was a mistake, she realized as that same stinging pain shot down her back. It was as if she’d been stabbed in the back with a jagged blade. A small whimper left her lips as tears sprang to her eyes.

“Be careful now. You are still healing; your stitches will come undone if you keep moving about as you are right now,” he warned her in a firm yet gentle voice. 

“Stitches? Wha-”

“You were captured by Fairy poachers,” he informed her simply, tone becoming more serious in the process. “Now, while I managed to save you before they killed you, I was unfortunately just a bit too late. Your wings were what they’d taken before I found you, and they made quite a mess of the process. I had to stitch up your back so you wouldn’t bleed out where you laid.” It was almost as if his explanation jogged her memory because without warning flashbacks of what happened appeared in her mind. 

She’d been on her way back to her colony. It wasn’t a long trip back as they lived relatively close to Mirkwood, which wasn’t far from Dale and Erebor. She, unfortunately, had been physically and emotionally  tired from the entire aiding process, so she thought she would walk a bit and clear her head before catching up with the others. As she reached the river that connected Laketown to Mirkwood she’d been captured by Fairy poachers looking to make a quick buck after all the turmoil they’d faced with the dragon then battle. She didn’t remember much about the de-winging process, but she remembered her voice becoming hoarse with her pained screams as they all but ripped her wings away, using a knife to speed up the process. She felt the blood running down her back, staining her beautiful blue dress. They were going to kill her, she heard them talking about it. Unfortunately that was the last thing she heard before she lost consciousness. Whether it was from blood loss or just pain in general, she passed out believing wholeheartedly that this was her end. 

A breathless gasp left her lips as she lifted a hand to feel her back. She flinched as her fingers gingerly ran over the stitches in her back, just like Gandald said. The back of her throat began to burn and sobs wracked her body as she finally processed that this was real. She had lost her wings. Gandalf watched the girl sob her heart out with a sympathetic expression. 

“The loss of your wings has caused the loss of your powers as a Fairy, which means you cannot return to your colony as you will no longer fit,” Gandalf informed her in a grave voice as she continued to cry. “That is why I created this house for you. You did not deserve what happened to you, and so I want to help you cope with it.” That caught Alphine’s attention, and she finally looked at him after wiping her eyes of the tears that blurred her vision. 

“And how do you expect to do that?” The girl asked in a bitter tone, refusing to meet his eyes. 

“Well it’s quite simple,” the Wizard answered, a small and reassuring smile forming on his face. “I am going to teach you the magic of Witches.” 

And from that moment on, Gandalf taught her how to harness her magic without the need for wings. Well, excluding the time it took for her to heal. It seemed that her healing magic stayed because it took less than a week for her back to completely heal. Though, the scars still stayed. It hurt her heart every time she thought about it, so she decided to distract herself by putting her all into learning magic. 

As the years went by Gandalf continued to teach Alphine magic without the help of her wings. When he wished to travel she would bide her time by reading the spellbooks he’d graciously gifted her, learning what she could by herself. Eventually she learned everything there was to learn plus more and she no longer needed him. She felt eternally grateful to him as without his help she wouldn’t even be alive. 

The girl was generally happy with her new life. Sure, sometimes she missed her old colony. And the town she lived by wasn’t very welcoming to her as there were just too many negative Witch superstitions. But, it wasn’t like she was eager to be around another town of Men after what happened. She often felt isolated, but she was okay. Her house was amazing and the silence allowed her to concentrate when she made potions or practiced magic. She’d healed quite a bit since that fateful day sixty years ago (and not just physically). It was practically out of her mind, and she was finally okay. Unfortunately, that joy wouldn’t last long.