#(who can in fact chuck wood)

[bonemeal12]

Hrrrggg essay has an EVIL limit at 800 words you can’t let me talk about the Comics Code and the Hays Code and queer representation and censorship in media and make me STOP TALKING I still have SO MUCH MORE TO TALK ABOUT PLEASEPLEASEPL

#I HAVE TO CHOOSE BETWEEN TALKING ABOUT THE HAYS CODE VS THE COMICS CODE IM GOING TO THROW UP #URRGHMKKH #CAUSE THE HAYS CODE I WOULD ARGUE HAS A LONGER LASTING IMPACT #AND THE FILM INDUSTRY HAS A LARGER IMPACT THAT THE COMICS #BUT #BUT THE CCA IS SO INTERESTING #AND I LOOOOVVVEE TALKING ABOUT COMICS #I DIDNT EVEN HAVE ROOM TO TALK ABOUT SEDUCTION OF THE INNOCENT :((( #I NEED TO EAT A TREE #I NEED TO CHUCK WOOD LIKE A WOOD CHUCK #(who can in fact chuck wood) #(but only if they have no other option) #(and are starving) #(but they eat wood BARK naturally) #bonemeal says silly stuff

[ew-selfish-art]

Dpxdc AU: consultant groups can be used to outsource problems for companies so why not monarchies?

Danny is listening to the various eyeballs and ghosts chatter on about all the issues that he now has to oversee and advise and make so many freaking decisions on. It’s annoying that it all has to come down to his call because he was a dumb 14 year old who didn’t want his town to permanently live in the ghost zone.

Now 17, King of the Infinite, and a bit wiser to the world, Danny is doing his best to balance his teenage ambitions to not give a shit and his protective obsession to very much give a shit.

Sams parents are making her learn the family business and Tucker is trying to make this internship he’s got with a fancy tech company out of New Jersey into a career without college… so while they’re commiserating with Danny the idea comes up.

Earth has a shit ton of heroes. Like, ever since the Justice League *poofed* the GIW out of existence with the Meta human acts- more and more caped crusaders seemed to be coming out of the wood work. More villains too but still, more people who seemed wise to their abilities and morals. Danny has literally never taken an ethics class.

But rn, Eye-mothy and Eye-Bert are arguing over how Danny as King Phantom is supposed to tackle the problem of some fucking pool acting as a weird trade route with a cult and… ugh it’s just so boring but like also such a fucking problem. But… maybe it can be someone else’s issue.

Opening a portal, Danny escapes into space and gets to work finding the base of operations- Tucker had told him there was a new satellite after all and there’s no way it wasn’t connected to the hero orgs- and boom he flies into the Watchtower.

“Hey- are any of you guys willing to consult on some weird pools of ectoplasm in Pakistan? Green and glowing little lakes of bullshit and magic?” Danny asks into the meeting room of the JL regardless of their startled and alarmed exclamations.

“… I could consult on that.” A voice comes from the corner, and Danny recognizes him as one of the bat people. Or bird? The guy is in a lot of red and clearly wasn’t supposed to be in this meeting based on the way he’s propped in the corner. The room erupts in protest but Danny barely hears them through his excitement and focus on the dude.

“Great! I’ll have him back before the end of the day! Lets go Bird boy!” And with that, Danny grabbed the Bird, chucked them both through a portal back into his thrown room and begins to explain the way these eyeballs are totally trying to trap him into doing more work than he needs to do.

“What do I call you by the way? I’m Danny but you’ll probably hear them call me King Phantom.”

“I go by Red Robin, and honestly, I’ve been trying to get this shit taken care of for years.”

From there Tim becomes a regular consultant for King Phantom- the Bat Family is losing their minds with him constantly going to the land of the dead but also Constantine said not to piss off the king at all costs.

Danny is just thrilled that this dude has a shit ton of insight as well as business sense- like he could legit run the monarchy way better than him despite the fact that they’re the same age.

They end up working together for years, and even when there’s not an active issue at hand, Danny will meet up with the bird just to talk.

Sam and Tucker think they’re hilarious each time they ask if Danny’s proposed yet.

Tim has already planned their wedding but all of that information is in a folder more secured than the nuclear codes- Danny needs to ask him on a date first.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #Tim drake #dead tired #dc crossover #dp crossover #ehehehehe #also him just grabbing any random hero to help on any issue their power set might help to advise #danny outsourcing his issues is my favorite headcanon #boy wants to be helpful but also like is begging to just have one lazy Sunday #Tim drake is like ‘why would I not help run a monarchy in my spare time from running a Fortune 500 company and being a vigilante?’ #tim drake is a menace #he’s what the eyeballs have nightmares about and they didn’t even think they could have nightmares

[the-music-maniac]

Not that I read mpreg all that often (not really my thing generally speaking) but I came across some "Sanji is pregnant" fics in the sanzo/zosan tag, and not nearly the same amount for Zoro. It got me thinking about the trope. I think the lack of Zoro fics here is a tragic oversight. I think we as a fandom are absolutely and tragically ignoring the potential comedy gold of Zoro being the one to be pregnant instead.

Because when people write Sanji, the general trend I'm seeing (upon scanning through some of the fics quickly) is that he's cautious about it. Conscientious, careful to make sure things are okay. Which - arguably I could see, Sanji is probably the more practical of the two (not by a whole lot but still)and he didn't have a good childhood. Sanji being pregnant is usually a fic about his heaps of parental issues, childhood trauma and angst - which is fun to read. It's good. It's amazing, even.

Zoro being pregnant is ONE HUNDRED PERCENT gonna be a COMEDY. We're talking about a man who once tried to fight Kuina holding like 20 bokkens. We're talking about a man who got stuck in wax and thought the reasonable solution was to cut off his legs.

The entire crew spends the next 9 months tearing their hair out, preventing Zoro from doing stupid shit (exhibit A: cutting off his own limbs). They spend the same amount of time trying to stop Luffy from gum-gum-grabbing Zoro and yeeting him anytime he needs to get them out of a sticky situation.

The crew (mostly Sanji) is on 24/7 prevent-zoro-from-drinking-alcohol duty (impossible). Chopper is constantly stressed in the later months cause no one puts it past Zoro to get lost somewhere, give birth out in the woods and come strolling back with a baby tucked under his arm. They have to start hiding Zoro's dumbbells.

Franky and Usopp design and build a nursery and spends the entire time suspiciously teary eyed. Sanji tries to pretend he's unaffected but spends an entire night creating a 9 month meal plan of all the nutrients Zoro and the baby are gonna need. Not even a day later, one of the crew finds him up at 2 am making a mountain of food because Zoro made the mistake of offhandedly mentioning he had particular pregnancy craving within earshot of Sanji. In the end Zoro has to sit on him to stop Sanji from running himself ragged.

Robin keeps spouting morbid childbirth facts and quotes from parental advice books in equal measure. Nami keeps going on shopping sprees for cute baby clothes and adding the cost of them to Zoro's debt. Brook keeps writing lullabies and trying to sing them to Zoro's stomach. Zoro 100% uses his pregnancy belly as an excuse to walk around without a shirt 24/7 without getting nagged.

Somehow word gets out that the famous pirate hunter Zoro is pregnant, and at the next big fight with the Marines, half the soldiers refuse to fight him and instead start telling him to sit down, take it easy, shouting advice at him etc. Etc. Zoro loses his shit a little bit and cuts their boat in half.

Mihawk, upon finding out, tells Zoro in no uncertain terms that that is his grandchild and he's expecting them to visit so he can meet the baby when they're born. Zoro vehemently denies that Mihawk is his father (he is). Zeff upon finding out, is almost as bad as Sanji when it comes to being a mother hen. Perona buys even more baby clothes for the baby. She buys one singular shirt for Zoro as a joke, and it coincidentally happens to be the exact same brand of "mama" crop top he was forced to wear in that one filler episode. Zoro tries to chuck it into the ocean (he fails).

I'm essentially saying it would be absolute chaos, and it would be the funniest thing I've ever read. 9 months of Marimo wrangling. Can you imagine the look on Zoro's face if one of the opponents he was fighting were to tell him that he's "glowing"?

PLEASE, I would actually wheeze myself to death. The best part is you can still have plenty of Sanji angst. He still has parental issues except now they're flavoured with "I'm not ready to be a father" and "I'm terrified I'm gonna become my biological sperm donor" and "please don't die because of childbirth complications, that happened to my mother(sort of, I know she died after but it kinda counts), and I can't handle that happening again to you". Lots of cute/tender moments of Zoro comforting and reassuring Sanji. We can even have Zoro angst. He probably views protecting his crew as the one and only job he's good for (not true but that's probably what he thinks). Not being able to fulfill that is probably not helping his self esteem, and that sense of uselessness warring with his need to protect the baby - but the contradictory thing here is that to protect the baby he HAS to sit back and let other people do that FOR him. That plus all the other restrictions, people treating him differently, but him at the same time refusing to view his own child as a weakness. Imagine the havoc that would wreak. Oh my god.

Y'all don't understand, I don't even read mpreg that often and yet this is literally my ideal fic HAHAAAAA

#we already know Zoro would be a good parent considering how he is with kids but pregnancy? different matter entirely #i don't know much about jimbei yet so sadly i can't write much about him feel free to comment any headcanons y'all come up with though #zosan #sanzo #zoro x sanji #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji #cat burglar nami #monkey d luffy #nico robin #op franky #op brook #god ussop #tony tony chopper #mpreg

[duckprintspress]

Let’s Go Lesbians! 32 Books for Lesbian Visibility Day

TODAY! is Lesbian Visibility Day, the first day of Lesbian Visibility Week – April 26, 2024. We are, I’m sure you’re shocked to discover, celebrating with LOTS of lesbian books! 15 people contributed to making this list, all of us sharing our absolute faves, from graphic novels to epic novels, from memoirs to horror fiction, with explicit rep and implied. With this many awesome books to share, we’re prepared to guarantee that everyone who loves wlw lit can find something new to them on this amazing list!

Interesting Facts About Space by Emily Austin

The Essential Dykes to Watch Out For by Alison Bechdel

Belle of the Ball by Mari Costa

Kiss Number 8 by Colleen AF Venable & Ellen T. Crenshaw

She Wears the Midnight Crown Anthology

Delilah Green Doesn’t Care by Ashley Herring Blake

The Scapegracers & The Scratch Daughters by H.A. Clarke

Spinning by Tillie Walden

The Girl from the Sea by Molly Knox Ostertag

The Ruin of Angels by Max Gladstone

The Traitor Baru Cormorant by Seth Dickinson

The Red Scholar’s Wake by Aliette de Bodard

Siren Queen by Nghi Vo

She Gets the Girl by Rachael Lippincott & Alyson Derrick

Camp Damascus by Chuck Tingle

One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston

Those Who Wait by Haley Cass

Harrow the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir

Legends & Lattes by Travis Baldree

Into the Bloodred Woods by Martha Brockenbrough

From Here by Luma Mufleh

Alice Isn’t Dead by Joseph Fink

Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic by Alison Bechdel

Are You My Mother? A Comic Drama by Alison Bechdel

A Memory Called Empire & A Desolation Called Peace by Arkady Martine

Female General, Eldest Princess by Please Don’t Laugh

Clear And Muddy Loss of Love by Please Don’t Laugh

This Is How You Lose the Time War by Max Gladstone & Amal El-Mohtar

Down Among the Sticks and Bones by Seanan McGuire

A Restless Truth by Freya Marske

The Princess and the Grilled Cheese Sandwich by Deya Muniz

Everyone in This Room Will Someday Be Dead by Emily Austin

Can’t get enough books with lesbians? Yeah, us neither – this new list for 2024 is on top of THREE rec lists of titles featuring lesbians that we posted last year.

Lesbian Visibility Week Recs Part 1

Lesbian Visibility Week Recs Part 2

Duck Prints Press Short Stories with Lesbian Characters

You can also view this list (along with all our other wlw faves!) as a shelf on Goodreads!

See a book you want to buy? You can grab it through the Duck Prints Press Bookshop.org affiliate shop!

What are YOUR favorite reads with lesbian characters?

#duck prints press #wlw characters #lesbian characters #queer books #queer fiction #queer non-fiction #lesbian visibility day #lesbian visibility week

[sensei-venus]

i am more than happy to give you karate kid requests! i just thought you would rather write for the cobra kai characters, so i never sent anything in. with that, would you be down to write something young!daniel x female reader where the two of them sneak out of class to make out in the janitor's closet? a bit smutty but not too heavy, mostly just focused on the kissing? it's a concept i find so hot but there aren't any fics out there for it. 😫 let me know if you get this ask because i know tumblr likes to eat them sometimes. take care!

(Unedited) (Support the Writer🌺) (Young!Daniel being…Young!Daniel??,Kissing, Slight Make out, Slight Grouping, Kissing in a closet at school)

Reader narrowed as she looked across the crowded classroom. Eyes falling onto her boyfriend who sat only a row ahead of her. His head was down as he finished working on his class assignment. Daniel always had a thing for trying to finish every single piece of class work before the bell rang. Because he was to lazy to take it home and do it for homework.

She rolled her eyes out of love for the boy and briefly looked away. In that split second her eyes meet the teachers. The older women sat at the front of the class at her over populated desk. Folders and papers where scattered over the dark stained wood. A large stack of book sat on the very corner.

“Reader would you mind running these up to the front office for me? Someone requested them and seeing as we aren’t using them, they need to be returned.”

Reader nodded quickly and studs up from her seat. She walked down the aisle and row of desks and passed some of her peers, no one seemed to take notice. She picked up the stack of books and tried her best to balance them in her grasp. The large stack wobbled a bit in her hold making her jerk a little. For a moment she thought they would tip out of her hands and fall to the floor. Luckily they didn’t as a pair of strong hands held hers steady. She sighed out on relief as she regained her balance of the heavy books.

A few books where removed and she was finally able to see who the person was who helped her. It was Daniel, he grinned her way as he took some of the books.

“Daniel if you could help her to the office with those? They are quiet heavy.”

“Of course miss! Be right back.”

Daniel gave a cheeky smile to the women before leading the way out of the class room. Reader was slow to follow behind him. The books weighing her down a little. They walked side by side as they made their way to the office.

Daniel smirked at her saying “So did you really need help or did you just want to to rush in and save the day.” He wiggled his brows at her. Rolling her eyes she scoffed “Oh yeah because I needed mister save the day to come to my rescue for some text books falling.” She tried to play off the earlier events. He chuckled at her clearly embarrassed expression.

“If it wasn’t for the fact that I love you I would have kicked you in the kneecaps.”

“Baby it’s to late in the day for that kind of violence.”

“Oh lover boy it’s definitely not.”

The trip to the office was quick to say the very least. The front office lady was to busy trying to organize returned piles of text books to even notice them. The two teens just stuffed to each other before setting the books down on the counter and leaving.

The wall back to class was more interesting then the walk up.

Daniel slowly inched closer to her until their shoulders touched. One of his hands snacking around her waist. He was lucky no one was in the hall way because he definitely would have gotten the two of them put into after school detention. He pulled her close, chucking a little and sucked hid front teeth. His lips where right by her ear when he said “How about we make a little detour for a minute. So we can have a little fun~”

Reader wanted to laugh as he tried to pull wool over her eyes. She knew what he wanted pretty clearly.

“We are not doing that in school today-“

“Not that, though I would be down for it. I mean a little kiss, or should I say a little kissing. Plural~”

They looked around for a split second to make sure the hall was still clear before taking off toward the closest janitor closet. Luck for them it was unlocked. Daniel quickly pulled her in and shut the door behind them, he flicked on a old dim light over head. It only brightened the room a bit and put a show of her face as he looked at her. The room was cramped, barely holding them.

Reader grew a little excited as they both tried to stay quiet. Hoping no one would hear them in the closet and get them caught. She had to cover her mouth to stop the small giggle that bubbled out as Daniel looked back at the door for a split second before back to her. He smirks as his hands find her waist again, running up her hips and sides. He bends down a little and moves closer to her. His eyes lidded as he looks down at her.

Their lips meet gently, soft and sweet. Daniel’s lips are soft and warm against hers. Pillowy and sweet and make her melt inside from just their very touch. She wished that she could lie and say he was a bad kisser, but he wasn’t.

Daniel LaRusso was a great kisser. He knew every trick in the book to make her knees week. He used his tricks to silence her every time their lips meet. Playing her like he knew every single button to make she swoon. She feel for it every single time.

Her breath hitched as he felt up her sides and ghosted over her breasts. He smirked into the kiss and swollowed every tiny noice she made. Moans bubbled up from her chest and passsed her lips.

Her eyes fluttering when his tongue slid along her bottom lip asking for entry. She allowed him to part her lips. Their tongues shyly meeting and playing together. Reader gripped onto the boys shoulders as things got more intense. Her nails digging into his shirt as they slam into each other. It’s only a matter of time before they half way part only to go back in. Lips meeting once again.

They are so caught up in each other they they barely register the sound of loud voices out inside the hallway. They jerk back from each other for a moment. Panting out they hold on to each other, a think layer of spit connecting them before it silently snaps. Ending their connection. They both stare at the door intently. Eyes never leaving the light stained wood door.

“Johnny that’s sick man! How did you score that?”

“Shit up man, don’t ask don’t tell. Now come on so we can go smoke this weed. That asshat principle almost caught us the last time we tried to light one up in the bathroom. I want to get one in before pe.”

The sound of Dutch and Johnny slowly faded down the hallway. Only the sound of their shoes lingered in the air.

Daniel coughed lightly, still flustered from the idea of possibly getting caught. Reader zipped her lips tight as she looked up to him. Eyes big and round. Blinking a few times to put on a little charm.

“Man you really try and act all innocent like I didn’t just have my tongue in your mouth.”

“Humm but I think you like that about me don’t you??”

She giggled as the boy sweeper down and smashed his lips to hers.

Starting a sloppy make out session all over again.

#cobra kai #cobra kai blog #cobra kai ask blog #cobra kai imagine #cobra kai blurb #the karate kid series #karate kid #karate kid blog #karate kid imagine #karate kid blurbs #teenage!daniel #young!daniel #daniel larusso smut #daniel larusso headcanons #daniel larusso x chubby reader #daniel larusso x reader #daniel larusso #karate kid daniel larusso #chubby reader #reader insert #cobra kai x chubby reader

[mishwanders]

Omg hi i see your request are open 😶‍🌫️ I have been lurking in your blog for awhile and I will say 10/10 writing 💥💥

Anyway, I love fierce deity with all my heart. I want to kiss his face and everything 🤩

Anyway here is the request: reader is a traveling merchant and came a across cool looking mask( fierce deity)  and reader is like :000 and took the mask with them and was planning to sell it. But realized there was a deity sealed in it after hearing his voice in their head and they were like "OH SHIT" and decided not to sell the mask.

Then they began to talk to each other when reader is traveling and their friendship blooms and soon romance but reader doesn't know how to get him out until they were attacked by monsters and got fierce to come out  of his mask and meet reader in person(BOOM they kiss and got married 😎😎)

Fierce deity fierce deity FIERCE DEITY-

So what you’re saying is, Fierce Deity is going to mess with the reader and be the equivalent of a haunted doll? Yes, I love this idea!

A/N+Warnings: N/A, safe for everyone. Written by Mishwanders - pls do not repost.

When you first came across the strange mask in the middle of the road, you thought nothing of it. There was nothing suspicious - it was just a plain, old, wooden mask with blue and red markings, complete with wooden white hair (totally normal - nothing to worry about), and it didn’t look so bad in its current state! You felt like you hit the lottery, the jackpot, you could see rupees whirling through your eyes like a slot machine. A little paint and it would look good as new! A perfect item to add to the bag!

However, you weren’t expecting to be so, uh, how do I put this… Haunted?

Yeah, haunted was the best word you could conjure to describe the damned thing. From the moment it was in your grasp, something felt off. Your pack felt hundreds of times heavier than it was, there were random creaks and bumps in the nights, small whispers, and of course the fact that the mask had a tendency to move on it’s own - like the one night you woke up and found that it SOMEHOW MADE ITS WAY ON YOUR PILLOW WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING!

To say you freaked out would be an understatement considering how fast you chucked it up against the wall with a shout, springing from your bed with your bedside ax (because that’s a totally normal thing to have) and mini statue of the goddess Hylia, ready to open a can of holy whoopass on the mere slab of wood.

At least, that’s what you were planning to do until you heard the deep, pained groan of a man and a burst of hot, white light emanating from the portion of the mask that split in half.

“Little one, why must you hurt me so?”

You held the mini statue of Hylia in front of you, visibly shaking like a chihuahua at the sound of the voice. The goddess would protect you from this foul beast.

Right?

“What in Hylia’s name are you?!” You screeched.

Its lips didn’t move but you heard it scoff, seemingly noticing your state of being.“Trying to get my sister to fight me?”

Huh? Sister?

Well that was a first.

“I - uh - well, you know - you’re - well...”

“A mask.” He stated, rather nonchalantly.

You huffed, processing to pick up the mask, still holding Hylia in front of you for fear of the mouth actually moving and biting your fingers off (or something much worse). You interrogated the mask for what felt like hours, when truly it was only ten minutes or so,before you got the answers you were looking for. The beast trapped inside was not a beast at all, but rather a deity lost to time itself, one that craved to be free of his prison.

A part of you considered calling a poexorcist but truly you didn’t even know if they even had the qualifications for poexorcizing a deity and you also didn’t know how he would take to that - so, eh, better not go that route.

Instead, you decided to take a chance to travel to see a man who was well versed in masks and the types that were out there. He wasn’t a salesman, more of a collector. The deity seemed fine enough with that idea, so you made a plan to visit your friend soon with your new, ever watchful item.

You quickly became close friends with the deity inside, finding him to be rather good company in the quiet of your home and the loneliness of the road. There was a part of you that wondered if he enjoyed your companionship too, having been forever locked away inside of this old piece of wood for goddesses knows how long.

However, this constant companionship made you realize what you had been missing in your life, and you found yourself sitting on the edge of indecision. On one hand, you wanted him free, so he could live out his life the way he saw fit, but on the other hand, you enjoyed having him with you, his mask always at arms reach, tucked safely at your side in bed or on your back pack on the road. You realized that if he did get his freedom, and he decided to leave, you would be left completely and utterly alone again, crumbling under the weight of the silence that would surround you again.

You had considered discussing the possibility of going with him, being his companion who could conjure up some money by selling your wares, but that conclusion came at the utmost worst of times.

As if they had fallen from the sky, you’d found yourself surrounded by moblins on all sides who were quickly encroaching upon you and your bag of valuables. One of them nabbed the mask away from your backpack, which led to you fighting for it back. It was the most improper game of tug-o-war ever, and especially not one without consequences. You yanked the mask free from the moblins grimy hands and you did so with such force that the mask went flying into the air, cracking in half on impact against the stone in the road. That’s when you were all blinded by the intense white light that filled each of your vision, feeling a massive wave of energy and rage pulsating through it. When it all died down, you found yourself no longer surrounded by the greedy little moblins and instead, face to face with the being behind the mask.

The Fierce Deity himself.

To his surprise, you did not cower in fear at the mere sight of him, rather looking up at him in awe filled curious wonder. He knelt down to you, cupping your face in his large hands as he looked you over and asked, “Are you hurt, little one?”

You shook your head in reply, still looking at him in awe. His face looked similar to the mask he was trapped in, but the lines on his face connected somewhere on his body and trailed under his tunic. You gently raised your hand up to touch him, feeling the warmth and softness of his features no longer hidden behind the wooden surface. “I’m alright, Fierce. Thank you.”

His gaze softened at your voice, relaxing now that he knew you were unharmed under his watch. You looked around at the quiet road. “Well, now that you’re out of the mask, I don’t suppose we need to go see my old friend any more. Is there anywhere specific you would like to go?”

The Fierce Deity gave you a soft smile. “Anywhere. So long as you’re there.”

Your heart swelled as he spoke, your hand gently gripping onto his. “You mean that? You still want me along even though you’re free?”

“What’s freedom if I have no one to share it with?” He asked, gently taking your hand in his.

You smiled up at him, practically beaming as you kissed his cheek.

“I suppose you’re right. Let’s go. Together!”

#fierce deity x reader #fierce deity #fierce deity link #lu fierce deity #lu fierce deity x reader #linked universe x reader #linked universe #loz x reader #sfe #writing: fierce deity

[dcangel]

hi hi! i saw that u were asking for reqs and prompt 29 rlly had me thinking… imagine you’ve been there for 2 years and are the only girl, and you don’t socialize much, you do your part and keep to yourself so no one knows much abt you. but when thomas shows up, he continues to bug you with questions/bother you including why ur the only girl there. there’s a lot of tension and one night he wonders off in the woods he finds you and one thing leads to another and it happens..!

AHH okay this is sending me to hell bc my mind is going feral just thinking about it and I literally am so excited to write this one. And thank you so much for requesting one <333 (this is my first time writing smut so bear with me)

Idk how to tag these correctly bc I’ve never posted anything but if I’m wrong just correct me: p in v, slight fingering, praising, degrading, dirty talk, mentions of edging, mentions of getting caught, choking kink, slight size kink, slight/moderate pain kink, oral sex!f receiving, a few uses of y/n, nicknames, 2nd person pov. Majorly unedited and not proofread (grammarly told me there were 149 errors but it’s 2:24 in the morning so grammarly can kindly fuck off. hopefully this is bearable to read.)

8238 words (what thee actual fuck)

29– Thomas

“Don’t muffle yourself. Let them hear your whiny voice, baby. Everyone should know how good I’m fucking you.”

The last few days were… something else. Like clockwork every month, another greenie arrived, but to you that just meant another person bugging the shit out of you until they got over it. What were you supposed to tell them? That you just felt like coming up into the maze and trapping yourself here for two years just because you were bored? Every single greenie, without fail, always pestered you like a small gnat swirling around your ear each day; “why are you the only girl? Why are you here? Is it hard being the only girl?” And of course the alarmingly obviously questions that crossed every new shank’s mind, but only few braved to ask.

You mostly managed to steer clear of the lewd obscenities, letting the few friends you made take care of it for you since it got to be an irritable subject for you very quickly. But, unfortunately, there were some that wanted to ask the girl herself. Some that didn’t even know your name, yet still approached you with a supercilious guise thinking that it would somehow win you over. Each time it made you wonder what they put in these new greenies before sending them up; they just kept getting worse and worse.

Majority of the gladers knew your name, but then again how could they not? Some knew it but just decided to call you whatever you wanted; as if you being a girl made you less human and more of an object. Those were the boys that could only dream of touching a girl, never mind even being able to hookup with one.

You were surprised by the amount of people that actually treated you as equal, even though it was the bare fucking minimum. Sometimes you found it ironic how Chuck—the youngest glader here—didn’t even think twice about your humanity status when half the so-called “men” in this place treated you like scut. The boy having stated many times that “you’re a human too, just like the rest of us. We each play our part and at the end of the day; work is work. It doesn’t matter how old you are or if you’re a guy or a girl.” You think one of the reasons you were such good friends with the boy was because he could easily relate to your struggles; him being the youngest glader and always treated like a baby who couldn’t comprehend the simplest things, and you being the only girl who’s treated like shit because apparently women can’t possibly be able to do the same things as men. You were both deeply misunderstood, and that served as a foundation for one of your closest relationships.

Of course the leader, Alby, had always said the same; you were to be treated as equal. He’d even brought up the fact that it was dispiriting that the matter was even a question at all. Some days were worse than others, only granting you the energy to will yourself out of the small hut Gally and few others helped you build, at the last possible second and skipping breakfast as you trudged your way over to the gardens, taking your place by Newt. From there, maybe you’d have an occasional conversation about the dirt that constantly flung into your eyes, automatically irritating both your sight and your mood, or maybe about how brutally the blazing sun treated your reddening shoulders and face.

But on those days—the bad ones—you kept silent, doing what you were told when you were told, taking part in the roles that made the glade work. Maybe you’d join the rest of the glade for supper, sitting with the very few people you called ‘friends’ but at the end of the table, hoping to avoid conversation that inevitably reeled you in. More often than not, bad days usually warranted you to take the meal to your hut after a quick ‘thanks’ to Frypan, then making the isolated trip to the comforting confines of your own space.

You tried keeping to yourself, afraid to get too close with anyone that wasn’t Chuck or Newt, but of course your name was brought up quite often. It never made sense, though; you rarely interacted with anyone, even the people you exchanged words with on occasion, not much was known about you. You even tried to avoid being seen as often as possible in hopes that your absence would somehow make the gladers forget about your existence.

Yet every month when a new greenie was sent up, terrified and questioning their entire existence, it also started a new uproar around your name. So with Thomas, it was no different. Well, almost no different.

After he showed up, he wasn’t subtle with his intentions like most were—always asking anyone he could about anything that might make you more 3-dimensional in his eyes. So when he saw you talking to Chuck and ruffling the young boy’s hair, he used their already-forming bond to his advantage.

“Hey, Chuck, who was that?” He pretended to be oblivious as if he hadn’t been staring at you all day every day, the way your hair was always tied back in a single low braid, how the small strands that were too short slipped from the crossed-pattern and framed your face, how your sun-kissed nose scrunched whenever some minor inconvenience passed your way or the way your head tilted ever-so-slightly as a way to show your confusion.

He was well aware that this most certainly happened with every new arrival; the pestering questions, the intrusive thoughts, yet he was infatuated with wanting to know absolutely everything he could.

“Who? Her?” Chuck followed the older boy’s gaze, quickly losing interest once he saw where it led.

Thomas’s gaze, however, didn’t falter. He couldn’t decide what part of you to focus on. Maybe the way you effortlessly carried buckets and buckets of whatever the hell was needed for gardening, but it looked heavy enough to make him stare in awe. He was shameless. “Yes her. Who is she?”

“A person.” Chuck answered, being frustratingly vague.

Thomas finally pulled his brown eyes from you, landing them on the smaller boy beside him. “What’s her name?”

“Why does it matter?” The young boy was all too familiar with the questions of each newbie, most greenies coming to Chuck for the same thing each month that became almost a routine to give out as little information as possible to protect his friend.

Thomas sighed, mentally rolling his eyes. “Because I wanna’ know.” He answered bluntly.

“You wouldn’t care what that guy’s name is,” Chuck pointed to a builder named Dan. “So why do you care what her name is?”

The greenie squinted his eyes, jaw clenched in slight irritation, the veins on his neck becoming more prominent than before. “Because I just want to know?”

“Y/N, her name is Y/N. There.” Chuck’s bitter tone was definitely a eye-opener, the boy usually sweet and happy to make new friends.

“Thanks.” Thomas managed to get a small thumbs up in return as Chuck walked further away, obviously done with their conversation.

. . .

The next few days left Thomas’s curiosity at a higher peak, even worse than when he first got here—before he knew about the girl. Luckily Chuck had told you each time the greenie asked another question, and you couldn’t express how grateful you were for the young boy since he never answered them.

However, despite Chuck’s anguished attempts at telling Thomas to leave you alone, the greenie pursued his interests in getting to know you more, although it was nearly inevitable that this would happen.

On this particular day, though, he couldn’t seem to find you. Much to his dismay, you were in the Deadheads, sitting by the small brook that always seemed to flow despite the enclosed glade. It was night, the sun long gone although the heat never seemed to leave. You liked the Deadheads, specifically the brook. It was quiet, nothing but the sounds of water trickling over small rocks and folding in on itself, and maybe the occasional leaf falling to the forest floor. The peaceful sounds were a drastic difference to the clanking of shovels on rocks that seemed to peeve each gardener, or tools hammering wood that echoed across the entire open glade.

It was rare, but sometimes you’d accidentally fall asleep in the woods due to the calming nature, serving for an aching back and sore neck that shot pain thorough your whole body when you craned it the wrong way. It would’ve been one of those nights, except the sounds of leaves crunching and twigs snapping under someone’s foot brought you back from your half-asleep state. You sat up against the tree, your legs crossing as you looked around. The only people who knew you came out here were sure to be asleep by now, Chuck always falling asleep the second the second he laid down on his hammock, and Newt knowing you didn’t like to be bothered out here.

You thought back to when Ben had been stung and was chasing Thomas through the Deadheads, and you thought the same was about to happen to you. Grabbing a small stick by your side— that would probably snap if any pressure were applied— you stood up and looked around the dark forest. The plush foliage provided little to no light, which left your eyes desperately trying to adjust to the darkness as quickly as possible.

You held the stick out in front of you and slowly backed up, occasionally spinning around to check behind you, the stick swinging through the air like it was wielded by a maniac.

The lack of light confused your senses, and somehow you didn’t you didn’t hear the cracking and snapping of leave and twigs, or feet the heat behind you getting closer and closer until your back slammed into something that scared you so bad you almost yelped as you whipped around to threaten whoever it was with the flimsy stick that almost snapped when you turned. You were greeted with an unfamiliar face, one that wasn’t just another in the sixty something faces in the glade that you had yet to learn the name of. It was a new one.

“Shit— sorry.” He muttered quickly, large, outstretched hands already on your shoulders to steady you.

You back up slightly, hoping his grip would fall off, and it did. “What the hell are you doing here?”

The boy automatically took to fiddling with his fingers, a nervous habit you guessed. “I, uh… I was looking for you, actually. Chuck told me you might be out here.”

You squinted your eyes slightly, not believing him since Chuck knew better than to tell a random greenie where you’d most likely be during your free time. “Did he?”

The greenie struggled to come up with an excuse, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he looked at the ground.

“Or did you just watch me come out here earlier with the plans of following me, hoping I’d still be here after you were done with your job?” You added with a raised brow, a clear annoyed tone evident in your voice.

“Wel— No that’s not— I mean… well, you’re probably used to the newbies bothering you—”

“Damn right I am. And I don’t expect you to be any different, so unless you have anything important to say, then I’m just gonna leave.” You got straight to the point, not caring to sugarcoat or be nice to him since you’d tried that before with other greenies, and it usually didn’t turn out well. You dropped your stick and started to turn away from him when you heard his footsteps following you again, his voice following soon after.

“Well, no, but I just wanted to talk to you. I don’t know you v—”

“So let’s keep it that way, yeah?” You said, sounding as if you were talking to a child.

He clenched and unclenched his fist, a small habit of his. “Could you just stop cutting me off?”

“Why should I?” You said, brown raised in annoyance as you crossed your arms, shifting your weight onto one leg.

“Because I fucking asked? It shouldn’t be that hard to be nice to someone.”

You scoffed, his attitude impressing you since it almost matched yours perfectly. You eyed him before opening your mouth to speak. “You’re right, it shouldn’t be. So why’re you making it so difficult then?” You asked, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips, your head tilted coyly.

He let out a quick sigh, jaw clenching in irritation. “Because, all I did was try and talk to you and you’re being a bitch about it.”

Your head jerked back slightly, your eyebrows automatically raised with a taunting smile of disbelief creeping up. “You just can’t help it with the foul language can you?” You said with a laugh, one that seemed to get on his nerves even more. It was almost impressive how irritable he was. “Maybe you should try talking to directly instead of bugging my friends—especially Chuck— about me. Y’know, like a conversation or something? Maybe start off with a small introduction like your name or something a little less hostile.”

“Fine, I’m—”

“I know who you are.” It wasn’t intentional but you realized that you had cut him off again. But instead of apologizing, you almost wanted to see how pissed he could get before stomping off.

He was definitely contemplating it, almost losing interest since your attitude made him want to smash his head against a rock, but his pure stubbornness was what kept him standing there. “Again with the cutting me off! Is that all you ever do? ‘S that why you don’t have any friends.”

Being the only girl in a glade full of boys made this seem like nothing compared what else you’ve heard, so his little insults and slight temper tantrum did nothing. “Well you said you wanted to talk to me, and I’m assuming you wanted to get to know me more since all you ever do is bother Chuck.” You said with a shrug. “Come on, you can do better than that, I know you can.”

Something about your tone, the way it was taunting him, teasing him in a way that he couldn’t tell if he should hate you or want to slam you against a tree and— he shook his head, seemingly getting rid of whatever was going through his mind. “Why, you want me to insult you? Treat you like a piece of shit like everyone else does?”

You didn’t respond. Rather, you just stood there, not bothering to move as he subtly took a few slow steps toward you.

“Or maybe it’s something else?” He said, head tilting in a certain way that allowed the small streaks of moonlight peering through the spaces above that weren’t covered by trees to illuminate the beginnings of smug look on his freckled face.

Of course you knew what he looked like, he was a gardener the first few days so you had the displeasure of working near him, but something about him being up close and the way the shadowy brightness of the moon cast a perfect gleam allowed you to really notice his features. You had to admit, he wasn’t a bad looking guy; short brown hair, a perfect nose that could make anyone jealous, pale skin littered with moles and freckles that didn’t seem to be on just his face, golden-brown eyes that looked darker than in the daylight, and you couldn’t tell if it was because of the tree coverage or some other reason…

“I bet it’s something else, isn’t it?” His voice was what snapped you from your thoughts, your eyes focusing back in on his darkening gaze.

“Huh?” You said, your eyes practically in slits at this point. You couldn’t tell if your question was actually a question, or if it was because you’d already forgotten what he asked before.

He took a step closer, yet he wasn’t actually that close. It was simply the darkness of the Deadheads and the way your other senses tried to account for your poor vision that made it seem like he was towering over you.

Or maybe he was.

“I said, are you just always a bitch like this, or do you do it because you like the way people respond. The way they get irritated and go off on you or treat you like shit all for you to complain about it afterwards.” You almost couldn’t believe his words. But what was less believable was the feeling that resonated in the pit of your stomach. One that had you thinking things you shouldn’t be.

“What? What the hell is wrong with you?” You spat out, trying to act offended.

His smirk grew, telling you that you reacted exactly how he expected. “You didn’t answer my question.” He took another step forward.

“I don’t have to.” You stepped back.

He noticed your slight step back, he also noticed the tree behind you—he same one you’d almost fallen asleep against earlier—getting closer each time. “I think it’s only fair that you do, so, go ahead. Answer it.”

Now, there were two ways you could’ve answered this. Which one did you choose? The one you knew would get the better reaction, of course. “Make me.”

One step later, you were already back up against the tree, seemingly nowhere to go (you could easily step to the side), and Thomas right in front of you, head tilted downwards to look at you because of the height difference. “I don’t think you really want me to. You’re just saying that.”

“Oh yeah? Try me.” You whispered lazily, a small gleam in your eyes as you looked up at him.

He brown ones bored into yours, an almost-mischievous glint behind them. He leaned down, his mouth inches from your ear, his hand against the tree on the other side of your head. “Maybe I will.”

You couldn’t help the way your knees felt weak, something about his voice; the raspiness embedded in his low, deep tone. “Maybe you should.” You breathed out, watching him pull back, his eyes flicking between your eyes and somewhere else.

His other hand slid around your waist, large palm being a source of heat as if the night air wasn’t already warm enough. It was torturous, the way his lips ghosted around your skin, every area he passed felt empty after the heat of his presence left, the way you felt his breath brush her face when he laughed at his own teasing actions.

His hand slid around to your lower back, pulling it forward in an arch as your upper back stayed against the tree. Thomas looked down at you, the very tip of his nose so close to yours that the heat radiating from him felt like he was actually touching you. You bit the inside of your cheek, never good with the whole ‘patience’ thing.

Thomas, on the other hand, could’ve dragged this out all night. But when he met your gaze, the look in your eye let the thought slip from his mind. It was when you whispered some words that didn’t quite stick in his brain against his lips, that’s what got to him. He bent down and connected your lips, the kiss wasn’t a slow, savoring-every-moment type of kiss. It was a hungry, sloppy, impatient kiss that made it seem like he was devouring you.

It was needy and heated, more teeth-clashing and tongue-tangling than anything. His lips were chapped and rough, but then again so we’re yours after two years in the glade.

His lips trailed down your cheek, then your jaw, then right under your jawline, nipping at the surprisingly soft skin. His lips followed your jawline until they were right under your ear, finding a sweet spot you didn’t even know you had.

You breathed out softly, biting the inside of your cheek as your head tilted backwards, hitting the bumpy bark of the tree. To your left was his outstretched arm that he used to hold himself up against a the tree, and to your right was his head, slightly buried in the crook of your neck as he peppered the spot with little nips as kisses. He freehand—the one that was on your lower back—slipped down to the curve of your ass, squeezing all around the plump skin.

“How’s this for getting to know you?” He breathed against your skin.

You bit your lip, just a little, but enough that his scrutinizing gaze caught it. “I think you, uh, you should get to know me just a little better, y’know?” You said, a small lump in the back of your throat that wouldn’t go down.

“Hmm, think I should, huh?” He teased.

“Mhm, yeah… y-you should.” You nodded, teeth gliding over your own bottom lip as you tugged his hair gently so he’d look up at you.

The heel of Thomas’s palm dug into your ass, prompting you to jump up a little. To jump right into his arms. Your thigh hitched up on his waist, his hand gliding from your ass to under your leg, finger tips reach the the inside of your thigh. Your other foot steady on the ground— well, would’ve been steady if you hadn’t stepped on a tree stump. Your footing faltered, twisting your ankle in the process and you pulled from the recently rekindled kiss to wince.

He chuckled and lifted up your other thigh, practically holding you up until you got the hint to wrap your legs around his waist. Your back was pressed into the tree, bare shoulders are partially-bare upper back collecting scratches and green moss smudges.

Thomas didn’t waste anymore time, the fingers of his free hand already sliding down your torso and half under the waistband of your jeans. He only stopped for a brief moment, looking up at you as you nodded back—maybe a little too eagerly.

He didn’t even bother to unbutton them or unzip them for the time being, his fingers twitching with the thought of touching you in mind. While he was just as impatient as you, he still managed to find the will in him to tease you. Two of his veiny fingers swipes over your panties, starting at the beginning of your wetness and dragging them all the way up to your cloth-covered clit. You couldn’t deny nor hide it anymore, you were soaked—rather, your panties were.

“Damn, this all for me? Guess you liked the idea of me proving you wrong, huh?” He taunted.

Your eyes bore into his like you wanted to say something snarky, but you literally could not lie. He felt it. He felt what he did to you. He knew the slight power he had over you—although you were sure he didn’t quite know just how much power he possessed.

Reluctantly, you tenaciously nodded up at him, just a very slight head movement that you hoped he’d miss, but of course he didn’t. You were grateful he didn’t respond, with words anyway, but you could see see the glint in his eye that made you want to kick him, slap him, anything you could to get your point across. But he made you weak in the knees, figuratively and literally since one of his hands was under your ass holding you up, your legs raveled around his waist and connected at his lower back.

At first, when you felt his hand leave your ass, you couldn’t decide whether to be disappointed by the loss of touch, or to expect your body to hit the ground. But it didn’t. He had you pinned against the tree, your legs already locked tightly around him, your arms slung around his neck.

His, now free, hand glides around to the front of your thigh, up your stomach (it would’ve gone under your shirt if he didn’t have other plans), over your tank top-covered breasts, fingers stopping momentarily to knead the dough-y flesh, and making their final stop around your throat just below your jaw—palm pressing against your airway loosely, pointer and thumb fingers settling below your ears on either side of your head.

The fingers caressing your sopping panties also became more active; drawing slow lines up and down.

“T-Thomas,” you stuttered, not because he hand was that tight, but simply because it was tight enough to warrant a gasp present in your words. “Don’t tease me.”

You were really in no position to be the one saying commands, but it was the sheer stubborn-confidence that impressed him enough to consider the choked out words. “As you wish.” He spoke, slipping two fingers past your panties, the material bunching to the side, and right into you without any warning. Well, to be fair he did give you a warning, just no time to process before you felt his long, slender fingers gliding against your walls.

“Fuck— Thomas.” You breathed out, your tone a little whiny. You were almost embarrassed at how easily you gave in, how easily you let him get you this way.

He gave your throat one last little squeeze and dropped his hand down to one of the straps on your tank top. He was considering sliding it under your shirt, but then he’d have to go through more trouble to get it off seeing as you were leaned against a tree. So, Thomas decided to take what he knew you’d give, and he tugged at the straps.

You knew your standards were low when consent made your heart swoon, feeling the nervous hot-and-cold sweats rack your body. But being the only girl in the glade, you were glad someone other than your friends was showing you respect…ish.

After seeing your nod, he slid the strap down and you pulled your arm back and through the thing fabric piece, the same was done on the other side. Thomas’s fingers were barely moving, too slow even for his teasing pace, but his brain had a little more focus on what he was trying to do with one hand.

A few seconds later, and you were gasping at the sudden coldness you felt against your pert nipples. It was an odd sensation, the glade was always hot yet when your bare chest was exposed, the air felt cool.

The chilled breeze caused the buds to instantly harden, making something of Thomas’s harden as well. “Shit, angel, no bra?”

You hadn’t worn a bra since today was one of those days— the ones with low energy, restless sleep barely giving you enough stamina to will yourself throughout the day. “No…” you admitted, almost shamefully.

Before you could even think, lips were wrapped around the sensitive buds, a tongue flat as it pressed over the top. You let out a noise somewhere between a whimper and a small moan, finger tangling in his hair automatically.

Thomas simply couldn’t leave your other side untreated, so he rolled your other nipple between his fingers while fucking you with the other hand. Every sound you made, whether it be a sigh, a moan, a whimper, a small whine of his name, each and every one of them seemed to be egging him on more. Like small pleas and begs for more of his touch.

And whether you knew it or not, that exactly what they were; your body whining, aching for anything he’d give you, grateful for the plainest stroke of his digits in your wet cunt, or the effortless drag of his smooth tongue across your pebbled nipple.

Somewhere between small praises and straight-up degradation, you manages you end up without any clothes and Thomas’s pretty face between your legs as you stand there against the tree; teeth clenched, thighs trembling, fingers scratching at his scalp leaving a stinging sensation in their wake. It felt good— the burn of your jagged nails against his already sensitive scalp, the sun un-ironically taking part in making sure it would hurt him.

The tree bark dug into your bare back as you simultaneously pushed yourself up on your tip-toes, squirming at the sensation of his tongue on your clit becoming too much, yet tugging his face further between your wobbly thighs with the grip you had on his brown hair.

Thomas decided he liked you best when you were like this; a sweaty, moaning, whimpering, indecisive mess for him— despite only speaking his first words to you less than an hour ago.

And quite frankly, you couldn’t care less. The only thing spurring you on, giving you the shamelessness needed to give yourself up like this was the undying need to cum. He had be fucking edging you this whole damn time, yet you couldn’t complain. Not while he was pleasuring you at least. Your protests came after you didn’t—after the way he’d suck on and swirl his tongue around your swollen bud, getting you right there, only to pull away as you were about to topple over the edge.

It might not have been verbal, but maybe you’d give his hair a particularly harsh yank, or dig your nails into his raw scalp with as much strength as you could muster. Unbeknownst to you, Thomas enjoyed it. He loved the way you whined and squirmed, body begging for a release even if your mouth was too stubborn to communicate it. He loved the pain you inflicted on him, the pricking sensation hurting so bad—yet not enough—that it felt good.

“Did I get you to change your mind yet, Angel?” Thomas spoke against your cunt, lips glistening with you juices, eyes dark as he looked up at you with a captivating stare that you fell prisoner to time and time again.

You bit down on your lip brutally, the discomfort not even phasing you anymore. You were sure your lips would be bruised and possibly bloodied in the morning for more than one reason. “Thomas… please,” There it was. The first real plead that spilled from your lips. Not the desperate whines or frustrated grunts you’d given him earlier, but an actual word that put your need on full display.

And it sounded better than he could’ve ever imagined.

“What’s wrong, princess? Am I not good enough for you?” He cooed, tone mocking your desire so damn condescendingly that if it were anyone else you’d send their skull flying against the maze walls.

But you couldn’t resist, he had you under his spell, wrapped around his finger. And you knew it. You both knew it. “Fuck me, make me cum… just do something for fucks sake!” Your voice held a guise of irritation and rage, but just behind that was the exact whininess that he was looking for.

“I think I like the sound of you begging for me. It’s pretty.” He whispered, whether to himself or you, you couldn’t find it in you to give a fuck anymore.

Thomas stood up, large hands sliding up the sides of your bare body, soft skin beneath his calloused fingertips. A whimper slipped from your swollen lips, the feeling of his hands setting your body ablaze, leaving goosebumps only the chilly day’s managed to give you in their wake. You felt like you were sweating buckets, yet the warmth radiating off his wide hands (or maybe you were just small) left the rest of your figure feeling frigid.

His lips wet lips met yours, hand meeting your throat as you gasped lightly at the taste of yourself on his tongue as he poked and prodded at your own. You didn’t even have to think about how easily you let him in, you blatantly followed his command no matter what form in came in without a second thought.

Fingers feeling needy, you reached for his belt and he slotted his knee between your thighs, pinning you against the tree for the umpteenth time tonight. However, you didn’t hear a protest or receive a firm look coded with a not-so-hidden message, so you proceeded with your actions, fingers fumbling with the flimsy metal piece until you hear the telltale clanking sound of his belt slithering through the denim loops and clashing against the dirt floor.

His jeans dropped next, nothing to hold them up or keep them in their place as you unzipped them. His shirt had been discarded earlier, just before he got to his knees in front of you, so it was one less article of clothing in your way.

But that didn’t matter, the only one you care about was still on him. Dainty fingers lightly brushed over his bulge, your eyes dropping for just a second to catch a glimpse of his clothed size before you had to tilt your head back up due to the hand holding your throat. It was dark, but your eyes were well adjusted by now; well enough to see the tent his erection formed as you unintentionally teased him.

Your hands were impatient, your whole being was impatient, but you could at least do something about the need to have your hands around him. After practically grabbing his hard-on through his boxers, palming it roughly for just a second, you didn’t even wait to get your hands inside his boxers. Immediately, you tugged your hand up his length, his impressively long length. He groaned, cock already throbbing, twitching at the thought of being buried inside you.

The noise almost took you by surprise, and you were almost proud of yourself for being the cause. You brought your left knee up his thigh, situating it comfortably in the groove of his hip, and pushed down the remaining fabric. His free hand assisted you and helped slide the other end down until he kicked away the item that he’d be searching for in the darkness later.

Digits finding his hardness again as you continued to make out, your thumb carelessly swiped over his slit as you handled his tip, collecting the bead of precum that had you wetter than the brook you were settled by during previous hours. He felt the heat of your fingers disappear, only to return moments later with arousal that couldn’t’ e been just his.

You coated his shaft with your sticky mixture, eliciting a deep groan from the back of Thomas’s throat. Regardless of you having the last few touches that made gave other pleasure, he still wanted to remind you who was really in control.

His fingers tightened around the column of your throat, his body pressing you into the tree even more, hard enough for you to feel each ridge of wood jabbing into your back. You felt his knee pushing up against your cunt, your slick automatically coating his thigh as you couldn’t help but grind yourself against him. He smirked—you didn’t see—, your actions appearing needy, so much so, that they were almost pathetic.

“It’s hot as fuck knowing I made you this wet, that I got you to the point where you don’t give a fuck about how pathetic you seem, the only thought in your brain is the desire for pleasure. For me to fuck you, huh?” His words were spat with hot breath waving against your cheek, it was hard not to give in and accept his words.

“Please, Tommy… need you inside me,” until the words came out, you weren’t aware of how shameless they’d be, of how much you sounded exactly like he described. “‘nd I know you do too.” you added shortly after in an attempt to recollect some of your dignity. Didn’t work. He saw right through you.

But what did work what the whine you put on his name, the one that few called him, but only you could have him contemplating between fucking you like a normal person, or fucking you for so long and hard that neither of you could walk straight or have any cum left to give. Obviously there was only one choice in his eyes, but you couldn’t see it. You could only see blown pupils, so wide that just a sliver of brown, lust-tainted color rimmed the pitch-black darkness.

You resumed the position you were in earlier; legs squeezed tight around his waist as if your life depended on it, ankles locked in the back, heels digging into his spine a few inches above his tailbone. Your arms wrapped around the nape of his neck, while his hand was settled at the base of yours.

Striving to be a tease, Thomas watched your reactions while he rubbed his tip up and down your wetness, starting from your hole, up to the top of your clit, then back down. Something about the moves, so calculated, so precious, so damn taunting that it almost seemed like he was mocking you, it was all becoming too much. He had been edging you all night—well, enough to to feel like it was all night—that you knew he was nearing the end of his limits as well.

Impatient by nature, Thomas merely gave your throat a warning squeeze before he slipped his tip inside. He may have been ruthless with his teasing, yes, but he wasn’t heartless. He waited, kept his hips still against his own will until you nodded or squeezed his hair each time you wanted him to push in just a smidge further. He praised and affirmed you with words you didn’t even process since the only thing your mind could focus on was the contrast of pleasure with a little bit of sting. You wanted nothing more for him to be fully sheathed inside you, fucking your stupid—and so did he—, but you decided it best for you to take it slow. At first.

Once his hips were flush with yours, hard cock filling you in ways you didn’t even know existed, you adjusted your legs around his waist, shifting until the discomfort went away mostly. You didn’t even nod or give and indignation before you bucked your hips against his, causing a sigh to fall from his pink, kiss-bitten lips, while a light moan fell from yours. He took that as his sign you were ready, and he slowly pulled his hips from yours with a semi-gentle test thrust first before he saw you were okay, then he picked up his pace in a matter of seconds.

“Fuck, angel, you’re so tight.” He groaned against your neck, hot breath symbolizing a warning before his lips were all over the soft skin.

You whimpered, your hands automatically lacing in his hair and tugging at the roots, nails occasionally scratching at his scalp. You don’t know how long your hand stayed like that before realizing you needed something better to grasp, to hold on and cling to like your fate was dependent on it.

One are tucked under his, the other following suit, and soon both hands were clawing down his back, the feeling prompting Thomas to pound away harder. Teeth against your neck let you know that you’d have to wear your hair down for the next few days, and possibly skip meals at the homestead to avoid being seen as well. Even so, you didn’t care right now. You were to wrapped up in the way his fucked into you, mercilessly pounding away at you pussy, the wet squelching sounds coming from where the two of you were connected absolutely sinful.

You knew the gladers had gone to sleep however long ago, but you also knew that a few had a hard time sleeping. Thank god Chuck had knocked out before you came out here.

The threat of getting caught is what caused you to bury your face in his shoulder, head leaning against his outstretched arm that was holding the tree for support. You nips and suck at the skin of his collarbone right where it connects to his shoulder, albeit much weaker and definitely less effort put in than him, but it gives you something to do, along with practically gouging your uneven nails down his sweaty back, to keep your mind off the seething moans that threaten to rip from your throat.

After awhile of hearing you go silent and feeling the pressure of both your lips and fingers on his skin increase, Thomas grows annoyed with your lack of sound. You feel his hand leave your throat, but you don’t exactly process it, your brain overwhelmed with too many things to worry about the loss of touch, but you do feel where it ends up. Your head is abruptly yanked back, yet somehow as gently as possible although is still leaves a pained sensation. Thomas’s fingers were in between the weaves of your—now very loose and incredibly messy—braid, forcing you to look at him as he fucks you. He seemed to know exactly what you were thinking.

“Don't muffle yourself. Let them hear your whiny voice, baby. Everyone should know how good I'm fucking you.” Without a barrier to block your noises, you let out a moan at his words alone. And then everything comes crashing down. You give up on trying to quiet yourself, only having enough left in you to chase that feeling that leaves you whining incoherent words that maybe he understands, digging and clawing at any available surface you can get you dainty little fingers on (which is most likely his back or shoulder), and letting yourself go completely—letting him take care of you.

And boy does he know how to take care of you. For someone you’ve never spoken a word to until tonight, he knows how to fuck you right. He knows how to have you in his arms, body practically limp and a deadweight which only impales you more on his dick. And when he hears that you’ve given in to more than just his one request by letting your jaw fall slack, any moans or whimpers just free to waltz out, he leans in close to whisper in your ear, voice deep and slightly raspy; “Good girl.”

He feels the way your fingernails grips his shoulders harder, possibly hard enough to draw blood, and the way your already-tight walls clench around him even more. Something in his mind clicks for him that doesn’t for you, probably because your too busy with the way he fills you up so damn well his tip kisses your cervix each time you come back down on him and he fucks back up.

“You like being called a good girl, huh? You like being told how good you feel around me, being praised for doing what I say like the good girl you are?” He knows what he’s doing at this point. But that was stop you from enjoying it nonetheless.

“F—yeah, fuck, I do.” You agree with what little sanity to have left, mustering a nod that almost spends every ounce of energy.

Your eyes have him in a trance; watery, pupils blown, looking up at him with the most innocent looking eyes he could ever think of. Except he knew you weren’t innocent.

“I bet no one else fucks you like this, huh, angel? No one else gives you princess treatment because they’re too busy trying to find a way to get in your panties to even think about treating you right. But a part of you likes it, don’t you?” You merely whined, words failing you as he smirked and kept going. “You like the fact that half the guys here probably jerk off to the thought of you when they’re alone, think of you as some little slut that everyone gets a turn with in their minds. The glade’s own whore, hmm?”

“F-Fuck, Thomas,” you whimper, the feeling his words give you turning into physical pleasure, not just for yourself, but for Thomas as well when he feels your warm walls squeezing around his shaft.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it; just whoring out and fucking every guy in this place? But your so damn innocent—too damn innocent, it’s why half the guys here can’t seem to get their mind off you.” He grunts between thrusts, as if his hips slamming into yours punctuates each word. “Don’t worry, after tonight I think enough people around here will have learned who got to fuck you. I’ll treat you right, princess.”

Both hands clenched at whatever they can, and Thomas feels the crescent-shaped nail marks already imbedding themselves in his shoulder and nose of his neck.

You were getting undeniably closer, and you were afraid that he might edge you again. Hell, you were afraid that you let him have that much power over you. In spite of your efforts, your own voice adding to the ringing in your ears as you bucked your hips downwards— if even possible with the force he had you pressed against the tree with. “Don’t stop… please, please don’t stop, Tommy.” You begged, pathetically desperate for him to finally let you release.

“Only if you keep making those pretty little sounds, angel.” And you did; effortlessly obeying his commands, when in reality it was inevitable that your sounds escaped at some point. You just didn’t hold back at all. At least you didn’t talk to very many people, otherwise they would’ve been suspicious of your barely-there voice if the hadn’t already heard you screaming the night before.

His thrusts became irregular, and at first you thought he was going to tell you that you didn’t do well enough for him, seize yet another orgasm from you like he had been doing all night. What you didn’t realize was that he was slowing down to edge himself, not wanting to cum to early or before you did.

Thomas decided you wouldn’t mind a few scratches on your back, maybe a few splinters, ‘cause it sure as hell looked like you wouldn’t give a damn right now, so he took his supporting hand off the tree and encased it around your throat, admiring the way his hand seemed to swallow you whole. His free hand fled to your clit, rubbing circles against the sensitive bud as you cried out his name. It was mindless, you hadn’t even realized it. That’s what made it so fucking hot.

Time and time again, you continued to impress him with how easily you could be controlled, completely fucked out to the point you only knew his name and the word ‘please’. “Atta girl. That’s right, let everyone know who’s fucking you like this.” You whimpered his name again, the word simply rolling off your tongue without a thought. He wasn’t even sure if you said it because you followed orders so well, or if it was really the only thing you could say.

“T-Thomas, shit—fuck, I’m g—” your sentence was left unfinished since you couldn’t breathe, your lungs on fire just like the rest of your skin. It could’ve been from the way Thomas’s hand was unconsciously restricting your airway a little too much, though, once he noticed he eased up. Either way, he got your message loud and clear. And he could feel his own release brewing in the pit of his stomach.

“Please… please don’t stop this time. I-I can’t take it anymore… need to cum.” You whined between shallow breaths before he could even speak.

His pace and force picked up to almost inhuman speeds, basically fucking you into the tree behind you. “I won’t, I promise.”

As if the words didn’t register, mindless pleas were pouring from you, “I have to—’m so close, Tommy, please.”

“I know, baby, I know. Me too, alright? So your gonna be a good girl and cum for me, yeah?” It wasn’t until his thumb pressed against the bundle of nerves he was previously circling, did his words finally sink in.

Along with his gentle demand came your orgasm that you didn’t know had been so close the whole time. Your walls enveloped him so tight he was sure his dick would slip out, but it didn’t. It stayed inside your warm, velvety wetness, twitching but thrusting sloppily throughout your high as his neared.

You were seeing stars, and you were pretty sure they weren’t the ones in the night sky above you. Your nails dug so harshly into his chest and back that your fingers aches, and you could only imagine the number you’d done on him. The feeling was euphoric, sure you’d never come down from the drunken-high feeling. Your thighs shook, muscles spasming as your nerves felt like they were frying at the slight overstimulation he was giving you.

Feeling you cum around him, his cock twitched inside you, soon giving into the demands of your velvety warmth and wet squelching sounds. “Fuck, shit—such a good girl, angel… such a good fucking girl for me.” He moaned out, his voice the softest it’d been yet, but still somehow possessing the same roughness as before.

You felt a hot-warmth gush inside you, your face already buried deep in his shoulder again as you physically could not keep your head up. “Just for you.” You whimpered, enjoying the feeling of being completely filled to the brim, his hand coming off your throat to slide around the back of your neck in a somewhat-comforting hold. The feeling of being taken care of.

#the maze runner #tmr thomas #tmrthomassmut #thomastmrsmut #thomas tmr

[seat-safety-switch]

Great civilizations made their houses out of the things they had lying around. Clay for bricks. Snow for igloos. Glass for nudist colonies. With all the microplastics floating throughout the ether, why can't I make a house out of Bondo®?

Bondo has a lot of benefits: for one, it's easy to sculpt. It provides some decent insulative qualities. Animals can't peck holes in it and live inside, unlike my friend Sylvester Raccoon, who it turns out is actually a kind of wood-pecking bird. You can paint over it in any colour you like. Tools are widely available to sculpt it And, unlike the cars we use it on, it won't rust. In fact, there's really no reason we shouldn't be using it for all of our homes. I'm sort of a futurist, in my rad kind of bluey-white polyester resin home.

Of course, there is the cost issue. Buying just a little can of the stuff will now set you back approximately the GDP of New Mexico (Old Mexico is still somewhat more profitable.) I didn't let this stop me, though, and I knew that the local auto body shop would chuck it into the dumpster out back only a few weeks after its expiry date had passed. I also knew that zapping said Bondo in the microwave for a few minutes would make it pliable again. Sure, doing so also totals the microwave, but that's why Best Buy has a return policy.

Ultimately, the only real downside to the whole thing is the smell. Even when top-coated with the finest Rustoleum Shitbox Gray that I could find at the hardware store, a really hot day will make it smell like I just repaired some rust. And that makes me feel guilty about not having used all this body filler on any number of my sad, hole-filled cars. They can wait until I'm living in them, I figure, which might be any day now, if Sylvester finds his way to shorting out the breaker panel again.

[redheadspark]

Hi! Can I request "pulling them on their lap" with oliver wood please? Thank you! 💗

A/N - YAS! I do like this for Oliver! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Rogue

Summary - Who knew a rogue bludger would bring two should closer together.

Warnings - Just some fluff :)

“Oi, Fred!  Watch where you launch that thing!”

“That’s what your mum said last night when I was—Oof!”

“Next time I’ll aim for ya head!”

Fred cackled chucking the thrown towel back at him as Oliver was walking away from him, tossing the towel back in his duffle bag on the bench.  Since it was a bright Winter morning, some of the first snow of the year already melted though a new storm was due to come through in the Scottish Highlands that night. Since it would mean a frozen Quidditch field that would take a week to thaw out, or deep into springtime.  Oliver wanted to take advantage, even with it being the off-season for Quidditch and Gryffindor already won the Quidditch Cup for the year. 

After convincing his team that they would have a light practice, mostly to stay sharp on their brooms and to basically unwind after coming back from the holidays.  He was glad his team wasn’t giving him pushback when it came to a light trading session, in fact, they are game for it.  Mostly because it was a good excuse to get out of studying for the spring session that had just begun.

“Hey!  You forgot your jumper, Angelina!”  Oliver’s attention was caught with the sound of your voice, seem-jogging up to the field with your roommate’s jumper in hand and flushness in your cheeks thanks to the cold. Oliver’s heart quickened, seeing you smile at him as you approached him and gave an awkward wave.  It was no surprise to his team that he had a crush on you, from some time actually when you were introduced at an afterparty from a recent Gryffindor Victory a year ago.  Angelina was your close friend, though you were more of a bookworm and barely touched a broom yourself.  But you loved the sport all the same, a big fan and supporter of your House team, and would come to every game to root for your roommate.  

“Oh, hey Oliver!  Sorry for disrupting practice, Angeline forgot her jumper and I know she practices in this one,” You explained, showing the worn Gryffindor Quidditch sweater within your fingers.  Oliver just jumped, seeing you bundled up in layers to brave the cold but you looked simply lovely.  Especially with fresh snowflakes in your long thick hair that was already in beautiful braids.  

“No worries, thanks for bringin’ it for her.  I know she forgets sometimes,” He admitted, though he heard boots crunching in the light snow and grass over to the pair of you, you both seeing it was Angelina walking over to you with her own grin.

“I heard that!” She lightly scolded Oliver, though she took the jumper from your hands gently, “Thanks!  Let’s get some candy at Honeydukes after practice, I heard there’s a really good new candy that’s chocolate and it changes flavor when you eat it!  Oliver, wanna come?”

“Oh, I don’t wanna intrude with ya and—“ Oliver was about to say to Angelina, but you cut him off.

“I don’t think you’d be intruding,” you reasoned, though you were not trying to sound a bit too desperate in wanting him to come.  Not even Angelina knew you had a crush on the Quidditch Captain for some time, thinking of him as handsome and a great player of the game.  He was also quite funny, you find his sense of humor unique and comical apart from other humor you’ve heard in the past.  But there was something about Oliver that drew you to him, whether it was his drive or the spark he had within.  But you were intrigued with him.

“Yeah, come on Oliver.  You should live a little,” Angelina said in a snort as she threw on her practice jumper before skipping off with her broom in hand.  You were left alone with Oliver again, who was flushed a bit from your asking him to come with you and Angelina.

“It’s been a bit since I’ve been at Honeydukes,” Oliver admitted, seeing you grin widely with a bounce on your feet.

“Oh, you’ll love it!  They’re making fresh Pumpkin Pasties for the New Year, and the new chocolate they have is apparently delicious!  I tried it last week, and mine went from tasting like chocolate to peppermint!” You were explaining in excitement, Oliver hanging on your every word.  He would listen to you talk about Potions if you were going to, he simply loved hearing your voice and how you would describe all that you loved. He wished he had that enthusiasm apart from Quidditch.  

“Watch out!”  Both you and Oliver look at the same time, seeing a bludger flying in your direction at a fast rate.  Fred Weasley, the bat in hand, looked in agony as Angelina screamed out.  Your eyes went wide in horror and shock, frozen in your spot since the ball was so close to hitting you right in the head.  But Oliver was quicker, grabbing you by the elbows and yanking you towards him.  You both fell onto the bench, you perched on his lap and Oliver’s arms were around you as the bludger zipped past you both and slammed into the ground so hard it broke the grass.

“Merlin, Fred!  You trying to kill my roommate?!” Angelina roared as the rest of the team flew down to hoop off their brooms, yet neither you nor Oliver were thinking of them.  You both were staring at one another, Oliver’s arms around your waist and your hands clinging onto his practice robes as your eyes were wide on one another.  It almost felt like you two were in a bubble with one another and trying not to let it burst.  Oliver could breathe in the soft perfume you were wearing, and you could smell the leather on his practice pads along his arms and legs.  

“Ya…ya okay?” Oliver finally asked in a croak, you nodding your head rapidly as he finally had a soft smile on his lips.

“Fine…fine thank you, Oliver,” You sheepishly said to him.  Of course, the moment was cut short as Angelina bee-lined over to the pair of you as well as Fred, who looked so green in the face while Angelina helped you out of Oliver’s lap.  Inwardly, Oliver missed your warmth, how he could count the freckles along your nose, and the sweet perfume on your neck.

“You alright?” Angelina asked you, giving her a reassuring smile as you nodded.  She sighed, then whirling around to smack Fred in the arm, “Git!  Learn how to be a Beater for once!”

“I’m sorry!  Honestly!” Fred said to both yourself and Oliver, who was reluctantly getting up from the bench and trying to hide the blush on his cheeks, “This Bludger is daft I tell you!  I need to tell Hooch!”

It was safe to say that practice was cut short, which was fine by Oliver since he figured a trip together into Hogsmeade would be a good way to spend the rest of the day.  But he never forgot that moment with you in his arms, perched in his lap and looking at you as if he was some kind of hero for saving you from a nasty slam from a bludger.  

Both you and Oliver would laugh about it years after getting married right out of Hogwarts, then reciting the story to your son and daughter when they would ask.

The End.

February Prompt Session

Tagged - @a-lumos-in-the-nox

#oliver wood #fanfiction #writing #oliver wood x reader #oliver wood x female reader #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #hp fandom #hp fanfic

[discount-elysium]

Pale Static Exchange Gift

Happy Pale Static Exchange @nonsal! I wrote a fic for your requests. You can read it on ao3 here, or under the cut below, whichever you prefer! I hope you had a lovely holiday season, and that you enjoy your present!

FIC: (You are) the life I needed all along

PAIRING: Harry/Kim, Harry & Kim

Summary: Harry invites Kim to a nice dinner, and it does not, in fact, go spectacularly wrong.

YOUR APARTMENT’S SHOEBOX OF A KITCHEN - The room is warm, the dough under your hands is pleasantly sticky and forming well, the radio is softly playing, and you’re in the middle of making dinner for your favorite person.  Life, for the moment, is good.

SHIVERS [Medium: Success] - Outside of your window, the grey expanse of cloud hangs low and dismal over the rain-dampened street.  Few people brave this temporary lull in the downpour: a man rushing to meet his sister, a woman coming home early from work, two sticky-faced children sharing an adventure.

Revachol no more sleeps than her people do–but perhaps even she’s afforded a moment’s repose, in all this rain.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - And you, Harrier Du Bois, have a stew pot full of broth, several pounds of farmer’s-market-Lynne’s best chuck, onions, carrots, potatoes, and a fuckload of herbs cooking on the stove.  From the smell of this kitchen right now, you might as well be the best cook that ever lived.

YOU -

Fuck yeah I am!  I’m a superstar chef.  Gorący Kubek eat your heart out.

Admittedly I did once light my kitchen a little bit on fire.  But it was a very little bit!  Barely worth bringing up any more, really.

…I do okay.

YOU - For a moment, you put a little more force into kneading your bread dough than is probably strictly necessary.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Aw, who cares about the kitchen fire?  That was two months ago.  Might as well have happened to a different person.

HALF-LIGHT - There’s still scorch marks on the counter.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - And?  Nothing here’s unblemished, including Harry, but that’s not the point.  Can’t you feel the saliva pooling under your tongue, Harry?  Can’t you smell the air?

PERCEPTION (Smell) [Easy: Success] - It does smell very nice.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Thank you.

YOU - Of the various pastimes you tried your hand at post-Martinaise–and there were many–

ENCYCLOPEDIA - Knitting, journaling, bird-watching, cooking, drawing, wood-working, knitting again–

YOU - Cooking is the only one that seems to have really stuck.  It does you good, having something to keep your hands busy that produces tangible results.  It doesn’t hurt that recently, those results have been delicious.

And today, you’re finally going to do the thing you’ve wanted to do for months!

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Failure] - Sleep with Kim!

VOLITION - Khm.  Ah.  The other thing Harry’s wanted for months, Feel-good.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - No one appreciates genius in its time. :(

VOLITION - …

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] - …fine.  Feed Kim your food.

YOU - Homemade bread and stew may not be the fanciest fare, but they’re still good, and you’re confident that you can make them well.  Kim’s going to come over to dinner and eat something you’ve made him, and he’s going to enjoy himself.

LOGIC - This is going to go over better than the scarf did.

YOU - You pause, momentarily, in your kneading. 

EMPATHY - Hey, he said he liked the scarf!  

RHETORIC [Easy: Success] - No, he said it was ‘thoughtful.’

EMPATHY - Which is a way to say you like something!

LOGIC - If he liked it so much, why doesn’t he ever wear it?

PERCEPTION [Easy: Success] - It was a little…lumpy.

INLAND EMPIRE - Warm, soft white wool, cloud-like under your fingers.  You were in the craft store for a case and touched it in passing–you left without it.  That night you thought of aerostatic pilots with long white scarves to ward off the chill of interinsulary travel; you thought of Kim, blowing warm air over his cold fingers in alleyways and turning up the collar of his coat.  You went back to that little store a day later.

HAND EYE COORDINATION - I did my best!  Speaking of which–

YOU - Idly, your hands move.  The warm dough stretches, elastic under your hands.  You’ve oiled a bowl already; you put your dough into it for its first rise and cover it.

CONCEPTUALIZATION - Like the pupa in its chrysalis: warm, enclosed, waiting for change.

YOU - With your stew cooking and your bread rising, there’s not much else you need to do in the kitchen.  You putter out to your living room with the intention of tidying up, but it’s…honestly not that bad?

COMPOSURE - Khm.  Yeah.  That would be from the compulsive nervous cleaning you already did a few hours ago.  I can only hold this ship together so much, and luckily this time, the nervous energy was constructive!

LOGIC - Kim’s been to your apartment before, Harry.  He’s seen it worse than this.

YOU - The only other thing you were planning to do was pick out a post-meal board game.  You don’t have very many board games–they’re expensive–but you’ve started a little collection since Martinaise, and you’re hoping Kim will want to play one tonight.  You think you’ve narrowed it down to two options, Beyond the Pale–

ENCYCLOPEDIA - A two to four player semi-cooperative game about aerostatic pilots lost in the Pale, desperately trying to repair their aerostatic while fending off possibly-hallucinatory creatures from the Pale–but the pilots may have hidden motives…

YOU - And Tailor Made.

ENCYCLOPEDIA - A shorter, but very charming two to four player game about sewing custom blankets to attract various cats to sleep on them.

YOU - But maybe only giving Kim two options is too restrictive?  Maybe you should just pull your whole collection out and let him pick?

EMPATHY [Challenging: Success] - Harry.  Try taking a deep breath.

YOU - You take a deep breath.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - You can breathe deeper than that!  Put your diaphragm into it!

YOU - You take a second, deeper, manlier breath.  Then you take another, because real athletes always give 110%.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - Your hands stop shaking.

YOU - Oh.  

EMPATHY - Yes, oh.  

YOU - I was panicking, wasn’t I?

EMPATHY - Mmhm.  Want to make a guess about why, Harry?

YOU -

What is this, introspection?  Self-awareness?  I don’t like it.  Real men keep their mysterious emotions bottled up inside their chiseled and rugged chests until they, for unrelated reasons, abruptly die of bleeding ulcers or heart attacks.  (Opt out)

I can do this.  I can have a whole entire thought about my emotional state and I probably won’t even cry about it.  (Opt in).  

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Medium: Success] - In the halls of Precinct 41, Satellite Officer Jean Vicquemare is abruptly struck by the irrational feeling that he owes Patrol Officer Judit Minot 5 reál.  He shakes his head, and the baffling certainty passes.

YOU - In preparation for this terrifying new endeavor, you take a quick lap of your living room.  Then you close your eyes very tightly–

LOGIC - Is that really a necessary step?

EMPATHY - Shush.

YOU - And you confront the question.  Why are you worrying?

YOU - 

Because you want tonight to go well.

Because since minute one of your haphazard reentry into this world, it’s been a little bit about Kim, hasn’t it?  Not all about Kim–he would hate the thought of that–but a little.  His Kineema called you back to life.  When everything in the world was terrifying and nonsensical, he was a steady point against which you could orient yourself.  You rebuilt yourself painstakingly, and he didn’t help, exactly, but he gave you grace.  He was gentle with you when you stumbled.

And in the months since Martinaise, he’s continued to be your friend.  He’s not perfect, and neither are you.  There have been arguments, and doubts, and low points.  But when you need him to have your back, he has.  Every time.

And it’s not that you want to repay him, exactly, because you don’t owe him.  But tonight, you want him to feel warm, and well fed, and appreciated.  You want him to feel good with you.  Because of you.  

….because you love him.

YOU - You get the oddest feeling that there was a more honest choice you could have made–a thought there you turned back from fully confronting.  But that’s a silly thing to think about!  Haha.  Ha.  Phew.  Emotions sure are hard.  Good thing you won’t be looking directly at yours again any time soon.  

EMPATHY - …Harrier.

YOU - Anyway, that was a productive realization: you really want tonight to go well!  And you definitely know exactly what you can do to make that happen, and to not have to think any more deeply about this whole thing: make dessert!!

EMPATHY - …I give up.  I don’t get paid enough to manage this mess.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Amen, brother.

…

YOUR APARTMENT - By the time Kim knocks on your door that evening, you’ve got the stew ready in the nicest bowl you own, homemade bread waiting on a cutting board beside it, and a berry crumble ready to pop in the oven once dinner gets started.  Your slightly-lopsided kitchen table is as neatly set as your mismatched silverware allows for.  Your apartment is clean.  Your boardgame choices are set out.  You’re all set to woo–khm.  What an odd slip.  You’re ready to impress the hell out of Kim.

KIM KITSURAGI - Kim knocks on your door at 19:30 on the dot, precisely on time.  When you open the door–

REACTION SPEED [Easy: Success] - HE IS WEARING THE SCARF.

KIM KITSURAGI - With his collar turned up, and the scarf tucked in around his neck, the lumpiness of it is less noticeable than it was in your memory.  He looks warm, and comfortable.  For no particular reason, your breath catches in your chest.

YOU - “You look nice!”

KIM KITSURAGI - Taken slightly aback, Kim blinks.

SUGGESTION [Medium: Failure] - Uh, shit.  Uh–try saying more?  That’ll fix this.

YOU - “In my scarf, I mean.  Or–your scarf.  Because I gave it to you, so it’s–it’s your scarf.”

PERCEPTION [Medium: Success] - Kim’s smiling, now.  It’s small, but it’s there.

YOU - “I should probably invite you inside.”

KIM KITSURAGI - “Yes, detective.  Unless you’re planning to serve dinner on your doorstep.”

YOU - You lead Kim inside, and offer to take his coat.  Kim shrugs out of his coat and scarf and watches with a faint air of confusion as you hang them up on coat hooks for him–something he could very easily do himself.  Out of the bright orange jacket which you sometimes privately think of as his armor, Kim always looks a little softer and smaller.  It’s a good look.

KIM KITSURAGI - When you pull out a chair at your kitchen table for him, Kim goes still, briefly.  His dark eyes search your face for something, and you’re not sure exactly what he sees.  “Detective,” he says.

RHETORIC - He sounds almost wary.

COMPOSURE [Medium: Failure] - Unable to bear the weight of his gaze, you wave vaguely towards his seat at the table.  “Go ahead.  Sit down, get started.  I’ll just–uh.  Pop in the crumble.”

YOU - If you take longer than you need to, strictly speaking, to find your oven mitts, open your oven, and set the dessert in–if you wait until you’re sure you’ve heard Kim’s weight settle into his chair, and the click of serving utensils–well.  Hopefully the other detective in the room isn’t going to call you on it!

KIM KITSURAGI - By the time you join him at the table, Kim has in fact started eating–he, like many other people who grew up in the years following the Antecentennial Revolution, doesn’t tend to leave food sitting long before tucking in.

INLAND EMPIRE - Memories of hungrier days linger long after they’re gone.  You’d know, Harry.

KIM KITSURAGI - He passes the cutting board towards you, an evenly-cut slice waiting for you there.  “It’s all very good.  Thank you.”

COMPOSURE [Challenging: Success] - The sting in your eyes comes as a surprise, but you blink, hard, and manage to push it back before you do something horribly embarrassing like cry over Kim complimenting your food.

KIM KITSURAGI - Kim settles a hand on your elbow, gently.

REACTION SPEED - Not fast enough for Kim not to notice, though.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Medium: Success] - Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi is an excellent detective.  From the moment you opened your door, he’s been gathering evidence: your uncommonly clean living room, the way you took his coat, the way you pulled out a chair for him.  Nothing you do goes unnoticed.  He’s coming close to a conclusion, now.  

EMPATHY - Are you actually willing to hear it?

YOU -

Distract him.  Open your mouth, say something outrageous, and draw his attention away.

[Volition: Challenging] - Look at Kim, and wait for what he has to say.

VOLITION [Challenging: Success] - You steel yourself.  It’s difficult to meet Kim’s eyes–those eyes that, for all their far-sightedness, see so much–but you bring yourself to do it.  You wait.

KIM KITSURAGI - “Detective.”  He pauses a moment, then, “Harry.  You know you don’t need to impress me.”

YOU - “Can’t I want to?” Suddenly the words are bubbling up at your lips, urgent.  “Don’t you deserve to be impressed, Kim?”

RHETORIC - You know that sounds like–

EMPATHY - Shut.  Up.

YOU - “I just want you to stay.  For good food, and for berry crumble, and for–to trounce me at board games, after.  I want you to have a good time with me.  Is that too much?”

PERCEPTION [Challenging: Success] - Kim lets out a very controlled breath.  He’s looking at you very steadily.

KIM KITSURAGI - “No, Harry.  That’s not too much.”  His hand tightens for a moment on your elbow, and then he lets go.  He takes the bowl from in front of you, and ladles stew into it, setting it back in front of you full.  “Eat, before it gets cold, hmm?”

YOU - The rational thing to do would be to do as Kim says, but instead you say, like a child in need of reassurance, “So you’re staying?”

KIM KITSURAGI - There’s something in the way he’s looking at you, now, that you cannot fully parse.  “Yes, I’ll stay.”  He looks away with a smile–an almost private little curve of his lips.  “We have plenty of time.”

#pale static exchange #pale static exchange 2023 #harry/kim #disco elysium

[deanwinchesterswitch]

February 2024 Monthly Fic Recs

Lovely, juicy little fics this month.

Enjoy!

Many of these blogs and fics are NSFW-18+. Please honor any requests from a blog regarding no minors. I am not responsible for the content you choose to consume; heed the warnings for each fic.

~Crossovers~

(K)not for Sale ~ @sam-is-my-safe-word. Author's Summary: Every six months, Soldier Boy goes into heat. Vought can’t afford to let him go without a knot and end up sick - again - so they bring in a compatible alpha to see him through. Whether Soldier Boy or the alpha want it or not. (Dean Winchester x Soldier Boy)

~Supernatural~

Black Tie Optional: Final Part ~ @thoughtslikeaminefield. Author's Summary: The last time we saw Vanessa, she was swooning over Dean’s lasting impression. Now, we fast-forward a year to see what she’s up to.

Everyone has a Tell ~ @wayward-and-worn. Author's Summary: Dean in Vegas.

Just Another Day ~ @1000roughdrafts. Author's Summary: Fluffy Dean x female!reader Valentine’s Day post

No Title ~ @supernaturalfreewill. Author’s Summary: None (Drabble; Dean Winchester x Reader)

Nurse Dean ~ @wayward-and-worn. Author's Summary: Takes place during Life with Dean.  A glimpse into a day where everything isn’t so awesome. 

Rules Are Rules ~ @thoughtslikeaminefield. Author's Summary: Dean hasn’t been himself lately. The Mark has seen to that.

Snowglobes and Forgiveness ~ @kickingitwithkirk. Author's Summary: Even though Chucks no longer creating the narrative, it’s not a Winchester Christmas till something goes wrong. (wincest)

Valentine's Dean ~ @wayward-and-worn. Author's Summary: This is the follow up to “New Year’s Dean,” I thought it would be fun to check in on the new lovers. 

~The Boys~

sweet and sour ~ @wildwestdean. Author's Summary: when you get back home after drinking a little too much, a sweeter side of ben slips out to take care of you. though you quickly learn that with him, you can’t have any sweet without a little sour

~On Patreon~

Rebekah Jordan (Impala-Dreamer)

Crazy On You ~ Author's Summary: On a trip up state, things get a little spicy when the rumble of Bucky's engine gets you going...

Danger in the Mist ~ Author's Summary: As the fair Princess Y/N races through the woods, running for her life from the evil monster, Margraw the Horrid, she fears that all is lost. Is there anyone who can save her? Will some brave knight come to her aide?! (Dean Winchester x F!Reader)

Nervous Glances, Secret Smiles ~ Author's Summary: Sam's a freakin' superhero, but he still gets a little nervous... (Sam Wilson x Reader)

thinkinghardhardlythinking

Close to Home-Parts 6 and 7 ~ Author’s Summary: Y/N and Dean are neighbours, and friends. The thing is Dean is a ladies’ man and she has always known it, if he wasn’t, maybe he’d be the ideal guy…but his eye for the ladies, how well they work as friends, as well as the fact that he’d never even think of her that way, all means that they are meant to be just neighbours and friends. Doesn’t it?

#monthly fic recs #fabulous writers #dw's witch reads #february 2024 #030424

[heartfullofleeches]

*opens window and leans out of it* imagine the SALT pin would feel if they saw another eldritch deity using a vessel made by pin to try and win you over.

Pin inspected itself in the mirror; checking for any imperfections in its newest craft. Today's doll was made of wood; sanded down until smooth and skin like, and painstaking paint to look as human as possible. There would be issue with exaggerated movements, but they could be sacrifice for the bigger picture - winning your heart.

The doll, or rather- doll maker, had made countless bodies at this point to try and win your favor. You appeared fine with its existence now, but never seemed to notice or care for its romantic advancements. It had to be their appearance, they concluded. No matter how hard they'd tried, there would always be something separating its creations from a living human being and they believed that's what made you blind to their love.

Pin steps out of the bathroom and into the quiet recesses of its workshop; its other bodies, and some projects, lined in a neat row by a wall. They leave out the front door; shutting the dim lights off as they head out to visit you.

-

The first thing Pin hears when it nears your house is the sound of your laughter. Rounding the corner, it can see someone standing over you as you sit on the porch. Their presence alone was enough to make the doll jealous, but as they got closer, they noticed something off about this individual. Their skin was pale; eerily pale - to the point they looked like a ghost. Stitches popped vertically from the sides of their arms, reminding Pin of the messy stichwork they had done- on one of their old vessels.

They bolt over to the scene as fast as their legs would take them; wooden joints pushed to their limits. The person was exactly as they thought; not one at all. It was a doll they had abandoned, piloted by some other eldtrich creature of phantom that was also after your heart. In your hands were a bunch of flowers it had given you; increasing Pin anger.

"Pin? Is that you?" You glance at the other doll on your yard. You thought it was odd that Pin hadn't spoken much that night, but didn't put it into question. They also had been a more flirtatious than usual; bringing the back of your hand to its plush lips as it handed you its gift.

"Who the fuck are you, and why do you have my body." Pin seethes. You'd never heard them use profanity before. The unnamed doll doesn't reply, instead sitting beside you and holding you to it chest; stroking your hair. Pin's ready to chuck the damn thing in a fire, but you stop them before they could get far. It seems your exposure to the supernatural had made you open to them; and oblivious to the fact both creatures aim for your hand.

"I don’t know who they are, but they seem pretty nice, Pin. Maybe they can hang out with us too."

Not happening. Pin already has to compete with the other humans in your life, and they're not gonna let some body snatcher be the one to take you away.

"...No."Pin grabs your arm and marches you inside your house. It was fortunate that the door was unlocked or they may have broken the handle to get you inside. They toss you on the couch as they head outside to deal with the thief.

The millisecond they got home, Pin was burning all of their unused bodies in a pit.

#Yandere doll #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere drabble #yandere writing #yandere fic #Pin my oc

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5

Summary (request from @thesassywallflower​ for @spnfanficpond​ Secret Santa): Donna is horrified to learn that the boys have never had a proper Christmas, so she invites them to her house for the holiday.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Donna Hanscum

Warnings/tags: explicit (eventually), fluff (? Idk), angst (? light), domestic (can’t get much more domestic)

Chapter WC: 2000

Author’s notes: There will be multiple chapters to this -- at least three, and they will all be written in 3rd person POV, shifting perspective in each section.

Many thanks and love to my dear friend and the very best beta ever @brrose-apothecary​.  Text divider by @talesmaniac89​.

________________________________________________________________

“That’s it,” Donna exclaims, after wiping down her machete and carefully replacing it in its secure case in the bed of her truck. “You two’re comin’ home with me.”

She’s hyper-aware that the Winchesters didn’t have the most conventional upbringing, but, dangit, how many more times will they break her heart with stories about never going to a Christmas party or experiencing the joy of opening gifts on Christmas morning?

“C- coming home with you?” Dean wonders aloud as if he’s testing the words in his mouth. As if she uttered the invitation in Old Norse.

“Yes, Dean. To Stillwater.” Donna turns to face the brothers who both eerily resemble that deer she missed by a hair’s breadth on Highway 95 last week. “Jody and the girls’ll be there, and all’s you need’re the clothes on your backs. We can stop at the dollar store down the street for you two to pick up a couple white elephant gifts.”

“Dollar store?” Dean asks, looking thoroughly bereft of understanding.

“Dean, stop repeating everything that comes out of my mouth. And close yours while you’re at it; you look like a drowning guppy.”

Donna rounds the side of her pickup to stride toward the driver’s side door. The brothers shuffle after her like a couple of 10-year-olds who’d rather be playing Super Mario than endure whatever perceived Hell she’s invited them to.

“Donna...” Sam lets his words hang in the air while both brothers huff and puff condensation into the frigid night air and fidget after her. “We’ve never been to a Christmas party or anything like that.” 

“That’s why you’re coming to mine. No excuses.” She spins on her heel and stares them down as they exchange looks and unspoken words.

Dean’s the one who breaks first. He swings his narrowed gaze back to her.

“Will there be mistletoe?” he asks pointedly.

Donna tries not to think about Dean and mistletoe at the same time. Not that she’s never imagined kissing him, but now is not the time.

She snorts and rolls her eyes. “Of course! What kinda Christmas party would it be without mistletoe?”

Dean grins before slapping his brother on the back. “Well, Sammy, looks like we’re gonna have Christmas after all. Ya know, one without a Wood Nymph.”

“Huh?” Donna furrows her brow in question.

Sam shakes his head. “Never mind, long story,” he mutters. “I guess we’ll follow you?”

Donna claps her hands together as she nods, bouncing on her toes. “You betcha!”

“Can’t believe we almost passed this up,” Dean mutters to Sam as they unpack their bags, making a load of laundry. They each showered in Donna’s guest bathroom and she gave them some old clean sweatpants and t-shirts of her dad’s to wear for the night.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” Sam agrees quietly, tossing his last pair of underwear to the floor. He’s pleased that Dean sees the value here in Donna’s home.

Ever since they defeated Chuck, Sam has tried a dozen different ways to get Dean out of the bunker and into a real house and real jobs. Dean seems frozen in time, though, like he can’t see that they can do just about anything they want now. They’re regular hunters — no angels or demons to battle (Jack and Rowena have seen to that). In fact, most of the monster world has quieted and stays in their own lanes.

“Imagine having this on the regular.” Sam tests the waters. “A washer and dryer from this century?” he chuckles, scooping up the dirty clothes and shaking his damp hair out of his face.

“Yeah, well, I doubt Donna wants a couple salty old hunters camped out in her guest room for the rest of her life.” Dean turns down the covers of his borrowed bed and inspects the pillow. “‘Sides, I like havin’ my own room.”

Sam watches Dean smooth his hands over the bedding, wondering...

He knows how Dean feels about Donna, even though his brother’s never put those feelings into words. Sam’s seen the way Dean looks at her, the way he touches her like she’s made of glass, and the tone of his voice when he says her name. Dean adores Donna, but even more than that, he wants her.

“What if...” Sam starts then pauses, shifting his weight. When Dean turns to face him with a questioning brow and wistful smile, he forges ahead. “What if you could share it with someone like Donna?”

Dean almost rolls his eyes as he slowly straightens his stance. His soft smile twists as he meets his brother’s gaze. Sam worries that he’s pushed Dean too far.

“And now we’re back to Donna deservin’ a lot better than...” Dean shakes his head and motions between himself and his duffle bag.

“Heya,” the woman in question sing-songs as she pokes her head around the door. “How ya doin’ in here? Need anything?”

Dean’s edge immediately smooths at the sight of the sheriff.

“Hey,” he answers with a quick, practiced grin. “We’re good. Better than. Just, uhh...” He reaches for the bundle in Sam’s arms. “Gonna throw this stuff in your washer if that’s okay?”

Sam notices the tiniest flush in Dean’s cheeks, and the sight squeezes his heart in his rib cage. Dean doesn’t think he deserves a life like this.

“Yep,” Donna replies, a bright smile gracing her freshly scrubbed and freckle-dusted face. “Right down the hall.”

“Alrighty then. Lead the way,” Dean says, following Donna to her laundry room.

Sam heaves a sigh before wandering to the small bookshelf in the corner for something to read.

Dean has nightmares almost every time he closes his eyes. Last night, he had a different kind of dream.

Donna was there, her soft blonde waves were piled on top of her head. Her fingers were floured and her big flannel shirt was dusted just the same. She laughed at his jokes and hummed through her smile when he wrapped his arms around her from behind. She smelled like butter and vanilla.

When he wakes, Sam’s already up and out of the room. A low light sneaks through the curtains, and Dean smells coffee. He rolls out of bed, runs his fingers through his hair, and makes his way to the bathroom across the hall.

“Dean, hey.”

Dean cocks his head and squints because it’s too damn early for pleasantries. It’s Kaia, though, and Dean owes that girl a lot of pleasant.

“Hey, kid. When’d you get in?” He turns toward her and she steps into his arms for a hug.

“‘Bout an hour ago,” she replies. “Claire’s in the kitchen.”

“‘Kay,” Dean answers pulling out of the hug with a lopsided smile. “Be there in a minute.”

Kaia nods and shuffles past him. “There’s coffee and french toast.”

“Nice,” Dean grunts, pushing through the bathroom door and switching the light on. When he sees his reflection, he groans. “Christ.”

His eyes are puffy and his hair’s sticking out in nine different directions. He shakes his head and sighs before taking care of business. Dean definitely puts the seat back down, washes his hands, and splashes his face and hair with water.

Before heading to the kitchen, he makes his bed and changes into his own clothes. As he shrugs into his flannel, he realizes it’s the one from his dream. The one Donna was wearing — his shirt and nothing else.

He could feel every dip and curve in his hands. She was so warm and soft. Dean’s thought about a hundred different ways to make her say his name the way she did in his dream. He can still hear her breathy voice in his head as he walks the length of the hallway toward the bright kitchen.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Donna greets him first, and his skin flushes with heat.

Before he can focus too much on it, Claire sacks him without a word.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmurs, holding her close. He isn’t exactly the picture of emotional growth, but since Cas… well, he’s trying to be more present.

Dean closes his eyes and buries his nose in her messy hair. She’s been smoking, and probably drinking by the looks of it. “Takin’ care of yourself?” He pulls back, gripping her shoulders and looking her in the eyes.

Her smile is crooked, and her blue eyes are shot red and rimmed with black, but she’s still the strong little girl from Illinois whose daddy loved God enough to leave her.

Claire shrugs. “More’r less.”

Dean huffs a wry laugh, squeezing her shoulders before releasing her. “Sounds about right.”

“Heeeyyy.” Jody and Alex round the island to greet him with hugs and Patience isn’t far behind.

“Coffee?” Jody asks.

“Absolutely. I also heard there was french toast. Or did I miss it?” He turns to find Donna extending a plate heaped with carbs, and a steaming cup of joe. “Awesome.”

He accepts the proffered items from Donna with a hearty thanks.

Jody and the girls retreat to the dining room where Sam sits, doing a crossword puzzle. He looks up and Dean nods a good morning to him before sliding onto a stool at the island.

“So, uhh, dollar store, huh?” He digs into his breakfast, trying not to ogle Donna’s ass in her cute little red and white snowflake leggings. The phrase ‘thick thighs save lives’ will be stuck in his head for the rest of his stay here and he isn’t mad about it.

Donna nods as she turns to face him with her own cup of coffee. “And if I give you a list, can you pick up some wine?”

Dean bobs his head as he chews and his eyes roll back. “Oh, yeah... Yes, anything. Holy shit, this is good.” He’s momentarily distracted from objectifying his hostess by the un-fucking-believable french toast.

Donna chuckles, jutting a hip against the island. “Family recipe. Just like the smorgasbord for tonight.” She sips her coffee and watches him devour the rest of the meal in silence but for Dean’s moans and groans of satisfaction.

How many times has Donna thought about this? About Dean Winchester sitting at her kitchen island eating a breakfast and coffee that she made? About him enjoying it?

Experts say that good food and good sex share neural pathways. That a person’s reaction to good food is similar to their reactions to good sex. That theory takes on a whole new level of wow when applied to Dean.

Dean drains his mug and wipes his mouth.

“More... anything?” Donna asks innocently -- or so she thinks.

Until Dean’s gaze flicks to hers for a hot minute. She could write his hesitation off as morning brain, but then he drops his gaze to her mouth. He licks his bottom lip into his mouth then slowly drags it through his teeth.

Donna’s breath catches in her chest and her insides flip.

“Hey, so, we should hit that dollar store, and I think Donna wants us to grab a few bottles of wine, right?”

Sam realizes a beat too late that he’s walked in on something; Dean looks ready to attack and Donna’s cheeks are fuchsia. The younger Winchester’s gaze bounces around the tension between Dean and Donna before he clears his throat.

Dean blinks a couple of times and shakes his head. “Yeah... yeah, uhh...” He draws a deep breath and looks back up at Donna. “Got that list?”

Donna gnaws at the corner of her anxious grin. “Oh, yeah. I’ll text it to ya.”

Dean nods and pushes out of his barstool. The brothers find their boots and coats in the front closet. As they walk out the door, Donna calls from the kitchen.

“Oh, and Dean? When you get back, you need to help me find that mistletoe.”

The screen door slams shut behind them, and Sam laughs.

Chapter Two

Please don’t leave without telling me what you think!

#dean winchester fic #dean x donna #donna hanscum fic

[kedreeva]

Ronance 18 and steddie 7? :)

18 - What are their dates like? How long do/did they date? Do they ever feel the need to take a break from each other?

Bear with me here, but they go to Museums. Nancy actually likes learning, and she's never dated anyone that was both interested and willing. What Robin lacks in patience, she makes up for in enthusiasm and Nancy quickly realizes that Robin actually will stand there long enough for Nancy to read the entire plaque... provided she does so aloud. And Robin's brain is absolutely chock full of Weird Facts and Obscure Knowledge and these trips only add to it and provide an outlet. Nancy reads a plaque and if Robin knows literally anything related to what's there, she'll add it. She is ENGAGING.

They also just... take classes together. Not like, at school, but in town or next-towns-over or in the city. They both take gun safety courses and apply for concealed carry, and Nancy takes Robin to the woods to practice, the way Jonathan did for her once upon a time. They find someone to teach them ASL, Nancy's first second language, so they can surprise Steve and Eddie by joining a conversation at random. They learn morse code from El, and that spreads to the whole group because it's been useful so often now.

But sometimes... sometimes they just sit. Quietly in one of their rooms, reading or listening to music. Or chattery, as Robin talks about wild customers or Nancy explains her next story and the research she's doing for it. Sometimes one of them sleeps while the other keeps watch; sometimes they both doze together. Best sleep, knowing they're safe.

They do not need breaks, but they take them. Robin still spends a LOT of time with Steve. Nancy still hangs out with Jonathan, and actually spends a fair bit of time with Eddie. She learns to play D&D with them, partly because she's tired of not understanding the references and partly because EVERYONE there is excited for her to play.

How long do they date? Well. It depends on when you count from. It takes Robin a few months to realize that's what they're even doing. They date for years before either of them think to bring up marriage at all, and the first time it's an accident when Robin blurts a question about "wait would you want that, for real?" and then they're the girls who both have the ring and both try to propose at the same time later on.

I'm gonna limit this to one number per ask (so that I don't chuck a bunch of nonship material into a ship's tags as I'm filing and so they don't get too long) but if you still want the other one, just send it in another ask :)

#ronance #stranger things #asks #ask games #memes #anon asks

[cf56]

My thoughts on episode 6

SPOILERS for season 3, episode 6 of the Animaniacs reboot

My goodness, this episode was a well-needed pick-me-up! I loved everything about it!

Watching this episode will greatly reduce my potential of being spoiled further, since this is where like 70% of the unmarked spoiler screenshots I've seen come from. People just love posting their out-of-context Warner abominations.

Even from the first moment I saw it, I thought the mini tongue Wakko was kind of cute.

And Yakko heeling his siblings, just like it's supposed to be! I loved the twist of them actually being kind of friendly, just needing an older brother to keep them in check. That's what the Warners should be about.

HE HOLDS THEM BY THE SCRUFF LIKE A MAMMA KITTY!

LOOK AT THE TINY WAKKO HEAD! *melts of cuteness*

And a clever way for them to come back, with the mention of jelly donuts.

Great cold opening. The alien Warners are cute in a terrifying kind of way. But that could also describe the regular Warners just as well, couldn't it?

Let me talk about all of Murder Pals right now.

The first segment had me dying laughing because of how random it was and how it just happened in like 20 seconds. I liked the unobtrusive randomness of all three segments. And the animation.

Groundmouse Day Again was very good. I was genuinely engrossed in the entire plot, which, I'll be honest, doesn't usually happen for me with Pinky and the Brain segments.

I laughed pretty hard when Brain pulled out the calculations for how much wood a woodchuck can chuck. It's definitely a joke that's been done before in other media, but it was such an unexpected trope breaker that Brain would respond to Pinky's "I think so, Brain" with an actual, serious explanation. And just the fact that he also cared about this and already had the calculations put together. A rare moment where Pinky and The Brain are genuinely on the same page.

I had a good chuckle when The Brain went through 20,000,000 attempts to take over the US, and then said he just had to do the same thing for every other country. Say what you will, but the guy is dedicated.

I like how this episode broke down Brain's desire to rule the world. He gets the one thing he wanted, over and over again, but he can't enjoy the benefits. He gets so good at it that he succeeds every time. It just looses all meaning for him, and I believe that's what led to him valuing Pinky more as a friend by the end of the segment.

Although I do wish they had built up to this moment more directly throughout the episode to make it feel more earned.

I thought the thing Brain would need to do to break the loop might be valuing Pinky's friendship or getting a kiss from him or something. It turns out that was indirectly the case, as focusing on Pinky allowed him to uncover the true cause of the time loop, which he would have found right away if he just bothered to participate in Pinky's nighttime routine.

It does seem like Brain should now be well-equipped to take over the world for real outside of the time loop, but I guess most of his plans were time-dependent and had to take place at certain moments on that day to work.

It was an entertaining segment.

And now, my favorite segment of the episode. One of my favorite Animaniacs segments of all time. I had been looking forward to "The Island of Dr. Warneau" since the previews, and this one actually met and far exceeded my expectations.

I like that Wakko's first reaction to being hit with a coconut is to ram the tree with his own head.

Hatless boy

Ratto, Saffo, and Ditto were SUPER CUTE! I know the point was that they're off-brand Warners who are probably supposed to contrast with the regular Warners in a negative way, but I don't care. Hearing the Warner voices be so mild-mannered and cute melted my heart. Hearing them sound so timid in regards to their "brother" also broke my heart.

I liked that the Warners were genuinely nice to them despite probably feeling distaste over their opposite personalities.

"Yep, and get revenge on anybody who hurts your family." Now THAT'S more like the Warners I know.

I LOVED that Yakko keeps a picture of Scratchy in his wallet, and he seemed embarrassed when asked the reason, and the reason is never explained, so it probably does mean what I think it means! He really does care!

And Wakko, of course, has a special love for Scratchansniff and so keeps many pictures of him on-hand. Or, on-belly.

You know I love seeing some Warner history/lore being directly touched on. This is all very accurate to how it actually went down, right down to the detail of Scratchansniff having hair and ripping it out once the Warners showed up.

Imagine fleeing to an island to obsessively make nicer copies of the creatures you think ruined your life, and then those very same original creatures happen to randomly show up on your island because they got flung off a whale watching ship.

I thought it was clever how Yakko got out of the situation by mimicking Ratto's voice.

I loved seeing the Warners and pseudo-Warners unite as a family at the end!

I was terrified that there'd be some twist right at the very end that the Warners would just leave them on the island and reject them as true family, but I'm so very happy they didn't actually do that. Such a heartwarming ending!

The Warners actually killed Scratchy's brother! At least he'll have a valid reason to hate them now.

This segment was so much more than I was expecting. I thought it would just be a parody segment with Scratchansniff standing in as the in-story villain. But, no. It was actually directly connected to the Warners' real backstory and weaved really nicely into their history. I never expected that out of this segment or any segment in the reboot. I'm super pleased with it.

I have no idea how this episode can exist in the same season as episode 8. I don't want to bring in the negativity of yesterday, but I just have to say how much of a shame it is that this season has so much good in it, but I will always have a hard time looking back on it completely positively because of that one moment. You can call that unfair, and it is, but I really can't understate the impact that episode had on me, and I can't ignore my genuine emotions. I don't know how they could make so much genuinely good Warner content and then sour it all with that. It shows that they do understand the characters, but only sometimes? How does that work?

My one major complaint with this episode is, once again, no musical numbers. I've seen 7 out of 10 of the episodes in this season, and in those I've only seen, I think, 2 songs from the Warners. I know the three episodes I haven't watched all have major songs in them, but that's still unacceptable for Animaniacs. Music is such an important part of the spirit of this show, and when there's a truly good song in an episode, it really brightens my mood and leaves me happy singing it over and over again in my head. Last season did so well mixing in great songs on history and geography and science, just like the original did, but season 3 hasn't really done that at all. Did they just forget? I think it's part of why the mood of this season as a whole feels off to me. They should be making use of these legendary voice actors while they have them.

It's going to be hard for me to decide between episode 3 and episode 6 for the top spot in my ranking of episodes for the season so far. Episode 3 had a fantastic song, which episode 6 lacks, and probably better humor. Episode 6 has a more memorable Pinky and the Brain segment, and they really went for my heart by giving us a healthy dose of Warner lore, and some really fun and wholesome moments with the sibs. I think episode 6 just edges out episode 3 for me, but it's a really hard call.

My current ranking of season 3 episodes:

Episode 6

Episode 3

Episode 4

Episode 2

Episode 1

Episode 5

I really encourage you to add to the discussion of this episode if you want, but don't say anything about any of the episodes that come after. Thanks for caring about my thoughts on things!

.

.

.

.

.

Yeet the Wakko

#animaniacs #animaniacs reboot #animaniacs 2020 #animaniacs season 3 #animaniacs screenshots #animaniacs analysis #animaniacs spoilers #animaniacs episode 6 #cfposts

[fickleminder]

Omg, thank you for being interested in my little plot bunnies! TYSCATDSC was literally so good, it was impossible for me not to run with it. It's rife with so much possibility, it made me think of all the different ways MC and the brothers could have reunited, what they would have to do to mend their relationship after the fact, MC and Lilith bonding time, it's just. An amazing fic. The plot, the characterization, everything.

I too am (obviously, I guess) a sucker for MC whump. We rarely get it in game, so we have to do it ourselves. I have started writing the “good ending” version with my MC, so if it’s okay with you, I might post the MC survives!version once I finish it?

The “bad ending” where MC doesn’t survive is something I started, but I'm not sure if I'll ever finish. I will say it was Solomon who found out about MC’s death first. 2ish years after the end of the exchange program, a friend of his overhears some hunter bragging about killing the “master of the 7 avatars of sin”. He goes back to MC’s hometown to try to track them down, and winds up hearing about an unidentified body being found in the woods like a year earlier. The witch hunters essentially cut them off from using their pacts (so Satan never knew what happened to them either), tortured and destroyed their soul before leaving them in the woods. MC is just gone forever, and the way I planned the rest of the plot, it’s all the characters reacting to the fact that their soul was literally wiped from the world and no one noticed. Not the angels, not the demons, not even the humans. They died suffering and alone, their body wasn’t found for almost a full year after they died, and they were buried in an unmarked grave until Solomon came by, by chance. I hurt my own feelings writing that one and I may or may not finish it one day, but it would be a tough one for me to continue.

As for the NB headcanons, have u ever listened to The Alcott by The National and Taylor Swift? Bc there’s this whole part that Taylor sings in the chorus and it goes like “tell me which side are you on, dear? / give me some tips to forget you / could it be easy, this once? / I think I'm falling back in love with you” and that is like. The whole vibe I was working with here. Honestly, the whole song was a vibe. I think NB would happen maybe a few years after the exchange program ends. MC has gotten used to being without the brothers (minus Satan, who they are able to see every few months, when he can get away from his responsibilities) when they are sent back in time, again. NB happens same as usual, except now MC has to deal with unresolved (romantic?) feelings for the brothers who now do not know them, and their only solace (Satan) is a blank slate and rife with resentment and violent rage. I think Solomon would still come to help them, but I imagine him in a more antagonistic role; in this version of NB, I see Solomon taking advantage of MC’s broken heart and loneliness and trying to sway them to his (humanity’s) side, maybe try and get them to fall in love with him instead.

Meanwhile, in the present day, Barbatos invites the Morningstars over for tea and casually mentions that the human who held all of their pacts has been unceremoniously chucked into the past by an unknown (?) entity. That’s all I have until more lessons come out, but I love to think of all the extra angst putting TYSCATDSC!MC into the NB universe causes. Knowing the brothers intimately while they know nothing whatsoever; watching them grieve Lilith and being unable to tell them they get her back one day; going through the motions knowing that another goodbye is inevitable; torn between not wanting to get close again, and being helpless to the feelings that always seem to come around when it comes to these brothers.

I'd be 100% down to read the MC survives!version first! As much as I'm a sucker for whump, I like happy endings too!! Do take your time, and please tag me when you post it 🙏🏻

That bad ending tho, holy shit. It hurts so good omg thank you for feeding us such delicious angst!! It really encapsulates the replaced!AU so well, the way MC is just lost to them (be it by their own neglect or external forces) and they can't do anything about it until it's way too late. I totally understand if you don't finish that one; my heart aches just reading what you have so far 🥲

And I love those lyrics for the NB headcanons! MC's entire support system is just gone, and I'm super intrigued by the sus!Solomon subplot you got there. As for the brothers... oof. Imagine being reminded of the one family member they neglected for years, only to be told that they've been lost in time. MC isn't dead (at least for now), but there's no way the brothers can get to them either. They must be going insane with all the worry and guilt.

I'm holding off writing too deeply for NB myself cus we're relatively early into the story so I wanna see where it goes first, but poor MC's really getting the short end of the stick no matter what eh? Anyway, thank you for sharing more on your ideas! I'll be in the back cheering you on and sending you all the good writing mojo 💪🏻

#ask #writing #obey me #obey me replaced mc au