#Friendly reminder that this is only a rough draft.

[thegeniusidiotnstickmerchant3728]

Someone should make an RPG system, designed to be run by one DM with lots of players.

Like, the GM gives out a bunch of quests, which a player then might decide to pick up, and complete.

The quests themselves should probably be something that the player can resolve themself, and then send in. The idea is that while players may get some influence, there are much larger scale rules which the GM manages, that are only slightly affected by individual players.

Quests should also probably have an idea, and anonymous asks should most likely be turned off.

Smarter More experienced people than me could probably improve this rough concept further.

#Friendly reminder that this is only a rough draft. #It is not at all well thought through and probably has quite a few issues. #I can't decide if this is a #good rpg idea #or a #bad rpg idea #good rpg ideas #bad rpg ideas #rpg ideas #rpg idea

[trickstarbrave]

i have a rough draft edition of the omegaverse nerevoryn fic i wanna share so. please enjoy

nerevar isnt super needy yet. he will be next chapter though. for now please enjoy some asshole in house dagoth being an idiot and nerevar and voryn fucking

Healing was a slow and steady process. Months of feeling sick and his body revolting against him for daring to leave his mate behind would take a while to reverse, after all. His appetite came back in full, at least, and while he was slower with the sword than he’d liked, it felt great being able to move his body again. 

What he was having an even harder time adjusting to though, was how differently people treated him.

He was no longer Nerevar Mora, the lowly canvasari who only was afforded the privileges he had simply because of his friendship (that many people hoped wouldn’t last) with Voryn. He was now Voryn’s mate, soon to be proper noble of House Dagoth.

Healers and tutors of all kinds were all over him. Tutors to make sure he didn’t embarrass Voryn and the rest of House Dagoth, and health check ups weekly to make sure he was recovering properly. Nerevar was Voryn’s fated mate after all, which meant it was a guarantee Nerevar would be having Voryn’s child, and very likely said child would be the future heir of House Dagoth. Nerevar had to be well educated and as healthy as possible now.

(Nerevar was particularly annoyed by the health check ups constantly reminding him of that fact every week, but he couldn’t deny that when he climbed into bed in the evening the thought of Voryn actually breeding him properly got him very excited)

Guards moved aside when he walked, bowing respectfully. Before they were mostly indifferent; casually friendly at best, or rolling their eyes at him and making snide comments at worst. Now that his heat had passed, they could all smell on him that he was claimed, along with Voryn’s scent all over him on top of it so there was no room to doubt by who. 

It was official, but also not. He was claimed, but there were typically so many social rituals that needed to be completed as well to make it ‘official’ in the eyes of everyone and have him be fully accepted as a member of House Dagoth. Which meant learning all of the complicated rituals, prayers, and preparing for it all.

It was annoying. Honestly, part of Nerevar really missed how he was before all of this. Back then he was just a caravan guard, able to slip in and out of the stronghold whenever he wanted to, honestly. He could practice in the training hall or head out near the gnarled trees of the ashlands to practice alone. Now all the guards had their eyes on him, watching him like hawks to make sure he never left the stronghold without permission and an official escort. For fucks sake, he couldn’t even go get a drink at the corner club without someone being on his ass.

But then he climbed into Voryn’s bed at the end of the day, surrounded by his scent, and everything felt so right that he knew he wouldn’t trade this for anything. Even after the aching subsided, being close to Voryn was as natural as breathing now, and imagining a life without this was terrifying. He never knew just how nice it could be to be mated to someone, especially someone he trusted so much. 

“Are you listening?” His current tutor asked. He was the son of a councilman, and someone who was very snippy that Nerevar of all people was Voryn’s mate. What was his name again? Dagoth Ven? Something like that. “This is very important information! You only have a few more weeks to memorize it!”

“I heard you already.” Nerevar scoffed. “And the second time you repeated it after rolling your eyes.”

A vein could be seen on Ven’s head. Honestly, if Nerevar had an interest in actually doing so, he could get the other mer in trouble for this by just telling Voryn. He’d been disrespectful the whole lesson, acting like Nerevar must be stupid and incompetent just because he was a commoner. But Nerevar didn’t want to make enemies of the House Dagoth councilmen yet; he wanted to fully establish himself first. They didn’t know yet how ambitious he truly was, and it was best to fly under the radar as he fortified his position. Even if he tried right now, they’d likely just see him as a defenseless omega whimpering and whining to his alpha to make all his problems go away. 

But when Nerevar was done, there’d be no mistaking just who exactly he was and what power he’d have in this house. He never intended to be adopted into House Dagoth like this, but he’d make the most of it.

“Well then why don’t you repeat it?” Ven asked through clenched teeth.

“The ceremony will begin with just enough time to be over at dusk for Azura’s hour.” He began. “I need to be clothed in ceremonial robes before dressing Voryn—“

“The young lord Voryn Dagoth.” Ven interjected. 

“He’s my mate,” Nerevar scoffed. “I’m not going to call him ‘young lord’ and ‘heir’.”

“You aren’t recognized as his mate yet within House Dagoth, and you would do good to remember that.” Now he’d pissed Nerevar off, one of his eyes twitching.

“Or what?” Nerevar challenged him. “What will happen? You’ll break the mating bond I already have in place?” It was said to be basically impossible to break the mating bond between fated mates, after all. Once it was set in place, it was done. The two of them were bound together permanently. “Send me away from Kogoruhn?” Keeping them apart long term would only risk Voryn’s health just as much as it would Nerevar’s. Everyone learned that very well after Nerevar was on the run after being kicked out by Uthol.

Ven didn’t like that Nerevar was talking back. He hated that Nerevar had a good point even more so.

“I think we’re done for the day.” Nerevar announced, standing up. Honestly, being alone with Ven was only pissing them both off. Last thing Nerevar needed was to attack the son of a councilman, and Ven was going to drive him to doing just that if he stayed.

“You do not get to dictate when this lesson is over!” Ven slammed his hand on the table, before following him out into the hall. “Get back here this instance!”

“You’ve pissed me off enough for today with your shitty attitude.” There were witnesses out in the hall, at least. They were close by Voryn’s office just down and around the hall, not to mention there were servants and guards around them. “Maybe we both need time to cool off.” Nerevar would give him this out. Ven could either pull himself together, realize he was getting too worked up, and remove himself from the situation… Or Nerevar was going to take this opportunity to get back at him.

“You’re the one being blatantly disrespectful!” Nerevar’s eye twitched again, his blood pressure rising. It seemed like Ven was too stupid to realize he had his last chance to leave this situation and completely passed it up.

“How am I being disrespectful for calling my alpha by his name?” Nerevar challenged. Ven was slightly taken aback. It seemed like Ven was actually referring to Nerevar daring to leave his lesson early being disrespectful, but he didn’t pause for very long.

“You—“ The guards looked at him expectantly, eying Ven carefully while the councilman’s son it seemed didn’t have the thought to deny Nerevar’s claims “You’re being outrageous right now!”

“No, you’re the one being outrageous.” Nerevar snapped. “Demanding I call him ‘young lord’ and ‘heir’ rather than his fucking name.” It was outrageous. He could understand them being annoyed he did so before they mated, but that was why Nerevar avoided it around the councilmen for a reason back then. “And then saying I’m not his ‘official’ mate, like I don’t have a claiming bite from him on my neck—“ Ven looked truly furious then that Nerevar was blatantly repeating what Ven said prior, only this time with plenty of witnesses. 

But Nerevar hadn’t expected him to be so stupid he’d slap him across the face in his anger. 

It actually left Nerevar stunned—not from the pain, but just how little he’d expected it. All he wanted was for Ven to make an ass out of himself before he ended up retreating or being escorted away by guards. But slapping Nerevar? In front of multiple people?

“You are just some cheap whore who climbed into the heir’s bed for your own benefit!” He snarled. “I don’t give a damn what the healers say,” He continued, “The Good Three? Making you the young lord’s destined mate?! Ha! You’re nothing more than a lowly canvasari, not even of full chimer blood!” Again, Nerevar could only stare in shock. Nerevar wasn’t hurt by the accusations, he just could not believe someone was actually this stupid. “When that foul magic you used to fake this is uncovered you’ll be—!”

“That is enough!” Voryn shouted, rage in his eyes. Ven instantly shrank, a look of pure mortification on his face as he turned to face him.

“Y-young lord—“ Voryn didn’t give him time to apologize or explain himself. He grabbed Ven by the jaw, flame spell in hand, and watched the other chimer scream and flail as his skin burned.

“How fucking dare you.” Voryn snarled. “Not only did you raise your voice at my mate, you raised your fucking hand!” Ven was begging for mercy, the tears pouring from his eyes instantly evaporating from the heat. “And then you call him a fucking whore, commit blasphemy by claiming such a sacred bond made by the Good Three could be faked, and you insult House Dagoth by—“

“Voryn!” Nerevar snapped, grabbing Voryn by the arm, “That’s enough!” The spell vanished, likely out of fear he might burn Nerevar by mistake. “You made your point.”

Voryn looked at the burnt chimer in front of him, skin melting in some areas, begging incoherently. Almost disgusted, Voryn dropped him, letting him fall to the ground.

“Let that be your punishment.” Voryn announced, before taking Nerevar by the waist to his office. “Take him to the healing ward.” The guards moved quickly, picking Ven up off the floor rather roughly, practically dragging him away. No doubt it would scar, but the healers of House Dagoth were good, so it likely wouldn’t disfigure him that badly.

Back in Voryn’s office, Voryn shut the door loudly, locking it behind him.

“Are you alright?” Voryn’s voice was soft again, the kind of warm tone he only reserved for those close to him. His hand caressed where Nerevar had been slapped, healing spell in hand.

“I’m fine,” Nerevar tried to wave him off, but Voryn’s hand remained to heal him. “It didn’t even hurt. Mostly I couldn’t believe he was that stupid.”

“You shouldn’t antagonize people like this, Neht.” Voryn frowned, still fussing over him. “Yes, he’s an idiot but,“

“I didn’t intend to go any further than what I said.” Nerevar explained. “I gave him the chance to back down and let both of us cool off saying we were both angry, but he refused to take it.” Again, stupid on his part. “And I just wanted to embarrass him, not goad him into hitting me.”

“You’re in a delicate state right now since you’re still recovering, and—“

“Yeah yeah I know, I have to take care of my body so I can bear you a child. The healers keep reminding me.” Nerevar rolled his eyes.

“… I was going to say: and I hate seeing you get hurt.” Voryn sighed. “I nearly lost you. I spent months wondering if you were safe, how you were doing, if you were injured or just as sick as I was…” Nerevar couldn’t help his cheeks turning red in embarrassment now at the tender, honey-sweet tone of his voice. “And I don’t ever want to see you suffering again. Today it was a slap in the face from an arrogant son of a councilman, but others might be more foolish and malicious.”

“… I know,” Nerevar sighed. “I know all that. I don’t plan on trying to antagonize everyone, especially not this early on.” Nerevar leaned into his touch now that the healing spell was finished, closing his eyes. “I had to weigh my options. If I did nothing I’d also be seen as a pushover, and that wouldn’t be safe for me either.”

“… Gods you’re right,” Voryn breathed. “Sometimes I envy how clever you are, Neht.”

“I don’t feel very clever after I spent six months running from House Dagoth like an idiot.”

“You didn’t know any better,” Voryn smiled, “Honestly even that was a bit impressive. Your dedication to staying alive for my sake, despite the draw trying to pull you back to me… I wouldn’t have been strong willed enough to manage that.” Voryn was leaning in closer with every word.

“I wanted to protect you…” Nerevar whispered, his eyes dropping almost completely shut. “I didn’t want to hurt you, I…” Most omegas could only focus on safety and survival, their instincts driving them to stay in one place unless they absolutely had to move. Nerevar had wanted to do the same; to lay there and wait for his mate to return and handle everything. Yet, when most omegas just gave in to the desire to be protected and tended to, Nerevar could only focus on protecting Voryn. Maybe it was because he spent several years as a canvasari and worried about protecting Voryn above all else, maybe he was so anxious he convinced himself it was life and death so the desperation forced him to move by tricking him into thinking it was for Voryn’s safety, or maybe it was…

Maybe it was because of how much he truly cared for Voryn. Maybe it was that feeling of care that he was quickly realizing went beyond mere friendship and hormone induced sexual attraction. Maybe it was…

Voryn’s lips met his as Voryn moved Nerevar to be sitting on his desk, kissing him deeply.

Nerevar’s thoughts turned fuzzy in an instance, gliding his tongue in time with Voryn’s as he wrapped both arms around Voryn’s shoulders. It felt so good—unimaginably good. It always did in a way Nerevar couldn’t tell was the bond or the feelings he was too scared to name. Apprehension mixed with pleasure, as Nerevar tried very hard to just turn off his brain, stop thinking, and just enjoy it.

“You’re thinking about something else.” Voryn said as he broke the kiss, his eyes boring into Nerevar’s.

“I’m not, I’m just…” Nerevar swallowed, trying to shove the feelings down.

“I can feel your emotions through our bond.” Voryn reminded him. Nerevar swore under his breath. Right, the bond. You could open yourself up to emotions the other felt, if necessary or desired. You couldn’t exactly read their mind, but could sense how they felt and what they might be thinking based on that along with if they were in any danger. 

Nerevar still wasn’t used to it. He found it… Intimidating. He didn’t know why, but he was apprehensive about it.

“… I keep forgetting,” Nerevar sighed, “I’m still adjusting.”

“You haven’t been using it much.” Voryn noted. “You can’t adjust if you’re not using it, Neht.”

“I know I’m…” Nerevar still couldn’t look at him. “I’m nervous about… Being overwhelmed?” Nerevar tried explaining. “I don’t know, it’s…”

“Shh…” Voryn whispered. “Just try it right now.” Voryn encouraged. 

Nerevar gripped his shoulders tighter before closing his eyes. He focused on Voryn, almost mentally reaching out, waiting, and then—

Warmth flooded him, his heart racing, before he peaked his eyes open to look at Voryn who was smiling warmly. 

“Is it still overwhelming…?” Voryn asked, and Nerevar felt like he couldn’t breath. 

“I-I…” It was overwhelming—but so much so he couldn’t focus on that, just how wonderful the feeling course through him was. His heart was buzzing with warmth, aching ever so slightly and delightfully the same way his cheeks did when he was laughing too hard. It was how he felt curled up against Voryn when they slept. It was how he felt when they reunited. It was…

“I love you, Neht.” Voryn whispered. Nerevar’s eyes widened in response, his heart racing even faster. 

It was the first time Voryn had said such a thing to Nerevar. And more importantly, Nerevar could no longer deny what his own feelings were. Voryn called it—the same exact feelings Nerevar had toward him—love. It was love, he… 

He loved Voryn.

Nerevar’s lips crashed into Voryn’s clinging to him tightly. Voryn groaned loudly, and now he could feel Voryn’s arousal mixing with it, his own desires only growing from it. Voryn kissed him even more intently, holding him close, and Nerevar could feel Voryn was starting to get hard.

“Fuck me,” Nerevar breathed, breaking the kiss only briefly. “Get inside me right now.”

“Who am I to deny my mate?” Voryn mumbled against Nerevar’s lips, already starting to undress him.

It felt so good; Voryn’s touch felt like hot flames licking him in the best possible way, heat pooling in his stomach. Focusing on Voryn’s arousal as well only made him feel all the better. His mate wanted him, just as strongly as he wanted Voryn. The knowledge he was desired only compounded his own arousal further.

Voryn didn’t entirely undress him; quickly they realized it would only make getting dressed again a hassle. Instead they only did so as much as necessary; their robes undone, Voryn’s cock freed and Nerevar’s underwear around one of his ankles.

“Mm~” Nerevar groaned, “Fuck yes…”

“You missed my cock?” Voryn asked, before kissing him again eagerly.

“Yes,” Nerevar panted against his lips as they broke the kiss once more. “It feels so good to have you inside me—“

“I was made to be inside you,” Voryn whispered, making Nerevar moan. “Just like you were made for me…”

“Yes~” Nerevar hissed as Voryn began with slower, gentle thrusts at first. They were made for each other, it was true; the gods themselves made them two halves of a whole. It only made sense that they’d enjoy making love as much as they did. Their bodies and souls craved being connected, and Nerevar was quickly losing himself in the arousal at the revelation. “I was made for you, only you…” It also made sense why he never found other alphas very attractive; he was Voryn’s mate—he was always going to be Voryn’s mate. 

“Neht,” Voryn moaned in between messy kisses. “You feel so good, so perfect wrapped around my cock…”

“Fuck,” Nerevar panted, “You knot is swelling up~” Voryn wasn’t even in a rut and he was going to knot Nerevar, knot him and fill him with his seed… The seal was still in place on him, but gods did he want Voryn to breed him already. 

“You like it when I knot you, don’t you?” Voryn panted against Nerevar’s lips and Nerevar threw his head back in a desperate moan. Fuck keeping his voice down—Nerevar couldn’t control himself. He couldn’t possibly keep himself quiet like this.

“Yes!” Nerevar’s voice sounded so desperate, a fact that would no doubt embarrass him after this. He never saw himself acting like this with an alpha, but he didn’t care at the moment. “I love it when you knot me~” He knew just what sentences like that did to Voryn, and he could feel the spike of pleasure through their bond. 

“I thought you weren’t due to go into heat for another week…” Voryn groaned, “But I think… You’re about to…”

Nerevar wouldn’t be surprised if he was going into heat right this second. It only made sense—Nerevar and Voryn didn’t get to have much sex his last heat. He was still recovering, spending long, long hours asleep in bed and eating to regain his strength. They did it only a few times, despite how turned on Nerevar was. Even afterwards the healers warned them to keep sex to a minimum as Nerevar recovered (already knowing full well it was useless to ask them to abstain as a new mated couple). But now Voryn was thrusting a half formed knot in and out of him, so much love and arousal present through their bond—

“Fuck—“ Voryn swore, burying his head in Nerevar’s neck, “You are—You’re going into heat for me—!” Nerevar wrapped a leg around Voryn’s hips, his hands clawing at Voryn’s back. “I can’t believe you’re going into heat just because I’m fucking you—!” 

When this was over, Nerevar knew he would be embarrassed. Beyond embarrassed actually—he never anticipated his body reacting so readily. Wasn’t it humiliating to be reduced to nothing but a moaning mess, fully going into heat just because his alpha was fucking him on his desk of all places? Or was it the fact Voryn confessed to him making him go into heat? If so, that was even more mortifying that his body would react like this. 

But right now, Nerevar couldn’t think about any of that. All he could do was moan and cling to Voryn, panting and begging for more, his head tilted as Voryn nipped and sucked a constellation of love bites onto his neck and shoulder. 

And then Voryn surprised him—he began kissing and licking at the claiming bite on Nerevar’s neck, Nerevar’s body tensing.

“Wait—” Nerevar began, “Wait, if you bite it again I’ll—”

Voryn didn’t even let him finish his sentence, his canines plunging into Nerevar as his knot swelled further. Nerevar’s body went rigid as he orgasmed, eyes rolled back and screaming in pleasure as Voryn thrust into him one last time, holding there as Nerevar’s cunt spasmed around his knot. 

Was it even possible to think like this? Absolutely not. Nerevar not even 30 minutes ago was proud and careful, cautiously evaluating risks and trying his best to keep his dignity in the face of a snide noble who despised him and thought that Nerevar being Voryn’s mate was some kind of trick. He had even been planning the best course of action to help raise his own position as he had no intention of laying back and riding on Voryn’s coattails forever. But all of that completely fizzled out as Voryn made him climax painfully hard, the combination of his claiming bite being reinforced and his body locking around Voryn’s knot, the sensation fully overwhelming. Perhaps ‘overwhelming’ was an understatement—Nerevar wouldn’t be surprised if he died from pure pleasure at that moment. His brain felt like nothing more than static and he’s seeing stars as he moaned and drooled, thoroughly blissed out.

“So good for me,” Voryn moaned into his shoulder, “So good, taking every drop… Cumming around my cock like this…” Logical thought slowly began to return to him, and Nerevar groaned.

“You—that…” Nerevar was desperately trying to catch his breath, “That was too much—!” 

“I’m sorry,” Voryn pressed apologetic kisses to Nerevar’s throat and jaw, “I’m sorry Neht, you feel too good…” 

“I have half a mind to kick your ass for that…” Nerevar groaned, still feeling Voryn’s cock twitch inside of him, the knot firmly in place. “You… That wasn’t helping…” Nerevar groaned. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’m… I went into heat from you fucking me like this…” Reality was quickly catching up with Nerevar, his cheeks burning red for a different reason now. He went into heat on Voryn’s desk of all places, moaning so obscenely loud there wasn’t a soul in the stronghold who didn’t hear them. “And we were so loud—”

“It’s fine, Neht,” Voryn tried to reassure him, “I cast silencing. No one heard us.” 

“Someone could have walked in at any moment…” 

“Weren’t you the one who told me to get inside you?” Voryn countered, unable to hide the smirk on his face. “No, you outright demanded it—”

“T-that’s enough!” Nerevar groaned, completely mortified. “I was… Overwhelmed, alright?” Nerevar tried to shift his hips only to groan from how full he was from Voryn’s knot.

“Shh…” Voryn hushed him. “It’ll be a few more minutes, and then I can get you cleaned up and back to our room.” Nerevar huffed slightly, burying his face in Voryn’s shoulder now. His heat was fully coming on, the restlessness and anxiety beginning to creep up on him. But he took deep breaths, reminding himself Voryn was right here, holding him, their bodies still connected.

“I’ll give you a nice bath,” Voryn whispered, the offer sounding absolutely wonderful to Nerevar right now. Nothing would soothe him more than being tended to by his alpha. And, if Nerevar could guess, as Voryn entered his rut he’d also want to tend to Nerevar. “Pile up the blankets and pillows for you on my bed…” Nerevar hummed softly as Voryn rubbed soothing circles on his scalp. “I’ll even dress you in my sleeping robes, before completely covering you in my scent…”

They stayed like that as Voryn’s knot went down, gentle kisses and promises. When it finally went down enough for him to pull out he kissed Nerevar on the lips, gently sliding out. Nerevar whimpered slightly, once again left feeling empty… Already he knew this heat was going to be a weird one. He already felt more sensitive than usual, both physically and emotionally.

“Now let’s get back to our room.” Voryn smiled, helping Nerevar redress.

#nerevoryn #indoril nerevar #nerevar #voryn dagoth #morrowind #not sfw #omegaverse au

[galescafe]

early afternoon writing sociology paper / late night writing philosophy paper

12 FEBRUARY 2024 | 51/100 DAYS OF PRODUCTIVITY

got to work early because i had a virtual dei training (i have thoughts about corporate dei lmao) but then got lots of stuff done for my study, getting into the swing of contacting people to enroll

then went to bio lab, which was super short thank goodness

because i had a sociology paper due at 5pm today and i went to bed last night having only finished 2/5 pages! but used the extra time this afternoon to finish it and submit

went to my sociology lecture, got to rag on the ways in which white male thinkers of the 18th century were jumping through hoops to justify racism

got myself a little boba and onigiri as a treat bc i had a rough monday (very little sleep, shitty corporate dei, broken elevator, loud maintenance in my hallway, looming deadlines)

finished a problem set for physiology and the first draft of my philosophy paper

still need to fix up the paper and have about 40 pages of readings for my capstone tomorrow afternoon lmao but we persevere while listening to jazz

friendly reminder that wearing a mask is an act of love!!

#studyblr #100 days of productivity #100 dop #study aesthetic #studyspo #uni #college #study motivation #galestudies

[unapologeticallytheworst]

Hi, posting for a bit of peer review of the idea.

Celebrity CEO/Scientist!Tony Stark/Flight Attendant!Peter Parker

Notes: 3k words. Peter is 18 and in the summer between high school and college. Tony is indeterminately in his 40s and some non-superhero-y but still action-movie-y version of IM1 played out about 5ish years ago. Weirdly not Pepper Potts or Liz Toomes friendly. I swear I don't dislike either of those characters, but I wanted everyone in a weird headspace.

Fair warning, this just kinda stops and is in a rough draft state. But I gotta know if anyone would want to read more of this before I devote more time to it. Like I'll probably still finish it but I'll probably finish my main wip first, ya know?

Peter finds himself fidgeting with his tie, but he can't help it. He is just so nervous. Mr. Toomes has already made it clear that if he messes this up he's out. And he gets it, this The Tony Stark's private plane. He isn't even supposed to be on this flight, but he was the one on standby. Today is the company team building/party and as the newest he gets to sit it out. He hadn't minded at the time, it sounded like a class and that was the last thing that he wanted to do with his summer off. Then the caterers arrived and decked out the meeting room. He got what kind of team building exercise it was then. Ned had fixed him a plate and assured him he would get to enjoy it next time. To enjoy getting paid to sit at the desk doing nothing but eat good food and wait for a phone that wouldn't ring.

But the phone did ring, and not just any phone at that. The line everyone calls the red phone, the one reserved for the clients that pay consistent 24/7 availability. He actually let it ring for second longer than he should have because he was in so much shock. He has never even seen it ring and now it was his responsibly to not only answer it but work whatever flight is being requested. Because everyone else was definitely already too far gone on the large amounts of champagne being passed around.

When he did pick up, it was one Happy Hogan saying that Tony Stark wanted his jet wheels up as fast as possible. Which wouldn't have been a problem except he wasn't cleared to work for Mr. Stark who has his own special designation. Only a select few are allowed to work his flights, because he's so valuable to the agency. Mr. Toomes even personally greets him whenever possible. He had immediately alerted everyone who needed to be told, including Toomes,who took fifteen minutes to figure out what he already knew. It was going to have to be him that worked this one.

Lost in the nervousness of an hour ago, Peter almost manages to forget about the current anxiety. But the nearly blinding gleam of the slick black town car as it rolls directly onto the tarmac swiftly reminds him. Toomes shifts next to him and Peter wishes he would have just stayed at the party. His boss isn't drunk precisely… just probably more than he should be to greet their most important client for what sounded like an emergency. What kind of emergency requires an immediate long haul flight to Hawaii he's not sure, but if there's one thing that this job has taught him, don't try to understand the whims of the rich and famous. It will drive him insane.

It doesn't even seem like the car has fully stopped, before Mr. Stark is out and striding toward the waiting plane. Their eyes meet for the briefest moment, as he passes at the bottom of the stairs, and Peter feels thirteen again. Watching the press conference, where even battered, bruised, and clearly exhausted, Tony Stark was suddenly the sexiest person he had ever seen.

He only doesn't manage to make a fool of himself by virtue of the fact that he freezes. Not that it matters much since Toomes seems plenty willing to be embarrassing enough for both of them, trailing after Mr. Stark in spite of the obvious brush offs. Peter recognizes Mr. Hogan purely because he's seen him in the background of enough paparazzi photos. He rushes to help him with the bags, thankfully only two small duffels. Happy hands them off with nothing more than a nod, dashing up the steps still seemingly as frantic as he had seemed on the phone.

Walking up the steps is equal parts terrifying and exciting. He's about to be stuck with his celebrity crush for eleven hours and if he messes it up he'll lose his job. No big deal. Not a problem at all.

Toomes is still hovering, babbling completely missing the unspoken cues that Mr. Stark isn't in the mood. He's already seated and buckled even, clearly signaling his desire to get a move on. Peter cuts through their line of sight to stow the bags, hoping it will shake Toomes. The last thing he needs is Mr. Stark in a bad mood, because his boss won't back off. That he had gleaned in his conversation with one of Mr. Stark's regular flight attendants. Sometimes Tony is lonely and looking for someone to vent to, but just as much he wants to be left alone. It's up to him to figure out which is which. Engage if he engages him. Well she had used different words, because she was quite drunk, but he got the gist. He's glad it's not a party, she made those sound worse. He can leave Mr. Stark alone and if he needs someone to listen to his problems that's okay. Maybe he can forget his own for a while.

His move does disrupt the conversation but not in the way Peter is expecting. Mr. Stark interrupts whatever Mr. Toomes is babbling about, to say, “He's new.” Peter busies himself with making sure the bags are secure, pretending not to be interested in the conversation.

His boss is quiet for a moment, before launching into, “Yeah I guess it was bound to happen. One day you were going to call on a day when the rookie was the one on standby. He's a little wet behind the ears, but he's good. It was actually Cathy, one of your regulars, that plucked him out of janitorial.” Mr. Stark's statement didn't really require that response, but at least they are talking about something he brought up. Toomes speaks again when he doesn't get a response, “She said he is too cute, smart, and polite to be wasting time cleaning.”

Peter is flooded with regret that he let this conversation happen and feels his face heat at the description. He stands and spins in time to catch Mr. Stark giving him a once over as he says, “Well, I think I can trust Catherine's judgment.” Peter knows he's probably blushing even worse. It wasn't even that kind of look, more just taking his measure. But enough to remind him that he would very much like for it to be that kind of look.

Peter blurts, “Are you ready to go, Mr. Stark? Or has anything changed since I spoke to Mr. Hogan?” It's a bit rude to cut into their conversation, but he's getting desperate to get Toomes off the plane. Happy is no help pacing towards the back of the plane with a phone to his ear.

There's a hint of a smirk on Mr. Stark's lips as he responds, “Nope. We're good to go…” his eyes flick down the little gold name tag dangling off his vest, “Peter.” As Mr. Stark looks at him, Peter gets the distinct impression that he is fighting the urge to laugh. And he gets it, Mr. Stark understands his predicament and finds it deeply amusing. Which is something… at least he's not mad.

“Well, we better get going so we can get in line with ATC,” Peter drags the sentence out hoping it will work, but instead Mr. Stark just makes an interested noise and he has to explain, “The only private runway big enough for your jet is closed out of an abundance of caution due to an issue with the TAWS system, sir.” Then trying to rescue the purpose of the conversation, “So we really should get moving, because the commercial lanes are always busy.”

They stand there in a brief awkward silence, as Peter begs with every fibre of his being for his boss to leave and his body stop noticing the way that Mr. Stark looks sprawled in the plush leather armchair. He's still clearly deeply amused at Peter's problem, which helps with his libido some, cooled by embarrassment.

Mr. Stark goes to speak, to help or hurt Peter is not sure, but Happy abruptly rejoins the conversation, “The house will be ready, Tony. The staff will come out with Rhodey, because you know he'll complain, but I figured you would like the peace.”

Moment forgotten, Mr. Stark turns to talk to Mr. Hogan and Peter does his best to pretend that he isn't listening as he does a final check of the galley. Toomes still stands in the middle of the walkway seemingly lost by the conversation.

“So he can make it?” “Of course he's coming. It will take a couple of days, but he's coming. Think he's going to try and get Banner and Strange to come out too.” ”So we can all braid each other's hair and eat ice cream? - Sorry, I didn't mean that. Thank you for putting this together, Hap.”

There's silence then Mr. Hogan seems to understand what the holdup is, because he starts ushering Mr. Toomes towards the door, spouting random nonsense about how they need to get moving. Peter rushes after them pulling the door closed as soon as Toomes is clear. He turns and thanks Happy, who gives him a long look before speaking, “Sure, no problem, kid. Listen, be gentle with Tony, okay? He's just had a bad break up.” Peter just nods, trying to hide his surprise. It always seemed like Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts were so stable from the outside. Happy nods and goes, presumably to take a seat.

The two soft beeps from his ear piece remind him that he still needs to do his actual job now. So he tells the cockpit that the stairs and car are out of the way, who inform him of the situation so he hurries to get everything ready. Bouncing lightly with nervous energy he takes his place at the front of the cabin and says, “ATC said they can squeeze us in real quick, because there's a traffic jam on the JFK side. So if you two are all ready, we can be airborne in five.”

Mr. Stark's lips twist and he says, “You're going to skip your little safety briefing?” Most people wouldn't complain about that, but then again Mr. Stark isn't actually complaining. He's messing with him. That much is obvious. Why he's not sure, but it's definitely what's happening.

Still not sure why, Peter finds himself playing back by pointing out, deadpan, “Either of you could legally fly this plane, sir. I think you understand the safety procedures.” He can tell that he surprises Mr. Stark with the statement, but thankfully not in a bad way.

In fact given the way that Mr. Stark lights up a little and starts eyeing him in a new way, Peter would say that it's exactly the right thing to say. Mr. Stark relaxes back into his chair in a way that accidentally shows off the long lean lines of his body, looking more rock star than celebrity ceo and scientist. And Peter has to get a grip on himself, because they're not that kind of staffing agency. He almost misses what Mr. Stark says, so lost in the fantasy, “Maybe I just wanted to see you do your thing.”

Peter replies, “You can watch me do my thing once we're airborne,” and then feels the blush explode across his face as he realizes how dirty that sounds. Desperate to regain his professionalism, he adds, “But if you would rather wait an hour, because we ended up at the back of the line…” he lets the sentence trail off with a hint of challenge, because that's what this has to be about. Mr. Stark is just trying to see if he can rattle him.

He gets the impression that Mr. Stark is laughing at him as he says, “As much fun as watching you do your thing sounds,” and Mr. Stark definitely makes it sound dirty, “how about you just bring out the bar cart when we hit cruising?”

Relieved to escape whatever game Mr. Stark is playing with him, Peter tosses out, “Sure thing, Mr. Stark,” before disappearing into the galley to let the pilots know they're good to go and buckle himself into the four point harness of his jumpseat. It almost sounded like Mr. Stark was flirting with him for a second there, but that's crazy. Plus there have never been any complaints about Mr. Stark coming on to the staff. Then he wouldn't exactly complain would he? And Mr. Stark had been in a relationship.

The jolt as they start taxiing knocks him out of his thoughts and it seems like they'll make the window so he grabs the gum out of his standby bag. Toomes would kill him if he knew about the gum, but the last thing he needs is to be half deaf because his ears didn't pop right. On impulse he slips his book on the bar cart, secured to the wall next to him.

Peter finds himself weirdly excited to do bar cart for Mr. Stark. The bartending lessons had been his best scores when he had done his training. He can't do any of the fun flipping and spinning, that would be a disaster with his clumsiness, but chemistry had prepared him for mixing things. Plus the rider made Mr. Stark's drink preferences sound easy. A little bit of over pouring, but not enough to make it a single into a double. No need for anything fancy, just very well made drinks.

The chime in his ear letting him know that they've hit cruising altitude comes at him like a surprise and brings with it some of his earlier stress. He busies himself with triple checking the cart as the captain announces their flight time and ETA. Unlocking the cart from the wall and rolling into the main cabin, Peter resolves to give Mr. Stark the best experience he can. The thought that he is hurting over his broken engagement is way better motivator than the threat to his job. Especially since he doesn't need the job anymore.

Resolutely not thinking about the letter at the bottom of his bag, Peter notices that Mr. Hogan appears to have fallen asleep during take off. He did seem very tired earlier. Mr. Stark catches him looking and speaks softly, “He's been running himself ragged for me.” Peter can see how touched Mr. Stark is by what Happy has done for him, but he seems almost mad about it.

“He's your friend, he just wants to make sure that you're okay,” slips out of Peter's mouth without him meaning for it to happen as he parks the cart close, but out of the way.

Mr. Stark gives him another long indecipherable look, before speaking again, voice still soft not to disturb sleeping man a few feet away, “He said something didn't he?” Peter feels like he is betraying Happy's trust as he nods, but it's clear that Mr. Stark already knows.

Feeling the need to defend Mr. Hogan a little, “He's just worried about you. It's just because he cares.” Mr. Stark sighs at him and actually looks every bit the guy that just had a very serious break up, whose friends are worried about him. There's an exhaustion there, not the physical kind like Happy, he doesn't need a nap. He needs a break.

Mr. Stark's soft, “I know,” almost gets lost in the gentle hum of the cabin. Then he shakes himself and goes back to being the billionaire, former playboy, philanthropist that has been staring back at Peter from the glossy pages of the checkout for years. It's jarring and he gets the sense he just saw Tony, not Tony Stark, not Mr. Stark, but Tony the person. When he speaks again it's with a joking conspiratorial tone, “What do you say you help me convince him to go take a real nap? And fix me a gin and tonic?”

Peter rolls with mood change as smoothly as he can, “Sure thing Mr. Stark. Double or single?” he begins assembling the drink on automatic, he's thankful for the familiar task in the unfamiliar situation.

Mr. Stark seems relieved he doesn't make a thing of it, so Peter counts that as a win, ”Single. Shake him for me will you?” Shaking awake a stranger is one of those things that was one of those things that had felt very strange the first time but he had gotten used to with this job. Happy startles awake under his touch apparently not having realized that he fell asleep. Peter leaves Mr. Stark to deal with him as he starts pouring. “Hap, grab your cpap and go sleep in the real bed.”

Happy starts trying to protest, about how he's fine, how he doesn't need to, and Peter knows easy points when he sees them. So he tosses out lightly, “The sheets are fresh and the pillows are fluffed, Mr. Hogan. I checked myself,” then to Mr. Stark, ”Twist of lime, sir? I forgot to ask.”

Mr. Stark's smirk suggests that his, “Yes,” is about more than limes and that Peter just scored some points in whatever game they're playing. Then with a voice like honey, that makes Peter immediately understand exactly how the man in front of him gained a reputation as a world class playboy, he says to Happy, “See you can't let the kid's hard work go to waste like that. Go take a nap at least.”

#starker #This was supposed a one shot #whoops

[needfantasticstories]

TRICK OR ZINGA-DINGDING!!!!

ZINGA-DINGDING!?

How about a discarded Hyrule-centric draft?

“Anyone recognize this place?”

They had stepped into a pitch black forest. Foliage closed overhead as solid as any cave, the nearest trees lit only by Wild’s Sheikah slate on one side of the group and the glow of Legend’s and Warrior’s fire rods on the other.  

The meager light caught the gleam of dark eyes in the shadowy canopy.

From the back of the group of heroes, Hyrule smiled a little, then sighed. He knew those eyes.

“I recognize it. I just hope they all assume I’m d–”

“It’s hiiim! He’s baaack!” Hissed the owners of those shining black eyes.

Epona reared at the sound, nearly dumping Four and their supplies. Twilight and Time rushed to soothe her as she bucked in the dark, cramped clearing where she could easily strike one of their fellow heroes. Four held on tight, offering his own soothing words to the mare to little avail.

As Epona reared, Hyrule watched the insects dropping down on their webs towards him. He stepped aside and launched forward to stab the nearest creature as it dropped to eye level. It squealed, and two more pairs of similar beady eyes dropped on either side. Hyrule jumped up and stabbed the first into the ground, dead leaves crackling, and as the other scrambled back up its web, Legend shot it with one of Wild’s fire arrows. The flames lit up contorted spider legs over a bloated blue body, silk trailing in the air.

“Deelers. Big spiders,” Hyrule explained, pulling the trail of webs off his face. He stood up and nodded to Legend in thanks as the flame died. Despite their hearty morning of rest and only light walking before the portal opened, he looked worn down. 

To everyone’s surprise, Legend approached his protegee, looked him over in the light of his fire rod, and then pulled him into a one-armed hug. Hyrule seemed to shrink into it, staggering a little. 

“We’ve got this,” He assured the younger hero. “

“I know. I just… got so used to not worrying about it.”  

The other heroes looked on in confusion. 

“I’m sorry, Rulie. You’ve gotta tell them, okay? I don’t understand it as well as you.”

“Tell us what, Hyrule?” Time asked in his low, rumbling voice, quickly turning away from the poisoned trees that reminded him too much of the Great Deku Tree’s final days; the scent of rot within, dark poison from Ganon’s curse, mixed with anger. Were these woods cursed, he wondered. 

Hyrule sighed, “Okay, so, my Hyrule is a bit…rough, compared to what I’ve seen on our travels. Ganon caused a lot of damage between Legend’s time and mine. Most of the forests and lakes are poisoned, so be careful what you eat or drink, and don’t swim. Zora here are not friendly, and in fact there are no friendly races I know of, just a few monsters here and there who lend a hand in secret. And the towns,” he hesitated, “A lot of people are angry that I bring monsters wherever I go.”

As if summoned, a fiery orange-red bird swooped from the canopy and flapped in Hyrule’s face, squawking. It slashed at Hyrule who threw up an arm to fend off the talons from his face. It tore through the bracer and raked deeply into his arm. Then it slashed its bloodied claws toward his face again, but Hyrule had brought up his shield and sword. He swung at it, despite the deep wound to his sword arm, forcing the squawking bird to veer aside then retreat into the trees.

“I found the hero! I found the hero!” It squawked.

“Wild! Shoot it down!” Legend yelled, aiming his bow as well, but they all knew Wild’s unmatched skill with a bow. 

Wild released three arrows just as the bird retreated into the thick, shadowy foliage. It did not drop back down, but neither did they hear it squawking.

Wild listened to the darkness for a few breaths, then sighed, “I think I missed it.”

Hyrule was quickly healing his own wounds. Legend silently clipped two more power bracelets onto Hyrule’s arm, and when the Traveler looked up to protest he saw Legend’s steel-hard glare and relented. 

“We have to move. Now. As silent as you can. No lights. We need to get to the castle, and I’ll explain it all there once we’re safe,” Hyrule instructed. He led the way as the others followed. Wild changed into his Sheikah clothes and took the rear, determined to skewer anything before it reached them. 

“Two on the left,” Time pointed out for Wild after a few minutes of quiet trekking. 

Wild searched and spied the beady, spider-like eyes in the trees above them. He fired. Two thuds on the ground signaled the group to hurry forward once more. 

“Rulie, why are they after you? I thought you defeated Ganon? Is it for revenge, like Wild’s Yiga?” Warrior whispered. 

“Later,” Hyrule mouthed in silent reply, still doing his best to listen despite the ruckus his companions made. It usually never bothered him how much sound his companions made on stealth missions, he wasn’t usually in charge and that suited him fine when they had enough firepower to deal with any who caught them, but here? Even the dungeon bosses had begun to rise aboveground now that he’d defeated their king and broken the seals they’d guarded. They could not afford to face them. He listened carefully to the sounds. Why had the portal taken them here at night? It had been midday in Ordon Village before the portal opened. 

He hoped Ilia and Colin would forgive him for not joining sword practice today, as he’d promised, but no doubt they’d be most distraught about Twilight disappearing again. Ilia especially, though he wondered which she’d miss the most: horse or human. 

 A hint of movement ahead made Hyrule draw his sword and jump. He stabbed down, and the gel-monster, a zol, split into two bots; weaker but still dangerous blobs. Hyrule stabbed both in rapid succession and carried onward. 

“A chu chu?” Wild asked Twilight.

“Smells kinda like it, but more acidic,” he answered, glad he’d grown somewhat accustomed to Wild appearing out of nowhere in those Sheikah clothes. 

Wild nodded.  

Two hours of silent trudging passed, and only the occasional feeler or bot gave them brief stops on the road. Far ahead, a sliver of orange light appeared.

“The town is just ahead, and we can take a short rest there before moving on,” Hyrule whispered to Warrior, who whispered it to Legend who moved down the line to tell the others. 

Legend had fallen behind to whisper to Four. Suddenly Legend grunted, and all eyes turned to him as a spear dropped from his left shoulder, leaving a nasty gouge. 

“Lege!” Four hissed without much sound, still dedicated to remaining as quiet as possible.

Legend angled his shield, despite his wound, to face the new threat. From the left of their widening trail came the sound of heavy feet pounding through the woods. More spears launched as the monster approached, carrying a huge supply of the thin spears like arrows in a quiver.  

“Moblin! They aim for the chest or legs,” Hyrule said in his loudest whisper, though they gave up all pretense of silence when six more moblins followed behind the first, and glowered at the humans. 

“There!” The first bulldog-faced monster growled to the others, drool dangling from its protruding lower fangs. 

The slightest hint of dawn lit the fight up like noon to the travelers. They scrambled to meet the foes.

Hyrule raced to defend Legend, but too late. Another spear struck him in the thigh. 

Warriors ran between them and the oncoming pack, blue scarf flowing as he ran into position. Sky took his right and Time his left, forming a human shield between the duo and the moblins. Spears bounced off their shields and they ducked and rose to block the simple but relentless attacks. 

Four brought Epona behind them, bow in hand, in case any tried to sneak from the other side. Twilight took the path forward and Wild the path behind. Wild’s little wooden shield broke into pieces as the spears kept coming. He pulled out a spiked metal monster shield and a heavy-looking spear tipped with sharp bones. 

Warrior jerked as a moblin spear struck his armor, winding him. Sky sent a massive Skyward strike to the one that hit Warrior, killing it, but the others closed in. 

“We have to keep moving!” Hyrule yelled. He raised his hand and let the tension build quickly before he snapped, and death rained down on the monsters. 

The moblins jolted and shuddered, crawling with electricity that shot down from above the trees, leaving holes beaming with dawn’s light once the bolts faded. In place of the moblins were shallow, smoking holes burnt in the ground, lit by streams of orange light.  

“Nice work, Traveler,” Four said, eyebrows raised. 

“Guys, there’s more coming,” Twilight said, smelling the stench of them even through the fading smell of burnt flesh. He’d have noticed without his heightened senses, it reeked so much.

“We can’t let them stop us now. Keep going!” Hyrule insisted. He put a hand on Legend to heal him, but Legend shook his head and put an arm over Hyrule, instead letting him steady him onward.

Four called out, “I can see the town ahead. We’re almost there!”

The clanking of metal and shrill hisses made them all turn back toward the moblins. A gang of lizalfos ran ahead of four huge metal suits of armor radiating dark magic. 

“Get them both to town, now!” Warrior yelled. 

“Here!” Four leapt off Epona and bodily lifted the Traveler and tossed him atop the animal. Hyrule had forgotten how strong Four was as he scrambled not to fall off. Time hauled Legend in front of him.

Hyrule didn’t have time to tell them he’d never ridden a horse before when suddenly she was racing through the dense foliage, following the same deer trail Hyrule had been following. 

Hyrule reached around Legend and held the tiny saddle handle for dear life. 

 Epona broke free of imprisoning woods into fresh air and an orange sunrise. The town, a small settlement surrounded by a stone wall topped with wooden logs, had already begun to close the gates when they reached it. 

The town guards lowered spears at them.

“Halt!” They demanded,

“My friend is injured! Let us in!” Hyrule implored. He looked back at the lizalfos, at least eight, racing up from the woods towards them. They had minutes. 

“It’s you again! We’ll take this one inside, but you stay out here and stop those monsters, since you brought them!” 

“I will,” he said, hopping off Epona as a guard took her lead. 

As the gates closed he watched Legend teeter in the saddle as they headed towards the healer’s house. 

Hyrule sighed in relief, even as the gate closed in his face, both guards inside.

He drew his sword and stood before the gate. When the others arrive, I’ll jump over and let us all in.

The others ran to keep up with Epona, and stop the lizalfos as best they could, but as the monsters swerved to follow Epona they could only chase after them on foot. 

When they reached the road, they found Hyrule standing alone and furiously fighting before the closed gates, swinging at the slithering monsters. Three lay dead at his feet while ten remained. A long way off down the road, they could see the dust rising from another horde approaching.  

They picked up their pace. 

Fire burned on Hyrule’s blade as he struck, driving them back. 

Three of the lizard demons began to climb the gates, like spiders, to strike him from above. 

Wild knocked two down with electric arrows. The third crawled above Hyrule, and the young hero didn’t seem to notice. They others ran, but knew they’d not make it in time to stop the head-splitting strike. 

“Look up!” Four shouted.

Twilight had already thrown his windfairy boomerang, and it struck the lizard so hard it embedded in its shoulder. The sword clattered at Hyrule’s feet, quickly taken up by another lizard.

One of the lizards swiped at Hyrule’s shield with its sword, and Hyrule raised it to block, stopping the blow. At the same time another lizard swiped at his feet with it’s tail, knocking the Traveler off his feet. 

“Hyrule!”

The traveler scrambled to rise, but a clawed foot shoved him back down.

The Captain raced to reach Hyrule. He send flames ahead of him into the first line to draw their attention from the traveler. They braved for him, but it wasn’t enough as he shoved into them like a cannon, pushing toward the overwhelmed hero.

And just in time. 

A large lizard raised a club to strike the teen’s head as the other pinned him down. Warrior thrust his sword through the monsters chest, then shoved the body off into the one pinning Hyrule. 

Time’s biggoron sword cut a wider path for the others behind him, cleaving three nearest lizalfos in half. They all quickly finished the other lizalfos.

“Looks like you could use a hand” Warrior quipped, offering his own.

Hyrule sighed, and let the Captain haul him up, wincing a little.

At the sound of Time pounding on the gates, the guards peered over and after seeing the monsters disposed of, they let the heroes in. 

#hyrule linked universe #hyrule lu #whumptober #whumptober 2023 #linked universe #legend linked universe #wild linked universe #four linked universe #linked universe warriors

[the-pen-pot]

So, a reader asked some questions about Patreon over on AO3 in my comment box. A friendly reminder it is UTTERLY againt the TOS of AO3 to talk about Patreon even in the comment box - so I had to delete their comment, and I didn't fancy attempting to answer over there and getting done for breach in terms of service. 🤣

Instead, I'll answer the questions here:

On your Patreon, you said all fanfics will eventually find their way here. Is that actually the case? It seems like there are a number of stories on your Patreon that are not on AO3 (even ones that you posted quite a while ago).

Basically, I only post/update one multi-chaptered fic on AO3 at a time. It's really all I have time for. That means one fic is getting consistently edited and updated - in this case that's Hiraeth.

Other multi-chapter fics on Patreon (like King and Court, Guard of Diocletian, and Where The Heart Is) are incomplete, updated sporadically when people in the $5 tier vote for them in project polls - and they are predominantly still rough drafts. What goes up on AO3 is the final, edited version of the chapters.

When it comes to ficlets. I try to pop them up on AO3 eventually. These are one-shots - and they normally end up on AO3 within six months - sometimes sooner*. Basically I move stuff over when I have the time, and gradually, so as not to flood AO3 all at once with a dozen new fics.

(*Real life has been so hectic that I've fallen a touch behind on this - and have been steadily rectifying it this past month or so.)

One of the stories on your Patreon (Hiraeth), is locked, but it’s free to read on AO3. What is the reason for that?

Patreon gets updates of chapters of Hiraeth one week before AO3. So, for example, where I updated chapter 48 on AO3 this weekend, I updated chapter 49 on Patreon. Patrons are paying for that advanced access to the next chapter.

The reason the chapters already posted on AO3 are locked on Patreon is sort of really that there isn't one. I just assumed most people would rather read stuff posted on AO3 actually on AO3 since the navigation is better. I didn't bother unlocking those chapters when they're already readily available for anyone who wants to read them on ArchiveOfOurOwn

Some of the stories on your Patreon $2 level are locked, and some are not. What is the reason for that?

Some of the stories, particularly ficlets, are unlocked to followers on Patreon (that's people who don't pledge, but do want to keep tabs on me) one months after patrons have seen them and a little bit before they go up on AO3. It's a little treat for people who follow me but don't have the inclination to pledge.

Hopefully that helps!

P.s. People can sign up for free trials for a week in the $2 and $5 tier (I recommend the $5, because then you can get access to pretty much everything) BUT Patreon doesn't notify you when it comes to an end. They just take your money (which I HATE as a business tactic). However, that's totally out of my control, so I recommend getting the free trial and immediately cancelling so you're not charged, if you want to take a closer look at what's on offer. You can always come back and pledge later if you decide you want to!

#PlacesToSupportMe

[photoniccyclone]

SFR Update - Chapter 7 Rough draft completed plus sneak peak!

Hello everyone! Just an exciting announcement to announce that the draft for chapter 7 (and possibly 8) has officially been completed!

This means the editing phase can now finally begin and will (hopefully) not take too long, though, I'll still have to make sure I can work it into my schedule like I did with the with the draft so I don't know if I'll be able to work on it everyday, and I still don't know how many edits this thing actually really needs. I won't be able to determine that until I make my first pass read through which comes after I run it through Grammarly to get all the grammar errors out and just to make it sound better haha. But anyway that's it for now. I'll leave you all with a little sneak peak of the chapter ;)

Please keep in mind this is pulled from the rough draft and I only quickly ran this segment through grammarly and gave it a quick once over so there may be errors or things that sound... off..

Callum couldn’t move. His body was locked in place as time appeared to slow down to a crawl. Though the image in front of him was evident, a small part of his brain still refused to believe it and subconsciously forced him to blink rapidly just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. However, the image before him remained unchanged. 

“J-Janai,” Callum managed to stutter out, still recovering from the surprise as well the many different questions racing through his head. 

Janai simply stood in the doorway and nodded weakly, her face still holding that anxious and slightly embarrassed smile he had seen when he opened the door. She fidgeted nervously with her hands, wringing them in front of her, and sighed audibly as her head drifted downward, taking small incremental steps as her face molded into an expression of deep thought, sadness, and a little bit of… regret? She took a small look to the side for the moment, appearing to glance at the trees over by the edge of the clearing before looking back at Callum, her smile returning, though far more crestfallen than before. She then took a prolonged intake of air before exhaling suddenly in a short burst through her mouth, appearing to make her own mental preparations. “I’m… I’m sorry… I know this visit is unexpected… and I promise to explain everything… But don’t worry, I promise you Sol Regem didn’t send me so-” 

Callum didn’t even let Janai finish her sentence before rushing at her, arms outstretched. The loose, hanging, golden parts of Janai’s armor clinked quietly, swinging back and forth as the force of Callum’s embrace nearly sent her stumbling backward. Once the Sunfire queen had managed to compute what had just happened, her lips curved into a far warmer and genuine smile as she returned the gesture. 

All at once, Callum’s emotions re-fired, his eyes once again building up the salty fluid he had become all too familiar with over the past few days. He let out a few quiet sobs before chuckling to himself, separating from the embrace and wiping his eyes dry. Finally, he smiled at the face before him, his eyes still a deep red. “I’m… sorry about that… “ He chuckled again. “Just… with everything happening recently… you know… it’s… uh… It’s good to see a friendly face again.” 

It really did feel good. Since this whole thing with Sol Regem, the only faces Callum had seen from Xadia had been cruel or hostile, having come here to take his kingdom and everything important to him, treating those who opposed them without any semblance of mercy. After what felt like so long of this seemingly without end, it was nice to see once again a reminder of the Xadia he had seen and geeked out about two years ago, the Xadia he had fought and risked his life for at the battle of the storm spire. 

“Good to see you too, Callum,” Janai said warmly. However, she quickly once again fell to uncertainty. “Uh…” She croaked out briefly before hastily checking her surroundings, her head darting to different sections of the sky and treeline. “Is it ok if we come in? I know this is all very sudden, but… we shouldn’t be seen out here. Again, I’ll explain everything soon… please… “ She pleaded. 

We? Callum thought before something orange and fluffy caught his eye. Looking a little to the left, he finally took notice of the hot cat sitting just behind Janai, returning Callum’s glance with its wide, sky-blue eyes, tilting its head to the side in an adorable, innocently curious fashion with its tail swaying slowly up and down. 

“Y-yeah of course… please…”

#the dragon prince #tdp #fanfic #sol regem #fanfiction #sun fueled rage #sfr #ao3 #writing #Janai #queen janai #tdp janai #sneak peak #We're getting closer to release!!! #can't wait to see what you all think of what's coming! #Lot of cool things in the works!

[blastintriumph]

hello all!! this is a rp blog for bakugo katsuki of my hero academia, written by milk. on my pinned post, you'll find all relevant links/info here for my blog. i am completely caught up with both the mha anime and manga, so beware of spoilers ahead. if i'm not here, you can probably find me on one of my other blogs: @impishsensei @muryonokansei @uravityplus @dawnspath @fatuispolaris.

please be sure to read my rules before interacting/following.

carrd || interest check (wip) || pinned credit || divider credit

for ease of access, my rules are also placed under the cut!

I will interact with mutuals only. If I follow you I want to interact, so don’t hesitate to send me asks or IM me with plot ideas! I’m willing to RP with OCs & characters from other series. Personal blogs, please do not follow/reblog/like my posts.

I’m okay with one-liners, crack, multi-para, novella… everything! Feel free to send in any ask memes if we haven’t roleplayed before. Ask memes are a great way to break the ice so I really don’t mind. If I follow you that means I want to rp with you so if you’re ever unsure and worried you might be bothering me, don’t. I’m duplicate friendly.

If I haven’t replied in two weeks (and I’m not on a hiatus) that means I probably lost our thread or it’s sitting somewhere in my drafts and I haven’t noticed it, so please message me to remind me about it. I won’t be annoyed or upset. I drop RPs sometimes out of a loss of interest but please don’t blame yourself. It is always a personal thing that has nothing to do with anyone else as a roleplayer. I’m always happy to start/write more regardless of dropping previous threads.

I prioritize chemistry above all where RP is concerned. For now, my blog is multi-ship, so any relationship my muse develops will be in a separate verse unless stated otherwise. Considering who this muse is, though, shipping with him will be rough lmao.

Although I am 27 years old, I won't be writing explicit smut on this blog. Suggestive jokes might appear, but nothing explicit. Non-sexual nsfw (heavy or triggering topics, violence, etc.) will be present and tagged. That being said, I have no issues with others writing it and I don't have any triggers I need tagged. If you do, please feel free to ask and I will tag anything you need.

Don't involve me with drama or send messages telling me to reblog callout posts or anything like that. I don't care for getting involved with petty rp drama. If it's something actually serious, I've likely already seen it on the dash and have taken note. Seriously, I will hardblock anyone that pesters me with nonsense drama.

Despite not writing explicit sexual content, I ask that minors DON’T follow my blog. I don’t want to be the reason anyone sees something inappropriate for their age. If you’re a minor & I accidentally followed you, let me know & I’ll unfollow you immediately.

#( pinned post. ) #( ooc. ) #i am a very serious writer actually...

[canichangemyblogname]

I posted 9,135 times in 2022

That's 9,113 more posts than 2021!

1,055 posts created (12%)

8,080 posts reblogged (88%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@angelsaxis

@jedi-valjean

@laz-laz-ace-pilot

@clonehub

@canichangemyblogname

I tagged 6,642 of my posts in 2022

Only 27% of my posts had no tags

#star wars - 756 posts

#captain rex - 335 posts

#andor (2022) - 295 posts

#ahsoka tano - 230 posts

#thecollectibles - 228 posts

#the clone wars - 203 posts

#the bad batch - 176 posts

#clone troopers - 159 posts

#andor spoilers - 153 posts

#reblog - 139 posts

Longest Tag: 135 characters

#but a bunch of white westerners did—metaphorically and literally—find this galaxy‚ colonize their shit‚ and expose them to christianity

I sent 1 gift in 2022

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I wanna let y'all know that you're impressive. All the stuff you create from gifs to comics to illustrations to sketches to rough drafts to full-chapter novels-- all of it.

It's impressive.

That took time. That took work.

And I'm proud of you.

732 notes - Posted August 8, 2022

#4

817 notes - Posted February 28, 2022

#3

Rb to drop kick Crosshair off a cliff

1,083 notes - Posted May 5, 2022

#2

A friendly reminder:

If the state has the power to decide who must give birth

It also has the power to decide who must not give birth.

4,966 notes - Posted June 6, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

The reason Tumblr was such an L for Yahoo wasn’t because it’s user base was so insufferable, but because Tumblr became a less popular media platform. Algorithm became more popular, creating content that people would literally crave, specifically tailored to them. And it’s a boon for advertisement. Twitter? Facebook? Instagram? TikTok? They’re essentially tailored billboards; sites dedicated to advertisement. What made Tumblr an L was the ban on NSFW and the inability to sell ads, not just the cultural disconnect between Yahoo and the platform. It literally lost some 1/3 of its traffic following the NSFW ban.

Yahoo bought Tumblr as the site was competing with other media platforms and slowly becoming obsolete. Asking why people don’t flock here anymore is like asking why people don’t use MySpace any more. There was a shift to different forms of media.

What made Tumblr an L was not the existence of an insufferable user base, but the loss of its user base.

Twitter? Twitter will never be an L for Musk. First, there is no cultural disconnect between him and the platform. Musk is the epitome of Twitter culture. Capitalistic. Reductive. “Edgy.” Cringe. Thinking he’s the smartest person in the room; a true intellectual. Offensively pseudo-ironic. Literally Twitter.

You want Twitter to be Musk’s L? Deactivate.

Deactivate your Twitter.

What will lose him money is a loss of users. It’s already a site optimized for ads and outrage and tailored content. It’s already a site tailored to his type of personality.

You want him to lose money?

Deactivate.

Make his pockets bleed.

32,939 notes - Posted October 28, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #lmao... I reblog my own stuff a lot #HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY BLOG

[alrightieaphroditie]

joel miller and the five love languages

*:·ﾟ✧ back to masterlist

pairing*:·ﾟ afab!reader x joel miller wc*:·ﾟ 5.3k warnings*:·ﾟ 18+ minors please do not interact! features pre-outbreak!joel, post-outbreak!joel (both the qz and jackson eras), one mention of child's death, some talk of insecurities, mentions of kissing/making out, oral (both f and m receiving), dirty talk, praise, p in v penetration (not really specified whether it is protected or not), some light period play, nothing too detailed, just a hodgepodge of things really :)  an*:·ﾟ ahh this has been sitting in my drafts for the longest amount of time and i finally decided to scrap it and rewrite it. i did this same kind of post with eddie munson awhile back, and it's safe to say this genre of writing is one of my favorites. this is essentially a little character analysis on joel's character and how he would handle the different love langauges with a hint of nsfw elements for each! i really loved writing this, and i hope i did his character justice. any and all feedback, be it comments or reblogs, is welcomed! this is also wildly unedited, so please forgive me lol

i. physical touch

for joel, physical touch is a way for him to stay grounded, almost. to kind of remind himself that you're there, you're real, you're okay. the action brings him a sense of peace, even if it's simply his pinky finger brushing against the tip of your shoulder or his knee gently bumping into yours when you sit together. he loves feeling your skin under his rough, calloused fingers because you're so fucking soft in comparison. that difference between you isn't the only one, but it reminds him that while you're everything he isn't - patient, friendly, pure, and utter sunshine - you're still his. his to touch, his to hold, his to love. 

even though he'd never admit it, to anyone or himself, joel is quite the cuddler. the first time you spent the night in his bed, this information was a pleasant surprise. you had woken up halfway through the night needing to pee and found yourself tangled up in joel's limbs; one arm was underneath your pillow, the other securely wrapped around your middle. his legs were woven within yours, with his muscled thigh pressed between them at a spot that had your cheeks heating up. you had to untangle yourself from him to get up, and he had let out the smallest of grunts in disappointment. as soon as you were back in his bed, though, he immediately pulled you back in his orbit, his face pressed against your neck as both of y'alls breathing steadied out again. 

when it comes to public displays of affection, though, this is where it differs. pre-outbreak!joel would be more willing to commit these acts; you'd be used to having his hand in the back pocket of your jeans while strolling the farmers markets or being kissed for longer than a few seconds while waiting in line to check out at the grocery store. he wouldn't be obnoxious with it, but he'd definitely want to show off and claim you as his out in public. 

post-outbreak!joel is a different story. now, he doesn't really see the appeal of those public displays. not that he's against them, per say, but it's more of him not wanting to really let his guard down enough to give in to the temptation of touching you in public. even without these public acts, everyone knew you were joel's girl, and he is quite alright with just that. so it's not that doesn't engage in these acts, they're just slightly more subtle, slightly more restricted. 

sometimes, he lets himself brush back your hair when it blows in your face while you're walking down the street, lets himself gently tuck it behind your ear while you grin up at him. sometimes, he lets himself press the swiftest of kisses against your forehead, taking a second to breathe in your scent before pulling away. sometimes, he lets his arm rest across your shoulders with your body firmly pressed against his, reveling in the way you fit against him so rightly. 

these little moments barely fulfill that innate urge he has to touch you, to give himself that sense of peace you bring him, but it only fuels that need exponentially when you guys are eventually confined in the safety of your home. 

this love language translates quite nicely into the bedroom, too, because joel simply cannot get enough of you when the two of you get intimate. 

every time your kissing gets a little needy, it's like he physically cannot control his hands; they start against the sides of your face, cupping you gently as he hungrily moves his lips against yours. his thumbs will brush against your cheeks while his other fingers dig into your hair. then they'll move to your shoulders, usually so that he can guide you into a different position. then they'll drift down your sides, digging into your waist for a moment before slipping underneath your shirt - that is, if it's not off already. he'll let his hands caress the smooth skin of your stomach, your back, before bringing them to the hard peaks of your breasts. he never spends too much time in one spot, though. his hands have to be everywhere. 

his favorite positions are the ones that allow his body to be completely pressed up against yours; the classic missionary, which allows him to settle his weight just nicely on top of yours, allows him to grind his hips into yours and pushes his cock even deeper inside you. allows him to feel your tits bouncing against his chest as he kisses you hard while he fucks you even harder. your wrists would be enclosed together above your head by his hand, and the other would be stroking the side of your face, the side of your hip, anywhere he could reach. 

he loves when he can fuck you on the couch, having your body propped up in his lap while you rock against him. he finds it so cute that you'll tuck your feet underneath his thighs to use as leverage to bounce yourself along his cock. you usually crave that physical connection with him just as much as he does, fulfilling that need by wrapping your arms around his shoulders, tugging on his hair, pressing his mouth against your chest. this always causes you both to be more sweaty than comfortable, which always leads to round two in the shower, so that's always a bonus. 

his third favorite position? good 'ole sixty-nining. he fucking loves having your weight on top of him, your pussy pressed and rocking against his face as he eats you out so greedily. his hands, once again, can roam over most of your body; they can spank your ass when he feels the need to, massage your calves ever so gently after you've came all over his face, press against your back to push your stomach and tits even closer to his abdomen, card through your hair to guide your movements as you deepthroat his cock. 

and every time after, when you're both exhausted and spent, joel will pull you into his arms, lay a kiss against your lips and forehead, and hold you close until your heartbeats have evened out. 

ii. words of affirmation

truthfully, words of affirmation is not really joel's strongest suit (at least, in none sexually settings, but we'll get to that in a second). as a single dad, he really has tried his best to show his daughter (daughters) that he loves and appreciates them with words, but truthfully? he really struggles with articulating how he's feeling, even when it is positive. so, getting those affirmations out are harder than anything else, most of the time. 

pre-outbreak!joel has a bit of an easier time with this, as he isn't as guarded as he'll become yet. he has no problem cheering for sarah during her soccer games, or admitting to tommy he did a good job at one of their worksites. he has no problems with it when it comes to you, either, as he often reminds you of how beautiful you are every time he sees you, be it first thing when you wake up together or after you've pampered yourself a bit for a date night. the man will constantly tell you how stunning you are, how lucky he is to have you, all of that jazz. you'll eat it up every time too, because the one thing that stayed with joel before and after the outbreak was the fact that he'll never say something he doesn't mean. so, when he's consistently hyping you up, you know it's real. 

post-outbreak!joel is much more secluded in this love language, though. he'll tell you sometimes that you look good, only mostly when you're only wearing one of his t-shirts or his flannels. it's not that he doesn't think you're beautiful - he genuinely believes you're the most gorgeous, heartbreakingly beautiful thing he's ever seen - it's just that, with the way the world is now, he finds that to be so trivial to compliment. 

instead, he'd rather congratulate you on being able to grow the new seeds you received from bill and frank, even when you've never really had a green thumb. he'd rather comment on how smart you are, when you figure out how to make your own bubble bath solution because you missed having them when you soaked in the tub. he'd rather tell everyone of your achievements, simply because he was so fucking proud of you and in awe of the way you handle everything with grace. 

despite this love language not necessarily coming naturally to joel, he has absolutely no issues with giving you affirmations in the bedroom. absolutely none. in fact, he likes giving you praise just as much as you like to receive it. he so deeply wants you to know how good of a girl you are, how good your body feels against his, how good your pussy takes his cock. the man is simply obsessed with complimenting you in this area that it's insane. 

when you two first got together, there honestly wasn't that much talking involved. besides a few subdued grunts and moans, joel was otherwise pretty quiet throughout the experience, which in turn made you feel like maybe you were doing something wrong or that the chemistry you thought you felt just wasn't really there to begin with. once you communicated those feelings to him, though, and you both became more comfortable and trusting of each other, in intimate settings and out, that's when things started to change. 

joel could now recognize that you needed those thoughts he had in his head to be said out loud, needed to know that he was enjoying himself to the point of no return. and so, he did. 

when you started kissing, and your breaths were turning into pants and moans, he'd whisper against your mouth as his hands roamed your body; "can't get enough of those lips, baby. they feel so soft and right against mine, yeah?" "god, you feel so good underneath my hands. you like bein' touched by my rough hands, don't you baby?" 

when you were both undressed, writhing against each other as you frantically tried to get closer to one another: "fuck, but you look so pretty underneath me, honey. this is where you belong." "how did i get so lucky, hm? to have someone like you beggin' me to touch you, to kiss you? your little whimpers sound so good, baby. so fuckin' good." "that's it, sugar. move those hips against mine, just like that. i want that pretty little pussy comin' against my thigh real soon, okay? don't disappoint me, darlin'."

and especially when he finally sunk his cock inside of you, mixed in between his moans and grunts as he fucked you how you liked it: "jesus fuckin' christ. it's like this pussy was made just for me, don't you agree, honey?" "look at how well this little cunt is takin' my cock, baby. don't i fill you up so nicely? we look so good together." "you're such a good fuckin' girl, rubbin' that clit while i make you take this dick. you wanna come, huh? well go ahead. soak my cock, baby."

and after, joel praises you while he takes a wet rag to your skin, cleaning up the mess you both made. he praises you while he helps get you in the shower or the tub, whatever you prefer that night, and praises you while he helps dry you off. he praises you while tugging one of his shirts over your head, while helping you slip on a fresh pair of panties, while tucking you in under the blankets and while pulling you into his side. 

iii. quality time

quality time is probably one of joel's main love languages, as he's the kind of person who can comfortably sit in silence with someone he likes and feel so content. joel is honestly a really solitary individual, he likes his own space, doing his own thing. he doesn't mind allowing people he trusts into his orbit, but he's not someone who needs to be constantly doing something with someone else to enjoy time together. 

some of his favorite moments with sarah are when they'd sit on the couch together, a game show playing in the background while she flipped through a magazine, and he jotted down information for his work sites. sometimes they wouldn't talk for over an hour, but the ease he felt while simply sitting there with her was unbeatable.

with pre-outbreak!joel, there were a lot of moments like that with you, too. movie nights were often in his house when he was able to get home from work at a decent time. it could've been a movie he'd already seen a thousand times, and yet he wouldn't mind it at all because that meant he got at least a few hours of time with you pressed against his side, or your head in his lap. he also liked when you two were able to cook together; you'd usually turn the radio on some modern station that he never cared for but got used to listening to because sarah also listened to it, and he'd be content to listen to you hum along with the songs while he diced whatever food you slid his way. 

after the outbreak though, there wasn't really a lack of quality time between the two of you, unless he was off on some hunting or scavenging trip. when your relationship became official, joel all but moved into your house. you'd wake up together, brush your teeth in the small bathroom together, fix breakfast, lunch, and dinner together, wind down together, fall asleep together. the amount of time y'all spent together would probably seem like a lot compared to others, but joel didn't mind it one bit. he loved being involved in your life, loved just being near your presence that rivaled the sun for him. 

his absolute favorite moments were when you two would wind down before laying down. you had the habit of drinking tea before bed, which is something he picked up as well, and so you'd brew the tea, spruce it up to each of your likings (joel drank his straight up, but you loved added in some honey or vanilla when able to). you'd settle into the couch in the living room, curling up on one side while joel sat on the opposite. after a long day of helping around the town, joel mostly would relax with his head tilted back, eyes closed, while you preferred to read or attempt to knit. 

throughout the night, your legs would find themselves crossing the distance of the couch, with your feet resting in his lap. his hands would be massaging the soles of your feet or tracing up and down your calves ever so softly. no words would be shared between the two of you, unless there was a passage in the book you were reading that you wanted to share with him, and some people might have deemed that uncomfortable, but for joel? god, was it fulfilling. 

it gave him the time to reset his mind, slow down his body. he didn't have to think about anything besides how soft your skin felt or how cute it was that you'd curse at yourself when the stitch you were attempting didn't go right. he could simply bask in your presence, build himself back up again. and that is something that meant the world to him. 

his other favorite part about nights like that were, despite the usual routineness of it, most of the time it led to other things which equally satisfied his need for that quality time. and really, the options for that were unlimited. 

sometimes, after feeling the smooth expanse of skin on your legs, joel would decide that he needed to feel more. his hands would turn greedy; rather than simply grazing his fingertips along your skin, he'd put more pressure behind the movements, making his intentions well known. he'd shift to reach more than just your calves, pushing his hands up to your knees, your thighs, the peak between your legs. by that point, whatever activity you had been filling your time with would have found itself settled on the nearby coffee table, your attention solely on the man next to you. 

his urge to be closer to you would manifest in different ways after this point. some nights, he wanted the focus to be on you only. he'd sink to his knees in front of the couch, guiding your legs gently to rest over his shoulders while he found ecstasy between your legs. he'd take his time with you, ignoring how much his joints hurt pressed against the wooden floors simply just to hear you moan his name. he loved feeling your hands in his hair as he lapped up the wetness from your pussy. 

other nights, he wanted it to be a mutual endeavor. he'd yank on your ankle, dragging you halfway down the couch before gripping your hips and pulling you on top of him. kisses would be shared, clothes would be shed, and orgasms would be had while you ride his cock until you were begging him for a rest. his hands would leave half-moon bruises along your hipline as guided your body along his, his mouth leaving little red love bites across your neck and chest as he soothed you after an orgasm. 

and some nights, joel wanted the focus to be solely on him. he'd lure you in with a kiss, drawing you up on your knees to get closer while his hand worked on his belt. before you even knew it, his cock was out and in your mouth. one of his hands would be holding up your hair, the other would be palming your pussy through your clothes as he thrusted his hips up in time with your movements. 

it was the care he gave you afterwards that remained his favorite part, though. joel loved taking baths or showers with you, loved getting you all comfortable in the bed before he let himself do the same. loved holding you afterwards, stroking his fingers along your skin soothingly. talk was limited here, oftentimes as you both were too spent to communicate anything at that point. but by the way he held you, by the way you let him hold you, rough hands and all, that was enough to solidify the love between you without words. 

iv. receiving gifts 

joel miller has never been the richest man. he's worked for everything he has, for everything he's given other people. it's that quality that makes his gifts hold so much more meaning; he wasn't trying to buy your love, by any means. instead, when he did offer you a gift, it was heartfelt and had value behind it. 

pre-outbreak!joel would've loved to spoil you as often as he could, but as a single dad and contractor, he wasn't really rolling in dough. in a way, he always felt guilty that he wasn't able to buy you flowers every week, or that sweater you saw in the store while shopping with sarah. and you had told him over and over again that you weren't with him for the money ("clearly," he'd scoff at himself every time you mentioned it) and that the fact that he wanted to do those things was simply enough for you. 

occasionally, though, he was able to set aside a little money for gifts for you. sometimes, a bouquet of flowers would show up at work, the card inside reading nothing more than "thinkin' of you" every time. sometimes, after pointing out a dress you found online that joel couldn't help but fall in love with too, you'd come home to a package on the porch, the dress inside. on your one-year anniversary, joel surprised you with a simple gold chained necklace that had a tiny letter 'j' pendent. 

later that night, while sarah was still at tommy's, you had just barely made it through the threshold of your house before joel threw himself at you. his kisses were needy and rough, his teeth clashing into yours at the beginning with the intensity behind it. he managed to kick your door closed, never moving his mouth from yours as he started stripping you out of the red dress you had worn. you never even made it to the bedroom for the first two rounds. 

instead, joel hoisted you up against him, your back pressed into the closet near your front door and your legs wrapped around his waist. his nimble fingers pulled your panties to the side, caressing your wet folds and lightly strumming his thumb across your clit before pressing his hips flush against yours, filling you completely. and later, when you stumbled to the couch and joel had you bent over the side, his hips bucking against yours and his fingers digging into your hair, all you were wearing was the necklace. 

you never took it off after that night. 

post-outbreak!joel is a bit of a different story. there wasn't really much around anymore that he could buy for you, per say, but he did a pretty good job at finding things to give you despite that fact. joel is a provider, so while his gifts may not have been flowers and fancy jewelry now, they were necessities and things you needed, sometimes things you never even mentioned that he picked up on. 

when you first started talking to joel, you had mentioned offhandedly that you missed blueberries, as that fruit had been a staple in your morning breakfast. a few weeks later, after returning to the qz from a visit to bill and franks, he produced a packet of blueberry seeds from his jacket pocket, setting it besides you on the table while kissing your forehead. 

another time, while strolling down the market on the main street, you had stumbled upon a barrette that you absolutely adored. it was dirty, the gold metal needing to be wiped clean from the mud stuck to it, and it was missing one of the pearls in the middle, but it stuck with you for some reason. you never said anything about it, considering you had nothing worthy to trade or sell, but joel saw you turn it over in your hands, saw your gaze go back to the stall more than once. while you were conversing with a friend further down the street, joel had doubled back to the stall with the barrette and provided the worker with a few pills on the down low in exchange for the clip. 

he even cleaned it up himself before presenting it to you. the action had sent you over the moon, feeling so giddy and so normal as you held the hair clip in your hands. you had asked joel to help you put it in your hair, which shocked him. but he obliged. he carefully tucked some of your hair up behind your ear, gently placing the clip in the right spot and pressing down just enough to secure it. 

it was such a simple moment, but it took his breath out of his chest for a second, seeing you grinning up at him with the clip he had provided for you in your hair. that was the night that your relationship took a step further; joel couldn't really explain why he felt the primal urge to claim you just then, but he just knew he needed to. you had asked him how the clip looked, and instead of responding, joel had crushed his mouth against yours, sweeping you up off your feet and leading you to the bedroom. 

his kisses were frantic, as were his hands; he didn't know what part of you to touch first. you were really taken back by this sudden reaction, but it had been a long time coming, so after the initial gasp you had let out, you were just as eager and frantic as joel was. your fingers were trying to nimbly open the buttons on his shirt, but somehow you managed to rip it open and send a few flying across the room. 

it was the noise of the little beads scattering on the wooden floor that made joel pull back a little, glancing down at his now-ruined shirt before looking at you, gazing up at him with wide eyes. his brown eyes stayed on yours, and eventually, a small laugh escaped your lips as you apologized for his shirt. he couldn't help but chuckle himself, chastising himself a little for rushing things so much when all he wanted to do was savor this moment, savor you. he glanced at the clip again, slightly covered by some strands of your hair that had fallen out and ducked down to capture your lips with his again. 

v. acts of service 

this is the love language that joel understands the most and acts out the most. as mentioned before, this man is a provider, a caretaker to those he loves. he will do just about anything to keep those people safe, keep them comfortable, keep them alive. there is quite literally nothing joel wouldn't do for you. 

pre-outbreak!joel is a handyman, for sure. he's who you'd call if your car breaks down or a tire blows out. he's who you'd call if your sink starts leaking or one of the lights in your bathroom goes out. even just a simple text will have him heading to the hardware store, gathering the tools he needs if he doesn't already own it himself, before immediately heading to fix whatever you need. 

he loves stepping into that role of taking care of you in that sense, mostly because it just really makes him feel needed, important to keep around. sometimes he wonders what you see in him, a single dad trying to make ends meet. it's the ways you allow him to help you out, though, that are what keep him filling fulfilled and loved. he knows you can be as independent as you want, but the fact that you trust him enough to immediately turn to him when something is wrong? that's the best feeling in the world to joel. 

this joel is constantly doing these little acts of service, too, to the point where it just comes naturally for him. every time you stay the night, he's up a little earlier to make breakfast for the two of you, even if he burns the food more than not. he always keeps an eye on your gas levels, sometimes taking your car out to fill it up himself. same with the oil changes; he has the dates and mileages written out on a post-it so that he's in the loop, just like you. when he's at the grocery store with sarah and he sees the body wash you use that's almost out, he'll go ahead and grab a new bottle without you even asking. 

this continues even after the outbreak, too. if anything, that need to feel important, to feel like a provider for someone strengthens the longer the world turns to shit. post-outbreak!joel is all about those acts of service, because he might have failed sarah when this all began, but he sure as hell is never going to fail you or ellie. 

at the qz, he's all about making trades for the betterment of your life together. whatever he thinks would benefit you the most, he's doing it - even if that means he's gone for weeks on end to secure the goods necessary. you found yourself spending time in the lower city to pass your days, helping out any shopkeepers with their still-standing stores or watching over the kids as their parents do their duties. joel will walk you there every morning before he's off on his own duties, and every evening he waits for you to be done so that he can walk back home with you. 

in jackson, he'll fulfill this language in a multitude of ways. he's always the one to do the dishes, even if he's also the one who cooked that night. you always fuss about that because joel has arguably worked harder and longer than you did on most days, but every time you bring it up, he simply shoos you away with the dishrag nearby before continuing to scrub at the dishes. he's always the one to make sure you're stocked up on firewood during the colder months, always making sure that your pipes won't freeze or that the fireplace is properly managed. joel will make sure you're stocked on the tea you like to drink at bedtime, make sure you have enough books to keep you occupied, make sure he's left enough of his shirts at your place to keep you satisfied.

this easily translates into the bedroom, too, because while this man likes control, he is nothing if not a giver. his back could be aching, his knees could be weak, and he'd still lay on his back against the hardwood floors so that you could use the couch to prop yourself up on while he eats you out from below. if he senses that you've had a rough day, he'll immediately guide you to the bedroom so that he can figure out how to help you there. you could not even touch him once and he'd still be a happy man, just as long as you've come. 

if you had a headache? no problem. joel's always claimed that a good orgasm can help keep those at bay, so he won't stop until you've given him at least three. the first is always by his fingers, brushing through the slick of your skin before pressing them inside your sopping pussy. his thumb will be caressing your throbbing clit ever so gently, not applying as much pressure as you really need but just enough to still feel that friction. 

the second will always be by his mouth, as he can't keep his tongue away from the glistening skin between your legs after coming on his fingers. this one is always the shortest, too, because joel's tongue flattening against your clit has you on the verge of another orgasm in seconds. and, finally, the third one is always by his cock. he'll push into you slowly but deeply, keeping his hips pressed against yours as you adjust to his length. and then he'll tease the shit out of you; never thrusting in a dedicated manner, pushing you to the edge of your last orgasm before pulling back to prolong it. 

he's even willing to help out when you're riddled with period cramps, because joel miller is not the kind of man who is afraid of getting a little dirty in the bedroom. if anything, he loves being able to finger you into oblivion to ease the cramps because the tylenol just doesn't work as well when it's been expired for years. he'll keep his fingers inside of you until you're begging him to stop, until tears have been shed from overstimulation and not pain. depending on where you're at on your cycle, he'll even insist on fucking you, too. claims that he can give you a better orgasm with his cock, that being full of him would ease the pain a little better because you would be focusing on the sting of the stretch rather than the cramps happening on the inside. 

his logic might be a little flawed, but like i said - joel miller will do pretty much anything to keep you happy, even if he has to get a little dirty every now and then. 

dividers by @saradika-graphics!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller the last of us #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal #the last of us #tlou x reader #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel x reader #the last of us fic #tlou fic #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller smut #smut #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x afab!reader smut #tlou smut #joel miller fluff #fluff #joel miller x reader fluff #joel miller x afab!reader fluff #tlou fluff

[thebranchesofshe]

Dr. Breyer

"Human beings, in their extremities, are gross. That's just the nature of it. I don't expect anything from you except to be sick, and to want to be well. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious about you. Yours is the most advanced case of Phatch's Fever that I've ever seen."

Three words: righteous, intense, jovial.

Name: Martin Wesley Breyer

Date of birth: August 29, 1916

Age as of Chapter I: 54

Height: 6'2"

Gender: red-blooded American male.

Orientation: straight but he understands that he's a bit of a freak magnet.

Occupation: doctor but calls himself a sawbones and is only half joking.

Family: late wife Hannah, son Bartholomew, daughter Thomasin. Don't ask him about his father.

Veteran?: yes, specifically a medic in World War II. He was in his late 20's and had just started a family. It was rough.

Religion: practicing catholic, but normal about it. His take on spirituality has a lot of nuance.

Politics: a dove with the intensity and fervor of a hawk.

What does that mean?: sometimes if you want peace, you have to fight for it. He takes a firm position and the fact is, he doesn't like it when people hurt people for no good goddamn reason.

Favorite book: Trout Fishing in America by Richard Brautigan. He is an introspective, meandering sort of man in his spare time.

Favorite film: it's a toss up between Dr. Strangelove and The Sound of Music.

Favorite treat: man's greatest luxury is a good cup of coffee.

Background: grew up in Decaelo, next door to the Farnsworths, an introverted only child with a domineering and jealous father. He and Liz were sort of sweethearts, but he fell for Hannah when he went to medical school, and Liz moved on, and their friendship matured when Breyer returned to Decaelo. Hannah was Jewish and an artistic type, and she really brought him out of his shell. They had two children, Bartholomew and Thomasin. When Liz's husband left, Breyer and Hannah frequently helped her raise her children. Hannah died nine years ago from a brain tumor, leaving Breyer a widower at the relatively young age of 45, with a son who would be drafted and a teenage daughter. He and Liz endured personal tragedies around the same time, and it brought them closer together.

Would he ever date again?: He and Liz are close, they've both considered it. But a few months ago, there was a schism.

A schism? What happened?: he started talking to Homer Smoot about what happened all those years ago. In particular, his memories of her father, Clarence Farnsworth. Breyer was blunt, as usual, but sympathetic to the man who was a gentle father figure to him. Liz, however, sees it as a careless betrayal. In her defense, her father's been badly misrepresented in the past. Breyer doesn't understand what her problem is, but respects her boundaries.

Any chance of a resolution?: maybe.

So he's a doctor. How's his bedside manner?: Lyndon B. Johnson's method of persuasion has been described by journalist Mary McGrory as “an incredible, potent mixture of persuasion, badgering, flattery, threats, reminders of past favors and future advantages." Breyer is as friendly as a St. Bernard and just as frightening, mostly due to the sheer fact that he could very easily make your life a living hell. Take your fucking vitamins.

His friends?: Myra, Warren, Homer Smoot, Liz (he hopes), Julius (eventually), probably his kids most of all.

His enemies?: Breyer doesn't have enemies because most people are smart enough not to alienate the only doctor in town. That being said, he has beef with Vernon Huxley, the mortician, and Cynthia Kline, the mayor's wife and local busybody.

Anything else?: he has two cats. Their names are Burger and Noodle. He talks with Homer Smoot frequently and considers him both a friend and a confessor. At present, he is Smoot's best primary source for information on the 1929 Disaster.

What does he look like?: tall stocky white guy with a graying crew cut, a prominent nose, and friendly but discerning eyes. Wears glasses. He's a bleeding heart free spirit but looks like a total square.

In my head he's a bit 'Bob Gunton in The Shawshank Redemption' and while he's scary as hell, he's ultimately a good guy. Just don't piss him off.

I don't usually make a habit of 'fancasting' my characters, but that's the vibe.

(Breyer is actually my favorite character to write. You put him in a situation and goddamn, shit is gonna happen. He's objectively the best character in Decaelo. I enjoy him the most.)

One more thing: among his hobbies is actually... swing dancing. He used to dance competitively back in college and occasionally afterward.

#characters #visages #martin breyer #also bob gunton is a fucking G #super niche character actors my beloveds #no really i collect weird old character actors like pokemon #anyway breyer is probably the least blorbo-able guy in this story but if you have an ounce of taste youll enjoy him #dr. breyer

[theofficefantasyfootball]

WEEK 6 - Wrap Up

I was just thinking this week that we just don't have enough trash talk in our league. It made me miss the show "The League" and I came upon this scene...which made me think of Brett Rutledge and probably the kinds of trades he would make if anyone in our league would ever actually make a trade. Guys we are starting week 7 - so just a friendly reminder from the commissioner - trades are allowed! You don't just have to get your players from the waiver wire. And let's make Brett's year and at least have 1 trade this season!

KELCE LATELY vs TREE HUGGERS

Oh yeah! Happy days at the Breen house this weekend as I took on Scott Krippayne. But, you know - I wasn't actually playing against Scott as much as I was playing against Patrick Mahomes. My only saving grace would be if Mahomes kept throwing touchdowns to Travis Kelce but with last weeks 4 TD game I wasn't expecting that to happen again. Kelce didn't disappoint with over 100 yards receiving and somehow Mahomes was held to under 25 points. I had some moments of doubt but in the end I won and move to 4-2. Scott, thanks for a fun weekend. I was dreading this match up and feel very lucky to have survived. See you in the playoffs!

BACKDOOR BANDITS vs FUNK GUY

To me he's known as "Uncle Kyle" but to you all he's the Backdoor Bandits. Let me tell you guys something...our little friend in Little Rock should not be ignored. This guy has already raked in $150 from another Survivor championship. He's also after this week 4-2. I know this for a fact...he has tons of time on his hands to listen to NFL podcast and study the waiver wire and who are the emerging players in the league. He has the time and the resources to destroy you each week and even though he has sold his company like 3 times in the last 5 years...he wants all the money too. He even snuck away with the high point win this week with 112 points ($20). Dana saw it first hand this week...even with a decent week he fell to Kyle. So beware. You have been warned...when you face Kyle stay focused and alert. Gully you are up next...good luck!

HOWARD vs TuPADRE

Well well well, it seems that our friend Rob Howard has figured out how to be in a polka band during the busiest polka month and still manage his fantasy team. Congrats Rob! That's two wins in a row. Rob put up 111 points and the mighty Andy Gullahorn who was 4-1 going into this week could only put up 68 fantasy points. Are we seeing a guy who can't dominate when he has players on bye weeks? Or did he just have 1 bad week. Next week will tell. I sincerely hope you get it together Gully. You are our current champion...we expect more from you. Meanwhile, we celebrate our Octoberfest friend HOWARD. Nice win.

LONG LEFT BALLERS vs MR AWESOME

And....GABE has WON a GAME! Congrats Gabe. Wow! What a week! You took on your good friend Bebo Norman and by 4:00 pm on Sunday you had the lead and never let it go. Bebo had a rough week with poor performances from Rodgers, Kupp, Higbee and his celebrated kicker KOO! Gabe on the other had a good week from Cousins and an amazing week from Ja'Marr Chase who put up 30 points! If I am being honest, it really doesn't matter how he did it...he did it. Thank monkey is off his back! Congrats Gabe!

MOOSES ON THE LOOSES vs LANAKILA

Well, this is a cool story. Mitch White - the guy who thinks he is the best in the league. The guy who constantly intimidates his opponent by forcing them into unwanted side bets, bombarding them with phone calls and texts and who manipulates the draft by taking players just before you plan to pick them...lost to Cliff Young! Cliff said " you know what Mitch I will not be triggered by you and your bully strategies...I will just win this damn game on my own". And then he did. If I am being honest I think Mitch lost because he got rid of his Gay kicker and opted for a Packer instead. Very sad and disappointing. Nice win Cliff! Congrats you move to 3-3.

TRADE WITH ME vs BOOMER SOONER

And in the final game of the week - Stu Jones tried his best to hold off Brett Rutledge but Brett had too many player left to play on MNF with Herbert and McManus, and by early in the 3rd quarter he took the lead and never looked back. Stu falls to 4-2 and Brett moves up to 3-3. I spoke to Stu a few times over the weekend and he is very concerned that he doesn't have the team he needs to go to the playoffs. Brett, sounds like Stu would be open to a trade. Just trying to help! Nice win.

CHEERLEADER OF THE WEEK

VANESSA - Philadelphia Eagles

In honor of the Eagles being undefeated so far this season we celebrate with one of the hottest cheerleaders in the NFL - Vanessa. She is still a student at Temple and is so very proud to represent the Eagles. The city of Brotherly Love is very lucky.

#Youtube

[pooma-education]

21St CENTURY COMMUNICATION TOOLS IN EDUCATION

These days, teachers have much access to a seemingly endless number of resources to help them communicate with students and parents. Remember the old days of classroom learning when desks were arranged in neat rows, and students were expected to sit up straight and be quiet as the teacher stood and taught all manner of subjects.

Today's classrooms are supposed to be loud , filled with exciting new technologies, and largely interactive.

Communication is key to any good relationship, including the parent, student and teacher relationships. Parents would like to be informed about the happenings within the classroom and kept up-to-date on projects and tests. Students need a reminder of the classroom agenda and schedule. Teachers keep on looking for ways to simplify this type of communication for the benefit of all. They want to keep parents informed while making sure that they know what their students need in the classroom.

For the above espoused reasons to manifest, there is the reason for teachers to have at their finger tips, a well researched and standardized technology tools to help such as ;

1. Remind 101

It is an app and website used for communication between teachers, parents, and students. Teachers can send text messages to create groups about upcoming tests, quizzes, and projects. This is a great way to communicate using text messages without giving away a teacher's personal phone number. Parents and students can respond to the message with questions and comments.

2. Social Media

Students live and thrive on social media, so using some in the classroom for communication can make the teacher a smart one. WhatsApp, Twitter, and Instagram are the top choices to keep parents and students and even the people in the community involved in the goings on of the school and the classroom.

3. GoSoapBox

It is a chat room designed for classrooms where teachers can post different types of questions for students to respond to in real time. The benefit of GoSoapBox is that it encourages students interaction and also can be anonymous for students, so they feel more comfortable sharing ideas and answers. Teachers can still see who is answering but other students don't get to know who says what. They can even have a "confusion metre" that allows students to tell the teacher how well they are comprehending the topic.

4. Blogging

Keeping a blog or having students write a blog keeps everyone informed. For a classroom blog, think about Edublogs. It is powdered by Word Press and is user-friendly for teachers. This is a great place to make a classroom blog where teachers can write a weekly blog post about what is happening within the classroom. Blogging can give students a real life application to communication. This is a fun way to have students communicate with their families and each other.

5. Google Docs

It is a wonderful way for students and teachers to collaborate on assignments. Instead of of students turning in a rough draft of a paper and waiting several days to get the draft back coated in red ink, they can share a link to their Google Docs. This also allows for faster communication and a place for students to ask their teachers questions about their work.

6. EdPuzzle

EdPuzzle is an interactive video given by the teacher where students

watch a video that pauses along the way for students to answer a question based on the video. They have to answer the question before moving on to the next portion of the video. This digital tool is beneficial for making sure students understand topics.

I can state without a shred of doubt that, today's teachers must be equipped with not only advanced teaching methods, but also a myriad of modalities to communicate with all, and the 21st century teachers must be well versed in their use.

By

Cosmos E. Kwaw

International UN Volunteer,

Tutor, CODE, UCC,

M. Ed (I. T), B. Ed (Tech'gy Educ), Dip HE (Law),

Cert (ADR)

[yukidragon]

Our Life Snippet - First Sight

Hey all, I’m in the mood to share another clip of my Our Life: Beginnings & Always novelization’s first draft. This time it’s from the start of Step 1, with Cove and Jamie as teeny 8-year-olds having a most unexpected encounter that would change their lives forever.

Thanks, as always, to @gb-patch​ for the lovely game and for fueling so much inspiration in me!

...

Sighing, Jamie realized that she just had to accept the fact that she wasn’t going to come up with a clever solution to sneak in through the back of her house. She had no real option but to find a good hiding spot on one of the hills and wait. Either her moms would come looking for her, or the stranger would wander off to do other suspicious things, and she could sneak in through the front door when he was gone.

The hills were quiet, save for the chirping of crickets hiding in the tall grass. Jamie visited the place nearly every day, so it wasn’t scary being out there by herself, even at night. It was fairly bright for nighttime as well thanks to the full moon that slowly rose over the horizon. Still, it was hard for her to relax completely, knowing that some tall creepy stranger might still be hunting for her.

It was likely because Jamie was so on alert that she felt as though she wasn’t actually alone in the hills that night. She turned her attention away from home and safety to scan her surroundings carefully before quickly finding that she was right.

Sitting atop one of the hills, mostly hidden among the tall grass and white poppies was a boy around her age. His hair was green, which offered a perfect natural camouflage that was completely ruined by the neon pink cast wrapped around his left arm. He sat curled up, knees tucked against his chest with his face buried against them.

The boy hadn’t noticed Jamie. He sat facing away from her and the houses. His focus was instead on some point far off in the distance.

The view from the hills was spectacular, and it was something Jamie liked about playing here, but she got the impression that this boy wasn’t really here for that. As she drifted carefully closer, she saw the sad frown he wore along with the lost look he had in his blue-green eyes.

In the moonlight, the boy’s eyes seemed to glow behind the large glasses he wore. It was almost magical and Jamie couldn’t help but stare. The feeling of observing him was like stumbling across a deer in the wild, or maybe a fairy.

Above those enchanting but sad eyes were a pair of upturned wavy eyebrows. Jamie had never seen anyone have such a distinctive feature, but they somehow suited this new boy. They also went well with the waves of his pretty, short, seafoam green hair, which delicately fluttered in the breeze around his face. The clothes he wore were ordinary enough in comparison to his more striking features - a white tank-top and brown cargo shorts with long white socks and black sneakers - with only the red glasses and bright pink cast standing out.

As pretty and magical as the new boy appeared, Jamie couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to make him so upset.

Although Jamie tried to be quiet in her approach, she failed in her attempts to be stealthy for a second time that day. Those aquamarine eyes that reflected the moonlight so enchantingly turned their focus on her, and she froze.

Slowly, Jamie raised a hand in a small wave and put on her best smile, not wanting to scare the sad boy away. “Hi.”

…

Cove Holden was lost, and he didn’t want to be found.

This place was all wrong. It wasn’t home. Ever since they got there, his dad kept pointing out all the good things this place had, including things that he already had at home, but it wasn’t the same. Nothing was familiar and so many little details were simply just plain wrong. Even the beach was all wrong. The sand wasn’t the right color, the smells woven with the salt in the air were strange, and even the plants near the beach were different than what he expected to see.

If the beach was so wrong, then how did his dad expect anything else in this place to seem right to him at all?

The worst part of all was that his mom wasn’t there. His parents fought all the time; he didn’t remember a time when they didn’t. Sometimes one of them would leave home for a long time because a fight was particularly bad. Even when one of them screamed at the other not to come back, they always did, eventually.

This time was different. This time Cove had to leave too, and he was never allowed to go back home again.

No matter how Cove cried, pleaded, or even yelled, there was no changing their minds. His dad forced him in the car with some boxes and they drove and drove and drove until they were here in this place his dad now called home.

This wasn’t home. This would never be home. It couldn’t be. Nothing made sense anymore. How could this whole day be anything but the worst nightmare of his life?

Cove was sick of it. He was ready to wake up back in his bed. He wouldn’t even mind if he woke up to the sound of his parents yelling again this time. He just wanted to be back home.

That was why Cove ran away the moment his dad wasn’t paying attention. It was just in time, too. He didn’t want to see all the things wrong about the house his dad kept insisting was “home” now. Just the outside alone had been too much.

With no idea of where to go except “away,” Cove kept running until he reached a place far away from everyone, where no one would find him until he finally woke up. Eventually, he found himself in some overgrown hills dotted covered with white flowers. It reminded him of his hill from back home, but of course it wasn’t right either - his hill never had flowers on it.

The hills were as wrong as everything else in this place, but Cove had been too tired by that point to keep running anymore. He collapsed in the tallest patch of grass, completely drained of everything but his tears.

There Cove sat and shut out the world, hunched up on himself. He didn’t notice when the sun had set and the moon had risen to take its place. The only thing he could do was wish to finally wake up from this nightmare.

A rustle in the grass, louder than any caused by the wind, pulled Cove out of his revere. He turned his gaze towards the source and froze.

A little girl was standing there only a few feet away from him, staring at him with wide blue eyes as dark as the night sky and glittering with starlight. She looked to be about his age, with skin as pale as moonlight and long hair the color of deep water drawn up into two pigtails to create the illusion of twin waterfalls. Despite the ordinary clothes she wore - a teal and white floral sundress, matching shorts, and a pair of flower-themed flip-flops - she didn’t look like a real person. No one had eyes like that. It was as if a piece of the world around him had turned into a kid his age.

For a moment, Cove could only stare back at this unreal girl standing beside him. Then she tilted her head ever so slightly and smiled at him as she raised a hand.

“Hi,” she said. Her voice was soft and sweet, but that one word alone was enough to send a jolt through Cove’s entire body. “Are you lost?”

Despite Jamie’s best efforts to appear friendly, the sad boy went on the defensive immediately. He jerked up and was on his feet in seconds, balling his hands into fists at his sides, as though getting ready to run or maybe fight.

Cove said nothing as he stared at the unreal girl. He didn’t have a clue what this nightmare had in store for him now. Was this a good thing or a bad thing?

Now that the boy was facing her, Jamie could see the faint streaks of tears on his cheeks and that his red-rimmed blue eyes shined with the promise of more to come. His clothes were dotted with wet spots, especially on his shorts around his knees. It was clear to her that he had been crying for quite a while.

The thought made Jamie feel sad for him.

Maybe this was the “Cove” boy the creepy stranger had told her about. Children were a rarity in Sunset Bird after all. Jamie felt a little guilty at the thought that the man might have actually been telling the truth about Cove being a real person after all. Maybe Cove had been crying because of what his dad was doing to try and get him friends.

There was only one way to be sure though.

“Who are you?” Jamie asked. “I’ve never seen you before.”

Cove had to take a moment before he could answer, sniffling away his tears as best he could as he rubbed his flushed cheeks. “My name’s Cove,” he said, his voice rough and shaking a little from his earlier crying. “I’m…”

Cove trailed off, hesitant and unsure about talking to this dream girl. His eyes slipped away from her to their surroundings. There was no one else around - not his dad or any other adult. When he looked back, he saw she was waiting patiently for him to continue, still wearing that gentle smile.

Maybe this was a good thing after all.

#Our Life Beginnings & Always #Our Life #ourlifeba #Cove Holden #Jamie Last #Jamie Leimomi #My Writing

[i-love-you-all]

Brimstone has thoughts that he doesn’t control...

~1.4k words, mild violence, memories, hurt, implied death. (anything else? pm me and i’ll add them here.) Rough draft here, will edit then make a series on Ao3

What makes a friend a best friend?

Brimstone then didn’t know the answer, that much was for certain.

When he was young, it was all about who had the guts to go against him in a game of soccer, football, or hockey. The ones who competed, who played to win, who smiled as easily as he did in a world that did its best to push you down were his friends. But still, one by one, they lost their connection to him. Some moved away, others turned arrogant, and others still just turned on him. Were they even friends?

As he got older, he realized just how little he understood about relationships past the professional ones made between peers. Even when he joined the military at eighteen, he had trouble identifying friend from rival, and rival from enemy. Friendships were shallow and they didn’t give Brimstone any feeling of connection or deep trust.

That all changed the day he got assigned to clean the gun closet with Kay.

Up to this point, he had never met someone with a more innately friendly disposition than that man. And despite his aloof façade, Brimstone was readily accepted by Kay as a friend.

“Why are you so… friendly,” Brimstone asked him one day, feet hanging off the roof of the barracks. They snuck up here on nights where Brimstone couldn’t sleep.

“I used to have these long conversations with my grandpa.” Kay was staring off into the night sky, not really watching Brimstone who was studying him like he would get them out of drills the next day. “His philosophy in life was just… If you’re not sure, start off nice. Things were way more likely to go your way. And that no matter what judgements they made about me before speaking a word, a well said compliment could wash it all away.”

Brimstone nodded his head. “I think I was actually told the opposite. Don’t trust anyone unless they profit off your success.”

“Kind of a sadder way to live.”

Brimstone shrugged. “Helped me out in the end.”

Eventually, Brimstone found himself trusting and relying on Kay as he would on his sister or his father. He would gladly admit that it was easier that way, and through Kay’s eyes and actions, he could agree with him on the fact that having friends was much easier than toughing it out on your own. A day eventually came when he realized that Kay was basically his family at that point.

People said that he smiled more often those days. And that it was a start reminder of what went wrong when it stopped.

The war was something that no one saw coming. How could anyone have predicted that one day, a substance would arrive on earth that gave people actual superpowers? Just like that, he found himself on a precarious battlefield. They knew that they were just men. He and Kay were pinned down on the top floor of an office building, and their escape options were… deadly to put it lightly. One, they could try to take the stairs to the bottom floor, but with the building already on damaged foundations and leaned over, ready to topple any moment, Brimstone wasn’t sure if that was even an option. Still, it was better than option two: rappelling down the side of the building amidst a firefight. If even one person looked up at them, they’d be dead.

“End of the line for us.”

He didn’t even get a response. Well, not one in words. The room shook as something exploded behind them.

When he regained his vision and finally looked at his surroundings, he had another choice in front of him. On one side, a masked figure in a hoodie and sweats was literally glowing green as trails of smoke drifted from his fingers. The smell of dust and rubble filled his nostrils and Brim just knew that this was the one who caused all this damage. Had he been alone, had he never met Kay, this would’ve been simple… but…

Kay looked half conscious; his fingers dug into the cement floor blood dripping from the various scrapes he had suffered from the explosion. And Brimstone felt his heart skip a beat.

Deal with the radiant first.

That was the first thought. It wouldn’t matter if Brim could even get to Kay in time if the radiant was still there. He took a few shots at his target, only one hitting, before rolling behind cover. He almost felt the need to slap his hands over his ears when he heard the scream of fury come from the mystery person. Inhuman. That’s what the noise was.

He couldn’t stay on his feet though as another shockwave shook the unstable floor, and he heard cracking coming as well as the pained grunts of his best friend hanging on for his life. It only took a split second for Brimstone to locate then lunge at the radiant, knocking them off their feet. As he aimed to take a shot with his pistol though, the radiant quickly regained their bearings and hit the gun out of his hands. With superhuman strength, he was shoved to the side as another shockwave rolled out from the radiant… then another. The dark red liquid dripping down their side showed their weakness, but Brim was too unsteady to make it any worse.

And Kay…

The radiant fled, parkouring down the ruined buildings with no fear. With the threat gone, he rushed over to Kay, who was barely hanging onto one of the metal supports that was now exposed.

“Hold onto me,” Brimstone called out, trying to reach out to his friend. The hazel eyes looked back at him with so much fear that… that for a moment, Brim truly thought that this attempt was hopeless.

Not that it mattered when he reached down to grab ahold of that same beam and started trying to pull Kay up – at least so that he could pull himself up the rest of the way.

“Not enough,” Kay managed to say, after a failed attempt at grabbing something sturdier to hold onto. “You gotta go. This building isn’t gonna–”

They were cut off as the top of the building – their floor – creaked and groaned as it tilted further.

“No… No not like this.” Brimstone, once again, reached out for him. “Grab onto me.”

Had he been thinking clearer, which he had ample time to do in the decade since the incident, he would’ve come to the same conclusion to as Kay. It didn’t matter. If Kay grabbed onto Brimstone, he wasn’t strong enough at that moment to pull him up. It’d be more likely that they both tumbled over. If he didn’t tumble over due to the weight, one more shift in the building would’ve done it too. And should the impossible happen and he lift Kay up… well, they would both need to get to the ground floor, and Kay, who was already injured, had new gashes on his leg and side from his slide to the edge.

“You have to let go.” It didn’t make sense at the time. Because it wasn’t him holding the metal bar, but in hindsight, Kay was telling him in advance to move on.

“Brimstone!” A large pair of hands was wrapped around him and pulling him away from the cliff’s edge. He looked back into the one brown, one blue eye of Sova, who had his arms wrapped around him and was straining to keep him topside. He was holding onto – not Kay – but Kay/O.

“You have to let go,” the robot was saying in that vaguely familiar voice.  “I’m just a machine. I can be rebuilt.”

“Let… go, Brimstone,” Sova said again, heels digging into the dirt. Kay/O wasn’t even holding onto Brimstone – it was the other way around.

“Remember to rebuild me,” Kay/O said, more directed at Sova than Brimstone. “You leave me for scrap, I’ll kill you.”

Sova chuckled and gave one last heave backwards. Brimstone let go of the machine and watched him fall.

“Are you ok, Brimstone? You lost focus,” Sova immediately started checking in with him.

Any other day and he would maybe tell this younger man about the dangers of making friends in the midst of a battle.

Today, he said, “I’m fine.”

#whumptober 2021 #no. 1 #you have to let go #valorant #valorant fanfiction #brimstone #Kay/O #kayo #hurt... just a lot of hurt hopefully #sova #at the end

[random-thought-depository]

One thing I definitely had on the brain writing this post is... when I get around to actually writing that The Sisters of Dorley/Glow, Worm crossover fanfic, I think probably the hardest thing about doing so will be imitating the original author's narrative voice. For starters there's the fact I'll have to learn British spelling, but it's more than that. That person writes very differently from me. I tried writing a small bit of rough draft of the fanfic I had in mind a while back, as an experiment, and it came out very jarringly not being at all like the original story stylistically. That is definitely something I'll have to work on!

I think what I'll probably do is try my best to write characters I read as neurotypical in their style and then write characters I read as kinda-sorta cousin-y to me kind of neurodivergent in my own natural style, to create a sense of different characters having different internal mental voices and processing the world in different ways. This will correspond probably not perfectly but pretty heavily to "characters from the original story get their internal point of view sections written in my best facsimile of the original author's writing style, OCs get their internal point of view sections written in my style, the more they're noted as visibly neurodivergent the more I lean into things that are 'weird' about the way I write while writing their internal point of view sections."

I mean, I'm not sure if "neurotypical" is quite the right word here, cause I think transness itself is probably a neurodivergence, and it definitely will be in this setting, but, I mean, like, neurotypical aside from that.

Like, yeah, I'm not sure this is exactly correct, but when I try to articulate how their writing style is different from mine a phrase that pops into my mind is "they have neurotypical writing." My impressions are:

It's very workmanlike. I don't mean that as an insult, it's in a sense very elegantly functional. It doesn't draw much attention to itself, it gets out of the way and serves as an efficient mechanism for telling the reader what's happening and how people are interacting. It uses very ordinary "how regular people talk" vocabulary and phrasing and sentence structure. It's kind of efficiently terse; it moves quickly and smoothly. And there's differences in the way we treat physicality/the body that I find interesting.

It's interesting, because I've seen notes in Glow, Worm and things on the author's Twitter about her being a chronic pain sufferer; she says right in the introduction of Glow, Worm "I also may or may not be exorcising some of my demons, as a woman with chronic pain, through Viv," but to me most her characters read as, like, really healthy-coded (I wonder if it's the product of a deliberate effort to write normal people from someone who knows their experience is not typical).

Like, I'm thinking of this post that's floating around that's like "friendly reminder that the average person's normal pain level is zero" and my reaction to that is "sounds fake but OK, guess I'm an unfortunate outlier." And I think about my impressions of how The Sisters of Dorley and Glow, Worm treats the body, and I'm like "oh, it's describing the internal experiences of people who have a normal pain level of zero! That's how you relate to physicality if that's your lived experience!" And, like, Viv feels like an exception that proves the rule here, like she and Jill feel like the only people with hurty uncooperative bodies in a cast otherwise full of people who have smoothly functioning mostly pain-free bodies (in Dorley, the only person who comes across as having that sort of body issues is Aaron - it's briefly mentioned that he has a damaged arm). Probably most fiction reads like this and I just don't notice it much like 99.99% of the time, but it's really noticeable here because embodiment and the vulnerability of the body is so extremely relevant to Dorley.

And it's not necessarily about pain per se, it's more like, if you have a smoothly functioning body with a normal pain level of zero and there's nothing hard to deal with going on in it, you aren't stimulated to think so much about the fact that you're fragile and an animal and made out of meat, you experience your body as in a way unobtrusive. And, like, it's not that everyone there has an unproblematic relationship with their bodies, of course Gemma and like just about everyone in Dorley are going to have some kind of complicated and fraught feelings about their bodies, but they're mostly about the social body, the ways other people react to their bodies, whether they think their bodies are beautiful or not. And the idea of damage/injury to bodies definitely shows up (Bea's and Maria's old scars, Dorley's whole... thing), but it's past damage, it's... not really the same thing as what Viv has or what I wrote Annaliese's and Ruth's human selves as having.

And, like, one thing I've been mentally pulling on a little here that I think shows this is the way Elle is originally portrayed vs. the basically an OC I've extrapolated out from her canon portrayal. Like, thinking about what I said about there being a lot of parallels between the way I'm writing her and Brett Devereaux's analysis of Saruman...

One parallel I didn't mention there is one I see specifically with movie Saruman. One thing I like about Christopher Lee's performance is he really gives me a sense that Saruman enjoys the experience of having power; that he really enjoys the experience of telling the Uruk Hai what to do and having them act subservient to him and talking about the powerful creatures and powerful army he controls. And I'm absolutely writing Elle as having that. It's more hidden with her, but she absolutely likes power in that way. 100% she's the sort of self-aware where when she watches the LOTR movies her reaction to watching this scene is "Inshallah, basically me in ten or twenty or thirty years, and I think I'm going to have about as much fun with it as he's having."

And she's personally a very physically strong and resilient person with superpowers, so this extends to her own body. She absolutely loves the fact that she is strong and resilient even by vampire standards. Like, there is a reason her elevator pitch for vampirization is smashing up a concrete pillar with her fists, stabbing herself in the stomach and letting the other person watch the wound heal in like five minutes while she calmly stands there, encouraging them to dig their fingers around in the wound to confirm that it's real while being like "this doesn't hurt much for me, my pain threshold is set at a level appropriate for my physical resilience," and then when that show's over telling the other person "as a vampire you will be about as strong and resilient as I am."

And this is very much a reaction to past vulnerability, she remembers being human and being both socially and physically weak even among humans and being abused because of that and those are not good memories for her, she enjoys being strong and having power like this because it comforts her, she associates that kind of power with safety. Like, yeah, that's definitely a subtext I intended for that bit with Grandmother, she intensely did not like that moment of physical vulnerability.

And obviously this is all my invention and extrapolation cause canon keeps her portrayal as totally compatible with her just being a weird human, but, like, it's interesting to compare this with how her power is portrayed in the original story, where her power looks like this:

"Bea’s had a long time to perfect her womanhood, to understand it, to claim it and inhabit it, but Elle Lambert has a way of making her feel like an ingénue. Her heels announce her presence, crisply clicking on the flagstones outside, and by the time she reaches the kitchen doors, Barb — another one of Maria’s circle, who adopted the rather old-fashioned name Barbara with an enthusiasm entirely familiar to Bea; God only knows what Grandmother and the sponsors call her, but it’s unlikely to be anything like as wholesome — has already stepped smartly forward to let her in, as if she’s royalty, and the abused girls of Dorley her retinue. Elle steps elegantly through the door and smiles at the girl, inspiring in Barb a blush Bea thinks could probably cook an egg, and passes to her a shopping bag.

“Gifts for the girls,” Elle says to her, and Barb rushes back to the women standing by the wall, who all look equal parts delighted and scandalised.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Barb says, as the other girls rifle through and pull out tops, skirts, shoes. She performs an exaggerated curtsey, which earns her a glare from Frankie that no-one bar Bea seems to notice.

“Please call me Elle.”

Elle steps forward and deposits a portable hard drive on the kitchen table. She’s short — shorter than Bea and the younger Dorley graduates; shorter even than Grandmother and most of her people, too — but she commands the room effortlessly, with a manner that belies her twenty-five years and which Bea, despite being over a decade her senior, has been trying to emulate since the day they met. She’s pale and subtly made-up, and her rich, thick waves of dark hair break on the shoulders of a suit worth enough, in Bea’s judgement, to feed a family of four for a year. The only woman in the room who doesn’t look dowdy in comparison is Maria, who has today assembled with unexpected skill an elegant outfit from the meagre scraps allowed the girls; Grandmother’s coterie, already given to a particularly English variety of rural tweed anti-fashion, look positively antique." - The Sisters of Dorley, Chapter 16.

And, like, there's totally connective tissue! I very much see her enjoying that sort of power in a Saruman-like way too. And, like, "as if she’s royalty, and the abused girls of Dorley her retinue" - absolutely not a long stretch at all from that to relating to the graduate school girls in something like the way Saruman relates to the Uruk Hai, and yeah very on-brand if her equivalent of the "you will taste manflesh!" stuff involves this sort of small kindnesses.

But, you know...

There's definitely a difference in the way I and the original author approach her embodiment in a way that I think goes beyond me making the vampire thing explicit.

#The Sisters of Dorley #Glow Worm #writing #introspection #disability issues #kinda #fanfiction #my fanfics #my writing