#some of them just needed a little more time in production

[bigfatbimbo]

vees' collective dom but the one who just wants to live a peaceful life or something else that leads them to bonk (sometimes physically) vees off doing their villainous things. no, vox, you're NOT dealing with that deer tonight, we've agreed to watch a movie. no, val, you don't overwork your staff, it's fucking noisy. vel, don't you dare ever talk to other overlords like that again, it's risky

tbh, I had an image in my head about such reader complaining about vees' manipulations while some (another) punishment. like that vox could not use his hypnosis to make people buy his new product if he just made it actually useful, so why not he put that stupid head of his to better use on your chest and nothing more. vel should've thinked better on how love potion could be used, so overstimulation to show her it is. and val? wouldn't need that manipulative nice persona if he'd make actually good films and not some animalistic boring shit, so why he won't keep all of his hands to himself and try to be more romantic, sitting behind you, tied so well so he's only able to talk and he better do that

- 🦊

Basically a reader almost (definitely) manipulating the Vees into being less evil. ALSO NOT PROOFREAD!!!

So i’ve had very similar thoughts to this for a while and i’m going to tell you exactly why this would work. Quick lore drop about me but I used to be such a lowkey shady businessman (not explaining anymore than this, i’m healed) and let me just say, people like them are actually very easy to manipulate.

AKA greedy, power hungry, egotistical maniacs. What they do is terrible, thats no denying that, but they think very highly of themselves and their skills. So ‘stop abusing your employees’ not from a moral standpoint, but from a competence standpoint. That sells.

Like the whole “vox could not use his hypnosis to make people buy his new product if he just made it actually useful” thing would absolutely work. It’s a hit against his ego and self competence, and because of the fragility in his facade, it would absolutely cause insecurity.

And reinforcing it with very rough, degrading, dumbifaction style sex would absolutely still have him thinking the next day. He’s sucking your tits or dick or something and you’re making comments like “Aw, look. A job you’re almost good at. Too bad that little head of yours can’t even think of anything useful to society.” Make him cry, you definitely can when it’s a knock at his intelligence and power.

“vel should've thinked better on how love potion could be used, so overstimulation to show her it is.” Oh boy, I know this would get to her. Velvette thinks she’s hot shit, no, she knows she is. So now you’re overstimulating her and making fun of her because really? You had to use, even better, actually put time in to create a whole ass love potion, because not enough people wanted to fuck you?

She’d whine and tell you that’s not why, but come on. I mean, why be that hell bent on something so futile, we both know she’s not selfless enough to just give that away to virgin creeps all over pride. Oh Velvette, who’s came countless times and who’s pussy aches and has makeup running down her face, now has to her your call out on her confidence, and how it’s only boosted by her useless, forceful grab for others attention.

And Val, there’s so much ground to cover. “wouldn't need that manipulative nice persona if he'd make actually good films and not some animalistic boring shit.” Personal callout to his craft, which is clearly just as self indulgent as it is tiring. Your actors look so battered, Val. That’s not a good look, and isn’t that the point? Sex won’t sell if the people aren’t sexy, and that stars cracked lip is positively hideous.

There’s no intimacy, and you doubt someone as talentless as him can even achieve romance. So now he’s tied up on the bed, barely able to move as you sit across from him, not just bored, but reading a book or scrolling on your phone. He’s practically crying out cliche, used lines to romance you, and failing miserably when the whine creeps in.

So basically, the angle with Vox is his fragile power, Velvettes her unimpressive beauty, and Valentino is the implication of him not having a grasp on sex. Oh also fucking them to drill it in their head. Because what, people? Something that impacts the control over their work-life and sex-life will stick. Sex and power go hand and hand when the greedy are lustful.

Now are the results?

Well, Vox would make a show of making more useful products, and still use hypnosis, obviously he’s a shitbag, but there’d be a new level of self-hatred that comes with it, meaning it’d happen less.

Well, Velvettes is a little harder to just… take back as the product is already out there. However, the product promotion goes down ever so slightly because yes, money and power is great, but you’ve done something no one can do. Embarrassed our confident queen.

Valentino actually thinks before hitting an employee to hard, and actually lets actors have conversations because apparently people should have… chemistry? He doesn’t know, he just doesn’t want his porn to be boring or not sexy. His other issue (assault, i’m talking about assault) is not resolved he just leaves less marks.

You’ve successfully watered down a problem for a long-term (but not permanent) period of time. This could be even longer if also plant the idea of falling from power in their head.

Simply “What were you before an overlord? A sinner. What are your employees? Sinners. If you treat these employees to harshly, what will they do? Rebel. To successfully keep and manipulate your power you need your workers to feel more than obligation, but loyalty to you. Not your company or their job. You. Otherwise, keep in mind how other overlords have fallen.”

If you ever try this from a morality standpoint, it won’t work. The angle is power, people, because they will never stop being abusive for the right reasons. However, your domineering behavior in bed has earned you an amount of respect.

I fear I sounded evil in this um… never have this mindset for people who aren’t corrupt evil rapists. Also, I don’t think I talked about the smut aspect enough sorry, I just love character analysis. OH ALSO I haven’t been a sinister salesman since I was 16, everybody, calm down. Everyone has an angle though!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #dom reader #hazbin hotel smut #vox x reader #velvette x reader #valentino x reader #the vees x reader #sub vox #sub velvette #sub valentino #sub vees

[barbwritesstuff]

A copy/paste of a post I made on the CS forum in regards to Thicker Than:

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

I’m just popping back to post a quick update about my plan/process going forward.

My current plan is to continue drafting this story as it is. Once I have first draft, then I’ll go back and fix some of the issues that have been brought up here.

Top of the list:

*Fix confusing navigation in chapters 3-4.

*Add more opportunities to interact with allies in non romantic contexts. (Perhaps in groups so people don’t worry about losing romance routes but can still spend time and get to know various characters).

*Add more choice and variation to the trial scene (plus a potential aquital for vampires loyal to the Night Court).

I hope that’s okay. I think it’ll be easier to edit once I have the whole thing more or less together. That way I’m not going back and forth quite as much and it’ll be easier to know exactly where any jumps/skips need to go.

The latter half of Chapter Ten is very romance focused. Chapter Eleven is going to be very big and busy (depending on the playthrough) and I may end up splitting it into two, but I’m not sure yet. The game is already starting to fork towards the various endings (of which there will be five with variations in each). Some will be more involved than others, but I want to try and make them all rewarding in their own way.

I know it feels like choices that were made in part two are a little redundant, but I’m hoping later chapters might change some minds.

The tribute choice is still one of the biggest in the game (and whether or not it was actually paid) and the outcomes and consequences of that will start to come out more soon.

Not all consequences will be good. Again, I hope that’s okay.

I’m also hoping it’s not too frustrating waiting a little longer for the above mentioned fixes.

Thank you everyone for your honest feedback. This game is much more complicated than my last and it’s been a steep learning curve all the way (I’m never doing timeskips ever again 😅). But, with your help, I’m hoping the final product will be a really fun. 💙

[gutsby]

Wingman

Pairing: Himbo!Joel x Reader

Summary: Your bestie braves the tampon aisle for you.

Warnings: 18+. Period crackfic starring Himbo!Joel—don’t take it too seriously. R has a uterus that hates her. Mentions of blood, cramps, & hangover-induced puking. Dirty talk, f!masturbation. One (1) Mean Girls reference.

Word count: 1.7k

You were fucked ten ways to Wednesday if you didn’t get your hands on some soap, a steamer, and a supersized box of maxi-pads in the span of the next eleven minutes.

Joel Miller moved like molasses on a flat slab of granite.

“WILL YOU HURRY— THE FUCK— UP?”

Your cheeks were hot. The night air was cold.

Every other word that managed to claw out of your throat was punctuated by a breath—your stomach clenched, and the sex organ below it was in hysterics.

Joel continued to lace up his loafer, clumsy as ever.

“O-kay, okay,” he hummed, “Steamer, soap, and, uh…”

“Pads!”

“Uh-huh. Right. So what kinda…blood stuff is it, again?”

The words were like an aspersion on his tongue. At the ripe old age of forty-seven, Joel still hadn’t quite learned to jibe with the menstrual product lingo, and it showed.

“Heavy flow. Any brand. With wings,” you hissed.

“Boneless or traditional?”

And if he hadn’t been standing outside the truck, foot propped up against the driver’s seat while he tied his shoe, you likely would’ve smacked him upside the head. The glare you gave him was sufficiently vicious to extinguish the smirk, though. Your hand made a fist in the front of your dress, and you groaned, leaning inward.

Joel got the picture and finished his bunny ears quick.

“Sorry.”

Then, a little more sheepish as he straightened up,

“I’m goin’. Be just a minute.”

And he was off.

Your body curled into a ball as soon as he left. It cried in pain, to nothing and no one around but that fugly slut, the nastiest skank bitch you’d ever met, your uterus.

There was no way you and Joel were making it to this rehearsal dinner. You needed to be at the venue by 7:00, the clock on the dash read 6:11, and you were, currently, twenty miles shy of Fredericksburg with a rag between your legs and your best friend scouring the local H-E-B.

That afternoon you’d been running late, so of course you’d thrown on your thin, satin, pre-wedding-ready dress before you left—and forgotten a change of clothes. Joel had been hungover from all the batshit bachelor party antics, so of course you’d had to stop three times along the way just so he could throw up on the side of the road. And, though your friend was many, many things, discreet was not one of them, so of course he’d told you, point-blank, when he saw you reaching for something in the backseat with your butt sticking up:

“You been pissin’ tomato juice or somethin’?”

And you’d looked back in abject horror.

Of course your period had come a week early and made you bleed straight through your bright yellow dress.

Maria was your best friend. You were her maid of honor. Tommy’s groomsmen happened to be the most fuckable bunch you’d ever seen—save for Joel—so there was no way you’d be caught dead at that dinner with the flag of Japan on your ass. And Maria had bought the dress just for you, so you felt like you had to get this bloodstain out.

You lifted your head to peer out the window. Even with the help of a fistful of ibuprofen, you could barely move.

6:29

“Dude, where are you?!”

It was like your phone and the FaceTime call to Joel had just materialized on their own. The man on the screen was blinking slow. Ogling something in front of him.

“So ‘L’ stands for…long?” he said after a beat.

“No, that’s light, Joel, I need a heavy one.”

“This one’s got cardboard in it, I think.”

“That’s a tampon applicator, dipshit.”

In a blink, Joel’s eyes flitted to his phone. His nostrils flared, and he met your gaze with a scowl of his own.

“Well how the hell am I supposed to know that? Only stuck two— three things in a pussy before and it sure as fuck wasn’t cotton,” he griped, and if he were any less mature he likely would’ve rolled his eyes. Drama king.

You winced as another cramp rolled through you. You shook your head and tried to regain your composure.

“Just find a heavy-flow. pad. with wings. for me. Please.”

Joel sighed and turned back to the shelf, eyes searching.

It shouldn’t have been this hard, but it was. You had no doubt Joel had never willingly touched a pussy product before in his life, so the road ahead was treacherous. Silently, you felt the urge to tell him he had no business being in pussy at all if he didn’t bother to learn what came out of one every month, but you let him cook.

His dark, greyish brows drew together in concentration. He leaned forward and reached for a box. Then stopped.

Went low to grab another, before pausing to show you.

“Very close, Joel. That’s a pantyliner.”

You felt somewhat like a mother showing a headstrong four-year-old how to copy shapes onto paper. No, darling, that’s a diva cup—and be careful with that crayon. Joel stood and he stewed and, by the look in his eyes, you’d already resigned yourself to another ten minutes of this back-and-forth rummaging at least.

Then you shifted in your seat, pushing your legs down a bit. They rubbed, of course. In spite of the pain that had seized your whole lower half, you felt a sweet, dull pulse.

You stared hard at Joel’s face on-screen to make sure he hadn’t seen it in yours, but damn that friction felt nice.

Sensitivity elevated with the influx of hormones, no doubt, you sat tight and tried to enjoy the feeling on purpose for a moment. You slowly sucked in a breath.

“Aw, hell, there’s just too many’a these damn boxes.”

You flexed your thigh muscles and let out a sigh.

“I don’t know how y’all do it,” Joel grumbled.

Keep looking, Miller. Just keep looking.

Slowly, your hips began to stir, and one small grain of pleasure gave way to a jolt—a twist in the pit of your belly that made the pain less grating. You leaned into it more.

Holding your phone, you could feel when Joel let out a frustrated groan. The sound low and almost enticing.

Wait.

Wait.

“Gross,” you said out loud, half-whispered.

You couldn’t help it. Joel was one of your closest friends; a man who loved beer die, Pall Malls, and Keith Whitley like nobody’s business and gave suffocating bear hugs whenever he was sweaty just to gross you out. You weren’t supposed to find men like that attractive.

But when the grit of his voice was just so nice…

“What?” Joel stopped to look down again.

“What?” you shot back, instantly.

A frown tugged at his lips.

“What’s ‘gross’? Me?”

Not…exactly, no.

More disgusted with yourself than anyone else, you clamped your legs together and shook your head. You tried to swallow, as if the action might suck the pleasure down with it, but the hot, throbbing sensation only grew.

You were practically grinding into the towel that had been stuffed between your thighs when you heard:

“Wings!”

An exceptionally proud Joel displayed a box of extra heavy-duty maxi-pads, with wings. He was grinning.

You weren’t sure if you thanked him next, congratulated the man, or what. You probably strung some words together and tried to return the smile as best you could, but who knew? The next thing you saw was that the line had gone dead, the truck was silent, and all that could be heard above the hum of the engine were your moans.

You braced yourself against the seat and rolled your hips even harder. Out of habit, you caught your lip between your teeth to prevent a louder sound from escaping, but then you remembered there was no one to hear you but you—for now. Your palm pressed flat on the dashboard, your knees squeezed even closer, and your vision flooded with soft, minuscule pinpricks of an all-too-familiar hue.

The only thing new to you here was Joel—the thought of him had never crossed your mind in moments like these.

But now you were closing your eyes, humping the seat with nothing between your body and the old, weathered upholstery but a scrap of fabric. And you were moaning his name. Imagining a face that was littered with coarse, grey stubble—you might’ve teased him for that once or twice before—and lips that were soft. So soft against your own that you wouldn’t think twice if he tried to slip his tongue inside and hold the sides of your face as he filled your cunt to the brim. In fact, Joel’s mouth would be a welcome distraction. Knowing how foul he was in even friendly confab, he’d undoubtedly be whispering the most vile things in your ear while he fucked you.

Reminding you, quietly, that you made such a pretty cocksleeve for him—why didn’t we try this sooner?— and how you’d be the sweetest thing if you just gave his cock another squeeze and made yourself cum all over it.

The mental image of that alone was inducement enough.

You felt a hot, euphoric band of something start to give way inside you. It tightened up, twisted—then snapped. Your mouth fell open and your thighs clenched tighter, grinding desperately in tandem with a pace you’d hoped Joel might’ve set if he were laying there underneath you. You clung to one last thought of him gripping your hips and bruising your walls with the force of his cock driving in and out, over and over again until, eventually, his cum was leaking out through each fluid thrusting movement. It was all your body could take, conjuring thoughts of his load spilling into you and onto him in warm, wet, sticky—

Whistling.

Someone was whistling outside. Walking up to the truck.

You were still coming down from the staggering heights of your climax when the driver’s side door swung open. You blinked furiously, as though to drive all the filth and depravity and need from your eyes before he could see.

It didn’t matter.

Joel was too amped up off a white plastic baggy to be concerned with much else as he plopped down beside you and smiled—beamed, really. Completely oblivious.

Your extremities were still twitching with the residuum of bliss when he reached for your hand. His eyes somehow warmer than they’d been all that day, they sparkled and shone and crinkled at the corners in a way that seemed to say the words before his mouth had uttered a sound.

“I got three boxes to be safe…”

Joel was really too sweet.

“…and some chocolate for your cramps…”

Always so considerate.

“…and you look real pretty when you cum, by the way.”

This motherfucker.

#THINKING ABOUT……..….....….BIG DUMB IDIOT MEN AND OPEN-MOUTHED KISSING 💔💔 #AND A LITTLE BIT OF CHICKEN FRIED #COLD BEER ON A FRIDAY NIGHT #A PAIR OF JEANS THAT FIT JUST RIGHT #AND THE RADIO UUUUUUUUP 😫 #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller tlou #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fic

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 8: What Took You So Long

From: Bigger Houses Series

Pairing: Mountain Ranger! Ari x Reader

Summary: Finding forever took forever. Now it’s time to slow it down.

Word Count: 3,414

Content/Warnings: moderate alcohol consumption, mildly negative self-talk, looking back on the past, poking fun, mild swears, entirely too much affection, learning to cook, mild allusions to adult fun times, pet name usage

A/N: hehehe, the thought of grocery shopping with a SO has been eating me up recently. Also, a good friend of mine thinks I’m becoming disillusioned to what real-life romance is like. Oops

Likes, comments, reblogs, and asks are sooooo welcome and appreciated!!

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Below is the song which inspired this chapter. Talk about sappy.

< Prev | Series Masterlist | Next >

You and Ari were grocery shopping when it hit him. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. A part of him had known the whole time, but this moment had really made it click.

You weren’t even looking at him, your eyes instead favoring the rows of produce, mentioning facts about how to determine when each fruit or vegetable was ripe. It was beautifully mundane, it was you sharing a little more of yourself and your wide breadth of knowledge he could never get over, and it was everything he ever wanted to love for the rest of time.

He was in awe of the way you moved through the aisles, your natural understanding of everything a person could possibly need, and how well you knew his preferences.

You pulled out spices, describing the dishes that utilize them. You explained the importance of salt, but not too much, and why a person could possibly need more than one kind. You walked him through different ways to make a balanced meal. The entire time, he was enthralled. He was completely taken by you and hung on to every word like it would save his life. Well, it sort of already did.

The two of you went to the checkout counter with your full cart, Ari pushing it as you began to load the items onto the belt.

Ari helped the cashier bag them up, and before he could even think to pull out his wallet, you’d already swiped your card. Ari cocked his head to the side, his long hair that peeked out from under his hat swaying. The ball cap looked so funny in juxtaposition to his ranger uniform, which he still wore as a product of you picking him up from work. His eyebrow raised as if to say ‘seriously?’

You smiled and shrugged as you took the receipt, skipping off in front of him as he pushed the cart out of the store and to your SUV. You slowed to allow him to catch up.

“You know I could’ve gotten that. These groceries are for my house, after all.” You laughed before reaching the car and pressing the button for the lift gate.

As the trunk began to open, Ari parked the cart and you felt arms wrap around you from behind. His beard bristled against your neck as he nestled in with his chin on your shoulder and kissed your cheek.

A soft smile remained on your face. “Consider it a gift. Welcome to independence, and official adulthood.”

He laughed into your hair. “Well it hardly counts as independence if you just took care of me. Swooping down to save the day again like the Angel you are. If you’re not careful, people are gonna think you’re my sugar mommy. Then I’m definitely not independent or much of a full-on grown-up.”

You rolled your eyes before turning around to start placing the bags into the trunk, keeping your head down doing your best to hide your blush at what Ari just said. You loved that he thought the world of you, and loving Ari like that was easy. Now, in terms of the sugar mommy comment, you both knew your job paid better, but neither had an issue with it, so any time it came up, he loved to joke like that, despite him having some savings from living so modestly.

Once you finished loading, you looked up into his sparkling eyes, creased with the smile he always wore when around you, finally replying. “I’ll give you sugar, you just have to wait until we’re home for it.”

You winked before giving him a chaste kiss, far too short for his liking, closing the trunk, and hopping up into the driver’s side, leaving Ari to return the cart.

When Ari returned to you, you started the car towards his cabin. You drove with one hand on the wheel, the other holding his over the center console. His thumb absent-mindedly stroked the back of your hand as Ari looked out the window, thinking about how he was going to pick out a ring.

Ari was finally losing his bachelor fridge. Gone were the days of it only housing lunch meat and beer.

You had just helped him finish putting away the new haul as he had gotten changed out of his uniform. Everything had a place and he had never seen the cabinets so full. You had a methodical system he really appreciated.

Ari’s hands were on your hips as he was about to set you on the counter before you stopped him, placing a hand on his chest.

“Wait, stop.”

He looked at you confused.

You removed your hand from his chest and held a pointer finger up. “One more thing. Gimme a sec. I left it in the car.”

You dipped under his arm that had you barricaded against the counter, running towards the front door and slipping on the first pair of shoes you saw, Ari’s massive boots clopping as you ran on the driveway. You opened up the back door of your car, looking under the seat to pull out a small package wrapped in brown paper and a twine bow.

You ran back in to where Ari was still standing there with his mouth agape, one hand on the countertop, the other on his hip. You cautiously crept towards him with the package tucked behind your back.

His face morphed into a suspicious smile. “Whatcha got there, Duchess?”

You giggled, toes meeting his as you looked up at his towering form. He made a move to reach behind your back before you quickly slid out of his reach.

“Ah ah ah, surprises are meant to be given, not stolen, ya little klepto. Now close your eyes.”

Ari’s head fell forward with a sigh before looking back at you through his eyelashes. “Fine.”

His eyelids fluttered shut as he held out his hands and you pulled the small package out from behind your back, carefully placing it.

“Okay, open.” Ari looked down at the brown paper intently.

“What is it? What’s the occasion? You already bought my groceries.”

He set it on the counter before propping you up onto the island like he had tried to before. You shrugged, your hands gripping the edge as your feet swung.

“Open it. I know we didn’t really discuss gifts or anything, but happy one year of me almost hitting you with my car.”

He laughed, picking it up again and untying the twine. “The first or second time?”

He knew which time. It was the first one. He marked the day as soon as he’d gotten home from your first coffee shop date, counting back the days to that fateful run-in on the mountain pass.

You kicked his thigh lightly before silently urging him to tear open the paper. It revealed a small cookbook.

“‘Cooking for Two?’ What-“ His eyes grew wide. “You’re not…” he looked around before ducking his head slightly and whispering. “Pregnant…are you?”

You shoved him back. “What!? No. No!”

You shook your head frantically. “Absolutely not. That is not what this means.”

The two of you were more than careful enough to make sure that didn’t happen—at least not right now. You’d made sure to find the right birth control and Ari took proper precautions on his end, as well.

You laughed uncomfortably before going silent. Ari let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, okay, that’s good- I mean, not that I wouldn’t….like, well, kids….um.”

You calmed him, placing both hands on his shoulders. “I-I get it trust me. I want kids, too someday, just not right now. It’s okay, we’re on the same page about that.”

He nodded and placed his head on your shoulder as your hand moved to stroke his hair.

“Thank you for understanding me. Where have you been all my life?” Seriously, he couldn’t believe that heaven ever let him find you.

You placed a kiss on his temple. “I was getting prepared to meet you.”

You leaned back to catch his gaze. “Now let me explain. This book, which is most definitely not a pregnancy cookbook, is because I’m hoping to start spending more dinners here now that you’re all stocked. As much as I love cooking for you, I think it’s important we both know how.”

You gestured your head to the single book that sat on the shelf in the corner of his kitchen. “Plus, I think you’ve earned an addition to the collection. You’ve graduated on to the next best thing. The pizza incident is a thing of the past.”

He shook his head reminiscing on the memory. “It’s not my fault you distracted me.”

You looked at him with feigned shock and disbelief as he leaned in for a kiss. “But as my present to you, let me cook you dinner?”

You nodded, leaning in to meet him. The kiss was soft and slow before it became needier. Ari tried pulling you close, his one arm falling from your waist down to your hip, the other still holding the book, before you placed your hand on his chest again, pushing him away.

“Nice try, Bear, but I’m starving. As much as I wanted to see where that kiss went, I want food more. Chop chop.”

You grabbed the other end of the book still sitting in your lap and gently raised it, pushing it towards his face and turning him towards the stove.

“You pick out a recipe while I get some drinks started for us. Sound good?”

As much as Ari would’ve grumbled at anyone else, he was happy to oblige you, flipping through the pages as you pulled out two glasses and began pouring.

Ari was so happy with the way you took over his space. Everywhere he looked, he saw you. Every room in the small shack had been filled with laughs and memories that filled his chest with warmth. Gone were the days that pained him to even look at the walls as the darkness seeped in. All that existed was light. It shined off of you and stayed reflecting off every surface, leaving an imprint of contentment in Ari’s brain, even when you weren’t here.

Ari leaned back against the counter next to the stove, arms crossed as he simply watched you. Over the period of him preparing the meal that was nearly finished, you had changed into one of his old wildlife conservation hoodies he’d gotten from working a fundraiser.

You danced without a care in the world, swaying with your arms above your head to the music you had blasting through the small cabin. Your one hand held your second cocktail of the evening.

As much as Ari hated to, he had to pull his gaze off you for a second to check the roast on the stove. When he opened the pot lid, you caught a whiff of the truly delectable scent. The sweetness of carrots swirled with the seasoning blend over the braised beef.

You set your glass down on the island, dancing over to him and stepping up behind the wall of a man. No spanks in the kitchen was a long-standing rule, which was a shame for the sweatpants he was wearing, but nothing was ever contested about hugs.

Your arms snaked around his waist and up under the front of his shirt as you rested your cheek between his shoulder blades. You could feel the ripple of each muscle as his arms expertly maneuvered and he breathed steadily, it was like marble that moved. Yet, there was a softness to it, maybe from the sensation of the chest hair under your fingertips, maybe from the smell of the fabric softener he used. There was always a softness to Ari, especially around you.

He hummed, reaching to pull low-rimmed bowls down from the cabinet, serving up the meal and setting it aside before running his hands up his shirt to meet yours. He turned around and pulled your hands between the two of you, placing a kiss on each hand, right on the ring finger. Starting forever was at the forefront of his mind, unbeknownst to you.

“Ready to eat?”

You nodded with wide eyes, grabbing silverware and dancing over to the dining room as Ari followed with your meals, dancing along.

As the sun fell, you and Ari were still sitting at his dining room table. His small work-provided cabin didn’t offer much room to move around, but there was just enough for the two of you and you didn’t mind being cozy.

You were putting together a puzzle under the warm lighting, newly donned fuzzy socks on your feet that he’d tucked away as a surprise for this very special day, finally giving them to you after dinner.

The two of you moved quickly, but not hastily, as you passed Ari the outline pieces and you worked to piece together the internal scenery. Your movements were paired with witty banter and discussions about past lives. No matter how much time you spent together, you could never learn enough. You wanted to know everything.

“So that was the spring break I spent doing cleanup work for a tornado. It’s not like I had any plans otherwise besides going home, but my mom understood it was what I needed to do.”

Ari nodded along. He enjoyed learning about the road you took that led your hearts to each other. All the things you did with your hours and your minutes. Seriously, what didn’t you do? Even now you were constantly on the move, filling your schedule with valuable, enriching things. You chased your dreams even if they took you far away from your hometown. At least, that was how he saw it. How could you always find the time to be with him? To dedicate to him when you had so many other things on your plate?

He didn’t want to question it too much, though, for fear that you’d catch on and think he didn’t live up to how amazing you were. But Ari thought to himself more, realizing the good he really had done. What took him so long? Where had this version of him been all his life? You had awoken it in him. You had pushed him to become a better version of himself.

He was roused from his thoughts by your question. “So what about you? Ever do anything fun for spring break in college?”

Ari’s eyebrows rose as he thought back to it. He hadn’t finished college and it honestly seemed like a lifetime ago. He blew out a breath and leaned back in his chair.

“Well, I only had two spring breaks. I remember going down to Daytona beach with some buddies of mine, getting drunk on Coronas and them all being drunk on love with whoever they met down there.”

You took a sip of your drink, nodding as you swallowed. “Sounds about normal. I bet you were a charmer back in the day, too. Sometimes I wish we’d met then.”

Ari shook his head vigorously at that, taking the drink from your hands and finishing it down. “Ehhhh…I’m not so sure about that. I do not think you would’ve liked to have met me then. I probably wasn’t deserving to be in your arms.”

Your brows pinched together as you took the drink back, going to Ari’s fridge and getting a fresh round of beer, hunching over to reach the shelf. “I don’t agree that you weren’t deserving. Sure, we lived different lives, but you were still you.”

Ari thanked you as you placed the new bottle in his hand, taking your seat again and shuffling the puzzle pieces.

“I mean, Bear, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who actually cares about being a ranger as much as you do. You go to all those little conferences and retreats and trainings and actually enjoy them. That’s not just a trait that develops overnight. It’s character.”

Ari blushed. Not even the cold beer was enough to counteract the warmth in his cheeks that came around when you said little things like that. When he could see how much of the little things you noticed. When you saw him.

He scoffed and tried to brush it off, though. As much as he loved to hear your praise, he respectfully disagreed with your assessment of his college self. Sure, if it had been up to him then, he would’ve been ecstatic to meet you a lot sooner, but God knew what he was doing making Ari wait all this time.

“Nah, I was a bit of a punk. And I wasn’t ready then to meet someone like you, but I think I’m ready now.” It was true. Right when Ari met you was when his world started spinning, but he wouldn’t have been able to handle it as the immature, reckless, and restless young delinquent he was.

“I definitely wasn’t doing humanitarian work like you. Trust me, Duchess, if you would’ve seen me…let’s just say…I don’t think I would’ve ever gotten the opportunity like now to kiss you every morning with the sunshine. I would’ve blown it pretty early on.”

You shrugged and continued to snap pieces into place with one hand while the other reached for his, pulling it to your lips for a kiss. “Agree to disagree.”

The puzzle was shaping up now, as you worked to slide your solved chunks in towards the middle with Ari. Only a few pieces were left to be placed.

Ari continued to work on the task at hand, but it took a back seat in his mind to the main show that was you. Sure, he loved little activities, but mostly, he just loved you and the time you could spend together. He’d do anything if it meant just stealing another moment.

As you were close to finishing, there were two spots open, but only one puzzle piece left. You stood up, looking on your seat, spinning around to check the floor, and even peeking under the mostly-solved puzzle with no luck.

“Bear, stand up. Do you see the last piece anywhere? Can you please help me find it?”

He stood up and cleared his throat. “Sure thing. It’s gotta be here somewhere. This was a new set. Couldn’t have gone far.”

The two of you looked over every nearby surface, Ari even checking the fridge to see if you’d tracked it into there somehow, and to get himself another drink after looking for the piece at the bottom of his bottle.

Somehow this hunt had turned into a dance, though. Or…more of a hobble?, as Ari had wrapped his arms around your neck, hugging you from behind and resting his head over one shoulder, taking big, goofy, swaying steps with you.

He lived for this. Really. Where had you been all his life? This night was another quotidian moment he wanted to bask in. He felt like it had taken him forever to find the one he wanted to spend forever with, but now that he did, he just wanted time to slow down. He wanted to drag out this night just a little bit longer.

You turned around in his hold, hands rubbing his chest and abs over the old hoodie he wore. Your nails raked up and down, sending tingles to the firm muscles under the plush fabric. Ari held you close, large hands splayed against your lower back. As your hand brushed over the pocket in his sweatshirt, you felt something small and flat with sharp edges.

“Hm, that’s suspicious.” Your head tilted as you looked up at the tree of a man, a sly smile on his face, looking back down at you.

“Oh, Angel, I’m just excited to see you.”

Without breaking eye contact, you reached into the pocket, finding exactly what you’d expected, mouth open in a small gasp of fake shock.

“As much as you wish it were, not everything is about your dick, Levinson.”

You winked and leaned up to kiss his cheek. Ari simply gave a shrug as you shimmied out of his hold and back over to the table, sliding the final puzzle piece into place. This was a mimetic moment for him; a visual representation of what you’d done in his life, and he planned to never let you go.

Next >

Bonus A/N: Bro, a lil sap who thinks the world of me? That’s all I want. Fr Fr.

If you agree, I’d love to hear about it. Drop me a comment or reblog. Thank you for reading!!

Series Taglist:

@patzammit

@hawkeyes-queen

@identity2212

@jamneuromain

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

#Ari Levinson #ari levinson fanfiction #Ari Levinson fluff #Ari Levinson x reader #mountain ranger ari #mountain ranger! ari x reader #mountain ranger ari x reader #mountain ranger! ari #mountaineer monday #bigger houses #bigger houses series #red sea diving resort #Chris Evans #chris evans fluff #ari levinson imagine #bigger houses series chapter 8: what took you so long #what took you so long #dan + shay #dan and shay #grocery shopping #couples puzzle #puzzle #puzzle date

[climbthemountain2020]

Solstice Gifts

Baby's first Feysand! | Ao3

[Feyre loves buying Solstice gifts for her family, but this year she might have been outdone.]

Eternal thank yous and forehead kisses to @tunaababee @cauldronblssd and @witch-and-her-witcher for just being the most wonderful humans and beta reading and encouraging me to post this.

Solstice in Velaris was the most lovely time of year, and no matter how much time Feyre spent here, she doubted she’d ever grow tired of it.

The snowy streets were covered in faelights, all twisted into beautiful shapes and hanging from the signs and light posts. There were long strings of them criss-crossing over The Rainbow and casting all the snow and shops in an ethereal glow. Complex smells of cinnamon, clove, freshly baked breads, rosemary, and mulled ciders cascaded from the storefronts, their windows decked in boughs of holly and fir and their doors hung with mistletoe.

Feyre was hurrying back to the River House, late as usual, with the last of her gifts.

She’d been mostly organized this year, but Nesta’s gift had ended up taking longer than expected, and of course today was the first time she’d been able to sneak off to grab the little Illyrian leathers with space for wings that would fit an almost-four year old.

She’d gone a little overboard on gifts this year, but it was hard to not spoil those she loved now that she had the means. Old habits die hard, and she too-vividly remembered the years that she and her sisters had stoically ignored the Solstice happening at all, not even a candle lit in the windows to be spared. So now, when things had changed so vastly in the last seven years, she would fully use every bit of means at her disposal to shower everyone with gifts they would love.

Nyx was six now, somehow, the years flying by in a rush that she tried and failed to stop like grabbing whitewater in her hands. Rhysand reassured her constantly, a laugh on his lips, that though time was flying, they still had centuries together, and there was no need to beg for more. Another thing she had trouble letting go of in her immortality–the idea that things were good now, and there was no time limit on it. Things could be happy and productive and peaceful like this for centuries more. But Feyre still had trouble allowing hope for good things to bloom in her heart, despite feeling beyond blessed in all ways.

She shuffled the bags in her arms–she’d had to stop for some last-minute pastries, too. What good was a solstice birthday if she couldn’t eat whatever she wanted? The smells on the way to the leather-smith had been too good to resist, and she was crazed for the pistachio croissants with the bergamot filling that the bakery beside Rita’s had this time of year.

She quietly snuck the front door open, hoping to slip in quietly and unnoticed by her houseguests. Mor, draped in her normal gorgeous finery, strode through the foyer, lifting a brow that surely must be genetic, and before tipping her head back to laugh at Feyre.

“You’re just as bad as Rhys, you know? I saw him coming back not twenty minutes ago.”

Rhys, that weasel.

Feyre wondered what he’d been off plundering after amusedly lecturing her this morning about sneaking out last minute for more presents. She ran the bags upstairs, ditched her coat, and wrapped the leathers quickly in the celebratory packaging she’d picked up last month in their guest bedroom before scurrying back down the stairs. She’d arrived just in time, everyone present in the sitting room as Nuala and Cerridwen announced the dinner was ready. Luckily, she’d had the foresight to prepare before going to grab the gifts, her long midnight-blue dress swaying luxuriously around her feet, the gossamer sleeves like a soft embrace along her arms. She’d definitely gotten used to wearing pretty clothes in the time she’d spent in Velaris, though most days, she still dressed for comfort. She’d left her hair down and lightly curled, compulsively tucking a strand behind her ear as she entered the dining room. Elain had helped prepare the Solstice meal and cake, as she insisted she do every year, and Feyre had to admit it all looked mouthwatering, as always.

Rhys pulled her seat out for her as she walked up, pressing a quick kiss to the side of her head as he pushed her in.

“Last minute shopping go well?” He murmured against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine and goosebumps down her arms. He knew it, too, and she turned to scrunch her nose at him as he laughed.

“I hear you’re one to talk, hypocrite.” He held his hand to his chest feigning offense, then sent her an absolutely world-shattering smile as he moved to take his place.

A crash in the hall sent Feyre’s eyes to the doors, followed by Nesta’s bellowing.

“Hey! Wings closed indoors! You know the rules.” Giggles abound as Nyx and Aife came into the room, leaning into each other and cackling as they took their seats. They were only two years apart and thick as thieves. Though Nesta and Feyre would never admit it aloud, seeing their children close as they’d never had the opportunity to be as children had healed something between the two of them that had once felt depthless.

Nyx pushed midnight-black hair from his eyes as he looked to Feyre.

“Mom, can we go play with our presents after we open them tonight? I promise I’ll go straight to bed after.”

“I don’t see why not. Nesta, are you all staying the night tonight?” Nesta looked to Cassian and nodded.

“I think so. Aife and Nyx are going to be here all day tomorrow anyway during the snowball fight. We might as well.” She gave a pointed look to Cassian, who grinned wolfishly. Feyre could hear Aife whispering to Nyx.

“Who’s going to win this year?”

“Uncle Az. It’s always Uncle Az. He says our dads are old now.” They both giggled and Feyre cracked a smile, shooting the conversation down the bond to Rhys, whose eyebrows lifted as he shot her an amused smile as if to say we’ll see.

They tucked into the great feast, a large roast the centerpiece, surrounded by offerings of ham and turkey and too many sides to reasonably name. Feyre loaded her plate with the most buttery mashed potatoes she’d ever tasted, one of Elain’s specialities that Feyre always requested for special occasions, as well as a basil and tomato tart, baked to crisp perfection by Nuala.

She remembered a time when she’d hated her birthday, and while she still wasn’t entirely comfortable with all the attention, she surely would celebrate now if only for the delicious foods she got to have. She couldn’t beat the company either, her blood and chosen family all seated around the table, laughing and loving and enjoying themselves in her home. A decade ago, she would have laughed in the face of anyone who’d tried to describe this possibility, and it wasn’t lost on her how much luck and fate had stepped in to make things as they were.

++

Stuffed to the brim and with the gift exchange behind them, Feyre slumped onto the couch. The kids had been spoiled beyond reason, the piles of gifts higher than the chairs surrounding them.

Nyx and Aife had begged Az, Cass, and Lucien to bring them outside to practice with the new bow and arrow sets, courtesy of Elain and Lucien’s recent trip to the Day Court. As the official “Uncle Troupe”, as they’d so ridiculously named themselves, they felt it would have been in poor taste to decline. Feyre pulled her feet up onto the couch and laid her head back. It had been a busy few months, though things were finally, blessedly beginning to smooth out. They’d been able to delegate a bit more recently, and it certainly helped their workload.

Elain had gone back to the kitchens to help clean up and exchange gifts with the twins before they took off for the evening, leaving Feyre to relax for a bit while Nesta, Gwyn, Emerie, and Mor sat at the table with sweets and coffees chatting. Amren and Varian had skipped the party this year in favor of a trip to Summer, as they now alternated holidays between courts. While she’d never taunt Amren to her face about it, Feyre secretly loved how domesticated she’d become in the time she’d known her, settling down while still claiming that ancient power hummed through her veins.

She felt Rhys sit down by her feet, his presence always noted by her magic immediately twining with his. At any given time, she could feel where he was, the power soaring back and forth between them like a current. The depth of love between them was fathomless and deep, and she’d never quite get over the fact that she had him all to herself, hers and hers alone, for the rest of her life.

He picked her feet up in his hands, shuffling them over to his lap and giving them a squeeze.

“Tired, darling?” His voice was a low rumble as he leaned against the back of the couch, settling in.

“Exhausted. I love the holidays, but I would also love a solid two days of sleep.” He laughed, his smile lighting up the room as she lifted her head to peek at him. “Did you enjoy your Solstice gifts?”

She’d bought him a device she’d found at one of the shops in Day Court on a summer visit to Elain and Lucien months ago. Duty had them back and forth between courts now, and Feyre couldn’t deny the love she had for any excuse to get to the shimmering beaches of Day. She’d found it nestled in the back of a tinkerer’s store–a handheld device that rolled over clothes, enchanted to remain sticky, and pulled any lint or fuzz from them.

“It’s only my favorite thing I’ve ever owned,” Rhys quipped immediately. She laughed, closing her eyes again and poking him in the side with her toe. He gripped it in his hands and threatened to tickle her. “How about you, love? Get everything you wanted?” Feyre paused, but didn’t open her eyes. She should say yes. She should feel like she had everything she wanted, but there was just one thing missing, and unfortunately it was something she couldn’t have.

“Hey lovebirds, we’re heading out!” Mor called across the room, her arm around Emerie’s.

Feyre sat up to say goodbye. “So early?”

Mor chuckled and Emerie elbowed her in the ribs. “Solstice plans of our own,” Mor said, waggling her brows at Rhys and giggling as he rubbed his eyes and gave a long-suffering sigh.

“Alright, then.” He slapped his palms on his thighs, laughing and ending the conversation as Emerie blushed about ten shades of red, still not quite used to the way this family spoke so openly about things. Feyre stood to hug them both.

“We’re so glad you came. Feel free to drop in any time tomorrow. We’ll be here all day.”

Gwyn and Nesta had gone to join their mates and the children out on the illuminated training ring in the yard, leaving Feyre to slip back down onto the couch, this time scooting closer to Rhys and leaning her body against his. He was always so warm and solid, her touchstone in times both trying and lovely. He always smelled like oranges and the sea–the smell of Velaris, of home, tied intrinsically with his. She nuzzled closer, his arm finding its way around her waist as he settled too.

“Everything okay, darling?”

She hummed noncommittally. She hated that even with all this joy, all these gifts, all this family, she still couldn't shake the thought that something was missing, incomplete.

“Can you believe this is Nyx’s sixth Solstice?” She felt Rhys soften beneath her, realization creeping down the bond from his end, followed by a burst of soothing love and affection.

“He's incredible, isn't he? What are we going to do when he learns how to use that bow accurately?” She laughed.

“Truly, it's the inaccurate use I'm more worried about.” His breath ghosted her ear as he chuckled, sending those light shivers scurrying back along her spine.

Things got quiet, then. She knew it would take very little for Rhys to understand what she was thinking, if he didn't already intrinsically know. Even without the bond, even without the daemati powers, there was really a moment he wasn't able to read her like a wide open book.

“He's so big now…” she let her voice drift off, trying to hide the hurt in it and failing miserably. As always Rhys filled in the gaps.

“He’s wonderful. We made a really wonderful child, Feyre. He’s everything I never even dared to hope for for myself. I never thought such joy was possible for someone like me. You know that he’s the greatest gift you ever could have given me, right?” She felt the tears burning behind her eyes, and she took in a deep breath as she felt him press a kiss to her temple.

“I know.” Her voice was just a wobbly whisper, quiet in the room.

“And if he’s the only one we ever have, it’s more than enough for me. I need to know you know that, Feyre.” She nodded furiously, the big tears slipping down her cheeks now, burning hot tracks as they descended.

“I can’t even explain it. It just feels like someone else should be here.” He pulled her tightly against him, resting his chin on her shoulder and rubbing his hands up and down her arms.

“And maybe, someday, they will be. But if the three of us are all we ever have, it’s more than enough. It’s everything to me.” She couldn’t hold back the sobs then, turning to bury her face in his chest as she cried.

It had been two years since they’d decided things had evened out enough that another child was even an option for them. They’d been casual about it at first, enjoying themselves and giggling in the dark under covers as they talked about the possibilities of the future. She missed Nyx’s tufts of baby curls, that new infant smell that seemed to cling to him always then faded abruptly away after he hit one year. She missed the snuggles and the closeness, and her heart ached to watch how wonderful he was with his cousin without knowing if she’d ever be able to give him that gift as a big brother.

Realistically, she knew all the logic. It could take fae decades to have a child. It wasn’t always going to be as quick as it had been with Nyx. He’d come quickly, but the consequences, as everyone remembered, had been disastrous and near-fatal. She’d never even considered the possibility of it being a problem again when Nesta informed her she’d changed their anatomy, but she’d never considered that she might be the one having the problem. Part of her wondered if the absolute massacre of her body bringing Nyx into the world was responsible–her tissue mangled and her blood spilt and her spirit eking into the ether, only to be yanked back and mended together at the last possible second. Could it have damaged her irreparably, the anatomy be damned?

“Nothing is your fault, love. Not one bit of it.” He held her to his chest as her cries subsided. “And it’s okay to be upset about this. You don’t have to hold everything in all the time. There are no prizes for stoicism.” She snorted at him, and he huffed amusedly at her.

“Pot, meet kettle,” she shot back wetly. He smiled softly as she sat back to look at him, a little of the life returning to her as well.

“You’re a lovely mother, and our boy thinks you’ve hung the stars and moon above Velaris, even if he is getting old enough to wield a weapon. A little sibling won’t ever change that. Plus, I get the impression Aife isn’t going to be his only cousin.” She sighed, nodding, as he wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“It’s just hard not to feel like I’ve done something wrong. I know how badly you want another, how badly I do. It’s hard not to wonder.” He took his hands in hers.

“I meant it when I told you that you and Nyx, you are the gifts. Our family is absolutely lovely the way it is now. If we’re meant to grow it one day, we will, and if we aren’t, believe me when I tell you I am absolutely over the moon for the way things are now.” She couldn’t help but kiss him then, the stars reflecting in his violet eyes taking her breath away, as they always did. “Plus, I never mind practicing with you.” She smacked him across the chest as he grinned broadly and wickedly at her, hauling her into his lap in response as she yelped.

If anything, Rhys knew how to chase away her tears better than anyone else ever had or would.

Just then, the parlor doors opened and Elain stepped through.

“Oh, just the two I was looking for! I’ve got one last gift for you both, but I wanted to wait until the right moment.” She ducked back through the doors momentarily, reappearing with a small, neatly wrapped parcel as they stood. She flounced lightly up to them, setting the little bundle wrapped in delicate yellow paper in Rhys’s hands.

“Elain, you didn’t need to get us anything else. You already gave us such lovely gifts and you made dinner.” Elain blushed, still the demure lady after all this time.

“Consider it a double gift.” She whispered as she leaned in conspiratorially. Rhys pulled back the paper and pulled out the tiniest, knitted pink blanket.

One beat, two. The silence hung in the room as Elain smiled wide.

“I just saw last week, but I wanted to make you something to let you know in a way that was special.”

Feyre’s hands shot to her stomach, and Rhys began to cry, turning to her and holding her close while still looking at Elain.

“Now?” Feyre asked, incredulously.

“Probably only about a month along.” Elain smiled again. “I knew with the wings and everything last time, you’d want to get in to see Madja as early as possible.”

Feyre was sobbing into Rhys’s chest again, his tears dripping down into her hair. Feyre felt him reach out to Elain and pull her into the embrace.

“Thank you, Elain. Thank you so much.” She pulled back, laughing lightly again.

“I’ll leave you both to it then. I gotta get little lady’s cousin and uncle home safely.” She put a hand to her own stomach, winked, and went towards the back to grab Lucien before Feyre and Rhys could even register her news. He grabbed her face in his hands, pressing kisses to every inch of her face.

“I love you, more than anything.” Feyre laughed, the sound breathless and airy. She couldn’t take her hands off her stomach, the joy pulsing through her veins with every beat of her heart.

A daughter.

“I have one more gift for you, too, actually.” He reached into his back pocket to withdraw a small, navy velvet box, pressing it gently into her hands.

Her eyes shot to his. “You didn’t need to get me something else.”

“Open it.” His smile was wide open, his entire heart spelled across his face like stars across the night sky.

Feyre cracked open the box and couldn’t help the flood of tears that began anew. Nestled in the soft velvet was a silver necklace, a charm of a large crescent moon with two small stars dangling down off of it.

“You knew?”

“I suspected.” He smiled. “You’ve been getting those pistachio pastries all week that you liked so much last time. I figured it couldn’t hurt to be prepared with one more last minute gift.” She took it out, turning to let him put it on her. He let his hands graze across her neck as he dropped them while she turned in his arms.

“Beautiful.” He murmured, brushing her hair behind her ear.

“Thank you, Rhys. I love it. It’s been the best Solstice ever.” Her smile was broad and teary, but she felt the joy all the way down to the very fibers of her immortal heart.

“Thank you, Feyre. For all of it.”

And nothing in all of Velaris could hold a candle to the joy radiating back and forth down the bond between them in that moment as their lips met quietly again this Solstice.

#feysand #feysand fic #actoar #solstice gifts #rhys x feyre archeron #fever-induced writing #tooth rottingly sweet fluff

[wittlesissyb4by]

Chapter 2

Chapter 1 Here

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to let you go.” Mr. Pennyworth says. 

It feels like a dagger has been shoved into my stomach. I’m not sure what to say, so he just continues anyway. 

“Your productivity is by far the lowest in the company, you’re not reliable to show up on time or even at all, and your long hair is unprofessional and not befitting of this company’s standards.” He clears his throat, sifting through some papers. “We also have reason to believe you called-in on Friday without actually being sick.”

“What makes you think that?” I say, finally speaking up for the first time. 

He shrugs, “Let’s just say we got an anonymous tip.”

******

“Everything alright with you?” Max asks, moving his pawn forward to free up his bishop. 

“I’m fine,” I say, half-heartedly moving my knight with no clear plan in place. “Lost my job today.”

Max frowns, moving his bishop out as I expected. “I’m really sorry, dude. That sucks to hear.”

“Yea…it’s fine, I guess,” I sigh, “Didn’t much like it there much anyway.” 

He still hasn’t said anything about the other day. I’m not sure if he actually saw anything, or he did and just doesn’t want to bring it up. How do you talk about seeing a bunch of sissy toys and diapers in your roommate’s room? Is that even something to talk about?

I remember back in college when my roommate at the time had found a slew of sissy porn on my computer. I was there when he saw everything. That sick feeling in my stomach took forever to go away. It’s back now. 

“Well if you start applying for jobs, you can always use me as a reference. Just say I’m an old manager or something.” He says, putting his Queen in a precarious position. I seize the opportunity and take it. I realize too late that it left my King open for an easy assault. An obvious trap I should have seen coming. 

“Checkmate.” Max says, smiling. 

******

As the weeks went by, so did the job opportunities and applications. I rarely received any callbacks, and even if I got an interview, I’d either get ghosted afterwards or they would call and say something to the degree of “after careful consideration, we’ve decided to go with another candidate.”

God, the job market is rough. 

My bank account is dangerously low. I probably should have done a better job of saving for times like this, but I guess I was more excited about buying outfits and diapers. Still, I’m not going to make it through the next month without some sort of income. It’s time to have the awkward conversation with Max. 

“Hey, man. Can I talk to you for a sec?” I say, shuffling my feet into the living room. 

He pauses the hockey game and turns to me, “what’s up?”

It’s such a weird topic to bring up, but I have to bite the proverbial bullet. “I’m having trouble finding a job…” I say sheepishly, “I didn’t work long enough at my last one to get severance, so…I’m a little low on funds.”

He just sits there, always with that stoic expression, listening intently. He doesn’t say anything, just lets me continue. 

“So…umm..I’m uh, gonna be short on rent this month.”

Again he continues to stare at me, as if deep in thought, stroking his beard. It almost seems a little exaggerated. Like he’s acting. 

“I see,” he finally says. “So you need me to help you?”

As demoralizing as it is to admit, I have to. “Yes…”

He smiles. “Okay. No problem.”

“Really?”

“Yea.”

I don’t know what to say. A weight of anxiety and fear is lifted off my shoulders. I can feel it melt away as I start to relax. “Thanks man, I really do appreciate it. I’ll find a way to make it up to you, I promise. Anything you need, just let me know.”

His eyes have a strange glint to them. Like he was hoping I would say exactly that. 

“I actually do have a job in mind for you,” He says, “You can start today.”

I sense a sudden shift in the air around the room. He leans back on the couch a bit, patting the seat next to him. I find myself sitting down beside him, not exactly sure what’s going on, but sensing something amiss. 

Max puts his hand on my leg, “it’s okay, nothing to worry about.” he says softly. I feel myself release a breath, feeling comforted, but still a little uneasy. 

It’s like he’s holding something back. Like he’s trying to find the words but doesn’t know how to say it. I wonder if he knows. If he saw the things in my room.

“I saw the things in your room.” He says. 

Yea, I’d say he knows…

My stomach does that familiar churning. The shame of what I've done, or been caught doing coursing through me. “I-i can explain…”

“Don’t bother.” He says, waving it away. “I’ve always had my suspicions.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. I’ve always tried to be so reserved and secretive with my true desires. I didn’t think anyone else would notice. 

He shifts on the couch again. When he does, something catches my eye, there’s a very large bulge in his shorts. 

Noticing me looking at the log snaking down his leg, he starts running his hand over it and smiling. “Have you ever sucked a cock before?”

I realize my mouth is hanging open. I gulp, shaking my head. “Not a real one.”

He laughs at that, it breaks some of the tension, then he shrugs. “Well, there’s a first time for everything…” he gently pulls at his zipper, snaking it down ever so slowly. But he doesn’t pull it out, just leaves it open, letting my imagination run wild. “Do you want to suck it?” He asks. 

Again I find myself dumbfounded, this is all happening so fast, but before I can think about it I find the word escaping my lips. 

“Yes.”

He chuckles. “Good, because you were going to have to do it anyway. This place ain’t cheap.”

After our awkward laughter dies down, I’m left in the precarious position of what to do next. Luckily, he guides me after several seconds of silence. 

“Open my pants.”

I reach a shaky hand to his button, it takes me a bit to get my fumbling fingers to work it free. 

Again, I’m lost as to what to do next. Should we kiss? Do I close my eyes? What do I—

“Take it out.”

His direction helps. It’s easier for me to follow orders than it is to take initiative in such uncharted territory. I reach my hand into the waistband of his boxers, feeling around for it, my heart beating out of my chest. It doesn’t take me long at all to find the warm, fleshy member. I gently pull it back, it bends a bit before snapping out of the boxers to stare straight up at me. 

It’s big. Very big. I can barely wrap my fingers around it. The veins are popping out the side, and I can even feel his own heart beating through it. Pulsing. Rapidly. He’s just as nervous as I am but he doesn’t show it. 

“Well...it’s not gonna suck itself…”

I realize I’ve been staring at it for a while. I use my other hand to wipe the drool from my mouth. Maybe I shouldn’t have. Somehow my throat feels both dry and wet at the same time, it doesn’t even make sense. Finally, I push past the nervous excitement, and lean forward. His cock seems to grow as it gets closer to my face. I’ve imagined this moment over and over for years. I’ve watched countless videos through the lens of girls wearing a GoPro on their head taking big, giant dicks into their mouths. But somehow this is different. I’m the girl now. It’s my POV, and it’s what I've always dreamed of. 

I open my mouth when I’m inches away and close my eyes, imagining I'm one of the girls in those videos. 

The head of his dick already feels different than my dildos. It’s squishier, warmer, and tastes just a little bit salty, but in a good way. In a great way. This is what I've always wanted, and I’ve finally gotten it. 

I hear a soft moan escape my lips just before they close around his cock. It sounds pathetic, but I don’t care. Things finally feel…right. Like this is what was supposed to be in my mouth all along. All those things they told me in sissy porn were true. 

I take him deeper in my mouth. I find it easier to slide it  down my throat than my dildo. I take it as far as I can until my eyes water, then go back up for a breath. 

In the overwhelming rush of stimuli, I forgot all the techniques I’ve practiced for so long. I try to remember: swirl your tongue, suction on the way up, not down, and most importantly: keep it nice and wet. 

I let the drool run from my mouth, using my hand to coat his cock with it, taking a breath before diving back down. 

“Someone’s been practicing.” He breathes. 

I melt at his praise. I always wanted to be a cocksucker, and I always hoped I’d be a good cocksucker. But you never really know, my dildo doesn’t make noises. 

But him? He was breathing heavily, moaning, groaning, and doing all the things that told me I was doing something right. It ignited a fire in me. With every grunt he made I found myself getting more and more enthusiastic so as to make it happen again. 

Leaning over across the couch next to him is a bit awkward, though. 

He notices. “Get on your knees.”

I take him out of my mouth and scramble a little too eagerly onto the floor between his legs. 

He looks down at me, almost victoriously, like his plan has come to fruition. I am in no way perturbed. In fact, my cock is screaming inside my pants. I don’t think I've ever been this hard in my life. 

“Looks like you’re enjoying yourself.” He says, apparently noticing my penis poking prominently through my pants. “You can touch it.” 

Is that his decision? I guess so…because as soon as he says it I find my hand going inside my pants. 

“No no.” He says. “On the outside. Rub it like you’re a girl. A sissy girl.”

Just the sound of that word gives me a wave of pleasure. I’m so hot and bothered that my body is quaking. I love the way he’s dominating me. Taking my power away so I don’t have to make the decisions myself, and therefore making me more relaxed about doing something I may otherwise have chickened-out on. Would I be here, on my knees, about to suck his cock if he hadn’t made me? Is he making me? Or am I doing it on my own volition?

I knead the front of my crotch. Feeling my throbbing cock and nestling my aching balls. I feel a bit weird with him watching me, so I turn my attention back to his cock. Well, more specifically, his balls. I’ve learned that when worshipping a man—as I’m doing right now—maintaining eye contact while lapping at his balls is one of the perfect ways to show your submission. I also know (from being on the receiving end) that having your balls sucked does not feel nearly as good as porn makes it seem, it’s actually kind of painful. 

So after licking his sack and stroking for several seconds, I spit on his dick and take it back into my mouth with renewed vigor. My own balls are aching at this point, I can feel them turning blue. I use two fingers and twirl them in circles over my pants while I bob up and down on Max’s dick. 

“Fuck yea…” he moans. God it feels so good to make him make those noises. “I’m gonna cum.” 

So am I. 

Knowing he’s on the verge gets me insatiably hot. I want nothing more than to get him to bust in my mouth, like some sort of primal need. 

I hear myself moaning again. I’m not sure if it’s from the pleasure I'm giving or receiving. 

“You want it in your mouth?” He asks considerately. 

“Mhmm!!” I swoon hungrily around his dick. My hand gyrates over my own. The thought of making a man cum in my mouth is too much to handle. I feel a warmth fill my pants as I shake and convulse, trying to keep my focus on his dick while I spasm in an intense orgasm. 

I feel the desire begin to fade. The reality of what I'm doing seeping in. This is my roommate, and I’m on my knees in our living room slobbering all over his big dick like a girl he just met on Tinder. 

“Ohh yea…” he twitches. I can feel the head of his penis swelling, even more than it was before. It gets me excited again. Eager. Desperate. “Right there, just like that! I’m almost there…”

I’ve never been on the receiving end of that statement. Guys saying they’re almost there but are actually a few minutes out. 

My cheeks are starting to burn, my throat is getting sore, it burns from the bile of gagging, I need air, to take a break and a breath, but I don’t want to lose my progress. I need to power through and do what I need to do. 

He grips the cushion of the couch. His legs flail and tense. The head of his cock is bigger than ever. His breathing becomes labored, syncopated, and then it stops. 

That’s when I felt the first gush hit my tongue. Even though I was expecting it, I wasn’t exactly ready for it. Another pump, and then another. I worry I won’t be able to hold it all. 

He gives a big exhale, and that’s when I know he’s spent. I hold his dick and his cum in my mouth a bit, not exactly sure what to do next. I suck a bit more to pull out any remaining drops, then take him out of my mouth. 

The jizz is warmer than I expected it to be, saltier too, but it doesn’t taste bad. It’s my reward. A token of my accomplishment. I just sucked my first real dick, and it was everything I hoped it would be. 

I gulp down the load, smiling gratefully like any good little slut would. 

“Good job.” He says, patting me on the head like I’m a well-behaved puppy. “Now run along…”

That’s it. He doesn’t say anything else. Just pulls up his pants, zips them back up, grabs the remote, and resumes the Hockey game. 

A little disheveled, I wipe the slobber from my mouth, get up, and head out of the room like a discarded toy. What did I expect to happen? For us to cuddle and whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ear? I don’t even think I would want that. But to be thrown away like that makes me feel…used. 

Then I remember the wet, sticky stain in my pants. A reminder that I enjoyed myself, a lot. 

So I guess it’s no surprise that when I got back to my room, I shut the door, locked it, and started enjoying myself two more times…

To Be Continued

#roomies

[trashforhockeyguys]

Vienna Waits For You -8- William Nylander

“Miss Bradshaw Krietzburg, I think it’s very possible that this will work in our favor.”

“Mr. Jefferies, all due respect, but I need to know that it will work. We’ve combed over every line of these contracts.”

“Is there really no loophole she can exploit?” Jackson questioned, taking a sip of coffee. 

“Well, there is one option, although it requires radical action.”

It took Avalyn two months to finally decide to take action against her management team. Jackson was able to hire a lawyer on her behalf, so that her team wouldn’t know anything about it. Together, the three of them met weekly, sometimes more than once, to try to find a way to rid Avalyn of her management. 

She hadn’t spoken to William since that night in her apartment. They were like strangers to each other again, only seeing one another when it came to work related functions. But everytime she saw him from across the room, or on the ice during a game, her chest hurt. She missed seeing him all of the time, missed being with him and talking to him. 

Jackson walked out of the small office with Ava. Both of them had a day off from filming, although they were nearing a break that would last a few weeks. Production wanted to finalize the first two episodes and present them to the studio to make sure that they’d be allowed to continue before finishing off the season. 

“Are you coming to the game tonight?” Jackson asked, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. 

Jackson had been grasping at straws for weeks, doing everything he could to get Avalyn to show interest in anything. The only thing she could focus on outside of filming, was doing everything in her power to get out from underneath her parents. Everything else was just…nothing to her. 

The makeup team had a hell of a time making her look better on screen than she did in real life now. Her cheeks hollowed out a little more again, with large dark circles under her eyes. He knew she didn’t sleep much, or eat more than the bare minimum. She was slipping, and there was little he could do other than keep throwing out a rope and hoping she’d grab it one day.

“No, it's best if I don’t. Besides, I want to make sure I have everything down before the shoot on Monday,” She replied, pulling her coat closer to her body. 

“Avey, you have to give yourself a break at some point. You can’t keep working yourself like this.”

She smiled sadly at Jackson, “I keep working so I don’t have time to think.”

He pulled her close, holding her head against his chest in an effort to block out the world, “I wish I could just fix it all for you. God, I wish you didn’t have to deal with any of this anymore.”

She held onto him, feeling relaxed in his arms, “I know. But I’ll be okay Jacks. We’ll find a way out of my contracts.” 

She pulled away enough to see his face. Avalyn tried not to pay much attention to the worried look he had, instead she brushed some of his long hair away from his eyes and tried her best to smile, “Go to the game. Have some fun.”

“Promise me you’ll get some sleep?” He seemed to beg her, “Don’t obsess over the scripts all night.”

“I’ll do my best. Now go, I don’t want you to miss anything.” She shooed him away, “I love you.”

“I love you more.” 

She forces a smile as she makes her way out of the office. For the past month it felt like she couldn't breathe. Like an elephant was sitting on her chest, forcing the air from her lungs. She tried to fight it, but the unbearable pressure from her parents was getting worse. 

Jefferies thought that maybe she could sue them for her rights, or something like that. But she was afraid of what would happen if she took things to a court, because of how nasty they could get. She knew first hand how vicious they could be when they wanted to be. 

Her phone going off drew her out of her thoughts, she pulled it out of her pocket and answered it without even paying attention to who was calling. 

“Avalyn Bradshaw Kiretzburg.”

“Do you always answer your phone that way?” 

She feels her shoulders sag at the sound of his voice, slowly breaking down every barrier she spent the last several weeks trying to build. She leaned against the wall in the hallway leading to her apartment. She hadn’t talked to him since that night in her apartment. The news about the show broke, she went on several more talk shows with the cast. Her parents scrambled to make it seem like this was something they approved of. But the reception was incredible, everyone seemed to be excited about the new hockey show hitting streaming services within the year. It made Avalyn incredibly proud to be a part of it. 

“Only when I don’t pay attention to who’s calling,” She admitted shyly. 

“Ah, so that’s why you picked up,” He laughs, filling her ears with the wonderful sound. 

“You know we can’t do this,” she sighed, digging in her pocket for her keys. 

“No, I just know you say we can’t,” He rebutted, “I don’t care much about what your parents think.”

“I care too much about you,” She shakes her head, “My dad could have your career ended with a single phone call.”

“Yeah, I don’t buy that,” She can picture his smile as he shakes his head, “Anyway, I wanted to see if you’re coming to the game tonight.” 

“You know I won’t be there,” She tells him softly, “It would cause too many questions. Jackson though, he’ll be there with some of the other cast members.” 

“So you can’t come because?” 

“People are already questioning those pictures of us from a little while back,” She rushed to explain, “I can’t give anyone a reason to look closer. I can’t give them a reason to look at you.” 

“So, more of your self preservation bullshit,” He surmised, “Got it.”

“Will-” 

“Look, I like you Ava, you know that. But I can’t wait for you to decide to live your life,” He informs her, “You have to make that decision. No one can make it for you.” 

“Willy I-” 

“I gotta go, game is getting ready to start. Just wanted to hear your voice before I got on the ice.” 

She wanted to say more. Wanted to beg for him to wait for you to get out from underneath your parents. She was so close she could taste freedom. She just wasn’t sure how to get it, no matter how badly she wanted it.

 So instead she gave it another week, waiting for her next meeting with Mr. Jefferies, when she finally asked what the most radical thing to do would be. He took his time explaining how many moving parts this plan would entail, and how important it was that it go off without a hitch. No one outside of the room could know about it. All she knew is she wanted to be free. 

Avalyn wanted to be rid of her parents once and for all. No matter what it might mean for her career. Jackson was ready to talk to his agent and see if they’d be willing to take Avalyn on as a client, provided they would sign an NDA beforehand, so they couldn’t tell anyone else about this either. 

She longed to tell William. Longed to tell him that she was trying to live her life to the best of her ability. But she just needed to get through the next month and then everything would be different. 

“I’ll need a place to crash, off the grid, once news breaks,” Avalyn stated. 

“What about Rose’s place? The homestead with her family?” Jackson questioned, “She’s coming to guest star on the show next week, we can talk to her.” 

“I don’t want to drag Ro into this though,” Ava sighs. 

“You know she’ll be happy to help. You’ll be safe there, no one even knows where she lives.” 

Avalyn sinks further into her seat, knowing her friend was right. Roisin Quinnlyn, or more famously known as  Rose Quinn was a famous singer and actress and a good friend of Avalyn and Jackson’s. One of the only ones left after Margot’s tirade. She stuck with them throughout all of it, never once turning her back on them. 

Rose was the daughter of Irish immigrant parents, who then brought her grandparents over as well. The family had a homestead of sorts in the state of New York, tucked away where no one really knows. The locals don’t talk about her being there, in fact they protect her in every way that they possibly could. 

Avalyn realized it was one of the few places she actually felt at home. Aside from the home she was slowly making for herself here in Toronto. 

“Yeah, okay,” She finally agrees, “Make the arrangements.” 

Jackson finally relaxes in his chair, knowing his best friend would be free soon. He hated seeing what her parents did to her all of these years. Hated seeing how they broke her down and stole her spirit. He thought some of it had come back when she moved here for the show, but he watched as it slowly disappeared again. 

“Good,” Jacks smiled, “I’ll call Rose tonight and see if she’s game. But she hates your parents as much as we do, so I’m sure she’ll be down to cause some trouble.” 

“You and Rose only cause trouble,” Avalyn rolled her eyes. 

He smiled again, big and bright at her. Showing off his dimples. There was a pang in Avalyn’s chest at the thought that they wouldn’t have to fake date anymore, which meant she wouldn’t see as much of him when they weren’t filming together. She was selfish in the way that she wanted to keep him in her life as much as she possibly could. She loved him, in more ways than one. 

“It’ll be good to see her again though,” He adds in, “It’s been a while.” 

Rose was just coming off the back of a world tour, which sold out every venue. Avalyn and Jackson were lucky enough to catch one of her shows in LA before she went for her European leg. You were in awe of your friend as you watched her on stage, you loved watching her do what she loved. 

“You should talk to Willy,” Jackson said as the two of them made their way back to her apartment, “He really misses you.” 

“I know he does,” She said softly, “I miss him too, but I can’t risk his career, not when I’m so close to getting out.” 

“So after it’s all over? Will you talk to him then?” He asks. 

“I’ll do more than just talk to him,” She admits, “I’ll get on my knees and beg for him.” 

“I don’t think you’ve ever begged for anything,” Jackson lets out a laugh.

She shakes her head, “I begged for him before, begged for my parents to leave him alone. It was the first time I tried to get my way with them.” 

Jackson wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head, “We’ll get you through this. But right now, there are people taking pictures of us, so shut up and kiss me like you love me.” 

“I do love you,” She rolled her eyes, but stood on her tiptoes so she could reach his lips. 

It didn’t feel the same as kissing William. There was no spark with Jacks. Never had been. Anything they did together, they did because they were made to, or it was just safest to do it with one another. They had sex together because it was safe to do so. The other party wouldn't sell the story or anything. Rose and William were the only ones who knew it even happened. 

“I love you,” She forced herself to say overly lovingly. 

“I love you too,” There was a hint of sadness in his voice, in his eyes too, “C’mon, let's get you home.”

#nhl imagines #nicolewritesthings #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fanfic #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #william nylander #william nylander imagine #william nylander imagines #william nylander x reader #william nylander x oc #william nylander fanfic #william nylander fan fiction

[calinaannehart]

the parts we play

Buck isn’t a firefighter, he just plays one on TV, or at least that’s what he’s about to do. He’s offered the chance to shadow the 118 to learn what it’s like to be a firefighter. Eddie is fed up with these Hollywood types turning up and feigning interest in the job that he loves. Buck, however, is nothing like that and everyone can see the connection they have.

Eddie’s day is ruined.

“You can’t be serious, Cap?” He protests, looking at Bobby imploringly. “You do remember what happened the last time Hollywood sent an actor who wanted to play dress up?”

Six months after Eddie had said goodbye to her on the beach Felisa Valdez had waltzed into the firehouse, publicist hot on her heels with an announcement that she was to shadow the 118 in preparation for a future role. The call from the chief had come a few minutes after her arrival confirming her visit and instructing Bobby to allow her out on calls to observe what the job entails.

It was argued, given the 118 had attended no less than four emergency calls in which they had rescued her from one situation or another, that Felisa was already more than familiar with the workings of a fire crew. Her publicist, however, countered that she was a victim on each of the calls and therefore needed to be the one in uniform. Bobby had drawn the line at that, but Felisa was given a seat on the engine and she observed them while they worked, albeit a little too closely at times.

The publicist had taken a near-constant stream of photographs for the duration of Felisa’s three-day visit, photos of her with the crew, photos of her being shown pieces of equipment, manning a hose, sliding down the pole, donning a helmet. In every one her hair had been perfect, her outfit on the tighter side and a pose that was unrealistic to the job at hand, but were posted all over her social media, tagging each of them at the official LAFD account.

Still, they had all survived the three days with no injuries and their dignity somewhat intact.

That was until the movie came out.

It turned out to be a low-budget B-movie, so low in budget that it bypassed the theatres completely and was released directly to TV. Felisa had excitedly called Eddie with the channel info and the date and time it would be on which had ended up being during a 24-hour shift. They had settled in to watch at eleven o’clock in the evening and that should have been their clue.

Felisa’s movie turned out to be, essentially, a very badly written and directed (and acted) softcore porno set in a fire station. Bobby had flushed and made a hasty exit to his office just fifteen minutes in when the first sex scene started, muttering about damage control and calling the chief.

“I do, and I was promised that wouldn’t happen again,” Bobby tells him, his tone placating. “Brass themselves have gone over the script and they’ve talked with the production team. It’s a big multi-million dollar movie this time with some big names attached to it.”

“Like who?” Chimney mumbles around a mouthful of celery and peanut butter, dipping the stick back in for another scoop. Pulling out his phone Bobby thumbs open the screen and scans his eyes over the email he had received with all the information.

“Todd Fame, Kelli Edwards, and Evan Buckley.” 

“No way, Evan Buckley?” Excitement fills Chim’s face and he sets the jar of peanut butter down on the counter. “Man, he’s done some good stuff, Time Wars, Echoes of the Past, Midnight Mirage, oh, and that rom-com that came out last year, Tatiana loved it. Are we getting him? That would earn me some serious boyfriend points.”

A silence fills the space after Chimney’s ramble, half a dozen amused faces staring at him. “Boy crush much?” Hen asks sardonically, a wave of sniggers following her words. “Isn’t he the one gossip magazines are always publishing articles on? I’m sure I’ve seen one about him having slept with half of Hollywood and constantly getting in bar fights.”

Bobby quirks an eyebrow at her. “Since when do you read gossip magazines?”

“Karen’s always picking them up when she gets the groceries,” Hen explains. “But my point is that maybe Eddie’s right, I mean, do we really want another Felisa incident?”

“Come on, Hen, those magazines are trash, there’s probably not an inch of truth in them,” Chim says, prompting another eye roll from his partner. “All I’m saying is that we shouldn’t judge him before we meet him, he’s a really good actor, okay? I’m not ashamed to admit he’s made me cry more than a few times.” Chim admits freely.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll get plenty of opportunities to tell him that,” Bobby continues. “He’s coming by this afternoon to sign some personal injury waivers and then will join us for our next run of shifts.”

Chim all but dances on the spot as he whips out his phone. “I can’t believe I’m gonna meet Evan Buckley, I gotta call Tatiana, this is so gonna get me laid!”

“Eddie, I want you to be his liaison while he’s here,” Eddie’s attention snaps back to his captain.

“What? Why me?” Eddie protests. “Let Chim do it.” He points to the man talking animatedly on his phone.

“The last thing this guy needs is someone fawning all over him, you’ll treat him just like everybody else, and most importantly you’ll watch his back.”

“Watch his…Bobby, you’re not seriously going to let him out on calls with us, are you?” Eddie’s expression matches his flabbergasted words.

“I am, that’s why he’s coming in to sign the waivers. He needs hands-on experience, Eddie, and you’re the one I trust to keep him safe,” Bobby lays a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, leveling him with a look. 

“I just hate these Hollywood types turning up and feigning interest in the job that I love for a few days just to earn a billion-dollar paycheck,” Eddie grumbles. “They don’t care, Bobby, it’s just a game to them.”

“All you have to do is talk to him about the job, share some of your experience. It’s just for a few weeks and then he’ll be gone.”

Eddie sighs. “You promise?” He asks, sounding too reminiscent of a petulant child and Bobby just chuckles.

“I promise,” He squeezes Eddie’s shoulder before stepping away in the direction of the mezzanine, no doubt to start breakfast. “Hey, you never know, you might end up real close.”

read on ao3

#911 #911 fanfiction #911 on abc #911 abc #evan buckley #eddie díaz #fanfiction

[heyclickadee]

Weird confession, probably an unpopular opinion, but: I actually like a lot of the concepts and basic designs behind the costumes in the Rings of Power series more than I like the concepts and basic designs behind the costume in the PJ Lord of the Rings films (with the costumes for the rohirrim and the people in Gondor being the exception). Don’t get me wrong, the costumes in the PJ Lord of the Rings series look amazing. They’re gorgeous and, on the whole, better made than the Rings of Power costumes. It’s just that the there’s something very dungeons and dragonsy about the PJ Lord of the Rings costumes (especially for the elves), and I know that’s because there was a twenty year feedback loop where there was a slight DnD-ness to the PJ Lord the the Rings elf outfits which then just became standard Elf Clothes in LOTR fanart which then fed back into the people making art for the DnD handbooks, but still. And I’ll admit I’m biased—it just so happens that that aesthetic is one I don’t particularly like. So seeing the costumes in Rings of Power make a clean break from that was really refreshing. And they mostly look like clothes people would wear. And I love the ideas in the designs! Elrond’s brown cloak with the feathers? That’s a sweet little tribute to his mom. The gold dust makeup on Disa’s hands and her robe (which honestly looked better in action than it did in the promo shots)? Neat concept. Tar-Miriel’s crown (and all of her outfits, actually)? Stunning. I’m in love. I just wish the designers and costume makers had been given all the time they needed to really make every costume look as good as they probably looked in their heads.

#rings of power #a lot of them did look very nice on screen #some of them just needed a little more time in production #also you know what #I’m okay with elves with short hair #the shaving of the sideburns looks exceedingly silly #I’ll admit that #but elves can have more than one haircut #(I’ll admit that the long iron straightened half tied back in elegant twists look #is not an aesthetic I particularly like #either #and that I have kind of #weeeeeelll #ambivalent #feelings towards the PJ elves #I adore those movies but I do cordially disagree #with many of the adaptational choices #Tolkien adaptations #this is only tangentially related #but in my head Glorfindel has very long very curly floofy hair

[icewindandboringhorror]

I know this is just a silly bad quality random screencap of a screencap that I found on facebook lol, BUT it's a succinct enough image to easily describe the concept in a quick/accessible way hopefully :

-

(and of course, feel free to elaborate in tags, etc.! (especially elaborating about other senses as well.. can you "hear" in your mind just as well as you can "see"? taste? etc.) It's an interesting topic to me, as someone who's like a 4.5 at MOST lol. I'm curious what option will be the most common :0c )

#tumblr polls #hrmm... a little poll perhaps.. about a subject I find interesting.. since this image came across my facebook today #still really not feeling that well. no longer shaking violently and such but I still feel weird and weak much more than usual #They did say my markers for like infection or inflammation were elevated but that they werent sure of the cause so hopefully #it's nothing too serious. they did also say a lot of different things can cause that thing to be higher than normal but didn't go into spec #fics of what. maybe some of them are relatively benign or something. I still havent felt much back to normal since #I got really sick that one time though. I feel fine on and off but then little bouts of feeling weird and sick happen. hrmmm #ANYWAY.. looking for small ways to be productive. such as little doodles on evil ipad or editing game videos #or posting polls or cat pictures or some other like not very labor intensive things #I WISH I COULD FOCUS on writing HHRGGhh... I need to finish my game.. it would be so freeing.. a project that's been looming #over my head for like 5 years even though througouht that 5yrs I've probably spent a total of 3 months working on it lo.. ANYWAY #I still partially really cannot beleive that people CAN see stuff in their heads. There's always part of me that's thinking like. well mayb #e everyone DOES see the same exact thing but we just describe/conceptualize it so differently that we think we're talking about #different things when we're really not. But I have been assured by people I've talked to about it that they can GENUINELY really see #stuff in their heads like as vivid as an actual picture in real life or something. And the other senses are neat too. Like for exmaple I #can hear in my head much better than I can see imagery. I still CANNOT hear vividly like as if I were listening to actual music out loud.. #but I think it's developed more than my sight. AND interesting how this varies the creative process. a friend I was talking to on the phone #said they write by literally just watching stuff play before them like a movie. where my process is COMPLETELY different. AND that affects #the content/what details we focus on as well as our individual styles of writing have differences that can be traced back to that.. hrmm

[familyofpaladins]

Please know that anytime I see anything TMNT related I'm just doing this ^^^ in my head (based on that one post)

#yall have no idea how often im in the store and see some stupid product that has tmnt branding on it and i have to pull myself away from it #no i DON'T need pea based cheetos. i CANNOT get those socks (they're for little feet). #i DON'T need turtle action figure toys (i have no where to put them and i wouldn't play with them) #i will stop and stare at whatever product for a while before deciding i don't need it lol #its also so funny because most of the time im like 'just cause you put [character/franchise] on a box of crackers doesn't make me more #more likely to buy it! #except... when it does lol #ANYWAY #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles

[spacedlexi]

is anybody else out there still creating twdg fanworks 😭📢 where is everyone please dont say reddit i cant go back there

#im gods bravest little soldier for following fandom tags but its rough in there #guess i should specifically say where are the twdg fans who didnt hate violet #sometimes i remember how homophobic (and racist?? in the lee and clem game??) people were during s4 (and still are on reddit/yt) and think: #maybe i should stop looking and just let the cool people find me #go knocking on enough doors and the devil may answer #but i want to see fanart 🥺 #was only Slightly surprised by the misogyny because this is clems game series but hoo boy the misogyny towards violet...... #ive gotten used to how quiet it is i gotta remind myself a dead fandom is better than an annoying one 💀burning shores reminded me of that #so hard being a wlw in video game spaces please where are my other wlw video game enjoyers i need to find u 😭 #gotta draw some more ellie to lure them in like an angler fish #im honestly surprised how dead twdg seems to be esp with the way the final season ended?? its set up so well for fanworks?? #theres a lot of unaccounted for time even before clem got to the school. and its set up that their lives could be anything now #is it just because people were burned so hard by seasons 2 and 3 that a lot of people just didnt even play 4?? #or maybe they didnt even know s4 was un-cancelled?? #because i know theres a lot of people who stopped after 3 #but 4 is such a return to form. its like the other side of the coin to s1 for me. like if s1 was more hopeful instead of dreadful #it is Such a love letter to s1 honestly. imagine if telltale didnt shut down in the middle of production and they got a full budget..... #sometimes i imagine it... s4 with a full 5 episodes??? in my dreams. literally. #oof this turned into a ramble im just fandom lonely #twdg #it speaks

[keeps-ache]

so there's this place-

#art #my art #artists on tumblr #digital art #oc #defunct I-95 #doodles #i miss the I-95 and i don't know why but lol #//anyway fun thing about Day is the little keyhole thing is actually a fingerprint scanner #so that they can verify if you're supposed to receive whatever they're carrying in the little door thingy :)) #//anyway if anybody's wondering why i'm making so many new characters it's because It Is The Time Of Year Where I Kinda Just Do That #every spring without fail! new beginnings? new OCs more like #i've considered giving some away but also i get really attached really fast ffvhsbhfj #yea i'm not gonna draw them again. yes they are IN my cranium and they are being very loud about it #//the story i've got so far is this though‚ it's pretty simple so :3 : #Day has a letter‚ a Very Important Letter. he doesn't know what it's contents Are exactly‚ but it's got a Very Important Stamp on it so it' #First Priorty !! unfortunately the recipient lives Far outside the city. like‚ cities away from the city. should be fine though‚ they were #designed for this :) but actually he's been hiding the fact that his leg has been damaged for quite a while now (or at least longer than #they should've been hiding it) but the parts they need aren't in production anymore‚ so it's not like he can just say he can't take it #so they take the only other obvious route and 'hire' someone to take them (more like Commandeer For The Use Of Postal Delivery Under The J- #and that's when he meets Pilot and they go and do things on their trip :D #so ye .u. #//ok i'm going to go and. do a thing #i don't rebmeber what it was but ay! ...... #i think i was going to say something about inflatable pools but i don't know fvhfbsh #anyway !!! TOOdles :>>>

[imminent-danger-came]

My favorite part of 4x07 is the fact that it doesn’t tell us fucking shit. I knew more going into that episode than coming out. Like, what is the curse? What’s it’s relation to MK? Does it even have a relation to MK? Was turning into MK’s likeness just a trick, or are they really the same? How the fuck does Azure lion control the curse and the scroll (especially at the end after the curse is “defeated” and everything is cracking apart)? How does this episode relate to MK’s flashes from previous episodes? Did MK give the curse form? Was anything Azure Lion said about it and the scroll in 4x02 true? How did Azure escape the scroll? How does the underworld play into all of this? What did defeating the curse honestly do? And, now that the curse is supposedly defeated, what in the world is the inside of the scroll like for those trapped inside? How was MK able to defeat the curse? Supposedly the scroll is “a prison designed to contain wicked souls, forcing them to relive their past misdeeds over and over again.” The curse however is something else. So again, WHAT IS THE CURSE.

The more I think about it the less it makes sense.

#BUT THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED WHEN I THOUGHT ABOUT MK A LITTLE TOO HARD #Like oh. He can just regenerate his powers? Even when supposedly both Macaque and LBD took it from him? Okay. Sure. #Did Sun Wukong even want a successor? He kinda just goes off and does whatever. #Really he just left the world for hundreds of years. What's the point of coming back now and having a 'successor'? #And um. It takes 'someone special' to wield the staff? It's *not* the product of SWK 'mysteriously' giving MK powers? #Well. That kinda sounds like SWK didn't give MK any powers. And even if he did how in the world did he manage that. #Does even Monkie King have the ability to just give people that much power? #and like #'oh everyone has some form of a flashback or implied history EXCEPT for MK. We know nothing of his past. That's kinda weird.' #The number of times SWK is like 'no MK can do it' when there is NO FEASIBLE REASON FOR HIM TO BELIEVE SO #'Like yeah come on man 'patience and focus' you can wield the staff even if Macaque supposedly took my power from you.' #or even like #'Oh yeah lol of course you got your powers back when you needed them most. That's not surprising.' #'No pigsy let him go and face LBD alone he can do it. He'll stop her use of the samadhi fire and save the world.' LIKE WHAT #Like nothing made sense the more you thought about it #AND NOW I HAVE MY ANSWER #MK *IS* A MONKIE IN SOME FORM. #Idk how he was created or what his past is #BUT I DO KNOW I WAS RIGHT TO QUESTION THE BULLSHIT #Like lol his weird interactions with LBD's powers and the scroll (who are both connected to the underworld) JUST FUELS ME FUTHER #OH AND THE FUCKING KEY. WHATEVER THE FUCKING KEY IS. #I swear MK is some sort of destiny altering fucked up eldritch boy made as a weapon. #lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk s4 #imp tag

[mantisgodsdomain]

We're going to talk about our cool vampire guy headcanons again. We like to set Monsieur Scarlet as a member of Solenopsis invicta, albeit a very unconventional example of the species. As a fire ant, technically, he is venomous - however, he's not actually had venom production online for decades, and at this point the cost for Making That Bite Work Again far outweighs the perceived benefit.

Would it be directly useful for his survival to be capable of injecting people with venom that causes intense burning sensations? Yes, probably, especially since he's at a scale where the swelling induced would probably take out an arm for hours at a time. He's just not going to fix it, because that takes life force that he could be using for other purposes, like breathing, or keeping his heart running, or having an emergency teleportation stock so that he can fling himself a metre or two in any direction when need be.

#we speak #bug fables #he's brazilian #if you are familiar with this species then it may be because they are INCREDIBLY invasive in like. everywhere theyve been ported #it is partially a joke on how incredibly broadly our version of scarlet travels #hes probably run into a good few other colonies of his species but with how our hc awakening Works he might not have recognized them #and he doesnt precisely hang around long enough to learn about these things #generally members of the species would be a lot more pigmented but wizard biology is weird and scarlet is weirder #which is to say that he's spent a very very long time healing back damage with investments in life force #and cutting down the body running fund enough that he can try to exist in areas that dip below 20 degrees celsius #and these things in combination as it turns out kind of fuck up pigment production in a major way #magic changes your colors much in the same way that mutations usually work #which is to say “it doesn't necessarily change That Specifically but color is one of the least lethal things that can be altered here” #it takes relatively little to change pigment production and Being A Different Color is relatively unlikely to kill you #not that it doesnt affect your life at all but it will not kill you outright and thats really all that needs to be done #he started out a sort of red-brown color and then his carapace just sort of didnt darken like it should normally #and then he wound up on the run and he slowly color shifted to pink over the course of several decades #depending on which canon we're operating in he may have also just totally lost all pigment on one occasion #when he took an unplanned nap and then wound up horror movie-ing some random researchers after losing his higher brain functions #and also a lot of other general functions. like bodily ones. like producing pigment at all. #dont need that underground but he walked out into the light and got flashbanged and immediately decided to not do that again #as it turns out. pigment production is important for some things. like sun protection. you want to be capable of being in the sun.

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

I just misread a post as

“just because I came prepared it doesn’t mean I know what I’m doing”

And I actually like that better than the original

#emma posts #shoutout to all the girlies who overpack for everything #but are often winging it at the same time #I know that’s me #and so do my friends and family if they have ever had to hold my bag(s) #or dig through them for something #I have a system in there that only I can comprehend #according to the people around me at least :/ #at least I can whip things out when people need them #showed up to a baby shower and learned just how weird my purse priorities are #there was a ‘stuff in your purse/bag bingo’ #I didn’t win. but I did have other people at my table staring at me like 😳 #and impressed by how much I can pack in one bag while also functioning #‘hand sanitizer friend’ ‘knife friend’ period products friend’ ‘ponytail friend’ and more #I’ve impressed a lot of moms by letting their little kids play with one of my stim toys while in some boring ceremony or event #it’s free dopamine #people will be like ‘I need something to write with’ and I whip out my art lady arsenal #which I admittedly usually just two kinds of pen. my favorite pencil brand. and some notebook that fits in most bags