#I do feel that I might be kicking a beehive but :) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dragonanon · 1 year

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I’ve got Beehive Gear station brain worms again, and Bee Elesa brings in SO much angst potential for this au and I am here for it. So here’s a mildly angsty blurb.

It was honestly just poor timing that Elesa “returned” to the hive while you had a belly full of eggs. You weren’t feeling that great about being so big and heavy to begin with, and having your Kings and Drones fawn over someone who would’ve been the Queen now were it not for the fact that the previous Queen was a complete sociopath, was NOT helping in the slightest. The hormones from the strange pseudo pregnancy were not helping either, and in fact only exacerbated your jealousy and feelings of low self esteem.

At the end of the day however, you were honestly more upset about the fact that you were even getting upset about this in the first place. It’s completely petty and unjustified, and you know it. Your Kings and Drones have never once given you any reason whatsoever to doubt their love and loyalty to you, and even now as you lay sulking in a blanket burrito and watching “The Real Housewives of Nimbasa City” in the dark, you don’t doubt any of them. So why on Earth were you getting so bent out of shape about this then??? No one has done anything wrong, yet here you are feeling like a bitter jealous cow. And you hate it. You hate it SO fucking much, and you don’t want to burden your poor hive OR Elesa with your petty sour grapes because they don’t deserve to subjected to that nonsense.

So instead, you stay curled around your belly and join the, admittedly bitchy, group of women on screen in reveling in the fact that the bitchiest woman in the group is currently making a complete fool of herself at a bachelorette party. No joke she’s about to get herself kicked off the yacht for her drunken bs, and at this point you’re just rooting for her to fall overboard before she can get kicked off because tbh, fuck her.

The Hive has obviously noticed your shift in mood though, and how you’ve taken to holing yourself up in your chambers and binging reality TV shows. However no one really knows what to do about it because you insist that you’re fine, and while you aren’t necessarily doing anything harmful or bad, something is very clearly bothering you but you’re refusing to talk to anyone about it. It’s making the Hive uneasy knowing that their Queen is upset about something, but they can’t figure out what it is and you won’t tell them either.

The Kings are especially distressed, they’re your Kings, your confidants! You’re supposed to be able to turn to them when something’s bothering you, yet you’re pushing even them away! This is completely abnormal behavior for you, and it has them worried about you and the eggs you carry.

Seeing her close friends and former Hive in distress, Elesa takes it upon herself to talk to you and try to find out what’s going on. You resist at first, insisting that you’re fine and just want to continue watching your shows. Until Elesa takes you by the hands and says “You don’t have to put on an act for me. I might only be a Princess, but I still know when a Queen is putting on a brave face to mask the hurt they feel deep down. I’m not going to make you talk about what’s bothering you, but if you need or want some support, I’m right here.”

Well that broke the dam, and now you’re openly bawling. Elesa doesn’t say anything, but holds you close and rubs your back in a soothing manner while you sob into her coat. After your initial sobbing dies down, you tearfully explain how insecure in your body and position you’ve been feeling lately. And how you feel so guilty for being Queen when it should’ve been Elesa in your place. You feel awful for even HAVING these feelings because by all accounts, your life is so perfect that you should have nothing to be upset about and you should be grateful for your current life.

Elesa comforts you through all of this, reassuring you that you’re a wonderful Queen who deserves to be where you are now and having these thoughts and feelings don’t make you a bad Queen. She does ask though why you kept this in for so long. You explain that you didn’t mean to but seeing how happy your Kings and Hive have been since she came back, you felt like it would be selfish of you to ruin that happiness with your negative thoughts and feelings by making everything about you. So it was easier to just withdraw and not voice how lonely and neglected you felt.

Elesa is still calm and reassuring to you, offering much needed comfort to you as she helps you get settled in for a nap. After that however, the shitstorm begins! Elesa storms out of your chambers and straight to the Kings (Insert the “menacing” Jojo meme), where after knocking them both upside the head, proceeds to give them the verbal buttchewing of a lifetime and she lays it on THICK; scolding them both for being so neglectful to their Queen, that she had to turn to a near stranger for emotional support!

“We didn’t know she was feeling so terrible, she never told us-“

“SHE IS YOUR QUEEN, YOU DONKEYS! SHE SHOULDN’T HAVE TO SPELL OUT EXACTLY WHAT SHE’S FEELING TO GET YOU TWO TO PAY ATTENTION TO HER! HELL, HAVE EITHER OF YOU EVEN BOTHERED TO VISIT HER TODAY??”

The Kings are mortified by the realization that they’ve been severely neglecting their poor Queen, and during a time when you’re at your most vulnerable no less! Their first instinct is to rush to you, to comfort you and beg for your forgiveness. But Elesa physically stops them, saying that you’re currently taking a much needed nap and that if they DARE wake you up, she will personally castrate them both. The Kings know well enough that Elesa isn’t one to make empty threats, so they back down and instead start working on putting together lavish little spa day of sorts for when you eventually wake up.

#when you wake up you’re treated to a lavish spa session and very apologetic kings #the pampering is MUCH appreciated and you forgive them of course #ingo is still distraught though that he allowed his excitement over the return of an old friend that he neglected his poor queen #emmet is similarly distressed #he’s not great with communication and assumed that whatever was bothering you you had under control since you insisted you were fine #in hindsight he can clearly see that you were in fact NOT fine and he’s kicking himself for not seeing it #beehive gear station au #bee hive gear station au #submas #ingo and emmet #ingo x reader #emmet x reader #ingo x reader x emmet #elesa makes sure your kings know that she’s watching them and that if they neglect you again there will be hell to pay

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spacefinch · 5 months

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MSB rambles: locations

As anyone who’s watched the Magic School Bus series knows, the show is mostly set in Walkerville, a made-up town. However, they never specify where it is, except for “in the USA.” They don’t specify what state, or even what region of the country it’s in. But here are my observations.

In “Gets Eaten,” Ms. Frizzle drives the class to the beach, while the bus is in normal bus mode. The beach looks like a California beach to me (based on my experience going to beaches there), and a sea otter makes a brief appearance. In the US, sea otters are only found along the west coast.

In a few episodes (Getting Energized, Rocks and Rolls, etc…), it’s shown that there are mountains/foothills just outside Walkerville, and that there’s snow on top for at least part of the year.

We know it snows during the winter in town as well. (Source: MSB Holiday Special)

There is a swamp with alligators and blue jays within driving distance of town, as shown in “Butterfly and the Bog Beast.” The whole vibe of the swamp feels very southern to me. (Note: “driving distance” might not necessarily mean said swamp is near town. Could just be that anywhere is driving distance on the Magic School Bus.)

In “Gets Swamped” we see that there is a more marshy swamp in town. The main vegetation is reeds and small shrubs, and the animal life consists of species such as snapping turtles, muskrats, wood ducks, harriers (marsh hawks), bullfrogs, red-winged blackbirds, and dragonflies. This suggests a more northern location for Walkerville.

In “Goes to Mussel Beach,” the mussels are described as “Mytilus californianus” aka the California Mussel, a species only found along the west coast. Again, we have no idea how far away the beach is from town, but it’s a different beach than the one in “Gets Eaten.”

In “Kicks Up a Storm” the outside temperature gets to a high of 99 degrees Fahrenheit— which, judging by the kids’ reactions, is too hot for them. As a Californian, I can sympathize with this.

In “All Dried Up,” the bus (in plane mode) must fly over a mountain range to get to what looks like the Sonoran Desert. Which mountain range they fly over is not specified.

In the book “The Truth About Bats,” it is stated that in order to see bats in Yosemite National Park, the class must fly to California— thus implying that Walkerville is not located in my home state.

In “Goes to Seed,” there is a Ruby-throated hummingbird (at least that’s what I think it is) in the garden at Phoebe’s old school. The Ruby-throated hummingbird lives mainly in the eastern half of the US.

In “In a Beehive,” Tim mentions a “big frost” approaching. Again, this suggests Walkerville is somewhere Up North. (We don’t get a “big frost” where I live— just a few smaller frosts.)

In “In the City,” we see that some of Walkerville’s urban wildlife includes peregrine falcons, red foxes, opossums, raccoons, and nighthawks. It is also implied that bears live in the woods outside of town.

In the book “The Wild Whale Watch,” the New England coast is a short drive from school, which directly contradicts my observations about coastal locations in the show.

The woodpecker in “Meets the Rot Squad” is a red-bellied woodpecker, a species found in the eastern US.

In the book “Rocky Road Trip,” Carlos says that he collected some of the rocks in his collection near “the Saddle River.” I looked it up, and in the real world, Saddle River runs through New York and New Jersey. (But for all we know, the Saddle River in the book could be made up just like Walkerville.)

In “Ups and Downs,” we see that Walkerville is located near a good-sized lake— large and deep enough for a submarine to dive in, and with plenty of underwater vegetation.

In terms of continuity, there is no continuity when it comes to where the heck Walkerville is. This sometimes frustrates my overanalytical brain. So, I leave it to you, fellow Magic School Bus fans, to answer the question:

Map for reference!

#magic school bus #polls #Walkerville #where is it????

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horseshoecrabman · 16 days

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hey guys!!!!! you might not have seen the post, but a few days ago me and my dad set up a beehive with around 3,000+ bees in it! my friends were interested in hearing bee updates, so here it is!

but before i start all of that, here’s some general information on how beehives operate and how to take care of one under the read more!!

expect an actual update on information about the hive dad and i have specifically in a day or so!!!!! thank you!!! :)

(this is by no means a step by step guide, it’s more of just something informative and fun!!!)

jobs bee have in their hives

bees commonly have different jobs in a beehive, the most important being worker bees, drone bees, and the queen bee.

worker bees are the ones you see out and about, pollinating and such. they are also responsible for feeding bee larvae, some also do things such as guard the hive and nurse injured bees! they do have stingers, but it is very true that bees do not sting unless they feel threatened.

queen bees basically control everything in the hive with their pheromones. they will also only leave the hive once in their lives, to find a drone bee and mate with it. once they return and start producing eggs, they can produce eggs for life and will lose their wings and remain in the hive for the rest of their life. worker bees are responsible for feeding the queen, and if a queen isn’t producing enough eggs for the hive or not producing enough pheromones, worker bees can cultivate a new queen by selecting any larvae and by feeding it special honey that they convert themselves, turns it into a queen, and then kill the old one.

drone bees are the ones queens mate with. this is their only purpose, and they also don’t leave the hive. in winter or times where a hive isn’t getting enough to feed everyone, they will be kicked out as they are practically useless.

here’s a picture of how to tell the difference between them!

brood is the official word for bee larvae, and applies to all bees, no matter the type!!! here’s a diagram :)

common pests bees encounter:

just like any animal, it always has a predator to eat it!

aside from things like birds or any insect eating reptile or amphibian are other bugs that are parasites that leech off bees!

varroa mites: varroa mites are small mites, but they are disastrous for a beehive. any beehive will always have a certain number of them, but it is possible to control their numbers with the proper treatments and care. mites will often feast on the fat of adult bees and the larvae, making adult bees weaker and killing larvae. there is a special test to see how many mites you have, typically performed every month or so, where you scoop up around 20 bees and put them in an “alcohol wash” and however many mites you can see in the alcohol indicates if you have an infestation or not. more than 5-10 mites, you have a problem, other than that, you’re safe. the reason its such a small number as 5-10 is because varroa mites reproduce very quickly. the bees you scooped do die because of this, which is really sad, but bees are really smart! they understand when sacrificing some bees will help the entire hive.

hive beetles: hive beetles will crawl into hives and essentially steal their resources! a strong hive can fight them off but a weaker hive will usually die off and if a human owns said hive, they can use certain bee-safe pesticides to kill the hive beetles specifically!

on the topic of pesticides, i just want to say that bees are very endangered. because of things like pesticides as well as general dislike for bees, and fear that they will sting people, they aren’t well liked. i really hope me talking about bees helps people understand that bees are friends and really do benefit the ecosystem and are just as excited about them as i am!!!!!!!!

how to take care of and monitor a hive

one of the many things to keep in mind is that it costs a lot to obtain and maintain a hive, definitely over thousands of dollars, and you might not get much honey from it to make up for this, so if you really do want to have a hive or multiple hives of your own, please keep this in mind.

the first thing you will need is equipment. the first thing is an actual hive for them to be in, one looking something like this:

ours has 6 individual frames in it, where bees build places to store honey (honeycombs) as well as places to store larvae, but the number of frames can vary between how small or big the hive box itself is!

this is what a typical beehive frame looks like !!!

in the photo, you can also see someone wearing a bee protection suit, which protects you from getting stung by any bees that might get mad at you going through their hive. there are other things you can do to calm bees down as well, such as using a smoker!

this is what a typical smoker looks like, they can vary in design, but this one is pretty common! you can put anything flammable in there and light it, i prefer using pine straw, as it doesnt smell bad and its easy to obtain, and squeeze the clamp part to help the fire inside the container spread and use the smoke on the hive.

what does the smoke do?

it basically does two things:

- masks the scent of pheromones for the bees, making them not mad

- distracts the bees from you by making them think something is on fire and focusing their attention on that

it does seem a little scary to know that the bees get panicked, but if you do it in the right amount and not too often they will be completely fine and calm down shortly!!!

alright, that’s all that i have for now, thank you for reading this far!!!!! if you have any questions dont hesitate to send me an ask!!!!

for posts like this and future asks, i’ll use the tag #beeupdates to sort it all!!!!

thank you again!!!! 🐝🌻💛

#beeupdates

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copperbadge · 2 years

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did you ever imagine a random shitpost leading to you writing what has essentially become a romance empire?

LOL, sure as fuck didn't, although "random shitpost leads Sam into a weird new months-long rabbit hole" is not actually an uncommon occurrence for me. :D

I feel like somehow it might be weirder for the anon who sent me that ask that kicked it all off. For me it feels like I've just joined another fandom. Yes, on the one hand I'm the Word Of God and the only true source of new canon, but on the other hand once that basic canon was established -- once I had an essential cast of characters and a built world -- it got super easy to fuck around in it in the exact same way I would with, say, a fandom that's on extended hiatus.

For me, writing new Shivadh books is very akin to what I've done in the past with Cartographer's Craft (a stand-in book seven before Deathly Hallows was written) or the Hiatus Continuations (filler while Heroes was on hiatus -- was that the writer's strike? Fuck I'm old) or post-movie fic after the first Avengers film. I’ve never found sequels so easy before, but then I’ve usually been looking at sequels to much more intense novels like Nameless or Dead Isle. The Shivadhverse isn’t...not intense, but it’s just silly enough that I don’t feel like I need to make anything deep. Twelve Points is actually probably going to be the deepest to date, in many ways, and it’s still like..

CONVERSATIONS WITH MYSELF:

“Michaelis canonically has a very nice voice that he’s worked hard to preserve. He could have trained as a singer in his youth. I should have him at some point lead a chorus with some of the Eurovision performers.”

“That would be dumb and only really self-gratifying. You just like it when Michaelis is special.”

“Okay but...yes, that’s correct, and I’m the author. So I’m doing it anyway. He’s gonna sing a sea chanty and Buck’s gonna sing it with him. They’re gonna sing Mingulay Boat Song because I like it and I’m gonna put a verse in Shivadh.”

“...sure, okay. Why not?”

END CONVERSATION, and then I wrote that scene.

Anyway for that Anon who suggested it, they like...poked a beehive and a swarm of romance novels attacked. That must feel a little surreal!

I really do enjoy talking about various canons and headcanons on Tumblr, and I have fun too working on the new books and coming up with future plots. I may end up having to break off the Georgie/Monday romance for an entirely separate book, because the Royals And the Ramblers is looking to be a bit of a monster, and may be the first Shivadh novel that doesn't have a new central romance. Although between Gregory and Eddie's three separate weddings, Jerry and Alanna's ongoing "Why are we like this", and Michaelis and Jes navigating their newly blended family (plus an adopted granddaughter who is taking a while to warm up to Michaelis) there will still be plenty of romance. :D

#shivadhverse

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hqmillioncorn · 8 months

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FFXIVWrite Day seventeen: Sneaking

with @windupiceheart 's Vertical Height and B'ig Nunh (sorry)

Vertical, B’ig and Babycorn climbed the steps back up to the Eulmore aetheryte plaza. She was getting really sick of climbing these stairs. On the bright side B’ig Nunh was back and Vertical wasn’t worried anymore! The bad news was that Vertical had been the one to run out of the Beehive and decide where they were going. Which resulted in them getting lost. Again. Thankfully B’ig said he knew pretty much the right way to go from his time here. Which was good! She just wished it didn’t involve so many stairs. “Hmmm…” Babycorn never did get that pot of honey.

Babycorn had nothing to worry about it turns out!

The city of Eulmore was great! What had she even been worried about?! The people were kinda rude, sure, but the food they had was really good! It sorta had this really sweet taste to it? Whatever it was, Babycorn had never tasted anything like it before.

She loved eating meol! So much that she had grabbed as much of it as she could carry and had stuffed it into her bag. “You sure you don’t want some?” Babycorn picked up another piece of meol and waved it around at Vertical, who was walking besides her. “They’re really tasty!!”

Vertical looked down and once again shook her head. “no thanks.” This had been the fifth time in the last minute that Babycorn had asked if she wanted some suspicious bread.

“Aww! Why not? It’s really tastyyyyy!”

This was also the fifth time in the last minute that Babycorn had told her how tasty it was.

“i’m not really that hungry.”

Vertical had eaten lunch with the others earlier. It was a complementary picnic that included fruit salad, prepared by the Crystal Exarch himself. He had left a written note saying so.

Eating that fruit salad made her miss B’ig Nunh even more than usual.

“If you say soooo!” Babycorn would probably ask Vertical if she wanted some in just a few more seconds.

“try not to eat too many.”

“Hmmph?” Babycorn tried to ask what Vertical meant but her mouth was full.

“you might get a tummy ache.” Vertical warned. There was also something to be said from accepting food from such obviously rich white people. Free food that might as well have come with a giant WARNING sign on top of it.

For the first time since arriving at Gatetown, Babycorn paused her munching.

Of all the worst feelings in the world a tummy ache was one of the worst. She’s had a lot of experience with them, none of them good obviously. The small Lunya in her head reminded her what had happened when she licked those poison frogs too. Though this was totally different.

Those memories of tummy aches past was enough for Babycorn to put the meol she was currently in the middle of eating, back in her bag.

“Ummm…” Babycorn tried to think of anything that would distract her from wanting to eat more meol, “Where did Alphinaud tell us to investigate again?”

“somewhere called the beehive i think.” Vertical looked down at her hand where Babycorn had written the name of the place they were tasked to go to. Except Babycorn had no idea how to write words so she just drew a funny picture of a bee on Vertical’s hand. Which Vertical just let her do because she was cool like that.

Babycorn froze mid-step. “Y-You don’t think there’s gonna be actual bees in there? D-D-Do you???” There were too many bad experiences Babycorn had with bess. Most of them were her fault for trying to get some honey from their hives but that didn’t matter right now.

“probably not.” Vertical answered. How would she know? She’d never been here. She needed to be honest. “if there are bees i’ll protect you.”

“Are you gonna punch em’?!”

“yeah.”

“You’re so cool Vertical!!”

“thank you.” Vertical smiled and began to wonder if kicking bees would be better than punching them.

There wasn’t too much time to think about it because they had finally reached the doors to the Beehive. There wasn’t a sign on there or anything but the map that they had gotten when they entered Eulmore as servants told them that this was the place.

Alphinaud had circled the Beehive in red with twenty also red arrows pointing to it to make sure that neither Babycorn or Vertical could miss it.

Somehow they had both missed it and ended up in the gaol earlier but it's okay because they made it here eventually and no one had to know they had gotten lost getting to it.

“Yay!! We made it!” Babycorn cheered and accidently threw the map into the air. The wind picked it up and blew it all the way off of Eulmore. Vertical and Babycorn watched as the map flew away in the wind and fluttered all the way down to the ocean.

“...We don’t need that anymore right?”

“p-probably not.”

Babycorn and Vertical let out a pair of synchronized shocked gasps when a seagull snatched the map from the air. Carrying off any hopes that the wind would turn and bring the map back to them.

“any chance you’ve been leaving bread crumbs as we’ve been walking?”

“I thought about it but I’m too used to Cherry eating them behind me…” Babycorn laughed nervously and tapped her fingers together.

“Hmm.” There went that plan. “we’ll be fine.”

The pair of opulent doors leading to the Beehive opened in front of them, letting them walk right in. With nothing else better to do, Vertical and Babycorn walked in.

“Woooooow!” Babycorn looked all around with wonder sparkling in her eyes. This place looked like something out of a fairy tale! All the furniture and everything looked so fancy! Even the people sitting around looked all fancy too!

It was a little dark though but Babycorn guessed that’s what the fancy lights were for.

“wowie.” Vertical said.

“This place looks fun Vertical!”

Vertical looked over to the stage and noticed the many half-dressed people dancing to the music. “i guess.” Seeing so many people partly dressed reminded her of her bestie B’ig Nunh and how he wasn’t here. He had traveled here with her but in the middle of the magical transit here they had both gotten separated.

Good news, B’ig Nunh was on the First. Bad news, she had no idea where.

“Vertical! Vertical! Check it out!” Babycorn tugged on her coat and led her towards the bar. “They’re serving food I think! Do you think they sell pots of honey?!”

“you could go ask.”

“Good idea!” Babycorn skipped away to go ask and Vertical watched as she left. Which made her miss the shirtless cat boy wildly flailing at her to try and get her attention.

Lucky for him, Vertical’s B’ig Nunh senses had not been dulled during their separation.

Sensing something was amiss, Vertical turned around just in time to see a shirtless B’ig crying out to her. Literally he was crying while also doing his best to dance, though it wasn’t his forte.

“b’ig!” Vertical yelled out in lowercase.

“VERTICAAAAAAL!!!!!” B’ig yelled out in uppercase. Those that had just been watching the show that had no idea they were witnessing an emotional reunion were just really confused.

At that very moment a disappointed Babycorn had come back from the bar in tears. “Verticaaaaal they told me to quit joking around and come back when I order something for reaaaal!” This left Babycorn so heartbroken she had forgotten all about the dangers of stomach pain and decided to ease her sorrows by eating some more meol.

Babycorn had just taken out another meol to eat when Vertical scooped her up like a football. She let out a surprised squeak but Babycorn was just so used to being carried around by now she didn’t even question it.

What she did question was why Vertical covered her eyes as she started to run towards the stage. Which they just let her do for some reason.

“Why are you covering my eyes?” Babycorn asked between bites.

“don’t worry about it”

Sad to say she was a little worried about it. “Are we gonna get on stage and dance too?!”

“no. sorry.”

“Okay that’s good.” Babycorn would have rather jumped off of Eulmore than dance on that stage. Her stage fright would have not let her do anything but freeze up like a popsicle if someone put her on that stage.

Vertical closed in on the stage and B’ig discreetly danced his way closer to her until they were finally pretty much face to face with each other. “I missed youuuu!” B’ig was still crying and dancing in an effort to not raise any suspicions.

“me too!” Underneath her eyepatch Vertical was tearing up too. “okayy buddy let’s go home.” There was going to be a lot of catching up for Vertical to do. How much did B’ig really know about their current predicament? Surely the Crystal Exarch wouldn’t mind giving another long explanation again.

“Vertical they took my clothes. :(“

“then let’s go get them back.”

Babycorn managed to sneak a peek at who Vertical was talking to. While she recognized the voice she had no idea why Vertical was talking to this weird half-naked cat boy she had never met once in her entire life.

For the sake of simplicity, B’ig’s clothes were currently being kept backstage in the Beehive. Sneaking backstage proved to be as easy as just walking into the Beehive itself. Vertical and B’ig tried to look as unsuspicious as they could while walking through the

What wasn’t easy was for Vertical to keep her hands over Babycorn’s eyes. Babycorn didn’t seem to mind or suspect there was anything wrong with being continued to be carried and kept in the dark (literally) she was used to this by now.

“Who are you talking to anyway Vertical?”

“b’ig nunh.”

Babycorn was confused. That guy she saw didn’t look anything like B’ig Nunh! Where was his funny hat and his cool vest? His pants were all wrong too! For starters he was actually wearing a pair. Babycorn let Vertical know all the inconsistencies.

She felt like a real detective!

Meanwhile B’ig was a little hurt that one of his friends didn’t recognize him. It broke his little heart.

“its because they took his clothes.”

“Ew! So he’s naked right now?!” Babycorn put one of her hands over Vertical’s. She really didn’t wanna see something like that!

“I’m not naked!” B’ig protested. “Only my shirt is gone!”

“Eww!!!!!!!” Babycorn munched louder.

B’ig noticed Babycorn chowing down on some more meol. “Don’t tell me you’re actually eating that stuff?” He had been offered meol on his very first day here but he had politely refused it, sensing that there was something off with it.

“Yeah!” Babycorn took another bite of her meol. “It’s tasty!!”

It was well known among Babycorn’s friends that if Babycorn found something tasty there was a 50/50 chance that it was actually tasty, the other half meant that it probably tasted something like mud or something.

“if you didn’t eat meol what did you eat?” Vertical asked. She hoped that he hadn’t gone this long without eating anything. She hadn’t saved anything for him to eat!

B’ig Nunh sighed, for a long time. “I still had some raw spaghetti that Babycorn gave me so I just cooked some of that and tried to make it last as long as I could. I also had to eat all the sandwiches I was holding on for you!! I’m sorry Vertical!!!” Those sandwiches had been the first to go.

Vertical gave B’ig a sympathetic pat on the head. “it’s ok.” There would be other sandwiches but just one B’ig Nunh.

“Stop right there!”

Vertical and B’ig (and also Babycorn) froze in place. Right in front of them was a eulmore guard, how they had failed to notice him was a question that would mostly likely never be answered.

“Who are your patrons?”

“Celric!” B’ig answered without missing a beat. He nervously looked at Vertical to see what she would answer.

“same.” Hopefully this guard wouldn’t look too deep to find out that she was lying.

Babycorn continued eating meol without a care in the world. “Lord Vauthry” She answered.

The guard looked almost scared to hear Babycorn say that. “I see. Carry on then!” Then just as quickly as he showed up. He had left again into the vague backdrop of this scene. All three of them held their breath as he walked away, only breathing easy once he was out of sight.

“That was close…” B’ig wiped some non-existent sweat off his brow.

“yeah……..” Vertical set Babycorn down on the ground but made sure she was still covering her eyes. “by the way where did you even get that name from? doesn’t sound familiar.”

“I don’t know!” Babycorn shrugged, “Just popped into my head!”

As it turned out B’ig’s clothes were being conveniently stored in a supply closet way in the back of the backstage way past the dressing rooms.

Vertical and Babycorn stood guard of the closet while B’ig changed inside.

“Um Vertical?”

“yeah? what’s up?”

“How are we going to break out of this place?” Surely they couldn’t just walk out of here with one of their dancers? Could they?

“i’m going to pick both of you up and run really fast.”

“Ooooh! Ok! Sounds fun!”

What could go wrong?

#ffxivwrite2023 #Babycorn #Vertical #B'ig #sorry to do this to him statty #babycorn cant see a shirtless big nunh this is how hes censored #i dont actually remember what they serve at the beehive do they even say??? hell if i know #drinks thats what they serve i guess #i dont know if they serve other food thats not meol there probably yeah but i couldnt resist the joke #as you can see shes eating a lot of it #babycorn wouldnt know its a club like that unless you told her shes not perceptive but she knows what it is i swear #i dont think vertical had thancred eyepatch at this point right??? idk

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anx1oustig3r · 1 year

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since i rewrote the prologue for sunbreeze, i thought i’d post it here as a little, sneaky peaky for anyone else who might wanna read

you can read the full story here

Children love to tell stories about the whimsical adventures of the Fae, but what they don’t know is that most Fae are spiteful jerks. In the world of spiteful creatures there’s no name spoken with more contempt than mine.

The air is burning. I can’t move. Every involuntary twitch has my muscles screaming bloody murder. That’s what happens when you land hard on your spine as my Mam had told me. Knowing my luck my wings are crushed and broken like hers are too. After all: history loves finding ways to repeat itself.

With a groan I roll myself onto my stomach, almost driving my face into the millions of glass shards that speckle the ground like stars and reflect the intense yellow light from the house. Had the circumstances been different, I would say it was a morbidly beautiful sight, but the circumstances aren’t different and I only feel sick when I see the light in the glass flickering.

Smoke is covering the night sky. Normally it would be a beautiful deep indigo, but now it’s a horrible, choking, murky black colour that closes in and crushes me. I try to take a gulp of air but it rushes down my gashed throat and into my lungs where it sits and sears them until I start to cough and wheeze and wretch up great big globs of soot, bile and blood.

My Father would have clouted me around the back of the head for being so disgusting, but I imagine that’s probably the last thing on his mind right now.

I push myself until I’m sitting up and bring a hand to my neck. It’s bleeding pretty bad. Mam had that bramble wire wrapped tight around it … after everything we’d been through as well.

The fire has engulfed the entire estate now. The flames flicker and dance all the way up to where they tower over the trees and almost break through the suffocating cloud into the night sky. The entry ways of the house are all blocked off. They’re blocked off and there’s no sign of my parents.

I watch them. I watch the embers float peacefully through the air. I watch the flames tearing all wood and stone to pieces. I listen to the creaking and crashing mixed with high pitched wailing. Have I just ended the world? No … of course not, but then why do I have this feeling of doom in my chest? Maybe it’s the soot, or I’d gotten so used to choking to death that now breathing feels foreign to me.

I wonder if my Father could see what lay ahead, would he have still looked at me like I was his most precious treasure? Maybe he would have thrown me to the streets earlier or had me swapped for a well mannered, compliant child. Or perhaps … perhaps he would have helped me.

But it’s been a long time since I found any comfort in hopeless fantasies. That’s not the reality. The only caring figure I had in my life was ripped away from me when I was too stupid to know why. And my Father never cared. I heave myself to my feet, wincing with the agony. My body screams and I beg myself to just collapse again, but I can’t. I have no choice.

I try to flap my wings. They’re moving! A little bit stiff … but they’re moving. That’s good enough. I can see the flames growing wilder, but I don’t hear them anymore. All I hear is a buzzing noise like someone surrounded me with beehives. My teeth grit tight and my lip pulls and my throat is tight not just from the wire, but it’s like I want to cry. I want to cry but I also want to laugh and I want to kick something, but I just don’t feel anything at all.

A shrill voice cuts through the buzzing. I recognise it, but I can’t tell if the shrieking is laced with terror, or rage, or both and that scares me.

“Mireska!”

Mireska. Mireska Sunbreeze. Daughter of one of the Merchant Kings of Revtel: Lord Sunbreeze. It’s only now that reality finally begins to sink in. What I’ve done. He’s in there. Mam is in there too. They haven’t left. I don’t have a choice. I turn on my heels and half run, half fly into the dense woodland surrounding the burning estate.

#okay i know this is a fanfiction but my intention is like #you can read and understand it without ever having played dota or anything #dota 2 #dark willow #mireska sunbreeze #dota2 #fanfic #dota 2 fanfic #queer fantasy #dark fantasy

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irrfahrer · 1 year

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Continuation From Here! There was a unflattering, bellowing laughter breaking Zivs illusion of adorablness over D-Os rather sassy remark and wheezing the Tynnan almost fell of the bench she had sat on to start her little act of wooing. Hasty she grabbed with a small paw for the edge of the bench, digging her sharp claws in the wood like a tooka would dig their claws into a cattree and muttered under her breath: “..not gonna lie, I kriffing love that little Kriffer...” Then the woman caught herself hastily, looking up to Ben again with big eyes framed by long, frostwhite lashes and sweetly wriggling ears: “I mean, if it rattles your whiskers, I would also kick in your kriffing teeth. But by all kriffing means, I do not have a special-medical- education in dental care but actually midwifery, and last time I checked I am bound to a oath of not doing any kriffing harm to my kriffing patients, so this might be a kriffing darkgrey area for the sweet little Kriffer that is me.”

She kept the act up until the smuggler folded his arms and than too dramatically to be serious gasped and placed a theatralic paw on her chest: “Huh, and here I thought you would have saved some credits just for me. What a kriffing pity, my heart is broken.” she was disappointed, but had also not expected much in the first place beside messing with Ben: “ I mean, it will be kriffing healed when you carry the pot for me, but it is still broken over the fact that I also have no kriffing credits to buy it, so yeh, its kriffing broken and I am crying on the inside for-kriffing-ever...-” the Tynnans voice trailed off and her ears turned to the side like the ears of an alerted animal a second earlier before her head followed the direction of her ears. There was a sound over the mumbling of the crowd, the beeping of droids and the shuffling of feet on the dusty ground that mixed into a permanent buzzing like from a busy beehive. A sound that remainded her of something, of something that could be her small paws grasping playfully for big claws, of something that could be warm sunlight falling into a big chamber with children, of something that should be children playing around a friendly visitor who teached them tricks with peas and three shells with soft rumbling words and endless patience, of something that she should remember and should make her feel warm and welcomed but that felt as if she was back dreaming in carbonite with her blood frozen and her mind as numb as an iceshard. It did not made her feel anything for carbonite-sickness left nothing but a black hole in her mind where this memory should make her feel save. She remembered the tricks, big claws, the knowledge, but hibernation-sickness had turned his claws cold, his voice was not gentle but monotone and the game was no fun. Ziv shuddered, automatically starting to pinch the webbing between her fingers as always when she was uncomfortable or deeply anxious. The market around them was busy with a thausand scenttrails caused by people, animals, droids and strong sillages laying over the in the Tynnans eyes blurred outlines like glowing lines. Still Ziv noticed the small crowd that had gathered around the Botan who had sat down by a wall to play a Shell Game. Not wasting a minute Ziv panicky pushed away the cold feeling of anxiety over this strange cold hole in her memory the time frozen in carbonite had left there and instead overly enthusiastic hopped off the bench she had sat on, tidying her skirts before hooking her paw in Bens arm and pointing over where the small crowd was standing around the Botan.

”...You up for a game to get credits, pup?”

[ @kylo-wrecked ]

#I AM ALWAYS READY FOR A MINI TEHADR WITH YOU!#Ziv remembers K'Kruhk #whos the best jedi ever and I do not take any critics #but anyway in the comic where the cortosis was first intreduced Padawan K'Kruhk and ObiWan are betrayed #*in a gambling game by Micah Giiett so he could teach them teasingly that such games are unfair to play as a forcesensetive #and since Giiett died at the end of this series #I like to think K'Kruhk teached such games in the creché to honour Giiett #also he used the force to sneakily steal a bag of credits from someone when he was after order66 on teh amrket when some of his adopted*#*youngling clan gt kidnapped so yeh he gets some mischievious side #kylo-wrecked

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happysadyoyo · 2 years

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I'm sorry I'm even asking, but what on Earth does "transandrophobia truther" even mean. Really poking the beehive with that one, but I've been drowning in the "radfem kool-aid" to borrow your very succinct phrasing, so I might as well, fuck it. - Yours sincerely: a very tired and confused trans man who hasn't been on Tumblr for a while. I'd send this off anon, don't give too much of a shit, but Karen has a reach greater than God it seems.

Basically, "transandrophobia truther" was coined by a person who decided a bunch of trans men loosely associated with a dude called Saint (who initially coined the term transandrophobia) were all bad, white, meanie TMEs who hate trans women despite several of the names belonging to POC trans people and many of the blogs explicitly supporting trans women as well as men and nonbinary identities. All because we want to talk about the issues trans masc people face and call a spade a spade when they're being a fucking idiot.

Let's break this down further...

Saint is considered an Awful Person because someone leaked screenshots from his password protected smut blog. He had been engaging in some squicky kinks that the person who leaked the screenshots decided meant he hated trans women and lesbians (despite all interactions being consensual mind you). They also label him a racist because he had been talking about omegaverse shit with the shorthand "abo", which apparently is also a slur against aboriginal tribes. Because you know, acronyms and shorthand can only mean one thing.

Anyway, this has kicked off a harassment campaign that's apparently lasted for months, and this blog eventually curated a "block list" with pretty much anyone who might've interacted with Saint or other people that's been victim to the harassment perpetuated and continued by two people.

This block list was apparently only supposed to be used by this person's followers, but it alerted every single person on the list through the @ system and of course was spread around. They also have been accepting additional names from anons and the like without apparently doing much background checking so. Yanno. Sure.

The term transandrophobia was created as an alternative to transmisandry in an effort to allow trans men to discuss the unique challenges that trans men face as trans men. Sort of the opposite side of the same coin from transmisogyny if you will (the coin is transphobia, but the metaphor breaks down when you remember intersex and nonbinary people are included in the umbrella as well. lol rip poetic language).

People protested transmisandry because it connected with misandry, which people (who argue against trans men having language to talk and make block lists because one person decided to force their followers to look at squicky kinks) don't believe exists (my feelings on misandry are far more complicated than what can be got into here without a massive derail). Transandrophobia is a step away from misandry, but since it was coined by Saint, people are using that as an excuse to shoot it down.

It's an excuse because elsewhere you find hints of their true intent: not allowing trans men and masc people the language to speak about their issues at all. First, there's the absolute asinine complaint that it's "basically the same thing as transmisogyny," like... okay, yes. They complain it's ripping off transmisogyny like transmisogyny isn't a ripoff of misogyny so. Whatever on that. Then you have people saying we should just use the word transphobia instead, completely ignoring the fact we're wanting to talk about issues that specifically face trans men and people who identify as trans masc. Shit like that.

Then you have the people who believe that trans women are the most oppressed and thus men should never have a say. This is rooted in radfem rhetoric, as with the advent of second wave feminism, one of the main schools of thought was that a radical (lol) shift away from men... wait let's not go so far back for now. That's another massive derail.

Anyway, there's a strong undercurrent of man hating that's been lurking around in feminism since second wave feminism. It's been evident through ideologies like lesbian separatism (see, gold star lesbians and how lesbians often treat bi women) and the "wombyn" movement that I in particular noticed in 2013 on tumblr -- I still believe TERF ideology against trans women is rooted in this explicit anti-man movement, but it was just under people's radar until trans women came more in the spotlight.

This man hating is even within trans circles, as you will often see trans women and femme people declaring T being a poison, hating their manhood and men in general, etc. It's understandable given their transition that they'd feel this way, but it's done in front of and oftentimes to trans men and masc aligned folks as well (re: the one poor trans boy who was talking to a girl and got told T was a poison in a gen chat. The girl apologized but claimed she was right. So this was both in a gen space but directly to a trans boy).

I also have a pet theory about how men are expected to be quiet in feminist spaces, and a lot of trans men and masc folks have grown up understanding the social struggle of women so it's easier for us to sit down and shut up, etc, etc but I won't get into that here cause that's it for explaining how radfem is everywhere let's move onto

TME/TMA mean Transmisogyny Exempt and Transmisogyny Affected. I won't get into the linguistics or where these terms originate, though I think it's from baeddel discourse --

baeddels being a group of trans women who mistakenly believe baeddel is a slur against trans women (and conveniently push out femme men and intersex people from the discussion) and started to "reclaim" the term, becoming extremely cultlike, narrowminded, and man-hating themselves, ending when the core group defended a rapist who had assaulted another member of the core group though there are people who identify with baeddels today

-- while TME/TMA might have its merits in a very limited context, it's become a way to say "trans women (TMA)" and "everyone else (TME)". This is incredibly stupid as it just creates another binary where trans women are the Most Oppressed but it locks the terms down so that they can't even be used properly (a cis woman getting beat up for using the woman's bathroom is, in that moment TMA. But she's not always TMA so...).

Soooo... because Saint is labelled a "bad man," transandrophobia becomes a really convenient scapegoat to try and push trans men from another word they can use to describe their unique situation in life.

But really, they don't want men to have language to speak about the things that hurt them.

Because in their minds men always have privilege... because they think every man is white, able-bodied, neurotypical, financially well-off and/or stable, passes perfectly, and never ends up in a situation where they must either out themselves and/or be forced off their HRT for some reason.

They think the pushback they are receiving is coming from above them (because we're men, so we're automatically above women), but it's not. It's a lateral push because at the end of the day... the world sees us as they do trans women. They don't see woman or man or person. They see trans.

And it's upsetting honestly that they don't understand that.

#transandrophobia

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featherfur · 3 years

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I’m going to try and make sense with this so bear with me: I think a lot of untapped angst potential in fic is the reality of Jiang Cheng being the older one now and visibly more mature because Wei Wuxian died at 20? 19? And he wasn’t exactly maturing in the ghost realm during that considering he doesn’t remember it. Now he’s definitely matured via trauma but that’s not the same thing. And now they’re 16x on the wrong wave length.

Under the read more because uh, I go into detail

Now put Jiang Cheng in the same room as Wei Wuxian and they’re both 12, atleast in the beginning. But Jiang Cheng had his previously homicidal insane brother show up right next to his nephew after insulting his mom (who’s death he inadvertently led too) so JC (for me atleast) can be forgiven a bit for not being happy and wanting to kick his ass and thinking he may still be insane because an Okay Wei Wuxian Would Not Insult Shijie or His Nephew. Especially since JC not only didn’t tell the entire world that his brother was back, left him with Jin Ling, only yelled at him a bit and scared him via dog and— (I’m going to shut up here because that isn’t my point but man I could go on). JC had a lot of issues and he yells at Wei Wuxian to the point one wants to offer him a cough drop.

But post Temple JC? Who watched him walk away sadly and knows that Wei Wuxian is no longer unstable and thinks he doesn’t want to be his brother anymore? That’s so much wonderful angst because that means Wei Wuxian will not be greeted by Jiang Cheng his Shidi anymore.

He will be met with Sect Leader Jiang who clawed his way up from nothing but a baby in his right, a stack of spreadsheets on his left and the most feral disciples around that he has to protect. This Sect Leader who doesn’t have time to go around hunting Wei Wuxian down to harass him. Sect Leader Jiang who barely even greets Wei Wuxian when he visits because he has shit to do. He has audits and taxes and those damn merchants are complaining, he has to up the wages of the seamstresses that make the robes of his sect with so many protection talismans and find a way to convince Sect Leader Ouyang to stop fine-ing the caravans that deliver the goods. He has to organize the celebrations and make sure everyone’s safe during flooding season. That’s not even counting how he has to train and monitor his disciples and night hunts and the political hellscape!

But Wei Wuxian!! He doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know everything that Jiang Cheng has been taking care of or that he’s just seriously that busy. He thinks he’s being ignored and pushed away and mocked when Jiang Cheng walks by with a quick “Master Wei” and runs off! Because how could Jiang Cheng treat him like that when Wei Wuxian is clearly trying to reconnect. Every offer of night hunting his declined unless it was planned then already and when they do get together Jiang Cheng ignores him! Why is Wei Wuxian even trying!? What’s the point of Jiang Cheng can’t stand him but why can’t he stop trying either??

Meanwhile during those hunts Jiang Cheng is trying to keep an eye on his brother, his twelve disciples, Jin Ling and his entourage, Wei Wuxian’s Lan ducklings, that random Ouyang kid who apparently imprinted on Jin Ling, figure out what they’re hunting, mentally running the math for the cost of the inns for all of them, going through each of the attending Jiang disciples’ personal likes and deciding on whether to buy their favorite snacks or something else as a ‘thank you for not dying’ as has become accidental custom, trying to figure out if it’s weird to get Jin Ling and his friends something nice (CLEARLY he has to get the Ouyang kid something, he apparently has no other friends considering how often he’s just hanging around Lotus pier whenever Jin Ling swings by), and trying to think of he has any other disciples night hunting within a 50 mile radius he should fly out to check on before he sleeps!

Clearly Wei Wuxian just doesn’t care about the Jiang sect and wants to just be annoying but Jiang Cheng is busy! Cant he see that Jiang Cheng is only available on Mondays and Tuesdays during the odd months and Wednesday through Saturday on the even? It’s very clear when Jiang Cheng has time! Why can’t his brother just respect that not everyone has the free time to do whatever the hell they want? Is he flaunting it?!? How dare he!

It’s a giant mess and it only gets worse because Jiang Cheng is diplomatic, he knows how to bow his head when he’s overpowered (though he rarely is nowadays) or when the outcome isn’t worth it. So he doesn’t want to start a fight with Lan Wangji and from there the entire Lan Sect! He’s been holding his tongue for years he can keep doing it, especially if his brother’s happiness is on the line. He can ignore Lan Wangji being rude, he can ignore the dark looks, hell if he thinks Wei Wuxian’s position is threatened at the LAN’s he’ll even play real fucking nice so that Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen won’t do anything to his brother. He did it for Yanli he’ll do it now. (Also added bonus of now Sizhui has started to warm up to him and so he has to be extra polite so his new nephew doesn’t hate him and his free nephew [Jingyi] doesn’t light a building on fire in revenge for someone looking at Hanguang-Jun wrong). He might have snapped at Hanguang-Jun when shit was going down but now Lan Xichen is in seclusion and Jiang Cheng can’t piss odd Lan Wangji no matter how much he wants to chuck a beehive at his head

But Wei Wuxian doesn’t it take it that way! He just sees his brother suddenly calling him Master Wei and won’t interact with him during meetings or before or after and he’s acting so cold towards Lan Zhan! He’s staring right through his brother in law and keeps acting like he doesn’t exist and the only time in the last month Jiang Cheng sought him out was!! To ask!! If he!! COULD HIRE WEI WUXIAN?!? NOT EVEN TO SAY HI OR CHECK ON HIM OR FINALLY ANSWER HIS LETTERS BUT TO ASK HIM TO CREATE TALISMANS FOR THEIR CLOTHES! (Of course he said yes though because hey money and it’s actually fun chatting with the seamstresses) but that’s all his shidi cares about?? What Wei Wuxian can do for him? He doesn’t care about Wei Wuxian at all! Why does Jiang Cheng keep hating him, he thought they were atleast neutral but he keeps going further and further away!!! Wei Wuxian is hurting and his little brother wants nothing to do with him!

Neither of them are IN the wrong but they’re both wrong.

It takes until someone, probably Lan Xichen or Nie Huiasang, points out that “Wei Wuxian… He’s not your shidi anymore, he’s your Sect Leader well a Sect Leader… he’s a Sect Leader to one of the biggest Sects, he’s busy it’s tax season. I wouldn’t want to interact with anyone either.”

Meanwhile Jin Ling or a random slightly more insane then the rest Jiang disciple interrupts Jiang Cheng’s lunch to go “Okay you’re making this worse on literally everyone, Wei Wuxian is clearly trying to make this work why are you being mean? He’s trying!” (Or much more polite for the disciple)

They have to meet up and actually talk things through and honestly *that* only works because Lan Xichen grabs them both by their metaphorical ears and sits them down because “I would like my brother in law, both of them, to stop crying to me because they can’t talk. So now we’re going to learn to communicate and if either of you makes this weird I WILL just start fluting my way out of it and you’ll feel bad.” (Actually he just sits them down together while and he and Jiang Cheng have to go over payments for the next batch of trades and Wei Wuxian passes out on Jiang Cheng halfway through and when he wakes up he swears to never bother him on a work day because that was the worst moment of his life and they end up repairing enough to start the trek to being brothers again

#jiang cheng #the untamed #wei Wuxian #Jiang sect #fic material #MDZS

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lady-divine-writes · 3 years

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Kurtbastian one-shot - “Carolina in My Mind” (Rated PG)

Summary: Things get a little spicy when Sebastian decides that Kurt and Blaine are going to start doing TikTok challenges... in part to exact revenge on his boyfriend for covering him in glitter and posting photos on Instagram. (1845 words)

Notes: It's not as lurid as the summary makes it sound XD Makes a reference to an earlier quarantine one-shot 'All The Glitters'.

Part 67 of Outside Edge

Read on AO3.

"We're doing TikTok challenges now!?" Kurt groans, sliding to a halt in front of his boyfriend, arms crossed over his chest before he comes to a stop.

Sebastian beams, flashing Kurt his iPhone screen with the app already open. "Ah. I see you got my message."

"Aren't we already living through hell? Do we have to add humiliation to the mix?"

"You're one to talk! If you get to cover us in makeup and glitter and post photos on Instagram, I get to do this!"

"But that performance makeup contest was hosted by the ISI," Blaine points out. "What merit does a TikTok challenge have?"

Sebastian watches Blaine glide to a stop beside his boyfriend and pulls a face. "Well, Doubty McDoubterson, tons of people join TikTok every day, including figure skaters. You two were worried about staying in the public eye during the pandemic. This will be great visibility for us within the skating community."

"A-ha." Kurt shares a skeptical side glance with Blaine. "Now, why don't you tell us why we're really doing this."

Sebastian gasps, stumbling back as if punched in the face. "Kurt! I'm wounded! Deeply wounded! I'm being completely honest here! I'm only thinking of you guys, working hard to keep your names in the mouths of... "

"Before you say another word," Kurt interrupts with a finger raised, "may I remind you that you have a five o'clock sesh riding on this answer."

Sebastian's mouth hangs open, caught around the next word. But a beat later, he snaps it shut. "Fine. We're doing this because we've been on lockdown for about ten years and I'm bored to tears!"

"Nice," Kurt says, "seeing as you've spent all of quarantine with us."

"Will you be partaking?" Blaine rushes in before Sebastian can shove his foot any further down his throat. He's not being entirely selfless, but he'd rather not admit out loud that Sebastian's plan is a decent one, ulterior motives aside. Blaine has a TikTok account and has wasted plenty of precious training time scrolling through clips. Sebastian is right - a lot of figure skaters post on there, even some big names in their sport. It's a better platform for it than Instagram. If they pull this off, they could become TikTok famous, and that wouldn't exactly hurt when they make their comebacks.

"I am." Sebastian wiggles his camera in front of their faces. "I'm the cameraman."

"Of course," Kurt mutters under his breath. "So what's the challenge?" he asks, eager to get this over with, hoping he doesn't regret it too much later. "It is a skating challenge, right?"

"Of course it's a skating challenge! In fact, you guys get to perform your routines... " Kurt stares at his grinning boyfriend, waiting for the shoe to drop. And it does when Sebastian picks up a small paper bag off the boards and holds it out to them "... after you've eaten this pepper. There's one in there for each of you."

"I guess it's too much to hope it's a bell pepper," Kurt remarks as Blaine takes the bag and opens the top. He reaches a hand in and pulls out a bright reddish-orange vegetable the size of his thumb. Kurt recognizes it right away, his eyes going wide at the Carolina Reaper pinched between Blaine's fingertips.

"A little bit, yeah," Blaine says.

"What th---? Aren't those things illegal?" Kurt asks, on the brink of turning and running, leaving his friend behind to suffer the consequences.

"Nope. They're perfectly legal," Sebastian says. "And they won't cause any permanent damage. I checked."

"That's so nice of you."

"Come on! This'll be fun!"

"For you! You're running the camera!"

"I've got you guys. Look! I brought you some milk for after," he says, producing the smallest, middle-school carton of two percent in existence. How he expects the both of them to share that, Kurt doesn't know. It's probably part of the schtick, Kurt thinks, to cap off the hilarity - the two of them fighting over seven ounces of milk with their mouths on fire. "Also... " Sebastian deliberates when he feels himself losing ground, running through options in his head he hopes Kurt might jump at so he can get his TikTok "... I'll let you pick the next challenge. Then you can be the cameraman."

A malicious grin spreads across Kurt's face, but Sebastian squashes it with the stipulation: "But remember - whatever you make me do, Blaine has to do, too."

"Don't I get any say in this?" Blaine asks.

"No," Sebastian answers without looking at him.

"Well, do I get a turn at choosing?"

"Maybe... provided Kurt agrees to my conditions."

Kurt glares at his manipulative ass of a boyfriend, putting him on the spot in the name of social media currency. But what the heck? This could be fun. Plus, turnabout is fair play. He'll get Sebastian back.

Oh yes. He'll get him back.

Besides, Kurt isn't a stranger to spicy foods. His dad has put plenty of red and green gremlins, each residing on different ends of the Scoville scale, in that disastrous chili he makes every fourth of July. How much worse could eating this one raw be?

"Fine." Kurt snatches the pepper out of Blaine's hand but doesn't bring it anywhere near his mouth.

Blaine, on the other hand, goes all in, grabbing his pepper out of the bag, popping it into his mouth, chewing like crazy, and then swallowing, probably in the hopes that it would hurt less if he did it fast, like pulling off a Bandaid. Then he skates off.

His plan doesn't work too well though. Thirty seconds into his backward crossovers, his face scrunches. He puts a hand to his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut, cheeks flushing beet red before Kurt's eyes. "Jesus Christ! I can't see!"

Kurt fixes steely eyes on his boyfriend, filming and giggling like a fiend as Blaine attempts a triple Axel and singles it, arms flailing when he tries to fan his mouth at the same time.

"I'm picturing a Speedo," Kurt says as he prepares to drop the Reaper into his mouth. "An embarrassingly tight Speedo, seven gallons of honey, an angry beehive... " He carefully places the pepper on his tongue. His salivary glands kick into overdrive when its waxy exterior makes contact, but he can't persuade his teeth to bite.

"Ooo," Sebastian coos, provoking him. "Blaine covered in bees? That's going to be hilarious! And I can't wait to see his face when he finds out it was your idea. But what are you going to make me do?"

That does it.

Kurt's teeth clench inadvertently, catching the pepper as it rolls off his tongue and pummeling it to bits between his pearly whites. The burn washes through his mouth, spreading in an instant with the obliterated pepper sitting for too long on his tongue.

"Shit!" he yelps, swallowing what remains whole. He coughs violently, almost puking up his lunch. "Shit shit shit!"

"Don't die," Sebastian teases. "Not for TikTok."

"Nice to see you have priorities," Kurt growls, overcome by a sudden urge to get as far away from his insufferable boyfriend as his skates can take him.

Now he has to pull this off so he can rub it in Sebastian's face.

Remembering that Blaine has a head start on him, he forces his feet to move. A swiftly blossoming headache completely erases his new routine from his brain so he begins improvising, starting with the opening of his last Regionals piece. He opens with a pancake spin.

Big mistake.

Crouching low over his bent leg as he spins forces his mouth closed, everything from his gums to his cheeks aflame.

"Nope!" he sputters. "Nope nope nope!" He ends his spin prematurely, hacking as he settles into backward crossovers.

These are worse.

Since he's pushing into the air with his back, none of it hits his face, depriving him of relief. He catches sight of Blaine skating as fast as he can with his mouth wide open, preparing to enter another jump. He performs a double toe loop, then another, then another. Kurt doesn't understand. Blaine doesn't perform doubles in his routine. He's beyond that.

Then it hits him.

Blaine can do a row of doubles faster than he can perform consecutive triples. He's using rotational inertia to cool his face.

It's genius.

Kurt launches into the air, stringing together three of the most lopsided double Salchows he's ever landed. And he barely lands them at that, overestimating his edge and nicking his toepick. He gives up on his choreography altogether, performing whatever move he has to to shove ice-cold air into his mouth. Element by element, Kurt's routine devolves until his goal becomes keeping his mouth from bursting into flames.

He can't remember the last time he flubbed up this badly. He and Blaine probably look like drooling dogs doing the most, but his throat burns so badly, he couldn't care less. Kurt's nose runs like a faucet, but nowhere near as much as his eyes, which he has the hardest time prying open.

He decides to skate blind, praying he doesn't collide with Blaine, whose blades he can no longer identify on the ice. By the time Kurt strikes his final pose, he's puffy-eyed, sweating like no one's business, with his lower jaw hanging to his chest, wheezing as he sucks in mouthfuls of cold air. He can't hear much for the ringing in his ears, but he suspects Sebastian may be laughing his ass off.

Why did he agree to this again?

"How did I do?" he asks, skating back to his boyfriend, trying not to touch his tongue to his lips, or his lips to each other.

"Meh. You've done better," Sebastian replies, replaying the video over and over, snickering at choice scenes.

"Thanks, coach," Kurt seethes, wondering how well Sebastian would skate if Kurt shoved one of those peppers up his nose.

"At least you fared better than Blaine."

"Why?" Kurt pants, scanning the rink through the narrow slits of his swollen eyelids. "What happened to him?"

Sebastian jerks a thumb over his shoulder. "Took himself out of the running before his second Axel attempt, the poor schlub."

Kurt peeks over Sebastian's shoulder and spots Blaine, lying on his stomach, tongue pressed flat to the ice.

Kurt makes a face. He doesn't blame the guy, but still.

Yuck.

"Blaine? Honey? That's not a good idea."

"Yeah, weirdo. We have milk."

"I 'as saving da 'ilk for 'urt," Blaine explains, not moving his tongue while he does.

"Oh!" Kurt sighs, pressing a hand over his heart, overdoing the swoon because he knows how much it will irk Sebastian. The jerk deserves it. "That's so sweet!"

Blaine smiles. At least it looks like he does.

Sebastian grimaces. Great. Upstaged by a boy who looks like he just Frenched a patch of poison ivy. "Yeah, yeah. Cavity inducing. Get your ass up, Anderson. You're just making it worse. Besides, you're burning a hole through my ice."

#Kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #sebastian smythe #kurt hummel

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cozycryptidcorner · 3 years

Text

Monster Match 3

Here is monster match by a user who wishes to remain anonymous!

“Sure! I'm an INTJ. Female, cis, het. In addition to riding my horses and mules, and doing medieval reenactment, I do a lot of sewing and home improvement projects around my farm. I'm an animal lover, and have 2 mules, a horse, a dog and two cats, as well as 2 beehives and 13 chickens. I'm short, 5 ft 1, and heavy set. Short blond hair.”

He’s a shy, bumbling kind of thing. Skin a dusty sort of green that blends in with prairie fields, light speckles across his face and back in a system of blotchy patterns. His black hair is long and carefully kept, beard consistently trimmed. He takes great care in his appearance, not necessarily to the point of vanity, but rather to appear clean and put together in ways his kind are rumored not to be. Typically, though, he wears simple clothes, mainly because his farm quickly dirties whatever he wears, whether he is careful or not. While he might be so massive that it’s almost impossible to miss him, he’s shockingly quiet. He’s a sturdy man, that’s for sure, with the muscles required to pick up a grown cow almost like a smaller lamb. But he can do so with the gentleness of a tiny pixie, thick fingers remarkably elegant with any of the finer work he must complete.

Despite the fact he could take up an entire room with his presence, he can sneak up on someone who only is partially focused on something. That silence has surprised you during moments of tasks more than once. There’s just something that’s so fundamentally nonthreatening about him, despite the fact he could bend a steel rod with his bare hands. His entire vibe, it seems, is to live and let live, and that’s such a significant essence of himself that almost anyone can sense that. The entire town loves him, despite orcs being rare in that general area, especially since he’s the kind to help anyone who needs it silently.

The Orc potato farmer might read as a joke, and for all intent and purposes, he completely understands why. Large, burly creatures sowing the earth for tiny lumps of starch might seem unlikely on paper, but that’s what his family has done for generations. He’s the only son but has three sisters of varying ages that have departed for other things. He’s not bitter about that by any means; he just misses waking up to an intense ruckus sometimes. One good thing about sisters is that they are basically a team of lawyers ready to come to his defense at any time, which works out for someone who rarely likes kicking up a fuss for anything. Not that he doesn’t have boundaries, he knows when to tell people he feels uncomfortable, but there’s something nice in the thought of being able to “release the hounds” if someone feels like giving him a hard time.

When the chores are done and the fields are cared for, he’ll put an old record into his rickety player, too stubborn to buy anything more modern than that. Sure, he’ll accept new records as they come. It might feel odd to hear hyper-pop on that ancient family heirloom, but someone (you don’t know who) gifted him a Grimes record for Christmas, and he seems to be in the mood for the racket occasionally. Though he definitely wouldn’t say it’s his favorite by a long shot, he much prefers soft classical after a long hard day outside in the summer heat. Old rock, too, when he’s in the mood, with a fondness for Sister Rosetta Tharpe.

People might call him old-fashioned, but he’s not necessarily in the position to raid an Apple Store and get up to date on all these fantastical gadgets the kids these days have. Not that he’s opposed to technology. He only openly mocked someone for reading on their phone instead of a book once, and it was his youngest sister. Oh boy, he did get an earful about “sustainability” and “no paper costs,” all in the same lecture as the dangers of physical objects versus digital licensing as soon as the other sister decided to join the conversation.

Despite their tenacity, all of his sisters are significantly younger than him. They’re the same age. His parents struggled to have him in the first place, so they had long given up the idea of having any more children. They doted on him for the first ten years of his life, being the best possible parents they could be, and then his mother got pregnant again. It was exciting news, that’s for sure, even more exciting (and kind of worrying) when three heartbeats were detected during an ultrasound. All of them are identical; even your orc has some issues keeping them apart when they decide to be purposefully misleading. He also has a sneaking suspicion that two completely switched places during high school because one liked the name better.

His parents were already older as it was, bless their hearts, but somehow managed to keep up with three rambunctious girls. He definitely did some of the heavy lifting in those earlier years; his ten-year head start made him the household negotiator. Sometimes that meant going from bedroom to bedroom to facilitate arguments; other times, he had to wrestle two screaming girls apart before beating each other into dust. Very basic siblings stuff. His parents peacefully passed away weeks apart from each other, as soon as they’re children were well into adulthood and one was married.

He’s an uncle, too. You don’t know which came first- his affinity for kids or his skills with them. From three sisters to four nieces and nephews, he has his hands full whenever family visits. He might grump and act a bit rough on the edges when the kids misbehave, but he’s quick to quietly set them up with a game or a chore to keep their hands busy. The kids are endlessly entertained over how he can effortlessly lift them up and toss them into a soft hay bail- over and over again without getting tired. Most of the children are still young, with only one hitting double digits, but there is no greater joy in a small child’s life than being gently thrown like a sack of potatoes.

#monster match #orc #orc/reader

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bioware-reacts · 3 years

Note

How about the companions and advisors reacting to meeting the Qunari Inquisitor's elven daughter after she breaks into Haven to "rescue" their mom/dad. (Take your time. I know you aren't feeling well)

I swear I'm not lazy I'm just forgetful. And with this done, I'm off to the gym, hopefully I'll write more when I get back! -Mod M

Blackwall: Well that's... interesting. He tries his best to explain to her that her parent wasn't in danger in Haven and that they didn't need to be rescued, to a debatable level of success. Listen, he tried! If all else fails, he tries to get Josephine so she can talk her down.

Cassandra: Shes even worse at talking her down than Blackwall. Mostly, Cassandra ends up taking the "if they wanted out, they would've gotten halfway across Thedas by now" approach. Though she hates to admit it, it's right. It's not like anyone can force the Herald to stay somewhere, they can seal rifts, so they always have the upper hand in discussions about their treatment.

Cole: He gets why she's breaking in. Worry or anger or spite or whatever else, he gets it. So he helps, since that's what Cole does, however might work best. Likely, he'll go get the Herald to talk to their kid instead of anyone else, because that's what she wants in the end. Why would you rescue someone you didn't want to see?

Dorian: Oh well isn't that darling. A heroic rescue for her dear captured parent! Almost storybook, isn't it? Well, he can hardly judge. He'll definitely judge (jokingly, and he'll quit before he crosses any lines), but at the same time he would probably do something similar for a friend so... he shuts up pretty quick if someone points that out, though not without a bit of snark.

Iron Bull: Oh he gets a kick out if it. Listen, he gets stabbed by assassins and shrugs it off. The Heralds daughter? No problem. If she might cause an actual problem, he'll step in, but mostly he just watches what she's doing and jokes about it to the Herald later. He does let Cullen amd Leliana know how she got in though.

Sera: Catch her laughing her butt off at this. Did you see everyone's faces? Hilarious! Honestly she's 110% willing to work with the Heralds daughter in the future. Can you imagine the chaos they could cause? Especially if she's as sneaky as Sera. Oh Maker, what has this rescue brought upon Haven? Beehives in all the training dummies, thats what.

Solas: I'm gonna be real with y'all, there's a good chance he didn't notice until later. As far as he's concerned, thered always chaos in Haven. He probably shrugged it off as Sera pranking someone again and causing a fuss. Later though, when he finds out it was the Heralds daughter, he's honestly a little shocked. If this is going to be a pattern with her, hes gonna need to set our ground rules (they likely involve "dont damage my paintings or books during your chaotic ventures in the future")

Varric: 5 sovereigns says something more chaotic happens in about half an hour. He half-jokes about putting her attempted daring rescue in his book about the Heralds story, though he actually might if she seems interested. Honestly, he's coming up with nicknames the minute he thinks she might stay. What that nickname ends up being honestly probably has something to do with how she tried to get in.

Vivienne: Oh she's gonna lecture. Stuff about how we need the Herald to close rifts and destroying Havens (already minimal) defenses to try and "rescue" the Herald is selfish and immature. Vivienne does somewhat understand though. Once she's certain that their sudden guest has gotten the point, she rests a hand on her shoulder. 'A letter would have sufficed darling, I'm sure [Inquisitors name] would have been happy to invite you here.'

Cullen: Ohhhhh no. No no no. Hes stressed. Listen if a likely untrained and possibly particularly spiteful kid/teen can get in, then a trained spy or assassin definitely can. Cullen knows that Haven isn't exactly fortified, but now its just gonna bother him until he fixes how she got in. Let the poor man sleep hes trying his best

Josephine: She was likely in the middle of talking with a noble when either a guard or Blackwall ran up, trying to explain to her that the Heralds daughter broke in and is trying to rescue her parent, and she nearly had a stroke when she learned said daughter was an elf. Honestly, she spent most of the time she was talking to the daughter trying to figure out how to draw attention away and avoid nobles complaining about all the elves in Haven.

Leliana: She probably saw it coming from a mile away. Oh, the scouts are reporting someone nearby asking about the Herald? Got it. That same person is headed here? Alright. She asks the Herald if they know anyone matching that description, even if there's a good chance she already knows what's up. What happens next depends on what the Herald wants to do tbh, but Leliana does at least try to set up a room for her so she has somewhere to stay once her "rescue mission" was done.

#im referring to the inquisitor as Herald since its in Haven #mod m #blackwall #cassandra #cole #dorian #iron bull #sera #solas #varric #vivienne #cullen #josephine #leiliana #dragon age inquisition

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aqua-murphys-law · 4 years

Text

i can feel it falling (timber)

Rating: G Warnings: None Summary: A look at what inspired Milo not to give up on the possibility of Zack becoming his friend, the day they first met.

A/N: When I fell back into the Dwampyverse fandom, I foolishly said that I didn’t know if I was gonna write anything for MML. I really should’ve known better. So here’s a little something inspired by @wiz-witch‘s post here!

I wish I’d had it done in time for MML’s 4th anniversary but such is life. Reblogs/comments would be greatly appreciated, and a good response will let me know whether I should write the other one-shot ideas I’ve got. Hope you enjoy! - Aqua

(Click here to read on A03 for extensive tags!)

~*~

Milo approaches the bus stop with a bounce in his step.

It’s been a relatively light morning so far. There was just one bird nesting in his hair when he woke up, and it relocated to the backyard without much fuss. He got through both of his showers without slipping, getting soap in his eyes, or breaking the water system (the second shower was because the garbage disposal spewed breakfast scraps back up at him, but still, that could’ve been worse).

He even gets to the bus stop before Melissa, only a few boys from school present. It takes a couple seconds before he hears shoes scuffling away from him, which isn’t surprising. It’s very rare for him to actually end up on the bus, but when he does, it makes for an… eventful ride. He can’t fault them for being cautious, since it’s looking more and more like it might actually be one of those days-

“What’s that all about?”

That’s an unfamiliar voice.

Milo turns to the speaker. It’s a boy around his age, dark-skinned with frizzy black hair. He’s dressed simply in a yellow shirt and jeans, a red backpack at his sneakers. He’s looking at Milo with confusion, and something akin to concern.

“Oh, you’re new here,” Milo realizes. It’s strange for someone to transfer schools after the start of the semester, but stranger things have happened. He sighs good-naturedly, going on to explain, “I’ve got a bit of a reputation.”

The boy blinks before amusement tugs at his mouth, and he quirks a brow. “So what are you, a tough guy?”

That might be teasing, Milo’s not sure. “Oh, I don’t think anyone’s ever called me tough,” he says. And this is really pressing his luck, but he can’t help being polite and offers his hand. “I’m Milo.”

The boy actually takes Milo’s hand, and smiles when he does it. ��I’m Zack.”

Of course, the other boys at the stop immediately urge Zack against it, but Milo isn’t fully paying attention. He instantly commits Zack’s name to memory because if there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that knowing his classmates’ names helps soften the blow when he accidentally lands them in the hospital for the first time.

Despite the warning, Zack doesn’t let go right away. His hand is warm, and a little bigger than Milo’s. Mostly softer than Milo’s too, but unexpectedly calloused in telltale places, like he plays a guitar of some sort. That’s interesting.

“So what exactly is this reputation?” Zack asks, seeming more curious than concerned now.

Milo tilts his head. “Well, people have used the J-word, but you know what they say. Sticks and stones can damage your vital organs, so always wear body armor.”

The original meaning of the phrase is still implied. As a Murphy, harsh words are extremely low on his list of things to worry about. At least, that’s how he tries to keep it. It’s not that words don’t affect him at all, he just has steps he takes to prepare himself for them, like he would for any other unpleasant event. Just as he wears body armor to protect against physical harm, he protects his feelings under his carefully crafted demeanor.

Lots of people think his cheeriness is default, but in reality, it’s a conscious choice. It’s his emotional armor. Words hurt him less if he chooses to be upbeat and optimistic, rather than let himself despair. That just creates a negative feedback loop, which doesn’t help anything.

Before Zack can inquire further, Melissa shows up to the stop. Milo gets preoccupied by their conversation and forgets that Zack’s still waiting on an explanation until he interjects. But right as Milo is about to elaborate, Murphy’s Law kicks in.

Milo has just enough time to slap his spare helmet onto Zack’s head before they turn and run. And it is both of them; Zack’s taken off without any prompting- he didn’t freeze like so many people do for their first disaster, that’s good. He’s screaming quite a bit, but that’s to be expected. And more surprising is that Zack’s keeping pace with Milo. Not many people can match his speed when he’s going full-tilt like this.

“-wait, why aren’t you screaming?!” Zack demands suddenly.

Milo’s intrigued. Most people who get caught up in his Murphy’s Law don’t have the presence of mind to question why he’s calm while being chased down the street by some devastatingly heavy object.

“I find it doesn’t help,” he answers simply. “Just hurts the larynx.” While he runs and talks, part of him is absentmindedly planning his next move, and he adds, “hand me that bungee, and you’d better hold onto my backpack.”

Milo winds up his throw. Even as Zack exclaims, “Wait, what?” he feels the other boy grab on as instructed, and then they’re up in the air.

Zack maintains his hold while they flip, and when the bungee snaps and drops them on top of the drainage pipe. He’s strong, Milo notes with pleasant surprise. More impressively, Zack doesn’t go careening off of the spinning cylinder- he manages to stay upright beside Milo. That’s a rare skill, for sure. Maybe he’s taken log-rolling classes, for whatever reason. Or, he’s just exceptionally quick on his feet. An athlete, maybe.

“That bungee was definitely defective,” Milo comments, if only to fill the space.

Zack offers no reply, even as Milo sends Diogee home. The pipe takes them through a road barrier, down a rocky incline, through a wooden fence, off of a thankfully low cliff, and into a shallow pit of mud. They barely have time to blink the mud from their eyes before the pipe falls down after them, and Milo tells Zack to scooch over- which he does with little hesitation.

They fit neatly through the center of the pipe, and a wave of mud sends them up to the top.

Zack glances over at Milo, his sudden stillness probably due to shock. “… the J-word wouldn’t happen to be jinx, would it?” he ventures.

Even though he knows it wasn’t used maliciously, Milo can’t stop himself from flinching. He brushes it off with a laugh, though it comes out slightly apologetic. “Yeah, that’s the one.” He pulls himself up onto the rim of the pipe, offering Zack his hand.

Miraculously, Zack accepts his help, and they climb over the edge and drop into the mud below.

Milo wipes his face off with a towel from his backpack. “I have EHML,” he explains. “Extreme hereditary Murphy’s Law. You know, ‘anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.’ Around me.” He studies Zack with a hint of apprehension, the other boy doubled over to catch his breath. He doesn’t look angry or upset or scared, but Milo can’t always tell.

“Well,” is all Zack says. “Alright, then. How are we gonna catch the bus?”

Milo blinks, handing Zack the towel. “Whenever stuff like this happens, the driver usually gives me a few minutes to make it back in case it’s something light. If we hurry, we should be able to get there in time.”

Zack cleans his face and gives the towel back to Milo, brows raised. “Lead the way, I guess.”

Well, indeed. Milo leads the way, and Zack follows.

~*~

Naturally, they miss the bus.

Zack’s definitely in some kind of shock now. He doesn’t even scream when the oil spill in the rock quarry goes up in flames. Milo gently suggests that they go through the woods instead. And then the shock seems to wear off when they’re beset by a pack of hungry wolves.

Shock and panic can interchange remarkably quickly, in some people.

While Milo knows from experience that wolves do, in fact, love peanut butter, Murphy’s Law isn’t yielding anything today. One of the wolves lunges at the same time he tosses the sandwich, and it gets thrown right back, sticking to Zack’s shirt. That elicits a shrill scream from him, and Milo has to fight the urge to cringe. This is not a great first impression, even by Murphy’s Law standards.

At this point, Milo’s pretty sure that the presence of the sandwich has no bearing on the wolves’ desire to attack them, but he grabs a stick and peels it off anyways, if only to try and save Zack’s shirt from being stained too badly.

They escape by scrambling up a tree, but the situation is complicated by the presence of an irate beehive.

A wolf with a beehive stuck on its face is a new one. Luckily, Zack continues to demonstrate remarkable survival instincts, such as ‘dodging when a wolf with a beehive stuck on its face lunges at you’ and ‘running when a wolf with a beehive stuck on its face gives chase.’ He’s keeping up well enough, though he might be starting to fatigue because he lags slightly behind Milo. And he’s still screaming a little, but Milo isn’t holding that against him.

In the end, they don’t escape the wolf so much as they accidentally plunge through an open manhole. But it’s not a high fall, and Milo’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Or, to look a sewer in the open manhole.

Milo lands on his feet in the middle channel, which is fortunately shallow. Zack crashes in right behind him.

“Here,” Milo hands Zack a headlamp from his backpack, “these will help us navigate in the dark.”

Zack’s voice follows him after a moment. “Dude… if and when we get out of here, I’m gonna have to go my own way. No offense, I just can’t handle all of… this.”

Milo’s heart trips inside his chest. He wants to protest that Zack has, in actuality, handled everything just fine. Truly, even Melissa would be impressed, and he’s sure she will be when he regales her with the story later today. But he knows that isn’t the crux of the matter.

“A- all of what?” he asks quietly, his voice wavering slightly despite his best efforts.

The answer is painfully obvious as a raccoon leaps out at him from a pipe, sailing over his ducked head and disappearing into murky sewer water. Milo grips his backpack tighter and keeps walking.

“This cyclone of calamity that follows you everywhere you go!” Zack exclaims in disbelief, his voice echoing in the tunnels. “How do you live like this?!”

Milo supposes this was inevitable. It’s not often that someone gives him a chance- usually it’s something like this, a new kid who doesn’t know any better- but it always ends the same way. He accepted long ago that Melissa would be his only school friend, and he’s okay with that.

Right now, they’ve reached the point where Milo will say he understands and apologize for putting Zack in danger. He’ll get him out of the sewer and part ways, only seeing Zack as much as school demands. Or less than that, if Zack decides to switch schools and get a restraining order. That’s happened before. But really, this is where Milo should ‘cut Zack loose,’ if he’s speaking metaphorically.

Except.

Except Milo doesn’t want to.

It’s a bizarre sensation. He’s never put up a fight before, whenever someone decided he wasn’t worth all the danger associated with Murphy’s Law. He almost lost Melissa that way, and was incredibly fortunate she decided to choose him. Typically, it’s easier for everyone if he just accepts it without complaint, and he doesn’t like making a scene. But this time, every part of him is rebelling against the idea.

He really, really doesn’t want to lose Zack. Zack, who’s fast and strong and quick on his feet. Zack, who has good instincts and knows how to trust them. Zack, who willingly followed Milo all this way despite knowing about his EHML. He doesn’t come across people like Zack every day.

Right now, it’s just him and Zack in a dark tunnel. There’s no one else around to worry about, no judgmental looks or scolding words. No one to tell Zack that he shouldn’t be around Milo. So maybe, this time, Zack can really decide for himself. Maybe, deep down beneath the knee-jerk fear reaction, he feels what Milo does, and knows that leaving would be the wrong choice.

Maybe Milo can fight for this.

So instead, Milo asks, “How do you live like that?”

Zack’s voice is hesitant. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Milo turns around, frustration nipping at him because it’s always so hard to put these things into words, “you wanna live like those other kids? They took a bus to school today. A bus! Does that seem like more fun to you?”

That really doesn’t say everything he means. It doesn’t say ‘I think you’re amazing and destined for so much more than an ordinary life’ or ‘I feel better with you by my side so please don’t go.’ But none of that comes easily to Milo, so it’ll have to do.

Zack stops and thinks about it. Really thinks about it. Milo holds his breath.

“Hm. Alright,” Zack says simply. He hops over the middle channel, landing next to Milo on the other side. Closer than most people are willing to get if they don’t have to. He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks at Milo expectantly. “Where to next?”

Milo is almost stunned by the sheer relief that washes over him, but he pushes through it. “Well, there’s a loose grate up over here to the left,” he says, turning around to resume walking. “I’ve been here before.”

“Of course you have,” Zack says, and it actually sounds fond.

Milo’s heart is running now, though he’s not sure why.

~*~

As they scramble their way through the construction site, Milo can’t help but think that they make a good team.

He knows he’s letting himself get too attached, too quickly. At the end of this, Zack could very well change his mind. Or maybe tomorrow, or after a week. Maybe his tolerance of Murphy’s Law has a limit. He wouldn’t be the first.

But they’re incredibly in-sync, for having just met not even a half-hour ago. They don’t even speak as they navigate the various hazards together. Zack seems to be relying on his instincts and cues from Milo, and they escape unscathed, floating down the river on the detached bed of a dump truck.

After they avoid the wolf (again) and Milo sends Diogee home (again), Zack climbs over to sit next to him, leaning back on his arms. His hand is close to Milo’s knee, close enough that their hands would be touching if Milo put his down. And the way Zack’s looking at him right now… his heart’s acting up again. Maybe he should get checked for arrhythmia.

“You know,” Zack starts, “I don’t know if it’s the adrenaline talking, but I’m starting to feel like we can handle anything that comes our way.”

If that’s how adrenaline makes Zack talk, Milo certainly doesn’t mind it. It’s not often that someone else is doing the reassuring, unless it’s Melissa or his family. And the confidence Zack says it with is an incredible thing. Even if it is just adrenaline.

Of course, now that Zack’s gone and said something like that, Murphy’s Law can’t resist the opportunity, and a massive tidal wave appears out of nowhere to carry them out of the river and straight off the edge of a cliff.

This time, Zack doesn’t scream. They plummet silently for a couple seconds before he turns his head towards Milo, almost casually, and says, “Well, maybe not anything…”

Milo would laugh at that, but then they faceplant onto the dome of an alien spacecraft and suddenly have other things to worry about.

~*~

Somehow, they end up at school on time and unscathed.

Zack thinks he might not have fully processed everything yet, because he feels… surprisingly okay. Considering what happened. But really, it seems silly to freak out and make a huge deal out of it when they’re both perfectly fine.

Aside from missing lunches, that is, but the redhead sitting in front of him- who he recalls as Melissa- has that covered. They don’t have time for formal introductions before the teacher comes in and begins class, but context clues tell Zack that she’s Milo’s only friend. And from what he can piece together, she orchestrated a betting pool to ensure they’d have something for lunch in the event theirs were destroyed.

So she’s either psychic, or stuff like this happens often.

That gets filed under ‘things to think about later,’ next to everything else that just happened. Right now, he has to focus on getting oriented to his new school. Which is… actually pretty boring, compared to this morning. Meeting his teachers, figuring out his schedule, finding his locker… it’s crazy to think he was stressing about this stuff just last night.

He gets strange looks here and there, and catches a few murmurs of, “Someone better warn the new kid” and “Wonder how long that’s gonna last” that make him… oddly indignant. He doesn’t like the feeling that his new classmates are judging his choice to stick by Milo.

He also doesn’t like the attention he’s attracted from Melissa. She’s nice enough, but he catches her staring at him sometimes, this intense look in her eyes, like she’s trying to puzzle something out, and it gives him the creeps.

Someone remind him not to get on her bad side…

If something’s up, Milo’s oblivious to it. He’s happy to help Zack around to their classes, and never falters under the stares or whispers or occasional small mishaps that occur. And they are small; nothing else that happens that day can compare to their crazy morning.

Which is perfectly fine by Zack. No complaining here.

The relative calm gives him a chance to actually get a good look at Milo- something that was neglected in all the terror. He’s deceptively average at a glance; pale, brown hair, brown eyes. An ever-present smile on his face. His outfit’s a little odd; shorts, sweater vest, loafers. And Zack quickly finds out that Milo’s backpack isn’t just a regular school backpack that happens to contain a random assortment of items.

Milo wears it nonstop throughout the day, never stashing it under his desk or in his locker. Not even during lunch. That also gets filed under ‘things to think about later.’

Along with the fact that Milo has a lot of scars. Like, a lot.

Zack remembers the conversation at the bus stop, but in the light of day it’d been easy to overlook. Milo’s so pale, the faint marks don’t show up that much until they’re under more contrasting light. And again, they aren’t running for their lives, so Zack can take the time to notice the dozens of scars on Milo’s arms, knees, and face.

Some are small pockmarks, some are lines of varying thickness, some are patchy blotches. Some of them look surgical in nature, while others Zack can’t even begin to speculate about. After their morning together, it’s not hard to imagine why Milo’s acquired so many scars in his short life, but it’s… sobering, to say the least.

Today wasn’t the rule. Milo gets hurt a lot. Like, a lot.

And so Zack’s starting to think this morning was actually really lucky, all things considered. Part of him wants to reconsider his decision. Not so much out of fear that he’ll get hurt, but because he’s not sure he can handle seeing Milo get hurt.

But then Milo catches him staring once. Their eyes meet briefly before Milo’s cheeks flush and Zack looks away, his stomach flipping like it did when they were freefalling together, and he already knows he’s in for the long haul.

~*~

Melissa doesn’t get a chance to speak to Milo alone until lunch, when Zack excuses himself to the bathroom and their little three-person table becomes its usual two-person table.

Milo, who had been excitedly recounting the morning’s events for her, suddenly falls silent as soon as Zack’s out of earshot. He looks up at her apprehensively, fidgeting with his hands, and Melissa already knows what’s on his mind before he says anything.

“So, uh, what- what do you think of him?” he asks quietly.

Melissa tilts her head, considering. She hadn’t thought much of the guy at the bus stop, simply recognizing that he was a new kid and thus didn’t know not to stand that close to Milo. She’d been surprised to see Zack stuck with Milo through all that happened, and seemed none the worse for wear.

“It sounds like he handled himself well,” she concedes.

Milo nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, he really did. I was very impressed.”

“I can tell,” Melissa says, amused.

Milo laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. Is that a blush? “I just, I know we haven’t really hung out with other people in… forever. I didn’t mean to have this whole adventure with him, without you, it just happened.” His expression sobers. “And- and I like him, and I think he’d be a good fit for us, but if you don’t, then just say the word. I’ll understand.”

Then he gives her that little smile of his, the one that’s sad at the edges like he’s already expecting a certain answer and has resigned himself to it. The one he uses whenever he’s apologizing for some Murphy’s Law related incident. The one that makes her want to shake him and say, “It’s not your fault, you deserve better.”

Over the years, some people have tried to stick around Milo just for the spectacle of it. A chance to see what the deal with the ‘disaster kid’ was (particularly back when Diogee was allowed to accompany Milo to school as his service dog). They didn’t care about Milo as a person.

And worse, Milo never caught on. He really thought someone was giving his friendship a chance, and was crushed when they inevitably decided it wasn’t worth the risk.

It only happened a handful of times before Melissa established herself as “someone you do not want to cross” and people were too scared to try it anymore, but it took a toll on both of them. Milo’s convinced that he’s destined to go through life alone, with no one but Melissa at an arm’s length away.

And Melissa’s instantly suspicious of anyone who shows an interest in Milo. Admittedly, she might’ve jumped the gun a few times, and chased off potential friends who could’ve actually had good intentions. After all, some people genuinely did try to be his friend, and just couldn’t handle Murphy’s Law. Mostly new kids like Zack. But whenever someone who already knew them started getting closer, Melissa’s defensiveness quickly deterred any further advances, before she even knew whether they were sincere or not.

Those are acceptable loss margins in her opinion, if it meant Milo didn’t have to suffer another heartbreak.

But she knows he’s lonely. More than others would think, and probably more than he’s willing to admit to himself. The two of them are close, but one person can’t be someone’s whole world. He’s always wary of putting too much on her, so she knows there are holes she isn’t filling.

If she’s being honest, it might be nice to have someone else around to help handle the Murphy mayhem. From what she’s heard, Zack is plenty capable- and that’s without any prior experience. She could do worse for someone to take under her wing. Plus, she hasn’t gotten strange vibes from him yet, regarding Milo. He seems genuine.

And Milo really seems to like Zack. Probably more than he’s willing to admit to himself.

So much so, in fact, it speaks volumes that he’d break this budding friendship if she asked him to. It scares her, sometimes, how much of Milo’s heart she seems to hold. They’ve won each other’s trust and loyalty a thousand times over since they first became friends, but all she really did in the beginning was show him some basic kindness. That’s all it took for him to decide he was devoted.

The wrong person could really abuse that.

… Zack better not be the wrong person.

“He’s in,” Melissa decides.

The way Milo’s face lights up almost makes all her worries go away.

Almost.

Zack will have to watch himself around her. If she gets a single whiff of any funny business from him, he’s done, and she’ll make him regret ever switching schools.

But even Melissa has to admit, the soft way Zack looks at Milo when he returns to the lunchroom and Milo happily waves him over makes her think she probably doesn’t have anything to worry about.

Probably.

~*~

#milo murphy's law #mml #milo x zack #zilo #my writing

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theprincesslibrary · 3 years

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1. Handsome stranger

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Rating: Explicit Relationships: Warrior of Light/Thancred Waters Characters: Thancred Waters, Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV) Summary:When she thought back on it, it boiled down to two things: - He was handsome - She had needs

Ul'dah was exhausting. It wasn't just the sizzling heat or the deadly court intrigues: Ul'dah the restless never slept. At first, she had been amazed by the glamour and the opulence of the commercial hub, but after two weeks in the city, she was starting to get motion sickness. The perpetual noise and bustling activity of its streets made her feel like she had been trapped in a beehive, and the contrast between the abundance of the city-state and the desolation of the surrounding desert was dizzying to the point of nausea. She missed the trees, the open space... Ul'dah was by no mean small, but it was crowded. Everywhere she went, she almost stepped on someone else's toe. Literally. In the forest, she could be alone for days, lost in her own world with no one to interrupt her daydreaming. In Ul'dah even the quietness of her mind was lost to her, stolen by the overwhelming noise of the jewel city. She missed the eeriness of the Black Shroud, its shadows, and its otherworldly atmosphere. Hell, she even missed the constant threat of the woodwrath.

The city wasn't all bad, of course. The melting pot of civilization made for some amazing food. And the baths... Gods, the luxury of city plumbing. She didn't consider herself to be shallow or high maintenance, but after a moon in the wilderness of Eastern Thanalan, a rose-scented bath had been a necessity. The people of Camp Drybone had been lovely, but the place smelled like sweat and desperation. Not a scent she liked lingering on her skin.

Still, Ul'dah wasn't for her, she'd be gone by morning. But before that, she wished to indulge in some recreations: it was after all what the city was famous for. She didn't care much for the arena, or the gambling halls, but she'd gladly partake in some form of tumbling. A girl could only play with herself for so long. And it had been a long time since someone had touched her outside a fight. A. Very. Long. Time.

Scanning the room, she studied her prospects. The barmaid was cute. They had flirted a few times, but she had the feeling the girl, as curious as she might be, wasn't there just yet. The rest of the patrons were either passed out in a corner or on their way out to throw up in the back alley. Then, there was him: tall, ash-blond hair, tattoos... He was sitting two stools down from her, nursing a cold drink. She had seen him a few times around the city. He wasn't the only handsome man, but somehow he was the only one she had truly noticed, and she was pretty sure he had noticed her too. Whether their unspoken attraction would lead to more than a few appreciative looks was yet to be determined.

She signaled the barmaid and made a small head motion in the stranger’s direction. The brunette smiled in return, then nodded: girl’s code for "not an asshole". She ordered another drink and studied his profile. He was handsome. The hard line of his jaw and his chiseled features made him look sculptural, like a forgotten deity. Judging by the sand still attached to his boots, he hadn’t been in the city for more than a few hours. He had the stance of a warrior - all taut muscles and tanned skin - his calloused fingers only seemed to confirm her intuition.

She wondered how those hands would feel on her, on the most sensitive parts of her body…

"Didn't your parents teach you it's rude to stare?" he finally asked. "Didn't yours warn you against talking to strangers?"

When he turned his head to face her, his smile was as wicked as she expected. His eyes swept down her body and back up to her face, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"I guess we'll have to get better acquainted then."

Within minutes, they were up on the second floor, and he had her pinned against a wall, her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms looped around his neck. His kiss wasn't tentative or shy. It was deep and dirty: he was claiming her mouth as if he were laying claim to her whole body, marking her as his own if only for one night. Time stopped around them, as they stood against the wall, tangled with each other. He tasted like the desert, like cheap alcohol and sand, yet she couldn't wait to get drunk on him. It didn't matter that they were in a public place, or that some drunkard could stumble down the hall. All that mattered was his mouth on hers and his hands on her body.

She buried her hands into his hair and his mouth drifted down her throat, sending chills down through her. She arched under his touch, her skin tingling with lust as her hips pushed against his, delighted to feel him hard and thick against her core. She let out a lustful moan when he nipped at the sensitive spot near her clavicle.

"Gods." She whispered. "Not a god." He shot back. "This would be the part when you tell me your name then." "Why, will you scream it?" "Can you make me?"

He pulled back and huffed at her challenge. She had been making the most indecent noises just a few seconds ago. But if challenging him meant he'd try even harder to please her... well, she'd be winning either way.

"You're lucky I'm a gentleman and was taught how to behave in public."

She arched a brow.

"This is you behaving? Hate to break it to you pretty boy, but you’re failing at that." "Trust me, if I wasn't," he leaned in closer, stopping short of their mouths touching, "your pants would be down by your ankles, and my cock would be so deep inside you, we'd both see stars."

The image sent a shot of electricity through her body. She was down for that. In fact, many parts of her were craving just that. She might have forced him to make good on his words, had they not been interrupted by the inn's foul-mouthed patrons: drunk shouts erupted downstairs, bringing them back to the corridor and its lack of privacy. Gracefully, she disentangled herself from him and slid down the wall.

"Well then, let's see what you can do."

She barely had time to close the door before he removed his shirt and tossed it in a corner of her room. His pants were hanging low, and she got an eyeful of those side muscles near his hips: the adonis belt. Adonis, the name fitted him.

"Thancred." He said, forcing her to look up, and grinning at the obvious effort it took her to tear her gaze from his body. "Excuse me?" "My name. I'd rather you pray to me than the twelve when I make you come."

She half laughed, half snorted, and crossed her arm over her chest.

"Arrogance isn't as sexy as you think it is."

He didn't reply, simply kicked off his boots and removed the rest of his clothing, exposing even more of his body to her hungry gaze. He was naked, yet she was the one feeling vulnerable. Maybe it was the way the dim light coming out of the window cast shadows on his face, or maybe it was the glint in his eyes, but in that instant, he looked intimidating, slightly dangerous, and all the more enticing.

She licked her lips while she studied him. Her eyes stopped on his erection, her mouth watering at the thought of all the wicked things she could do to make him scream. Her stare traveled back to his face, and she noticed his teasing grin had morphed into a wolfish smile.

"Take off your clothes." He demanded.

She wasn't one to be submissive in the bedroom, but she'd be lying if she said his commanding tone didn't arouse her. She would comply, but at her own pace.

Her attire was lighter than what she was used to. The scorching sun of the Thanalan desert had forced her to adapt her gear and even in the comfort of the city, the heat could be unbearable, almost paralyzing. Still, she was fully clothed, and her shirt had oh so many of those tiny buttons. She took her time undoing them one by one, reveling in the tension that filled the room. She all but stopped her task when he circled the base of his cock, her throat going dry as she watched his hand move from tip to base and back up. A bead of liquid glistened at the tip, and she had to refrain herself from licking her lips once more. He was teasing her just as she was teasing him, and there was something extremely erotic about watching him pleasure himself, knowing she was the one to elicit that need. Her shirt finally fell on the ground, and he let out a low, appreciative, hum at the lack of binding.

"Take off the rest." He ordered.

She did so without delay, and he was on her before the remaining of her clothes even touched the ground. With one swift motion, he lifted her off the floor and she instinctively wrapped her legs around him. He carried her over to the bed, dropped her without much regard, and then he was on her again, crowding her, stealing her air. Everything in the room disappeared and she could only focus on him and how good he felt pressed against her, how he invaded all her senses. Her hands explored the expanse of his back, marveling at the sensation of his muscles rippling and flexing under his skin. His body was perfect even in its tiniest flaws. Like hers, his skin wasn't without scars: some were simple nicks, others looked like old wounds. She traced them with the tips of her fingers, making him shudder under her touch.

Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against hers and breathed heavily. When he opened his eyes again, she could barely see the brown in them.

"Huh huh," he chided her. Taking her hands, he placed them above her head. "No distraction. I’m supposed to make you scream, my honor is at stake after all. But where should I start ?"

She huffed at his fake wondering, but her laugh was caught short when his mouth captured one of her breasts, his tongue swirling around the hardened nipple. He kept kissing his way down her body, sucking and nipping, exploring every inch of skin. She watched him as he traced the scar near her navel with his tongue, and her toes curled as an unexpected shot of pleasure rolled through her. Who would have thought something that almost killed would come to bring her so much pleasure? But it seemed he had a talent for making her whimper with need. Her back arched off the bed as he went lower still, and he chuckled against her skin at her eagerness. By the time he started nibbling her upper thigh, she was breathless and wanting, a litany of yes pouring from her mouth. And then it all stopped.

His warmth left her completely as he sat back on his heels, hovering over her like a predator. Still dazed, she propped herself on her elbows and glared at him. The corner of his lips twitched, repressing a smile.

"If looks could kill," he joked. "You’re a fucking tease."

Her breathing was ragged, and she didn't know if it was from frustration, anger, bliss, or a mix of all three. His gaze traveled down her body, mapping down every curve, every dip as if he was studying a battlefield.

"I could do a great many things to you", he mused as his hand circled the base of his length once more.

He stroked himself slowly, languorously, his eyes drinking every inch of her: the intensity of his inky gaze almost a caress on her skin. Heat pooled at her core and she clenched her thighs together in a desperate attempt to alleviate her needs.

"No" he stopped her, "show me."

Her cheeks flushed a deep red, but she obeyed once more, spreading her legs wide for his enjoyment. She might have felt some degree of shame at her willingness to comply had she not been this wound up, but all she could feel in that moment was want and need.

His gaze dipped to her core, and she quivered in anticipation as he licked his lips. His free hand reached out to her, and she flopped back on the bed, unable to hold herself anymore, as he parted her folds, sliding one finger into her heat.

"You're so fucking wet. I bet I could fuck you right now. You'd like that, would you?"

She nodded in agreement, unable to utter a sound. His hand stilled.

"Say it." "Yes". She gasped. "Good girl".

She looked down at him, his smile was pure sin as he added another finger to his ministrations. The pressure increased, he hooked his fingers slightly, and a strangled sound came out of her as her hips lifted off the bed. And then he stopped again.

"I could do that, but I would need some encouragement. ‘Please Thancred’; ‘More Thancred’… I’m not picky, anything will do." "I'm going to murder you."

Her voice came out breathy, needy, there was barely any bite to her words. She could almost feel his satisfied smile in the heavy air of the room.

"Not what I had in mind". "I swear on the twelve..."

Then his mouth was on her. Her chest heaved as he lapped greedily at her core from cunt to clit, burying his nose in her damp curls. She felt electric under his touch, her whole body vibrating with a hungry need. His hands were hooked on her outer thighs, keeping her open to him. She reached for his head, pressing him closer, grinding against his mouth. Her head thrashed from side to side as he pulled her clit into his mouth. The tension inside her finally snapped and she cried out to the twelve as wave after wave of pleasure washed through her.

Once her breathing slowed, she propped herself on her elbows once more, but this time there was no frustration or anger in her eyes. Her whole body flushed at the sight of him resting against her thigh, a wicked smile plastered on his face while he licked his fingers clean off her. She couldn't resist the irrepressible urge to kiss that satisfied smile off his face. She reached out to him and forced him up for a kiss. She was drunk on him; intoxicated by the scent of her arousal still lingering on his lips.

The kiss slowed, becoming more intimate. She wasn't devouring him anymore instead, she wanted to savor him. It was like getting to know him. Her lips moved under his slowly, seductively. She traced the contour of his mouth with her tongue and he opened to her, allowing her to explore his mouth leisurely. She was still breathless, pleasure coursing through her veins, but her body ached for more: more of him, more of them. She pushed him off of her, and onto his back, then lifted herself to straddle him. For a while she did nothing more, just stared at him: it was her turn to toy with him and she would enjoy every second of it.

She lowered herself to him, kissed the corner of his mouth, licked his neck, bite his nipple... he growled in response, the noise resonating through her whole body. Placing her hands on the hard planes of his chest, she started rubbing her wetness against his length, her whole body singing with pleasure, enjoying every little noise she got out of him. He was giving her full reign over his body, letting her use him as an instrument to reach her own pleasure and it was intoxicating. She felt powerful, in control.

When she was satisfied, certain to have teased him more than enough, she lifted her hips and grabbed the base of his cock to position him at her entrance. They growled in unison as she lowered herself onto him, inch by inch, until he was fully sheathed deep inside her. He slid his hands up to her side and held her there, anchoring her to him. She started rocking her hips against him, slowly, languorously, reveling in the exquisite feeling of him stretching her. Her pace picked up, and his followed, until they moved in sync to a rhythm of their own. His grip tightened on her hips, and she felt him tense under her.

"Gods, you feel amazing."

The rumble of his voice sent goosebumps racing over her. She liked his praise; liked the groan coming out of his mouth; liked the sight of him beneath her. He was the one figuratively pinned down, and it was exhilarating. She tightened around him, her head spinning, and then she broke apart, shattering into a million pieces. She was still coming, her body shaking with pleasure, when he flipped them over, and rose to his knees, lifting her hips off the bed. He moved inside her with long hard thrusts, wanting to drag her orgasm, to hear her pleas and prayers for more. And she prayed until she couldn't bear it anymore. Lust consumed her as hips moved against hers, each thrust deeper, harder. There was no more bet, no more game, just an irrepressible need for their body to melt together, for their hearts to beats like one. With one last thrust, he came, his body shuddering as he spilled himself deep inside her.

He collapsed next to her, his breathing as erratic as hers as they both stared at the ceiling in blissful silence. For a long time, neither of them moved. They were content, deliciously exhausted.

"This didn't go exactly as I planned." He finally said. "You were supposed to scream my name; maybe even pray to me."

She rolled to the side and propped herself on her elbow. In the dim light of the room, his body seemed to glow; she knew it was most likely the thin layer of sweat on his skin, but lying naked in her bed, with that infuriating smile on his face, he truly looked divine.

"I'm an atheist." "I'm not much of a preacher, but maybe I should try to convert you. To save your soul of course."

#Thancred Waters #wolcred #FFXIV #ffxiv fic #wolnpc #fan fiction #My writing #Final Fantasy XIV

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shotgun--rider · 4 years

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Fake It Till You Make It - One

A Sam x Reader Series

PART ONE

Y/N knows it’s a bad idea to try telling her family that she’s dating Sam Winchester. But it’s just for the week of her sister’s wedding, and it’s all fake anyway. What could go wrong?

Word Count: 3600

Warnings: plus size! Reader, background Destiel for a hot sec, fatphobic comments, Y/N’s family are demons

A/N: Has this trope probably been done five million times? Yes. Am I about to do it again? Yes.

Your cellphone rang and you grimaced, rolling your eyes as you took in Dean’s all-too-amused expression. Your best friend may have thought your situation was the funniest thing he’d ever heard, but that didn’t mean you were of the same opinion.

“What?” you snapped out, not bothering to read the caller ID. Who else would be calling you for the fifth time in as many hours?

“Well that’s not a very nice way to greet your mother.”

Here you went again, the same thing over and over. You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. “What do you want now, Mom?”

Bent over something under Baby’s hood, Dean snorted, shamelessly listening to your half of the conversation. He could probably hear your mother too, you thought wryly. The woman was certainly loud enough.

“Well, listen, honey,” your mother began. “I was just talking to Jimmy...you remember Jimmy? From down the street, you used to--”

“Yes, Mom, I remember Jimmy.” you said tiredly. “Why do we care about Jimmy?” Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say.

“For the wedding! I just asked, and Jimmy agreed to come with you.”

You let out an alarmed noise before you could stop yourself. “Mom, no.” you said firmly, with an undercurrent of panic at the thought of being trailed around by awkward Jimmy for a week. “I know it’s hard to imagine,” you drawled sarcastically, “but the vows will still be successful if I’m there without a plus one. Not like I’m the one getting married, you know.”

Still focused on the Impala, Dean’s shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter. You seized the apple core you’d been munching on earlier and chucked it at him, feeling marginally better when it bounced off of his back.

“Y/N L/N! You should be a little more grateful. Besides, have you even thought about how it’s going to look to Dick if you show up alone?”

“I don’t care,” you said automatically. “He’s a dick, pun absolutely intended.”

“He’s marrying your sister.”

“At least it’s not me.”

“That miserable attitude is exactly why you’re going to die alone, young lady,” your mother snipped. “You could at least make an effort. Maybe if you just lost some weight--”

“Yeah, okay Mom.” You hung up the phone before she could get another word in, immediately flopping back onto Dean’s front lawn in defeat. “If I ever get married, it’s going to be in Vegas with Elvis, and nobody is going to know about it.” Not that you would. Given your complete inability to keep a boyfriend for longer than two months and your habit of getting hung up on guys who were completely out of your league, marriage, or a relationship of any kind didn’t seem to be in the cards.

“Who’s Jimmy?” Dean’s green eyes were sparkling with mischief, and you let out a groan, smoothing out the skirt of your sundress as you sat back up to answer him.

“Straight-laced, awkward, kind of greasy. Went to high school with me.” You wrinkled your nose. “My mother is really scraping the bottom of the barrel. She’d throw a fit if I actually tried to bring him home. But apparently Jimmy is a better temporary solution than being single while my sister marries my ex.” You trailed off into silence, your hand pulling absently at a few strands of grass in your best friend’s front lawn. “Maybe I should just rent a boyfriend to shut her up. That’s a thing, right? Like a non-sexual escort.”

“If you’re going to the trouble, you should also get the sex,” Dean returned, still smirking at you as he wiped grease off his hands. “Or you could take me. I would make the best fake boyfriend. And I’m free if you feed me.”

You rolled your eyes at him, laughing at the mental image. “My mom knows you have a boyfriend,” you sighed. “Which, believe me, is a great source of sadness to her every single day.”

Dean laughed loudly, both of you glancing toward the house as the screen door swung open. “Maybe we broke up,”

“Well, she still doesn’t understand the concept of bisexuality, so as far as she’s concerned, you’d still be gay.” You rolled your eyes, long since over your mother’s narrow-minded opinions.

“Who’s gay?” Castiel inquired vaguely, making his way over to the flowerbeds.

“Dean is,” you pointed out helpfully, prompting a wide-eyed stare from Cas.

“Really? Dean, you should have told me!”

When you’d first met Dean’s new boyfriend, he’d been stiff and absolutely useless at sarcasm. It was always nice to see yours and Dean’s combined efforts working.

“D’you want me to ask Sammy?”

You were still laughing at Cas’s antics, and snapped your head back to Dean so fast that you were positive something popped in your neck. “W-what?”

“I can ask Sam if he’s free that week,” Dean repeated, looking at you like he thought you were stupid. “If you want,”

You blinked, irrational panic running through you at the thought of Dean’s younger, perfect, brother.

“It’ll shut your mom up,” Dean went on, oblivious. “Sammy wouldn’t mind.”

“Dean, I barely ever see Sam,” you protested after an awkward pause. A fact that was quite devastating, actually, not that you’d ever admit to your hopeless crush on the younger Winchester.

Your best friend and his boyfriend shared a look. “That’s because he’s a hopeless do-gooder on top of being a hotshot lawyer,” Dean said fondly. “But I bet we could talk him out of taking a bunch of free cases for a week,”

Walking into your sister’s wedding with Sam Winchester on your arm sounded like a disaster waiting to happen. On the other hand, it would shut your mother up. She’d been vocal in her fears of you dying alone since you’d been barely out of college, sending you links to weight-loss workout videos and advertising her fixer-upper daughter to single men in the grocery store for years. Sam’s presence might even serve to stave off comments about your weight, which seemed to be the family’s second-favorite discussion topic any time they were together.

Still, that meant pretending Sam Winchester was your boyfriend for a week, which just seemed like some masochistic form of self inflicted torture. Besides, if even you knew Sam would never go for a girl like you, how in the world were you supposed to sell it to your nosy, skeptical family?

“I was mostly kidding about the whole fake boyfriend thing, Dean,” you said wearily, not wanting to devote any more thought to the idea.

Dean shrugged easily, sharing one more pointed look with Cas before refocusing on you. “Fair enough. You’re still staying for dinner, though, right?”

You’d have to be crazy to turn down one of Dean’s steaks. “Obviously.”

“Great,” he returned brightly. “I think Charlie’s coming.”

You were going to kill Dean. And Cas too, potentially, though it was entirely possible that he’d genuinely just been too preoccupied with his backyard beehive to remember the full extent of his boyfriend’s dinner plans. Because, apparently, “Charlie’s coming” actually meant, “Charlie and also Sam are coming.”

It only took about five minutes for Dean to bring up your mother’s nonsense, prompting you to consider just face planting into the mashed potatoes in embarrassment while Charlie burst out laughing. She thought the whole thing was unbelievably hilarious, and had immediately offered herself up as a fake date. The offer was well meant, you knew, but you were only trying to get your mother to shut up, not disown you for bringing home a girlfriend.

“I don’t need a date,” you finally huffed out, irritated with the whole thing. “I’m perfectly capable of showing up by myself. It’s not like anyone’s going to have anything to say about it that I haven’t already heard.” It was true. Your mother, and you sister and all of your aunts and uncles, for that matter, had been making the same jabs at your weight and relationship status for the past decade. You were used to it by now.

“Doesn’t mean you should have to hear it,” Charlie shrugged. “If we’re too gay for your mother, get somebody else.”

“I tried to tell her Sammy would do it,” Dean put in unhelpfully, elbowing his brother, who had been silent up until this point. You contemplated kicking him under the table.

“Poor Sam does not need to be subjected to my family for no good reason,” you said firmly, hoping that would be the end of it.

Sam was studying you across the table. “Or you could just ask me,” he said finally, and you felt your face heat up as you realized you’d basically been speaking for him.

“Yes!” Charlie burst out before you could come up with a reply. “Sam doesn’t mind, do you, Sam?”

Too late, you realized Charlie was the real villain in all of this. Your old roommate, after all, was the one who knew about your little crush. You wondered if it was worth running the risk of trying to kick her under the table without hitting Cas, who thus far had remained off of your hit list.

Sam cleared his throat roughly, looking between you, Charlie, and his plate. “No, I don’t--I mean, I don’t think Y/N really--”

“No, I do,” you blurted out, scrunching up your face immediately after the words left your lips. I do? I do? Since when? And what was it about Sam fucking Winchester that always made you act like a complete idiot?

Dean was smirking at you across the table, and you idly wondered what would happen if you tried egging Baby.

“Oh,” Sam brought you back out of your thoughts, looking hesitantly pleased. “Well, I just wrapped my latest case up, so I don’t mind coming up with you for that week. If you want.”

“Are you sure?” you bit your lip. There were a lot of emotions vying for your attention, but the dominating one was concern for Sam’s wellbeing. He had no idea what he was trying to agree to.

Sam sighed, staring you down with those hazel eyes. “Y/N, you’re basically family. Of course I’m sure. You just worry about the maid of honor stuff, and I’ll watch your back. Okay?”

This was a significantly softer ending to dinner than you’d expected, but you couldn’t deny the warm feeling that rushed up inside you at his words. I’ll watch your back. Pretty much no one in your life had ever done anything of the sort, until you met Charlie, and, through her, the Winchesters. You’d known Dean for months before you finally met Sam, and of course he was perfect.

It was easy with Dean, since he’d been the big brother you’d never had from day one. Sure, he wasn’t bad looking (seriously those boys won some kind of genetic lottery, you swore) but it just wasn’t like that. And then Sam had shown up and he was six and a half feet of walking perfection.

And now he was smiling reassuringly at you across the dinner table, having just agreed to pose as your completely fake boyfriend in front of your god awful family. Well, at least you’d be able to pinpoint the exact moment your life went completely sideways, if you ever had to look back.

Two anxiety-filled weeks later found you in Sam’s car, because subjecting his long legs to your tiny vehicle for a seven hour drive just seemed like cruel and unusual punishment. You were driving at his insistence, and Sam was in the passenger seat with a legal pad on his legs like he thought he was going to take notes.

“Sam,” you whined out, “is this really necessary? Can’t we just... you know, lie?” Since the whole thing is a big fat giant lie anyway.

Sam raised an eyebrow at you, and it just wasn’t fair how sexy that made him look. “Y/N, you’re the one that kept trying to warn me about getting cross examined by your mother,”

“Such a lawyer,” you huffed. “Okay, fine, you’re right. Let’s write our fake love story,” You batted your eyelashes at him exaggeratedly, punching a surprised laugh out of Sam. He watched your antics in amusement for a moment, and then refocused, absently playing with a pen in his long fingers.

“Okay, how did we meet?”

You cocked your head to one side. “My mom knows who you are,” you explained. “Vaguely, but she knows you’re Dean’s brother. We can just tell them how we actually met and stuff,”

Sam smirked at you. “You tell your mother about me?”

You made a face at him, smacking his arm as the heat of embarrassment suffused your entire body. “Just in passing, don’t go getting a big head. Well,” you made a show of studying him, “a bigger head,”

He looked affronted, running a hand briefly through his hair. “Okay, fine, we met because of Dean. Where did I take you on our first date?”

“Why did you have to take me out? What if I took you out?” You were mostly arguing for the sake of arguing, trying to keep yourself from thinking too hard as you imagined a fake life with Sam that had never happened and never would. He thought of you as family, he’d said as much, and you had to remember that.

“Because I had been waiting forever to ask you out, and I had all the good date ideas saved up,” Sam answered immediately.

“O-okay,” you said hesitantly, jarred by the conviction in his statement. But that was the point, wasn’t it? You were trying to sell it, and Sam was obviously a good actor. And unfairly attractive. And kind. And...and oh god. Your fingers gripped the steering wheel harder as you thought about the unexpected trial he hadn’t signed up for. “Sam, can you golf?”

He shrugged. “I know how it’s supposed to work. I’m just...not that good at actually getting the balls in the holes.”

If Dean were here, he would have taken that opportunity to make a lewd joke. As it was, you just winced. “My dad is going to force you to go golfing,” you explained tiredly. “I should have thought of that, I’m sorry, I--”

“It’s no big deal, Y/N,” Sam assured you easily. “I don’t mind. Besides, I want to meet your dad,”

You blinked at him, almost missing a turn in the process. “You actually want to meet my family? Sam, they’re terrible. Well, my dad’s probably the least awful of the bunch. Mostly he just hides. But Ruby will definitely try hitting on you, even though she’s supposed to be getting married, and Dick will try hitting on everything with legs, which is just gross, and Gramma Lilith is gonna give you the speech about how you could do so much better, and my Uncle Az is going to start Googling you and making weird threats, probably…” you trailed off in a huff. “It could be worse, I guess. At least if Uncle Fergus shows up everybody’ll start yelling at him instead. One can hope. He’s pretty harmless,” you shrugged, “if sometimes high. And my mother will probably just stick to the usual fat girl comments, so…”

Sam’s quiet laughter at your descriptions trailed off. “Y/N, you know there’s nothing wrong with you, right?”

You just shrugged again, deflecting. “Oh, come on, Sam, you don’t have to pretend like you think I’m a size two or something,”

“I’m...not,” Sam sounded genuinely confused, and you risked a glance over at him in the passenger seat. Oddly enough, he didn’t look like he was lying. Huh. “I think you’re beautiful.”

You didn’t want to have to pretend not to be affected by that, and this was maybe the first time in your life you’d actually been grateful to see the turnoff for your family’s old estate. “Here we go,” you narrated a little shakily. “It’s a big house,” you warned, still smiling a little at the way Sam’s eyes widened.

It had been a given that the wedding would take place at your Aunt Abaddon’s old estate house, which no one was quite sure how she’d acquired and which no one questioned. The only fun of the house was watching people’s reactions on the rare occasion that you brought someone here.

“I’ll get the bags,” Sam said vacantly, still staring at the house, and you chuckled softly, getting out of the car in a rush. You couldn’t explain it, but it felt important that you got to your family before Sam did, to put yourself between them, though at this point you weren’t quite sure who was being shielded from whom.

You smoothed down the little sundress you’d decided to wear, grabbing your small duffel out of the backseat and hastily going up the front walk, Sam still rummaging in the trunk.

“Y/N!” Ruby opened the front door to meet you, her smile already insincere and condescending. “You’re late. We thought you weren’t coming.” She glanced behind you briefly, then smirked. “And you’re alone. I mean I figured you wouldn’t actually find a plus one, but you know you’re gonna owe me for the meal--”

“Got everything?”

Oh thank god for Sam Winchester. You smiled tightly at your older sister, glancing briefly at your shoulder to reassure yourself that Sam was there. He was, holding a bag in each hand and a pleasant smile on his face. It was totally his false courtroom smile, but Ruby didn’t have to know that. “Ruby, this is...my boyfriend. Sam.”

Ruby blinked long eyelashes at him, processing. You figured she was torn between insulting you and flirting with him, and, as expected, the flirting won out. “Hi, Sam,” she purred. “I can’t wait to get to know you a little better,”

“Right,” Sam said flatly. “Well, I can’t wait to put these bags down, so…”

Something in Ruby’s expression soured as she looked at him, and her hand fell away from the doorframe as she stepped back, letting you both into the house. You lost no time in ducking past her, Sam right behind you.

“There’s rooms on the second floor,” Ruby said quietly, then, “I’m up there too, just in case you get bored...”

“Great,” Sam returned, and he shifted both of the bags into one hand to put a hand on your back as you walked toward the staircase. You shivered at the touch, exhaling the frustration that was already tensing your shoulders, and started up the stairs. God, it hadn’t even been five minutes. How were you supposed to get through a whole week of this?

Sam’s warm breath on your ear startled you, and he whispered, “So, third floor?”

You turned to catch him with a mischievous spark in his hazel eyes, and nodded quickly, a little smile pulling up the corners of your mouth as you started toward the second staircase with a new energy in your step.

“Hurry your fat ass, Y/N!” you heard Ruby shriek from somewhere below. “Everyone’s already out in the garden,”

You blew out your breath, hastily swinging open the first door you saw. The room was mercifully unoccupied, with a queen bed in the middle of the room and not much in the way of decoration. Your Aunt Abaddon had always been pretty minimalist.

Sam shut the door behind you both, setting the bags down in a line at the foot of the bed.

“I can sleep on the floor,” you said quickly, figuring that it was best to get that out of the way as quickly as possible. “I’m the one that got you into this, so--”

He turned to face you with a quizzical expression. “Why would you...Y/N, you didn’t get me into anything. I said I wanted to be here. If you’re not comfortable, I’ll sleep on the floor,”

“No,” you sighed out, defeated. “Ruby’ll probably try barging in here anyway. I don’t think she believes you’re dating someone like me. We’re adults,” you went on with more confidence than you felt, “we can share,”

Sam’s brow furrowed adorably. Stop that. “Someone like you?” He moved to stand in front of you, one hand sliding very gently along your upper arm. “She doesn’t think I’d go for someone that’s funny and clever and really pretty?”

Something in your chest eased at his words, and, before your malfunctioning brain could stop you, you leaned forward to rest your forehead against his solid chest. “Thanks. She’s a bitch,” you mumbled into his shirt.

Sam’s hand migrated to gently rub over your back. “I’m beginning to get that impression,”

You stood there for a few more moments, letting yourself breathe within the safety of Sam’s arms, and then you straightened up and shook yourself. “Alright, boyfriend, ready to go meet the rest of the firing squad?”

He smiled down at you. “Whatever you say, honey bunch.”

You grimaced, but it got a laugh out of you, which you supposed had been his goal. “Absolutely not.”

“Cutie pie? Boo bear?”

“Stop it,” you threw a mock glare over your shoulder, opening the bedroom door.

“Okay, darlin’,” Sam murmured, and somehow that one sat better than all the rest. “I’ve got your back, remember?”

You smiled back at him, letting him slide his hand in yours for the show, and you braced yourself to head back downstairs and deal with the full force of your family.

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #x reader #reader insert #spn #series

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