#So it looks nice despite being impractical

[pushing500]

The Grand Eureka Colony Tour!

It's here at last! The Grand Finale Colony tour! Woo! I'm very proud of this colony, I hope you like it too.

For a sample, let's begin with a shot of the whole of Eureka:

Ta-dah! Isn't it gorgeous? It's a very big colony, so once again I'm going to put the rest of it under the cut so it won't clog up people's dashboards with my screenshots and rambling.

Starting on the left, we've got our first animal pens. The large pen is home to a variety of animals, listed as follows:

Laser, Dominator, Tryst, Clementine, Quintin, Nikita, Safari, Excalibur and Ragdoll the alpacas

Devotion and Mozart the neutrolopes (like boomalopes but for neutroamine, from the 'ReGrowth: Core' mod)

Verona the Cyrenian hind (from the 'Alpha Mythology' mod)

Samson the teratogenic originator (from the 'Alpha Animals' mod)

Teacup, Hayley, Portia, Nadine, Aiko, Fraiser, Salty, Chaplin and Smarmer the horses

Also sleeping in the large pen's barn but not confined by the fences is:

Calvin, Honcho, Whoopie, Zombie, and Paprika the nightling cubs (from the 'Alpha Animals' mod)

Kiki the murkling (from the 'Alpha Animals' mod)

Bryanna and Marauder the red pandas (from the 'Vanilla Animals Expanded' mod)

Tommy Brock the badger, one of only two animals in the colony who does not have a randomized name (from the 'Vanilla Animals Expanded' mod)

Elegance the baby razorjack (from the 'Alpha Animals' mod)

The small pen is where we keep our ducks. They are named Olivia, Pepe, Shrimp, Dynamo, Zack, Tipsy, Augusta, and Adele. They're very useful for eggs, and we cycle through the duck population every few quadrums so we have fresh meat to make kibble (don't tell the ducks that, though).

Speaking of meat, next to the pens are our abattoir/kibble-making freezer, our nutrient paste dispenser, and the prison. Prisoners (and suspected-mime Eva) are put on a strict nutrient-paste-only diet, so the proximity helps.

You can also see three of our twelve chemfuel-powered generators and a teeny-tiny secret patch of smokeleaf that we're growing to keep hippie-drug-cultist Gracie happy. Below that are some decorative chemfuel barrels and our sewage treatment plant.

Next there's the hot tub room with its adjoining facilities, famous for its romantic pink lighting and for being the place where Wookshys proposed to Albina back when I didn't like him.

Also pictured is the children's bedroom, with high-tech illuminated beds, dresser, and end tables so they don't need to worry about being scared of the dark.

Moving on, we have the classroom that has seen so many of my colonists pass on their knowledge to the children in a variety of sweet and amusing interactions. Next to the classroom is the obligatory schoolyard vegetable patch, which provides most of the vegetarian component for the kibble made in the abattoir next to it.

Don't mind Jesse and his square, by the way. I was already drafting this post before a lovely anonymous ask helped me fix the Curse of Jesse's Box (I love you, anon)

Here is the ship we have worked so painstakingly to construct, pictured alongside the tomb for cuterpillar Bernie, a patch of opuntia (prickly-pear) cacti from when Albina was testing one of her psycasts, and the thrumbo barn where Pharaoh, Brandi, Big Dipper, Caramel, Bellboy, Ray, Belladonna, Dollie, Apollo, and Dallas sleep at night.

The Ancient Danger has been transformed into a delightful hybrid space, as it is one part laboratory for mechanitor Fafo to muck about in, one part rec room with a billiards table, a dartboard, and even a television set, and one part drug operation because it is where we grow our psychoid plants ready for when Hussar Henry is old enough to need them (along with some mint and uranium root for funsies).

There are also six more chemfuel generators, an infinite chemreactor, and the legendary monument that Fafo carved depicting her then-fiance now-husband Kaz, which is used as a meditation for all colonists with the artistic focus type.

This is the pool room, which comes with an arcade machine, longwave radio, and roulette table. Next to it are the last three chemfuel generators.

Underneath, there are two barrack rooms. The one on the left is home to Gracie, Emerald, Grump, Hot Minute, and Sam the razorjack. The barracks on the right is currently only home to Jesse and Kelorul, along with Beau the razorjack. There's also a bathroom close by for easy access.

The devil sheep pen is home to many adorable little red devilstrand-producing sheep from the 'Alpha Animals' mod. Sixteen of them to be exact! Their names are Blossom, Petit, Persephone, Tank, Clarence, Crockett, Stellar, Dudette, Violator (my favourite), Honed, Soldier, Heather, Seargent, Fabian, Adonis, and Cassandra. Ingrid the red panda also sleeps in the devil sheep pen for some reason.

To the right you can see a neat little dining area with some sculptures and an industrial radio for recreation, and below that is the temple used by followers of Wendy, Laurie, and Jesse's ideology. There's also a horseshoes pin, for anybody who feels like some low-tech recreation.

Then there are the boomalope pens, made out of granite instead of wood to avoid any potential fire mishaps. They contain the main providers of the chemfuel we use to power our twelve chemfuel generators. The top pen contains our two male boomalopes, Hunter and Dude, and the bottom pen has the three females, Margarita, Missile, and Liability.

I am of the opinion that "Missile" and "Liability" are the best randomly generated names a boomalope could ever have.

Here is our Wedding Chapel/music room, a lovely little space that the couples of Eureka like to frequent in order to enjoy some musical romance with one another (demonstrated here by Kaz playing the drums for his lovely wife).

Outside we also have a little barbecue and dining area for those few colonists who aren't vegetarian, and in the top left corner, you can see the band node that Fafo is tuned to so that she can hopefully get more mechs in the future!

This is Eureka's clothing closet (and where we keep the caravan bedrolls too). That long rectangle building in the bottom left is a "monument" we built for the Empire, which is now a fireproof chemfuel storeroom, and also where we brew chemshine to sell to traders (and to satiate Eva's chemical interest trait).

Fafo made both of those monuments, but only one of them (the pyramid) is of legendary quality. The other is only excellent quality, and depicts "a politician playing blackjack with a thousand hooligans".

Some of the planting zones are here, too, including our blueberry field and apiary, one of our chickpea patches, some rice, some cotton, and some sugarcane.

Some more planting zones (rice, chickpeas, potatoes, onions, more rice and chickpeas, even more chickpeas, gold fern, allspice, plasteel bulbs), along with our only wind turbine and the first solar panel we ever built.

The bedroom at the top right is Albina and Wookshys' room, they share it with Rogan the rottweiler (from the 'Vanilla Animals Expanded' mod). The bedroom below that is Kaz and Fafo's room, which they share with Kaz's bonded razorjack Roxy (from the 'Alpha Animals' mod). The bedroom in the middle is where Hazrov and Candlelight sleep, along with Reaper the razorjack and Anatoly the Tasmanian devil (from the 'Vanilla Animals Expanded - Endangered' mod).

Four more bedrooms here:

Top left is Wendy and Tamarind's room, shared with Stabber the razorjack (from the 'Alpha Animals' mod)

Top right is Kawoo and Andrei's room, shared with Frisbee the pulmonoscorpius (from the 'Megafauna' mod). Outside their bedroom are also three cheese presses, where we... ~drumroll please~... make cheese!!

Bottom left is Vu and Laurie's room

Bottom right is Baz and Zonovo's room, which they share with Jellybean the razorjack.

Moving on, we can see the temple of The Wavian Path (Wookshys' sub-cult), with the tomb we built for Wendy and Pearl underneath it. Pearl is still buried there, alongside Fafo's nephew Pinovo because Wendy was resurrected.

Across from the tomb is the landing pad for shuttles and such, along with our ground-penetrating scanner and long-range mineral scanner. In the top left corner, you can also see our main workshops, which contain our smelter, smithy, machining table, fabrication bench, and animal bionics tables. The room with the fabrication bench is also where Buccanneer the drebbbd (from the 'Ebbbs' mod) sleeps.

Outside the workshops are our weapons shelves.

I'm glad I eventually decided to like Wookshys, look how content he is hanging out here on his little fishing bridge. He's close by a lovely picnic table, some bathrooms, an obelisk, and some plantations of almond trees and water chestnuts. He's having a grand time. This site is so pretty, it's one of my favourite places in the whole colony.

There's also a bathing zone on the other side of the bridge, but I... Uh... I wouldn't swim there for a while. The recent raids might have polluted the water a bit.

Here's our natural meditation area, home to our beloved Anima tree, three Gauranlen trees, and a little jade nature shrine.

Connie is connected to one of the Gauranlen trees, and she has two berrymaker dryads named Herbert and Mortimer. They're very sweet, and I love them both.

Jesse is connected to another Gauranlen tree and currently has a medicinemaker dryad named Wiseguy. A big help to the colony and an all-around cute little guy.

The last Gauranlen tree is connected to colony leader Albina, and she has a funky little acidic spitter dryad from the 'Vanilla Ideology Expanded - Dryads' mod. His name is Rolland, and I adore him. He's so snakey and fun. I should try to draw him someday.

Here's our freezer, our kibble shelves with Colonist-Gracie's secret smokeleaf-joint-rolling crafting spot hidden between them, one of the bathrooms, the water pumping/treatment facilities for said bathroom, and our single mortar with the shelf that has shells for it.

This is the majestic temple for The Path of Animism, the one true ideology for The Animist Alliance. We don't do a whole lot in here, but it's nice to look at. Below the temple is the storeroom for things that don't have to be in the freezer, which is mostly wood and silver at the moment.

We also have the crematorium and some of our fruit trees (four lemon trees, two avocado trees, a blood orange tree, and an apple tree). In the weird divet in the wall of the crematorium is an animal sleeping spot for our geriatric salamander Orion, from the 'Alpha Mythology' mod.

Here we have the obelisk marking our crash-landing site, next to our patch of peas and our outdoor dining area. In the top left corner is Debby and Eva's bedroom, which they share with Polly and Limbo the nightlings (from the 'Alpha Animals' mod).

Beneath that room is the room Brennan used to share with Debby, but now sleeps in alone since the divorce. There are sleeping spots in there for Cinnamon and Moonstruck, Brennan's steel and rock constructs, but I don't think they actually sleep, so the spots aren't used. Behind her room is the stonecutting bench.

In the middle, above the pea patch, is Barghest's room. He's ascetic and doesn't care for fancy things, so it's just him, his bed, and a sleeping spot for Flicker the razorjack (from the 'Alpha Animals' mod). Sleeping along the outside of Barghest's room are:

Hood, Elias, and Huck the red pandas (from 'Vanilla Animals Expanded')

Sinbad the thrumebbb (from the 'Ebbbs' mod)

Witch the cave bear (from the 'Vanilla Animals Expanded - Caves' mod)

Echo the short-faced bear (from the 'Megafauna' mod)

Asset the ankylosaurus (from the 'Biomes! Prehistoric' mod)

And then on the right side, we've got the kitchen/dining room, alongside the art and tailoring benches.

Eureka has a very well-equipped hospital, with plenty of high-tech medical facilities and a sterile drugs lab which has been put to use making lots of medicine to tend injuries and go-juice for when Henry is old enough to be dependant on it.

The research lab is where Brennan spends most of her time, and often one of the kids will hang out in there with her, radiotalking to get their learning desire up.

You'll never be short a bathroom in Eureka, there are plenty to choose from, and most of them are quite nice (in my humble opinion). There's also a lovely hot spring surrounded by manicured lawn, should you choose to relax that way. It is situated quite close to our rock/bone pile, but I can't be bothered rearranging it, so it remains an eyesore, I'm afraid.

There are also some transport pods that are used for the occasional trip out-of-colony or to dispose of toxic wastepacks until we finish researching the wastepack atomizer.

If hot springs aren't to your taste, you could always relax in the saunas! They're found right beside the bedroom that Irwin and Connie share with Bartholomew the ripper hound (from the 'Alpha Animals' mod) and Energizer the angora rabbit (from the 'Vanilla Animals Expanded - Royal Animals' mod), who is the only animal aside from Tommy Brock the badger to not have a randomized name.

Next to Irwin and Connie's room is a small table and two more animal sleeping spots, one for Chianti the boombat (from the 'Vanilla Animals Expanded' mod) and Bernardo the dimorphodon (from the 'Biomes! Prehistoric' mod).

Eureka has plenty of guest rooms for hosting friends and family from other factions, mostly our allies from The Android Alliance. We don't charge for staying here, as the bounties of The Animist Alliance should be free of charge for everyone to enjoy!

In the top right, you can also see most of the water treatment facilities attached to the prison bathrooms and the hot tub room.

Finally, we have some more solar panels and our cocoa tree plantation, surrounded by coral coconut trees grown by another of Albina's psycasts gone awry.

And that concludes the endgame colony tour! I hope you like Eureka as much as I do. It's been a lot of fun playing with the City Builders meme, as I usually go for the "massive superstructure" instead of "quaint village", so it was a nice change of pace. I also think the end result is a very homey feeling community, so that's nice.

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#rimworld #gracie plays #The Animist Alliance #rimworld colony tour #long post #This is one of the best colonies I ever built #I'll be sorry to see it go #But I am super excited to see what the next one will bring!! #I hope you are too <3 #Please enjoy this look at my haphazard building ability #You can tell I prioritize form over function #So it looks nice despite being impractical #Well I think it looks nice anyway #Thank you so much for sticking with me this far!! #I love you all so much #Have an amazing day <3 <3

[ellieswrldd]

drunk in love

pairing: modern!ellie williams x reader

summary: when a hot stranger stands up for you at a club and offers to buy you a drink, how could you say no?

content warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI, public sex (public bathroom), drunk sex (reader is tipsy, ellie is high), strap-on use (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), ellie calls the strap her cock, reader is shorter than ellie, brief weed use, alcohol, use of term 'pretty girl' & she/her pronouns on reader, creepy guy hits on reader, brief slut shaming. https://open.spotify.com/track/6jG2YzhxptolDzLHTGLt7S?si=9940e02d8b1743a6

With loud party songs blasting around you and your friends shouting drunkenly in your ears, you could hardly form a coherent thought. It didn’t help that your mind was already a bit hazy from the few drinks you’d downed at the beginning of the night when your best friend Dina had bought you and all your friends several rounds of drinks to celebrate her engagement. That’s why you all were here after all, it was Dina’s bachelorette party, and she had chosen to get wasted at a popular nightclub in your city. 

It was clear that every girl you’d come with was already drunk, making you the soberest one of your friend group, despite being more than buzzed. As they danced wildly on the dance floor, you found yourself in need of fresh air. The club was packed full of sweaty, drunk partygoers, and all the movement and lack of space made it difficult to enjoy yourself. Waving to your friends to let them know where you were headed, you pushed through the throng of people surrounding you until you saw the exit. 

Once outside the building, you took a deep breath and leaned against the scratchy brick wall. The air was cool and brisk against your exposed skin, the consequence of wearing such a revealing outfit. Dina had persuaded you to wear a revealing sequined top with a matching miniskirt that just barely showed the crease where your ass met your thighs. It was impractical, that was certain, but something about dressing so provocatively to go out with your friends boosted your confidence. 

You rubbed at your bare arms as you let out a long sigh. In your peripheral, you saw a tall man approaching you cautiously. Gnawing on your lower lip, you straightened up slightly, glancing around at the other people loitering around the building. 

“Hey there,” His deep voice broke the peaceful silence. You turned to eye him for a moment before looking away. 

“...Can I help you?” You muttered, your voice dripping with annoyance. The man chuckled softly and cleared his throat. 

“I was just wondering if I could buy you a drink or something. You’re like exactly my type, and–” He said as he leaned against the wall. You shifted uncomfortably and glanced up at him. 

“Not interested, sorry.” You cut him off and crossed your arms over your chest. 

“You didn’t even let me finish my sentence!” He laughed sharply as if he was in disbelief that you had rejected him so suddenly. 

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m not interested. Would you just leave me alone now?” The words sounded monotone and bored as they came from your mouth. 

“Listen, I was trying to be nice and give you a good time, but clearly, a bitch like you can’t appreciate a good guy when she comes across one.” He scoffed. “You’re lucky I even offered. You’re dressed like a total slut. Most guys want their women with a little bit of taste.” You spun on your heels to face him, your expression a mix of anger and disbelief. 

“Hey, dickhead, she asked you to leave her alone. Get over yourself and go home.” A woman shouted from behind you. You turned curiously and glanced over at a young woman only a few feet away. 

She was leaning against the wall, joint burning between her lips, her green eyes trained on you. She took a long drag from her joint and exhaled as she let it fall to the cement and put it out with her shoe. With a few long strides, she stood at your side, glaring up at the man without a hint of fear in her eyes. 

He scoffed and looked from her to you. 

“Man, fuck this.” He muttered before turning to walk away. You let out a deep sigh and slowly looked up at the girl. 

Now that she was in front of you, you could fully take in her features. Her short, auburn hair was in a messy mullet style, one that complimented her strong jawline. Her cheeks were speckled with an array of freckles and her face was decorated with a few faded scars; one that split one of her eyebrows, one on her cheekbone, and one on her upper lip. She intrigued you. Your attraction to her was hard to describe, she was different than your usual type, and your meeting was slightly embarrassing, but the way her eyes transfixed on you made you wonder about her. 

“Sorry ‘bout that, I didn’t mean to interfere. He was just being an asshole, and I thought he might try to do something to you.” She muttered, sliding her hands into the pockets of her washed-out jeans. The corner of your mouth twitched upward into an almost smile. 

“I appreciate it,” You stuck out a hand and introduced yourself. 

“Ellie Williams,” She shook your hand and smiled. “I was going to head inside and get myself a drink if you’re interested in joining. I’d love to buy you a drink if you’d let me.” Ellie looked at you with a sly, confident smirk that made your stomach flip. 

You laughed softly and nodded. “I think I’d like that, Ellie.” She bites her bottom lip and opens the door for you before following you inside the club. With Ellie trailing behind you, you approach the bar and push past the people standing around to flag down a bartender. 

Ellie looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to tell her what you wanted to drink. “Just a dirty Martini, thanks.” You chuckled softly as she nodded. Waving to a bartender, Ellie ordered for you and a simple Rum & Coke for herself. 

You snuck a glance at her hands as she took the drinks from the bartender. Her fingers were long and slender, decorated in an array of silver rings. Your eyes trailed upward from her hands to her forearms. Her arms were toned with muscles, her right forearm marked with a dark tattoo that sprawled from her wrist to her elbow. Despite her sleeves being pushed up to her elbows, you could see a few dark lines poking out from underneath, presumably other tattoos that were covered up unintentionally.

Ellie passed you your drink and cleared her throat. “I’m going to sound so cliche, but what brings you here?” She kept her gaze trained on your face as she took a sip from her glass. 

“It’s my friend’s bachelorette! She’s over there–” You pointed to the dance floor, quickly directing Ellie to Dina, who was wearing a white pantsuit and an obnoxiously bejeweled white veil that you had bought her from Party City the day before. “Everyone’s very drunk, but I haven’t had nearly as much to drink as they have.” You laughed as you watched Dina jump into the arms of another friend of yours. 

Your gaze soon returned to Ellie, feeling your cheeks grow hot as you caught her staring at you. “And what about you? Do you always sulk around clubs and save girls from seedy guys?” Ellie let out a choked laugh at your words, setting her drink down on the countertop. 

Ellie leaned in close, her lips gently brushing against your ear as she said, “Just the pretty ones.” 

You giggled and tried to ignore the fluttering in your stomach that her touch had caused. “My knight in shining armor,” The words left you sarcastically. 

The feeling flowing throughout your body slightly confused you; it had been a while since you had successfully hit it off with another woman, let alone one that made you weak in the knees with her gaze alone. 

“In all seriousness though…I sell weed here on occasion. Just happened to be smoking outside when I saw you.” She looked down at the floor briefly, tapping her fingers along the rim of her glass. 

You looked up at her as you bit your lip. “I’m glad you were there, Ellie.” You touch her arm gently as you speak. She smiled softly, and you could’ve sworn you saw the faintest tint of a blush on her cheeks, but then again, the flashing lights made it hard to see. 

As the song playing transitioned into a familiar beat, your eyes widened, and you looked up at Ellie excitedly. “Oh my god! This is one of my favorite songs!” You exclaimed, voice rising so she could hear you. “Ellie, come dance with me!” You proposed with a wide grin, not leaving her with much of an option as you were already tugging her toward the swarm of people on the dance floor. 

Despite her cool exterior, the second you pulled Ellie into the crowd, she was laughing and singing beside you. Still, she was a bit awkward when it came to the dancing, but it’s not like anybody was paying any attention to you two. 

Without saying a word, you grabbed Ellie’s hands and moved them to rest on your hips, spinning around to turn your back to her. Ellie let out a shaky breath, confident you wouldn’t hear it over all the noise. You were pushed up against her, swaying your hips in accordance with the song, gently grinding against Ellie’s hips with every movement. 

It didn’t take long for Ellie to catch onto what you were thinking, her grip on your hips tightening. She gently pressed her lips against your earlobe, her hot breath fanning across the sensitive skin. You leaned your head back against her shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as her lips slowly traveled from your earlobe to your exposed neck. 

It was difficult to tell if the giddiness you were experiencing was caused by the drinks you’d had or if it was Ellie’s touch alone that had your body burning with desire. Either way, you found yourself desperate to feel her body against yours. 

Settling a hand on top of Ellie’s, you craned your head to the side to face her. With your free hand, you gently held the back of her neck and pulled her in for a kiss. Ellie was quick to return the kiss, her slightly chapped lips moving hungrily against yours. She groaned softly as she tasted your sweet lip gloss on her mouth. 

You turned to face her, breathing heavily. “I need you,” The words left you in a needy whisper, but even when the blaring music drowned out your plead, Ellie saw the movement of your pretty lips and knew exactly what you were saying. Three words, three syllables, ‘I need you.’ 

The two of you hurried over to the nearest women’s bathroom, kissing one another needily the minute the door closed behind you. You pulled Ellie into one of the stalls, locking the door with a shaky hand as she pressed your body against it. 

Ellie was anything but shy when it came to touching you. Her hands roamed your body presumptuously, her hands wandering from your hips to your chest all while she kissed you passionately. 

While kissing you, Ellie bit your bottom lip playfully, quickly running her tongue along your lip afterward. As your tongues intertwined and slid against one another, Ellie nudged her leg in between yours, gently rubbing her thigh against your clothed pussy. You let out a muffled moan against her lips as you rubbed your cunt against her leg. 

“Fuck…” She groaned, watching you grind against her helplessly. Ellie could see you were overcome with lust, and so was she. Gently, Ellie tugged down your sequined top, allowing your breasts to spill out for her to see. She kissed along your jaw, her kisses quickly turning from innocent pecks to hungry suckling, leaving purplish-red hickeys in her trail. As her lips traveled across your jawline and neck, those long, slim fingers of hers started to toy with your hardened nipples. Quiet gasps and moans fell from your glossy lips as she pinched and rolled your buds in between her calloused fingers. 

“Ellie…” You whined as you moved your hips against her thigh, desperate for some sort of release. 

She chuckled and pulled away from your neck to look down at you. “So needy…” Ellie mumbled. She unbuttoned her pants and pulled them down just far enough to reveal the strap-on toy she was wearing. It was purple and obscenely large, with a few thick veins detailing the sides of the dildo. You stared down at the toy in surprise, looking back up at Ellie with wide eyes. “Do you always wear that around?” You murmured, glancing down at the strap again. 

“Just when I’m trying to get laid,” Ellie remarked, laughing quietly as she kissed your cheek. You giggled and brought your lips to hers.

“Ellie, there’s no way that thing will fit inside me.” You whispered against her lips as you felt her hands gently moving your skirt up your hips. “I’ll be careful and go slow…don’t worry,” She reassured you. “And if you really want me to stop, just tell me, and I will.” 

You nodded and let her pull the sequined skirt above your hips, revealing the simple black panties you wore underneath. You heard her breath hitch at the sight, and you felt your face grow hot as she glanced from your clothed cunt to your face. Without much of a warning, Ellie placed her hands under your thighs and gently picked you up, pinning you against the stall door and holding you up. 

Gently, Ellie rubbed her middle finger up and down your panties, groaning softly when she felt the wet spot your slick had created. “So fucking wet…” She commented quietly, as she pushed your sheer panties to the side and revealed your pussy. Ellie circled your clit slowly with her thumb, using every bit of self-control to stop herself from whoring you out on her strap right then and there. 

“Please, Ellie,” You moaned and clutched her shoulders tightly. Ellie inhaled sharply and nodded. She carefully slid a finger inside your aching slit, biting her lip as she watched her finger disappear inside of you. You hugged her, burying your face into her neck as your breathy moans and gasps filled her ears.  Soon, Ellie added a second finger as she whispered sweet praise to you. “You’re doing so well, pretty girl…” She said with her lips pressed against your ear. “Jus’ gotta get you ready for my cock,” Her teeth sunk into your earlobe just enough to get you to whimper loudly.  “I’m ready, please– I need it,” You begged her, eyes glossy with tears of sexual frustration. Surely part of your neediness was because of the alcohol, but you couldn’t deny that everything about Ellie made you feel excited. In all honesty, you couldn’t remember the last time you were so desperate to hook up with someone, let alone in the bathroom of a busy club. 

Ellie chuckled softly and kissed your cheek. “Okay, but tell me if you want to stop, alright?” You whined softly as she pulled her fingers out and gently rubbed the strap along your dripping entrance. Slowly, she pushed the tip past your slick folds and into your cunt, earning a deep moan from your lips. 

“Oh my god, Ellie,” You squeezed your eyes shut while she continued to push further inside you. “It’s so big…” You cried. 

“I know, but you can take it, pretty girl…I know you can…” Ellie cooed, her fingers digging into the exposed skin of your thighs. 

The slow pace she was moving at was practically torturous, but when she finally slid the full length of the strap into you, you knew the wait had been worth it. Ellie began to thrust into you, cautiously at first, as if she was scared to hurt you, but when she saw how much of a mess you were already, she couldn’t help but pound into you relentlessly. 

It took every ounce of your strength to refrain from screaming and moaning her name; the two of you were fucking in a public space after all. So, with a hand covering your mouth, you let out choked, muffled moans with every jerk of Ellie’s hips. It didn’t take long for Ellie to find that spot deep inside of you that almost made you scream when she hit it with the tip of her strap. 

Your eyes were watering and glossy, hot tears threatening to spill down your face. A small smile spread across your face as you felt your walls tightening and your orgasm building up inside of you. It appeared that Ellie could see how close you were as her pace sped up and fucked into you without remorse. 

You opened your mouth to tell her how good it felt when you both heard the bathroom door slam open and bang against the wall. Ellie froze, eyes wide as the two of you listened to a group of girls file into the bathroom. They talked loudly, shrill laughter echoing throughout the room as they conversed. After a few moments, most of the group had left, but you could still hear a couple of girls talking. 

“God, this fucking pantsuit is so itchy…” Your eyes widened as you realized one of the girls talking was Dina. 

“At least you’re not wearing a miniskirt! This thing keeps riding up,” Another one of your friends responded. Ellie looked down at you, slightly confused as to why you seemed so shocked.

“Those are my friends!” You whispered to Ellie. Her eyebrows raised slightly before a mischievous grin began to form on her face. 

“Hey, have any of you seen y/n?” Dina asked. 

“Not since she stepped out for air– maybe we should look for her.” Ellie bit her lip and slowly thrust her hips upward, causing your eyes to roll back and a wrangled gasp to escape you. 

“Y/n, you in here?” One of the girls called out. Ellie looked down at you, her eyes dark and full of lust. She shook her head, silently telling you to keep quiet. Ellie placed a hand over your mouth and paused for a moment to readjust herself before thrusting into you once again. She plunged into you rigorously, smirking as hot tears began to fall down your cheeks. 

“Guess not. Let’s go see if she’s outside,” Dina suggested. In just a minute, the girls had filed out of the bathroom, leaving you and Ellie alone once again. 

“Almost got us caught, couldn’t keep quiet, could you? Huh?” Ellie mumbled once the door slammed shut. 

“F-Feels so good,” You sobbed as your walls clenched tightly around the strap. Ellie pulled your body as close to hers as she could and kissed you. It was a messy kiss, saliva trickling from your lips as you pulled away to cry out something incoherent. Ellie groaned softly as she felt the base of the strap grind against her puffy clit with every deep thrust inside of you. 

Ellie felt like she was going insane as she watched you take her strap. Your makeup was smudged and running down your face with your tears, your breasts bounced with every move of Ellie’s hips, and your lips were shiny with drool. You looked so fucked out, so pretty, and you hadn’t even cum yet. The scene in front of Ellie was pornographic, and she couldn’t get enough of it. The way you cried her name every time she hit that spot deep inside you made her want to make you hers right then and there, but she knew better than to ruin the mood with her nonsense. Better to save it for later after taking you on a date, something romantic like that. 

“God, you should see yourself right now, lookin’ so pretty while you take my cock…” Ellie moaned softly before she nuzzled her face in your neck. 

“Ellie- I’m gonna cum!” You gasped as your legs began to shake. Her fingers moved against your clit quickly while she continued to thrust at the same relentless pace. 

“Oh yeah? Gonna cum all over my fucking strap?” She muttered teasingly. You let out a choked sob and nodded. Ellie grinned and kissed your neck softly. “I know you are, pretty girl.” She breathed heavily against your sensitive skin. Based on the sounds she was making as her hips stuttered, you guessed she was on the brink of an orgasm. You were proud to see it– you wanted to see her cum just as badly.

Quickly after Ellie spoke, you felt the tension in your stomach unravel. Your orgasm came over you like a tsunami, your vision going white with pleasure. Ellie’s thrusts turned sloppy as she too began to climax, small moans and whimpers escaping her. The base of the strap was rubbing against her clit so perfectly that it was hard for her to focus on anything else. Pleasure coursed through every part of your body as you cried out and spasmed in Ellie’s arms, her incoherent mumbles of praise reassuring you.

Slowly, you both regained your composure after your orgasms had fizzled out. Ellie gently pulled the strap out and helped you stand, resting a hand on your lower back as she did so. You adjusted your panties and skirt before tugging your top back up. Ellie’s hands traced the hem of your skirt as she pulled you in for a sweet kiss. 

“For what it’s worth, I think that skirt looks stunning on you.” She whispered, a dazed smile on her face. You giggled and snaked your arms around her waist. 

“Not too slutty?” Ellie shook her head and gently wiped your runny makeup off your cheeks. 

“Not at all– I think it’s very tasteful.” She kissed you, her hand gently squeezing your hip. 

“I like you, Williams.” You murmured as her lips left yours. She chuckled softly and looked down at you.

“Well, I like you too.” Ellie ran a calloused thumb over your cheekbone. “Can I take you out on a date? I’ll make it worth your while…” You giggled and nodded. She kissed your cheek and jaw a few times, her lips curling into a giddy smile. 

“I’d like that,” You bit your lip in an attempt to hide the stupidly large grin on your face. Taking her hand and intertwining your fingers, you stood on the tips of your toes and gave her a long, caring kiss. “Why don’t we get out of this bathroom? My friends are looking for me, and I don’t want to worry them too much.” 

Ellie nodded and squeezed your hand reassuringly. “Let’s go. I’m dying to dance with you again anyways.” Her voice teasing but still genuine. 

You reunited with Dina at the bar, Ellie trailing close behind you. Dina glanced at Ellie and back at you with a curious expression. 

“Ellie, would you give us a minute?” You asked her sweetly. She nodded and walked away, muttering something about grabbing some water.  “Who is that?” Dina asked, watching intensely as Ellie walked away. 

“It’s a long story–” Dina’s sharp laugh interrupted you. 

“You fucked her, didn’t you! You dirty dog!” She gasped dramatically, and you both broke out into laughter. 

“How can you tell?”

“You have hickeys all over you, and your makeup is smudged– I’d be stupid if I didn’t notice,” Dina stated and crossed her arms over her chest. 

You giggled and shrugged. “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow when you’re sober.” Dina grinned and nodded. 

“Well, go and get her! She can come party with us!” Dina exclaimed and waved Ellie over. Ellie was quick to join you two, her arm sliding around your waist as she stood beside you. 

“Dance with me?” You asked as you looked up to meet her gaze.

“Always,” She chuckled. 

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

a/n: this was literally supposed to be a quick lil drabble but here i am with 4k words...im proud of this tho <33

#ellie williams smut #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams the last of us #tlou ellie #ellie williams x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #the last of us #tlou 2 #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou game #lesbians #sapphic #wlw love #wlw post #x reader #fem reader #tlou smut #wlw #lesbian #tlou x reader #tlou2

[fun-k-board]

Hey again 😄😄😄

Thank you so so much for the smoke headcanon I really enjoyed it, I was wondering if you could do it again but this time with reptile please ??

Syzoth / Reptile Friendship / General Headcanons

Note(s) : You're a regular human and not a champion, it's implied you're friends with the human kharacters and meet Reptile through them.

Reptile is extremely anxious around you at first because you're not a champion, you're just an Earthrealmer with no fighting skills or prior knowledge on Outworld, and he finds himself a little confused on your presence most of the time.

As such, he finds himself explaining to you a lot of things that he would believe are just common sense. He doesn't get annoyed though, because he realises his constant questions on regular human ideas must be strange too.

He's still a Zatteran despite his ability to shapeshift into a human form, and so, any human social cues you've mastered will probably be strange to him, and vice versa.

Syzoth will typically eat bugs like cockroaches, spiders, flies, and forgets that some human cultures don't have that normalised, but he's extremely overjoyed when he finds out that certain places consider bugs a delicacy. He basically begs you to take him to those places.

If Johnny invites you to be in a movie, whether acting or stage hand, Syzoth, and by extension a large chunk of the Kast, will a million percent also be there after being coincidentally, also invited by Johnny! He's interested in Earth culture, and after watching Predator, which scared the daylights out of him, he wants to know the process behind movies.

Hundred percent asks to see movies with you, apart from horrors, never show him a horror movie, he will not be able to sleep for weeks.

Movie nights are incredibly common, a lot of other non Earthrealmers join in as well! It becomes very cramped very fast in your house, let's hope Johnny is nice enough to lend you all his mansion for the night.

He's a big fan of superhero media, there's always an invisible person, although he finds the fact a lot of them have to strip incredibly strange, or some type of half human half animal hybrid, he feels at home a lot of the time watching those types of superheros.

He can't stomach human food, so if he ever stays at yours for a sleepover or just to hang out for a day, he'll be an exterminator for you and eat any bugs he can find as his lunch / dinner. It's very helpful during summer.

Speaking of summer, he always wears his usual attire even in unbearable heat, he's uncomfortable with his human form and he feels awkward to show more of it. Besides, he likes to keep warm because he gets cold too easily, and when he's cold he gets slower which is impractical and annoying.

After the death of his wife and children, he's been looking for a distraction, he needs some form of comfort and he feels talking to you and his other friends is a huge help. Especially if you've experienced a close loss before, even if you don't know ways to help cope, you can always find ways to help each other heal together.

He tries to ask you for dating advice with Ashra, this most likely goes over well no matter how horrible your advice is, because Ashra and Syzoth are the best couple and are so wholesome nothing could offend either.

Syzoth is always awkward around dinners, whenever he's invited to Madam Bo's by one of the Kast of you, he sort of just sits around and tries to talk instead of eat. Reptiles learned after a while that it's impolite to humans when you just eat bugs out of the air, which he doesn't understand, and so refrains from eating at most public dinners.

He really wants to bring you to Zattera, but he knows far too well that they don't take kindly to warm blood, and while he understands his people's reason, he's still disappointed.

Luckily! He can visit your home in Earthrealm.

He does unfortunately get a lot of stares when he visits your home, your family and even strangers on the street always assume he's a cosplayer.

After he gets roles for a few of Johnny's movies, he becomes a micro celebrity of some sorts, including you if you decide to star in them. People recognise him on the streets and he gets rather embarrassed, but also very appreciated, he feels a lot of love around fans.

Apart from the weird ones... He tries to tell people that he's taken, with a wonderful girlfriend who'd he'd never betray, but... He needs you to chase them off a lot.

I imagine at first, your family and friends might think he's really weird, like, not even 'wow that was strange' weird, but 'never invite this man to be close to my vicinity again' type weird.

He's always looking around suspiciously, eyes wide, sweaty, sometimes he looks like he's going to speak but then holds a hand over his mouth, always when there's a fly near...

But, it only takes a day of knowing him for them to switch up and genuinely adore him.

They invite him around all the time, he's sweating buckets and terrified of messing up, but they're so taken aback by how goddamn sweet this guy is they don't notice.

Once again, you become his saviour and help him whenever they get too talkative about where he's from. They don't know about Outworld, and Liu Kang would prefer it if you didn't spill to everybody.

He finds human fashion a bit strange, but he actually really likes hoodies, especially the ones with short sleeves, they feel comfortable and he can move around a lot without it being a hassle of detangling and annoyance. He also likes wearing fingerless gloves everywhere.

Introducing him to Earthrealm music is... Interesting, to say the least. He really enjoys a lot of them! Especially classical, they're closer to what he knows from Outworld, but, he's also surprised at how much he likes a lot of modern music.

I'm spreading my Britney Spears fan Syzoth agenda and you can't stop me.

#syzoth #reptile #mk1 reptile #mk reptile #mk1 syzoth #mk1 #mk1 x reader #mk1 x gn reader #mortal kombat x gn reader #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat 1 x reader #mortal kombat 1 x gn reader #syzoth x gn reader #syzoth x reader #reptile x reader #reptile x gn reader #syzoth headcanons #mortal kombat headcanons #mk headcanons #mk1 headcanons

[jhuzen]

study habits [m.reader]

i offer up this story for my man haitham. please come home. i will die without your tits. thank you mwah. i’m paying homage to my very nice study habits that apparently, some people find weird.

Part 2

“Ride me, ‘Haitham.”

Alhaitham’s breath hitched upon hearing your little request.

In his few decades of life studying in Akademiya (though mostly refusing to join classes and opting to just do it on his own), Alhaitham came across certain breeds of students that classify into studying. Despite spending a majority of his time with his nose buried in between the pages of every book he’s held, he still made time to make observations around the people he finds himself surrounded by.

And it’s no different when the examinations befall Akademiya. Despite Akademiya being known for manufacturing astute scholars from every walks of life (though that took a little while until the current Grand Sage was overthrown), they still were renowned for its dreadful examinations which every single student had to exert twice as effort to pass, or they get the boot.

In a way, it’s how a student proves their standing in Akademiya, in the school that they’ve chosen for themselves. After all, a little memorization of concepts wouldn’t hurt now, would it? Application is one way to exert knowledge, but to objectively know topics is the first step before even conducting a research, because how on earth are you able to start a research study with little knowledge from the correlating topics?

Nevertheless, when Alhaitham was a student, he proved his standing in the school of Haravatat after acing all of his tests. He was an ace that all professors from before would boast to others (ignoring his attitude and tendency to study alone — some of them can look past that just so they can be proud of someone who apparently learned under them).

And he was no stranger to the many breeds of student that fell under different categories in terms of study habits.

There were over-achievers that absolutely refused to settle for less, studying vigorously that sometimes, apparently, their parents would come and visit, hoping that their child hasn’t plummeted to death. And as the scribe, he has had one too many encounters of people worrying about these students, checking in whether or not they’ve eaten or given themselves attention other than studying. Still, he wasn’t one to complain, these people were dead set on achieving the top and more often than not, they succeed.

There are those who preferred to study in groups, finding social interactions less distracting (something that even with the genius Alhaitham possesses, he cannot simply understand). But apparently, according to his roommate, who also preferred a little company when he was still a student, it helps when your colleagues would quiz you, and sometimes even just listening to the question and answer portions your associates would do out of nowhere helped retain information.

People who did not prefer people but still preferred distraction opted to study with music. Alhaitham has heard from a scholar that the beat of the melody helps them put the information into a rhythm that they could not forget either — he supposed that was what happened when he could hear a rhythmic tapping during his final examinations back then.

And Alhaitham sometimes would find people in the dead of the night still by the library, looking remotely refreshed, only to be told that they just woke up and are ready to study the night away just hours before the examinations so that ‘the information is still fresh when the exams come up’. He had to scoff at that, one too many times he’s seen a classmate of his drop dead asleep in the middle of what they have been preparing for all night, some he finds even comically staring out of the blue, completely out of it from the clear lack of sleep.

He has even realized that there were those who were impractical yet still so confident they can stand up against the hundred-item questionnaire — those that relied on stock knowledge, claiming that their photographic memory and sharp hearing helped them retain information. Alhaitham watched them fumble with their now jumbled stock knowledge. And then… there were those who slept with a book under their pillow, with a bold claim that if they slept directly under it, their minds would absorb each information and they would be all set.

Alhaitham watched them draw a complete blank during the examinations.

And then… there was you. The very odd you.

You that hailed from nowhere (you claim), right-hand and quite possibly a father or brother figure to Nahida, teaching her the wonders of the human mind and its emotions as per her request. Since the day he, the traveler, and the rest of the ragtag gang that they formed to plan the Dendro Archon’s rescue, you started to come out of your den more to heed Nahida’s request.

Suffice to say, you were a scholar that differed from the rest as you took on a much different discipline, something far less palpable than the ancient ruins that the school of Haravatat studied, or the fauna and flora that the school of Amurta specialized in and not even the history that the school of Vahumana offered.

No. You thought people are far more interesting than the possibly thousands of ruins from King Deshret’s sovereign buried under the sand. You pondered about how people thought, how they felt, and how they procured the decisions that they make fascinated you far more than the hidden puzzles waiting to be solved and possibly reward you with riches unfathomable to one’s pocket.

You loved people and the machinations of their mind. And so, with pride slung on your back, you studied the discipline of the human psyche and published research independent from Akademiya. Granted, back then, they barely gathered traction due to the Grand Sage’s restrictions — you didn’t cave and that frustrated the man, so your research reached such little population.

How ironic was it that even the beloved Dendro Archon now craves for your bouts of knowledge as though you were her teacher despite embodying the value of wisdom itself.

Nevertheless, despite the genius you possessed, that did little to take away from… your odd study habits.

But you swore to him it works — you’ve tested it yourself and showed him a fifty-page thesis about the efficiency of it. How lucky was it that you often invaded his house when it’s time to do your little studies. Kaveh enjoyed them and even egged you on, but Alhaitham was on the edge of the flat plane of temptation as he watched you work up a sweat on the floor.

His self-awareness was far too great but his self-control falters with every second he watched your biceps flex when you would routinely push yourself off the floor, maintaining a perfect posture that he was sure not even the trained matras could hope to do.

As it turns out, among the other ways to study, yours was only odd, simply because it absolutely served his sight, offering him a delectable show that at the very least, he can subtly observe (though he’s sure you barely pay attention to your surroundings, not when the way your eyebrows knitted in concentration into a soft glare as you studied the book under you).

But then you shattered his little daydream as you asked something from him.

“…What,” Alhaitham’s response was flat and dead, covering up the bothersome jittering that was in his stomach. He absolutely refused to lose to the likes of you.

You held on your position and looked over your shoulder, “I said, ride me. Get on my back.” Then your bottom lip stuck out in a pout. “Or are you still mad that I suggested you take the Grand Sage’s position?”

Ah yes. Now he was reminded why there was a small flicker of admonishing that settled at the pit of his stomach. You, a previously outsider scholar, suddenly had the influence just because you were Lesser Lord Kusanali’s appointed caretaker. Your influence, coupled with Nahida’s trust in you, had placed him in his new position as the Acting Grand Sage.

“You’ve done nothing but cause me trouble these past few days. And yet you have the gall to barge in my home and now you have the utmost confidence that I will entertain your unwelcome and asinine request?”

“Yes, absolutely, a hundred percent,” you answered without missing a beat.

Alhaitham had to steel himself. You were either absolutely unabashed or you knew him from the inside out and that you’re being an absolute tease, “You’re as good as a roommate here. Pay your dues.” Was all he said before turning to leave.

“I will pay you in a form of lunch. Name any restaurant in every nation. Just get on me.”

Do you know how absolutely ridiculous you sound? You’re smart so you’re probably aware, but it looks like even that’s not turning out in his favor, “Why do you feel the need to add more weight into your… escapades?”

“Because it’s fun. Helps me concentrate.”

“Your thesis does not stipulate any of that. In fact you claimed that too much can cause more of a distraction than the intended outcome while studying.” Alhaitham rebutted, eyes narrowing at you in pure criticism and suspicion.

“Hah. Check the page in my results, there’s a footnote that the intensity of a physical workout varies upon the concentration of the person.”

You did no such thing. And Alhaitham knows. He read every word verbatim in your thesis about the correlation of the human mind and physical activities and almost memorized it. And from the knowing look in your eyes and that captivatingly annoying smile, you were trying to fish him out of the depths of his physical attraction.

“…Do not blame me if my weight proves to be too much. And not less than fifteen minutes. Kaveh’s on his way home. I’d rather be caught dead somewhere in the den of a Rishboland tiger than be in this… circumstance.”

He absolutely refused to look at your dumb and victorious smile as he walked over to you. Alhaitham had to say, you definitely earned the stares you catch when you would walk through the streets of Sumeru City. And it was all the more endearing when you told him that other than helping your concentration in studying, you liked to be stronger, so that you can take Nahida out on walks with the traveler (should they visit) and ensure no harm befalls either of them.

Surprisingly, you were one to keep your word, as you steadily did your push-ups with little to no problem while he sat on your back. Alhaitham, ever the prepared man he was, brought in a tiny book that he has read one too many times just to distract from the way you felt under him, the way your sturdy back held him up. You barely wobbled and the scribe had to wonder if you were some kind of beast at this point.

And in the minutes that he desperately tried to distract himself from, his ears grew hotter at the soft grunts you emanated, and in between them were deep murmurs of the material you studied, broken words leaving your plump lips that he may have stared at before one too many times.

Archons. Attraction is so insufferable. So illogical. So subjective. So… so… so not him. You defied all logic with your disarmingly dumb atmosphere, only to take people by surprise as you present your hundreds of research on something so rarely touched on such as human emotions. You were Alhaitham’s first subjective thought and it pains him so much.

While he continued to drown in his sorrows about you bypassing his logical security systems that his brain was wired to have at all costs, he failed to notice when you stopped.

And in one swift move, you wriggled around and laid your back on the floor, with him still on top of you, now straddling you in such compromising position that could leave anyone completely mortified and embarrassed.

“Wh—”

“Hey, I’m home. I saw some familiar shoes outside, is [Name] here? Is he cooking dinner? Oi, where a—”

The fifteen minutes are up and as Alhaitham met the definitely not welcome scandalous look that Kaveh gave the both of you — with your breathlessness and his flushed face, he thought of a hundred ways how to convince Nahida to finally drop you from your position.

#genshin impact x male reader #alhaitham x male reader #alhaitham x reader #jhuzen’s stupid one shots #come home haitham pls #i beg of you. come home so i may tit fuck you

[violetmina]

Chokehold - Ch. 8

Chokehold Masterlist

Accepting taglist requests!

Taglist: @roundroald @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @sexytholland @scraftsku35 @avastrasposts @missihart23 @ladyvillainous @elementress44 @haibara-ai-tsii @123passwort @sanscas @lulzbrokenbyfantasy @icantevenchoose @marksassybanana @a-rogue-tiddy-bot​ @itsyellow​ @lmarina2000​ @d3adite666​

Pairing: Billy Butcher x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7,577

Warning: Swearing, adult themes, my bad attempt at wriiting flirting, lots of tension of multiple types, choking, and good ol’ Butcher himself.

A/N: I know, I know, It's been too damn long. And so is this chapter, longest one to date. Despite it being, in my opinion, kind of all over the place, I really hope you guys enjoy. 

Scalding and fresh from the pot, the coffee glimmers like a black mirror in your work mug. Your reflection peers up at you but you're too elsewhere to notice it, its pensive glare or the hint of fatigue on its face. It mimics your dazed pose, one hand on the cupboard handle above you in the break room.

"It's not a magic eight ball."

You jerk, finding Hughie entering the break room beside you. He looks split between amused and mildly concerned at you. "What?"

"Your coffee," he gestures, side-stepping you to rummage for his lunch in the fridge. "You're staring at it like it's got all the answers or something."

With a shake of your head, you pull yourself out of your daze, rummaging through the cupboard for the fixings for your drink. "Wouldn't that be nice?," you sigh. "Caffeine fix and all my questions answered in one little mug."

Hughie settles at the table as you deposit your drink there and fetch your own food. "You wanna talk about it?"

You can't help but stiffen a little as you dig through the fridge, and hope he doesn't notice. Talk about it? About how this morning you'd woken up in a sweat, disoriented at finding yourself lying on your back instead of straddling the subtle v of Butcher's hips? Talk about the brutal shock of cold shower spray and chattering teeth it took to zap you back to reality?

Or talk about the nerves coffee couldn't fix but now made worse? You were strung on a tightrope of mild dread and anticipation for tonight's upcoming jiu jitsu lesson. After feeling his eyes burning along your spine, you were just a bit nervous of how Butcher planned to go forward from here.

"Just a lot on my mind," you shrug, taking up the chair next to him.

He gives a brief glance at the doorway as you shuffle out a sandwich then asks, "About future work projects?"

It's become an easy code to decipher between the two of you; the upcoming gala mission. Admittedly, it's another gnawing concern of yours. So you nod. "Yeah, a bit. There's some minor details that got me thinking."

"Like?," he asks quietly.

You pull your phone out of your pocket, opening it to the text from MM you'd been reading just before you'd zoned out. Hughie takes it, eyes quickly absorbing the vague message there. His brow furrows. "Um…am I missing something here?"

"It's a little info on the work project," you answer.

"Okay. Again, am I missing something?" He subtly peers about once more and lowers his voice. "It's stuff you'd find on an invitation. Venue, time, dress code-"

"Bingo," you sourly cut him off into your mug.

Hughie lets out a laugh. "Wait…A dress code? You're getting rattled by a black tie dress code?"

"Yes, exactly. Black tie. That means I have to wear an evening dress."

"You've worn dresses before," he replies between bites of his food. "Why is this any different? What's special about an evening dress?"

You rub at the bridge of your nose and sigh. "It's not about wearing a dress. It's about wearing a full-length dress, and heels, which are mandatory for black tie. And those are extremely impractical in shitty situations. Like not having full range of motion, or being able to run! I…" You lower your voice in admittance. "...I don't like potentially not being able to protect myself."

Hughie's face drops for a second as he takes that in. Then places a hand on your shoulder. "Okay, that makes more sense. I don't like that either. Hey, what if I talk to Annie?"

"Annie?," you ask, perplexed.

"Her whole job is about kicking ass in a costume, right?" He flashes a lop-sided grin. "I'll ask her if she can stop by and see you after work sometime. I'm sure she'd have more than a few pointers to share. It'd get her out of the tower for a bit. You find something that you'll pass dress code and feel more comfortable in. I think it'd be a win-win."

"And they say you're not the smart one," you wink. "I appreciate that, Hughie."

"Don't mention it. Do you want me to see if she's available tonight?"

You shake your head. "No," you reply after swallowing a thick bite of food. "Already got plans. Maybe night after next."

"Y/N's got plans? Somebody call the five o'clock news."

You and Hughie both find Victoria leaning in the doorway. A knot flips in your stomach and you do your best to not look suspicious as she strides in. She leans on the table, and you give her a little wave between bites.

"I know, right?," Hughie chimes in, jumping in before it can get weird. "I was just…offering her and Annie an opportunity to cut loose. Girls night, or whatever."

"Aren't you sweet? Good luck getting this work horse to slow down, though," Victoria says as she nods in your direction. Then turns fully to you. "Must be good if you're postponing an all-nighter in the cases. Don't tell me…" She wiggles an eyebrow at you. "Hot date, perhaps?"

You can't help a nervous snicker before shaking your head. "No," you answer into a napkin. "No, not a date."

"Now that's a shame," she says with a playful pout. "Here I thought somebody finally recognized your worth. God knows what I'd do without you."

"You joining us for lunch?," Hughie interjects.

"I'm afraid not," the congresswoman sighs. "I was going to ask Y/N to take some pressing cases over to your team to work on tonight. But maybe you could pick them up, Hughie?"

"I can still drop them off, at least. Before I call it a night," you shrug. "I'm not scheduled here tomorrow, so I'll be there most of the day anyway. I can start on them first thing in the morning."

"See?," Victoria waves in your direction before standing. "Like I said - work horse. I'll have one of the interns drop them by your desk before you clock out tonight. But I insist you wait till tomorrow to start on them. I'll cut you some slack, just this once." Then mutters as she turns for the door, "God knows Butcher doesn't know the meaning of the word."

"You never know. He has his good days," you call after her.

She pauses just outside the break room, casting you both a flat expression. "You kidding? If I had to work with him as much as you do, I think his head would explode. If not, it would definitely be mine."

After the sound of her high heels in the hall disappears, you and Hughie give each other a look. That was a little close for either of you, and you let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank God she's not a supe," you whisper into your coffee.

^^^

The rest of the work day goes by at its usual tedious pace. By the time you're flipping through the files you were to deliver, your nerves make it difficult to read through them and retain anything. Agitated, you stuff most of them into your work bag and clock out. When you get home you have just enough time to grab a bite to eat and change for the impending training session.

You settle on a small snack, something light that'll give a pep of energy, and wash it down with a glass of water. You'd quickly learned that rolling with a full stomach is not even remotely pleasant, and an empty one wasn't much better. Nerves aside, you manage to keep that little nourishment down and quickly shed your work clothes for something better suited for rolling.

You're admonishing yourself for feeling so jittery when your phone buzzes on the bed. You finish tearing the t-shirt over your head and read the new text from Frenchie.

Hughie says you have files for us. Mon couer and I left early today. We all have something for you as well. See you tomorrow, mon amie.

Will do, you promptly reply. Then almost as an afterthought, Congrats on convincing Butcher to let you off early! What kind of mood is he in now?

Frenchie's reply comes in just as you finish locking your front door behind you. No clue. He's been gone all day. Kimiko says to take it easy tonight. Or else.

The playful threat isn't what makes your shoulders tense. It's wondering what kept Butcher away from the office all day, and if it has anything to do with what you're about to walk into.

Relax!, you snap at yourself. You're reading way too much into this. You're just training. You have a job to do. Focus on the job.

Remembering that feeling of eyes on your back though makes you pick up your pace as you reach the pavement. Then quickening again when you check the time. You're going to be cutting it close. Maybe too close.

…Don't try my patience, love…

And what if I do?

You shake your head as you try to dash through the crowd over the crosswalk. That was definitely not focusing on the job. Being able to handle yourself was still one of your main priorities but this whole shift, whatever happened last night…well it's making you question your priorities.

Is that really necessary?, the little voice sneers from its corner of your brain. You're just getting awfully flirty with a handsome, murderous widower. That's all.

That makes your step falter and you manage to stay upright, but only just. Widower. After all that time and the fucking mess Vought had wrought on them, a widower. And only for a matter of months now. The fact that that feels more pressing and not the murderous part is an issue of its own entirely.

The hell am I doing? Having a crush is one thing. But this feels…a bit disrespectful. To Becca. And to him. A trickle of doubt pools in your stomach. Has he even stopped for one fucking second to grieve? Really grieve?

Not likely, the little voice whispers. Butcher feel his feelings? If it weren't for him trying to step up for Ryan, he'd be washing them away in supe blood… or smoke, drink and fuck them away. Maybe that's what this is. Maybe you're the rebound, it cackles.

You swallow with a thick, dry click. If that's true, you think as you return to the quicker pace you didn't realize you had dropped, should I care? Would that be so bad?

But that's not what you want? Is it?, the voice sneers again.

You grit your teeth and ignore it, willing the constant noise around you to drown it out. You've got a job to do. You have supes to hunt, Hughie to convince, and people counting on you to do your part, play your role. And you have no time nor room to question your role with Butcher. 

For all of your sakes.

^^^

The elevator feels particularly slow as it ascends to the office. It takes some effort but you keep from tapping your foot like an impatient child. It was five after eight when you had entered the building, and you had questioned Butcher's definition of punctual the moment the elevator doors had closed. Just how many minutes could you push it tonight?

The familiar ding finally comes and you dash out for the office doors. Your hand wraps around the handle and you burst in. Only instead of into the office you burst into the door. You jolt from the shock to your shoulder, glaring at the handle when it doesn't turn. You glance up and find, to your surprise, that there are no lights on inside. It's locked tight.

Perplexed, you fish out your keys and find your copy to unlock the stubborn handle. You can't help a scoff at the sight of the vacant office. "Don't be late," you mutter in your best Butcher impression, which is laughable at best. "Boss me, ditch work all day, and not even be on time? Oh I'm gonna give you shit for that…" 

You open the door just enough to side-step in, fingers skittering along the wall for the light switch. It crosses your mind that maybe something had held him up, that something might have happened to him. A knot of apprehension slips through the dark and coils in your chest. But you swat the thought away, no need to panic over a few minutes late. You breathe a sigh when the switch finally greets your fingertips, giving it a sharp flick…

Nothing. Just shades and shapes in the office. Even the city glow only does so much for visibility. A groan slips out as the apprehension begins to coil again, making the hairs on the back of your neck prickle slightly. You drop your bag against the wall and fumble with your phone to turn on its light, slowly tiptoeing into the room to find the breaker. "Damn it, Frenchie!," you hiss into the dark. "What did you do now?"

You only take a few shy steps in before holding the light high, hoping it would reach the far wall. A wisp of memory comes to you, telling you the breaker should be closer to the front of the office. Surely Frenchie would have had the courtesy to tell you there were technical issues, knowing you were dropping by! 

You pause. You suddenly realize if he had forgotten, Kimiko certainly would have reminded him, or text you herself. Standing stock still, light still glaring into the space, another realization creeps over you, thick as the uncanny silence.

The hairs on the back of your neck aren't prickling now. They're standing on end.

Click.

You're just whirling to run for the door when a thick arm wraps about your neck, a hand clapping tight over your mouth. In a snap you're back at the warehouse as you frantically squirm, it'd been just like this, it's happening again! Panic bursts hot in your chest for a split second before a tug of muscle memory kicks. Do something!, it screams.

You try to yank on the arm round your neck, go for a hip throw. It gives you perhaps centimeters to breathe but you weren't fast enough, you're not throwing them forward. At your attempt, your attacker yanks hard, dragging you backwards across the floor.

Adapt! Fight!

You try to drop, lower your center of gravity, make the bastard work for it! Again, they yank, this time picking you clear off the floor. You shift your hips as you're lifted up, swinging hard to plant your feet back as far as you can. When they hit the floor again you scramble, hooking an ankle around the back of your attacker's leg. They stumble and it gives you just what you need; you facing opposite your attacker, their arm in your grip. If they're not going to go forward, then you're taking them backwards.

You shift your hips, shoving them hard into where you guess is the bastard's back, and pull with a yell, adrenaline-fueled force far greater than in practice. The sound of impact booms across the hardwood and a twist of angry satisfaction flits through you at the groan of pain that follows. But it's brief, you turn and scramble hopefully away, utterly disoriented in the dark. You spot your phone, light still on, and the door behind it, like a lighthouse beacon.

You barely manage two steps before your ankle is snatched. Your hands protest against the solid contact with the floor, your face barely missing the same fate as the wind is nearly knocked from you. Fingers stretching fast, you just get the phone in your hand before you're yanked back. Muscle memory kicks in again - Not your back! Don't give them your back! - and you twist off your stomach as you kick blindly-!

Blind! Blind them!

You turn the light towards the attacker, pulling back your free leg again, ready to break their goddamn nose as your own eyes try to adjust. Past the flares and dots swimming in your vision you grit your teeth and face-!

Butcher.

Your jaw drops, and he recoils, squinting in the bluish glare for just a split second. Then he swats the phone out of your hand, sending it across the floor again. "If they're going to teach you how to read a room," he rasps, pulling you roughly until he leans over you, "they've got their fucking work out for 'em." He tsks at you, shaking his head. "Fucking stupid, love."

"You-! You-!," you rasp back. Then your lips peel back in a snarl, fists flailing at him in the dark. "You asshole! You fucking asshole! Should've fucking known!"

Your blind punches are short-lived as he manages to wrangle your arms across your chest. "Alright! Knock it off! Knock it off!" You squirm and yell before he grips your wrists tighter and leans heavy into you, making you grunt out a breath. "I said…knock it off."

"You-!" You swallow thickly, cotton-mouthed, panting. "I thought it was-. Again. The warehouse. You- you almost-! Gave me a fucking-! Panic attack!"

"I had to. And you're about to have it again if you keep fucking hyperventilating," Butcher growls. "Now breathe, goddamn it. Real slow like."

He keeps hold of your wrists and leans up enough to let you take full breaths again. You glare at him as your eyes adjust, sucking air through your nose, shakily breathing out through your mouth. Adrenaline is still white hot in your veins, spiking through your spine. Along with the anger. God, you want to throttle him! After a minute or two, you attempt to speak again.

"Had to? The hell do you mean 'had to'?"

"What I said. I had to know how you'd react in crisis. Especially if it were anything like what happened to you before."

"I think you're full of shit, but fine."

"I told ya," he says, hard and glaring back. "Over anything else I taught you, you can't lose your head."

"Well I'm off to a great start," you huff.

"Weren't that bad," Butcher shrugs. "You used your training. Even adapted that hip throw. That was good. Real good."

You blink back surprise. Maybe you're still a bit out of it…but did he just give you a little credit?

"But you still lost your head a bit, right there at the start. You panicked. That's why that first throw didn't work for shite."

And he's back. Realizing you've been in this position for a while, you shift slightly against the floor. "So what now?," you ask as he lets go of your wrists. "You jumped me, now we fix the lights and warm up? Or is that it?"

"I dunno," Butcher drawls, a mischievous curl in his lip. "You feel pretty warmed up to me."

He shifts off you, and you're grateful for the brief moment to process. Butcher had always been blunt. But you hadn't exactly expected him to openly flirt this soon. Then again when did Butcher ever do as expected? Maybe it's a tactic? Throw you off your training tonight?

"And the lights stay off," his voice cuts through your musing, as he takes one of your hands to haul you to your feet.

"Why? How am I supposed to train when I can barely see?"

"I distinctly recall telling you not to be late," he quips. "Besides, you gotta learn to adapt to conditions anyway. That gala ain't no morning brunch."

"I'm sure they paid the light bill," you utter, looking about for your phone. You locate it beaming under the lip of your desk just next to you. When you stand back up with it, you nearly jump feeling Butcher's hand slide to your lower back.

"What's matter, love?," his voice ghosts over your ear. "You afraid being all alone with me in the dark?"

The nervous giggle that titters out of your throat is borderline embarrassing, but you counter quickly, "More like afraid of getting used to not seeing that mug of yours. Might give me another panic attack when the lights come back on."

He gives a begrudging chuckle as he steps back, shifting his hand to hook lightly in the crook of your elbow. "For not being able to see, you came pretty fucking close to stomping in me mug. Turn off that torch before ya blind us again. Step this way."

You can discern outlines and you do see sections of the office where light from the hallway to the elevator and the windows is a bit brighter. But it doesn't do much to boost your confidence. "How do you see in this?," you ask sincerely, shuffling after him, hesitantly turning off your phone light.

"What? You think we do all our work in bright, shiny spaces? That those cunts want us to be able to see 'em coming?" You can just make out his head shaking. "Nah. And I would think as often as we are in this place, you'd have it mapped out like I do by now."

He stops you in one of the faint outlines of the windows on the floor. In your murky vision you see that he's already cleared the area. "Down here," he prompts, tugging on your elbow and you both sink to the hardwood.

"So are you gonna tell me what you were planning on doing with me?," you tease, nibbling on your lip when you hear a more suggestive tone than you had intended.

Butcher's long legs stretch out along either side of yours, and you feel a laugh rumble in his chest when he pulls you back into him. "I've been planning since last night. I've got plenty of ideas for you."

Christ, he's not beating around the bush is he? 

You refrain from biting your lip again as you become aware of something else. With your vision impaired, your other senses are trying to compensate, to help you reorient in the room. But it's leaving your skin more attune to his proximity, the warmth radiating off him. And your hearing is gonna be the death of you. Butcher's voice had always been one of your weaknesses, and now your ears are keened in on every rough, baritone syllable, every rumble, every damn hum that passes his lips.

He's being a tease. A fucking tease!, you think with a wave of indignation. Putting those SAS interrogation tactics into a game. Bastard is trying to get me to break!

Your pulse kicks up, you feel it begin to patter a quick rhythm in your veins, against your chest. And pressed against your back, apparently Butcher can feel it too, as he loosely settles his arms around your torso. "Feeling alright there, sweetheart?," he croons with faux innocence. You can practically hear the smug look crawl over his face.

You. Fucker. A smug look of your own twitches at the corners of your mouth before you recompose. Alright, Billy. You wanna play a game of who breaks first? You're on.

"Just getting my head into training," you reply coolly. "What are we working on?"

"We're starting with this. Showing you exactly why you shouldn't let anyone take your back." His arms move up to cross snugly around your shoulders. More of a warning than anything else. His legs move over yours till he hooks his ankles just behind your knees.

"Thought you just did that when you jumped me?," you mutter.

"A little. But that was what some sloppy thug would do. If someone really wants to hurt ya, they're gonna incapacitate you first, then drag you off. So you're gonna learn a rear naked choke. How to do it, what it feels like, and how to get out of it."

"What it feels like? Why?"

Butcher's hands slide up to your shoulders. "If you're going to work with the team, get your hands dirty, you gotta learn to be uncomfortable. You've been in that cushy office at the bureau for too long. And again, you gotta learn how to act in crisis. Not gonna get out of it if you don't know what it feels like neither."

"So you're desensitizing me."

"Only to certain things," he replies slyly, draping one arm over your left shoulder. His tone becomes serious when he speaks again. "Now listen close. This is gonna be right uncomfortable. I'm gonna put the choke on you slow. You're gonna push through for as long as you can, which won't be long at all. But don't be daft about it. Tap when you need to, I fucking mean it. If I have to put you in recovery position 'cause of your ego, we'll have problems when you wake up. You understand?"

"I think I can handle a-"

"Do you understand?," he growls hot in your ear, beard scraping along the delicate skin.

You nod, then firmly answer, "I understand."

You watch Butcher's right arm slide up and across till his wrist is just across his left elbow. Then he secures it by curling his left arm back till his fingers just cup the back of your head. The action brings his right elbow to cradle your windpipe with practiced precision, your neck now firmly encased in his arm. But the muscle and bone feel like thick, iron bands and you suck in a surprised breath, hands shooting up to cling at his arm on impulse.

"Easy. Not gonna put it on ya full throttle. Take a calm, deep breath when you're ready," he says as you take a couple shaky breaths. Then low, low enough that you feel more than hear it, "I got you."

You fasten your eyes on the office door, willing yourself to relax. Which isn't much, being wrapped so tightly into Butcher, getting ready to be potentially choked out. After a moment, you remind yourself to tap, give a quick nod and fill your lungs.

Butcher executes slowly, but nonetheless your fingers clutch his arm again as the pressure increases, eliciting an instinctual response from your body to try to get away. But his legs give you nothing to work with and you quickly realize why he had you take a deep breath. You can still breathe, or wheeze rather. But the pressure in your head is firm, quick and thunderous. Blood choke, you think distantly, a ringing beginning to rise in your ears, throughout your skull.

It's mere seconds, but he was right. It's damn uncomfortable. No, actually, it's flat out scary as the edge of your vision begins to fog out the office doors. With a strangled sound rising from your throat you slap his arm in rapid succession. Butcher's response is quick, releasing you within the second hit, arms dropping to your torso.

"You alright?," he asks, craning round your shoulder to peer into your face as you gulp in a mouthful of air. You nod, blinking rapidly when the motion brings a wave of lightheadedness. "You seeing stars?"

"Fuck." It comes out drunkenly. "Lotsa stars."

"I bet there are. Lean back, get your bearings." Butcher pulls you back into him, untangling his legs to set them aside yours again. "You'll be right as rain soon enough."

"Always thought that was an air choke," you sigh. "That you could just hold your breath and try to get out."

"Not a chance," he shakes his head as you rest your dizzy one on his shoulder. "Now you understand why you can't panic. 'Cause there ain't no time for it. You lasted about three seconds, and that's me being sweet on ya. You might last five, maybe even ten seconds if you fight real hard, if they don't cinch it right the first time."

Seconds. Mere seconds. Just to pass out. How long before the lights never come back on..?

"Please tell me you won't make me do that again."

"No," Butcher says firmly. "Not tonight. Doing that too many times too quick is hateful dangerous. Like mucking about with matches; it's all fun and games till you get fucking burnt. Besides…" The arm draped across your hips pulls you in snug. He ducks his head into the dip of your shoulder as you feel fingertips trace the curve of your hip over your t-shirt.

"...I got far better ways to leave you dizzy and panting."

Even with your brain recalibrating - and those calloused fingers brushing by your belt not helping the matter - you manage a smile. Then ask, "Does it involve you actually teaching me more positions? Or are you gassed out already?"

You feel a chuckle hum in your shoulder where his head still presses. "Don't you worry. I'm just getting started." 

Before you can respond, verbally at least, to the heated promise - threat? - in his words, he pulls you into a loose version of the choke again. His legs move back to hooking behind your knees. No sense of danger, but now your hyper awareness of being at his mercy returns.

"Let's kick this up a notch, eh? Get a little tricky. I'm gonna tell you how to slip out. Once you do, you're gonna try to take mount, and not let me take your back again."

"Shouldn't be too tricky to get out of your grasp," you shrug, as if you're unbothered. Even though you're definitely a little bothered.

"Slipping out ain't the tricky part. Just remember that. Now, turn us onto the opposite side I'm choking with. My rights at your throat so…That's it," he says as you roll you both onto your left sides. "Reach back with both hands, grip my hand I got against your head and yank it over. Good, don't let go of it till you try to take mount. You're not going anywhere until you untangle yourself from my legs, now are ya?"

"And I thought you wanted to keep me between them," you sass.

"Question is if you wanna stay there, or if you want to mount me," Butcher quips back without skipping a beat. A flash of his hips under you in your recent dream appears in your mind's eye, the very ones now tucked into the back of yours, and a bolt of heat shoots through your core. 

"If you want out," Butcher cuts through your haze, "you'll put your right foot on my left leg, good and solid, slip out your legs, and move yourself to the left. Once you're perpendicular, you flip over onto your belly and see if you can top me. And I bet that's a big 'if'," Butcher sneers.

With a scoff at the challenge, you go for it. It takes a bit but you manage to wrangle out your legs, pivoting your body hard. Once in line with his shoulders you twist, pulling his hand out of the way. You recall the one pass you learned in your early gym days, sliding your knee across Butcher's belly to keep low and straddle his waist. You sit up high, grinning, "How big is that 'if' now-?"

You realize you fell for the setup when you see the glint of Butcher's grin in the light from the window. Which is a millisecond before you feel his hips throw you. You barely catch yourself from flying into the floor and in a blur you're spinning, right onto your back. By some miracle you manage to wrap Butcher into closed guard as you land.

He gives you no moment to recuperate, a broad hand sliding under to cup one of your shoulders. Going more off feel than sight, you manage to wrap your arm around his and clamp it to you just as he starts to pry. You pull your shoulders as flat against the floor as you can, and pull him forward and off balance with your legs.

"Well, well, well!," Butcher crows above you. "I do believe the spazzy white belt might be picking up on this afterall. You countered me once. But how long before I take your back again?"

"Try it," you challenge, a lop-sided grin on your features. "The next time you see my back is when I walk out that door."

"You are in over your head." 

Butcher goes again for your arms, maneuvers to turn your shoulders for leverage. You squirm, shift, counter in what little way you know how. It's no easy task. Even now adjusted you're still half-blind, and Butcher is stronger and more agile than you've seen before. You know he's not going full force, but he's certainly making you work for the lesson.

Only as the moments pass, there's a shift again. It feels less like a lesson this time. With each counter, with each second you begin to sweat from exertion, each curse from both of you, a complex air wraps around you. When you try to trap Butcher in close, almost like a bear hug in an attempt to limit his movements, you realize what it is. As he mocks your amateur attempt and pries himself free of your arms, you realize that it doesn't feel like the militant sparring from before. It's more like…rough housing. You're actually having fun with this.

By now the two of you have scuffed and shuffled over the floor, the office door now down past your feet, the bathroom just by your heads. It gives a little more light to see by, glittering through the glass from the hallway. You take advantage of it, catching Butcher just in time to see that he's moving his elbows to go for the less pleasant guard pass. Before he can dig his elbows in you shoot up an arm, managing to grab the back of his collar. 

He counters in a flash however, raising an arm and leaning back in a snap, preventing you from getting in the other hand. You see his eyes widen, a little laugh slipping out between panting as you continue to hold your grip. "Cross-collar from guard? You thought you were gonna be that sneaky with me?"

"What's the matter, Billy?" You smile back as you try to seize the brief moment to catch your breath. "Maybe feeling a little slow? Or did I make you a bit nervous just now?"

He reaches back and pulls off your slipping grip. A devious smirk appears. "I think now is a good time we covered stacking." Before you can reply, he wedges an arm under and around one of your thighs. You squeeze your legs tighter, certain he's trying to break your guard. Until he moves off his knees, straightening his legs, and pushing forward. You let out a curse as your lower back comes off the floor, and your hips protest as Butcher's weight begins to inch your knees up towards your chest.

"Nice little stretch, innit?," he says with a waggle of his brows.

"Nifty trick, trying to fold me in half," you grit out. You try to push back with your legs. But even with your hips just barely off the floor, you've essentially lost your leverage. You give a strained chuckle as the pressure increases minutely in your hips. You try to reach down to grab at him, pull yourself back to the floor, but he's too far at this angle. "Real nifty. I guess I did make you nervous."

"Nervous, eh?," he asks, eyes narrowing. "With all that panting and sighing, and filthy words coming outta your mouth?" Butcher pushes a little more before shifting back. Just when you think he's letting you up he jerks on your hips and slides back up, slotting himself between your thighs. You let out a gasp when you feel the firm bulge in his jeans begin to press against your core, his weight heavy on your hips again as he leans into you.

"That feel like nervous to you, love?," he husks against your cheek.

Words fail you as your fingers splay on his shoulders, uncertain whether to pull him in or…or what? Butcher's fingers, however, are far more decisive, one hand slipping just under the hem of your shirt to grip your hip firmly. Your brain is a tangled mess at this point, a tiny portion still in rolling mode, prompting you to do something. The rest is fixated on his fingers, and his beard scratching along your jaw, and the heat and the friction…

"Oi," he mutters, raising up enough to leave mere inches between your faces. You swallow when he traces your lips with his gaze. "I'm still waiting for an answer…What's it feel like?"

You rifle through the haze, searching for words as you hear your breathing mingle, your pulse soft in your ears and…the elevator ding?

"... I swear, mon coeur, it'll take two seconds."

A cold shock of realization wrenches you firmly out of your haze. Butcher's eyes widen like yours for a millisecond before his face turns murderous. "Fuck!," he snarls under his breath, eyes darting about. "Roll! Roll!," he hisses, hooking your legs at an awkward angle.

You gasp, then let out a muted squeal as you're spun and rolled in a tangle of limbs with Butcher. It takes a moment to orient up from down when you find yourself on your ass on the bathroom floor, your back firmly against Butcher's chest again. Inky blackness snaps around you when he pulls the door shut. The lock clicks with a flurry of his fingers just as you hear the office doors open on the other side.

You try to slow your breathing, placing a hand over your own mouth as you will your heart rate to please not be so fucking loud! You'd heard and seen for yourself that Kimiko's hearing was far better than the rest of the crew. But you weren't certain just by how much. And by the way Butcher was controlling his breathing, one palm cupping over your hand at your lips, he must have been thinking the same thing.

"Oh, you think I left our apartment key on purpose? What purpose? I'd much rather be snuggling with you at home than back…" There's the sound of a switch being irritably flicked once or twice. Frenchie's voice turns from teasing to confused. "The fuck…? This fucking place! Hold on…."

As you listen to Frenchie shuffle along, and the boot tapping on the floor most likely being Kimiko's, you try to stay still. To be calm. A task not made easy with Butcher's half-hard length pressing against you, and your own lust still pulsing at the apex of your thighs. You dare to slowly shift your hips to try to find a less distracting position. But Butcher's other arm ensnares your waist, a strangled grunt cut short in his throat, giving you a silent command to not fucking move.

Kimiko's boot stops tapping.

Shit, shit, shit!

"Found it!," Frenchie calls. "Goddamn breakers been flipped. Just a little flick of the wrist and…"

In Butcher's haste to lock the bathroom door he must have bumped the light switch. Or someone had left it on before. But you both flinch when the lights suddenly hum to life with a stab to your eyes. You will to whatever powers may be that neither of them notice the light under the bathroom door.

"...Let there be light. Now the key should be…" There's rustling of papers, a desk drawer opening. Then, "Aha! Just as I thought. Alright, mon coeur, lets-! Huh? What's weird?"

There's a pause, the sound of their steps coming back to the office door. "You're right. That's Y/N's bag."

Your gut drops. Your bag. The one you had left by the door when you came in earlier. A whole litany of curses run through your mind as you and Butcher both tense.

"Hughie did say she had plans tonight. Maybe she was in a hurry? Just wanted to drop it off, perhaps? We'll leave it on her desk, she'll be back tomorrow anyway."

There's shuffling again, the sound of something placed on a desk surface. Your phone, where was your phone? Was it out in the open? You couldn't remember where you had left it, and you hoped they wouldn't spot it. You listen to Frenchie begin to flirt with Kimiko as he turns off the office lights. Followed by the sound of the door closing, the sound of the lock again. With straining ears, you both hear the muffled sound of the elevator doors closing. Only then you pull both his and your hands from your mouth and heave a sigh.

That's two close calls today. Jesus.

"Fucking hell," Butcher grumbles, dropping his head back against the wall with a dull thump. You turn your head just enough to see the sour look on his face. "Too damn close, that one. Gonna have to find somewhere else. We can't keep meeting like this."

You nod. Then start to snicker. He glares down at you with a confused brow. "What?," you smile. "Don't wanna get caught like two teenagers playing seven minutes in heaven?"

Your snickering intensifies as his sour look turns to a snort. Then a wheeze. The nerves from the last few minutes finally spring loose in your chest, and you burst into a full on fit of giggles. It amplifies when you feel Butcher's shoulders shake with a fit of his own, and you see the first actual smile on his face in months.

"Couple of twats hiding in an office bathroom. Fucking stupid!," he wheezes as you try to fight the ridiculous wave of giggles. The sight of his eyes crinkling with humor, a rare sight if there ever was one, makes you smile hard enough that your cheeks start to hurt.

A sudden buzz and tune rattle on the bathroom tile, and you jump. You bite hard on your lip against laughter as Butcher unwraps your waist to wrangle his phone out of his pocket. "What the fuck now? Hold on, hold on. Keep it down." Clearing the laugh out his own throat, he answers, "MM! Fancying a chat are we?"

When Butcher's face morphs to serious, your fit finally subsides. The situation and current setting finally kick in, and after a minute of debating, you seize the lack of hold on you to stumble to your feet. Butcher gives you a disbelieving look as you step over his legs and out into the office, before shuffling to follow.

"Yeah, I heard ya. Which one?," he continues into his phone as you sweep the floor for your own. You find it under another desk again and snatch it up to tuck in your pocket. You lean back against the desk, watching Butcher carefully as the conversation unfolds. "How long we got?...Right now. Of fucking course," he scowls. "Alright, see ya soon."

"What's wrong?," you ask as he severs the connection.

"MM just intercepted a call to Vought from one of the hospitals," he says, shrugging on his coat with agitation. "Someone was dumped at the ER checking off that special list of symptoms."

"Persuasion?"

"Most likely. And we gotta get to them before the company lackeys show up."

You grab your keys from your bag, doing your best not to disturb it on its spot on your desk. "Training for another night then? Well, good luck at the hospital. Keep me posted."

"Now hold on. The fuck you think you're running off to?" Butcher stalks towards you with heavy eyes. "You're part of this crew. We got a job to do. And I didn't say we were done tonight, now did I?"

"Yes. And you heard Frenchie. They know I have 'plans'," you explain as he braces his hands on the desk, caging you in. You smile coyly in response. "And if I show up, especially when MM only called you…They’re all gonna have questions, right?"

Butcher gives out a dissatisfied growl to the ceiling. "We ain't done here," he intones.

He had almost done it. You'd nearly broke there on the office floor. And it had been so very tempting to see what would have happened had you not got up and left the bathroom. But now that you've had a moment to reset, and duty calls…well he can't have all the fun now can he? 

"You're running out of time. Wouldn't be a good idea to keep MM waiting."

Butcher stares you down, a knowing smirk on his face. He nods slowly. "I'll be damned if those fuckers beat me to it," he concedes. "But like I said…"

Before you can blink, he hooks a finger under your chin and presses his lips to yours. You had expected it to be heated, greedy. But you're startled at how soft it is. A borderline tenderness you had never seen coming, sideswiping you hard enough to make your breath hitch. You feel him smile at the sound and he pulls back just before you find it in you to kiss in return.

"...We ain't done." His thumb idly swipes over your bottom lip just before he's out of reach. In a few long strides he's out the door, leaving you recovering from the whiplash of the evening.

As fun as it is to tease, you muse, sneaking a taste of him on your lips, I wonder how I can kill one cockblocking Frenchie without Kimiko gutting me alive.

#billy butcher x reader #billy butcher #the boys fanfic

[cosmica-galaxy]

I’m curious how do the mimic babies act? With both human and their mimic parents if they have them?

Camera Mimic Young behave like a mix between babies and pups. They explore their environment primarily with their mouths and they can't see very well because the organs behind their lenses are still partially developing, hence the "squinting" look. They are comfortable on two legs or four and like to scoot around on the ground on their bellies. They are notorious nippers, since it's how they explore their world, so don't take it to heart if one bites you. They also have a kitten-like hiss they make when they feel threatened. They sleep in pup-piles when they feel cold or when their parents are out. When they get a little older, they become similar to pups and swarm over their parents and playmates, regardless of who it is. A human parent would have no significance on their relationship, as they see their parents as the leaders of the pack, even when really young. Plus, the mimic parent will keep them in line if they start acting up or play too rough with the human mate. Speaker Mimic Young are very clingy babies and like to be constantly embraced by either parent when they can. This usually is a habit that is developed while the speaker mimic is hunting, since they cling to high places or ceilings. The child is also immune to the sheer force of the sounds that the parent uses and it's theorized that the immunity resides in their mimic heads instead of something else. A human is no different, as the mimic baby is content when held, carried, or placed in a utility tool that enables them to be carried. They do NOT like the ground and will wail until picked up again. This is also why Speaker Mimics sleep either on the ceiling, upside down, or while sloth-hanging. A bed would be nice, but overall impractical for a large mimic to use. As there is a risk the larger mimic could roll over and crush their youngling with their size. But it would be perfect setup for a human! Speaker mimic babies need to have their food cut up or pulled apart for ease of consumption. They also make trills when happy or content and rattlesnake-like hisses when a threat is nearby or too close for comfort. If one is acting unruly, you can put them in a blanket burrito to calm them down. TV Mimic Young are very needy children and will fuss when something isn't right in their nest or in the environment. They don't necessarily do it to be annoying, it's mostly because these babies are VERY sensitive to their surroundings and excessive noise, light, or temperature can cause them great discomfort. TV mimics plan FAR ahead when they decide to sire some young. Some nests are even made YEARS in advance before they even have mates! TV mimic parents are very meticulous and stick to a strict routine when caring for their young. They clean, organize, and feed the younglings during every shift of the respective parent. Despite being higher maintenance, these babies are actually quite calm and easy to care for when they are in the right environment. However, once the young reach a certain age, they will begin to do the "tug" mental manipulation. While parent mimics can resist this urge, a human parent may find themselves getting manipulated into caring for the child excessively. Throwing off the routine and upsetting the partner. It's not a deal breaker, though. It's just the mimic parent will have to make sure that the infant isn't pulling a "tug" on their lover and suppress it via warm blankets or sitting next to them and purring loudly. This gets rid of the "tug" for a little while. When upset, Tv mimic babies will let out angry-sounding clicking noises and static-like hisses. When content, they will make little noise or chirps!

#haxorus imp #hax speaks #cosmica galaxy #cosmica-galaxy #anonymous #anon asks #anon ask #skibidi mimic #skibidi toilet mimic #skibidi tag

[softpascalito]

Pedro Pascal Kinktober Day Twentyfour

Crossdressing - Joel Miller/F!Reader

Summary: Joel Miller has been wanting to try a different piece of clothing for a long time. It's not until you that he feels supported enough to do so. Turns out, you both really fucking like it.

Relationships: Joel Miller x F!Reader

WC: 2000

Tags/Warnings: Smut, Fluff, Insecurity, Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Crossdressing, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, slight mommy kink, Very slight internal homophobia if you squint, Jackson!Era, sub joel miller, just joel miller in a skirt bc he looks cute af like that

AO3 LINK

notes: let me prephase this by saying that everyone can wear skirts without it being sexual. but here, it kinda is. cause y'know, joel miller.

_________________________________________

It's the blush that gives him away.

Joel and you are on patrol, checking out some picked-over clothing stores. Spring is finally here and the clothing department in Jackson has been running low. With the town dance becoming a regular monthly event, demand for dresses, skirts and dress shirts has skyrocketed, despite them being rather impractical in the day to day life of most inhabitants of the city.

But people are just people. And they like celebrating, like the drinks and dances and an evening that feels far, far away from Infected or raiders or anything else that awaits them on the next morning past the wooden fences.

You haven't been immune to the illusions either and despite not having the most dance-happy partner, you have been begging Joel for weeks to at least join you for one slow dance in the barn. The mention of the no-doubt stunning dress that he'd get to see you in seemed to help.

“Oh, look at these!” You call from the corner of the clothing store, having found a section that holds a few dresses. A red sign looms over the racks, announcing the last sale of late summer. You shine your flashlight onto the first rack and let your fingers wander over a few of the fabrics peeking out to you, admiring the different shades of clothing.

“And they're on sale too. Aren't you a lucky girl?” Joel deadpans as he walks over to you, a small smirk on his face. You simply nod at his joke, fumbling with the price tag of one of the dresses, raising your brows, “Ah, yes. It's-” you squint, trying to make out the number that's printed on the weathered piece of paper, “fifty dollars.”

“Expensive taste you got there,” he mutters, finally reaching you and joining your effort of looking through the clothing items. You've picked out a yellow sundress, the print made up of small flowers.

“Was fifty dollars a lot?” You ask as you test the fabric, taking in how much damage time has caused. Joel raises a brow at that, “Depends on what you spend it on.” He comes up behind you, like he does so often, and places his chin on your shoulder, admiring the dress in your hand, “They would've been worth seeing you in that for sure.”

You turn at that, smiling sweetly as you hold the dress out to him, “Will you buy it for me?”

Joel frowns slightly, “You can just-” You quickly cut him off, already knowing what he's gonna say, “Just pretend to,” you mutter. “I can't wear this to the dance and not tell people that my boyfriend got it for me.”

He rolls his eyes a little but you don't miss the small smile on his face as he dutifully takes the dress into his arms, holding on to it for you, “You got yourself a deal, darlin'.”

You gather more clothes after that, as much as you can carry without your packs getting too heavy. It takes a while, finding the pieces that are still intact and not too washed out but there's a few nice ones and you nod approvingly as you roll up the last dress shirt.

Your gaze lands on Joel, who is securing his own pack, making sure that everything is holding together well.

“We need something for you as well, you know,” you scold, making your way back to the sale section. A soft sigh behind you lets you know that the man is not exactly a fan of shopping, even the free, post apocalyptic version.

A few more minutes pass before you find a nice shirt, a soft green that you're certain would compliment Joel well and you turn your head to look for your victim when you spot him back at the rack of skirts, running his fingers over something.

In a few strides, you're by his side and by the way he jumps a little as you appear next to him, he's clearly startled, “Jesus. What's up?”

His eyes scan the surroundings for possible danger as you shake your head, picking up the item he's been looking at. It's a pleated skirt of medium length, a plaid pattern similar to the ones that Joel's usual shirts carry. The colors are muted, beige and dark gray mixed with a few stripes of color.

The color that is the most interesting to you, however, is the one of Joel's face. His cheeks are a soft pink, the blush spreading down towards his neck. It's the same blush he had a few months ago in the sex shop, the same one he had when you had packed the pink strapon into your backpack and it's precisely the same color his cheeks turn when you're behind him at night, gently thrusting into him. It's that blush that gives him away.

“It's pretty,” you say gently, looking over at Joel to catch his reaction. He keeps a straight face that seems a little too straight to not be premeditated. 

“Yeah.” His voice is a little thin, confirming your suspicions and you watch him closely as he continues, maybe to break the slightly awkward silence, “Would look good on ya.”

“It would look good on you too, Joel,” you mumble, reaching out to take it off the rack and hold it between you. Soft, brown eyes meet yours and the look in them is so damn insecure it makes you wanna cry. He opens his mouth and closes it again, clearly struggling to find his words.

“I'm not-” You shake your head before he can go on, “I know. It's just a piece of clothing.” He nods at that, his gaze on the skirt in your hands.

“Tell you what, I'll pack this. If anyone asks, it's mine. That sound good?”

Joel clears his throat, looking down for a moment before nodding, “Sound good.”

You peck a quick kiss to his lips before leaning down to gently roll up the skirt and store it in your backpack, more than aware of Joel watching your every move.

You sigh, gently knocking on the bathroom door, “Joel, baby, come on out. At least let me see.”

A grumble behind the door, a similar response that you've already gotten a few times in the past twenty minutes, the exact time since Joel has disappeared into the bathroom to change into his newly acquired piece of clothing. It has taken a few days until he's come around to it after you hung it up in your shared closet.

Funnily enough, it reminds you of a cat after having a new piece of furniture placed in their home, the way they avoid it for days only to come closer and closer with each one until they finally determine that there's no danger and carefully discover the new item.

Joel is not yet in the no danger phase.

“Just one peek?” You ask quietly through the door and after another sigh, the door clicks and, inch by inch, opens. You take a few steps back, watching as Joel steps into the bedroom and your breath catches in your throat as you take in his form.

His broad shoulders are covered in a slightly worn-out sweater that pools around his waist. Below is the skirt, the pleating standing to the sides a bit, creating a cute form. His strong, hairy legs are bare, only his feet covered with black socks that he frequents.

You stare at his strong thighs peeking out, shamelessly and with your mouth slightly ajar and it takes you a second before you can pull yourself back to any thoughts other than the very inappropriate ones you're having right now.

Joel still looks self-conscious, his left hand playing with the hem of the skirt absentmindedly as he waits for your reaction. At your silence, he opens his mouth, of course, wrongly interpreting it, “Sorry, I didn't mean to- you know what, we'll just give it to the store.”

You surprise yourself with a small growl at that, sucking at your lower lip as you take a step towards him, “If you don't like it, we will.”

Your voice is quiet as you speak, “But goddamn, Joel, you look so hot right now.”

The blush is back and you're fairly certain that you've never seen him as shy as he looks now.

“You like it?” He still sounds so unsure and quiet and that's what makes you close the distance between you, reaching for his hand that's still fumbling with the fabric, “I love it. You look-” You force yourself to look up at him, taking in his soft, brown eyes, “You look absolutely amazing.”

A small breath of relief escapes him at that and he nods. You make a mental note to ask him about this sometime, how long he's been wanting to try a skirt. Your feeling tells you that it goes back, before you, before Jackson, possibly before the outbreak. Either way, you feel honored in a way, that he trusts you enough to do this with you instead of anyone else.

You watch as Joel moves a bit in the skirt, clearly trying to get a feel for the unfamiliar piece of clothing. He sits down on the bed, smoothing the skirt down over his bare legs and it's getting harder to ignore the heat in your stomach at that sight. Still, you don't want to turn this moment into something it's not, not unless he wants to.

Your hand finds his shoulder, squeezing slightly, your eyes darting between his eyes and his skirt, “You want me to-?” An eager nod comes before you even finish your question and with a small smile, you reach around to straddle him, placing your own form so perfectly on his lap.

“You look so fucking pretty, Joel,” you whisper again, your lips ghosting over his as your hand wanders behind you, caressing his knee for a few moments before slowly inching up his leg. It's something you've done a million times, skin that you've kissed and rubbed yourself on and stroked at night and still, this feels different.

Joel tenses under you, his breathing going a bit faster as he feels your hand moving further and further until, finally, you reach where you assume his boxers to be- just that they're not there. A small gasp escapes you at the surprise before you catch yourself and tut softly, staring right into the chocolate brown eyes in front of you. “First time wearing a skirt and you're already going commando?” You whisper, your voice hushed, “Were you hoping I'd find that? That I'd touch you like this?” Joel takes a sharp breath at your words. Or maybe it's the way your hand finds his balls, beginning to fondle them softly.

“You're being such a good boy for me, you know that? Looking all pretty for mommy.”

An actual whimper leaves Joel's lips at that and you know you've hit the mark. It does things to you, his noises, the skirt above his strong thighs, the little kisses you exchange and it isn't long until the skirt is pulled up, revealing Joel in all his glory for a split second before you're on him, enveloping him between your walls, your muscles already eager to milk him.

You play with the hem of his skirt afterwards, the same spot he'd held earlier. His breath is soft again and his heart is full, feeling so loved and worshiped and good.  

“You've been wanting to try that for a while, hm?” You whisper, finger ghosting over his thigh and he nods softly, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I have.”

“Everything you imagined it to be?”

Brown eyes meet yours before he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek.

“Better,” he whispers, his eyes wandering down to your hand on his legs, the fabric covering his now softened dick, slowly getting used to the way it looks on him, to the way it feels around his legs and Joel Miller finds then, cuddled up with you in a heated bedroom somewhere in Wyoming that he likes wearing skirts.

People are just people.

#fanfic #kinktober #tlou #smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #softpascalito #joel miller / you #joel miller / reader #the last of us #crossdressing #sub joel #soft joel #mommy kink

[bqluvr]

Cruise

Warnings: smut!

Words: 3.2k

Summary: You weren’t expecting your cruise to go the way it did.

A/N: i honestly hate this fic, i need to stop writing when im not sober bc it always comes out so rushed and unorganized and i get too lazy to edit😭

—————

It was day two on the Impractical Jokers Cruise, and you were getting pretty sick of it.

You loved the Impractical Jokers and you were having plenty of fun interacting with the other fans and eating great food, but being on the water often made you sick.

Today was especially bad because not only were you seasick, you were also hungover. You drank heavily on the first day to loosen up and try to be more social, and that proved to be a horrible decision as you were really facing the consequences now.

Despite your pounding head and the nauseous feeling that was lodged in your throat, you managed to get yourself cleaned up so you could head out to the main part of the deck. There were lots of activities planned, but you knew you couldn’t partake in them because of your hangover and general gloomy mood.

You didn’t mind, though. You still had two days to make up for the lack of energy today, and you promised yourself that you wouldn’t drink as much as you did last night.

All of the people on the boat started shuffling around and you followed them, the entire group making their way to the front of the stage where the Jokers would crack a few jokes and whatnot.

To be honest, your focus was not on the four men being their usual idiotic selves at the moment. You were trying your best to keep the sun out of your eyes so it wouldn’t worsen your already painful migraine. The loud -what you could only describe as- screeching of the mic rang in your ears and you thought it might have burst your eardrums and made your head explode.

Thankfully you were still in one piece when the Jokers got off the stage, and you immediately hurried towards the bar so you could get a cold drink to bring you back to your senses. You saw all the fans grouping together in a large circle where you assumed the four guys were, but you couldn’t pay attention to that. You needed a refreshment and probably a Xanax.

The entire day went by in one nauseating, loud blur and you found yourself worn out at the end of it. Your headache had reduced into a light thrum that you could ignore after taking some medication.

You were laying on your back on the carpeted floor of the room, and you had never been more uncomfortable. The hard floor felt somewhat soothing on your back but it felt like hell for your neck, so you eventually sat up.

God, a drink would be nice.

You knew you promised yourself that you wouldn’t drink heavily tonight, but a glass or two wouldn’t hurt. Maybe it would relax your nerves and help you sleep. You lifted up your phone and read the time, which was 3:36am.

With a huff you got up off the floor and went to the bathroom to make sure you looked presentable enough to talk to other people. With a quick splash of water on your face to wake you up, you headed out your door and down to the bar.

The keycard for your room poked against your thighs when you sat down on the barstool, so you fished it out of your pocket and placed it face down on the counter along with your phone.

“It’s awfully late,” the bartender in front of you said with a small smile, “what can I get you?”

“A beer would be great,” you replied, trying your best to return his smile. He nodded and went to grab your drink, sliding the bottle across the table to you. You put it down on the coaster and popped the top off with your teeth, pocketing the cap and taking a swig.

“Is this seat taken?”

You shook your head but didn’t bother to look at who asked you the question, your eyes screwed shut as you forced yourself to swallow the beer. Beer had never been your thing, and you had no fucking idea why you ordered it, but you did so now you were stuck trying to finish it.

“Is it that bad?”

You finally opened your eyes and looked over, surprised when you saw Brian Quinn sitting in the stool next to you. If it had been any other day you would’ve been freaking out, but it was far too late in the night for you to have a big reaction.

“I’m sure it’s fine for someone who likes beer,” you answered, grimacing when you took another sip.

“Do you wanna switch?” He laughed a little, sliding his drink over to you. It was just a whiskey on the rocks, and you quickly accepted his offer. You handed the beer off to him and made a face when he took a long drink.

“What’re you doin’ up this late?” Brian asked in a raspy voice, making you shift in your seat. He always had an effect on you ever since you started watching the Impractical Jokers, so being in his vicinity was sort of nerve wracking. You tried to keep calm though, as you didn’t want to seem like some sort of embarrassing super fan.

“I had a hangover all day and I couldn’t sleep,” you sighed, looking over at him and studying his sympathetic smile. His hair was messy, most of it falling down and covering his forehead. His eyes were beginning to turn red and you could tell that he hadn’t been getting the best sleep either. Up close, you could see the grey streaks in his hair and beard clearly, and you had to admit that it had always been a weakness for you.

“A hangover all day and you’re drinkin’ again?”

You giggled a little and nodded, making him grin. You both took another sip of your drinks and he sighed, leaning back in his seat.

“Do you ever get tired of these things?” You mumbled to him, genuinely curious. On screen he looked happy and energetic but now, with him sitting right next to you, you could read all the stress on his face. He sat back but his shoulders still looked tense, and you couldn’t help but wonder how much of those problems came from his job.

“Sometimes. I love bein’ able to meet fans but the whole cruise thing gets old,” he tilted his head to look at you, “I’m not very fond of the ocean.”

“Why’s that?”

“Too many things could go wrong. That on top of only knowin’, what, 5 percent of the creatures in it? It’s terrifying.”

“Are you telling me you’re scared of the Kraken?” You joked, making him laugh loudly.

“That’s exactly what I’m tellin’ you.”

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure the Kraken kills it’s victims quickly. You wouldn’t feel a thing.”

“Yeah, thanks,” he huffed sarcastically.

“No problem.”

“Is this your first cruise?” He changed the topic, looking at you as he drank his beer. His dark brown eyes staring into yours made you once again adjust your thighs, and his gaze dropped down to your lap for a millisecond. You felt yourself growing hotter as you realized fully what situation you were in.

“No, uh, I’ve been on a few,” you managed to get out, “I’ve never been on an Impractical cruise, though.”

“You havin’ fun?”

“Yeah.”

“Doesn’t sound very convincing.”

“I get a bit seasick,” you admitted, and he snorted.

“You came on a cruise knowin’ that you get seasick?”

“Whatever,” you scoffed, playfully pushing his shoulder. As the time grew later you grew more bold, despite not even finishing the whiskey. You noticed that tiredness often gave you the same confidence boost that alcohol did.

“Sorry to bother you two, but I have to close up in 10,” the bartender broke into your conversation. You apologized and handed him back your now empty glass, and Brian did the same with the beer bottle.

“Are you gonna sleep?” Q asked you as the two of you walked away from the bar and towards the railing of the boat. You shook your head before resting your back against the rails and watching as Brian leaned forward so his elbows were sitting on top of the railing, his eyes scanning you quickly.

You were wearing something that you usually wouldn’t wear around, but you thought that given the late time, no one would be out to see you. Especially not Brian Quinn.

All that covered your body was black volleyball shorts that you got in high school and a cropped shirt, with no bra under it to cover up the fact that you were cold. The breeze was getting more chilly and you felt yourself shiver a bit, crossing your arms in an attempt to get warm as well as cover your nipples.

“You wanna head inside?” Brian asked, blowing hot air into his hands and rubbing them together.

“In a second,” you hummed. The night was quiet other than the splashing of the water, and the air felt crisp when you sucked in a breath. You could feel Brian watching you and you tried not to get self conscious, the alcohol helping with that greatly.

“Here,” you heard Brian shuffle around for a second before he held his zip up to you, gesturing for you to take it. You didn’t argue with him, too cold to be polite and reject it. The warmth it had from Brian’s body along with the thick material helped warm up your otherwise freezing skin.

“Let’s go inside,” Q told you, clearly not wanting to be out in the cold any longer as he was now only in a shirt. You agreed and both of you walked back towards the rooms. You didn’t know if you should give his hoodie back, but he didn’t ask, so you decided to keep your mouth shut.

“If you’re not sleeping, do you want to watch a movie in my room?” You asked, confidence no longer an issue as you grew more comfortable with him. You didn’t really expect him to say yes, so when he did, you were ecstatic.

The two of you made your way into room 135, where you slid your card into the scanner and went inside. Brian followed you and took off his shoes at the entrance, giving your room a quick once-over.

Eventually you two were in your bed with some random movie playing in the back, neither of you paying attention to it as conversation flowed easily.

“No, I didn’t hook up with the turkey baster girl,” Q snorted when you asked about one of the episodes. You both laughed a bit as you passed on more jokes, but eventually silence fell around you two.

Q’s head was resting on the pillow and facing you, which you mirrored. Both of you were on your backs and only a mere few inches apart. It was only a few more seconds of silence before, somehow (and you weren’t exactly sure why), Brian was leaning into you.

Within seconds his lips had meshed with yours, both of you beginning to allow the sexual tension and passion flow freely.

Brian wasted no time in pulling you onto his lap, his fingers digging into your hips as you two made out like teenagers. He let out a soft groan when you placed one of your cold hands under his shirt, trailing it down to his pants and dipping your finger under the waistband slightly.

You giggled into the kiss when he bucked his hips up in a subconscious effort to create more friction. You gave him what he wanted and unbuttoned his pants, pulling them down just a bit so you could rub him over his boxers.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” Q whined, and you swear you had never heard a better sound. His panting grew heavier and he desperately pulled your shirt off, his hips thrusting into your hand as you gave him the smallest amount of contact.

“So needy,” you whispered to him, and his eyes grew wide. You don’t know exactly what came over you in that moment, but you felt powerful as he fell apart under your subtle touch.

“Y/N, please,” he grunted as his breathing grew short and erratic. You took away your hand and relished in the way he whined again, his eyes staring at you in a silent plead.

“Please what?”

“Please touch me,” he didn’t hesitate to beg, and that only turned you on more. He looked at you with doe-eyes, silently asking you to continue touching him. You eventually gave in and ran your hand down the front of his shirt, tugging it when you reached the hem.

He got the message and quickly pulled his shirt off, letting you scan your eyes down his body with a light blush dusting your cheeks. He reached out to grab your hand, gently guiding it to his chest and placing it palm down on his skin.

You smoothed your hand over his chest and he shivered slightly, his warm skin in stark contrast to your near freezing hands.

No words were exchanged as you slanted your mouth over his again, teeth clashing as your hand travelled down his stomach to rest on top of his (probably painful) hard on. You began to push your hand under his boxers, freeing his cock and swallowing his grunts.

“Fuck, your hands are so cold,” Brian murmured against your lips. You only smiled and continued to move your hand, following a steady rhythm as you went up and down on his length.

“Faster,” he grunted, trying to move his hips to encourage you. You kept your slow pace, wanting him to last longer and tease him.

The room was filled with the slick noise of you jerking him off accompanied by his occasional groans, along with the indistinct chatter of the television behind you two.

“God, ‘m so close,” Brian mumbled under his breath, using one of his hands to pull your face to his. You quickly removed your hand and felt him sigh in frustration against your lips, clearly annoyed that you wouldn’t let him finish.

“I can’t let you cum that fast,” you whispered next to his ear, giving his earlobe a slight tug with your teeth. He let out another breathy exhale before he grabbed your hips, forcefully pulling you further onto his lap.

You giggled as Brian pressed his lips to yours, this time slowing down the pace and taking his time. You reached down and placed your hand on his cock again, circling the tip with your thumb lightly while you kissed him.

“Enough,” he grunted, gently removing your hand, “I need to be inside you.”

You couldn’t help but let a moan slip at his words, and you had no trouble obliging. You quickly slipped out of your shorts and adjusted yourself on his lap, rubbing yourself against him through your underwear.

“Fuck,” was all you could repeat as you kept grinding against him, the friction causing that familiar rubber band to strain in your stomach.

Brian let you continue for a few more seconds, his lips attaching to your neck and sucking hickies on your skin. Eventually he ran his thumb along the top of your underwear, slipping it in a couple times to lightly brush against you.

You let out a high pitched whine at his actions and in no time he was pushing aside your underwear, lining himself up with you, and easing you down onto his cock.

The two of you sighed at the feeling of him finally being inside of you. Teasing him had given you the same pleasure that he received from it, making you both desperately horny.

He stayed still for a moment and when you gave him a quick kiss, he started to move his hips under you. At the same rhythm you started moving up and down, meeting each of his shallow thrusts with your own.

You two only took it slow for a minute or two before he lost his patience, suddenly beginning to push his cock into you harder and harder. You were quickly flipped around, his body covering yours and his lips once again finding your neck and breasts.

Brian kept his own pace, angling himself until you let out a moan to let him know he found your sweet spot. He repeatedly hit that same spot, and that along with his thumb that was now rubbing circles on your clit, you were just about pushed off the edge.

“Say my name,” he rasped into your ear, his breath fanning across your skin and driving you closer. When you opened your eyes, you took in how he looked.

One of his hands held onto the headboard behind you two, his veins popping out because of the force. His other hand was working on your breasts now, tugging at your nipples before sliding up to your neck to gently rest there with a light squeeze.

His hair was messy and he had sweat beading on his skin, his chest red from your scratch marks and you could only imagine what his back looked like.

All of that mixed in with his groans, his cologne, and the smell of alcohol on his breath was enough for you.

“Fuck, Brian!” You all but screamed as you came, too far gone to care that you gave him no warning.

“That’s it, baby,” was all you could hear as he continued pounding into you, “just like that.”

His praise only energized you, allowing you to come down from your high and focus on meeting each of his thrusts and squeezing around him.

“You’re so beautiful. Gonna make me cum,” he dropped his head down to your shoulder, biting down as he approached his high faster and faster.

With one final call of your name he pulled out of you and finished, his cum spilling out onto your chest and a little bit of your stomach.

The two of you fought to breathe properly again, Brian letting out a heavy sigh before getting up to grab a few things in order to clean you up. He came back with a towel and two bottles of water, offering one to you.

You gratefully gulped it down while he wiped off your stomach and any other area where he finished, chuckling a little when he wiped off your chin.

Once he was finished everything he pulled on his boxers and threw you the shirt he was wearing earlier, slipping under the sheets next to you while you tugged the shirt over your head.

You assumed that he wouldn’t want to be near you after having sex with you, sort of a one-and-done type of deal, which is why you were delightfully surprised when he wrapped one of his arms around you. He pulled you close and laid on his side with his face buried in your neck, effectively warming you up.

“Are you feelin’ okay?” Brian mumbled, obviously very tired as his words started to slow down.

“I’m good. You?”

“Fantastic,” he pressed a kiss to your neck, making you shiver.

“You’re buying me a drink tomorrow, right?” You whispered, focusing on the way Brian’s breathing slowed down as he fell asleep. You weren’t really expecting an answer from the poor man.

But you really were expecting a drink tomorrow.

#brian quinn #brian quinn imagine #brian x reader #quinn x reader #q x reader #the tenderloins #sal vulcano #joe gatto #james murray #impractical jokers #smut

[fanartandfanfiction]

"Arranged" Chapter twoooooo

“ Maman , I cannot breathe!” Giselle complained as her mother tightened the corseted waist on her wedding dress.

“Your waist must be as small as possible! Inhale for me, I believe I can tighten it more.”

“Do you want me to lose consciousness at the altar?!”

“Giselle, why are you being so dramatic? All young ladies wear corsets like this. Why must you always complain?”

“Because it is painful and impractical. And I’m fairly certain they are unsafe. If you look at the human skeleton-”

“Giselle, please!” Her mother silenced her. “None of your science talk. A man does not want a woman more intelligent than him.”

Giselle looked at herself in the mirror. Her long white-blonde hair was pulled back in an intricate updo and held into place with pearl clips. Her dress had enormously puffy sleeves and she felt like the high neck was choking her. 

“Stop fidgeting.”

“How can I not, when I am trapped in this thing?”

“Would it kill you to cooperate for once? Your sisters were not nearly as difficult.”

Ah yes, her two perfect sisters. Both had married money and were cranking out pureblooded children. She’d never gotten along with them. Growing up, they’d wanted to go to women’s socials and sewing circles, while she’d wanted to go to the pond and catch frogs. They often argued and she tried to spend as little time as possible with them. 

Her mother gave one last tug of the strings on the corset before tying it in a knot. “Look at you, my beautiful little girl. You make me proud, Giselle. You have landed a wealthy husband and secured your future.”

“I have higher goals than marrying well, mother.”

“Why did you have to ruin such a nice moment? Stop complaining. Wait here, I shall see if everything is ready.”

Her mother left and Giselle wanted to sit down, but wasn’t sure she even could. She was miserable, both physically and emotionally. She’d lucked out, Ominis seemed nice enough, though she would have preferred not to marry at all. She looked at herself in the mirror one last time. She supposed she did look beautiful, despite being unable to breathe. She was 21 years old, and already she was losing her freedom. 

“Alright Giselle, everything is ready. Let’s go.” Her father stepped into the room and smiled widely at her. “Ah, my little wildflower. You look lovely.”

“Thank you, father.”

He held out his elbow and she took it. He led her out into the hallway and signaled someone. She heard an organ begin to play the wedding march. The large wooden double doors swung open and she felt like she was going to throw up. 

The chapel was packed. There were easily over 100 guests, and they’d all turned to look at her. Her knees felt weak and she wanted nothing more than to turn and run. Her father apparently sensed this and held onto her tightly. 

They began walking down the aisle and she could feel herself trembling. She tried to focus on Ominis and ignore all the other people. They finally reached the altar. Her father kissed her cheek and then they faced the minister. 

“And who shall give this young woman away?”

Give away. Like she was a discarded object. 

“I shall.” Her father said. He put her hands in Ominis’ (since he couldn’t see to take hers himself) and Giselle was relieved to feel that his palms were just as sweaty as hers. Her father sat down and Ominis gave her a reassuring smile and a soft squeeze. 

“Just look at me. Not at them.” He said quietly. 

He was quite handsome. He had light hair, almost light enough to be considered blonde. He had high, sharp cheekbones and his eyes were a striking pale blue. He was rubbing small circles on her hand with his thumb.

“And do you, Giselle, take Ominis to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Whoops. She’d missed everything else he’d said. “I do.”

“And do you, Ominis, take Giselle to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.”

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!” 

Ominis kissed her gently, his thumb brushing across her cheek as the guests applauded. It did give her goosebumps, being kissed by such a handsome man. He pulled away and held her hand. 

“Was that so bad?”

“Not at all.” She smiled. 

“Now we just have to get through another ridiculous party. Could you lead us out? My father didn’t want me to have my wand up here.”

“Of course.” She looped her arm through his and they walked out as the music continued to play. 

“You look beautiful.” Ominis said to her with a smile.

“You cannot see me, silly.”

“No, but I don’t have to see you to know that. Plus, everyone else told me that several times. Sebastian especially.”

“Thank you. Frankly I cannot wait to burn this silly, suffocating garment.”

“Suffocating?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Very. Here.” She took his hand and brought it up to her neck. “Feel how high and snug that collar is?”

Ominis wrinkled his nose. “You’re more patient than I am. I would have ripped it off by now.”

“That’s not even the worst part. Feel the waist.” She took his hands and placed them on the corseted part. She watched his perplexed expression as he felt it.

“Good lord! My hands can almost touch!” He placed both hands on her waist and they were nearly touching. “Can you breathe?”

“Not well.” She chuckled. “Unfortunately it’s the standard of beauty. My mother literally made me inhale so she could tighten it.”

“Do you want me to loosen it? You have to be miserable.”

“My mother would have a fit.”

“So? I think remaining conscious is slightly more important.” She could tell he was genuinely upset. 

“You’re right. Hang on.” She looked and saw guests beginning to leave and head their direction. “You’ll have to kiss me again. Much more passionately.”

“What?”

She pressed her lips to his and he reciprocated. She giggled loudly. “You must act like you cannot keep your hands off of me.”

“Um, alright.” He was blushing furiously, but kissed her passionately. It made her toes curl in her shoes. She giggled loudly again and tugged him into the room she’d gotten ready in. She closed and locked the door behind them. 

“There, now they’ll think we can’t keep our hands off each other and we’ll have some time alone.”

“Giselle, are you alright? You sound like you can’t breathe.”

Truthfully, she was a bit breathless, and it wasn’t just from the corset. “Please help me with this stupid thing.”

He quickly stepped over and went to work on the lacing. He undid them and she pulled the corset open wider and inhaled. “Oh my gosh, that’s so much better.” 

“Um, if you’re comfortable with it, I’m blind so I wouldn’t see you, but…you can take the neck thing off and get a break from it.”

“You have no idea how much that would make me happy. There’s a button around the neck and at the top. Can you undo them?”

“Of course.” He nervously felt for the button on the back of her neck and brushed the skin behind her ear. He undid the button around the tight collar and the next one down. She yanked it downward and sighed. 

“Thank you. Ugh, I hate this thing.” She walked over and examined her neck in the mirror, “It's literally chafing my neck and leaving a mark!” 

“That’s barbaric!” 

“I begged my mother for a dress without as high of a neck and she said it wouldn’t be proper to show so much skin at my wedding.”

“Is she under the impression people don’t know you have a neck?”

Giselle laughed. “She said it’s a symbol of my purity.”

“What does that even- oh!” Ominis looked embarrassed.

“Um, in case you were wondering, I am pure.” She said quietly.

“I wasn’t going to ask you that! That’s incredibly personal!” 

“Ominis, you’re my husband now. I think we’re at a personal level now, do you not?”

“I suppose so.” He chuckled. “And um, I’m also…well, I don’t know if men would describe it as pure? I haven’t been with anyone, is what I’m trying to say.” 

“Oh, alright.” They both looked up at the sound of a knock on the door.

“I know you’re eager to move on to the honeymoon portion, but your guests are waiting.” Ominis’ father said through the door.

“We’ll be right out!” Ominis responded.

“Ugh. I’d better enjoy my last few gulps of fresh air.” 

“I won’t tie it as tight.” 

“If you don’t, my mother will. Alright. I’m ready. Will you be able to tie it?”

“Yes.”

“When I take a deep breath in, pull as tightly as you can."

“This is ridiculous.”

“I agree. Ready?” She took a deep breath in and he pulled on the ties of the corset.

“You’ll have to pull tighter than that.”

“You can’t be serious. I’ll be crushing your ribs!”

“Apparently women don’t need ribs. Ready?” She inhaled again and he yanked tighter. She actually jerked back against him and nearly knocked him off his feet. “Well, still not as tight as my mother had it.”

“I refuse to go any tighter. You’ll lose consciousness.” 

“Alright. Thank you.” She felt his hands tying the knots. 

“I suppose I have to button up that horrific collar as well.” 

“Yes, thank you.” She felt his hands brush her bare skin as he found the buttons and redid them. 

“Ugh.” She tried not to fidget with the collar.

“Please don’t continue these ridiculous trends once we’re on our own.”

“It’s expected.”

“Not with me. I mean it. You can’t kill yourself for a smaller waist.” 

“Thank you. I’m glad you feel that way.” 

“Alright, are you ready to rejoin the party?” 

“I suppose. Like you said, at least we shall have cake.” She took his hand and led him out of the room. 

Ominis listened as Giselle’s mother berated her for having a loosened corset. “Madame Dubois, it’s my doing. I was concerned for Giselle’s breathing, it’s awfully constrictive.” 

“You are sweet to be concerned, but she will be fine. Giselle, come with me.” Her mother led her off to tighten her corset. 

Sebastian walked to him. “That escalated quickly. I saw you snogging her and then going to be alone with her.”

“It was so she could breathe. Have you seen that thing around her waist?”

“The corset? Yeah, it makes them curvy and have a tiny waist. It looks nice. I went out with this girl once, I could literally wrap both hands around her waist and they were touching.”

“It’s barbaric! She could barely breathe!”

“Come to think of it, Suzanne did complain of feeling faint.” Sebastian said. 

“I thought I tied it back rather snugly but apparently not enough. I told her I refused to break her ribs for a dress. She actually inhaled so her waist would already be small and told me to pull as tightly as I could.” 

“Holy hell. Well for what it’s worth, she looks gorgeous.”

“I know, you’ve said that about fifteen times today.” He heard Giselle returning and turned to face her. 

“Somehow, it’s tighter than before.” She said, and he noticed her voice seemed strained.

“Are you alright?” He reached out for her and put his hands on her waist. It truly was tighter than before. 

“I’ll be fine, I just have to take small breaths.” 

“That’s absolutely ridiculous.” He grumbled. “If you start feeling faint or uncomfortable, I’ll loosen it again, I don’t care what your mother says.”

“Let’s just try to get through the evening.” 

Sebastian chuckled. “Looks like Ominis really will be ripping your clothes off when you leave here.” 

“And hopefully burning them.” Giselle said with a smile. 

They’d eaten dinner, followed by a delicious wedding cake, and Ominis had asked Giselle a dozen times if she was feeling alright. She kept reassuring him that she was fine, but he didn’t believe her. The time came for their first dance as husband and wife. He led her out to the dance floor (his father had finally allowed him to have his wand back, as if people didn’t know he was blind) and they took their position. When the music started they began twirling gracefully around the dance floor. He noticed towards the end that she was leaning a bit more heavily on him. “Giselle?”

“I’m feeling a bit faint.” She said weakly.  He immediately stopped dancing. 

“Come on, let’s go. I’m taking that damn thing off.” He quickly escorted her off the dance floor. He heard footsteps following them. 

“What on earth are you doing? You can’t walk out on your first dance!” His father snapped at him.

“Giselle wasn’t feeling well. I thought it’d be best if we left the dance floor instead of having her faint.” 

“People will talk!”

“Let them! Come on Giselle.” He led her into another room. Giselle was tipsy on her feet, and Ominis locked the door and began rapidly undoing the laces. As soon as he’d loosened it enough, he yanked it wider and Giselle took a deep breath in.

“Oh that’s so much better.” 

He began unbuttoning the top again and ripped it away from her throat. “I don’t care what anyone says. You’ll not be sick for a dress.”

Giselle walked over to a window and pushed it open. “That feels nice.” 

There was another knock on the door. “Giselle, darling? Marcus said you were ill?”

“Yes, papa.”

“Was it all the people?”

“No, that wasn’t it. It’s the dress. I cannot breathe.”

“I told your mother you didn’t look well. May I come in?” 

Giselle unlocked the door and let her father in. “Hello, Ominis. Congratulations.”

“Hello, sir.”

“I appreciate you watching out for Gigi.” Her father embraced her. He’d always been a bit more understanding than her mother. 

“Of course.” 

“Do you wish to go back out there?” Her father asked.

“Not particularly, papa, but I will if I have to.”

“Nonsense. You already got married, that was the important part. Why don’t you two go on and go? I’ll tell everyone you were feeling ill and had to go.”

“Thank you, papa.” 

“Of course. The carriage is outside waiting for you. It will take you to your new home.”

“Thank you sir.” Ominis said.

“Please, call me Pierre. You’re my son in law now.” He patted Ominis on the shoulder and kissed Giselle on the cheek. “Ah, my baby is now a married woman. Congratulations, Gigi.” 

“Thank you, Papa.” She hugged him and they left out a back entrance and towards the carriage that awaited them to bring them to their new, shared home.

#hogwarts legacy #fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfic #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis gaunt fanfiction

[better--oblivions]

I GOTTA GIVE IT TO YOU (You Give Me Problems)

You've been friends with Eddie for a while now, and you've made your mind up to do something about it. You were willing to play nice, too, but then Eddie leaves you hanging too long after a Hellfire session. You have no choice but to make your displeasure known - and your pleasure felt.

18+ only, porn with exceedingly minimal plot, sub!Eddie MunsonxReader, 4.5k words(ish) Huge shout-out to @eravanaaaah for this stunninggggg header and for listening to me ramble before I actually wrote this. I owe you my life. Check out this song for vibes.

October, 1985

You know it’s impractical. You were aiming for an outfit that proclaimed Debbie Harry cool-girl chic, but Midwestern winters make no allowances for fashion. So now you’re forced to wrap your arms across your chest, hands stuck gracelessly under your armpits. You stamp the ground like an irritated pony, and then kick the van wheel for good measure. Eddie promised he’d be done with D&D by nine. It’s quarter past. Ordinarily, you’d cut your losses and go home. You never wait for a boy for more than fifteen minutes. But you’ve gone to the effort tonight, crimped your hair and sacrificed warmth for a short dress better suited to summer, torn tights and military boots. 

You could always skip out on Eddie. You could try your luck with a fake ID, go to a bar and let someone’s older brother buy you a beer. That’s what you were doing the first time you heard Corroded Coffin play, the wailing guitars and insistent drum spurring you on long after the amps had been packed away. Then, Eddie had the frontman glow that made him seem just on the border of unobtainable. It was that challenge which made you seek him out and tell him that, despite being the opener, his band was your favourite. Your forthright nature had collided head-on with his cocky attitude, and you left halfway through the next band’s set after Eddie called you a groupie. Alright, so it was a weird beginning to a friendship. And you’re about to make things a whole lot weirder, just as soon as Eddie meets you at his van, like he promised. 

“Shit, dude, I am so sorry!” 

Eddie even makes a show of jogging over to you, ducking his head as he reaches the van. Your eyebrow arches, mouth turned down in an expression of severe displeasure. 

“How sorry?”

“Uh, double pepperoni pizza sorry? Large, with jalapeños.” 

Even the mention of your pizza order, and the implied promise of free food, doesn’t change the fact you can’t feel your own nose right now. You sniff, as if to make this point.  “Your treachery goes beyond pizza, Munson. Way, way beyond.” 

“Aw, come on, don’t bitch me out, I swear it’s not my fault.”

“If this excuse includes the words paladin, nat 20, or dice, I will kill you here and now.”

Eddie has the decency to look apologetic, at least, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck and shrugging at you. There’s a pause, where you’re looking at him while he looks at the space by your shoulder, and you wonder how long you can keep up torturing him. But the wind sends leaves skittering over the ground like animals, and your skirt flutters against your legs. You take a presumptive step towards the passenger side of the van, and look back at Eddie over your shoulder. 

“The pizza place closes in, like, twenty minutes. You better put your foot to the metal if you’re planning on getting me my apology.”

Back at Eddie’s trailer, you sit on the couch with your legs stretched out. It’s largely a tactical decision, because the dress you’re wearing turned out to be more of a standing up outfit than a sitting down one, and you’re conscious of the way it rides up your thighs. The fiery bravado with which you’d tugged on torn tights and summer dress earlier in the evening has now spluttered into more of a kindling of defiance, and even that is growing dim. Eddie kicks the door shut behind him, arms full of pizza and bottles of coke and a tub of ice-cream. 

“Y’know, I’m not sure that being twenty minutes late is worth this much food,” he calls out as he tries to slide the load onto the already crowded counter. 

“You’re right,” you’re leaning your neck back against the couch, so roll your head slightly to the side to make sure he’s in your view when you open your eyes. “It’s definitely deserving of greater penance.” 

“Get off my ass, already!” The famous Munson temper rears its head, Eddie’s voice rising as he grips the counter. The sudden change in volume makes you jump, your limbs jerking like a puppet after its strings are cut. It’s embarrassing, and worse, it makes Eddie slump forward on his arms with a hang-dog expression. 

“Sorry. I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m such an asshole.” He tugs his hand through his hair, and you grit your teeth. This is part of your friendship; there’s the shared music taste and the in-jokes and the stupid nicknames, but then there’s the moodswings, the arguments. You wish, sometimes, that there wasn’t. But the truth is that you’re friends with each other because nobody else in this dumb little town is as impulsive, as excited, as interesting. So what if you’re both motormouths who get on each other’s nerves? At least you understand that about each other, which is more than you can say for everyone else in Hawkins. 

“Me too. Alright, so we’re assholes together. Cancels out, right? It’s, uh, algebra. Or chemistry.” You stand from the couch and make your way to the counter. Eddie’s still half bent over the pizza boxes, and you bump into him with your shoulder. “If I find one of your hairs in my pizza, I’ll give you a buzz cut. Again.”

He tries to form a smile. You watch as he does his best to pull himself back into place, to be the court jester and not the sad boy. You both hate raised voices; it reminds you of fuck-up fathers and short-tempered lovers. Of course, that doesn’t stop either of you from resorting to yelling. You rest your palm against his forearm, knowing that beneath his leather jacket the muscles will be coiled tight. 

“Hey, come on. Stop being a sad sack of shit and pick a movie. I had to flirt with Steve Harrington to get him to rent me three tapes at once. They’re like goddamn Kommandants at Family Video, I swear to God.” 

Eddie seems as tense as a strung bow, holding himself still for a moment longer before relenting. He doesn’t shrug off your touch, but you release him anyway, so he can check out the VHS tapes you’ve been lugging around in your bag all evening. 

“Sure, what’s the selection tonight?”

“For your pleasure and delectation, Master Munson -” you suck in a breath as his eyes flick over you. It’s only after you start tugging at your skirt that you feel like an idiot, and then revert to smoothing it down with your palms. “We have your first contender: a film straight from London, starring Timothy Dalton and Twiggy. It’s got Victorian British people, it’s got grave robbing, it’s got a perfectly acceptable run-time of one hour and thirty-three minutes.” 

“Alright, alright. Grave-robbing Brits. What else?”

“If Burke and Hare don’t tickle your fancy, we’ve got - actually great question, what have we got?” You cross the space between the kitchen and the living room and drop to your knees, pulling the second video out of your bag and flipping it so you can read the back. “Charley Brewster is a normal, average teenager living with his divorced mother in the suburbs. One evening, Charley looks out his window and sees his new neighbors moving in the next door who appear to be carrying what looks like a coffin.”  You look up from the synopsis on the back of the tape, waiting for Eddie’s reaction. 

“Vampires, classic. Okay. And the final option?”

You set aside the Fright Night video and reach into your bag for the last of your picks, holding it up for Eddie to see. “Xtro.”

“Xtro.” He repeats. 

“Yes?”

“The same Xtro we watched three weeks ago and which you got so stoned during that you fell asleep and left me to sit through alone?”

You glance between Eddie and the tape in your hand. “Huh. No wonder it looked familiar.” 

“Christ sake, sugar, this whole movie thing was meant to improve your taste, not pollute mine with campy horror and shitty sci-fi.” 

“You like sci-fi!” Indignation forces your voice up an octave, and you gesture with the video to emphasise your point. 

“I like good sci-fi, not this shit!” 

You’re back to bickering over the merits of your choices, which means that Eddie is back to normal and your evening is back on track. You breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that Eddie will interpret it as part of your current debate, and relax into the familiar routine. 

You’re halfway through Fright Night, (“A compromise,” Eddie said, somehow still attractive despite sneering at the video), when you notice it. The majority of the plot has escaped you, because Eddie skinned up a joint during the opening credits and you demanded he share. Blanketed in the soft, cozy high, with pizza boxes abandoned in front of you and the smell of Eddie’s cologne seeping into your thoughts, while his arm rests casually over the back of the sofa, you’re aware that right now you’re almost painfully close to his warm skin. You lean against him, your full weight, allowing your eyes to shut for a moment. Before he can complain at being left to watch a movie alone, you force yourself upright and grab the remote to press pause. 

“Hey, what’re you doing? You kidding me?” Even the sound of his irritation doesn’t phase you. 

“You don’t even like this movie, shut up.” And then, because you can feel him building up to a rant about how you smoke too much and get too high, you carry on. “You know something, Eddie? You’re cute. How come we’ve been friends for so long and you never made a move on me?” Your hands trail over his chest as you pull back to look at him. He’s sitting very, very still. 

“Sugar, you’re high-” 

“I said, shut up.” You tug on his hair to emphasise your point, because so what if you’re high? So is he. 

“You asked me a question.”

“You got an answer?” You watch as he bites his lip, your focus entirely on his mouth as heat slowly grows between your legs. This is the real reason you dressed like Debbie Harry tonight, and the reason you waited for him to finish his D&D session, and the reason you couldn’t finish the pizza you ordered. Because you promised yourself that tonight, you’d tell Eddie how you felt. You just needed a little green courage beforehand. 

“Because we’re friends. I’m not just trying to get into your pants. Gimme some credit, I can be friends with girls without trying to score.” 

“What if a girl was trying to score with you?”

Eddie meets your gaze, and you’re delighted by the pink blush spreading across his features. You watch as his gaze dips down to your mouth and back up to your eyes, a smile slowly pulling at your lips. 

“Are you?” His voice is all uncertainty; raspy and whispered. It doesn’t matter if his pupils are blown wide from the weed or the moment, because he looks so fucking pretty. It’s this thought that orchestrates your next move, along with the haze cloaking your brain in warmth, and the fact that you’ve been imagining variations of this since you met Eddie. You slide into his lap, steadying yourself with your hands on his shoulders. Through the thin fabric of his Hellfire tee, you can feel the muscles roll under his skin as his hands cover your waist. 

“Okay, this is happening,” he mumbles it to himself, and you feel your smile growing. At this angle, he’s forced to look up at you for once, and you enjoy the sight. You enjoy it so much that you can feel your arousal growing already, half of your consciousness pulled down towards the slick sensation between your legs. 

“Okay?” 

He’s worrying at his lip again, and you reach out, swiping your thumb over his lower lip and stopping him before he makes it bleed. With the pad of your thumb pressed up against his mouth, you can feel the shaky breath he releases before he nods. 

“Good.” Before, with boyfriends, you accepted their disjointed fumbles. You’d lie on your back and stare at their popcorn ceiling while they pressed insistently at the flesh of your thigh, sticking their tongue into your mouth. Here, perched in Eddie’s lap with his lips slowly parting around your thumb, you feel a prickle climb up your spine which is utterly new and which wipes clean any lingering doubt from your mind.

When you lean down and replace your thumb with your mouth, you feel Eddie press up against you. His hands grip the divot of your waist, his chin tilted up to get the best angle. You can feel him adjusting how he’s sitting beneath you, and you tense your legs against him. Kissing Eddie is like everything you imagined it would be, right down to the way you tuck his hair behind his ears and tangle your fingers in the curls by the nape of his neck. A noise catches in his throat, and you pull back from the kiss. You hadn’t really planned past the point where you got your lips on his, impulsive as ever, but now he reaches up and pulls you down to deepen the kiss again. His tongue flicks behind your teeth and you imagine it over the shell of your ear, your neck, between your breasts and lower still. It makes you grind down against him, the fabric of his jeans rough against your tights. In response, he matches your rhythm. He groans into your open mouth and you smile around the sound, finally pulling away. 

He breathes out your name, reaching up to caress your cheek, but you grab his hand and tangle your fingers together, forcing him to lower his arm. He tilts his head, and you squeeze your thighs against him. 

“I didn’t figure this was how you liked to do it.”

“And?”

“And, fuck.” He stops himself, eyes fluttering shut while you rock against the hard length under his jeans. 

“We could.”

You’re not sure whose idea it was, but you’re glad to lose your tights. Eddie is still beneath you, lying on the floor of the trailer’s living room while you straddle him. He presses his lips to the inside of your thigh, and you feel yourself pulsing in answer. Even though his face is obscured by the skirt of your dress, you can picture the self-satisfied look on his face and it makes you buck your hips in anticipation. That, and the fact you can feel his hot breath creeping up towards your panties.  His hands cradle your ass as you try to slide your knees apart, eager to feel his mouth on you. When it finally comes, you feel him pressing open-mouthed, desperate kisses through the material of your underwear. 

“So goddamn wet,” he mumbles against you, and you know he’s pleased. You could reach back and palm him through his jeans, but you don’t want to. This is your victory, and you’re claiming it. You’re going to claim it all night long. This isn’t like kissing Eddie, which was exactly as you planned and as delicious as you envisioned. This is off-script, this is hedonistic, this is all warm fire in your veins and ice sliding down your spine. You don’t care that you’re squirming on Eddie’s face on the floor of his uncle’s trailer, you don’t mind the half-formed noises that are escaping your mouth. 

In fact, you’re pretty sure Eddie is enjoying the moans tumbling past your lips. Because he swirls his tongue over your clit, through your underwear, and then laps against you with flat, broad strokes. Each time he flicks past your clit, it sends another jolt of pleasure through your body, and you tangle your hands into his hair to keep him in place as you circle your hips. When he pulls away, the cold air mingles with the wetness and makes you shiver. He flips up your skirt, peering up at you to ask for permission as his hands play with the waistband of your panties. In a wordless reply, you pull your dress over your head. 

“Fuck, no bra? Slut.” 

“Bold words from the man with his face in my cunt,” you parry. 

“Technically, my face is in your panties, sugar. But your wish is my command.”

“Then take them off.” You look down at him while he quirks an eyebrow, his quick, calloused fingers tugging at the waistband. “With your teeth,” you clarify. 

There’s a pause where you think he might not, but then he wiggles his shoulders and returns his hands to your ass to get the angle right. The nip of his teeth against your skin as he gains purchase against the flimsy fabric sends another surge of arousal through you. You take over yourself, pulling them off and shoving them away before pushing him back down. 

“More.” 

Without the barrier between his tongue and your skin, the sensations are greater. Each time he presses against your clit, you shudder. He looks devoted, staring up at you as you move against his mouth, his rhythm switching up at the perfect moment to urge you onward. First, he’s slow, kissing your clit and delicately flicking his tongue to taste inside, but he picks up the pace and coaxes you onwards with insistence. There���s a pressure growing at the base of your skull, your thoughts completely blank, all your focus centring on the warmth of his mouth against you. The movement of your hips becomes erratic, and you’re worried about hurting him but not enough to stop. As if reading your mind, he grips you with firm hands and pulls you down into his touch, the press of his tongue tipping you into climax. When you cum, it’s like stars burst behind your vision. He doesn’t stop as your hips slow, but he matches your rhythm as you climb down from the blank slate of pleasure he brought you to. The sight of him, with wetness and spit smeared over his mouth and chin, his eyes impossibly dark, makes you throb. 

By the time you actually make it to his bedroom, he’s finally shed his clothes and you’re aching to feel him inside you. Naked and sweaty despite the growing chill in the trailer, he pulls you towards him. 

“We don’t have to  - like, I can spend the rest of the night with you riding my face and I’ll be fucking grateful. If you’d prefer.” 

You trail your nails against his skin, over his erect nipples and down towards his cock. You follow the trail of hair, watching as he twitches in anticipation. You pause for just a second before you take him in your hand, tightening your grip and swiping your thumb over the head of his cock. He hisses, eyes narrowing. 

“I’d prefer you inside me.”

The bones in your hand jump as he twitches again, but he makes no move towards the bed. You meet his gaze and realise, with shock and pleasure, that he’s waiting for you to order him. You’ve dated boys who liked it the other way; they’d tell you to get on your knees, or to open wide, thrusting into you with haphazard, selfish strokes. You never considered turning the tables so completely. But why not? You started this, after all, and Eddie’s been happy enough to follow your lead. Is it really such a shock that he’s bending to your will now? A smile grows on your mouth and you release him from your grip, only to push him roughly to the mattress. 

“You’re going to lie down, and I’m gonna ride you,” you inform him. 

“Please.” You’re not sure if he meant it to come out like a whine, but it does and you like it. 

“But first I want to watch you.” You stand in his room, in a halo of trailer park lights seeping through the blinds, and it would be surreal if not for the very real sound of his mattress creaking as he angles himself. He’s pressed up against the wall, one hand loosely around his cock, his eyes still on you. 

“You think about me?” 

He nods. 

“You think about doing this with me?”

He nods again. 

“Say it.” 

“I think about doing this with you.”

“Good. Show me what you do when you think about doing this with me.”

He starts slow, his eyes still on you as he strokes up and down the length of his shaft. He angles his hips upwards, the sheen of sweat over his skin making him look like something otherworldly. The low light accentuates the shadows of his jaw, his nose, the space where his hips stand out sharp against the flat plains of his body. The dark mound of hair that spreads out over his thighs and across his torso are in sharp contrast with his pale skin and the freckles you know are littered across his arms and shoulders. As he speeds up, his whines become open-mouthed, breathy moans. You want to hear that sound in your ear. You want him under you, inside you,  you want to crowd his senses and hear him sighing out your name. The sound of his arousal goes straight to your core, and you lose patience.

“Put a condom on.”

“Huh?”

“Condom. Now.” 

He scrambles for the bedside table, pulling out a condom and sliding it over his cock as you finally approach the bed. It’s not just the sight and sound of him; it’s the knowledge that he’s thought about this too. He’s imagined you, and you’ve imagined him imagining you. Distantly, you’re aware of the desire to know how many times, how often, what exactly he pictures when he touches himself. But those are questions for later. Right now, he’s waiting for you to ride him. 

When you slide down on him, he chokes out a curse that you can’t make out. It’s half swallowed as he fists the bedsheets., his brow furrowing. You stroke his cheek, slowly adjusting to the feeling of him. He’s stretching you out in the most sublime way, you can feel him pressing into you and you know he’s doing his best to hold back from moving while you settle against his length. 

“You’re so good, Eddie,” you croon at him and he looks at you with hopeful, agonised eyes. “So good. You’re perfect.” 

“Yeah?” He breathes the question out as you tilt forward, pressing a hungry kiss to his mouth. You can still taste yourself on his lips and tongue, and you want to lick every last part from him. You fantasise that you can taste his eagerness, his pleasure, mixed with the physical proof of your own. As you do, you start to rock against him. It’s like when you made out on the coach but now you can feel the velvety heat of his cock inside you, his skin pressing against yours. His hands are on your shoulders as you writhe on top of him, experimenting to find the best rhythm. As you slot against each other, he bends his knees and grants you better access. The angle is transcendent, and you move now with certainty. He follows your lead, copying your rhythm as you pull pleasure with every movement of your hips. You don’t care about the animal sounds coming out of your mouth, but you’re getting close to the edge with the noises Eddie makes. He sighs and groans, muttering half-words and curses. 

“Let me hear you.”

He increases the volume, his moans deep and panting. You tighten your muscles in response, and it urges him on, louder. Every time his breath catches and he shudders against you, you echo him with your own encouraging sounds. The way he smiles is charming, even now while he’s trying not to cum and swallowing down his own gasps. You grip his chin in your hand, kissing him hard enough to bruise as your hips slam together. And then you trail kisses and bites past his mouth and to his jaw, down the column of his neck and onto the skin of his shoulder. The hickey that you leave is a raw, royal purple, and you clench at the sight of it when you pull away. 

“I’m gonna cum,” Eddie sounds hoarse as he says it, and you slow your pace slightly. “Please don’t stop, fuck, goddamn, please.” 

“Cum for me, Eddie.” There’s a hallucinatory edge to the pleasure that’s been building, and you know that you’re close too. “I want you to cum for me and I want to hear you say it’s for me. Say it. Say it for me.” 

“I’m cumming for you,” Eddie stutters out between gritted teeth as his hips jacknife upwards. You press back down against him, losing yourself into the depth of the feeling as you both chase your climaxes. When he comes, he makes a strangled noise that urges you towards your peak. You yelp as it cuts through you, hot and cold and fierce and shaking as your muscles tighten and relax in rapid succession. Eddie holds you as you shudder out the end of your orgasm, peppering your slick skin with delicate kisses. 

Afterwards, you’re lying in a tangle of limbs and bemoaning the cold pizza you left on the other side of the trailer. 

“There’s no pleasing you,” Eddie groans, dragging a hand over his face. 

“That’s not true. I was very, very happy just now.” You say it because it’s true, and also to watch the pink glow climb from Eddie’s chest to the tips of his ears. 

“Yeah, well. That’s what happens when you’re in charge, I guess.” He flips onto his side, one calloused finger mapping the freckles and scars and stretch marks over your skin. “You know, I always knew you were fuckin’ bossy, but I never thought you’d be like it in the sack. I should’ve known. You’re a straight-up ball buster.” 

“And you liked it, so what does that say about you, bitch boy?” 

“That I’m your bitch boy?” 

You’re not sure how he makes it a question, or how he can call himself a bitch while looking devilishly delighted at the prospect. But you dig your nails into his muscular arm and pull him closer, claiming his mouth with yours while he hovers over you. 

“That’s fuckin’ right,” you grin. “You’re mine.”

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson

[blueskittlesart]

Your thoughts on the phantom thief’s costumes?

oh this should be fun!! i included akechi and sumire also because i love talking so the more the better

joker: solid 9/10. easy to remember and draw which i appreciate. not a lot of color variation except for the red gloves, which i actually like ON HIM but i generally dislike the bright primary colored gloves as a common motif among all the thieves because i think it hinders most of their designs, with joker being the one exception.

ryuji: 8/10. harder to remember than joker's but i also don't draw him that much. again not much color variation but like. they're thieves. that's normal and makes sense. i love the metal spinal cord detailing on the back of his jacket!! my only real problem with it is the yellow gloves and red scarf. i think if the gloves HAD to be yellow then the scarf should have also been yellow to match, because since they're so similar in terms of saturation they end up fighting for attention.

ann: 0/10 god i hate this outfit. i literally cant stand it it's so god awful. the fact that they put a 16 year old girl in a skintight cat bodysuit with a boob window is one thing but like. they couldnt even make it look good. the pink gloves clash with the monotone red of the rest of the outfit. the boots are ugly and don't match the aesthetic of the catsuit. the zippers on the suit are clearly meant to add visual interest but just look stupid and impractical. NOT TO MENTION she breaks the theme of a primarily black outfit that (most of) the rest of them have going despite her codename being panther, a BLACK CAT??? why is it red. if i could kill the designers of this outift i would

yusuke: 6/10. would be infinitely better if it was a shirt and pants instead of a bodysuit. also the giant sleeves look stupid as hell <3 once again the bright blue gloves suck ass but at least they're SLIGHTLY brought in to the rest of the design with the blue stripes on the belt. honestly i think it would be better if they just ditched the gloves and made the belt stripes red to keep with the kitsune mask aesthetic but whatever. it could be way worse ig

makoto: 8/10. her mask is ugly let's get that out of the way first. sorry queen its the truth </3 aside from that i think she's got one of the better designs of the thieves. very cohesive aesthetic and it's almost exclusively black but doesn't lose detail (the silver metal accents help with this and are a very nice touch!) she's one of the few that doesn't suffer from the glove problem because her gloves are gray but if it were me i might have made them black. overall solid design

futaba: 7/10. one of the more practical designs which i think is cool! she's got arm and kneepads and pockets on her thighs which i think is very on-brand for a support character like her. she also keeps some aspects of her real-world fashion sense like her legwarmers and big platform shoes which is cool!! her color palette could be a liiiiitle bit more cohesive, she's got both gold and silver metal accents which throws me off a bit and the red of her goggle lenses ends up looking somewhat out of place with the rest of her green accents. she doesn't suffer from the glove problem though despite her gloves being bright neon green, i think because that same green is used just enough in other parts of her design that the gloves blend in more as an accent color.

haru: 10/10. my favorite design in the game BY FAR. she's got such a cool and cohesive aesthetic going. the pink accents are noticeable but don't overpower the black enough to make her look out of place with the other thieves, and the frilliness and puffiness of it also reminds me of her real-world fashion sense! she unfortunately is probably the biggest victim of the glove problem. the purple gloves absolutely destroy an otherwise beautiful color scheme and distract from all the beautiful details of her outfit because they just look SO out of place. i don't hate them enough to dock her points but if they were just. black. or pink even. then she would be completely perfect

pre-reveal akechi: 10/10. ok i laughed out loud when i first saw this because it looks fucking stupid and i recognize that objectively it looks fucking stupid. but from both a design and lore standpoint its. good. it is genuinely very good. it's got a cohesive color scheme and aesthetic which visually places him opposite joker--he is white with red and gold accents in direct contrast to joker's black with red and silver accents. certain aspects of his design seem to deliberately parallel joker's--the v-shaped buttons on his coat are an obvious imitation of the v-shaped accents on joker's waistcoat, the cuffs on his sleeves look just like joker's, the v-cut of his cape is reminiscent of the slit in the back of joker's coat, etc etc. even his gloves (which have to be spotlighted because ive done it for everyone else) are a parallel to joker's--white against red cuffs as opposed to red against black cuffs. from a design standpoint everything about this design is SCREAMING at you that akechi is a direct parallel of joker, and it's done very well imo. from a lore standpoint i can't help but wonder if he made these decisions deliberately, as some sort of challenge to joker or something, since he's the only character who mentions putting actual thought into their outfit.

post-reveal akechi: 3/10. i don't want to be mean but this was a huge downgrade. it's got some good things going for it--the mask is cool, and definitely better than the ugly shit he was wearing before, and the way certain aspects become almost corrupted, like the cape and belt, is a cool touch. however i think a lot of what i praised his pre-reveal design for made things difficult for the designers of this outfit. so much of white knight akechi seems deliberately designed to mirror joker, to be the white to joker's black. so when the designers had to do a dark version of akechi, they ended up backed into a corner, because simply turning akechi's old design black would leave him looking far too similar to joker, who, crucially, he is rejecting completely in order to attain this form in the first place. what the designers settled on was an evil candycane, which. well. i think we could maybe have done a little better. i think leaning into the prince thing might have helped--going from a prince of justice to a prince of darkness, keeping that aesthetic but twisting it into something more disney-villain-esque. at the very least he needs to not be wearing a striped bodysuit. please. im sympathetic to the problems the designers must have faced with this one but im SURE there's a solution that isn't a skintight purple monstrosity.

sumire: 5/10. sigh. this one is hard for me. because if i look at it objectively i think that her design is GOOD. like it's cohesive, it's pretty, the elements fit together, etc etc. but i can't get past the fact that they just straight up made her female joker. like the poor girl can't even get her own outfit. i know she's the love interest but COME ON can we give her a little more agency here PLEASE. the leotard is the only thing that feels definitively like HER because gymnastics and everything else just kind of feels like a genderbent joker cosplay to me. for every other character in this game their thief costume's aesthetic can be related somehow back to them as a character--their motivations, their innermost desires, their personality, SOMETHING. sumire just. gets none of that. she gets to be Joker's Girlfriend. and yeah maybe you could make the case that she like doesn't know who she is or whatever and that's why she defaults to him but it still feels CHEAP. she doesn't even get her own glove color. EVERY OTHER CHARACTER IN THE GAME has a uniquely ugly glove color except sumire who has to share with joker because she is his girlfriend. ugh

#asks #im objectively correct btw and will take no criticism

[fostersffff]

The Big Gundam Watch, Part 9.1: Mobile Suit Gundam Wing, Episodes 1-26

Boy, it’s been a minute since I did one of these! Like my old Zeta Gundam post, I’ll be splitting this into two parts, because in my notes I kept going “wow, with how fast this is going I feel like it’ll hit a conclusion to the established conflict by the halfway point, and have to do something new for the second half”, and considering the way Episode 26 ends and that Episode 27 is a clip show… I think I’m on the money. Plus, I’ve got a lot to say, so: here we go!

Mobile Suit Gundam Wing! For many Westerners my age, this series was their first exposure to Gundam, as it was the first ever Gundam series aired on television in America. Personally, Wing was in my blind spot: the only Gundam I ever saw on TV back in the day was G Gundam. I figured I’d take a break from the Universal Century after watching Hathaway, and this seemed like a good place to stop off before going back to chronological order with War in the Pocket.

To begin: I gotta say that I’m very glad I watched the original Mobile Suit Gundam and its sequels before fully engaging with Wing, because doing so has given me a ton of additional context for this series. As a result, my strongest opinion, and maybe most controversial, is that I don’t think Wing should have been a Gundam story at all.

The Mobile Suit Problem

The first thing I want to talk about is the mobile suit design philosophy of the After Colony timeline. Let’s start with the Tallgeese, as it’s established as being the common ancestor of all mobile suits in the setting:

I love this thing! It’s such a fucking cool concept, made to resemble a classical suit of armor with the plumed helmet design and the impractical-but-stylish buckler, and it also comes with a giant shoulder mounted gun and SUPER VERNIERS. Next, let’s look at the Leo, After Colony’s equivalent of the Zaku II:

A perfect grunt suit: clearly mass produced and simple, but still a neat giant robot. Compared to the Tallgeese, it looks like it’s been massively stripped down, which is exactly what happened: the Tallgeese was a big, unwieldy bastard of a prototype, so they stripped off the SUPER VERNIERS, shoulder mounted gun, and fancy decorative elements, and what they were left with became the Leo. In fact, when it’s being put back together in the early episodes, you get to see that without its helmet, the Tallgeese has the exact same head as a Leo!

Now, let’s examine the Wing Gundam Zero, which in-universe was the first mobile suit made by the Gundam Scientists after the Tallgeese:

Despite its origins, this thing looks completely alien to the previous two mobile suits. They provide some kind of explanation in the story, but seriously: besides the fact that they are bipedal giant robots, Wing Zero doesn’t look like it belongs in the same series as the Tallgeese and Leos. Even more confounding are the Mercurius and Vayeate, which were the result of all the Gundam Scientists coming together explicitly to make mobile suits specced like the Gundams:

These look perfectly in line with the Tallgeese and Leos, but they have no relation to the Gundams!

In the Universal Century, the reason mobile suits looked different between the Earth Federation and Zeon is because they were being designed and built by completely unrelated manufacturers. In the Future Century- the only other Gundam timeline that existed at this point- the Gundams are a particular type of giant robot used specifically for the Gundam Fight, so they share a basic core design that is distinct and different from the other handful of giant robots that appear in that setting. In After Colony, I’m hard pressed to think of why the Gundams would look so radically different from the other mobile suits, except for the sake of The Brand™, which is really distracting.

The Colony Problem

In Episode 18, there’s a nice, long, expository soliloquy by Heero that goes into detail about the setting, and why the colonies even exist in the first place. Unlike the Universal Century and Future Century, where the existence of extraterrestrial colonies was necessitated by rapidly deteriorating conditions on Earth, the After Colony timeline seems to be pretty stable in terms of available resources. There’s a conversation between Relena and Noin earlier in the series that suggests that energy is plentiful, climate and pollution are under control, and population isn’t at critical mass, so the colonies kind of just... exist arbitrarily. There’s no reason to assume Heero is lying, but I was expecting a reveal of the true nature of the existence of the colonies at some point afterwards, because that’s a bizarre choice to make when the conflict between the colonies and the Earth is the critical to the story you’re trying to tell.

What’s more, the colonies don’t even really seem to have much of a cultural identity to them to help this problem out. To be fair, they also didn’t have much of a cultural identity in the Universal Century either, and the Future Century is at the polar opposite end of the spectrum with “Neo Mexico is a cactus shaped like a sombrero”, but something like that would have helped this problem out immensely. The only thing we get is that a few generations of being submissive to the Alliance and peaceful has rendered the colonies’ leaders susceptible to obvious manipulation by OZ, which could have happened just as easily if they weren’t in space, and instead were just nations that were... well, submissive to the Alliance and peaceful.

Again, much like the Gundams being Gundams for the sake of Gundams, it feels like the colonies only exist because this is a Gundam series, and you gotta have space colonies because that’s right behind Gundams in terms of repping The Brand™ .

The Main Character Problem

Presumably trading on the idea that a team of characters would be successful after G Gundam and its Shuffle Alliance, Gundam Wing presents us with five main characters: Heero Yui, Duo Maxwell, Trowa Barton, Quatre Raberba Winner, and Wufei Chang. I like all of these kids to varying degrees, but they’re not particularly interesting, because I don’t really know anything about them. The Gundam Scientists trained them all to be Perfect Soldiers (with varying degrees of success), and that’s about all we get.

When they first meet, Dr. J tells Relena that Heero is fighting because he loves the colonies, and that’s certainly true from his actions, but… why does he love the colonies? Amuro was thrust into the One Year War because he made a spur of the moment decision to try to protect his home. Kamille leapt into the Gryps Conflict because he was sick of his home being occupied by militant fascists. Judau actively resists being roped into the First Neo Zeon War until his sister is abducted and it gets personal. Domon is compelled to take part in the Gundam Fight and destroy the Devil Dark Gundam in order to avenge his mother and clear his father’s name.

What specifically compelled Heero, an apparently kind-hearted young boy, to willingly undergo intense super soldier pilot training that turned him into a “perfect” killing machine? Was it that he was such a sensitive, empathetic soul that just learning about the history of the colonies drove him to it? What about Duo, or Trowa, or Wufei? The only character who has any kind of tangible backstory as of Episode 26 is Quatre: his father is the leader of one of the colonies, and so he feels a familial responsibility to participate in Operation Meteor.

It’s certainly possible they’ll get around to giving these characters backstories across the next set of episodes, but again, that’s a bizarre choice to make for a series: where you don’t know your protagonists’ actual motivations until after you’re more than halfway through.

Mobile Suit Gundam Wing: The Chronicle of Char Zechs and Sayla Relena

My two favorite characters in this series- at this point, anyway- are Zechs Merquise and Relena Darlean, otherwise known as Miliardo and Relena Peacecraft. I knew when I originally checked out the first few episodes a year ago that Zechs was this series’s version of Char, but what I didn’t know is that he’s literally Char. Like, he’s more Char than Full Frontal, a literal in-universe clone of Char. Milliardo Peacecraft is the oldest heir of an important leader who proposed a radical solution to a pressing political issue and got assassinated as a result. He then swore revenge on the people who killed his father, and did so by disguising himself with a mask and taking up a new identity so he could work for his father’s killers, all while separated from his beloved younger sister who has no idea about him. Not to mention all the direct references to popular sayings and imagery:

When I say that I don’t think Wing should have been a Gundam story at all, it’s because I think, with some minor adjustments to the story, Gundam Wing would have been much better as a character study of the Char archetype by centering the narrative on Zechs and, to a slightly lesser extent, Relena.

Zechs circumvents the problem I brought up about the Operation Meteor boys not having any clear motivations: people either know what Char’s deal is already from cultural osmosis, or if they don’t, “revenge for my family” is very easily picked up. This quick familiarity would actually complementary to the lightning pace of the story, because by Episode 9 of Wing, Zechs is where Char is by the last episode of 0079. He’s successfully avenged his family by killing their murderers, which then begs the question: what next?

In 2001, the manga Char’s Deleted Affair: Portrait of a Young Comet started serialization, which actually covered what happened between the immediate end of the One Year War and the start of the Gryps Conflict. But in 1996, “what did Char do right after he killed Kycilia” was ripe territory to explore. Technically, that is what we’re seeing in Gundam Wing as it exists, but the problem is that we also need to know what’s going on with Heero and Duo and Trowa and Quatre and Wufei and a number of other named characters. In this hypothetical alternative where Zechs is the protagonist, the audience wouldn’t really need so much detail on the day-to-day activities of the Operation Meteor boys; they could just be recurring antagonists. In that setup, their lack of backstories would actually make way more sense.

The emphasis on Zechs would of course also mean a greater focus on Relena, a character who I had been led to believe was awful. On the contrary, Relena’s great! She’s absolutely a spoiled and naive rich girl who doesn’t know anything about the world, but in this story that manifests as her having no self-preservation instinct. She constantly tries to approach Heero after he makes multiple credible threats on her life, she very nearly assassinates a commanding officer of OZ in a crowded ballroom in front of hundreds of witnesses, and then after telling all the people in control of civilization that a reckoning is at hand and being ushered off the stage before she gets got, she grumbles that there’s technically nothing stopping her from just burning them all to death. I love her, and I wholeheartedly think she could carry the plot of the show as a deuteragonist with Zechs, rather than the current arrangement where she’s just another part of a giant ensemble cast.

All of this is to say: I think the weakest parts of Gundam Wing are the parts where it feels like they went “well, it’s a Gundam story, so we gotta have (x).” and it would have been better if they tried something that departed from convention to try something a little different. To say it another way, and much more concisely: as the first non-Universal Century story, G Gundam avoided the landmine of “this the Universal Century again with some arbitrary differences” by riding a flying robot horse over it, and as the second non-Universal Century story, Wing leapt onto that landmine with both feet.

THE STUFF I LIKED:

For all my bitching about the Gundams, I actually think Gundam Heavyarms is an all-time design. It executes on a tangible, functional theme better than any of the others, and that theme is “what if we strapped a hojillion guns on this bad boy”. And then- because evidently Nose Doctor was the smartest of the Gundam Scientists- he gave it some cool arm blades because even a hojillion guns will eventually run out of bullets This results in the coolest fucking kill in the series to date, that also doubles as another SpEeEeEeEeEeEeEeN gif for my collection.

As a direct tie-in to that particular scene, I love that the solution to Lady Une’s ultimatum that she’ll attack the colonies if the Gundams take any action isn’t “we can’t use the Gundams for a while”, it’s “she can’t find out we’ve been taking action if all the potential witnesses are fucking dead.”

I adore that the reason mobile suits exist in this timeline is The Illuminati Thinks Giant Robots Are Cool. Sometimes, the simplest explanation is best.

I got upset at first when it seemed like a needless redesign, but upon the reveal that something is deeply not right, I’ve come to enjoy both halves of Lady Une. On the one hand, you have Unrepentant Evil Superbitch, and on the other you have “Pretty Soldier Sailor Une”, who, despite her genuine desires for peace, is still handily manipulating the colonists to make sure it’s peace as defined by Treize.

The open, unambiguous hostility between Relena and Une is golden. Starting with Relena delivering the compact bomb Une planted right back to her with cartoonish sincerity and Une forgoing any sense of subtlety and shotputting it through a second-floor window, to Relena pulling a fucking gun out of her fancy ballgown’s bow to murder Une, to basically everything Relena does in Episode 14, including responding to being patted down by Noin with “you know what, that’s fair.”

The shock I felt finding out that the infamous “I’ll Kill You” scene was the end of the first episode was surpassed only by finding out that the not-quite-as-infamous-but-still-incredible "Relena calls out for Heero to kill her” scene was the fourth.

Lining up with me liking Heavyarms despite not really caring much for the Gundams, Trowa is my favorite of the boys. I can’t quite put my finger on what makes me like him more than Heero, who he’s functionally identical to, but I can say that the delivery of this particular line made me laugh like Seth Rogen.

This series has a stellar soundtrack. Like, not only is “The Wings of a Boy that Killed Adolescence” a fucking raw title, the actual song lives up to the name. It also makes me wish Heero kept the characterization he had in the first episode, where he took out two Aries mobile suits with a single shot and then started laughing like a sociopath while the song blared in the background.

THE STUFF I LIKED LESS:

As mentioned at the very top: the pacing is insane. “The villains who operate from the shadows make their grab for power by manipulating the protagonists into killing off their competition” should be the halfway point of a story, not barely a fifth of the way in. Then the next fifteen episode are spent rehabilitating and/or justifying every named character from the villainous faction so they can fight together against the autonomous military force of the TRUE true villain. Although, speaking of rehabilitating and/or justifying named characters...

I would describe Treize Khushrenada as “Big Boss from Metal Gear Solid, but fucking stupid”. I could not believe when this scene played and Treize, who by all accounts at this point in the story was presented as a master manipulator and strategist, revealed himself to be an idiot. The man who was willing to let a baby fall off a dock and drown because Muh Doctrine of Individual Strength thought the people he was consolidating all the power for respected that idea? He didn’t have a plan in place to undermine them and take all the power he earned with his military might for himself???

Also on the subject of Treize: while before I mentioned that I like both of Lady Une’s personalities, the fact that she developed DID because she wanted Treize’s dick so bad is maybe the crowning moment of Women Be Shopping in Gundam, somehow displacing Reccoa Londe committing genocide for Scirocco dick.

And while we’re on the subject of dumbass characters, Wufei went from being “the smartest and most clear-headed of the Operation Meteor boys” to “dipshit MUH HONOR boy”. The fact that he was able to figure out that the other four got played like a fiddle by Treize, only to- one episode later- have Treize dead-to-rights and then just not take the shot because MUH HONOR is so fucking stupid.

Honestly though, despite feeling it most keenly with Wufei, all of the Operation Meteor boys develop a sudden sense of chivalry in response to Treize and Zechs. They’ll mulch any number of grunts, but when the time comes where they can strike a decisive blow and accomplish the objectives of their mission, suddenly they need to stop everything and make sure they don’t commit any faux pas. And you know the only reason for that is because the creative team wrote themselves into a corner: either they suddenly develop an honor code, they lose every encounter until the very end, or the story is over at Episode 10.

The total lack of coordination involved in Operation Meteor is insane. I get it: the colonies can’t communicate with each other, so after the initial plan came together there was no way to fill in details, but couldn’t the scientists have at least mentioned “by the way, there may be anywhere between 0 to 4 other Gundams, they will be trying to do the same thing as you, so don’t waste time fighting them.” In fact, now that I think about it, that would have been the perfect justification for the Gundams looks completely different from every other mobile suit in the setting!

OTHER OBSERVATIONS:

Something that seemed obvious early on was that Heero was suicidal. Like, there’s being willing to die for the mission, and then there’s accomplishing a minor objective in Episode 2 and being like “FINALLY, I CAN DIE!” That, plus the Noventa Apology Russian Roulette World Tour made it seem like he was hopeful one of them would just do it, but then it just kinda... went away.

Conversely, the suicidal streak was also present and explicitly stated for Trowa, but in his case, it got punched out of him. Which, by the way, props to Catherine for not settling for a slap.

I had a sensible chuckle at this line, because it seems like a jab at G Gundam, considering the penultimate philosophical conflict of that series is “can the Gundam Fight really be considered a better solution to war when it still results in mass devastation?” However, with where my opinion of Wing currently sits, I think its arms are a little to short to box with God.

When it was revealed that the context for Heero’s soliloquy about the purpose of the colonies was him giving a speech in class, I thought about how funny it would be if, after he finished, the teacher went “that was fascinating, Heero, but the subject was ‘what I did on my summer vacation’.” But then that’s almost literally what happens!

So, tl;dr: at this halfway point, Gundam Wing is kinda mid, but not unsalvageable. There’s still 22 episodes left, not to mention whatever Endless Waltz is.

In the meantime, please enjoy this shot that I initially interpreted as Gundam Heavyarms riding a Gundam-sized hovercraft.

#Gundam #Mobile Suit Gundam #Mobile Suit Gundam Wing #Gundam Wing #The Big Gundam Watch #anime #long post

[space-ninja-fashion-show]

Hmmm thinking about. weapons. Bc i realised half my frames don't even have signature ones

Alden i've already established as the Xoris User. Otherwise he prefers to use his own electricity. For guns I might just end up assigning him the Basmu bc it's not something i bring to high level stuff but it's Fun and i also don't bring Alden to high level stuff. I know the Fulmin would be more fitting for being electric and nice looking and all but i don't Like the Fulmin

Lanius is also very melee-heavy. Warfan enjoyer, so Quassus. They also like dual swords tho. If gun then Felarx: cool and pointy and hits like a truck

Higgins on the other hand does Not like melee (in contrast to the fact that most of the times i've died as Lavos have been bc i went rabid on an acolyte and forgot that i am not, in fact, immortal). If he has to, he likes hefty things like the Gram Prime. Hell, he prefers hefty weapons in general. Shotgun user. Cedo, Kuva Hek

Kodiak Would Like To Not Fight, Please. If he has to wield a weapon, he prefers slightly insane shit like gunblades or the gaze kitgun (laser beam go bzzzz), or snipers to keep everything away from himself, tho his aim is shaky. If push comes to shove he can always smack someone with his cane, but he Likes his cane, so he'd prefer to avoid breaking it

Kohlrabi and Keiko both have their amps and don't typically fight melee but jic, North has taught them both how to wield a knife. They eventually brought the two of them down to Cetus and let each of them pick out a knife of their own, which they both now carry. I'm sure they will come in handy someday

North has their weapons they had during TNW - Sirocco, Rumblejack, Nataruk. They technically share the Nataruk with Higgins bc he's also okay with using it. The Sirocco runs on void energy now tho and Higgins makes fun of the Rumblejack for being a buttering knife, so those are exclusive to North. (Despite finding them impractical due to size, they also have some interest in staves/polearms, bc they Look Cool To Use. They mentioned this to Hako randomly Once, to which Hako said that he does actually fight with a Bo! And then North was too intimidated to bring it up again for a Month bc they didn't know if Hako was excited to share or if he wanted to be The One Stick Guy in the group)

#north is so like. needlessly intimidated by hako its kinda hilarious #wouldve Loved to assign alden the cedo but #1) its so big it looks like hed topple over if he held it #and 2) its literally the signature gun of lavos. im just gonna let higgins have his shotguns #he is short but Strong so he likes his heavy hard hitting bullshit #kodiak thinks the rumblejack is cool as hell btw #like damn kid you built this from scrap!! and it electrocutes ppl!!! fuck yeah #kata's chatter #oc: alden #oc: lanius #oc: higgins #oc: kodiak #oc: operator kohlrabi #oc: operator keiko #oc: drifter north #oc: hako #hako is Excited to potentially teach north about stick nonsense btw #north is just anxious about everything ever all the time #basically hako wants to bond with north real bad and north thinks he wants to kill them in secret

[mycoolwritingcorner]

The Calm Before The Storm Chapter 4: Coming Out

Ami was setting the table when she heard a knock at the door.

“Ami, I think Ms. Kino is here!” She heard her mother shout from the kitchen.

“Alright, I’ve got it mom!” She replied back to her mother. She made her way to the door and opened it to reveal her green eyed lover standing in the hall with a bouquet of lilacs.

“Uh… hi.” The Guardian of Thunder said, visibly nervous despite her best efforts to hide it.

“Hey, come on in.” Ami said, leading her into the apartment. Before they got too far in, however, the bluenette whispered up to Mako, “You look nice.” Prompting a blush from the taller girl.

“Thank you. You look nice too.” She whispered back, “You ready for this?”

“Yeah, I think so. You?” 

“Yeah… yeah, we’ve got this.” The green-clad girl said in a clear attempt to psych herself up. Ami was glad to see it, though. She had worried Mako would be in a much worse state.

The girls made their way to the table, where Ami’s mother, Saeko, had stepped out of the kitchen to greet her guest.

“Hello Ms. Kino, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you!” She said, warmly welcoming Mako into her home.

“Thank you for having me. And please, call me Mako.” The brunette replied, “Oh, and these are for you!” She said, handing Saeko the flowers.

“Oh, thank you dear, they’re lovely. I’m gonna go find a vase for these, could you help Ami finish setting the table? Dinner should be ready in just a few minutes.”

“Oh, of course!” Mako shot back, eager to please.

…

Before long, the three women had helped themselves to a portion of the rice dish which Saeko had made, and seated themselves at the table. As their apartment only housed two people, and their opportunities to eat together were rare, the table in the dining room was smaller than most. Thankfully, there was enough room for Mako, however she felt the need to be extra careful ensure her long legs did not accidentally kick one of the Mizuno women.

“Great, another thing I need to worry about.” The brunette thought to herself as she pushed her food around on her plate. She had been able to eat at a decent pace, largely motivated by her desire to not offend Ami’s mother, but the knots in her stomach kept her from being able to truly ‘dig in’.

“So, Mako.” Saeko began, instantly grasping Makoto’s undivided attention, “Do you have any plans for what you want to do after high school?”

“Oh, well, actually I’d like to go to culinary school.” She shot back honestly, before taking a minute to fully process what she had said.

“Wait, what if she thinks that’s impractical? She probably wants Ami to marry some nice boy she meets at medical school, and here I am telling her I want to be a chef?! Dammit, I’m blowing it already!” Mako thought, mentally chastising herself.

“Oh, that’s interesting.” Saeko responded, “Maybe I should’ve let you cook dinner for tonight.”

“O-oh, well I was thinking of bringing something, but Ami said not to worry. B-but I can definitely cook something next time!”

“Wait, is it too presumptuous of me to just assume that there’ll be a next time? Gah! This is worse than when Ami tried to teach me how to play chess!”

“That would be lovely.” Saeko said sincerely, “So what do you wanna do after you finish culinary school? Try to be the next world famous chef?” 

“Oh, no, nothing that big. And actually I’m not even-”

“I told you, Mom, she wants to open up a bakery.” Ami said. Mako wasn’t sure if she felt rescued, or if Ami had just dug her a deeper hole.

“Oh, yes, that’s right.” Saeko said, preparing another bite of food, “To be fair, you told me that a while ago. So, is that still what you want to do, Mako?”

“Uh… well…” Mako didn’t know what to do. Should she lie and say she wasn’t that committed to it? Ami’s mother didn’t seem to mind, but what if that was just a front? Maybe if she told her the bakery was just a childish dream and that she was actually looking at other options her mother would respect her more. “Well actually…”

“No. I can’t lie. If this is gonna work she has to like me for who I am.”

“... It’s been my dream since I was a little girl.” Makoto said softly.

Saeko sprouted a small smile upon hearing this, “It’s good to have dreams. Goals to strive for. Keeps us from being complacent.” She said before taking a sip of her drink.

“I… I think I answered that right?” Makoto thought to herself before returning to her meal.

…

Ami had only cleared about half of her plate. The reality of what she was about to do was beginning to fully set in, which dealt a large blow to her appetite. She could tell Mako was feeling it too, as she was also eating slower than normal, but seemed to be powering through it more effectively than Ami.

“Sweetheart, are you alright?” Her mother asked, shocking her back to reality.

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine.” She replied. 

She turned her focus back to her plate, but quickly adjusted her gaze towards Makoto. When Makoto looked back at her, Ami mouthed one simple word: “Ready?”

Makoto paused for a second, looking back down at her plate. This sent a chill through Ami. Was Mako not ready for this? Was it truly too soon? Should she have given her more time to prepare? 

This cavalcade of questions was brought to a halt when Ami felt a hand atop her own. Snapping back to reality she saw that Mako had turned her attention back to her, and was delivering an affirmative nod.

“Well… now or never, I guess.”

“Actually, Mom… Mako and I have something to tell you.”

“Oh? What is it dear?” 

With that, Ami stood up and prompted Mako to do the same, before taking the taller girl’s hand into her own.

“Mom… Mako and I… we’re… she’s my…” Ami stammered, not quite able to get the words out.

“I’m her girlfriend, Mrs. Mizuno.” Mako finished for her other half.

“Yeah. We’ve been dating for about two months now and… and I’m sorry for keeping it from you but I just wasn’t sure how you would react and… yeah...”

There it was. The truth was out there. Now all Ami could do was wait for a response. The silence which hung in the room was deafening. Thankfully for the Guardian of Water, however, it didn’t last long.

“Oh, so you two finally made it official? That’s wonderful!”

With this, both girls’ eyes shot up from the table and towards Ami’s mother.

“Wait… I… what?” Was all Ami could manage to say.

“I’ve known about your feelings for Mako for some time, honey.” Saeko said gently, “But, I figured you would tell me when the time was right.”

“Wow… I…”

Saeko stood up from her chair and pulled her stunned daughter into a hug.

“I love you, honey. And nothing could ever change that.” She said before releasing Ami from the hug.

“Wait, so you’re not…”

“The only thing I am, is happy for you. Okay?” Saeko said, to which Ami simply nodded in response.

“So wait…” The Mizunos heard, causing them to turn towards Mako, who had slumped back into her chair, “Was I the only one who didn’t know?!” The brunette exclaimed in disbelief, prompting a laugh from both Mizuno women.

--

Yay, good for Mako, Ami's mother approves, but... is that the full story? Guess you'll have to read next chapter to know for sure.

Please let me know what you guys think! Comments, reblogs, likes, etc. are much encouraged and greatly appreciated!

And come back next time for chapter 5.

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#MakoAmi #Reinako #Sailor Moon #AmiMako #Minarei #Ami Mizuno #makoto kino #Rei Hino #Minako Aino #Ami x Makoto #Makoto x Ami #Rei x Minako #Minako x Rei #Ami/Makoto #Makoto/Ami #Rei/Minako #Minako/Rei #sailor senshi #Sailor scouts #90s anime #pretty guardian sailor moon #Sailor Mercury #Sailor Jupiter #Sailor Mars #Sailor Venus

[jbt7493]

can you imagine. all the impracticality of a chainsaw-sword, but an axe. it'd be even worse. how awesome is that.

under the cut is like literally more than a dozen paragraphs of me being autistic about combat choreography despite having no actual filmmaking experience or even really watching many movies. in fact i think it is quite likely i am just wrong about some of what im talking about; however i like reasoning about things even if i dont know what im talking about.

cause like okay the chainsaw sword tends to be stout and short, and often has a large handle because like. Engine for the thing to do the chainsawing bit. so it ends up having an unsatisfying sense of movement when used to slice

obviously since it's a chainsaw you end up having an idea of just smacking it into somebody and then getting that nice little 'beat' before it rips through them in a burst of gore (interesting parallel in choreography between this and the classic samurai clash)

but because the design of the chainsaw sword tends on the shorter side and the visual balance also leans toward a shorter and stouter image, you don't get a very large or fast 'swing', and the business end of the weapon has less emphasis.

you might have to place more visual weight on the person wielding it (a bulky armor suit or a huge mecha, for example), and you'll definitely need to make their movement carry more of the weight, maybe with them making exaggerated two handed swings or charging into their opponent.

they'll need to make bigger movements in a fight because your focus is more on them instead of on their weapon, and a back-and-forth of parrying and circling won't work visually like it would with rapiers or katanas because you're not looking at the space between the two fighters.

the axe is a weapon which also places a lot of weight in a single spot, both in the real world and visually in its choreography, but that weight is on the business end, not toward the handle. when a character uses a big axe or hammer, you're still paying more attention to the space between them and the target.

my analysis on the axe and hammer arent as informed and i already barely watch any actual movies so this is basically purely theory. but like. you have the visual weight more at the end, and while you don't necessarily have to do the thing where a huge lumbering barbarian swings once every three seconds, you're not going to see something that's visually heavier move as quickly as the swords would, if you want the fight to look balanced.

with a normal perspective, though, you can still have quick repeated swings without having too much movement; just have them swing the weapon side to side instead of up and down, and it'll be moving toward or away from the camera but in the same spot. this will make the axe wielder feel more static- the negative space between two swordsmen moves quickly as their swords flash up and down, in and out. the axe head being visually larger than a sword's blade means that when the axe is being used to make horizontal strikes perpendicular to the perspective, it will occupy a consistent space.

the fact that the axe's blade, and thus its visual weight, is at the end also changes the space they occupy; it lends itself toward the moment of a big swing missing and giving the opponent an opening, because while the sword's weight is somewhat balanced, with the axe you've now gotten between the wielder and the weapon, and have occupied the space they were controlling, which moves less quickly than with the sword.

while with the sword you can have the samurai beat where two swords clash, they move past each other, and then one explodes, with the axe, the greater bulk of the blade removes the plausibility of that 'phantom' cut, and the weight means you're more focused on each hit. a heavily wounded barbarian continuing to rage in combat is encouraged even more by this, because the dichotomy of the weapon theyre using and the weapons of their opponents means that it looks good as the barbarian makes a huge swing with their heavy weapon and takes a small cut.

the trait of the axe where the opponent can get inside of its reach, the balance of its design, and the stereotype associated with the axe as a weapon for a strong brute character encourage the use of non-weapon attacks as well, along with the value of simply having more novelty in your choreography. if the barbarian makes a heavy swing, you don't want to move the axe again too quickly, or else you lose the sense of heft. let them take a step forward and throw a punch, changing the focus to them and letting them occupy the same space as the axe for a moment so they can take over its visual weight before picking it up and continuing with it.

the chainsword too encourages non weapon attacks. another reason, which also applies to the axe as mentioned, is that any successful hit from the chainsword is more significant. if you want to keep the scene going, mix in some attacks that do less damage. the chainsword often features not only a knuckle guard but a viciously spiked one. of course, the spikes don't make it do more damage, but they make the viewer expect the user to throw a punch with it. and they look cool. the chainsword also encourages close quarter combat because it's a short weapon. since it doesn't 'move' visually much on it's own when swung, the user must move for it, and it's more interesting to work that charge into a shoulder charge or a kick to the stomach that will stagger the enemy.

but discussing the axe vs the chainsword, you find something similar in terms of choreography, but the axe is simply more dynamic, and is significantly heavier. the chain-axe, then, is simply *more*. an axe for an even greater brute, that.. well, actually, it doesnt necessarily encourage more of the barbarian outside of simply the prior stereotype; while the chainsword shares the incentive to CQC with the axe, it doesnt really encourage the 'berserk' as much, since it lacks that distance between the threat and the user and the weight that disincentivizes moving too quickly which leads to creating more moments of weakness after any given strike

in fact.. the movement in which the two samurai clash and slide past each other (not necessarily the blood explosion kind, just any), or just binding swords, works because you're usually mostly focused on the swords and the space between the two fighters, and then you're creating that switched-beat, reinforcing rhythm and tempo, by swapping the motion and the focus toward them for a second. their swords bind and stop moving as they grapple, and the focus becomes them for a moment, still. they swap from a quick dance and both make a heavy swing, using their own movement in addition to that of the sword to add to its emphasis. they both move toward the center, the space previously occupied by their flashing swords, which neatly compresses it into nothingness and turning them into the focus. as they step past each other, they stop for a moment. both recover from the clash, and since they moved across the center, they must turn around to face each other again. the dance pauses, they take a breath, and continue.

of course, since the sword is 'lighter' and doesnt do as much damage, they also can accumulate hits. and since it's their sword, not them, that occupies the focus, an attack hitting them doesnt necessarily feel as significant. hence, i guess, the value of the clash, beat, then the wound opens; as mentioned, it turns them into the focus instead of the space between them where their swords clash. thus their wound gains more emphasis; it isnt them taking a little scratch during their fencing, it's them, the focus of the scene, being wounded, and not only is it emphasized because they become the focus, it's also emphasized by the brief moment of respite after their clash, because now that wound is the only action happening.

the chainsword can't do things like that for a couple reasons. since it's short and the weight and focus are *shared* with the user, the negative space between them as they clash swords isn't conjured at all, meaning that closing it can't swap the flow of the dance and turn them into the focus where they weren't before. plus, since it's a slow and blunt weapon which needs to *hit* them, *then* take a moment to saw through them, you certainly can't have that clash/beat/explode. the damage is inflicted during a beat after the hit, so it can't exchange like a sword or like an axe. the axe is instant, the sword can be subtle. but the chainsword can only do damage during a *bind*.

the chainsword also discourages the berserker that fights on while taking small cuts, because they're the visual focus. both the sword and axe draw focus off of their body and allow a wound to appear minor, but the chainsword maintains focus on their body.

i think the chain-axe maintains the advantages of the chainsword but allows those advantages to exist inside the choreographic framework of the axe instead. the chain becomes purely an adjective on what is still fundamentally an axe for the fight, while in the case of the chainsword the choreography is in fact different from that of the sword.

it becomes an axe with an excuse to produce a gore fountain a dozen times higher than a normal axe, and its aesthetic traits are distinct. normally the axe can only have a moment of respite similar to the bind of a sword either because a heavy swing has stuck it in something or because the opponent got within its range and the axe-wielder is cross-checking them defensively. in both of these situations the axe wielder is passive. the chain-axe doesnt prevent this, but it lets them also take an aggressive position inside of the bind.

instead of being stuck inside an opponent's shield and needing to yank their axe out, there can be a moment of pause before the saw revs up and starts to rip through the shield toward the opponent's hand. likewise, normally the axe requires a big visually satisfying swing to do damage and, due to its distant blade from the handle, cannot be used in close quarters. thus during a bind the axe wielder must use a secondary weapon (including natural weapons). the chain-axe can still do that as well, but their weapon doesnt require a swing to do damage, and if they shove the enemy back during the bind they can rev the axe up and saw into them with it from the grappling position.