#does my tablecloth fit the thing

[montrealmadison]

Congratulations on 400 followers! I’m newish to the fandom and your blog was one of the first I followed!

Pair: Nursey/Dex

Song: 28

Vibes: first date (can include smut if it fits in)

Congratulations again!!!!

thank you so much and welcome to the fandom!! this is only the second time i've written nurseydex and it's an honor to do so for you ❤️ i did not manage to squeeze the smut in but i did provide the lead-up so i hope that's acceptable. please enjoy these banana nut muffins being dorky and awkward on their two first dates

28. nurseydex + first date + I Love You More Than You Think by Rizzie Kicks for @hrtstppr95

I think that we know that we know each other really well I know I wanna know you for the rest of my life Because no matter the length of time that’s gone by When I see you, it’s fine It’s like I just saw you last night 

Dex is thinking about why fancy restaurants invest in stupid shit when Nursey says, “Poindexter, I don’t think this is working.”

Their table is a good one, tucked into a private corner and partially hidden by a big potted plant. The downside to this is that apparently nobody thought to install overhead lighting in this swanky Boston seafood bar, and the candle holder—which, for some reason, is shaped like a miniature lobster wearing a chef’s coat—is doing a terrible job at casting light on the worried expression that Nursey is wearing. Dex looks down at his clenched hands in his lap and can’t help but mirror what he can see of the frown.

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God, he knew he was going to fuck this up. Dex doesn’t do a lot of standing on ceremony, but even he can admit that first dates are a big deal, that they deserve care. When Nursey had come to him with this grand plan for a fancy, candlelit dinner, his treat, he’d known it might be uncomfortable, that he might have to pretend to get it. This kind of thing isn’t him, not at all.

But it is Nursey. He looks right here, casually elegant in a blazer he doesn’t wear to games, half-empty glass in his hand with the ice clinking soft at the bottom. He’s been so excited for this, talking it up all week to anyone who’d listen. Of course it’s Dex who doesn’t fit in. Four years in this weird parallel world to the one he’s used to and he still can’t make himself take the shape of someone who belongs in both.

“No,” he agrees, eyes dropping back to his hands. There’s a long fresh scar along the base of his thumb, the brightest thing in the room. “Sorry.”

“Shit—Dex, no.”

Nursey’s hand appears in his field of view, warm and brown and stark against the tablecloth. Dex looks up, surprised, and finds Nursey’s face much better lit and clearly concerned.

“I just meant, like—you look uncomfy, dude.” He bounces the outstretched hand lightly on the table until Dex reaches up to still it with his own. “Are you having a good time?”

“Oh.” He feels wrongfooted by how much Nursey notices. “Uh, yeah, I guess… not really.” 

The thought’s only out there for half a second before he scrambles after how wrong it sounds in the air between them. “I mean, with you, yeah. But it’s, um, fancy here. Didn’t wanna… ugh, it’s stupid.”

“It’s not.” Nursey considers the watery Coke in the bottom of his glass, then drains it in one. “That’s not on you, ‘kay? I should have thought of that.”

The ensuing silent discussion, born of many years of finely honed skill at arguing silently on the ice, leads to an agreement that they need to get the hell out of here as soon as possible. Nursey flags down the server for the check; Dex lets go of Nursey’s hand on the table and spends the next ten minutes cussing out the stupid lobster, who, thankfully, does not respond.

They don’t speak again until they’re back in Nursey’s (asshole) Jeep. The parking lot is packed; the only space they’d been able to find is out in the farthest row from the restaurant, looking down the hill that faces Route 9. The air is freezing in the way that precedes a blizzard. Every leaf is crackling with frost, and even with the doors closed and the engine shuddering to life, Dex can see his breath.

He can see Nursey’s, too, when he says, “Dude, I’m really sorry.”

“S’okay.” Dex shivers. “Really. Not your fault I can’t hang.”

“Poindexter, come on.” The collar of Nursey’s sweater is folded funny over the top of his coat. Dex’s eyes stick on it. “That’s not it. I should have picked somewhere we would both have fun.”

Asshole Dex says in his head, Oh, you think? 

Civilized Human Dex, perched on his other mental shoulder, says, Hey, you agreed to this. Be an adult. 

Dex the Walking Basket Case tips his head back into the seat and wonders how long the chirps would last if he fessed up to talking to himself like this. Out loud he says, “It’s really okay, Nurse. ‘Sides, night’s young.”

Nursey turns the heat up as high as it’ll go, makes that noise that means okay, I’ll bite. He reaches over and folds Dex's fingers into the warmth of his palm, a conciliatory gesture that Dex can never admit makes him feel all soft in the middle like a homemade Bittle pie. “That’s true,” he says. “Any ideas?”

Dex leans on the cold window, lets it chill his overheated skin. Without really thinking about it, he says, “We could go skate.” 

It’s more to break the silence that’s fallen than anything else. When he turns back around, though, it’s to find Nursey looking at him with interest.

“What, at Faber?”

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t it locked?”

Against all odds, Dex finds himself smirking. “Come on, Nurse, I’m the captain. You think I don’t have keys to our own rink?”

Nursey’s grinning too, now. This is what Dex loves and hates about him, the way it comes so easily. He never wants that to change, no matter how much he used to tell himself otherwise. Despite this failure of a night, he thinks, he’s happy.

“Well,” Nursey drawls. “‘Swawesome.”

He pulls their hands apart and squeezes Dex’s thigh twice. Dex bats him away, smile stretching despite himself, and says, “Just drive.”

---

Faber is cold and quiet, no signs of life but the hum of the heating vents far above. Dex hits the ice first, sketches a long, curving line towards the box and then back toward the bench. He can’t really see Nursey, but hears him follow through the dark just the same.

The air between them is suddenly charged, heavy. They don’t speak. They don’t even really skate together, each carving their own loops at opposite ends of the ice, watching each other out of the corners of their eyes. Dex feels oddly naked. It’s a weird combination of silk tie and suit pants and his grimy skates, marked up by the years.

He stops on the blue line, bracketed by a big white square of moonlight. The windows are gorgeous, especially without the fluorescents to compete, framing the sky and the spreading branches of the linden tree that Shitty always told the story about getting stuck in. In three or four months they’ll play their last game here, a thought that settles leaden and cold in Dex’s stomach. He watches a cloud pass over the moon. If there’s someone out there to hear him, he thinks, then let them hear him wish, desperately, for five more minutes.

Someone does hear, because there’s sudden warmth at his back. Nursey’s chin settles heavy on his shoulder, and his hands curl around Dex’s bare forearms. Dex leans back and lets Nursey hold him for no reason other than that he likes to, and Dex likes it when Nursey likes the things he does.

“Feel better?”

It’s a whisper. Dex’s whole body goes cold, then hot.

“Yes,” he says.

“Good,” says Nursey, nosing into the side of Dex’s neck. “Nice save.”

Dex shrugs and feels Nursey’s head move with him. He has the weirdest sense that the two of them have become the same being, moving in tandem, breathing as one. “I wouldn’t mind doing dinner again,” he says. “Don’t want you to think it wasn’t a good date.”

Nursey frees his thumbs from where they’re tucked under his fingers and runs his hands lightly up and down Dex’s arms. “Well, I’m flattered,” he says. “Still. We’re just two college idiots, man, no need for fine dining just yet. Sorry.”

Annoyance sparks in Dex’s gut. He was starting to enjoy this, feels like he doesn't need to be reminded every five minutes of how sorry they both are about the whole thing. “Will you stop apologizing,” he groans, and goes to turn around, but Nursey’s massive hands clamp down swiftly on his arms, and he freezes in place.

“No,” Nursey says.

Dex’s heart is suddenly slamming against his ribs, just like that. Huh. Mood officially un-killed.

“As a matter of fact,” he continues, “I was thinking about how to make it up to you.”

Oh—oh. 

Dex is not the poetry guy of the two of them, but Nursey makes him feel like that last long look before a kiss. Maybe they don’t make sense together. Maybe they’re only going to belong in each other’s lives for a little while. College relationships can be like that. But here, now, Dex is in the place where he and Nursey became a team twice, and that means something. Dex knows it does.

“Yes,” he says.

Nursey finally releases him and spins him around so they’re facing each other. He quirks an eyebrow, but he’s smiling, and the moon in his eyes is huge and bright.

“You didn’t even hear my proposition, Poindexter. I had this whole—”

Dex cuts him off with a kiss. The two of them together might not be logical or satisfying, but they’re a damn good twist ending, and besides. The night is young, and he knows what he wants.

When he says yes again, Nursey just shakes his head, laughs, and pulls him towards the tunnel to the locker room.

#will poindexter #derek nurse #nurseydex #omgcp #omgcheckplease #my writing #efickegster 2024 #this was such a fun one #i would really like to write the smut this was just getting too long #would def come back to this one #anyway ENJOY

[hotluncheddie]

Tell me if this is too much… Steddie scenario where one of them gets a new toy that the other is like, “Uh that’s too big, it won’t fit,” which turns into the other being stuffed until relaxed and horny and lubed up enough that it *does* fit, and he’s never come harder.

not too much not too much!!! very obsessed with thisssss

i noticed you’re making me pick who gets filled, u goblin 👹

i’m gonna go with steve. just bc i think he’d get off on the challenge. and i’m in my eddie going crazy watching steve do anything era.

also dunno how this turned into 3.8k but 😛

commence steve getting filled, in more ways than one..

[ rated: E | tags: chubby steve harrington, belly kink, stuffing, button popping, coming untouched, sex toys (big ones), established relationship ]

-

He brings it back after a 4 day trip visiting robin in Chicago. Apparently they’d gone out to the gay bars and Steve had, maybe, still been a little drunk when they stumbled into the sex shop the next morning. 

(It had been before breakfast so he hadn’t been able to soak up the alcohol with a couple of the generously filled bagels from his favourite place. Or get the donuts he’d been craving from that one store - hadn’t stopped thinking about them since the last time he visited her.) 

But basically he doesn’t think, he just sees that it’s big. Maybe too big. But he thinks about the word full, and he can’t help but buy it. 

It’s bigger than Eddie, Eddie’s can admit that, he’s man enough. Looking down at it on the bed, this thing is kinda huge. But Steve just looks up at him, eyes all big and pleading, mouth a little pouty and Eddie knows he’s going to give Steve everything he asks for if it’s the last thing he does. 

and Steve knows it too, knows it as he whispers his idea into eddies ear, with all the filthy little details. Smiles as he trails his hand up his boyfriends thigh, feels him hard in his jeans, just from talking about it. 

Steves going to get exactly what he wants, he's going to be full. 

They don’t set a date necessarily, but schedules line up and time frees and the next day is there for sleeping in and it just kind of happens. 

Steve has a shower beforehand and stretches himself on his fingers. Lets Eddie watch as he works their biggest plug into himself, ready to let it sit there through the meal, a good start for what’s to come. 

Steve thinks about his plans for later as he sucks in to button his too small shirt and tuck it into jeans are just getting tight, just starting to bite. 

Eddie watches, loosing braincells and they haven’t even started yet. 

They can't really go out to dinner, not like they want, like a real date. So Steve likes to make it special at home, set the table, light a couple candles, hold eddies hand across the tablecloth. It works.

He also couldn't eat the way he wants if they were out, or dress the way he has. And where’s the fun in that? 

So they stay at home. It’s perfect. 

Steve made lasagne. 

Eddie has his standard serving and Steve works his way through the rest of the pan, more than enough for five, maybe six people. Eddie has two or three spices of garlic bread and Steve devours the loaf. Sopping up sauce, uncaring that it drips onto his shirt, stains his mouth. 

Eddie helps him finish the last couple pieces, the last mouthfuls, cleaning the plate. Looking at Steve with so much adoration. Perched on his chair, knees between Steve’s spread thighs, Eddie trails his fingers through the gaps in Steve’s shirt. Where the buttons strain against his belly, windows of pale skin, threads ready to snap.  

He pushes the last piece of greasy bread past Steve’s lips, hand exploring the hard crest of his belly. ‘Getting full baby?’ Eddie asks, plucking the button at the widest part. ‘Not even close’ Steve huffs, unable to take a full breath, but aching for more. 

Steve grabs the quarter that’s left from the bottle of soda, brings it to his lips and chugs. Eyes closed but Eddie’s watching, watching the bubbles hit his stomach and round his belly impossibly bigger. ‘Oh’ Eddie says, awed. Steve feels his stomach surge forward, the faint sound of a button hitting the tile. He groans around his final gulps, other hand prodding and feeling where his belly’s broken through the shirt, stretched it to breaking. He moans and pants, finishing with a wet burp. Eddie’s hands never leaving, petting and prodding and kissing over his form. 

Eddie takes the empty bottle, crowding into Steve’s space, panting into his mouth and Steve feels Eddie’s hard cock straining his jeans, grinding lightly against Steve’s exposed middle. ‘Ready for part two?’ Eddie asks, kissing Steve and dipping his tongue in to taste. Steve moans, sucking on Eddie’s tongue, he’s so ready. 

They manage to make it to the bedroom eventually, between making out and Steve stopping to pant around his full stomach. Eddie stopping them just to grope at Steve’s plush sides and grind filthily against the plug in his ass. They make it to the bedroom. 

Eddie strips Steve of his clothes slowly, savouring each button that’s left, watching it slide out of its hole with a ping, pulled apart by Steve girth, framing his round belly so nicely. Undoing Steve’s jeans and fly, knuckles against still soft underbelly, pulling them down to expose Steve’s dimpled thighs. He’s all hard and soft, muscle and soft pale chub, fullness and overindulgence over his whole broad frame. 

They prop him against the pillows, nearly laying flat but not quiet, high enough to see Eddie over the crest of his belly, enough to comfortably spoon the soft tub of ice cream into his panting mouth. Pillow under his hips and knees bent to allow Eddie access to his greedy hole thats aching to be stretched. Pink all over like Steve’s weeping cock. 

Eddie has to grind the heel of his hand into his own boxer clad dick. He’s so amazed by Steve already, popping his buttons, laying there so round and pretty, starting on the gallon of ice cream he’d requested. Just what he needs to get him there, stuffed enough, dazed enough, to reach his peak. 

Steve squirms, ‘Eddie.’ He whines, sucking the spoon clean, impatient to get started. Eddie chuckles, kissing Steve’s belly and pressing two fingers against the plug. ‘I got you baby.’ He says, pulling it out and pushing it back in a few times. Watching Steve’s eyes flutter shut on a moan, lips pink and sticky and strawberry red as his desert. 

Taking the plug out, Eddie squirts lube on his fingers, circling Steve’s shining hole. Still wet but Eddie wants it wetter, wants him soaking. 

Three fingers slip in easily. Steve shoves more ice cream in his mouth. Eddie goes for four. Steve sighs, filling his mouth again, relishing in the stretch of his stomach and hole. He cants his hips slightly, feels Eddie’s fingers go deeper, brushing that spot. His belly sloshing and his hard cock bouncing against it, he moans, feels so big, so round. 

Eddie scissors his fingers, leaning over Steve to lick into his mouth. Taste his berry red lips and feel the hard soft of Steve’s stomach against his flat one. ‘You ready baby?’ Eddie asks leaning away enough to look in Steve’s eyes, pupils blown wide. ‘Ready to be full?’ And Steve whines, pulls Eddie’s head back down to crash their mouths together, all spit and tongue and heat. Steve turns away first, panting again, can’t hold his breath from all the food inside him. ‘Pl-please Eddie.’ he says, whiny, desperate, gulping for air. shoving more fatty desert in his mouth. 

Eddie grabs the toy from behind him, holding it in his hands for a sec, taking in the weight and girth against his palms. He looks at Steve through his lashes, brings the tip up to his mouth and kisses it. Steve can’t pull his eyes away, spoon moving slower now from tub to waiting mouth. Eddie takes the attention in his stride, slipping the thick head past his lipe, groaning at how quickly the girth fills him up, almost makes him gag. ‘Fuck.’ Steve breaths and Eddie slips his eyes open, watching the melted ice cream fall off Steve’s spoon and onto his hairy pecs, enamoured by Eddie’s display. He pushes the toy an inch further, fucking his own mouth, making himself gag. Steve whines again. 

Eddie pulls off, panting slightly. But he smirks as Steve moves a little again, humping his hips into the air couple times, making his cock bob and slap against his belly. ‘I got you baby.’ Eddie soothes, voice raspy, making them both leak. 

Eddie coats the toy, some dripping onto the bed, and circles the tip around Steve’s loose rim. He pops just the head inside right as Steve shoves the spoon in his mouth again, just to watch his eyes roll back on a moan. It’s so hot. Eddie pushes a couple inches more in, Steve pants, eyes closed tight. Eddie pulls out a fraction and goes back in, adding a little more. ‘Oh my god Eddie, oh my god.’ Steve babbles, delirious. Shivering at the intrusion, the stretch at his hole and pull at his stomach. 

Eddie dips forward, hand holding the toy still within Steve. He licks up the fallen ice cream from Steve’s chest hair, sucking a round pink nipple into his mouth. His pecs have gotten so thick and pretty lately, like a real set of tits, Eddie’s never been a boob man but he’s obsessed with Steve’s. ‘Fuck baby.’ Eddie moans, switching to the other pec and opening his mouth wide, trying to fit the whole thing inside, licking at the little pink stretch mark he has there. 

Steve moans, fingers coming to tangle in Eddie’s curls and push his face further into his own softness. ‘Oh god Eddie, Eddie please.’ He says as Eddie pushed the toy in further, slowly filling Steve to the brim. 

Eddie pulls away, eyes hooded and dark, staring at Steve’s open mouth. ‘How, how far is it?’ Steve asks, voice high, and needy. 

Sitting back on his haunches Eddie looks down at the toy in his hands, ‘about half way baby, you’re doing so good Stevie, taking it so well.’ Eddie says, amazed by how Steve’s thick body is eating up the length, stretching to accommodate. ‘Just relax a little more for me yeah? Did you finish your desert?’ 

Steve’s hands have stopped scooping, his head resting back on the pillows. ’Ed’s, Eddie, need help.’ he whines, gesturing vaguely to his distended belly. He must be getting really full, his stretch marks shining and bellybutton jumping with each gulp and hiccup of breath. 

Eddie takes the ice cream to see what’s left, mostly soupy and melted now, about half to go. He licks the spoon clean and tosses it aside, keeps the tub close by on the bed and pushes his knee against the flat hilt of the toy. He rest both hands gently against the widest curve of Steve’s stomach, packed tight with food. ‘I got you baby, just relax for yeah? Just a little more. Just need a little more room don’t you?’ He soothes, rubbing his hands over the dome, fingers dipping into the layer of pudge. Grabbing the still soft section of overhang and tracing the roll of spare tire that travels all around Steve’s scarred hips. 

Steve stars to release wet little burps along with his moans, sinking further into the pillows he relaxes even more, opening up, letting the toy in. 

‘So so good baby, you’re almost there, just a little more for me now.’ and Steve looks up, blinks his sleepy sugar high eyes at Eddie. Licks the lips of his sweet needy mouth as the tub gets passed back to him. ‘More.’ he begs, like a prayer, ’full.’ Like it’s sacred. Tipping the tub back and letting the thick liquid take him there, that ultimate feeling. 

Steve gulps as much as he can, skin and insides stretch tight, full to the brim. He burps again, ‘m’full, m’so full Eddie.’ He manages, letting his hand roam the stretched wide ball of his belly. Grabbing onto his underbelly to squeeze and lift the whole impossibly large thing. ‘Feel so fucking big, so fucking full.’ He’s so stretched open, so packed tight. 

Eddie watches, awed, as Steve manhandles himself, making his soft parts jiggle around his distended gut. He looks down at the toy, so close to being all the way in, Steve’s cock sitting heavy and red and leaking just above. 

‘Tell me what you want baby.’ Eddie pleads, so amazed by Steve, by his love. Taking to toy so well, eating so much, pushing himself to the limits again. 

Steve shifts like he wants to move, but flops back down quickly, panting. ‘Jus, just want to be full Eddie please.’ He begs and Eddie kissed over his stomach again, swirling his tongue into Steve’s bellybutton just to hear him moan. ‘I got you. Just a little more.’ 

Steve nods vaguely, bringing the tub back to his lips. Draining the rest, swallowing the cool creamy liquid as fast as he can, letting it land in any remaining cracks and crevices. And Eddie pushes the toy in the rest of the way, right to the flat base, all the way in. Filling his baby up just like he asked for. 

‘Oh, oh my god Eddie.’ Steve whines, delirious. Completely and utterly stuffed. He tosses the empty tub aside and gropes at himself, toes curling and hips canting just to feel his swollen belly move. 

He’s never felt so stretched, so split open and big, so round and stuffed and finally, finally, full. 

Eddie pulls the toy out a fraction and fucks in back in, sticking his tongue back into Steve’s wide sensitive belly button, sucking and swirling as he moves the toy in and out of Steve’s writhing frame. Everything building and growing and stretching. Steve’s mind and body and soul ready to snap to fall over the precipice. 

Eddie pushed his face further into Steve’s stomach, against the impossible fullness, licking and kissing and sucking while his hand moves the toy. Steve thinks, vaguely, that if he was still skinny you might be able to see the toy in his abdomen, see it bulge. But as he is there no hope, too much food and fat and indulgence between. He puts his hands on either side of his belly, feeling how wide it’s gotten, how big he is. 

Eddie slams the toy back in, catching Steve’s prostate as he goes. 

Steve wails. 

Eddie feels hot wet cum hit his chin. Steve releasing untouched all over his packed belly. Eddie keeps fucking the toy, milking Steve’s cock with his hand, watching the final pearls slip out of him as he pants and stills. Cheeks red and eyes glassy. 

‘So fucking pretty. God Steve, you, I can’t believe you.’ Eddie says smearing Steve’s cum on his boxers as he ruts against his stomach, leaning forward to kiss Steve all over, lick into his mouth and suck on his tongue. 

‘Ed- Eddie. Fuck, fuck me, please.’ Steve whimpers, voice small and pleading. Eddie almost comes from the sound alone.

‘Yeah?’ he asks, ridiculously hard. ‘You want me cum in you baby?’ He takes off his boxers and licks a stripe up the underside of Steve cock, over the slit, wanting to taste. 

Steve just moans, splayed out on the bed, spent and held under the weight of his full gut. ‘Pl-please’ he slurs, wanting Eddie, wanting to be full of Eddie now. 

Eddie soothes him, petting over his thighs and pulling the toy out of Steve slowly. He groans, watching Steve’s pink hole stay stretched and open as he reaches the narrower tip. ‘Fuck Steve. You’re gonna be so loose.’ And he pushes the toy back in a little, rubbing against Steve’s prostate, watching his cock get hard again as he continues to moan, wanton and floaty from the top of the bed. Never fully coming down from his orgasm, still stuck in that amazingly full headspace. 

Eddie finally takes the toy out, after fucking the whole impossible length in and out. Once Steve’s cock is hard and red in his hand again, wanting to get his baby off twice, just for being so amazing tonight, taking so much so well. He pets over Steve’s wet hole, easily slipping four fingers in. ‘M’not gonna last baby, but gonna fill you up, kay? Fill you up and put the toy back in so you feel me for days. Gonna wake you up tomorrow by filling you again, you’re gonna be loose for me baby, gonna be so easy to slip inside.’ Eddie babbles, delirious and turned on. 

Steve’s mostly still he’s so spent. Just letting out a series of needy whines and whimpers, lost in the filth of Eddie’s words, the feeling of his heavy body.

Finally sliding his aching cock into Steve’s wet heat Eddie’s back arches, face to the ceiling. ‘Fuck.’ He moans. 

He rocks his hips and grabs Steve’s thighs for purchase. Relentlessly fisting Steve’s cock, circling his hips and relishing in how stretched Steve is, how loose and wet and perfect he is. ‘Together, come again for me baby, with - with me.’  Eddie pants, gripping Steve’s belly with one hand, sinking his fingers in. 

‘Eddie.’ Steve whines finally lifting his head back up. Eyes glossy and distant, mouth panting and so so pretty. He’s so pretty. Fucked out and loose. Hopelessly, helplessly stuffed. ‘Gonna, m’gonna.’ He manages, a tear slipping out and falling into his sweaty hair. 

Eddie stares at him, looks down at his hand fisting Steve’s cock, his own cock fucking in and out of Steve’s hole. Watches how the movement makes Steve’s body wobble, belly swaying and bouncing with each of Eddie’s thrusts. ‘Fuck. Fuck.’ He says watching Steve’s eyes roll back in his head, body tensing and grabbing at his own mass again, leaking and coming all over himself for a second time tonight. 

Eddie can’t hold it. His vision sparks and bursts and he releases buried deep inside. Filling Steve up, fucking it in and out of him. Squeezing and grinding and loosing himself in it.  

Eventually they come back up for air. Come back down to earth. 

Eddie slips out and crawls around to Steve’s side, up close so he can see his face and cradle his cheek. He wipes a tear away, kissing his jaw and slack lips, whispering praise into his hair. Until Steve is breathing more normally again, still short but not actively panting, coming back down from his high. 

‘I’m gonna go get something to clean us up okay baby?’ Eddie asks, not wanting to leave Steve alone without confirmation, he drifted so far, took so much so well. 

Steve blinks his big glassy eyes at Eddie slowly, smiling all dopey once he focuses on Eddie’s face. Steve looks down at Eddie’s lips and pouts his slightly for a kiss. Eddie smiles and obliges, he’s so cute. ‘Jus’ don’t be long.’ Steve says, eyelids drooping again. ‘Wanna cuddle.’ And Steve shimmies down the bed a little as best he can, sinking more comfortable into the pillows. He shivers as he feels Eddie’s cum leak out of his hole, it almost feels numb after the toy split him open the way it did. 

He stops moving when his belly sloshes uncomfortably, still digesting his huge meal but he doesn’t know if he’s ever felt so content, so spent and satiated. He’d never been so full. 

Eddie comes back with tissues and a towel, wiping between Steves legs gently and easing the pillows from under his hips. Steve sighs, he loves how careful and caring Eddie is after they do something like this, after Steve pushes himself. It took a little while, coaxing and tentative, but once they realised how much they both enjoy stuffing Steve’s to the brim it was like the floodgates opened and they haven’t looked back. Just another pilar in their love, another aspect of how much they adore each other. Steve feels like the luckiest guy in the world, to have Eddie. 

Eddie wipes over Steve’s chest and face, ridding him of any lingering spit and stickiness. Kissing as he goes. Steve’s really fighting sleep now but he wants to lay on his side, wants Eddie to spoon him and fall asleep with Eddie’s hand on where his belly now rests on the bed. 

But Steve wants to see that pretty blush on Eddie’s cheeks one more time, tease him like he did when he first showed him the toy. 

Steve lets Eddie pull more pillows away from behind his head, laying down flatter and more normally, getting them ready for sleep. Steve rocks a little, huffing and attempting to roll into his side. For a second putting his full strength into it, just to see. And, dizzyingly, he’s kind of really is that full, that tired and round, that it would be an actual effort to get himself over on his own. 

He doesn’t tell Eddie he could, not yet, he just lets Eddie see it’s a struggle. ‘Help baby, please.’ He whines, looking up through his lashes and seeing Eddie stopped in his tracks, hand still where it was wiping the damp towel over his own flat stomach. 

Steve half pushes on his elbows again, trying to shift his weight over but flops back flat quickly enough, huffing with half fake effort and blinking up at Eddie. 

‘Fuck.’ Eddie whispers. Steve thinks he sees his cock jump. And he can’t help but smile, relishing in the attention and lust he can get Eddie to give him, look at him with. 

Eddie grabs Steve’s outstretched hand, other coming to the roll of his waist. counting down softly and then tugging to tip Steve over. Steve helps and then adjusting his belly slightly, letting it rest soft and round next to him, filling up more of the bed that he ever thought imaginable. He trails his finger over it, over the stretch marks and scars. dipping into his wide bellybutton and snuggling down into the pillows. 

Eddie’s still staring at him. Amazed by Steve’s change. Amazed that they can have nights like this now, wrapped up in each other. Nothing to hide from that’s more than an extra bill or an annoying neighbour. No monsters, no gashes in the ceiling. They can just be together, safe and in love, exploring each others wants and desires. 

And that feeling covers Steve on the outside, over his chest and hips and thighs. That rest, that relaxation and safety. All soft skin and chubby belly.

Eddie throws out the tissues and tosses the towel in the hamper. Crawling into bed next to Steve, pulling the sheets over them both and kissing all over his neck and shoulders. Nuzzling into the hair that curls around his neck, wrapping him up in his arms and sliding up as close as he can, right up against Steve’s broad scarred back. He squeezes him, holding his belly and breathing him in. 

Steve sighs, sinking into Eddie’s hold, sinking into the sheets. He feels sleep curling at his eyelids and mind, letting the food and exertion take over finally. 

They fall asleep, wrapped up in each other. Hands entwined over Steve’s full stomach.

<3

hehe

ao3

wg writing tag list (open) : @scoops-aboy86 , @cheesedoctor , @chickensinrainboots

#this has so many elements of different kinks lol #for fun! #<3 #hotlunch #ask #steddie wg #chubby steve harrington #weight gain writing

[riddle-me-ri]

I love how you write Jervis! How do you think Arkhamverse Jervis would react to coming home to find his s/o dressed as Alice? NSFW please! It can be a fic, drabble, or hcs, entirely up to you. Hope you’re well!

A/N: Aww, thank you so much! That means a lot! Ohohoho anon he'd absolutely love that…I decided to go with a fic, because my mind went bbrrrr and just did it’s own thing. This is definitely the most filthiest thing I’ve ever written..so uhh you’re welcome and sorry? I also decided to also include a request for arkhamverse Jervis with the smut prompt; "Does it feel good when I touch you like this?" because…it seemed to fit for the scenario at play here at least to me hehe hope you don't mind!

Trigger Warning: explicit sexual content; unprotected sexual intercourse (reader has gn pronouns but fem parts like breasts and vagina), food play, table sex, dress up (reader is dressed as Alice, you are Alice, Jervis calls you Alice, if that bothers you I recommend you don’t read), roleplaying? And mention or allusions to a breeding kink?

Word Count: 2.2 k (it’s worth it..maybe I hope lol)

Arkhamverse Mad Hatter x Reader - A Mad Tea Party

"Darling? My dear, where are you? Are you here?" 

"I'm in here!" You softly called out, in a slightly higher pitched voice.

You had to get into character after all. 

Jervis’ eyebrows shot up, surprised. He wasn’t prepared for that shift in your voice. You definitely had his curiosity now. He continued to follow your voice like a white rabbit. 

When he finally saw you, he was frozen in place just before the threshold of the dining room. 

“Oh…Oh my…” 

Jervis’ eyes raked up and down your body. His eyes sparkled in delight as he slowly began regaining feeling in his legs and feet to move closer to you. 

You were adorned in a blue dress that ended just above the knees with puffy sleeves that ended at your elbows and revealed your shoulders. You also wore sleek white leggings and a pair of black Mary Janes. You topped off the look with a cute little black headband with a bow planted in the middle of the headband. 

“Oh, Mr. Hatter! You arrived just in time!” You walked up to him with a bright sweet smile. “The tea party is just about to start!” 

Your nerves were vibrating with excitement. You had spent so much time preparing this very moment. From the pastries, to the tea, to the table setting, and not to mention the Alice get-up. 

Now all your hard work is finally going to pay off. 

You lead him to an empty chair before sitting in your own chair across from him. It was a simple table with a light pink tablecloth. 

Jervis is still trying to catch his brain up to what is occuring. His eyes are still glistening in absolute giddiness. Oh, he always knew you were the perfect Alice. He always knew it and you are just confirming it for him. 

Just when he thinks he could not love and desire you more than he already did. 

Jervis looked down and noticed you cutting up a small cake and putting them on a glass plate. You handed him his plate and he gladly took it, but not without lingering his hand over yours for a moment. 

It wasn’t until that moment when Jervis realized…other than two plates, two teacups, a teapot and a few saucers…there wasn’t any cutlery aside from your knife. Even if it was just a table to two…how could you make do with no silverware. 

“Oh dear…” You pretended to pout, complete with a poked out bottom lip and your hands on your hips. “How rude…it’d seem our knives, spoons, and forks have been swiped. Now, why would anyone or…maybe anything do such a thing?” 

Jervis chuckled. “It does seem something is amiss, but not to worry, my dear. We shall find an alternative to enjoy this dish.” 

“Oh, how so, Mr. Hatter?” 

"Now bear with me, my dear Alice…this is a grave example of the most..uncouth table manners, but hopefully this way will suffice." 

Jervis took off his fingerless gloves and cupped the pastry into his hand. 

You were just letting things happen naturally, hoping that things would end where you hoped they'd go. You knew your role and your goal…now it's just a matter of getting there by playing along with Jervis. 

The last thing you expected was for him to hand feed you. You couldn't deny the way your heart skipped a beat at the notion. To have his warm calloused hand so close to your face and intimately adored by your mouth…

You made quick work of the tiny slice. Not too quick to be scolded for eating like a pig but enough to get to your main destination. 

You began licking up what frosting and crumbs were nestled in between the lines of his palm. The soft groans that left under Jervis' breath made your knees curl in on themselves as you scooted further off your chair. 

Once the palm of his hand was clean, you moved your attention to his fingers. There was practically little to no more cake left, but you couldn’t resist. You licked and swirled your tongue around his index and middle finger before opening your lips to allow them into your mouth. 

Jervis’ eyes widened, before they lowered as he hummed, amusingly. Jervis curled his fingers, slightly pushed them in every time you suckled on the digits. You did this with the rest of his fingers as well. 

Suddenly, you released his fingers with an audible pop between your lips. 

“Oh my,” you giggled. “That was um…quite something.” 

You let his hand go, trying not to get too disappointed in the loss of contact. 

“I suppose it’s only fair I come closer…” You offered as you hed the dessert delicately between your hands like you were cupping the last bit of water. 

You walked daintly around the round table like you were balancing on a tightrope. You stood in front of him, with your back against the table.

Jervis stood up from his seat, his one hand holding your hands and the cake in place. While the other he used to smudge some icing on his fingers. 

The icing was much cooler on your flesh than you had expected, given the warm temperature of the room and the heat from Jervis’ skin causing it to slightly melt on his fingers. Jervis painted the top of your chest with the icing before he licked it off. Casually, he nibbled your skin here and there and suckled where parts of the icing refused to be devoured. 

Your breathing became labored and heavy, you whined in a high pitch tone whenever he pricked your skin with his teeth unknowingly. It was getting more and more difficult to keep up the role of an innocent curious person when all you really wanted was to absolutely ravish this man. 

There wasn’t much left of the cake, mostly crumbs on the plate and along your upper body. Your chest was sticky with frosting and Jervis’ saliva.

You were still rendered stunned and breathless. Your mind was scrambling to find the appropriate dialogue to continue this scenario you’re playing out. 

“M-Mr. Hatter, don’t forget we also have tea…” You sighed as you looked over to your side at the teapot and teacup. 

However, before you could maneuver your way to get the tea. A hand cupped your chin and stopped you from turning around. Jervis’ thumb caressed your chin from side to side.

“Oh, no, no, no, my dear Alice, here allow me.” He offered.  

Jervis leaned into you further, your chests met as he poured the cup of tea over your shoulder. When the tea was poured, he slowly backed away from you, but only so he could bring the cup up to his lips. 

How you yearned to be a porcelain teacup in that very moment. 

Jervis sipped the tea but did not drink it yet. You didn’t notice this until his thumb gently parted your lips before colliding his lips with yours. 

A warm liquid soon flooded your mouth. When you gasp in surprise, some tea cascaded down your chin and neck. You made sure to drink whatever tea stayed in your mouth, casually sucking on Jervis’ tongue too which tasted sweet with cake but slightly bitter with tea. 

Jervis was quick to also lick and suckle on the tea that you missed much like the cake before. 

Your legs were getting wobbly and you felt light headed. You braced yourself on Jervis’ shoulders as you decided to sit down on the table. 

“A-Apologies,” you panted. “I-I was feeling lightheaded.” 

Jervis chuckled deeply. One hand on your cheek and the other was slowly leaving feather-light touches along your leg. The hand on your leg, slowly pushing your skirt up on the table, revealing more of your legs and…the lack of underwear you wore. 

Jervis gasped softly. “Oh…naughty, naughty, Alice. Does it feel good when I touch you like this?” 

“Y-Yes…” You sighed into his ear. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck and you linked your ankles around his back as you crashed your lips against his once more. Jervis made quick work to remove his trousers and underwear before his hands went back around your waist to hold you. 

Until one hand reaches for another small pastry behind you. 

You felt that familiar cool sticky feeling along the inside of your thighs. You gasped softly at the temperature drop and slick texture of the icing. The fingers coated in frosting soon met your slightly damp lips. Jervis swirled his finger between your folds, gathering your slick as well before he thrusted his finger inside of you. 

You choked on your words. Your brain short circuiting between his name and his alias. All you knew was that you wanted to whine out for more. 

He quickened his pace which caused you to become even more of a breathless mess. Your arms got weak like your legs and you fell flat on your back on top of the table. 

Finally, feeling that sweet friction you had been craving since the start. Until he abruptly, pulled his fingers out and stuck them in his mouth. Jervis sucked and licked his fingers diligently, making sure they were clean. 

Jervis chuckled softly, in pure glee. “You, my sweet, sweet Alice are sweeter than any pastry. Oh yes, better than any dessert or the perfect cup of tea!”

It was his turn for his breathing to be labored as he gently stroke his cock. He aimed his head at your entrance. 

“P-Please…” you weakly moaned out. “Oh, please…Mr. Hatter.”

Your back slightly bent upward at the swift pentration but the pressure of finally being filled made you see stars in the back of your vision. 

The room became a cacophony of moans, groans, and the clanking and clinking of plates, cups, and pots. The table even groaned at the weight of your bodies and Jervis’ fast thrusts. 

Jervis’ hands were steady kneading your chest through the fabric of the dress while you two remained in a heavy passionate exchange of kisses and tongues. Your legs grew weak again, slight tingling sensations from holding them up for so long. Jervis was quick to grip your thighs and keep them secured around him, not daring to have this delicious proximity broken. 

The skin along your neck, shoulder, and collar bone were being tickled by Jervis’ fanning pants. His thrusts were getting deeper, but slower almost as if he was hesitating both of your peaks. 

“Please…” He gulped some air, before he whispered in your ear. “Please, please, will you…won’t you…let me finish inside you? Please?” 

Jervis begging like that shouldn’t have made your heart skip a beat like that. He’s only ever asked once before, and you were just unsure of the outcome. However now in this moment, it was super hard to say no. Not to mention, you wanted to know what it would be like. 

“Yes…yes, you can. Just please…don’t stop.” You finally answered. 

If it were any other scenario, you’d find the way Jervis’ face lit up and his eyes gleamed to be adorable. Although, in this moment, it made him look unhinged. 

He finally went the speed you needed, the fast and thick friction as he entered every time, more deeper than the last it seemed. More glassware was likely being shattered on the floor, but that could be worried about at another time. 

Your muscles from your chest, to your stomach, to the tip of your fingers and toes began tightening. Each muscle being pulled by your nerves waiting to be sparked with pleasure. 

Your facade was long gone as you began choking between moans and gasps of his name. Jervis didn’t seem to mind though, if his heated kisses sparked by tiny bites and his quick thrusts were any indicator. 

Finally, the knot in your gut came unraveled. Your nerves finally lit in electrifying satisfying tingles all over your body. Your legs convulsed at the feeling, causing your grip around Jervis’ waist to tighten slightly. 

As your walls chocked Jervis’ cock as you orgasmed. Jervis was ready to reach his end as well, knowing that you were fully satisfied first. His head was still reeling you would let him cum in you. He never thought it would happen, all he wanted was to be closer to you than before. To be in you, be a part of you, you to have a part of him. 

Jervis stilled his motions as he let out a pathetic, tired groan. You inhaled sharply at the feeling of him filling you up. 

He leaned down and began planting soft kisses all along your temple and face. Reluctantly, he slowly pulled out causing you both to groan from the loss contact. You cried out lightly when you felt his fingers promptly push themselves back in and stay in. 

“I had to act in haste. We wouldn’t want any of this to go to waste.” 

You nodded as you laid your head back. You did all that you could to catch your breath and control your heartbeat. 

“I suppose we made quite the mess…” You muttered, as you noticed the lack of supplies on the table. 

Jervis snickered. “Nothing to worry about, my dear! It’ll all be ready next time you’re here!”

“The next time?” You inquired, genuinely, not in character. 

“Why of course! After all, it’s always tea time here, especially with you, Alice, my dear.”

#ri writes #arkhamverse mad hatter x reader #arkhamverse jervis tetch x reader #arkhamverse mad hatter x reader smut #arkhamverse jervis tetch x reader smut

[mymuseagustd]

#1 Playback

Something small to get started. I’m writing after a long time so, I’m hoping it’ll only take me a couple to get into the groove of things. 

Pairing: Yoongi x F!reader

Genre: Fluff, Non-idol AU

Warnings: a kiss towards the end...

---x---

There are particular moments in life which take you back to a strong memory. It feels like that moment when it happened happens again in front of you, like a performance, like you’re there again, and like you are right there next to me. 

This moment as I choose a book for my bag to go to the gym takes me back to….

“Why is your little bag so heavy?” He asks, taking it from me as I try to balance in my heels. 

“My bag? It’s not,” I say mindlessly as I climb down the stairs in my newly bought 6-inch stilettos, which were mysteriously very comfortable in the shop but are playing out to be true betrayers. 

“Are you sure you want to wear those? It’s just a party for Dae-Jung’s new job. It’s not a big deal,” he says, wearing my little bag on his shoulders and putting his hands out so I can balance with him, not the railing. 

“I want my legs to look hot,” I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t look the hottest even. I’m going to my boyfriend’s ex’s new boyfriend’s party, who happened to be childhood buddies with my boyfriend, and as his new girlfriend, I had to look hot. He rolls his eyes as I give him my explanation. 

“And, am I to carry this little heavy bag because I don’t see you balancing your legs and this bag on these,” he smirks, pointing to my heels, as I try to slide into the car seat. “And it doesn’t go with my outfit.” 

“I will manage, thank you. All you have to do is stand strong like a pillar next to me so I can lean on you and my bag, and I will be fine!” I snatch my bag from him. 

“What will you do if I need to use the washroom?” He laughs. 

“You’ll be so jealous when another man comes in and offers to be the pillar and hold my bag. I’m going to be such a charmer at this party, and your ex will want to date me!” I hit his arm as he backed out of the parking spot and started driving. 

“I think she will date you even if you are boring,” he puts his hand on the back of my neck and my face closer to his. “These legs look so hot.” He whispers, kissing my cheek. “Now, when it comes to carrying this bag, though….”

“It’s not heavy! It just has my mobile, keys, wallet and two books, and it’s really not -….” 

“Two books!” The car halts, and thankfully it’s a red light. “Why the hell are you carrying two books? Wait, how is this bag fitting two books!” He takes it from me. 

“I always carry a book. I can read it when -“

“When you’re being charming? We are going to a party! You have Homo Deus here. This is not a thin book that you can sneak in, and why do you have this-?” he takes out the book he has been reading since this morning. 

“What if we get bored? I’m prepared, Yoongi,” I shrug, stuffing them back into my bag. 

“You’re insane, and I don’t know how I love you,” He shakes his head as he starts driving again, and he does not realise what he has just confessed or how my cheeks have turned red. His phone rings, and he tells his friend he is on his way with me, and I make sure I never forget to carry a book. 

This moment as I pick a packet of green chillies takes me back to…

“This is not spicy,” Yoongi is red. The deep-red tablecloth on the restaurant table matches his face as he vehemently tries to tell me, “I don’t know why you think it is because it isn’t.”

I don’t say anything as I take another bite. 

“I mean, I can argue that there are other things the chef could have done to add flavour to this dish. But, he chose to add long-ass green chillies, so maybe we won’t come here again, but I don’t think we should send this back because it’s not bad.” He has started sweating, and I can see he is trying to sound angry to hide this.

“It’s not spicy, I know,” I say. 

“Yeah, it’s not.” He waves his hand for more water. 

“I just don’t like the taste. So, I’m going to order the chicken instead, which, see, only has two chillies next to it vs the five in your pick so that I can taste something else,” I order the dish before Yoongi can argue, which he can’t cause he is gulping down the water before the waiter could finish pouring it. “You don’t have to eat it, but look at me,” I quickly snap a picture. 

He does eat it. He eats my whole dish, and I pick up his chicken because it actually isn’t that spicy, but Yoongi’s not good when it comes to green chillies. I show him the picture with his face matching the tablecloth, “I hate you.” He says, taking my hand into his.

This moment as I take the wine bottles to the bin, takes me back to…

Yoongi’s hands find my face before his lips do. Cold lips and then his tongue make it down my neck as I try to squeeze his shoulders and biceps, slowly trailing my hands down to his ass so I can pull him closer to me. There is a lot of confidence in my system tonight, and this confidence has brought the man I’ve been crushing on for weeks to my bedroom. 

“We can take it slow,” He says as he pulls off my bra. 

“We really shouldn’t,” I protest a bit too fast as I try to pull his sweater off his body. I look back into his eyes, only to see him looking at me with fondness and a soft smile. “This is not how you should be looking at me right now.” 

Yoongi laughs, wrapping his hands around my waist, making our bodies press against each other, “You’re cute, but we have time,” I know he is trying to give me space. We, technically, were only on our second date. 

“What would you do if we had no time?” I tried to bat my eyelashes and give my best innocently inquisitive look. Yoongi’s lips are on mine again before I can see his response. I feel his hand on my stomach as he slightly pushes me back, making me fall onto my bed. 

“My head is doing that dizzy thing right now,” I gasp as he lays my head on the pillow, and hovers over my body, staring right down at my breasts.  

“That’s what three bottles of wine would do to you,” he laughs, his hands coming up to cup my cheek. 

“And you,”

“And me.” 

I like these moments that pull you back to these memories so that you can live again. 

@mymuseagustd@2023

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi imagines #bts x reader #bts smut #1 #min yoongi #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi smut #min yoongi masterlist #suga x reader #suga smut #suga #yoongi #bts #bts imagine #bts imagines #yoongi imagine #yoongi angst #yoongi x y/n #suga imagines #suga imagine #bts fanfic #bts army #bts angst #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #suga x y/n #min yoongi x y/n

[italeean]

The afterparty

After his birthday party, Kuroko sleeps at Kagami's place, however there's an uninvited guest who makes things a little... animated

A/N: Surprise surprise!! A fic coming out during my break time?! 🙀 Well... my break is NOT over yet, this is something I started working on a couple of months ago for a very special someone's birthday. Yes, @wertzunge I'm talking about you 💙 I hope you enjoy the gift that @mai-mei (who contributed with this amazing artwork) and I have prepared!! Buon compleanno 💚🤍❤️ (Happy birthday)

DISCLAIMER: This is a tickle fic, if it's not to your taste I don't suggest you read it

"Kuroko! Otanjoubi omedetou!!" Everyone yelled cheerfully while Kuroko smiled widely at them. That birthday couldn't have been better, a big party with his friends from both middle and high school, but alas, the fun had to end.

It was pretty late when the guys left Kagami's place, not before cleaning up a little, and now there were only three people in the house.

"Kuroko, does he have to stay as well?" Kagami asked pointing at Tetsuya 2, not bothering to hide his annoyance. He had started to warm up to the little puppy, but having him inside his home was an entirely different story.

"Yes, it's my turn to keep him today and it's too hot to make him stay outside." Kuroko replied calmly, ignoring his friend's annoyed tone. The redhead, on the other hand, was still glaring at the furball, following his every move to prevent him to lay his paws (or worse, his teeth) on his precious basket magazines.

He wasn't really happy about the situation, but it wasn't so bad after all. Plus, it was Kuroko's birthday so he decided to let it happen as a birthday wish. All he had to do was put his magazines on a higher shelf and the risk of them getting ruined would be nullified.

He did exactly that, and joined Kuroko in the kitchen to grab a glass of water. "Nice party, huh?" He asked to the blue-haired boy, watching him nod eagerly. Obviously he shared that opinion. Thanks to everyone's contribution, the evening had been splendid and the house was left clean. The only thing left to do was throw away the plastic cutlery, plates and glasses and put the bottles of water and juice in the fridge.

It wasn't midnight yet, and some noises could still be heard from outside, but the atmosphere was extremely peaceful and relaxed. Kagami couldn't wait to finish cleaning up and settle on the couch with his friend. Hopefully they'd find a good basket match to watch together before bed.

He went to the living room to finish tidying up, and he wished he'd stayed in the kitchen, because as soon as he entered the room, he witnessed to the disaster.

A sliding noise could be heard, and the one of things falling to the ground right after. Tetsuya 2 had decided to pull the tablecloth, and it resulted in everything falling down. Luckily, there wasn't anything made of glass so nothing broke, but a bottle of water and one of juice didn't have their cap on, so all their content was spilled on the ground.

"WHAT THE- WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!!" Kagami roared in a sudden fit of anger, "Look what he's done!" He scoffed to Kuroko, who had rushed to the living room after hearing that noise.

After cleaning up everything, the ace looked less mad, but he still glaring daggers at the culprit, who was curled up on the birthday boy's lap on the couch enjoying some affectionate cuddles.

"He's feeling guilty, you know?" The blue-eyed teen asked without taking his eyes off of the puppy. "Yeah... he looks so sorry..." the taller guy commented sarcastically. "Can't you just forgive him?" Kuroko asked him while lifting up the little companion, who was displaying his best pleading puppy eyes.

The redhead glanced at the clock, it was still 15 minutes until midnight, then he looked at his two friends with an evil expression and cracked his knuckles. "Oh sure, I can forgive him, but someone still has to pay for it." He declared while getting closer to the couch.

As if he had understood what was going to happen, Tetsuya 2 jumped off Kuroko's lap, which made it much easier for the ace to drag his friend to the ground. He straddled him without pinning down his hands, he knew he was stronger and didn't need to do that.

"I'm sure that tomorrow we'll get a good laugh out of that mess, but for today the only one to laugh is gonna be you!!" Kagami chuckled while his hands found the hollow of Kuroko's arms.

"Kagahahami nohohoho..! I-i didn't dohoho anything ehehehe" the birthday boy immediately dissolved himself into a puddle of giggles, knowing it would be counterproductive to keep his laughter in. It would've only riled Kagami up more.

"I know you didn't, but you're responsible for whatever that thing does here, so you'll be the one to pay." The redhead stated while his fingers wormed their way down towards the shorter guy' ribs and sides, "But since it's your birthday, I'll let you off with a little punishment, so don't worry too much. It will only tickle a little."

As Kagami's hands went lower, Kuroko's laughter became louder. It was really rare for him to let out his belly laughter, and the ace was in love with that sound... although he'd never say that out loud. "Thihihis ihis stihihihill nahahat fahahai- EEK!" The blue-eyed guy's complaint got interrupted by his own squeak, caused by the very own little one who had caused the mess he was paying for.

Tetsuya 2 had decided to join the party, so he approached the shorter guy and licked his ears, neck and face, making him squeal and scrunch his shoulders in a futile attempt to protect at least the neck and the ears.

"See? He agrees with me so it's decided. I'll tickle you for the whole duration of your birthday." The ace proclaimed his sentence, which actually consisted of another five minutes of tickles, since the midnight was close.

Kuroko would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy it, it reminded him of the times at Teiko and of all the goofy memories he'd made at Serin, especially with Teppei whenever the senpai thought everyone needed a little cheer-up treatment. However, he was pretty close to the limit and didn't know how much more he'd last.

As if he'd read his thoughts, Kagami said "There's only one minute left, ready for the grand finale?" The blue-eyed boy knew what he was talking about and got ready for it as he felt his friend shifting closer to his feet.

Without even the slightest warning, he skittered his fingers all over Kuroko's poor soles, from the heels to the toes, without even bothering to take off his socks. Luckily for him, his friend's feet were just that sensitive.

"EEHEHEHP KAHAHAGAHAMIEHEH WAHAHAHAIT NOHOHOHO!!" The poor birthday boy yelled, going crazy from the tickly feeling. "Come on, it's just a minute... don't tell me you can't handle it..." the ace teased, knowing very well how unbearable it was. The little puppy was still contributing with his playful licks and barking happily at the cheerful scene in front of him.

For Kuroko, that minute seemed to last forever until it eventually came to an end. "5... 4... 3... 2... 1... happy birthday!" The taller guy exclaimed as the last second of his friend's birthday ticked away.

After some breathing and a much needed glass of water, the three of them settled on the couch and were lucky enough to find an NBA match on tv. The game was really catching and the two friends were really satisfied, but when the interviews to the players began, Kagami felt a soft snoring sound and a weight dropping on his shoulder.

He slowly turned around to see the blue-haired boy asleep with his head on his shoulder. He chuckled, imagining how tired he could've been after the party and the "after-party".

Kuroko, on the other hand, smiled as he softly drifted off to dreamland with the puppy cuddled up close to him.

His birthday couldn't have ended better.

#kuroko no basket tickle #knb tickle #lee!kuroko #ticklish!kuroko #ler!kagami #ler!tetsuya 2 #tickle fic #gift from me ^_^ #little ball of sunshine 🐻 #thanks to mei for the amazing collaboration as well <333 #aaaahh you two are both so amazing 🥹😭

[ratasum]

Nothing spoilery. Just some cute conversation with Leyya and @wall-legion's Odetta that's rattling around in my head.

"What do you mean your mother had seven partners?"

Leyya couldn't help but bark out a laugh at Odetta's incredulous tone, offering a weary smile as she glanced up at her younger friend. "You never hung out with many asura outside of Vezz and Rissia, huh?"

The girl's brow furrowed at that response, leaning forward with her arms folded on the table. "Well, no, but... is that common?"

"Serial monogamy. Asura traditionally bounce from partner to partner like they bounce from idea to idea." Humming softly, Leyya picked up a fork, leaning back in her chair. "They'll bond over a project, have a whirlwind romance that can last a few years, and then... end it. There's usually formal legal contracts. Polygamy's common. My parents weren't into it. I've got a dozen siblings on either side from their contracts over the years."

Odetta seemed to ponder that for a moment before her voice softened, fingers curling into the tablecloth. "...does your family know where you are?"

The question gave Leyya pause, and her eyes darted down towards the food laid out between them. "...no. When I- after I let Cepir into my head, I basically just started wandering Tyria. It tried to drive me back to Rata Sum, of course. To my parents, my stepparents, my siblings... to Zojja. But I couldn't face them"

"...do you think you'd ever want to?"

Slowly, Leyya shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. It's still so hard with this damn thing in my head."

Odetta fell silent at that, picking at the tablecloth with her nails for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh. "...so anyway... if asura practice serial monogamy... and just kind of, y'know, flash in the pan I guess? I mean... I guess I'm just wondering..."

"Why Zojja and I stayed close for so long?" She didn't wait for a nod to confirm. "Not all asura do it. It's common enough to be the norm, but it's also not everybody. That being said, I think Zee once put it that... people were different than projects. She wanted someone who would see past that big brain of hers to the person she was behind it. Driven and passionate and clever. All those things, not just the genius prodigy. Probably why she took to Qirri and Taimi like she did. She wanted to be loved. Not just admired."

Smiling a little, Odetta sat back, adjusting the plate in front of her. "And you?"

Leyya just laughed. "She and I have known each other since we were progeny. I think I've always been enamored with her. Didn't become... bigger than that until we were in college, and it just kind of exploded when she was looking for some kind of solid ground after Snaff died. And to be honest? Neither of us were ever very good at being "proper" asura." For a moment, she looked away, towards the kitchen where Sheridan was finishing up dinner. "...what about you? Anyone important like that?"

"Wh- no, not at all! I don't... I don't know if there ever will be. I have a lot of baggage, you know."

"Zojja was an orphan taken in and mentored by one of the greatest geniuses in a generation that could never quite find her footing, and I'm the square peg trying to fit into the round hole of a constantly shifting family where I never quite fit in. We found each other before. I'm sure you can find someone too. You're a perfectly attractive young woman, and believe me, I've seen more than a few young folks out in the city eyeing you. Maybe a nice sea captain, or that nice young norn girl that helps in the tavern..."

Odetta spluttered for a moment, and for a brief moment, the grin on Leyya's face was geniune. She even laughed when Odetta threw the cloth napkin by her hand at her face. "You stop grinning like that! Ooh, you're a pest, you know that?!"

As Leyya's laughter rang through the room, Odetta's flustered scolding mixed throughout, Sheridan paused at the door, peering through the crack as they held it open with one hand, dishes piled in the other three. Maybe they would give them a few more minutes... after all, all of them needed some levity.

Whether they knew it or not.

#gw2 fanfic #infiltrator leyya #odetta swanheart #bunny writing

[evanox]

Heyy love your stuff, could i please ask for sage fluff, anything just wanna cuddle the kitty merc

ooo perhaps this is the perfect chance to write that continuation of Sage and Settling Down HCs!! I wanted to add these to the original post but it didn't really fit so here's First Dates with Sage; the options are based on the second paid choices in chapter 7!

oops another one that got longer than intended.. thank u zeke for helping me brainstorm!!

m.list

The first Official Date Sage takes you on is the one you asked for he promised you when you were doing his hair that night back at Fathom, and he'd be lying if he said it's not unnerving.

Sure, it's not the first time you've been intimate or spent time alone, but Sage never really did this serious dating thing before—it all happened so quickly: one moment he and a pretty stranger are swing-dancing to a bard's merry tune, the next they're stumbling over the inn's stairs chasing quick pleasure. Sage always forgot their names within a day, if not less.

That was before you came along though, and you're the best thing to happen in his life. Sage really wants to do things right this time.

>"A candlelit dinner."

The pomp and circumstance associated with a candlelit dinner only add to the pressure; Sage is not exactly a fancy guy. However, with support from Tulsi (wingman #1) and Felix (wingman #2 and wine connoisseur), Sage shall persevere—anything to please the one he loves. Anisa suggests cooking dinner rather than going to a fancy restaurant as it would be less pressure and "feel more sentimental," so that's what Sage does. Really, he'll take up almost any advice he could. He even puts on a shirt (though it's unbuttoned well past his sternum). You know this man is committed.

Hand pressed to the small of your back, Sage leads you to the dinner table set up on the balcony where he first confessed his feelings for you, overlooking the sea as the sun melts into the shimmering waters and turns them golden.

The table is draped with a lovely embroidered tablecloth he borrowed from Anisa, its lacy hem fluttering gently with the salty breeze. The fancy silverware borrowed from Fathom's kitchen is arranged according to whatever etiquette tips Felix could remember from his lessons back at Welwreth. Last but not least is the centerpiece: an iridescent glass vase glowing pink in the fading sunlight, made complete by the flowers you picked on the way here.

Caught up in the sheer amount of effort that went into just dressing the table, you don't notice how intently Sage watches you, tail swishing left and right as he waits for your reaction.

The suspense, however, is easier on his heart than your sudden enthusiasm and kind compliments, making him feel equal parts flustered, bashful, and proud.

Soon as he recollects himself, Sage asks if you'll do him the honor of lighting up the ornate candelabras with your magic while he pours your drinks. When that is done, he pulls your chair back and waits for you to get comfortable before gently pushing you back in.

"Well, aren't you quite the gentleman!" you tease.

There's a hint of that old cockiness in the slight upturn of his lips when he gloats, "You know there's more to me than meets the eye."

Get it? Eye. A beat passes in silence, then you're both laughing at that horrible, horrible pun.

At least it got Sage to relax a little. You can't help how your chest feels warm with pride. To say he's becoming his old self again feels unfair; you never wanted Sage to feel pressured to live up to a "better" version of himself. You're just happy to watch him grow out of the walls he locked himself behind many months ago, ones even taller than those he had when you first met him.

"Wait, so you're going to be both my date and waiter?" You watch as Sage pulls two dishes from the serving cart and places one before each seat.

"And your chef," Sage adds, pulling the cloche from your plate so steam rolls off in waves, the mouth-watering aroma overwhelming your senses. There truly is more to him than meets the eyes.

"Straight to the main course? What happened to appetizers?"

"Tulsi had you walking all over town," Sage huffs, "You don't need to be appetized. Unless you do... I might have an idea—"

"No! No, I am indeed very hungry right now, thank you!" You look down at your plate, ready to dig in, only to find that the food, though nicely presented, is not something you readily recognize.

At first look, it resembles an Althtali dish Sage made you once, but with a few experimental bites, you recognize elements of a recipe from back home that you had described to (or made for) Sage many, many months ago. Somehow the combination just works; even if it differs from the original, you find this new variant is just as delectable.

Sage's ears twitch when you tell him as much, clearly unused to all this praise. "Then make sure you keep space for dessert," he tries to laugh it off. One look at his tail curled tightly against his chair tells you he is still a bundle of nerves, growing more agitated as he struggles to fill any lull in the conversation.

With a touch of your hand against his and a little teasing here and there, you can see Sage slowly but visibly relaxing. At some point, you can feel the tuft of his tail brushing against your leg before curling around it.

You carry on merrily even as the sky darkens and the candles grow shorter, though the flames still shine brightly, bathing you both in warm golden light. Silence no longer feels awkward, filled in by the cacophony of waves crashing against each other, serenading the big, bright moon up above.

The lovely view might have trapped your attention, but Sage only finds himself beholden to your beauty, so much so that he's completely caught off guard when you suddenly break the silence.

"Well, was that so bad?"

Sage, still trying to recover after you had caught him staring like a lovesick fool, almost forgets to reply, "...What?"

"Dinner with me!"

"Nothing's bad if it's with you." There it is again, that cocky smirk, not quite the old one but his all the same. You know by the twinkle in his amber eye that he does mean what he said, even though he's definitely deflecting.

"No, you terrible flirt. I meant, you looked so nervous!" As Sage struggles to find something to say—torn between denial and trying to justify himself—you shake your head fondly and continue, "It's just you and me, and this is just dinner. What's there to fear?"

"This is just dinner..." He repeats after you softly. Then he feels very silly for worrying so much in the first place. This is you, after all—the one who traversed dimensions for a washed-up merc because you still believed he was worth saving. There is no reason to act differently just to please you.

Still, Sage is glad to make your first date feel special, and he might actually want to try this again now that he doesn't worry as much about formalities.

>"A little trip."

A beach date is a heavy weight off Sage's chest. Not only is the beach his favorite place in all of Porrima (he doesn't frequent taverns as often as he did many months ago), but there are much fewer formalities to worry about

"Why are we going out so late?" you ask. "Isn't the point of the beach to cool off the summer heat?"

You're not wrong, but you see, for as much as he loved the liveliness of the city streets, Sage always found himself gravitating towards the beach, especially at night. It is pure sensory heaven, what with the cool sand sliding under his feet and the salty breeze combing through his hair. The stars are his only company, and all is quiet save the cacophony of waves crashing into the shore.

He braved these crashing waves once upon a time, and he remembers the thrill of not knowing what lurked beneath the inky waters. No matter how far they looked or how far they sailed, there seemed to be no ending to the ocean, only the eternal night sky meeting the sea by the horizon. It made him feel very, very small. If Balsam wasn't by his side, he would've felt very, very lonely too.

When they eventually made it to land, Sage only had the beach to turn to for a moment's reprieve. So whenever life bore down on him, he would go there late at night and look towards the horizon. Then he would remember how small the universe made him feel, and his worries, by extension, would also feel small—the world is far too big for his problems to be all that significant.

Even now, the beach brings his restless mind some peace, and to share that peace with someone so special to him—to embrace your warmth rather than punish himself by running away from it— means the world to Sage.

"Maybe I just want the beach all to ourselves," is what he actually answers, wiggling an eyebrow at you.

You arrive just as the sun starts hanging low in the sky, no longer overbearing with its heat, and the number of people on the beach dwindles. Sage spreads the blanket and sets down the wicker basket, then he watches as you rush to the water. "I wonder if seashells look any different on Astraea," you call out, "We should try to find some while the sun's still out."

So he trails after you as you follow the shoreline. Every few steps, you'd crouch down to comb through the wet sand while Sage gets distracted by the cool sea foam washing at his feet, its push and pull mesmerizing. His attention is drawn back to you when you show off the shells you find, then he carries them for you in a bucket and offers a hand to help you up before you move on to the next spot.

The sun finally kisses the sky goodbye, and the sky turns a lovely rosy color, so you rush to find your spot back on the beach before it goes dark. Guided by the last rays of light peeking over the horizon, you pour out the bottle you packed in the basket into two glasses and snack on pastries as you watch the first stars dot the sky.

With the sun's warmth gone and night's darkness taking over, you remain vulnerable to the biting cold, so Sage holds you closer and drapes his cape around the both of you, shielding you with his own warmth. Then he lies back, pulling you along so you're facing the stars, and presses a kiss to your hair. You hear him smack his lips and hum to himself, "Salty."

"Shut up."

Ask Sage about the stars, and you'll find that he's a sea of knowledge when it comes to navigating by celestial bodies and recounting stories about the constellations, many of which he had learned from sailors who humored the wharf rats by the docks. Tell him you don't get to see as many stars back on earth, and he'll promise to bring you here more often.

When you look down to the shore, you find these stars perfectly reflected on the waters. No, literally; there are clusters upon clusters of what seems to be bioluminescent creatures dotting the shoreline. Sage doesn't seem half as surprised as you are. "'Tis the season," he shrugs, "They like the weather here."

Dip your feet into the sea foam, and he'll hold your hand as you toe the line between land and sea. Before you venture into the water, Sage tucks your clothes into his cape so yours don't collect sand where you leave them back on shore.

Waist-deep in, the little creatures form shiny halos around you. Just as Sage had promised, they're pretty harmless, only lightly tickling you as they bounce off and away the further you wade through.

As the waves push against you, Sage remains your firm anchor, guiding you deeper and deeper until you float, and the shore grows smaller and smaller until you can barely make out the city lights.

There, held between inky waters and glittering sky, you understand what an otherworldly experience the beach is at night. You hold on even more tightly to Sage, your only source of warmth in this endless dark, and press a long kiss to his lips.

When you pull apart for air, though only for a mere inch, you softly hum against his lips, "Salty."

He bites down on your bottom lip, hard, but only for a quick moment before he lets go.

Whatever else happens in the water is only for the two of you to tell.

As you make your way to shore, Sage carries you on his back, and you stay like that with his cape keeping you warm all the way back home, where he tucks you into bed and kisses you goodnight.

taglist: @aaapplepie @asfucromper @bananacockatiel @bugfoil @crabbarts @de-dodox @fenista13 @mknight0000 @monstercherry @sweet-milky-tea705

#sage lesath #last legacy #fictif #fictif last legacy #last legacy sage #fictif sage #sage lesath x reader #sage lesath x mc #last legacy headcanons

[a-shape-changer-in-winter]

The Price of Tenderness 3

I have tried, over and over, to enter this essay the way a door opens in another room. More than anything, I want to hold your face in my hands and tell you, “The work in us is not finished yet” I know it’s a grind bringing your everything, especially when you feel shackled to the past. Like Van Gogh’s sadness, the missing can go on forever - but perhaps an impossible longing that spreads is necessary for us to make room. Jorie Graham would remind us that our task is to handle the fire without getting obliterated and still pass on the fire, which feels like ancestral magic. A magic that I remember more than I discover as I age. I think that wisdom exists in each of us. We’ve just forgotten it. In a workshop in 2019 - I asked Ada Limón how she could dive into grief without burning up on (re)entry, and she responded: “Mostly because I’ve done it a lot […] We’ve all romanticized looking for answers at the bottom of the well […] you’ve got to protect yourself; know your strength, what you’re capable of that day - even at that moment. Some days we’re better equipped to dive in; you must care for yourself - mental, emotional, and spiritual health. Ensure you have a way out [of grief or despair]; sometimes, the poem [itself] is the way out. “  

Among the ways that we're most connected to one another is that we’re all going to experience insurmountable loss. We all have to live with the deteriorating state of the world and unanswerable questions. Tony Hoagland believes “[..] that's why / we invented the complex sentence, so we could stand at a distance, // and make adjustments // in the view // while trying hard to track / the twisty, ever-turning plot”.  And I believe that [true] recognition - of our feeble attempts to solve what no one else has solved facilitates a life of care. But only if we stop framing those questions so they fit the story we want to tell about our lives. Part of owning our story is letting the truth defend itself, even if it’s awful. I used to tell my story like I was describing a haunted house because I couldn’t bear the telling [eldrich horror] of what lived inside it. Our task isn’t to solve the beautiful terribles but to tend and hold them while allowing them to ripen us. Rilke told us to live the questions, but part of his insistence was for us to stop looking for answers, and that type of surrender is tricky because you have to choose it, sometimes multiple times a day. And then you gotta get up tomorrow and do it all over again. I have learned that grief is cone-shaped, and we will always orbit the gravity of immense loss and trauma - but we have to dissent on the days when we feel their gravity pulling us toward the event horizon. I believe part of our duty in recovery is refusing to fall after we’ve risen. We all stumble occasionally, but I’m talking about refusing to return to what buried you. Marie Howe assures us: “It hurts to be present [on these days], though. I ask my students every week to write ten observations of the actual world. It’s very hard for them….Just tell me what you saw this morning in two lines. I saw a water glass on a brown tablecloth, and the light came through it in three places. No metaphor. And resisting metaphor is very difficult because you have to endure the thing itself…” 

In Paper Houses, Dominique Fortier reminds us that many masters, like Emily Dickinson, have already shown us how to endure and pay attention to the difficult and the banal: “As she writes, [ Dickinson] erases herself. She disappears behind the blade of grass that, if not for her, we would never have seen. She does not write to express herself, perish the thought. […S]he doesn’t write to be noticed. She writes to bear witness: here lived a flower, for three days in July, the year of 18**, killed by a morning shower. Each poem is a tiny tomb erected to the memory of the invisible.” This type of witnessing is a bright darkness. An earnestness that doesn’t strive to solve but to hold will give off its own light - because [holy shit] it turns out that holding and surrendering to the impossible thing is the critical alchemy to our bioluminescence. 

Joy, like poetry [according to John Berger], “can repair no loss, but it defies the space which separates…by its continual labor of reassembling what has been scattered”. It is the evidence of our reaching across to one another in the midst of, or as a way even of caring for, one another's sorrows. And without sadness, joy would become something else entirely. Perhaps it wouldn’t exist at all. The perceived simplicity of meekness shifts in this context away from its synonymy with weakness and transmutes into an active passivity that may become an extraordinary force of symbolic resistance and, as such, fuses to both our ethics and politics. It is the ethos of [my] queerness because I reached a point where I wanted to live differently so desperately that it altered my gender identity [he/they], reverberating Bell Hook’s definition because I was at odds with everything around me and something deep down needed to invent and create and find a place to speak and to thrive and to live. Queerness, for me, is the antithesis of hyper-independence and masochism. Gordon Marion wrote: “In general, tenderness involves increased sensitivity. When we say that an injury is tender, we mean that it is hyper-sensitive to the touch. And in moments of tenderness, it is as though the ego and all its machinations momentarily melt away so that our feelings are heightened and we are perhaps moved by the impulse to reach out with a comforting hand.”  Gentleness was [and is] my force of secret life-giving transformation linked to what the ancients called potentiality. If we hold the virtues of tenderness at our cores, the concise list of impossible things may never leave us, but the other list - of what is still possible - becomes exponential. Our greatest challenge doesn’t lie with either list - but with the limitations of our imaginations. I still return to “​​Maybe You Should Talk to Someone,” where Lori Gottlieb’s therapist, Wendall, illustrates for her: 

“I’m reminded,” he begins, “of a famous cartoon. It’s of a prisoner, shaking the bars, desperately trying to get out—but to his right and left, it’s open, no bars.”

He pauses, allowing the image to sink in.

“All the prisoner has to do is walk around. But still, he frantically shakes the bars. That’s most of us. We feel completely stuck, trapped in our emotional cells, but there’s a way out—as long as we’re willing to see it.”

Because it’s such an accurate visualization of entitlement [at least for me], gentleness and tenderness already made the exits out of that prison, but we refuse to use them because they require us to let go of the bars [familiar pain, grief, or shame] we’ve been clinging to. I have been wrong whenever I believed I needed something specific for healing or transmutation. Not only was I wrong, and it prevented me from healing - but holding onto that belief exacerbated that pain. It’s laughable now, but my most significant failures [and character defects] in my 20s revolved around believing life [or someone else] owed me answers. This isn’t much different than a 7-year-old throwing a temper tantrum in the cereal aisle because they tried to sneak cinnamon toast crunch into the shopping cart and got caught. We don’t get to decide what life owes us or what miracles the universe offers. Although, there have been times when I wished I could climb that stairway to heaven and smash open the spigot from which grace seems to be metered. Accepting that I’m not in control is another form of surrender, knowing I didn’t earn this grace through my suffering. But, I believe I can be worthy of it if I extend it to others and keep my palms open like windows. 

I find it prudent to believe any pain that we’ve processed will also die [if we stop excavating around it], that wear and tear await every haunted house, and that some [pains] already have no more meaning for us as their ghosts fade like film left out in the July sun. I know the miracle of today, like everything else, attains its richness in what erodes and decays in time. The gift of friendship isn’t just in recognition, equipping, and believing in the other - but the nourishment that is only possible through our mingling. It is the source of our greatest sorrows and attachments and our place of luminescence. What purpose does that light serve but to illuminate the ways between you and me? I know something wonderful is happening to us - if we would allow it. I know that we have not forgotten each other. I think of you all with the utmost/excruciating warmth, and in a sense - I pray for each of you nightly. And while I wish I could take each of your hands and hold them dear in mine - want I wish for most is that you continue to be who you are and who you’ve been called to be. And if you aren’t yet, I pray that you are convicted to. I wish for nothing more than transformative experiences in your lives and awakenings in each of our hearts.

There's a dream I keep having where I'm running up the stairs of your porch to your front door. A dream where nothing separates us. Not space. Not time, borders, or language. A dream where I am with you, and the loss has finally made us both open, [and love, it bears repeating] open roads.

#blog

[heartshapedbubble]

Luchino (both hunter and survivor) with 3 and 8?

here you go nonnie 💕

number 3 // do they have a favourite style of clothing?🦎

okay don't yell at me for this one but survivor!luchino is a huge flirt. like,, it's not obvious at first bc you expect him to wear some general work/lab clothing as usual but once you get closer to him you notice him wearing very... uh. flirty clothing when you go out. bro is gonna be wearing black tulip-like shirts and tight pants like SIR😭😭😭😭he's all professional while working but night time is thotting time JABFWMFJKD mans can really pull off both

in general he likes wearing such clothing because it's completely different in comparison to his lab/work clothes and makes him feel confident - in short, he likes both classy and uhh. more revealing clothing. plus the scales on his chest get itchy very easily so it feels better when they're not covered by some thick, irritable fabric

if he sees you staring at his honkers (i'm sorry for this i just had to get this off of my chest (no pun intended)) he's just going to wink at you and yank the collar lower with his finger just to see you look away in panic LMFAOA HES A MENACE

as for hunter!luchino, finding fitting clothes is a problem due to his size and rough surface of his scaled skin, so he relies on violetta for the most part! they always got along and she frequently tailors/makes his clothes. his clothes are usually made out of old curtains, leather covers, tablecloths, potato sacks etc.

most of his clothing is also short/doesn't fully cover his body or is a bit more revealing, since anything longer or tighter obstructs his movement and makes it hard to breathe - in conclusion anything light for the most part and made out of natural, comfy material

for christmas she knits him a biiig oversized sweater so it keeps him warm :)

number 8 // any specific body quirks?🦎

survivor!luchino

-has double jointed thumbs! some of his other fingers are double jointed too

-has one (1) dimple on his left cheek heehee

-since his jaw and teeth already started altering and morphing, his canine teeth are a bit more noticeable, like vampire teeth but not as sharp

-his hands and arms are VEERY veiny, partially the reason why injecting himself with the venom was easy and how he could do it without looking. emily is the happiest person in the world whenever it's his turn to get an injection/vaccine

-blinks one eye at a time

-would also have venus holes/dimples. im going insan

-could probably make his ears wiggle at will tbh!

-his tongue is quite long too, wooo lizard traits at it again

hunter!luchino

-most of his body quirks are still the same even after the transformation

-he can lick his eyeballs with his tongue buuut it's not the most enjoyable thing to see nor does he like doing it in front of others

-can literally cut through glass and even through some softer metals with his claws

-i've already mentioned this in some other post but his tail is prehensile! can use it as a third hand if needed, no big deal

-his eyes have a sort of... blue-ish glow? whenever sunlight hits them

#identity v #idv #idv headcanons #idv imagines #identity v headcanons #idv fanfic #identity v x reader #idv scenarios #identity v x you #idv x reader #idv luchino #luchino diruse #luchino x reader #identity v luchino #idv evil reptilian #evil reptilian #identity v evil reptilian #idv professor #identity v professor #professor idv

[sterlingsilverrosepetals]

Black Butler, Rewatch: Episode 1

Episode 1: “His Butler, Able”

Before watching this episode, on a scale of 1-10, how much are you looking forward to seeing it again?

7 

The episode that started it all. It’s okay not the best episode and I analyzed the entire first chapter so I have very mixed feelings about the anime’s take. Nevertheless, I still enjoy watching it. 

Favorite screencap: (I have two just because I can’t think of one without the other.)

Favorite Moment:

I loved seeing this entire scene animated. The swift ability Sebastian displays to easily pull the tablecloth. I love how they focused on his concentration as pulled the tablecloth away and in an instant the cup settled with the wine now in the cup. The contrast of the Butler and Earl’s reaction in the scene was great. If anything they animated this scene wonderfully. I will never get tired of it.

Least Favorite Moment:

Ciel: I don't need to explain my actions.

So this dart scene always made me uncomfortable. I didn’t like what Ciel did. Plus when I actually read the manga he didn’t do this to Finnian or the others. I could see him doing this to Sebastian easily but not the rest of his staff. It kind of made him more of a cruel tyrant in a way. It doesn’t fit Ciel when it comes to those closely connected to him. He would not do something so cruel to Finny. 

This entire scene makes him out to be a completely spoiled brat and makes the audience less inclined to see him as more than a wicked upstart noble.

Manga/Anime Difference Thoughts:

They definitely changed stuff from the original manga and these are some of things that stand out to me.

Ciel summoning Sebastian. This is not how the manga does it. There is no cage involved it almost seems like a void is where they first met. I prefer how it is shown in the actual manga. The naked child under a sheet is just wrong. Thank goodness the Book of Circus follows canon. 

Sebastian is hinted at as being abnormal in chapter 1 but he is still considered ‘human’. In contrast, the anime plays up his supernatural abilities from the start. This is kind of a misstep they are missing out on the big reveal. I think if they kept with the original manga interpretation they could have made the big reveal rather shocking. One of the things I love about the manga is it starts giving hints to his demonic nature but it doesn’t show them right around.

Who are you, good sir? Where is Chlaus? I can’t imagine why they changed him out. Except to have someone they could torture from the get-go. Missing out on an important overarching plot in the first book with the drugs because Chlaus isn’t there to give the evidence. That scene is necessary to understand Ciel’s role as Watch Dog. The anime just makes Ciel someone who tortures people to get his way. Also interesting to note it is Sebastian who greets the arrival whereas in the manga it is Ciel who welcomes Chlaus. From the beginning, it tells you what they think of their guest.

Morning tea Earl Grey instead of Ceylon Tea. The tea set is different too. It is a bitter variety of tea while in the manga Ciel starts out with a citrus tea. The original tea in the manga fits with the little hints of his childlike nature and his love of milk with honey for bed. This tea seems to play on the fact they want things darker. On a side note, the entire reason I tried Earl Grey was because of Black Butler and it’s one of my favorite teas now.  I always thought it would be too bitter but after trying it I loved it so much. 

What’s one thing you noticed/realized about this episode that you hadn’t before?

The Portrait/Flashback image looks ghastly and for some reason, Rachel has black hair. This looks odd and given how she looks in the rest of the anime I think it was a mistake.

The board game is still a good interpretation of the canon. I still enjoy the clever board game between Ciel and the bad guy. Even if it’s not in the manga it does demonstrate both Ciel’s intelligence and ability. Along with the fact he is a kid. Even in the manga Ciel is very prone to playing games it’s one of his joys in life. And it’s often used to show his detachment from the world and how he views life in general. So I think it was cool.

Foodie moment. They did a great job with the food what can I say? I want to show each dessert that Sebastian serves Ciel just because it is delicious. 

On a scale of 1-10, how would you rate this episode?

6 

To be honest I started with the manga (when it was still limited in translation) for a little while but the anime is how I was truly got into Black Butler. The beginning never entirely endeared me to the characters or the story. It wasn’t until they got into the Jack the Ripper stuff that was in it for the long haul. When I did read the manga I really viewed the anime differently and from a writing standpoint I think the manga was better.

They changed so many things I loved about the manga. The episode feels inconsistent and the payoff isn’t here. While I like the torture of the bad guy toy factory manager it made the series even darker and paints a bitter contrast to the manga. Plus they stuff so much filler in here. It works I suppose for the anime-only season but it gives you a different viewpoint on Black Butler as a whole. 

Celebrate it! (A little poem for you all.)

A lone visitor comes to call.

When will this foolish man fall?

Ravens stalk the night.

Danger lurks with frights.

Mishaps and chaos abound.

Yet still the Butler is profound.

Next Episode: Episode 2 His Butler, Strongest

#black butler #black butler anime #kuroshitsuji #kurshitsuji anime #anime rewatch #rewatch #anime #anime filler #my analysis #my thoughts #tv rewatch #黒執事

[moconut]

Whatever It Takes: A Degrassi Season 10 Retrospective (You Don't Know My Name, Pt. 2)

Remember that HBO Degrassi reboot that was supposed to happen? It's cancelled, just like my interest in this episode. Let's get this out of the way so I can talk about things that actually facilitate entertaining commentary beyond making fun of the word "hoedown" (who am I kidding, I'm not getting any wittier than that).

Back at Degrassi, Drew struggles to write his own essay. His brother Adam snarks that maybe Drew should've turned in the paper Alli wrote for him after all. Drew is offended at the memory of Alli's betrayal, saying he doesn't appreciate being called stupid. What he's really saying here is he hates honesty.

KC runs through the list of different cliques Drew should consider picking a new girl from. Are cliques a real thing? In Catholic school, we just had a) popular girls b) semi-popular girls and c) girls like me, who didn't even make the senior year class montage slideshow. Drew likes the sound of a cheerleader and hits on Marisol, which is hilarious when you remember how he ends up hating her guts just one season later.

Meanwhile, Fiona attempts to give Holly J an intervention in the hallway after Sav calls her "hot stuff." Holly J denies she has any feelings for him. Fiona reminds Holly J that she needs to marry Declan so they can become sisters--fitting, as Degrassi Takes Manhattan taught us that Fiona is rather fond of incest.

Sav has a very different version of what's going on between the two. Peter, holding a rather negative view of Holly J (which isn't altogether unwarranted), grills him as to whether their kiss was "tight," "hot," and involved slapping. I think he's getting a little ahead of himself there.

Love is also blooming amongst our Three Tenners (for one of them, at least). Connor defends his online girlfriend, saying she's just as good as a real life one. Dave needles him into trying to move the relationship offline, which Connor eventually agrees to--just so that Dave can find out what a real date is like. Haha, fuck you Dave.

Drew and Marisol's date isn't going so well. Drew quickly realizes Marisol is just copying everything he does, including liking the band Hot Chip. I don't think that's a real band even in the context of Degrassi. He further tests this theory by ordering a tuna wrap with strawberry ice cream and garlic salt, which she also orders. Peter walks away in disgust, probably thinking these two were made for each other. Marisol tops it all off by literally saying "It's easier if I don't have to think for myself!" You know, maybe these two are made for each other.

The Three Tenners arrive at the steakhouse for Connor's date with LoveQueen16, looking for a girl in a Realm of Doom shirt. In walks what appears to be a woman who looks more like a LoveQueen46. Connor wants to talk to her, but Wesley and Dave quickly drag him out.

Speaking of romantic failures, Drew immediately runs back to Alli after realizing Marisol has the depth of a sheet of paper. He tries to win her back, but she's rightfully unmoved by such charming lines as "You win. I'll go to the dance with you" and "Does 'ugh' mean 'yes' in Hindi?" Alli's face says it all.

Things are going a little better for Sav and Holly J. She arrives at the Dot to check out how Hoedown (.......ha) decor is going, and is so wooed by the wagon wheels and cowboy print tablecloths that she forgets everything she said about not liking Sav. This Hoe is Down bad.

Later, she gazes wistfully at photos of the two of them posted publicly on her FaceRange. Fiona warns Holly J that's she's probably just rebounding from Declan, which she denies. She then gazes wistfully at a photo of Declan.

Drew, meanwhile, has devised the perfect plan to woo Alli: have guys on the football team enact a skit in the hallway about how great he is. No one but Drew is impressed, and he is left to forlornly fondle his football.

Having come Down from her Hoeing high, Holly J realizes what she needs to do. She returns to the Dot where Sav has been decorating by himself for hours instead of going to class. She tells him she’s not over Declan. He’s sad but unsurprised, but at least he has Jones Soda to comfort him.

Later that evening, it’s finally times for the Hoes to go Down to the Dot to party. Drew is staring at Alli dancing with an NPC when Marisol pops in to flirt with him. He asks if it would be weird to request girl advice from her. Yes, yes it would be.

Sav publicly thanks Holly J for making the dance possible, which is weird to me because it seems like he’s done 99% of the work. Holly J mostly just showed up to either kiss or dump him. Either way, she’s impressed by Sav’s farmer hat and flattery. They decide to have a casual thing for the six months to graduation. What’s really optimistic here is to assume a Degrassi relationship will even last six episodes.

Meanwhile, Adam lures Alli to the photobooth. She’s annoyed to find Drew in there, which is the natural reaction. He finally tells her what he actually likes about her, which is basically that she’s smart in every way he isn’t (and that’s a lot of ways). Alli tries to say he’s people-smart, but I’m not sure about that after the whole self-aggrandizing football fiasco earlier. But whatever, they’re back together now. Woo.

Things wrap up the next day with Sav and Holly J in the student council room. They’re stunned when Fiona and Anya walk in, even though they weren’t doing anything particularly scandalous. They all stand around awkwardly with coffees until Sav asks if Fiona and Anya will help them count change from the dance. Fiona refuses because she doesn’t like touching Coynes. Not after last summer.

And that’s it. You know what? Fuck the long-winded analysis this time. I can’t pretend to care about this episode enough to act like there’s anything warranting me acting like I remotely know what the fuck I’m talking about. Drew and Alli are a bad couple. Holly J and Sav will—by their own admission—end their relationship by graduation at the latest. The only plot that comes close to being interesting is Connor’s middle aged cyber gf, and it barely gets any screentime here.

Enough. It’s taken me nearly a year to scrounge up the motivation to do this, and it’s solely so that I can move on to the rest of the season.

#degrassi #dtng #degrassi tng #degrassi the next generation #degrassi review

[mindpoisonhoworiginal]

The Dinner

(The story takes place around 17th century, Hob has already known who Dream is)

It seemed like they had already discussed how tonight's dinner should go a thousand times, but Hob was still worried. Not so long ago, he should have bitten his tongue then, he said a few words about Morpheus in the company of his aristocratic acquaintances and they immediately wanted to see his mysterious friend at their dinner.

To be honest, Hob hoped that Morpheus would refuse the invitation. But as soon as he told about the dinner, the King of Dreams accepted the invitation and justified Hob's question "Why?" by saying that he was interested in communicating with other people besides Hob.

And here they are both at the threshold of a huge house. It seems to be the house of Adamson's family, no other way. Hob is terribly nervous, he is sure that they have definitely forgotten something, but he can't remember what exactly, and Morpheus is standing next to him with an absolutely imperturbable look, well, as usual.

The huge door of the house is boiled .

"Well, it has started," - thinks Hob.

...

Amazing. Two hours of dinner have already passed, although there was no "dinner" yet, but Morpheus fit perfectly into the atmosphere. Hob doesn't know what contributed more to this, the fact that Morpheus, in general, looks like a real aristocrat and has the same perfect manners, which even Hob can envy or the fact that Morpheus could easily support absolutely any conversation, and it seems like his friend talked for SO long for the first time. In any case, Hob was glad that everything was going smoothly, although he was still haunted by the thought that they had forgotten something after all.

Morpheus: Thank you for inviting me to dinner, it's very kind of you.

Lady Adamson: No thank you, Lord Morpheus, for coming to us, Sir Robert has told us so much about you.

"In reality Hob mentioned him twice"

Lord Adamson: Really, we would never have believed that you were from Greece.

"The fact that Morpheus will be a lord from Greece, they decided quickly."

Lord Adamson: You have absolutely no accent!

Hob: Lord Morpheus, has been living in England for quite a long time and-

Hob was saved from further explanations by the ringing of bells, which meant that "the very" dinner was finally ready. And they sat down at the table.

Hob *whispers*: Honestly, I didn't expect you to fit in so well. Morpheus: Thank you, my friend. I told you you were worrying in vain.

Lady Adamson: Help yourself, dear guests.

"Well, apparently today will really be a great evening after all" - thinks Hob.

Suddenly, all the conversations at the table were interrupted. And everyone stared at Morpheus, including Hob.

Morpheus takes all the food with a spoon, and somewhere he takes everything with his hands. With one knife, he tries to cut a piece of meat, it seems that he does not succeed much, and having already noticeably soiled his hands, he wipes them on the tablecloth.

The owners hesitate to say anything to Morpheus, only look at the Hob in bewilderment.

"Jesus Christ."

That's what he didn't tell Morpheus. The new dining etiquette, damn it.

Hob whispers to Morpheus: Darling, maybe in order to properly taste the meal you will use a fork?

Morpheus: A fork?

Hob points to the cutlery that is to the left of Morpheus' plate.

All of a sudden, Morpheus starting to laugh. And his laughter cannot be described in words. Hob is delighted, but the host of the house are horrified.

Morpheus *still laughing*: Ah, Hob, you never cease to amaze me, you've always been so funny. For people to use Poseidon's trident as a cutlery! Only you could have thought of such a thing, my friend!

By the faces of the owners, Hob understands that the situation has finally got out of control and it seems it's time to retreat.

Hob: Lord and Lady Adamsons, if you'll excuse me and my friend, we need to step back and have a word.

Morpheus: There's no need for that, my dear friend, I have to go now. Thank you for a wonderful dinner and for a good time.

Morpheus leaves the house.

"Thank, gods, he used door" - this is the only thing that Hob can think about right now, as he realises that he will have to explain the Adamsons what the hell did just happen.

The next day.

Morpheus: Was I able to impress your friends, Hob Gadling?

Hob: Oh yeah, you sure did, dear friend.

Hob doesn't know if he managed to convince Adamsons that everything that happened at the table is how people eat in Greece, or now they think that Morpheus was raised by wolves, in any case, Hob will remember that dinner for a long time.

(me again with my little silly stories about little silly Dream. Read somewhere, that fork were commonly used in England only around the beginning of 17th century, so the idea that Morpheus didn't know what fork is, came to my mind. And If I were him I would mix up fork with trident as well)

#the sandman #morpheus sandman #dream of endless #hob gadling #dreamling

[twst-the-night-away]

Hearts and Violets, naturally!

Ace and Violetta. Hearts and violets. The cutest couple in the Queendom.

One of my ships that’s very much high school sweethearts, but this will be way after high school. I’m not sure yet what Ace is doing, but Violetta is working as a manga artist’s assistant, so she’s constantly hard at work. Ace doesn’t mind coming over and supporting her now and then, bringing food or doing a load of laundry. He thinks that what Violetta’s doing is really cool, and he likes to brag about his manga artist girlfriend, even if she’s technically still an assistant.

Who proposes? Ace

What inspires them to propose? He wants to, so he does it. Simple as that. Maybe his big brother’s gotten married by now, and he’s starting to have thoughts about doing the same thing himself.

Is it planned or spontaneous? This is Ace we’re talking about. It’s about as planned as anything else he does.

How, and where do they propose? Ace proposes without proposing at first. Violetta’s busy as ever, working at her drawing desk, and Ace is over at her place when he says, “Hey, want to get married? Say yes, and I’ll start banging out the invites.” Violetta, buried in her work, nearly misses what was said, until Ace asks for her to make him probably the happiest man in Twisted Wonderland (he’s not sure he can be happier than Kalim or Lilia, as they seem to come by it naturally). When Violetta starts crying, he’s worried he’s made a mistake, but then she hugs him and says she will.

Who do they tell first? Violetta tells her mamma and pappa, as … well, the inn’s going to be very busy once they can nail down a date for it. Ace tells his big brother. Then they both start telling their friends.

Who’s in the wedding party? Violetta’s bridesmaids are Joker and Nana (both @twstinginthewind's babies). Nana is maid of honor based on having been her friend longer, though she may need to brush up on human wedding traditions. If Ace chooses Deuce for his best man, you know Deuce will take it completely seriously and will be the Best Man He Can Possibly Be. Those rings will be Protected and he will quadruple-check to make sure they’re in the right place before the wedding starts.

Where do they have the wedding? On a sunny spring day in the garden of the Piccola Inn.

What is the wedding like? Country-charming-whimsy, as is proper for any Queendom wedding. Lots of roses, lots of lace, red gingham checked tablecloths in the reception area. There are definitely hedgehogs on top of the wedding cake. Hedgehogs have kind of become their thing.

What do they wear? I want to say Ace wears the suitor suit he wore for the Ghost Marriage, just because it was cute and kinda dorky, just like him. But I dunno if it would still fit. Maybe it’s magic material that changes to fit as someone grows. Either way, it’s going to be a red suit for sure. Violetta wears a Regency-style bridal dress, and a crown of violets and red roses. The wedding party is told to just wear their nicest outfits. They’re not trying to be too fancy here.

What is the reception like, if they have one? The reception’s at the inn, too. The food is laid out buffet-style on the inside, and there are lots of little tables out in the garden, with a space for dancing. It’s very DIY, with just a music player and a portable speaker, and a little microphone for people who want to give toasts. There is one song played live, though … 

What is their first dance song? Joker & her brother Punch play this on accordion & ukulele. Joker does the singing, and someone else provides the guitar - maybe Cater? The Pop Music Club does stay pretty close, even after graduation.

Where do they go for their honeymoon? Violetta can’t take a long vacation, and she had to work extra hard to be able to earn the break she had, so they take a long weekend at an amusement park resort. They ride ALL the roller coasters at least twice.

[All pictures from Unsplash except for the cake topper and the dress.]

#twst x oc #daisy's ocs #violetta piccola #ace trappola #the ace route is really sweet because he's a guy more on vivi's level #all her other ships are taller and more ... hmm #more elegant guys #ace is just some guy and vivi grew to like him #hearts and violets

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Some kind of ritual

An old and dusty painting of a large building with domes on top hangs on the walls of the living room, a room which, like the rest of the apartment, has been furnished with the cheapest and most common things that Floornight-era money would buy. A few of the windows are cracked, and it's obvious that no one had cared to rewire the place for a long time.

Sitting in the middle of the room is a table with three chairs, the table and chairs covered with thick plastic tablecloth. The table is set with a half-empty pitcher of water, half-full glasses, a bowl of stale saltines, and a large stack of plastic cups. A young woman sits at the table and looks at the painting.

A strange thing happens when people who have been through much together find themselves in such a room. It's common to talk of a sense of a "family," even if the people involved are unrelated and don't know each other particularly well. It's common to talk of things that are too large to fit into the family frame but not too small -- as in the way a mother and son talk about each other, as if they were close friends, though the son has never known his father and the mother has only met him twice. It's common to speak about a "loved one," even if the person involved has been dead for many years.

This table in the living room is the exception. The three people at it are all people who are not related to each other, and are not close friends, and have only met one another briefly. But something strange happens between the four of them, which makes these people a family as much as any mother and son.

"This painting is really interesting," the young woman says. "What's it of?"

Her question, of course, takes us further away from our present circumstances. As the conversation progresses, her interest in this "family" relationship will deepen.

The woman is no longer the central figure in the painting. Three people are now sitting around the table -- two younger women and an older man -- and the older man is at the center of them. He is looking at the painting while the two younger women look at him.

The painting does not look like a familiar one to either of the young women. But they have a mental image of the man, with a vague sense of how he looks.

Now the older man speaks. His name is Charles.

"It's one of us," he says. "Or maybe it's some kind of family."

The younger women sit back and look at him, confused, and then one of them says in a way that clearly comes from a different script than the one which she usually uses, "I'm not sure how many people can actually be said to be part of your family."

"A family can be many different things," Charles says. He is, in fact, not sure how many people there are who can be said to be part of his family. "It can be an idea. A way of living. A feeling. Something which exists both between us and outside us. A kind of bond."

"How many times have you lived here?" one of the young women asks.

"A very long time," Charles says.

In the distance they hear the sounds of footsteps. The older man stands up from the table. There are ten or eleven other people in the apartment, all of whom are younger than Charles. The two younger women have heard of Charles, who is not that old by their standards. He is one of their oldest acquaintances and they have learned some things about him from him.

"We should get up," one of the young women says, and the other two stand up and join him.

They are all dressed in black, except for the older man, who is wearing jeans and a flannel shirt, and has very long hair.

As they walk down the hall to where the stairwell is, he says, "All of this here is my family."

"Is that why you're here?" one of the young women says.

"Not in the way you think," he says.

They all get into the elevator and press one button on the panel to call the elevator down.

In the stairwell they walk down, one at a time. The young woman and the older man descend first. The other younger people wait until there are only two of them on the landing before they join them, and they are all going down now.

There is another person waiting when the elevator stops at the first floor.

They exit the elevator. There are four people going out to the door, and the rest going on into the stairwell.

"Are you going down into the ocean too?" the older man asks, looking down the stairwell. He is the man who had been at the center of the painting, he who was looking at the painting and whom they had spoken to just now.

The young man who had been sitting in the chair, in the center of the table, looks at him. "Why do you ask?" he says.

"Why would someone like me be here?" he asks.

"I guess I haven't really been paying attention to you," one of the young women says.

"Maybe you're from the future," the younger man suggests.

They all descend into the street. It is a bright, clear, warm day.

The people walking around in the street have been born in the same period of history as the people walking around in the house. But their society, even their social world, is different.

They have a shared language, but it is not a language with a history. In fact, they have no language at all. The old-timers in their society have lost the ability to transmit knowledge of a real language (what a loss!) and have invented a new pseudo-language out of the old symbols they still remember. (How weird!) No one under 40 can speak the language they speak, though anyone born since 2080 can.

Their culture is not even based on an ethnic group. There are four or five thousand people living in this part of the city; there are people living just down the street from you, and there are people living in a different part of the city. All of them come from a region of China which, for some reason, once held a sizable empire and fell apart during a brief but violent interregnum, around the time of the Great Flood. It is unclear to anyone who has spent any time in the region of origin whether the Great Flood actually occurred, or whether the people in the city who speak in the local dialect and call themselves Chinese are really descended from the peoples that lived there at the time of the Great Flood.

No one has ever lived here for long enough to develop an attachment to this place, to feel as though the place and its people are important to them, to become invested in their survival or well-being. But all the same, none of the people in this city have to worry about a violent death.

As one of the young women has said, "Everyone here is a rich person." None of them have ever lived on a desert island or lost someone else.

Most of them have never been poor.

They are not the first generation that will have been born in the time that has come after the end of the world. They will all grow up in rich countries and rich societies and in a rich world. They will live to be old and then die. Most of them are not very old.

#original fiction

[kariachi]

Okay, new Scarlet/Violet trailer! Longer this time, and giving us actual footage which, yeah continues to look stuttery as hell. Mostly it’s giving us a look at how things they’ve already told us about will be in the games themselves, but there’s a few new things for me to cover, sooo....

We can now make TMs. Wild pokemon you battle will drop items upon defeat or capture and there’s a machine at the centers where you can have these items crafted into moves immediately taught to a selected pokemon, depending on your League Experience, which I assume is how many badges you have or something similar. So, they remain single use again, but seem easier to acquire.

Girafarig has finally gained an evolution! After 500 years! Now we just need a good Dunsparce evo and my Gen 2 Dreams will be realized. Still a normal/psychic type, Farigarif loses the head on the tail, instead appearing to gain it as a hood or helmet over its primary head, though I’m sure I’ll learn more when I go to check the main site for information. Overall, I think I like it though. It’s very giraffe, and I mean that in the best way possible. Love the silhouette, love the colorscheme, this is very much a pokemon I could come to enjoy, I think.

Trainer customization is definitely back, with a wide variety of options it looks like. There’s more more for each category, at least for hair and the face and such, than there were before, and new categories like ‘eye shape’ and ‘eyelashes’ as well. I can’t be sure but it looks like the options for at least non-clothes aren’t gender-locked as well which, please god and Faranth.

Also, in-game selfie feature. No more does one have to go get professional photos taken with their pokemon.

More hope, previously they’ve been using gendered pronouns for the trainers they’re covering, but for this ‘customization and such’ example one they’re going gender neutral. Look, I just need this for this fandom I still haven’t continued Ultra Sun because I needed to play a girl to get skirts and the constant misgendering (I swear they were doing it on purpose, a fucker would have to be actively trying to fit so many gendered nouns and pronouns into each line of dialogue-) please just let people forgo that suffering!

Looks like you can keep track of how many shinies you’ve run into in-game as well, with a little section between ‘how many pokemon from the dex have you caught/fought’ and ‘recipes learned’ sections showing how many shinies you’ve battled.

Looks like they’ve replaced camps with picnics which, sure I can get behind that. And they let you clean your pokemon! With a Mareep sponge. Scrub scrub scrub your buddies. You can also put out toys for your pokemon to play with while picnicking. Doesn’t look especially dynamic, but then I don’t think it did in SwSh either and at least time you get to be part of the group it looks like.

Also looks like wild pokemon may sometimes just run up and lay eggs in your picnic basket while your back is turned so, honestly feels about right. I can see a chicken or something doing that, why not pokemon

Looks like our new food group is ‘sandwich’ which, yeah I can support that. Looks like instead of a typical mini-game you literally construct the sandwich slice of tomato by slice of Lechonk. (yes I know it’s just ham but look-) Also looks like eating sandwiches can effect things like encounter rates, catch rates, and the strength of certain types of moves, depending on the sandwich and, presumably, how bad you suck at making sandwiches.

And that’s about all the new stuff in the trailer I’m interested in, so let’s go to the main site and see if we can get some more info on some of this stuff, huh?

Okay, first off it looks like League Points are gained by advancing the story and by trading in materials you get off wild pokemon, as noted before, so that’s nice.

Aww, you can customize your picnic set-ups. I like that, bring your own tablecloth and cups and shit.

Okay, so I have to assume that Koraidon and Miraidon aren’t part of your team? Because the site specifies that your party and “the Legendary pokemon accompanying you” gather to enjoy the picnic. Which, if that’s the case then I love that despite not being on the team Koraidon and Miraidon get to hang out and chill too.They’ve earned it.

Oh and the picnics also work in multiplayer! You and all your pokemon can, it seems, join up with your friends and their pokemon for a nice get together, how sweet.

There’s nothing on the site yet specifically about customization, so that’s a wash right now... But we can finally move on to this new pokemon!

Farigiraf! The Long Neck pokemon! Normal/psychic type, 10′6 tall, abilities are Cud Chew and Armor Tail. Oh gods the tail that is not the tail anymore still has it’s own mind it seems like. They’ve just sort’ve teamed up and combined their brainpower to give it more smarts, greater psychic abilities, and a faster mental reaction time than their physical one. Their body can’t keep up with their brains. I love them. The head from the tail literally just came up to enclose the primary head, apparently when it shuts it’s mouth Farigiraf uses it’s heads as a bludgeoning weapon (just like actual male giraffes) and can pulverize stone and crush steel beams.

Both it’s abilities are new. Cud Chew makes it so that when the pokemon eats a berry, it east it again at the end of the next turn. Meanwhile Armor Tail makes it so opposing pokemon can’t use priority moves, at least against Farigiraf.

Over all, not a bad trailer. The gameplay looks stiff and stuttery as shit, but the content looks nice. And I like the new pokemon. Fingers crossed on the customization.

#pokemon scavio

[messengerhermes]

Building in the Buffers

So hey, Living with chronic pain, I learned the hard way that deciding I didn't need to build in buffer time for myself around a big event (or even just going buckwild with a lot of small things that would stack) would put me on my ass with a major flare up. Over time, I started to figure out what my bodymind needed in terms of care and slowness to offset the big things, this mish mash of stuff is what I call Buffer time, the cushion before and after a thing that keeps my meatsuit from falling to pieces (or at least makes the falling to pieces less extreme). Here are a few examples for buffer time: During the Event, limit what the fuck I'm doing. Conventions take a lot out of me, whether they're the kind I am facilitating a workshop at or tabling and selling shit at. If I'm facilitating at a convention, my workshop is the *only* planned thing I will do that day. Everything else, fuck off. If there's a workshop that looks cool, I may go, but if I get tired or bored I will not make myself sit through it, I will quietly slip out. If I'm with friends and they want to hang out and do something high energy, I won't promise I'll be there, I'll ask when they're meeting up to go and let them know if I'm there I'm going but otherwise nah.

Streamline the number of choices I have to make about the thing. For tabling conventions, my entire kit is fits in a cracked, duct-taped electric purple hardshell suitcase and a cardboard box of comics. It's on wheels, holds my little collapsible shells, my prints, my tablecloth, my jewelry, and my signage. When I break down after a show, everything goes right back in that suitcase. All I have to do before that show is grab that suitcase, shove my cashbox in it, and that box. All I have to do at the end of a convention is look over my ledger to make sure I marked all my sales. When I worked charity fundraisers back in the day, I would pack my outfit in advance, dress clothes, shoes, and deodorant, shoved in a garment bag and small toiletry bag and stuck wherever staff got to put our stuff. I'd get maybe thirty minutes before showtime to shove myself into my clothes, wipe my pits and fix my hair. I did an extended version of this for conventions I present at. I would pack my clothes as outfits for each day, already put together. When I'm there, I don't have to panic about what to wear, I just have to pick which outfit I feel like that day. Plan my aftercare. I spent many years going "Oh I'll probably be fine after this concert/night dancing/big party/family event, no need to spread out my plans/do aftercare" and then wondering why I would crash, either emotionally, physically, or both in the days after whatever the thing was. No more. Social events take a lot out of me. If I go out to my friends at the club, whether we're dancing or out on the patio, that environment tends to be very overstimulating and draining. I also tend to need a tapering off-ramp to extended hanging out. This means I'm always the friend that does the "Hey, wanna grab 3 am tacos?" at the end of the night, and most of the time at least some of the group says yes. This has dual perks of getting a more chill wind down hang out and also food in my belly. Then I get to go home, sleep forever and do nothing the next day. Do Future Me a Solid. This is "planning my aftercare's" cousin. On weeks where I had major events/work things, I streamlined my life as much as possible. I figured out the easiest meals that were within my budget (I have eaten so much cereal, pancakes, and rotisserie chicken in my lifetime), I would hang full work outfits on one hanger so I could just pluck them from my closet and throw them on. I'd pack my lunch the night before to avoid eating only my emergency desk peanut butter. Take back your time. This is very narrow advice because it's focused on salary jobs with PTO, so please know, I am aware this doesn't apply to everyone. The thing about a salary job is they put that shitty "exemption" that means if you're called to work over 40 hours a week, you aren't getting overtime, *however* the flip of this is your employer is technically supposed to give you that time back. You don't get overtime pay, but you worked a week filled with 12-16 hour days? Flex the next week to take a day off or work halftime. Whenever I worked one of those special charity events, like a gala or 5k where I had to show up to work at 3 am, I told my boss in advance "Since I'm working extra hours here, can I take Monday off? I'll be sure to finish and schedule anything that needs to go out that day in advance." I started doing this because my body cannot work six days in a row and then come back and do a 40-hour week. It eats me alive. (Please note, advocating for myself this way worked because my boss wasn't a douche, but it did cost me promotions, even when I got glowing annual reviews. Ableism and capitalism suck ass y'all.) Chronic pain sucks ass, and our world is not set up to make it any easier. I know this post is not comprehensive and won't be useful to everyone, but I hope there may be something helpful among these words even if it's only inspiration to think about what might work for you.

#chronic pain #crip macguyvering of life #disability #disability justice #chronic fatigue