#her design fucks hard and severely thank you man

[palossssssand]

A commission for @emberglowfox! Thank you so much!!

#my art #commissions #how to tag this......robots #robots #other people's ocs #her design fucks hard and severely thank you man

[sebscore]

hi ! I love your gen z driver series so much !!

i have a request that she and zhou show up to the padock in the same outfit unplanned

like i feel this would happen - they both fancy showing up in something so different and the other would be wearing the same thing !! <3 fashion icons think the same 😌

THE HELMET BET

pairings: zhou guanyu x driver!reader / f1 grid x driver!reader 

warnings: swearing. based on the 2022 grid. mention of sexism and racism. joke about doing an orgy.

author's note: idk if this is what you had in mind, but I had already written a small part of this fic and then your ask came in and I couldn't help myself. I love zhou so much, ugh thats my man fr. also, thank you for loving the series, it means a lot to me 💞

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''We're gonna get in trouble.'' Zhou said, shaking his head. 

Y/N frowned at his words. ''Why would we get in trouble? It's always super boring and our bet can at least spice it up a little.'' She reasoned, using a lot of hand gestures to show how serious she was. 

''You know those meetings are about our safety, right? We should take them serious.'' The Chinese driver didn't want to get in hot water with the stewards. 

''But this is a serious matter! We're putting an end to the debate,'' she retorted back, not seeing the harm in using the upcoming driver's briefing for their bet, ''lately, I've been seeing way too many people saying you've got better style than me and I've had enough of it.'' 

The female driver had seen the countless online discussions between fans regarding the most stylish driver on the grid, the winner usually switching between herself, Lewis and Zhou. In her opinion, Lewis had the best style, she didn't need to think twice about it. But it is important for her to know who his successor is, who is the number 2? 

To answer that question, she had come up with a brilliant idea: her and Zhou wear their best outfit to the next driver's briefing, not some team merchandising, and they get the other drivers to vote on which outfit is the best and therefore, which person has the best style. The person with the most votes gets to design a helmet for the loser and they have to wear it at the next racing weekend. 

''Okay, I'm in,'' Zhou admitted, shaking hands to commemorate the challenge, ''be prepared to lose, Y/N.'' 

''Don't worry about me, Guanyu.'' 

Y/N was confident in her win. The young woman knows she has style, her several brand deals with high-respected fashion houses being the proof of that. However, she knew not to underestimate her rookie friend, Zhou has had some killer outfits in the ongoing season. 

They had known each other for some years, but it was only this year that the pair had gotten close. Y/N broke the ice by complimenting one of his outfits at the start of the season and the rest was history. 

The outfit she had gone with was simple, but she looked good and she felt great in it. It was inspired by one of Michael Schumacher's paddock outfits (reference), knowing she would at least have Mick and Seb's vote with that one. 

Y/N got out of her car, ready to make her way to the F1 paddock and straight to the driver's briefing. In the corner of her eye she noticed Zhou's car pull up, his performance coach waving at her through the window. She reciprocated the action and decided to wait for him, thinking it would be nice for the two of them to enter together. She was curious as to what her friend would be wearing, secretly hoping he had fumbled the bag really hard. 

Her hopes came crashing down as Zhou got out of the car, observing the clothes he was wearing and noticing one clear detail. 

They were wearing the same outfit. 

Her eyes seemed ready to bulge out of her head, in complete disbelief. ''Are you fucking kidding me, Zhou?'' 

The Chinese man appeared to be much more amused by the situation, covering his laughter with his hand. ''You look very nice, Y/N.'' He giggled, greeting her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

''It's turned into a ''who wears it better'' challenge, what the heck.'' She commented, eyeing him up and down before glancing at her own fit. 

Zhou chuckled. ''Well either way, I'm winning.'' A small smirk appeared on his face, still sure of his win over his friend. Y/N simply scoffed, grabbing her pass from her purse and walking to the entrance. Zhou and his coach followed her steps, still entertained by her annoyance. 

As soon as the paddock reporters noticed the sight of the two drivers, their cameras were whipped out from their bags and they began taking candid shots of the pair. Zhou and Y/N played along for the cameras, pointing at each other's outfits and pretending to look annoyed. 

Eventually they made it to the right room, already seeing most of the drivers waiting inside. Zhou went in and greeted the others, while Y/N waited outside, ready to lock the door as soon as everyone had arrived and was inside. 

Lando had been the last one to walk down the hallway. ''Hurry up, Norris!'' She exclaimed, her hand motioning for him to pick up the pace. 

''Why? I'm on time.'' He replied a bit agitated, it was a bit too early in the morning for him to be scolded by his friend. 

Y/N didn't respond to him, simply pushing him into the room and locking the door, making several drivers look up from where they were sitting or standing. 

''Y/N, what are you doing?'' Sebastian spoke up, curious as to what she was up to this time. 

The young woman urged Zhou to get up from his seat and to stand next to her. The man felt a bit embarrassed, but followed her orders. Y/N stood in the place where their director normally sat when he answered the drivers' questions or listened to their concerns. She placed both her hands on the desk, looking like a teacher that was about to scold her students.

''As we all know, Mr. Hamilton over there is widely accepted as the driver with the best style,'' she pointed at Lewis, who nervously smiled as the other drivers glanced at him, ''but that's not why we are gathered here today! We are gathered here today to decide who his successor is. Who is the most stylish person after Lewis? That's a question that we will settle once and for all, here, now, in this room.'' She finished her monologue. 

''Me and Mr. Guanyu found ourselves in a battle for the title of second most stylish driver of the grid, so I challenged him. We would wear our best outfits today and have our lovely colleagues vote for who had the best one. But as you all can see, me and Mr. Dior over here, are wearing the same exact fit.'' Y/N waved her hand between herself and Zhou. 

''So, instead of you deciding who is wearing the best outfit, you'll be voting for the person you think is wearing the outfit best.'' She concluded. 

The crowd had mixed reactions: some looked confused, some seemed entertained by what Y/N had told them and others appeared to not care. 

Kevin was the first one to speak, getting up from his seat and walking towards the door. ''Y/N, this is not the time to do this, we're here to talk about the race.'' He was about to turn the lock when her voice stopped him. 

''Magnussen, you're being a party pooper- do you want to be a party pooper?'' She looked at him sternly, trying to convince him to sit back down and go along with her antics. ''Don't pretend like you're not secretly enjoying this.'' The Haas driver rolled his eyes, but defeatedly put his arms up and went back to his seat. 

''Alright, we'll go around the room and each person says either my name or Zhou's.'' She explained further, moving in front of the desk. 

Checo's hand went up in the air. ''Can we also pass?'' He asked, looking at Y/N. 

''If you refuse to choose, we will consider it sexist and racist as I am a woman and Zhou's Asian.'' She answered him, garnering chuckles around the room and a nervous-looking Zhou who hoped people took it as a joke, since he didn't want to be making enemies as a rookie. 

Y/N clapped her hands together. ''Okay, we'll start with our party pooper, KMag! Me or Zhou?'' 

''Zhou, since he didn't yell at me and didn't call me a party pooper.'' He chose, making the female driver narrow her eyes at him. ''Alright, 1 for Zhou.'' 

The person sat next to Kevin was his teammate, Mick. ''Schumacher!'' He was about to speak, but the woman interrupted him. ''Before you choose, I took inspiration from one of your dad's outfits.'' Y/N tried influencing his decision. 

''I was gonna choose you anyway.'' He told her, making her jump up as her and Zhou had an equal score. ''Thank you, Mickie.'' She smiled brightly at him. 

''Valtteri?'' 

''I choose Zhou, I'm loyal to my teammate.'' He answered, smiling at the man in question. 

''Lando?'' 

''Zhou, because he doesn't humiliate me in front of the entire internet.'' The McLaren driver said, referring to their regular back-and-forths on social media. 

Y/N rolled her eyes. ''You're such a crybaby, Rumplestiltskin.'' Her words caused Lando to give her the middle finger, but it was all in good fun. 

''Anyway, Daniel?'' 

The Australian pretended to think hard about his answer, looking in-between her and Zhou. ''I'm gonna go with Y/N, cause I'm kinda scared what she'll do to me if I don't choose her.'' His answer got a laugh out of the other drivers, some of them nodding their heads. 

Y/N herself couldn't help but break a smile at Daniel's words, happy her friend had chosen her. ''Okay, next one.'' 

The voting was nearing its end and there was a tie, 9 people had chosen Zhou and 9 others had voted for Y/N. It all came down to one person. 

Sir Lewis Hamilton. 

Despite some of the drivers' dislike for the bet at the beginning of the meeting, everyone had gotten pretty invested. ''The maestro himself has to choose his next prodigy.'' Daniel joked, looking at the 7x world champion. 

Lewis shifted in his seat, not too fond of having the last vote on the matter. ''Can't I just say both of you? The two of you look very good.'' 

''No, mate! You have to choose.'' George argued, the others agreeing with him. 

Y/N was quite sure that Lewis would choose her. She was much closer to him than Zhou and the pair had talked about fashion before, discussing how it was a great way to express yourself. She was already designing Zhou's helmet in her mind. 

''Well, then… I guess Zhou.'' 

Her mouth dropped open, shocked that the senior driver had chosen the rookie over her. She wasn't the only one that seemed surprised by his choice, Seb turned around in his seat and Pierre's eyes had widened, mouthing ''wow''. 

The young man next to her, lightly slapped her arm. ''I'll send the design to your team next week, Y/N.'' He teasingly laughed, a big smirk present on his face. 

''This is a joke, right? I can't be number 3!'' She dramatically stated. 

''Hey! What's wrong with being the number 3?'' Daniel looked up, feigning being offended by her words. 

She was about to give another monologue about betrayal and how men are all the same, but several loud knocks on the door interrupted that from happening. Y/N sighed, but took a few steps to turn the lock. 

Their director didn't look too happy. ''Why was the door locked?'' 

''We were having an orgy.'' She sarcastically answered him, not planning on explaining to him why she had blocked the door from opening. 

''Y/N!'' 

The actual driver's briefing began and soon enough most drivers were already dozing off, some of them even wishing Y/N and Zhou's bet had taken a bit longer. They wouldn't admit it to the young woman, but ever since she'd made her arrival to these briefings, her unserious antics had made them much more bearable. Some drivers had even started looking forward to the meetings, because the girl always had something up her sleeve. 

As soon as the last issue was resolved, the meeting ended and everyone was out the door. When Zhou saw Y/N talking with Mick and Esteban, he swiftly moved next to Lewis. ''Hey, man,'' he patted the Brit's shoulder, ''thanks for that, I really appreciate it.'' 

''No problem,'' Lewis smiled, ''we made a deal, I'm keeping my word.'' 

Zhou nodded. ''Yeah, you vote for me and I let you help me design her helmet.'' He recalled the promise they had made a day earlier. 

''Great! I was thinking we just collect all kinds of embarrassing pictures of her and plaster them all around her helmet…''

''Great! I was thinking we just collect all kinds of embarrassing pictures of her and plaster them all around her helmet…''

''Great! I was thinking we just collect all kinds of embarrassing pictures of her and plaster them all around her helmet…''

#f1 fic #f1 fics #f1 x reader #formula 1 fic #f1 x oc #f1 female driver #female f1 driver #zhou guanyu x reader #zhou guanyu x oc #f1 grid x oc #f1 grid x reader

[writingcold]

Hello!  Welcome to Chapter 3.1 of CD&FE.  

Pairing: Jake X Female Reader 

18+ Only! Heavy adult situations ahead.

Summary: This is an AU that starts with the release of GVF’s first EP, Black Smoke Rising, and follows along life paths over the course of twenty plus years.  Part 3.1: Another time jump, nearly two full years.  One word summary - time.

Content warnings: Language, smoking, drinking, sexual situations.  Oh so much sex in this one.  Oral, anal play, masturbation (m), talk of birth control.  

Word Count: approx. 7.5K 

Once again, a huge thank you to @edgingthedarkness and @takenbythemaddness - they really are the best.  *mwah*

CD&FE, Part 3.1, Her POV

     “Be safe,”  he said, his mouth hovering just over mine but not crossing the microspace that would land those lips to me in the way I so very wanted him to.  

     “Yeah,”  I answered, unable to hide the hitch in my chest.  “Don’t do anything stupid, please.”

      I heard them calling his name from the doors.  Time was up.  He dropped his chin and began to retreat.  A knot the size of the state seemed to appear in my chest as he took a look over his shoulder to yell back he’d be right there.  I watched as his chest expanded.  He was struggling the same as I was.  I worried bites into my bottom lip as he brought his hand to my face, the pad of his thumb crossing my lip to get me to stop. 

      “I will see this beautiful face again,”  he said, all of his heat radiating out to blast across my frame and envelop me in all of him.

      I watched him smile down a hard swallow before he turned away and disappeared into the world beyond…

~20 Months Later~

      I had been sitting in meetings all day and my legs ached with every minute.  I was no longer a team leader, having been promoted to management and editing designer.  I oversaw several teams.  I was good at my job.  I had built a reputation that was solid and had a talent that was sought out by established clients as well as new faces to our company.  Yes - our.  I had shares in this place now, and having actual stakes in the game was driving me towards goals I never thought I would ever entertain as possible.

     I would be lying if I said I didn’t date.  I would be a bold faced liar if I said I didn’t date often.  I was by no means sleeping with all of them, but it was like I had an appetite that Jake had left me with that could not be quelled.  At first, he sent random assed texts of greetings.  Almost like he didn’t know what else to say.  But what was worse was the silence that followed.  Perhaps I was trying to fill that void.  I met a lot of nice people.  I had sex with a wide variety of those people.  None of them, however, were him.  At the end of it all, my skin did not call out to any of them.  My words may have thanked them kindly, but my thoughts were always away.

      I was listening to pending fiscal needs as my eyes drifted closed.  I could still hear his sounds.  I could still feel the way he moved within me, sans condom.  I could still fucking smell him at times.  What a way to live.  To have Jake Kiszka haunting your ass at all times of the day and night.

      It was a rainy day in April.  The wind would whip against the tall windows with a crash, sending everyone in the little conference room a jolt of surprise.  I felt a notification vibrate in my phone and I thanked whatever god there was to excuse myself to handle whatever the situation could be on the other end.  Secretly, I was hoping it would be bad enough to keep me out of the rest of the meetings of the day.  I trailed into my office before I unlocked my phone, sliding behind my desk and bringing my screen to life before actually looking at the text.

      Jake.

      .

     I sat back in my chair with a heavy sigh.

     .

     Jake: If I were to fly into the city in a few days, would you be there?

     .

     Really?  My eyes roll to the back of my head.  This man’s timing was…  Goddamnit.

     .

     I returned to my meetings like a big girl and prayed that the rest of the day would go quickly.  Finally - we wrapped closer to six pm than I would’ve liked, but I was my kind, professional self, putting away all my shit and double checking my schedule for the next day before grabbing my light trench and bag and waved as I strolled out the door.  I met Patty and his professor friends for drinks and a light dinner.  It felt good to just fade into the background, letting Patty carry the conversation and just soak up his presence.  After my last run in with Jake, he had listened to me lament.  He had listened to me attempt to explain what was between me and that man.  He just teased me, but let me lean on him despite not truly understanding what the hell was wrong with his dearest friend.

      At home, I ran a bath.  Something I had not done since Jake had run one for us.  The little book of poems was still on the bath tray.

      “Claim me your safe harbor, and I will ever be faithful.”

      I sucked in a trembling breath as I dropped my robe and stepped into the heavily scented water.  I tugged the tray towards me to set my phone down.  I had wondered for weeks if that line had been a misstep on his part.  If he had not meant to say it, but in the moment, could not help it to pass through his mouth.  The corners of my lips turned down.  No.  Not a misstep.  We had shared so much - kept our words honest.  My heart constricted just as it had when he said those words.  I wanted to repeat them right back.  I wanted to whisper and shout them and sing them if I had to, for there was nothing more true than that statement.

       “Fuck,”  I sigh as I unlocked my phone to look at the message once more.

       It was almost eerie - the timing of the text.  The timing of his availability was…

      I open the text to respond, weighing my words carefully.

     .

      Y/n:  I’m leaving for vacation.

     .

      I sent it.  I set the phone back down and rested back.  There was no way he would get back –

     .

     Jake:  With a partner?

     .

      Y/n:  No. Alone.

     .

      I bit into my upper lip.  I wasn’t meaning to be evasive, but seriously.  I got nearly a month off a year, plus more time for holidays.  I treasured this time.  And yes - most of these vacations, I was fucking alone.

     .

     Jake:  Where are you going?     .

     He was about to discover something new about me and I wasn’t sure if he would like it.  Fuck.  I blew out my cheeks as I typed into the phone.

     .

     Y/n:  North.  Cottage near Duluth.  

     .

     The three little dots danced as he typed a reply.  Those dots stopped.  They started again.  Then stopped - again.

     .

     Jake: No Patrick?

     .

     Y/n: Alone means alone.  

     .

     Jake: Sounds

     .

      I grimaced at the text.  It was obviously not finished.  I waited.  The bathwater was getting cold.  I waited another five minutes before I set the phone back safely on the tray and got out with a shiver.  Just as I was wrapping my fuzzy robe around me, my phone was blaring out that ring and I let it go for nearly a full cycle before I answered.

      “Would it be rude if I said I would like to invite myself on your little getaway?”  he said after I uttered my hello.

      “Yes,”  I responded, grabbing a towel for my hair and drifting out of the bathroom.

      I grin at his laugh.  I made my way to the living room and took my spot on the couch, feet up on the coffee table.

      “Where is this cottage, if I may be so bold,”  he pressed, sounding like he was walking.

      “North of the city with a pretty view of Island Lake and just a few miles from the big water.”

      He hummed.  “Why are you going alone?”

      “I thought you wanted to join me?”

      “Tease.”

       It was my turn to laugh, and I did, feeling his smile cross through the phone.  “I discovered a few years ago that I like taking my vacations alone.  I don’t have to answer to anyone unless I want to.”

       There is silence on the other end, but I can hear him still moving at a brisk pace.  The idea of having more than a few hours with him was filtering through my brain and I could not find the words that would convey that interest.  

      “Okay, out with it.  What are you doing?”  I asked after I pulled the phone away to glare at the huffing on the other end.

       “I’m trying to make a flight.”

       “Home?”

       “You.”

        My lips parted as I inhaled sharply.  

       “I’m leaving London now.  I have a layover in Boston then into Minneapolis.”

       My gut sank.  On one hand, he was taking a chance that I would even be in town when he arrived, but on the other, he just kind of assumed I would be able to even see him - unattached.  Ouch.

       “How long do you have?”  I found myself asking, leaning forward.

       I hear him suck his breath through his teeth.  “Weeks.  We’re on break for the next month.”

      I squeezed my eyes shut.  Time.  The one thing we’ve never had.  My core whimpered at the thought of actual time.  “How does a cottage on a lake sound?  I’ve got it for ten days.”

       I heard a soft curse pass across the phone, but there was a smile attached to it.  Then there was another curse, this time it was a bit rougher.  “My flight gets in at after eleven Friday night.  When do you leave?”

       “Saturday morning,”  I said quietly, knowing right well it would be closer to midday before I’d get my packing done and head out the door.

       “I’ll be there.”

     I had taken Friday off to make sure I would pack, easing into my nearly fifteen days off.  I had Joni Mitchell playing in the background as I checked in with the family.  Patrick stopped by with lunch.  We were sitting at the kitchen table when my phone chimed with Jake’s notification.  He looked at my phone on the other side of the room and back to me as I just focused on my coffee between my fingers.

      “Work?”  he asked.

      “Why would you say that?”  I asked back, rocking from side to side on my stool.

      “Because you’re always working,”  Pat grumbled, before looking up at me.  He turned his body towards me, his eyes holding a wicked gleam and a smile that matched.  “Who the fuck are you taking with you?  I thought you were going alone again.”

      “I was going alone,”  I replied as I moved to get the phone.  “Now, I’ll have some company.”   

      “Fun company?”

      I raised my eyebrow as I looked down at the phone.  I couldn’t help the grin that hit, nor the flush that painted itself on my cheeks.

      “Only one man that does that to you,”  Patrick said with a pair of hand slaps to the counter.  

      “Yep,”  I sighed, rereading the words that he would be at my doorstep before midnight.  

      My eyes fixed onto the time - shit.  That meant less than twelve hours.  I had butterflies all over the place and my dear friend could feel each one of them from across the room.  His eyes fucking sparkled at me.  SPARKLED.  Bastard.  

      “You’ll be careful, right?”  he said as he was getting his stuff together.  “I mean - still let me know when you’re heading out.  It’d be a shame if he killed you out on the water or in the woods or something.”

       I rolled my eyes.  That was our deal - every vacation alone, anytime I headed out to do anything, I sent him a text on my way out and he’d expect one when I was safe.  It got him though knowing I was alone in the great wide world.  Got me through, too, knowing I had some kind of safety net.

      “I think you just like taking your breaks at this time knowing that I can’t leave during this point in the term,”  he grumbled.

      “Well, if you worked in the real world like a normal grown up…”  

      I watched as he left with a hug and a wave, with a last second whorish comment to get under my skin in his playful way.  I stood before my wall of albums and picked a Beatles album before heading back to the bedroom to dig out my luggage.  There were a few delays with calls from work.  I redirected or took care of issues accordingly before getting back to my task at hand.  I did call the cottage owners to inform them that there would be a second guest, instead of just me.  I knew there would be a tiny extra cost, but honestly…  Who the fuck cared if Jake was the second guest.

       I debated just how much I wanted to take.  It was more like what I wanted to take that was tripping me up.  Alone - it would have been easy.  But now…  Did I want to take anything pretty, lacy, frilly, slutty…  I opted for simple instead.  Sort of.  Of course I had to take something little and sheer and a touch pretty.  

      I made the round of phone calls to family before tucking into putting the finishing touches on the packing and putting everything by the door to just be ready to go.  I combed through the kitchen, eating up the last few leftovers to be rid of them before tucking in with a book and a movie.  Jake had texted that he would get an uber over to the house.  My eyes kept darting over to check the time, feeling like it was reversing instead of getting closer to the midnight mark.  I was just beginning to drift, warmed through by my favorite throw blanket and lulled by the outro music of the movie when there was a knock on the door.  I tried to focus on the time that was on the phone, but it felt like my eyes were crossing with exhaustion.  How the hell had I missed a few hours when the minutes were just dragging by a few moments before? 

       The soft knock came again as I rammed my shin into the coffee table.  I blurted out a sharp curse as I tried to maintain my feet.  I grimaced, knowing that the strike would cause a mark.  I fumbled to the door, sure I looked frightening and not the sexy kitten that he was perhaps expecting.  Yeah.  Not this night, precious.  

      I opened the door to find a very tired, handsome man with a sleepy smile and a mustache.  I reached for him and he pulled me close.  What was it about him that caused me to melt and swoon and feel like all the armor that I needed to keep in place to keep me safe disappeared without hesitation or care.  His mouth brushed against mine before landing in heat and passion.  Every molecule of me was lit on fire as he wove his fingers into the back of my t-shirt to be as close to me as possible.  It was as if no time had passed from our last encounter.  

      I tugged him over the threshold to close the door and he pressed me into the wall with a groan after he set his guitar case to the side.  He gave me just enough room to look into his face, really look and take in the weariness of his eyes but the light that he harbored there.  Just for me.  I couldn’t help but to touch his face, to keep my hands on him like he would disappear if I let him go.  He seemed to be feeling it as well as his hands ghosted over my arms, my waist, my cheeks, as he planted tiny, welcoming kisses to my lips.

      He finally said a raspy ‘hello’ as he started to slide his backpack from his shoulders.  I frown at the fact that all he is carrying is said backpack and guitar case.

      “Do you not have anything else to take along?”  I asked as he tucked the pack in next to my bags.

      “Nope.  I may have to stop and get  a few things.  Most of my stuff is home already,”  he said as I took him by the hand into the living room to turn off the tv.  

      “Hungry?”  I asked as he pulled back close to him.

      “No,”  he whispered against my cheek.  “Shower and a bed sounds perfect right now.”

      I hummed against his skin as leaned back into me.  “Why don’t you go shower and I’ll meet you in bed.”

      He grinned as he pointed down the hall as if he right well did not know where he was going.  Jake might’ve only been in my home once, but those hours were spent well in my room.  I watched as he seemed to drag himself to get his pack and head where he wanted to go.  I cleaned up my nest and grabbed a couple glasses of water.  By the time I locked up and had lights out, he was standing under the spray in my bathroom.  I ducked in to brush my teeth and wash my face.  All the while, I was breathing in the smell of his soap, his shampoo.  I stripped down to just the t-shirt and undies and turned down the bed.  

      He was toweling his hair when he appeared in nothing but his boxer briefs.  I was snuggled down and drowsy as I took him in.  Soft in all the right places.  Toned in all the favorite spots.  Lord, that man’s thighs flexed as he turned back to finish out his sopping wet hair.  I might have drooled a bit at the sight before me.  He reached for his water with a ‘thanks’ when he returned.  He slid in between the sheets and reached for my frame to draw close.

      “Would you be insulted if I said I just want to make out and fall asleep with your tongue in my mouth?”  he asked with a smile.

      “Sounds dangerous,”  I quipped as I pretended to think about it.  

      I didn’t have to think too hard though, he rolled me back and invaded my space in the most tender way.  God, I loved how this man kissed me.  I loved his taste and how he touched me when he kissed me.  Yeah.  Making out and sleep sounded like a good plan.

     Waking to Jake is an otherworldly experience.  Sure, I had woken to plenty of lovers in my bed across the years.  But I had only woken to Jake once.   To look at him, lips parted to emit soft snores and his features completely relaxed is a whole different kind of pretty.  I couldn’t help but to lean in and kiss his forehead before I got up to head to the bathroom.  Relieved and teeth brushed, I was brushing my hair when I saw Jake moving in the room behind me.  There was no way he could hide the huge bone in his underwear as he walked behind me.  I watched as he hooked his thumbs into the thin fabric and walked out of them without stopping.

     “Good morning,”  I managed as he grabbed hold of my hips and ground into my bottom.  “I see someone got some good rest.”  

     “I’ve missed seeing this ass,”  he whispered into my hair.  “Look at how beautiful you are, Y/n.  Look at how beautiful you make me feel when you’re like this.”

      I watched as he drew his one hand around to the front of my hip, dragging my shirt up over my breasts in one long pass.  Shirt was discarded immediately as he wrapped one arm around my middle to nuzzle down into my neck.

      “May I fuck you this fine morning?”  he asked, sucking and lapping at whatever skin he could reach.

      “If you don’t, I’m going to leave you here during my vacation,”  I growled as he started to crouch down, tugging my panties down with him.

      My hands came to rest on the counter as he bit into my ass cheeks, soothing the marks with gentle kisses, only to bite once more.  He parted my legs with one hand and swiped my folds with the other.

      “Fuck, you’re already that wet for me?”  he asked before sliding his tongue across me for a taste.

       “Jake,”  I gasped as he lapped a second and third time.  “Just in.  Get that fucker into me now.”

       I was quick to shove everything on the counter to the side as he pulled my hips back.  His hand threaded through my hair and pressed me down to open all the way for him.  There was no question I was about to be pounded.  I heard the tear of a condom wrapper and felt the corner of my mouth curl.  He was nothing if not consistent.  I turned my eyes to the mirror to watch that man become unhinged as he slid his length into my dripping pussy.  The jaw drop, the lips pulled tight across his teeth, the fucking eyes turning into smoldering pools of lust made my core suck his cock deep within me and hold on for pure joy.  

       My body knew - he was not going to last long this first time.  I needed to soak up every second that he could give me.  His fingers were digging into my flesh in a near painful grasp as he slammed his dick in as deep as I would allow.  He was already twitching and pulsing, his breath hitched with each strike.

       “Pet that clit, baby,”  he demanded, our gaze meeting as he ground into me.  

       I struggled to get space enough to reach down, but god, the moment I touched, he swiveled in such a way that made a sound escape my throat that sent instant color to my cheeks.  He did it again and again, that same move as I jacked my hard clit off.  It didn’t take much before I was afraid my legs were going to give way and I was coming undone around him.  He let out a barrage of grunts as his thrusts became erratic.

       “Give it to me,”  he said, his voice full of strain.  “Fucking mark me.”

       I looked into those eyes and I was forcibly shoved into a realm that was not my own.  My mouth dropped open as my breath carried out every ounce of my pleasure.  I could feel my cum dripping down my thighs as he let out a near animalistic hiss.  He came hard into me, jolting my body once more into a euphoric state that held me in a grip tighter than anything I had felt before.

       He landed sloppy kisses against my spine as we slowly came down from our highs.  I felt the moment he fell from my cunt and whimpered over the loss.  He breathed out a warm laugh as I struggled to regulate my breathing under him.  

       “Damn, I almost forgot how good we are at that,”  he remarked as he reached for the drawer that held the washcloths.  

       I found it endearing that he remembered where everything was in the bathroom.  We were slow to clean up, holding on to each other with gentle touches and warm kisses.  We skated out of the house with to-go cups of coffee and bags in the car.  I snapped a picture of us at the car to send to Patrick to let him know we were on our way.  His comment, of course, was all about big dicks and wet cunts.  What a slut.

      We stopped at one of those big box outdoor sports stores so that he could get a few flannels, an actual coat because it was going to be cold on the lake, and hiking boots.  He also asked to stop at the bookstore, since he laid eyes on my few books that I was taking for quiet time.  He walked out with three titles that made my eyes roll.  Pirates, history and snooze seemed to be the topics of the day.  We got on the I-35 and took off like a shot.  Traffic was already thinned by those looking to get away from the cities, so it was an easy drive to Duluth.  We stopped for essentials at the grocery, forming a loose menu for a few days.  To see him in such a domestic setting was different.  It wasn’t that I didn’t know him, but at the same time, I really did not know anything of him being out in the actual world.  It was a strange realization to strike when looking at produce.  

      There was no hesitancy, however, in actually being with this person I could only describe as a near-stranger.  We had fucked.  We had fucked hard and passionately.  We had shared honest words of feelings.  But had we actually been out on a date - a real one where we actually dress to impress the other and pretend to eat a dinner but can’t because of the butterflies in our stomachs?  Had we shared space with nothing happening between us?

      No.

      No, we had not.  

      And yet.  Here we were about to spend ten days with no one else around.

      Ah.

      There were the butterflies;

      As if on cue.

      With the shopping done, I brought up the directions once more to follow out to Island Lake.  Jake was quiet.  I wondered if he was feeling apprehension.  Or maybe excitement.  God, I hoped he was feeling the excitement that I felt beginning to prickle and simmer in my own bones.  Turning off the interstate to the two lane highway was enough to set my skin to jumping with anticipation, but to turn off the highway to an unmarked, barely there road with snow that was still clinging to the ditch-line made me smile.  In fact, many of the evergreens were still holding tiny lines of snow frosting and ice.  It was a fading winter wonderland and it was beautiful.

       The small cottage was on the island portion of Island Lake.  We had to navigate across a one lane bridge and through some seriously dense woods, but there it was - all wood sided with cream white trim and a rich green roof.  The deck had been cleared of snow, as had the lower deck that was closer to the water’s edge.  I couldn’t hide the smile as I parked.  It was like my whole face was buzzing with electricity.

       “This is…”  Jake’s voice was hushed as he shifted in the seat.  He was leaning forward, sunglasses pushed to the top of his head, eyes taking everything in.  “This is lovely.  Perfect.”

       “It’s way better than where I was this time last year.  That place - I actually left two days in it was so bad.  Should we go inside to get the lay of the land first, or should we go ahead and get our bags and drag everything in?”  I asked, rubbing my hands together as the heat of the car was already fading.

       “Why don’t we get the lay of the land first.  Everything should be fine out here,”   he said with a smile.

       “I’m hoping that it’s as pretty inside as it is on the outside,”  I replied as I pushed open my door before bracing for the cold wind that was skating through the air to greet us.

      I pulled up the cottage key on my phone that had been sent to me as Jake shivered without his coat, but patiently waited.  I quietly apologized for not having it ready ahead of time, but pushed the door open and waved him in first to get out of the cold.  To say we both froze at the entrance would be accurate.  Inside was better than the outside, wrapped in clean lines of natural wood, the softness of quilts and fuzzy blankets, and it all seemed to be something out of a damn greeting card.  

      The kitchen was not big, but functional.  There was a tiny dining room that flowed into the small living room.  Floor to ceiling windows framed the lake view while the walls were wrapped in light washed wood that held pictures and artifacts of the region.  There was a fireplace and a small tv that rounded out the comfy living space.  The bedroom sent nothing but cozy vibes through me with its king sized bed, a heavy denim quilt over the top that was lined with dusty red flannel and more than enough pillows to sink into.  The small bathroom was fine and functional.  Guess the bathroom sex at home was to be it for the vacation.  Oh well.

      We wrestled our bags and groceries in, putting everything away before falling onto the couch together.  I felt like my eyes were falling closed before I even fully settled down into the lush, cozy cushions.  Jake threaded his fingers through mine.  I looked over at him and sure enough, his eyes were shut with his head resting back on the pillows.  I felt the smile bubble up from my gut as I reached over and booped his nose before I could stop myself.  

      “Oh my god, you didn’t just,”  he grumbled, grabbing hold of me and swinging me around so that we were horizontal on the cushions.  I might’ve squeaked more than a little bit as he tickled my ribs until he wrapped around me to hold me still.  “There.  Trapped.  What’cha gonna do now, little mouse?”

      He had me totally immobilized: arms around my torso and arms, legs around my hips and thighs.  And it felt good.  Too good.  I raised up the best that I could and looked down into his playful expression.  Jake was one of those men who just had it.  He could probably be way less handsome, but still make anyone believe that they were hot shit just due to his charisma, his grit, and most of all his confidence.  He was by no means arrogant, but he knew himself, knew what he offered to anyone at any given time.  With no way to really move anything, I grinned and captured his lips in between my own.  He did not instantly let go until I started to feel myself melt into him, deepening the kiss until we were both struggling to catch our breaths.  He hummed against my cheek as I nuzzled into his neck, finally able to bring my hands up to thread into his hair.

      “Hello,”  he purred before tugging my lip into his mouth once again.  

      “I’m glad you’re here,”  I said simply.

      “I’m glad you invited me,”  he replied, tucking my hair behind my ear.  

      I laughed as I had to worm my way down his body in order to get my feet under me.  I put an over the top kiss to his exposed tummy before I pushed myself away.  I was rewarded with a groan as he tried to swipe for me once more.  

     “So, confession time,”  I said as I fixed up a glass of water.

     “That sounds ominous,”  he returned as he walked towards the kitchen.

     I paused to take a drink, my eyes on him like he was in for it.  “I’m not one of those people who have to have something to do every day of vacation.  In fact, I need a few days of just nothing.”

      His brow furrowed for a long moment, eyes turned down as if he was thinking about what I said.  “No four am wake up calls for a ten mile hike before breakfast?  No driving like an idiot at high rates of speed to not be late for a scheduled guided tour?  No…”

      “No.  Well.  At least not every day.”  I watched as he processed the words.  “Is that okay?  I mean, I don’t even have anything scoped out yet.  I was just hoping to ease into things up here.”

      I watched as his body physically relaxed.  “Sounds perfect.  Everything on tour is measured and scheduled and regulated.  Even downtime is planned and timed on a fucking calendar.”

      I blew out a breath that I was holding.  “So, tomorrow it would be all right if we just stayed in?  Read a little, cook a little?”

      “Fuck a little,”  he sighed with a devilish grin.  “I like it.”

      I dug out my little set of Bluetooth speakers and ran some music on my phone while he started to dig around the kitchen.  To watch him cook was sexy.  His eyes moved over what was available and his hands just settled into what needed to be done.  He told me to sit and start to figure out what we wanted to do on full day two - perhaps something on the water?  Wasn’t there a cute little zoo?  I accepted a rich glass of wine from him as he bent down to kiss my mouth.  

      The scene was very domestic.  There was no denying it.  It was a feeling that I could get used to all too easily with him.  I found a few things that might be interesting, more than a few art museums, of course, the big mansion run by the university, tours of all sorts…  My eyes skirted back to the man that was working to feed me and I caught him with a grin looking back at me.  

      “Is this weird?”  he asked before taking a sip of his wine.

      I shrugged.  “I don’t know about weird.  It feels like…  I don’t know.  But it’s not weird.”

     “Somehow that leaves me more confused,”  he snorted a soft laugh.  

     Huge, predatory bird sized butterflies attacked my chest as I looked across the rim of my glass at him.  Fuck.  The moment was calling for us to be actual real humans towards each other.  We were good at that.  At least in those moments after the high of sex had worn down to a simmer, and honesty was the only path that would bring a smile to either of us.

      “In trying not to sound like a professional asshole here,”  I started, feeling like I was about to jump out of my skin, “I, um…  I think this is where we get to actually know each other, yeah?  I mean, we’ve talked childhood stuff.  School stuff, too.  Family shit and friends.  But all of it was just the starting stuff.”

      “All right.  Then tell me about your job.  Let’s start there.”

      “My job?”

      “Yeah.  Makes up a lot of your time.  I have no clue what you actually do…”

      I couldn’t help the big eye pop but settled in, moving to the end of the counter to be closer to him as I tried to explain what I did.  He asked a few questions here and there - especially when I said that I was a full partner in the company.  He had not realized that I had gotten a promotion.  I explained that I was not just leading teams on projects, but actively seeking and hosting new clients, as well as having final say on the directions of projects.  Those projects were no longer just venue based.  I was working with much larger clients.  Yes.  I was doing well.  I had worked my ass off for it though.

      I slipped in behind him as he was working on the cooktop, sauteeing veggies.  I figured why not clean up as he cooks - less to do after.  I felt him take a quarter step back, just to move nearer as he was talking about the next direction of a pending album.  Although most of the tracks were already written, they were still working on an overall concept before lyrics and then stitching together the whole show to the music.  He was being vague, but that was fine.  I just honestly enjoyed hearing him talk about his process.  He was trying to describe going from these huge sonic movements to something a little bit - simpler, less amplified.  

      “Accustic, then,”  I snarked as I continued doing dishes.  

      He leaned further back into me, our backs lining up to press against each other.  He merely turned his face a fraction and was able to brush his lips against my shoulder.  I dared to look into the depths of those eyes and felt an instant wave of swoon that overtook the air in my lungs.  He pressed his mouth to mine in a fleeting kiss.  It wasn’t enough.  It wasn’t ever enough, was it?  He leaned in and I savored the taste of wine on his tongue with a deep hum in my chest.  Before I could stop myself, I reached up and around him with dripping hands, getting us both wet.  My back arched as he deepened the kiss hungrily.  He turned to pull me flush against him, shoving his tongue deep into my mouth with a husky growl.  

       Both hands landed on his ass as he blindly pushed the hot pan off the heat and turned off the burner before walking me out of the kitchen.  “I’m not so hungry for food,”  he whispered before our kiss crashed back together.  

       He pawed at my sweater, fingers tugged at the hem while I made quick work at his t-shirt.  Skin.  Hot, supple skin beneath my fingers set a wave of lust between my thighs that sent shockwaves through my entire system.  Yeah. This was what…

       Jake pulled at my leggings and I shimmied to give him a bit of assistance.  Fuck this man could kiss me like no other - setting loose a raving lunatic whose sole purpose was to be fucked silly.  Clothes were gone for both of us and he lifted me to the edge of the table.  He paused briefly as if seeing if the table was where he needed me to be.  Our eyes met with a naked fervor.  He fell to his knees before me, hooking his arms under my thighs to pry them as wide as I would allow.

       “I crave…”  he whispered as he planted a kiss on the inside of my knee.  “No one is like you.  I fucking crave you…”

       I watched, mouth hanging open as he dug his tongue into my exposed folds like a man starved.  For a long moment, I wondered if I had heard him correctly, but then… fucking magic and all thoughts turned to pixie dust as he devoured my cunt.  It was not that I had forgotten how he did this to me.  How he seemed to turn me into some kind of fluid with the consistency of jelly that he could manipulate to his whim.  It was more like how I had to deliberately forget how he did this so I could enjoy much lesser mortals trying to replicate his man’s mouth and fingers.  

       Just as I began to quiver under his touch, he turned and sunk his teeth into the flesh of my thigh.  I might’ve blurted out a curse as he laughed to catch my attention once more.  I reached for his face but he retreated just enough to keep out of touch.  The corner of his glossy lips curled up as he swiped a finger down through my folds.

       “Is it still fuck any hole?”  he whispered before placing a soothing kiss to the inflamed skin that he marked only moments before.

      I hummed as I bent over him.  He tilted his face towards mine enough that I could skate my tongue across his mouth.  He let out a pussy scented breath as I landed a kiss to his brow.

       “May I fuck any hole for you?”  I asked before plunging my tongue deep within his mouth like it was a cock - pressing in and out with a pace that made him groan.

       His hands wrapped around my thighs and gave my whole body a bounce as he struggled against my kiss.  “I’d never say no to you.  Now if I can get back to my meal,”  he whispered as I nibbled at his puffy lip.

       With a firm hand, he pushed me all the way back to lay flat on the table.  I expected him to go right in once more, but instead sat back on his heels, eyes squarely on my pussy.  He traced the lines and folds and dips and velvet of my all.  I could feel my legs begin to tremble with anticipation once more as he rested his head against my knee.  He swirled a finger at my core before dipping it down to my back entrance.  I heard a soft hum escape him as he finally began to move, leaving a trail of tiny, wet kisses against my thigh that led right to my clit once more.  He was killing me with his talents and he knew it.  I came hard but he ignored my recoil, opting to lap across all my intimate parts as I cooled.  He brushed his cum glazed fingers across my belly and found purchase as I threaded my own fingers with his to hold tight.  

       In the stillness, I heard it.  I started to sit up, but he held me down.  “Jake,”  I groaned, tipping my chin up to the ceiling.  “Just fuck me already…”

       He was sliding his hand over himself as he jacked himself while on his knees.  “Don’t wanna lose the view.”

       He leaned forward again, tongue out to send me back over the edge.  To know he was getting us both off with those hands…  fuck.  I let his hand go and he immediately returned it to my core, sliding three fingers in to coax a groan that made my whole body flush.  I was desperate to see his face, but could only catch glimpses of the curve of his cheek or his hairline as he began to become unhinged against me.   He curled his fingers as I heard his pace quicking on himself.

      “Give me one more,”  he grunted thickly against me.

      The vibration was enough to begin my withdrawal into a pause.  He sucked my engorged clit in hard, the sound sent waves of lust into my system as if lighting the wick to explode.  He was whimpering as he came and I couldn’t withhold my shot, blowing into his face and mouth and hair as my back bowed against the table.  I gasped out in whorish fashion and he laughingly joined in as he slowed his work to bring me down gently.  He returned to resting his head against the inside of my knee, allowing me to sit up but still holding fast to his hand.

      “Why did you do that?”  I asked, letting my body fold and meet our foreheads together.

      “I didn’t want to stop to get a condom,”  he answered, his breath slowly returning to normal.

      I let out a huff before I kissed his brow.  “Okay, I appreciate that you are conscientious of this, but I’m on the depo shot.  If you feel comfortable enough, you don’t have to use one of those things with me.”

      His eyes were slow to meet mine.  “It’s current?”

      “Current?”  

      He swallowed with a nod.  “Are you up to date on the dosage?”

      “Like clockwork, Jake,”  I answered.  “Afraid of getting one of your groupies-”

      The heat that flared in his eyes made me stop.  “You’re not a fucking groupie, Y/n.”

      I let out a soft breath to recollect myself.  “Okay, afraid of getting one of your ‘friends’ knocked up?”

      “Just not the time for any of that,”  he said dryly as he stood up.

      I watched him walk into the kitchen to retrieve a towel and wash his hands before returning to me.  I grimaced as I came off the table to wash up.  He collected our tossed around clothes before yanking on his ink black briefs with a smirk.  

      “Now, I’m hungry,”  he declared as he buttoned up his pants, leaving his shirt folded over the chair beside him.  “You need more wine, but stay out of the kitchen.”

      “Why can’t I help?”  I asked as he was quick to pour our wine.  

      “Get that pussy by me and it’s so distracting that I may have to do that all over again,”  he warned as he set back to work.

      “Promise?”

      He laughed across the rim of his glass.  “Promise.” 

They make me smile.  I hope you liked the first part of Chapter 3.  Let me know what you think!  Thank you for the likes and reblogs.  It means a lot.  See you next Wednesday! 😘😘

I do have a tag list here, or you can just let me know in a reply to add you. 

@lvnterninthenight @doodle417 @luverleaver @jakesgrapejuice @fictional-duchess @milkgemini @positivegvfthings @songbirds-sweet @gretavanbitches @gardensgatedaisy @babyhoneygvfarchive @myownparadise96 @josh-iamyour-mama @starcatcherc @loveisonaroll @jakesstarlight @reesetrippingthelight @builtby-gvf @ignite-my-fire @wetkleenex-gvf @gold-mines-melting @starsasone @mysticalstarcatcher @montenegroisr @takenbythemadness @way-to-go-lad @cal-a-bungaa @thewritingbeforesunrise @leftjudgeempathsuitcase @brokenbells11 @imborrowedshesblue @vanfleeter

#jake gvf #jake kiszka #greta van fleet #gvf #cd&fe #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf fanfiction #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fan fiction #greta van fleet fanfic #greta van fleet AU #jake kiszka AU

[sparxaf]

S6: Who Am I?

I have never done a ho route. I almost always choose to be a super loyal angel baby. Because I can't even hurt the feelings of pixels without intense guilt (I used to be Catholic and it shows). So I don't know how it happened but like... I'm on a ho route. And I'm being MEAN.

I started off being here for Marshall when he comes in. I saw his sprite and he ticks all the boxes. ✔Alt Boy ✔Man Bun ✔Beard ✔Tattoos ✔Smirk

So since I was just biding my time, I started on Lewie's route. Because he seemed like he'd be boring and easy to ditch. Like that one guy whose name I can't even remember from S4. The writer. Sooooo boring. Anyway. Lewie is absolutely lovely. A human puppy who is so sweet and enamored of MC. Love it. BUT, he got overly attached and I feel bad because I know I'm gonna hurt him. So I started over and chose Ryan. A fine decision. He gives me ALL the ick. Everything about him from design to personality. It's a no for me, dawg. So I started stringing Ryan along, kissing him and then going cold on him, but I quickly realized that I cannot deal with him and started being very dismissive to downright mean. I told him several times that I'm not feeling super sure about him and that I'm open to talking to others. I basically threw him at my sister. But he's still being a stage five clinger. After Amelia got stuck with him (thanks, sis!) I decided to just graft on everyone. And you guys. OZZY. I am 100% eating my words about him. His looks do nothing for me (Marshall is probably his brother but the beard makes a huge difference), but Ozzy is sweet and respectful and trying so hard to be loyal to Grace. And I feel horrible because I really like Grace a lot. But... I have kissed this man at every single opportunity. I have grafted my ass off. I forced him to admit in front of everyone that MC is the islander he fancies most. All the while, Ryan is skulking around in the shadows making sad eyes at MC, writing poems about his penis, and talking about being loyal to her. I never asked for any of that, babes. Now here's Roberto. He's super hot. Does nothing else for me though. There's a slippery, creepy quality to him and how he memorized all my favorite things that I don't like. But I made out with him anyway. Then came back and rubbed it in Ryan's face.

Did S5 break me so much that I no longer give fucks? Who even am I this season? I guess I'm finally in my villain era 🐍.

🎶 Look what you made me do, look what you made me do...🎵

#love island the game #litg s6 #litg double trouble #litg ryan #litg lewie #litg marshall #litg ozzy #ozzy my love #sorry not sorry grace #villain era

[dailyfigures]

(not the same anon) i only saw the anime (not the full thing cause i hated it), ill try to keep the points neutral/factual & not let my opinion/bias shine through too much. heres some of the stuff that happens (spoilers obviously): 1. main character, adult man, works as a doctor. one of his patients is 16 year old idol Ai. she is pregnant. mc is obsessed with her throughout the show. when asked by a colleague if he'd hook up with her if given a chance he says yes. 2. a patient of his (i dont know her age, early/mid teens) is in love with him. she dies. 3. the doctor mc is killed. he is 'reincarnated' as Ai's child, while keeping his past memories, along with the teen girl patient i mentioned in (2.), now named ruby. mc is now named aqua. they are twins now. they don't know each others former identities 4. Ai is killed, which further fuels aquas obsession with her (it seems to be romantic since i believe he mentions being in love with her, her being his 'ideal woman' etc) 5. several teenage girls are also in love with him (while his 'reincarnation' is their age, he has the full scope of his past memories, making him at least 30yo in lived experience), while he doesn't seem to reciprocate their feelings (up to the point i watched the show at least), it's not treated as something he's against due to them being teenagers, moreso that he's too preoccupied with searching for Ai's killer. that's about it, im sure theres more in the manga & bits i havent seen, i personally really dislike the show but i'd understand if you were to keep up the figurines as despite those themes no actual incest happens to my knowledge (correct me if wrong or forgot stuff!), some of the designs are pretty i guess

thank you for taking the time to explain it to me anon! i'm sure there's good parts to it since it's so popular but yeah it doesn't sound like it'd be for me personally either.

i do find it hard to judge media like this without having seen it. i'm a big horror fan so i watch a lot of media that features things you should very much Not do irl but that doesn't mean all horror is inherently problematic. sometimes media is just an exploration of something fucked up without explicitly stating "this is Bad!!! Do Not Do!!!!" because they trust the consumer to realise that on their own.

having said that, oshi no ko doesn't sound like a psychological piece that explores the morals of incest and adult-minor relationships to me (from what i understand without having seen/read it! do please correct me if i'm wrong!). it sounds like it's just kinda very weird without challenging those themes much.

again, it's hard to judge that without having consumed it. i think i'll just leave up the oshi no ko posts i have and not add any more. i might have some in the queue so i'll remove those if i remember to. hope everyone is somewhat okay with that decision!

#again thank you for your message anon!!! #ask #anon #non figure

[sehtoast]

From Ashes to Home (Depowered Homelander x OC)

18+

Word Count: 6.6k

Summary: Some ghosts aren't meant to be found, but the case of Homelander's mother is one that deserves to be revealed. He deserves a chance to know what's left of her. Chapter 11 of All of You is Left to Love. Not plot dependent.

Warnings: Smut if you squint, parental death themes, he's finally allowed to grieve. Vought's catalog of inflicted horrors.

OC: Benjamin Colyer (The Boys-verse Spider-Man)

Special thanks to @theonlymanintheskyisme for beta reading <3

Fic Directory

I just… I wish I knew anything about her.

Those words echoed in Ben’s mind for days on end, endlessly looping in that sad, defeated whisper. Somehow, the subject of Homelander’s parentage came up, and, well…

It always was a tender topic.

He hated the way John bit back his tears. The way he hid himself behind an air of indifference lest he let the last pillar of his defenses crumble to dust.

Even now, after all this time, he still struggled to really let it out. But Ben always knew. Could always tell by the twitch of Homelander’s lip, the scrunch of his nose, the way he wouldn’t blink as a way to hold back his tears.

He made a silent promise to find all that he could as he held Homelander that night. Each brush of his hand through his once god-like lover’s hair a vow to find something, anything that could bring him closer to the mother he never knew.

Every day that followed, Ben found himself more and more consumed by ideas on how to find her. Would he have to bribe someone? Money was certainly no worry. Would he have to intimidate people? Most likely, but it wasn’t particularly hard to get the staff in Vital Records to shit their pants.

Would he have to march into Stan’s office and make more demands?

Luckily, being the new head of The Seven came with many perks, even more so for actually being liked by the staff at Vought Tower.

What little information referenced John’s parentage only directly named Soldier Boy, who'd already revealed himself as Homelander’s father. Granted, that information was updated by Homelander himself after it came to light. Prior to that, the line for the father's name had been blank.

Perhaps sperm donor was a better title... He hadn't exactly been father of the year when he tried to go nuclear– much less a decent grandfather for leaving Ryan battered.

Ben admittedly had a chuckle over their shared first name, but he found it incredibly odd that Vought named the mother by a code.

1-G.

Benjamin spent several hours a day in the record center’s library of paper files. Many of them were scheduled to be destroyed after being recreated digitally, but it’d take an army to copy and sort decades of documents. He had plenty of time, and he’d rummage through every filing cabinet in the room if that’s what it would take to find even the slightest scrap of information about John’s mother.

The wall crawler drove himself mad trying to work off that one piece of information.

1-G. A code? A title? A fucking label designation for some petri dish somewhere?

Each night, he went back home to Homelander. Each night, he had to pretend to have been out prowling the streets for miscreants instead of playing librarian. He’d come home with dinner, sit down with Homelander, and pick at his food as each disgusting secret he’d uncovered entangled itself into his waking mind.

“What’s wrong?”

Ben jumped, looking up at Homelander with wide eyes and a piece of spaghetti dangling from his lips.

“That! That right there.” John pointed accusingly with his fork. “You’re not telling me something. What’s going on?”

“Nothin’,” the web-head shook his head. “Just– work’s been a lot lately, y’know? Stan’s a bastard, the team is acting up... Same headache, different day.”

Homelander’s eyes narrowed at him, suspicion nestled deep inside those beautiful blues.

“Bullshit! You’re not eating lately and you’re sure as fuck not talking. Did– Are you mad at me?” John pushed away from the table, standing. “You haven’t said more than five words since you got in.”

“Johnny,” Ben sighed, lowering his head. “I’m not mad, I just… I’m just really caught in my head right now, okay?”

“Right, right.” Homelander rolled his eyes, grabbing his carryout container. “Whatever. Talk to me when you feel like it, I guess. I’ll just give you your space.” Dejected bitterness laced every word.

Ben lacked the steam to chase him to the bedroom and talk some sense into him. Fuck, he could barely do it for himself, let alone John. So, he let the pot simmer. Cleaned up around the house and showered to kill some time before meandering back to their room.

Homelander had shut off all the lights and curled up close to the edge of the bed, blankets obscuring his form. Ben wondered if his love was actually asleep, or just hiding in the only way he knew how anymore.

A pang of guilt hit his heart.

It’d been roughly two weeks since he started rummaging through Vought’s archives, and quite likely two weeks since he’d paid enough attention to Homelander.

Ben eased into bed, curling around Homelander’s ‘sleeping’ form. He didn’t move to pull the covers away, opting instead to let love keep a layer of protection between himself and a source of pain. He knew times like these only stoked the paranoia that one day John would wake to an empty bed and home. That Ben would up and leave him after finding someone better, or realizing he wasn't worth the effort.

Something that would simply never happen.

Benjamin nuzzled close, lips hovering right above John’s covered ear.

“I’m not mad at you…” He began. “I promise, Johnny. I’m not. I just… It’s a lot to explain. I’ve got this… project that I’m working on. It’s really important, but I’m finding so many fucking horrors from Vought in the meantime that I just…”

He breathed a heavy sigh.

“It’s taking a lot out of me. That with everything else I see in a day, and… it’s a lot, y’know?”

Ben paused, waiting to see if Homelander would shuffle out from under the blankets. When he didn’t, Benjamin continued.

“I love you. I’m sorry if I worried you.”

He shifted away from Homelander, opting to give him space instead of smothering him. It took only a few moments for that bundle of blankets to shuffle his way. A hand snaked out from underneath, fingers joining with Ben’s.

The wall crawler shifted onto his side and pulled John closer.

No words were exchanged for the rest of the night. Ben dozed off with ease while Homelander fought against his drowsiness to bask in the moment. The rise and fall of Benjamin’s chest against his head, the steady beats of his heart.

He adored his little spider more than anything in the world. Even the slightest thought of losing Benjamin was enough to send him spiraling into paranoia and rampant imaginings of worst case scenarios. It’d been two years since he lost his powers, and every day he wondered if Ben would finally decide he wasn’t worth keeping around. Every day he had to remind himself that the wall crawler loves him. That he was more than the house pet his alter ego dubbed him as.

Where would he even be without his Benjamin?

Would he even be alive? Would he have made it out of that containment cell? Would he have survived another week of torture before that guard simply killed him?

Would there be a roof over his head, or the promise of regular meals? A warm bed and a devoted soul with whom to share it?

Would he have someone to protect him now that he couldn’t fend for himself?

Every swirling thought made him realize no, he wouldn’t.

He'd still be in the bad room. He'd likely be dead. Starved or beaten to death, surely. Tortured every single day until he succumbed.

But, god above, that only meant it would make sense if Ben grew tired of him - weak mess of a man that he was now.

Despite the storm of what-ifs pulsating in his mind, John dozed off fairly fast once he laid his head upon Ben’s chest. When he woke, his body was enveloped in heat– some areas more than others.

He was on the brink as soon as his eyes fluttered open.

He lifted the covers to peek, and the sight alone of Ben swallowing him triggered his release instantly, leaving him a writhing, panting mess.

“You,” Ben licked the length of his softening shaft, “and I are due for a date, sir. I called off. We have the whole day.”

Benjamin made good on his word, devoting the entire day to Homelander. He’d barely even thought about his little side project while they were out.

The dying warmth of an early September breeze swept around them as the pair passed all sorts of eateries. The openness of the streets in Queens kept Homelander’s nerves at bay, but John still struggled quite a bit with entering crowded spaces– especially stores. The smaller they were, the more his mind would linger on memories of both his childhood cell and the… other one. But, Benjamin’s presence, along with the duty of carrying the grocery basket, made it a smidge less stressful to accomplish their trip.

“Proud of you,” Ben nudged his shoulder as they walked home, each carrying a paper bag of goods. “Seriously. I hope you know how great it is to see you do all this.”

He couldn’t help but grin despite how vulnerable he really felt. He was like an open wound in public. Exposed, waiting for someone to pick at him or throw salt his way. What if someone recognized him?

What if someone realized the shame of his current state, and he was plastered on the screen of every device with internet access?

Hell, probably every newspaper, too.

Homelander Spotted Looking Half Homeless! is what he imagined the headlines would read. Though he began to allow Ben to trim his hair, he still found himself feeling subpar in appearance. Be it the weight he’d gained, or his casual clothing, he just wouldn’t be The Homelander anymore.

Christ, what if someone asked him to use his powers?

He took deep breaths as they turned another corner, counting each step as they made their way closer to home. By the time the front door closed behind them, he’d about reached his breaking point.

Ben, however, wasted no time in distracting him with banter and meal prep duties.

“Don’t cut yourself again,” the web-head warned as he sorted through pots and pans.

“Not my fault,” John countered, hand idly rolling a bell pepper along the length of the cutting board. “You showed me doing it fast, so I went fast.”

“Yes, babe. But I have actual experience with cooking.”

By the time they could leave the rest of the work up to the oven, the pair had made their way to the couch. John’s legs were strewn over Ben’s lap as he watched TV. Benjamin, however, had pulled out his laptop to browse that barebones document he’d found on John’s parentage.

The sight of the Vought logo snagged Homelander’s attention like a moth to a flame.

“Just that project I’m working on.” Ben hummed coolly, praying to whatever gods there may be that John wouldn’t press the issue. “Mostly just paperwork.”

Suddenly, an idea struck him.

“Hey, unrelated...” He began, hoping the little lie would go unnoticed– mostly because he didn’t want to admit to what he’d been doing and get John’s hopes up just to dash them with inevitable disappointment. “I was poking around in the paper archives the other day.”

Make up a new number… He’s definitely seen it before.

“3-F as a name placeholder mean anything to you? Like, is it a code or something?”

John’s brow pinched, and he sat silent for a while, raking through memories of decades of Vought propaganda and genuine fact.

“I think…” He trailed off. “I haven’t seen it in a while, but I’m pretty sure that’s how the first supe trial volunteers were categorized. There weren’t massive amounts of people signing up to get injected with V– if you can imagine.”

Ben quirked a brow as his brain raced to connect the dots.

“It was part of keeping their identities off the record, too. Liabilities and all that. Last I heard, all the files on ‘em were shredded once they got what they were looking for.” he continued, brows pinched. “Some fucked up shit went on there. Why?”

“I, uh…” Ben sighed. “Saw it in place of a name in one of the paper docs I pulled the other night. It’s just been bugging me.”

“Deep rabbit hole there.” John sighed, leaning back. “I couldn’t find anything besides the bullshit when I dug out Soldier Boy's old archives. Same thing when I… tried to find my mom– ‘cept everything on her was long gone. Whoever’s on that paper of yours is probably a ghost by now. Literally and figuratively.”

Ben swallowed thickly. Chances are that this 1-G person is certainly dead by now.

John’s mother was certainly dead by now.

But he wouldn’t jump to conclusions until it was time. Just as Ben was about to remote to his work terminal, the oven timer went off.

“Thank god.” John whined. “Staaaarving!”

Over the following weeks, Ben had become wholly consumed by the motivation to find anything about John’s mother. He’d dug through the paper archives every chance he could, even going as far as enlisting some help, but there was nothing.

Ben began to believe there was no trail to follow when one of the staffers he’d paid to assist emailed him a scan of a very old, yellowed notepad.

Pretty sure I found something, the email read. It’s hazy, but it looks like notes from old trial runs. Found it in a junk folder of blurry scans from one of the old ward doctors. Gonna keep looking for more.

True to her word, the staffer even went and drew an arrow to the section she’d found. Instead of 1-G, this Doctor James Waltz person wrote it as ‘Patient 1-G: Gillman.’ The writing was barely legible under the color of a coffee stain, but it was more than Ben had to go off of mere minutes before.

Gillman.

Ben immediately replied to the staffer, practically begging her to send anything else in that file– or at least give him details on where to find it. Blurry or not, he wanted everything he could get his hands on.

It was the gold mine he’d been looking for.

Despite the poor image quality and faded ink, Ben was able to find significant amounts of information on the initial test subjects for Compound V. He had to dive deep through hundreds of file folders to find anything about them– which left him concluding that someone hid these rather than follow the original order to destroy them.

The name Gillman had been his golden ticket. He’d found the liability waiver she signed, partially torn, left with only ‘illman’ remaining on the line – but still distinctly the same name. Ben cursed the record keeper of that era to hell for adding to his frustration.

It seemed everywhere he looked– old genetics testing records, ability documentation, and experimentation records, she was simply dubbed 1-G. All he wanted– needed was a first name. From there, maybe he could track her through public records beyond Vought, but there was nothing.

Except for the harrowing details in her record, that is. Despite the lack of a first name, Ben was able to piece together patient files with mention of her to create quite a… horrifying picture.

Enough to leave him sick to his stomach.

The Doctor Waltz fella who’d been all too kind and revealed her last name also had been to her what Vogelbaum was to John– if not a thousand times worse.

Downright evil, even.

Not every patient survived the Compound V trials. An exceptionally small number of them made out like kings, sporting powers with zero side effects. They’d received the same strain Soldier Boy was given.

Ben considered the dead to be far luckier than those who landed somewhere in the middle.

The unsuccessful strains of V had one of three outcomes: instant death, powers that killed the wielder shortly afterward, or– in the case of John’s mother– the body survives empowerment, but the mind does not.

His mother was left in a state of rageful madness.

As Benjamin pieced together mangled papers and deciphered blurred writing, he was able to construct a vague idea of what happened to her.

Roughly one day after injection, she’d come back to report malaise, but was written off by the doctors. By the second day, Vought had brought her back and contained her in a special cell.

Patient aggression exceptionally high. Engages with hallucinations. Refuses to eat and will not speak to psychological team. Containment failing, recommend sedation.

Notes following were conveniently lost, but picked up roughly two months later. Only problem being that they were almost entirely illegible from what seemed like water damage.

Because of course they’d be damaged.

What was left of her patient reports painted a devastating picture.

Homelander’s mother became a ward of Vought. She’d been the only subject to lose herself that Vought caught before she could come to harm. Waltz had found her ripe for experimentation after studying her abilities. They’d opted for round the clock sedation.

Keep her docile.

Flight, strength, and laser vision were among the descriptors they used. Damn near identical to Homelander’s abilities– lacking his invulnerability. A modern mind could look at this and realize that, along with Ryan’s inheritance of John’s powers, this meant there did exist a genetic component to the development of superpowers in those injected with V.

That understanding, though, was only a theory for Waltz back then.

–breed a new line of heroes.

Subject tissue sent for testing.

The possibilities … ……. mother of modern supes.

–extraction of eggs–

It didn’t take an exceptionally bright mind to realize what had happened to her. A shiver ran down Ben’s spine as he read more and more.

They’d used her as a fucking incubator for their experimental ‘purebred’ supes. For years, she was kept like cattle– artificially inseminated with sperm from promising supes until they’d written off her ability to carry children. After that, they simply harvested her eggs and used an undisclosed method of growing the fetuses to term.

The list of failed subjects was…

It was far too long.

Before Vogelbaum, there was Waltz.

Vogelbaum was not the father of the method by which John came to exist– but he was the first doctor to achieve a perfect creation.

Waltz had the blood of children on his hands. Infants, toddlers. Children beaten to death in combat tests. Children drowned in aquatic efficiency tests. A new subject every five to ten years, it seemed.

Killed in surgical procedures.

Destroyed by their own powers.

Murdered by a madman’s curiosity.

All of them lacking that one thing that made John the exception that he was.

Invulnerability.

Well, that and DNA infused with Compound V.

Waltz retired before his project saw success, passing on the mantle of monster to Jonah Vogelbaum.

Fuck, Homelander may not have even been Vogelbaum’s first subject…

The last note Waltz ever made on John’s mother was in 1986. A new hire slipped up during an operation on her brain.

She died that same day.

It had been the shock of a lifetime when, upon scrolling the dwindling remainder of Waltz's notes, he stumbled upon a faded polaroid. Though it was hazy, there was no denying what he was seeing.

Laid back in a reclined medical chair was an older woman. Long, gray hair. A gaunt face. Expression void of anything. IV lines leading into her arms reflected the flash of the camera.

If he squinted hard enough to combat the blur, Ben could thoroughly see a resemblance. He'd know that face anywhere– those big blue eyes, high cheekbones, thin lips. The curved bridge of her nose.

God, John looked just like her.

And now?

He’s all that’s left of her.

What they’d done with her remains was a mystery, but Benjamin almost didn’t want to know what more they could have possibly done to the poor woman. He felt sick. Bile burning in his throat as he pressed his face into his hands.

He goes out every day and represents Vought. Represents pure evil under the guise of heroism. Fell in love with one of their seemingly infinite amount of victims…

In the weeks it took him to find the end of her story, Ben would hold John tight every night. He’d stare down at his love’s sleeping form and go back and forth in his mind on whether or not to tell him. The thicker the file, the heavier his guilt. Each printout only made it worse.

Would it hurt him? Certainly.

But, it might also close a chapter in his life that John had been so desperately trying to decipher.

Alternatively, it could make everything infinitely worse.

He knew he had to tell Homelander the truth. The only problem was getting the words to quit sticking in his throat every time he tried.

He could tell there was a strain between them with this recent secrecy of his. Where he’d been so late at night, why he wouldn’t talk about it. He stopped pretending he was swinging around the city and just settled for saying work kept him late.

But how could he tell him?

Hey, I found your mom.

It seemed like a ridiculous statement, especially because he didn’t actually find her– just traces. There was no headstone, no urn of ashes.

There was nothing left of her except yellowed paper and faded ink.

As it happened, the pot boiled over one day. Ben hadn’t even realized how bad things had really gotten until the morning John clung to him in bed, preventing him from leaving.

“Is there someone else..?”

The question had taken him completely by surprise.

“Is that why you can’t tell me what you’ve been doing?” He followed up, voice cracking no matter how hard he tried to hide it. “Where you’ve been…”

“What?” Ben rolled over to face him. “John, I–”

“I’d understand.” Homelander shook his head, avoiding eye contact. Tears leaked freely from the corners of his eyes. The dark circles lining them let Ben know he hadn’t slept at all last night. “I’d hate it– I’d hate it so fucking much… But I’d get it.”

The dwindling of his self worth screamed so loudly in every word.

“No!” Ben gripped him, his own eyes clouding. “Never! No, god no– never!” He pulled him closer, burying his face in Homelander’s chest. “No. No, Johnny.”

He didn’t wait for Homelander to speak before he spilled everything. All of the guilt inside falling off his tongue in stammered confessions.

“I didn’t want to– I…” Benjamin breathed, shaking his head to collect himself. “I didn’t want it to hurt you, I just… Not until I knew it was enough to be worth the hurt.” He moved away to look at John, a hand at his cheek to thumb soothing circles. Wasn't sure if he was doing it more for himself or Homelander. “And even then– fuck…”

Ben took a deep breath.

“I’m… I found your mom– sort of, I mean. Not like I actually found her found her, but what happened to her, at least.”

He gulped when John didn’t reply. Instead, that unwavering, wide blue stare begged him to continue. There was something in his eyes… Fury, perhaps. Fascination– absolutely. But, mostly, fear.

Fear that whatever Benjamin was about to say would reopen a lifelong wound held together with makeshift bandages. A wound that would unravel and gush the second something picked at it.

“I found a paper trail. Buried deep in junk folders where nobody would ever think to find shit that matters. Been a big puzzle to put together but…” Ben sniffled. “I can bring home what I have, but I just… I didn’t want to drop that on you without a final answer– and, god, I didn’t want to risk hurting you either. I wanted to find her for you, but it took so long just to even get her last name and I still don’t even have the first na–”

“What is it?” Homelander demanded, eyes widened as though he were in a frenzy. Perhaps he was. “What’s her name!? Is she alive!?”

“Gillman.” Ben replied instantly, the weight of secrecy falling from his shoulders with every bit he revealed. “Her last name’s Gillman. And… by rights, I guess yours is, too, but… no. No, she’s… she’s gone.”

The realization he’d never know his mother crashed over Homelander in waves so violent Benjamin could physically see it happen. He watched John begin to crumble, gradually unraveling more and more until he choked back quiet sobs.

“S’why I asked you that one night about placeholder names… I should’ve just told you upfront.”

Homelander shuddered. “1-G…”

“Yeah,” Ben pulled him close. Of course he knew that name. “That’s her… I’m so sorry, honey.”

Homelander was fully prepared to find he’d been abandoned by the love of his life. Kept around out of sympathy, but abandoned nonetheless. He’d practically convinced himself entirely of it. He wanted to be angry– furious, even. He wanted to grab Ben by the shoulders and shake him for keeping this hidden, but god.

His mother.

The mere thought of her shattered him, and all he could do was plead.

“Show me. Please, Ben– I need to see…

Benjamin spent the day gathering everything he had, abusing Vought’s unlimited employee printing access to duplicate seemingly endless amounts of paper, piling it all into one big folder. He’d warned John about how ugly this would be. How horrifically they’d treated her.

He didn’t have the heart to tell him about the others just like him…

Benjamin felt almost awful walking through the door that afternoon, shuffling in to find Homelander sitting on the couch, simply staring into space. No TV, no book or phone in hand. Just lost in his own mind, leg bouncing restlessly.

“Hey,” he whispered, drawing his love back to earth.

John shot up from where he sat, making a beeline straight for Benjamin.

The web-head had the file extended for him to grab immediately. Homelander snatched it like a child does a toy they’d been excited to finally receive, though excitement seemed to be replaced with dread.

He looked at it for a time, staring at the dense rubber banded folder as though opening it would unleash a black hole that absorbed the whole world. He was afraid to know.

And Ben knew it, too.

“C’mon,” he rested a supportive hand against Homelander’s shoulder. “We’ll do it together.”

He guided John to the couch, heart clenching at the way his blue eyes never strayed from the folder. As the papers became harder and harder to read, Ben had to help fill in the blanks on smudged words he’d deciphered himself. He had half a mind to tease Homelander about never wearing his glasses, but it was far from an appropriate time for such things.

Homelander’s expression grew grim as he read on, and they’d barely cracked through an inch of paper before Ben was encouraging him to take a break.

John’s breathing was uneven, eyes stinging with tears, teeth clenched in fury. His body was too hot, skin too tight, his head pounded. The audacity of the request sent him over the edge.

“How the fuck do you expect me to stop!?” He roared, snatching Ben’s hand away from the folder. He bit his lip, desperately trying to don his mask to hide his emotions. “What, y-you hand me this and now you want me to– no!”

“Okay,” Ben breathed, hands held up in surrender. “I just don’t want it to be overwhelming, y’know? This took me months to get through, and I know how I felt. You’re getting all this right away, and it’s a lot, and–”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Ben gulped, recognizing a burst of rage that once would’ve triggered a crimson glow in those ocean eyes.

“You don’t get it! You don’t fucking get it!” Homelander grit, teeth bared. His eyes accused Benjamin of betrayal. ”You have a mother. A father. Brothers. You have a family. This is all I get! Just a bunch of goddamn paper! So don’t you dare tell me to fucking stop!”

He expected this, but it never did soften the blow to know it was coming. Benjamin knew damn well Homelander would lash out eventually, emotionally fragile as he was given the situation.

The wall crawler shut his eyes as more abuse flew his way, simply taking it.

The dam would burst as soon as the rage faltered. He could practically time it to the millisecond.

“You– I don’t–” Homelander stumbled over his words, breaths coming in and out erratically as he fought to pretend he wasn’t coming undone at the seams. “Nobody– god fucking damn it! N-No!”

When Ben opened his eyes, it was to the sight of John leaned forward, hiding his face into the folder as he fought the lurch of a deep cry.

“It was never supposed to be like this…”

His own eyes pricked with tears as he watched Homelander break.

“I always…” Homelander’s voice leaked in a tight, throaty whisper. “I used to imagine what I’d do if I ever… ever met her. All I could ever think of was hugging her, but… I couldn’t even picture it because she was never real. I used to think if I did find her, maybe I’d feel okay… Like it’d make up for all these years.”

He nearly flinched when Ben began to rub soothing circles between his shoulder blades.

“I always wondered if she’d be proud of me, you know? Her son is– was The Homelander, after all. She’d have been proud, right..?”

Ben didn’t know how to respond– or if he even should. All he could focus on was the sorrow twisted on Homelander’s face when he finally lifted his head. The tears staining his face. A streak of snot that would’ve humiliated him were he in a clearer state of mind.

"D’you think she would've loved me..?"

Seeing him break like this made Benjamin regret having ever gone looking for Homelander's mother. And yet… somehow this felt right. Watching him finally feel it. Filling in the pages of his missing parentage after so long.

No… he needed this.

"She would've adored you, pumpkin." Ben worked the file from Homelander's grip as one takes meat from a lion that trusts them enough to allow it. Almost immediately, Homelander leaned into him. He ran his fingers through John’s hair, rocking him slightly. “She’d have loved you more than anything in the world.”

He wanted to say more– god he wanted to say so much fucking more… But he couldn’t. Nothing came to mind. Nothing that would’ve dulled the hurt in his love’s heart to make it all easier, anyway. There was one thing, though…

She was never real. The line reminded the wall crawler of what he’d left out of the folder, fearing that it’d shuffle loose and be lost on the swing home. He was about to throw the egg beater into the already boiled-over pot, but this is what needed to be done. One more thing his discoveries could heal with fire-like agony.

"Johnny..?"

Ben slipped his hand free, reaching behind to his back pocket, pulling free a little photo. He'd printed and laminated it before leaving Vought Tower, just to make sure the incoming tears wouldn't stain it.

He handed it over face down, and the look on Homelander's face said he knew what this was.

"This is… That's her." Homelander stared for what seemed like forever. Fingertips danced across the smooth surface as the tears rolled freely down his cheeks. "S'my mom," he rasped over and over again. "My mom…"

"Takes a little squinting on account of the quality," Ben sniffled. "But you look just like her."

Homelander breathed a laugh, finally wiping the mess of tears and snot on his sleeve. In time, his breathing began to even out as his cries tapered off.

"She's so…" John paused, sucking in a deep breath, holding it tight as he took in every detail of her. "She's beautiful."

Ben wrapped an arm around Homelander once more. “Hmm. Like mother like son, huh?”

Homelander looked as though he’d been given the world and had it taken away all at the same time. Perhaps, though, that’s exactly what this was.

In the span of but a few moments, he’d lost her all over again despite never having had her to begin with.

It took some convincing for Ben to finally get Homelander to stop reading and take a break. Help me with dinner, he’d asked once his love finally calmed down.

John seemed worlds away as they worked, not even realizing how he was reacting to what went on inside his mind. Benjamin realized he probably should’ve just let Homelander relax and collect himself.

“Babe,” he murmured, thumbing away a stray tear on his cheek. “That’s not how we salt the pasta.” A joke was all he could muster to try to alleviate something. “You can go sit down or something if you’re still working through it, y’know. You don’t have to–”

“No,” Homelander interrupted. “I’d rather be here.” He reached up to hold Ben’s hand against his cheek, staring back into those chocolatey eyes that always warmed him to his core. “Can you just… I– Give me something that I gotta focus on. C’mon, spoil me a little.”

Used to be that he’d take that offer and sulk. Let his sorrows drown him bit by bit until he was right back at square one - just as miserable as the day he’d lost himself. Ben always encouraged him to channel his negativity into something productive, but he never followed through. Never picked up hobbies beyond reading history books and watching movies.

But now..?

“Chef Johnny,” Ben grinned, proud as could be of his love. “You’re gonna learn to make a mean margherita pasta today.”

He figured he’s changed quite a bit over the years after all.

Homelander struggled to balance his focus against the raging thoughts of his mind. Minding the aromatics sizzling in the pan while flashes of what they’d done to his mother jarred him. Focusing on Ben’s instructions on what to add, what seasonings paired best with the chicken, the gentleness of his love’s touch as he held his hand to show him how to properly rock a knife to cut fresh herbs.

In the back of his head, he saw her. His mother, wired to those machines just as the doctors had done to him. Instead of what he’d always imagined - hugging her - he saw something else. Heard something else as he saw her, felt Ben’s hands on his.

Mom… I made it.

In the weeks following, Benjamin helped him absorb the rest of what happened. Sat with him while he wept over the siblings he’d never know, the grief of knowing he wasn’t the first, the relief of knowing he was - hopefully - the last.

It was a lot. A lot of crying. A lot of anger. Misery. Resentment.

But he worked through it.

The web-head eventually returned to his regular crime fighting antics and balanced his home life once more. In the meantime, he’d commissioned a headstone. There was so little to go off of, and no body to bury, but it felt right to put her to rest in at least some way. This, he kept a secret from Homelander.

It was a surprise for later.

Once the time came that the cemetery notified him that it was in place, Ben nagged Homelander all day to go for a walk. Well, more like a swing.

“C’mon, it’s important!” He whined. “You’ll like it.”

“We can have a date inside, you know.” Homelander huffed. He was perfectly content not suffocating in crowds of people, and he’d like to keep it that way.

“Yeah, but inside doesn’t have what I wanna show you,” Ben stuck his lower lip out. “It’ll be quick. I’ll swing us there. Land in a nice smelly alley. Just a walk across the street, okay?”

Homelander sighed, pushing his glasses up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Fine.”

“Great!” Ben chirped, pressing an enthusiastic kiss to his cheek. “Be ready in a few.”

The swing there was leisurely. It included a stop by a flower shop for roses, which Homelander questioned endlessly.

”You don’t need to buy me flowers,” he feigned a complaint.

”You’ll see.” That was all Ben had to say on the matter before they were back in the air.

He clung to Ben like a leech as they sliced through the air, high enough to avoid being photographed, but low enough that Homelander’s renewed fear of heights didn’t have him on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He focused on the flowers he’d been holding in a death grip. Pressed them against Ben’s back and stared into the petals.

When they finally landed in the promised smelly alleyway, Homelander furrowed his brow. From the path to the sidewalk, he could make out a graveyard.

“Ben?”

His little spider held out a hand without a word, leading him out, across the street, and through the iron gate.

He had an inkling of what was coming, but it felt like something out of a movie. Holding hands with the love of his life, walking through a monument of lives long gone, feeling the autumn breeze gust through the knitting of his sweater.

Homelander practically fell to his knees when they came upon it. His legs wobbled as he approached, flower stems creaking under the grip of his fist. He let his fingers touch the stone, tracing the letters engraved into the face.

Gillman

192?-1986

He hugged it. Didn’t know what overcame him, didn’t even know he’d done it until the cold marble pressed against his cheek. Didn’t even care that it pressed his glasses harshly into his temple.

He hugged his mother.

Homelander didn’t hear the shuffling of leaves under Ben’s shoes, but the hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality.

“Thought she deserved it, y’know?” Ben murmured, thumbing against John’s blue sweater. Part of him worried his lover would’ve been upset - maybe gave him grief over the fact she wasn’t actually in there. ”You deserve this, too.” He pressed a kiss to Homelander’s hair, then stood. “I’ll give you some space…”

Benjamin was ready to go for a stroll until a hand caught him by the sleeve, tugging him back down.

John was silent for a time, simply resting his forehead against the chilled stone, warmed by Benjamin’s arms draped around his neck. Ben figured he was simply thinking it instead of speaking, but then…

“I made it, mom.” With the love of his life embracing him, and his arms around her headstone, he pulled from the depths of his heart.

“I’m home.”

#homelander #depowered homelander #homelander x oc #homelander fanfiction #the boys #antony starr #this took literal weeks to write and plan sjdfhlakshfd

[itskenickie]

Do you mind if I ask your top 10 favorite characters (can be male or female) from all of the media that you loved (can be anime/manga, books, movies or tv series)? And why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before.....Thanks....

i’ve done this before but i feel it needs an update!! :D

1. sansa stark.

i actually hated her during my first of got but when i rewatched it, i liked her character more and realized that she was a child who was sheltered from the world. she grew up to be a powerful and respected woman ❤️

2. haruno sakura!

i never hated her but i also didn’t think much of her until later on but she is my all time favorite female character from an anime. she’s strong, intelligent and hard working. the fact that jiraiya, a sanin, complimented her for being stronger than tsunade, A HOKAGE, despite not coming from a powerful clan says a lot!!

3. hatake kakashi

i’ve loved kakashi way before watching naruto and after watching it i grew to love him even more. he’s the love of my life. my husband. and the father of my children 🥰

4. KAEYA FROM GENSHIN IMPACT MY BEAUTIFUL WIFE WHO IS SMART INTELLIGENT BEAUTIFUL STRONG AND TALENTED!! MY PRECIOUS LITTLE BOY WHOM I WOULD TALE A BULLET FOR!!

5. fushiguro toji

idk what anyone says about him this man loves megumi with all of his heart he’s just terrible at expressing it 😭😭 i’ve made a post on why i think he’s a good dad too. also he’s super strong and hella hot!! the fact that he can take down the zen’in clan but he chose NOT TO still amazes me!!

6. bakugo

i watched bnha for dabi but i stayed for bakugo!! i honestly don’t give a shit what happens in the manga/anime as long as bakugou is safe and sound!! he’s just this little bow with an inferiority complex who works very hard to be a pro hero and i think he’s severely under appreciated :(

7. sanemi

if you’ve noticed a pattern then you’re right, i AM attracted to men with tragic backstories!! despite being aggressive, he’s actually such a sweetheart :( his childhood and the shit he went through made him a lil gremlin but he’s actually such a good boy!! and a mama’s boy too i love him so much 😭😭

8. obito

idk how this happened tbh. i think it’s because i ship obikaka a lot that i started to appreciate obito more as a character. i really love his story and his powers plus he’s handsome. also!! tragic backstory!!

9. maxi from under the oak tree

she’s such a sweetheart i love her so so much!!

10. serena from the manhwa serena

she’s such a fucking badass i love her omg!! and her character design is such a 👩🏻‍🍳💋

#sansa stark #haruno sakura #kakashi #kaeya #toji #bakugo #sanemi #obito #under the oak tree #selena manhwa

[sublimenol]

Art by Vee

Deirdre's setting deviates a bit from current Sonic canon. She originated for some roleplays with a friend and at the time they were really into Archie. I hadn't read any for well over a decade by that point, but either way a good chunk of Deirdre was originally designed to at least fit in adjacent to that setting.

Things have changed since then, but I was not entirely wanting to totally redesign the character. So I instead took stock of whatever I enjoyed from all over the canon to sort of build her world into its own thing.

I think I'm going to put in a few bits and bobs here and there about Deirdre's AU world. Starting with the current status of several characters.

Freedom Fighters

Rotor: a weapons R and D guy for GUN. He's still a heroic type, and definitely there for their military technology. But he has no Resistance ties, and works hard as one of the relative few Mobians

Bunnie: She is the one that got away from the Empire. She did work for them as an Enforcer. That's why her limbs were upgraded and weaponized. But she grew disillusioned with it, especially when Metal Virus fucked everything up. But the Virus, and it's removal, fried the chipset that allowed control of her by more fully integrating her with her components. Allowing her go escape.

Antoine: A vainglorious but great hearted member of the Resistance/Restoration. Tries very hard to live up to the dashing swordsman archetype despite it not really being in him. His willingness to stand for and alongside Bunnie has brought them close together as a duet/

Sally/Nicole: Acorn Archipelago still exists among the many islands in the world. Still a kingdom. Sally wants to help everyone and is a genuine heroic type. But she's a princess and expected to stick to the royal lifestyle. In her loneliness, she befriends an experimental AI that was intended to organize and safeguard the kingdom, through their connection, the AI self actualizes as Nicole.

IDW Cast

Basically the Same: Sonic, Tails, Amy, Knuckles, Silver, Clutch, Rough/Tumble, Tangle, Whisper, Surge, Kit, Metal Sonic, Lanolin

Changes

Rouge/Shadow/Omega: They once again work for GUN, though not to the degree they do for Archie. They’re basically called on when needed to corral larger threats and treated as though they are on a short leash and close eye as the three are all considered threats in some form or another, but too capable to waste as enemies.

Jewel: More or less the same, but with The Restoration being a more proactive entity, she’s just busier with her organization of teams and heroes all around the world in addition to the local rebuilding efforts. The Restoration is becoming a sort of Tiny Island based counterpart toward GUN, but with a community and rebuilding focus rather than a militarization focus.

Babylon Rogues: Explicitly anti Battle Bird Armada. While the Battle Birds are weakened, and the three are functionally thieves, they do have direct antagonism toward their former home.

Blaze: The Sol Universe still has pirates so she’s not entirely without things to do, or threats on her side. Leaving things open to maybe use stuff later.

Eggman: Biggest change is the fact he has his Empire. His personality is unchanged for the most part. He is still a cunning and cruel man whose overall desire is to conquer everything. He tangles with Sonic not just because of his own personal pride, but because he knows after Forces that pure overwhelming power will never just win over Sonic. He can’t just conquer everything else because he knows that Sonic always has that extra oomph to win the day. So he plots and schemes with his hidden empire.

Starline: Officially, he is dead since the end of the events of Issue 50. But genius doesn’t stay dead forever.

And that's the current crop of changes for most individuals. Will I use any of them? Iunno. I just like having ideas down. Thanks if you took the time to get this far.

#sonic oc #deirdre #OC Lore #writing

[stupid-sloot-headcanons]

Konbini

Word Count: 2000+

Remember how I said I always wanted to write fanfic shit with dialogue and an atmosphere like Kevin Smith's films?

CW: Sexual references, but nothing apart from that

Yuki's nonchalant voice broke the silence at the register (if you didn't count the quiet hum of the fluorescent lights on the ceiling).

"Did I ever tell you that my grandma fucked Gran Torino?"

Sayori blinked.

"Not that I recall," she replied. "When was it?"

Yuki unlocked the register and began counting out the leftover cash. "Don't know the exact date, but knowing her it was the 'good old days' when the entire bar was a smoking section and she didn't have to suffer looking at heteromorphs just living their lives."

Sayori smirked and felt her tail instinctively twitch. "So that's why I've never met her."

"That and she's been dead for six years. You might have liked her, though. Aside from the virulent racism, she was a nice lady."

"I'm sure Gran Torino'd agree. How did they hook up?"

Yuki slid the stack of ¥500 bills into its proper slot in the register drawer. "Apparently she was at a bar that turned out to be his favorite spot. They both order the same thing by pure coincidence: an Old Fashioned. They joked that it was fate."

"Was that the only Old Fashioned they enjoyed together that evening?"

"God no. She drank him under the table figuratively, and then literally. Torino, being the gentleman, escorted her to his hotel room and the rest was history. The next morning she woke up before he did and slipped her business card into his wallet. But every time he called she'd ignore it."

Sayori scoffed. "Your grandma ghosted Gran Torino?"

Yuki shrugged. "Apparently he wasn't all she thought he'd be."

Sayori fished a tube of lip gloss out of her fuzzy pink purse and carefully painted her upper lip; even with an applicator designed for people with rodent or lagomorph features, it was still a bitch to accurately put on without smearing it. "Well, he's what, 3 feet tall? If we're talking proportionally then she had to have known what she was getting into."

"Oh no, she said the sex was great," Yuki countered, returning the rest of the cash to the register and then typing the exact amount onto her phone. "Apparently he just wasn't that good at conversation. And she also said he used to be taller. Like…six foot seven or something."

"Holy shit, seriously!? What happened?"

"Consequence of his Quirk? Smoking and caffeine consumption over multiple decades? Hell if I know."

"Oh, come on," Sayori protested. "He's got a Jet Quirk, right? How does that translate to severe loss of bone density or shrinking?"

The entrance doors slid open with a happy chime, but the girls continued chatting without acknowledging the small group of customers in grey school uniforms.

Yuki pulled a scrunchie off of the long chain of ponytail holders adorning her wrists to style her hair. "We all know Quirks have all sorts of weird effects and ways of showing, 'Yori. Case in point: why is it that with my Keratin Rush, the only part of my body with a 1000% boost of keratin production is only my hair and fingernails? Not my toenails, not my skin, nothing. All the hospital tests and scans show my brain boosts the hormone everywhere in my body, yet only my hair follicles and fingernail beds that get the message."

"You'd rather have to file your fingernails, toenails, and hair while exfoliating every hour? Boss-man already complains that you take too long trimming your hair on your lunch break.

"If a fifteen-minute chop and trim every 8 hours bothers him so much, he can find someone else willing to work this shit job for shit pay, full time. I'm just saying, it's a lucky coincidence that the parts of my body that grow absurdly long are the ones that are generally considered attractive for women in society. No flaky and super hard skin like my dad, and I don't cut through my shoes every month thanks to any toe claws. He only wears sandals now because he got sick of it."

Sayori wrinkled her nose. "Couldn't he just trim them more regularly like you do for your hair and nails? How long was he waiting between filings that he'd cut through his fucking shoes?"

Yuki smiled. "You sound so much like my mom right now," she said with a wistful air. She put a hand on Sayori's shoulder "Hey. Tell me to do my homework and to stop slouching at the table. You're making me all nostalgic here."

Sayori raised an eyebrow. "I'd rather scold you for constantly coming in late and expecting me to cover for your lazy ass when you're too hungover to do a morning shift."

"Just as long as you let me know I'll never meet your standards, it works. Thanks, Mom."

"Ugh, don't call me that, creep."

"Wow, now you really sound like her. Anyway, my point is that Quirks have all sorts of nuances to them that don't always make sense. And the less we obsess over the logic behind it--or lack thereof--the better."

Sayori took out a rosy metallic compact to scrutinize and fix the curls in front of her face. "Kind of a microcosm for life, I guess."

"Or the government."

"Oh God, not this speech again."

"Which one?"

"Any of them. The last time you went off about Pro Heroes being in bed with the government as…what was it? 'A homunculus of police, corporate sponsor, celebrity, and idol rolled into one pile of spandex-clad shit?'

"Actually most Heroes don't wear spandex," Yuki interjected. She uncapped a bottle of soda she'd stashed on one of the shelves by the register and took a sip. "Rips too easily."

"Guess you should revise your rant, then. I remember you saying spandex--I bet the customer who complained about you to the manager remembers, too."

Yuki scowled. "Oh, so suddenly Boss-man cares about customer input? Where was this dedication when people complained about the dirt on the floors, busted merchandise on display, expired milk in the containers for up to a week–"

"Not to mention the unhelpful staff," Sayori added.

"You can't help people of this caliber for minimum wage. Whoever said the customer was always right never worked in the service industry a day in their life." Yuki leaned against the wall behind her as she drank. "How many times do you get insulted and belittled just for shit you can't control? I've gotten called a highway robber because some Skittles cost ¥200, and then I'm a liar for saying we have Skittles when she wanted Tropical Skittles. She didn't even ask if we had Tropical Skittles."

"Would you rather deal with that or drunk guys trying to hit on you? Seriously, if I hear one more asshole ask if I have a 'real cottontail' and solicit me with carrot sticks, I'm gonna show them what kind shit a hare can do."

The green-haired boy stepped up to the counter. "Um, excuse me, I'm ready to pay," he said quietly.

"You're excused," Sayori replied. "If you're paying cash, you can go to her and if it's card, you can come to me."

The boy moved to pay with Yuki, and some of the other students started to come to the register as well. One girl with a long black ponytail approached Sayori and bowed politely.

"I'm sorry, I'm trying to decide what snacks to get but I've never had anything from a convenience store," she explained sheepishly. "What would you recommend?"

Yuki rung the green-haired boy up and counted out his change, and Sayori chewed her lip to hide her smirking. "Wow, nobody's asked me for my opinion at work before," Yuki remarked.

"That's never stopped you," Sayori replied slyly.

"The salmon in our onigiri is pretty good. But the mayonnaise in the tuna ones are usually kinda sour, so I'd steer clear. Oh, and the chicken tenders we have are good. Since it's your first time, I'll give you the premium Happy-Mart experience and actually make sure they're heated up all the way through. Plus an extra container of sauce--just don't choose the mayonnaise, obviously."

The young girl actually took this seriously. "Oh, thank you! But I was actually wanting some snacks that I could enjoy at home with my friends, like Pocky or chips."

"My sincerest apologies on behalf of my ignorant coworker's suggestion," Sayori replied gravely. "If you want sweets, then the chocolate mushroom-shaped cookies are a classic choice. We've also got some flavor variety, like strawberry, banana, and matcha cream."

"That sounds perfect, thank you! I'll go fetch some in every flavor, just to try them all--oh, and whatever my friend here would like, I'll pay for them." The brown-haired girl next to her blushed--or were those pink marks on her cheeks already there?

"Momo, I can pay for myself," she insisted. "I'll just get a bottle of lemonade."

Momo frowned. "Ochaco, I already told you, it's my treat! I want to reward you for doing so well after studying with me. You got a near perfect score on that English test, so let's celebrate as friends! Get whatever you'd like."

Ochaco was silent for a moment, but then jumped to hug Momo with a huge grin and a bit of anticipatory drool. "You're a saint, Momo-chan!" She took off down the aisles with a wire basket in hand.

Momo took a few steps, but then stopped and turned back to face the cashiers. "By the way, do you accept Platinum Diamond card? If not, I think I have a few Discovery ones that should work…"

"Oh, our Diamond card reader's broken," Yuki replied without skipping a beat. "Damn repairmen are trying to unionize, you know how it is. Discovery's acceptable, ma'am." She handed the green-haired boy his bag with a wry smile. "Hey, kid. Make sure she doesn't make eye contact with anyone around here until you're back on the right side of the tracks, okay?"

The young boy nodded, and Sayori glanced at his shopping bag. "Guess you didn't do so well on that test, if you're paying on your own. Or are you a chivalrous type who wants to pay his own way?"

He looked down inside the bag shyly. "O-Oh, this stuff isn't for me," he replied. "Well, except the All Might protein bars, but that's just for the collectible sweatband in the box. The rest is for my mentor. He's an old--um, older man, so he likes candies that are soft and chewable like these."

"Well, aren't you a sweet protégé," Sayori replied with a smile. "Don't work too hard, 'Kay? Otherwise you'll get burned out and end up like us."

The boy awkwardly nodded. "Um, no problem! Honestly, I probably should rest and relax more often. His training is definitely intense, haha. Sometimes I'm amazed he can move around so fast and is so strong at his age. Then again, he was taller when he worked as a Pro…" He trailed off as he murmured to himself. "Maybe his Quirk had adverse affects on his skeleton or reversed his height after not using it as often as he did in his prime? Or maybe it led to his body changing to adapt to his speed, since smaller and lighter objects move faster than large ones…"

The others checked out soon after, with both girls carrying stuffed bags filled with all sorts of cookies, chips, and onigiri. Yuki and Sayori leaned back on the counter.

"Nice kids," Yuki said. "Hope they stay that way after graduating the Hero course."

"So those were UA uniforms," Sayori remarked. "And did you hear him talking about his mentor? A short old guy that used to be a tall Pro Hero…you think it's Torino?"

Yuki was silent, but then sprinted outside onto the street. She caught the trio of students and cupped her hands to her mouth. "HEY, GREEN-HAIRED HERO KID!"

The boy jumped up and spun around. "Y-yes!?"

"Ask your mentor what is favorite drink is! If it's an Old Fashioned, tell him that Mayumi didn't ever call because he was boring as shit! And her next of kin want her panties back!"

#.bnha #bnha #.oc #bnha oc #.myshit

[tk-duveraun]

@pangolinheart i tried to write an ask and it got too long hahahaha lmaorip

You've activated my ADHD.

Coming up with interesting concepts for characters has never been a particular strong suit of mine (which is why I'm terrible at TTRPGs like D&D).

If you have attempted to play a TTRPG and felt like your character/your playing was boring that is not your fault. TTRPGs are a collaborative affair and the right DM for you could have pulled out the cool shit.

I actually did a write up on how to create a character last year.

I think it's likely you've been convinced by something in your life that you're not creative. Criticised too harshly, mean comments, comparing your own ideas unfavorably to people far more practiced, who knows.

Enjoying and participating so much in ask games shows that your creativity is there it just has to be teased out correctly. Like I said in my other ask, I have so much practice teasing out ideas. I've read so many books teaching me how to do it and I've spent years practicing the skill constantly (thanks ADHD).

Constraint breeds creativity. You know this because when you get a prompt in an ask box, you have an answer, but when you're asked "What's the cool thing about my OC?" you come up with nothing. That's just how human brains work with this kind of stuff!

It's hard to break down the process bc I have severe ADHD, but let me try.

So, personally, I try to design characters with "What would be funniest?"

So Lian is au'ra and all min sliders. So it would be funny if she had a bunch of younger brothers that were just GIANTS. Right? That's funny. Let's throw in more siblings because that makes it funnier, right?

So now the facts we have:

Lian is the oldest of 7 kids

Lian is the Warrior of Light

Lian can fight

Lian has the Echo

Lian is a Raen Au'ra

So we take these facts and run them past the list of potential character/personality archetypes

Eldest daughters are often portrayed as super responsible and protective. This can also come with resentment for having to have looked after their siblings.

So I like the first part, but I don't want resentment. Resentment isn't funny. What would be more funny? If she wanted to parent her siblings, but her parents were like "No, you're a CHILD" and didn't let her.

Now we have a character with a bunch of younger siblings who is a hero saving the realm and desperately wanted to be the mom to her sibs and now it's the Scions' problem. Mom-friend overdrive, especially with the twins.

Enter Estinien. He was my first choice wolmance. He's a horrible raccoon of a man and I love him so much.

So I start going through scenarios and it's not looking great. Mom-friend, mostly-well-adjusted Lian is just gonna end up being a kind of weird therapist to our raccoon man.

But you know what our raccoon man has that we can leverage? A dead family. .... .. :)

So, now Lian's family is dead, they have beautiful mutual survivor's guilt and are gonna fuck about it.

But wait, there's more! I just did the DRK quest. Ishgardians killed a bunch of au'ra for looking kinda dragon-y? :))))))))))))))))))

Estinien is openly hostile and aggressive towards Lian at first.

Well now we need some kind of explanation for what happened to Lian's family. What could kill off 9+ people in one fell swoop? Guess who's in Stormblood now :) Lian's from an underwater raen village. You know what is great at killing 9+ people in isolated villages? Disease :))))))))))))))))))))) Not gonna lie, COVID being on definitely contributed to this.

So Lian's family all died to illness. How did she survive? Was she not there? Zero percent chance she was not there. Too much filial piety for that. So she got sick, but didn't die.

Let's lean into it, take it one step further. Not only did she get sick, she was patient 0. Now the survivor's guilt is even guiltier.

She would have been considered severe bad luck at best by her village, so she feels she has to leave. Well, how does one, orphaned, get from under the sea near Yanxia to Eorzea? Not easily. It was difficult, she couldn't speak the language, she was surely set upon by bandits...

Over time these elements developed into the conceit that Lian can't die. She didn't die from the illness, she didn't die on the way to Eorzea or anything that came to that point.

And now I have something I can leverage into the Big Bang fic where Lian gets speared through at the end of The Vault, and fucking dies but also doesn't die and Haurchefant is super fucked up about it, because no one else seemed to notice or care. They just assumed she was fine.

What I'm getting at is, when I made Lian, I wasn't in the CC thinking "Okay, now the Blessing of Light makes her immune to death for reasons of enjoyable story :)"

I was in the CC thinking "Dragon girl!!!! Dragon girl from asia? Okay I am really into Cdramas, let's make her ~Chinese instead of ~Japanese like Yugiri, DRAGON :))))"

The rest came in increments over time. Taking each new idea and then leaning on it, squeezing it until I had the maximum interesting stuff come out.

Next time you do an ask game, when you write your answer, once you finish, read it again and go "okay, but how can I make this more extreme? More funny? More tragic? More cute?"

Just rinse and repeat and ta da your character is just as cool and complex as everyone else's!

#lian feng #character design #writing advice

[contentment-of-cats]

And more Thyrondi

Once again, more h*rny nonsense below the line.

He got the hint and Rynn is happy about it. It's also a good thing that the cottages are well spread out because she is loud. How can she not be? Thrawn's mouth and fingers bring her off fast, and then he settles in and eats her like a starving man. He eats her until she's swollen, streaming, begging for him to get in her, to fuck her, to lock her. Thrawn slows, tongue circling her nub.

The bastard smiles.

"Humans do not die on the spot from having to wait. You have climaxed several times," he chides and then laughs when her heels drum on his back in frustration. "Tiny human. Delicate."

"Nerfshit," Rynn gasps, his fingers building her next orgasm. "I'm average sized and tough as my boots."

"Mmm. Compared to me - tiny, delicate, and burning hot." 

It's true - his skin is cooler, thicker, designed to retain heat. He gets to his knees, and this pouch opens to let his genitals out. Smooth and hairless, a glistening and slick darker blue. It looks almost human until one sees the ripples at the base, and the wide head. Rynn is spread open, flat on her back as his hands spread on her thighs, caress her hips and belly, span her ribcage, cup her breasts. Thrawn's thumbs tease her nipples and stars in glory whoever taught him is in her prayers of thanks. When he sinks down onto her, pressing her into the bed, he sinks into her as well and Rynn writhes without shame.

Yes. This.

There is a lot of him, and Thrawn fills her until she's certain she can't take a bit more, but when he pulls back those ripples stimulate her inside. Rynn is already at the edge, and the press against her cluster sends her into a frenzy. Now she wants now as he cradles her under him, open and soft and burning for his thrusts and the moment he loses himself in her heat. She comes, again, the waves of pleasure clenching her around his cock and making him moan something she can't understand.

A little victory for her when Thawn loses his Basic, when his breaths turn ragged, his rhythm uneven and urgent. Oh, the stretch as he starts to flare inside of her, and Rynn uses her thighs to pull herself into it. Faster, yes hard and her head falls back on the pillow, seeing stars from how her orgasm is wrung from her as he flares fully, locking inside of her and pulsing a flood of come into her. Chiss men come copiously, and Thrawn is clenched around her, lost in it. Even after he's wrung dry, he's still inside of her and won't subside for ten or fifteen minutes.  

Rynn takes the time to stroke the back of his neck, tease the chaotic curls that the hair product can't tame. His breathing evens out, body going heavy and relaxed atop her. Thrawn fights sleep as she strokes him, grumbling that he's not tired, he doesn't want to be rude-

"Shh." He softens, the flare easing, and Rynn kisses him tenderly. "Sleep. We have five days."

His reply has her name in it, but otherwise she can't understand a thing as he falls asleep and rolls to her left side. It take a few minutes for her to handle the jelly-legs, clean them both and get back on the other side of the bed. Room service will leave a meal, and they can have it when they wake up. It wasn't supposed to happen, but it keeps happening, and Rynn will take it.

#thrawn x pyrondi #thyrondi #thrawn #pyrondi #oh lawd he comin

[bireggiemantle]

📸 👀

hi sara :) tysm for the ask! I decided to go with a platonic jeronica fic for this picture, so I hope you like it!

The knock on the door is only partially unexpected, since Tabitha did mention the possibility of her shift ending early, but the person behind the door is a complete surprise.

There, standing with perfect posture and an expressionless face, is Veronica Lodge. There's a small paper bag in her left hand, and she keeps twirling the handle between two fingers; It's the only visible sign of her impatience.

"Veronica? Tabitha's not home right now, if you're looking for her."

She smiles, but her lips are still pressed tightly together and her eyes just aren't in it. If Jughead didn't know any better he'd think she was nervous and uncomfortable.

"Actually, I was looking for you." She extends her arm towards him, the bag now swaying inches from his chest. "I've been trying to reinvent myself as a better person, and I thought I'd start by saying thank you for helping me with our collaborative magic show."

She shakes the bag gently, indicating for Jughead to take it from her.

There's several layers of meticulously displayed tissue paper inside the bag, but there's also a small black box sitting underneath of them. It's made of a hard plastic with a designer emblem sitting proudly on the top, but Jughead doesn't know enough about brands to recognize the symbol.

The interior of the box is lined with plush velvet, and situated in the very center is a pair of silver earrings in the shape of two bats.

"I know you don't wear earrings very often, but I thought they'd be a nice touch for special events, and since you've got that Cronenberg meets Burton thing going on, so I figured the bats would help compliment that." The smile she gives him this time feels significantly more genuine than the last one. "Well, aren't you gonna try them on?"

Veronica's right, it has been a while since he's worn earrings, so it takes a little bit of force to slide the silver studs through, but they fit comfortably once he finally gets them in.

There's a mirror positioned in the nook beside the entryway, so Jughead can catch a glimpse of the ways the bats look from afar. It's not something he'd usually wear, but he likes the finishing touch they add to his appearance, tying in the glint of silver from his rings to the rest of his outfit. Of course, Veronica's always had an eye for that sort of thing, so the fact that it looks good is no surprise.

"Thank you, Veronica. This is really nice of you."

She waves him off. "No need to thank me. Like I said before, I'm a new woman now, and I want to make an effort to be kinder to my friends."

"Listen, Veronica, you can come inside if you'd like. Tabitha's supposed to be home soon, and I was gonna put coffee on for us anyway."

"As much as I'd love to, I'm afraid I have a meeting in half an hour that I can't miss. Reggie and I are still sorting out legal stuff with the casino. It's a fucking nightmare, but that's on me for trusting an amateur to be my business partner." She takes a step back, but pauses before leaving. "But let me know what Tabitha thinks of the accessory. Most girls love a man with style. 'Till next time."

She leaves with a wink, and Jughead can't help but watch her as she disappears down the hallway, the now-empty bag safely tucked in the crook of her arm.

#im not great at writing veronica but i do adore her little veronicaisms #i hope you like this man #jeronica #mine #asks #ask game #riverdale

[aceontheline]

Love is in Bloom (Mass x Florida: Pt 11)

C//W: Brief Violence mention, Choking

A few weeks have passed. New York, Mass, and Florida have been going out for a bit now and are incredibly happy together.

New York was preparing for his Fashion Week. Everything seemed intense, with him staying up for hours creating some flawless looking ensembles to show off. He was immensely proud of them all, preparing to head to the venue two days prior. He checked into a hotel and made any last second alterations to them before putting them in the closet of the room and calling it a night. York was bored, so he browsed on social media for a while, getting a kick out of his Instagram feed.

Before he knew it, it was the day. New York ran the outfits down with him and to the event. The model was to try on the clothes and the judges would make comments on their comment cards. York was incredibly nervous, but dressed the model well enough and did her makeup as well. By the time his model was down to her last outfit, she hugged him, thanking him immensely for putting her in such nice looking clothes. York smiled confidently, hugging her back. "You're welcome. You've been killing it out there so far. Really WOW 'em" York commanded playfully, and she did just that.

New York got through all that anxiety riddled experience and immediately waited for the comment cards to come his way... To very bad results.

"This is some of the... Ugliest clothing I've ever seen", "Belongs in Walmart, not in high fashion", "Who is the designer? A blind man?", "Colors were VERY off, and that's the nicest thing I can say"...

New York read through several more and felt himself getting sick. His vision was blurry and he felt like he was going to pass out. Or... Cry. Shit. He needed to get back home immediately. He rushed back to his hotel room instead of sticking around and gathered all his things. York managed to teleport his way out of the hotel after checking out. He got back home and saw everyone talking, eating dinner, or just hanging out in the general area. York didn't feel like burdening anyone with his overly anxious presence, so he just ran off to his room and slammed the door behind him. He slowed his breathing and distracted himself momentarily.

Until Mass appeared. He knocked on the door gently a couple of times, genuinely wanting to know if his boyfriend was okay. New York opened the door slowly and looked at Mass in a confused manner, asking him what he wanted. Mass reiterated that York stormed off to his room and slammed the door, not speaking a word to anyone. York sighed and pulled Mass into his room, shutting the door.

New York slammed the comment cards down onto his desk, asking Mass to read them. Mass rifled through the cards, getting progressively angrier and angrier with each one. Mass slammed down the last one, sighing heavily and trying not to scream.

"Those idiots wouldn't know fashion if it hit them over the fuckin' head. I saw those outfits and they looked GREAT. Everyone just wants minimalistic shit now, super boring and not bothering to try anything new" Mass commented. York nodded his head, laughing a bit. A familiar sound was heard... Laughing. From the Southern state.

"Wussy boy is cryin' over FASHION? You gotta be kiddin' me. And here I thought New York was a hard ass type" Texas said through laughter. New York looked like he was about to cry once more. Mass bore his fangs and growled.

"Shut. The FUCK. UP, TEXAS. No one asked for your shitty input!" Mass screamed, shoving Texas out of the way.

Texas punched the wall next to Mass's head, asking him if he REALLY wanted to start a fight. New York was crying now, pulling Mass away from Texas. York looked at Texas with his tear filled eyes and punched him as hard as he could in the stomach. Texas cringed in pain, leaning against the wall for a few moments, trying to regain his breath. York grabbed his bat and stuck it under Texas's chin, looking at him with tears still fresh in his eyes, but a crazy looking smile. "I will not fuckin' hesitate to break your face" New York said in between sniffles. Texas immediately backed away and apologized hastily for upsetting New York, soon running away.

Mass closed the door and looked at York with a concerned expression. Without a word, he toppled York and himself over onto the bed and hugged him tightly. York continued to cry as Mass encouraged him to do so, cuddled up into his chest. Mass pet his fingers through York's soft hair, trying to relax him with some idle humming. Suddenly, another familiar face.

The sunshine state peeked through the door, asking if he could come in. York nodded, still crying into Mass's chest. Confused as to why York was crying, Florida asked them. Then he saw the comment cards sprawled out and... York's outfits cut up and destroyed. Florida jumped on the bed next to York, petting his back.

"Those guys are dumb. Most critics are, and that's why I don't listen to them" Florida commented.

"Heh... I-Is that why ya don't listen to G-Gov all that much?" New York joked, making the two laugh.

"Well Gov is just boring. Those so called 'high fashion' snobs are all dumb & have no clue what they actually want, even if it was staring them in the face" Florida stated.

New York chuckled, wiping his tears away. He looked up at Mass and Florida, who were giving him goofy smiles to cheer him up, and it worked. York giggled, cuddling up to Mass's chest once more. Florida did as well, leaving all three of them in a small cuddle pile. All three of them stayed like that for a while, before Florida dragged New York to his room. Florida, once they arrived, showed New York the failed fashion outfits that he tried submitting. "Apparently, these all sucked too so... Don't feel bad" Florida said.

New York looked at Florida's own designs. "These are awesome. So yeah, you're right about what you said" York replied with a smirk. Florida hugged York, thanking him. The two of them cuddled and talked for a little longer, with Florida nuzzling deeply into York's chest. He smiled softly as he felt York's breaths lessen in intensity and his heart rate relaxing a bit. He looked down to see Florida's familiar, scrunched up and cute looking smile. York kissed Florida's forehead and stroked through his hair.

"You're too damn precious, Sunshine" York said.

"You're not so bad yourself there, Doll" Florida replied.

York smiled and playfully hit Florida on the arm. The two laughed for a brief moment, before staring into each other's eyes. Then, the two got close together and kissed each other softly. Then again with more passion. Before they knew it, New York was on top of Florida... And he had an idea.

York put his hand over Florida's throat in a gentle manner, then squeezed a bit. It wasn't enough to choke Florida, but enough to send him into a wave of "Holy shit" type of ecstasy. Florida's knees became weak as he shook under York's structure. He moaned softly, asking York to choke him a little. York complied, his grip firming up a bit more. Florida moaned again, soon tapping York's hand. York let go of Florida's throat, as he gazed into the mesmerized eyes of his lover.

Florida remarked at how amazing that felt, but he felt like it was still too soon for them to try anything like that. York apologized instantly and quite frequently, as he didn't want to come off as "that guy". Florida chuckled, kissing the man to silence him.

"It's okay. Just don't do that again until I tell you. Okay?" Florida asked, smiling.

"Got it" York replied.

The two continued to cuddle for a while instead, then slowly fell asleep in each other's arms.

Previous: ( Here ) ; Next ( Here )

Masterpost: ( Here )

#wttt #wttt fanfic #wttt massachusetts #wttt new york #wttt florida

[lavender-rosa]

your most favorite character ever for the ask game

Hmm, as I have answered this question way back with my most favourite character, I am going to go with a very recent favourite of mine: Jinx from Arcane.

Favourite thing about them: Her design is amazing and the utmost care was put into animating her. Jinx is honestly one of the best written characters I have recently come across.

How her traumatic childhood and severe abandonment issues shaped her from this sweet, insecure child into a ruthless, trigger-happy murderer, she is deeply insecure and desperate to prove herself worthy to those who she loves. How throughout the show her mental health keeps getting significantly worse, how she keeps struggling between her old identity (Powder) and her new one (Jinx) until the very end when she accidentaly kills her father figure and completely gives up on salvaging her relationship with her sister, fully accepting her identity as Jinx.

And most importantly she is such a fun character to watch whether she is bombing and shooting countless of people, tinkering with her gadgets in her underground lair or being completely miserable she is alway a treat to watch, She is such a complex character and I love her for it, my beautiful trashfire daughter <3

Least favourite thing about them: It's a bit complicated but Jinx has been repeatedly shown throughout the show to suffer from severe psychotic episodes accompanied with visual and auditory hallucinations a combination of PTSD and an unspecified psychotic disorder.

While on one hand her mental illness is handled with respect and sympathy, the way she reacts to triggers and how those triggers are correlated with her traumatic childhood are handled well and she is not berrated, mocked or ridiculed by the narrative for being mentally ill ala Harley Quinn style. But on the other hand having the sole person suffering from psychosis in the show be the violent, trigger-happy, terrorist further aids some very unfortunate stereotypes about people suffering from similar disorders.

Favourite Line:

"Wanna know a secret ? Silco thinks he made Jinx with all of his rants and hard-won lessons. "Excise your doubts, Jinx", "Be what they fear, Jinx" like everything was the same as when Vander left him... But he didn't make Jinx. You did."

"I'm sorry Powder, I never meant to leave you"

"But you never left, I always heard you, shadows in the streets, prickles on the back of my neck. Your... voice pushing me, picking me up, when all the colours were black... You are the reason I am still alive."

I adore her monologue here and I forgot to mention it in the first question, but her voice-actress Ella Purnell did an absolutely fantastic job, especially here like, Jinx's tone is so bitter yet appreciative. She resents her sister for turning her the way she is but she is also thankful for it truly highlighting how divided she is.

And

"I thought... maybe you could love me like you used to even though I am... different. But you changed too, so here's to the new us."

The rest is under a read more since I tend to write essays when talking about my favourite characters I can't help myself sorry

BROTP: Vi, like I do hope they manage to salvage whatever is left of their relationship because I am a sucker for sibling dynamics and the reckless, impulsive nature they both have would create interesting interactions.

OTP: Timebomb (Ekko x Jinx) It's the childhood friends to mortal enemies for me.

I also like Flashlight (Lux x Jinx) but since their interactions are in-game only idk if I should put this here.

nOTP: with Vi and Silco. Out of an entire cast of colourful characters people decide to ship her with her sister and the man that raised her as his own daughter??? For fucks sake.

Random Headcanons:

She is autistic because I said so <3 (ok jokes aside you can heavily read neurodivergency in her actions and reactions)

She is bi

She has a horrendous sleeping schedule, like have you seen the dark circles on this chick? She probably stays up multiple nights to work on her projects until her body gives up and she simply passes out on her desk. I believe after the shimmer injection her schedule worsened.

I believe she was 11 years old before the time-skip and that she is 19-20 after it. None of the creators seem to agree on what the characters actual ages are so oh well.

Unpopular Opinion: Oh boy do I have some

1) I hate when people keep insisting that Powder and Jinx are two different people, like why is it such a common take? Powder and Jinx are the same person. Jinx is a grown up Powder that was deeply traumatised and her environment and the people who raised her changed her mostly for the worse.

And what gets me is how the main point of Jinx's arc is disapproving the notion that Powder and Jinx are different people by punishing the characters that believed so.

Ekko believes that Powder is dead and Jinx is the only thing that remains (going as far as to paint Powder in a mural meant to honor the deceased despite knowing she is still alive). This notion is debunked during the bridge fight when Ekko sees that the person he is fighting to the death is still his old childhood friend.

Silco thinks that Powder is a weak nuisance something the more powerful Jinx must kill so she can reach her full potential the narrative punishes him for holding that notion by killing him.

Vi believes that her little sister is trapped deep inside Jinx and that she must dig through all the layers of evil to get to Powder. The narrative punishes her by having her sister choose the identity Jinx, completely give up on salvaging their relationship and blowing up the council. (Tbh I can excuse Vi the most out of the three as she spent most of her time in a prison where her last memory of her believed to be deceased sister was her hitting her and calling her a jinx, mulling over the guilt and regret. Like of course Vi wouldn't want to call her sister Jinx).

2) I do not want Arcane Jinx to become her in-game counterpart. In-game Jinx is and was intended as an one-dimensional male fantasy. She is wacky like a Looney Tunes character and her mental illness is treated more akin to a Harley Quinn-esque quirk. Arcane Jinx becoming LoL Jinx would be basically making her a much less interesting character.

Also if Arcane Jinx became LoL Jinx that would mean that we would never really get a conclusion to her story since LoL Jinx's story has not finished (and never will since LoL is a battle arena game, they cannot afford to give their characters proper conclusions to their stories) so that would mean we would be left on a cliffhanger that would make the show feel like a League of Legends ad (well even more than usual). I just want a self-contained story that's all.

3) Vi is not the sole reason why Jinx became who she is. The majority cites Jinx's above monologue to say that Vi is the sole person to blame for Jinx's descent to villainy. Whiles yes Vi (accidentally) played her part, but what caused Powder to become Jinx wasn't a single event or a single person. From her parents murder, to Piltovers tyranny over Zaun, to witnessing incredible violence since a very tender age, to her mental illness, to being raised by Silco, to the shimmer injection etc.

All those factors shaped her. The above dialogue was not meant to be perceived as the absolute truth since at this point Jinx is incredibly unstable, unreliable and deflects responsibility. In the end Jinx is the one responsible for her own actions, she acts based on her own agency and Vi shouldn't be burdened by her sisters actions. I mean we know that she is going to blame herself for "creating" Jinx, Vi is a very self-blaming person due to her own traumas but that is meant to be a character flaw not the actual truth ya know.

Songs I associate with them:

Get Jinxed- Djerv (it's her theme song after all)

Enemy-Imagine Dragons (obviously)

Guns for Hire- Woodkid

What Could Have Been- Sting

Now songs that are not from the Arcane soundtrack:

Spitting Glass- You love her coz she's dead

Worldwide Torture- Jazmin Bean

Magical Doctor- Maretu

I'm Yer Dad- GRLwood

Girl Anachronism- The Dresden Dolls

Favourite pictures of them: How can I even choose she looks amazing every single time she appears. Like:

Here take all of them

Here are some more

She is an icon, she is the moment etc etc

Anyways thank you for coming to my TED Talk

#hits you with the infodumping beam #thanks for the ask! #idk if this is even comprehensible since i wrote the first half at 4am while dying from the heat #do i dare main tag this #arcane #jinx #asks

[spookycrazyhatboxghost]

The first chill of winter has hit Sundari

//fr I don’t even know if Mandalore gets winters or how that’d work under the dome but it’s cold and I’m suffering //

The hour is late; kitchens have been closed for an hour and they’re in the middle of their weekly caff and little pastry wind-down.

There are three chairs set out with a drip caff station at the table; two chairs are occupied.

Both are wearing matching uniforms, high collared dark shirts, pants and boots. The starch of their collars gone and their aprons long discarded but that is where the similarities end.

One is a tall; slightly pale blue Pau' an man; bald and black eyes—all long limbs and a unique pattern tattooed from the crown to his cheekbones. He was friendly to few and tolerated even less.

The baseline human across from him was sitting—no perched on the chair; left side against the backrest and one leg on the chair flat. Dark hair clipped away from the face; on the table in-front of him is a spare page of flimsi and a spiced hot chocolate that is more spiced mocha then dessert.

Mandalorian by birth but didn’t hold the zeal for Beskar’gam covering all of the time —hence his kitchen work.

Xok is concentrating hard on counting

stitches ignoring the look Qwil is giving

him.

The Pau' an in the other chair doesn't try to hide the

amusement behind the nicest cup of

drip caff he's had in awhile.

"So how's

the scarf coming along? 12-7–34".

He received a death glare in lieu of an

answer.

“Rude! Yours, Granns and Calam’s I’ve already finished— it’s just this one I’m having to restart… it has to look nice ”

The man paused scribing the stitch count on the bit of flimsi ; fingers absentmindedly petting the semi completed scarf. It was a subtly variegated yarn; pitch black for long stretches until it shifted to a faint berry tone and then a bright shock of red and then back to berry and then pitch. And in the design he’d chosen the little red shift was actually quite pretty.

When he saw it in a market off world he’d bought it immediately. The seller had all different colors and he’d grabbed several in his friends favorites but this one was a gamble.

"I am about

3/4ths of the way done- I would be further along if Syril would let

me knit in peace--I have to hide it from her in this”

Xók murmurs.

For emphasis; shaking the tote bag he carries the project in. Qwil nods but his attention is now more focused on the plate of sweet breads Grann has brought from the back.

They were destined for the trash anyway so why

be wasteful.

Grann was in a jolly mood; from red shade on her claws that matched her head feathers to the way she presented the plate of pan with all her pointy teeth showing.

"See? A little water and time in the oven

and they are good as new." She grinned triumphantly.

Xok poured her some caff as she settled back down.

"Never doubted you for a moment Grann”

The

human insisted as he finished preparing it how she

liked.

“Thank you that’s sweet of you— ”

She ruffled his hair good naturally.

Qwil noted this and even though he’s just finished a cup—pouted only as much as his

pride would allow.

"Where's mine?"

Xók turned in his

direction with a mini pink concha in each hand. Brown eyes

wide as he cleaned the pink dust from his fingers.

"Oh I'm sorry Qwil--what was it ? Vashkan honey?

and a splash of--go Fuck yourself"

Unused to the animosity. Grann nearly

choked on her sugar dusted choice.

Qwil didn't need to move an inch to point in Xók's

face.

"That's not right - she and I have been on the exact same shift -on our feet all day while you waltz

in at noon-"

Qwil is genuinely surprised when Xök

grabs his shirt collar and shakes him.

"I was in the MedBay you ass!" Xok hissed as he

dismounts the stool he used to get right up in his face.

Grann interrupted; voice and expression worried.

"What happened dear? Are you sick? Are you pregnant??"

Xók can hear it when his voice cracks.

"I'm not sick--pregnant what--?"

Rubbing the bridge of his nose Xók composes

himself and tries again.

"Grann-if I was pregnant do

you think I would be having caff right now? Also why

did you think I was-never mind. No this tall glass of

oisk forgot to tell me the caff I had last night could

have killed me—-“

Qwil winced

"So the Comm this morning ?

—you weren't

kidding--I'm sorry Xó-" The human nodded his head;

dipped the concha in the spiced cocoa and

explained.

"The lads in the med bay were super

confused on how I made it there on my own two feet

to be honest-“.

Xók took a bite and swallows quickly before continuing.

”Said if I'd waited any longer it would have given me a

heart attack- they had to knock me out and flush it

from my system--took longer then expected-I'm

sorry I was late for my shift-" Qwil;incredulous.

"None of that-Hey I like you alive thank you very

much-“

Xók's eyes were a little misty but he nodded.

To Qwil— apologizing smacks of bitterness .

"I'm sorry I forgot about the warning label

on the caff-I forget you're only human sometimes"

Xok sits there mouth half open in shock. "Was that-

a compliment?!" The Pau'an softly scowls into his

mug.

“No—“

Xok is full on grinning now.

"Wow-I'm really touched

you like having me around-"

Qwil bristles defensively

; pointing at the tote bag.

"There's a big chance /

He/won't accept it. Why are you bothering—-"

Qwil stopped as the spark in Xók's expression dimmed.

The dark haired man gathered his things to his chest and stood. Xok starts talking out-loud

"I just -I don't know I wanted to say thank you?- that I appreciate him-?"

Xök breathes unsteadily amidst Qwil trying to think

of a way to take it back. The Pau' an flinches-away from the hard look Grann is aiming at him.

"That

was a low blow Xök forgive me?-"

Qwil says loudly to

stop the guilt foaming up his insides and the glare

from burning into the side of his skull.

Xók looks at him nodding.

"No -ah thank you for the reality check Qwil-“

Brows furrowing slightly the human explained.

"I'm prepared to keep the

scarf if he doesn't want it... it's still a perfectly good

scarf for the cold.

Morning patrols are freezing— I could make gloves or a hat if there’s any yarn to spare….”

Xók felt a little better about the whole thing; thought it was good when friends kept you grounded.

Soon it was time to go their separate ways.

Passing one of the windows on his route home Zok witnessed the first flurry of snow drift gently on the other side of the glass.

FIN

#spookycrazyhatboxghost #darth maul x male oc #darth maul #whyyyyy #star wars fanfiction #maul

[measlywritingblog]

Happy WBW!

How does the government system in your WIP work? What type is it (is it a monarchy, or theocracy, or democracy, etc), how are laws passed, how are new leaders/rulers chosen, how does the justice system operate, etc etc?

Thank you so much for the ask! The easy way out of having to worldbuild this would be to say "my antagonist is a theocratic despot and just runs everything" and leave it at that.

However, that's exactly what Father wants you to think.

No matter how hard He tries to convince you otherwise, (and believe me, He tries very hard to sell everyone on the idea,) He's not actually omniscient or omnipresent. He's the closest thing a single person could get to it- being able to communicate telepathically damn near instantaneously with anyone He pleases definitely gives Him a leg up on that -but He is still one person, with one mind, trying to single-handedly run an empire the size of the solar system.

The result is an intense bureaucratic mess. Every decision, by His decree, has to go through Him. This goes about as well as you can expect. There are local governments, but their only role in the end is to try and pray hard enough to break through the clamor of other local governments on different parts of the planet, and even other planets, that are all trying to get His attention. These local governments are comprised of elected officials, and some of them are actually really good people, but they're simply powerless in the face of "The Big Man Hasn't Responded Yet, Tough Luck And Wait Your Turn."

Most laws come from Him in the form of "Decrees", and He hasn't made many in recent times (as He's finding it harder not to accidentally contradict Himself). Some laws are written by the local governments and then receive His stamp of approval. See the above mentioned problem.

Thankfully, though, there are four other people in the universe who are allowed to make decisions on His behalf, so there's three portions of government that aren't entirely fucked.

OSHA and Infrastructure stuff are handled by Mian, Father's second youngest kid. Or it would be, if they could be bothered to stop designing pretty buildings for one second and actually do their damn job. So I lied, this one's still fucked.

Planetary diplomacy and relations are handled by Linius, the second oldest. He's the head of the Solar Council, an official governing body comprised of the nine planetary representatives. This government would be a really great action system for change- if being as high up as a representative of an entire planet wasn't so far removed from actual, realistic initiatives down on the ground to help the citizens. Despite Linius' best efforts, he and the council remain largely a figurehead.

Then there's the justice system. Father's eldest daughter, Auriel, was hand-raised to be the supreme justice on the empire, and she interprets His decrees. She's essentially Father 2.0- her interpretations themselves are taken as holy fact, and she helps enforce them with her own military corps as well. But weirdly enough, she only handles civil cases and things that could be considered "white collar" crime, although it's spun to look less severe. A big part of her role is "absolving sin", not instituting punishment.

This is because when Father came to power 800 years ago, He decreed that now that He was in power, there would be no more crime.

Did this happen? Nope! But here to fix that problem is His middle child, Curzon. Curzon's day job is to walk amongst the people and spread the Good Word through being friendly and performing miracles. Curzon's night job is being the head of a brutal secret police dedicated to rooting out "heretics"- also known as those who don't believe in Father's godhood, or have problems with the way He does things, or talk smack about Him, or do something less severe like murder or stealing. Lesser heretics are coerced into publicly confessing and promptly mind-wiped, while more severe heretics simply disappear. If they were real trouble makers, they get the added honor of being erased from the memory of everyone who knew them.

The people that work for Curzon are called "Missionaries". Official tradition is that missionaries are to be eagerly welcomed into the house, and are a sign of blessings to come your way. In all actuality, most people have the intuitive sense that whenever a missionary shows up, something bad is about to happen. In the rougher places, especially on Mars, missionaries take a more overt role in policing the populous. enforcing curfews and ensuring everyone shows up to morning worship service.

The other big job of the missionaries is to find and register all psychically-gifted people. Any unregistered psychics are considered heretics, as Father has decreed that it's the divine purpose of people with psychic gifts to serve the rest of humanity. This basically translates to psychics being carted off and either turned into more missionaries, or being distributed as necessary to the military.

Speaking of the military-

Father is the supreme head of the military, of course, with His own Corps that can really kinda do everything, but recently He's split the duty with three of His kids, two of which being hand-raised for the role.

Auriel, as mentioned previously, has her own small military corps to help enforce Father's laws and her interpretations of them. However, more often than not, her military corps are doing stuff like humanitarian aide and logistics. It's also the smallest of the corps.

Next is Romulus, one of the middle children. He was hand-raised to be the head of Father's defensive corps, called the Auxalia Corps. His force is the one that responds to terrorist actions against Father's empire from the rogue enclaves around Mercury or past Pluto. A lot of the corps' time is spent in training operations for an imagined "worst case scenario"- an all out attack on the capital of Earth to overthrow Father once and for all. If you see a Corps doing a military parade, odds are it's his. He likes doing parades lol.

Finally is Alphara. Alphara is the youngest child, and the head of Alpha Corps, Father's expeditionary force. Her fleet's job is to journey out beyond Pluto and directly hunt down the remaining heretic enclaves. Alpha Corps is the closest thing this military has to a pure navy, as its role entails largely starship-to-starship combat, with some boarding action going on in there. Alpha Corps is the final step in Father's grand plan to finally rid the solar system of heretics once and for all-

-is what I would say if Alphara didn't develop a crippling case of protagonist syndrome when she was 12.

TL;DR: big dumb YA theocratic dystopia. Dictator bad. Big government bad. Thanks for coming to my TED talk.

#worldbuilding #this got REALLY long so it's all under the cut #thank you for forcing me to write all this out! this'll be great for future reference #seriously I appreciate it #it's a common theme in my work that I keep accidentally reinventing 1984 despite me proclaiming that my writing is very optimistic #it doesn't help that my antagonist is a scathing critique of fascism #he's the nicest guy. the sweetest dude. But his politics are horrifying and in the end make him feel utterly alien #I've never been a fan of fantasy that supports monarchy can you tell?? #this turned out really political- I promise my story isn't this obnoxious and overt #mostly because my protagonist is 12 lmao