#imagine when i get it professionals cut and dyed

[stxrshxpxd]

“that’s my girl!”

pairing: dr house x reader

word count: 746

warnings: none

prompt: house can’t stay focused on the case when something more interesting is distracting him, but reader knows how to put up a fight in the vicious bantering and flirting match that ensues

“His BP being through the roof has no connection with his other symptoms. None of it makes sense. There has to be more than one disease,” Chase sighed and stared at House who was leaned back in his chair. He was silently playing with a pen between his fingers and appeared to not be listening, but he was because his eyebrow twitched in response.

“We’re ignoring the obvious,” I said and turned my eyes back to the rest of the group, choosing to ignore House instead.

“Thank you, I didn’t want to be the one to point it out,” he spoke at last with a mock modesty and he quivered his lip shyly, making Foreman exhale a short chuckle at the other end of the table.

“His five family members have all separately attested to his dramatic change in personality the last three days. The problem’s in his brain,” I argued, ignoring House further but being painfully aware of the breath he was taking, preparing to interject again.

“Oh, no, the obvious thing is your blouse having one less button done up than normal,” he corrected matter-of-factly. “I believe Cuddy would think that’s a little inappropriate when you’re working with a twelve year old boy.”

I caught eye contact with him again as I let a deep sigh out, and he stared back at me with a tilted head and mock disapproval written on his face.

“You mean the one sitting next to me right now?” I questioned, giving in to his games. Playing along was usually the quickest way to steer the focus back to the case. House smirked back at me and Foreman spoke next.

“He just wants to imagine Cuddy will storm in here and do your blouse up herself because she can’t stand the idea of House being in the same room as any other woman’s pair of breasts.” He darted his eyes back at House. “Sorry, Cuddy doesn’t care.”

“Foreman, honestly, be professional! We have a dying boy to cure and you want to spend precious seconds talking about L/N’s breasts? Grow up!” House yelped in joking distress and disdain as he leaned over the table, forcing his side profile into my field of view.

“And I was imagining Cuddy unbuttoning your blouse by the way,” House whispered to me shortly. Behind his face I saw Chase give me a subtle look of sympathy.

“You two, go do an MRI on the poor kid’s brain!” House ordered loudly, shooing Chase and Foreman away.

“As for you,” House looked at me. “Mommy- Crap! I mean mommy- Ugh, Momm-“ He cut himself off repeatedly, searching for my name, and at last held his hand up to cover my cleavage from his eyeline.

“L/N,” he exhaled in relief finally. “Go get the parents’ consent for an LP. Bonus points if you do it my way.”

I rolled my eyes with a tired laugh and stood up. His way meant pressuring, lying, manipulating, and anything else in that general area of malpractice.

“Do you hand out bonus points to all of us?” I asked rhetorically and hugged the stack of the boy’s medical records against my chest.

“Only the pretty ones,” he responded and shook his head.

“Chase and me?” I suggested.

“Wilson’s on there too. Have you seen those doe eyes?” House gushed as he stood up and limped his way around the table. I laughed, shaking my head at his ridiculousness.

“You’re in the lead now,” he assured and waved his finger around in front of my cleavage.

“What’s the prize? An extra day away from you?” I joked viciously, tilting my chin up a tad since his tall body had come up close to me now. His intense stare fell heavy on my face.

“The opposite. A night with me.”

“Ohh! So that’s why you and Wilson always arrive together in the morning,” I said and nodded with a playful realisation in my eyes. House only smiled down at me, amused by my firing back at him.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go flirt with a dad so that I can stick a needle in his son’s spine,” I beamed back at him and pushed my chest out before turning my heel and heading for the door.

“That’s my girl! You’ll do just fine. I’ll go ahead and add some points to your score,” House called after me and I laughed and kept walking, rolling my eyes again.

#house #gregory house #house md #dr house #fic #imagine #house x reader

[confused-wanderer]

After several posts and headcanons and theories, I have come to a conclusion: Dick and Jason have a more or less similar relationship to Steve and Bucky. Think about it.

The “Golden boy” and “sweetheart” who is constantly praised and looked upto, yet only the other one truly knows how feral the other is cuz they knew them long before shit hit the fan and they KNOW that chaotic gremlin hasn’t gone- it’s just been better at not getting caught.

IMAGINE:

Jason coming back from the dead just to hear everyone talking about Dick as if he’s a God, and stopping himself from dragging his brother down there cuz only ONE of them has put people in hospitals, left every criminal with PTSD and Jason aint it. Sure, he’s making up for it but Dicks got a fucking head start.

Jason being the only one who can see right thru Dicks bullshit and is full aware of chaotic-feral-no-self-preservation-don’t-believe-me-then-WATCH Dick fucking Grayson. It’s why during operations he loves pairing up with Dick cuz the guy has sheer unconventionality and Jason is HERE for it.

Some new hero: Oh my god Nightwing’s so calm and always knows what he’s doing!

Jason *flashbacks to last night when Dick tried to cook pasta and ended up blasting his bathtub and frantically calling Jason over while the pasta kept exploding in the background and he didn’t want to piss off Alfred*

Justice league: Nightwing always knows the right things to do, and knows how to act in every situation.

Jason *thanking god his mask was on so no one could see him dying cuz before he died Dick had literally stolen the Batmobile and allowed Jason to joyride; was also the same person who taught Jason how to hit clean cuts and decimate any opponent by any, and I mean ANY means necessary*

New teen titans: Gah Nightwing is so professional!!

Jason *remembers when Dick yelled “want some GROUND for your coffee DIRTBAG?!” Before throwing sand in their faces and absolutely demolishing them by fighting dirtier than Jason had seen anyone*

And Dicks grateful cuz Jason’s the person all his guard crumbles in front of. One who knows what he’s thinking, knows the real him. Someone he doesn’t have to pretend in front of, and would help him no matter what happens, even if he gets a earful later.

Jason’s the mother hen, and Dicks the idiot who would throw himself in danger every chance he gets.

It’s also why all the OG teen titans and Jason both meet up for tea just to talk about Dicks shit and silently agree to form an alliance. It’s their bonding point and now they hang out a lot too.

Dick has a feeling something’s going on, but he’s too afraid to ask.

#dick Grayson #nightwing #Robin #batman #red hood #Jason todd #Jason todd robin #dick Grayson robin #Wally west #kid flash #the flash #headcanons #batfam #bat rod #teen titans

[sarcasticscribbles]

I made a curious cat and people been asking about my designs so I thought I would share it here too If you have any question too you can send it here or over on curious cat!

Under cut is a very long monologue about some design choices regarding my s1 gang, Gerry and some avatars!

S1: Jon, Martin, Sasha and Tim

Right off the bat I'll admit I had seen TMA fanart before, but I assumed it was a game from how consistent designs are (Jon and Martin); however when I started I avoided fanart (but I am not immune to TMA fanon designs). I'll explain S1 gang, they are my favourites. I find fcs helpful to keep them consistence.

Jon: I have a basic Jon design: short, brown man with long hair and glasses. Jon has a put together façade but, he wasn't qualified for the archivist position, and he doesn't know what he's doing. Therefore, I like him with longer hair he can't care for, therefore messy. It gets longer with the seasons and adding on all the marks he gains from the entities. I gave him half-moon, golden glasses with chains holding two eyes. I like to think it's a Beholding artefact, so Gertrude wore them before him. I used to have Dev Patel as a reference for him, but I've switched over to Riz Ahmed!

Martin: Very basic: fat man with fluffy hair and glasses. When I heard his voice, I thought of Harvey Guillén, who stayed a reference for Martin's body. I pictured him in a dorky attire; round glasses, ginger, comfy yet business appropriate clothing. I added eyes in the pattern of his jumper and added freckles. I've recently play around adding a beard, because I think he wants to look older than he is (re: CV; "I'm only 29!") but haven't found a style I like. I keep him fat throughout the series, instead of him losing weight s4.

Sasha: She has some canon traits: tall, long hair and glasses. I draw her hair up to stay out of her face. Contra Jon, I think she was more qualified for the archivist position, so Gertrude started preparing her for the role. She wears an eye necklace I draw Gertrude wearing that's in the same style as Jon's glasses. She has a matching bracelet with Tim and overall is one of my favourites. (notSasha): I took what was established and flipped it; short, short hair, no glasses. I imagine notthem could pass as cousins (since they still need traits to the victim's family?); no immediate resemblance but with a few traits of the original.

Tim: Canonically described as hot so I have my own bias. I started with general attractive traits: tall and fit. I think he puts a lot into his appearance. I use Keanu Reeves as a reference, and he works great for him. He’s a hair guy, gets it professionally cut and owns expensive products, skincare routine and dresses in fitted clothing. His standard is a shirt with an eye pattern. He takes pride in his appearance, so S2’s worm scars troubled him. He stops shaving to let it heal properly but they never go away. He never liked looking at them and they are a cruel reminder of the past (however, one scar splits his eyebrow to x2 bisexuality). S3 he stopped caring about putting in effort, the stubble grew into a beard and his clothes aren't fitted. He loses muscles, gains weight, and isn’t who he was in S1.

Gerard Keay

I had just assumed Eric was hispanic (for some reason) and then I connected that he's Gerry's dad, and apparently I headcanon him half hispanic lol

But it was why I wanted to draw the Mama family portrait to play with genetics. Letting his dad be rather tall, tan with dark curly hair and Mary be ginger with paler skin; Gerry's pale, ginger with curly hair as a child. He grew up looking like Mary and started altering his appearance to be more like his dad; dyed dark hair and taking some of Eric's clothing (I also gave both a beauty mark under their eye he'll highlight despite wearing make up). Alternative scenes and goths tend to straighten their hair but I let Gerry have naturally wavy to still resemble his dad more. I tried to give him trad goth make up, mainly looking at Siouxsie Sioux in the late 70s. And a fun bonus to have his hair often cover one eye because, The Eye

Gerry cared for his dad, even if he died when he was a toddler (if I remember correctly). Gerry's chosen name is the nickname Eric referred to him as, which is also where my trans headcanon comes in (afab). I haven't thought it out fully, or how that reflects on other characters since everyone else calls him Gerard but I think there's some symbolising there having a chosen name relating back to Eric

(some) Avatars

Oliver Banks: "the Egyptians believed the most significant thing you could do in your life was die,"; I take inspiration from Ancient Egypt for my Oliver design! He wears an Ankh around his neck, but I want to look into more about Egyptian death symbolism (he has a cross too, but I'll probably remove it for future designs). I've also taken some inspiration from Nordic mythology, with Hel (Hela In English? Loki's daughter (not Marvel) ) as half his face is beautiful, and the other is a corpse (skull). I don't wanna mix too many cultures just for the sake of it, but it was a really fun design decision. And he's goth. Bonus death aligned I next time I draw Georgie I'll draw inspiration from the Death's-head hawkmoth

The Distortions: Michael's 60s and Helen's 80s inspired, no reason, just vibes. I like to think of Michael as a spiral while Helen's a twist, if that makes sense, I've been meaning to draw them together to demonstrate, but I'll include a doodle of it

Jane Prentiss: I looked into a lot of paganism, and fell into a rabbit hole. She's described as a modern witch, so I wanted a subtle alternative look with a shaved side and gauges. One of her breasts are exposed because (boobs) in old pagan traditions a lot of rituals were performed nude, to be closer to nature. A lot of pagan art has a very strong feminine force, I want for Prentiss. She has one eye, but I'll probably remove the other too, I've seen a lot of people do for more holes

Nikola Orsinov: Drag king. Because we need more of those. I love drag so Nikola's has a mix of both male and female attributes since he's just trying to imitate a human. Their design is also inspired The Toy Soldier in the mechanisms (haven't listened? To it but a lot of people pointed me to that designing Nikola!) that's also her actor Jessica Law! I put all my gender into Nikola lol, and when I can sneak an IT reference in I will

Breekon and Hope: Wario and Waluigi

Annabelle Cane: She's described having web keeping her skull together, but for some reason I imagined it to be down her neck. So I pictured her head occasionally falling off and being restored by a web. So I gave her both lol. Her vintage style is old, goth Hollywood glam to me and I love looking at reference for her

Bonus Agnes: I haven't drawn her fully, but I wanna take inspiration from Scandinavian culture, think Midsommar (both the movie and the tradition) and maybe Norse paganism. I love Agnes story and how it's only told by other people, and her relationship with Gertrude is so interesting!

#tma #the magnus archives #mag #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #sasha james #gerry keay #gerard keay #oliver banks #jane prentiss #nikola orsinov #the distortion #michael shelley #helen richardsson #agnes montague #annabelle cane #breekon and hope

[lenacosse]

hiii !!! could you please write about jake peralta, preferably smut with a dominant reader?:)

Successful

pairing: jake peralta x fem reader

cw: smut, dominant reader

wc: 1,541

a/n: hope you enjoy this, for anyone who’s left requests please bare with me. im writing here and there, ive been preoccupied and struggle to find motivation, ive rosa diaz, amy santiago, another jake fic and a james potter fic to come plus any other requests i have coming soon i hope :)

‘i just got some real good news from work boy

you can’t imagine what i’m bout to say

it’s so hard to hold back, baby

i’m so excited i can hardly wait’

════════════════

You nervously fix your skirt for the fifth time, smoothing it over obsessively trying to perfect your appearance. You knew it wasn’t going to change the outcome of your meeting but nevertheless here you were, panicking over the subtle crease of your skirt.

“(Y/L/N)?” Called out the friendly face of the sectary, “Mr Jones will see you now.”

You nod and stand up, you take a shaky breath and continue down the familiar path to your bosses office. Usually you were so confident, so sure of yourself yet this was no average meeting. This meeting would determine your future. You reach his office and frantically wipe your sweaty palms on your jacket in attempt to dry them, once semi satisfied you knock and open the door.

“(Y/N) please have a seat,” Mr Jones smiles, motioning to the seat. You sit down. “Im going to cut to the chase here, you are an excellent contributor to our team.”

“Thank you.”

“These last four years I’ve seen a real shift in our overall work environment, clientele, partners, work ethic and most importantly inner work relationships.” He smiles and gets out a piece of paper. “I’m not offering you the standard promotion. I’m appointing you head of department, this will be a rather enormous change but I see potential in you. You are the heart of my company and it’s about time you get praised.”

You heart has practically stopped at this point, never did you ever see yourself in such a role. It took all your willpower not to crack into an obnoxious smile that broke all professional expectations, instead you politely thanked him and signed your new contract. Getting to your car was a blur, but here you now sit in the parking lot grinning like an idiot. Of course the only reasonable thing to do was call your boyfriend.

“Hey baby, hope I’m not interrupting.” Your voice sounds.

“Nah, perfect timing just done a huge drug bust now we’re on our way back to the precinct.”

“Well done, who you with?”

“Rosa,”

“Hey,” a third voice said, you instantly recognised it as Rosa.

“Hi Rosa,”

“You had your interview right?” Jake asked, diverting the conversation.

“I did,”

“Well? Tell me.”

“I got some real good new. However it’s a surprise.”

“Oh come on! Tell me I want to know already,”

“You really wanna know? You’ll have to wait.”

“Fine. When are you telling me?”

“Tonight. Come straight from work,”

“Cool cool cool. See you then.”

“Bye.”

You end the call and drive back to home, you felt out of this world. Being so young and successful never felt so good, you were undoubtedly a baller.

════════════════

By the time Jake got off work you cleaned your apartment and got real dressed up. After all tonight was no ordinary night, you finish the last of your glass of wine as your buzzer goes. In an instant you buzz Jake in and wait by the door. The door opens and there he stands, wine and flowers in hand. You couldn’t control the shit eating smile that spread across your face.

“Hey you,” you stepped aside to let him in.

Jake handed you the flowers and placed a kiss to your cheek. “So… tell me. I’m dying to know.”

“Is that so?” You wink and make your way to the kitchen, placing your flowers into a vase.

“Yes.” Jake’s arms wrap around your waist pulling you into him, his warm breath on your neck makes you shudder.

“How badly do you want to know?”

“So badly baby, need to spoil you.”

You smirk and turn around, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands naturally falling to your hips.

“You’re looking at the head of department.”

“Head of department?! That’s great. I’m so proud of you.” Jake gushed, the act making your cheeks flush.

“I get to boss people around.” You grin, biting your lip.

“Bet you’ll love that.” Jake teases.

“I will, but it’s just that.” You dramatically frown. “I need more practice.”

“Really?” He pulls you closer.

You kiss at his neck, sucking softly on the skin before licking a stripe to his jawline and moving to his ear.

“I think I lead you into my bedroom.” You whisper.

“I think that’s a good idea.” His voice soft and gentle.

You take his hand and lead him into your bedroom. In an instant you push him against the wall and begin to undo his shirt, after removing it you go back to his neck peppering kisses all over.

“Get onto the bed Peralta,” you order, your voice dripping with demand. Of course he obliges and sits on your bed.

You smirk and make your way to him, you straddle him and run your hand through his tousled hair. You slowly rock your hips, grinding up against him. A soft whimper comes from him.

“You’ve been so supportive, and so good to me. I’m going to treat you so well.” You whisper.

Jake looks at you, his expression was one you’ve never seen before. So utterly love stricken and submissive for you, the expression itself was enough to get you going but you had to regulate yourself. You press your lips to his, kissing him passionately as your tongues danced together. Slowly you pulled back and stroked his cheek before getting off his lap, you took a second to look at his lap, you bit your lip at the sight of his hard-on. You undone the zipper on your dress and dropped it to the floor revealing your lacy underwear and matching bralet.

“You’re so perfect,” Jake said as his hand reached out to bring you back.

You straddled him again and pushed him flat against the bed. You moved with him and groaned as he caressed your ass and thighs, the heat building between your thighs. You attached your lips to his collarbone, not holding back from marking him. This solidified your presence, the idea of him being yours was enough to cure your problems. You got off Jake’s lap and kneeled beside him, you undone his belt and he kicked off his trousers. You bit your lip at the sight before you, through his boxers you could see his very hard dick begging to be released. You palmed him through the fabric watching as his face contoured in pleasure.

“Please baby..”

“Please what? Need to talk Peralta.”

“Please use your mouth,”

You smirked in response and pulled off his boxers, his needy cock aggressively swinging out. Slowly you put your lips to his tip, you took half of him in your mouth and very slowly moved your head. You swirled your tongue gently over his tip then pulled back.

“Tell me how much you need me.” You teased as you slowly stroked his base, gentle moans falling from his mouth in response.

“I need you so bad, I’ve been thinking about you all day. Thinking about how much- mmm, I want your mouth on me, or how much I need to feel you around me.”

“Is that right?” You taunt, your voice thick with a tone of seduction. Your hand got faster around Jake, pleasuring him more and more by the second.

“Yes- fuck. That’s right- need you so bad.” His voice was a straight moan, a moan which you couldn’t help but be desperate for.

You lowered your head again and wrapped your lips around him, you hollowed your cheeks and moved your head. Doing exactly what he likes, his hands held your hair- only encouraging you further. His moans got more desperate and breathless indicating he’s close. You pulled back and sat up right. You took your remaining clothes off and straddled him again. Your lips went to his as your hand went into his hand. The other guided his cock to your entrance. You slid down on him and immediately started moving, you gripped his hair letting curses of pleasure escape your lips as you gripped onto the headboard. You looked down to Jake who’s eyes were full of pure pleasure and bliss, his desperate moans filled the room as did the sound of your bed hitting the wall.

“You feel so good,” you moaned, sending a chain of praises to your sex-drunk boyfriend. You rocked your hips faster the pleasure building increasingly as you chased that feeling.

You gripped the headboard with both hands as your whole body shook in pleasure. Your vision was spotting and your mind was foggy, the only thing registering was the ecstasy you were feeling. The coil tightened even further until you came with a deafening moan, Jake was right after you gripping your hips as his breath shuddered. Slowly you climbed off him and lay beside him. You looked at him, taking in his beauty, his eyes were glassy and his lips were swollen.

He turned to you with a bashful smile, “get promoted more often.”

You rolled you eye not fighting off the grin that was cracking through, you moved into him resting your head on his chest as your hands stroked his hair. Nothing but contentment overcame you, Jake was home to you and on days like this where there’s happiness there’s no one you’d rather share it with.

#fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #smut light plot #smut #jake peralta x reader #boyfriend! jake peralta #jake peralta #jake peralta x you #Jake peralta x y/n #brooklyn 99 fic #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99 #b99 #brooklyn #brooklyn nine nine fic #rosa diaz #amy santiago x reader #amy santiago #request #sub!jake #dominate reader

[inchidentally]

It wasn't me who started crying when I read that Lando and Oscar would one day stop being teammates. This is a strange feeling my body went through. Why did I cry? Why? Oh my God! I don't think I want to experience that.

oh babe trust and believe we're all ???? at how much Lando and Oscar as teammates has hit us it's wilddd <3 they've done absolutely nothing performative or loud but apparently massive amounts of mutual respect is the absolute best drug out there for us.

(under a cut to keep out of teams' tags)

considering how evenly matched Lando and Oscar have been this season and Lando saying over and over again how Oscar has pushed him to be better I'd say we have one of the fairest shots of them deciding to stick together at McLaren beyond 2025 as anyone on the grid apart from Charles and Carlos. I only don't put Lewis and George in there bc no one but Lewis knows how long he's going to stay in F1 and their bond is primarily professional. they like each other for sure but they're in very different positions in their careers to say the least.

but Charles and Carlos are a really good example of two drivers who've found an incredibly solid bond and mutual respect riding out extremely tough times and wildly varying fortunes. the fact that both of them are equally eager to remain with Ferrari in spite of everything is at least in some part because they know their relationship will never become one of the things hindering either of their careers. there have been plenty of moments where outright rivalry or preferential treatment could have altered their dynamic but it never has. they see each other as totally unique drivers with very different careers and can keep all of that rivalry drama out of it (including Carlos' gd family doing their best to try create it w the help of shit stirring fans). Charles and Carlos fully expect the other to fight for the championship as much as the other will but there's no existing history or personal pettiness to muddy that into a problem.

and while it's a totally different dynamic, that's exactly the kind of 'mutual respect above all' type relationship we can see with Lando and Oscar. and to me the fact that Oscar spent at least the previous 8 years getting to know Lando from a distance, plus the fact that Lando has always been so open about his mentality and his mental state, is so specifically helpful to their dynamic. especially because they're so close in age and Lando not being the type to wield his F1 experience over someone else or get all cocky about it. and I think that's specifically in response to how much Oscar chose to let Lando be at the forefront of visibility and demonstrably positioning Lando as The Star. I would NEVER have imagined that Lando would respond so positively and supportively to a rookie teammate winning a sprint win before him. I don't mean that I think he would've been a jerk or petulant, I mean that my expectation was for that win to become a permanent wedge mentally between Lando and Oscar. but nope, he genuinely actively warmed more to Oscar even more after that <3

good god I cannot shut UP but what I'm saying here anon is that we should honestly just not bother thinking about the end of 2025. there's as much likelihood that Lando and Oscar will look at RB and Mercedes and think nah I'm better off here at McLaren as there is either of them going elsewhere. bc driving Max's car or dealing w Toto could easily not be worth it - esp since McLaren seem to have a steadier upward trajectory than say, Aston Marton (so much would have to change for AM to be a forward career move for Lando or Oscar).

quick fic side note but I'm absolutely dying to have the time cleared to read Superdense Neutron Star/Post Supernova bc god I can tell that fic is going to live with me

but the easy, non-compromising relationship they've already formed considering that they're both young and hungry is SUCH a strong pull for staying together at McLaren. Oscar is happy for Lando to be whoever he needs to be and that means Lando will only get higher and higher in the rankings. Lando has responded to Oscar's deference off the track by giving him praise and respect that means any of Oscar's currently unknown to us but inevitable insecurities are taken care of. while no one can say what will happen we can at least say that we've got the best setup for them staying together!

there's also of course the obvious: Lando being so deeply embedded at McLaren and getting star treatment that he wouldn't get anywhere else - and the fact that Oscar took a massive gamble to get to McLaren and has been watching Lando's career so closely for so long. sometimes a career can take so many unfair hits that someone like Alex Albon finds at least temporary stability with a Williams but hope to move on. sometimes a driver can be shrewd and organized enough to get themselves into exactly the right spot like Carlos with Ferrari but he doesn't have complete security. but sometimes it's entirely possible that a young up and comer (or two) finds exactly the right fit from the start of their F1 career and succeeds for years and years!

and looking even further ahead to when they're both closing in on like 30 everything in F1 will be so different that I can't even fathom it so I'm just choosing to not bother! it's like how I see ppl in IG comments saying they hope Oscar marries Lily and I'm like ??? I just see married ppl as SOOOO different to college age that I don't know how people can make those leaps but maybe I'm just super immature lagfljafjh

side side note that while I'm absolutely positive Max and Lando would be horrific in every sense imaginable for Lando, I do occasionally enjoy imagining Oscar there at some point simply bc he's the only driver I can imagine giving RB pause. he's so smart and adaptable that he'd fucking dominate immediately in that car and they'd be braindead to not think hmmmm, this guy is (for example) only 25 and Max is almost 30 - maybe we should let Oscar choose a few specs for himself and see what happens. he could match Max in car smarts, focus and ambition but oooops he also has a sense of calm under stress that Max will never have. Max could openly despise him and it wouldn't affect Oscar's performance at all. and oohhhh to have Oscar be the one to topple the ivory tower nepotism at RB with a nailbiter of a WDC decision in the final race? to see what Max does in response to that? to have Alpine fanboys throwing chicken tendies at the wall watching Oscar's podium where he's also celebrating the championship? ohhhh fuck that's a tantalizing thought.

SORRY lol I really do not see that happening I just find that image so fucking hot. I don't actually want to see Oscar having to deal with RB in reality.

#inchreplies

[thisismysecondrodeo]

hi! <3 i started watching ted lasso recently and fell into the fic reading pit and i came across your blog. i just have to say that operation seduce ted and game on were absolutely masterpieces and nearly KILLED me.

i wasn’t sure if you take requests or if they were open, but i did see some on your masterlist so i thought i’d just drop by with an idea - feel free to ignore me if you’re not taking requests right now though! basically, i am DYING to read some facesitting with ted. i have scoured both ao3 and tumblr and i’m yet to find a fic for it haha. just seeing how you write ted going down on the reader and how much he gets off on it, i figured you’d be the perfect person to give it a go? i’m thinking the reader is super hesitant at first when ted suggests it, but he soon wins her around, especially with the feel of that amazing moustache 🫠

AN: I could right like 5 fics set in this showers and honestly it took me a while to decide between Ted/Reader, Ted/Roy, and Ted/Trent (I think someone else has already written Roy/Trent!) but I got this request and knew EXACTLY what to write lol. But I would be remiss if I didn't recommend Chapter 3 of CatfishKid's Going Down because it is my favorite Ted Lasso facesitting fic even though it's unfinished lol

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Himbos Briefly Mentioned, Season 3 Episode 2 Shower Scene is constantly on my mind, facesitting, Smut, Dirty Talk, graphic description of p-in-v sex

Fic Masterlist

-

You weren’t usually in the locker room during the game, as the trainer you were either on the side of the pitch or in the training room. But after watching Dani take a ball to the face you knew he would never come find you so you decided to find him during the half just to make sure he was okay. You were a consummate professional as you looked over Dani’s uninjured face, only cutting your eyes over at Ted once or twice. 

You would be mortified if anyone knew about your schoolgirl crush on the gaffer and you’d mostly managed to keep it under wraps. But every time your eyes met you couldn’t deny that the handsome, mustachioed man made your insides flip upside down. You didn’t think he felt the same—the man was friendly to everyone—but you’d had more than a few moments alone after hours, chatting and laughing in his office or walking to the Crown and Anchor that you couldn’t help but harbor some hope that the feelings were requited. 

You were about to leave the men to discuss strategy when Trent Crimm slipped in. The room fell silent and it felt more awkward to leave than to stay so you tucked yourself into the corner of the locker room to take a seat behind Roy, who seemed rather pleased that silence had descended. Ted turned to look at Roy and you could see the frustration in his brow as Trent tried to take his leave. 

“Trent, hold on a second. Roy, can I speak with you?”

You weren’t trying to eavesdrop, and you couldn’t even really make out what Ted was saying but his tone was low and serious…and really turning you on. It was embarrassing, honestly, the way his voice made your pulse race and all the things you could imagine him saying to you with that timbre. You crossed one leg over the other and tried to act like something very thrilling was happening on your phone, but when Ted and Roy returned you couldn’t take your eyes off Ted, even as Roy screamed, “Crimm!” Ted must have noticed your gaze because he gave you a small smile and a wink, that turned you to jelly. You had to leave and you had to leave now before he realized you were down bad for him. While everyone waited for Roy and Trent to return you hustled out of the room, missing the confused expression on Ted’s face as the door shut. 

You managed to hold yourself together through the second half and on the bus back to Nelson Road. The boys didn’t usually get so raucous over a draw, but between that and the news about Zava, they were so rowdy you couldn’t have focused on your feelings for Ted even if you wanted to. The seat you picked was in the front, so you could be the first off and you figured you’d hang around and do some inventory in the training room to avoid running into Ted on the way out. You were being childish and you knew you couldn’t avoid him forever, but you were embarrassed and just needed a little bit of time to get your feelings in check. 

Just as you’d finished resetting your medical kit for the next away match, you heard a small knock on the door. You swung the door open quickly and were greeted with a sheepish Ted in his Richmond puffer, a tendril of hair brushing just above his eyebrow. 

“T-Ted, hi.”

“Hi, Y/N, can I—do you have a minute?”

“Sure,” you gestured for Ted to enter. You had no idea why he seemed so awkward, but you smiled trying to put him at ease. “Is everything alright? That was a good match, no injuries, anyway.” 

“Yeah. I guess I just…” Ted scratched a hand at the back of his head. God, he was so handsome and flustered. You sat at your desk and rested your face on one hand, could feel the heat in your cheeks just from being close to him. “I wanted to make sure I didn’t make you uncomfortable earlier. During the half, I, ah, well I winked at you and you seemed to scoot out of there really quickly and I just wanted to make sure I didn’t overstep, because, ya know, I’m a grown man who would never want his feelings to get in the way of someone being able to comfortably do their job, so I promise, I won’t ever do that—”

Your ears perked up immediately, but you weren’t sure if you were hearing what you were hearing. But if Ted was standing here thinking he’d mortally offended you over a wink, you were willing to take the risk of being totally honest. “Ted. Do you….Are you saying you do have feelings for me? Because, to be honest with you and at the risk of you calling HR immediately, I ran out of there so quickly because I was embarrassed that you could tell I was, ah, hot and bothered.” 

Ted’s eyebrows raised and his cheeks pinked. “Because of me?”

You ducked your face slightly, avoiding his eyes. “Always because of you. You and your dumb khakis and your silly little polo shirts, and that passionate fucking voice you used with Roy, I just can’t get you out of my head. I’m sorry—”

Before you could finish your apology Ted had stepped closer and gently placed his hands on either side of your face. “Y/N… I would very much like to kiss you right now.”

“Yeah, yes. Please,” you sighed. It was hard to process everything that had changed in just a few minutes, but you weren’t processing at all when Ted pressed his warm lips to yours. His mustache tickled as he moved fluidly, despite having to lean over you. You wanted to tug him close, wanted zero space between his body and yours but you were still sitting at your desk. Ted broke the kiss and looked at you with a disbelieving, adoring gaze. 

“This is…not at all how I expected this conversation to go,” Ted chuckled, his thumb stroking lightly against your cheekbone. “I thought I had made a total ass of myself, there was never even the faintest idea in the back of my head that you might be interested.” 

“Same here,” you laughed. “So what now?” Ted leaned against your desk, his leg bumping against your knee.

“Now? Well, I guess now I ask you if you’d like to go out with the boys and me to celebrate a draw?”

You stood up almost immediately, enthusiastic about getting to spend more time with Ted. Ted, who was looking at you as if he was afraid you’d turn him down. “I’d love to,” you smiled, leaning into his space and pecking his lips softly, just because you could, “I guess I’ll have to be on my best behavior then, huh?” Ted’s large hand found the curve of your waist and you shivered from that contact alone. 

“I certainly didn’t say that,” he teased, before kissing you harder. 

-

You and Ted may have just addressed your feelings an hour and a half before, but being out at the Crown & Anchor with him felt like you’d been dating for years. He was a constant welcome presence at your side, a drink in his hand for you that he’d never let you purchase. You kept bracing for someone to notice, to call you out for leaning into his side or making eyes at him over your pint, but no one said a word. It was still torture trying to keep your hands to yourself and when Ted pressed a hand to your lower back you had to bite your lip to keep from letting out a sound that would have been highly inappropriate in this very public space. You made a point of yawning to cover it up, with a quick side eye at Ted in hopes that he followed your lead. 

“Gosh, it’s getting late. I’m gonna head out,” you directed loudly at no one in particular, leaving before anyone could cajole you into one last drink. You didn’t want to have any expectations for what was transpiring between you and Ted but you knew what you wanted. You wanted to peel off that puffer and kiss him senseless, you wanted to see what he looked like when you touched him, when he came, when he woke up in the morning. But there would be other times if Ted wanted to take things slow. You were calling a ride when you felt someone tug gently against your coat. 

“Not to be presumptuous, but I could use someone to walk me home,” Ted said teasingly in your ear. 

You slipped your phone back into your pocket immediately. “Lead the way.” 

-

Ted offered you a drink and a snack but you turned him down in favor of pressing your body against his and backing him against the kitchen counter. He kissed you eagerly, his hands framing your face and his thigh slotted between your legs; of course, you couldn’t help but grind down against him. The only thoughts in your head were a constant loop of Ted’s stern voice from the match and the floaty feeling of remembering that he was actually into you. 

Ted broke the kiss and looked as flustered as you felt. “Jesus, Y/N, I feel like I’m in high school again,” Ted chuckled. “Not that that’s a bad thing. But I don’t want you to feel like we have to—”

“Ted if you’re about to tell me we don’t have to have sex, I’m going to scream.” Your eyes were clamped shut so you couldn’t see Ted’s cheeky grin and you thought you’d offended him. “I mean unless you don’t want to! Totally fine,” you opened your eyes and laughed at his expression. Without saying anything, Ted led you to the bedroom, your hand in his. 

“There is absolutely nothing I want more,” Ted said slowly as he undressed you down to your bra and underwear, his voice low and heavy, “than to make you feel good. Is that okay?” 

You knew you were looking at Ted like he was from another planet, which very well could be true. “Of course that’s okay,” you laughed, reaching for his clothes but he dodged you easily. He sat on the side of the bed, still fully dressed in his khakis and polo shirt. He reached a hand out for you, pulling you to stand between his legs. His hands moved to caress your hips and butt, his mouth nipping and kissing against the softness of your middle, tugging playfully at the waistband of your panties. You were desperately, ridiculously wet. 

“I said I wanted to make you feel good,” Ted teased, looking up at you. You scratched gently at his scalp and he hummed. 

“Alright, I’ll bite. How do you want to make me feel good?” 

“Well we can circle back around to biting, but I was thinking we’d get these off of you,” he lightly snapped your waistband and you giggled, “and you could take a seat.” Ted pointed at his mustache so there was no misunderstanding his intent and you laughed in surprise. Sure, you’d been with a decent number of people, and, sure, most of them had gone down on you but you’d never sat on someone’s face before and you were instantly insecure. You were nervous about being heavy, you were self-conscious about doing something solely for your pleasure, and, above all, you were worried about doing something wrong somehow. Ted read it on you instantly.

“Hey, hey now, where’d you go? If you don’t want to that’s a-okay, but if you think I’m just doing this as a favor for you—well that would be like thinking George Clooney was the best Batman, it's just plain wrong.”  

You rolled your eyes with a small smile, knowing he was pulling out metaphors just to put you at ease. “I…Well, I don’t know if I want to because I’ve never done it before, but I gotta say, the way you’re looking at me right now makes me want to try.” 

Ted beamed at you, his hands sneaking around you gently to unclasp your bra. “Well, why don’t you tell me what about it makes you nervous, and maybe I can ease your mind?” It was a wonderful suggestion in theory but it was much harder in practice when Ted was kissing your bare chest, his mustache brushing against your nipples. The more he touched you, the more convinced you were that you’d sit on a cactus if it meant he never took his hands off you. 

“I guess, just, ah, worried I’ll do something wrong. Or hurt you. Or look silly,” you sighed, stroking your fingers through Ted’s hair again as he continued to press kisses to your quickly overheating skin. 

“Baby I promise, I’m not going to let you be embarrassed. Why don’t we take things slow?”

“Slow sounds g-good,” your voice hitched as Ted licked a pert nipple into his mouth. “Fuck Ted your mouth feels so good.” 

“Good,” Ted smiled against you, switching breasts as he eased your panties down your legs. He stroked your inner thigh and your whole body shuddered, enough that he brought a hand to your hip to steady you. “Why don’t you come up here,” Ted suggested, scooting back to lay in the center of the bed, his legs hanging off the end of his rather small bed. “No funny business, not yet,” he promised, tapping his belly for you to straddle his waist. 

You crossed your arms, a playfully defiant look on your face. “Only if you lose some layers.” You expected some pushback but Ted quickly shed his shirt, undershirt, and khakis before laying back down. Your eyes were drawn to his erection like a magnet—sitting yourself on those cute stripey boxer briefs would be no problem at all. You climbed into Ted’s lap, your hands pressing into the hair against his chest and you smiled down at him before leaning into his warmth and kissing him deeply. Ted’s arms circled you tightly and you’d never felt safer...or more aroused. You didn’t have to look to know you’d made the front of his underwear damp from rolling your hips against him. The idea of crawling up his body to feel his tongue where you needed it most was no longer making you nervous, it was making you whimper against his mouth. 

Ted used a hand on the back of your head to tilt your face slightly and give himself access to kiss along your jaw, a well-placed nip behind your ear making you whine. 

“What do you want darlin’,” Ted asked softly in your ear. 

“You,” you responded immediately, punctuating the sentiment with a grind of your hips against Ted’s hard length. He groaned, his eyes falling shut and it was nice to know you weren’t the only one going out of your mind with lust. 

“And what do you want from me?” 

You looked at Ted, eyes wide, and you knew from that very coach-like expression on his face what he was encouraging you to ask for. Leave it to Ted to not only motivate you to try something new for your pleasure and your pleasure only, but to insist on enthusiastic consent. “I want to sit on your face.” 

“Yes ma’am,” Ted agreed immediately, bringing his hands to your waist to help you shift up his body. You were close enough to lean into the headboard, your hands tight against the wood and holding most of your weight. You waited to see what would happen next, could feel Ted’s breath tickle against your inner thighs. His warm hand ran gently along your leg as he got your attention. “Baby, you’re gonna have to relax. It’s okay I got you. I promise.” 

You took a deep breath and lowered yourself slightly, and Ted craned his head up to make direct contact with your clit. You hissed with pleasure, surprised enough that you relaxed even more of your weight and Ted gladly took it, his tongue sliding inside you easily before circling your clit again. “Shit,” you threw your head back as Ted picked up his pace, his hands encouraging you closer and closer, the sound of him lapping at you vulgar and so incredibly arousing that you couldn’t help but rock your hips. His nose made contact with your clit and you tensed with the shock of pleasure, leaning forward to chase that sensation again. Your hand slipped from the headboard and found Ted’s hair and he moaned underneath you, curling his tongue inside of you. 

No one eating you out before had ever made you feel like this. Like you were literally about to explode and you couldn’t control your movements, your hips rocking faster against Ted’s face. No one you’d ever been with had acted like Ted either, like you were doing him a favor by gripping his hair and fucking his mouth like he was a sex toy. “Fuck, fuck, Ted, I’m—shit, I’m going to come, Ted, I’m going to—” 

You tried to swing your leg off Ted’s face but he only held you tighter against him, his tongue never stopping as you clenched your fist in his hair and came hard. Your thighs clamped hard against the side of Ted’s head, but the waves of orgasm washing over you distracted you from feeling bad for it. Ted slid out from under you, easing you off of his face and onto the bed. He rested on one elbow over you and watched you closely as your chest heaved. “Hey there, you okay,” he asked gently as you opened your eyes again and you smiled at his damp face. You pulled him into a heated kiss and could taste yourself on his tongue.

“That was fucking amazing,” you laughed and Ted grinned.

“Anytime. Hell, every time. I know you don’t believe me when I say it’s my pleasure but I mean it.” 

You smirked at Ted, as you slid a hand into the front of his boxers, stroking him lightly just to make him groan. “Oh well if this is anything to go by, then I certainly do believe you.” Ted kissed you like you were single-handedly providing him oxygen. It was hard to imagine that just this morning you were convincing yourself to be on your best professional behavior because there was no way Ted was interested in you. And now here you were, tugging his boxers down as he retrieved a condom from his nightstand and pulling him over you so he could fuck you senseless. 

Ted entered you slowly, gingerly and it felt like heaven every inch of the way—and he was not lacking inches. He sighed when he was fully seated inside you and you kissed every bit of his skin you could reach. “Fuck me, baby. Please.” 

Ted nodded, locking his lips with yours as he started to thrust, his chest hair tickling your nipples as he moved over you. “God you feel so good, darlin’. So fucking good for me,” Ted praised you when he broke the kiss and that voice really did it for you, the dark tone and cursing going straight to your core. 

“Keep talking, Teddy,” you begged and he smiled. 

“Yeah? You want to hear how much it turned me on to have you dripping on my face? Or how tight and wet you feel against my cock? You’re so gorgeous darlin’, you’re so perfect.” Ted adjusted his position, one hand supporting your leg so he could drive into you deeper. You couldn’t stop cursing as he picked up the pace, repeatedly hitting the perfect spot inside you that made you dig your fingernails into his biceps. The whole time Ted talked: about how beautiful you were, about how long he’d been thinking about you, about how many ways he wanted to have you. You couldn’t help but clench when he told you he fantasized about locking the training room door and lifting you onto the table. Ted’s rhythm stuttered and you knew he was close and so were you, his stream of dirty talk had turned you into a puddle underneath him. You wedged a hand between your bodies to stroke your clit as Ted placed open-mouthed kisses along your neck and chest. 

“Shit, Ted, come with me. Let go for me, baby, I want to feel you.” 

Ted groaned, his hips picking up pace as he chased his own climax and your fingers matched him, both of you racing for a finish that hit like a truck, your eyes slamming shut as Ted gasped and twitched hard inside of you. You pulsed against him as he came and collapsed against your chest. He tried to shift his weight off of you but you held him tightly and you could feel his smile pressed against your neck. 

“I guess we should hit the showers,” Ted suggested when he had caught his breath and you laughed. 

“You in the showers is what got us into all this,” you teased. “If you weren’t in there being all sexy and disgruntled I would have ignored my feelings forever.” 

Ted sat up, pulling you with him and towards the bathroom, “Well I guess I’ll have to find someone to get stern with more often.” 

“Why do you need to find someone when I’m right here?” You winked and got into the shower without waiting for Ted’s reaction and you laughed when he followed behind you so quickly he almost slipped. 

“Yes ma’am,” Ted grinned and you couldn’t help but grin right back. 

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso x reader #x reader #reader insert #reader

[olderthannetfic]

I think a lot of people forget that even though being disabled can come with great experiences and communities, that doesn't negate all the negatives, especially from society. Of course the disability itself is a thing we can talk about in all it's negatives, but a lot of people don't think about society and especially the people in power, be that the Government, medical professionals, and others!

And one thing especially a lot of people don't understand, especially "allies" who call everything "ableism" like not wanting a disabled child: Disabled people are the first on the chopping block. If it's between an able bodied person and a disabled person, the disabled person will be the one "sacrificed". We are expendable, we can be killed because able bodied people are somehow more worthy of life.

Covid showed that in stark clarity, how many disabled people were taken off life support because an able bodied person had a "better life expectancy"? How many disabled people said "I want to live!" and still got a fucking death sentence? It's not a secret that at any point, disabled people are always the ones expected to give up their life so that others can live when it comes down to it.

Canada has a program which basically is aimed at the disabled population. You're disabled? Neurodivergent? They'll push for you to get assisted dying! But not just that, are you a disabled child? Well, if you're a mature minor, you can decide to die! What does that mean? Idk, but come on, just fucking die! Your life has no value! This is a genocide and eugenics and so few talk about this at all.

How many disabled people get mistreated and abused by caretakers and people in power? How many disabled people get locked away for being an "ugly truth" of life? How many disabled people get abused and murdered because they're weak targets, and no one will miss them.

Disabled people can't have savings or they lose their aide. Imagine being limited how much savings you can have, otherwise the Government cuts of all the help you need to live. Imagine not being able to get married because your spouses savings would take away your eligibility!

Don't come here and call wanting a non disabled child "ableism" when so much of the world is fine killing anyone disabled the moment it could make the lives of the able bodied easier. Advocate against laws and rules that kill disabled people, because they exist and they're not a secret.

--

[dianneking]

Intoxicated - Larissa/Reader Drink One. In Vino Veritas.

Summary: Larissa is a handsy drunk. Vampire!Teacher!Reader, is a sad drunk. This fact, and their inability to talk about their feelings, blows what could simply be a drunken accident out of proportion. 

 Angst! Drama! Drunkenness! 

Links to part two here. Cross posted on AO3 here.

Here's my fanfiction masterlist.

---

A/N: I swear I was trying to make a cute, lighthearted drunken mishaps fic, and then it became this mountain of sorrow and angst and drama. With a happy ending, I promise! But beware of the content warnings below if you are at risk of being triggered. TW first chapter: Drinking, intoxicated people, blood, swearing, angst, mildly dubious consent in touching.

Crash. The unmistakable sound of a glass being broken came from the principal’s office. You stopped in your tracks, on the way to your own quarters, after the debacle that had been the Outreach Day. It was way past midnight already and you didn’t think anyone was still up, Nevermore’s halls surprisingly silent in the aftermath of the day. That made the sudden sound even more evident, and you decided to go investigate, knocking lightly on the imposing wooden door.

“Principal Weems? Is everything alright?” You could hear indistinct muttering on the other side of the door, but no actual answer.

“Principal Weems? I’m coming in, I hope you don’t mind”

You pushed the door open, and found the office bathed only by the light of the dying fire. In front of the fireplace there was a vacant armchair, with a pair of heels and an empty bottle of wine abandoned to the side.

“Ouch, piece of crap. Fucking useless glass.” The string of expletives was coming from in front of the armchair itself, and as you cautiously moved forward, you were treated to the incongruous sight of Larissa Weems, a woman you had never seen if not in perfect  control of herself and of the situation, kneeling on the ground.  You tried not to notice the way her tight dress hugged her shapely backside as she crawled on all fours, trying to scoop up the broken shards of glass with unstable hands.

“Principal Weems, be careful, you could…”

But a yelp stopped you in your tracks, as did the tangy, coppery smell of your employer’s blood. She smelled as lovely as you had imagined, and you instinctively licked your lips, before your sense of responsibility won over your more ignoble urges.

“Principal Weems, please stop, that’s neither safe nor sanitary.”

She only seemed to notice your presence now, and she lifted her head up to look at you, as her mouth opened in a brilliant smile. It felt weird to be the one looking down on her, instead of craning your neck to meet her eyes as usual.

“My dear! How nice to find you here, I was just looking to pick up this fucking piece of fucking glass that had the audacity to cut me.” If her actions and the profanities weren’t enough of a hint, the slurring in her voice gave her away immediately.

“Principal Weems, are you drunk?” It was stating the obvious more than an actual question, but it was so utterly preposterous that you felt like you needed a reality check. Larissa Weems, drunk? The Larissa Weems you might have been admiring from afar for years now? Who never stepped a foot out of professionalism?

“Nonsense darling! I can hold my liquor perfectly well. I simply cut myself, see?” She waved the offending finger in your face. Thank goodness you had had your meal before, otherwise the temptation of that one single droplet of blood from the woman you had a raging crush on would have driven you crazy. As it was, you felt your fangs lengthen slightly, but managed to ignore it as you crouched beside your employer, trying to get her to stand back up.

“Come on principal, let’s get you away from this, before you shred yourself to ribbons.”

“None of that formality darling, it’s Larissa when we’re alone.” She shook a reprimanding index in your direction, then went slightly cross-eyed as she studied her own finger “Oh my, blood!” She peered at it as if it held the answers to the whole universe. Then she looked at you and in an unmistakably provocative way, she proceeded to lick the single droplet off her finger, her long tongue darting out of her lips, and running along the digit, twisting almost as if she was trying to wrap it around the very tip, before guiding it to her mouth, closing her lips around it, and moaning.

Oh gods. This was way above your paygrade.

“Come on, Principal. Let’s try to avoid more injuries” or a heart attack for yourself, if she kept being so damn alluring. Except you were a vampire, and there would be no help coming from the useless muscle inside of you. Since you were turned, it wouldn’t do anything except churn with feelings that you would never act upon. No heart attack would prevent you from being in this torturous situation.

Slowly, you pulled on your boss’ free arm, draping it on your shoulder, to try and hoist her up. Surprisingly enough, she seemed to understand what you were trying to do, because she got her own feet under her and stood up, only to sway dangerously once she reached her full height.

“Woah there, easy, Principal.” You two made quite the sight, you imagined: even without her heels, she was a full foot taller than you, and while that made it easier to fit under her arm to hold her steady, it also made it more awkward for you to steer her wobbling frame away from the glass shards.

She seemed quite unaware of your struggles as she turned her head down, finally releasing her finger from her mouth with a quiet pop that drove your mind back into the gutter.

“I thought I just said to just call me Larissa!” She tried to sound like her usual stern self, but her attempt at an angry face came out as more of a pout than anything else. She looked much younger when she let her emotions run freely on her face and – impossible as that might sound – even more beautiful.

“Sure thing, Larissa. Whatever makes you happy. Do you think you can walk?”

She craned her neck to the side, a look of intense concentration on her face, before finally “Yes, I think I might. I did learn that at some point, I am sure.” She said, fully serious. You couldn’t help a snicker, filing this surreal situation away to have a full laugh later. It was a pity that Principal Weems didn’t get drunk more often. She was a funny drunk.

“Good to know. Come on, let’s try to get you to your quarters. Thank goodness they are just down the corridor.”

Gently, you tried to coax her into moving, letting the hand closer to her circle her waist to give you a better hold. She tentatively took a few steps, leaning on you like you were a crutch. Your kneed buckled at first, partly due to the unexpected extra weight to adjust to, partly because of the overwhelming heat of her body pressed against your side. You breathed in her scent, the intoxicating mix of her and wine, and the faintest traces of her blood still lingering in the air. Stop it, you told yourself sternly, she’s your boss, she’s wasted, and you are just helping her out.

 You repeated this as a mantra in your head as the both of you half-wobbled, half-walked through the office door, then down the darkened hallway. Your uncoordinated steps and heavy panting seemed to ring so loud in the silence that surrounded you that you were surprised none of the other teachers heard the commotion, or came to investigate it. After what felt like hours, you arrived at the simple oak door to the principal’s quarters. You stopped, trying to catch your breath and looked up at your drunken employer’s face.

She was tracing the patterns of the wood with her free hand, her lips pursed in a small Oh of wonder. Her face turned suddenly down, searching yours, eyes open in a show of delighted surprise.

“These are my quarters!” She exclaimed, her voice bright in the quiet of the night.

“Shhhhhh!” You admonished her, looking over your shoulder to check. You were still alone. No other sound graced these halls.

“Oh” she let a whispered giggle out, and bent her neck further down, so that her lips were next to your ear “I said, these are my quarters!” she repeated, her voice little more than a breathy murmur now. You tried to ignore the effect that that was having on your traitorous body and focused on answering her.

“Yeah, they are. Do you have the key with you?” You hoped she did, otherwise it would mean another trek down the hallway and ransacking her office. And you really, really didn’t want to be doing that right now. She let out her giggle again. It was a bit of a disturbing sound, coming from what you were used to think of as one of the sternest women alive. But all of this evening was bordering on the side of disturbing anyway, so what was one more thing?

“Of course I have it, silly. This dress has pockets.” She stood up a bit straighter, and rummaged through her pockets until she finally fished out her keys, before letting them immediately slip through her long, uncoordinated fingers to the ground. “Fuck!”

“Shhhhhh!”

“Right, sorry” she amended, lowering her voice once again “Fuck!” she whispered. You shook your head, she was completely out of it, unbelievable.

“I’ll get those. Can you hold yourself up on your own?” You asked. She moved her weight completely off of you, removing her arm to brace herself against the door. You took that as a yes, and swiftly crouched on the floor, moving in front of her to grab a hold of the escapist keys. Once you had them, you quickly stood up, before you realized your tactical mistake:  you were now boxed between Larissa and the door, her long arms preventing your escape, her towering body looming over you.

The keys jingled softly as your hands shook.

Right. The keys. The keys to open the door. The keys to open the door to your employer’s quarters where you had to deposit said employer before someone else took notice of her wasted state. Those keys.

Almost robotically, you turned on the spot, now facing the lock. There were three keys on the ring, and you didn’t think Larissa was in any condition to point you to the right one. Trial and error it was, then.

You tried the first key. It skidded against the keyhole, not even able to gain entrance. Larissa’s body got closer to your back.

“You know?” Her breath on your neck made goosebumps rise all over your body. “I’m pretty cross at you.” Her tone had not lost the playfulness of before and yet it was different, more gravelly, with a hint of danger.

“Y…you are?” You focused on the second key, who slid with a bit of effort in the keyhole, but refused to turn. You grasped at the handle, trying to see if with a bit of jostling it would cooperate.

“Mh-mh.” The murmur of assent vibrated directly against your ear, as an arm snaked around your side and across your front, holding you in place as a body pressed against your back. Oh gods. Larissa was a handsy drunk. You valiantly took out the second key, and chose the third one instead, as the mouth on your ear continued to whisper “You could at least have taken me out for dinner before coming back with me to my rooms.”

The third key luckily did its job, and finally the door in front of you opened. Instinctively, you took a step forward hoping to escape from Larissa’s clutches…

…but she didn’t release her hold on you. Quite the contrary, in fact. She followed you inside as if you were part of a single body, and then, with a move so sudden and coordinated that it was a miracle she managed to pull it off without spraining an ankle, she closed the door behind the both of you and pinned you to it.

Fuck.

If having her holding you from behind had been distracting, having her completely pressed against your front, a leg having found its way between yours, her hands gripping your hips as if they were a life-saver, well, it was maddening.

Especially because you knew you couldn’t.

“You are lucky you are so gorgeous, darling, I can forgive you this one time…”

Her mouth was still murmuring in your ear, the slurring in her words as much a dead ringer for her inebriated state as the smell of wine on her breath.

She didn’t mean it.

As pleasant and heady as it was, this wasn’t right. While sober, Principal Weems hadn’t given you any hint that your attraction for her was reciprocated. For drunk Larissa, you were probably just the closest available warm body.

As she warm lips moved down your neck, pressing sloppy, wet kisses on your exposed skin, you finally broke out of your daze.

“Larissa, stop.” She hid her face deeper in the crook of your neck, nuzzling you as her knee slowly moved against your thighs, bestowing the most delicious of frictions. You closed your eyes, mustering up every ounce of strength and morality you could find in your body and you put your hands against her shoulders, pushing her away.

“Just STOP!”

She stumbled back, eyes wide, uncomprehending. Her lipstick was sinfully smudged on the side of her mouth, her pupils were dilated. She looked like the personification of lust. And yet she looked so fragile, too. As you two stood there, panting , facing each other without talking, you could see her lower lip start to tremble, and tears welling up in her beautiful eyes.

“I…I’m sorry” she whispered, a hand coming up to her mouth. You felt so very sorry for her, for not being able to give her what she wanted. But between the two of you, you were the sober one, the one that had to be responsible. You sighed.

“It’s alright, Larissa. You’re just a handsy drunk, I get it. Now try to drink some water and take your make up off and go to sleep. Tomorrow we still have to work.” You injected a bit of your teacher voice in that. You hope it would help her take care of herself. The gods only knew how completely out of it she was. Well, the gods and yourself, the unsuspecting bystander.

“Goodnight, Larissa.”

You softly closed the door behind you, walked all the way back to your own rooms, and once there, you collapsed, letting your limbs shake and tears well up in your eyes.

That had been too much emotion for a weeknight.

 -

The next morning saw you softly knocking on Larissa’s door, just to be met with the sight of her wrapped up in a fluffy robe, her face bare of any makeup. As soon as she saw you, her gaze hardened. You held up the bottle in your hand, almost as a peace offering.  

“Are you alright? I brought you some Advil, I thought you might have some use for it.”

“I…thank you. And apologies for yesterday. I…wasn’t myself.” It was almost painful to hear how strained and awkward her usually confident voice was. Her eyes darted along the empty corridor, as if afraid someone might eavesdrop on your conversation.

“It’s quite alright, Principal Weems. You just had a bit too much, it happens to the best of us.”

“Be as it may, it was highly unprofessional of me to do so on a weeknight. I guess the stress of the day got to me. Again, I apologize.”

“I mean, that’s perfectly understandable, and no harm was done. We can forget it all happened.” Except you were painfully aware that you’d never be able to forget how her lips had felt exploring your neck, or how perfectly your bodies fit together as she pressed against you. But Larissa didn’t need to know this, and she probably didn’t even want to know it.

She plucked the medicine from your hands, her forehead still creased in a frown. No other emotion could be divined from her face, that without the alcohol coursing through her veins was back to her usual professional mask.

“Thank you for the thought. See you around.”

“Sure th-” But Larissa’s door was shut in your face before you could attempt an answer. Actually no, it was back to being Principal Weems’ door. The warm, unguarded, flirty woman you had helped out yesterday was just the product of a bottle of wine and it was obvious that your boss wanted it to be quite clear to you.

Principal Weems seemed to make sure she underlined the message as much as she could in the following days, treating you with cold professionalism just one step shy of outright rudeness. She never stopped for a chat in the halls or in the teachers’ lounge if you were there, she finished her meal quickly if you sat at her table for the meals, she never communicated with you except for inevitable things that had to do with the school or your classes.

It's not like you had been the best of friends before, and you knew that her current mood was probably mostly due to the embarrassment of being seen so out of it by her employee, but at the same time it felt like you were being punished for caring enough to help her out.

It wasn’t fair.

Link to Part Two.

#larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems angst #wednesday fanfiction #larissa weems fanfiction #larissa weems x reader fanfiction #angst with a happy ending #dianneking #cross posted on ao3 #larissa/reader #larissaxreader #larissa x reader #gwendoline christie characters fanfiction #gwendoline christie characters

[subterraneanna]

This critique of 1964 deep cut Where Love Has Gone asks of DeForest Kelley’s Sam Corwin: “…is he gay? Impotent? A satyr? Maybe it’s clearer in the book.” Well, you don’t have to read the book to answer one of those:

✔️He’s a hedonist ✔️He hangs with baddies ✔️He scampers around with panpipes a tobacco pipe ✔️It's implied he's not a real man (so maybe half man?) ✔️He’s preoccupied with sex (and endlessly tries to bang his equally promiscuous married friend with zero discretion) That’s a satyr, folks. And while he’s only drinking in one scene, this randy fellow's natural habitat is a wine-soaked gallery opening so it’s safe to say that’s another box checked off. Most unusual for a satyr, however, is his apparent shape shifting ability as he majestically emerges from his cut-to-the-present chrysalis as an upstanding silver fox, ready to stir up all your daddy issues. 

This painting is in various states of completion, but I stepped back and got hit with a Dogs Playing Poker vibe 😬 so I think it's time to call it quits. After all, it was only intended to be a 30-minute sketch but somehow turned into a nearly 3-month painting. At some point I realized working this hard on something inspired by an unpopular garbage movie probably wasn't the best use of time, but there was no turning back. Hopefully it finds its way to the small fraction of people who've seen this film. If you're wondering why there are two Sam Corwins, one explanation is that I painted two, couldn't choose between them, and forced both into the composition. But in keeping with WLHG’s trashy, sex-fueled melodrama, let’s instead imagine that after Valerie’s departure, Sam found comfort in the tufts of a wayward tribble (hey, "when you're dying of thirst, you drink from a mudhole"), unleashing a pestilence of bisexually asexually-reproducing, lusty tribble-goat-men upon poor, unsuspecting San Francisco. Could this be the 200-years-in-the-making backstory here? It's all coming full circle. I've never written fanfic, but I'm suddenly giving it some serious consideration... BTW if anyone knows the location of “Dr. Sam’s old stand”, please send the address. I’m just, you know, looking to get a professional review of some, uh, artwork… Obviously. Prints available

#my art #deforest kelley #sam corwin #where love has gone #baby!de #not sure if 2 years pre-trek counts as baby #traditional art

[dutifullyshamelessearthquake]

so if I remember correctly, we’ve established that in this au, Tighnari dyes the green bits in his hair, buuuuuut I’m bored so more detail! Do you reckon he dyes it himself or does he get it done professionally? Does Cyno do it? How often does he get it done? Also I’d assume Cyno’s hair is bleached, so the same questions apply to him. I like to think they do their hair together as a fun hangout every month or two, but idk. I love dying my hair and doing fun stuff with it, so this kind of thing is just on my mind a lot lol.

anyway, I hc that they both do it at home, but wbu?

WAIT WHAT IF GREEN WASNT THE FIRST COLOUR NARI DID- WHAT IF HE HAD OFHER COLOURED BITS IN HIS HAIR AT SOME POINT-

I’m getting way to excited about this…

also Gorou’s blonde bits at the front of his hair and Kazuha’s orange bit give me the same questions…

WHY AM I EVEN THINKING ABOUT THIS??

also when do you think was the last time Aether cut his hair and how short was it?

OMG MOZZIE STOP- 😂

This whole concept broke my brain a little, I think I've thought about it a little too much by now XD

Honestly I never thought too deeply about it - when I mentioned Tighnari's green streaks, I kind of on the spot decided they had to be dyed, since he's obviously just a regular human in this au with no fluffy green tail or fox ears. And I can definitely picture Tighnari naturally just having plain black hair!

...but the thought of Cyno with any other hair colour than white? Suddenly it doesn't feel like Cyno anymore! XD I know his hair colour is not realistically very natural, but my brain short-circuits thinking of it being dyed, and him actually having another natural hair colour.

To answer your question about Nari though, I personally imagine he'd get it done professionally! In this au so far he's been shown to be very on top of his hair care, and would probably worry too much about damaging his hair by doing it himself.

The thought of him having had other colours is certainly interesting... I can especially picture him with blue, maybe even dark purple? 👀

Gorou's I feel like is just natural streaks in his hair. Realistic, probably not (let me have this), but I just think it's such a cute thought that he has some natural light streaks in his hair. I feel like it's something that he might've been self conscious about at some point in his life and that makes me sad and I want to hug him.

Kazuha could go either way! It could be natural or it could (probably more realistically but who really cares) be dyed!

Aether for some reason I'm picturing was the kind who, as soon as he was old enough to have a say, went "NO SCISSORS NEAR MY HAIR" and refused to ever cut it. He was tiny the last time it was ever short.

#earthquake author's note

[theemporium]

🚨 NEW PAIRING ALERT 🚨

ok so this came into my head and i need to get it out

nicojack x coach!reader

so in this au l*ndy miraculously gets fired, fanfic logic stay with me

and the devs are in need of a new coach and decide to bring someone completely new into the mix

they bring in reader who is an ex!pro women's hockey player whose career got cut short due to a career ending injury and decided to go coach once she got the news she could play anymore

and i like to think she was captain of her old team where she led them to winning two gold medals at the olympics

so like she knows her shit

anyways she's been coaching pro teams for a few years before the devs call her up and basically gets bullied by the team she's been coaching because she's being asked to coach an nhl team. what are you going to do say no?

and she accepts the job and in the meeting where she's introducing herself to the team and setting the tone for what they will be shooting for this season

nico and jack are just dying because she's so hot, but she's also their coach and oh shit we are going to be working with her so closely because we are captain and alternate oh fuck

and in her head she's having that same mental crisis because she has to be professional but also those boys (nicojack) are hot and she just wants to be snuggled up to those two

she's cares about the team in ways l*ndy never did, and the devs season and beyond pans out on a much more positive trajectory

[that's all i have rn, hoped you liked it]

☕

THE WAY THIS HITS SO MUCH BETTER KNOWING THAT L*NDY IS ACTUALLY FIRED AND IT ISN'T EVEN AN ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE WE HAVE TO IMAGINE

BUT THE POTENTIAL OF THIS DYNAMIC!!!!

okay but what are we going with? are nicojack already together? are they denying their feelings? what's up?

because do you know how funny it would be for jack to be sitting there, already crushing massively on his captain and desperately trying to keep it hidden so it doesn't fuck with the team chemistry. and oh fuck, now their new coach is hot too! why does he keep falling in love with his superiors!

but also the way she is trying to deny her feelings for these boys but there are these late nights discussing team strategies and looking over tapes. and nico always makes sure they have dinner and jack is always giving her hoodie when she gets too cold because her jacket is back in her office and it all makes her so🥹

and her caring about the team as much as them? her wanting the best? her getting along with all the boys and doing everything l*ndy failed to do? her lowkey adopting some of the younger boys and guiding them instead of letting them kinda scamper about like l*ndy did? I AM SOFT

#cece answers #nicojack.thots #☕.anon

[abybweisse]

This (x), and what you mention of UT’s ashes, has me realising I should ask a professional on my thoughts (and what would be most correct to canon) about the reapers.

Do you think the “rebirth” is immediate or does the body have to decompose first? That would imply their bodies are cloned/reinvented, right? Or are they resurrected from their mortal bodies, made immortal, which could perhaps have inspired UT with the bizarre dolls, if he’d discovered the event?

If it’s immediate, I can imagine them (a reaper, or countless reapers, perhaps each unaffiliated to one another) easily digging up their own bodies and perhaps then breaking down—if they’re then deemed unfit to be working reapers, temporary or otherwise, then surely there’s a ward for this specific thing? If anything happens to the body, does something then happen to them, as their soul/spirit (I assume that’s what reapers are, in essence)?

(Not necessarily correlating with this, but can’t Death Scythes also kill/fatally harm/etc. other reapers? Surely that’s not a a great system, unless they’re successfully rehabilitated first.)

Anyway—sorry if you’ve already answered this or something like it. Hope you’re having a lovely day/night <3

⚠️ LONG POST ⚠️

Some details about reaper rebirth theory

Professional? 😂 Nahhhh.... But I have been talking about Undertaker's potential death by fire since at least 2017. 😯 And reaper rebirth theory is a subject I like nearly as much as Mother3 theory.

Anyway, let's break this down into its parts.

1. Would the rebirth be immediate, or would they have to decompose?

There are different ways Yana-san could approach this, if she has decided that reapers go through karmic reincarnation. Grelle says something odd in ch10, suggesting that the "memories" are also removed...

...but I think Grelle just means after where "END" ends up going when a reaper makes the cut.

The way I see it, Undertaker gives us a better clue in ch60.

There might be some exceptions to this, particularly if Othello and others in the forensics lab get occasional bodies and/or brains to "dig around in".

But, for the most part, bodies and their brains (containing the cinematic records of things that already happened plus things the human had hoped for) stay in the human realm. I should think this also typically applies to suicides. Undertaker might even be able to make bizarre dolls from suicides, and that might technically be the case with Layla/Al. There's a really strong case for Layla/Al being the daughter of Baron Chris Heathfield... and for her causing the "accident" that took her and her mother's lives. He only needs access to the body and the cinematic records. Grelle cannot mean that reapers take all the memories; Undertaker wouldn't be able to manipulate cinematic records that are completely gone.

Here's the biggest kicker: William and others have made it clear that reapers don't judge the souls of the dying, they just decide whether to end the life and collect the soul. Grelle uses the word "judge", but it's only to decide who dies when, not whether the soul will go to Heaven, Hell, Limbo, Purgatory, the reaper realm, etc.

And even then it's only a formality, according to William. The soul is sent "up" or "over" for judgment by some higher power, like an angel. Could even be the same beings the reapers call their "higher-ups" or "superiors". This means reapers wouldn't really have the authority (or even the ability) to just see a suicide and turn that body (with its cinematic records and soul) into a fellow reaper. It's a bureaucracy, after all!

What the reaper would likely do -- and I've explained this in older posts about #reaper rebirth theory and #karmic reincarnation -- is collect and send the soul for judgment, actually make notes or comments on their death entry (something we have yet to witness them do) about cause of death being something self-inflicted, and then mark it "complete" (as usual)... because that's the extent of their jurisdiction, so to speak.

The body and the brains (with the cinematic records) would probably be left there to be dealt with by humans (or to just rot where it is). However, it's possible that this sort of situation gets one major exception: the reaper might have to collect and send the cinematic records, too, if new reaper bodies need a sort of "seed" record to build off of. Like... if a reaper needs memories of their previous life (or of their death) in order for them to maintain a sense of deserving punishment for how they died. That sort of thing.

And it seems important (to me) that all reapers be made by the same process. Not all suicide methods leave the same sort of useable corpse, right? They could blow themselves to smithereens, burn to nearly ashes, splat themselves to mush, shoot their brains out, or any number of other gruesome methods that effectively destroy the brain to the point their bodies could not be used to house their reaper selves.

An "easy solution" to this would be to make all suicides go through karmic reincarnation. If people are born with souls placed into them to begin with... and some people claim to have had multiple lives as humans... then why not just place the judged souls of suicides into the bodies of babies that are about to be born? Of course, these wouldn't be human babies but reaper ones. Those phosphorescent but nearsighted eyes. The inter-dimensional traveling abilities. The unnatural speed and agility. Who knows what other abilities they have... that Yana-san hasn't yet shown us. To me, these are not merely human bodies that have been altered after death.

So, to answer the first question in a TL/DR sort of way: it's not immediate, nor do the bodies have to decompose first. Who cares what happens to the original bodies, if the souls get placed into completely new ones? But! This means the souls have to be judged (by someone higher up than reapers), and that unborn baby reaper bodies need to be available (developing) to receive these souls. This is not immediate. Potentially, some judged suicide souls could be waiting in storage of some kind for a proper vessel to become available!

2. Are their bodies cloned/reinvented?

I have no idea if the new reaper babies are otherwise like the old bodies these suicides once had. They might grow up to look the same or not.

I suspect that Yana-san would want for these reapers to be stuck with bodies (including their ASAB) that at least remind them of the bodies they once had as humans. Because it forces them to not only live out a long punishment doing the work they do... but to do this in bodies that might have had something to do with their original decision to end their lives (like extremely negative body image).

3. Are they resurrected from their mortal bodies, made immortal?

It's something Yana-san could end up saying is true of her grim reapers, but for the big reason given above (destruction of some bodies, depending on suicide method used), I think it makes the most sense to automatically leave the old bodies behind and just reuse the old souls (plus perhaps at least bits and pieces of the old cinematic records). That gives each reaper as close to a "clean slate" as possible.

4. Would this have been what inspired Undertaker to make his Bizarre Dolls?

Reapers being made from their old bodies and made immortal? I don't think so. Mostly because 1. Reapers have souls while Bizarre Dolls don't (yet!) and 2. My theory states that reapers have new bodies, while we know Bizarre Dolls are made from dead bodies.

The biggest comparison between reapers and Bizarre Dolls (as they are now), in my reaper rebirth theory, is that cinematic records are definitely manipulated in Bizarre Dolls and are probably manipulated in reapers. Not just from their beginnings as reapers... but also possibly once they begin active reaper duty (if they misbehave enough to be severely punished). And that could have greatly influenced Undertaker's experimentation. I can sort of simplify the differences this way:

Low-end Bizarre Dolls = old body + old cinematic records + new cinematic records that are nonsense (like Undertaker dancing). These are how they were while on the Campania, including real Ciel at the time.

Mid-range Bizarre Dolls = old body + maybe some new organs + old cinematic records + a few sections of old cinematic records removed from before "END" and reattached after "END". This would include Arden, his pals, Agares, and real Ciel at the time of the events at Weston. Arden and his buddies just didn't have high quality "future memories" to use as "episodes". Real Ciel was "shock full" of them, but Undertaker was still working on manipulating them (moving them from before to after "END").

Advanced Bizarre Dolls = old bodies + probably some new organs + old cinematic records + lots of "future memories" moved around to become "episodes" + a blood supply that must be replenished on a regular basis. This is real Ciel and the other three "lords of the stars" right now. But Othello says they are imperfect... and that Undertaker is probably trying to fix whatever's wrong.

Ultimate Bizarre Dolls = old bodies + probably some new organs + old cinematic records + all those chunks of cinematic records rearranged into "episodes" + a blood supply that can now be cleaned and replaced as needed internally + whatever was missing before + new cinematic records they are now creating on their own. I don't think it's quite as simple as needing a new kidney, because it seems that Undertaker would have figured that out and found kidney matches already from fresh corpses. You don't get your pawns talking about the "shapes of souls" unless you are looking for soul matches. So, I think a soul is the thing that's missing; the thing Undertaker now wants to add. This should allow them to truly be "alive" and make their own cinematic records again. Heathfield and Jane talked about getting one for Heathfield's dead wife. I think that was mostly to keep Heathfield busy while Undertaker searched for souls to transplant into the four "lords".

Much like how Undertaker got a laugh out of Stoker believing what Undertaker was doing is "science", I expect him to eventually crack up in front of our earl... while explaining how stupid Heathfield is for believing you can judge the shape of one's soul by how they behave in bed! On the other hand, I really do think F. O. L. Orphanage is actively shaping young souls to fit into the "lords": Pomeranian class for real Ciel, Corgi class for Doll, Collie class for Layla/Al, and Mastiff class for whoever Polaris turns out to be (I theorize he's a Phantomhive butler who died in the attack nearly four years prior). It's probably crucial that you start with a young soul; not only is their body young, but this is that soul's first body to inhabit. Their souls are most-malleable! It's possible Undertaker got this idea from realizing Sebastian uses a similar technique to "season" our earl's soul to prepare him as a "meal". Sebastian cultivates our earl's soul with everything the kid experiences. And here's a nice little agricultural term for it: Undertaker might have gleaned this information from examining what he saw of Sebastian's cinematic records on the Campania.

*coughs* Anyway.

Reapers = new body + old soul + parts of their old cinematic records + the new cinematic records they make in their new bodies + who knows how much manipulation to their cinematic records to keep them in line or redirect their behaviors.

Basically, Undertaker's ultimate goal might be to create something that's a LOT like a reaper, but starting with a corpse instead of a new body... and then adding a soul from someone else with similar (but forced) life experiences. The other reapers already think what he's doing with cinematic records is crazy. Adding a blood supply sure has Othello's attention, and he has once been considered the crazy one around HQ.... When the reaper organization finds out where Undertaker plans to go with it? Adding used souls? Absolute abomination! Some of them perhaps not realizing just how similar they really are....

What makes Bizarre Dolls such an abomination to the reaper organization? 1. They are made with corpses instead of new bodies/babies, 2. It's being done by a rogue reaper instead of something considered "superior" to reapers (like angels), and 3. If they get souls taken from others, this really messes up soul collection and judgement procedures. If reapers were made from the corpses of suicides, they might not see the problem with #1 but only with #2 and #3. However, Grelle and Ronald make it very clear that corpses should not be moving around. Therefore, I highly doubt that reapers are "moving corpses", even with their own souls in place.

5. Is there a ward for reapers who try to destroy their old remains?

Nah. In my theory, by the time they are old enough to be "recruited" for active reaper duties to begin, their human remains would typically be quite decomposed. Even if they originally left behind an exquisite corpse -- but not in the usual sense of the phrase -- I actually mean a corpse in very good shape. 😆

6. If something happens to the old body, does something happen to the reaper, since they are the soul?

I've come to take what Undertaker says as the honest truth, in this case. The old body and brain stay in the human realm to rot.

But the reaper that will be isn't simply rotting away. The new body and old soul are completely physically detached from that previous life. The shape of the reaper's soul is still largely based on its experiences from its previous human life, though, since it spent however many years in that human body and experiencing all that it did during those years. Otherwise, the reaper wouldn't care about redemption (or as Sascha says "forgiveness"), would they? Back to the idea of children being malleable, the best place for putting an old soul would be into a body that has experienced essentially nothing yet. Right?

Badda bing badda boom.

Rebirth theory Reaper = damaged and hardened old soul placed into a new body (vessel), which has the potential to fit any soul. That new body grows to harden around the old soul, making the reaper a lot like they were before, as a human... in personality and also possibly in appearance. (It fits well with my theory that Sebastian looks so much like Vincent and occasionally acts like younger real Ciel simply because the summoned demon ate real Ciel's soul before taking a human form.)

7. Aside: can't death scythes kill reapers?

They sure can! Grelle says they can cut "anything", including other dimensions... which means that demons and reapers can be killed, if the hit is hard enough or well-aimed. In Kuromyu2, that's how both Alan and Eric die as reapers. Alan's death should be filed away as an accident, but Eric technically dies as "suicide by demon". It's possible that he comes back as a reaper again, having to redo his punishment from scratch!

Of course, we know death scythes don't cut each other, which makes you wonder how Undertaker got those special scissor blades for Layla/Al. Where did he get the same material that death scythes are made from? Did he steal other death scythes and just modify them into weapons for the "lords"? 🤔 Or... has Undertaker simply taught Layla/Al how to fend off death scythes that rely on rotation? Because that's what Sebastian does to Grelle's death scythe with a wool coat. Could be a regular pair of scissors.

I also wonder how many reapers have tried to end their punishments with their own or other reapers' death scythes. Hopefully they realize it would not help their situations... unless they truly believe that death scythes can destroy a soul. Seems silly, considering they use death scythes to collect souls all the time without destroying them. Meh. The wording in the first few volumes is unclear. I think Grelle means how death scythes are used to cut the soul out of the body... not that they can be used to cut up souls themselves.

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #undertaker #reaper rebirth #reaper rebirth theory #reapers #grim reapers #soul collection #shapes of souls #soul shapes #souls #soul transplant #karmic reincarnation #too many tags #eemoo1o #asks #i answer #answered asks #jan 22 2023 #sorry for the delay #long reads #long post #ch10 #ch60 #tw: sui mention #tw: suicide mention

[bellshazes]

do it again, director's cut edition because i'm procrastinating writing the last part of the last chapter and it's kind of helpful to review. with luck someone else here will enjoy the behind-the-scenes content as well

chapter 1

The little desk Scar has set up right across from the front door of his studio apartment is covered in them, some of them larger and loose, the smaller ones in what clearly used to be ice cube trays.

no joke this detail is because of a New Uses for Old Things feature that used to be in the magazine Real Simple, which was life hacks before "life hacks" was a term. ice cube tray as a jewelry organizer.

There’s an orange one with smooth, straight-cut sides that fits perfectly in his palm.

i really did write this with the intent of it being the courage crystal (formally established later) but I never have gone back once to check whether it's orange. ditto the green danger detection one later. no one's called me out for it though

it'll never get explicitly said in fic, but they each induce the opposite of their intended effect. bdubs' courage crystal makes him extremely paranoid, etho's danger detection lands him in the hospital, and even tango's rage crystal leaves him mellow and avoidant.

We’ll just go up there and put a little tarp over it,” he’d told Etho when their kitchen ceiling had started to drip. “I’m a professional, it’ll be easy, and we won’t get rained on inside while the landlord takes two weeks to get someone out here."

i think about bdubs' tenure as a general contractor a lot, mostly because i know of very few other people who have opinions about roofs they pass while driving.

and Etho’s always been good with a bow –

historically speaking, anyway; the very first indication that LL!bdubs remembered previous timelines as well.

Etho is wearing his ancient, scuffed-up blue sneakers, and only then because it would have been about sixteen different ladder safety violations to wear the socks and opened toed slippers he constantly wears in the house.

another old joke about etho's diamond booties and/or socks-and-sandals depictions in fanart. i imagine the sneakers as diamond blue high tops befitting a guy who's into pop punk.

“Already hid it while you were in the bathroom,” says Etho, extra chipper. “And now that you mention it, a two-person Twilight Imperium game is tempting –" “I know just enough about that to know you’re just being mean.”

Board games come up again in chapter 2 and 7, but TI usually takes minimum 8 hours to play and is a space-set empire building and turn based strategy tile-building game. I think Tango and Etho are regularly trying to rope friends into playing with them but it's a bit much for most people, and absolutely not viable for a concussed Bdubs. Catan is also stretching it, but I think bdubs has extremely normie board game taste as a path of least resistance.

chapter 2

He knows he died saying Etho’s name, but unlike a normal dream, his death doesn’t wake him up. He has a faint awareness that whatever his death set in motion is still happening out there, somewhere, but he can’t access it anymore, wherever or whenever he is now, in a darkness waiting for the credits to roll. Nothing comes.

the mechanics for what dreams come when, with what level of detail etc., have been winged this whole time. but I definitely struggled to find a way to have bdubs plausibly and selectively remember only the dying, the difficult parts and not his enjoyment of them. there's no hard rules beyond what seems appropriate to the situation - things the crystal might be in synergy with, or bdubs recalling his nether death when he falls from the roof similarly - but I did think about it constantly while writing.

that said, something the characters never fully figure out but bdubs will almost recognize is that the people who were given and gave away the most lives have an easier time remembering:

scar with his crystals and his souls is really unfazed by past life memories (and calls back to hcs7).

tango, who was given many lives for his betting game and was forced to give them away on top of distributing the winnings, reacts on instinct way before he has dreams. when he does, they're messy and violent like bdubs', more tangled with the reality.

etho only ever gave one life for the betting game, and received none. he dreams by proximity and by crystal, by resonance; the dreams contrast and he has mainly good moments.

cleo picks up the dreams easily - her allies also kept bringing her back up to yellow, and she responds at first like tango does, pre-emptively and instinctively. but when she gets a crystal it's off to the races, and it's not so bad because she had a more stable alliance and also she's got joe to call and bdubs to contrast against. she also definitely talks to scott and pearl about it, but it's not relevant for this fic.

bdubs, of course, gave one life and was given several. he had the bad luck to parallel his last life, and so the fic unfolds. you know how it is with past lives

this all probably implies the southlands, post death coffee incident, start having a spate of dreams and skizz and impulse (they are friends, impulse works at the cafe, it's just never been relevant) have a really funny conversation about their parallel friendgroup dramas but i don't feel like i can write most of the southlands confidently, so please use your imagination and possibly tell me about it.

“Say ‘thank you, Bdubs, for graciously offering to buy me coffee,’” hollers Bdubs as he scrambles out of bed. He doesn’t leave any space for Etho to reply. “It’s like I’m not allowed to get a little extra beauty rest now and then, not that I need it of course. If I were any less perfect than I am I’d make them put all that extra crap you hate in there as punishment for your ungraciousness, one of those – what did you call them, Etho, one of those frappucini things –“

I will never let the time Etho said "frappucini appletini" when onboarding Bdubs as a shade-e-ees employee in s7 die. he will never live it down.

Etho hadn’t fought back much, and seemed to enjoy the endless opportunities to accuse Bdubs of photosynthesizing or pretending to mistake him for a large houseplant if he happened to be wearing green, which was often.

this is probably my favorite one-off gag/detail. every single time etho wakes up at noon and walks into the office to see bdubs wearing green and limned in gold by the afternoon sunbeams he makes the exact same photosynthesis plant joke and bdubs reacts exactly the same way and tells him to get a new joke. neither of them ever do.

“You might need to feed Pineapple Pizza for me. And make sure and eat something, will you? Actual food.”

i'm going to be honest, i don't recall whatsoever the rationale for bdubs and etho having a cat is - I inherited it from the original MLL AU posts. but i'm fond of it because bdubs hates cats and etho loves collecting pets and forgetting about them but also practicing talking to himself. she's dear to me anyway

Maybe it’s not fair to resent Etho’s terrorizing when he can look down at his own hands and see someone else’s blood there, dripping from his own sword – but he has never dreamed of hurting Etho.

this bit of hypocrisy was another huge hurdle for writing, lmao. bdubs' kill of tango and insistence he'd never kill etho after killing grian in ep1 show how cavalier he liked to play his own bloodlust, but with imperfect information in this life it's less hypocrisy and more fixating on etho's "killing" of him not because it's murder but because it's betrayal. cleo engages with this deftly later, because she of all people has seen the etho and bdubs trying to kill each other while secretly wanting the other one to survive song and dance more closely than anyone.

“What do you want,” says Cleo, but it’s only her usual level of grumpiness. “Can’t I call you for no real reason?” Bdubs says, extra-sweet. “Well, one reason, but the reason is I just wanted to talk. I’ve missed you so much!” “It is one o’clock on a weekday, Bdubs. Not all of us can set our own schedules.”

my headcanon is that cleo is a taxidermist, which is partially a joke about an au i made with a friend like 7 years ago for a different fandom, but i thought it would be funny with her armor stand ksills. i don't know what a taxidermist daily work life is like and i've avoided having to describe it though. i did interior designer a day in the life research for bdubs and have managed to gloss over etho's work details beyond "computer guy" so that's all you're getting.

“Oh, you’re too kind,” Bdubs had laughed as he built a statue and moved his victory point marker around the next corner. “You’d give up anything for a loyal friend like me, right?”

it's the chapter 2 board game: this time it's kingsburg! you roll dice which allow you to gain the favor of courtiers on the board to build up your city; buildings give you materials or other advantages or best yet, victory points, which are tracked with meeples on the outer rim of the board. i think it's bdubs' compromise of choice because of the medieval and courtier-courting and city-building themes AND you can cockblock people's desired resources with your own rolls. and it's not hard but it's fun. skizz also really enjoys it and tango and etho have more fine taste but also are usually down for it. this has been "board games headcanons with peter"

Intellectually, he knows the dream is pulling from what’s on his waking mind, like Tango’s weird aggression and being a little lonelier now that his and Bdubs’ schedules don’t often line up.

honestly this is my own stance on dreams, despite an enduring involuntary belief in signs and omens, but etho is such a rationalist it fits, and paves the way for the 1% flawed convo he has with scar in LL that i steal from later. but it's also transparently a little self-deluding because reality in these worlds is much weirder.

He had a tendency to come off as standoffish and intimidating, but Bdubs had seen right through him and immediately started calling him a nerd and a softie and stuck to his side.

etho's on record as talking about making videos as a way of improving his speaking skills, which really shows if you go and watch his old content! i was also thinking about (or maybe predicting?? i don't want to take too much credit but this was written at the end of 2021) etho in bdubs' netherite hunting stream saying something about how he used to be the timid one and now bdubs is. they don't change, they just take turns ;)

“Can he? I say that with love, of course,” Scar says hastily at the incredulous raise of Etho’s eyebrow. “Bdubs and I, we go way back – not as far back as you two, but still. What a guy. He’s had a hard time of it lately, though, hasn’t he?”

somewhere in this fic tag is the elaborate au of this au in which bdubs accepts scar's job offer and doesn't move in with etho; that one would be circa the 90s and lead into hcs7, so the resonances build in that direction instead of LL. but etho and bdubs go way back, further.

Scar picks up Jellie from the chair behind his desk before settling into it and repositioning her on his lap. “I don’t want to assume since Grian said he didn’t remember the name but the guy was wearing a bright green windbreaker. Terribly inconvenient for a business like mine.”

if, when I'm done, I revise things I'd like to make it more clear here that scar considers his business one of information more than trinkets. the trinkets are a means to an end of getting favors and intel from people! he likes wheeling and dealing more than anything, but the "business like mine" line could be improved. i'm not allowed to revise until it's all published, though.

Etho pockets the little bead. “I’m not signing anything, but if you see Bdubs, will you let him know I held up my end of the bargain?”

a missed opportunity to drive home the resonances here, but this is recalling etho pointedly getting out of signing the contract he makes bdubs sign when he boogey fishing rod kills scar.

Before he can respond, Etho’s phone goes off and Grian visibly startles, hopping back a little bit. Which seems like an overreaction, but Etho does forget how creepy his alarm tone of ominously ringing bells is if you’re not expecting it.

his alarm tone is 13, of course, and it comes up at the board game shop later. incidentally i also for a while set my own feed the cat alarm to 13 when i figured out how to use spotify for phone alarms, and sometimes i still accidentally turn that alarm back on and jumpscare myself irl. i'm very competent.

Bdubs, presumably, will have to come home to sleep at some point and the coffee will ensure Etho is awake to see him. One way or another, they’re going to make this work.

this line is specifically echoing bdubs saying they're gonna make this work during the LL office scene, and will foreshadow what etho does to make things come to a head in the final chapter. but that's spoilers ;)

#peter writes #do it again au #mll au #just chapter 1 and 2 for now bc this got. LONG

[hekateinhell]

♡ Hospital AU Lestat and Armand 🏥💕

*DYING at you picking an AU that technically does not exist yet lmao I'm obsessed! I really did love the back-and-forth tweet fic style thing with DA + everyone else who contributed because this one is just really fun and kinky and I've missed them!!

So for the sake of headcanons, let's say they're at the point in their relationship where they just started dating. Armand and therapist!Lestat are still engaging in unethical BDSM activities in the workplace (Armand is still seeing cute anesthesiologist!Daniel on the side; he doesn't ask about Lestat's extracurriculars).

Hospital AU tag for anyone who wants to know what exactly is going on here... you'll miss some stuff if you have the default 'Mature' content filters on, go check that if you follow me please. 🥹

NSFW below the cut.

Who is the most affectionate?

It's a weird transition from "Armand bending over Lestat's lap, spreading himself open and waiting for an insertion of some sort — in a purely professional capacity, of course" to "Hey, want me to pick you up after your shift? It'll be 3am..."

At first Lestat's somewhat hesitant to cuddle Armand because Armand just looks so standoffish and disinterested sometimes (hilarious considering Lestat's already had Armand panting and rutting against his jeans while Lestat fucks him with a silicone impression of his dick right there on his therapy couch).

But he gets over it by their second sleepover and just grabs Armand in this massive bear cuddle and pins him to his chest. Armand's startled at first but then he reaches up to grip Lestat's forearms and doesn't let go. Hard to envision a world where Lestat isn't the golden retriever boyfriend, and he is definitely still the most affectionate of the two, but Armand's much more open now that Lestat's ripped that Band-Aid off for them (so to speak).

Armand showing affection looks more like kissing Lestat's temple before leaving his office after one of their "therapy sessions", sore and hazy but grateful. Wrapping his arms around Lestat's back and pressing his cheek to his middle while he's trying to cook in Armand's kitchen (the first time that apartment has seen honest to goodness food). Touching Lestat's arm when they pass each other in the hallway, Armand pretending he hadn't just gotten rug-burn 10 minutes ago while he was busy choking on Lestat's dick and squirming on cheap carpet two rooms down (jk his gag reflex is excellent).

Who initiates the handholding?

Armand's not one for PDA so it's a Big Deal when he does reach for Lestat's hand to ground himself after a particularly rough shift if they're still in public/the hospital parking lot/running errands.

He does everything he can for his patients and his job is his whole identity, so he takes it very hard when something does go wrong.

He's a long way from ever even thinking about admitting it but sometimes Lestat's large, blazingly warm hands feel like the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

Who worries more for the other?

Lestat worries about Armand a lot because he has the unhealthiest stereotypical baby surgeon habits—thinks he's invincible and can survive on Monster energy drinks and vending machine honeybuns and a combined six hours of sleep over a three-day period. He's seen a lot of young doctors crash and burn in the couple years he's been practicing at Trinity General.

Who is more likely to ask for help?

Lestat makes his living reminding people 'there's no shame in asking for help, we're all human', but it's always easier to preach rather to practice.

I'd say they both equally suck at this for very similar reasons: ego, pride, and trauma. Imagine a psychotherapist and a cardiothoracic surgeon asking for help.

Who is the one always losing the keys?

Armand can't remember when he ate his last "meal" or the last time he slept. It's Armand. At this point he more or less lives in Lestat's townhouse out of necessity (at least until he can find time to call the super and get another key and he will Not Be Doing That).

Who leaves little love notes for the other?

Since they're in the awkward, unofficial 'I know what your face looks like when you're having a god-tier orgasm but not your favorite food or color" stage, love notes look more like Lestat texting Armand "Did you eat today? I'll Uber you something to the hospital."

Or Armand simply asking him, "Text me when you're going to bed?" (which really means "Text me when you're staying put for the night so I know you're safe wherever you are.")

Comes more naturally to Lestat though for sure.

Who can’t sleep unless the other is there?

Lestat is finding more and more lately that he sleeps the best when Armand's ass is pressed up against his stomach. Or when somehow their positions switch up during the night and he wakes up from a dream to find his head over Armand's chest and Armand's hand in his hair.

Who is more likely to propose to the other?

ashsjksksgd don't mention that word right now, they'll both run for the hills.

(Lestat. He lowkey wanted to marry Armand ever since Armand took a stethoscope to his heart right in the middle of bouncing on his cock and came hard to the sound of Lestat's heart beating right out of his chest... it's exactly the kind of freakish behavior that captured Lestat's attention permanently and also his dick. It's... unusual, make no mistake, but also pretty fucking hot.)

Who introduced the other to their family first?

It's extremely unfortunate that Lestat's mother works at the same hospital in which he fucks his coworker on the regular. She knows, because Gabrielle knows all. She is unimpressed.

We'll say Lestat, even though he wishes very much that were not the case.

Who is more likely to play with the other’s hair?

Armand's getting better and better with showing affection (he's never had to do this before, he's never been in a situationship that wasn't based purely on sex). He's learning that Lestat really responds some kind of way to Armand dragging his nails through his hair and rubbing his scalp. And by some kind of way, I mean he makes the most pathetic whining sound and looks like he's in physical pain.

Who makes sure the other has meals/stays hydrated?

See 'love notes.'

It must be noted that Lestat is not above having Armand eat from his hand like a dog while he already has him pliant over his lap and laying in his own cum in the office, too blissed out and sweet to be snarky and dismissive.

(Also, this is Lestat. He's not completely selfless, don't get the wrong idea — at least 50% of this is rooted his own desire to not only be wanted but also needed).

Who is more likely to stand up to anyone for the other?

They're both feral, it's a tie.

Who is the most likely to prepare a surprise for the other?

Armand is not a fan of surprises, thank you very much. He experiences enough shocks in his day-to-day rummaging around people's chests.

Lestat on the other hand loves a good surprise; he's always exclaiming and gasping over stuff in a very childish and endearing way. Armand picks up on this early on in their dates and tries to surprise him throughout the week with little gifts (some of the adult and provocative nature).

Who makes the other pinky promise not to do certain things?

Lestat once dared say to Armand, "Pinky promise me you won't sleep in the on-call room for the fourth night in a row because you're that stressed out about your patient?"

Armand laughed in his face.

Who puts a blanket over the other when they fall asleep on the couch?

Both of them.

Lestat hunts down Armand during his lunch breaks (super casually, if he bumps into him it's purely coincidental) and sometimes he finds him asleep in the doctor's lounge or an empty patient's room, so he'll grab a blanket from the supply closet and tuck him in.

Lestat does actually work as well, and there have been times where Armand showed up for his "appointment" to find Lestat sound asleep on a pile of paperwork. Armand still privately thinks that what he does is more important (because he's a surgeon with a God complex), but he can't deny that Lestat's job also takes a very real toll on him. Armand raids the supply closet (different one) and even manages to slip a thin hospital pillow under Lestat's head while he frowns and sighs in his sleep.

It's one of those moments where things suddenly seem a little too real for Armand, and his own heart aches in a way he's not ready to acknowledge.

#i've been dying ever since i saw this one lol i'm always drowning in I/a thoughts canon AU or otherwise my life's a mess i love them so much #hope these hit the spot <3 #(hope you like these too DA thank you for playing with me and helping me build this fun little world) #you get like a co-writer's credit when i do eventually write this thing <3333 #armand/lestat #fic: hospital au #ship headcanons ask meme #you ask and hekate answers

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

Have you been to hospital about your injuries? They sound bad .:/ Anyways, I hope you feel better soon. 💐

Thanks so much!

Well, they really aren’t THAT bad. The stab wound did hit the bone, but where it didn’t have to go far. The wound isn’t too deep, or too big. It didn’t hit any major blood vessels or anything. The knife was incredibly sharp, and despite the fact I was cutting hose it was rather clean. I immediately washed it well and so forth. It all could have been much worse.

It’s healing up astonishingly fast, actually. It’s stopped bleeding and the inflammation has gone. I REALLY didn’t expect it to recover this fast. It’s not like when I slammed the car door on my finger back in September. I may have a little scar, but eh, it’s not like anyone cares.

As for a hospital, yeah, no. I’m not sure I’d even go to one if I was dying. I have no money. I have no insurance. There is no hospital in my county even if I wanted to go. I can’t imagine wanting to go after certain traumas I’ve endured a the hands of abusive healthcare professionals.

Without going into detail right now**, I vowed long, long ago to never allow myself to be at the lack of mercy found in the ego driven assholes that think bodily autonomy and emotional respect are thing they are exempt from by virtue of a job description. A doctor has to earn my respect and no way will I trust one just because they got some damn degree. Basically going to a doctor would feel like submitting to a rape (with good reason), and as soon as I was old enough to fight back I stopped going. I haven’t been to a doctor since the 1990s!

Look, I’ll sew up my own wounds and have even cut a growth out of my own skin with a razor blade rather than go to a doctor. I have had medical problems that I worried might actually be life threatening and absolutely someone sensible should go to a for. I didn’t.

Please don’t tell me all the medical stuff that could kill me. I am acutely aware. I even acknowledge that there must be good, kind, intelligent, and respectful healthcare professionals out there. (Never met one that was, but sure, they exist in fiction so why not) But for me the trauma would be a fate worse than death.

You might as well be telling be to stick my face in a box of angry rattlesnakes…..and I’d prefer the snakes because at least they wouldn’t expect your submission, gratitude, and payment for violating you!

Good think I’m incredibly tough, huh? LOL

Thank you for caring! I REALLY appreciate that.

**I tried to go to a therapist once over my intense phobia of those human monsters, and I got an interesting response when, to the screener, I started my long list of reasons for a an utter fear and mistrust of anyone calling themselves a doctor or nurse. Let’s just say I got a few wide eyed “OMG!”s and the suggestion that they should do a movie about me.

The therapist didn’t work out, partly because he had couldn’t get his head around my not being afraid of something stupid like a hypodermic but the human wielding it. Mostly it was my nature clashing with nature of therapists I guess. I tell you, the dude trying to control my word choice because of his assumptions about the baggage attached to the word made me want to punch his face in….and generally I’m not violent.

Still, the attempt did confirm a few things. I did have good reason to feel as I do. And I apparently do have serious PTSD from it all. Oh, and as an aside, I am “A VERY unusual person” (LOL) . None of that was news, but good to have it validated .

#ask #asks #injury #medical #phobia

[softquietsteadylove]

Hello! Can you continue the Thenamesh Actors AU where they are trying to do a kiss scene, but they mess it up every time and end up laughing, but then off set, they manage to do it?

Thena leaned in, her eyes fluttering closed, her heart picking up. She could smell his cologne and some coffee on his breath. But he had also chewed some gum. She had seen him doing it, too; it was sweet he was nervous about it.

Gil felt Thena's breath hit his lips and gulped.

Thena and Gil both pulled away, giggling like kids in a play.

"Cut!"

"Sorry, I'm sorry," Thena apologised immediately for her lack of professionalism. She ran a hand through her mussed hair; she had never had trouble with a kiss scene like this before.

"N-No, it's my fault," Gilgamesh volunteered (chivalrous as always).

"Do you two need an intimacy coordinator for this or-"

"Just," Thena cleared her throat, trying not to play with her hair as her nerves built up, "just give us a few minutes?"

"That's a take 5!"

The crew started shutting down and moving equipment as needed. The director was already turning attention to other things that needed to get done that day.

Thena sighed as she and Gil both made their way off the soundstage. "Sorry, I don't know why I can't seem to focus."

"Well, I'm not being much help," Gil offered in apology with a smile. "I think--I don't know, I guess I haven't gone over it as much as I wanted to."

"Y-Yes, that's it!" Thena eagerly jumped onto the reason - excuse - Gil provided. "I have a few notes on it, but we didn't get these sides that long ago."

"Exactly," Gil laughed along, "the re-writes aren't helping either."

"Come and look at them with me?" Thena asked with a small smile. "I wouldn't hate having your opinion on what they're thinking in this scene."

"Yeah, yeah--same," Gil rushed, trotting beside her away from the commotion of the set. He pulled his script out of his back pocket (folded and rumpled). "I was thinking about, uh, I guess what he might be thinking in terms of...this is the woman he loves, right?"

"Right," Thena nodded, opening up her own sides as well.

"Not that he's necessarily been open to it before," Gil shrugged, leaning against the wall as he went through his process. "I kind of think maybe they've always been a little flirty. But I don't know, what do you think?"

"No, I agree," she mused as she flipped to the appropriate page. "They've worked kind of around each other for so long, and I imagine there's always been a kind of tension surrounding them. The film is just when we see it really coming to a head."

"Exactly," Gil nodded eagerly. "They're mob bosses, for fuck's sake. There's no way they haven't thought of, well..."

Thena smiled at how sheepish he became about it, when she had written on her own pages 'dying to fuck each other' in the margins. Not that it was for anyone else to see. "I think...they just need the right push."

"Right," Gil said more seriously, reading over their scene again. It was rather dramatic seeming on the page, but that just meant that their performance would be what grounded it in reality. "Their enemies are starting to catch onto their weaknesses."

"It's important that she be the one who has to bargain for him," Thena pointed out, tapping the page, "not just from a woman's perspective, but also because it illustrates that she's willing to make sacrifices for him."

"As opposed to him being the only one wanting her," Gil concurred. He flipped the page, leading to the big kiss. "The confession is a bit..."

"I thought so too," Thena murmured, looking at where she had noted and scribbled and crossed out liberally. "I don't know if it's really...letting them speak."

Gil just nodded. "I don't think they'd need this long-ass paragraph speech."

"No."

"They've known each other for so long, now," he narrated, even tucking his pages away as he crossed his arms in thought. "And they've been loving each other quietly."

"There's this understanding between them that's," Thena also tucked her pages away, pushing her hair out of her face, "obvious."

"Love doesn't always need these big speeches," Gil shook his head, leaning off the wall and closer. "He knows she knows...even if she won't admit it."

"That unwillingness to admit it is fundamental to her," Thena agreed, chewing her lip as she thought. "She's so uptight, so controlling-"

"That's why she has him," Gil suggested a little more lightly. "I think that's what this kiss is saying."

"Saying?" Thena peeked up at him, realising he was a lot closer than before.

"It's a way for him to say that he loves her, and that he's there to be everything she needs, as well as everything she isn't."

"So she can say," Thena's eyes drifted down to his lips for just a split second, "that she knows he's there, and that she knows that she wants him there in spite of herself. Despite all her efforts, he's already in her heart."

"Is it worth the risk?"

"Yes."

Thena's eyes fluttered closed as Gil tipped her head up to him, hands on her cheeks, fingers dipped into her hair. She leaned into the kiss, pressing her lips to his the way a hand might cling to another in the dark. Her hand came up to his wrist just to rest on it, to cling to his sleeve as if to ask him to stay there a little longer.

Gil kept his head close, moving a stray wisp of blonde out of his way so he could look at her unobstructed.

Thena licked her lips - completely subconsciously - as they pulled away. That was it--that was exactly what they needed to happen when they were rolling! It was...it was... "good."

Gil blinked as her voice kind of squeaked out. His heart, if it was already beating faster than normal, flipped around inside his chest and started beating tenfold. "Y-Yeah, that was--was it-"

"Yes, it was-"

They both broke into laughter, soft and gentle in the little corner of the studio they had found. Thena twisted some of her hair over her shoulder, smiling up at him in their little bubble of solace. "Thanks for working on the scene with me."

Gil looked surprised, but he had on a smile that she recognised as the smile he wore specifically in character. It was a little cocky looking, a little sexy, but still undeniably Gilgamesh. "Like it's a chore to kiss the most beautiful woman on the planet?"

Thena rolled her eyes at him, also slipping back into her character in favour of ducking her head down in a blush. "Thinks he's so charming."

"Ready?" he asked, tipping his head in the direction of the set moving back to one.

Thena flipped her hair over her shoulder, taking the lead on the way back, "just try to keep up."

#Thenamesh Actors AU #Thenamesh inception #because I couldn't resist #someone did once say that they could be their own movie #so why not? #they go out there #and they nail the kiss #like it's hot #and they're like uh can we just take that again #until eventually they have to be like #guys we got it #this is costing everyone money #you wanna make out do it on your own time #and then they're out of character #just Gil and Thena again #and they're mortified #Thena goes home like I can't believe I did that #and Sprite is like #I can #I can believe it a lot #Gil is lying face down on his floor