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slavghoul · 1 year

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Interview from Rock Hard [FR] Magazine 5/2023

In which Tobias talks about Spillways, Phantomime, how he chooses what songs to cover, the state of the world, why he loves churches, and some touring technicalities.

Rock Hard: Let's go back to the version of "Spillways" that you recorded with Joe Elliott, the singer of Def Leppard. How did this collaboration come about?

Unfortunately, this story is less sexy than it would have been if I could have done exactly what I wanted. Before Impera was released, I regularly mentioned Def Leppard in interviews because some of the experimentation on that album was inspired by that band, their writing style. […] As I often mentioned Def Leppard, people around me eventually told me that Joe Elliott and Phil Collen regularly spoke highly of Ghost in interviews. Since I obviously thought it was cool, someone suggested a collaboration. A good collaboration shouldn't be forced, it should happen naturally. The best ones are often the ones that weren't supposed to happen. Two drunk musicians somewhere accidentally writing a good song... Crosby, Stills & Nash style. People who, by chance, find themselves together in a different context from the one they are used to and do something together, by accident. Something magical! That's how I would ideally have wanted it to happen. So I said I was ready to call Joe Elliott and see if we had a rapport. We started talking on the phone and texting a lot, me living in Sweden and him in Dublin. As we were both on the move almost all the time, and he was on tour, we couldn't meet. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he tells me that he has recorded some vocals for 'Spillways'! Quite frankly, I was surprised because I wasn't expecting it. I was anticipating a possible collaboration, but in a different way. To be honest, I thought we would create something new later on. But when I heard the result, I thought two things. Firstly, I found it very flattering. Secondly, I thought Joe brought something new and cool to "Spillways".

But you would have preferred to have the opportunity to write a new song with him.

Yes, that's the way I saw it, but I'm happy with the way it turned out. And then I said to Joe, "You know how we post those funny little episodes on our social media?" He replied "Yes, I think I saw that!" and kindly agreed to participate in one of them. Nowadays, many artists are over-solicited to record video clips for anything and everything in order to keep their channels updated: "Come and see us in concert in such and such a city!", etc. etc. The aim is obviously to keep the media space occupied.

By creating "content"!

Exactly! And that's exactly what I don't want to do. That's why, instead of all this crap, we started some time ago to create these little humorous episodes. One day, for example, I came up with the idea of an episode set in 1969 featuring a sort of "pre-Ghost" group. To do this, I obviously had to write a new song, which I did with this psychedelic track, 'Kiss The Go-Goat', which I thought was funny. When we recorded it, 'Mary On A Cross', another song of the same type, came along. So we ended up with two sides of a single that became 'Seven Inches Of Satanic Panic.’ Instead of just announcing the release on our networks, we chose to shoot a new video in which we featured Papa Nihil and explained the origins of this so-called 'pre-Ghost' band. I thought it was a much more clever and fun way of presenting the single. We do the same when it comes to announcing an album release or a future tour. Joe Elliott has a great sense of humour and is capable of self-mockery, so he kindly agreed to play this little game.

Ghost have made a habit of releasing an EP between their albums, mostly, if not entirely, made up of covers: If You Have Ghost (2013), Popestar (2016) and now Phantomime. How is it not just about “creating content”?

For me, it's a kind of exercise. I like analogies. Let's imagine that the place we are in is a theatre, and that this theatre, in order to be viable, has to host performances all year round. At least fifty weeks a year. Daytime rehearsals, evening performances... You are the director of the place and you know that the play that is currently being performed there will end at the end of the month. So you look for something else to program in order to make the most of the place and keep your staff busy. Maybe an old classic like Doctor Glass (Hjalmar Söderberg, 1905), an adaptation of John Steinbeck, or a rereading of Shakespeare's Hamlet that you could revisit by inviting this actor or that director, renting out your theatre for three extra months for the occasion. Working on this old material, even if it means not releasing it if it doesn't work. We do that to keep the team active, enthusiastic, focused. That's my way of working. I worked simultaneously on the Impera album and the demos of the covers that are on Phantomime. One day I could record 'Spillways' and two hours before leaving the studio to go home, I could look at any of the covers and decide which ones to keep. So, as soon as Impera was finished, I was able to concentrate on those covers that the album's producer wasn't interested in putting on the record. Which was fine with me. I spent some time sorting out the covers I had recorded as demos. There were ten in total, but I only kept five. Because with those five tracks I thought I could come up with a really strong rock EP. In my albums, there are highs, lows, really metal tracks, ballads, instrumentals, etc. So I thought it was a good idea to make a really strong rock EP. I felt it would be cool if this new EP was viscerally rock’n’roll. The opening track, "See No Evil" by Television, sounds like the Rolling Stones on methamphetamine! (laughs)

You like the songs you cover, that's a prerequisite. But their lyrics also play a very important role in your choice.

Yes, that's what makes me choose a song or not.

Is that the number one criterion?

Erm... (he thinks for a long time) If I hesitate between two songs, yes, absolutely! Let's go back to Leonard Cohen, for example. For the bonus tracks of Prequelle, I chose "Avalanche" because it seemed to me to have a biblical and existential significance. This was not the case with 'Take This Waltz', another Cohen song that I liked as much, if not more. The latter, with its Viennese waltz feel, would have metaphorically taken us to Austria, which would not have been very coherent, unfortunately.

Should these covers speak about God, the Devil, ask questions about religion?

They must speak about evil, about good. Be existential, biblical, philosophical, but seen from a certain perspective. Or at least tick one of those boxes, like 'Hanging Around' (The Stranglers) which is about Christ. Some of the other covers I've recorded are more specific, such as 'Phantom Of The Opera' (Iron Maiden), which is about horror. I also make my choice according to the humour of the songs I want to cover. It should be close to my own sense of humour.

You mentioned the first Phantomime cover, "See No Evil". It takes on a different resonance today because, on January 28, 2023, we sadly learned of the death of Tom Verlaine, the leader of Television.

When I recorded this cover in 2021, just after completing Impera, it was already a tribute. But obviously, with Tom's death, this song takes on another resonance, that of a final posthumous salute. I've been listening to Television for twenty years, and I love them and have always considered them a great band. In indie clubs they always play the same song, 'Marquee Moon', but Television had many other good songs, especially on their first two albums: Marquee Moon (1977) and Adventure (1978). I like those two best. It's a band that had a huge influence on one of my previous bands, Subvision. So much so that at the time, I thought several times of covering Television songs that I loved: "See No Evil", but also "Elevation" and "Foxhole".

The first single from Phantomime is Genesis' 'Jesus He Knows Me', a scathing critique of televangelist stars like Jimmy Swaggart, Jim Bakker and Robert Tilton. Ugly people who have made their fortune by 'promising salvation’ to naive believers for big bucks. Can we expect to see you wearing a wig in its video, as singer/drummer Phil Collins did in the original video for this song in 1991?

(Laughs) We've already shot the video for this cover version (editor’s note: the interview was conducted on 11 March 2023) and I'm not in it, but it's a direct nod to the original video. I've always liked this song - except for the reggae part, which I thought was horrible in the Genesis version and which I reworked - and it's funny to see how this 1991 text is still relevant today. Except, of course, for a few "old-time" words, like "phone book". The televangelists are still there on television promising things to people who take their word for it and shower them with money because they are assured of "salvation", they are promised heaven. I also rearranged Iron Maiden's 'Phantom of The Opera' after taking care to contact Steve Harris for his approval.

Indeed, in your retelling of this song, you are the Phantom and not its victim...

Yes, I wanted to be the Phantom. I submitted the idea to Steve, who gave me the green light. I only made some surgical changes. Similarly, I would have liked to have proposed the same thing to Phil Collins so that the text of "Jesus He Knows Me" would have been more in line with the times. Change, for example, "but she don't know about my girlfriend / or the man I met last night" to "or the dude I screwed last night". Alas, lack of time prevented me from doing so. And then, since this was a slippery slope, I thought: - What if Collins refuses? Or what if he gets pissed off? - We could have made these changes without asking anyone's permission - as long as the artists get their royalties, it's not a problem - but there was no way I was going to do it. Neither I nor my label wanted to alienate anyone, obviously.

In 1977, in "Hanging Around" by The Stranglers, which you also cover on Phantomime, the singer Hugh Cornwell sings about several things, but also about Christ "telling his mother not to worry because he's comfortable in the city where he's high above the ground". Is that why you chose it?

Actually, the key thing that made me choose this song from the band over any other is that I grew up listening to the album it's taken from, Rattus Norvegicus (1977), the Stranglers' first release. There are a lot of songs on that album that I would have loved to play because, as a musician, I really like to play those kinds of songs. ‘Hanging Around' was a good fit for us because of the lyrics, but also because it was more in keeping with our style. Ghost are obviously a metal and hard rock band, but also have a strong punk sensibility. Punk, but well played (smiles). For me, The Stranglers have always done "well played punk": this band knows how to play, how to arrange its music, unlike GBH and Discharge, to name but two. Mind you, I also like the latter, but not for the same reasons. A lot of punk bands from the late 70s/early 80s sounded "sloppy". It wasn't for lack of trying to play better. When The Clash and The Jam went into the studio, they tried to do their best and they sounded great! The same goes for The Adverts. Those guys were doing their best. Nowadays, some people think that being a punk is to play badly on purpose, to be messy. No, no, no ! But I digress...

What is the reason for the nod to Metallica's 'Fade To Black' in the solo on 'Hanging Around'?

Just for fun. When I'm working on a guitar solo, I throw things in here and there, like a messy painter. It's like stretching a canvas on a wall and making big brush strokes... But when I start to feel like I've got something cool, I dig in more surgically, a bit like a collage artist would. I interweave little elements, and when it comes time to insert a solo into a piece, I refine things by continuing to add new elements. Generally, a solo gives you a space of freedom in the middle of an otherwise totally structured song. That's when you can come up with different things in terms of melody. So that's the way I do it, even on the demos of the covers. I ask my sound engineer, Martin Eriksson Sandmark, to play me the draft of the solos I've been working on over and over again, and then I try out different things, whatever comes to mind. It's as if I'm drawing a mental map of what the solo will become. Sometimes, if I'm on a part sometimes, if I'm on a bluesy part, I'll let myself play a few notes of Gary Moore’s "Still Got The Blues", or, if I'm tapping, Van Halen's "Eruption". When I was working on the solo for 'Hanging Around', I felt like playing this part of Metallica's 'Fade To Black', just for fun. And it ended up on the demo. I'm a decent guitar player, but I'm not at the level I could have reached if I'd worked harder. I could just record these solos in the studio, where you can always slow things down when you play them and then speed them up and put them on the album, but Fredrik Akesson can play these parts without tricks and with much more finesse than I can. He recorded the solo for "Hanging Around" as I had presented it on the demo, with this nod to Metallica, and we thought it was so cool that we kept it.

Hugh Cornwell, the ex-singer of The Stranglers, said in an interview that, although he was not a believer, he loved visiting churches. Is this also true for you? Are you also attracted to churches?

Yes, passionately! I believe in them like I believe in Star Wars. I've always thought of churches as stage props. Walking into one of them is a bit like walking onto a film set of the original Indiana Jones And The Temple Of Doom. It's awe-inspiring, even though you know it's just cardboard. Churches have magical powers because they are centuries-old buildings and we know that a lot of things have happened within their walls. Not that I'm trying to throw up on these places of worship, but when I go into a church I don't hear God, but the whispers of time. I am not an atheist, although intellectually I can see that there are many reasons why I should be. I believe in a Force, in an Energy. I also believe that we don't know many things, but that there is a balance between these different energies. The white and the black.

Good and Evil...

Absolutely! Right now the world is in crisis, but we're going to get through it. It's a vicious circle. We do ourselves a disservice if we think that if the world were rid of people like Vladimir Putin, Alexander Lukashenko, Jair Bolsonaro and the ayatollahs of Iran and Iraq, we would be out of the woods. I think all this can happen - and I hope it will, in a way - but Good and Evil will always be there. That balance is necessary. But I am an optimist by nature. I believe that there is a future for Volodymyr Zelensky and the Eastern bloc. That there is perhaps a chance to put into practice what was tried there some thirty years ago. And I believe in a free Iran, in a possible return to what this country was in 1978. What a beautiful day that would be! But that doesn't mean there wouldn't be a new war somewhere else in the world. I'm an eternal optimist, but let's face it: history is always starting over. As I said, it's a question of balance, a permanent coming and going. Because I believe in this Force I was talking about earlier, I truly believe that the West can win, that the way we live and the way we have built our society is a step forward that shows progress and can make a large majority of people happy. Not all, but most. But even if we all lived in love and peace for five years, something else would come along to create chaos! An alien or something! (laughs) That's how it works. Our mistake is to believe in the status quo, in nirvana. It's not going to happen. It's always about balance. The Vatican and organised religion... All that crap is just to pick people's pockets, to control them, to take their energy and scare them into plundering them. The same goes for the GOP (editor’s note: the American "Grand Old Party", suspected of having Christian nationalist leanings), which only deceives people in order to take their money! That's all you need to know. It's simple, so simple to understand. All this does not mean that the energy that emanates from churches is not real. When you walk into one of them, you feel - or so I believe - the energy of all those who have gone before you, for decades, for centuries. Their fears, their hopes, etc. So much so, sometimes, that you can feel oppressed, even upset. So I can walk into a church and feel a sense of awe. I love visiting these places, especially from an aesthetic point of view.

On Phantomime, you also cover "We Don't Need Another Hero" by Tina Turner. Don't you think that, given the state of the world today, we do need "another hero"?

I think Zelensky has shown how much we like heroes, how important they are to us. I think back, for example, to how the world went wild when Andrés Iniesta scored the decisive goal in the 116th minute to help Spain win the 2010 World Cup against the Netherlands. I believe in human determination and how it can inspire the world to distinguish between what is important... and what is really important. What is important for our daily lives. Yes, it's cool to have a complete collection of Venom's work, but it doesn't matter if I’m missing the most important thing. In the last ten years especially, the western world has been focusing on tons of unimportant things trying to pit people against each other, cancel culture and all that stuff... It proves that we are spoiled children. Our mentality shows it when it comes to security. Seeing Zelensky defend himself as he does appeals to our most primal instincts: it's beautiful and very inspiring. Nothing else is more important than that. It is the only thing that matters... Otherwise we have to be prepared for a lot of people to live in misery.

Next August, you will tour in the USA with Amon Amarth. I noticed that they will not accompany you on the last date, in Los Angeles, on September 11, 2023. There is no opening act, you ask the audience not to use their phones, etc. That sounds like a live DVD!

Yes, we are indeed planning to film this show, but it won't be the end of the Impera era cycle, even if we will not have so many dates left after this concert. There will still be a few shows in South America and Australia.

Nothing in Japan? A country that one might think Ghost was made for.

At the moment, it's not very clear. We had a lot of discussions with the Japanese promoters, as there was talk of us appearing on the bill of a Japanese festival scheduled for this month. Unfortunately, the festival was postponed... and then rescheduled for March! I think they originally had a big headliner, but the headliner didn't show up. So they cancelled, and then considered a smaller edition with Pantera. With all the back and forth, we ended up dropping out because it was too risky for us to play one date there after six months of inactivity. Our team is currently taking a break, but we preferred to use this time to rehearse for our next shows. The first one will be in Rouen on May 21st. We learned a good lesson the last time we played Hellfest. It was so hot that day, the conditions were so extreme, that we almost had a storm. We really had to fight against the elements and it affected me (Editor's note: the last encore of the show was not played, as Tobias was suffering from vocal problems). It was a very tough show. What really pissed me off was not the fact that I lost my voice, but the fact that the festival-goers who were there were not treated to our entire production. It was indeed difficult to foresee these extreme conditions. This summer we have to play festivals again, so we have reworked our production, which will be better adapted to the complicated weather. On this tour we will play in Spain, Finland, Norway, Greece, all within a few days of each other. So we'll be touring with two identical stages, so we can do all these shows without too much downtime. It's not very ecological, I'm sorry to say, because sometimes we'll have to take a plane to get to these cities in time. Not great, but it's the only way...

Will you play any of the Phantomime covers live?

One thing is for sure: we will play 'Jesus He Knows Me' because it's the first single from the new EP. As for the rest, we'll see during the rehearsals how the set evolves - because it's going to evolve a bit from the 2022 set. We're thinking of playing some songs from Impera that we've left out so far.

#the band ghost #tobias forge #interview

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johannestevans · 8 months

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hi, unless i’m imaging things i think you’ve mentioned having written an article about different treatments for vaginal atrophy. do you have a link?

Hey there, Anon!

I have a big, exhaustive guide to vaginal and vulvar stimulation, and I do discuss the impact of vaginal atrophy and a few options toward treating it, but it doesn't go into specific detail.

Vaginal atrophy is caused by decreased estrogen production, and effectively what happens is that the soft, wet tissue on the inside of your vagina - the parts that are formed of mucous membranes - become thinner and dryer. This can lead to pain during sex, difficulty getting sufficiently loose or lubricated for penetration, and it can make the skin there tear a lot more easily, because when it's thinner it's less flexible and has less support from the surrounding tissues, not to mention the increased friction from lack of lubrication.

It's important to remember that while we're at our wettest during sexual arousal, the inside of the vagina - much like the head of the penis inside the foreskin - should always be a little bit wet. That wetness is really important to the vagina performing its regular activities, keeping itself clean and healthy, and not receiving too much friction just from things like walking around.

Even your rectum has important mucous inside it to keep things running a bit more smoothly and to ensure it's never too dry, and this is why too many enemas in a short period can be bad for your anal and rectal health, and your anus is a lot more closed naturally than your vagina, you know?

While more lube during sex is often the first thing people bring up in response to vaginal dryness, that's actually only one facet of potential issues - for people who are on T, for people going through menopause, for people who for whatever reason have an E deficiency or insufficient E in this area, it can cause other problems too - your vaginal canal might get a bit shorter, muscle weakness in the area (especially of the pelvic floor) can make you need to pee more often and more urgently, you might have some spotting, abdominal pain, uncomfortable or burning sensations when urinating.

In combination with the fact that vaginal atrophy can make you more prone to injury, your bacterial flora can be thrown out of whack by this process too, and these are really really important to maintaining a healthy vagina, producing appropriate amounts of discharge, but also to fighting off infection - vaginal atrophy is also associated with recurrent UTIs and other infections.

So, what can we do?

Firstly, pelvic floor exercises are unbelievably helpful, and everyone should be doing them regularly, regardless of gender or genital make-up.

Here's an NHS guide """for women""" but it mostly doesn't use any gendered language for your actual body parts:

These exercises will help strengthen your pelvic floor, and strengthening these muscles will not only help with stuff like potential urinary incontinence or give you a tighter grip that you can better control during penetration (more control in this area can also help you if you're prone to reflexive tightness under stress, e.g. with vaginismus), but when those muscles are stronger and have more density to them, they provide more support to the surrounding area, which can help blood flow and give more structure to the tissues we're trying to support.

Secondly, as well as good lubricants, there also exist vaginal moisturizers - depending on the extent of your atrophy and how much it's a problem (it might be worse, for example, at some points of the month than others), these might help - you apply them every few days and they help your vagina maintain its lubrication.

If pelvic floor exercises and lube and moisturizer isn't helping, your next step is different forms of estrogen - your medical provider will need to tell you what's available in your area and to you particularly, but there's honestly all sorts.

You can get topical estrogen gels and creams that you smear inside the vagina, you can get suppositories that you insert and are then absorbed, you can get rings that you insert and then stay in place for a few months, slowly releasing E over time.

If you're using testosterone, it's more likely that your medical provider would suggest these latter than taking E orally - the great thing about these topical applications is that the E stays very localised to your pelvic region where you need it, much like when you get an IUS and the progesterone stays relatively localised. Taking E orally, you're introducing estrogen to your whole system, and depending on your current hormone cocktail, it might be harder to figure out dosage and effect, especially over time.

If your medical provider hears you're experiencing vaginal atrophy and, if you say that lube and moisturizer aren't sufficient, they immediately suggest moving to vaginal dilators or pain killers, or if they talk about easing your "discomfort" during sex (especially with a presumed male partner) without talking about pleasure or satisfaction, or especially if you've brought up vaginal atrophy for reasons other than sex and their priority immediately jumps to the imaginary partner they want you to be satisfying, I would recommend getting a new medical provider as soon as possible, and probably telling that one to shut the fuck up.

Many doctors, as we know, are scumbags, but some particularly cunty ones' automatic focus for someone with a vagina is that you're providing sex to your (cishet male) partner - they automatically focus less on your pleasure or satisfaction, let alone your health, and more on the idea of reducing pain you're experiencing enough that you'll let that partner fuck you as much as they desire to.

This is not a medical provider that has your best interests at heart, and if they don't afford you humanity in this area, I would have doubts as to others.

If you're having difficulty with a medical provider, I would always, always advise:

Bringing a chaperone with you. You're entitled to a chaperone, you can always bring one, a lot of the time they'll want to say a chaperone can stay out of the room "for your comfort/privacy" but for your comfort and safety, you can also bring them in with you. A chaperone might be a friend or family member or partner, and they don't even need to say anything a lot of the time - just having a witness there can make a medical provider think twice about bullying a patient. I've served as a medical chaperone for quite a few friends, especially because I'm a thin white man, and even as a faggot, doctors humanise me slightly more than they do friends of mine who are perceived as women, who are POC, who are fat, etc.

Ask your doctor the reasoning behind denying a course of treatment, and ask them to document that they are refusing treatment at this time. Once they write it down, it becomes something that's documented and that they can't deny in court, which tends to make them a bit more flexible.

Don't be afraid to go into the doctor having done a bit of your own research. Doctors will tell you not to google things as many doctors have fragile egos and become nervous at empowered patients - with particularly egotistic doctors, you can always phrase your research in the form of questions to make them feel like you're appropriately aggrandising them. "Are there suppositories for this, or creams? Could my UTIs be related to my vaginal dryness? My mother mentioned vaginal atrophy during her menopause, but I didn't really understand what it was. Could you explain? Could that be me?"

Cisgender women are generally better doctors than cisgender men (statistically, despite being underpaid and underrepresented), but obviously cisgender people are often... very cisgender, and cisgender women can be even more painfully cisgender than cisgender men. Most providers won't bat an eyelid at you requesting a female doctor over a male one for a gynecological concern, but you can't go around asking for the most clocky doctor they've got in the back.

What you can do if you're having trouble at your GP is look for your local GUM (Genito-Urinary Medicine) clinic, and see if they'd see you and talk to you about vaginal atrophy - I know several trans people who work as nurses and practitioners in the GUM field, and in general, GUM practitioners will be way more chill about this field.

Unlike your GP, there's no chance of them getting flustered, nervous, or religiously conservative about sex or genitalia, and GUM practitioners are often more chill about queer, trans, and intersex patients because they already see us a lot more, whether because queer people are more on-the-ball about STI testing, or just because many of us enter sex work, and they're more likely to see sex workers. The benefit of this, though, is that you're almost certainly not going to be their first or only patient with x or y element of your body or identity, which can mean they humanise you a bit better and are generally less shit.

I hope that helps, Anon!

#musings #anonymous

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actuallysaiyan · 8 months

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Kinktober Day 18: Roleplay(I've thought about us for long long time...)

warnings/kinks: vaginal fingering, roleplay, roughhousing/manhandling, mentions of terrorism, reader is a Turk word count: 0.9k pairings: Reno Sinclair x Fem!Reader teaser: “I know you like me…” He mumbles against your skin. taglist: @beneathstarryskies. @loki-love. @witchofcustom. @dreadsuitsamus. @pyrofanatic. @butterflieskeepcominback

Reno and you instantly clicked when you first met. Something about this rambunctious and mischievous redhead really turned you on. And as he continued to train you into a Turk, the more you found yourself falling in love with him. You’d never ever confess it to him, but you and him had a lot of fun toeing the line. Reno does what he can to keep you interested and you do the same for him.

One boring day at the office, you and Reno are practically ripping out your hair due to the frustrations of being so bored. You’re both trying so hard to figure out something to do instead of just waiting around for a new mission.

Suddenly, he pipes up and he’s got this smug smirk on his face and a mischievous glint in his eyes. You know nothing good could ever come from this. But you also know you’d rather get up to the no good that he’s planning than to stay bored here alone.

“I’ve got such a good idea,” Reno declares, tenting his fingers. You let out a nervous chuckle.

“Is that right?” You ask, looking up from the magazine you were flipping through.

Reno then flops himself onto the couch next to you, wrapping one of his arms around your shoulder. He pulls you in close and takes a moment to look at the magazine you’re reading. It’s got an article about the terrorist group AVALANCHE. He smirks when he notices how much you seem to be paying attention to them.

“Yeah, let’s play a little game of pretend.”

You roll your eyes at his suggestion. This has to be the dumbest idea he’s ever gotten. He looks at your reaction and he pouts a little when he realizes you’re not game to play pretend with him. He crosses his arms over his chest and pouts even more.

“Come on, it’ll be fun! You can pretend to be a terrorist and I’ll be the loyal Turk who’s trying to get you to confess! It’ll be the best learning exercise!”

You had to admit that now that he explained it a bit more, it made a lot more sense. You smirk at him, toying around with the idea of playing the role of your enemy. Reno seems to perk up when he notices the way you’re considering it.

“Alright, let’s do it.”

He cheers happily, pumping his fist in the air. Then he’s quick to get into his role, grabbing you by the wrists and holding them behind your back. You grunt at the force, but you can’t deny it turns you on whenever he manhandles you in this way. It’s not very often he does things like this to you, but whenever it happens you know you’re going to find yourself excited.

“You have every right to remain silent,” he mutters against your ear. “But if you were to maybe praise me…maybe I’d be a little more gentle with you.

You laugh, “Fuck you, you’re not a cop.”

He tugs you even closer to him, holding your wrists even harder. You let out a moan, and this makes his cock throb in his pants.

“Tch, you should know that I’m better than any cop that will come to arrest you.”

You laugh again and this causes him to push you up against the wall. Your cheek is pressed up against the cool wallpaper, and Reno grabs your hair harshly. He pulls your head back and you feel his warm breath on your neck.

“Listen to me, little girl, you’re going to confess your crimes.”

You shake your head, “No!”

He smirks and presses you even harder against the wall. But that’s when you feel something hard poking you from the back, and you look over your shoulder at him.

“I know you like me…” He mumbles against your skin.

You gasp when you feel him kissing your neck. It feels so good for him to finally show you a little affection. You press back against him, noticing his erection even more now.

“What if I do like you?” You ask him, a little breathless now.

This is when he turns you around and pins your wrists over your hair on the wall. He’s so close, using his height to tower over you. Then you feel his lips on yours, and your heart skips a beat.

“Then I think I’ll have to make sure you know your place…”

Without warning, he helps you wrap your legs around his slender form. You moan as he presses his hardened cock against your crotch. Your kisses are even more heated now. His tongue feels so velvety and smooth against yours.

Reno is so quick to begin undressing you from the waist down, making you so aroused. Your cheeks burn when he takes your panties up to his nose and sniffs them.

“Damn, I’ve always thought you’d smell this good.” Reno praises you.

You have no words to reply with. Your brain is almost blank. When his long fingers begin penetrating you, it gets even worse. He leans in to kiss you, his tongue once again slipping into your mouth. You begin bucking your hips, moving against his fingers.

“Hmm, I knew I could make you confess,” Reno says with a smirk on his face.

“I never said I liked you!” You try to defend yourself, but it’s much too late.

“You didn’t even need to say a thing…”

#bacon.writes #reno x you #reno x reader #reno ff7 x reader #reno Sinclair x reader #reno ff7 smut #reno Sinclair smut #ff7 #final fantasy 7 #final fantasy vii #kinktober 2023

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planetwaynez · 9 months

Text

OBSESSION

Dark!Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Notes: I wrote this as a writing exercise and this is the fic of the pool I did a few weeks ago! I am really happy to be putting this out there, honestily I don't know if its truly good but I got to explore a side of my brain I don't visit too often sooo it was fun.

WARNINGS: SMUT! stalking behavior, toxic thoughts, toxic behavior, explicit sex scene, non consensual recording, crude words, dumbfication, gaslighting, and this is heavily inspired by OBSESSION By EXO! If there is anything I didn't put in here pls dm about and I will add!

Words: 3,4k

Synopsis: Jason is obsessed. And he won't ever let you go.

Jason wasn't very fond of not being in control. He always knew that he thrives when the control of things is in his hands, however his little dove seems to forget that every time.

He watches his little dove apply lipstick, her friends gossiping while getting ready and some pop song on the speaker. His little dove knows the rules, but apparently she's taking advantage of him not being home to discipline her for her bad behavior.

She's giggling about some joke that one of her friends told and Jason fists his hand. He shouldn't be jealous but he can't stop thinking about his little dove at some frat party tonight and him not being around.

He zooms in on the image and takes a good look at his pretty girl, Jason takes a deep breath and thank God that his girl has a pretty face, not a smart brain to figure it out the cameras he put in her apartment months before he even asked her out. Rationality he knows that he should've taken the cameras out once they started dating but he didn't feel like it, Jason enjoys watching his girl when he's away on some mission and she doesn't know, which can't hurt her. Only make her safer, because like this he's always around.

She's wearing a black little dress and heavy make up with red lipstick, her hair styled to perfection and wearing high heels and for a moment Jason considered going back home in one of his dad's private jets, but his sense of responsibility didn't allow him. Nevertheless that doesn't mean he can't find a way to keep his girl at home, under his eyes for one more night before he finishes his part of the job and goes home to her.

Jason clicks his tongue, creating a devilish plan to keep her home. Fast and easy.

He grabs his phone and dials his little doves number, he watches as she grabs her phone and leaves the bedroom to take his call at the bathroom, she smiles at the screen before picking up. Something very important about Jason's and his pretty doves relationship is that she doesn't know a lot about him or how they crossed paths. But she doesn't need to know any of that, the only thing in his little dove's head all the time should be him and nothing else.

"Hey, baby!" She greets happily and for a second Jason feels bad about what he's going to do, but he can't stop himself. He needs control, he craves it. All the time, especially with her.

"Hey, sweetheart" she beams and Jason wants to grab her and never let go. "How you doing?"

"Great! Going out with the girls tonight!" Jason suppressed a growl, not wanting to show the bad parts of himself to his girl. Not yet at least.

"Really? I thought you had a big paper to deliver tomorrow" he's not lying, per se. He knows the paper is only due in two days but he will make her believe that's not the case.

"No, silly! It's only in two days" she's twisting a piece of her hair in her index finger, clearly flirting with him even when he's not in the same space as her. He loves that.

"Little dove, I believe that it's tomorrow… but if you want to go out tonight anyway you can go, it's your grades we are talking about" he can see the tension in her shoulders as he speaks, her demeanor changing drastically from one moment to another.

"But Jace… I truly think that only due in two days, it's in my calendar" now his little dove is uncomfortable but he can make her feel better once he's back home. Right now she needs to understand that her place tonight and every night when Jason is not home is on the couch, watching Gilmore Girls.

"Princess" He uses that condensed tone Bruce always used with him when wanting to convince Jason of something. He hates it, but it is efficient. "Remember that time you wrote down the date wrong for that big project of yours? You doing it again"

Her shoulders drop and she sighs and he knows that she's wrapped around his finger forever. She's staying home.

"My God, you are right" she nods, as if he could see it. Well, he can but she doesn't need that information. "I am staying home but I feel bad for ditching the girls though."

Y/N plays with one of the decorative objects of her bathroom, thinking about how she's telling her friends she's staying and not going to the commemorative party of the basketball team tonight.

"I bet they will understand, baby" Jason hopes they don't. Those girls want to take his precious jewelry from his hands and he won't allow it.

"Yeah, you are right. As usual" she giggles and he feels his chest warm up at the sound. He misses her.

"I have to go, baby, they are calling me to finish a few papers" he lies through his teeth, Jason just wants to get rid of the bunch of girls before his little dove changes her mind. "Text you later, ok?"

"Ok, love, till later." And she hangs up, looking miserable. Jason knows how much she wanted to go to this party, and that's exactly why he can't allow it. What if she finds someone else? What if she gets in danger? What if she leaves him? He would have to take drastic decisions if any of those scenarios happened. So it's better if she's home safe.

Jason watches as she tells her friends she won't go and watches as her friends get disappointed with her but they obviously won't comment about it. Happily he watches them go away and his girl getting ready to bed, taking the provocative dress off and the heavy make up and put on cute pajamas and sit down on her desk to finish her project on her computer.

He smiles, feeling way more light now. Jason decided to reward his little dove for her good behavior.

The man takes a long shower and lets his mind wander to his sweet girl under him, moaning his name and clenching around his cock. He groans and finishes his shower, stopping in front of the mirror with a white towel wrapped around his hips and his hair wet, Jason takes a picture and sends it to his girl.

He goes back to his laptop, watching Y/N's reaction to his text, her breathing gets faster and she bites her lips, smiling a little.

See, he thinks, so much better like this isn't, honey?

His phone bips and he opens her text.

Little Dove: all this for me?

Jason: it's always for you

Jason: can't wait to get home to you

Y/N smiles, wide enough to make her eyes close a little bit with the action. She snaps a picture of her, sitting at her desk and sends it to Jason, who is already smiling and looking at her pretty face mesmerized.

Little Dove: miss u a lot

Jason: tomorrow morning I will be home with you

And just like that Jason goes to bed with the goal to finish his job early and get to his girl.

……..

The sun is slipping through the curtains and Y/N wakes up with a frown. She doesn't like when the sun wakes her up before the alarm but when she feels a heavy arm around her waist her mind goes from fuzzy to alert in a second. She takes a few moments to register the smell of oak and cigarettes, but when she does she relaxes and turns around, looking at Jason's sleepy face.

"Baby!" She calls and Jason opens his eyes. He is really good at pretending, he realizes, because she doesn't even realize that he's been awake all this time, just watching her.

Since he got home, he's been just admiring his girl and thinking about the unspeakable things he's going to do to her once she wakes up. Now she's awake and, technically, he is too.

"When did you get here?" Always curious, always wanting to know more than she should, however, Jason always has a good, well curated story to tell her that it's not the truth.

"I got here around five in the morning" she smiles, hugging him and inhaling his scent, almost purring at the feeling.

That's the truth she needs but the reality is that last night Jason finished his part of the job and landed in Gotham at midnight, but she was still awake finishing her project, so he waited and kept an eye on her through the window, from across the street, sitting on the rooftop of the other building. When she slept, at two in the morning he got out of the rooftop and slipped into her bed.

"Missed you so much" Jason says, holding her neck and taking her face away from his chest, to properly look at her.

"Me too, Jace" her eyes are shining and he just has to kiss her, to touch her to feel complete, to feel in control again.

So that's what he does. Jason grabs his little dove's neck, squeezing the sides maybe a little too roughly, but he doesn't pay attention to her little whine, only focusing on her lips. When he crashes his lips onto hers, he growls low in his throat, relishing in the feeling of his girl on him.

Their lips move in synchrony with each other, their tongues touching desperately, full of passion and that feeling that none of them can quite describe with words.

Jason's free hand roams over her body, stopping at her ass and squeezing it hard enough to make her moan against his lips. That fuels the fire inside him, that fire that only his sweet, oblivious little dove can satiete with her skin, her lips and her pretty moans. He pins her to the bed, rolling his hips against hers, making both of them whimper and take deep breaths, separating their lips for a moment.

Y/N takes that moment to look into her boyfriend's eyes, the teal is consumed by the black of its pupils and she can see it. The affection, the desire, the possessiveness. And she loves it all, she wants more of it.

Jason smirks, knowing that she's seeing in his eyes is exactly what he wants her to see. Gently he squeezes her neck again, bringing her back to the front of her mind, back to him.

His other hand goes from her ass cheek to her waist, inside her shirt and feeling warm skin against his, little dove closes her eyes, savoring the moment, the feeling of Jason's calloused hands on her soft belly, climbing to her breast, to touch it gently, just to the next moment be grabbed and the nipple twisted. Y/N moans, loudly and sweetly.

Jason bites his lips, hiding a smile, one that would scare her off. One of his big, psychotic smiles, the one that makes his mask of a good and caring boyfriend be exactly what it is, a mask. The real Jason is fucked in the head, he's controlling and possessive, a little psychotic too. But, he thinks, she doesn't need to know that.

"Yes… just like that, Jace" she says, preening as Jason's lips kisses her jaw and her neck. He takes her shirt off and kisses softly her breasts, sucking her nipples in his mouth, one by one, taking care of the sensitive skin with care and attention.

Every stroke of his tongue, every suck of his mouth on her skin and nipples, every flick of his wrist in one of her nipples has a reaction from her. A moan, a whimper, a sigh.

He loves all of them and he could spend all day worshiping her breasts, however, Jason is thinking about one thing.

Getting his mouth on his little dove's sweet pussy.

The men descends his ministrations over her body, his hands grabbing, squeezing and caressing what he can, when he finally gets at her shorts, he takes it off alongside her panties, smiling at the sight in front of him.

Her pretty pussy glistened to him and him only. He takes her tights on his hands and puts over his shoulders, looking up at her, that is already looking at him in anticipation.

"What is it, baby?" Jason taunts, knowing that will make her weaker for him. "Need something?"

She whines, fisting the sheets and throwing her head back in frustration.

"Yes" she says and Jason arches an eyebrow, smirking.

"And what is that?" He asks again, but before she could answer him, Jason licks her pussy, from hole to clit, making Y/N moan. "It 's my tongue?" He teases, smiling wide, in that psychotic way since she's not looking at him, but at the selling. "Or my fingers?" Two tick fingers thrust inside her warm pussy, getting Jason the best reward.

Her moaning his name, loudly.

"Yes! I need both!" Jason doesn't answer her with words, just dives in her pussy, licking, sucking and fucking her with his finger until she's arching her back and crying, just a little bit. Just enough to feed his ego.

Y/N smiles feeling full and delighted with the attention her boyfriend is giving her. He is always so thoughtful, she thinks, he would never harm me.

But that's not the reality, Jason would never harm her, per se, but he would find ways to always be her priority and never let others take space in her life.

Jason can feel his cock against the fabric of his boxers, hyper aware of it. He holds himself back to not start dry humping the bed, the only place he's coming is inside his little dove.

Her little cries and moans are getting louder with each thrust of his finger and flick of his tongue, her walls clenching around his fingers and making his head dizzy. Knowing that he had such power and control over her made him feel important, cared and loved. Jason didn’t need anything else when he had his little dove naked and pliant for him at any time he felt like having her.

“Jace!” His name was like a chant in her tongue when she came all over his face and fingers, making Jason moan in delight. He loved when she was messy and needy, and tonight she was just like how he liked.

Softly, Jason kisses her thighs, going up to her tummy and her breasts, soaking himself in her scent and in her soft skin against his scarred and calloused one. He kissed and nipped at her neck, tangling one of his hands in her hair, making her close her eyes and whimper softly at his touches.

“Is my baby dumb already?” he asked, watching her face carefully because even though he loved to break her and bring the pieces back together he needed to know when he was too close to make her break for good. And he didn’t want that, he wanted her pliant and soft, not broken and traumatized. That’s why he lied so much, for her own good.

She sniffs, her eyes glossy and her lips red and puffy from kissing him and biting it when he was eating her out. “Baby I need you to answer me or I can’t give you my cock” he pouts, fake sympathy in his voice making her whine and cry a little, squirming in his hold.

“No! I am not dumb” her eyes aren’t quite focusing and she is flooded with emotions that only Jason can’t subside. “I need you cock, Jace!” she says, lips wobbling and legs spreading wide for him, her pussy clenching around nothing and leaking her juices.

Jason smiles, his eyes shining with something dark, uncontrolled and quite feral. Even if his little dove denied, Y/N was already cock drunk - and he didn’t even get inside her, yet.

“I will give you what you want” he caresses her hair, thinking about permanently kipping her inside this apartment, never letting her go again. But he loves her way too much to scare her. “everything my baby wants, my baby gets”

Slowly, Jason traced his cock along her pussy, making her moan and squirm. He loves the feeling of his cock sliding against her pussy, the way it makes her get a little dumbier each time. Just to tease her, and himself a little, Jason pushes the thick head of his cock inside her greedy pussy, watching with a cruel happiness the way she moans loud and tries to hook her legs around his waist, to bring him closer, deeper.

He pushes away from her delicately, listening to her whimpers and whines, making his cock throb and ache for her.

“Ask nicely” he demands, his face contorted into an evil smirk she can’t see, her eyes closed in agony and her lips red from biting. Her hands are holding his biceps and her nails are digging into his skin, making the pain get mixed with pleasure. The head of his cock sits still inside her.

“Please, Jace! please, please, please!” Y/N doesn’t have one coherent thought inside her head, the only thing she can think about is her boyfriend cock and how much she needs it.

“So pretty,” he says, stroking her clit in a tourtours slow pace, her pussy clenching and throbbing. “Who does this pretty pussy belong to?”

“To you, Jace! Only you!” a wolfish grin spreads through Jason's lips, making him look like some sort of devil looking at its new offering.

“Good girl” he says, pushing everything inside Y/N at once, making her scream and hook her legs around him, a part of his weight resting on her. He smiles when she throws her arms around his shoulders, scratching his back with each hard and slow thrust of his hips against hers.

“Such a good girl… taking my cock so well” she mewls, her eyes rolling to the back of her head and Y/N swears she can feel her heart trying to get out of her chest and jump into Jason’s.

His cock is delicious, every thrust, every grunt he makes, drives her even further into bliss, her thighs and pussy gripping him and not willing to let go. The sound of skins slapping against skin and his balls hitting her ass makes her even more out of breath, out of her mind. She can’t think straight, she doesn't want that and if she could she would spend the rest of her days with Jason’s cock deep inside her needy and greedy pussy, stretching her out so well that she bubbles a incoherent mess of words every time he is inside her.

“Look at you,” he says, holding her face in one of his big calloused hands, making her stare at him and his lust filled eyes. “already close to cumming again, little dove?”

“yes' ' she whines, rolling her eyes and relising in the way his broad chest presses against her sensitive tits.

“You can cum baby” Jason buries his face on her neck, loving the way she smells, driving him even more insane. “cum all over my cock”

His little dove didn't need to be told twice, she came all over his thick cock, loving the way she was feeling in the clouds in his arms. Jason growls, her pussy gripping him too tight, driving him to his orgasm and filling her up to the brim.

They look each other in the eye, and she smiles softly, waking up his soft side along. He smiles back, resting his forehead against hers.

They cuddle, smile and talk about everything and anything, she just doesn’t know that now everytime Jason left for a mission he would have their sext tape. And she also didn’t know that he sended a few of his men to disappear with her bad influence of friends.

She doesn’t need them and eventually, she will understand because eventually she will only need him.

He smiles, that smile that he never lets her see. The one that is just a little psychotic and looks at her sleeping form.

His.

Forever his.

Even if she tries not to be.

Jason will never let her go.

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spaceagebachelormann · 3 months

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Alright, I'm hooked. Jekyll and Hyde (and maybe Adam Frankenstein?) with a partner who likes to sing? Disney princess singing, or any kinda singing they'd like. She'd sing to them if they asked, and she often sings whenever she isn't doing anything else or when she's doing something that doesn't require her to be thinking about what she's doing. I think she'd offer to sing lullabies if they wanted.

✧.* 𝐉𝐄𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐋, 𝐇𝐘𝐃𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐌 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐒/𝐎 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

╰┈➤ MASTERLIST. NAVIGATION.

╰┈➤ CARMILLAS NOTES: i’m so happy about this actually. frankenstein and jekyll and hyde are two of my biggest hyperfixations atm 🫶 also it was kinda hard to make this fem reader

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: none!

𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐘 𝐉𝐄𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐋

he could listen to you sing forever

it’s actually his most favourite thing in the world

while hyde likes just normal music with no singing, like compositions and all that, jekyll actually prefers singing

helps him remember someone else, his favourite girl, is actually there <3

he’ll probably ask you sing at the most random parts of the day, he doesn’t really care what it is as long as you’re singing

i think he’d like to do his work and just let you do yours in the same room, but he will request you to sing, if not sing than atleast hum

at some point anybody singing in general just starts to remind him of you

i feel like for some reason he knows how to play piano so if you really wanted he’d play piano while you sang and it’s like a little duet

yes he’d ask you to sing him to sleep

either laying on the actual pillow or his head in your lap, he barely sleeps but your singing helps him so much

within ten minutes he’s knocked out

nobody loves girls who sing more than henry jekyll

𝐄𝐃𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐇𝐘𝐃𝐄

he does think you have a nice voice, but he doesn’t care for it as much as jekyll

he’ll let you sing to him, but he might not pay as much attention

but i do think there’s certain days where he’s just too tired to actually get up and wreak havoc so he just has you sit in front of him, and he just plays with your hair while you sing/hum

i feel like he might just subconsciously call you songbird every once in a while but idk (it’s 1am leave me alone my brain is cooked)

if you’re lucky he might let you show him different exercises for fun or see what the highest and lowest pitches you can go see but he’d probably have to be in a very good mood

although usually he won’t ask you to sing to him and kind of just gets used to you normally doing it, there have been days where he’s actually requested that you sing for him

at some point after months of this he just gives you a look that lets you know he wants you to sing

“sing for me?” to “sing?” to just a certain glance that you’d know a mile away

𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐌 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐈𝐍

he adores you

i think he might’ve been a little shocked the first time you sing in front of him, since there’s a big chance he’d never heard it before

will stop you and just be like “what was that??” and let you explain it to him

from that day on he gets very interested in music and wants you to tell him everything you know about and will want you to sing to him quite a few times a day

he’s very interested in your vocal range (vocal range is fascinating istg)

would love lullabies to be song to him

sometimes, after you guys get a house or somewhere you can actually live in peace, he likes to just lay in bed with you and have you sing

he learns his favourite type of singing is like. kind of opera but also not quite (like christine in phantom of the opera kind of)

he’s so proud of your talent and tells you all the time you should get a job with your voice

he also says nobody in their right mind would refuse your voice

he gets interested in lots of singers after that, but you’re always his favourite

#mars writing 🧈#jekyll and hyde (marlees version 🧪)#frankenstein (marlees version 🫀)#the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde #dr jekyll and mr hyde #jekyll and hyde #henry jekyll #edward hyde #henry jekyll x reader #edward hyde x reader #jekyll and hyde x reader #frankenstein #adam frankenstein #adam frankenstein x reader

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butterfwiesndinorawrs · 12 days

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Therapy Activities with Bo Bunny & Ms. Spark

🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰

Hi everybunny! My name is Bo and I have a passion to help others grow! My friend Ms. Spark here has the same passion to help but more with her own spark and flare with art. My human Misky has studied holistic healing and art/play therapy techniques for years and I've picked up a thing or two here and there. This is my opportunity to share what I've learned along my trails.

🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰

Draw yourself as a tree 🌳

First think about your strengths, accomplishments, good qualities and things about yourself that are positive and make you feel good or proud of yourself. Then think about a few simple things you'd like to change.. Now draw yourself as a tree, the trunk of the tree (or the roots if you prefer) should have your strengths, accomplishments, good qualities and positive things about yourself. In the leaves of the tree is where you put the things you want to change. If you want to take it a step further you can put a few steps you could take in the branches to help you make those changes.

🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰

Examples:

🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰

Reflection:

🔵 How did this exercise make you feel?

🔵 Did anything surprise you?

🔵 What are some small steps you could take to help to make these changes you want?

🔵 Is there anyone who could help you in these changes if you asked for support?

🔵 Put this up somewhere so you can see it often, add to it over time if you'd like.

🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰💙🐰

Final thoughts:

There is no one way to do this exercise. Feel free to be creative and change things up. As you can see I drew a carrot and Misky drew a butterfly. The tree is just an option. Draw whatever your little heart desires. Make it your own and have fun with the process! If you're open to sharing what you create we would love to see! You can post and tag us, reblog this with your creation or submit a post to our blog! Until next time be kind with yourself, be patient with yourself and show yourself lots and lots of love, you deserve it!

-Bo Bunny & Ms. Spark 💙🐰🧡

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shima-draws · 6 months

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TELL ME MORE AVOUT MODERN AU

!! SURE THING FAM thanks for letting giving me the opportunity to infodump more about this AU

-If you recall I mentioned Luffy accidentally knocked on Zoro’s door instead of Nami’s and Zoro brushed it off totally not expecting to see him again. Except he does literally the next day bc he’s getting the mail and Nami sent Luffy down to grab her mail like a little chore boy lol

-Luffy immediately recognizes him and starts chatting. Before Zoro knows it they’re deep in conversation and taking the stairs together back up (bc Zoro likes the exercise)

-Luffy mentions hey we’re going bowling you should come!! And Zoro’s like uhhh idk if I should be intruding on your time with your friend and Luffy’s like aww no Nami won’t mind!! And it’s more fun with more people anyway!!

-(He pesters Nami to let Zoro join them and she’s like yeah whatever since you already invited him without asking me first!)

-They go bowling. Luffy and Zoro’s competitive natures kick in and they’re playfully talking trash. Nami’s p surprised bc from what she’s seen of her neighbor he’s always been really stoic and standoffish and now he’s goofing off with her best friend :’)

-I feel like Nami would use bumpers not bc she’s bad at bowling but bc it gives her an advantage and she’s also competitive in her own way. LOL

-They head back after a while and Zoro’s like. In a really good mood. He doesn’t get to hang out with people often (his closest friends are Johnny and Yosaku who come over and drink with him sometimes) so getting to do this was really fun for him 🥺 He’s willing to ditch his pride for two seconds and actually sincerely thank Luffy and Nami for letting him tag along with them. Luffy’s like yeah of course!! We should hang out again soon! And Nami goes hey who are you even here for I thought you were visiting ME not my neighbor smh

That’s only the first day of them getting to kinda know each other, I have a whole timeline for this my brain literally structured this like a fic LMAO

#The next morning is when Luffy breaks into Zoro’s apartment. Not literally but it’s fun to word it that way LOL #One Piece #Zolu #Zoro #Nami #Luffy #Shima answers questions #Shima’s AUs

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therandomfandomme · 8 months

Text

Biking is accessible movement

Biking is a very accessible mode of transportation and way to exercise, however I think a lot of people don't know that, since there are a lot of countries, who don't have the right infrastructure (which is sad). So, this post is me showing y'all how biking is very accessible.

I am writing this from the perspective of someone with mild chronic pain, so I don't know the ins and outs, I have just seen all these bikes around on the streets, because here in the Netherlands they are very prevelant. I do want to say that biking is far easier on my joints than walking, except the knees, even with my unmodified bike.

An accessability feature that is not the bike itself, but often seen in traffic are the signs for hard of hearing people, which can be attached to the back of the bike to let others know that the person won't respond to audible traffic cues and to be careful.

1. Not having the muscle mass or lung capacity for intense exercise

Electrical bikes used to be mostly associated with senior citizens, however in recent years it has become more popular with high schoolers, who have to bike long distances to school or adults, who don't want to arrive sweaty at work. They can either assist you or do the biking for you. Normal electric bikes can go up to 30 km/h, but the recently popular fatbike can go up to 60 km/h (which is a hazard and should be regulated, but I digress). Every bike type that follows after can be an eletric bike.

2. Needing back support

Of course not everyone can sit on a bike, whose seating gives no support and for those there are lying bikes. Though being able to get up and down from a pretty low seat, which is less.

3. Not having the balance for biking

One big thing with bikes is balancing, which is something I struggle with (shout out to physical therapy for helping with that). Once I'm on the bike it is easier for me, but I struggled a lot with getting on and off the bike for a while as well as balancing in general, so I had training wheels for a lot longer than most of my peers.

Luckily, there are a lot of options for people who have bad balance or for whom getting on and off a bike would be more of a struggle. A fatbike already makes for easier balance, however for more aid you have tricycles for adults, which are pretty common. And an extra wheel can also be put on a lying bike.

4. Mental disabilities that limit safe independence in traffic

Not everyone can be in traffic unsupervised due to mental disabilities or brain damage, so not everyone can bike on their own. However, there are many ways to bike while having someone there for safety.

A tandem might seem like a gimmick to some, but it can allow someone to bike without needing to take into account all the moving traffic. And the dubble bike, which is more often used as a fun thing for tourist to explore a city while being able to chat, can provide the same for those with bad balance. If the person in question is smaller than the person supervising, such as a child or little person, than there is also a bike attachment for any bike with a luggage carrier.

5. Using a mobility aid

A lot of people think that you can't bike when using a mobility aid, however biking is not the same as walking, so should your body allow it, biking is possible.

If a person uses a cane or crutches there are ways to hold them in place. A walker can also be attached to the back if it is foldable. If a person is in a wheelchair (depending on what kind) then a hand bike is an option, which allows for higher speeds than moving regularly, while not taking more energy. A person with a wheelchair can also be transported with a bike, if they are not able to move through traffic independently (i have been informed that this is for kids, so thank you for that addition).

6. Lifestyle makes it more difficult to bike

Some people can ride a bike, but aren't able of biking, because they have kids, pets or need to move more stuff. However, there are ways to still use a bike in those circumstances. Popular among people in busy cities with more than one kid is a cargo bike. A cargo bike is also avaible with three wheels for extra balance and both can be electric. For pet owners the trailer is more popular, since a pet cannot jump out of it, though I've also seen plenty of babies and toddlers in them. Both these options can naturally also hold stuff.

Of course I totally understand that not everyone is able to bike and that not everywhere there is the infrastructure necessary. I am just passionate about it and I think that a lot of people might not realize that biking can be more accessible than it is often portrayed. I might have missed something, so feel free to add if you find anything and I would love to hear thoughts or just reactions :D

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underratedmurder · 10 months

Text

Richie Jerimovich/Reader "I Would Like a Blanket Please" Part 2/2

Reader and Richie are at his apartment, sweet stuff ensues...

_________

(genuinely don't know who the other man in this photo is but yess they ate)

Here it is! Five days late and good as hell, I promise.

Sorry though, that it's late, but trust I believe you will not be disappointed.

I hope ya'll like it, and thank you for the support on part one, you guys are sick! <3

Stuff in this: Chicken nuggets, the movie Rounders, Pull out couches, Cuddling, blankets, human blankets???, kissing/making out :3, no smut, sweet people being sweet

Please like/leave a comment/reblog if you like this! Thank you :)

_____________

Richie opened the door to his apartment,

“Sorry for the mess, I didn’t expect to see Eva for a couple more days,”

“It’s okay,” you smiled, and you slid through the door by his side.

“It’s good you’re here though, gives me an excuse to clean,” he sighed, placing his keys on the kitchen island.

“Right,”

“Go ahead and make yourself at home, bathroom is down the hall,” he gestured vaguely in the direction of a very small hallway, beside its entrance, a book shelf toppling over with dvd’s and an assortment of random house items.

It caught your eye, and you dropped your bag by his kitchen island, walking over to get a closer look. Behind you, Richie threw his leather jacket over a stool.

Sitting on the shelf was a pile of old bills, receipts, crayons, and peaking out from beneath an imaginative illustration of what you assumed was a dinosaur, was a picture of a distinct young Richie.

Your fingers found it immediately, ignoring the guilt of touching his things, overwhelmed with curiosity and disbelief.

Young Richie had long hair, light brown curls that sprawled out every which way, and a beard that covered the soft line of his chin. Young Richie, most wondrously, wore baggy ripped jeans, a Smashing Pumpkins T-shirt and converse. You smiled, imagining Richie in the past was always a fun thought exercise, but the reality was even more amusing.

Shuffling footsteps stopped beside you, “Oh, you uh, found little Richard,” Richie placed a hand on his hip, and scratched his eyebrow.

“That’s you?” you barely asked the question, simply wanting to know more.

“Oh yeah, sophomore year of college. I was kind of into that grunge stuff,”

“I can see that,” you smiled, eyeing him, but he kept his gaze on the photo.

“I didn’t cut my hair very often, it was a hot mes-”

“It’s nice,” you note, and his hand finds his chin.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s kinda cute. You look good,”

He hummed, as he looked longer at the image, then his gaze shifted to you, his lips kind of pouting.

“Why’d you cut it all off?” you teased, honest and almost mournful of the haircut you never had the pleasure of knowing.

“Uh, hah, well. Mickey definitely convinced me to, but I think I just wanted something different,”

You nodded, eyes scanning his face and hair, you wondered how it would feel to run your hands over it now, if you could coax him into letting it grow out again.

“Makes me look more intimidating right?” he bit the inside of his lip, eyes softer than they should have been. He was not intimidating, not in that moment at least.

“Oh yeah, very scary,” you barely let the corner of your mouth curl into a smile.

But he wasn’t, not scary at all. It took all your strength and fear to not reach out and hold his face and touch his hair and kiss his lips. All that fear amounted into an uncomfortable sigh and a shake of your shoulders, as he let his hands fall from his hips and he swung around to move into the kitchen.

“You hungry?”

“Oh- I mean you don’t have to-” the words came out haphazardly, and you quickly realized how ridiculous the refusal sounded.

“What? No of course I do, you seriously thought I was gonna invite you into my home and not feed you a delicious homemade Jerimovich dinner?” Richie eyed you from behind the fridge door, his arm extended to prop it open.

“Right, yeah. That’s… silly. Food is important,”

“Turns out,” his brows raised and he gave you an amused smirk.

“I am hungry,”

“What da’ you want?”

You paused, as you lost your answer in Richies gaze. His eyes were droopy, and somewhat apprehensive, as if hanging on your next words.

You blinked, and breathed in, “Something savory,” then exhaled. The tension in your body desperate to escape, inching its way out with “Something savory,”.

He smiled, then twisted his mouth, lips closed as his tongue pushed the inside of his cheek.

“Ya know, whenever I ask that question, the answer is usually chicken nuggets, so…”

You smiled wide, eyes brightened at the sight of Richies red cheeks.

“Is that the usual delicious homemade Jerimovich dinner?”

“Would it be bad if it was?”

You shook your head, “No, I’ll eat some chicken nuggets,”

“Aright,”

_________

You swiped at the ketchup on your plate, dipping the nugget and taking a quick bite.

“These didn’t disappoint,”

“Of course not, they're chicken nuggets,” Richie remarked with a mouth full of food, he quickly took a drink from his water, swallowing and gesturing towards the living room.

“You wanna watch a movie? I got one hell of a collection,” he smiled proudly, and you clasped your hands in your lap.

“Sure, whatcha got?”

Richie smiles and leaves the kitchen, going over to the tv stand. He crouches, eyes scanning the dvds, before he looks back and calls you over.

“Come here,” he gestures with his fingers, you hop down off the island stool, and meet him on the living room carpet.

“I got… Casino, The Sting, Ocean’s Eleven. Rounders,” he lets the last one hang open like a question, as if it was the only one he wanted to watch and he was trying to pique your interest.

“What’s that?” you ask, indulging him but also curious.

“You’ve never seen Rounders before?” he asks, incredulous.

“Can’t say I have,”

“Oh babe… it’s amazing. It’s a casino drama starring mother fucking Matt Damon, and the G.O.A.T. Edward Norton, we gotta watch it,”

“That definitely sounds…”

“Perfect?”

“Yeah, yeah. Lets watch it,”

“Aright, sick,” he lets his fingers graze the rows of films, and plucks the dvd from the shelf.

While he pops the case open, you make yourself comfortable on the couch.

“Did you eat enough?”

“Yeah,”

“Good,”

He slides the dvd into the player, and plops himself on the couch next to you, enough room that if you were to adjust, your arms may touch. Though, it wouldn’t be a new sensation.

_______

The movie goes by fast, and you're pleasantly surprised. It’s actually pretty good, and Richie surely seems to enjoy it. You caught him mouthing some of the lines every once in a while.

Eventually, the topic of sleeping comes up.

“I was uh, thinking I could pull the couch out, get some pillows, a blanket, and you could sleep on there,” he sighs, hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh,” you were surprised he didn’t offer his bed.

“I know, it doesn’t look like much. But, trust me you don’t want my bed, it’s small… and old,” he remarked, embarrassed but sincere.

You took his word for it, and took his offer, as well.

You quickly got ready in his bathroom, changing and doing your nighttime routine, constantly checking to see if he was walking by. You were somewhat curious what the man looked like in pajamas anyways.

Leaning back into the couch on your elbow, you lifted your chin to get a glimpse of Richie through his bedroom door. It was dark, save for the dim light that radiated out from a lamp in the corner. You saw a clear view of his silhouette, as he pulled the t-shirt off his back, his tank top pulling up slightly with the fabric. He faced the doorway, pulling the tank top over his stomach, and you shot down from his sight.

Clutching your blanket, you settled down into the plush sofa, legs sprawling out on its pull out function. Cool air from the vent just feet away blew over your body, and you were quickly aware just how thin the blanket that barely covered your ankles was.

“Richie?” you called out in a hushed yell.

“I would like another blanket please”

“Yeah, sure hun,” he calls back, and the sound of shuffling blankets and feet on cold tile follows.

He lays a blanket over you, tucking it lightly at your side, and you smile lightly.

“Thank you,”

He smiled back, and nodded, clearly groggy.

Maybe a minute passed, as you tried to settle in again, and it was still cold.

You call out again.

“Rich, hey,”

“Hm?”

“I think I, I think I need another blanket, it’s just a little cold,” you mumble, gritting your teeth.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,”

He brings the blanket, he stops.

“You know, I can turn the heat up, might solve some of our problems,”

“No, no, don’t worry about that. I don’t want you to change that it’s fine, I just needed another blanket is all,” words spilled out like water from a swirling bucket.

“Whatever you say,” he hummed, amused but still exhausted.

“Thanks,”

Maybe five minutes pass, and It’s still cold, chilly even. And you want another blanket.

Against all reason and courtesy, you call out again, daring to bring him back.

“Richard…”

“Yeah babe?”

“It’s freezing in here, can I have another blanket?”

He sighs very loudly, and makes his way over, slower this time.

He stops in front of you, no blanket in hand, and looks down.

His fingers graze the side of the three blankets that wrap around you.

“Move over,”

You look at him, apprehensive and face blank, but then tentatively start to roll over, scooching your body closer to the front cushions of the couch.

You feel the weight of Richies knees dip down on the cushions, your back feeling a cool breeze as the blankets around you pull free for a moment.

But the moment passes quickly, as the heat from Richie's body fills the cold and warms you from the outside in. He inches closer, and wraps an arm around you, clutching his fist at the blankets that already covered you.

“This warm enough?” he mumbled in your ear, and you would shiver at the sound if it weren’t for how hot you were.

“Mm, mhm,” you sighed, and curled further into yourself, closing the space between your back and Richie’s chest.

He let out a breathy chuckle, and squeezed you tighter.

You breathed in deeply, reveling in the proximity. As you breathed out, you felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

You wiggled around a little and hummed, his heartbeat picking up a little. You wanted to push him further, you wanted to see his face.

In an instant, you nudged his hand away, and rolled back over to face him.

You kept your eyes closed, feigning being tired (which you mostly were) but also just a little nervous to see his face… at what you imagined was just an inch away.

You felt his heart pick up even more, and you could barely hide your smile.

He huffed, cool air hitting your forehead.

“You tired?”

“So tired,”

You nuzzled in closer, a little shameless at this point.

“You’re smiling,”

“Am I?”

“I bet I could get you to stop,”

“Oh I don’t know about tha-”

A light and ticklish sensation shocked your skin, as Richie thumbed his hands up the back of your shirt, fingers tracing your back. Your body arched instinctively, and your chest was flesh against his.

Your eyes opened wide, and by all means your smile was gone. You were shivering now.

Richie smiled at you cheekily, and let his hands move up your spine and to the place between your shoulder blades.

“Hmmm, you smiling now?”

“Fuck off,”

His hands moved back down, gliding over the skin above your pant line. You breathed in sharply, eyes closing again.

He let his hands sprawl out on your lower back, pulling you closer.

You willed your eyes open, gaze meeting his. His eyes were dark and sultry, the look was immediately beguiling, and you found your eyes softening.

His gaze shifted downwards, fixed on your lips. You looked down at his chest, bashful, and closed your eyes again as you felt one of his hands leave your back and reach up towards your face.

His fingers found your chin, tilting your head back up, encouraging you to look.

Your eyes opened and your mouth parted, he inched closer slowly, head dipping down. And before you knew it, his lips were pressed chastly against yours.

You melted against his touch, breathing in the kiss, slowly, quietly, until you were so held together you had to part in order to breathe.

When you parted, you got a quick look at his face, lips red and cheeks even redder, before the fog clouded your mind and sight, and your lips were back against his.

As his hand cupped your cheek, you went to hold his face, fingers grazing the stubble on his jaw. Digits raced up and went to run through his short hair. It was rough on his face, but soft and coily by the nape of his neck.

He felt better than you imagined, his kiss felt better than you imagined. Warm and needy, you wanted to swallow him whole, he decided to take the liberty.

His tongue grazed over your teeth, and moved further, you couldn’t hold the low moan that grew and escaped from your throat.

At that, his fingers wrapped around the nape of where your scalp met your neck, perfectly squeezing the right sensitive spot.

Your hands reached out to clutch his tank top, pulling him even closer to you, where there wasn’t space to move anymore.

Richie decided to move, sliding you from your side to your back. You kept your fists held onto his shirt, pulling him on top of you in your adjusted position, he smiled into the kiss.

His hand found your side, riding up the fabric of your shirt so that half of it was off your body. You slowed, breathing in one last time, before you pulled away.

“Richie,” you sighed, and he opened his eyes, a look of increasing concern spread across his face.

“I do kind of… want to sleep,”

He stuck his tongue into the side of his cheek, and closed his eyes, lowering over to his side beside you.

“Come here, again,” he hummed, and you smiled a bit, before rolling back over to face him.

His arms wrapped around you instantly, pulling you in tight.

“I’m like yur… human blanket,” he sighed, and you chuckled a bit.

“Yeah, a really good one too,” you pushed your forehead into his chest, and he pressed his lips to the top of your skull.

Your eyes drifted shut.

#richie jerimovich #the bear #ebon moss bachrach #richie jerimovich x reader #the bear fanfiction

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violetmina · 1 year

Text

Chokehold - Ch. 4

Chokehold Masterlist

Accepting taglist requests!

Taglist: @roundroald @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @sexytholland @scraftsku35 @avastrasposts @missihart23 @ladyvillainous @elementress44 If I missed you or you would like to be added, let me know.

Pairing: Billy Butcher x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6,252

Warning: Swearing, referenced SA, choking, hints of sexual content. Butcher is a living, breathing warning label.

A/N: Once again, it's probably longer than it should be. But I've fought with this chapter for too long, and I want to get this moving. When I decided to make this a series it was only going to be about three chapters. Now it's looking closer to...seven? Ten? Fifteen? I honestly don't know how deep I'm going to go. But there's lots more coming. As before, there is slight inference to SA, so please be aware of that. Enjoy.

With all of the bouncing back and forth you do between the FBSA and the Boys, it's not often you find a whole day off. So when one finally arrives, you've already committed to doing practically nothing. Maybe a little tidying up around your place but otherwise you're ready for a day of rest.

It's late morning when you drag yourself out of bed and shuffle into the kitchen for coffee. After starting the machine to brew, you head back to your bathroom for a quick shower. As the water begins to reach your ideal temperature, you muse over ways to pass the day. Part of you contemplates messaging Butcher and setting up a rolling session later that evening. Maybe it's the whole exercise-induced endorphin rush thing, but you think you might be getting addicted to the lessons.

Or maybe you're getting addicted to alone time with Butcher. As you strip down and step into the spray, it's something you seriously consider. Yes, jiu jitsu is fun in its own exhausting, bruising fashion. But you know how dangerous it would be to ignore how much you look forward to just being around him. Kimiko, Frenchie, MM, they all are endeared to you in their own way. And maybe it's that whole trauma-bonding in this line of work as well. But as demanding of a teacher Butcher is, there's an odd comfort in the mellow after hours with just the two of you in the office. You each know how to grate on the others nerves but it's often turned into playful banter. If you could put “Butcher" and “playful” in the same sentence.

There's also that slight shift in your dynamic that you've noticed lately. Those little moments when you grasp a move, a concept, when you test the murky waters of his patience to ask him to expand on a technique for you. Or when for the first time you sink a counter and not even think about it, and he gets that look on his face. That look where his eyes crinkle at the corners and there's just that subtle hint of a smile, and if you're lucky he'll acknowledge that you've actually made progress. It looks uncannily like pride, and you'd be damned if it doesn't get to you.

Then of course, you couldn't forget that Butcher's been getting to your whispering sexual frustration. The dreams had remained consistent in their frequency, but at this point you quit being wary of them. To be honest, you've kind of come to like seeing what tantalizing scenarios lie in store for you when you drift off at night. As long as you don't linger too long on it during the day, and you damn sure don't dwell on it when you're around Butcher that is. It's almost…fun, if you don't wish too hard for the phantom whisker burn on your inner thighs to be real…

You shake your head and refocus on the shower. No, probably best not to set up a lesson. It's best to let him take the lead on that. You don't know what's on his plate anyway. It's not until you've dried and start shrugging into some shorts and an oversized t-shirt, forcing yourself to muse over your breakfast options, that you hear your phone buzz in the bedroom.

You snatch it off the bed and pad back into the kitchen. Feeling particularly lazy you settle for some frozen waffles and toss them into the toaster. When you finally check your cell the screen glares back three missed texts and two missed calls. All from Hughie.

Ignoring the slight pit in your stomach, you quickly fetch yourself a cup of coffee and read the first text.

Something came up. Need to talk in person. Are you home?

The toaster dings and you spare only the time needed to put them on a plate. You return to the second message. Please, Y/N. I know it's your day off but it's urgent.

You don't get the chance to read the third before there's knocking at your door. The pit in your stomach gets a little heavier and you creep to the peephole. Recognizing the lanky figure in your doorway, you undo all the locks with a slight sigh of relief and swing it open.

"Sorry, Hughie, I just started reading your-. Annie?" You're slightly startled to see her just a step behind him in street clothes. They share the same air of tension about them that their smiles don't quite brush away. You glance from her to him and ask, "What's going on?"

"Hey, Y/N. You remember those files you told me about a few days ago?"

You nod, remembering that you had finally confessed to him of the paperwork about a week after you realized they were gone. He had ribbed you about it then and you had shrugged it off with him. Now he stands in your doorway and you finally notice two files tucked under his arm. But only two. "I'm about to kiss my day off goodbye, aren't I?"

He responds with a nervous chuckle. Then, "Can we come in?"

^^^

"You're shitting me, right?"

You stare at Hughie and Annie who sit on the loveseat opposite of you, the manilla folders gutted across your coffee table in front of you. Each of you have a cup of morning brew, coasters like islands in the sea of papers, but they've been abandoned in the last twenty minutes or so. You lean forward in your seat, tapping on the table. "You're telling me that Vought has made a temporary compound V?"

"If we read this right…Yeah. Yeah, they did," Hughie nods, rubbing the back of his neck.

You turn to Annie. "Is this verifiable? How many in the company know about this? Did you?"

She shakes her head adamantly. "Not me, not any in the Seven, I'm pretty sure of that. I can't swear anything on the stuff we have here, it's deliberately vague. But Stillwell was pulling all the stops to get us in the military. It would make sense that when that failed, the company would shift gears. If they can't take supes to the armed forces…"

"...Turn the armed forces into supes," you finish. "And if it's only temporary, there's no permanent competition with the Seven or anyone else on their roster."

"And don't forget the money," Hughie interjects with a scoff. "I mean, how much do you think they could fuck up Uncle Sam's budget? I mean if they charge per squad? Per soldier, per fucking dose?"

Your gaze skims back over the papers again. You shouldn't be surprised. It's Vought. But it still makes the twinge of a headache form in one of your temples. How the hell are you guys going to combat this? What if the FBSA and the Boys have to turn their aim from glorified celebrities to soldiers?

"Wait, Hughie," you blink. "How did this shit end up on my desk in the first place? How did they disappear and where did you even find them?"

"Ok, slow down, slow down. I've been thinking about that. I don't think these were supposed to end up on your desk. Somebody messed up. My guess is these were supposed to go to Neuman. Which is why I called Annie and I didn't dare talk about it over the phone."

"What do you mean?"

Hughie glanced at Annie before taking a deep breath. "Uh, well…I told Neuman about the files disappearing on you earlier this morning. She told me that she would keep an eye out and send them back to you as soon as they were found. And you said there were three files, right?" You nodded.

"Right after, I was gonna meet with Annie for lunch. The vending machine was outta almond joy's, you've already caught me in your stash. But Neuman sometimes has some at her desk for her kid. I just wanted to sneak a damn candy bar," he laughs. But his face quickly returns to a confused frown. "I found these in her desk. Just these. I didn't see another."

You hold up a hand. "Wait. Are you…are you saying Neuman is covering this up? Covering for Vought? Why?"

"We don't know for sure," Annie quickly answers. "But it doesn't make sense why she would lie about them still being missing, or why it's just these two. Y/N, do you know what is in that last file?"

"God no!," you scoff. "I didn't get a chance to look at any of them! I was swamped that day, they were supposed to be in my catch-up stack for later. If I had seen this…!"

"Which is why I think we need to keep this out of the FBSA," Hughie presses. "This information is too big to be hiding and not acting on. I don't know what Victoria's doing but…I don't trust her right now. I just don't."

A realization flits in your mind and you grab his arm. "Shit, Hughie! You gotta get these back to her desk! Before she finds out-!"

"I know, way ahead of you," he reassures you. "Annie and I thought of that. Neuman is busy this afternoon at another rally. We got at least another hour before she even starts back to the bureau. But we gotta use what we can from these files and find out more about this temporary crap, or whatever else Vought is cooking."

"We should take pictures," Annie suggests, digging out her phone. "I have a feeling we're not going to see these again after this."

"Wait!" You shoot out of your seat and head to one of the drawers in your kitchen. "Not with your phones. You've still got Vought breathing down your neck, and Hughie and I's personal phones could be put under surveillance by the FBSA at any time. Especially if Neuman gets suspicious."

You dig a plain jane cell out and wave it at them before dashing back. "Frenchie and Butcher told me to always keep a burner on hand. The camera's not great but it'll work."

After a few minutes of rifling through the files again, taking quick but precise shots, you turn to Hughie. "Alright. I've just sent those to your burner phone. Where do we start?"

"Annie, you mentioned that Vought probably has some undisclosed labs around the area, right? Maybe we can get some from the source, like we did with the original V? Only more discreet, if we're lucky."

Annie runs her fingers across the files with a look of concentration. "They can't keep everything at the tower… Ah ha! Here!" She stabs at a line of text. "It doesn't give an address per se. But! There's a couple names that keep popping up. One is a Frank Lazzell, one of Vought's senior biochemists. That other sheet looks like a list of prototypes he signed off, maybe? And I bet you the reason he's been stationed upstate for the last fourteen months -"

"There's a V lab there," Hughie finishes.

"The other," she continues, "is a James Walsh. I'm not sure why he's in this file though. He's one of our PR reps. But he is waaay down on the totem pole. Like a blip on the radar. I barely recognize the name."

"Something tells me Vought isn't running a PR charity on this one," you mutter. "Okay. So that's two leads. Point the way, Hughie. Where do you want me to go?"

Hughie stares blankly at you. "What…? What do you mean?"

"What do you mean 'what do I mean'? We got two leads. Do you want me to try to find Frank or -"

"Woah, wait, wait. Let's not get hasty," Hughie insists, holding up a hand.

"Oh c'mon," you huff, feeling another twinge in your temple. "You said you'd give me a chance to ease back into the field when you felt it would be less messy. This couldn't be more perfect!"

"Is that true?" Annie cocks an eyebrow at him. "You told me Y/N was still feeling skittish."

Now it's your brows that shoot up, but only for a second before turning a glare on him. "Yes, Hughie," you say in a voice as stiff and sweet as hardened honey. "I'd like to know that, too. Which one is it? Am I nervous or you?"

"I may have, uh, misspoke a little," he said, glancing nervously between the two of you. He finally settles on you and continues, "Look, let me just get some intel first. You know, be thorough. And then I'll talk to the others, maybe have MM check it out. Then I'll let you know if we can send you after one of these assholes. Okay?"

"If?" You narrow your eyes at him. Then sink back into the couch. The twinge becomes a dull throbbing. "You can't do that. You come over and drop this bombshell, dangle the proverbial carrot in front of me - and then tell me not to go for it? Hughie, the Boys are good but they can't guarantee anything on any operation. No one can. And how are you gonna get your thorough intel when we can't use any FBSA resources on this? We might as well -!"

"No!" You and Annie both jump at his outburst. He sighs before leaning across the table, quickly slipping the papers back into the folders. "I'm not doing it, Y/N. Not till I can be sure."

Annie gives him a reproachful look. "Hughie, if you promised her-"

"I did. And I'll keep it." He barely gives her a glance, his shoulders tensing under her withering look, the tight line of her mouth. He's up and off the couch, files back under his arm in a blink. "But I need you to sit this one out. Until I can be sure it's safe."

Then he's giving you a guilty look and heading for the door. Annie shakes her head, laying a hand on your shoulder. "I'll talk to him. See what's gotten into him. I'm really sorry, Y/N. Hang tight."

She flashes you an apologetic smile. And then she's hot on his heels and they leave you in abrupt silence in your apartment. After securing the door again, you grab the forgotten mugs from the table, shuffling to the kitchen where you dump and rinse theirs in the sink. You place yours in the microwave to reheat, finally taking a snapping bite of your untouched waffles.

The dull throbbing has quickly evolved into a headache, an annoying band across your forehead. Frustration makes your mind stew, boiling and scalding your thoughts. You glance at your phone, your personal one perched on the counter. It stares back at you as your coffee whirls round behind you. When the microwave beeps, you've snatched your phone and already begun typing a message.

"Sorry, Hughie," you whisper to the silence.

The day goes by coated in a layer of mild vexation. You do very little tidying up and instead spend the idle hours trying to distract yourself from your disappointment with your old friend. A little reading, a little mind-numbing scrolling on your phone but it doesn't squash the feeling completely. You've resorted to practicing mobility drills in your living room as you wait for dinner to finish in your oven, when there's a firm knock on your door.

You're up and bounding across the floor in a snap. You barely glance through the peephole before swinging open the door. Butcher leans against the frame, giving a salutary nod before sliding past you. "Evening, love. You making me dinner? Smells good in-"

"I know he talked to you." You say it calm but quickly as you close the door. You are in no mood to entertain idle prattle. You press on as he turns back to you in the entryway. "Probably MM, too. I don't know who else in the crew."

"Who? Hughie? Said there might be another job." He briefly glances you over and for a split second you feel you might flush, feeling just a little underdressed in your shorts. But ignore it as he drawls, "Funny thing that he'd call me on a burner. Just a little dodgy detail. And I'm betting you know why."

"There's a job that we need to keep under the bureau table. We got two leads so far. And if I know Hughie, he's probably going to give you the one furthest from Vought HQ as possible. He wants you to go upstate, doesn't he?"

Butcher tilts his head in a way that you know he's studying you. "He might have mentioned a little recon up north. But he didn't tell me about no second lead. And not about being under the table neither. Having troubles at the bureau, are we?"

"I'll tell you all about it," you nodded. "But…only if you take me with you on the operation."

Butcher gives a mischievous smirk. "I'm getting the distinct impression Hughie don't know I'm here, and what you're asking."

His smirk grows wider when you respond, "Hughie has his own secrets. I don't see why I can't have mine."

^^^

Perhaps it's the fact that Hughie is withholding information from him, or trying to work Butcher's own team under his nose. Either way, he doesn't argue too hard about you tagging along. In fact he's more than happy to direct you the next morning when you call in sick with "a real nasty stomach bug". You're sure Hughie will see through it for the lie that it is, and just as sure that he'll think you're upset and avoiding him. Which, as long as it gives you an alibi for the next couple of days, is just fine by you.

"What about the others?," you ask Butcher as he navigates the old Cadillac out of the city limits. "Should we worry about them?"

"Hughie told you he needed intel. MM and Frenchie -and you know Kimiko's stuck on his ass - are probably going through Walsh's dirty laundry as we speak," he answers as he switches lanes. "Finding out his schedule, his background, his contacts, how he likes his goddamn coffee. Which means they're most likely dealing with Vought sensitive information. And those two won't risk raising suspicions. They're gonna take their time."

"So they'll be busy," you nod. "What if they call though?"

"If Hughie didn't tell me about Walsh, you can bet your ass he's told them to keep me outta the loop. Strictly confidential," Butcher sneers. "And even if you weren't playing sick, he's probably told them to keep you in the same fucking loop." He gives you a conspiratorial smile. "Sticking us two stubborn asses on the outs. Didn't think that through very well, now did he?"

You can't help mirroring his smile and shake your head. "No, he did not."

Butcher returns his gaze to the road and waves his hand in your direction. "We got a couple hours or so, let's go over it again."

You pull out your burner and scroll through your pictures of the files. "Okay, so we know Frank is a scientist working for Vought. We don't have a location of the lab he's working in, but the company has a lease for him just outside of Saratoga Springs."

"Any addresses for a little house call?"

"No, unfortunately. Just an area code. Not even a property manager listed."

"That's alright," Butcher shrugs. "I did a little digging this morning before swinging by your place. Lazzell ain't exactly a common name. And there just so happens to be a few outstanding debts in the area under said name."

"Debts? How did you find that?"

"Saratoga Springs is known for horse racing, casinos and spas. And it tends to bring certain types, including the wealthy aaaand…"

"And gamblers," you finished. "I'm guessing Frank has a streak of bad luck."

"And it's about to get worse. Some of the places he owes have banned him till he pays up. Which means he's gonna find other places to scratch his itch. There's an area on the southern end he seems to be favoring. I've narrowed it down to three locations he hasn't pissed off yet."

"That's a start. But I've only got two days before Hughie and Neuman get suspicious. We can't just wait out at random, can we? Do we even know what he looks like?"

Butcher waves a finger with a smile. "That's where his luck gets worse." He pulls a folded piece of paper out of his coat and hands it to you. You open it to find a grainy but decent copy of a driver's license. The face staring back in bored fashion bears a resemblance to a gaunt pug, and you can't help a little snort.

Butcher tucks the paper back in his pocket with a snort himself before continuing. "He has only one place out of the three that he hasn't nearly maxed out his credit just yet. A little sports bar called Danny-Boy's. And if I were a betting man, I'd say he's gonna try all his luck there before moving to another part of town."

"I like those odds a lot better," you admit. "So, as of right now, the plan is to stake out Danny Boy's and find Frank. Then what?"

"One step at a time, love," Butcher quips. "Let's get up there first and we can iron out the rest."

He turns up the volume on the radio and fiddles with the knobs until he finds a station he seems to tolerate. You take the hint and settle into your seat, turning your attention to the scenery outside. As the minutes tick by, you become increasingly aware that you're fighting your mind from drifting to the previous night's dream. Before you can catch yourself, your eyes land on his hands on the steering wheel, and there's the image of those long, thick fingers making quick work of the button on your jeans, slipping deftly past your pantyline and -

You suck in a deep breath as you shut your eyes, quickly turning it into a yawn before Butcher can notice. When you open your eyes you plant them firmly out the passenger window. Two days alone with Butcher. And nobody knew…

Maybe you hadn't thought this through as well as you should have.

^^^

The drive up wasn't as uncomfortable once you were able to let your mind wander over more mundane things. Not an easy task with the man right there next to you, almost always in your vision. But with a little effort and a couple pit stops to break the monotony, you had managed. By the time you were rolling up on the outskirts of Saratoga Springs, the ride actually felt a bit pleasant, dare you say normal.

Butcher soon steers the car off the highway, and in a few moments you're pulling into the parking lot of a dated, little motel. It's not the Ritz by any means but it's not nearly as sketchy as some places this job has led you to. The exterior at least looks like it's intact, and the forest green trim appears to have recently been given a fresh coat.

Butcher checks in with efficiency and finally lets the car rest at the far end of the lot. "Here," he says, handing you a key card. You tuck it away into your pocket and he moves to exit the vehicle. "Let's go get settled in."

You grab your bag from the trunk as Butcher props open the door of your room on the ground floor. You manage to toss him his duffel bag - which is suspiciously heavy - before slamming the trunk shut. When you step over the threshold and shut the door, you're slammed by realization hard enough to make your feet skid to a halt on the carpet. You're not sure why you thought there would be two rooms, but you're clearly sharing this one with Butcher.

Of course you're sharing a room!, you chastise yourself as he tosses his bag onto the bed closest to the door. He's gonna have to report to Hughie at some point, and if he saw Butcher paid for two rooms…Then again why would Hughie know that? Butcher isn't going to be putting any of this trip on the bureau budget. Then you remember Hughie's teasing not too long ago in the office. Christ, if Hughie finds out about this, he'll never let me live it -.

Another realization hits you, only seconds after the first. You're sharing a room with Butcher. You're sleeping in the same room. And you've been dreaming. You don't know if you talk in your sleep. But would it matter much since you still often wake up panting and flushed and…?

No, it's ok. If push comes to shove, I can just not sleep. Lots of coffee, maybe catnap during the day...For two days? Like he won’t notice. And what if I dream during those naps, too?

Oh. Oh fuck!

"It's no five star. A tad overpriced if you ask me," he startles you out of your head, perhaps mistaking your look as disapproval of the place. "But it's clean, I suppose. And the location was just too good to say no."

"The location?," you ask, relieved that it doesn't come out as dry as your mouth feels.

Butcher motions for you to join him by the window as he starts to pull the blinds and curtains. You move next to him and he points out to the parking lot. At first, you just see the motel property and the T-shaped intersection it crowns. But when you shift your gaze a little further out, you spot a white and red sign about a block and a half down the road; Danny-Boy's.

"Saves us from having to change the plates on the car," he says as he closes the curtains completely, dipping the room in shadow. He shuffles around you to the touch lamp on the nightstand between the beds and it flutters on under his touch. "And makes it easier to bail if we need to."

"That's definitely convenient," you mutter. You force yourself to the present as you put your own bag on the far bed and start unpacking necessities for the night. "Okay. So let's iron out those details. What are we doing?"

Butcher sits at the foot of his bed and pauses in his own unpacking to raise a brow at you. "We?"

"Yeah, 'we'. What are…?" You pause as well and groan. "Oh c'mon. Not you, too."

"Hey, I agreed to let you tag along. I didn't say nothing about you doing the fucking recon."

"Damn it, Butcher, I did not come up here for this and you know it." You turn from your stuff to face him directly. "You told me that if I proved to you that I could use my training in sticky situations, that you would vouch for me. Now I can't do that if I don't get out there, can I?"

"If you gotta use that during recon, somebody or something is fucking up," he snaps.

"That's not the point! I am not sitting in this motel room like a kid for two days, and waiting for you while you do this whole thing by yourself!"

"Oh, I think you will," he smirks.

"Butcher," you begin in a low voice, crossing your arms against your chest. "You said it yourself this morning. I'm stubborn like you. I've got just about as much information as you, and you already showed me our target, remember? You really think I won't try to do this on my own if you do?"

His smirk falls into a scowl. The way his shoulders tense, and the look in his eyes as he glares back, tells you that he knows the answer. Yes, you would, and he's given you more than enough rope to hang you both. "You're going to be a constant pain in my ass about this, aren't ya?," he grits out.

"Am I really supposed to answer that?," you smile oh so sweetly.

He runs an agitated hand over his face. "Fuck me. Fine! You want me to throw your ass in the deep end? You fucking got it, princess."

You give a little nod, trying not to look too smug as you both turn back to unpacking. He's done before you and rips his phone out to order takeout. Apparently he's not going to discuss strategy on an empty stomach. By the time he finishes the call you've started to pull an unexpected item from the bottom of your bag. You laugh, realizing it's your long-forgotten gi.

"Hey Butcher?," you prod carefully. "Why don't you ever have me train in gi? Why only No-Gi?"

"Because they don't train in gi in the forces for one," he says, shifting on the bed to face you. "And for two, how likely are you or your attacker gonna be wearing a fucking gi? You think you gonna sink a nice little cross-collar choke on a supe with a handful of bloody spandex?"

"I've only done a choke once, and that was at the gym," you shrug. You tilt your head at him. "As a matter of fact, you've only shown me one offensive move, the snow angel thing. And I don't know if that even counts as offense. Why haven't you shown me any chokes or submissions yet?"

His brows furrow as he sets his phone next to him on the piling bedspread. "Haven't I?" He blinks for a second after you shake your head. "Shit. Guess I haven't." He gets that pensive look on his face, and you're reminded of the moment he had pinned you down in the office and you'd nearly broken his nose. You just start to wonder if you should have left well enough alone when he sits up straight. He makes a come hither motion with his fingers. "C'mere."

"N-now?"

"Come here."

It's not loud but his tone is more than firm enough that you know he's not going to argue this. You leave the gi in the bag and walk cautiously to stand in front of him. He motions again with his fingers. When you hesitate, he rolls his eyes and pulls you by the wrist until you're nearly between his knees. "What'd I tell you about running from me? It's the same with a choke."

"A standing choke?"

He nods. "This is more effective from mount but you can do this pretty much however. And I want to see if they taught you right the first time. It was a cross-collar, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, think so."

"Well go on then." He points his chin at you with an unexpected grin. "Put me in a choke."

You can't help your jaw dropping for a second. You just as quickly shut it and narrow your eyes at him. He just grins with a glinting gaze. "...I don't trust this."

He barks a laugh. "Good! 'Cause normally you shouldn't. C'mon, sweetheart. Pretty sure the crew and a dozen others would kill to be in your shoes right now."

A giggle slips out before you can catch it. He grabs your wrists in response and holds them up so your hands are even with his jaw. "Cross-collar is easy but it doesn't work for every problem. You could rip a t-shirt before you choke someone out. But a good jacket?" He pops his collar for emphasis. "This, a suit, a winter coat. They'll do just fine. You need a refresher?"

"I'm afraid so," you admit. "Like I said, it was once."

"Pay attention then. Your chokes fall under two types; blood or air. You're either cutting off blood to the brain or their air supply. This is a blood choke. You need to remember that blood chokes will cause the bastard to pass out. You could kill 'em but you'd have to hold the choke for over three minutes. Do you want to hold on for three fucking minutes?"

"No. Incapacitate, get the fuck out."

"Exactly! Alright. Take your right hand and grab my collar on my right side. Your thumb should be pointed up." You grab the leathery material in a fist and he shakes his head immediately. "Nah, nah, that won't work. You hold the end like that and you're just pulling me in for a snog."

You roll your eyes and try to ignore his remark. "I grabbed it, didn't I?"

"Let go. Start over. Put the back of your hand right against my neck." You follow his instruction, trying to ignore how warm he is against your fingers. "Now slide as far back as you can and grab my collar, right at me scruff. Just like that, that gives you a good deep choke."

You're not sure what you were expecting but it wasn't how soft the hair at his nape would be against your thumb. The itch to see if the rest of his unruly locks are the same ticks in your hand. Your fist tightens on his collar. "What's next?"

"Take your other hand and do the same thing. But make sure it's under and not over your right. Whichever hand you start with always ends on top or you won't be able to cinch it."

You repeat with your left, your reach shortened just a little by your right arm. Despite the fact your arms are snug about his throat, Butcher looks as if he couldn't be bothered. You on the other hand are trying not to swallow as if you're the one on the receiving end.

"Hold. You see how your arms are right on my carotids?" You nod, your skin prickling slightly at the sensation of his voice vibrating against it. "That's what makes it a blood choke. When I tell you, you're gonna rotate your wrists like you'd touch your thumbs together if my head weren't in the way. Pull me in, keep your elbows tight until your torso makes them separate. Do it slow. Don't stop till I say so. And…go."

After a second of hesitation you start applying the pressure, slow and controlled, watching him for any sign that you should stop. It doesn't take long for his face to begin to flush and you almost wince when you hear the collar creak in your grip. The seconds tick by, your nerves beginning to ramp up. Finally you feel a quick double tap on your thigh and you instantly let go. You step back far enough for the back of your legs to hit your bed.

"You okay, Butcher?"

"M'fine," he grunts.

Butcher blinks a couple times, his color going back to normal before he nods. "That was good. Solid, tight. But don't be getting ideas," he says, wagging a finger in your direction. "I don't tap for nobody. You best just be grateful for these one time passes you get."

He rolls his head on his neck before his phone buzzes, and he glances at it. "It's a bloody motel, how hard is it for a delivery driver to find these days? Really?"

He stands up from the bed and heads for the door. "Gimme a minute to get this fool over here. When I come back, I'll let you borrow my jacket and you can get a real good feel of that cross-collar." He winks at your look of dismay before closing the door behind him.

You stride back to your bed, gathering your toiletries before heading to the too-small sink area by the bathroom. You're fitting everything together like puzzle pieces in the limited space, reviewing the new technique in your mind when a sudden thought crosses it; I wonder if he ever taught Becca some of this?

You jolt as you reach to place your toothbrush by the sink, and it slips, clatters loudly against the porcelain. Your stomach suddenly rolls as the floodgates of epiphany swing wide.

If he hadn't, how many times has he wished he had, in almost a decade? And even if he had…what good would it have done her? What's a simple choke to flesh that won't yield to the likes of armor-piercing rounds?

You place your hands on the counter and lean heavy on it as the thoughts continue to surge. How many times has Butcher wished he could have been there to fight for her? Try to protect his wife, even if it meant he died in that godforsaken tower? How many times has he brooded over what he could have possibly done to arm Becca in moments of his absence? How many times has he wondered over and over those two awful words; what if?

Another epiphany washes over you. The memory of the beginning of your arrangement flashes through your mind, the dark look that had clouded his face, how stern he'd been about taking over your lessons, deadset even. Even if he can't be there…he's trying to protect me.

It's the weirdest feeling. You would have thought it might have put butterflies in your stomach, perhaps made you feel warm, gooey. You feel touched but not expectedly. Butcher's protection in that moment does not feel like a shield before you. You have seen and heard how high, how bloody the price for it can be. Especially for him.

In that moment…it feels like a weight around your neck.

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

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cross-my-heartt · 1 year

Text

Rewriting Rebels Thrawn (Part one?)

Hello everyone, I was planning to do some comparison posts for Rebels Thrawn and canon book Thrawn (because as it turns out they are very different) but then I got another idea:

What if I took scenes from Rebels and reimagined them to better fit Thrawn's portrayal in the canon trilogy and Ascendancy? This way we not only get to talk about CB Thrawn but also compare him to his Rebels counterpart.

So this is what we'll be doing here!

Also, I want to point out that this post isn't meant to dump on the Rebels version. Both are valid iterations and which one you prefer is up to you. This is merely a fun little exercise for myself and a post for those potentially curious to know more about CB Thrawn.

So without further ado, here's the scene we'll be looking at for this post (minor spoilers ahead):

There are three things here that will need addressing:

One, Thrawn's open display of anger. Two, his demonstration of physical violence. And finally, what motivated them in the first place (ie Slavin referring to the Klaikori as trash and suggesting they get rid of it).

In the show this scene suggests that Thrawn is the calm polite type whose composure is only a veneer. The kind of character who's unpredictable because they're cool and suave on the surface but show their true colors when provoked.

Canon book Thrawn, in contrast, demonstrates a composure that is very much real. He is so composed in fact that it often throws his opponents off balance, especially if they're purposefully trying to get a rise from him.

On the rare occasion he does display anger it's usually through a tensity or rigidness of sort (lips thinning, posture going stiff, his tone turning tense, etc.) and his overall manner becomes more cold and clipped as opposed to aggressive or passionate.

He is also a capable fighter but only resorts to physical violence if it serves a purpose. For instance, the first time he and Eli are in a fight, Eli doesn't even realize Thrawn can hold his own because he's holding back as part of a bigger plan.

In general CB Thrawn is more likely to intimidate opponents by revealing his ability to defeat them, making his weapon of choice verbal intimidation. Add to that a lack of sadistic inclinations and you get a character who's unlikely to resort to violence as long as there are other means of achieving his goals.

Can he be ruthless? Yes. But not in a situation that doesn't call for it. Which brings us to the thing that prompted his outburst:

Slavin's comment is something that's unlikely to elicit such a reaction in book canon Thrawn. Namely because he's more than used to people's attitude towards his art obsession. He's been ridiculed for it in both the Empire and in his home world and he never reacts to it aggressively (the few instances he's open about his feelings on it, he's more resigned than angry).

Thrawn faced similar alienation (pun intended) in the Empire for being an alien and even then Eli seemed to get more upset on his behalf than Thrawn did. Because again, he's used to it.

Now. With all of that said.

How would I rewrite this scene to fit book canon.

For starters, Thrawn keeps his composure, merely telling Slavin that his opinion is the reason why he's not calling the shots in this situation. When Slavin asks him what he means, Thrawn tells him that he's clearly not capable of appreciating the Kalikori's value, implying Slavin's incompetence.

Even better, Thrawn gets confused when his comment angers Slavin - in the books Thrawn is often incapable of distinguishing compliments and insults from factual statements - and he politely apologizes to Slavin, telling him that he didn't mean his words as an insult but was merely stating the facts.

Throughout the whole scene he's neither condescending nor annoyed or smug. He keeps a calm steady tone and leaves Slavin feeling wrong-footed and humiliated.

So the whole thing would look something like this:

"We should just destroy that piece of Twi'lek trash."

"And that is why, captain, you are not the one making the decisions here."

"What? What do you mean by that?"

"I am merely saying that you are unequipped to appreciate the value the Kalikori holds for us."

"Unequipped?" [Slavin sputters, indignant] "I would like to point out, sir, that I have been here on Ryloth far longer than you have."

[Thrawn stops and blinks at him]

"My apologies, captain, my comment seems to have offended you. I did not mean to cause any offense. I was merely stating the facts as they are."

[he turns and continues walking as if the topic is closed]

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm conducting an experiment that requires my attendance."

Alright, that concludes this scene! My subpar writing aside, I'm curious to hear what any book fans might think. I won't be going through each and every one of Thrawn's scenes but I hope to cover those that are the most obvious candidates for a rewrite (and oh boy, hopefully none of them will need as much revision as this one).

#thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #thrawn trilogy #thrawn trilogy spoilers #thrawn books #sw rebels #rebels thrawn

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katnissdoesnotfollowback · 7 months

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If the muse should so cooperate- I would love to see the reaction at Skadi after Katniss made her reservation to go for a visit. Did Gramps know right off it was her? Did Haymitch give the heads up? Did Gramps know and wait to tell Peeta? How did that conversation unfold? POV doesn’t matter to me.

Soooooo this has been sitting in my inbox for literal years. Sorry about that. And while I am still focusing on Spellbound for now, it doesn't hurt to exercise the Outside Chance muscles every so often to keep that universe fresh in my mind. Especially since the Outside Chance universe is up next on the To Do list once I finish Spellbound.

Some fun, from a different POV than what I usually give you all. It worked a little better coming from Monique, since she works the front desk at Skadi and would have a front row seat to the entire thing unfolding. The only thing it doesn't directly answer is whether or not Haymitch gave Eirik a heads up (he did), but it is implied here. Hope you enjoy! And now back to work on Spellbound.

I need a break. It’s been insane since I sat down at the desk. And I use the phrase “sat down at” in a metaphorical sense. I’ve been standing the whole time. Moving between the front desk and the office behind the desk where we store all our random shit we need throughout the day to take care of our guests. We’re just on the downslope of the season, and a quick glance at our weather forecasts has me smiling at the guest I’m helping and answering their question.

“Weather service is predicting another eight inches at least from this storm that’s moving through in two or three days,” I tell him and he taps his Epic Pass on the desk with a wide grin.

“Awesome. Might trap me here for a few more days. Any chance I can go ahead and extend my room?”

“Mmm, that might be difficult. We’re pretty well booked for the rest of this week and next week, too. But I can check for you. Stop by after you’re done skiing and ask me then?” I suggest.

He nods and walks off. I can feel my customer service smile slipping, but a genuine one takes its place as my boss steps up to the counter, leaning heavily on it, taking his weight off his cane as he gives me a bright smile in return.

“Hey Mr. Tjalaand, how’s it going?” I ask in a sing-songy voice and he chuckles.

“Not bad, Monique. Any word on our high profile guest?”

“Uh-uh. Haven’t seen her name on any of the guest lists, and I’ve been checking every chance I get,” I tell him. Just to be sure, I type in the names again, in two separate searches, just to be safe.

Katniss -- nope.

Everdeen -- nada.

“She’s not here. If she’s coming tomorrow, she’s gonna have a hard time finding a room,” I say and Mr. Tjalaand mutters under his breath, but then his eyes light up.

“Perhaps she has registered under a fake name,” he says, and I nod.

“It’s possible, but she could’ve used anything.”

“You can search guests based on their address, yes?”

“Sure,” I say brightly. “Where’s Ms. High Profile coming from?”

“Colorado Springs,” he says, which gives me a moment’s pause. We don’t get many guests from C. Springs. They’ve got their own skiing all around them in Colorado. Only the die-hard skiers from C. Springs or the ones who want slightly wilder slopes come here. Still, I type it in my search and come back with two hits.

“I’ve got a Mike Norbert and a Kay Brookes from Colorado Springs checking in tomorrow.”

“Kay… clever girl,” he murmurs. I smile over his shoulder as his grandson, who I like to think of as my other boss, even if he doesn’t officially have the title yet, approaches. We all know it’s coming one day. But Mr. Tjalaand hasn’t seen Peeta yet and continues talking to himself. “Using their names. As if we wouldn’t notice.”

“What wouldn’t we notice?” Peeta asks and Mr. Tjalaand jumps, cries out, clearly startled.

“What?” he asks Peeta once he’s gotten ahold of himself.

“We’ve got a guest coming tomorrow, using a fake name so we don’t know it’s them. Some big name athlete,” I whisper conspiratorially. Peeta smiles slightly and turns to his grandfather.

“Seriously? Ryen’s dumb enough to try a fake name?”

“Er… not Ryen,” Mr. Tjalaand says, then does that thing they always do. He switches to Norwegian, so that no one else can understand what they’re saying. Joke’s on them. I’ve been learning Norwegian. Not enough to be fluent, or proficient. Or to even catch full sentences with the rapid pace Mr. Tjalaand is speaking, but I can read Peeta’s face.

And he’s. Not. Happy.

Mr. Tjalaand actually shrinks away from him a little bit as he gestures wildly and continues to explain to Peeta. I catch something about training and home and upset. Maybe a name I file away. Haymitch. The word tomorrow.

Peeta starts shaking his head. And although he’s whispering, there’s no disguising the hurt and anger in his voice when he cuts his grandfather off and asks, “Why didn’t you tell me?” At least I think that’s what he says. Mr. Tjalaand fires back. It’s settled blah blah blah blah I suggest blah blah blah something about one of our trails.

When it’s over, Eirik looks smug and Peeta walks off before I can even ask if he’s okay. What a dumb question. Of course he’s not okay. It’s written all over his face and his body language that he’s not okay. But why’s this guest set him off so much?

Mr. Tjalaand sighs as he turns back to me and gives me a small smile. “I apologize for my grandson.”

“Is he gonna be okay?” I ask and Eirik waves off the concern.

“He will need to be. I will not tolerate his moping about this any longer.”

I don’t wanna say it, but I kinda agree with my boss. Much as I love working for them both, much as I consider Peeta a good friend, he can be moody and mopey sometimes. Not that he doesn’t have reason and all, but sometimes I just wanna slap him for his dumb decisions.

“You will tell me the moment our guest checks in tomorrow?”

“If I’m on shift, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Good,” he says with a firm nod. “Thank you, Monique.”

“Sure thing, boss,” I say and give him a playful salute as he walks off. I wait until he’s out of sight before I turn to my coworker. “You got this, Haydn?”

“Yeah. Seems to have calmed down for a moment.”

“I’m going to Rooba’s. You want me to get anything for you?”

“Red Bull and one of those caesar chicken wraps.”

“You got it,” I tell her as I slip out from behind the desk and basically jog to Rooba’s Lobby Stop. I skid to a halt next to her and she smiles at me.

“Where’s the fire?”

“Okay. So. I need to know what kind of serious shit is about to go down in this place so I’m ready to handle it.”

“Uh-huh,” Rooba says but continues to stock her shelves, replenishing after the mid afternoon rush. “I’m listening.”

Of course she is. Rooba’s a gossip hound. “Two days ago, Eirik came to me and said we’d be having a high profile visitor arrive in three days, which is, you know… tomorrow. Some Olympic athlete I’d never heard of, but anyways. He says he wants to know the second she books her room.”

“Interesting,” Rooba prompts me to keep going.

“Well today, she still hadn’t shown up on the guest lists. So he asks me to search by where she’s coming from, and turns out she’s registered under a fake name, or at least he’s pretty sure she is. So he’s figuring this all out and Peeta walks up--”

“Uh-huh,” Rooba murmurs, her eyes bright as she hones in on what I know she can tell is the juicy part.

“-- and they start talking in Norwegian, as they do.”

“You catch any of it?”

“Some. Not enough. All I know is Peeta is not happy about this person coming here, but Eirik is tickled pink about it, so I need to know who this is and why she’s already causing problems in my lobby.”

Rooba snorts. “What’s the name, girl?”

“Right, sorry,” I say. “Katniss Everdeen?”

“Kat--” Rooba gasps and drops the pile of chips she was holding. “Oh shit.”

I glance down at the mess with her, then back up at her face. Her eyes and mouth are wide for an instant, but then her lip trembles and her eyes go a little glassy. “Katniss is coming home tomorrow?”

“Coming home?” I ask, but Rooba has moved on. She’s frantically scooping up the dropped chips and I kneel down to help her.

“So you know that name.”

“Oh my -- oh no wonder Peeta was so upset. My poor boy, finding out like that.”

And it’s those words that make it click in my mind as we stand up with the chips in our hands. “Don’t tell me she’s that girl. The one with him in all the pictures on The Wall that no one will talk about like she’s a curse?”

Rooba scowls at me and snatches the chips from my hand. “Katniss is not a curse. She’s… oh my poor girl must be hurting so bad if she’s coming home after all these years.”

I can feel my eyebrows raise at that. I watch Rooba stock the chips as I grab Haydn’s lunch, and something for myself.

“Coming home tomorrow. I don’t even have any Milk Duds or that strawberry lemonade thing she always drank, or her favorite tea,” she’s muttering as I approach the register. “Too late to have them here by tomorrow. I’ll just have to add them to the order for next week. If she’s even staying that long…”

I clear my throat while she rings me up. “I don’t think she wants a fuss being made over her,” I point out and Rooba glares at me. “I’m just saying, she registered under a fake name. Sounds like she doesn’t want to be noticed while she’s here.”

Rooba snorts. “Fat chance. That girl could bury herself under thirty feet of snow and she’d still be noticed.”

I don’t know what to make of that, but Rooba sighs and rings up my purchase, still grumbling.

“Our baby girl comes home after ten years and Eirik can’t even tell us? I can’t even welcome her home? What a crock of shit.” She holds out my sack as I swipe my card, but she pulls it back when I reach for my purchase. “What name did she use? The fake one.”

“Kay Brookes,” I tell her and she gasps again. “Okay you gotta explain why that’s significant. And why I shouldn’t skewer this girl on sight. We all know Peeta’s carrying all kinds of baggage over her. No one will talk about her.”

Rooba shuts her eyes and sighs.

“That name… it’s proof she’s still carrying just as much baggage as he is,” Rooba murmurs. I’m about fed up when she releases a heavy breath and gives me answers. “They fell off a cliff together, when they were fifteen. They were… they were best friends. Inseparable. Maybe more, I don’t know for sure, but there were rumors at the time about them kissing behind a maintenance shed one day.”

All right, sue me. I’m a sap. My heart twinges at the image of young, first love blossoming from a childhood friendship as Rooba talks. “They went for a hike and there was a rockslide. Katniss called 9-1-1. By the time anyone could get to them, it was too late to save Peeta’s leg, but Katniss had saved his life. And then… her parents… Sage Kay Everdeen. Lily Brookes Everdeen… they both died two days later. Hit by a drunk driver.”

“Damn,” I whisper and Rooba nods, handing me the sack of food at last.

“The custody battle afterwards, as far as I heard, wasn’t pretty. But it was fast. Either way, Katniss and her sister were gone before Peeta even got back from the hospital. Neither one of them’s been back in ten years.”

And while I still feel like I wanna skewer this Katniss for hurting Peeta, Rooba’s words have me feeling at least a little sorry for her, this strange girl who once called Skadi home. Losing her parents after such a traumatic event with her best friend, then being torn away from her home.

“You’ll text me tomorrow, when she checks in?” Rooba asks, pulling us out of the reverie of the past and I nod.

“Sure. Anyone else I should give a head’s up about this? So they’re not shocked and can keep it quiet when they see her roaming around?”

Rooba nods. “Thom. He needs to know. Freddy on ski patrol. June Carter…” Rooba starts listing names almost faster than I can add them into a new text thread on my phone. They're almost all people we affectionately refer to as The Old Guard, because they've been at Skadi for ages.

“Anyone else?” I ask when she pauses. She shakes her head. “That’s all I can think of for now.”

I type out a message, telling them who’s arriving tomorrow and that we’re to keep it low key, since she’s using a fake name and clearly doesn’t want a fuss, but I thought they might wanna know so they don’t get a shock seeing her around. I add Rooba to the thread and send it, releasing a breath and telling Rooba I’ll talk to her later.

My phone blows up on my way back to the front desk.

WTF?!?!? Katniss???

Are you for real?

Katniss is coming home???? 😄😮😭

!!!!!!!!

Does Peeta know?

How long’s it been?

Ten years

10 years

Shit

Does Peeta know?!??!?!

Someone’s gotta tell Peeta!

He knows.

Thank fuck.

Well this won’t be awkward at all.

It keeps going and I silence the thread, handing lunch to Haydn and getting back to work. I’ll check the gossip chain when my shift is over. One thing I do manage while I’m still at the desk is something I probably should’ve done days ago. A quick Google search for one Katniss Everdeen. There isn’t much, and all of it is sports related. Not even a social media footprint. But at least now I’ve got an idea of her face so I can be on the lookout for her tomorrow.

It’s another crazy day and I stay past the end of my shift to help out. And also because the mysterious Katniss Everdeen still hasn’t shown, but given all that Peeta and Mr. Tjalaand have done for me, I feel like I somehow owe them both at least this. Taking care of this particular guest and giving them both warning of her arrival. My phone keeps vibrating with the group text thread, everyone checking in periodically to see if anyone’s spotted her yet. I snort as I glance at the top, where someone changed the thread name to Operation Hummingbird. When I asked about that, all I got back was:

It’s her nickname.

I’m running on coffee and stress, and about ready to call it a day when someone steps up to the desk, the hood of her ski jacket pulled up over her head. She leans over the desk, like she’s trying not to be noticed and extends her arm with a credit card in her hand.

“Checking in, Kay Brookes,” she says and my pulse stutters for a moment. Her voice is low and smoky, and so unique. From under her hood, I catch a quick flash of light eyes before she drops her gaze to the desk.

And I understand what Rooba meant about her being noticed. I can’t look away from her. There’s something enigmatic about her, or maybe that’s just because I know something of her story and am thirsty for more of it.

But I didn’t get this vibe from her pictures online.

I manage my customer service smile, and go through the motions of checking her in, glancing over her shoulder at the pile of bags and skis in cases.

“I’ll have one of the bellhops help you to your cabin.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Oh please, do me this favor. James is new and needs all the training he can get,” I say. Her lips twitch at that, but she nods and looks up at me again. Gray eyes. And even though I’ve certainly championed Peeta getting with other people -- namely my friend, Peyton Lang, last season -- I can see why this is the girl he’s never really let go.

“Alright. I could probably use the help,” she says.

I hand her the envelope with room keys, wifi instructions, and lift pass, call James to the desk, and give her a wide smile.

“Welcome to Skadi, Miss Brookes. Enjoy your stay with us.” She hesitates and looks back at me a moment, then gathers her things with James and heads outside.

I release a breath and feel my shoulders sagging. There’s something just so sad hanging around her, that I think about what Rooba said yesterday. That Katniss is carrying as much baggage as Peeta. I’m starting to believe it.

With that in mind, I notify Mr. Tjalaand, and then I notify the Operation Hummingbird thread. From him, I get a simple Thank you. From them, I get a flurry of texts. Most of them are just thumbs up and thanks, but a few catch my attention.

Think she’ll actually talk to him?

Resort isn’t that big.

Nope. She knows this place too well. Knows where to hide. We’re not seeing her again.

He knows the place better.

Come on, guys. Give them time.

Time? They’ve had ten years.👏👏👏

Part of me wants her to seek him out. Get it over with. Let them hash out whatever it is they’ve gotta deal with. Part of me thinks we haven’t had a good mountainside drama in awhile and this’ll probably be drawn out and spectacular.

I just want them to bang already!

Slow down. They haven’t seen each other in ten years.

Fine. I’ll settle for a kiss.

Seriously? They might not even like each other anymore.

Anyone got eyes on him?

He’s up on the slopes.

Monique, can you let him know?

Or should one of us?

I’ll let him know.

I sigh and open up my text thread with Peeta. It’s been a few days since we’ve used it and the last thing on it is a laughing emoji he sent me in response to something funny I shared about a guest. I hesitate, not wanting to hurt him anymore than he might already be. But then I think of his face yesterday, his anger that his grandfather didn’t even tell him that such a significant part of his past would be walking back into Skadi. If it were me, I'd want to know. I think about the pictures on The Wall, the ones I walked by last night, just to see a glimpse of what he lost ten years ago.

They were adorable together.

I think of the way Rooba talked about them yesterday when I first told her. How the group talked about them in the thread all day yesterday. And I am again reminded of what a sap I am.

“Screw it,” I mutter and tap out a text to Peeta. I’m with June on this one. “I want them to bang.”

Lord knows he needs it. She probably does too, based on the looks of things.

Hey, boss. Just wanted you to know that the guest your grandfather was asking me about yesterday has checked in. Cabin 24.

Thanks for the warning, Mo

I pause and grin, deciding a little pot stirring wouldn’t hurt.

She’s stunning, by the way. And you could stand to get laid. Been awhile, hasn’t it?

I could say the same to you. Maybe you should sleep with her.

Not my type. You know I like a himbo.

Noted.

But you…. Has it been since Peyton? Maybe since Thresh?

You’re as bad as Rooba.

What did Rooba say?

Nothing. She put a package of condoms I didn’t ask for in the bag with my lunch today.

😝😂

Not funny.

Only it’s totally funny, and maybe exactly what he needs. I let Rooba know to keep it up.

<3 kdnfb

#spoonlicker817 #look at that ask #outside chance universe #outside chance outtake #sort of?#i used to have a name and numbering system for these #but I can't remember what number I left off on #or when i posted it #and i don't feel like digging through my archives #so here you go

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bijoumikhawal · 18 days

Text

A devil like you

(Read on AO3)

It was a crass little game. Well, kotra wasn't- while Garak's eyes often dilated at tense parts, enraptured by the prospect of winning and loosing, nothing came of it. It wasn't that thrilling.

Not by itself.

The dice had been a tongue in cheek gift from Jadzia at her Trill New Year's party. Sisko had gotten a similar pair, and judging by the tops of Kira's ears, so had she.

Julian had set them on the table, sober faced, as Garak set up the kotra board.

Garak kept a straight face as he looked them over. "I don't know how you expect to incorporate these into a game that doesn't use six-sided dice."

"They're for after the game." Julian leaned to the side, picking up his tea from the side table. "The winner- no, loser, rolls. Whatever the result is, is what the winner gets to do them, if they like it."

"And if the winner doesn't?"

"The loser rolls again."

Garak tilted his head, demeanor cool in sharp contrast to his gaze. "Does kotra bore you, doctor?"

"No. But a change of pace is always welcome." Julian's own demeanor was betrayed by a pounding heart.

Garak's mouth twitched into a smile, and he inclined his head. "Well then. Let's get started, shall we?"

Kotra usually lasted two or three hours between them.

This game went on four hours, twenty-seven minutes, and fifty-three seconds- ending with all of Garak's pieces captured, or backed into corners.

Julian had played well, but not aggressively. There had been a chance Garak would win. It wasn't fun otherwise- and it wasn't like Garak seemed too put out by loosing.

He leaned back, reciting the polite ending of the game that Garak had drilled into him. "Thank you, as always, for the exercise in wit."

"Of course." The dice were comically large, so Garak only picked up one. "And thank you for the lesson in grace."

The die, in turn, were actions and objects. This one was action. It spun over the table, landing on a simple, if crude depiction of two people entwined. Garak's face remained unmoved. The second die landed on "blindfold".

Garak's hand stuttered in mid air.

Julian watched him carefully as he got up out of his chair. Garak’s eyes flicked away from the dice, tracking him.

Intent. But carefully neutral.

Julian pulled out Garak’s basket of remnants and carefully selected a soft brocade already cut to a good size. Crossing back to the table, he carefully drew the cloth over his friend's face, tying it firm. "Not too loose?"

"No."

Julian circled the chair, already burning with anticipation. Yet more heat flared in him as he drank in the sight. Garak, sitting, docile, a sense stripped away from his use. A weakness created. "Perhaps I should tie your hands too."

Garak was rubbing his fingernails back and forth over the upholstery. "With my clothes still on?"

Julian smiled. "Alright, good point." He grabbed Garak’s wrist, guiding him to the bed.

Garak sat primly, and began undressing himself. Julian began shedding his own clothes too, grateful he'd worn a shirt that fastened- he didn't have to break his gaze on Garak. Though he couldn't see, his movements were smooth. It wasn't a typically seductive display- but Julian wasn't always typical.

It took Garak longer to undress than him, simply because he wore so many layers. Julian considered telling him to stop at his "supportive garment"- the cool, clinical term Cardassians used for what really amounted to a corset- but let him be. He could explore that later.

Garak's knees parted after he finished, already anticipating.

"Ah, I'm sorry if it's a disappointment, but that's not how we're doing this."

The top of Garak's brow ridge twitched. "But the dice-"

Julian sat in his lap. "The dice don't specify who is doing what. I feel well in my rights to interpret them, seeing as how I won." He grabbed Garak’s hand and guided it down. "Now, I'm sure I don't need to tell someone older the importance of preparation?"

Garak's fingers sank into his cunt. Julian rolled his hips down on them, biting his lip. He watched Garak’s lips part- the motion of vague shadows just inside them giving away that he was scenting the air. Usually he was only so obvious about it when surprised.

"I have told you you should savor your meals more." Garak said, almost bored, almost professorial. "It seems that would benefit you in other areas as well- I've never laid hands on you and found it this wet before."

"Hm." Julian leaned forwards, pushing Garak down by the shoulders. "Is that fault mine, or have the rumors of Cardassians and their lengthy foreplay been greatly exaggerated?" Julian rolled his hips down on those fingers again, watching the faint blue flush that appeared not long after he'd brought out the dice deepen.

Garak hummed, the sound blending with the rumbling noise that betrayed Cardassian arousal. "I believe the problem lies within that- little problem of cross cultural communication."

"Yes. You do have to make an effort to reach people where they're at." Julian said dryly.

Garak laughed. "Reach is hardly a problem for me. And you're well aware of that."

Julian pulled at Garak then, encouraging him to switch their positions. "Do I? I think my memory needs to be jogged."

Garak braced his arms by Julian's shoulders. He was still scenting so obviously. "Well, doctor. I can certainly help with that." His hips pressed against Julian's, and he everted. His cock left a slick trail that crossed Julian's hip.

Garak muttered his annoyance, and Julian laughed.

"Did being blindfolded make you more confident, dove?" He couldn't help it- not even a month ago Garak had dismissed the idea of being able to evert directly inside your partner as a ridiculous fantasy in the vast majority of circumstances, given many Cardassians supposedly abhorred oral. "I- ah!"

Garak had shut him up by properly positioning himself and sinking inside him.

Julian closed his eyes a moment and let out a long breath. The feel of Garak inside him... Julian's sexual history hardly lacked variety. And, in that variety he found it hard to do any sort of "ranking". But... he was, to put it delicately, incredibly fond of many things about Garak.

Garak's breathing was already trembling. Julian opened his eyes.

Garak's breathing wasn't the only thing trembling. His arms, where they held him up just above Julian, were shaking.

"Garak?"

Garak’s breaths were deep, but thankfully even. It became clear he was making an effort.

"Garak."

Julian’s hand alighted behind Garak’s head, fingers resting on the knot he'd tied- only for his wrist to be grabbed.

"I'm fine, doctor. This is merely- intense."

Julian pinched the knot between his fingers before letting go. He rested his hand on the back of Garak’s neck instead, fingers slipping through dark hair to gently scratch at scales. Garak let out the shudder that broke through the trembling.

"Relax your arms." Julian pulled at his elbow, encouraging it to bend. "There? Isn't that better?"

Garak grunted against Julian's neck, giving a gentle roll of his hips. Julian clenched around him, pulling a sharper sound out.

"More, Garak. You know how I like it." Julian bit the ridges running up his jaw.

"How demanding." Garak muttered as he acquiesced with firmer, more frequent rolls of his hips against Julian.

Julian amended his future plans- next time, he would not only bind Garak and blindfold him, he'd gag him too, and figure out just how much it took to milk a Cardassian dry. With his clothes still on, indeed.

Julian moved his hips to meet Garak, the image filling his mind for a moment- Garak struggling even as arousal took him, complaining, unable to complain, laying wrecked and stinking of sex. The red suit would be good- Julian adored it, almost too much to ruin it. His hand squeezed the back of Garak’s neck, making him tremor with pleasure again.

He teased the neck ridge before him with his mouth.

Garak's hips froze a moment. "Ah, my dear-"

"Getting close already?" Julian gave his scales a nip, still holding him close. "Don't worry, Garak. You won't disappoint me. I wouldn't let you."

Garak's teeth clenched around nothing. His cock throbbed harder inside Julian.

Julian's other hand wandered down, squeezing Garak’s ass and pulling his body hard against Julian's. "Keep going."

Julian muttered in Garak’s ear- more, harder, you know the angle I like, use it. He could feel tension growing in Garak- not just the tension of his arousal. He wanted something.

Julian knew exactly what it was, and kept it to himself. For the moment.

Garak's body, heavy and solid, pressed onto him, always brought Julian a thrill. Having that weight over him, at his command, was a true delight.

"Doctor- my dear." Garak's voice was desperate in his ear.

Julian hooked one leg over Garak’s hip. "Go on, dove. Be good to me- give me everything you have."

And then he bit Garak's neck ridge, ravenous, hand tightening on the back of his neck as though the thought of escape was something Garak could even fathom.

Garak let out a choked noise as his irllun flared inside Julian, his hands scrabbling against the sheets, tearing them. Julian could taste something vaguely metallic- he hadn't quite meant to go that far. He moved his hips up against Garak, holding him with even pressure as his torrential, leisurely orgasm rolled through, grinding the tip of his cock against Garak’s scales.

It didn't take him long to follow.

Garak laid on top of him, body limp. Julian carefully unclenched his jaw- there was only a little blood, not enough that it was trickling away. He pressed a fingertip against the edge of the wound. Garak let out a sound that was almost a whimper.

A vague guilt rose in Julian, but he pushed it away. "I didn't think it'd taste like that."

Garak's breath, shaky, ghosted over Julian's skin. "Ever the scientist."

Julian looped his arm around Garak’s back as he sat up. "Of course." He let Garak slump back a bit, enough that Julian could see his face. "Thank you, as always, for the lesson in wit."

In lieu of the proper reply, Garak groaned.

#cipher talk #garashir #My writing #Ds9 #Nsft

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dandelionwhisp · 2 years

Text

Credit

An Automaton AU ft. Azul

Automaton Au by @jackplushie !!

I hope I’ve done some justice to all the amazing writers I’ve seen writing this au. Enjoy and thank you for reading! <3

—————————————————

“Oh wow- Your files are so well organized!” A fellow scavenger friend of yours came over to hang out and talk about your recent finds.

“Everything is in a specific place and labeled too! Blueprints, notes, maps and diagrams, even costs of machinery!”

You had shut down your automatons for the day so they wouldn’t cause a ruckus, after all yours were known to be a bit... unpredictable around other people.

“Hm? Oh- nah none of that was me. Azul, organized those stuff. Like all of it. He’s incredibly skilled.” You shrugged honestly, smiling to yourself as you remembered jolting awake at night, only to see Azul copying all your papers and placing them in neat folders despite you never asking for it. “He works pretty hard.”

“Azul?... Oh- oh your bot? You give credit to your bots..?”

“I mean- yeah? I didn’t do any of it after all.”

Your friend hummed. “I guess that makes sense. Sorry I’m just so used to people taking full credit of what their bot did.”

You shook your head irritably. “Credit should be given where credit is due.” You both made soft conversation as an onlooker gazed at you in shock. Not that it showed on his face. After all. He was supposed to be completely shut down.

Azul often scoffed at his masters, those who believed they had any power over him and took the credit for his hard work. Once information was handed over, Azul was the one in control now. Despite this, he is still just a bot. Humans had created many failsafes in case of malfunctions and to think with a mind of your own as an automaton made to serve, was definitely considered a malfunction.

Everything would be wiped and taken away from him and like trash, he was thrown aside. He would never feel that stability of power again.

Until you came along. Eyes shining, you were perfect for him. Easy to manipulate, naive and excited over every little thing you found rotting in abandonment within the dump outside your home. You were his savior, his client. His victim.

But he had learned his lesson. This time, he would be more cautious. He would do things for you without being asked to under the pretense of “repaying a debt” as he called it, he would let you become dependent and cocky like every human does. He would suck it up when you took the credit for his efforts in order to benefit him in the long run.

But you didn’t. No none of his past experiences could prepare him for the way you checked in on him as he worked, asking if he wasn’t burning himself out (literally) or the way you thanked him sincerely for his hard work. Azul was never worried over, never thanked.

He suffered to take revenge on those who wronged him. But how was he supposed to take revenge on someone who only did him right? For now, at least.

So as he waited, hidden behind a curtain, Azul trained his eyes on you and your friend conversing happily.

‘Credit should be given where credit is due.’ you had said.

It wasn’t the first time you exercised that belief. Even as you received strange looks from others who would’ve done differently, you always gave credit where it was due.

“Ruggie found those parts for me actually. He’s got a sharp eye!”

“No, no, I didn’t make that- Trey did. Pretty good right? Let me tell you about the time he made some brownies...”

“I didn’t put this together on my own. Jamil and Jade gave a lot of guidance too. They’re really helpful with repairs and stuff.”

“Kalim and Epel had a hand in cleaning the house with me the other day! There were some stumbles but it was probably the most fun I had cleaning my garage ever.”

“Isn’t my makeup amazing?? Vil is so good with it and I can’t believe how talented he is— yes I know he’s a bot it’s still cool though!”

To be praised. To be referred to as an equal. It is unheard of for automatons to receive that kind of treatment. Ever. Until they met you. And they would do anything to keep you.

“Thanks for having me over! Haha if you ever don’t need your Azul bot, then send him over to my house- I could use that hardworking efficiency.”

“Pfft alright I’ll ask him about it.” Your friend rolled their eyes with a laugh and waved goodbye.

You picked up the food remnants of your friend’s visit and put everything away in the rare silence of your home. There was usually always some machinery whirring or clicking coming from your bots- if not the endless chatter from the more talkative ones.

Making your way over to the translucent curtain draped over the bots you thought so fondly of, you dusted Azul off and fixed his glasses with a gentle smile. The same one you wore when he was nothing but broken scraps with nothing to offer.

“Azul, you could probably be assigned to someone really rich and powerful with better living conditions than a scavenger like me.” You touched his face gently. “I’m sorry you’re stuck with me for now.”

Just as you powered him on, his hand shot out to grab your wrist. Yelping in surprise, your eyes met with his periwinkle ones glimmering with something unknown.

“A-Azul?”

You wince as his grip becomes tighter and more unforgiving, sure to leave a mark. Just as he wants.

He brings your hand up, pressing your palm to his lips in a manner too intimate for an automaton to be capable of. Tears welled up in your eyes at the sensation of pain and tenderness from him as he whispers against your skin.

“I will never serve any one else but you. No one. Not even you can tear me away from being yours. Or you mine.”

You gave this poor little octobot a chance to experience something he had never even dreamed was possible before, and you can’t possibly think about letting him go anytime soon because you were different. So he would treat you differently.

The day you took him in, you made a deal. A deal that enabled equal and opposite care between the two of you.

Credit should be given where credit is due, and Azul feels as though he hasn’t given enough credit for all the kindness you’ve shown him.

The automaton intertwines his fingers with your own, sending shivers down your spine, and flashes a smile similar to that of a businessman who scored a good deal.

Hitched breathing and heart thumping, he brings you to his chest. Somehow cold yet burning against your skin.

“You’re mine.” he repeated, commandingly. desperately.

You signed the contract marked upon his manmade heart, so won’t you let him stick around? Don’t worry, it’s just until the contract ends.

And as for how long it stays active?

Indefinitely.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst au #automaton au #azul x reader #twisted wonderland azul #twst azul #twst automaton au #twst yandere #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere azul x reader #azul ashengrotto #yandere azul ashengrotto

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