#offset type beat

[twinko-twinko]

1) legalize recreational hrt

2) smoke weed

3) end the adderall shortage so i can stop making these

#legalize #recreational #hrt #trans #rap #hip hop #nonsense #willy crooks #type beat #dc offset #clipping #fl studio #death note #adderall should be sold in gas stations #meat bog #hannah monsanto #girl sweatshirt

[jm-beatz]

[FREE] Tyga x Offset Type Beat " Crystal " | Club Type Beat 2022 (Prod.JMBeatz)

YouTube Video Link : [FREE] Tyga x Offset Type Beat " Crystal " | Club Type Beat 2022 (Prod.JMBeatz) Via ChannelURL

#Crystal #[FREE] Tyga x Offset Type Beat | Club Type Beat 2022 (Prod.JMBeatz)

[durrtydawg]

A Brief Encounter

{Sam Drake x F!Reader Smut}

You’d agreed not to give each other gifts this year, but after a rather crass Secret Santa gift from Sam at his brother’s Christmas party, it’d be rude not to return the favour. So, when he subtly beckons you to meet him into his brother’s airing cupboard, you’re all too happy to accept the invitation.

a/n: this isn't the best, and christmas is pretty much done and dusted, but i'm a bit low and it helped to write this, so I hope you enjoyyy!!

Word Count: 5.3k

WARNINGS: 18+, unprotected p in v, oral (f&m), friends with benefits type beat, erring on the 'too much' side of pining, but that's how i roll so sorry if that's not your jam. I have NOT proof read this fully, so there are bound to be mistakes but I am OVER it. Enjoy, lovelies x

Curiosity and anticipation mingle as you slip into the cramped space, closing the door as slowly and as discreetly as possible. You down the remainder of your amaretto and coke, placing the glass beside Sam as you wince at the unmixed alcohol that coats your tongue.

The moment the latch clicks, the same smirk he’d given you from across the room mere minutes ago returns as he swallows a mouthful of beer. "Fancy meeting you here," he quips, his voice low and provocative, the red tinsel draped over his shoulders offsetting a warm glow over his face. You don’t want to take him seriously.

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you.” You scoff, leaning against the dryer as you’re enveloped by the smell of detergent and clean linen. “Crappy wrapping, tacky gift. I should’ve known you were my Secret Santa the moment it was handed over.”

“Alright, I can’t excuse the wrapping, but, I’ll have you know that these,” He removes a hand from the counter, pulling the offending garment from where it’s poking out of your skirt's pocket, catching you off guard and eliciting a quiet yelp from you as he slingshots the material against your forearm.

“Ow!” You attempt to smack his hand, but his reflexes are quick, and he swipes it out of reach just in time, placing a finger over your lips.

“Keep your squawking down.” He warns with a slightly sardonic half-smile, shaking his head towards the door. “These were not cheap. I don’t scrimp on my favourite girl.” He holds them up to the small lamp on the shelf behind him and you blush a little. “Plus, I just know it’s gonna look fantastic on you.” He shrugs, smug, and satisfied.

You roll your eyes, smirking as you adjust your volume. "Really, though, Samuel? ‘Ho ho ho’? A thong? Real smooth.”

His response accompanies a smug grin. "Well, I had to get you something that matches your…” He holds his beer just shy of his lips as he mulls over his thoughts for a second, “You.”

You snort in response, folding your arms as your brows raise, the two of you locking metaphorical, and very flirtatiously charged horns. “Oh! Well, in that case, we’ll have to get you a matching pair!”

He chuckles into his beer bottle, taking a swig before placing it beside him. He goads you with his look- a soft furrow of his brows that says ‘elaborate’.

“Dragging me into your brother’s airing cupboard in the middle of his impeccably planned Christmas party? Hardly the behaviour of someone who isn’t a… ‘ho ho ho’ themselves.” You feel yourself stifle a giggle- what a stupid conversation.

Ah, who gives a shit. You’re both tipsy, and you both know what’s about to happen.

Sam licks the remnants of his beer off of his lips, pushing himself away from the counter with an amused grin. His smug smile, a silent agreement, sets the stage for what both of you have been dancing around all night. The atmosphere becomes charged, filled with unspoken needs that have lingered in stolen glances and exchanged banter amongst a crowd of drunken acquaintances and giddy friends.

“You must be sorely mistaken, gorgeous.” He starts as his hands brace themselves onto the dryer, gently caging you in. “I wanted to help out my little brother by… folding towels. You know- keep him in the wife’s good books.”

In the intimate, shrunken space of the airing cupboard, the atmosphere thickens as his joke hangs between Sam and you, a veil of playfulness concealing the underlying, and oh so mouth-watering tension that’s coarsening your skin with goosebumps.

“Folding towels. That’s what we’re calling it now?” You grin, though your voice takes on a slightly lower tone as he leans over you. God, he smells fantastic.

The slight wrinkle in his navy t-shirt is a telltale sign that he’s obviously pulled it straight from the dryer and thrown it on as he left his apartment; but that damn jacket. Recently washed, yes, but never rid of that tinge of cigarette smoke that’s practically woven its way into the denim by now; a little aftershave spritzed over it as to not cause offence to those that despise his poor habit, accompanied by… him; A gentle amber muskiness diluted by the subtle red fruit scent that’s interwoven itself into him during his winter period of reluctant domesticity.

“Shame you’ve not got these on now, ya know.” He takes another look at the thong before abandoning it on the top of the washer, re-assuming his position over you. “Red’s definitely your colour. Always has been.”

His eyes make a show of their journey up and down your frame, and much to your own chagrin, you feel your face heat up even more. You should be used to this by now. Your little arrangement has been going on for almost a year. Yet every time, he’s got you blushing like a high school kid with a crush on their teacher.

Sam grins, shoulders jolting with a chuckle as he watches the redness spread across your cheeks.

“Aw. See? Adorable.”

“Stop it.” You chide, head turning to the side as you try to hide the consistent blush bleeding across your face. As if his ego needs to be given any more fuel.

“Stop what?” He smirks, knowing full-well what you mean. You frown. “Ohhh.” He over exaggerates, grinning wide as his head flops sideways in search of your face. “Making you blush? Doesn’t take much, does it?”

“No. I’m not gonna stop.” Sam's smug smile lingers, a subtle spark in his eyes made visible by the warm glow of the lamp. The air crackles with anticipation as he leans in, his lips brushing yours with a teasing tenderness that makes your hairs stand on end. His eyes are sly, and of course seductive, provoking you to lean in and close the gap. He’s offering the illusion of a situation where you get to take charge.

But he’s done this before, and things never go that way.

Not that you mind, of course.

Each passing second adds fuel to the simmering fire as you feel his thumbs grace your wrists at either side of you. You hold steady, your eyes narrowing towards his in a sort of stand off. You’re not going to cave first.

Though… it’s becoming more and more of a challenge as he leans further into you, your back pressed hard against the edge of the dryer as he imposes fully on your personal space. You can feel how hard he is through his jeans.

His head dips down, and you feel light stubble scratch against your jaw as he laughs softly, yet there’s still an undeniable smugness to it that makes your hands go clammy. “I intend to keep that blush of yours nice an’ vibrant for the foreseeable, sweetheart.”

And just like that, you’re butter in his hands. Melted butter, mind you- it’s fucking boiling in here.

You mutter a quiet “fuck sake” in a poor attempt at saving face, but as his lips press against the spot just beneath your ear, you know things are about to progress quickly- just like they always do when the two of you are alone. A few more pecks down your neck, and you breathe in; your nipples rub against your bra, and you exhale shakily as his teeth come into play. Sam removes his hands from your wrists, respectively taking a hold of your waist and your hair, keeping you pressed against him as he reddens your neck, bit by bit, and- God- the sight of him still wearing that jacket is making you feel like you’re in the depths of a furnace. He’s not even breaking a sweat. Bastard.

You find your hands weaving underneath the sherpa, clawing at his dark tee ’til you reach his shoulders. You tuck your hands underneath, and as if telepathy exists, he shunts the jacket off, along with the tinsel, lips still trailing a series of small bruises along your neck.

They fall to the floor, buttons clack-clattering against the washer behind him- dangerously loud whilst whatever song is playing outside seems to be in the midst of a quiet bridge- and you both break apart to stare at the door, wide-eyed and breathing heavily.

After a few butterfly-inducing seconds, a new song starts and someone whoops loudly- you’re safe.

Sam looks back at you with a relieved smile. It’s too innocent and uncharacteristic, so you push him off of the diving board, straight into the deep end; fingers tugging him down to your level by the scalp, using his slight moment of surprise to shove him back into the washer as your lips find his.

Sam's hands trace a path of yearning along your back; they dive under your tacky ‘tinsel tits’ sweater in search of skin, and as his calloused, scarred hands meet the smooth softness of your back, he hums quietly into you, as if he’s checked something off of a to-do list. You take it upon yourself to tick off another, and your free hand reaches down to give him a teasing squeeze through his jeans.

You both smirk in tandem, but as you one-handedly pull out his t-shirt’s French-Tuck- his lazy attempt at sprucing himself up- and your dexterous fingers unhook his belt buckle in one fell swoop, his smirk falters slightly.

Smugness now replaced by an urgent need, he pulls you tighter against him, and the air becomes charged with the electricity of your concealed connection as you unbutton his jeans. Your hand snakes past the zipper, thumb testing the waters with a teasing stroke over the fabric of his boxers as you push your tongue into his mouth. He tastes of nicotine that’s been drowned in alcohol, Nathan’s experimental lebkuchen, and a stick of cheap gum, and as your hand wraps around him completely, you cannot get enough.

Sam fights against your tongue with his own, brows scrunching every so often as you slowly pump his cock in your palm. Shutting him up is always pleasant, and always rare, so you savour every second, watching as a flush of his own begins to make an appearance across his cheeks. Two can play at that game, you think to yourself, your core seizing in anticipation.

A wandering hand squeezes at your ass under your skirt, and as you roll your thumb over his tip, you pull your lips from his, making sure to take in the sight of his growing arousal. You smile knowingly, your other hand freeing his hair so your thumb can swipe away saliva from his lips. You give him a gentle peck, made teasing by the smirk that accompanies it before you pull away from him and crouch slightly.

Pushing up his t-shirt a little, your smirk deepens as you take in the quick rise and fall of his stomach as he breathes fast in expectancy. You kiss him; a soft, open-mouthed peck over each scar, tongue rolling across the hair trailing along his belly, down lower, and lower, fingers pulling aside the waistband of his jeans.

Sam’s hands find purchase on the edge of the washing machine, eyes transfixed on you as you expose him, jeans pulled down just enough to give you access, but still modest enough for any hasty getaway that may be required.

You lower yourself fully to your knees, and the temperature is too much now. You pull off your sweater, placing it gently aside as you twist your hair into a makeshift pony, throwing it over a shoulder. He’s well-groomed. It’s almost as if he knew this was going to happen.

“Don’t be too quiet.” You look up at him. “I love hearing my pretty boy lose his composure.” You smile innocently, taking him in your hand again.

“Shut ya mouth. Calling’ me shit like that.” He laughs in response. The way his cheeks take on a soft pink hue sets you aflame; it’s evidence that his annoyance his feigned. He likes being called ‘shit like that’.

You giggle quietly, tongue licking a stripe up from his balls to his tip, before you let spit roll over your lower lip and onto him as Sam looks down at you with a neediness he’s only ever let you see. You move painfully slowly, lips parting enough to pull his head into your mouth, hands finding the outside of his thighs. He’s tense with anticipation, and your hands squeeze, before your throat envelopes his cock as far as you can take him.

Cheeks hollowed, you slowly retract, making him hiss as you gently graze your bottom teeth against his frenulum, before you retract completely.

“Do that again.” He breathes, knuckles pale.

“Ask nicely.” You grin, opening your mouth a little, hovering just in front of him.

“Christ.” He mutters, unable to wipe away his smile as he shakes his head, eyes closed. “Do that again, please.”

“Good boy.”

“Will you stop callin’ me th-ah-at, fuck!” He cuts himself off as you repeat the action, this time drawing a bead of salty-sweetness from him. You hum in satisfaction, feeling your own slick between your thighs as his hand instinctively grabs a hold of your hair.

As the next minute progresses, you hear Sam’s breathing gradually grow slightly more erratic, his hand unsteadily pushing your hair out of your face as the pace builds. Every now and then you flick your eyes upwards, relishing in the way he swallows in want, hips twitching occasionally as you involve your teeth- his breathy little pants make you want to keep this up forever, but you crave more.

You move particularly deep, and he bucks up; you feel him hit the back of your throat and you gag, eyes beginning to water instantly. You slide him out of your mouth as you take in air, and whilst it takes a whole lot of willpower for him not to push himself back into your throat, he instead tucks himself away and comes down to your level with an apology and a chuckle, cupping your jaw as you pull yourself together.

“Hate it when you do that.”

“It’s a good thing I did,” He breathes, “Don’t think this would’ve lasted as long as I’d want it to if you kept going.”

You laugh whilst Sam’s eyes follow the trickle of drool slowly rolling down your chin. He’s suddenly in a world of his own, barely registering what you’re saying before his tongue gathers the spit off of your skin, pushing it back into your mouth, your back hitting against the cool metal of the dryer as he kisses you; stubble grazes almost painfully against your face, but you don’t give a shit. Sam takes a rushed pause to rest his forehead against yours as he looks down at your chest; heaving, ripe for the picking.

You can only squeak as he grabs hold of you, hoisting you to your feet before propping you back up onto the top of the dryer. You almost fall back from the haste of it all, but with his hands on your lower back, you’re relatively stable again.

You groan as his hands grab your breasts, kneading them with a ferocity that sends your pulse skyrocketing. His eyes flit to yours, and he gives you an warning grin before his hands snake behind you and unhook your bra. You gasp, mildly irritated that he’d expose you so thoughtlessly whilst you’d taken every care to preserve him from any embarrassment that could occur from an innocent party-goer accidentally infiltrating the unlocked airing cupboard.

“These are magnificent.” He preens, and you roll your eyes with a scoff.

“You’re acting like you’ve never seen them before.”

“Been a while. God.”

“Did you just lick your lips? What are you, fourteen?”

“Look, doll, you know me. I’m a simple guy. I see a good pair’a tits, and I start to salivate. Now shut up.”

You huff in amused shock, but as Sam’s tongue goes for your nipple, you force yourself to swallow down a small gasp. A lick turns into a suck, which turns into a bite, and you have to cover your mouth to stop yourself from yelping out in pained pleasure as his teeth apply pressure to the sensitive spot, tugging as he looks up at you deviously. He lets go, and you let out a sharp breath, glaring at him.

“Are you trying to get us caught?” You chastise, panting a little as he pinches your neglected nipple, the roughness of his thumb and forefinger making you squeeze your thighs together in response to the action.

He gives you a toothy grin, pupils blown out; eyes darkened by impertinence as he chooses not to respond. God, he drives you mad.

As Sam takes a moment to look at you again, his smugness gives way to an unseated hunger, his lips briefly seeking yours again with a precision born of familiarity. He smooths his hands up your legs, pulling his lips away, eyes flitting between each one as he squeezes your thighs.

And all of a sudden, your heart is palpitating hard. You’re soaked- that much is certain, but you’re also slightly afraid of the concept of him stripping you completely bare without so much as a lock from keeping you from being walked in on. Perhaps you should’ve thought this through. Perhaps you shouldn’t be-

“Sam!” You whisper-yell as the ripping of fabric snatches you from your thoughts.

“I’ll buy you a new pair.” He replies, completely unbothered by your reaction, the new hole torn into your tights right between your thighs giving him an almost completely unrestricted view he’s been waiting for. “Jesus Christ. Haven’t even touched you yet, and you’re wet through.”

“I will kick you.”

“Nah, you won’t.” He shoots a complacent grin up at you, before hooking his arms around your thighs and pulling you to the edge of the dryer with a quick yank that has your eyes widen momentarily.

You sigh shakily, bracing yourself on your forearms as he comes back to antagonise your chest.

Your gaze fixes on Sam, who looks up at you with a teasing smile as he pushes your thigh aside, deft tongue swirling and flicking around your nipple in a way that makes your lips part with quickened breaths; the signalling of your growing want couldn’t possibly get any clearer. The playful glint in his eyes mirrors the deriding movement of his lips, and for a moment, the laughter, music, and clinking glasses outside the intimate space you’re sharing muffles into the background.

His fingers, warm and skilful, navigate the contours of your skin through your thin tights with a gentle caress. The intention is clear—a slow, tantalising exploration that builds mutual desire with every inch of you that’s covered, and as he finally strokes a thumb over your covered core, sending a soft mewl spilling from your lips, a switch flips in his brain. Playfulness starts to deepen into a smouldering gaze, reminding you of his undeniable hunger beneath the friendship on the surface. As he pulls aside the material and starts to coat his fingers in your slick, it’s all too clear that his movements are deliberate, each touch purposeful, as if he's savouring the anticipation as much as the final destination.

He wants you. But he wants you to need him more. Sam wasn’t lying when he said you’re his ‘favourite girl’.— he adores you, and he wants to give you everything he can through his body that he can’t bring himself to give you through caged in commitment. As a result, he’s not afraid to take his time- time to pretend that this is more than the ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement you’d forged way back when. He doesn’t give anyone else this kind of time. He doesn’t want to.

You're caught between the thrill of the unexpected and the familiarity of Sam's touch. Every stroke and every red blotch left on your skin feels like a shared rebellion against the constraints of everything else life has to offer. He bites you again, and you buck your hips in response, brows furrowing as a quiet hiss pushes through your teeth. Your nails claw against the edge of the dryer, and as he effortlessly slides two fingers knuckle deep inside you, your grip falters slightly.

The hand on your waist tightens, and one of yours goes for the back of his head. You tangle your fingers into his hair, head rolling back as you try to stop yourself from moaning. He hooks his fingers, rubbing back and forth against your sweet spot in quick, repetitive motions, whilst his thumb flicks against your clit. Your breathing grows heavier, and you struggle to keep quiet as he releases your nipple from his mouth with a gentle ‘pop’.

The fire in your lower belly is burning stronger with each passing second, and you clasp your lip between your teeth as he adds a third digit— the stretch forcing a groan bubbling out of your throat as he laughs softly at the sight of you leaking onto the back of his hand. This time you’re unable to keep it down.

You’re sopping, and so damn tight at this angle— Sam feels his cock twitch with need as he feels you contract around him, the sensation of your nails scratching gently against his scalp, tugging at the roots of his hair giving him goosebumps of his own. He loves the way you sound; the wetness, your unsteady breathing, and your quiet, raspy little moans— even more so knowing that you’re trying and failing to restrain yourself.

“Ohh— shit.” you gasp as his thumb speeds up, stimulating your clit to the point where your breath gets caught in your throat. You’re not far from the edge, but he’s not ready for that yet. Neither are you.

Slowly, he pulls his fingers out of you, and you exhale, a desperate look in your eyes as the emptiness hurts.

He presses his forehead to yours, gently nudging his nose against yours in a display of affection that forces a shy smile from you. His eyes flit to your lips, and back up to your eyes, and just before you take it as a silent invitation to kiss him, his hand is brought up from between your thighs. Your cheeks heat up at the sight of his glistening fingers as he hovers them just in front of your chin.

“Open up.” He whispers, lips tugged into a cocky half-smile. You’re more than happy to oblige, and as your lips part, he slides two slick-covered fingers into your mouth, your tongue lapping up the sticky sweetness as he fixates on your mouth for a moment.

Without so much as looking back up at you, he mutters “My turn.”

As you continue to taste yourself on his skin, Sam gets to his knees, free hand holding a thigh to one side before it moves aside the soaked material of your underwear again.

“So so pretty.” He mutters, voice gruff, eyes ravenous as he takes in the sight of you; glistening, ready. All for him. All because of him. He leans in, hand keeping you exposed as he pulls his fingers from between your lips, instead choosing to keep you wide open for him. His tongue scoops you up, from the bottom of your folds up to your swollen clit, and you shudder, fingers instinctively tightening in his hair as you look down at him.

Sam goes again, this time sucking the sensitive bud in order to draw out a noise from you. You hum; high pitched and needy, leaning your coccyx against the dryer as you spread your legs open a little further.

He groans into you, fingers digging into the fullness of your thighs as his tongue moves; slow and deliberate, as if every stroke, every lick, every bite is a carefully composed note in a well-practiced symphony. The taste of you spurs him on, and through the feeling of your thighs involuntarily tightening around his head as he begins to devour you like you’re the first meal he’s eaten in days, and the slight tug you give his hair every few seconds, a blend of mischief and longing and lust takes him over.

You’re a mess, flustered, muffled moans and curses spilling into your hand, your bare chest heaving as he becomes more unrestrained; he can’t get close enough to you, his nose rubs against your clit while his tongue snakes inside you, pretty, dark eyes flicking up to see the effect that he’s having on you every so often.

You could do this all day. So could he. But you’re approaching your peak far too quickly, and whilst his tongue feels wonderful, you want more. You want him inside you when you finish— you want him to feel what he’s done to you in the most intimate way possible.

“Sam?” You rasp, tugging at his hair slightly harder. “F-fuck, Sam, s—stop.” You tug a little harder, and you whimper as you feel his breath fan over you as he reluctantly allows you to pull him away from your sensitive cunt.

He swallows, chest heaving as he takes in air. “You okay?” He asks, brows furrowed, nose, lips, and chin coated in a glistening layer of your arousal. You have to give yourself a moment to take it in. This is far from the first time you’ve seen him like this, but each time you do, you feel yourself fall in deeper. You nod, hand moving to the back of his neck, drawing him into you. Your lips press against his again, and as his tongue dives into your mouth, sharing with you the tangy sweetness he’s obsessed with, you pull his cock into his other hand. Your thumb smooths over the dribble of pre-cum that’s seeping out of him, and you pump him in your hand a few times just to feel how hard he is. He huffs out through his nose as you squeeze him gently, and as you rub him against your dripping pussy, his arms tighten around you.

You line him up, edging yourself forwards just enough for his tip to breach you, and as he swallows down a quiet moan, you peel your mouth from his and get him to look at you. “You know I love you, right?” You breathe, thumb stroking the bridge of his nose as he looks at you with parted lips.

“I know you love me.” He says, just a little louder than a whisper. He pushes into you, a cuss sighed into your neck as he tucks his head beside you. You swallow a moan as he stills, nestled into you as deep as he can, your arms wrapped around the back of his neck as he gives you a moment to adjust, and him to embrace.

You laugh, quiet and breathy into the shell of his ear. “I know you do.” You say, pressing a kiss just behind his ear as he drags himself part-way out of you. He rocks himself back into you, hips rolling gently as he begins to build a gentle rhythm. He doesn’t want to come just yet. He wants to savour this. To enjoy this perfect glimpse into the normal life he’s never wanted. He loves you. He loves you so much, but he can’t give you everything you want, so you both settle for stolen moments like these.

He quickens the pace ever so slightly, and as he continues to litter the delicate skin of your neck with deep pink nips and wet speckles your eyes close. You cradle his head in your arms as his thrusts grow a little harsher, and he hums out soft, vulnerable moans that make his closeness to his peak all the more evident.

“So good t’me.” He murmurs into your neck as he slots a hand between you, blindly searching for your clit with shaky fingers.

You cry out into his shoulder as he finds it, and you cling onto him with all of your might as he fucks you with more intensity with each passing second.

He grips onto your lower back as he continues to groan into your neck— he pulls you into him with such intensity that every small bruise developing on your chest is stimulated as your tits are crushed harshly against his t-shirt.

Sam goes deeper, sweeter, and your eyes water as he squeezes your clit almost desperately. You grunt, the coil in your abdomen tightening and tightening with each passing second, eyes squeezing shut as he gives up concentrating on your neck, collapsing into the crook of it altogether.

He breathes heavily, grunting as you bite into his shoulder to suppress a scream as you completely lose yourself. You convulse in his arms, your pussy spasming around his cock as you feel your orgasm crash over you, muffled expletives and Sam’s name spilling mindlessly from you as you feel nothing but white hot pleasure. The coil releases, and you fall limp in his grasp as you begin to milk his own orgasm out of him.

“G—God,” He groans, hand snatched from between you as he braces himself against you. He keeps moving as you feel hot ropes of cum fill you, leaning back just enough to see it dribble out of you and onto him.

He stills, foreheads touching again as you catch your breath. You feel his eyebrows scrunch and unscrunch as his breathing slowly becomes steadier, and the intensity of your respective climaxes dim into a soft afterglow.

You feel a hand stroke against your jaw, and he huffs out a laugh as you smile.

“Hi.” He whispers.

“Hey.” Your responding laugh quickly dissipates into a wince as he slides out of you.

He sniffs, with a smile to mirror your own. “Perhaps I should’ve gotten you a towel instead of that thing.” He shakes his head towards the Secret Santa gift lying abandoned on the washer behind him, and you snort.

“Hmm. I mean you could always use them as a cum rag.”

“Love it when you talk all ladylike.” He jokes. “Christmas isn’t over til New Years, the way I see it, so you’ve got plenty of time to model them for me before they’re allowed to be used for something so…menial.”

You shove him playfully, hopping off of the dryer, legs wobbling slightly as you get used to being on the ground again. He throws you your bra and sweater, which you throw on as he relocates his jacket.

You rake your fingers through your hair in hopes that it still looks relatively presentable and suitably covers your thoughtfully gifted hickey-patchwork, before you swipe up the thong and walk over to the door.

“Gonna... take a stealth walk to the bathroom.” You clear your throat, smiling as you rest a hand over the handle.

He nods in response, a half, and slightly coy smile on his lips. As you twist the handle, he gets your attention with a quick “Hey”.

You turn, raising an expectant brow. He clears his throat, nodding as if he’s reassuring himself about something.

“You… you know I love ya too, yeah?”

You smile, taking in the slight nervousness in his eyes. “I know you do. Despite these.” You swing the red monstrosity around your finger before bunching it up and shoving it into your skirt pocket. You give him an endearingly sweet wink, opening the door slowly, exposing the room to the bass boost of Nate’s festive playlist and someone’s dreadful karaoke attempt.

“See you out there?”

He chuckles as he watches you check that the coast is clear. God, he adores you.

“See you out there.”

*

I love him a normal amount.

#sam drake #uncharted #sam drake x reader #samuel drake x reader #samuel drake smut #reeEEHe

[coldyuh]

Jet Set Radio Yoyo and BombRush Red type beat

Follow ya boi ColdYuh on X: "I see Red, 50 racks on Yo head - Offset Jet Set Radio Yoyo and BombRush Red type shit #jetsetradio #jetsetradiofuture #jsrf https://t.co/Qm9Cpto0YF" / X (twitter.com)

#jet set radio #art #jsr #yoyo #bomb rush cyberfunk

[saveugoodmadam]

ok i'm not sure if this headcanon is good but Crutchie kind of gives like Normal Person vibes, you know? Like all the other newsies are insane, Race is probably a flat earther, Spot probably thinks birds aren't real, Jack is the way that he is, but Crutchie kind of seems like he's at least less crazy than all his friends.

idk i was just watching livesies again and thought of this no clue if it makes sense

I think Livesies Crutchie is better at seeming collected but in WWK, Seize the Day (side note: I absolutely refuse to shorten the title of that song) and in the "so long, sucker" scene particularly, you can see the mischief beneath the surface. I do also kinda think that- while he clearly does have trauma from the Refuge and other unspecified incidents, and is very much implied to have some kind of trauma or unresolved issues relating to contracting polio and his disability- he is more emotionally mature than his friends (for a given value of more emotionally mature given as they're all teenage boys). For example, during the strike scene, he is shown to be skeptical about boycotting paper selling rather than his peers who are thinking more idealistically than realistically at that point.

Matthew's Crutchie is an absolute gremlin from the offset and probably has a collection of stolen newsie shoes somewhere in the penthouse, but he's also one of the more emotionally mature (again, for a given value, he is also shown to have trauma and unresolved issues relating to his own disability and is a teenage boy) and is a realist for the most part, even veering into cynicism when the prices of papers are raised. Unlike how in livesies Crutchie is eventually swayed to engaging in Jack's fantasy of Santa Fe, in uksies you get more of a idea that he's entertaining the idea of it the full way through. It's a nice fantasy, but he's clearly only thinking of it as that, and not as a future like Jack thinks of it as. He's sort of an older brother type- extremely chaotic, loud, steals your stuff but would also beat people up for you and has good advice when you need it.

I'm genuinely sorry about how long this turned out, I'm sure you weren't expecting a mini essay on this but in conclusion I think that you're right that he's more grounded and down to earth in his beliefs, but in his actions?

He's a mischief gremlin crime boy (affectionate)

#crutchie newsies #crutchie morris #newsies #livesies #uksies

[dandelionrevolution]

I’m not sure how reliably I’ll be able to keep up with it, but I’ve been wanting to start posting weekly or monthly Good News compilations, with a focus on ecology but also some health and human rights type stuff. I’ll try to keep the sources recent (like from within the last week or month, whichever it happens to be), but sometimes original dates are hard to find. Also, all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.

Anyway, here’s some good news from the first week of March!

1. Mexican Wolf Population Grows for Eighth Consecutive Year

““In total, 99 pups carefully selected for their genetic value have been placed in 40 wild dens since 2016, and some of these fosters have produced litters of their own. While recovery is in the future, examining the last decade of data certainly provides optimism that recovery will be achieved.””

2. “Remarkable achievement:” Victoria solar farm reaches full power ahead of schedule

“The 130MW Glenrowan solar farm in Victoria has knocked out another milestone, reaching full power and completing final grid connection testing just months after achieving first generation in late November.”

3. UTEP scientists capture first known photographs of tropical bird long thought lost

“The yellow-crested helmetshrike is a rare bird species endemic to Africa that had been listed as “lost” by the American Bird Conservancy when it hadn’t been seen in nearly two decades. Until now.”

4. France Protects Abortion as a 'Guaranteed Freedom' in Constitution

“[A]t a special congress in Versailles, France’s parliament voted by an overwhelming majority to add the freedom to have an abortion to the country’s constitution. Though abortion has been legal in France since 1975, the historic move aims to establish a safeguard in the face of global attacks on abortion access and sexual and reproductive health rights.”

5. [Fish & Wildlife] Service Approves Conservation Agreement for Six Aquatic Species in the Trinity River Basin

“Besides conserving the six species in the CCAA, activities implemented in this agreement will also improve the water quality and natural flows of rivers for the benefit of rural and urban communities dependent on these water sources.”

6. Reforestation offset the effects of global warming in the southeastern United States

“In America’s southeast, except for most of Florida and Virginia, “temperatures have flatlined, or even cooled,” due to reforestation, even as most of the world has grown warmer, reports The Guardian.”

7. Places across the U.S. are testing no-strings cash as part of the social safety net

“Cash aid without conditions was considered a radical idea before the pandemic. But early results from a program in Stockton, Calif., showed promise. Then interest exploded after it became clear how much COVID stimulus checks and emergency rental payments had helped people. The U.S. Census Bureau found that an expanded child tax credit cut child poverty in half.”

8. The Road to Recovery for the Florida Golden Aster: Why We Should Care

“After a five-year review conducted in 2009 recommended reclassifying the species to threatened, the Florida golden aster was proposed for removal from the Federal List of Endangered and Threatened Plants due to recovery in June 2021, indicating the threats to the species had been reduced or eliminated.”

9. A smart molecule beats the mutation behind most pancreatic cancer

“Researchers have designed a candidate drug that could help make pancreatic cancer, which is almost always fatal, a treatable, perhaps even curable, condition.”

10. Nurses’ union at Austin’s Ascension Seton Medical Center ratifies historic first contract

“The contract, which NNOC said in a news release was “overwhelmingly” voted through by the union, includes provisions the union believes will improve patient care and retention of nurses.”

This and future editions will also be going up on my new Ko-fi, where you can support my art and get doodled phone wallpapers! EDIT: Actually, I can't find any indication that curating links like this is allowed on Ko-fi, so to play it safe I'll stick to just posting here on Tumblr. BUT, you can still support me over on Ko-fi if you want to see my Good News compilations continue!

#hopepunk #good news #wolf #wolves #mexican wolf #conservation #solar #solar power #birds #abortion #healthcare #abortion rights #reproductive rights #reproductive health #fish and wildlife #turtles #alligator snapping turtle #snapping turtle #river #reforestation #global warming #climate change #climate solutions #poverty #social safety net #flowers #endangered species #cancer #science #union

[nemo-draco]

Bendy: Secrets of the Machine Thoughts

Putting them under a spoiler cut for readability

So far, there is a lot of intrigue regarding GENT and their role, as well as the potential return of the Nightmare Run characters.

GENT's involvement so far as been more on the sidelines in the games. It's implied they have similar issues with the supernatural, and they are running experiments with the ink the Machine produces, the books also backing this up with the reappearance of Archie Carter. However, with the new character. Riley Wells, introduced, it creates a more interesting layer to this, in that it is implied that she was recruited by GENT shortly following her dismissal from JDS. Now, if she is a villain or a victim is up for debate. It could be that they hired her as a test subject similar to Archie Carter and her metamorphosis was just far more severe as a result of the traumatic experience in her childhood, or perhaps she provided the specs that ended up producing a real-life version of "Bloodwheel", the more monster-y version of Gaskette that even gets a whole song in Riley's flashback.

Riley's story is also interesting in that it provides a canon explanation for why the Nightmare Run toons are more monstrous, though it really only does so for Gaskette. She's never shown drawing any of the other bosses, just him. Which makes me wonder if maybe she was part of the character design for only him, and the others are all going to get their own stories later on in the game. I really do hope they go this route, mostly because it would be a nice callback to the no longer available Nightmare Run, and you could have some real fun with the bosses 'backstories', depending on how involved you want to be.

Can think of a few things immediately off the bat: Chester being another example of a childhood fear turned into a debilitating trauma, except involving someone who has thalassophobia strong enough to rival H.P. Lovecraft. Kind of paves the way for a lot of spooky imagery involving the ocean, ocean life, and ink.

Dewey at first seemed a little comical to think about in this context, after all, a fear of librarians seems extreme, though thinking more on it my thought is that he's the product of a different type of emotional stuckage. Instead of a fearful person, perhaps Dewey was created by a very angry person, someone who had a lot of trouble controlling their temper and would frequently blow up at seemingly minor issues. After all, Dewey's main character trait seems to be his temper, as we remember from his character card that he has a disproportionate reaction to Bendy knocking over some books. Granted, between the fact that the exact quantity of books is never mentioned, and a cartoon being a cartoon, it makes me wonder if Bendy might not have knocked over a few books, but more likely a few stacks or even whole shelves worth. I mean, what's funnier, a few books coming down or the library getting a spontaneous remodeling job thanks to a careless patron?

...It's probably not so fun for the librarian, but you get my point. So, potentially, we have someone who has a temper problem creating this character as a way to offset their issues. It might just be less helpful and creating a bit of a feedback loop, where they're constantly ruminating over their problems rather than addressing and moving on from them.

Canoodle was another one that eluded me a bit, though there are two potential driving forces that could have fueled his creation. On one front, junkyards aren't exactly friendly places sometimes, and it would be easy for some sort of accident to happen that could produce some sort of negative association, though there is also the fact that a sentient can being in a junkyard creates this almost weird mental image. You'd think that'd be a dangerous place for him, and this is somewhat proven true if you beat him in Nightmare Run, as he's promptly crushed and disposed of. So, perhaps a preoccupation with death, or a person who is constantly cheating bad or dangerous circumstances? It's something, and it could definitely be interesting played out if that's the direction they're planning on going with this.

There are also plenty of other fun moments and little easter eggs for fans, so either way, we do get something fun. I would honestly be over the moon if they did something for all of the Nightmare Run toons though. Gaskette is a good nod, and Riley's backstory intrigues me given the circumstances, and especially the apparent involvement with GENT. Kinda makes me wonder if they're, in a sense, keeping tabs on people who were associated with JDS, people who maybe would have some stronger ties to the art being produced there and potentially have a bigger reaction when the ink is used on them.

It's something to think about, for sure. If anything, I'll enjoy using these puzzle pieces in my own work.

#bendy and the ink machine #bendy and the dark revival #bendy: secrets of the machine #bendy: the cage #bendy: secrets of the machine spoilers #bendy in nightmare run #gaskette #dewey #canoodle #chester #binr dewey #binr #binr gaskette #binr canoodle #binr chester #batim #batdr #bsotm #bostm spoilers #things to think on #character thoughts #do have a good amount of batim aus #lore injection would be a fun thing to play with

[synthesizeritis]

testing mixcrafts built-in time stretching compared to how it interprets ACID Music Studio's, because i felt ACID handles it better, while mixcraft handles laying out loops better. (and for a dumb idea i had) in order it's:

original loop (106.8 bpm)

doubled speed (mixcraft)

double speed (exported from ACID)

half speed (mixcraft)

half speed (exported from ACID)

The various time stretching options they've got:

(i would appreciate any help for image descriptions. they've got a quite a bit going on)

I consider ACID time stretching better because the layout lets you select a specific number of beats (from 1-15 with the 4 beat loop i tested) to stretch it to easily. it also offers three different types depending on what you want your sound to be.

Mixcraft's easiest option to get to are normal, half, and double. Offset is how many beats from the beginning of the project that specific loop is. adding onto length just starts the loop over from the beginning

and as for the dumb idea? here's a twitter screenshot from the last time i wanted to try it out:

a four beat loop (stretched from 1-15 beats) should be much more manageable, right?

#check it out im using my blog as an actual blog #follow for more half-assed research for half-assed songs

[bitetheriskyrose]

I can't resist a dare, what are your kinks?

OH LAWD I forgot I said that. I really need to stay off tumblr when I'm first up in the morning and overconfident in my ability to confidently talk about my sexual side. Whelp. Heeeeeeere we go anyway!!!! (I kinda wanna see how long the list gets mwahaha)

Praise kink 'cause duh

Found out this year I am an appreciator of degredation to a degree

Casual day to day and slightly hardcore dominance

CNC with nonverbal safe signals

Oral fixation (hence the nonverbal signals)

Certain types of bondage, not a fan of swings, but getting my hands tied behind my back or to the bed posts is a must try at least once.

Breeding. Must I explain.

Very very light exhibitionism

BDSM, though humiliation isn't a huge turn on for me. I feel that humiliation and just giving me the choice to do something slightly embarrassing for a "reward" is different (e.g. saying something quite dirty that I'm wayyyy too shy to say is fine, you degrading me is fine but having me say non-sexual degrading things about myself is a no no)

I'm quite a big fan of marking. Seeing bruises on my skin has me feeling some type of way.

I adore possessiveness, but I feel it can get hypocritical very quickly so I'd rather the absence of it than have both of those together.

Very slight breath play, mostly prefer choking

Orgasm denial/forced edging

Overstimulation

Now, I do not have that kink where you try to feed someone so much they gain weight. I think it plays into my oral fixation honestly. I just love having people feed me directly sometimes. It feels intimate and full of love whilst showing I've submitted complete control.

I honestly think I'm more of a switch leaning person than a full on submissive. I haven't really explored it as I've not had the opportunity to, but I definitely have desires/fantasies that are more dominant leaning than my usual pleasure fodder.

Free use- offset of CNC

Primal play? I think that's what it's called. Basically if you played a very high stakes game of hide and seek with me in a very thick patch of woods I would not become a recognisable person.

SOMNOPHILIA. HOW COULD I FORGET HER.

Brat taming. Though I'm not the best actress.

Lactation kink. my deep dark secret you didn't see this.

Did I mention praise

Double penetrations, like spit roasting, but with a dildo you can stick to things. I'm not big on sharing or being shared in reality.

I go through phases of adoring the thought of getting kidnapped into the woods, and then sometimes it's a hard no. Probably one of the things I would agree to but it would be tentative and the safe word being used is quite likely.

I don't know if forced reading is considered a kink but trying to read something while other things are happening is a big oofta moment for me

I guess CNC/BDSM already implies it, but rough sex on the whole gets me going quite easily.

I am also a fan of just vanilla stuff! More often than not it's very relaxed scenarios that I get off to since I'm usually trying to help myself sleep.

Most of all, and this is the only requirement, I need banter. The idea of being "beaten" or matched mentally and made to feel like an equal/maybe even a bit less smart than my partner is such a turn on for me. Which sounds ridiculous because I can't word it properly. Basically, though it sounds so conceited, I always feel like I'm 10 steps ahead of people. I like being challenged, and being praised for "winning" any sort of game is equally as arousing as being degraded for not getting it. Everyone's always blowing smoke up my ass about how smart I am, and I have a very hard time believing it. If I've entered into some sort of D/s partnership, it's because I've given complete trust over and I'm going to believe most anything you say. If you say I'm smart, I'm such a good smart girl! If you say what a dumb little whore I am for getting it wrong, I must be just a desperate and silly girl who couldn't focus enough to actually try and beat you

This has gotten ridiculously long and the likelihood of anyone actually having made it to these words is so slim I feel silly.

#believe it or not there's more. I'm just too lazy to list them all #chatting with nonnies #also my size kink plays more into strength difference than actual size #voice kink.

[hatterstan-shameblog]

🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇

Getting To Know You

Rating: ‼️18+ Minors DNI‼️

Pairing: Aguni/GN!Reader ("You")

Tags: Bathing/Washing, Getting Together, First Time Together, Shower Sex, Non-Penetrative Sex, Thigh Riding, Handjobs, Establishing A Relationship, Praise Kink (Mutual?), Shyness, Service Top Aguni Is Real Goddamit, Reader Has No Specific Pronouns/Genitals/Body Type So Hopefully This Is Good For A Lot Of People

Summary: Relationships evolve. You (Reader) and Aguni decide to take the next physical step. Set at The Beach. See author's notes for extra information.

🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇

Hot water. Scalding, almost, the way it sprays from the shower head like little fires sparking tingles on your skin. The glass enclosure has long since fogged up, leaving you in a tiny world of dreamy steam and slick white tile.

A hand on your shoulder. It glides down the length of your bicep thoughtfully. Chastely.

"Hey."

You smile into the spray as it thunders against your face, infinite percussions offsetting the steadily rising beat of your heart.

You place your hand over his own. You feel the way it tenses and releases, fingers flexing beneath the comfort of your touch.

"Aguni." You say his name like a sigh. "I'm glad you decided to join me."

"Didn't mean to keep you waiting," he answers, "I was just..."

His words trail off, swirling down the drain between your feet. You look down and smile when you see his shadow looming over you, an almost-reflection of his shape shining back from the water pooling on the floor.

"I know. And it's okay." You wait a beat. "If you don't want to do this right now—"

"No," Aguni interrupts, voice perhaps a little more firm than he intended. He exhales long and slow. "I want this. Very much."

You turn around, and it's like you're meeting for the very first time. His eyes soft, his lips parted as if he has something to say. For all the fearsome features Aguni adopts on the regular, he's open now. Vulnerable.

You take him by the hand.

"Come on," you say, unable to stop from smiling at the way he lets himself be guided beneath the spray, "I'll help you."

The water soothes him. He closes his eyes and lets the warmth rain over him, rivulets rivering down the topography of his skin. Rough skin, old scars and new telling the story of a violent man with a violent life.

And yet, when he cups a gun-calloused hand and cradles the side of your face, there is nothing but gentleness in his touch. Tenderness. Absentmindedly, he runs his fingertips over the hinge of your jaw.

You pick up a bar of soap and work a lather. It smells clean, like rain. The moment you touch his chest, he hums.

"That's good," he says. He nods towards the soap. "Can I?"

"I'd like that."

Your hands work idly, slowly dragging soap and suds across his collarbone as he makes his first tentative touches. From your hip upward, the spread of his fingers mirroring the cage of your ribs.

You kiss him first on the corner of his mouth, the point where his frown so often starts. The usual tension in his expression is gone, the minute muscles gifted a moment's rest as you cup his face between your soapy hands.

He has all the time in the world to kiss you. Lips parted, pressed almost lazily against your mouth. The warm water cascading down your bodies makes everything warmer, every nerve on your skin lighting up just that much more as he pulls you flush against him.

Hours pass. Or, maybe it's just minutes. It hardly matters, each quiet moment devoted to learning each others' bodies. The soap on your skin making you slip easily against each other, fueling the gentle fever rising in the pit of your stomach.

And he feels it, too; he must, the way he starts to kiss back with a tinge less finesse. His touch roams further, skimming over the buds of your nipples and earning himself a throaty moan.

"Fuck," he curses, "I won't be able to behave if you keep that up."

You grab his ass.

"Promise?"

Aguni chuckles. It's not something many people get to see, but he has a lovely smile; a little bit lopsided towards the left, his eyes crinkling at their outside edges. Despite the bashful flush creeping up his neck, he still manages to look you in the eye.

"You sure?"

"I am," you say. You give him a firm squeeze, and it knocks the breath out of his lungs.

Aguni frowns.

"This isn't the best place for," he starts, brow furrowed as he scans your surroundings, "Uh, there's some stuff we probably can't do—"

"Then show me the stuff we can do," you say. You press a kiss to his lips. "Aguni, I trust you."

"Okay," he says quietly. "Okay."

He brings his knee forward. You widen your stance a little to accommodate his leg, and at the first brush of his thigh against your swollen, needy flesh, everything begins to make sense.

"How's this?"

You throb against the thick of his thigh. The water has made him warm, and you can feel the subtle ways his muscles work as he keeps you pressed gently against the wall. Very carefully, you swivel your hips.

"Yeah," you sigh, the first twinge of pleasure blossoming in the depths of your belly, "Yeah, that's good."

It's clumsy, at first. Like all new lovers, you have yet to understand fully the subtleties of each others' desires. It takes more than one adjustment to get the angle right, your rhythm unsteady and unpracticed as you test out different methods of rocking yourself back and forth.

But, still, you kiss. The simple satisfaction that comes from being close, of being warm and safe and cared for, is enough to keep you searching for the right position. And it certainly helps that your partner is eager to offer his encouragement.

"You're doing good," Aguni praises, "you're so—this feels amazing."

Every movement has the head of his cock bumping against your hip, an undeniable testament to his honesty. You reach for it, eager to feel the heavy weight of him in your palm, but Aguni gently redirects your hand.

"You first," he insists. His grip wrapped gently around your wrist, he pulls your hand up to rest on his shoulder. "Grab on. I wanna try something."

You oblige. At the same time you loop your arm around the back of his neck, he scoops you up by your lower back and half-lifts you further up his leg. Balancing precariously on your tiptoes, you now have to rely on him to move you.

"I gotcha," he grunts, the arm not holding you bracing himself against the tile wall. Centimeters from your head, you see the muscles in his forearm work as he slowly begins to rock you back and forth.

It's better than before. Pleasure a long, drawn-out drag as you're guided to rub along the wet, thick heat of his thigh; just as strong and substantial as the rest of him, you clench your own legs around his one and squeeze.

"Oh, you feel good," you praise. You wrap tighten your hold around him, both arms encircling his neck. Your lips are at just the right to nibble kisses at his straining neck, the faintest scrape of your teeth punching an unintentional moan from his chest. "This alright for you?"

"It's perfect," Aguni pants, "it's, you're so goddamn hot..."

You both gasp when you grind your hips in a shaky circle—you from the stimulation, him from the sounds of your enjoyment.

"I'll do whatever you want. Just tell me, I'll give it to you."

The arm that had been holding him against the wall moves and you feel yourself tipping backwards. But before you can make contact with the slippery tile, you feel Aguni catch you. He cradles the back of your head in his hand and lets you rest your spine along his forearm.

"That's it, that's better." Every time he pulls you in, your body pushes up against his chest. "Just like that."

It's like dancing. The ebb and flow of your movements, you the pull and him the push, the luxury of a learning pace. Wet from water, wet from sweat, a coin-sized spot on your lower lower left side where your lover's trapped cock smears traces of his rising lust.

And that's nothing to say about your desire, which flares red and hot and growing by the moment. The delicious itch between your legs demands more friction and you instinctually begin to thrust your pelvis with salacious fervor.

"You want more? C'mere, lemme—oh, 's that it? That good?" Aguni changes his grip and propels you faster, the frenzy of his movements straining every muscle in his body. "Keep moving like that, keep... keep using me."

The dizzy delirium of impending orgasm has your movements growing erratic. Every motion of your hips against his firm leg sparks desperate little moans, and Aguni answers each one with equal fervor.

"It's so good," you whine against his collarbone, teeth scraping just a tad into his skin the way you know he likes, "I'm, I think I'm getting close."

And this time, he doesn't protest when you reach down and encircle his cock with your fingers; he groans when you squeeze the hardness of his shaft, purpled head leaking onto the inside of your wrist.

"Keep going," Aguni encourages, "Little more, just a little more for me. I've got you."

A little more is all it takes for you to shudder through climax, forehead resting against his chest as you choke out a moan of satisfaction. Every part of you deliciously raw, you rub yourself against him without shame to draw out every last bit of pleasure. You look up at your lover with hooded eyes.

Something snaps in Aguni's resolve. Without thinking, he covers your hand with his own and thrusts once, twice, thrice, until a low groan tears from his throat and the proof of his ecstacy spurts hot up your forearm.

"Fuck, sorry," he heaves, body still shaking from the intensity of his orgasm, "I shouldn't have—"

You press a kiss to his shoulder.

"You were wonderful."

For a moment you stay like that, wrapped up in each other as the water grows cold and the mist from the spray mingles with your sweat. Then you begin the process of untangling, sleepy bonelessness settling in and making you both languid and loose.

"You could stay the night," Aguni proposes. He insists on helping you wash off the remnants of your lovemaking, cloth soaked with cool water spreading foamy soap bubbles in lazy circles across your back. "I've got a couple of shirts you could wear. Definitely won't fit right, but they're comfortable enough."

"Might have to take you up on that offer," you answer him, giggling a little when he swipes along your ribs, "Because, otherwise, I'd have to sleep naked."

The cloth stops for a moment, and you hear Aguni gulp.

"However you feel most comfortable," he says solemnly, but you can hear the wisps of intrigue threatening to color his tone.

Not long after, youre both clean as a person should be after a shower and you finally turn off the water. Before you can get one yourself, Aguni has a large towel in his hands and drapes it about your shoulders. You hug it close to your body and watch as he efficiently dries himself.

Aguni is a mysterious man...but, also, not so much. Not to you. And when he catches you admiring him as he towels off, a bashful smirk on his lips, you realize that he's certainly a man work getting to know.

🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇🎇

Author's Notes:

✅️ Aguni, king of repressing his feelings, gets shy when he's expected to show real vulnerability. Sex with some random person? Cool, whatever, he can make that happen. Sex with someone he cares about? Now that's where he starts getting a little nervous.

✅️ Nobody calls him Mori (or Mori-Chan) except for Takeru. It's just not allowed.

✅️ Those camo pants weren't the most sculpting, but I'll be damned if that man skipped leg day. He's gotta have some damn THIGHS under there.

✅️ Sex in fic doesn't have to follow the typical "making out, touching, oral, penetration, simultaneous orgasm" route. I mean, I genuinely love it, but...I also think I could and should explore different avenues, too. Intimacy is fluid, and as long as everybody is having a good time, that's what matters.

✅️ You're a gem for reading this. I hope you liked it! I certainly had fun writing it even though half of it got deleted and I had to rewrite it ughhhjhhj. If you want more like this, drop a message in my inbox. I can't promise I'll make it happen, but I'd love to hear what you have to say!

#alice in borderland #spicy boy #writings and such #18+ #alice in borderland netflix #imawa no kuni no alice #aguni morizono #aguni/reader #alice in borderland fanfic #next meeting hatter's like 'OKAY we need to talk about CONSERVING WATER because i tried to take a bath last night and it was FREEZING' #and aguni sips his tea and looks around the table with his most disappointed expression #go ahead. try and prove aguni took the equivalent of ten showers last night. youll never have enough evidence. #(except his skin looks extra radiant and hes only said hatter was stupid twice this morning. and thats heresay so.....)

[crystalelemental]

My wife's on the controller again, and that means it's time for Thoughts Part 2. Much like the first time through, I'll be doing mechanics post first, then the rest. Unfortunately for this game, I stopped playing at a bad time to be in a good mood for this.

Nexomon Extinction, at least mechanically, does not feel super distinct from say, Pokemon. A lot of this feels much more similar than its initial game, due to changes around status, type matchup, etc. It's a very fun experience, but it feels like it lost a bit of its identity when they tossed aside full recovery on level up, super easy levels, no level cap, broken as hell status, etc.

Nothing has significantly changed between the first post and now. I still feel all of that is very relevant and true. Mechanically, the game would not feel out of place alongside the GBA/DS era of Pokemon. Which is my favorite era, so like...I'm having fun.

That said, my initial assertions do seem slightly unfair in retrospect. The crux of it was that the game incentivizes just using your biggest attack regardless of type matchup, and that's the best way to win. This...still kinda holds true. Type matchup feels more extreme as numbers go up, though, and new options are introduced. And this is the crux of what I'll be talking about today.

The single best Nexomon I had this entire run was Zappnic. A common, and a bee, with below average stats. Because it has a buff that stacks three times, boosting Atk, Def, and Spd 30%. Once you've boosted three times, you can use pretty much anything and secure a 2HKO. It learns the best electric move in the game, EMP, which pretty much always goes first despite the low speed penalty because of how buffed your stats are. It even blows through resists because Sonic Scream can inflict sleep, and is a nice neutral. Also the Def boost means it isn't threatened by attacks. But if something does kinda muscle through a bit, it also has a heal. I used this thing to basically clear nearly the entire endgame. It beat every form of Vados. Its only limitation is Stamina, which it cuts through pretty sharply. But recovery items can solve that.

Stall exists, and it fucks severely and often. One of my Nexomon, Floreina, has Green Sphere, which recovers 30% HP and Stamina on the next turn. Provided she isn't weak to the opponent, this becomes a perfect back and forth play, keeping her alive effectively forever. Stamina is no consideration. She just has to be able to actually take the hits being thrown out, which is sometimes questionable. But god what a fun set, that completely lacks the weakness of the bee. She swept most of the Grandmaster trial because she didn't need to worry about heal items, and had a good matchup against everyone but the fire tamer.

As a smaller, in-between scale, Horget wound up being a lot of fun too. Psychic Dragon had access to a move that buffed Atk 25%, and Renovate, which acts like Rest in Pokemon, but instead of two turns it's one. "But it says two?" Yeah but it counts the turn you use it, so it's hilariously strong. Horget's weakness, however, was its moves. It doesn't learn anything above base 90 power, so the tremendous buff move is offset by lower base power and less than impressive stats. Horget wound up being incredibly consistent, but falling off just a little bit due to these issues.

By comparison, other options were adequate to really frustrating depending on their utility. Felclaw should have been a Horget-esque entity with a 25% buff, but only to elemental damage so its neutral never took off, was plagued by similar limitations on base move damage, and did not have healing. Yarnesty was a solid starter, good wind-type damage output, but it lacked anything technical and so was a good counter to stuff weak to it, but little else. Greben was the saddest case, designed for defensive play but its only buff was a 40% boost to crit rate, which isn't super consistent to begin with, in exchange for cutting defense 20%. Her base effects weren't worth it, and status isn't really strong enough to justify being your pull. Even Phantra, who I expected to love, wound up feeling worse off than Folicurse, because Folicurse got access to the strongest Ghost move while Phantra didn't.

All this to say: Nexomon Extinction has a lot more dynamic play than initially expected, but largely relegated to a handful of options. What those options are isn't based on your rarity anymore, but it's also unclear when anything is set for success. The strongest option I had being a common, while multiple Mega Rares didn't hold up, is a bit bizarre. I don't strictly mind this, but lack of variability hurts. Basically, I yearn for some level of control over learnsets. I think it would really expand options.

On the subject of learnsets, types feel a lot more...imbalanced. Maybe it's just the ones I had access to, but postgame, I think seeing what the children of Omnicron can do and have access to points out the flaws. Specifically, they all have access to the best traits. So Luxa has access to the Bee Sweep combo (but with no healing), and Nara has access to the Floreina sustain combo, etc. All of them pack a solid neutral attack, and seem to have some form of buff, with Fone and Arqua having 25% Atk. But then there's Ventra. Who has...speed boosting, I guess? A move that lasts a few turns and gives only a 40% chance to ignore defense with Wind attacks? It's not like there's nothing, but it's a far cry from the consistent and powerful buffs that others seem to receive. The whole type feels like that.

This should logically be for the postgame wrapup, but I'm mentioning it now because it's fresh. I hate roaming legends. I hate them. The first Nexomon game, I didn't like the system much, but only because I had no control over which child was showing up and they respawned. Also that if you didn't find them in two encounters they disappeared from the map. The point is it was annoying, but you could manage, because the game had a radar that told you when something was close. That doesn't happen here. There is no warning or notice, and you will spend over an hour on the worst fucking encounter rate of your life, just trying to find these goddamned things. I spent FOUR HOURS today looking for Tyrants. I found two. Out of nine. That's fucking inexcusable. There is no reason for it to be this bad. To make matters worse, it sounds like the Abyssals aren't static fights. They also get relegated to random encounters in the grass. Which is probably the worst thing I've ever heard! Literally dozens of these low-spawn encounters! I don't think I'm finishing the Database this time. This is way, way too frustrating for no reward.

#nexomon extinction

[versaillesbee]

t h e f a ll WIP

Some days were better than others, a lightness to her, Lizzie felt— she hoped— but there was a vulnerability there too, far more than she was used to. The kind that felt like last words: a sickening profession, an acceptance of death and erasure. It made her unrecognisable— this girl, the saviour. Her hero. Who was Hope if not her secrets? Who would she be if the dead weren’t the only people who truly knew her? Lizzie found herself fearing the answer— no matter how the vagueness frustrated her, no matter how many nights Hope woke up from terrors she wouldn’t speak of, no matter the years Hope stayed silent about— wouldn’t breach for even the sake of a happy memory.  A Hope who was honest meant a Hope who was dead. 

It was nearly freezing that night, the type that claimed children in their bassinets if the window was left cracked. That stopped sweet blooms in their tracks, drying them out and killing them before they ever truly got to grow. 

She sneezed almost as soon as she entered the room, a burning tingle spreading from her nose and into her cheeks at the abrupt temperature change. Erratic and spontaneous, each window cracked against the side of the building, spurred by the harsh, whistling breeze. It rolled and thrashed through her room, tangling and tossing loose pillows and throw blankets from both the beds and the chairs. Papers fluttered about, forcefully thrown this way and that. Trinkets crashed and rolled off the tables, glass cracking and scattering across the floor.

Lizzie winced as air sliced through her eyes, frigid shards and gusts pushing against her clothes and hair, beating her back through the threshold of the door. Bending her knees and angling her feet, she stood her ground, spluttering and gagging as she pulled hair out of her mouth and waved her other hand in the air. The windows shut with a loud slam, silence and stillness rushing over the room in one fell swoop. Sketches and marked Polaroids curved and sailed to the floor in wide billows, joining the mess.

She ran her hands through her hair with trembling fingers, pushing the strands back behind her ears before she wrapped her arms around herself. They brushed her sweater in an up and down motion, trying to offset the growing shivers before they could really set in. 

“Hope?” she called, glancing around the room.

In the centre of her bed was a mound of blankets, utterly still through it all. Lizzie rounded the room cautiously, a flutter of fear building up in her chest. Her throat bobbed with a thick swallow, mouth suddenly dry. 

“Hope, I know you hear me.” Still no movement. She carefully avoided the papers and marbles, picking up a Polaroid of the Super Squad and placing it gently on the side table as she stepped around her bed. Lizzie gently curved her hands around the edge of the duvet where a crown of auburn hair peeked out, more brown in its oily and stringy state. 

She carefully pushed the cover down, startled when she saw Hope’s drooped eyes staring directly at her. Hope made no movements, no acts of acknowledgment— simply laid there and breathed slowly. Lizzie felt tears spring to her eyes immediately, shockingly, she might add. A certain acute sense of distress had flooded her system, unsettling her just as much as Hope’s condition.

A shaky smile lifted her lips as she knelt down low in front of her best friend, reaching out and finding her hand in the swaddle of fabric. The skin was icy in her grasp but Lizzie didn’t let go. “Hey,” she whispered, pulling the covers down further to reveal more of her body. 

Hope’s voice was empty, and yet trembled with the essence of fear, of melancholy. “I saw it.”

“Saw what?”

“‘He’s dying. He’s dying. He’s dying.’ I kept hearing it. They told me. But I couldn’t stop it.” Hope’s eyes drifted away, glossing over with whatever she saw in her mind. “I knew, Lizzie. And I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I couldn’t even bring him back and now—” she swallowed thickly, shaking her head. Her hand slipped from Lizzie’s grasp, clutching at the duvet to bring it back around her neck, “now he’s just out there.”

Lizzie dipped her head to catch her sight, tucking her in deeper before finding her hands again beneath the covers. “Hey, hey— no. He’s at peace, Hope. I know he is.”

“He can’t be. I-I had to leave him there. Now he’s— he can’t make it back. He’s lost, I feel it. He won’t be able to rest, Lizzie, don’t you know that?”

She squeezed her hands together, rubbing them as she chanted into the small space they left when the sides unevenly matched. The flesh began to glow an unnatural colour, expanding into a ball of light she spread and smoothed over the silhouette of Hope’s body. A little shiver escaped from her before she stilled once again, eyes drifting shut and breaths growing deeper. Lizzie pressed the last of the fading heat to her forehead, pursing her lips into a small frown.

A memory was called to the front of Lizzie’s mind. One that she pushed to the furthest recesses whenever it dared to creep up, always catching her when the world eased and her attention began to wander, or on one of those light days, whenever she dared to hope things might get better. 

Two weeks before: when Malivore’s interference had given way, Hope’s darkened blood reanimating and swarming together on the map. That should have been her first sign— they were always so focused on how Hope could defeat Malivore they didn’t see they cancelled each other out. 42 hours she’d been in his presence, his entity still stretching wide like he was still a goopy parallel dimension rather than a walking man. She’d been caught in it somewhere, her blood circling around the perimeter and trying to breach it in every locator spell they’d done, unable to find its source. 

Heavily sedated, she was in an ambulance on the way to Whitmore Hospital. The paramedics who’d escorted her were haggard and concerned, described her to be in a state of mania which they thought was induced by stress and shock, fuelling her desperation to get away from them. “It’s likely she’s not even lucid right now. Probably won’t remember any of it when she wakes up.”

Any accounts of her movements before then were choppy, Hope wouldn’t speak of it herself, and the people who’d called the ambulance stated that she’d knocked on their door and begged for help. 

She remembers MG reaching out towards Hope, slipping his hand into hers and squeezing while he told her everything would be alright. His face was twisted into a frown, the shadow of his stubble grown darker in her absence. He’d jerked away a moment later, disoriented. 

Flashes of train cars and blood and chains and Malivore’s new face, he’d told her. Hope’s mind was fragmented, split into different trains of thought with her voice speaking in the background. Whether it was from a disjointed memory or her subconscious, he couldn’t tell. “He’s dying, he’s dying, he’s dying.”

Empty. 

Not a trace of anything but pheromones when they’d found the abandoned train car. The scent of it was so thick Jed had nearly thrown up. Hope and Landon’s fear, anger, death. He was followed by Brutus who left quickly, the essence of danger in the area triggering his wolf and his fear instincts. 

Rafael had sent them in his stead, forced to stay in his dorm by Alaric. Her father didn’t curse in her presence very often, never allowed his fear to show too much, but when Raf’s nose began to bleed and his fingers trembled with spreading desiccation, his facade had cracked to pieces. He’d only seen this in his earlier years, he’d said— unable to lie or cover the truth of something so serious— when he had helped kill one of Hope’s uncles. An Original. An hour or so later, every vampire from his bloodline was dead, dropped to the ground with similar symptoms to Rafael. 

But they didn’t come back like Raf did.

The blood magic struck him several times, restricting him to the bed as his limbs seized and arrested. It never reached his heart, stopped and started in intervals until he’d been so weak he nearly begged them to kill him for good. 

She’d been dying, her father theorised. Over and over, seconds— minutes at a time. The reason for it was obvious when they’d found her, reddening impressions in her skin in the shape of chains. A thin stream of blood from wide puncture holes that were surrounded by rash-like welts and boils, smelling like wolfsbane. She must’ve been so weak, her frail heart faltering in its thready pulse, only to be kick started moments later by the healing of her vampire side. 

Hope woke up seconds after MG had touched her, eyes bloodshot and frantic. She grabbed his hands, begged him to help her, told him she had to go back — that they’d left him. 

“There was no one there, Hope.”

“No, MG, please— you know— MG.” His name trembled from her lips, helpless and imploring. 

She didn’t speak much afterwards, but when she did, she repeated along the same lines. 

Landon won’t be able to rest.

We have to get him back.

He’s out there, alone. 

He can’t rest, don’t you get it?!

Landon’s lost. He’s lost.

It suddenly clicked for Lizzie then, for reasons she’s still unsure of now. 

Hope had taught Lizzie about her heritage and the magic of her home during those flittering seasons. Built on Ancestral Magic, but recently converted to Earth Magic when their Well was destroyed, however the former was still threaded throughout all their ceremonies and practices. 

She’s a New Orleans Quarter Witch at her core, and they’d been taught to lay their dead to rest and consecrate them so that their energy would be returned to the earth. Lizzie had learned from Henry that the Crescent wolves did something similar— put bodies on boats and sent them into the bayou burning. 

Hope had done it for her parents, for her great-grandmother and uncle, for Henry. Every one she’d known had a funeral of some sort. But Landon…. Landon was still lost. Up until now everyone thought she’d just meant physically, but to her… his spirit was gone. 

Wandering in purgatory, in a perpetual state of confusion and loneliness. 

She thought it was her fault. “Oh, Hope.”

#hope mikaelson #lizzie saltzman #legacies #hizzie #no humanity hope #heretic!lizzie #sire bond

[rxttenfish]

Damien x Liam

&

Zoe x Vera

Shipping meme.

oh, damien and liam is one of those classic monprom ships! i think the very first ship art i saw from monprom was damien and liam? it sounds right, though it has been over five years since i first joined, so that could just be my memory not serving me well. point goes is that it's a prominent one and gotta be one of the most popular of the RO x RO ships, and definitely one that's the most alluded to in canon.

the issue is just... i still don't like it very much. to be fair i like very few m/m ships, and i know this is such a popular dynamic that from the offset it just automatically felt the most like a ship that would get popular, but it's a popular dynamic that i hate a lot. i don't really care for the bully/nerd dynamic nor the things it sets up, and especially with things like it highlighting damien's toxic masculinity combining less than favorably with how much liam openly and directly talks about things like sexism within the game itself. it's just... unfortunate, i think.

it feels like everything just conspired to make me hate this ship. it's liam, one of my favorite characters, with damien, one of my least favorite characters. most of the events with these two involve damien beating liam up or beating him down, and while i would agree that the two are still friends from the events that are exceptions to this rule and how it just plays out when it does happen (liam is... very directly the masochistic type, so it doesn't necessarily strike me as out of character or even a badly thought out part of the dynamic if this is part of the selling point on a friendship with damien for liam), it always feels weird and off-putting to me. i think this probably works best, and i prefer it best, as them being occasional fuckbuddies on top of friends, less as a proper romantic relationship.

zoe and vera is another ship that i've seen before, and i can definitely see it more than liam and damien. though i'm notoriously known for not really caring all that much for zoe as a character, thinking of her as kinda weakly written in comparison to some of the others on top of including tropes i hate, which also makes this complicated for me.

i think vera's also always an odd one to ship with, because there's a duality between her constructed image and how she allows people to approach her, and what she actually wants and needs in a relationship for emotional fulfillment. she needs someone who can make her relax and slow down, provide a way to remove her from her whole constructed image to let her be a person again, but they cannot simply disregard that image and what it means, cannot wholly discard her interests and ambitions and all that she's put work into attaining. there's a careful dance that has to be done to disarm her suspicions and her harshness before she lets someone in, but once they're in they need to be loving and fond and safe in a simple way, an easy way that vera otherwise would deny herself.

it's not that i don't think zoe could do it, could be that person. rather, zoe isn't very careful at much of anything that she does, and she's so overt and sometimes even pushy that i worry more about all of it making vera freeze up, shut down, lock zoe out. vera in comparison is... harsh and blunt, yes, but her personality is multi-layered and multi-faceted where what you see is not always what you are going to get, and being able to navigate the complexities of her moods and emotions are needed. she can be quick to punish and quick to say the exact kind of nasty things upon the slightest infraction that could all too easily hurt zoe. being overtly affectionate and positive can work, as we've seen with her friendship with scott, but it also needs an ability to take the punishment she can dole out, either just not getting it or not taking offense in either manner. this can also certainly be done if the other character is person-smart enough to realize what's going on beneath the surface, like polly. this doesn't feel, to me, like something that zoe can do, rather being more the type to take the first time vera lashes out as deep personal offense and either not recovering from it or taking a much longer time to recover from it.

which, again, isn't to say this can't work! i think it certainly could work well, especially if you're fleshing out a timeline or plotting this out more thoroughly, and after this specific period i could see them being very good for each other, but it's also something that is enough to make me skeptical.

#all the care guide says is 'biomass' #asks #Anonymous #monster prom #basically vera is bitey #which is exactly the kind of character that i love #LOVE characters who are just. so tightly wound and have so many Issues #that they need someone to perform an intricate dance to disarm their defenses before coming in to love and support them #in the exact way that they need #experienced owners who know how to use a snakehook ONLY. others need not apply. #need someone to love me like caring for a hot snake #also yeah canon loooooooves damien x liam so much. just dropping it in everywhere.

[marshmallowprotection]

Gonna try and offset the Saeyoung angst with this idea I just had: Saeyoung falling in love with someone after Saeran's AE, but really unsure about it bc even if he's not living the dangerous life of an agent anymore he's still got a lot of guilt and old habits are hard to kick. Cue supportive and mildly emotional talk between the brothers and Saeran's MC about Saeyoung being a good person who's free to fall in love if he wants

(I just want,,,, post SAE Saeyoung content,,,, lemme hug him,,,,,)

I think it's going to be a challenge for him to do this. He's got a lot of things to work on emotionally before he even considers it. It’s one of those things where he has to come to terms with the fact that he’s free and everyone knows what his name and face are. Put yourself in his shoes for a moment. Before he was kidnapped, he was working for a dirty agency and fighting for his life in every shadow he could find, and the second that he’s saved from that kidnapping, he’s returned to a world that knows his face, his name, and his life story whether he likes it or not.

Saeyoung and Saeran are popular public figures and they will go down into the history books. They cannot be erased or forgotten. That’s something beyond his imagination. He’s never been able to walk on a street without being afraid of the worst thing happening to him. He’s going to have to deal with it before he does anything anything. He has to accept that he’s free, Saeran saved him this time, and he feels a crushing weight of debt and shame. He’s the big brother... he was supposed to protect his brother.

The twins need to have a long conversation about everything. But, it’ll take them a while to sort that out. They don’t know each other and they have to start out as strangers. They’re not kids anymore. They don’t know anything about the other! It’s a lot to come to terms with. i imagine that for Saeyoung, he’s going to head in to therapy with Saeran very soon. The twins need it and they’re going to find the best person possible, I know.

Saeyoung needs time to come to terms with everything. I imagine that he’s going to take a while with that. Give him a year or two to figure out what he wants to do and where he wants to be. Sure, he’s going to live with Saeran and MC, but he’s got a lot to think about in terms of what he wants out of life. He’s going to have a world in front of him that he’s never imagined... even if he saw more Saeran did through his work... he never let himself look very far out of shame.

I think he will spend his free time fishing and working on robots to help himself clear his thoughts and make sense of everything. It’s not like he can or wants to go out and get to know people. He knows how Jumin and Zen go through a lot with that, and he isn’t a fan of attention like that. He can’t be nameless and he’s used to being nameless and faceless. The world knows him. He can’t just get a normal life... neither can Saeran, but at least, they’ve got safety and they don’t have to be afraid of being killed.

I do agree with you, I think that Saeyoung is going to have a talk with his brother about this. Saeran might need to nudge him and say, “Brother, you deserve to be happy. Go out there and find love. You’ve got a lot to give and I’m sure someone will appreciate what you have to give! Besides, MC is tired of you startling them at 3AM with a robot hamster eating their sunflower seeds. So, I think you should find someone who thinks that’s cute.”

But, for a long time, Saeyoung is going to be... himself. He needs time to be by himself and work out what it means to be alive. I think he’s going to find the love of his life someday, but he’ll never see it coming. He’s not the type to go looking, so I think love is going to find him one day and by the time he realizes it, he’ll be too far in his feelings to turn away. I don’t know what that will look like for him at the end of it, but I do know that he’ll find someone someday.

If he beats himself up and tries to run from love, you know that Saeran and MC will bonk him so he doesn’t miss out. I imagine the RFA would as well if they had been tipped off. Saeyoung is stubborn. You gotta bring out the entire family to get onto him.

#ask #anon #mod kait #saeran after ending #saeyoung choi #choi saeyoung #mysme #character analysis

[splendidissimus]

August 2000 - He's Not Home

((Content warning: anxiety, heart condition))

((Promptspiration: @whumptober 2023: day 7: I paced around for hours on empty; I jumped at the slightest of sounds. / Radio silence ))

Genre: hurt / comfort

Romance level: major

Angst level: 3/5

Draco's headspace: anxious

((words: ~1300))

------------------------------------

Draco couldn't settle down. He prowled anxiously through the ground floor of Theo's house, stifled in the same four narrow rooms, trying not to think and unable to stop it. 

He knew where Theo was. His alchemy mentor had sent him to look at an old wizard tomb in the Hogsmeade area, an expedition that would keep him overnight and probably to the next afternoon. Theo called it 'chores' and the 'main perk of having an apprentice'. It was meant to be tedious, boring, exhausting, and dirty work.

But a couple hours after Theo'd gone, a thought wormed its way into Draco's mind: that it was dangerous. He knew the thought was irrational, but he couldn't drive it away, and it sank its claws deeper and deeper into his mind.

He tried to ignore it, distracting himself with trying to figure out how to make a sandwich, but he could even eat what he put together at the end because his stomach was too tight, and trying to read only left him looking at the same sentence over and over, and music on the wireless just put noise behind his thoughts. 

He tried to logic himself out of it — old wizard tombs were secured with basic locks or puzzles, not with deadly traps. He had a room at the Three Broomsticks. It wasn't like Hogsmeade Valley was crawling with bands of Dark wizards or dangerous magical beasts, and even if it were, Theo was capable of defending himself. And he was near enough people to send up sparks for help if he weren't. He was fully safe, there wasn't any danger… 

But it didn't help, because his mind only responded with but what if. What if an unstable ceiling caved in? What if the tomb was harbouring acromantulas? What if there were unsavoury types interested in the same tomb for some reason? What if he fell down and broke his leg? What if he fell down and broke his wand?

What if he was alone and…

He should go back to his own flat, but he couldn't bring himself to. For some reason, the thought of Theo's house standing empty was unbearable. 

He could feel his heart responding to the constant quiet fear, trying to beat harder, faster. He focused on Occlumency techniques to try to control his emotions and his heart. Unfortunately, fear was the one emotion he had never been able to control except by burying it into nothingness, and he didn't want to get trapped in that dark numbness ever again if he could help it. 

Finally, he defied his heart and, leaving all the lamps lit behind him, forced his way up the three flights of steep, unsteady stairs that made Theo's house a death trap for him, up to Theo's room at the very top of the house. The cramped attic space, lined with trunks and overfilled bookcases, offered little in the way of comfort except the sagging bed at the far end. Draco took a seat on it under the creased Holyhead Harpies poster, winced at the screeching of springs, and tried to catch his breath.

The room smelled of Theo. That did help calm his heart, although probably not enough to offset the climbing of the stairs, in all honesty. Still. He closed his eyes and recited his mantra, that Theo was okay, he would be home tomorrow, and nothing was wrong…

But what if it was? It could be. He had no way of knowing. He was just lying to himself.

There was a way to check. Maybe. He had the Owlless in his pocket, the special sheet of parchment and enchanted quill that he and Theo could use to write back and forth instantly. They hadn't used it in a long time, but…

He laid it out on the table beside the bed. The last conversation in it was months old, Theo wishing him a happy birthday and his lack of response. He read over it a few times, restless eyes returning to the top every time he finished it. Repeating to himself that Theo was okay.

Finally, he wrote 'Please write back.' on the bottom of the page. And then waited. 

He stared at the page forever, telling himself he wasn't worried and there was nothing to worry about and he hadn't expected an answer anyway and Theo probably didn't even have it with him and he could quite possibly be asleep right now and there was nothing to worry about… A cycle of the same thoughts chased themselves endlessly through his head, an ouroboros of anxiety. The cold tightness of his stomach and the painful fluttering of his heart didn't believe the words his mind tried to insist upon.

His heart was too fast. He didn't even have to turn on the monitor to acknowledge that. It was too fast and it wasn't calming down, because how could it? He needed to take something for it.

He didn't want to sleep, though. Except he did. The sooner he went to sleep, the sooner Theo would be back and he'd prove to himself that everything was all right and this was pure foolishness. Or he could stay up just a little longer and see if Theo wrote back. It could be any moment. But no, he probably wasn't going to, and anyway, if he went to sleep, then it would be morning soon and he would have Theo's answer on the Owlless waiting for him. 

He sat and watched the Owlless. 

It did nothing.

His heart gave an obvious, irregular thump, and he winced and held his chest. He had to. He unshrank the potion bag from his pocket and found the sedative meant for this, took a last look at the unresponsive Owlless, and swallowed it all. 

The effect was quick and irresistable: his pulse gradually slowed, and exhaustion and achey muscles gave way to calm tired feelings. He tried to resist it, but soon he curled up on Theo's bed, surrounded in the reassuring scent of him. 

—

Draco woke before dawn from unremembered nightmares that left him wiping tear-tracks off his cheeks and dread heavy in his stomach. The first thing he did, when he realised where he was, was check the Owlless, and he found that Theo had not written.

He told himself he had expected it. He also stayed there looking at it for a long time.

Around noon, he planted himself in the sitting room where the floo was, pretending he was listening to the wireless, or that he wasn't just marking every second of 'afternoon' where Theo didn't show up. If he wasn't back by the time he was normally off work…

A few hours later, the floo flared to green life, and he was on his feet. Theo came through, dusting off his sleeves, and Draco immediately grabbed him, hugging him tightly, holding the back of his head, fingers twining through his hair. "I know it's stupid," he said into his shoulder, preemptively. "Just…"

Theo's hands were startled wide for a second, showing he hadn't even realised he was there, then rested on his hips. "Hey. Everything okay?"

"Yes." Now it was.

—

After a few minutes, Theo made his way upstairs to change into clean clothes. He wasn't expecting the state of the room. He could read Draco's night in what he left there — the wrinkled bed, the empty emergency sedative, the abandoned Owlless with its single plaintive sentence… 

He didn't even waste the time to change. He went back downstairs and wrapped his arms tight around Draco, holding him silently and not letting him go.

#whumptober2023 #no.7 #I paced around for hours on empty; I jumped at the slightest of sounds. #radio silence #fic #harry potter #anxiety tw #draco malfoy #draco x theo #theo nott #fanfic #draco malfoy fanfiction #hp fanfic #splendidissimus writing #draco is anxious #draco in his 20s

[tokiro07]

Beat Super Bomberman R 2

Honestly it's not the worst I've ever played, I enjoyed the actual BOMBERMAN gameplay, I just didn't love being interrupted every so often to play a subpar tower defense

I also wasn't a fan of my level being reset between stages, requiring that I grind to be able to feel like I'm making adequate progress THREE TIMES, and it would have helped if the enemy types and obstacles were a bit more varied and interesting

The individual stages were laid out in ways that were pretty annoying to navigate and overall just dull to look at, the escort mechanic was frustrating without even feeling like it was necessary to have there in the first place, and the bosses were absolute slogs

But, the isolated puzzles were pretty fun, I could have played an entire game centered entirely around them, and getting to do the usual strategic bomb laying was just as fun as it it always is since that's what Bomberman is literally about

Sooner or later I'll do the multiplayer with friends or family, I'll probably enjoy that just fine, but for now, my overall experience was pretty neutral; I had more than enough to complain about, and just enough to offset it to say I didn't have a bad time, just not necessarily a good time either

I absolutely want Konami to make an R3, I just hope they take it in a different direction. If 1 was action and 2 is exploration, then let 3 be pure puzzles

#bomberman #super bomberman r 2 #toki plays bomberman