#the replacement gets their own bead when they are pulled into the server

[ivy-loves-chocolate]

Note: I know I haven’t been very active lately, but until my next fic, have this :).

Therapy

Pairing: Ethan Winters x F!Reader.

Warnings: smut, blow job, cheating, masturbation.

Ethan was laying in the psychiatrist’s office on the same couch he has been sitting for the past few months. The last years on his life were hell. He didn’t get out in one piece after the Duvley incident, both physically and mentally. The constant moving, the military training, it was all too much for him to handle. His life took an upside down turn. Too add more to his suffering, his relationship with Mia became more and more distant. He constantly had a feeling that she was hiding something for him, but she won’t open up about it, facing a rough rejection whenever he tried to open the subject. Certain thoughts pushed him to seek help.

The psychiatrist finally showed up, pulling him out of his small meditation, and greeted him with her cheerful demeanor. A wide, bright, smile that captured his attention from the first session. Her kindness didn’t come unnoticed by the attention starved man. Session after session, he moved his attention to other parts of her body. He took an interest in her hands. Delicate fingers wrapped in rings, alongside with colorful manicure, He couldn’t remember when Mia was this feminine.

Despite his efforts, he finally let his gaze to fall on “forbidden” parts, specifically her cleavage. He would blush like a schoolgirl whenever his eyes would meet her perky breasts that were sticking out her blouse.

Maybe it was in his head, but after some time it followed the shy touches that invaded more and more his persona space. Ethan was pretty sure he didn’t need therapy, since the discussions broke the barrier of professionalism long ago, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to know if there were subtle hints, or just his imagination.

Ethan would go home then and continue his life. He would talk normally to Mia, eat, read, and do whatever he had scheduled, then take a shower and go to bed. The only thing that is different usually happens before closed door, behind the curtains of the shower. Hot steam and the sound of running water hides the moans of Ethan as he runs his calloused hand over his erect shaft, picturing his psychiatrist in action. His mind replace his own hand with the delicate touch of his doctor, her fingers going up and down squeezing every inch of his length. In that fog he tries to picture her in front of him, the water dripping slowly between her breasts, down her belly button, everywhere where he dreams to touch. He supports himself with one hand and the other increases the speed, his fantasies washing away as he release the tension.

It’s not like he was very sexually active before, so Mia didn’t notice the lack of attention from him. The meds she was taking didn’t make Mia more talkative. Ethan had to face the truth, his wife died in Louisiana. He would cast away these thoughts, and began to think of his doctor as a way to cope. Mia didn’t even care when he would jack off next to her some nights.

Since the therapy started to do more harm than good lately, he decided it was time for a break. Doctor y/n made her entrance as usual, with a confident posture, wide, bright smile, and her floral perfume that invaded the room. Ethan relaxed, as usual, every part of his soul just craving the sweet, sweet touch of his doctor one last time before he would call off their meetings.

“What’s wrong Ethan?” She noticed something was wearing him.

“It’s...Mia.” The doctor sat next to him, and slowly progressed closer and closer, making sure not to alert him.

“What happened, did you two fight again?” He didn’t noticed how close she was to him now, touching his leg with hers, feeling the warmth of her body.

He didn’t know what to say. Ethan knew he was lying, but it was too hard to break up with someone who he didn’t even date.

“Look at me.” She moved two delicate fingers to cup his chin so she can pull his face closer to her. It was in that moment he realized how closer they were, and he instantly panicked pulling away immediately.

“This, this is wrong.”

“Why is that?” She said as she was descending down on her knees, spreading his legs to make some space for her body.

With a shocked expression he watched as the woman who was now between his legs begged with her eyes for his consent. He allowed her to unzip him and unbuckle his belt, releasing his half erect shaft already, holding it in her hand. Ethan nodded.

“Chris told me to take care of you.” She moved her head forward, not breaking eyes contact, and took his wet tip between her lips. She swirled her tongue around the tip, tasting the man’s precum, and slowly she made her way down his length. His cock was getting harder in her mouth, exciting her more. Ethan was in the point he wasn’t able to form words anymore, and was struggling to hold his moans with on hand. The sight of his psychiatrist between his legs was something he never dreamed of happened in reality.

The doctor stopped her actions and slapped Ethan’s hand away from his mouth.

“I want to hear you sweetie. There is no one left except the two of us. Why do you think I placed out meetings so late.”

She went back at worshiping his cock, and Ethan was slowly building confidence. He suppressed his moans, being stuck in his throat, but the doctor had her ways. She decided to go a little harsh on him, so she suddenly took all his length in her mouth. When the tip hit the back of her throat, Ethan finally released the moans that the doctor was so desperate to hear.

She rested one hand on his lower abdomen, playing with his happy trail, while the other was worshiping his balls. A mix of saliva and cum started to drip down his shaft as she moved her mouth up and down,making it easier to play with his cock. Her hand cupped, squeezed and toyed with his balls while his cock was coating her throat with its salty leakage. Feeling his member throb, she pulled out, with saliva dripping down her chin.

“How bad do you want to cum, Mister Winters.” She said while her wide tongue was making its way to the tip. Silence.

“Our session ended long ago. I can let you leave and go back to your wife.” Another lick. Beads of precum appear as she moved her tongue to lick underneath the tip, not too fast, but enough to stimulate him.

“I-I want you...” It’s all he could said with his shaky voice.

She went to the couch and kneeled on the place next to him, while lifting her skirt to expose her cunt covered in black thongs and a pair of fragile pantyhose.

“Please Ethan...” She could’ve taken the lead, but she wanted to see if he had any dominant side.

He didn’t know what to do. It was the first time after a long period that a woman showed this much interest in him. Unsure, he pressed his thumbs over the wet spot, rubbed, but he wasn’t consistent with his movements.

“Just ripe them off already.” And she pushed backwards her hips a little to give the man some courage. Ethan tore the thin fabric with his fingers, then pulled her panties aside to see her core. It was perfect, dripping wet, swollen, all ready for him. His fingers got in with ease, and finally all her “come on Ethan” whispers stopped and were replaced with shy moans.

“Who’s shy now? C’mon, let me hear you.” He pressed his big thumb over her puffy clit and rubbed in circular motions, which made her very vocal. Meanwhile, knuckle deep inside, his fingers were making scissor like motions.

Ethan’s confidence increased with every moan. When she felt her walls contracting around his fingers, he pulled out and placed his cock at her entrance, which slipped in with ease. With a quick thrust he filled her up and began to pump in her without wasting a second. Wet sounds and claps filled the room whenever his ballsack would hit her cunt. She dig her nails into the couch as he was thrusting with his full length. Feeling her around him made Ethan realize how much he missed it. He was ecstatic, he allowed the pleasure to flow through his body. He tried his best to make it last longer, but his balls kept tightening, the pressure on his abdomen became unbearable, and with a moan he released his load deep inside her.

“I’m-“

“It’s alright Ethan.” The doctor raised to face Ethan, feeling his fresh, hot cum dripping down her thighs. He took his arms and placed them around her waist. After, she put her head on his shoulder, letting all her weight in his embrace. “Hold me like that.”

Ethan was dazed. He knew he had to go home, but he allowed himself to stay in that position a few more minutes.

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#resident evil #resident evil village #ethan winters #ethan winters x reader #smut #fic #masterlist 2

[redwinterroses]

RIIIIIIIIIGHT SO.

I just finished chapter 13 of Dog At The Door and holy hot cross buns batman if you're not reading this fic you NEED to. It's literally one of the best written fics I have ever read in my life and I've been reading fanfiction for over 15 years, lol.

I went back and reread the entire fic to lead up to chapter 13 and I decided to treat it like I used to treat things I had to read in college so I took notes as I went and please I am warning you this post is incredibly long. Almost 3k words. PLEASE do not hit that "read more" button unless you're good with having to scroll past it all and also spoilers ahead. Proceed with caution.

~*~

Rereading Dog at the Door reactions (spoilers, obviously):

· Doc finding Ren’s body to be cold and for a second thinking he’s actually dead—my heart

· “That’s Ren, alive and kicking.” Oh…no, Doc. No it’s not.

· The first “Where is my hand?” hits different the second time through

· Gah the ice and winter imagery ALL over the place—my English degree brain wants to watch and see if that shifts to warmth at any point as we go? Thoughts for future Red to think.

· It’s fascinating to me to see Doc constantly thrust into the prey role. This is a guy who is very much not that person normally, but something about the Red King is beyond anything he’s really encountered before—or at least not since Dinnerbone—and it pushes him into an entirely new role that he clearly chafes in

· “I should get back to work on your new arm soon,” he says, making a mental note to add claws to the fingertips. Honestly Doc why tho. XD

· “It feels like something Ren would want him to do.” </3

· Side note: I just watched Doc’s freaking hour long shulker farm vid, and that’s making it a lot easier to hear his voice in this fic

· I’m more curious about the hand.” New Ren laughs a bit at his own words, as though there’s something funny about that phrasing. I MISSED THIS LINE THE FIRST TIME THROUGH

· The bead curtain being cursed hippie treasure XD

· The fact that Doc just so quickly accepts that Ren is gone—maybe not permanently, but at least for now—is kind of heartbreaking. Because you know he hasn’t really accepted it, he’s just… deciding not to feel anything about it. Just nod and move on and pretend you don’t need to stop and cope with the possible/probable death of your best friend and the fact that Someone Else is wearing his skin. That’s so sad.

· “high-fiving the finished hand with his own metal hand.” Aww… Doccy.

· “He shoos away the images of New Ren holding him up by the throat supervillain-style and turns around.” Hmmmmmmm want that fanart. Scary New Ren/RK is good stuff. (post-chapter-13 Red popping in with a WHAT THE HECK)

· “that makes him seem like a ghost in Ren’s body.” YA KNOW. LIKE HE IS.

· Okay side note time: why is the Red King here? Ya know? Like – in 3rdLife the idea of a possessing spirit of bloodlust makes some sense. But why stick around? Was RK trying to escape the 3L server, or was this not deliberate? At what point did he take over from Ren—at Black Heart Altar? In which case, was the whole idea Ren’s to begin with, or was he influenced? Maybe it happened the first time Ren died? The Red King took over then—or at least started to? Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts, thoughts…

· Wait more theories—what if RK is connected to the ????? entity that spoke to Martyn when he died? In which case, cMartyn said he was considering making that canonically a Watcher (he ended up not doing it, but he also didn’t do anything that contradicted it either). I’m not saying RK is a Watcher… but boy he sure does stare a lot, don’t he.

· Holding the screwdriver like a dagger—mmmm

· Okay funny thought: all this frost, RK’s gonna need to be real careful about rust lol. And straining the metal, tbh, all that freezing and thawing is going to have an effect but the rust idea is making me laugh

· Until I realized it would look like blood and it’s not funny anymore

· “Renbob is in the beanbag stuffed next to the driver’s seat” right so is this where Renbob sleeps because I have been wondering—

· “something about having two people look like Ren when neither of them are makes Doc stop to take a shaky breath” *sob*

· “Renbob clears his throat, looking up at Doc with a smile that is so obviously fake that it hurts.” Ugh the LOT of you stop repressing everything you’ll give yourselves a collective hernia

· “he’ll probably have to break the news to the other hermits, too, Iskall and False and all the others.” All these painful lines I somehow missed the first time through

· Awww warm air comes in when Renbob opens the door—with the flowers and everything, Renbob is so easily associated with spring, I love this contrast.

· Aaand there it is, yup, RK is shocked to see his face on Renbob, and Renbob is shocked to see that this is so clearly Not Ren.

· They both recover pretty quickly, though. Survivors, both of them.

· RK calls Renbob their “ferryman” and I’m not sure if I was supposed to get “crossing the river Styx” vibes from that But I Did. (does RK think he’s dead? That they’re all dead?) (post-chapter-13 Red here with a little bit of wordless screaming.) (and also a bit of pride that I picked up on this.)

· “And what a help you’ve been! Fixing me up, replacing my hand.” Hi yes, 911? there’s a dagger stabbed into my feels.

· “he’d rather remember rage than see another person’s heart break.” Dang that’s such a raw line. Oof.

· ”the Red King says, his voice hoarse with tears.” Really interesting that this blood deity can feel such emotions—like, anger or even fear, I can get. But to see this entity upset to the point of tears is fascinating.

· “There is a crown on Doc’s workbench.” Right, yeah so like—is RK unwillingly manifesting these artifacts? Because that’s wild, man. …how long before he manifests an “enchanter”?

· “I’ve never seen it [the crown] clean before.” Okay that definitely implies that maybe RK didn’t come around until after Black Heart Altar?

· “The Red King has the crown in his lap when Doc turns back around, claws gently tracing over the engravings, leaving frost patterns behind.” I really wish I had art skills because there’s this image in my head of a drawing of the crown held in RK’s hands, with his face (one eye glowing, one in shadow) reflected in the surface, and frost patterns following behind a claw that’s daintily tracing the surface. But I can’t draw so—

· RK asks for a change of clothes. What was he wearing when they rescued him, I wonder? The Red King outfit with the fur capelet? Or Ren’s Stargazer outfit? Which begs the question: where does Stargazer fit into all this? Was Ren’s return to Hermitcraft RK free, but when he came so close to dying to Sith, RK found that as a gateway to take over? (Post-13 Red here, Looking Intently at this note.)

· Awww… the image of a one-legged RK clutching new clothes to his chest and hopping down to change in the bathroom… That’s weirdly endearing. He’s less menacing when he stands up somehow. Less lurking, maybe.

· Oooohhhhh he messed up his back sleeping on the floor. Gotcha.

· Doc keeps telling himself (and RK) that saving him and working on these parts is “the right thing to do” and while he’s not WRONG I just want to see him realize that it’s not only the right thing, it’s realistically the only thing, because if he didn’t, then he’d have to deal with the fact that he’s lost his best friend and we can’t have that.

· “I don’t need to eat” ummmmmm no hold on this definitely implies that RK is possessing a dead body and I’m not okay with that where is Ren

· LOLOL “I can’t stand to see [you do] this” is such a raw line to be about watching Doc eat cereal with his hands

· “The voice doesn’t belong to who he thinks it does.” Ugh, Doc. This isn’t the first time he’s lost a close friend to Something Else, something otherworldly.

· “All of them are waiting for him, waiting for him to do something more, something better—” aaand there it is. Doc’s characterization in this fic in a single sentence.

· Doc waking up and thinking he’s seeing Ren and RK’s hesitation and the gentle “I’m not Ren”—OH MY HEART

· RK’s coffee = Renbob’s friendship bracelets

· Randomly can I just say that I love how RK’s dialog is all in italics? It concerned me at first because I thought it was going to keep pulling me out of the narrative, but instead it really just feels right. Also I’m looking forward to the moment when he says something and it’s not in italics because it’s REN and oh my lands please give this to me I beg you (post-13 Red here with a bit more mindless screaming)

· “watch your tongue with me, Atlas, because I’m the one person you can pass the sky to.” Okay okay okay—English studies brain coming out. This suggests that there is a burden RK and Doc can share: something Doc is currently struggling against that only RK can help him with. In the moment, I don’t know if this is really fair of RK to say—after all, Doc does technically have Renbob too, if we’re just talking about Doc’s unhealthy coping mechanisms. In fact, if that’s the context, then Renbob is a much better fellow-Atlas because he and Doc have known each other much longer and they’re both dealing with the loss of Ren. BUT, knowing about the upcoming conversation where Doc and RK both realize that they’ve lost someone (Ren for Doc, Martyn for RK) this line suddenly has a lot more weight. Again, I don’t think that in that moment RK quite has the right to pull this zinger. But in later context, it turns out to be true after all. They are the only two with this particular shared pain.

· Doc upset with himself because he can’t get over his “stupid hang-ups” DOC MY LAD. “I’ve lost my best friend, you’re in his body, and I don’t know how to process any of these emotions” is not a “stupid hang-up” PLEASE stop blaming yourself for everything!?

· “I’m so tired” in the middle of his nightmare—oh my gosh. That hurts so much for some reason.

· I also very much wish I had the ability to draw the image of Doc with tears on his face, staring dead-eyed down at his workbench while RK looms over from behind, pinning his wrists to the table with one metal arm and one frost-bitten one, a look of exasperation and concern on his face. Why can’t I draw the things

· “How do you know Etho” “I watched him die.” OW ow ow ow ow

· Doc takes this as calmly as only someone used to living in a world where death has low consequences can. Oh. Oh—that means… huh. Doc isn’t used to losing people permanently on any basis, especially not death. So no wonder he doesn’t know how to process Ren being gone (I can’t bear to write “dead” there). He literally doesn’t have context for it… and what context he DOES have is like—I mean, Etho and Bdubs came back. Ouch.

· “Twenty-five.” The Red King makes the number sound like a threat. Yet another banger line I missed the first time through. Imagine waking up and thinking you’re in 3rd Life again but instead of 14 players there’s almost twice that many and you think you don’t know any of them.

· I still don’t quite understand the “when was etho added/should have known there was something different” bit or why RK is so emotional about it… but I have trust that it’ll make sense at some point. (post-13 Red: ...is this something about the fact that he thinks he's dead...so he thinks Etho has died before? Like, that 3rd Life wasn't Etho's first hardcore? ...I feel like I'm almost grasping this but I'm missing an element somewhere.)

· And now a sword. RK. My man. You need to stop manifesting things—especially when they scare the ever-living daylights out of you.

· I absolutely adore the in-universe lore that Fire Aspect is a PvP enchantment because it threatens dropped loot, and yeah I very well might steal that. (Along with something I read at one point who-even-knows-where that Knockback is a coward’s enchantment, because I love that too.)

· He really shouldn’t. / Doc picks up the sword by the scabbard and hands it to him, hilt extended. Doc you already trust this guy so much and you don’t even know it—but is it just because you still subconsciously trust the face he wears? Or is it something deeper?

· Ugh, the “I was supposed to kill someone for him” conversation/scene is SO FREAKING GOOD

· “I don’t want it. Not like the crown.” Why, though? Why doesn’t he want it? Because it’s more to do with death than kingship? OH. Oh, I hadn’t even considered that. I’ve been thinking of RK as this like, god of blood and vengeance but maybe he’s not. Maybe he hates the bloodshed (“the blood! It’s drippin’ in me eyes… I’ve been blinded by the violence…”) just as much—more?—than Ren did/would have. Huh. That’s a new facet.

· Oh my heart the “have you ever lost someone and it was your fault” line. Dagger to the feels. Dagger to the feels.

· This like… “I’m on a roll and even though I know I should stop I really don’t want to” mode? Man. That’s relatable. Especially when you’re working to avoid dealing with something else.

· “Not making it for you—it’s for Ren” oh ouch ouch ouch the denial suddenly breaks through it’s okay, Doc I’m with you on this

· The second time reading through it’s far clearer that Doc has a blind panic attack here—when he starts rambling that Ren’s coming back, he’ll be there for season eight and RK goes to…do whatever he was going to do and Doc just blanks out. The manic productivity should have been a warning sign, the poor guy is crumbling.

· “Doctor” and “he’s not sure he deserves that title right now” UGH Doc needs a hug someone please hug him and tell him it’s all going to be okay. Someone please hug me and tell me it’s all going to be okay.

· “his hand on his throat” over the scar from the Red Winter axe? </3

· “I did do that. I have done that.” RK admitting to it actually having been him in Doc’s nightmares?

· Okay sorry the conversation about beating Dinnerbone will never not be funny to me

· RK mentions that people used to call him m’lord or Ren, and then mere minutes later you have “Ren. You couldn’t save him because of me, could you?” He knows exactly what’s going on here. Not maliciously, but he’s no dense-head, he’s put the pieces together. (post-13 Red: MOST of the pieces. Most of them.)

· Watching Doc slowly stop fighting his nightmares—like, the first time, he fights. The second time, he accepts it but still struggles. And this time… this time he gives up before it even starts. That hurts, man.

· Good grief the whole “get my head chopped off” / “you really don’t want that” bit. O.O I’m not sure what emotion I’m feeling but I’m Feeling An Emotion.

· “Snow’s new. Dream’s not.” </3

· …Doc’s not gonna be a fan of snowier-snow after this trip…

· "Dr. M77" Actually he’s Doc Monster, RK, but we’ll let it go. XD

· OKAY BUT THIS EXCHANGE? The “how are you feeling” / “better” / “you’re a bad liar” / “I said better not great” that’s such a good exchange and I don’t know why every other time I’ve ever seen it used they stop at the lying accusation? Doc with the snappy comebacks, man.

· Aaah, Doc and RK, two establishment bros bonding over a shared disdain for hippies.

· The bit about the fella who wore an iron helmet and called it a powdered wig—fear is in my heart. *shoves Scar into an obsidian box and blocks it closed*

· “Who was Ren to you?” </3

· Doc is more than willing to spread the flames, to sear his loss into RK’s bones. / The king’s face stops him. Ren’s face stops him. Holy CRAP is that a good set of lines. So much going on there, and ALL of it good.

· Again. I wish I could draw. I would draw RK sitting on the edge of the bed, gently hugging a collapsed-in-on-himself Doc. </3

· “And I hate the devil that forced us apart, that mixed my blood with his.” *adds another layer to Scar’s obsidian fort*

· OKAY STARTING CHAPTER THIRTEEN I made the mistake of logging into Tumblr earlier and saw people screaming so I’m sure I’m not ready for this but here we go

· Oh no RK has been hippie-ified

· “You started a paramilitary organization because you have hay fever?” *dies laughing*

· Ugh I need to go back and watch s6 I’ve only seen the tail end of Mumbo’s side of things and there’s so much I don’t know.

· HAHAHAHAH I do know the trident bit though—

· Wait he said Scar

· PANIC

· “Kingslayer. bloodthirsty. Time King. The coward. And the mastermind behind it all, the loyal soldier to the very end, the whole damn reason either of us are in this mess.”

· HOLY CRAP HOLY CRAP HOLY—

· “Is this the afterlife I deserve? After everything, this is the hell I’m going to endure?” I AM SCREAMING

· Doc pinned to the wall with ice, struggling to breathe—I CAN’T WHAT IS HAPPENING

· ((You know I’d get through this a lot faster if I stopped pausing to write reactions—))

· “A break in the ice. A whisper of spring.” Symbolism. Symbolism.

· “Ren was dead when I found him again,” NO I REFUSE TO READ THIS

· “don’t use the hand I built you to hurt yourself” DOC. SIR. MY HEART.

· RK don't run, RK get back here—what are you—

·

·

· I

· JUST

· ACTUALLY

· SCREAMED

· AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

· *several long moments of just breathing*

·

·

·

· *rereads*

· Holy crap on a garbage cracker with an extra serving of what-the-heck sauce

· REN

· REN

· Okay lol okay hahaha calming down

· I literally threw myself back in my chair away from the computer reading that last paragraph. I don't usually... physically react to things I read. LOL. Heh. I’m. Ah. I’m not emotionally invested in this or anything.

· Holy crap.

· Okay. Okay. Okay.

· Um.

· Great chapter, guys. Awesome stuff. Really good. I’m absolutely okay right now and it’s all totally fine.

· …please enjoy your break and get lots of rest and I very much look forward to the return of this fic you have no idea.

· I need to go breathe for a little bit.

EDIT: no, you know what--I'm not going to be a nice polite fangirl over here and quietly hope y'all see this I'm straight up tagging you, @fluffy-papaya and @betweenlands. THANK YOU but also how dare.

#The only reason I'm even posting this is for my own remembering later #and i guess if fluffy or solar want to see my mindless ramblings -- go nuts #long post #redwinterreacts #redwintertalks #dog at the door

[cheri-translates]

[CN] 3rd Anniversary Love Carnival - Kiro

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for an event which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Kiro’s Prologue: here

3rd Anniversary Masterlist: here

[ KIRO ]

The machinery starts moving, pulling the boat slowly as it makes an upward climb. The end is dense and dark, making it difficult to see.

I’m sitting in the first row, nervously adjusting the plastic raincoat I’m wearing. When I turn my head, I see Kiro’s mouth opening and closing.

In order for the raincoat to better shield us from the splash, it comes with a zipper near the hood area, which can keep the entire head covered.

MC: Mm?

Kiro: You... vous.

MC: What?

The clamour of the crowd mixes with the sound of the machinery. Along with the plastic raincoat, I can’t hear his voice at all.

He suddenly reaches out, pulling the zipper in front of me, at the same time revealing his own face.

Kiro: Come to think of it, this raincoat is really troublesome. I said - don’t be nervous! The first attraction marks a good beginning, and is just meant to establish a foundation.

[Note] “Marks a good beginning” is translated from 开红门 (“kai hong men”). This directly translates to “opening a red door”. Keep this in mind for later :>

MC: ...is it too late for me to say that I’m regretting this?

Kiro: [laughs] Should we jump off the boat?

He smiles broadly, as though he’d jump off with me the moment I say “Let’s jump then!”.

Kiro: It’s all right! Just treat it as us climbing an upside-down mountain, paving the way to a new phase.

MC: If it’s a new phase... would it be an even more dangerous adventure?

The climbing has almost reached its end. The light streaming from the peak of the mountain gradually enters our vision, and fall onto Kiro’s sparkling eyes.

Kiro: A new phase in which I’d like you even more.

The sky is so blue that it’s akin to a tide, gently covering Kiro’s back. The entire world is quiet, as though it has stilled.

In next second, I feel my body being tilted. The splashing water suddenly blocks the entire sky, the waves swirling into arcs, like the corners of a secret smile.

Kiro: [laughs] Is it too late to pull up the raincoat’s zipper... [screams]

MC: ...probably. Ahh---!!!!

Kiro: Ahh-----!!!

The speed of the swirling water crashing back down on us is reminiscent of several explosives, splashing onto our faces.

When we reach the ground, the water, like torrential rain, evokes exclaims from visitors waiting at the side.

The boat courses leisurely along the track, towards the end point. At this moment, no one is paying any attention to the two poor souls who have been soaked to the bone.

We look at each others’ sorry state, realising that the zipper in front of our faces have only been pulled up by a quarter. We lapse into silence.

Kiro: ....haha...hahaha!!

MC: Hahaha.

Kiro: I was so close to helping you zip it up fully just now!

MC: Same for me.

At the exit, the wall displays on-ride photos from the previous group of visitors.

On one of the screens, there are two people reaching out for the other party’s face, smiling brilliantly.

Kiro and I share a glance, and walk to the service counter.

Kiro: Hello, please print the ninth picture in the first row!

Looking at the picture, I can’t help but laugh. Kiro casually sweeps his hair upwards, then smiles as he tidies my messy hair.

MC: I spent the morning applying makeup. This is truly marking a good beginning.

He uses a tissue to wipe my face. From the side pocket of the backpack I’m carrying, he retrieves a stick of lip gloss. Leaning down, he lifts my face slightly with one hand.

Kiro: Don’t move.

The stick of lip gloss lands carefully on my lips, making me so nervous that I can’t help but close my eyes. The air I breathe into my lungs contains the unique scent belonging to him.

After the lip gloss has been applied, what replaces it is an even gentler and softer touch.

It’s so quick that it seems like an illusion.

I open my eyes to see a few drenched strands of Kiro’s hair drooping downwards mischievously. The corners of his lips are lifted, and the colour on his lips and mine are similar.

Kiro: Okay, it’s “red” now.

[Note] Kiro is playing with words here by referencing both the colour of the lip gloss, and to “marking a good beginning”, which, as mentioned above, is translated from 开红门 (“opening a red door”) in Chinese!

[ PART TWO ]

Since we’re already drenched, we decide to seize this chance to try all the attractions which involve water.

Kiro: Miss Chips, let’s take a break over here!

Kiro pulls me over to sit at a corner of the hot spring resting area. Dipping my feet into the warm hot spring, I feel the fatigue in my body dissipating along with the steam.

He removes various props from his face, brushes the beads of sweat from his forehead, and releases a long sigh.

Kiro: The heat almost killed me. I can finally breathe.

MC: You’ve worked hard, big celebrity.

Kiro: It’s not hard work at all.

He leans his head against mine lightly. His feet also shift closer, sticking to mine.

Seeing our legs pressed together, my face starts to feel warm. Perhaps it’s due to the hot spring.

Kiro: Hm? MC, what’s wrong? Are you too tired from earlier?

MC: Nope! It’s just that… this hot spring is too comfortable, and I feel a little sleepy.

Kiro: Ahh… Wake up, Miss Chips! We’ve barely finished half of today’s challenges!

His expression shows concern as he turns his body to the side. Because of the movement, his toes lightly brush the sole of my foot. The other leg shifts over, accidentally rubbing against my instep.

Like a feather brushing and rubbing against my heart, bringing with it a wave of numbness.

MC: I’m awake, I’m really awake! You… just sit properly!

Kiro: [laughs] Miss Chips, why do you look so nervous?

A certain someone doesn’t seem to be aware of what happened, his big blue eyes blinking innocently.

It’s all because of you!

Although that’s what I think in my heart, my mouth starts searching for another excuse.

Kiro: [laughs] Hm?

MC: I’m just worried someone would suddenly come…

The facts show that it’s easy to regret words that have just been spoken.

Several couples walk towards us one after another, sitting on the flight of steps not too far off from us.

Seeing this image, I immediately reach out for Kiro’s face before he turns around.

He widens his eyes. Due to me being overly frantic, I exert too much strength, causing his entire person to turn over, and our legs to be entangled.

MC: …people are here!

Kiro: [laughs] I hear them.

MC: Don’t say anything!

Kiro: It’s all right. They can’t hear us.

His voice is very soft, buried in the bubbling hot spring. But the warmth of his breath is on my face, and I can’t help but hold my breath.

Kiro: I suddenly realised that my hair is a little messy right now.

MC: How can you tell?

Kiro: From your eyes.

MC: Pfft. In that case, what else can you see in my eyes?

Kiro: Hmm… I’ll have to take another look.

He shifts his head slightly closer, as though he’s truly searching for something in my eyes.

Kiro: I see…

Kiro: That MC was lying earlier.

I freeze for a moment, sensing that Kiro has placed his feet beneath mine. Stepping on them, my entire self seems to be lifted up, and I feel light as a feather.

Kiro: Do I make you very nervous?

MC: …you already know the answer.

Kiro: It can’t be helped. Miss Chips was just too cute just now.

MC: I’ll leave you to take the inverted roller coaster by yourself later!

Kiro: This punishment is too much!

Despite what he mutters, his eyes are smiling.

The couples behind us finish resting, and they get up to leave the hot spring area.

I also prepare to release our interlaced hands. However, in the next second, Kiro lifts his hand, placing mine on his face. My feet are once again tangled with his.

Kiro: I need to prepare myself for taking the inverted roller coaster by myself.

Kiro: Let’s stay like this for a while longer, okay?

[ PART THREE ]

MC: I think we need to slow down…

Kiro: Agreed.

Of course, I couldn’t bear to let Kiro take the roller coaster by himself.

We support each other by the arm, preparing to head to a more light-hearted ride.

MC: “Ready Ready”… what’s this?

Kiro: From what the guide map says, it seems to be a 4D theatre?

According to the introduction on the guide map, groups of two will be seated in a sphere-shaped cabin which will course along the tracks. The tracks don’t seem to have a large amplitude.

MC: It should be an attraction similar to “Soaring over the Horizon”. It seems pretty all right.

-

Kiro: Go! Go! Go!

MC: Wa ahh—!!!

Kiro: [laughs] M-m-m-miss Chips, hide behind me quickly!!!

The woman crawling out of the well follows behind us. Just before she reaches us, the door shuts.

The sphere-shaped cabin seems to jolt, and the image of a gigantic spaceship appears in front of us.

The yellow gorilla wearing a crown suddenly smashes through the iron wall above us, reaching out to grab us.

Kiro: MC, come see!

Outside the base, the sky is filled with wyverns. Young people who are sitting on their backs and wielding long swords greet us.

We sit on a wyvern, breaking through the large doors of the jail, crossing the lava mountain and the castle of a mage. On an uninhabited island, a pink-haired girl waves at us.

In the vast ocean, an elderly man is in a small boat. The gigantic, jade-like tail of a whale resembles a hug from the sea.

On top of an ivory tower, a man wearing a mask steps on revolving flowers, showing us a poker card.

Kiro: Hahaha, this is way too cool!!

A person stepping through the clouds next to us waves a long stick in his hand, opening a new path for us.

A panda police officer blows on its whistle, directing the wyverns to land.

When the hatch door slowly opens, I realise that this short, fantasy-like journey has reached its end.

Kiro: Even the name of the ride is a reference.

MC: That was incredible! Just how many Easter eggs are there…

Kiro: Mm… 27?

MC: …why did I only count 16?

Kiro: Let’s see!

Kiro takes my hand, explaining the various images in the ride while we walk.

MC: But there was a hotdog man at the corner, right?

Kiro: There was also a man wearing an X mask on the roof.

MC: There was a dolphin at the corner of the group of small animals.

Kiro: And behind her was a hidden white snake girl.

MC: …

Kiro: …

Our footsteps pause at the same time. Exchanging a silent glance, we turn our heads in synchrony and rush towards the ride.

Kiro: Hello! We’d like to go one more time!

-

MC: There’s a killer whale chasing someone over there!

Kiro: There’s a hot air balloon and a white dragon above the street! And that mountain!!

MC: Where did we count until?

Kiro: 31?

With our four hands together, our brains crash.

MC: Hold on, we missed it, we missed it! Over there!!

Kiro: …

MC: …

We step off the sphere-shaped cabin, more or less identifying all the Easter eggs.

What we had missed earlier was just a small image.

Kiro: [sighs, then laughs] Let’s go, Miss Chips.

I blink, staring at Kiro who looks unaffected. Then, I tug on his hand.

MC: Cough cough. I’ll give you a chance to express your opinion!

He blinks gently, a little expectant and a little hesitant.

Kiro: …won’t the third time be boring?

MC: Will you let me be bored?

What replaces his response is a full embrace.

Kiro: Of course not!

[ PART FOUR ]

The cafeterias in the Love Carnival must have gone through a lot of designing in order for moe flowers to appear easily for couples.

Every single themed cafe is packed to the brim. I hurriedly pull Kiro, who is wearing a wig, away from these “danger zones”.

There aren’t many people in the forest right now, leaving only the rustling of leaves.

MC: It’s a good thing I thought of this scenario beforehand.

Kiro: Deng deng deng deng!

When we speak in unison yet again, we retrieve picnic mats from our individual bags, and look at each other blankly.

MC: …I made enough for two. Did you also buy two sets?

Kiro: I was worried the cafeterias would be too crowded and we’d get hungry.

Kiro: But…

His voice grows soft, and I don’t know what he’s struggling with.

In the end, he purses his lips, turning his eyes to me.

Kiro: I didn’t buy them.

MC: …hm?

He chuckles in embarrassment, spreading the picnic mat smoothly on the ground, and taking out food boxes from the bag.

Seeing these food boxes, I’m left slightly stunned. Based on my memory of how long I’ve known Kiro, it seems that I’ve never had a taste of his cooking.

Kiro: I was thinking that since today is such a special day, even if we couldn’t sit in a cafeteria to have a couple set meal, we should at least have something special. I don’t want you to be left with any regrets today, so I was wondering how to make things different for you.

Kiro: And then… [laughs sheepishly] what you see in front of you happened.

I lift up Kiro’s food box. The rice has been scooped up in a crooked manner. Although the carrots could be said to be in heart-shapes, they look more like the heads of an arrow.

In the messy omelette, the ham seems to have sneaked out secretly. Perhaps it wanted to have a breath of air after being in such an enclosed space.

The octopus sausages are like blooming fireworks, hiding in the gigantic rice ball, too shy to see anyone. Meanwhile, the sandwich looks incredibly full, and it seems to have chicken drumsticks in it.

This looks like a far from perfect bento - shoddy and clumsy.

Kiro: …what’s in front of you is already the best attempt.

MC: How many times did you make this?!

Kiro: I’ll let it remain an undisclosed secret forever.

He places his palm on his chest, closing his eyes and saying this quietly.

Chuckling, I hand the bento that I’ve prepared to him. In exchange, he gives me a few minutes’ worth of praises.

MC: This seems to be the first time I’m eating what you made.

Kiro: There shouldn’t be a problem.

He looks at me with certainty. His expression is exceptionally serious, causing me to laugh aloud.

MC: Why didn’t you show this to me before?

Kiro: They weren’t good enough.

MC: Have you met your standards now?

Kiro: Of course not! I just felt… that you’d be happy with this.

His eyes are bright, akin to a sun being hidden by soft clouds which are unable to shroud the light.

This perfectionist is slowly, bit by bit, willing to display the areas he isn’t perfect in before me.

Like the tender belly of a kitten.

MC: I’m especially happy. But if something does happen, you’ll have to take responsibility.

Kiro: Of course I’ll take responsibility! Even if nothing happens, I’ll also take responsibility! [laughs] I’ll take responsibility after eating.

The afternoon sunlight is just right. The quiet forest is reminiscent of a small world, embracing us.

MC: I’ll be digging in now!

[ PART FIVE ]

The heavy Pendulum drags us far away from Mother Earth. Our feet are suspended in the air, and continuously scale to greater heights.

As of now, I’m hugging the safety bars in front of me tight.

MC: Kiro, you liar!

Kiro: I’m not! I was duped into coming here too!!

After lunch, we proceeded with the carnival challenge. After going through all the tests earlier, we had pretty much conquered a majority of the attractions in the park.

That is, aside from one of them - the Turbo Drop, which is so tall that it pierces the clouds. It looks as though it’s inviting people to scream in an unparalleled manner.

Because it looks overly frightening, and that the entrance has been designed to be hidden in an obscure place, there are extremely few visitors who ride it.

Kiro: The staff told me that this was very interesting! The entrance was a tower, and I thought it was an attraction where we could look at the scenery from a high altitude.

MC: I can understand all of this, but…

We’ve reached the peak of the Turbo Drop. Over a hundred metres in the sky, the winter air is especially cold, and the empty Turbo Drop seems even more desolate.

I feel as though my heart is already dead.

MC: Why didn’t you let go before we boarded the Turbo Drop!

Kiro: How could you bear to let me go through this on my own!

MC: I have to harden my heart during such circumstances!

Kiro: You could treat it as… us going through a hardship together.

MC: What kind of a hardship could be even more terrifying than this!

Kiro: Just think about it. Don’t novels and movies always have such scenarios? Two lovers experience some… challenge from the world.

He reaches out, gripping my hand tightly.

Kiro: By getting through the difficulty, people can see the determined love of the couple, and they eventually overcome all the barricades! As long as we complete this challenge, the future will be full of tranquil and beautiful days of enjoying each others’ company! This way, do you feel filled with courage?

MC: Does this count as Mr Kiro’s exclusive secret to success?

Kiro: This secret can’t be used by anyone. It only works when it’s related to you. Whenever I face anything frightening, as long as I have this mentality, I’ll feel omnipotent, and that there’s nothing I can’t do.

MC: In that case, me too!

I grab his hand tightly, the view beneath my feet frightening beyond compare. But because Kiro is here, I feel as though I can press on through this.

Holding him as we walk towards the end-goal, all the challenges along the way are simply temporal.

MC: Wait.

Something occurs to me.

MC: This has nothing to do with you dragging me up here.

Kiro: Haha.

The music from the Turbo Drop resounds, signalling that this frightening experience is reaching its end.

The incredibly rapid wind brushes past my ears. In the midst of the weightlessness rushing though my entire body, I hear Kiro’s words.

Kiro: If Miss Chips weren’t around, I definitely couldn’t do this on my own!!

-

With jelly-like feet, I lean against Kiro’s frame. Even so, I can’t help but sulk, my soft fist smashing against him.

MC: …“the future will be full of tranquil and beautiful days of enjoying each others’ company”?

Kiro: Welcome to your tranquil and beautiful days with Kiro.

MC: How would you know about that?

Kiro: I just know it.

His voice is soft as he leans towards my lips. It’s as though his words are at my ear, and requires some weaving before it can reach my heart.

Kiro: Because every day will be a future like this. The only difference is that there will be different kinds of beauty.

MC: in that case, what kind of beauty is it now?

Kiro: Right now…

His voice suddenly grows softer. He takes off the hat he’s been wearing all this while, and covers our side profiles.

Kiro: Lift your head, and I’ll tell you.

Fireworks event: here

#this is just a re-post of the love carnival translations! #I'm doing some mild renovations to the blog so don't mind me #the previous translations were split according to parts rather than love interest which I find really disjointed!

[patandpran]

For the First Time - An Ohmfong fic

Written to fill my recent anon’s request for a fluffy first date fic for OhmxFong. You get 2200 words of just that! I hope you enjoy! 

Summary: Fong and Ohm are on a first date together, neither really know what to do with themselves. Fluffiness, softness and some wine drinking ensues.

With the interview that just came out, it seemed like the right time to post this...

Ohm had tried on about five different outfits already and none of them seemed right. He tugged at the bottom of the collared shirt he was currently wearing and studied himself in the mirror. It was one of those moments where nothing in his wardrobe was fitting like he wanted it to and none of the outfits were right for the occasion.

A first date with Fong.

He could not even believe those words could make a real sentence but, somehow, it had turned into his reality. There was a part of Ohm that worried that he was going to show up for the date and their entire group of friends would show up instead to mock Ohm for thinking that Fong had actually asked him out on a real date.

That was the most difficult part to navigate: Fong had asked him out.

Until the invitation had passed through Fong’s lips, Ohm had assumed that his best friend was still hung up on Tine but Fong had quickly clarified by saying, “In case you haven’t noticed, I like you, Ohm. We basically spend all of our time together anyway so… if you’re okay with it, I’d like us to go out on a proper date.”

Ohm felt a bead of nervous sweat fall from his forehead and quickly mopped it up with a t-shirt he had already discarded on his bed. He only had a few minutes before he had to leave to meet up with Fong so it looked like he was going to have to go with the collared shirt he had on. It wasn’t perfect but he looked presentable enough to be seen in public.

With his heart racing at a mile a minute, Ohm raked a hand through his hair on last time and nodded at his reflection. He could do this. With that, he set off to meet Fong.

++++++

When Ohm spotted Fong standing outside of the restaurant, the ground beneath his feet felt like it somehow disappeared. He had to work hard to keep his balance as he looked at Fong who was wearing a button-down and dark jeans. Fong had styled his hair loosely in the way that haunted Ohm’s dreams and made his knees weak but the part that truly got to Ohm was the single red rose that Fong grasped between his hands as he looked around nervously.

Fong spotted Ohm and Fong broke into a grin as Ohm approached him, “Hey! You’re here.”

“Did you think I wasn’t going to show up or something?” Ohm asked, his voice shaking slightly.

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure.” Fong responded shyly and he abruptly offered the flower to Ohm. “I, um, got this for you.”

Ohm accepted the rose and held it to his chest in a gesture he hoped showed his appreciation, “Thank you. It’s beautiful. I should have got something for you too…”

“I asked you out.” Fong blurted out anxiously. “I’m the one who has to treat you, not the other way around.”

Ohm chuckled softly. He had never seen Fong so spastic before. It was completely adorable and made Ohm thankful that he wasn’t the only one nervous about this new step in their relationship. It seemed like they were stepping off a bit of a cliff but, at the very least, they were doing it together.

“Well, I feel treated already.” Ohm answered and was surprised to see a blush spread across Fong’s nose. Ohm felt his own face heat up in reaction so he continued, “Um, should we go inside then?”

“Good idea.” Fong nodded and started off toward the entrance of the restaurant and Ohm followed after him.

They were quickly sat at a table near the window and two menus were set in front of them. They both studied them silently before Fong prompted, “Order whatever you want. It’s a special night.”

Ohm knew that they both were on a student’s budget and with the prices on the menu, Fong was going to be set back by the meal for a few weeks. Ohm chewed his lip before sharing, “You don’t have to do that. It’s the twenty first century, we can split the bill.”

“Ohm.” Fong stated plainly, a serious look appearing on his face. “Please just let me do this. It means a lot to me.”

Ohm’s breath hitched slightly but he nodded, “Okay, well. Why don’t you order for us because I am completely lost. Everything looks amazing.”

Fong relaxed and a small smile appeared on his lips as he closed his menu, “I can do that.”

The server approached them and Ohm watched as Fong expertly ordered an array of different items and topped it off with a bottle of wine for them to share. Ohm was surprised by this so when the server left he asked Fong, “Since when do you drink wine?”

“I don’t know!” Fong muttered and his eyes dropped shyly to the silverware. “It seemed like the romantic thing to do…”

Ohm saw that Fong seemed to be still be on high alert and in his ‘overthinking mode’ so Ohm reached a hand across the table to grasp Fong’s. He laced their fingers together and squeezed gently in a way that he hoped translated as reassuring, “It’s just me, Fong. You don’t have to try so hard, as much as I appreciate it. I already like you more than you could possibly know…”

Fong’s eyes met Ohm’s and in them was such raw vulnerability that it practically broke Ohm’s heart. Ohm wondered if Fong knew just how much he meant to Ohm and Ohm vowed to himself to remind Fong as often as possible about the gravity of his feelings.

“I worried that you only said yes to the date because you were being your typical kind self.” Fong explained and his voice wavered slightly. “So it’s kind of amazing to hear that I’m not the only one who wants this.”

“God, who knew how sappy we could both be?” Ohm expressed and laughed at the thought. “If Tine and Phuak were here, we’d never hear the end of it.”

“Way to ruin the moment bringing up those two idiots.” Fong rolled his eyes as the wine and first course of food arrived.

Ohm’s mouth began to water as he looked at the delicious food in front of them. The server poured them both a glass of the wine before leaving them to enjoy the first round of their meal. Ohm went to reach for his wine glass before realizing that he and Fong’s hands were still intertwined.

“Oops.” Ohm mumbled before pulling his hand away from Fong’s who immediately pouted at the separation. Ohm noticed this and teased, “We can’t possibly spend the whole dinner holding hands, Fong.”

“That is a challenge I am willing to take on.” Fong retorted before raising his glass to meet Ohm’s for a ‘Cheers’. “What should we toast to?”

“Trying new things?” Ohm suggested and Fong nodded in agreement as they clinked their glasses together.

They both made eye contact before taking their first sips of the wine. Fong immediately made a disgusted face before setting down the glass, “That is… not my favourite.”

“I don’t actually mind it.” Ohm shrugged, taking another sip of the wine as Fong watched in horror.

Fong wrinkled his nose and tried to take another swing but was just as grossed out as the first time he drank it. Ohm watched in amusement as Fong tortured himself. Ohm shared, “You’re not supposed to chug wine, Fong.”

“It’s the only way I’m going to be able to get it down.” Fong winced as he swallowed another gulp of it.

“Slow down, there.” Ohm reached over and pulled the nearly empty glass out of Fong’s reach. “The last thing I want is a messy drunk Fong as a date.”

“Okay. Okay.” Fong obeyed and they started to pick away at the meals. Fong deciding that the food was much more delicious than the beverage he had ordered.

“How did you find this place?” Ohm wondered as he finished off another scrumptious bite.

“I googled all your favourite food and this is the first thing that came up.” Fong answered as they finished off another plate.

As the empty plates were cleared and a second round of mains replaced them, Ohm looked at Fong warmly, “You really thought of everything, didn’t you?”

Fong couldn’t help but grin in satisfaction at Ohm’s reaction to his attention to detail. He had wanted everything to be perfect for their first date so he was delighted that Ohm was picking up on all the effort he had put in.

Ohm dug into the second round and they ate in a comfortable silence for a while. That was the best part of this whole arrangement, despite how their relationship had shifted, they still had such an established basis already that they could just be themselves with the added extra layer of a new element to their connection.

“I forgot to say earlier…” Ohm started and wiped his hands with a napkin as he finished off his meal. “You look great tonight.”

Fong looked down at his outfit self-consciously and admitted, “Thank you…You have no idea how many different outfits I tried on before I settled on this one… it’s kind of embarrassing actually.”

“I did the same! Seriously, what is wrong with us?” Ohm blurted out and the two best friends burst into a fit of shared laughter at how ridiculous they both were.

“But you always look amazing.” Fong shared as the server set down a shared dessert between the two of them.

It was Ohm’s turn to blush fiercely. He could not believe that he and Fong had kept such thoughts as secrets from one another when they both shared the same feeling for their best friend. It seemed like such a loss, such wasted time but Ohm did not want to think that way; he was more than happy they had found the way to be open about the way they felt for each other, even if it took a bit longer than expected.

“I mean it.” Fong assured Ohm when he did not respond quickly.

“No, I know you do.” Ohm clarified and smiled across the table at his best friend who he adored more than anything. “I just… can’t believe we’re here like this right now… I’m… so happy.”

“Me too.” Fong agreed and picked up his spoon to grab a scoop of the ice cream that was quickly melting before them. Ohm moved to pick up his own spoon but Fong put his free hand upon Ohm’s and said, “Let me.”

Fong scooped up some ice cream and held the spoon in front of Ohm’s mouth as an offering. Ohm beamed at Fong before taking a bite and then Fong used the same spoon to take a taste of his own.

Ohm and Fong spent the rest of the meal basking in each other’s company. The server put the cheque on the table and offered to bring them a cork for the wink as it seemed like neither of them were going to finish it which inspired a round of shared giggles between Fong and Ohm. As requested, Fong paid for the bill but Ohm insisted on covering the next one which Fong agreed to. It seemed like a fair trade-off.

Fong walked Ohm out to his car and just as Fong was about to say something, Ohm blurted out, “Tonight was amazing. I can’t thank you enough. I just… I am so glad that we were able to do this together.”

“You make it sound like it’s not going to happen again.” Fong suddenly became a bit self-conscious and kicked at the gravel near Ohm’s car.

“Fong.” Ohm took Fong’s hands in his and squeezed them gently. “You can’t get rid of me that easily. I can’t wait until we get to go out again. Next time it’s my turn to plan the date though, okay?”

Fong looked up at Ohm and flashed a relieved smile, “Sounds like a plan.”

They stood there facing each other for a long moment, just looking at each other and taking in the atmosphere of the next step in their relationship. Neither could believe they were standing across from each other in such a way.

“Ohm…” Fong murmured and cast his gaze shyly to the ground before daring himself to look back at Ohm again. Ohm’s breath hitched before Fong continued, “Can I kiss you?”

“If you didn’t ask, I was going to.” Ohm responded without a beat and leaned down to press his lips to Fong’s.

Both Ohm and Fong were instantly lost in the kiss, both of them wishing it could last but knowing it would inevitably have to end at some point. Ohm questioned why they had never done this before and why he had not had the courage ages ago to pull his gorgeous friend into a kiss. But living with regret was useless so he banished the thought as quickly as he could and focused on the present reality that he was kissing Fong and Fong was kissing him.

For the first time, they were exactly where they both wanted to be: in the other’s arms, showing one another just how much love was shared between them.

#ohmfong #ohm x fong #2gether #still 2gether #thai bl #gmmtv #khaotung thanawat #jj chayakorn #my writing #2gether finale #seems like the right time to post this

[shes-claws-deep]

Shimada Bros Vampire AU

A thing me and @thedevilinherself did on a discord server. It’s a bit disjointed but hopefully still readable. Enjoy!

For your consideration; your laying on a bed, legs spread wide as the two vampire Shimadas brothers nestle between them, biting, licking and sucking on your thighs as they feed. If they're going for the inner thighs, that's gonna be super tender and sensitive

And the venom from their fangs leaves you even more sensitive, over stimulated as your boys worship you with great gratitude. And then to thank you they simultaneously eat you out. Competing to please you as they are practically making out around your clit and slit. And if you're on your period, they fight for the drips of blood that come out every time you cum or when you get close.

You’re nice and sensitive when you’re on your period too.

And the venom in their fangs numbs the cramping so you try to spend all of your period on your back with at least one of them between your legs. And they are more than willing to oblige. Maybe even sometimes on your front, cuddling a pillow and watching tv or something, while they prop you up on your knees so they can eat you properly and stuff their entire face into your ass.

They are eagerly digging in, making sloppy noises as they scoop out as much blood as they can with their tongue. When they finally take a break their mouth is a mess with your blood, eyes dark and lusty, breathing heavy as palm their stiff cock. 

Or maybe they have you lying on Hanzo’s chest (groping his boobs) while Genji kneels behind you and eats you out so good that you drip all over hanzo's stomach.

God, you know I'm game for Hanzo boob worship. Hanzo's growling as he watches his brother eagerly burying his face in your ass. It's made worse as you scoop up some of the blood from your stomach, slipping your fingers into his mouth to suck as you tease him with the taste of your sweetest blood. He wants to feed on your neck, desperately needing to satisfy his hunger, but he holds back, not wanting to fill up before his turn with you.

You're happily teasing him with your finger, swirling it inside his mouth and playing with his tongue and his fangs until you gasp, eyes wide and mouth agape. Above your back, Hanzo can see Genji rising behind you, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force as he starts fucking you hard. Almost about to admonish his brother for jumping his turn - Hanzo's supposed to have a snack before the main course, goddamnit - until the metallic taste of your blood blooms across his tongue. You pricked your finger on the tip of his fang.

He can't hold back, sucking on your finger before biting your wrist, feeding in a fevered frenzy as his hips give small needy thrusts. Between Hanzo sucking you dry and Genji fucking you senseless, you can't control the sounds that escape you, forgetting how your back hurt and stomach hurt.

At first, you flinch from the pain. His fangs burn as they sink into the tender skin of your wrists, the pull of his sucks bringing weakness to your body as his venom replaces the blood he takes. Slowly, ever so slowly, you feel lightheaded and warm, sinking deeper into the vampire brothers' embrace as they both pin you to Hanzo's wide chest. 

Pleasure and desire cloud your mind, taking over your body. Making you squirm between them and rub your chest over Hanzo's own as you start rocking your hips weakly in search of more stimulation. "Aannnhhh," you moan with fluttering lashes. "Pl-please..." 

Hanzo growls with want and licks the wounds on your wrist closed.

TheDevilinHerself: I have to wonder if Hanzo would force his way in before Genji finished to make sure he gets his turn.And which brother would eat you out afterwards, cum and all, just to get that last bit of blood from you?

Shes-claws-deep:  i can see genji being that nastybut then he might snowball it and pass to you via a kiss~

hanzo would hook his leg around you and push genji away with his foot, then roll you both over so he can fuck you. in the meantime, he gets his hands under your thighs and pushes it up to your chest, pinning your knees to your shoulders and opening you up for him so beautifully.

Hanzo's got you pinned while Genji pouts off to the side, unable to keep himself from pumping is own dick at the sounds that escape you. Hanzo's intent on breeding you, determand to watch you overflow with his cum. Your pale from the loss of blood, head dizzy and mind spinning as you babble.Hanzo loves hearing your gibberishyour words coming out as praise taht sooth his ego and indulge his pride

Whenever Genji comes close, Hanzo snaps his head around to hiss at him. No. His turn. Instead of snapping back, Genji just slinks around you and holds your legs back, letting his slick soaked cock slap onto your face as he does so. "For you, aniki," he croons. Now with his hands free, Hanzo grins toothily and grabs handfuls of your breasts instead. So soft and so perfect, filling his palms, your nipples stabbing at his calloused skin as he gropes you roughly. His touch isn't gentle. Not by a long shot. But it makes you moan filthily nonetheless, your body so delirious with pain and pleasure and weakness that you arch your chest in response. More. Even more. Genji's cock bobs at your mumbled pleas, precum leaking from his tapered head to drip onto your parted lips. He watches with dilated eyes, transfixed on the single clear droplet as it stretches down down down into your mouth.

Eyes rolled back into your head, from somewhere deep in your sex fuiled haze, you recognized the way his eyes trained on you, on your mouth. Despite the way your mind spun, despite the growing ache in your hips, despite Hanzo's cock balls deep in you, you were hungry for more. Your tongue lulled out, head leaning back as you offered up your mouth to the younger brother. His surprise was gratifying, the lust that laced his smile and the shine in his eyes showing his hunger.Hanzo was more then a little annoyed at your offer when his brother had already had his taste of you, but the way your cunt clenched around him was more then enough to distract him

Still, not one to be one-upped, Hanzo readjusts his hold so one hand has its claws digging deep into the flesh of your waist. Now with a new handhold, he resumes his backbreaking pace, slamming his cock deep inside you. Your battered walls clench helplessly around his thick cock, the ribs and piercings dragging on your soaked pussy lips with every pull and thrust. Wet slaps of flesh against flesh fill the air, joining the sick sucking noise of your pussy dragging on his fat cock.Genji, on the other hand, is busy with your face and your mouth. With his hips alone, he rubs his cock all over your face, chasing your lips and tongue as you readjust to lick and suck on his bobbing cock. Ah, but he never makes it easy for you. Teasing you, he lifts his hips and sets his balls on your face instead, rocking his hips and smearing your juices all over your already slicked up face. "Lick my cock," he commands softly, taking one hand from your ankle to finally angle his cockhead to your lips while he rests his clenching balls on your forehead. "Suck it."

You oblige greedily, swirling your tongue around the head as Hanzo's thrust kept you bobbing on his brothers cock. The brothers competed for your attention, Hanzo's grip drawing more of your delisious blood as he fucked you raw, cock causing your walls to spasm and your legs to tremble. Leaned over you, he nipped at your breast, fangs dragging down your flesh to draw small beads of blood that he hungrily lapped up. Genji on the other hand, was more then distracted by your mouth. The sweet way your warm crevis envelopped him, the sloppy noises you made as you tryed to get a seel on his length, it spired him on. giving small bucks as he angled himself better into your mouth, his balls dragged across your face, not that you minded.

You'd never admit it to them for fear they'd catch on, but you loved they way they competed for your pleasure

Genji moans softly as he rocks against your face, his hands slipping under your head to support the back of your neck as he roughens his thrusts. Bit by bit, he slips further into your mouth. Raising your head up and back at the same time. Pushing and pushing until you're batting at Hanzo's hands weakly when Genji finally forces his cock down your throat. "Oh fuck, you feel so good," he whimpers airily. Your throat is convulsing around his sensitive cock, milking him until he actually presses in deeper in search of more of that heavenly feeling. His eyes roll in his head, his eyelashes flutter and his hips shake as he whines, "Take me all the way down. Yesss just like that." 

 Suddenly, Hanzo rears up from his position at your breast to grab his brother by the neck, pushing him out of your tight throat and throwing him aside violently. "Watch it!" Hanzo hisses, gathering you into his arms as you cough weakly and spit thick globs of saliva all over yourself in an attempt to recover from the absurdly long deepthroat. "You almost suffocated her." Then he turns his attention to you, ignoring the fluttering of your walls around his still throbbing cock as he soothes your neck with one hand, wiping away your spit with the other. "Are you okay?"

#overwatch #overwatch imagines #vampire au #genji shimada #hanzo shimada #female reader

[ambiguouslyliterate-blog]

Respawn Point Ch. 2: The Power of Anime

We came to a wide stone wall. It was both the first monument to civilization I'd seen in a month, and one of the biggest stone structures I’d ever seen. Where the forest parted, I could see the wall's length extending infinitely either way into the forest. Pink wool fell in fluffy tapestries from the top of the wall, shreds of its bright color falling loose and trailing across the gravel road like leaves. Just beyond the wall you could see the tops of castles, not like the stone and brick castles in parts of my old server, but ornate buildings with rooftops curved and plated like the backs of dragons, peaking in triangular green and mahogany arches. My feet moved on their own, pulling us towards the structures. San snored on my back, still conveniently unconscious. I wondered when--or if--she’d wake up; whether I’d have to carry her to her home in the server or whether I’d be able to put her down and walk. But it wouldn’t matter.

We had encountered mobs on the journey there, but for some reason I couldn't spawn my drills. I chalked it up to exhaustion, or at least something like that. Maybe I copied San's hunger, I thought. Though, I had to wonder if San was a mod user herself... If I'd maybe copied something I couldn't use.

Copying mods happened by touch, and happened automatically. I... Didn't actually have any control over it. Call it my weakness. Take the drills for example. I copied them from a griefer who had been attacking my server--or, my ex-server I guess--but I had to touch them or at least make some kind of contact, so... Basically for my power to work, I need to be punched in the face. Not a great mod in my opinion, but it's what I had to work with. At the very least, I wouldn’t have to worry about it here. I just had to get through those gates and--

"STOP!"

"YAMERO!"

Two voices split the cool serenity of the woods, the rustle of leaves falling silent, hushed by their commanding tones. The guards strode forward, stepping in sync as their feet crunched the gravel beneath them, their faces coming into view.

One wore a black jacket that flowed around him almost like a cape, his long black hair falling back from his face in jagged shards. As he neared however, my intimidation began to melt into bemusement. He had belts EVERYWHERE. Two crammed into the loops of his pants, several wrapped around his arm, and two in an X across his chest, almost like the straps for a sword sheathe. But they weren’t holding anything. In fact, they all appeared to be completely pointless. As were the two belts on his left leg and the leather wristbands that poked out from his sleeves. He was the peak of superfluous; the fashion polices’ most wanted.

"State your username and your business here, normie." Belts glared, his foot planted dramatically in the gravel.

"Cyrustheslayer." I spoke quietly, trying to keep my voice calm. What in the Nether is a normie? I asked to myself, somehow split equally between fear of authority and baffled glee. I realized quickly that I was over my head.

"I have this girl, I think she's one of you guys?"

"HOSUTESU!" The other guard cried, reaching for a sword from her side. I flinched back, clutching San tightly. The guard drew closer, barking at me in a language I’d never heard before. My lips searched for a response, but there was nothing I could really say. I squeezed San’s legs, hoping this didn’t go the way I figured it would go. The way it always goes with modders.

The girl had long pale-green hair tied in a frayed ponytail, her bangs splayed in front of her eyes. A necklace of large purple beads hung around her neck, dangling about the sandy tunic she wore. She carried a bundle of blades at her side; 3, 5, no, 7-- Swords spilled out of the sash she wore around her midsection, at least ten of them sitting in their sheathes, hanging in the tight fabric. Two more swords were mounted on her back, my mind spinning as I tried to count them all. She pulled the two blades from their sheathes, one in each hand. Her eyes were piercing, merciless.

"You're right, Zolo," The guard with the ridiculous belts bellowed, "This looks like a hostage situation."

Excuse me?! I looked to the unconscious girl on my back, then to Zolo and the belt man standing on the path in front of me, each taking up their own battle stance. I hiked San upwards on my back, my feet moving almost automatically backwards. I glared at San as I tried to shake her awake.

"I- I think there's been some kind of mistake, I found this girl in the woods, I'm trying to take her back to her server."

Belts glared at me, his hands glowing with an ominous light. "Why don't we hear that from her, then?" He questioned, stabbing a finger at the air between us. From where I was standing, I was just a skinny loser in an oversized coat who wore scarves in overly-warm weather-- probably the least intimidating, least threatening person you could encounter. What harm could I do? Well, I did impale a stranger with a magic drill… but that’s beside the point! I began to sweat, nudging San as I stepped lightly away from them. She still didn’t seem to want to wake up. I swallowed, speaking quietly.

"Well, she’s unconscious because she uh... Lost a lot of blood when I stabbed her."

The two stepped forward. I looked anxiously at the swordswoman's abundance of swords. The ornateness of their sheathes, the sheer amount she was carrying, I knew they had to be a mod. A strange confidence burned in the back of my mind. Maybe I could copy them. Use them against her. As I struggled to strategize however, doubts began to consume my mind. Would I even be able to touch her swords without getting impaled on them? While carrying a girl on my back? And that’s only if my mod worked the way I thought it did. It didn’t exactly come with an instruction booklet. But just then, the swordswoman stepped forward, bringing her sword level with my nose. I pushed forward slightly, hoping to nudge it, but missed. The swordswoman looked confused, but dove forward, swinging her swords at me with swift, deadly accuracy.

"Please, I don't want any trouble--" I shook, lowering San for a moment. The swordswoman must have thought I was going to drop her and run because she dashed forward, swords slicing through the air. I fell back trying to dodge it, a stinging pain lashing my chest as the steel tore my flesh. I grit my teeth, San falling to the gravel behind me as I spilled onto the ground, the gravel scratching my hands. 

The woman spun a sword around her palm as if testing her own dexterity, squinting at me. She replaced her other sword, removing a new one that was untainted by my blood. Pain gripping my chest as my shoulders pivoted, I tried to rise lifting San over my shoulders in a fireman’s carry, holding my hand out in front of me. It took getting sliced by her katana... But I had it. Air swirled around my hand and energy flowed through my body and into my wrist, warming it. I felt solid matter push against the inside of my palm as the sword manifested. The swordswoman saw what was happening and rushed forward, only for a perfect copy of her katana to appear between us, blocking her blow.. The steely blade bit rang like a bell as it collided with her sword, my blade knocked from my hand, both of us thrown off our balance.

"K- kushō--!"

She swung another blade at me, trying to straighten herself, her body moving just as fast as before, if not faster. I moved my arm just in time, blocking the blow with another new blade, the edge cracking and its tip flying off behind her. Her eyes flashed, her hands grabbing for the next pair of swords. Teeth gritted and her face strained, she seemed more frustrated than defensive, angrier with herself than she was with me. Instinctively, I pushed my sword arm forward, the arc catching the side of her head just as her blade came against my cheek. Energy seemed to swell around the sword, bursting as I thrust it forward and sending a shock through the air. The blow threw her body into the dirt beside the gravel path, the swordswoman grunting as she collided with the ground. I spun the sword in my hand, (nearly dropping it) trying my best to look suave and powerful as I hoist San farther up on my back.

“Seriously, I’m not here to hurt anyone!” I cried, trying to argue my innocence while standing over someone I’d bludgeoned, “Can’t we just act like civilized players and talk this out?”

The belt boy stepped forward, putting a hand in front of his face, fingers spread, his other limbs thrown out in a bizarre stance. "I am Jortaro..." He shouted, his outstretched hands forming fists that glowed with a red fire. Jortaro pinned me with a dark glare. His hands flashed, becoming a pair of glowing red boxing gloves with golden spiked knuckles, "And in the name of anime,” He said, thrusting a fist forward in a menacing pose, “I will punish you!"

Jortaro shot towards me, his fist sailing past my head like an assassin’s arrow, air rushing past me as atmosphere rushing past me to fill the vacuum left by the attack. There was more power in his arm than anything I’d ever experienced, mod or otherwise, but he seemed to be flailing around wildly, his fists exploding in every direction as he shouted “ORA ORA  ORA ORA!!” into my face. I spawned two swords from my hands, Zolo’s swords, formed like an X to block the impact. Before he threw out his next punch, I swung one of the katanas, the blade gliding through the weeb’s arm the same way it sailed through the air. Almost no resistance. They were more than just normal iron swords. A stream of red shot across my vision as I severed the weeb’s right hand at the wrist, his red-spraying boxing glove flying into the dirt beside us. Jortaro staggered back, grabbing his reduced appendage.

“N- No! I’ve been-- Non-fatally wounded! Wh- What if I bleed out!”

And yet, the guard was smiling, his staggering labored and dramatic. Was he really joking around while he had a hand missing? DO WEEBS EVEN FEEL PAIN?! With his boxing glove still on, he tightened the notches in the belts on his right arm, stopping the blood flow and preventing any further blood loss.. “HA! As if an honorable weeb would die in such a manner.”

“DOES ANYONE BUT ME FEEL PAIN?!” I wailed. Belts scoffed at me.

The weeb grimmaced at me, his eyes burning with homicidal intent, “You’ll never understand anime. No outsiders will”

He threw out his left fist, the X-shaped swords two narrow to block the impact, the punch colliding with my stomach with tremendous power. My feet skidded across the gravel as I struggled to keep my balance, the reverberating force of his attack sending dull aches through my body. In addition, my counter-balance was slumping. San was falling down my back.

As Jortaro prepared for his next assault, metallic clicks sounded from behind me as the swordswoman staggered to her feet, pulling four swords out of their sheathes. Her head was still bleeding from my drill’s impact, but her eyes were straight, sharper than ever. She held two swords in her mouth and two in her hands, dropping two swords so that they fell on her sandals between her toes. In a way she was the most ridiculous and most terrifying thing I’d ever seen. A weeb’s maximum potential. I thought I saw something behind her, a shadow of something. In that moment, I thought it was part of her. A dark entity, like Herobrine but cast in a smoky form of purple and black. It was only then, as terror crawled under the surface of my skin like insects and the cold miasma behind her stared into me that I realized…

There was no way I could fight my way out of this…

“Omae wa mou shindeiru…”

I was already dead.

With a dual scream of battle, two gatekeepers dove towards us, a shrill metallic sound filling the air behind me and a flurry of fists filling my sight. My arms stuck out in front of me, guarding my front out of instinct, failing to do anything to guard my back. I hoped that San would be safe since she was from this server, that maybe she’d even be a good shield, but I didn’t know that for sure. Maybe they were willing to kill her, given she’d just respawn there anyway. I clasped my eyes tightly shut, my arms tightened, followed every other muscle in my body. My entire being felt like a brittle stone lined with cracks. I waited for the attack, waited for a scream of pain or an instinct to dodge. Waiting to shatter. But suddenly--

"TP SLEEPINGSW0RDZ0L0 AND「JORTAROKUJORT」 TO ME"

A voice shattered the sky, silencing the swords, the wind, the leaves, my heart-- everything. It spoke with a roaring, furious authority, like the cry of a mother bear. It spoke above everything, the command seemingly stealing the breath from the air. Some time passed with my eyes clamped shut, too shaken by the words to understand them fully. It was only after I pried them open to see the empty ground on either side of me that I realized it was an admin command. Words, like a spell, given to only the most powerful figure in a server. Words that had wrested the two gatekeepers from the air. My legs felt shaky, unstable as I pivoted around, searching for the source of the voice.

I looked up the path, immediately stunned. The purple shadow I had seen behind Zolo, the dark miasma, was actually a person. She had glowing purple eyes and wearing a heavy purple sweater, eyes glinting behind a pair of round glasses, her face hidden in a cloud of dark brown hair. Both of the gatekeepers were slumped at her sides, fidgeting as she held them by their collars like disobedient children.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, my mind raced to prepare an apology, hundreds of escape routes and pleas clouding my mind, my legs wobbling. I tried to choke out an apology without my mind made up, garbled parts of words fruitlessly spilling out. The purple glow began to dissipate, but the admin’s eyes still burned with impatience. Words, Cyrus, words!

“S- so, I know what you may be thinking--”

I was knocked over by an unknown force, falling forward into the gravel.

"Slenda!!”

Chalky white dust engulfed my vision and I struggled to pull my head up, only to see San--incredibly conscious-- dashing towards the admin. I gritted my teeth, trying to reconcile that she was shaken awake by the battle, or maybe she just happened to wake from her slumber by some sort of coincidence. But nothing seemed to justify it. I coughed up dust, looking down the path, unamused. The admin recoiled, dropping the two gatekeepers as the creeper girl dove into her, wrapping her arms around her as the two crashed to the gravel path, San laughing gleefully as they did.

A shadow stretched over me as I rose to a sitting position. I turned, hands curled into unintimidating, bony fists, only to see a smiling girl bent over me, her hand extended. She wore a leather jacket over a pine green hoodie, her hair a burnt shade of brown, as dark as the leather, dangling from the sides of her face and tied in a dry ponytail behind her head. Her skin was darker than mine, an oak to my acacia, her lips full and pulled into a hospitable smile. Her eyes burned with smoke and embers.

“Sorry about that,” She sighed, lifting me to my feet, “I’m Roxxie, one of the operators here. I hope San didn’t cause you any trouble.”

“Well…”

“What in the Nether are you both doing?!” The admin boomed, knuckles white at her sides. Roxxie and I turned to watch her, “You two were so reckless, you could have hurt San, you know that she can’t--!”

The admin, Slenda, caught sight of me and immediately clasped her lips. She gave me a snide, secretive look before looking back to her subordinates and barking further condemnations at them. Her voice was jagged now, cracks of anger and exasperation evident. She was less the roaring bear I had heard calling out the admin command and more of a yelping dog. Though an admin didn’t have to be especially imposing to be scary to me. Just having the commands was enough.

“Like killing San would be a huge loss,” Jortaro scoffed, just loud enough for me to hear him, “We’d only be losing the griefer who tries to blow up the server every other week.”

Zolo nodded weakly in agreement, though she seemed to be hiding her expression from the admin. Slenda gave him a look of death, clutching the creeper girl close to her. San didn’t seem phased though. And, if I’m gonna be honest, I don’t think she can be.

“Come on, let’s go,” Slenda ordered, tugging San through the gates, “You’re gonna open up a fresh bottle of sake and mellow out with me.” San stuck her tongue out, saluting Slenda.

San looked over her shoulder, waving at me as she left down a fork in the gravel path. You’re welcome. I chuckled, waving back. Slenda gave her operator a signal, Roxxie nodding and motioning for me to follow her as San and Slenda vanished in the server’s buildings. Roxxie patted me on the back of the shoulder, nudging me away through the gates and past the glares of the two gatekeepers. Even though I was welcomed by their superiors, there still seemed to be something seething in them. More than just defeat.

“San and Slenda are… A pair.” The operator smiled, her dark brown eyes flickering with embarrassment, “Slenda’s been cleaning up after San’s messes ever since we found her. I can only hope she didn’t trouble you too much.”

“Found?” I asked, trying to avoid getting into me and San’s scuff.

Roxxie shook her head. “Funny enough, Slenda stumbled upon her in the forest one day. Wandering around, half naked. She was hissing at players, animals and, uh… Trees.” She giggled, looking nostalgically down the road. That sounds about right, I shook my head, At least she’s consistently insane.

"You have such a cool mod!” She cheered, looking down at my arms, her eyes blazing, "So you were probably a dungeon crawler in your old server right? Or some kinda PvP master? Girlfriend probably thought you were pretty cool…"

I hesitated, my face hot.

I looked down at my hand, a smile creeping onto my face. My mod was almost like an old friend now, even though I’d only had it for about a month. Sure it was an old friend that magically transformed into a drill and sometimes swords that I used to kill zombies, but then again those are the best kind, right? I remembered the first fight I used it, in the fight that got me kicked out of my server-- the fight with the griefer. I thought of the fights with mobs, endermen, spiders, zombies, all things which I had been terrified of all falling easily to my new weapon. And then there was San. The only conflict I didn’t I didn’t plan for, but the only one with a real positive result. I couldn’t help but chuckle.

"I wasn't good at much before the mod honestly," I said, shrugging, "Just hung around in the spawn town library. But now I guess it’s good at getting me friends."

"Or getting you into trouble,” Roxxie smiled, holding up a hand. She was more than right, though the line struck me as odd. She only knew about the fight I got in with the operators… Right? Not my old server? A stream of thin smoke, soon lit by a feathery wisp of flame drifted upwards from her sleeve, snaking around her wrist and sitting in her hand, “You’d think I’d be doing a lot more with this fire mod I have, but all I used it for in my old server was griefing and pranks. And uh, they weren’t very good pranks.”

Roxxie giggled as she spun on her heel and continued down the path in front of us, her feet clapping up the gravel beneath. Weebs stared out at us from the alleyways beside the path. There was something dutiful in their expressions. Something defensive. An occasional child would run out in front of us, yelling something like “KAWAII” or “DOKI DOKI” before sailing back into the crowds. Some weebs fought with swords in the clearings behind buildings. It seemed that conflict was a weeb’s natural state.

A smile crept onto my face as I watched two weebs run across a nearby rooftop, arms flapping dramatically behind them. Seeing insane sights and characters like this, I remembered what I liked about big servers like this, and I guess the world of Minecraft in general; everything around you is a part of someone’s imagination. Every ornate rooftop, every ridiculous weapon, all of the strange styles and languages, they were all something that started in someone’s imagination. Something that someone believed in. Even the mods, though no one was truly sure where they come from, seemed to come from our dreams, our wishes. I still remembered dreaming of mine, swimming in the darkness of my mind, a voice offering from the void. I looked down at my hand, remembering when I planned for this to be my saving grace, the power that would make me a hero. It was only just starting to do me good.

"Don't be afraid to use that here by the way," Roxxie said, an odd sweetness in her voice, "We could use someone to set some players straight here. Especially someone new."

Though we had mostly walked through grey, blocky buildings up until this point, the spawn area was filled with the ornate castles and towers I’d seen from the outside wall, the weeb citadel finally meeting my expectations. I could see the pink woolen clouds that surrounded the city more clearly now, that I had just barely seeing poking over the walls. They weren’t wool however. They were trees. Modded trees known as cherry blossoms. In the exact center of the server was a creeper statue, its head topped with long blue hair. I may never understand weebs, I thought, looking up at the blue-haired effigy, but if they can make something like this, they couldn’t be all bad.

A laugh sprung from my cheek, the image of me as some kind of cop or peacekeeper more ludicrous than anything, even the weebs. A Cyrus dawning huge shoulder pads and shades stood in my mind's eye, a picture frame in hand. DON'T MAKE ME USE THIS. He boomed, glaring at the masses.

"I can hardly regulate myself. Heck, I'm only here because I accidentally ran through one of your players. I'm going to spend most of my time here mod-free if that's alright with you."

Her face turned cold for a moment, eyes falling unamused and her mouth flat, "That's fine." She flashed a thumbs-up paired with a grin, "You don’t have to be a part of it if you don’t want to. I understand how people from Vanillakings are, I know a few.”

Her words fell like a slop of snow off a rooftop; slow, quiet, but landing with a cold, sharp thud. So she did know me. I never mentioned I was from Vanillakings. I’d avoided mentioning the name before now just for the sake of leaving anew. For a fresh start. But she knew where I came from. We walked forward in silence for a few moments, the sun peeking through the breaks in-between buildings as we walked into the square.

The operator showed me to an empty room where I could stay while in the server. I hadn’t thought about it in earnest before that point, but looking down at the soft linens on the bed and the warm glow of the room’s redstone lantern, I realized how much I just wanted a home. There was something I still couldn’t shake about the server, how Roxxie seemed to know me, and how the guards seemed to act towards their leader, but as the soft linen of my mattress filled my view, all seemed to drift away. I’ll get the answers I needed in the morning.

#minecraft #mojang #fanfiction #fanfic #minecraft: respawn point #respawn point #my oc #my oc's #cyrus #cyrustheslayer #san #san powder #mod #mods #copy ability #zolo #SLEEPINGSW0RDZ0L0 #jortaro #「JORTAROKUJORT」 #anime #I HAVE THE POWER OF GOD AND ANIME ON MY SIDE #AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH #slenda #slendawoman #roxxie #XxFieryQueenRoxxiexX #minecraft server #weebs #weeaboos

[alengmae]

Amelia pt. 1

I had an idea that won’t go away until I wrote it. Molly was a camgirl and Sherlock finds out. Please be aware that this is a little on the saucy side (so much smut) so Mature readers only. 

Molly was voluntold yet again by the great Sherlock Holmes to be his partner against crime. Thus, she was stuck taking notes as the latter listened to his client’s demands. It was something she enjoyed on occasion. Spending the day with Sherlock makes her happy though he tends to be a smidge overbearing. However, her adoration for the man never waned even as he shredded the last of her patience. 

She went back to doodling on her notepad. Sherlock sat imperiously on his chair and bristled with boredom. Molly can already tell that he solved the problem a few minutes ago. However, both individuals could not get a word edgewise with the blubbering man in their midst. Only when the client paused for a breath of air did Sherlock intervened. 

Naturally, the client was amazed at Sherlock’s expeditious wit. And of course, Sherlock’s already inflated ego ballooned in size with his praise. She did nothing but roll her eyes as discreetly as she can.

As she turned away, wayward strands of her hair obscured her face. She gently tucked her hair behind her ear when the man started with an exclamation.

“I knew I recognized you! You’re Amelia! The girl in the videos.” 

Molly felt her insides run cold. She instantly laughed awkwardly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“But you really look like her. And I would know. I used to-well, never mind,” the man said as his cheeks colored. He did give her a leer as he took in Molly’s brightly colored jumper and conventional jeans. The man shook his head, profusely apologized and left in a haste.

Sherlock gazed at her intensely. “Amelia?”

Molly shrugged, “I have no idea.”

He narrowed his eyes a bit and grunted for the next client.

She took a small breath of relief. Unbeknownst to her, Sherlock’s suspicion and curiosity will bring her darkest secret to light.

It was a few days later after he last enlisted Molly as John’s replacement for the day. He meticulously arranged more time with his pathologist than normal. His burgeoning sentiment for her no longer something he can push aside. However, he’s still deliberating on how to broach the subject with her. While he did so, he was waylaid by an exciting level nine case that took his mind off her and the small odd interaction with Molly and a client. Molly’s reaction to the man’s inquiry proved that she is said Amelia. But it did not give any explanation about her abrupt denial. Upon clearing his mind palace of unnecessary clutter, he stumbled upon the mystery of Amelia. It took him several days of digging in the internet before he even got a lead. 

Even more confounding, all leads that he picked up eventually led him in circles. As he delved deeper and deeper into the web, he followed minuscule breadcrumbs of the woman. Finally, after spending two days in the dark net, he found a dedicated server for the most celebrated underground cam videos from the early 90′s. 

There was only one surviving video from the said woman. Apparently, there was a purge from the original server after several videos of underage females circulated. All that was left of Amelia’s legacy was a ten minute long video. 

As soon as he clicked on the video, he was shocked to see a younger Molly clad in a revealing nightie. She stared at the camera with her big, brown eyes whilst wearing a sensuous grin. There was something incredibly seductive about her expression. A mischievous seductress, if you will. She bit the bottom half of her lip and diverted her vision toward the left hand side of the screen. Molly giggled as she read a comment about her nightie out loud. 

“You want me to take it off?” She giggled again. “It’s going to cost you.”

There was a ringing sound that signaled a form of payment. 

Molly’s grin grew as she studiously stood up and removed the article of clothing. It revealed her perky breasts that swayed with her movement. Her rosy nipples crowning the mounds that Sherlock once ridiculed. Boy, was he wrong. He unconsciously licked his lips. 

“Do you like what you see?” 

Sherlock nodded slowly. 

Molly ran her hand across her right breast and gave her nipple a gentle squeeze. She gave a low breathy moan. 

Beads of perspiration coated Sherlock’s forehead.

Molly grasped her other nipple and gave it a much harder squeeze. She made a show of squirming her hips. Another round of ringing was heard. 

“Mmmm, baby... you’re making me wet. Would you like to see?”

Sherlock could not help but utter a resounding, “Yes!”

A stretch of ringing echoed before Molly stood up. She turned around and jutted her bum. And what a beautiful bum it was. Plump with a tiny scrap of cotton obscuring her nether regions. She wiggled her butt and Sherlock was left following the movement. There was a significant tightness in his pants that he refused to acknowledge. 

With deliberate slowness, Molly shed off her cotton panties. Her bare cunt left open for the paying perverts to see. Ironically, as he would think of this much later, he’s one of said perverts. But all that didn’t matter to him at the moment. Molly turned around and sat down on the bed, legs askew.  

“Do you see how wet you make me, baby?” she purred. A bout of ringing invaded the silence. 

“More?” she teased. She held up two fingers and licked it. It was maddeningly sexual the way she licked her fingers. Then, she proceeded to touch herself. Her hips twitched every time the fingers touched her clit. She moaned out loud, eyes closed and very much in the throes of sexual pleasure. 

If ever there was an image that will be seared in Sherlock’s mind, he willed it to be this. 

Another round of ringing interrupted her. Molly wore another saucy grin and pulled a dildo from her dresser. She gave it a good cleaning with wipes conveniently stored next to it. 

“I want more. So much teasing and I’m already so close.” Like her with her fingers, her mouth gave the same attention to the dildo. She made a show of sucking the shaft and licking the head of the toy. 

it was now Sherlock’s turn to groan. He can just imagine his own shaft in lieu of the toy.

When she deemed it appropriately lubricated the dildo, she maneuvered herself so that the camera captured the toy and her wet heat. She waited for a beat. 

“Would you like to see me get off?”

A vigorous round of ringing can be heard. If Sherlock was being honest with himself, he would not hesitate paying all the money he had just to see Molly and her sex toy for even a measly minute. 

“Oh goddd...fuck!” Molly bellowed as the toy entered her sex. She slowly moved the dildo up and down, setting a comfortable pace whilst making sure it was hitting her g-spot. She interchanged moaning with a litany of curses as she chased her climax. Her licked her other hand and rubbed her clit. 

She was a picture of wild, wanton sex. And it drove him into lust-addled frenzy.

Sherlock released his hardened cock from the restriction of his pants. He caressed himself, mimicking the movement of her toy. Her loud groans egged him on. He was on the edge already. And judging by the curl of her toes, so was she. 

She increased her pace and jammed the toy harder into her sex. Her legs started shaking and her eyes curled upwards. She came with a shout, her juices squirting from her sex. He followed almost instantly. He came with a shudder and a loud groan. 

Molly, in the middle of climax, is by far, the most erotic thing Sherlock had ever envisioned. 

She pulled out the toy from herself and languidly stood up. Her legs were still shaky but she moved closer to the computer. She gave the viewers a bright smile, reminiscent of the ones she reserve for Sherlock.

“This is Amelia signing off. See you next time.” She let out a cute wink and the video ended. 

Sherlock is now at a loss. In a day, he found out that the girl he may or may not (mostly leaning toward the former) be in love with harbored a secret past and he now has a newly-discovered fetish. One thing is for certain though.

He will make sure that Molly becomes his. 

You guys... this is my first time writing smut. Let me know okay. Too much? Needs more? Please please, let me know. 

#sherlolly #smutty smut smut #camgirlMolly

[mindthump]

Riding a Time Capsule to Apartment 8G http://ift.tt/2AJrQeZ

Below the indicator box, where a modern elevator just has blank space, is the black-handled mechanism that drives the elevator. It’s called a control switch. In Mr. Rivera’s elevator, the switchworks are hidden within a weathered-bronze Frisbee-shaped cover bearing the logo of Haughton Elevators. (Haughton’s competitors included Gurney, Watson, Otis and A.B. See. Only Otis still exists.)

As Mr. Rivera throws the handle to the left, a swiveling contact bar inside the cover opens one circuit and closes another. This sends two electrical messages to a control panel in the basement: to power up the motor, and make it spin forward. The motor pulls the cables that lift the car.

Riding in an old manual elevator makes you realize how boringly quiet today’s elevators are. An old elevator makes a sort of music: the reassuring low hum of the motor, the gentle creaks of turning wheels, the click as each floor goes by, the jingle of the gate closing, like parting a bead curtain or sifting a pile of coins. The only jarring note in Mr. Rivera’s elevator is the call buzzer. It sounds like the wrong answer on a game show.

One of Mr. Rivera’s colleagues, Peter Gari, said he could identify certain residents by the buzz — long or short, or a double hit. “Some people buzz and then a couple of minutes later they buzz again. You get to the floor and they tell you, ‘I’m running late.’ Not my problem, wake up earlier.”

Over the decades, 47 Plaza Street has made concessions to modernity. The elevator signals are now routed through a computer in the basement. And since about 1993, the elevators have been what is called “self-leveling.” Mr. Rivera demonstrated what this means. “I get to 11, 11½…” He let go of the handle and the car glided to a halt at the 12th floor. “It stops by itself. How beautiful!”

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230 West 39th Street renovated its elevators cosmetically but left the ancient manual control system intact.

When Otis developed the self-leveling elevator in 1917, it was a big deal. James Montgomery Flagg made a film the next year called “The Good Sport” in which the hero invents a self-leveling elevator and receives a $100,000 check. “Your invention is a boon to humanity!” says the owner of the Social Uplift Elevator Co. “Ladies and gentlemen — No more ‘Watch your step’ — This is the first elevator that ever stopped even with the floor.”

The technology spread slowly. Very slowly, in some cases: There are still many elevators in the city that are not self-leveling and must be landed precisely, kind of like a plane.

“I was terrible when I first started,” said Mike Merille, who has operated an elevator at 890 Broadway, home of the American Ballet Theater and the Ballet Tech dance school, since 2001. “But it’s muscle memory by now. I don’t even look.”

In the 1930s, a series of strikes and strike threats by elevator operators led bosses to respond with threats of their own. “Building owners fear that any substantial increases in wages for service employees will force them to install labor-saving devices, which will result in a large displacement of labor,” The Times reported in 1935. Elevator operators in those days worked up to 72 hours a week for as little as 30 cents an hour, equivalent to about $5.60 an hour today. (Now they make around $24 an hour.)

Push-button elevators had actually been around since the 1890s, but were not practical for larger buildings. They were slow. Initially they could make only one stop per trip. Later, they could make multiple stops, but only in the order the buttons were pressed.

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Brian Naidoo pilots the elevator at 518 West 26th Street, a former factory filled with galleries.

It took until 1950 for Otis to perfect a push-button system smart enough to handle the traffic and shifting demands for service over the course of the day in a multi-elevator building. The company’s Autotronic system, Otis boasted in advertisements, “minimizes the human element” and “gives tenants a sprightly feeling of independence.”

The elevator man’s fate was sealed.

Almost.

Sixty-five years later, the human element still has its fans. At 47 Plaza Street West, on that same morning in early November, Mr. Rivera opened his elevator door and Bob Rubin got on.

“How you doing, Ramon?” he asked.

“I’ve had my ups and downs,” Mr. Rivera replied.

“I’ve never heard that one before,” Mr. Rubin said.

In the kitchen of the apartment he has lived in for 41 years, Mr. Rubin, a construction lawyer, expounded on his love for the elevators.

“What intrigues me about them is a kind of elegant simplicity,” he said. He fetched a stovetop espresso maker known as a moka pot. “This thing,” he said, “makes a better cup of coffee than that one,” and he pointed to the Keurig on the counter.

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Clockwise from top left: The annunciator at 33 West 67th Street. The switch handle at 35 Pierrepont Street in Brooklyn. A Gurney elevator switch in Brooklyn. The inner gate in an elevator at 41 Fifth Avenue in Manhattan.

Mr. Rubin does not lock his apartment door. He has found the elevator men to be paragons of trustworthiness. “They know everything that’s going on in the building, but none of them has ever been a gossip to the best of my knowledge,” he said. “There is just an exceptional level of discretion.”

Discretion is sometimes called for, said Mr. Gari, Mr. Rivera’s counterpart at the north elevator that day.

“Sheeee, woohoo!” said Mr. Gari. “Boy, through the years, oh, yeah.”

“At my old job” — he used to work an elevator on Park Avenue — “sometimes people would ask, ‘Is my spouse home? And when did they get in?’ Home or not home, I’d say yes or no. But as far as when, I’d say, ‘I don’t remember, you can ask them.’”

Visitors must be carefully screened. “One time we had a process server show a gun to me and Ramon,” Mr. Gari said. “He asks, ‘Is so-and-so home?’ He showed me a badge. I called up on the intercom, no one answered, I told him, ‘They’re not there.’ He wanted me to take him up there. I said no. He said, ‘I’m the law, you’re obstructing justice,’ and he shows this gun. Ramon is like, what are you going to do, shoot me?”

Not everyone is charmed by the old elevators. “I’d lean toward push-a-button, convenience, quickness,” said Brian Kramer, a member of the co-op board at the Kenilworth on Central Park West, which has had some difficult conversations in recent years about upgrading the elevators. When there is only one doorman on duty, he has to somehow keep an eye on the door while running the elevator. “It’s tricky,” Mr. Kramer said.

Two doors down from Mr. Rivera’s building, at 39 Plaza Street West, a resident who would not let her name be published for fear of reprisals from the co-op board voiced exasperation. “If you want to go down to the laundry, it’s six trips, and someone has to take you up and down,” she said. “And the elevator regularly breaks down. It’s beautiful but it’s past its usefulness. It needs constant maintenance.”

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Vladimir Gerasimovski says the 113-year-old elevator he operates at 33 West 67th Street in Manhattan runs “better than the new ones.”

Many old manual elevators are maintained by McGlynn Hays and Co., a 117-year-old concern that claims to be one of only two service companies in the city that has its own machine shop, on West 47th Street. Sooner or later, every moving part on an elevator needs an overhaul, said the company’s president, Gerard Carlucci.

“There’s relay failure, the pins wear out, the housing, the contacts wear out, the carbons wear out, the car switch — same thing,” he said. “The traveling cables, they get brittle over years. The door locks, door contacts — everything wears out. They’re opened a million times. The machines have made five million trips if you think about it. What do we make now that runs for a hundred years?”

At Mr. Rivera’s building, Mr. Mehl, the manager, said he did not foresee the elevators getting replaced anytime soon. This cheers Mr. Rivera, who has not lost enthusiasm for his job at an age when most men are retired or dead. “I love it,” he said, “because I go up and down. I don’t go only down. I’ve been doing it for 35 years. Oh, yes. That’s why I’m still here.”

Mr. Rivera switches elevators halfway through his shift. After lunch, the mail comes and he brings it down the basement to sort it. He is continually interrupted — every time someone buzzes, he has to run back upstairs. This time of year, the process can take hours. “Garbage, garbage, this is all garbage,” Mr. Rivera murmured as he filled cubbyholes with holiday catalogs.

At 3 p.m., the afternoon elevator man, Felix Mina, came on to spell Mr. Rivera and finish the mail. After Mr. Rivera changed out of his uniform, Mr. Mina brought him back up. “Until tomorrow,” he said. “Bye, Ramon.” Mr. Mina closed the elevator door. From within came the sound of the scissor gate creaking and then clicking into place, and the car descending.

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