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theywhowriteandknowthings · 2 months

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The Kilt Stays on | John “Soap” MacTavish x AFAB/Female!Reader

Summary: You and Johnny attend a wedding together. You fuck. That’s it. Fluffy Smut. W/C: 3,657 [AO3] Warnings: semi-public sex, car sex, fingering, praise, the kilt stays on, unprotected PiV (no mention of BC, wrap it up in real life folks), established relationship, idiots in love, confessions, voyeurism, voyeuristic badgers. Thank you @noxturnalpascal and @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for doing beta and proofing work for me <3 ILU.

CoD Masterlist

18+ content below the cut, NSFW, minors DNI.

“Johnny!” You call from the hotel bedroom as you smooth down your dress, letting out a heavy sigh as you look yourself over in the mirror for what must have been the hundredth time this morning.

“What’s up, hen?” Soap asks as he pushes the door open with a broad palm. You look over your shoulder and your heart skips a beat as you see him in his finery.

He’s wearing a kilt in his family tartan, poppy-red with differing shades of blue interlocking in the traditional weave. His matching Fly Plaid affixed on his left shoulder, accenting his black kilt jacket and waistcoat as it flows over his shoulder and down his back.

A black bowtie dangles loosely from his neck where he’s clearly tried and failed multiple times to tie it himself. Your eyes wander down to the sporran and you can’t help but wonder if Johnny had followed tradition to the letter and forgone underwear.

“I need help with my zip,” you say as you catch his bright eyes looking you up and down in a perfect mirror to your wandering gaze.

“Funny,” he says with a chuckle as he closes the distance and lets his hands trail up your sides, “I need a hand with my tie, how ‘bout we do a trade?��

His fingers skirt up to your ribs and you sigh, leaning back against his hard form as he reaches around to cup your breasts gently. His mouth finds the side of your neck as his stubble scrapes delightfully against your skin.

“Johnny,” you moan as he hums contentedly, sucking softly as he noses against your neck, “Come on, stop fooling around, we’ve got a wedding to get to.”

“Mmm,” he hums as he teases his tongue against you, trailing his hot mouth up until his teeth sink into the soft flesh of your earlobe, “Not like it’s our wedding, ‘can afford to be late.”

“MacTavish,” you whine as he slides his right palm down over your sternum, sweeping over the curve of your stomach, “I mean it.”

“I know, hen,” he growls against the shell of your ear as he slowly retreats his thick fingers from your body, “You just look so bloody good.”

The metallic slide of your zip being pulled taut brings you back to your senses as you look at Johnny in the mirror. The pair of you are a picture, a glimmer in each of your eyes, you smile at him before turning to help him with his tie.

“You look rather handsome yourself,” you admit, looking him up and down as you finish up his tie, “Even if you shouldn’t be wearing a dirk in public, Johnny.”

“It’s ceremonial,” he protests as you lean down to snatch it from his sock.

“Yeah?” You challenge as you inspect the blade with your thumb, the scrape of the sharp blade against the grain of your fingerprint proves your point, “It’s an offensive weapon, John.”

“Aye,, do you have to say John like that?” He pouts and you hand him the blade, handle towards him, “Besides, I am an offensive weapon, blade or nae.”

“I know you are,” you roll your eyes playfully as he reseats the knife into its sheath, “Save it for the reception, yeah?”

“Anything you say, love.”

~*~

You’re swaying on the dance floor, shoes long discarded, as tiny feet rest atop your own. The flower girl, Anna, is one of the few kids still awake, her bouncy curls swaying with every movement as you move her around.

“You have a good day?” You ask as you smile down at the young lady, she’s one of Gaz’ nieces and she took a shine to you from the moment the wedding reception kicked off.

“The best,” she says with a big yawn, the events of the day finally catching up with her it seems, “I ate so much food.”

“Me too sweetie, me too,” you say as you cast your gaze around the pavilion. It must be late, most guests have left, and Gaz and his bride absconded at least an hour ago.

“Think it’s time for you to head to bed,” you hear Anna’s dad say from behind you and you slowly spin around, Anna’s little feet still glued to yours.

“But, dad!” Anna groans in protest but when she looks up at you, she’s met with a raised brow.

“I think your dad knows best, kid,” you say with a soft smile, “But thank you for the dance.”

“Thanks for looking after her,” her father says with tired eyes.

“No bother,” you wave him off as you hear a loud roar of laughter from a table behind you, “I’ve got a Scotsman to send to bed, so wish me luck.”

Anna’s dad gives you a sympathetic look before scooping her up into his arms and carrying her off to bed. You slip your shoes back on before scanning the nearly empty pavilion for Johnny.

You turn to see a throng of familiar faces sat at a table near the far edge of the marquee. Price and Simon are shaking their heads as Johnny splays out in a chair, kilt draped across his lap as he looks over at you. The moment he sees you, he downs the last of the amber liquid in his glass before mumbling something to the other men. You watch a blush spread up the back of his neck as Simon says something you don’t quite catch. You almost don’t want to know.

“Hey,” Johnny says with a slight slur to his voice as he wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you firm against him as he presses his lips to yours.

You gasp as his tongue darts across your bottom lip, your arms loop around his neck as you lick into his mouth. He groans at your dominance as you taste whiskey and cigars. You press your front against his, smiling at the jingle of his sporran as he pulls back to look down at you with lust-blown eyes.

“Take me to bed, lass?” He whispers as he rubs his nose against yours.

A sharp wolf whistle form Price jolts you out of the moment and you flip him off over Johnny’s shoulder, just as you hear Simon yell “Get a room!”

“Should do as we’re told,” Johnny chuckles as he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, “I’m not one for disobeying orders.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Johnny,” you say with a sigh as you step out of his embrace, holding your hand out to him with a sly smile on your face, “But yes, for once, do as you’re telt.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“God, I hate it when you call me that,” you say as you pull your phone out of your purse, booking a taxi as you lead Johnny through the venue’s gardens.

“Force of habit, lass,” Johnny chuckles as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, “Strong women are my weakness.”

The crunch of loose stones beneath your feet and the soft calls of owls fills the silence as you lean against him. As ever, he’s positively radiating heat, keeping you warm from the chill of the night air. He smells of the aftershave you bought him for his birthday, mixed with the tang of cigars and whisky and his own natural musk. You breathe him in as you feel your chest flutter, you’re in love with John MacTavish, you’ve known it for a while now. But never have you felt it more in this moment, alone under the stars, walking along a moonlit garden path.

“Hey, Johnny?” You say, voice barely above a whisper as your phone vibrates, alerting you that the taxi is waiting for you at the end of the path ahead.

“Aye?” He turns his head to look at you, cerulean eyes swimming with affection as his lips turn up into an instinctive smile.

You want to tell him now, profess your love to him under the starry sky.

“Thank you for asking me to come to the wedding,” you chicken out last minute, and he gives you a look, as if he knows that’s not what you were going to say.

“I mean,” Johnny says ponderously as he scratches his stubble with his free hand, “Ghost already had an invitation, so I couldn’t exactly ask him…” He trails off, face neutral, as you narrow your eyes at him.

But any anger quickly melts away as you see the smirk threatening to break out on his face the longer you scowl.

“You’re a right pain in the arse sometimes, John,” You huff as you give him a taste of his own medicine, shrugging off his shoulder as you stride ahead, waving at the taxi driver as you make a beeline for the car.

“Aw, hen,” he calls after you as he quickly matches your pace, grabbing you by the wrist and spinning you to face him, “Dinnae fash, I was kidding.”

You fall into his arms, pliable and willing as you grin up at him. The worried knot in his brow eases as he realises your ruse.

“You’re a devil,” he growls as he cups your cheek with his right hand, framing the side of your face as he dips his head down, “You know you mean the world to me,” your name slips from his lips, and you nod slowly.

“I know Johnny,” you whisper, “I know.”

Your lips fuse together and your arms loop around the back of his neck as you let him claim your mouth with his tongue. His free hand presses flat against the base of your spine as he holds you to him.

It’s heavy, charged with emotion as you feel the scrape of his coarse facial hair on your skin. Your tongues slide over one another as you groan into Johnny’s mouth. The beep of the taxi’s horn cuts the moment short.

You part, lips swollen and glistening as you pant into each other’s mouths.

“C’mon, Johnny, I need you,” you whisper against his lips as you glance towards the car, “And I’m not letting you fuck me in a bush again.”

“C’mon, it wasn’t so bad,” Johnny chuckles, but relinquishes his grip on you, instead keeping his hand at the small of your back as he guides you to the cab, “Besides, I thought being peeped on by a badger was kind of hot.”

“You’re gone in the head, Johnny,” you laugh as you let him open the door for you, “I’ve never been able to look at badgers the same again.”

Johnny simply shakes his head as he chuckles, shutting the door behind you before walking around to the driver’s side window. You arch an eyebrow as he whispers something to the guy in the front seat before handing him a handful of notes.

“Johnny MacTavish,” you say with accusation in your tone as he slips into the seat next to you, “What on earth-?”

You yelp as he pulls you onto his lap in one swift motion, you feel heat prickle over your cheeks as you feel his bare thighs on your own.

“Shh,” he coos as you feel his hands push up the fabric of your dress, bunching it up around your hips, exposing your lace panties to him, “Driver’s happy for us to fool around, just no getting come on the seats.”

“Johnny!” You slap his chest in admonishment as you look down to see his kilt bunched up around his thighs, his cock erect and leaking as he grins up at you, “This is so wrong.”

“Tellin’ me this doesn’t get you even a little wet, hen?” He hums as he trails his broad hands back down to your knees. His thumbs swirling patterns up your inner thighs as you feel the car lurch forward. You tremble above him as you feel arousal licking through your veins like fire.

“You know it does,” you whisper, not wanting to make too much noise with the driver directly behind you, “Christ, Johnny.”

You whine as his hands find their way back up to the apex of your thighs. His coarse thumbs brushing against either side of the drenched fabric of your panties as your eyes roll into the back of your head. You brace your hands on his shoulders as you lean forward, foreheads pressed together as you slowly relax.

“There you go,” Johnny whispers as he brings one hand up to take your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “Such a good lass,” he says, his voice thick with desire as he slips his free hand under the flimsy lace.

You gasp as he slips two fingers through your slick folds, bumping over your clit rhythmically as you bite your lip.

“Kiss me,” he commands in a hoarse whisper, and you moan into his mouth as he slides his fingers from your chin, wrapping his hand around to the back of your neck. He pulls you down to crash his lips into yours as his middle and ring finger ease the gusset of your panties aside.

“Johnny,” you pant into his mouth as his thick digits ease into your tight cunt, “Fuck.”

“Shh,” he hushes as he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling just hard enough to make you whine, “Y’take me so well, gorgeous,” he growls before pressing his thumb down hard on your clit.

You feel like your body is on the brink of shattering as you vaguely register the dark, peaceful countryside outside the windows blurring into the bright lights of the city.

You’re almost at the hotel.

You grasp for Johnny’s cock, your fingers ghost along his precome smeared tip for a second before he snatches your wrist, letting go of your neck as he tuts at you.

“Not yet,” he admonishes you as he moves your sticky fingers to rest on his Fly Plaid, “Can’t risk coming until we’re out of the cab.”

“Fucking need you, Johnny,” you whine as you feel the way your walls clench around his thick fingers, you’re so close.

“Come like this for me,” he says with a hum as he swipes his thumb back and forth over your swollen bud, “Hurry babe, we’re almost there.”

You kiss Johnny, a flurry of tongues and teeth as you add to the friction by fucking yourself on the digits impaled in you. Your teeth knock against his as you come hard, a desperate whine escaping the back of your throat as he continues to pump his fingers up into you.

“Good girl,” he coos in your ear as you drop your head to his shoulder, “Good fucking girl.”

“We’re here,” the gruff voice of the cab driver makes you yelp, like ice water sliding down your spine as you remember where you are.

“Thanks, Drive,” Johnny says cheerily, as if his fingers aren’t currently sliding out of your cunt. He pulls your panties back into place with a wolfish grin on his face as you feel the tips of your ears burning with embarrassment and arousal.

“Y-yeah,” you breathe shakily as you slide off Johnny’s lap, “Have a good night.”

The driver scoffs noncommittally as you clamber out of the cab, your panties clinging to your drenched folds as you stumble onto the pavement.

“You’re an absolute menace, MacTavish,” you hiss as you watch him awkwardly adjust himself under his kilt. The tenting material beyond conspicuous without underwear to keep his cock contained.

“Yeah, and you fuckin’ love it,” he purrs as he slaps your ass, “Come on, let’s get moving, I might get arrested for public indecency like this.”

“Fucking hell,” you laugh as you push him inside, the two of you giggling as the clerk at the front desk raises an eyebrow at you both. She quickly notices the tenting in Johnny’s kilt and smirks before winking at you. You grin back sheepishly before pressing the call button for the elevator.

Johnny pushes you through the doors as soon as they open, pinning you against the back wall as his lips find your neck.

“Looked fuckin’ stunning tonight,” he rasps against your skin in between wet drags of his tongue and hard sucks against your pulse point that threaten to leave marks, “Was at half-mast most of the damn day, d’ya know how hard that is to hide in a kilt?”

His tone is feverish as he nips at your earlobe, groaning as you trail a hand up his thigh, feeling under his kilt.

“Isn’t that what a Sporran’s for?” you ask with a groan as you finally wrap your hand around his length. Soft, velvet foreskin gliding under your touch as you pump him slowly. You don’t care that you’re still a few floors from your room, there’s even a little thrill at the thought someone might walk in.

“Sassy fucken’ mouth,” he growls as he nips at your jaw, his stubble catching on your skin as you press your cheek against his.

“You love it,Johnny,” you whine as you feel the elevator shudder to a halt, two floors before yours.

The doors glide open, and you look on in horror to see a group of men in their twenties appear before you.

“Take the next one!” Soap barks as he looks over his shoulder, you catch the fire in his eyes, and you can’t help but shiver at the way his body presses harder against you. It’s possessive, protective, as he bucks his hips into your hand. The doors close again as you hear the hollers of encouragement from the young men as the elevator continues its ascent.

You arrive at your floor, stumbling out together with breathy giggles and barely concealed groans. You fall over the threshold of your room, mouths fused together as Johnny kicks the door closed behind you.

You fall back onto the freshly made bed and pull Johnny down on top of you, parting your legs wide, granting him access as he practically crushes you into the mattress. He starts to pull off his jacket and Fly Plaid, but you stop him. Your hands circling his wrists as he looks down at you with exasperation.

“Fuck me like this,” you breathe as you lower his hands down to your hips, “Keep the kilt on.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice, love,” he groans as he yanks your panties down and off, flinging them somewhere in the room before lining himself at your core.

“Fuck me, please, Johnny,” you plead as he runs his tip through your drenched folds.

“So fucken’ wet,” he groans as he bumps your clit with his tip before guiding it back to your entrance, “Didn’t know you were such an exhibitionist, hen.”

“Jonny, please,” you mewl as you buck your hips up, pushing his tip inside you.

“So needy,” he rasps as he buries himself inside you in one desperate thrust.

You cry out at the stretch; you’re impaled on his thick length and your vision blurs at the edges as he splits you open.

“Touch yourself, hen, I’m not gonna last long,” Johnny growls as he falls forward, elbows either side of your head as he captures your lips in his.

You moan into his mouth as he slides his tongue past your lips, licking into your mouth as he drags his thick cock almost all the way out before snapping his hips back down into you. You slip your dominant hand down to your clit and rub at the swollen bundle of nerves in earnest as he pounds into you at a desperate pace.

“Looked so fucken’ sexy today,” Johnny rambles in your ear as he pulls back, gasping for air as he locks eyes with you, “Couldn’t stop imagining you impaled on this cock.”

The wet sound of skin slapping against skin fills your ears as you feel the burning heat rip down your spine as your orgasm builds. Johnny’s breath is hot on your face as his pace begins to falter, he’s close. You redouble the pressure on your clit as you chase your own release.

“Where’d you want me?” He pants as he ruts into you with erratic, devastating force.

“Inside Johnny, fill me up,” you beg and that does it.

You feel the tight twist in your navel as you come hard, your cunt squeezing hard around Johnny’s cock as he buries himself deep inside you as he comes. You scream as you feel euphoria wash over you, the hot pulse of Johnny’s come coating your walls has you floating as your back arches off the bed.

You wrap your ankles around his waist as you pull him in closer, making him groan in your ear as he collapses on top of you.

“Fuck,” you breathe as Johnny’s weight presses down onto you, almost suffocatingly heavy as you press soft kisses to his temple.

“Yeah, fuck,” he responds breathily as he nuzzles into your neck.

Eventually you peel yourselves apart, making sure to pee and wash up before diving under the covers and nestling against Johnny’s chest as his strong arms wrap around you.

“I love you,” he breathes against the crown of your head as he places tender kisses in the wake of his words.

“I love you too, Johnny,” you sigh as you loop your leg over his hips, nipping gently at his chest as you nuzzle your nose into the tight curls of his chest hair, “Was going to say it earlier.”

“I know, didn’t want to push,” he sighs as he trails his fingertips down your arm, sending goosebumps rippling across your skin, “Just needed you to know I feel the same.”

“You’re a sweet man, Johnny,” you smile as you take his nipple between your lips and hum.

“Only for you, lass,” he chuckles as he peppers more kisses about your head as you snuggle in even closer.

Tags: @amyg1509

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saint--claire · 3 months

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When I was a little child, there was a particular library book I checked out week after week, endlessly renewing it as much as I was able. The book, How to Raise and Keep a Dragon by John Topsell was a quasi-nonfiction guide to, as you guessed, rearing different species of dragons. I loved it. Tiny-me had plans.

As an adult, I tried to buy it a few times. No dice. The book was so old that no mainstream bookseller stocked it. Even when I tried niche websites recommended by various booksellers and librarians, I still couldn't find it. It was sadly lost to time, apparently not popular enough to make it into the archives.

But.

My best friend had a copy of that book. We're going to call her G, for several reasons not relevant at the moment. I was discussing my search with G one day, for some reason I can't remember now. She got a funny look on her face, asked me a few questions about the cover, listened to me do a very poor job of explaining with my hands how the hardcover copy had included a real gemstone in the dragon's forehead, and then went off to fish it out of her bookcase.

I was Gobsmacked.

I should not have been, given that the history of shared childhood books between us both would have made a circle with ragged edges, more so than a venn diagram, but I digress. The book came home to live in my house for a few months, and I was delighted by the chance to read it again.

Do people remember those type of books? Dragonology, Egyptology, The Stone Age - a way of introducing children to non fiction. They very earnestly spoke about the responsibilities needed to raise dragons, the practicalities involved. There was a record of registration you could fill out, if you had carefully considered the information to your self and felt you were responsible enough to to go through with adopting a dragon.

I vaguely remember filling out some of the riddle and puzzle questions in the Dragonology books. I would never have written in John Topsell's book, it was a library book.

But.

When I re-read G's copy at home, smiling over the familiar artwork, I was surprised to turn the page and find the painstaking, somewhat-wonky handwriting staring back at at me. Baby G, with her name spelled out in freshly-joined but still-not-quite-got-the-hang-of-this-yet cursive lettering. Baby G had filled the registration out in her best handwriting, in glittery green gel pen to denote the importance of the document. This was compared to the earlier, less important checklists done in plain black ink.

I read the registration certificate. Smiled. Smiled some more at the names listed for G's dragon, her dam, and her sire - Eragon was also a great book. Go off, Christopher Paolini.

Breed; standard Western Dragon. The box 'miniture' was ticked, to show that G's dragon was of the minature specic variety, rather than a full size dragon. This was, as she would later explain to me, chosen on the basis that baby-G felt it was the more financially responsible choice. Also so she could keep her dragon in her house with her, but we're not there yet.

I looked at that certificate. Looked at it again. Looked at the calendar, and then looked at the sewing machine I had just been given for Christmas.

G celebrates her birthday in January.

The template came first. I studied the different images of the standard western dragon through the book, picked my favourite, and re-drew it to a significantly larger scale.

Inking the design to the fabric, four times over probably took the longest.

I very subtly asked G the next time she was over (after hurling all dragon-related materials in a panic into the depths of my wardrobe) what type of colour dragon she would have, should it come up. As G later said, that type of question from me truly did not register as anything other than a question asked from theoretical interest. I transitioned the topic as discreetly as I could after she answered, and delightfully, my sneakiness went in one ear, out the other, and she forgot I had ever asked until several weeks later.

I enjoyed painting them.

Don't ask me how many mistakes I made through this process. So many. I do already know how to sew, but it's been a long time. I'd been meaning to get back into it for a while.

Given that various aunts and grandmothers and my mother had a knack for calling when I was up to my elbows in either paint or pins, it became a family affair. Each of them peered at the project through face time and offered their advice.

Some of the advice I took, some I didn't. No regrets about sewing it in pink thread. Considerable regrets about accidentally slicing one of the feet in half and having to fix that.

In the end though, she was finished.

I carefully pinned on her name tag, with the name baby-G had chosen with a little blue ribbon. A collar was unacceptable, this is a dragon, people, come on. Dragon's don't wear collars.

I put the book in the box, open to the registration certificate, and put the dragon on top. Wrapped the whole thing up with a bow and then refused to touch it before I sent myself mad trying to fix details that didn't really need to be fixed.

A bit late for her birthday, sure, but there we are. We'd gone for a trip off to nowhere for a weekend, to go try wine made out of blueberries and hike up a waterfall. (And climb on it. And swim in it. It was a very good waterfall).

I gave her the box, informed her she wasn't allowed to keep the box, just the contents (it was the only thing I had that was big enough for me to keep all of my A3 portfolios in, it had only been temporarily-repurposed as dragon housing), and then left the next bit up to the gods.

A surprise, sitting un-awaited for some 15 years in amber, to catch up to baby G and adult G together.

Happy Birthday, baby and adult G.

#StClaire speaks #How to Raise & Keep A Dragon #John Topsell #Joe Nigg #the thing about problems hammers and nails #except in this case it was childhood wishes and sewing machines #and as someone said #you were relearning to sew and you started with THAT?#well no #I started with a scrub hat #which kept the hair out of my face while I painted this #and then also that apron my aunt gave me the pieces to years ago that I refused point blank to do by hand #but yeah #101 mistakes later #and one re-attached foot #pretty happy with her #dragons

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alwritey-aphrodite · 5 months

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hey hey hey!! im definitely back in my hunger games era too— sejanus is literally the love of my life😻 I was wondering if you could write something about snow having to basically force sejanus into asking out reader (shy pookie🥹) and it’s just fluff

if not that’s perfectly fine!! thank you so so much <33

There’s no actual asking out in this one, but I’ll happily write a part two!!

Sejanus Plinth was the closest thing Coriolanus had to a best friend, despite the fact that he’d never admit that to anyone. The boy was kind, thoughtful, smart, a whole laundry list of good qualities that seemed slightly buried under the fact that he was an upstart. Maybe all those good qualities are cultivated in the districts, because Coryo couldn’t think of many other students at the academy who shared Sejanus’s attributes.

Except for you, of course, with your sweet smiles and kind words and exceptional brain, but your cunning and determination to come out on top was all capital. Sejanus was head over heels for you, anyone could see, and everyone did see, if the snickers from Arachne and Festus were to be trusted. Sejanus would never say anything, though, would never make a move, because it seems like his entire brain shuts down whenever you’re near, reducing him to a stuttering, blushing mess.

Coryo had tried his best to let his friend handle it on his own, but there are only so many times he can watch Sejanus’s failed attempts at small talk with you before he considers never coming back to school, if only so he won’t need to pat Sejanus on the back and tell him he did great. After months and months of standing on the sidelines and whispering encouragement, he was taking matters into his own hands.

Walking out of the academy building side by side with Sejanus, Coryo was unsurprised to hear the crunch of footsteps running up behind them, trying to catch up.

“Sejanus!” You called out once you were close enough not to shout for all of the capital to hear, rushing the rest of the way when the boys stop and turn. You're out of breath but grinning, in the middle of shrugging your bag off of your shoulder.

“I found that book you wanted, but I definitely wasn’t supposed to take it out of the library so please be super careful,” you tell Sejanus with a smile, arm outstretched with the aforementioned book in your hand. Your smile falls though as the boy's face clouds with confusion, brows drawing down and a slight pout forming on his lips.

“I didn’t ask for a book,” Sejanus says, too deep into his confusion to be nervous to speak to you and too desperate to remedy the crestfallen expression on your face to realize Coryo was slowly inching away.

“Coryo said you needed it, asked if I could bring it to you,” you explain, the book falling limp in your hand. The two of you turn your attention to the blond boy, who’s only made it a few steps away from you. He shrugs, the picture of innocence and nonchalance, before turning and heading on his way, not even giving you or Sejanus the opportunity to say anything more, let alone goodbye.

“I can take it, though, so you don’t get in trouble,” Sejanus offers after a few seconds of silence, cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink from more than just the chill in the air.

“That’s alright, I’ll just bring it back tomorrow,” you stuff the book into your bag before slinging it back onto your shoulders and smiling at Sejanus, grin growing wider when he smiles back.

“Let me walk you home? It gets dark so quickly now and I don’t want you to have any trouble, with the stolen book and all,” he rambles, trying and failing to be casual, but he’s earnest and funny without even trying and really, you’d do anything to spend just a few more minutes with him.

The two of you walk home, hands swinging and dangerously close to touching, and the more you talk, the more Sejanus’s nerves seem to melt away. Sure, he’s still a little nervous and finds you delightfully intimidating, but he’s able to make his way through conversations and he even makes you laugh a few times, a sound he wants to bottle up and listen to for the rest of his life.

Once you reach your door, though, and you press a kiss to his cheek to thank him for taking you home, he’s right back at square one, a blushing mess that takes a minute to process what had happened on your doorstep before he’s able to move again, and all he’s able to think about for the rest of the night is you and what he needs to do for you to kiss him again.

#sejanus plinth #sejanus plinth x reader #sejanus plinth x you #sejanus plinth fanfiction #sejanus x reader #sejanus x you #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction

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fuctacles · 10 months

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Henderson's older brother is kinda fine :/ [Part II]

me: I'll write a blurb and nothing else popular demand: *slides into my DMs* [Part I] [Part III]

They finished Eddie's assignment that first day but Dustin invited him over again the next week. He told him to bring whatever homework he has, and they can brainstorm it together.

This time Eddie braced himself as he approached the door, expecting to run into the older brother again. But to his surprise, Dustin was the one to open the door.

"They left you unsupervised?" He raised his eyebrows as he stepped past his friend.

Dustin rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful.

"Very funny. Steve had the morning shift today, but he should be back for dinner."

"Ah, the things we could get up to until then," Eddie's eyes sparkled with mischief but Dustin slapped him in the stomach with the strength of a dwarf.

"Yeah, like helping you graduate."

"Oof," Eddie winced, twisting away from his deceitfully powerful hands. "You're no fun, Henderson. Where is your adventurous spirit?"

"At the DnD table, duh."

"Touché."

So Eddie put on his mom-charming pants (they worked the best when no actual moms were involved, just like all his other pants) and did not go looting around his friend's house. Instead, he spread his latest assignments on Dustin's bed, claiming it as his territory for the time being. Dustin worked on his own stuff at his desk, like a civilized human being. Barf.

An hour of relative silence had passed before Dustin set down whatever he was doing and turned in his chair.

"I think you're like Lucas."

It took Eddie a moment to even process the words. He looked up to find his younger friend propped up on his elbow and staring at him.

"Huh?"

"I think you might be like Lucas," he repeated with his customary eye roll.

Eddie thought about the sporty jock-wannabe Sinclair, scrunching his nose.

"How?"

Dustin seemed pleased to be asked that as he sat up eagerly to proceed with his reasoning. Which were for sure very scientific and not pulled out of his ass. Eddie braced himself for an impromptu lecture.

"His grades dropped when he got his own room. But he aced all his tests when it was being painted, and he had to bunk with Erica for a few days. So, we made an experiment and whenever he would study or do homework with someone else in the room, it got better results than when he worked alone," he paused, eyeing his friend. "Are you following?"

Eddie clicked his tongue.

"What I'm following is you used your friend as a test subject."

The boy threw his hands in the air in the way that always made Eddie grin. The kid was so delightfully dramatic.

"For his benefit. And now for yours!"

Eddie huffed in thought, simultaneously hopeful to find a solution for his skittery brain and irritated it might have been that easy this whole time.

"So I just need a study buddy?" he asked, scrunching his nose.

"Yep," Dustin grinned at him. "I know your uncle isn't home most of the time, but you're welcome here whenever you need to work on something."

Eddie mulled that thought in his head, weighing pros and cons and asking his gut how it felt about it. His gut likes the food in Henderson's house though, so it might be a bit biased.

"You know what, Henderson? I just might take you up on that."

As if on cue, the front door opened and closed, the sound of keys dropping in the bowl following.

"Dustin?"

"Up here!" Dustin hollered and if Eddie was a lesser man, with shittier taste in music, it might have damaged his earbuds. But they were honed in by the sweet tones of metal, therefore a screeching teenager was not enough to break them at this point.

"Oh, hi Eddie!" Steve was standing in the doorway, slightly out of breath and hair not as magnificent as Eddie got used to seeing, a poster boy from a hairspray commercial no more. Ah, what capitalism does to people.

"Your hair looks sad," he observed with a slight tilt of his head.

"Uh," the guy raised his hand to his hair, pulling at the flat fringe self-consciously. "Well, sorry I didn't have the energy to doll myself back up after 8 hours of customer service."

Eddie snorted.

“Doll yourself up? Who says that?”

“I do,” Steve huffed, crossing his arms but the reddening apples of his cheeks betrayed his embarrassment. Good. What grown-ass man refers to himself as a doll? Even one looking like an animated Ken. But that would be dark magic, which Eddie of course doesn't condone.

“I think Robin started it,” Dustin offered, unhelpfully. “She was trying to bully him, but it backfired because he actually likes it.” He made a disgusted face.

“Hey!”

“A doll, Steve? That’s kinda gay,” Eddie shook his head feigning disappointment. Instead of morphing into irritation though, Steve’s face hardened, and suddenly he remembered his nerdy friend’s brother was actually a jock. Former, reformed, doesn't matter. Abs were abs.

“Yeah? And what’s wrong with that?” he asked, eyes set on Eddie, unblinking.

He took a quick glance around the room. The window was open, but it was the first floor and Gareth would kill him if he broke as much as a finger again. So he dusted off the little matchbox of courage that was left somewhere inside him, and offered:

“Uh, nothing? Gays are cool. Dolls are cute. All is good.” He stretched his lips in the best attempt at a smile he could muster right now.

Steve still has not blinked, which was starting to stress Eddie out. Were his eyes always this piercing? He was staring for too long, could match their exact shade to one of the trees surrounding the trailer park by now, but was too afraid to look away. If he showed weakness, he might get chewed alive, spat out and stomped on, for a good measure.

“Good,” Steve said finally, and Eddie could breathe again. “We don’t badmouth gays in this household.”

“We don’t,” Dustin nodded feverishly, eager to get his brother out of the room. This indeed seemed to appease him, as he finally unclenched his jaw, uncrossed his arms and rapped his knuckles against the door frame.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower and start on the dinner. You stayin’?” he asked, eyes back on Eddie, who was paralyzed enough, that Dustin had to swoop in and answer for him.

“Yep, he’s staying.”

“‘Kay,” Steve slapped the door frame, suddenly smiling again, and closed the door. If not for the slow breeze from the open window, Eddie would be already dead in the vacuum-sealed room, because he surely took away all the oxygen on his way out.

He scooted on the bed to face Dustin, who was about to open a book and start reading like whatever had just happened hadn’t just happened.

“Soo, is Steve…?”

Dustin looked at him. Eddie looked at him back.

“Is Steve what?” Dustin prodded, in that annoyed tone of his.

Eddie was a wordsmith, he could write and lead campaigns, produce not-half-bad lyrics and lie his way out of trouble. Usually. He got this.

He opened his mouth. Frowned. He did not get this.

“Gay?” he asked quietly.

“Pshhh, no,” Dustin waved his hand. “He’s a ladies' man.”

“Right, yeah,” Eddie nodded like the bobbing head figurine on his uncle’s dashboard. “Then why…”

Dustin shrugged, the unhelpful bastard.

“I think his father is a homophobe? And Steve was kind of a jerk a few years back, he’s trying to be better now. Overcompensating a bit, if you ask me but eh,” he shrugged again. The helpfulest kid in Hawkins. Baby Henderson opened his book, closing the topic, so Eddie fell back on the bed, taking a well-needed break from his study break.

Normally, when the topic of gays was brought up, it was unpleasant and long-winded, full of exchanged opinions, usually hateful ones. Here, the Hendersons were treating it like small talk, not the can of worms that just opened in Eddie’s stomach. Okay, gross. They would crawl around, who knows in which direction? And the can itself? So many sharp edges, so unsanitary.

Needless to say, it wasn’t something Eddie would forget about quickly like they seemed to expect him to.

Alas, he was Dustin’s study-guest, so the kid gave him five minutes to ponder on the worms crawling inside him, before slapping the side of his head with a book to get him back on track. He wouldn’t even let him out on a leak pass until he showed he was done with the chapter he started.

Finally free for a second, Eddie left the bathroom but instead of returning to Dustin’s room, he was lured downstairs by the atrocious sounds of ABBA. Was ABBA gay? He was going to overthink everything now, wasn’t he? Honestly, the whole pop genre felt gay. Metal, that was manly as fuck. Very heterosexual.

For a second he stood in the kitchen’s door frame watching the older Henderson sway his hips around in a yellow apron. It would be almost endearing if the music didn’t make his brain try to collapse on itself.

He quickly approached the radio and slammed the pause button to save the poor man from further eardrum damage.

“What is this?” he asked when Steve turned to face him.

“Uh. The radio?” he frowned, the poor guy having no idea what he was saying. The top 40 made him delirious.

“What was the radio playing?” Eddie asked in his most condescending tone, eyebrows raised.

“.... ABBA?”

Eddie scoffed.

“I’ll bring you some real music, hang on a second.” And he was gone, on a quest to educate the masses. “Masses” being one Steve Henderson, but as an older brother and Dustin’s role model he had a duty to uphold and Eddie was generous enough to help him out.

He ran out to his car and rummaged through his cassettes, wondering which one was most appropriate for a cooking background. Not a thing he would practice himself, but metalheads eat too, sometimes, so it couldn't be such a farfetched concept. Right?

Eventually, he dumped an armful of tapes on the counter, grinning at Steve wildly.

“One of them has to work for…” he waved a hand in the general direction of chopped-up vegetables. “Whatever it is you’re doing.”

“I will not believe you haven't cooked before.”

Eddie only shrugged at that and popped the first tape of choice into the player. Steve frowned at the tunes but wisely didn't object.

“Since you’re making yourself comfortable in my kitchen, why don’t you help me out a bit?”

“Ah, I’d love to, but there’s this solo I just have to-” he broke into an elaborate air guitar, imitating the riffs from memory while banging his head. He couldn’t see Steve’s face, but he was undoubtedly impressed. Eddie looked metal as fuck. He was super cool, super manly.

“I thought you were just taking a dump but then, guess what? I hear Iron Maiden from the kitchen!”

What wasn’t cool, was being scolded by a fourteen-year-old.

“Got lured by the sweet tunes, huh, big guy?”

“Dustin please, take him away from me.”

Dustin looked between the older boys, one maniacally jumping around, the other wielding a knife and a carrot. He considered his chances and favorable outcomes.

“If we switch to Metallica I’ll help with cooking,” he offered, to which Steve shrugged and Eddie gleefully switched the tapes.

He jumped around, watching the two Hendersons work together and to his absolute terror, he felt a teeny tiny desire to join in. Thankfully, his pride was still hidden beneath a half-dead tree.

He circled them like a curious cat, getting closer and closer, until his face almost squished against Steve’s arm, still dutifully chopping.

“What are we making?”

“We,” Steve accentuated, jostling the intruder's head. “Are making baked vegetables. You are jumping around like a lunatic.”

Eddie gasped.

“I am providing entertainment!”

“Can you provide the baking pan?” Dustin asked dryly. “It’s in the oven.”

“Only if it means I get to taste the fruits of my hard work.”

“You don’t have to help us to get dinner.” Steve bumped his shoulder with a roll of his eyes. “But, helpers get an extra cookie.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so?”

Eddie was truly a genius. He got to help out his fake little brother and his older brother without outwardly asking to be included! And to think he failed senior year twice.

“Go do your nerdy things, I’ll call you when it’s done,” Steve wiped his hands on a towel, food in the oven and the timer set. Dustin was more than happy to leave, and was first to run up the stairs. Eddie was about to follow but a light tug on his shirt stopped him. He turned around, confused, only to be met with Steve pressing a finger to his lips, which, more confusion.

Not easing his grasp, he pulled him back into the kitchen and opened one of the cupboards, where he grabbed a jar and popped it open, releasing a mouthwatering aroma.

“One,” he ordered, and without having to be told twice, Eddie reached in to find a chocolate chip cookie.

“You trying to poison me?” he asked, even if his tongue was one slip away from tasting the treat.

“I would never put poison in my baking,” Steve made a face like the mere suggestion offended him. Eddie raised his eyebrows.

“You made this?”

“Fucking- Eat it before Dustin comes looking for you. I’m trying to be nice.” Steve gritted his teeth, putting the jar back away.

Eddie felt a little bad for pushing him, but only a little. He finally put the cookie in his mouth and took a bite.

Holy shit.

“This is so fucking good!” he mumbled, crumbs flying everywhere, which earned him a disgusted expression.

“Good thing I haven’t swept yet,” Steve murmured, looking at the floor with disdain. “Now scram. Don’t show up until dinner.”

“Yes, sir!” Eddie saluted, crumbs dripping, and ran away, before Steve’s deadly kitchen rag could reach his butt.

User tags: @i-have-three-feelings @mblogs @awkwardgravity1 @imacowboy3 [Steddie masterpost] [Ao3] [ko-fi]

#mine #steddie #ff #eddie munson #st #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things 4 #steddie fanfiction #fanfic #Steve henderson #steve is a henderson #eddie is an idiot #older brother steve #the hendersons #The Hendersons

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xianyoon · 4 days

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sweet light of spring

alhaitham x reader. more of that cottage!au hehhe fluff & comfort. 0.6k words.

your cottage, before you moved in, was a house.

your little red-brick house was something that you’d see from an english period movie, the imagery of little children frolicking and playing in the countryside — it almost seemed more so a prop piece for a show set rather than a cottage in the woods. juniper green ivy climbed the walls, sweet poppies and sunny marigolds sprouted from the earth to say hello – your land was cheerful.

you love collecting the flowers from your garden; they always seem to reappear as soon as you pluck them. the flowers are good, gently held and pressed in between pages of al-haitham's favourite novels as bookmarks. the flowers, cheerfully and playfully weaved into al-haitham's hair, always brought a smile onto his face.

the fresh stream that lives nearby is home to small fishes that travel with the currents – squint hard enough and perhaps you'd see arrietty waving from behind a river plant. the water – cool and sweet, bore witness to much of your laughter and splashing him each other on salty, sweltering summer days.

and your garden – oh, your garden. how blessed you are; a garden so colourful and fruitful. spring bears witness to the sweetest apricots and cherries ; summer says hello to sweet mangoes and fresh strawberries ; fall greets crisp applies and tart cranberries – and winter is the period of frantic churning and mixing of jam and compotes, all ready for the chilly winter to come.

your garden; home to herbs and vegetables that you grow to supply hearty meals to your table. the sweet radishes that are lovingly tended to in the autumn finds its way to harvest baskets . . . baskets that are sweetly put together as presents for your neighbours.

al-haitham always picks the best of each harvest to give away. there's something preciously sweet about it – perhaps you've rubbed your childlike kindness off onto your husband. the best we own should be given to others.

now, your cottage – home to sweet laughs that spill from your husband's mouth that you were always greedy for. his soft touches, a pleasant and constant reminder that i am here ; ever so fleeting of his warmth meeting yours.

a home so full of love and the sweet light of spring...

a home of laughter, and warmth, and constant intimacy of tender kisses on your cheek and the resting of your forehead against his.

"good morning."

"hayi! good morning!" you find yourself squealing as al-haitham peppers your face with his sweet kisses, giggling as he kissed your reddened cheeks – then your forehead – then your nose – and your supple lips.

"mmmph." he grunts and leans in, soaking in your warmth.

how rare is it that he gets a morning with his sweet darling, all to yourself?

"what do you want for breakfast?"

you watch him, hands on his hip and peering into your fridge stocked full of food. it's almost comical how homely your husband is now as compared to his younger self – you stifle a small giggle.

"..."

"what?"

"nothing!"

"tell me." al-haitham turns to look at you.

"i said it's nothing!" a petulant whine slips past your lips. delightfully soft giggles fill the room as al-haitham makes his way over to you – a comfortable, light morning.

"tell me." your husband gently pokes your sides, playfully frustrated with your refusal to tell him what was so funny.

"you just look so cute like this." you grin sweetly up at him.

"...like what?"

"like my husband!"

a soft silence fills the room – thoughtful contemplation as he takes in your endearing excitement – before al-haitham breaks out into rare, unbridled chuckles. you're too cute for him, he thinks. how did someone so seemingly opposite of him fall so deeply in love?

indeed, it's true – your cottage, so filled with love and the sweet light of spring, is a home.

#― latest brew.#alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #alhaitham x gn reader #al haitham x gn reader #genshin x reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x gn reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #al haitham x you #al haitham x y/n #reblogs appreciated :")#astronetwrk #nereids' realm #genshin x you #genshin x y/n

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notbecauseofvictories · 4 months

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I think I saw you shared a list of books you’d read a couple years ago and was it you who read something like 350+ books in a single year? If so that’s absolutely remarkable and I’d love to see a list of top ten (or twenty or whatever number) of books you’ve read this year that you recommend

Don't be ridiculous, I only read 303 books in 2021! That's much more reasonable than 350. And I've read fewer and fewer each year since---this year I don't think I'm going to crack 50, though I still have a couple days.

Still, always happy to talk about what I enjoyed. Books are listed in vaguely chronological order, though I make no promises.

Patricia Wants to Cuddle, Samantha Allen

I've mentioned this book before, but essentially I put in the library request solely for the improbability of the premise---The Bachelor heads to the PNW and encounters Bigfoot? Fortunately, it delivered on that promise magnificently. A breezy and delightfully gruesome little novel with a bodycount.

Are You My Mother?, Alison Bechdel

I didn't viscerally connect with this one as much as "Fun Home" but I think it might be because it's…closer to the bone for me. When Bechdel writes about the longing for a mother that can't be answered, pulling back, pleasing, an anger that becomes unspeakable, re-routed to anxiety…it's uh. well it's churned up the silt, let's put it that way.

Greener Pastures, Michael Wehunt

I love short stories, but finding those authors who hit the right notes unerringly, in such a brief space, can be tricky sometimes. Wehunt is the rare exception, strange and unique as a writer, dream-like in his descriptions and images. "October Film Haunt: Under the House" was my favorite, though I can't say for sure whether it's because I recognized the framing device or it was just fun to read…

Running with Scissors, A Wolf at the Table, Lust & Wonder, Augusten Burroughs

I read these out of order (Lust & Wonder first, then the other two) but even so, I was wildly impressed. Lust & Wonder was a revelation; I stumbled on it in the library and walked out with it the same day. No wonder people tell you to read his books, he's got such a clear-eyed meanness, an interesting sort of canniness to his depiction of himself, the people in his life…it really does demonstrate that there is no such thing as a boring life, just a boring narrator. But if Lust & Wonder is Burroughs at the height of his power, Running with Scissors and Wolf at the Table are the necessary steps up to it. More unfinished, more raw---a litany of horrors, not even leavened by that same canny, mean humor that flashes through L&W. It's just horrifically sad to watch every person around this kid fail him, leave, or both; terrifying and unexpectedly funny and yet tender as a sucking wound.

The Princess Bride, William Goldman

I picked this up entirely by chance and ended up being deeply charmed. I don't know what I was expecting---well, no, that's not true, I was expecting the film. But what I got instead was something almost real, pleasantly rough around the edges as Goldman's caustic narration winds its way from Florin to the machinations of S. Morgenstern's lawyers, to his struggles with raising his son. (One of the funniest scenes was when he goes to meet S. Morgenstern's lawyer, and the ravishingly beautiful attorney becomes a horrible old hag the more she talks about how he won't be granted a license.) I was afraid the book would be twee, but at the center of it is a pure (if slightly embarrassing, but truth generally is outside of Florin) love of stories, and wanting stories told.

In the Woods, The Likeness, Broken Harbor, Tana French

As I've said before, I started reading this series because I was traveling to Ireland and thought it seemed appropriate. I didn't go too deep into French's oeuvre, mostly because I couldn't shake wanting the books to be urban fantasy rather than gripping psychological portraits with a decidedly noir sensibility. Still, the books themselves are taut and fascinating, the portraits they paint of the Dublin Murder Squad (all of whom are staggering, wounded in their own ways) and the blighted, post-Celtic Tiger Ireland, are deeply compelling. Also, I do still think The Likeness is a perfect answer to The Secret History.

Lesser Known Monsters of the 21st Century, Kim Fu

There's something truly powerful in a short story that doesn't answer any questions or provide you with any sort of guidance---just walks in and rearranges your photographs so they're slightly off-kilter, leaves you with that destabilization. It's almost spiritual, that sense. In particular, there's a story in the collection about the world's sense of taste disappearing; a woman begins crafting art installations to try and recreate the experience of eating a pear, what your favorite family meal tasted like. Short stories are like that.

Perilous Times, Thomas D. Lee

I was surprised by this one. I know that's how I've described half the books above, but truly, this surprised me---not so much the rising action or plot (there's a sleeping king, knights around a table, a dragon) but I loved the setting so much. The depiction of a slightly-futuristic UK as drowning land sold off for parts; figures like immortal spymaster Marlowe coexisting with reborn Lancelot and Kay; the fay hovering around the edges; and then just….all the factions, the Welsh royalists and men's rights group propped up by military contractors; environmental activists, the references to the hodgepodge that existed in the 4th century AD too. More than anything, the novel conveyed how Britain's always been a place of change, the movement of people and permeable barriers, and that more than anything worked for me. (Also, it's a small thing but I loved how the Camelot crew translated modern concepts and objects into their language and knowledge of the world. It was always shown as hesitation rather than total shock, and I found it both moving and persuasive.)

A Cup of Salt Tears, Isabel Yap

I read this in a series of speculative novellas, which impressed on me yet again how hard it must be to write novellas. (Last year, one of my least favorite books was a novella; I still think about it with joyful hate.) However, Yap takes care to focus on single, brief narrative, concerns herself solely with the very small yet very significant issue of a woman, her husband, who and how she loves, wrapped up together with a kappa. Excellent, haunting.

Books of 2020 | Books of 2021 | Books of 2022

#from the bookshelf

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dunmeshi-darlings · 1 month

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Little idea I had..

During the dungeon journey the happened across a random wild spell that turns everyone into a hybrid

All except for izutsumi and the reader (cuz they a kobold)

Thinking how the party reacts to the everyday things the reader goes through

Oh this is a delightfully hilarious idea,i approve of it. Perhaps it was a trap laid in the dungeon by thistle or perhaps another adventurer did it, either way the outcomes are funny.

Laios - You have never seen laios so genuinely excited, He cheered and laughed happily at this new transformation. This is everything he could have ever dreamed of. His transformation made him a dog hybrid so he was perhaps the most similar to You as a kobold. You teach him about properly brushing your fur and how to sit with a tail. Though over all laios couldnt be happier, he finally gets to be more than just a tall man and can be a cool hybrid.

Marcille - She was transformed into a Rabbit hybrid, Her long elf ears now even longer floppy rabbit ears. She was far from excited to say the least, Frantically trying to find a spell that could possible fix this, Though she did have to admit the magic was impressively strong. Her bunny legs were a challenge for her to get used to, she could use them for walking sure but they were more suited for hopping. Her tail wasnt as large so she didnt have as many issue sitting as laios did at first. But you still helped teach her how to handle her instincts and not run away at the slightest of loud noises.

Chilchuck - While you had expected him to become some sort of mouse or rat hybrid, however when it turned out he had become a Racoon hybrid was fitting all things considered. The dark fur pattern around his eyes giving him almost a thieves mask, which you couldnt help but chuckle at how ironic it was. you also taught chilchuck about sitting with a tail now but other than that his transformation went the easiest out of anyones. You did happen to note that chilchuck became incredibly prone to washing his hands before and after eating, an instinct that wasnt actually the worst one to follow.

Senshi - At first you were all confused on what senshi had transformed into. The fur was smooth almost velvety, and his hands had grown slightly bigger, and you noticed the mustache portion of his beard had grown. Eventually Laios realized that senshi must have become a mole hybrid which upon reflection made sense. Truthfully not much about senshi had changed, However he had noted that he now had an insatiable craving for things like Treasure bugs, mimics, and living armor again. This you werent sure if you would attribute it to his new mole hybrid existence or just how he is normally. Either way you helped him get used to his fur/hair which was incredibly soft.

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi x reader #laios #chilchuck #marcile #senshi #laios touden #marcille donato #chilchuck tims #senshi of izganda

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onesidedradiostatic · 2 months

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Concept: Vox actually has a TV remote connected to his head. He keeps it mostly confiscated so no one can control him, although the only people who know where the heck it even is are The other Vees. Sometimes they take it out of the confiscated area and use it on him just to fuck with him, and in doing so, can scroll through his different thoughts/parts of his brain/sides that, delightfully enough, get projected on to his screen. Some nights they get drunk and Val + Velvette take it out of Vox's hiding place, scrolling through the "channels" in Vox's head (which all may project his different emotions in the moment -- it goes from his usual rage, to begging for mercy, amusement, to annoyance, and so on) and laughing their arses off every time they see a side that Vox wanted to keep hidden. And here's the sugar on the cream (/ref); the One Sided Radiostatic addition to this is that one of the channels ended up being LITERALLY nothing but lolligagging about while going on and on about Alastor. Like. They're continously switching his channels and suddenly he exclaims "ALASTOR WOULDN'T DO THIS TO ME!" oh-so-hopefully, and continues to whine similar things, as well as declarations of hatred towards Alastor. (Basically spotlighting how this guy lives so rent free in his mind there's quite literally a 24/7 Alastor channel there)

For obvious reasons, the Vees find this hilarious and keep him on this channel for the rest of the night, as Velvette records it and posts it on social media.

The news eventually gets to Alastor and and thus he broadcasts the audio from the video across hell through his station one evening, literally only because he just thinks it's too funny, and he wants to spite Vox. He's completely repulsed by anything even remotely romantic or sexual within "the Alastor Channel" in Vox's mind, and he just does not give a shit.

Vox is reasonably fuming so much that he crashes, although no matter what, if you switch to that one channel in Vox's TV, he'll always be talking about Alastor.

((THIS IS MY FIRST TIME ASKING SOMETHING ON THIS BLOG SO HOPEFULLY THIS IS GOOD -- TA DAAAAA))

-🐇Rabbit Anon

I think vox is an absolute idiot if he didn't just break the remote immediately. see personally I think it makes vox even more pathetic if he looked pathetic when he does things of his own volition, but he does also probably deserve this all things considered LMAKASOFGKO. next time he should learn to just not be an idiot and break the remote before his stupid colleagues can abuse it

#ask #osrs.txt #radiostatic #staticradio #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #the vees #also idk if velvette would just post shit for the funny see #I kind of also just find velvette having blackmail material funny

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weirdmarioenemies · 10 months

Text

Name: Bowling Bird

Debut: Donkey Kong Country Returns

Hey. Have you ever been in the world? I have, and let me tell you. There's something you should know. In the world, there are Funny Birds. They're basically everywhere. Some people in the world, they might say "I don't see any funny birds. Just regular birds." These people are wrong and are fools, because every bird is funny, and if you don't think a given bird is funny, you just need to get better at perceiving birds!

That being said, some birds are inherently more funny than others. Bowling Bird is one such bird. Species. It's a species.

See? Look how many! SO many! And so funny! They're like a bunch of bowling pins! That is why they are called Bowling Birds. You may be aware that Donkey Kong has a Rolling attack, in which he curls into a ball... uh oh! Bowling Birds exist all for a silly visual gag, and it is quite whimsical, but it's sad that so many funny birds must be sacrificed for it. And yes, they die! They puff into smoke after being knocked away! I think they should land in the water and bob like buoys, but they don't. Maybe they do offscreen? I hope so!

Delightfully, and surprisingly, Bowling Birds are not just ambiguous seabirds, but their Japanese name reveals that they are DODOS! Between these, and Dozy here from Tropical Freeze, Retro Studios clearly has some Dodo Fans. Hooray! This also obviously indicates that, in the Donkey Kong universe, dodos never went extinct, and in fact have continued to give rise to endemic subspecies, around DK Island and further around the world, like in Lost Mangroves! Some stayed pretty similar to Classic Dodos. Some became bowling pins. Clearly, being bowling pins has worked for them, so don't judge!

On the topic of these speculative surviving Dodos, I am now finding Dozies, and their more aggressive variant, the Sour Dodo, to be quite fascinating! Dodos didn't need to adapt any flight or even swimming, and this would eventually be their demise in our world, but THESE dodos have life preservers. I don't know where they got them, but they have them! Already, there's a way to get away from terrestrial predators, at the cost of merely getting their feathers soaked. Now that is indeed preserving their lives! Looking at Sour Dodo, we can also see they are capable of getting aggressive, so maybe they can even fight off threats now!

As usual with DKC enemies, I feel the need to point out that all of these dodos are larger than a gorilla. Even Bowling Bird is! Hooray for island gigantism! Did you know dodos were are pigeons? We all love pigeons!

#bowling bird #dozy #sour dodo #donkey kong country returns #donkey kong country tropical freeze #donkey kong #donkey kong enemies #mario #mario enemies #mod chikako

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xanthippe74 · 4 months

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Masterlist of my “12 Days of Fandom” recs, inspired by this post. As always, please check the tags and author's notes before reading. Enjoy!

🔸 Terminal Lucidity by @romaine2424 (Drarry, HD Career Fair, rated G, 3K) This bittersweet fic has Harry putting his abilities as Master of Death to good use by comforting those close to death themselves. We see him at work here, adeptly easing the way for someone dear to him with compassion and care. I found this story incredibly moving and a beautiful portrait of family ties in the face of an impending loss. Featuring older, established Drarry and the Black-Malfoy family.

🔹 Our Objective Remains Unchanged by @citrusses (Drarry, rated E, 46K) Gorgeously and vividly written, this university rowing AU drew me in right from the get-go, despite the fact that Muggle AUs are not my typical cuppa. The enemies-to-lovers tension is perfectly paced as Harry and Draco fight for the same spot on the Oxford team. Citrusses did a fantastic job translating their backgrounds and personalities (as well as those of other familiar characters from the books) into this world. Class divisions and the pressure of a highly-public sporting event stand in very effectively for Harry’s canon experiences. All in all, the story has the poignancy and drama of a lush coming of age film, and I can’t recommend it highly enough!

🔸 The Pile by @b-vul (Drarry, not rated, about 1.5K) This hilarious ficlet was born out of littlewinnow’s tumblr post about Veela!Harry performing an intricate mating dance to impress Draco. Delightfully, it’s from Harry’s POV as he blindly “trusts his instincts” to guide him into increasingly bizarre actions. And the evolution of Draco’s reaction is pure comedy gold. I’ve come back to reread this one a couple of times, and it never fails to have me in stitches. (The tumblr thread also contains adorable art by regretfulcorrine!)

🔹 Shine on, You Crazy Diamond by @lagerloutfic (Drarry, HD Mpreg Fest, rated E, 42K) This is one of those fics that you can’t stop reading once you start (something I confirmed this morning when I went to skim through it for this rec and wound up spending a few happy hours devouring the entire thing again). It’s laugh-out-loud funny and deliciously smutty, with a full cast of delightful side characters and just the right amount of feelings. The story begins with the discovery of Draco’s surprise pregnancy, then switches to a long flashback of Harry’s gay awakening and his fast sexual/slow emotional burn relationship with Draco. The entire fic has a joyful feel—banter-filled pub nights, chaotic family dinners, audacious curse breaking—culminating in the baby’s arrival, which left me in happy tears and wishing for another 40K of this fabulous story. Featuring confident Harry, supportive friends & family, hot Charlie, and some shamelessly kinky Unspeakables.

🔸 Silhouettes by @sweet-s0rr0w (Draco/Ron/Harry, Dronarry Fest, rated E, 16K) Draco/Ron/Harry is not a ship I’d ventured into before I read this fic, but I’m so glad I did! Sweet’s writing always hits the right spot in my brain, and her alternating POVs and spot-on characterizations of all three boys are delightful. I especially loved Ron’s sexy self-assurance here. The unique magical theory around sentient houses is fascinating and ultimately poignant, once Draco gets to the root cause of the Burrow’s behavior. Sweet-sorrow surely lived up to her username with this one, weaving grief with humor and a heartwarming resolution.

🔹 Harry Potter Gets a Job (A 106-Page Comic) by dustmouth (Drarry, HD Career Fair, rated M) Dustmouth’s comics never miss, I swear! In this one, we find Harry overcoming his distrust of Draco with the help of the Weasleys, especially Ron (who is definitely up to something himself). All of my favorite Dustmouth elements are here: the expressive characters, Draco’s wild wardrobe choices, and punchy dialogue galore. Also featuring drunken shenanigans at the Burrow, adorable Teddy, and some first-class Slytherin-ing by Draco to win his man (and find Harry that job). What a treat!

🔸 the earth from a distance by spqr (Drarry, rated E, 15K) A whirlwind time-travel fic with breezy humor, bedsharing, and spqr’s unmatched smut with feelings… What more could you ask for in a fic? Oh, yeah: fantastic worldbuilding for Hogwarts in 1599, brilliantly clever Draco, and a dash of enemies to lovers. I can never get enough of this author!

🔹 A Year In The Life by @ladderofyears (Drarry, HD Career Fair, rated M, 19K) I swear, the author conjured a little bit of magic to write this story. It’s told entirely with 50-word microfics, one journal entry for each day of 2006 (an impressive feat, by itself!), and yet it reads just as smoothly as any traditional fic. Draco’s voice is perfect here, full of wit and subtle emotion, as his and Harry’s developing romance takes a sharp turn with an unexpected pregnancy. Draco’s anticipation, worry, and joy are mixed with deftly-chosen details of his daily life, all captured with Emma’s trademark tenderness and warmth. This fic is a perfect comfort read for family feels and gentle romance.

🔸 try to fix you by @maesterchill (Harry/Ron/Hermione, HP Snooze Fest, rated M, 2K) A beautifully and tenderly written hurt/comfort fic set in the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts. Ron is the glue that holds the trio together here, caring for Harry and Hermione with gentle devotion. There’s no dialogue needed to tell this story, just Ron’s perceptive POV that captures the grief and love that compel him. I have a soft spot for this triad forming immediately after the war, as a way of holding onto each other and holding themselves together. Maester’s fic makes their transition from friends to lovers feel like the first step towards healing.

🔹 The Scent of Soft Rains by @dodgerkedavra (Drarry, HD Career Fair, rated E, 20K) When Harry is left housebound and isolated by a traumatic injury, magical prosthetist Draco gets called into help. But Harry’s struggles go far beyond the physical ones. This recovery fic combines magical and non-magical therapeutic treatments in a way I can’t remember reading before. The hurt/comfort is just as it should be—both heart-wrenching and soothing—but there are enough surprising revelations to keep the story from feeling predictable. Draco is wonderfully unflinching and patient, and the ending left me crying happy tears. With lovely, restrained prose and vivid magical imagery, this one’s an absolute stunner.

🔸 Connecting Lines, Connecting Crimes by @sleepstxtic (Drarry, H/D Career Fair, rated M, 15K) With its intriguing careers, fascinating magical theory, and well-researched worldbuilding, this story captured my attention immediately, and the mystery at the heart of it kept me engrossed. This was one of the more thought-provoking fics I’ve had the pleasure of reading, exploring the intersection of magic, the environment, and colonialism. Harry’s first-person POV is lovely, and it feels like we’re learning to love India and the people he meets along with him. The getting-back-together romance is gentle but satisfying, propelled by pent-up yearning that’s palpable. There’s so much to enjoy here, all in only 15K words!

🔹 Waking Up Slow by @sweet-s0rr0w and @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm (Drarry, H/D Wireless Fest, rated E, 22K) The first word that comes to mind while reading this fic is charming. First there’s the novel setting: a Christmas shop in the tourist destination of Cheddar Gorge, in the middle of a July heatwave. Next, there’s the shop itself, so imaginatively described and full to the brim with clever Muggle and magical details. Then there are the delightful OCs, Draco’s seemingly unhinged enthusiasm for all things Christmas (including ridiculous jumpers), and Harry’s complete disregard for professional behavior. But underneath the playful banter and humor, there’s also a layer of poignancy to tug at the heartstrings, especially when we find out the backstories behind Harry’s and Draco’s unlikely careers. And to top it all off, like the glowing star on the tree, are Joy’s exuberant, colorful illustrations. This is a Christmas-y fic I’d reread any time of the year.

Thanks to all these brilliant creators for sharing their work with us!

Happy New Year!

#12 days of fandom #2023 favorites #drarry #dronarry #harry/ron/hermione #fic recs

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fuckyeahisawthat · 2 years

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the f’ing white outfit

I don’t think I can possibly pick a favorite costume from OFMD, but when it comes to visual storytelling, I deeply love the white outfit. That stupid fucking white fit gets to blaze through so many layers of joke/symbolism/subtext in its brief one (1) episode lifespan.

It starts out as a sight gag. We see this rough, grubby environment where people are vomiting blood and getting in fights in the mud and then we see Stede and Lucius step off the ship in these pristine white outfits. (Stede has even dressed his hostage to match!) And you’re just waiting for the payoff. Which we get immediately with Lucius getting some dude’s bloody hands smeared all over his jacket, which is funny and also a sort of visual foreshadowing of what will happen to Stede at the end of the episode, although we don’t know it yet.

So at first the white outfit is a joke waiting to happen. It’s a symbol of how out of touch with the rules of the pirate world Stede is, insulated as he has been by his privilege (both his wealth and his literal whiteness). And they keep the gag going by having two people in white outfits that Stede chose, and having Stede repeatedly dodge the payoff. Lucius gets the bloody handprints on his jacket; Lucius is the one who gets splattered with what we think is wine but find out is blood, again (foreshadowing #2).

So there’s this running joke of Stede being able to sidestep the negative consequences of a bad decision, at least for himself. And this continues with Stede being (delightfully) rude to Izzy, out of obliviousness. And not only does Stede not get immediately stabbed for it, but Geraldo overhearing this conversation is what gets Stede out of his involuntary nose job with Jackie! And all of this serves to make the payoff of Stede very much not being able to avoid the consequences of his naivete at the end of the episode work even better.

Stede sashaying through the Republic of Pirates in his white suit is ridiculous, but you can see the logic of a lot of his choices once you realize that he is treating this like a rich people social gathering. He says “it’s time for the wider criminal community to meet the Gentleman Pirate”--in his mind, this is his formal introduction to pirate society. He’s making his regional debut--not in a theater way (although yes) but in a societal-norms-of-rich-people way.

And the way Lucius formally announces him from the top of the stairs in Spanish Jackie’s? He’s a debutante. The white suit is his fit for his own self-produced debutante ball.

You know, the social ritual where wealthy young women are introduced to society as being available to be courted. An event also referred to, in an old-fashioned use of the term, as coming out.

And lo and behold, he does receive a formal invitation to meet a potential suitor that night! An invitation that Ed specifically sent Izzy to deliver because he wanted it “done right,” in a way this fancy man would understand. (Great work there, Izzy!)

And then, once they are captured by the Spanish Navy, the white outfit shifts again. As David Jenkins said, the clown gets stabbed. And not just comedy-stabbed, he gets stabbed stabbed. Visually, this is the payoff that was set up all the way back when Stede stepped off the ship--that spotless white outfit getting fucked up, and this time it’s not just blood but his own blood. Consequences!

But also, given the symbolism of red on this show, you can read this as Stede’s heart showing through. He wore something that would show his heart most clearly, and Ed saw it right from the beginning. And I think this fits with how Ed immediately sees Stede not as a naive, bumbling idiot, but as someone who’s clever and interesting and brave.

And then we have Ed and Stede meeting face to face, Ed in all black and Stede in all white, and in this context it’s impossible not to think of the white outfit as a wedding dress. (Especially if you imagine Ed carrying a passed-out, mostly-dead Stede over the threshold into the captain’s cabin on the Revenge, which is a scene we didn’t see but absolutely, 100% happened.)

And I think there’s a connection to the other time Stede gets almost-executed by an imperialist navy, which is episode 9, which also has a lot of wedding imagery. (The signing of a contract together, the way Badminton looks like an officiant standing over them during the trial, the bright white and weirdly visually prominent blindfold that Ed lifts off Stede’s face like a wedding veil.)

I think the connection is that both of these moments are important turning points in Ed and Stede’s relationship. The first is their meet-cute and the second is the moment Ed realizes he is willing to give up everything for Stede. And I think it’s a cool subtle way of saying love at first sight. Even if the characters didn’t know it yet.

#ofmd #our flag means death #stede bonnet #costume design #long post #visual storytelling #the white outfit #i've been thinking about this stupid white outfit for AGES #happy not everything on hbo max is canceled day fam

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