#man i did a whole outline for this post

[bunnithechubs]

Rotation: Kitty Allen

Harvest is quickly arriving as fall slowly comes to a close in San Myshuno. There's an old myth that winter in San Myshuno is so cold that it kills relationships. It seems it's first victim was Kitty and Issac.

#ts4 #ts4 gameplay #the sims 4 #gameplay2 #game play 2 #the sims 4 edit #ts4 edit #slate #rotation: kitty #man i did a whole outline for this post #lol i had an idea come to my head and I think I did good at making it come to life! #FINALY ISSAC GOT CAUGHT #YESSSS

[sepublic]

Post-Hoot with Dana Terrace!

            Dana’s put over 200 hours into games she’s missed since the finale; Octopath Traveler, Little Nightmares, etc. Sarah Nicole-Robles cried harder than she ever did when she said I learned a language I’ll never forget, a whole chapter of my life is over, during the King-ceanera. She said the line once and was suddenly sobbing because of how meta it was. 

         Rebecca has a ‘sona during the bit with Barcus in the epilogue sequence. Cissy also cried when watching with her family, her kids asked her about it; Sarah was really excited as she watched the finale.

         No sequel happening, but we can always hope; Dana would like to do more, but Disney owns the IP and needs to give them permission. Dana knew the prequel line in the finale was ham-fisted as hell but still went with it because she was pissed (she said Fuck to express her rage). Rebecca went back to the Anger phase of grief after watching the finale after realizing what they missed, but Sarah was also in Acceptance because it was hard to regret something that ended so well.

         Dana doesn’t cry that much, but TJ’s remix in the soundtrack made her cry. Dana brought back everyone for BBBYYYEEEEEEE, noting this was every character’s last line, and wished Hooty had more lines. Alex improvised a cut line after the Bye with Hooty expressing appreciation for the finale and readiness for his spin-off.

         Dana won’t say much in hopes she’ll get to do more for TOH in the future; A Youtube reviewer (shoutout to all, Zachary Ax, Man of a Thousand Thoughts, Rebecca herself), the Third Bill got it right on Hooty, and Dana won’t be more specific about that.

         They found out about the shortening during S2; They had an ending in mind that Dana had in mind since development, but it needed too much setup and so they couldn’t pull it off. All of Season 2A was written before knowing the cancellation; Follies at the Coven Day Parade was the first episode fully written knowing the show was shortened, hence the tonal change. The Galdorstones was an arc Dana planned more on, as well as the Coven Heads; Bat Queen; It was a hard situation choosing what to leave out.

         There weren’t whole episodes written that had to be trashed; Just one-sentence ideas on a whiteboard never fully outlined or scripted. But Dana is still happy with what came out, because it was pretty damn cool.

         Rebecca Rose once saw someone with a King sweatshirt like hers at Disneyland and said hi, but they just side-eyed her and didn’t respond; Despite this, Rebecca hopes they had a happy day and believes they were just having a bad time. Sarah joked about not being so forgiving.

         String Bean’s inspiration: Owlbert is in the title of the show, String Bean indeed was there the whole time! The S wasn’t completely intentional at first, but Dana flipped the logo around and figured it out. When making the first episode, the logo wasn’t finalized. They always liked the idea of Luz being connected to snakes, it’s what she brought to school and they liked her reclaiming something she terrorized her classmates with. The Snake-Shifter idea specifically; Zach Marcus just said “Snake-Shifter” as they brainstormed ideas and Dana, being a sucker for lame puns, was sold.

         That was indeed Dana being represented as a student in the epilogue! She was Beastkeeping and Oracle; Dana can see the future of the show, and really likes animals. Raine’s palisman was indeed hidden within the violin’s design; Hunter and Dell worked to fix the palismen after Raine broke it trying to stop Belos. The violin is more akin to the staff, anyhow. Dana considered responding to a question about general Caleb, Evelyn, and Flapjack lore, but Sarah insisted she stay silent in case they get to answer it as an actual story later.

         Dana liked to think while writing Thanks to Them; No, Evelyn’s spirit isn’t in Flapjack. But to Philip, he saw Flapjack as the culmination of the corruption in his brother Caleb; He saw Flapjack, if it weren’t for YOU. You can see a hint of it in Masha’s story, Evelyn entices Caleb with Flapjack, who was Caleb’s introduction to magic. Evelyn was probably disguised as a human, and trusted Caleb for seeming reasonable and less violent. Perhaps like Dog owners passing each other by and suddenly becoming friends over this.

         Evelyn and Caleb’s relationship was sweet, from platonic curiosity to romantic. Eda doesn’t know she’s descended from them, nor does Hunter; And Dana has more to say, but will keep it hidden. Luz will stay the majority of her stay in the isles as she goes to college. Camila bought the shack leading to the human world, which allowed Luz to visit during holidays, weekends, etc.

         They never got to explore it, but it could’ve originally been the home of Philip and Caleb, long abandoned; Eda emerges after discovering the portal. In the next thirty years, she fixes up the shack as she builds the Owl House. Dana also advised fans to google Death of the Author, since she’s technically no longer working on the show, and thus gives permission for fans to write their own answers.

         Eda became the Owl Lady before Owlbert, due to the curse; They planned to do an episode where Eda learned palismen carving with Dell, and how Eda reclaimed the Owl identity to carve Owlbert. Dana stills has the outline of that episode in her head…

         According to Rebecca, Caleb and Philip’s graves were in the basement of the shack, based on this church in New Haven Dana passed by every day on her way to school (Gravesfield is based on some places in Connecticut). However, Dana realized the graves didn’t fit into the story. They also had an ‘original’ Belos design for him taking over animals. Marina Gardner did some amazing Belos designs, and Thanks to Them alluded to it.

         The Portal’s eye comes from the Titan’s missing eye!!! Hunter is bisexual, Willow is pansexual, this is how Dana always wrote and imagined them in her mind, but it’s not explicitly stated so technically it’s more headcanon. Dana noted how some people just picked it up. Dana likes to think Amity and Lilith rekindled their student-mentor relationship. Having worked in the library, Amity was interested in Lilith’s knowledge of history. Dana suggested to Zarya(?) from the design team to add notes to Lilith’s museum blueprints. A helicopter passed over and they joked it was Disney trying to stop spoilers.

         Cissy only got her lines and didn’t know any other details about the finale, to Dana’s surprise; Dana explained that people not getting a full script is due to the pandemic. Before quarantine, actors would get the full script. They have to rely on Eden Riegel and Dana for context a lot. Bosook Coburn spoiled Luz’s death to Rebecca Rose during the celebration party. They came up with a lot of designs for dying Luz, trying to figure out how they can hollow out her head how much. Dana mentions it’s up to the showrunner to show how much they want to the actors.

         Thanks to Sarah, they kept in Luz saying her own SFX during her fight with Eda in O Titan, Where Art Thou; She heard someone do it as part of the mock script and wanted it. When Dana voiced Eda and Luz at the end, Dana was crying. There’s a recording of Season 2B and Season 3 of Dana doing a voice-over of the script to get approved by executives.

         Dana clarified everyone would’ve had more of a chance to talk with each other, such as Hunter and Amity; Hunter would’ve talked to Vee, as well as more human realm kids, literally everyone would’ve had a little more time with each other. Dana loves Luz and Hunter’s sibling dynamic. Dana was sorry they couldn’t have Luz and Raine hang out, but they had the Hexsquad storyline. Luz finished high school in the human world, with the renewed motivation that she’ll go back to the isles. Knowing she has a safe space outside of high school made it more bearable, as was the case for Dana growing up.

         Cissy brought up Gus’ hair in the epilogue, which she loved; Emmy Cicierga did the design for Gus and Raine. Harpy Lilith was by Emmy; Dana did Emira, Eberwolf, and Skara’s timeskip designs. The name of the Titan is unpronounceable for humans.

         Dana can’t say much about the Archivists; The Collector never had a flash-forward design, as they age much more slowly than everyone else. Maybe the Collector got just a tiny bit taller. The idea of the Collector came from creepy dolls, as well as a nightmare; John Bailey Owen had a google folder filled with cool references of creepy dolls with a starry aesthetic, liminal minimalist nightmare-scape. They knew who the Collector was gonna be, what role they’d play, but the vibe still needed to be decided.

         Dana confirmed the Collector was always a part of the show before the shortening, and they solidified their placement after the announcement. The Collector has indeed stayed connected with the others, visits occasionally. Dana has seen fan comics on this and teared up.

         Hooty doesn’t have to be vacated from the Owl House if he doesn’t want to; When the door isn’t active, Hooty could be present. The new portal can probably fold up, and Hooty is busy as a curator for Hooty’s new museum.

         Dana said Raine and Eda’s business is their business; Not all love stories end in marriage. It’s their thing and it doesn’t diminish any love, but they do live in the Owl House together (Raine moved in).

         Mattholomule getting a palisman is something Zach Marcus can answer, since he made the character and Dana respects the lore he made. It’s hard to say for Dana if Vee and Masha are dating, since Masha didn’t show up in the finale, but Vee definitely has a crush on them. Again, Dana encourages the Death of the Author approach, if the headcanon makes you happy.

         Alador and Odalia got officially divorced after the finale, and the kids happily lived away from her. They might visit her if they have the energy, but also recognize she’s a toxic influence they can cut off at any point. Dana gave a shoutout to Rachel McFarlane’s voice acting, praising her performance for Odalia.

         In regards to the tower King was born in, Dana has an answer; It was related to a character we all know, who now may have amnesia.

         There was a plan to explore Gus and Willow’s glowing eyes, and do it for other characters; Amity wasn’t going to have that, strong emotions are indeed connected to magic. It was mostly a worldbuilding magic rule they could’ve expanded on, that Dana wishes she did early in the story.

         In the boards, Dawn Han(?) did Clouds on the Horizon, and did the scene of Amity and the twins hiding in the factory as their parents talk about the Abomatons, Alador is worried since it seems like a tad much. Alador had T-rex arms in the storyboard, and it reminded Dana of Remy from Ratatouille, so when they got to the scene of them looking into Alador’s lab, Ratador was drawn in his place as a joke. Dana laughed so hard she decided to keep it in, with Dana handwaving it as Alador’s palisman.

         According to Dana, a show should be appreciated for as it is; But the other way to enjoy it, under the context it was made, is also important to her; Both ways are valid. It was easier for Sarah to voice depressed Luz since she was also depressed. The writers preferred to put their feelings into the show, VS a more happy-go-lucky approach as others did; It was kind of dark for a bit, especially during quarantine. Sarah felt her own experience validated with Luz’s depression, but she and Dana appreciated the balance of having a happy ending too.

         What made the crew hopeful was knowing the characters would always have a happy ending; Luz could continue her studies in full-force, a new family. They KNEW it would end happy. Dana acknowledged how the fandom misinterpreted “I hate the term happy endings,” and Sarah knew about the quincenera when asked during previous Post-Hoots, but couldn’t answer.

         Rebecca commissioned 3D-printed Funko Pops of S2A Lilith and S1 Luz, and gave them to the others as gifts; Rebecca didn’t know about Avi’s appearance until two days before the Post-Hoot, otherwise she would’ve had a Funko of Raine made. Dana’s stand for Luz had to be made with painter’s tape (she appreciated it) due to Rebecca running out of the other kind, and planned to place it beside her Peabody award. Elizabeth Grullon, Camila’s VA, had to call her mom in the middle of a session to translate her line about maduros into English.

        Cissy clarified this wasn’t intended to be the final Post-Hoot! And the video was ended with a BBBBYYYEEEEE!!!!!

#the owl house #dana terrace #caleb wittebane #evelyn clawthorne #boiling isles titan #edalyn clawthorne #eda clawthrone #raine whispers #raeda #palismen #the owl house hunter #willow park #bisexual #pansexual #post Hoot

[dazedandconfused-15]

Heaven's in your eyes

This is to answer a request I received from an anonymous user a couple of months ago “Billy asks shy reader out and is protective over her”, for some reason I can't directly respond to their post still getting used to Tumblr. Sorry for taking a while to write this one. Anyway, I got a little bit carried away and turned it into a short fic, I just loved the whole concept. I’ll definitely post a part 2. Comments and constructive opinions are always appreciated 🩷

Part 1

You have always watched him from a distance.

There was something magnetic about him. Where he was, energy swirled.

You have never spoken to him. He’s something inaccessible to you. He hangs out with the popular crowd. Yet, unlike all of them, he doesn’t seem to pretend. He doesn’t show up. He naturally exudes an aura that makes him alluring. He’s not just what could be called "hot." No, he’s beautiful. When you first saw him in the school hallways, you could swear that for a second, your heart stopped. He was playing with his lighter, walking with an assured stride in the direction of his classroom with Jason Carver. He was a palette of contrasting colors that stood out in perfect harmony. His tanned face was framed by long, golden curls that almost fell over his shoulders. He looked straight ahead as he listened to the boy at his side with his red mouth stretched into a smirk that revealed white teeth. His cupid bow was dusted with stubble. It was no surprise that most of the girls looked at him with no shame, the shyest ones glancing up as soon as he passed them. That California boy did not look like a boy. He looked like a man. You could tell by the way he was built, the black leather jacket hugging his broad shoulders, the muscular legs in his denim jeans.

You had realized that you were staring openly at him when he passed by you and, probably feeling the weight of your gaze on him, his eyes had met yours. There, something had happened inside you. His eyes were the purest blue you had ever seen. They were crystalline. But it was the long dark lashes that gave his gaze something expressive and unique. They were the embodiment of what is called a piercing gaze. It was a unique paradox: as angelic as it was rough in outline. Awakening from your enchantment, you lowered your gaze with an abrupt jerk of your head and resumed putting your books away in the locker, feeling your cheeks on fire and your heart beating wildly.

That was the only time you had even a remote semblance of contact with him. 

As you rush to your English literature class a month later, rounding the corner of the hallway, the last thing you expect is to bump into him. You let out an "ouch" as you collide with his hard chest, your notes and pencil case tumbling to the ground in the chaos. It's only when you raise your eyes in a flurry of apologies that you realize who you've bumped into. You swallow, kneeling and picking up your notes hastily. 

"You alright?"

"Yes. Yes." the notes slip through your shaking fingers.

His hands appear in your field of vision, and when you accidentally touch them, an electric shock almost makes you wince. He helps you pick them up, then raises to his feet and holds them to you. You thank him, thinking about what else you could say to avoid making the situation awkward. His baby blue shirt matches the color of his eyes. He’s even prettier from closer. 

"Aren’t you in history class with me ?"

His question surprises you. You didn't think he would remember you. You didn't think he would notice you.

"Yes. That's right."

He holds out his hand, his heavy-lidded gaze on you. "Billy."

You shake his hand, introducing yourself. His hand is large and his grip his firm, but gentle at the same time. That touch makes your stomach tangle. You can't believe he is talking to you.

"You're new, right?" you ask. You know fully well that he arrived here a month ago. You know full well that he is from California. He probably knows that you know, but he doesn't say anything about it

"Yes. Moved here last month."

“Oh, okay. Welcome to Hawkins, then.” you say gently as you absently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Thanks.”

There’s a beat of silence, him probably waiting for you to say something else. You point at the door down the hallway, starting to walk away. “I ah, I have to go to class. Sorry.”

And you walk away, no, you scurry away, almost escaping him, feeling a pang of embarrassment as you replay the scene later in your head, regretting how abruptly you left without saying more. 

You don’t cross paths with him again after that. However, you are clearly more aware of his presence during history classes even though you don’t interact again. 

In recent months, you've adopted a strategy of minimizing your visibility as much as possible. It’s not always easy. That Thursday is one of the hard days. Mr. Jensen, the new history teacher, makes his way through the rows of desks, collecting permission slips signed by parents for the upcoming day trip he has organized to Indianapolis. 

"Ah, I don't seem to have your permission slip yet," he inquires gently as he sees you empty-handed. "Did you forget to bring it today?" 

Feeling the eyes of everyone on you, your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you shake your head, your voice barely above a whisper. You hate all of this attention on you. "I, um, I haven't been able to get it signed yet. My dad's been working double shifts, and I haven't caught him at home."

“I understand,” the teacher says, “But I need to give all the signed papers to the principal by tomorrow. Is it possibly to get it signed today? By your mother, perhaps?”

Before you could answer, Tommy Hagan's voice pierces the air, his tone laced with mockery. "She's probably halfway across the country by now, cozying up with some other guy."

You don’t even turn to look at him. You saw it coming. It’s been five months since she left now. Hawkins is a small town, so the news spread quickly. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, avoiding eye contact with your classmates as you feel the weight of their curious gazes. 

"I uh...I just," you try to ignore Tommy's comment, resting your eyes on the professor whose eyebrows are furrowed in confusion. "I'll tell my dad tonight. He's just been really busy. I will bring it to class tomorrow."

“If he comes back with the milk.” snickers Tommy. 

You stiffen instantly without wanting to, which the teacher doesn’t fail to notice.

“That's enough, Mr. Hagan. Comments like that have no place in my classroom.” he snaps as his eyes darken, his jaw set. His expression softens as he turns to me “Don't worry about the permission slip for now. We'll make sure you're included."

As the professor returns to his seat, your eyes remain fixed on the spot where the bench is chipped, absently touching it with your fingernail. Your body fails to relax as you fight to ignore the burning in your throat, careful not to blink, your vision blurred for a few moments. But Tommy's yelp draws your attention and you turn your head to your left, where he is sitting next to Billy. 

“Ow. What was that for, man?”

Tommy is rubbing his shoulder, his face scrunched up in pain and a mixture of disbelief and confusion on his face. Billy stares straight ahead, his face cold and hard. 

"What the fuck is your problem?" he eventually mutters under the teacher’s explanation. However, it sounds more like a statement than a question.

As you go back to stare at your desk, your throat is still burning but your vision is clear again. You wonder if what Billy said was because of Tommy's comments. Why would he defend you? 

The rest of the class passes in a blur of confusion and unanswered questions. Tommy's hurtful words echo in your mind, leaving you shaken and upset, the sting of their cruelty lingering long after the bell rings.

***

On the morning of the school trip, you are tempted to call the school and say you are sick, but your father comes back from the plant later in the morning and will see that you are actually fine. Also, Mr. Jensen might suspect that something is going on. Only, the idea of spending the day with the whole class, but feeling more alone than you are when you're at school, doesn't appeal to you. You've never been very outgoing. Since your mother left, the armor that covered you has only thickened, alienating you from the rest of the world. To this day you have received no answers. She left overnight without warning. You never received a call. You knew that things had not been going well between your parents for some time. Or rather, your mother kept complaining about how being in Hawkins was suffocating her, how she was no longer happy. The pain was slowly becoming coated with resentment. She had abandoned you and your father as if nothing had happened, as if years of living together had counted for nothing. As if being a family had cost nothing. Arriving on the ground floor and finding the kitchen light off had now become a habit, not an odd occurrence. Other things had become routine: the unaccustomed silence in your house, the TV once perpetually on now always off, the teapot once always in use was now in the kitchen drawer. 

Once on the school bus, you spend your time looking out the window and counting the trees on the distant hills. You can feel the wind blowing outside, the rain pelting cruelly on the window. A crack lets a trickle of air through, making you shiver and clench tighter in your jacket. The ride at least passes quietly, no one talking to you or bothering you. Tommy Hagan keeps his comments to himself, too busy jabbering in the back of the bus with his band of friends. You can hear the occasional shrillness in the voice of Carol Perkins, his girlfriend. 

You spend almost the entire morning in the Indiana Historical Society, following the professor through the corridors of the museum. You stay in the background, drowning out the guide's voice and looking at the paintings hanging on the wall. As you change rooms, you realize that you are not the only one who has remained aloof. Billy Hargrove lingers to your side at the back of the row of students, his hands tucked into his leather jacket. You try not to be affected by his presence, suddenly self-conscious of the way you walk and breathe. You still remember what he told Tommy Hagan the week before. You are increasingly convinced that he defended you. As the class spreads in different directions, everyone observing something different and speaking lowly in small groups you realize he’s still here, on your side.  As you ponder if you should say something, or just assume that he’s walking behind on his own, he catches you off guard. 

“Kinda boring, huh?” 

“Yeah, a little," you respond, offering him a small smile that probably looks like a grimace. "History isn't my cup of tea."

“Mine neither,” his gaze scans the display cases lining the wall on your left. “Beats being seated all day in class, though.”

“Definitely,” you nod in agreement as you slowly cross through another room. Desperately trying to fill the silence, you come up with the first thing that crosses your mind. “I’ve been here before.”

“The museum?” 

“Indianapolis,” you say. You hesitate before finishing your thoughts. “My grandma lived here. I spent some weekends at hers.” 

Billy hums. He sniffs, then retrieves some chewing gums from his back pocket. He unwraps one. “How’s the city?” 

“It’s great. Oh, thank you.” you softly say as you take the gum he’s offering you. “There are some nice parks.” 

He pops the chewing gum in his mouth. “We have quite a few in San Diego too.

You turn toward him, curiosity overcoming your shyness. “You lived in San Diego?”

“Yes. Big change of scenery.”

“I can imagine.” your gaze wanders to the antique objects displayed in a glass case. “I’ve seen pictures, it looks incredible.” memories of your dad's album, from when he was young, flood your mind – images of palm trees swaying in the breeze, golden beaches stretching for miles, and endless blue skies that seemed to merge seamlessly with the ocean. 

“That’s something else, yeah. Honestly, I couldn’t complain at all.” 

“I wish I could see California,” you say a little dreamily. 

“I can take you one day.”

Your throat feels suddenly dry. So you let out a nervous giggle, avoiding his gaze, assuming he is joking. Fortunately, the professor calls your attention back. It's lunchtime and he tells you that you are free to go wherever you want, as long as you are outside the museum within four hours. You told your father the school would pay for the student's lunch because you know times are tough. He insisted on giving you ten dollars in case you need it.

You walk down the steps of the museum looking around and thinking about where you could make all this time go. It's going to be long. You know a few restaurants, but you know that your pocket money is clearly not enough to eat there. A gust of wind brings the smell of smoke to your nostrils, and out of the corner of your eye, you see Billy stop beside you. His eyes take in your surroundings.

“So, you told me you know the city.”

“Huh, yes,” you answer, a little lost. “Not all of it, but most of it, like downtown.”

Billy exhales the smoke he’s been holding in his mouth.  “Are we downtown?” 

You look around, recognizing the skyscrapers in the distance. "Yes," you point to the skyline to your right, figuring he simply wants to ask you for information so he knows where to go with his friends. "It's over there."

“Sweet. You hungry?” 

The silence that passes between the two of you makes him turn toward you, waiting for your response. So you rush to answer, ignoring the way his piercing blue eyes make you feel self-conscious.

“Yes. Yes, a little bit,” then you ask him, unsure: “...are you?”

“Starving.” he resumes walking down the stairs again, and you follow him, trying to figure out if he really means what you think he means. Some classmates are already leaving in different directions. “You know someplace to eat?” 

“I do. But I don’t have enough. In case you want to go together. If that’s what you were offering.” You add, mentally slapping yourself. Why does everything you say have to come across as weird? Besides, you just admitted that you are practically out of money. “I can show you, though.”

Billy shakes his head, shifting in his leather jacket. “Nah, don’t worry about it. It’s on me.” 

“No, really, I can't let you do that," you insist, your voice tinged with concern. "I mean, I appreciate it, but I can't just let you pay for me."

Billy turns to you, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he exhales the smoke sideways. "Come on, it's no big deal," he reassures you. "Consider it my way of saying thanks for showing me around. Besides, it's not like I'm short on cash."

You hesitate for a moment. But ultimately, you know that accepting his offer would ease the burden on your wallet. With a resigned sigh, you nod in agreement. "Okay, if you insist," you concede, offering him a small smile. "But just this once.”

You wanna immediately grimace at your pathetic implication that there would be another time, but Billy doesn’t seem to notice anyway.

He just winks at you. And even if he’s not smiling or anything, it still makes your stomach flip. "Deal," he says. "Now, lead the way."

As you walk beside each other through the park later on, you relish in what surrounds you, not even realizing the silence that has settled between the two of you because it feels so natural. Some people are jogging, there are some families too, or people walking alone headed who knows where. The birds are chirping in the trees that are alongside the walk. You spot a squirrel scurrying up the trunk of one of them, its fluffy tail waving wildly. The late afternoon sun is shining right in front of you, hitting your skin in a gentle caress. Spring is gradually unfurling its colors, bringing with it a glimmer of warmth that has been absent from your life lately. In the midst of the cold and desolation that settled in after your mother's departure, this glimpse of light offers a tentative promise of renewal, a small beacon of hope amid the darkness that has enveloped you and your father. You glance at Billy, realizing that in the short span of your conversation, he's frequently reached for a cigarette. Yet, even during the moments when he abstained, like in the museum and at the restaurant, his mouth was never empty. It was either occupied by a mint, a bite of burger, the straw of his milkshake, or eventually a toothpick found on the table. 

“So, uhm, have you been somewhere else besides San Diego or Hawkins?” you venture. 

“Nope”, he answers, the “p” resounding loudly. He looks around, one hand in his jacket pocket as the other one holds the cigarette on his side. “Never moved from Cali. I was born in Santa Barbara. Then moved to San Diego when I was ten.”

You hum in acknowledgment. “Is Santa Barbara close to the ocean?”

“It is. I’ve always lived by the ocean.” 

You turn to him, enthusiasm laced in your voice as you get carried away in the conversation. “So you know how to surf?” 

Billy chuckles, nodding as he brings the cigarette to his lips. “I do, yeah. Surfed every day.” 

“Wow.” you breathe, your mind wandering away. “It must be…like an adrenaline rush.”

As Billy exhales the smoke, you don’t miss the nostalgic glint flickering in his eyes, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. "Yeah, it's something else. There's nothing quite like catching a wave, feeling the power of the ocean beneath you."

“I’ve heard it’s hard to learn.” you muse softly. 

The rhythmic sound of your footsteps punctuates the conversation. Billy stays silent for a few seconds, probably lost in his thoughts. Then he shrugs. “To be honest, I was on the surfboard since I was a child, so must’ve been natural for me. But yeah, it generally is.

“I can only imagine," you respond, a sense of longing in your voice. You’ve only seen this kind of landscape in pictures or on TV.  "Must have been amazing growing up with that kind of freedom."

Billy's sigh is loud as he exhales a plume of smoke, his gaze drifting towards the horizon. "It was. Surfing was my escape, you know? Whenever things got tough, I could just grab my board and disappear into the waves."

What he says lightens some curiosity in you. You wonder what he means by that. You wonder what he went through, what his past was like. There’s something really intriguing about him. But you refrain from asking more, aware of how little you know each other. Besides, you can’t help but notice the little twitch of his jaw muscles as he says it. 

"It’s always been books for me.” you offer. “They have this way of transporting you to another world, making you forget about everything else."

Billy nods in understanding. “What kinda books you read?”

“Oh,” you look at your shoes as you feel suddenly vulnerable. You almost feel ashamed of your taste in books, but you know you shouldn’t. “A bit of everything, really. I’m reading a Dostoevsky one right now.

“Dostoevsky, huh? Pretty heavy stuff,” he says, arching an eyebrow. 

“You’ve read some of him before?

“I read Dream of a Ridiculous Man. A long time ago though.” 

“Oh,” you breathe, recalling how challenging it was to finish it when you read it a couple of months ago. Reading books by Dostoevsky, especially that one, has been both a cathartic and enlightening experience. They made you feel less alone in your pain. “Did you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s kinda controversial.” he grimaces. “It’s a fucking depressing book. But... it's like... there's something about it that just... resonates, you know what I mean? Like, you read it and... it's like looking into a mirror, but... the reflection's all twisted and weird. I don't know if that makes any sense.” he shrugs. 

It couldn’t make more any sense to you. For the first time, you feel understood in that sense. It's a relief to know that you're not alone in finding meaning within its pages. His words resonate deeply with you. 

“I totally get it. That’s part of the reason why I like his books.” 

The subtle revelation hangs in the air with the rhythmic sound of your footsteps on the concrete path. You hope he’s not reflecting on your words too much, aware of what you’ve implied. Your own thoughts go on what he said. Why did Billy resonate so much with the book? What if there’s something everybody can relate to, even people who haven’t experienced anything bad in life?

“What about you?” he then asks. “Always been in Hawkins?”

“Born and raised.” you nod. Then you add, a bit sheepishly: “Nothing like California, unfortunately.” 

Billy snorts, flicking his cigarette. “What’s there to do in summer?”

“Oh uh. Nothing much. We have a public pool.” you offer, looking at him. 

Billy takes a drag, his eyes trailing on the path in front of both of you.

“We have Lover’s Lake too,” you add. “It’s quite nice, actually. People spend the day there and have barbecues or campfires.” 

“Yeah, I’ve heard about that one,” he says. “You guys party by the lake during summer or something like that.” 

“Yes.” then you keep quiet for a few breaths, imagining he’s probably heard it from one of his friends from the basketball team. They’re usually to host parties or organize them. It always involves loads of alcohol and ends up in big scandals. You feel the urge to correct him. “Not me, though. I don’t, uh…I don’t party.” 

You feel his eyes on you. “Makes sense.”

You look up at him in question. 

“Didn’t see you at the Halloween party.”

“The one hosted by Tina Williams?” you soon look away as soon as you meet his gaze. “I didn’t know you…you noticed.”

“Would’ve sure as hell noticed if you were there.”

As Billy's words settle in, you feel a warmth spreading through you, starting from the tips of your ears and flushing your cheeks crimson. His simple compliment catches you off guard, igniting a whirlwind of emotions within you. You find yourself struggling to meet his gaze, your eyes flickering away as you search for some semblance of composure. None of this makes sense. The mere fact that he recognized your absence at the party, that he shared lunch with you, that he's now walking beside you in the park—it all feels inexplicable. You're accustomed to blending into the background, being an outcast in the bustling halls of the school. You're no stranger to the whispers that swirl around you, painting you as the outsider, the comments about your situation at home, the subtle jabs at your circumstances. The silence between you stretches, pregnant with unspoken thoughts. 

“You’re alright?” you hear him ask.

You slow down, lingering to a stop as you realize Billy has stopped walking too. He looks down at you with a hint of curiosity, the sun caressing his golden skin and reflecting in his eyes, becoming like polished, crystalline gems. That’s when you notice little details you haven’t paid attention to before. The scar cutting through his right eyebrow, the pattern of freckles dusting his nose. 

“I guess I’m just a little confused,” you admit. 

Billy exhales the smoke from his nostrils, his gaze effortlessly fixed intensely on you. “Why is that?”

“I just…” you try to not avoid his gaze. “Why are you here with me?”

The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement and what looks like genuine confusion. “Why wouldn’t I?”

His question is so simple it takes you off guard. Makes you question your reasoning. As you’re at a loss for words, you feel a blush slowly creeping down your cheeks. 

Billy’s lips slowly curve into a smile, somewhat teasing. “You really have pretty eyes, you know that?”

You’re positively sure you’re as red as a lobster now, a little whine escaping your lips as embarrassment settles over you. It’s the most instinctual reaction. It makes him chuckle, and makes you awkwardly laugh in response, because what else can you do? He tilts his head to the side, trying to meet your avoiding eyes. 

“How about that? I’m here with you ‘cause of your pretty eyes”. 

“I really don’t think they’re that special.” you shake your head, still laughing. 

You’re not that innocent to not realise he’s openly flirting with you. You’re not surprised, because just looking at him is enough. You’ve also heard things about him and some girls at high school. What surprises you, is that he’s flirting with you. You don’t have that much experience in the love department, but there’s something sincere and genuine in the way he’s doing it now. There’s something soft in his eyes that tells you he’s sincere.

“Well, it’s a shame,” he says, that’s when you realise how much closer you are to each other. You can tell by how you can smell the tobacco and his cologne, his silver earring shining as it catches the sun. He tilts his head again, this time catching your gaze as you muster the courage to lock eyes with him. “’Cause you have beautiful eyes.”

“Thank you,” you mumble with a shy smile, nodding your head slightly. You swear you can hear your heartbeat in your ears. 

You feel like you want to return the compliment because his eyes are the reason why your heart is reacting the way it does. But then again, you’re too shy to do that, and a tiny part of you thinks it would make things weird or would end up having you vulnerable because you don’t know for sure if his compliment is fueled by real interest in you. 

“I just don’t hang out with anyone, trust me.”

As a distant church bells toll four times, their echoes drifting across the park, a subtle reminder of the passing time washes over you both. The realization settles in that it’s time for you to go. You should be back in front of the museum in half an hour. 

Luckily, Billy saves you from answering as he breaks eye contact and looks up beyond your shoulder, where the church is. “We should go,” he says.

As you walk back to the museum, you think about his words. Now you realize that you didn’t see him hanging around Tommy Hagan lately. In particular, today on the bus, the latter was seated with his girlfriend and hung out with two other members of the basketball team. Billy was somewhere else the whole time.

When you two reach the museum, the teacher is already counting everyone to make sure the whole class is there. Billy joins his mates, elbowing one of them in a friendly gesture. You didn’t fail the notice the looks most of your classmates shot at you when he saw you two arrive together. The teacher draws the class's attention back to the trip, prompting feedback and reflections from everyone.

What you don’t expect either once on the bus, is feeling someone sitting on the empty seat next to yours. Billy gets comfortable, making it seem something so normal as he stretches his long legs as far as the cramped quarters allow. His thigh brushes against yours and your heart jumps a little in your ribcage, but a few minutes later you start to relax. You can’t help the feeling of warmth spreading through your chest as you take in his choice to sit deliberately next to you. You don’t need to fill the silence, or at least not as strongly as a few hours ago. You’re also quite tired. As you venture a glance in his direction, Billy’s eyes are closed. It seems you’re not the only one feeling tired. His arms are crossed over his chest but his facial features are totally relaxed now that he’s dozing off, his head resting against the seat. His hair seems soft at the touch, a curl falling unruly on his forehead. You feel the distant urge to wrap it around your finger, brush it from his face. There is a difference between now and when he’s fully awake: his expression softened, his gaze peaceful, and his features relaxed. It's a stark contrast from the demeanor you've observed from a distance, where his smile is more wolfish, his facial muscles tense, and his eyes often distant or bored. You force yourself to look away from him, setting your gaze on the window. As the rhythmic hum of the bus lulls you into a state of drowsiness, you feel your eyelids grow heavy. The warmth of the moment envelops you, and soon, you find yourself dozing off as well. 

Once you get off the bus, you wrap your arms around your waist as you shiver. The weather is distinctly different. It seems to have been raining all day. The sky is darkening. School buses cannot take you home because there is no bus stop near your house. Forest Hill Trailer Park is in the isolated part of Hawkins. There is no one from the high school living there, so you can't ask anyone for a ride. It's not like anyone would have offered anyway. You've always walked to and from school, in total it takes you forty minutes. As you start to walk away from the bus, you hear footsteps behind you and Billy is at your side, effortlessly catching up with you. You realize his car is parked a few steps away from you. The gleaming navy blue Camaro stands out among the other cars, "CALIFORNIA" on the license plate.

You take the opportunity to thank him before he can dart away and you will probably never exchange another word again.

“Hey,” you start, turning to look at him. “I just wanted to thank you for paying at lunch today.”

Billy plays with the lighter, making it bounce in his hand. “It’s nothing. How are you getting home?”

“Oh, I’m walking.” you point your thumb at the road on your left.

“Come on. I’ll drive you.”

Your mouth opens and closes stupidly, then your brain finally decides to cooperate. Accepting his offer feels like taking advantage of his kindness. You don't want to do this. “I…it’s not a long walk, don’t worry about it.”

“It’s probably gonna rain soon.” he points at the sky, walking past you and toward the parked car.

“You don’t have to.” you insist, guilt filling my stomach as he opens the passenger door for you.

“I know.” he chuckles. 

The soft thrumming of a rock song fills the air, the bass pulsing gently as Billy lowers the volume as soon as he turns the engine on. The interior of the Camaro envelops you in a world that feels distinctly his. The smell of leather fills your senses, mingling with the faint scent of his cologne. It's clear that he takes immense pride in his car and the care and attention he devotes to it reflects on the interior. The leather seats feel soft and smooth. There's not a speck of dust anywhere, even in the corners. A pair of aviators rests on the dashboard. 

You give him directions, your voice cutting through the quiet ambiance of the car. He nods in acknowledgment, his gaze focused on the road ahead. His left arm casually drapes against the window, while his other hand firmly grasps the top of the steering wheel. 

“It’s quite a walk,” he observes as the Camaro speeds through the road surrounded by the woods. 

“Yeah…”

You’re thinking of asking him to stop before getting to Forest Hill, but it’s pouring and you don’t have an umbrella. As you get closer and closer, anxiety starts rippling through you. You shake the feeling out of your head. You’re being ridiculous, there’s nothing to be ashamed about. Additionally, you barely know him. You try and distract yourself, asking him about where he lives instead.

“Cherry Lane. You know where it is?” 

“Yes, it’s a nice and quiet area. It’s not that far from school either,” you observe.

Billy absently scratches his chin, the glint of a silver braided ring catching your eye. “Yeah. It’s quiet, that’s for sure.” 

You find yourself wondering about its significance. Does it have one? You've heard numerous accounts of Billy's involvement in fights at parties, tales of the severe injuries sustained by those who crossed him, and the ferocity of his punches. How many times has that ring been tainted with someone else's blood? Despite the rumors surrounding his aggressive behavior, your interactions with Billy have always been positive. He's consistently shown kindness to you.

Billy turns left, veering off the main road onto a narrow side road, the tires crunching on the gravelly dirt path that winds its way towards Forest Hills. The rain drums insistently against the car, a steady rhythm punctuating the silence between you.

The first trailer emerges into view, its weather-beaten exterior casting a shadow of foreboding over your already uneasy mind. Despite your discomfort, you muster the courage to speak up, directing Billy to continue driving until the end of the road.

You steal a furtive glance at him, searching for any hint of judgment in his expression, but Billy remains impassive. There's no trace of surprise or disdain in his features. His gaze lingers on the scene before you, studying it with a detached curiosity that seems to characterize his view of Hawkins as a whole.

“Thanks again for today, really. I wanna pay you back,” you venture as he slows down.

Billy waves a dismissive hand before settling it on the gear shift, smoothly transitioning into first gear. “I told you it’s no big deal. Wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”

You worry at your lip, still not totally convinced. You glance at him. “I know that. But it doesn’t sound fair. It’s important to me.”

Billy's gaze shifts to the road ahead as he seemingly considers your words. "If you really wanna make it up to me," he starts, his voice trailing off for a moment before he continues, "How about you show me around Hawkins sometime?"

You blink, caught off guard by his suggestion. "Show you around Hawkins?"

"Yeah," he nods, resting his forearm loosely on the steering wheel as he gestures while he talks. "I've only been here a short while, and I don't really know my way around outside downtown yet. Like, all the places you talked to me about. The lake, the quarry."

The idea appeals to you, though the thought of spending more time with him outside of school never crossed your mind. The fact of spending time with him in the first place was out off the charts for you. "Sure, I could do that," you reply, a tentative smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I mean, I'm not exactly a tour guide, but I could show you some cool spots. Whenever you want, uhm. Yeah.”

Billy reaches out to the compartment on the passenger side, brushing your knee with his arm. He opens it and extracts a pen. 

“Here,” he takes off the cap with his teeth, and before you know it he’s taking your arm, gently lifting your sweater sleeve. 

You try to look unfazed by his touch, though the feeling of his fingertips pressing gently against your skin as he holds your forearm, the sensation of the pen as he writes something on it makes you shiver, raising goosebumps. You look at him in silent confusion as he writes, his dark lashes brushing his cheekbones, a glimpse of pearly white teeth and a sharp canine as he holds the cap between them. Then he releases your arm, and you take a look at it while he takes the cap from his mouth. A series of numbers are written in blue ink on your skin. A phone number.

“Oh.” you say softly. You definitely haven’t expected that.

“Call me when you feel like it.” 

It’s really hard for you to hide your nervousness, acting as cool as you can.

“Okay, will do.” you unbuckle your belt, glancing at him enough to give him a soft smile.

Billy nods at you in silent farewell before you close the passenger door. “Have a good night”.

“You too. Bye.”

The warmth of Billy's presence lingers in the car as you step out into the cool, damp air, the raindrops falling softly around you. Closing the door behind you, you watch as the sleek navy blue Camaro disappears down the little road and into the woods from the small window of the living room. As you stand there, the drops of water falling from the end of your hair, you can't help but brush at the phone number on your forearm, tracing the neat handwriting with your fingertips. It's like you're still trying to wrap your head around what just happened. Though you're trying to keep it under control, you can't help the fluttering feeling in your heart.

#billy hargove imagine #billy hargove smut #billy hargrove #dacre montgomery #billy hargove x reader #stranger things fic #billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove imagine #dacryphilia #eddie munson #billy hargrove x y/n #billy stranger things #billy hargrove x you #stranger things smut

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

Thinks about shape language thinks about shape language thinks about shape language again thinks about shape langu

Straw Hats Shapes Post

Everyone read my ramblings. 👇

Shape language is defined as “a concept used in art and animation to communicate meaning based on shapes we are familiar with” (source). This concept uses circles, triangles, and squares to convey an idea of the “personality” of the design without using any words.

In designs, using circles and rounded edges in your silhouette and detailing gives the design a soft and squishy look. They tend to be harmless, approachable, or changeable.

Designs using squares gives the design a solid, sturdy, and strong look. They are supportive, reliable, and inflexible

Lastly, triangle designs are sharp and directional. They are dynamic, dangerous, and unpredictable.

Here are the main silhouette shapes i used, i wanted to generally use one main shape for each of them. Everytime i normally draw sabo, i just think to myself “this man is just a big-ass square,” and im right. This art is such a long time coming im glad to finally do it.

Luffy and Sabo may be the circle and square, but theyre so triangle coded they simply needed triangles in their design as well. Technically luffy’s whole body besides his head is a big ol triangle too, but i felt that a circle for his torso looked better. And also Sabo’s cravat is a triangle as well, but im only using 3 shapes to outline this picture rn. Ace is just straight up all triangles though.

This was such a fun little exercise, i think these little guys came out so well. I dont usually draw in this kind of style so it was a very nice breath of fresh air.

Thank you for reading my ramblings, i love talking about this topic. I did my senior project on it in high-school and it was such a fun topic to write about.

#my art #one piece #asl brothers #sabo #monkey d. luffy #one piece fan art #sabo the revolutionary #portgas d ace #fire fist ace #straw hat luffy #shape language

[bliss-is-in-blood]

Hannibal in Florence was miserable and deep in grief.

And I think one of the best way we are shown that is with the two fight scene with Crawford. like seriously, in Mizumono even if Hannibal has difficulty because Jack is a fucking beast he still hold his ground. In Contorno Jack just beat the shit out of Hannibal and Hannibal is so out of it, just let it happens.

In Mizumono Hannibal is very proactive, he defends himself but most importantly he attacks. In Contorno he mostly just 'tries' to flee.

(Note that the gif are not in order of how the fight goes, it's just to outline what I'm saying.)

Hannibal jump above his counter, it's a big jump that ask a lot of effort and energy and he goes to attack Jack

He has something to defend, something to keep and an ennemie to defeat. But in Contorno he wasn't confrontationnal. Before the fight start he was planning on leaving as fast as possible so to not fight and Jack had just been quick enough to reach him, he has to stop when he smell him, knowing he won't escape the fight. First thing Jack does is to send Hannibal crash on a showcase (left).

In Mizumono (right) he also pushes him until he crashes against glass cupboard.

What does Hannibal does next in Mizumono ? get back up to fight quickly, Jack handle him quite rougly. But in Contorno Hannibal struggle to get up, he is slow, Jack has all the time to give him a strong kick and send him back on the ground.

In Mizumono Hannibal recovers as soon as possible and pursue the fight giving Jack a Hard time while in Contorno he crawl on the floor as if he can't recover from the blunt hit when we know he already went through something similar and managed just fine.

Jack has free reign to beat the shit out of him. In Contorno it keep on the same patern, Hannibal tries to flee and Jack have the pleasure to drag him back to his feet to beat him up. Sure Hannibal does manage to flee but he didn't gave Jack any struggle. He has no fight, no energy, no rage, no bite. He just endure the beating.

In Mizumono he gave Jack his all. All because he was waiting for Will so they could leave together. In Contorno he's been grieving so much and is so miserable he doesn't even fight. He lost Will and fleed to one of his favorite place in the world to heal and get back on feet. The grief make it impossible. He flee out of habit or reflex for survival, instead of actual will. He didn't want to fight Jack this time because he knew he wouldn't be able to give his all, all his heart and mind and energy all because it's been sucked off by grief. We know Hannibal is capable to hold his ground in a fight, he might not be the best fighter especially against a trained FBI agent but let's not forgot he won against Jack and nearly killed him. In Contorno, in all of his time in Florence really, he's just a shadow of himself.

Getting back Will bring him the fight he need in the Mason manor but when Will reject him he knows he can't go on like he did in Florence because without Will liberty is almost tasteless. He can't handle being on his own again, he can't handle Will rejection so he give himself up, it's just too much. And sure he was thriving in Florence but he was also taking big BIG risk, it's a man who managed to keep under the radar for his whole life, yet he was found quite easily. Grief takes many form especially for a man like Hannibal.

In Florence he was just miserable and barely managed when you compare his life pre-Will and post-Will (That's another parallele for those two, Hannibal was as changed by Will than Will was by Hannibal)

#HANNIBAL #NBC HANNIBAL #HANNIGRAM #JACK CRAWFORD #MURDER HUSBANDS #WILL GRAHAM #Gif are mine but can be used freely

[rookiesbookies]

So im so upset, i accidentally deleted an ask.

Here’s the sex doll price fic I got asked for, and i outlined out they work my beloved anon, im sorry😭

—————

So I saw your question and I outlined how it works more in this post (if you havent seen it) and Im getting ready to write the Konig piece, however I want to make it really special so im going to hype it up a bit more and here’s a Price one because I felt like writing him!

Price’s story of getting bought goes much like all the other’s. His lady is lonely one night, flips through some infomercials because there’s nothing good on and she figured they’d be entertaining she guessed? It was a better idea than Steinfeld reruns for the fifteenth time, and nothing streaming was updated or good. It was a rare mood.

It came on for the dolls and she fell in love with the way he moved, smiled, his eyes. It was like the tv knew how much she loved the soft eyes of an older man.

She slid off her couch and onto the floor before she punched in the number on the phone to call, saying she wanted Price.

It took time before he was there. She felt different, he has been marketed as a companion robot on the tv. One that could walk, talk, cook, clean. It would be nice having someone to take care of the house while she was at work.

When the mystery box was on her doorstep with the gibberish, she assumed what it was based on the size.

It took a long time of struggling to get it through the door. She tore into it almost immediately. She didnt even get him out of the box before she planted a soft kiss to his lips, just as the commercial said. His eyes fluttered open and she was met with the same soft eyes she first saw.

He was swift. Reconnecting his lips to her and moving out of his box without much effort. She slid back to make room for his large form, when she hit the wall he crawled over her.

“I was told you were a companion,” she said softly eyes, trained on his lips then flicking up to his eyes.

“Companions do lots of different things. There are plenty of different types of companions, love.” His rough hands came up to her face, thumb grazing over her lower lip. “It just so happens to be my directive to be a certain kind of companion.”

Her body felt like it was on air the whole time, like her nerves were cushioned by personal clouds as he worked.

He was swift, putting her on her hands and knees before working off her pants and underwear. His mouth connected with her lower lips and began work. He was delicate but hungry.

Once he got her what he deemed wet enough he used his knee to move her thighs apart, pulling his pants down.

“Breath, love.” He whispered sweetly into her ear after spitting into his hand, rubbing it over his cock, “remember to breath.”

He let it rest in her for a long time. She fell onto her forearms, debating letting her mouth hang open so drool could fall.

He was rhythmic and juicy. Everything she imagined. She was so high up she almost didn’t register she was about to cum until it happened. He didn’t seem to orgasm, surprisingly, but he didn’t seem to care, maybe he did - well she had no clue. He picked her up and wondered her home until he found the bathroom, drawing her bath before washing her gently and putting her to better not long after drying her.

Worth every penny.

Masterlist is pinned on profile as always, check out my AU list for more like this. Don’t forget to leave me a comment (i always try to respond) or a request in my inbox (i also try to respond to these when I can), a reblog, or even just a like to let me know what yall want to see!

#cod x reader #call of duty #captain price #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #price mw3 #price mw2 #captain johnathan price #price x reader #cod price #captain john price #john price #cod sex doll au

[xhoneygirlxx]

Training Wheels

Eddie Munson x plus sized fem!reader

summary: two roommates in love never seem to work. or do they?

warnings: slight angst, mentions of insecurity and people being mean to reader. fluff. jealous eddie. possessive eddie. roommate au. modern au. idiots in love. friends to lovers. reader and eddie are 21+. y/n is not used (babe, baby, princess, sweetheart used). smut, 18+ only, minors DNI. slight dom/sub dynamic. unprotected p in v, reader is described to be on birth control. oral receiving (f). fingering. cream pie. sexual innuendos. swearing. mentions of alcohol consumption, reader is sober!! shitty writing and grammar mistakes.

*if I miss anything please let me know*

a/n: hey loves! I decided to make this post into a little series, this being the first of many to come. as you all know I’m not good at writing smut so please be kind to me! I hope you guys enjoy this little self indulgence piece!! I love you guys <3

I love everything you do,

When you call me fuckin' dumb for the stupid shit I do.

I wanna ride my bike with you,

Fully undressed, no trainin' wheels left for you,

I'll pull them off for you.

Walking out of the sanctuary of your room, you make your way over to the hallway mirror for one last makeup check. Running the tip of your tongue over your teeth, you check for any remnants of the red lipstick that sits on your lips. You check over the tips of your black eyeline to make sure they're still in place and not smudged.

With one last look you run your fingers through your hair, you head towards the door. Walking past the living room you see Eddie laying on the couch with his phone in his hand, more than likely scrolling on tik tok to pass the time.

"Hey Eds, I'm going out with the girls tonight. I'll probably be home late." You call over your shoulder as you collect your keys and purse from the kitchen island.

The sound of shuffling comes from behind you, the motions of your best friend pushing himself up from his slumped position. The nonresponse from the man behind you throws you off just a bit, quietly questioning why he hasn't said anything.

Turning around to face him, you have a hand back and forth to pull him out of his apparent stare. "Hellooo, earth to Eddie."

"S-sorry, what did you say?" Eddie stutters out as his eyes trace down the outline of your figure.

Rolling your eyes, you shake your head in faux annoyance. "I said, I'm going out for drinks with the girls. I'll be home a little late."

Big brown pools snap up to your gaze and for once the intensity of his stare holds something you can't understand.

"Whatever." He snaps at you pushing himself up from the couch, brushing past you to head to the kitchen where he grabs a beer.

The complete attitude change from your best friend rattles you completely, especially when he has never raised his voice at you over the many years of friendship.

Not wanting to let the little hiccup ruin the rest of your night, you grab your things and head towards the door.

From the moment the front door shuts, Eddie feels like his whole world has shattered. He wanted to smack himself for his icy demeanor towards you, for snapping at you for no reason at all. Actually he did have a reason but that wasn't the point. The point was you were his best friend and you didn't deserve the passive aggressiveness from him.

It's not like he could control his emotions when you were wearing that sexy outfit. Your breasts sat so nicely in that red corset crop top and the little pudge of your tummy peaking out at the bottom was something close to an early Christmas present.

The sinful fishnets that wrapped around your plush thighs were just mocking him, laughing at his hardening cock. Then that tight little skirt, God did he hate it. He hated the way that it called out to him, begging him to rip it right off of your body.

Those plump lips he wished to kiss for years, were masked in a red tint from your lipstick. It disgusted him how he imagined ruining it, smudging it on your chin with the tip of his cock.

Eddie was angry with himself for thinking these things about his best friend, the girl that's been there with him through think and thin, the girl that's owned his heart from the moment he met her, and how he so badly wanted to fuck the ever living shit out of her.

To make matters worse, you were going to a bar. A bar that was probably filled with gross pricks that would try to get in your panties. He had to sit with the thought of you letting them take you home, how you'd giggle at their dumb jokes and how you'd moan so pretty as they slipped the tip in.

The whole time you were gone that's all he could think about, jealousy rushing through his veins and the green eyed monster rearing it's ugly head out of him. He sat on the couch all night, staring at the wall as he let all the thoughts get to him.

He needed to tell you how he felt and he needed to tell you now. So he waited and waited until you'd eventually stumble through the front door.

Creeping into the front door as quietly as you can, you kick your shoes off by the front door and set your purse and keys down on the kitchen island. Walking over to the fridge you grab a water bottle, putting the plastic rim to your lips and swallowing the cold crisp liquid hit your dehydrated tongue.

"You're home early." Eddie says quietly. Jumping slightly, you turn your attention to the living room where he sits on the couch, not bothering to look at you.

Swallowing the last of the water that sits in your mouth, you release a small breath. "Yeah, we didn't really feel like getting blacked out." You laugh slightly and clear your throat when you realize he still seems to be in his mood.

"Plus all the guys at the bar were busted, so." You shrug closing the cap on your bottle.

Rounding the counter, you make your way to your room not wanting to piss Eddie off anymore. To your surprise Eddie follows you, heavy footsteps hot on your trail as you open the door to your room.

"So you didn't talk to anyone?" His voice holds a certain kind of heat, like he's waiting for you to say the wrong answer.

Walking over to your dresser, you bend over to open the pajama drawer and grab the first oversized shirt you could find. "What if I did? You gonna punish me, dad?"

When you turn to face Eddie you see that his jaw is clenching and nostrils flaring with anger. Although you should ask him what his issue is and match his energy for being rude to you, you simply play into it. If he was going to be pissy with you, why not have fun with it?

"I mean there was this one guy, said I had the nicest lips he's ever seen." Your voice holds so much seduction you could work for a sex hotline, you think.

Walking over to him your stare is alluring, pulling him right into your whirlpool just to spit him back out a dazed man.

"Wanna know what else he said, Eds?" You ask with a pout, "He said that he couldn't wait to see how good they'd feel wrapped around him." You dance your fingers up his tee shirt teasingly.

Of course this wasn't true but he didn't need to know that. The thing was you wouldn't touch anyone with a ten foot pole, not when your heart belonged to your best friend. With that being said, you often had to resort to your own hand to take care of yourself while picturing the beautiful man in front of you. It's not like you could do it often when he just happened to be your roommate but it happened enough that you felt guilty for thinking about your best friend that way.

You watch as Eddie balls his hands into fists, knuckles turning white with how much force he does so. You know for a fact that he isn't jealous, he's probably mad about your lack of stranger danger and wants to lecture you about how it could be dangerous to you. To postpone that boring ten minute ramble, you add more fuel to the fire just for the hell of it.

You bat your lashes up at him, biting your lip as a giggle seeps out. "Want to know what else he said?"

When he doesn't answer you, you giggle at his pissed off expression before continuing your little performance.

"That's okay, I'll tell you anyway," Lifting on your tip toes, you place your lips right by his ear, "he said he couldn't wait to see how tight my pussy felt."

You slowly let yourself fall back onto your feet, staring up at him with a wide smirk. Before you can enjoy your victory of pissing him off Eddie's ringed hands grip the fat of your cheeks.

"You're real funny, princess, but I'll let you on a little secret," Bending slightly to be eye level with you, he grins widely at you like a hungry wolf. "That won't be happening any time soon, wanna know why?"

He uses the same tone on you and it makes your legs clench together in need, the thin fabric of your panties soaking from the gush of arousal he's making you feel.

Nodding the best you can, you mumble a yes through your squished lips.

"It's not gonna happen because you and I know that cunt is mine."

The way he says it makes your heart stop. There's not one ounce of question, no hint of laughter or a joke, just pure seriousness. You furrow your eyebrows complete befuddlement.

Eddie chuckles loudly, chest vibrating from the volume all while you still try to understand what he's implying.

"See, this is why I was so upset earlier," One of his fingers finds the low neckline of your top, lightly tracing right where it sits over your breasts, "You put on this sexy little outfit. Made me s'hard, sweetheart, and then you left me all by myself. S'not nice, is it?"

You shake your head and his lips spread to show his pretty white teeth. "That's right, baby. S'not nice but you did it anyway." He pouts, feigning sadness.

"Then you come home and mock me. I should punish you for being such a bad girl, what do you think?"

The threat and the ache between your thighs makes you whimper and he laughs sadistically at you.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Releasing his fingers just a bit, he gives you just enough room to move your lips to answer.

"Don’t wanna be punished, m’sorry." Your eyes begin to mist over with tears, the overwhelming emotions running through you ready to spill out right.

Jutting his lip out, he runs his thumb over your bottom lip smearing the pretty red onto your chin.

"Hmm I don't know if I believe you." Cocking his head to the side, he trails his eyes over misery that comes from your own.

"I swear I won't be bad anymore, j-just please." You beg as tears start to fall from your eyes.

To prove your point, you rack your nails over the growing bulge in his jeans. When a small moan rattles in the back of his throat and his eyes shut in pleasure, you take that as a sign to lightly squeeze it. The moment you do he hisses through gritted teeth, snapping his eyes back open.

"Get on the bed, baby." Not wanting to make him ask twice, you all but run over to your bed laying down at the head of the bed and let your head fall back on the pillows.

As he stalks over to you, he palms himself through his pants. The sight itself makes you wetter, causing you to clench your legs together tightly to quell the pulsing of your sex.

"Be a good girl and take your top of."

Leaning up, you scramble to get the article over your head just as he asked. Your breasts bounce from their confines, sitting a tad bit lower due to their size.

Embarrassment burns through you, anxiety rising the longer he stares at your bare chest and tummy. Snapping out of the moment just for a second, you pull your arms over your chest.

"I um, I'm sorry about all the stretch marks and stuff. I know it's not so appealing to have to look at all this so if you want me to put a shirt back on we can."

Your too ashamed to look at him, finding solace in the design on your bed's comforter. Out of the peripheral of your eyes you can see him moving towards you. Hesitantly he taps your legs, a silent ask of permission to have a seat. Shuffling your legs back just a bit, you give him enough room to sit.

The bed dips with his weight and the beat of your heart begins to go faster. His hand reaches out to you, his thumb and forefinger lightly grasping at your chin. Turning your head to look at him, you slowly move your eyes to where your head has been pulled to.

Eddie looks at you with kind eyes, the same ones you're so used to seeing. Brown eyes sparkling brightly under the low light of your bedside lamp.

"Baby, I promise you I love every single part of you."

"Everyone says that until it's all over and then they act like they don't know me because they're repulsed by the thought of their friends finding out they fucked the fat girl."

His face turns into a serious one, like he wants to jump up and fight whoever has made you feel self conscious.

"Well guess what, I love the shape of your body. Baby, I think you're the sexiest woman to have walked the face of the earth. You do realize you left me here with blue balls for over three hours right? Like I couldn't get rid of them no matter what I did."

You snort loudly and quickly slap a hand over your lips to hide the laughter that continues to spill from your mouth. Eddie raises his eyebrows in shock, grasping at his chest in mock hurt.

"What, you don't believe me? Well I will have you know that I have been blue balled by you over one thousand times in our friendship."

He promptly crosses his arms over his chest with a harrumph. You let the hand covering your mouth fall, now using it to swat at his chest with a bright smile.

"Shut the hell up, no I haven't" You laugh and he gapes at you.

"Um excuse you, yes you have," He swats back at you, "Why do you think Steve's mom's expensive hand towel went, huh?"

"That was you? Steve had a whole pity party over that thing, took him like sixth months to get over it." You gasp and he only shrugs.

"Not my fault I had to jerk off because you decided to wear that bathing suit. Besides I was doin' them a favor, imagine the horror on that woman's face when she found it dry from my cu-"

His sentence is cut off by your palm. You grimace lightly at the image he's painted for you in his words and it makes him chuckle under the weight of your hand. Then he starts licking all over your palm making you flinch back with a disgusted noise.

A belly laugh comes from him when he sees you wipe your hand on the clean comforter that covers your bed. When you look up at him with an unamused look, he only beams brightly at you with the hint of his dimples.

"As I was saying, I'd love nothing more than making the woman that own's my heart feel good. Will you let me?" He looks at you adoringly and you can't help but slip right into the comforting warmth of his eyes.

When you say yes, Eddie jumps from his sitting position with a fist in the sky. He pulls childish laugher from you as he continues to victory dance over your answer. After a moment he collects himself, clearing his throat before making a "very serious" face that only makes you laugh even harder.

Pulling his shirt over his head and letting his pants fall down to his ankles, he's only left in blue checkered boxers. Laying back down on your bed, you let your hands fall to the wayside so he can see all of you.

Tapping your knee once more, he doesn't have to ask you to part them for him since you're quick to do so. Settling himself between your thighs, he lets his eyes wander over the expanse of your body, the same one he'd dreamed of for years.

You do the same, using your eyes to trace over the ink that covers his chest, the same ones you prayed for all these years to touch. Your hand finds it's way to his face, cupping his cheek softly.

"You're so beautiful, Eddie." You want to tell him that he's so pretty you could cry but instead to decide to keep it to yourself, just for now.

He wraps his fingers around your wrist, bringing it to his lips and placing a delicate kiss on the same palm he'd licked only moments before.

"Thank you baby, but I think you're prettier." The sincerity in his voice makes butterflies appear in your tummy, all of them flapping about in joy.

The two of you stare at one another for a moment, letting all the words you never got to say come out with just your eyes. The unwavering love that the two of you have for one another spills into this moment and fills both of your heats with the love they yearned for.

You're not sure who makes the first move but it doesn't matter, not when his lips fit so perfectly with yours. It's soft and loving at first, the two of you trying to memorize the way your lips feel together. Then you let your tongue sneak out just a little, asking for permission to enter his mouth and he quickly obliges.

With all the love and unspoken feelings out, the two of you go at it like hungry wolves. The desire, lust, and want mixing itself into the moment after years of waiting. Tongues dance in sync with each other, mapping out the one place it's always wanted to.

Then he grinds into you and you push your hips up to meet his motions, whining into his mouth loudly. Using your teeth you bite down on his lower lip, lightly pulling it back making him groan.

"Fuck, you're so hot." He pants using one of his hands to snake up to the harden bud of your nipple, pinching it roughly before groping the doughy flesh in his big palm.

You mewl at his touch, pushing your hips up once more to find any sort of friction to help with ache of your untouched clit. Eddie pulls away suddenly causing you to whine and pout. Chuckling and shaking his head, he uses his hands to shimmy your skirt over your hips.

"Relax, princess, I just wanna get a taste of this pretty cunt. I promise I'll give you what you want."

You try to close your legs but his hips stop you from doing so. Leaning up on your elbow quickly, you look at him with wide eyes.

"You don't um-, you can skip this part." It's frantic and it makes Eddie pull his hands off of you.

"Are you okay? Did I do something-" He can't finish his sentence before your cutting him off.

"No you didn't do anything wrong, it's just guys usually skip this part." You chew on the inside of your cheek.

Eddie's eyes also go wide, comically so. "You're telling me, all those pricks you've been with never ate you out?"

You shake your head instead of answering knowing your voice would ultimately fail you. He kisses his teeth and blows out a loud breath. "What a shame, those assholes didn't know what they had."

You roll your eyes even though a shy smile begins to show on your face. Still hesitant in his actions, Eddie looks at you for reassurance that you're comfortable.

"Listen, I don't have to do this if you don't want to, but just know if you think you're doing me a favor by saying I don't need to go down on you is nothing but a crime. You'd seriously be depriving me of the one thing on my bucket list."

The apples of your cheeks round even more with how hard your cheesing. Leaning up, you pull him into a soft kiss before laying back. Letting your thighs back open, you look up at him challenging.

"Show me what you got, big boy."

Smiling ecstatically, he shimmies himself down onto his stomach right between your legs. Using both hands he grabs at your fishnets, right where they sit over your center, and rips them making a large hole for himself.

Before you can chastise him for ruining your favorite tights, he peaks up over the hill of your belly, "I'll buy you another pair."

Going back down to his place, he runs his finger tip over your thong covered slit. You jolt from the small amount of pressure of his finger making him stifle a laugh.

"Jesus, you're soaking." He says quietly while still running back and forth over your dampened panties.

Pulling them to the side, he pulls the fat of your lips apart to get a good look at your glistening sex. When he runs the tip of his tongue from your hole to your clit, you lift your hips once more.

Wrapping his arms around your thighs, he keeps you in your place against the best. He does the same thing again but this time he uses his whole tongue.

"You taste s'good, s'my new favorite meal." It's muffled due to the cushion of your thighs but you still hear it.

Sobbing in need, you try to shimmy yourself into his touch. Getting the message, he dives back in shoving the warm muscle right into your tight hole.

Flicking his tongue in and out of you, he removes one of his hands from your thighs and pulls it back down to your cunt, using his thumb to swirl around your aching clit.

"S-shit, just like that." You encourage him, moaning even louder when he switches his tongue and fingers.

With two of his fingers now filling you up, crooked just right and his tongue circling around your clit, you feel the burn in your belly. When he hits the sponge spot you can't reach yourself, you all but scream out in euphoria.

Pulling off your bundle of nerves with a pop, he looks up at you with a Cheshire Cat grin.

"Is that the spot, baby? S'it feel good when I hit right there?"

You can't answer him, too lost in the feeling of his fingers. You toss your head back and forth, babbling and moaning from the feeling.

"Awe, I haven't even fucked you yet and I got you all dumb. Isn't that right, honey? I got you stupid just from my two fingers?" His voice is cocky and it makes you clench around him harder than before.

"Y-yes, don't s-stop. Please don't stop." Your voice trembles and cracks but you don't care.

Doing as you asked, Eddie pulls your clit back into his mouth and pumps his fingers even faster into you. Your getting closer and closer to the edge, toeing right at the finish line of your orgasm.

Your hand finds it's way to the back of Eddie's head, pulling the curly hair at the roots. A loud moan comes rips right out of his chest, vibrating your clit that's he sucks on.

That's all it takes for your toes to curl and your back arch off the bed. Eddie's name falls off your lips like a sacred prayer until you can't speak anymore. You're completely catapulted into cloud nine, floating high up above in pure bliss.

Eddie's voice pulls you back into reality, helping you come back into your body where your bones have completely melted into your bed.

Now leaning over you, Eddie pushes your sweat soaked hair out of your face and places delicate kisses on your wet skin.

"You did so good for me, honey. Such a good girl for me." He's gentle when he speaks and it calms the erratic beat of your heart.

"Kiss?" You rasp out and he gives in with a small snort at the mess you've become.

Pulling away quicker than you'd like, he looks down at you with a dopey smile.

"You feelin alright?" Nodding you push your hips back up to meet his covered shaft, and he laughs breathlessly. "Alright, alright, I'm gettin' there."

You giggle up at him and he's quick to peck your lips once more.

"You're so fuckin' pretty when you laugh." It's so soft, like he's letting you in on a secret no one else knows and in that moment you melt completely.

When he leans back on his haunches, he begins to look around your room and you realize what he must be searching for.

"I'm clean and I have the iud, so if you're comfortable you don't have to use a condom." The moment you finish your statement Eddie closes his eyes tightly, scrunching his face up like he's pained.

"Sweetheart, you can't say things like that unless you want me to blow my load right now." Opening his eyes, he looks at you with a straightest face.

You clap your hands over your cheeks as you burst with laughter. "I didn't even say anything!" You exclaim.

Rolling his eyes with a scoff, he begins to shimmy his boxers down his legs. "I didn't even say anything, shut up." He mocks throwing his boxers to the floor.

Leaning over you once again, he uses on arm that's he's bracing himself with to line himself up to your hole. Guiding the tip of his cock through your folds, he swirls your wetness around before nudging the entrance.

"Once we do this, we can't go back to being just friends." He gazes at you trying to catch any hint of hesitation from you.

Instead you smile fondly at him, "I don't want to go back to being just friends."

His lips stretch into a smile and his eyes sparkle with warmth. "Good because I don't think I'd be able to after this."

Going ever so slowly, he pushes himself into you causing you to gasp at the intrusion. You've had sex before but Eddie is bigger than anyone you've ever had, the stretch from him is unlike anything you've ever felt.

Using his free hand, he swirls your clit to help with any uncomforting feelings you feel. "I know, baby, you can take it." The reassurance causes a spark to run through your veins.

Pushing himself all the way in, he waits to start moving so you can get accustom to him. When you give him a nod, he begins to pump into you at a faster pace than before. Looking down at you, he watches as your mouth falls open into the perfect O shape.

"Fuck, you feel so good. Better than I could have imagined." His words make you clench around him and he whimpers loudly from the feeling.

Eddie pushes your thighs up to your tummy causing him to go even deeper, hitting that sweet spot only he can find.

"Oh my God." You cry out loudly and Eddie lets a breathless laugh fall from his lips.

"M'not God, baby, but I'll shit-, I'll take it as a compliment."

"F-faster Eds, please. Wanna cum, wanna cum s'bad." Your eyes begin to prick with tears with how good you feel.

Eddie obliges, thrusting faster than before. The slapping of skin and the squelch of your wet cunt fill your room. The pretty moans and whimpers that fall from the man on top of you ring out in your ears and in this moment you wish you could record them.

"You take me so well, s'like you're made for me."

You can't say anything, too wrapped up in the live wire that you've become. The rubber band in the pit of your stomach is pulling tighter and tighter with every pump of his cock, pushing you closer and closer to your release.

"This pretty cunt is mine. Say it sweetheart, say it's- fuck, say it's mine." Eddie demands.

"S'yours, it's yours, Eds." You cry.

Removing one of his arms that sit next to your head, he goes back to thumbing at your clit causing you to grip onto him harder.

"This body, those lips, your heart, they're mine. Say you're mine, baby. I'm all yours, have been from the beginning, now say I'm yours." It's not a demand but more of a plea.

Your mind is reeling, the feeling of Eddie is everywhere and your heart has finally found it's rightful place with it's rightful owner.

"It's all yours, s'all yours. Always has been." You shout as tears begin to roll down your face. "I'm gonna cum, m'gonna cum. Want you to cum too, Eds, want it inside me."

"Yeah, want me to fill you up? Want my cum to drip out of you so everyone knows who you belong to?" He grits out and that's all it takes for you to wail.

You release around him, gripping his cock tightly as you gush around him. Eddie isn't too far behind you, spilling his warm seed inside of you.

With one final grunt and thrust, Eddie collapses on top of you. The two of you sit for a moment, allowing yourselves to catch your breathing. Pushing himself up on his knees, he slowly pulls out of you causing the two of you to hiss out at the same time.

He sits for a moment watching his spend fall from your still clenching hole before pushing it back in with his fingers. When he's done with that, he leans over the side of your bed and picks of his shirt and wipes off the mess between your legs.

"Please do not tell me you're using your shirt to clean cum off of me." You deadpan as you stare at the ceiling.

Eddie snorts using the now soiled shirt to wipe himself off. "I mean I could use Mrs. Harrington's-"

"Absolutely not." You shout, pushing yourself up balancing on the palms of your hands.

The two of you fall into a fit of giggles, the fuzziness of your afterglows clearly in effect. After they die down, the two of you sit in silence unsure of what comes next.

Moving your legs to the side of your bed, you push yourself up from the bed. "I'm going to go shower but if you'd like, you're more than welcome to join, lover boy." You announce over your shoulder, picking up the discarded sleep shirt from before.

"Oh no, it's- I'll just stay." He stutters nervously and a part of you wants to tease about where his confident side went.

"Suit yourself," You shrug, "but just know you'll be missing this." Picking up the back part of your skirt, you show him your fishnet and thong covered ass.

When you look back over your shoulder you see him with a fresh coat of pink colored flush coating his cheeks, staring unbashful wide eyed at your behind.

Feeling like you haven't teased him enough, you shimmy your backside causing it to ripple in movement. "Well, I guess I'll be on my way." You say as you walk towards the door.

Springing from the bed, Eddie wraps you in a bearlike hug from behind. "Nuh uh, I have to come with you now."

Pushing back on him with your rear, you continue to shake your ass against his hardening length. His hand cracks down hard on the doughy flesh making you squeal in shock.

"Fuck I love this ass. Can't wait to see you do that under the water." He teases biting his tongue.

Rolling your eyes affectionately, you place a kiss to his lips. "Whatever my baby wants, my baby gets."

Turning back on your heel, you pull him by the arm guiding you to the bathroom with you.

"Hell yeah I'm your baby," He pumps his fist in the air then clears his throat quickly to play off his dorky celebration. "I mean you might have to let everyone know cause if I do it, it won’t be pretty.”

"Alright Rocky Balboa, lets get in this shower so I can so you what it looks like from the back."

Thank you all for reading! love you all <3

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#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader

[bakerstreethound]

Golden Mornings

Relationship: Nikolai Lantsov x gender neutral reader

Warnings: lots of fluff, heated kisses, and happy Nikolai

Summary: Waking up in the arms of the King of Ravka is always special to you and you want to show him how much you adore him while he returns the sentiments in kind.

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound​ (Do NOT claim, copy, repost, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username) 

Word Count: 828

A/N: Hello my lovelies. This is my first time writing & posting for the wonderful Nikolai Lantsov. I hope you enjoy it! It's been in my drafts a bit as I've been meaning to post but life got in the way. Regardless, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Graphic by @firefly-graphics

Nikolai nuzzles closer to you, burying his face in your neck, inhaling your scent. You chuckle to yourself, eyes half drooped, resisting your brain’s internal alarm clock to get up and start the day. You continue to stroke his back, rubbing patterns trying to prolong the time you have before your duties demand the trajectory of the day. 

“Morning, love,” he murmurs. You tap his nose gently in response as he scrunches it, painting his face in childlike happiness. 

“Good morning moi tsar,” you grin in response, his eyes scrunched at the title you called him.

“It’s too early for this. What have I done to incur your wrath?” 

“Nothing at all my dear Sobachka.” You smile, pressing a kiss to his forehead and he smiles back softly, eyes glimmering in adoration.

Despite it all, despite the demon, you have accepted him for who he was and is, and on mornings like this, he has come to cherish being in the warmth and strength of your arms. It is where he belongs, and he wishes he found you, his true home sooner. 

Ravka may be his kingdom, but you are his alone - his to cherish and adore. 

You cup his face in your hand, thumb brushing along his lower lip, his gaze unwavering as his eyes take in the sight of you once more. It’s all he ever wants, the simplicity of waking up in your embrace, the golden sun illuminating your shared chambers with the promise of a new life, a new kingdom, and a thousand tomorrows on the horizon. 

“Did you find a blemish there, my love?” Nikolai’s cheeky trademark smirk flourishes along his face, a reminder of the boy he was, hidden under the man he’d become.

Your hands trace his lip with ease, the smile lingering on your lips blooming. “Even if there is a blemish, I’d adore you all the same, dear Nik.” 

His smile deepens, “Well, then,” he leans over you, pressing another gentle kiss to your lips while pulling you under him, his gaze transfixed, admiring your form. 

You squirm against him to no avail, his gaze not lingering from your lips, hands gripping you firmly, the sheet falling further down his torso. You whisper to yourself, an odd assortment of words you can’t recall, too enraptured by the sight before you. Your hands trace the outline of his chest, and you wrap your arms around him bringing him closer before peppering him with kisses, dragging your tongue over them. 

He groans in kind, determined not to fall, but he does. How can he not? He’s utterly yours. When your lips are determined to consume him whole, alternating between marking and kissing him, you smile, leaving a few marks over the faint trace of the bite marks you’d left the prior night. 

“See something you like, love?” Nikolai smirks, boyish glee lighting his eyes.

“Yes, in fact, I do. You’re absolutely wonderful and I cannot get enough of you.” You nuzzle his neck as one of his hands cups the nape of your neck, pulling you close as he adjusts himself on top of you after pulling you in for a proper kiss.

A kiss that melts your soul, warm like sunlight and honey, of the many days you wish to wake up to until your dying day. It pulls you in and you press yourself against him more, the feeling of his skin against yours the perfect sort of heat and warmth. 

You gently tug his hair, a soft gasp leaving his parted lips while he strokes your hair, leaning down to kiss you once more. Your hands reach around his neck while he pulls you close, his lips brushing your neck, pulling you on top of him, your laugh filling the empty space, music to his ears, the warm Ravkan sun shining further in through the windows, perfectly highlighting your features and your eyes. 

You squeeze your legs as you straddle him, steadying yourself before you gently tug his hair, a gasp parting from his lips, his blonde curls shimmering. You take a moment to enjoy the sight while you pepper kisses along his neck, biting and sucking in kind, his hands falling to your waist, squeezing tighter in response. 

He huffs in amusement, his hands squeezing your waist tighter before rolling himself on top of you once more littering your face and neck with kisses. 

“Nik!” You squealing, helplessly flailing beneath him. “That wasn’t fair!”

“I don’t recall us playing fair this lovely morning,” he quirks a brow, giving back to kiss your lips, capturing you in his warmth and light. It brings thoughts of waking up like this in the future when Ravka is finally safe, the scent of waffles wafting through the walls, followed by the sweet smell of syrup that Nina adores.

Moments like this you cherish for eternity and a lifetime, despite the war-torn nation bequeathed to a young king. You would rebuild. Together. 

******

#nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai lantsov #shadow and bone #the grishaverse #the grisha trilogy #nikolai x reader #nikolai fanfiction #paddy gibson #my writing #my alleyway

[tiddygame]

hello im sorry i wrote more for @myriadblvck ’s streamer au ghoap

I time travelled and around 4,000 words magically appeared in a document titled: "you didn't juju on the fucking beat soap" I think I was possessed by something. anyways here’s that:

tw: is it a panic attack? is it just typical ghost angst? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ just be careful it's mostly fluffy (ghost is mean to himself cause he almost kissed soap on the forehead)

also i just realized after i wrote this whole thing, this is based on my general knowledge of dog tags… as an american. writing about the british military. so if you know your shit about the british military, uhh sorry in advance. my bad. from a very brief search i think a lot of it’s the same or at least same enough but this might hurt for people that know a thing or two. whoops!

fun fact: did you know for a brief stint (iirc, >40 years from around 1960s to 2010ish) the american military was printing soldiers’ ss numbers on their tags? yeah can’t imagine why they switched back to serial numbers.

Ghost had been pacing outside of his office for three minutes before he actually entered. When he did, he didn’t say a word. Just sat down in one of the chairs, fidgeting. It wasn't that uncommon of an occurrence, he was normally either gathering his thoughts before talking to Price about something more personal or hiding from what/whoever he didn't feel like dealing with.

When it came to mission debriefs, he was clear and concise. However, personal matters were a different story, and based on the way he anxiously opened and closed his hand, he'd guess this was a personal matter.

Price didn’t ask. He knew that whatever it was Simon needed to say would come out eventually. For now, he continued filling out paperwork and trying to figure out what it was that had Ghost so worked up.

Honestly, there wasn't much guesswork involved. Chances were, it was probably yet another leave request. He knew from Gaz (who was such an awful gossip he sometimes wondered how the man made it through interrogation training) that Simon had been visiting some social media person he had taken a liking to.

(Look, yes, Price knew about Twitch and live streaming and everything. He’s not actually that old. However, as long as he kept up the front of the old man who complained about the keyboard on his phone being too small, he didn’t have to deal with social media. Sure, it caused all of them to joke that he was geriatric and on his last legs, but he was able to convince Roach that he doesn’t know what TikTok is, meaning he wasn’t in charge of reviewing all the bullshit he and Gaz posted. A fair trade if you ask him.)

He also knew that Gaz was convinced the two were in love to the point that he and Roach had a bet going to see when they would get together. Price thought it was rather stupid, but he had to admire their ability to keep it under wraps; if the lieutenant found out they’d been placing monetary bets on his love life, he had a feeling he would need to find replacements for the 141.

Regardless, Price hoped that one day Simon would tell him about the friend but, until then, he was happy to fill out any paperwork that would get the poor man off base. God knows that idiot needs a vacation.

Simon was bouncing his leg, messing with his fingers, and staring off into space.

Three of his nervous habits at once? He must be even more worked up about this than Price thought. But, he was a patient man. It was about seven minutes of companionable silence before Simon spoke.

“I need replacement dog tags. I seem to have lost mine.”

Price looked up. He could see the chain around his neck and the outline of them still under his shirt.

"You do?" Price shuffled his documents around, eventually finding a blank piece of paper he could write on.

"Yes sir."

“And do you know what happened to them?”

“I believe they were knocked off during the fight from the last mission. I didn’t notice until later that night when we were back at base.”

Price paused and looked up from where he had been writing.

The last mission had been an odd one. Ghost normally stuck further away, their eagle-eyed lieutenant typically stayed at long to mid-range, watching for hostiles and making sure whoever else was in the field wouldn’t get caught off guard by someone they hadn’t seen.

During the last mission, he decided to engage at close range, a far cry from his usual approach of sniping hostiles from the shadows.

At one point, their lieutenant had been tackled and almost strangled. The fight had pretty much ended, his attacker was the only one left there. Ghost, being The Ghost, dispatched him with ease, but it stuck out to Price. Ghost may prefer to stay further back, but that didn’t mean that his hand-to-hand combat skills were lacking by any means.

He remembered thinking at the time that it was a clumsy mistake, that Ghost would have had to be intentionally trying to fuck up to get knocked down. He assumed the man had just been caught off guard, but he knew that theory wouldn’t hold up to any scrutiny. Ghost isn’t one to get caught off guard.

What was stranger yet still was Ghost specifically pointing it out in his mission report, calling even more attention to it.

Price set his pen down and leaned back in his chair.

“You planned this?”

“I plead the fifth,” said the British man.

Price just continued to stare, curious to see if this was actually going where he thought it was going.

“Is this off the record?” Simon eventually asked.

“Of course,” almost everything the 141 did was of dubious legality. Not reporting a conversation about possible wasted assets was far from the worst thing that had been swept under the rug.

“Then yes.”

“Why?”

Simon didn’t answer. Price waited, giving the man time to gather his thoughts, but based on the way his mouth opened and closed before he slumped in his chair, it seemed he didn’t know what to say at all.

Price had an inkling he might know what this was about.

“You know, Gaz likes to keep me informed,” Ghost looked up at him, somewhat panicked yet resigned, like he already knew what Price was going to say.

“He tells me you have a certain someone you’ve been visiting?”

“Yes.”

“Is this person a friend or…?” Ghost once again paused, calculating the potential consequences of his available responses.

He didn’t answer.

“Hmm,” Price paused, wondering how far to push before he continued, “You want to give this person your old dog tags?”

“Yes.”

Of course he would pre-plan “losing” his dog tags. Price mentally chuckled, leave it to Simon to be such a sap that he wanted to give someone his dog tags yet still make sure to follow protocol so he never actually risked going without them.

He had to hand it to him, it wasn’t a bad plan.

Price had a smile now, knowing his grumpy hard-ass lieutenant had a sweetheart he wanted to be sappy with.

“Romantic or platonic?” Price tried again.

“… I don’t know,” he’d never seen Simon look quite so… forlorn.

Hmm… That would explain his hesitancy.

He was pushing how much Simon was willing to divulge.

“And does this person know the significance of you giving them your dog tags?”

Well, curiosity killed the cat…

“No, they don’t.”

…But satisfaction brought it back. How interesting, the plot thickens.

“Do you plan on telling them?”

There was a long pause, after which it dawned on Price, “You want to give them your dog tags because they don’t know.”

It wasn’t a question, he already knew. Simon somehow slumped further, attempting to hide his face as if he weren’t wearing a balaclava.

His grumpy hard-ass lieutenant. Absolutely smitten with someone yet too shy to say anything, deciding on a quiet confession, one they likely wouldn’t pick up on.

Price chuckled, jotting down the necessary information he would need when he got his hands on the right paperwork, polishing up some of the details of Ghost’s story to make it more believable, before reading off what he had written to Ghost to make sure he got everything right. Ghost nodded once, and that was that.

“Replacement tags will probably be here in two to three weeks.”

“I would like to request leave for two to three weeks from now.”

Price handed him the form, having already grabbed it. He noticed how the man seemed to calm at just the thought of getting to visit his mystery person.

Oh, he thought to himself.

I am definitely joining Roach and Gaz’s bet.

<><><><>

They were lying on the daybed in his streaming room, or, well…

No, that’s not quite right.

Simon was lying on the daybed.

Johnny was lying on top of Simon.

His computer was still softly playing quiet (non-DMCA) music from where his stream had just ended. Instead of turning it off, he had decided to unplug his headset and leave it on, the music just loud enough to be heard.

Simon was sleepily scrolling through his phone, trying to pretend like he hadn’t almost dropped several times while dozing off, desperately trying to stay awake. Johnny had watched his struggle and decided to lay down right on top of Simon, not even trying to pretend like he was trying to fit on the remaining space on the daybed. Why would he when Simon was right there?

It was meant to be a joke, having thrown himself on top of him to annoy the man into sleeping on an actual bed (he claimed he wasn’t tired but the comically loose grip on his phone and the waking world said otherwise.) However, unfortunately for said sleepy man, Simon was very, very comfortable.

His head was resting on Simon’s chest, arms under his back like he actually was just a pillow, one hand reaching higher to feel where Simon’s hair had begun to grow out slightly.

I wonder if he would let me help him cut it…

Simon had said he was like a clingy cat, his free hand running through his hair in the same manner one would pet a cat to prove his point. The joke's on him though, he likes it.

Simon had tried to stop but Johnny didn’t let him, threatening to tickle him if he did.

(“I’m not ticklish, I just don’t want you throwing a tantrum.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say,” he was definitely ticklish, and one of these days he was going to prove it.)

At some point, Simon had given up on keeping a grip on his phone, letting it drop to the side. They would probably have to go digging through the cushions to get it out of whatever crevice it had fallen to. As of right now, the idea of ever leaving his spot was comical at best.

The sun had begun to set, orange and pink tinted light filtering through the sheer curtains, making everything look more like a dream. Or maybe it was just the proximity to the man below him that was making him feel so serene.

Johnny took a second to inhale and exhale slowly, appreciating the moment. He hoped that this memory, this beautiful tranquility with Simon, would be something he cherished for a long time to come.

He knew that they had things to do. Soon, Simon would be catching a flight at some ungodly hour, headed back to save the world yet again. But for now, he was happy to nap away in their own little bubble. He never was a religious man but here in the arms of Simon Riley, he was tempted to think heaven was real, and that it was right in front of him.

“I almost forgot,” Simon mumbled, not sounding any more awake than he looked, reaching up for the collar of his shirt. Thankfully, the hand that was running his hair remained. He didn’t like proving the cocky bastard right, but he probably would have thrown a tantrum had he tried to remove it.

“They had some fuck up along the line or something and accidentally printed me an extra set of dog tags. I was just gonna toss ‘em but thought you might want—”

Johnny was now wide awake, sitting up and yanking the chain out of his hands.

“Don’t you fucking dare throw them away, of course I want them!” Simon’s face reddened, a frequent treat for Johnny now that he had gotten more comfortable going without the mask. Simon might have been good at keeping a poker face, but without his mask, he was a blushing mess.

He wondered if the blush was from his obvious jubilation at the gift or if it was because he was now straddling the man. Such pesky details, however, (even ones that would keep future Johnny awake at night) were far less important than examining the necklace in his hands.

It was obvious this was the older set, the metal worn and dented in some spots though the writing was still clearly visible.

“Calm down, I’m not going to take it from you,” the gruff tone was severely undermined by the aforementioned blush. It was hard to sound tough while half asleep on a daybed and being used as another man’s pillow.

Johnny stared at them for a little bit longer, feeling every dent and wondering the story behind how they got there, before putting them on.

He smiled at the man under him, “How do I look?”

He was going to joke, asking if he looked like a rough and tough soldier ready for war, but something in Simon’s eyes made him stop short.

He was looking with… with… Reverence was far too intense of a word for the softness of the moment but it was the only word that came to mind.

Simon reached up with his hand, grabbing the tags, his knuckles grazing his chest.

Well, that’s just fucking unfair.

Simon was supposed to be the blushy one. Not him, goddammit!

Though, he thinks when they make eye contact, they end up tied for who is blushing the most. They stare for a while, maybe it should have felt awkward but it was too adoring for either to feel any form of uncomfortability.

Neither moved.

It was Johnny that broke first, smiling at him, yet again tracing all of the scars he could see. It was his new favorite hobby, especially when Simon would blush making the scars on his face all the more visible.

He took one more second to sleepily appreciate the man before him, then went back to using him as a pillow. His hands went back to where they were before, one under Simon’s back and one playing with his hair. His head, however, did not fall back to his chest, instead resting in the crook of his neck and shoulder.

Simon’s hand returned to running through his hair, his other now coming up to rest on his back, rubbing up and down a few times before the sleepiness from earlier fully returned with his hand stopping somewhere around the small of his back.

Johnny leaned up slightly and gave a chaste kiss to the part of his neck that he could reach, then settled back to where he was. The hand in his hair paused.

“Thank you, Simon.”

A second of delay, and then the hand continued.

“You’re welcome, Johnny.”

Simon shuffled slightly, getting comfy before—

A kiss, on his forehead.

He couldn’t stop the blush and smile if he wanted to. He snuggled closer before drifting off to sleep.

When he woke, he was in his bed, practically tucked in. His window had been opened slightly, blackout curtains that had been drawn closed now swaying slightly with the breeze. When he focused, he realized he could smell petrichor and hear heavy rainfall outside with the occasional grumble of thunder.

There was a note on his nightstand. As he expected, it was Simon’s handwriting, apologizing for not waking him up before he left. It said that he had made breakfast for him (pancakes, with enough for when his sister would inevitably try to steal them), that he made sure to lock the front door, and left the window cracked.

He giggled sleepily at the last line. Regardless of the context, it always made Simon anxious to have the curtains open, much less to leave a window open. But, he also must've known how much Johnny loved the rain and set his worries aside, just this once, so he could wake up to the rain.

He set the note down and flopped back onto his pillows, his hand felt something cold and he remembered.

The dog tags.

John MacTavish is no stranger to crushes and heartbreaks.

He's had high school sweethearts, been in and out of love, he knows his way around the world of dating. Which is why he most certainly does not squeal and kick his legs while holding the tags like some kid with their first crush.

He did it like a grown man, thank you very much.

He grabbed his phone and sent Simon the worst pun he could think of; it was tradition at this point to send him some god-awful joke before his flight.

Simon has probably already forgotten about the whole exchange. He probably woke up and assumed he threw them away when he noticed he wasn't wearing them. It was probably stupid, an insignificant gesture with no meaning. But to Johnny, it felt like everything.

He sighed dreamily at the ceiling and felt the cool metal once more. Thunder roared outside. He thought about how he had felt in the man's arms. Thought about how much he wanted that again.

God.

His phone dinged and he immediately reached over to grab it.

I'm fucked, aren't I?

<><><><>

Elsewhere, Ghost was in an airport terminal, having far too much time to think.

Over the weekend, it was almost impressive how many times Ghost had talked himself into and back out of giving Soap his dog tags. He really hoped he hadn't made a mistake.

Simon felt the spot that Johnny had kissed and wondered if he remembered it. Wondered if he had meant it.

Simon thought about how Johnny had looked cradled in his arms when he carried him to his room, the way he had reached out for him when he laid him in bed. The way he had grabbed his wrist and clung to it, grumbling when Simon tried to pull it back.

If asked, he'd say that he had woken up late and that's why he was so far behind schedule. He'd keep the part where he sat there, kneeled in front of Johnny's bed, waiting for him to fall back into a deep enough sleep to pull his arm away all to himself. After all, it would have been rude to wake him up, no?

He had made sure to plug up his phone and, upon seeing the forecasted weather, hesitated before opening the window. It was only barely cracked, just enough for the sounds of the outside world to shamble in, but not so wide as to worry about water damage. He stared at it, convincing himself not to worry and that Johnny would like waking up to the fresh air.

He turned back to make sure the man was still asleep, still comfy, but stopped for a moment. He approached the bed and hesitated before running his fingers through his stupid haircut, almost wishing the man would grab his arm and give him an excuse to stay.

He didn't. Simon did, however, lean in to give him one last kiss on the forehead as some stupidly sappy goodbye, before his brain turned back on and he ripped himself away.

What the fuck is wrong with you? What? He grabs your arm in your sleep so you feel entitled to be able to kiss him?

Simon backed away, staring at the hand that had just been in his hair. He felt dirty.

For fuck’s sake, relax. It's not that big of a deal, you did it earlier; the man fell asleep in your arms, a forehead kiss isn't too much of a stretch.

He went to the kitchen and scrubbed his hands for a while, only stopping when he thought about how much water he was wasting. He still felt dirty.

Not a stretch? You don't get to decide that. How would you feel if someone tried to kiss you while you were unconscious? If they said that they felt they should be allowed to do so because you fell asleep?

He had started making pancakes. Something quick, easy, and reheatable for when Soap woke up. Like making him breakfast would make up for trying to kiss him in his sleep.

Why can't you just be normal?

Eventually, and after a run-in with Soap’s hell-spawn of a twin, he had to leave. The time on his phone showed that he should probably already be halfway to the airport by now but he has always been a selfish man.

He had snagged some paper and left Soap a quick note, hoping the apology would make him feel better about worse sins than not waking him up. It didn't.

He stared at the man for a second, admiring him, before he reminded himself that he was a fucking creep and left.

The storm left the flight delayed by 1.5 hours. Ghost had sat waiting, wireless headphones on and connected, but not playing anything. He had far too much time to think.

Simon thought about how Johnny had looked, his dog tags around his neck, silhouetted by the fading light, the sun behind his head as if even the stars knew they could never compare to him.

He stood and started pacing. Amongst the screaming children, feuding families, and people who think they're entitled to listen to their music without headphones, one middle-aged man having an existential crisis didn't stick out.

He thought about how he had never understood weighted blankets so well until Johnny had thrown himself on top of him. It should've hurt. He should've been annoyed. Instead, Simon selfishly hoped he would never get up.

It took him a while to put his finger on what he had been feeling exactly. Finally, he realized.

There, in that moment, he had never been so happy to be alive. It was a startling emotion to discern amongst the swath of negativity he normally felt. It startled him so much, he had snapped out of his reverie and stopped short in his pacing. When he checked the time, he saw he had one missed text from Johnny.

Soap (art streamer): i was trying to think of an airplane joke but none of them landed

Simon chuckled and sat down; he almost forgot about their dumb little tradition.

Ghost: Disliked.

Soap (art streamer): everyone is so mean 2 me 💔

Ghost: It is not my fault your pun was so Boeing.

Soap (art streamer): well i thought i could wing it

Ghost: Did you look up what giving do-

Ghost: About the tags, you

Ghost: I think you make me want to live

Ghost sighed and fell back further into his seat, coming to a conclusion that his subconscious had long ago discovered.

I'm in love, aren't I?

Soap (art streamer): speechless huh? finally, the Wright reaction to my comedic genius

Ghost: Absolutely awful, Mactavish.

Soap (art streamer): :D

Took you long enough, dumbass.

<><><><>

Soap’s twin spent a good bit of time staring at her brother's new accessory.

“Is something wrong?” he challenged, hoping she wasn't in a bothersome mood.

She failed miserably at hiding her shit-eating grin but didn't care.

“Nope!” she replied.

She had run into Ghost early that morning before he left.

"Detergent."

She was pretty sure he never even learned her name, just jumped straight into calling her detergent.

"Ghoul," she greeted, glaring at the man.

Being required by law to not trust him, she checked on her brother as he was still gathering his things and noticed the necklace.

“You gave him your dog tags,” she accused, like she was framing him for murder.

“Yes, I did,” he replied casually, as per usual robbing her of the fight she so desperately wanted to pick.

“Did you tell him what it means?”

“...What does it mean?”

Damn, he was good. If she wasn't convinced that he was the devil incarnate, she might have fallen for his feigned ignorance.

“100 bucks and you buy my silence.”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“200 then.”

“It doesn't even mean anything.”

“Hmm. Well, I suppose you might be right… JOHN!” their neighbors were probably going to complain.

“What the fuck are you doing?” ooh he was getting panicked now.

“If it doesn't matter then you won't mind me telling him to look it up,” she started walking to his room, “JOHNSON!”

“Fucking Christ, woman! Just— Fucking— Here.”

He pulled out his wallet and started counting bills. Damn, that was easier than she thought.

“What did you say? 100?”

“Nope! That was before inflation. Now it’s 300.”

“What the hell is wrong with you? You said 200!”

“So you admit you tried to scam me?”

“Just take the 100 and g-”

She didn't even get to yell, he reached for more before she could finish taking a deep breath in.

“Just shut the fuck up! Here! Three fucking hundred!”

She was tempted to raise her price further, but she was no gambler, she was a strategist. She knew a defeated man when she saw one. If she played this right, she could extort money out of him for a long time to come.

Something, something, vampires not fully killing their victims and all that.

She took the money, counted it, and then held out her hand to shake.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Wraith!”

He didn't shake her hand.

“Christ, both of you are awful.”

He packed his stuff and left, broke, broken, and defeated.

She ate as many pancakes as she could, rich and victorious.

She thought about how much power, how much blackmail she had in this moment.

“I’m fantastic actually,” she walked to her room.

I am going to be so fucking rich by the time they get their shit together.

#ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #streamer au #streamer! soap #streamer!soap #streamer! au #ft. Old Man Price and Chronic Shit Stirrer Twin Sister (unnamed) #ghost never changes soaps contact name #my version of ghost in this au has convinced himself that he's nothing more than an incel/neckbeard #and that's why he is the way that he is #[I know my mess of 'family hcs' or whatever was derailed to shit but I still think ghost would call his twin detergent] #i’m scheduling this for when i’ll be asleep so goodnight i hope you all sleep well and drink plenty of water #my writing

[mondsphere]

Luo Binghe: Original Drafts Edition! Who and why?

“[…] in fact, in his original outline, Bing-gē hadn’t even had a romance plotline; he had been doomed to fade away, alone and unaging forever.” — The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System, Vol. 4 (Mo Xiang Tong Xiu)

The drafts version of Binghe! Not Bing-gē, nor Bing-mei, but a secret, third thing! (I’m partial to Bing-xióng (兄) myself, just for thematic cohesion. Bing-mei remains as he is: Shizun’s special glass-heart maiden.)

So! Who is this elusive, mythical Binghe we never got the chance to meet? What is he? How do I get to pick this one’s brains?

Why is he haunting me! What does he want! So much to think about.

Listen: I love my trash sons, both the racoon and wet dog variations, but I am curious about this handsome demon lord who did not bed thousands, and did not steal his shizun to lovingly coax him into a loving and respectful marriage. Alas, Airplane-bro, as is custom, has left me hanging.

The solitary quote above has been floating around my brainspace for months. Intermittently, I would look up at the sky and sigh a big sad dog sigh, and think of this lonely demon-man emperor who seems to be both perfectly representative of No-Shizunitis Suffering Binghe, and on the exact opposite end of the line. I have spent many a night trying to rearrange the blocks of both SVSSS and PIDW like a sad toddler with no plan but plenty of amorphous longing.

Thus, Bing-xiong. My beloved new toy.

We know he is left alone and unaging. This means that:

He does not marry even once. (Sorry, Other Bing Variants. This one came broken.)

He is not defeated, killed, or left to suffer his not-father’s fate of sulking under a mountain.

From 1) we can assume two more things! Xin Mo either gets fixed/doesn’t influence this Binghe the same way, or: Xin Mo is completely written off à la Airplane Retconning, making Binghe potentially even more individually powerful than his younger counterparts.

(Or he just. Takes people’s cultivation ad-infinitum. Interesting thought, but too straight-forward for my tastes. Airplane’s thoughts? Unknowable.)

From 2) we can also assume Binghe cannot die, is under the influence of the Protagonist Halo unto infinity, and will only be put out of his misery once the heat death of the universe deems it a worthwhile endeavour. Either that or the story ends, but. It tickles a miserable part of my brain pink to think Binghe will not be let off even then.

Anyway. Bing-xiong, of course, has the same source material to work off of. Up until the Abyss, and including it, the plotline should be if not the same, adjacent enough to be indistinguishable.

However. This means:

Bing-xiong never got coerced into sex by Qin Wanyue, thus not starting him on the path of sex-dependency/addiction, avoiding Bing-gē’s fate by virtue of the Butterfly Effect. (Read this post because it explains Bing-ge's whole thing better than a lot of things I've seen.)

Again, Xin Mo implications.

Alternate Universe Shenanigans make an appearance. (Shen Jiu’s fever and death was actually meant to happen, Bing-ge just got very, very unlucky and his Universe’s Yue Qingyuan very, very lucky. For a few years. Either that or there is a Shen Yuan for every Binghe! Again: sorry, Bing-ge. You need to find your own. Middle child issues…)

Once the drafts/original outline got lost, all bets are off and now the characters become real people, without narrative influence. This also has the very fucked up implication that Bing-ge is actually a result of exclusively external forces and would have never gone down that path if not forced onto it by Airplane’s unwitting hands. I do and do not love this version. Very Mo Ran-esque, if looked at from afar and squinting.

Other options I’m either too not-high to think, or too high to put together. (Cold medicine is insane?)

I am fascinated by this… Schrödinger’s Binghe. A jaded, lonely emperor left in the ashes of his world, gazing upon his own history and finding fucking nothing and no one. Metaphorically and, like, practically, if I’m understanding Airplane’s musings correctly. Isolated, cursed by his own blood in a completely new and fucked up way!

I need Airplane to speak with me for like, half an hour. This is paramount to my mental health, I’m losing my braincells by the hour.

What happened to this impervious, cocky, badass demon bastard lord to become so alone? How did it happen? Why did it not happen to the other two, or at least Bing-ge, who has had every horrible and shitty thing possible and impossible piled onto his head? What the fuck is up with Xin Mo? Why isn’t it eating away at Big Bro Luo? Or, worse: why is it eating away at him in such a way that instead of turning into a violent yet charismatic, horror-creature of a man, it turns him into the existential terror-fate I’ve contemplated and abhorred since I was seven?

Tianlang-jun as the final boss. Discovering Huan Hua Palace Master’s crimes, deceit and… stuff. Perhaps even uncovering Shen Jiu’s backstory.

Ooh! Worse! Or better? What if he finds out everything, after having followed Bing-gē’s path, and simply… gives up? A grown up Bing-ge, minus the marriage and surrogate-lover part(s).

(More unlikely than other options, but still there, I guess.)

Fucking insane of MXTX to do this to me, personally and specifically.

I can only speculate forever, I guess! Left… alone and pondering forever.

So. Not a Bing-ge, and not a Bing-mei. A Bing-xiong, if you will.

#svsss #luo binghe #svsss meta #if you like. want it to be #the fact that this is the first post on this blog is upsetting but also completely in-line with who i've become as a person #i'm sure someone else said it better than me asp #this is all to say i'm trying to plan a longfic with drafts!binghe as my one and only 2024 project #and it is eating away at me #because i understand and also NOT #the concept itself is so ???? #its insane that one single line of text from mxtx from almost a decade ago can do this to a person #lbh #lbx #hey why would i say this to me

[eluminium]

Skizz week day 2 lets GOO!!!!

I apologize for the lack of polish on these. I have seemingly caught a cold and am also in the middle of important schoolwork. But hey, it's better than nothing!

Anyway, this is kind of a sneak peek into an AU I've been working on. It doesn't have a name yet, but it sure exists! I hope I can post about it more when I have more things to work with!

Once again, thank you to @skizzlemanweek for todays prompt!

Prompt 2: Hybrid/AU

-

Impulse has lost his mind.

That's the only logical conclusion to this situation. To him sitting here on his dead best friend's bed while talking to said best friend who's apparently ascended to godhood? But he doesn't know what kind of God he is yet somehow? He also may have given Impulse some knowledge about the divine that Impulse is 75% sure he isn't supposed to know, even as his best god friend's semi-accidental oracle and/or priest. Probably. Maybe.

It's been a rough couple of hours, to say the least.

"Impulse! You're not listening to me!" A voice, Skizz's voice, echoes through his head. Impulses hands fly to his ears as he groans in pain. "Control your volume, dude! You're gonna blow out my ears!" He hisses.

"Oh...! Sorry...!" Skizz whisper-yells in response, although not without a mischievous giggle. Oh gods above, Impulse was gonna have to deal with SKIZZ. TALKING IN HIS BRAIN. UNINTERUPRABLY. FOR THE FORSEEABLE FUTURE. He shakes his head to try and get rid of that awful realization and quickly moves to change the subject before Skizz catches on.

"Alright, so. You became a God, but you don't know what of. So you appeared back here and found me. And you want me to help you figure out what you are the God of. Did I get that right?" He summarizes, looking at the faint blue outline of his best friend sitting on the same bed they spent years having pillow fights on in their youth-

Skizz sticks out his hand and does a so-and-so motion. "Well, yeah...But since I picked you as my oracle, as in my special important mortal representative guy, you're also gonna have to start my cult and get people to worship me!" He exclaims, clearly excited at the prospects. 

"Wow, we really got a Mr. Humble Guy over here," Impulse deadpans.

"HEY! You know I'm not in it for the fame, man! Even though I am really handsome and my godly muscles are huge!" Skizz huffs in mock offense. Impulse rolls his eyes in response.

But instead of another sarcastic quip, the barely visible parts of Skizz's face soften into something dangerously genuine. "I mean it, dude. Think about it. Think about how cool this is gonna be. Think about how deadly we are as a duo now that we have divine power behind us. Think about how many people we can help!"

"But we don't even know what you're the God of!" Impulse snaps with a glare. "How are we supposed to get people to join in on this when we can't gurantee anything?! And don't say 'We'll make something up', you KNOW I'm a TERRIBLE liar! I can't lead a whole freaking cult by myself! I need yo-"

His throat closes up. He can't say that. Because that would mean Skizz couldn't help him, that his best friend was...not with him in some way. That he was alone in this, for now. No, no it's too raw. He breaks eye contact as his eyes snap towards a corner of the room. He draws in a shaky breath and blinks rapidly. 

"Dipple Dop..." Skizz's tone is...sad. He reaches out towards Impulse before remembering that he can't really...touch him. Nor can he touch anything mortal, really. He needs belief for that, followers who believe in him. 

A sigh leaves him as he retracts his hand. "I know this is a lot for you. To be honest, it's a lot for me too. You're scared, and I'm scared. And you're probably thinking something like: 'This is a total disaster, we're so screwed'-"

Huh, that was...exactly what Impulse was thinking. To the word. Weird.

"-but man, dude, my homieh buddeah-"

Impulse can't help but snort at that one. The man is a god now, and yet he's still just Skizz.

"We got all the time in the world to do this. We don't have to rush this. We'll make a plan. We'll do our research! The big fancy library we used to study at had a bunch of books about the gods and stuff, remember? Maybe we can find the step-by-step guide to finding your godly trait and a "How to Cult for Dummies"! Gee, wouldn't that be convinient!"

They're both giggling now. Why? They don't fully know. Probably the absurdity of sneaking into a royal library to read the most suspicious books of all time is getting to them. But, somehow, there's a glow of warmth in Impulse's chest. A feeling he's been missing ever since Skizz unwillingly left the mortal realm for the divine.

Hope.

As the giggling dies down, a timid smile settles on Impulse's face. Gods, how does Skizz do it? How does he make Impulse believe in some new goal that fast? Well, he supposes he can blame it on magical god powers now. Hell yeah.

He takes a deep breath in, jumps off the bed, and stands up. "Alright, I'm in. What's the worst that could happen?" He says with attempted confidence. Despite Skizz certainly detecting his lingering anxiety, he jumps up (or well, floats) up in the air beside him with a barely seeable hand pumped up in the air.

"Allllright!!! Imp and Skizz are reunited and back on the case! I love it!" He cheers.

Impulse wastes no time in heading to their shared kitchen and grabbing a snack for the road. The library isn't far (perks of living in the capital) but hey, emotional rollercoasters tend to leave ya a bit tired. A snack for the road never hurt anybody!

Skizz unexpectedly chuckles. "Except that one time you decided to shove jello in your backpack," he points out.

Impulse freezes.

"...Are there more things in my head than just your voice?" He questions while slowly turning around to face Skizz. Skizz, in response, raises an eyebrow.

"Of course! I know everything going on in there! That's what happens between a God and their oracle!" He says like it's common knowledge.

"So you know all my deep dark secrets now?"

"Well, kinda!"

"Does the "kinda" include how much I missed you?"

"Awww yeah!!! I know you love me soooo muuuchhh now!"

"God damn it- I hate you. You SUCK." 

At Impulse's overly sulky tone, Skizz giggles like the sacred bastard he is. And once again, something cozy and soft glows and grows in Impulse's chest. It feels...good. Happy. Like it's right as it should be. And looking at the faded form of his best friend, he knows Skizz feels it growing too.

Maybe, even with all the responsibility and having Skizzleman but now with divine powers in his head 24/7, this won't be so bad. 

Maybe this could become something great.

#skizzleman #impulsesv #skizz week 2 #skizz week #my writing #Unnamed God Skizz Oracle Impulse AU #hermitfic #THE COLD MIGHT FUCK ME UP BUT THE GRIND NEVER ENDS PEOPLE #I WILL COMPLETE SKIZZ WEEK

[nights-at-crystarium]

Fragments - episodes 31-35 author notes

You can find similar breakdown posts on older episodes in my pinned!

The chasm in their understanding of what makes Vivi tick.

The stakes in this scene seem low and the twins are just overdramatizing the danger for the sake of unwinding and being silly, right? Yesn't. One wrong move or word, and they join those leafmen scattered all over the place.

Finding the line between bad actor and caring sister.

Of course Alisaie wants to hang out with Vivi. She doesn't want to admit that to herself, let alone risk looking desperate in her brother's eyes. Tsundere moment. It's been a while since they've. Had a rest. Between rescuing Minfilia from Laxan Loft and making their way to Il Mheg. Alphinaud, at least in my hc, isn't as physically durable, but definitely as stubborn and proud as Alisaie, so he wouldn't simply agree to chill out for a moment. Alisaie makes him tunnel-vision her bad (?) acting and openly throwing the game for supposedly selfish reasons, while she gets what she wanted, AND forces Alphi to sit his ass down.

I’m sorry but I really need to point out that her ahoge did, in fact, launch into the stratosphere.

More under the cut~

....Can you blame her tho.

Vivi’s shirt’s a bit more plain than usual, he needed to wear something practical under his crystarium guard disguise in Laxan Loft.

The flashback in episodes 32-33 has no dialogue per se, only monologues, to emphasize how disconnected they are.

Technically both vivis are real, but Exarch’s memories are definitely heavily skewed. He’d only known Vivi during the CT quests, in this story it’s a month or two in summer, during which literally nothing bad happens, sans the finale. Alisaie, however, got lucky to experience Vivi during Stormblood, his absolute low.

Exarch and Alisaie sit on opposing sides of the bias, one wears pink glasses, delusional and bluepilled, the other one’s (heh) redpilled, perhaps a bit too much. Hence Alisaie feels the whiplash when her jerkass woobie friend suddenly acts mellow (back in the present), still she has the expertise to tell that he’s not affected by a fae spell or anything.

Full page because I’m so proud of the paneling here, simple as this trick is, these speech bubbles blocking Vivi from sight neatly illustrate that Alisaie just babbles away, paying no heed to his state.

With the power of flashbacks and stories told by one character to another, I’m able to revisit any moment in their past whenever I please. I didn’t commit to a linear story because there was no story! Well, just the outlines. Vivi as a character began in ShB because I really needed to fuck that old man, I started writing down the lil scenes loosely connected by the canon plot, and that’s how the whole concept of Fragments came to be.

It may not work for everyone, but my secret sauce’s that you don’t have to begin at the beginning. Make a guy, put him in a situation, then ask a lot of whys and hows to expand his story backward and forward.

Keeping the past events for later allows me to flesh things out at a leisurely pace. This Alisaie flashback is actually an iteration, originally I’d planned to have Vivi stand alone and just think the broody thoughts, and that was supposed to be the transition between ARR and ShB arcs. I grow more writing muscle as I go, and I’m infinitely happy that I avoided that angsty infodump.

Okay this’s becoming a big fat tangent, but I wanted to acknowledge another pitfall: overusing a character as a mere exposition tool. I wouldn’t do this for, say, Tataru or Y’shtola. Being THE flashback haver makes sense for Alisaie because a) they’re close with Vivi, b) her worldview and opinion on Vivi are changing in ShB, she’s a smart lil thing who would slow down and reflect when appropriate, c) she has a distinct arc in my comic, and knowing what’s going on inside that elf brain will give you the most entertainment out of her actions in the present moment.

I’m new to writing and very excited about the story that comes together as we speak, so I like to show around my kitchen. Please lemme know if you enjoy this. I don’t know if I’m parroting the boring 101s, or if this’s actually useful to someone.

“Meals made for me” YEA HE CAN’T COOK. Well, barely.

New sharp outfit, procured by our most magnanimous branch. The “tail” will help me draw the upcoming Titania fight, it adds fluidity to his movements.

*presses the upgrade button*

There's a lot happening in his head that's not being shown. I hope at least some readers wonder who or what he leaves behind in his mind's eye in this moment. What we know for sure is that he doesn’t take too long to make a decision.

Not sure if subtle, but I did try the breadcrumbing:

Unfortunately for everyone, including himself :’>

I love this one especially because, instead of telling that about himself, Vivi asks Ardbert, kinda gauging his wol experience against the other wol’s.

Episode 34 really shook people awake and reminded that we’re off the msq rails with this story. I loved the response it evoked in the tags, lots of thoughtful rambling about being a hero.

Fae temptation jokes and all, but Feo Ul really says what Vivi needs to say out loud to himself.

Normalize prioritizing self-care over world-saving.

Vivi genuinely cares about Feo Ul. That’s unusual. It might be my storytelling mistake that I didn’t show much of his typical indifference before this scene, unless you count the episodes where he does this

instead of hurrying the fuck up with the msq. Or, perhaps, it’s okay, since this gets plenty of attention later on. You won’t miss the fact that he isn’t eager to set himself on fire to keep others warm. Feo Ul just lucked their way into his heart, and, as a result, he approaches the Titania fight with unusual consideration.

/srs mode on ^

Remember how I just talked about developing this story in all directions at once? I planned Vivi to have this demeanor during the early days of writing Fragments. Like, most of the time. He’d be a broody bitch, get slowly thawed by Exarch’s kindness, and... That’d be it. In veeeeeery broad strokes, this’s still the case, but the current iteration has much more nuance.

Vivi and Titania’s likeness has no deep meaning, take it or leave it. Vivi cares about appearances, he was bound to notice this. Feo Ul can see souls, visuals are secondary to them. But Vivi, being himself, must doubt and question everything.

He moves fast and thinks a lot as the adrenaline speeds him up.

Notice how he lets Titania speak and remains quiet. This’s common in most fights: he doesn’t indulge with chats or banter those who he sees as mere targets to destroy. There’s like a point of no return, if an enemy poses no threat and can be talked out of dying, Vivi will speak, sadly he enters this fight knowing that Titania has to die no matter what.

Once he’s familiarized himself with the situation, and realized that Titania’s more than just a mindless husk, things change up a bit. But for now, he just runs in circles, analyzes the situation, and overthinks about their visual resemblance :’>

Sorry not sorry but unintentional reference x’DD

To be fair Vivi IS being a magical boy in this miniarc so this works lmao.

Wrapping up on this note, thanks for sticking with me and reading till the end~

#ffxiv #ffxiv: fragments #fragment ii: new world old friend #fragments talk

[belliesandburps]

Demonic Belly Love (Sadao x Ashiya Stuffing Fic)

Been a minute since I posted a kink fic, but here's another late December reward I just wrapped. This time, focusing on Sadao binging on a whole lotta Mgronald's because no self-respecting demon is gonna let all that junkfood go to waste.

The end result of which is a very bloated and burpy Sadao, which Ashiya doesn't mind one iota. ;)

“Sire, is this truly wise?” Ashiya asked while scratching at the back of his neck uneasily while the sound of munching and gulping filled the air. He watched as his young master sat on the ground, dressed in his usual T-Shirt and boxers combo, greedily munching away on burgers like the end times were fast approaching.

Sadao swallowed hard, sending a sizable lump down his throat before he huffed to himself and licked his lips. “Look, we had a huge takeout order that had to cancel after everything was already made. I wasn't about to let all this stuff go to waste. Plus, it tastes like crap if ya leave it in the fridge and reheat it,” Sadao insisted before taking another hearty bite of his burger. “So, unless you wanna jump in and help me eat more-”

“-Sire, truly, I simply cannot eat another bite before I start to experience digestive discomfort,” Ashiya chimed in, holding his stomach protectively with one hand. Though it wasn't visibly bloated the way Sadao's stomach was starting to get, it was nonetheless pushing against his shirt slightly.

“Well, there ya go then,” Sadao remarked with his mouthful before swallowing heavily, huffing, and going right back to munching away. “Besides, how often do I get to chow down like this?”

“...About once a week...” Ashiya muttered under his breath.

“What was that?” Sadao asked a little sharply.

“Nothing!” Ashiya said with an all too sweet and innocent smile, one Sadao didn't buy for one second, but nonetheless, let go so he could go back to his binge-eating.

The young demon ate at a rapid rate. His sharper, inhuman teeth made quick work of every burger or handful of fries he shoved into his greedy maw, causing every mouthful he gulped down to send a sizable bulge down his neck. Ashiya watched as Sadao continued to voraciously wolf down all that fast food, having been given a front row seat to Sadao's gluttony on numerous occasions, especially whenever there was left over food at MgRonald's in need of disposing.

Granted, both young men were demons, so even a whole lot of fast food wasn't even close to the most either of them could wolf down. But even though their appetites were unmatched compared to any other humans, in these young, lean human bodies of theirs, they did have their limits. Especially when it came to junk food.

Though, with Sadao, Ashiya could never gauge just what those limits were. When it came to free junk food, Sadao was a bottomless pit...

Sadao just ate and ate, sending more of that greasy, salty goodness down his gullet; devouring all he got his mitts on at a feverish pace. Ashiya was kind of astonished at how fast that pile of burgers and pepper fries was vanished. Honestly, if they ever held any cash-prize eating contests in-town, Sadao could probably clean out the competition with ease.

As time went on, Sadao's gorging slowed down; the sheer volume of food filling him up was starting to take its toll. Taking a break from stuffing his face, Sadao leaned back and groaned. “Whew, oh man, I'm gettin' pretty full...” Sadao moaned, rubbing his belly with one hand while the other rested against the ground for support. The usually flat organ had grown quite bloated at that point, rounding out beneath his shirt by over a foot, stretching his shirt out to the point where Ashiya could see a clear outline of Sadao's bellybutton.

Ashiya couldn't help but notice a sliver of flesh exposing itself from the bottom of Sadao's shirt, and blushing a little at the sight of his masters smooth, tanned flesh.

As Ashiya was about to suggest that maybe Sadao call it a day, a prolonged, gaseous gurgle erupted from Sadao's heavy belly while he rubbed it. Sadao grimaced with discomfort for a moment, until he lurched his head back and let out a big, rumbling belch. The abrasive sound echoed throughout their tiny apartment and could've easily been heard from outside.

“Sire, honestly...” Ashiya muttered, shaking his head.

But Sadao just sighed with relief and gave his belly a couple of hearty pats of satisfaction. “Oof! Damn, did I need that, heh...” he moaned out, giving his round gut one last relieved smack and ushering another burp in the process. “Hehe, think I made a lil more room there too.” Sadoa's grin turned impish with that as he turned back to the remainder of his fast food feast, and went back to chowing down.

As more and more burgers vanished down Sadao's gullet, his midsection continued to steadily swell out, growing rounder and heavier with each juicy, greasy burger he greedily devoured. Ashiya watched in real time as Sadao's already bulging belly expanded more and more. The blood rushed to his cheeks as the bottom of Sadao's shirt continued to ride up higher and higher, exposing more of Sadao's burgeoning bare belly as it grew weightier.

Sadao was getting so bloated that he had to scoot back just to keep his globular gut from pushing against the little table they had on the floor.

The young, overstuffed demon lord just kept on packing it away, eating more fast food than any being on this planet could ever justify wolfing down. He paused periodically to catch his breath or to rub his ever-expanding gut.

Sadao also found himself burping more frequently, both to make as much room in his heavy gut as he could manage, but also because of just how gassy all that junk food was making him.

The young demonic frycook kept at it, powering through his dwindling pile of burgers and fries, all while his growing gut gurgled and churned the more Sadao filled it up. Until finally, a long last, every last scrap of food was churning away inside of Sadao's utterly enormous stomach.

Ashiya honestly couldn't recall the last time he'd seen his liege so stuffed before. Sadao's gut had ballooned out by over two feet, riding his shirt up just below his chest, exposing the entirety of that dome. Not only were his thighs spread out to give that fleshy beachball of a belly some desperately needed breathing room, but Ashiya couldn't help but notice that Sadao's hefty gut was weighing his boxers down, showing off more of Sadao's hips in the process.

Sadao just sat there, groaning in an overstuffed daze for a few moments, before a long, rumbling belch erupted intensely from his maw for a good five or so seconds straight. When it ended, Sadao huffed breathlessly, then, using his hands against the ground for support, he slumped back, his huge belly wobbled from the motion while everything digesting within Sadao sloshed noisily.

“...Urrrgh, dude...I'm gonna buuuUUUUUrrrrrrrst...oof...” Sadao tried to speak up, only to cut himself off with another overstuffed burp that left him huffing and hitting his chest a few times to clear his windpipes.

“I'm kind of amazed you haven't already, sire,” Ashiya mused as he ogled his master and roommates' girthy gut with a hint of lust.

Muffling a rather deep burp behind his fist that puffed out his cheeks, Sadao exhaled the gas off to the side and grunted out, “Mph, y'mind doin' something about this, man...?”

Ashiya's eyes practically bugged out of his skull.

“...I...uh...w-why, of course, sire...i-it'd be my pleasure!” Ashiya insisted, swallowing thinly as he sat directly behind Sadao and, all too eagerly, wrapped his arms around Sadao's sides and placed both of his hands on Sadao's big, bubbling belly.

The big, churning organ felt so unbelievably soft to the touch, and so invitingly warm. Due to his demonic digestive system, everything Sadao ate churned away so much faster than it would for an average human. The result of which left Sadao's ample midsection much softer and jigglier than it would otherwise have been, being left so stuffed.

Ashiya practically shuddered at the sensation, but not as much as Sadao did when those long, delicate fingers began to gently stroke every inch of that vast belly.

“Groooaaaahhhh...hoooooly crap, that feels incredible, dude...” Sadao all but purred as Ashiya gingerly rubbed his belly.

“I live but to serve, my liege,” Ashiya replied, letting Sadao lean his back against his broad chest while he kneaded and caressed that big ball of flesh.

Ashiya kneaded into Sadao's belly, using his fingertips to really work out any knots in Sadao's stomach muscles that he could feel. All the while, Ashiya ogled Sadao's belly, marveling longingly at the swollen mass weighing the otherwise skinny demon lord down. He especially couldn't take his eyes off of Sadao's bellybutton; tightened yet a little deeper than usual.

As Ashiya rubbed, he looked down from past Sadao's shoulder and just took in the sight of the young demon lord's belly in his hands. He bit his lower lip and remarked, “I must confess, sire...unhealthy though your eating habits may be from time to time...this look suits you quite nicely...”

Even in his overstuffed state, Sadao managed a weak but cheeky smirk back at Ashiya from overhead and said, “Heh, what, ya wanna see your demon lord turn into a giant fatass now?”

“I confess, there is something rather...appealing, seeing your belly take on such a...corpulent state...” Ashiya conceded, stroking his hand down the side of Sadao's glutted gut, and starting to caress his oh-so-tender underbelly, before gripping at the soft underside and giving Sadao's belly a slight jiggle.

The jostling disrupted another pocket of gas within Sadao's gut, prompting him to push a fist to his mouth again and just barely manage to muffle another sizable belch. “Easy there, jeez...” Sadao muttered, palming his chest and letting out a smaller burp that he didn't bother muffling that time.

“My apologies, sire, how's this...?” Ashiya asked as his long index finger started slowly and faintly caressing the rim of Sadao's tight bellybutton.

Almost immediately, Sadao moaned with delight, especially when Ashiya's fingertip dipped into his navel and started to knead around inside. He slumped back even further against Ashiya's chest, making his hefty gut jut out more in Ashiya's grasp. One hand continued to gingerly stroke the soft, delicate underside of Sadao's belly while his other continued to finger his bellybutton.

Sadao huffed with euphoria, his tongue hanging out of his maw in an almost suggestive manner, the deeper Ashiya kneaded into his bellybutton. Both their cheeks were going flush at this point as Ashiya continued kneading his navel.

Ashiya couldn't get enough of the way he felt Sadao's entire belly slosh and jiggle whenever he pushed in and out. Sadao's digestive system really was working in full throttle to break down all that junkfood.

However, Ashiya might've pushed a little too deeply, because as he pushed into Sadao's bellybutton hard enough, Sadao's stomach gave an especially deep burble. Like clockwork, Sadao winced, then threw his head back as a big, raunchy belch rumbled out of him. Ashiya could actually feel Sadao's belly physically ripple in his grasp and around his finger as Sadao burped.

Sadao huffed when it finished and sat up a little, prompting Ashiya to pull his finger out of his bellybutton. The look on Sadao's face indicated he still felt another pressure pocket brewing. He gulped down some air, causing his throat to gurgle lowly as he gave the side his weighty belly a few firm slaps, making it jostle in his (and Ashiya's) hand, before Sadao burped again. It was another loud, obnoxious sound with some heft to it, but still not one that gave him relief.

“Oof...dammit, there's a big one stuck in there,” Sadao insisted as he smacked his fat, jiggling belly to try and knock it loose.

“Sire, if I may?” Ashiya insisted with a roll of his eyes.

He once again pulled Sadao back down against his chest and let his hands roam up and down that vast, smooth beachball of flesh. As he felt Sadao's belly up, he felt a particularly tense portion around the upper side of his stomach. So, Ashiya dug his fingertips into that portion of Sadao's soft flesh and pushed down firmly; a large, guttural belch bellowed loudly from Sadao almost immediately.

Sadao huffed breathlessly, but before he could finish catching his breath, Ashiya grasped that area just above Sadao's bellybutton and squeezed down. Like clockwork, another huge burp blasted past Sadao's lips, followed by a sharp afterburp.

Ashiya kept caressing Sadao's belly, feeling for any tense portions before pushing down and forcing Sadao to belch with ferocity. After an especially rumbly burp, Sadao was left panting like a dog with his tongue hanging from his maw while Ashiya continued to feel his belly up with dissatisfaction on his face. “Hmph, I can still feel all that pressure. We need to up our strategy, sire, and I think I know what to do.”

Before Sadao could ask what he meant, Ashiya grabbed either side of Sadao's big belly with both hands, and began to shake it up and down. Sadao's eyes widened as his bloated belly jostled aggressively; the digesting contents within him sloshing around heavily, and stirring up tons of gas in the process.

“Sire, refrain from belching at this time. No matter how badly you want to, hold it in for as long as you can,” Ashiya insisted firmly as he continued jiggling Sadao's belly.

Sadao winced painfully, but nonetheless complied, but it was getting harder and harder to do so. His thrashing belly churned and bubbled noisily and painfully. He could feel all that gas building up within him, begging to be released. Sadao had never needed to burp so badly in his entire life.

Ashiya jiggled away, blushing at how much he was loving this feeling of Sadao's big, soft belly quivering in his hands. But eventually, he felt enough gas build up, causing that bloated organ to grow slightly taut from the sheer volume of pressure now quite loudly gurgling away. And when he felt Sadao had finally had enough, he wrapped his arms firmly around Sadao's belly, grabbing it from the dead center, and squeezing down as hard as he could; hugging Sadao against his chest tightly to apply even more vice-like pressure to Sadao's gut.

Sadao's eyes bugged out for a moment as a rush of pressure rocketed aggressively up his gullet. Until finally, from the belly of the beast, exploded forth an utterly COLOSSAL belch!

It blasted from Sadao's maw with such ferocity that not only did his belly ripple intensely with the expulsion, but Ashiya could feel the ground itself quiver from just how strong that eructation was. The sheer volume was eardrum-shatteringly loud, to where it was all but certain they'd get a noise complaint for this one. And the burp didn't let up either. Ashiya squeezed on Sadao's belly even harder as he burped, causing Sadao's throat-abusing eruption to rattle out of him for a painful nine straight seconds. It seemingly just got louder and stronger as all that gas exploded past Sadao's rippling lips, with several strands of saliva spewing along with the gas.

After what felt like an eternity, Sadao was left utterly winded. Even with how enormous his gut was, he felt deflated. He panted and huffed, appearing dazed as he slumped back in Ashiya's arms in exhaustion. “Hah...hrraaaah, hooooooooly crap, dude, that was...” Sadao started to say, but paused, clenched his eyes shut, and let out one last big, throaty afterburp, too winded to even speak at that point. That, plus his throat actually hurt after that one.

Ashiya simply smirked and fanned the air around his nostrils and uttered, “Sire...I believe the correct words you were looking for were, 'excuse me'...”

But Sadao was simply too winded to say anything at that point. He just slumped onto his back, until his head was on Ashiya's lap and his enormous belly was jutting up like a fleshy hill. Ashiya simply rolled his eyes yet again, but blushed at the sight, and resumed rubbing it with one hand. Sufficed to say, Ashiya definitely wouldn't mind Sadao indulging more often...

#fat belly #belly kink #bloated belly #sadao #ashiya #stuffing kink #stuffing fic #post stuffing #bellyache #overstuffed #burping #gassy #belly rubs #ship #patreon reward #reward fic #am i shilling good enough mr krabs? #demons

[agendabymooner]

the paddock’s lucky husband ! toto w. x ofc (hearth sister!ofc)

summary: toto wolff is a lucky man amongst other things. OR a series of tweets and clips in which tilly wolff discussed her husband and their three kids.

content warning: fictional wolff kids, tweets + video clips, use of explicit language, fluff, mentions of pregnancy, dad!Toto, established relationship, toto’s older kids being cool asf (idk their social media handles)

note: what is sleep? enjoy xx

masterlist

liked by lewishamilton, danielricciardo, loricciardo

danielricciardo i like how you didn’t post anything for a whole year since last year’s canadian gp and come back with a brand new toddler liked by tillywolff

tillywolff delmo’s grown too fast okay 🥲

danielricciardo he’s no longer allowed to 😭

user1 idk what i love the most: a year old adelmo being taught how to skate by toto or toto sleeping while adelmo’s awake

user2 you would think that tia and soren are twins just looking at the second last picture

user3 i’ve been promptly fed with toto’s back. thank you tilly 🫶

user4 girl 😅 that’s her husband

ben.wolff tia must have missed her brother ben 🥲 liked by tillywolff

tillywolff if by that you mean causing chaos in your dad’s office then yes 😂 they’re looking forward to seeing you and rosawolff 😉

rosawolff i would really prefer not to make a mess in papa’s office, thank you very much :)

rosawolff look at addie and ren :((( i miss those little stinkers liked by tillywolff

tillywolff ren’s been wondering where you’ve been so maybe this is a chance to spend some time with them!!!

lewishamilton ugh elmo’s so big now 😩 how’s lottie supposed to play with him? liked by tillywolff

tillywolff delmo doesn’t like to roughhouse don’t worry 😅

user5 tilly, baby, your child is tall like his dad 😀

TILLY WOLFF’S PREGNANCY GLOW MAKES A COME BACK AT THE 2022 MET GALA by vogue

[1st image: emma: you look like you came from a minimalist renaissance painting, might i add. tilly: thank you! you look amazing yourself. who're you wearing? e: i should be asking that question but louis vuitton and cartier. you? t: christian siriano. he did all of this on friday which i'm grateful for.]

[2nd: e: your husband, toto- he would normally attend the gala with you, right? t: yes. he actually couldn't right now because he's in miami with the kids in preparation for the grand prix. he was insisting that he should come along but i kept giving him the outline of his job roles that he can't skip out on.]

[3rd: e: he's just being a husband, if you think of it. t: yes but he's a husband who also happens to have a racing team that are hoping to contend for the world constructors championship. e: what did he say when you told him he couldn't go? t: he was rather cranky. he wasn't the typical toto who would radiate this intense energy. he was just upset i couldn't allow him to go.]

[4th: t: i'm a couple weeks away from surpassing my first trimester, and he doesn't seem to think i'd do perfectly fine on my own especially if he's away and we're not at home. he's still worried i would trip and everything as if i hadn't worn heels back when i was pregnant with soren and tia. e: you must be some sort of superwoman if you could do that while pregnant!]

[5th: t: i worked hard on it. sometimes mary janes wouldn't do my job outfit any justice and there'd be a pair of kitten heels calling for me. e: how did your poor feet feel? t: swollen. i cried after realizing i can't wear them unless i get a bigger size. but it's not anything that i couldn't get. it's mostly just toto that i have to deal with whenever he sees me slipping on some heels.]

[6th: e: who would have thought that the big bad wolff could feel the discomfort of a pregnant woman by simply looking at her? t: *laughs* he's an empath of some sort. i don't know. i've been with him for almost a decade and one of things that l've learned is that he's quite observant and wouldn't budge unless you admit that he was right about what he saw.]

Q&A WITH TILLY by tilly marie

[1st image: what smell brings back good memories?]

[2nd: what could be a scent that brings back good memories? this is quite hard... i think i would say baby powder? *laughs* it sounds quite peculiar but it's something that reminds me that l've got the best things that could have happened to me. which are my children.]

[3rd: it's not really that peculiar, if i come think of it. there are people that like the smell of gasoline still to this day. i have spent years in garages and l've had my fair share of smoking experiences- those scents were addicting but the baby powder? extremely addictive. you won't have any issue with your lungs too.]

ATTENDING THE DIOR HAUTE COUTURE SHOW by tilly marie

clip one — soren’s wake up call… literally

[1st image: the breakfast came it quite late today and my neighbour's playing the most awful songs in the morning. i absolutely thought that i was going to have the most horrendous day at the haute couture show then my husband just rang and it turned out it was soren who called me early in the morning to say hi. he stole his papa's phone from the bedside and somehow knew the passcode. or it's probably his face id that did it. who knows.]

[2nd: i was telling him about how hungry i was because my breakfast wasn't ready, so my sweet boy didn't even hesitate to run downstairs to "cook"- he began to grab pans and eggs to "cook." thankfully toto had gotten up by then otherwise soren would've gotten into some sort of accident just trying to make me an omelette from brackley. i'm in paris but my sweet boy thinks he could send the breakfast my way as soon as possible.]

clip two — tilly shows how adelmo moves

[1st image: tilly: do you wanna see how adelmo dances to aladdin's "friend like me?" cameraman: yes of course. why not? tilly: great, this is how his little 2 year old self dances with the genie]

[2nd: *hums in adelmo torger lewis wolff*]

clip three — tia is the spoiled cub of the cubs

[1st image: i think i should try to put tia in my purse and take her with me on a show next time because i- *laughs* i can't behave by myself anymore. tia would most likely be scolding me and she'd be so happy to see all of these clothes. then she'd probably ask it she could get a dress tailored for her from the haute couture collection.]

[2nd: now that i think of it, she's most likely to empty toto's wallet in one go. whenever she and toto goes out for some daddy-daughter time, tia would return with her papa carrying shitloads of shopping bags. the sad case is that they all came from harrods- but that's the only place we could go without being hounded by cameras. still... toto goes all out for her all the time.]

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[starrclown]

☆ Have Tea With Me: Hazbin Hotel's trailer ☆

Welcome Matey's to my new series:

Have tea with me. 🫖🍵

Fancy ain't it? Matey's it's time we talk about the Hazbin Hotel trailer. I watched it recently and it has... problems. Look, Vivziepop dickriders stans if you have a problem with this post then kindly leave because I will be complaining quiet a bit. Okay at first let's get my complains across and how I would modify it.

☆PROBLEMS:

Alastors broadcast. Why the hell did THE RADIO DEMON make a TV commercial? Wouldn't that be a Vox type thing? Shouldn't he be making ya know, a radio commercial? Isn't his whole thing that he doesn't know modern day technology? Also, what the hell was the porn studio thing? Like that was part of the commercial. Was Alastor just looming over Angel while he was at work? Did Angel send in that footage? Why is Travis there? That commercial is so confusing and it's only 30 seconds.

The voices. Look I'm not gonna beat a dead horse, some of the voices are bad. I only really liked Charlie's and Vaggies. Vox's voice is just bad for his character. Alastor's sounds odd. What was so cool about Alastors voice is the radio type voice filter and the personality Bosco put in the character. Now the filter is weaker and he just sounds weaker. Angel's voice actually makes me wanna tear my ears off. Cherrie, (wiki confirmed by the way.) was made Australian after the pilot and was supposed to have a Australian accent. Maybe I'm just stupid but I did NOT hear a Australian accent. (This is NOT a dis at the voice actors. God damn they are trying their best.)

The Pride City is too purple. You can tell on multiple occasions that Vivziepop is trying to respond to criticism. If you don't know Pride's original color is purple so they turned up the purple in the city. Ya they did that to much.

The Angel's. Bro Adam and Lute are so fucking ugly. Why spoil the main antagonist of the series early? Like that's if Centerword (bomb show by the way) had The Nowhere King playing in the background for the trailer. (We will TALK about The Nowhere King when I talk about rewrite Alastor.) It makes no sense to show the bad guys NOW.

The animation. Oh my GOD. Dude at some points the animation is so fucking bad. The anatomy is odd and the values make me upset. My most hated scene is where that green skinned demon is being chased by the exterminator. The animation is so off and I can't explain it. The line art looks thinner. (Speaking of which why do both Angel and Andrelphus have diffrent outlines? It looks off.)

The premise changed. WHY DID YOU CHANGE THE PREMISE?? WHY ARE WE FIST FIGHTING HEAVEN NOW??? I will talk about this in a diffrent post cause it bothers me SO bad.

Huskerdust is cannon. Look, I LOVE Huskerdust but they should have waited man. I feel like they will be rushed and I'm scared for how they'll handle them. I also want to make a post about them cause I love this ship and I wanna explain their dynamic in my rewrite.

Both Charlie's and Alastors "demon" forms are so fucking weak now. Always so cool in the comic, now he just has black eyes. Wow, so scary, don't let the tenticals get me.

Luicifers wings. Two things. 1. They should have waited. Having the Lucifers wings being shown should have been a bigger deal. 2. HUSK HAS MORE DETAILS ON HIS WINGS. Husk has more details on his wings then the King of Hell, fallen angel. Just maul that over.

☆TOUCH UP? I DON'T KNOW:

Make Alastor technologically dumb. Have him make a radio broadcast and not a TV commercial.

Let the voice actors do their own thing. I think the issue is that the actors have to live up to who used to play the characters. Let them be fun! Let them be their own thing!

Spread colors around. Make diffrent building different colors to show different demons own the buildings.

DO NOT SHOW THE ANGELS. Make them ominous and something that should be feared. If ya wanna make some Angel's bad fine, but keep them ominous. Like instead of showing the extermination, show the bodies and destruction of Hell. Show small scenes of demons hiding, show Chalie crying over bodies, show businesses destroyed. Make it seem like a problem needing solved.

Okay I don't own a animation studio yet so I can't say much. Maybe donate some of the money for Broadway actors to the animation? Just a tea time thought.

KEEP THE PREMISE. YOU CAN MAKE A GOOD SHOW ABOUT BAD PEOPLE GETTING BETTER I SWEAR. KEEP MAKING THE SINNERS GET TO HEAVEN THE PREMISE VIVIANE PLEASE-

Keep Huskerdust. Just slow down. Oh my God make it seme like it would be a actual relationship. Like make them warm up to each other, talk about their both human and demon lives. (Fun fact: Husk is from Vegas and worked in a Casino. Mafia's actually messed around with Casino's back in the day. I know this cause one of my stories has a mafia member and a La gambler fall in love.) Have them help each other with their addictions. Just slow down.

This go for all tye characters. MAKE THEM LOOK LIKE DEMONS. (Wonderful advice I know. Just you get the general idea.)

Make Lucifers wings bat like. Biblically they became bat like. If ya don't wanna go down that route then make them more royal like. Just make them prettier.

I know this advice is messy but this was basically just touch ups and the potential for this show. This trailer is disappointing :/

Well Matey's tea time is over. Come back next tike and bring your own delicate little pastries.

1. I only came up with Have Tea With Me because if anyone ever asks a question I just wanna draw a scene of us having Tea.

2. I GOT MY AO3 ACCOUNT!!! I'm writing my first fan fiction!! Will post when it's out. My account is StarrClown 😘🫶

- ⭐️StarClown⭐️

#hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critical #vivziepop critical #vivziepop critique #vivziepop criticism #hazbin hotel critique

[sincerely-sofie]

Seeing as you have finished writing the script for your AU thingy, I wanna know, how?

Like, were you motivated the whole time? Or was it a on and off writing type thing?

i'm trying to write but I don't know if I have the motivation...

How did you keep the motivation if so?

Oh man. I have so much to say about writing and creativity that I could make an entire series of posts talking about the subject, but I'll try to keep things orderly and brief.

Disclaimer: I should let you know that I have never finished a writing project before recently finishing my TPiaG AU. Keep that in mind when reading the advice I offer— the tips I give have only been put into work in my own life over the course of the last couple of months, but they’ve proven very effective in my experience!

Sofie Creativity Tips Episode 1, go!!!

Was I motivated the whole time I was writing TPiaG / How did I stay motivated?

Absolutely not. If I hadn’t provided myself a detailed chapter-by-chapter outline for TPiaG before starting the writing process, I would have given up thanks to a mix of writer’s block and absent motivation. Motivation is a fickle muse and prone to ditching me for months on end, so I’ve adapted by trying not to rely on it, but also by creating new motivation rather than clinging to past motivation. I create motivation for myself in two ways: removing friction when writing and being my own fandom.

Removing friction is pretty simple— I create very detailed chapter outlines that remove any fear of writer’s block, set up my devices in a way to make it easy to access my manuscripts and notes, download premade writing playlists that have Pomodoro session break timers built into them, and more. Anything that makes the writing process easier to get into and enjoy doing, I make sure to incorporate into my life.

Being my own fandom is less intuitive, but a thousand times more rewarding in terms of motivation. I make memes of my characters. I write self-indulgent snippets on the side. I make AUs of my own work. I make playlists and save audio clips that suit the characters. I draw comics exploring concepts that might not get into the manuscript itself but that I want to make content for regardless. Basically, I dive in deep into the story, characters, and world, and try to do so with the enthusiasm that I give other people’s projects.

(That part is extra fun, because if I have a headcanon, it automatically becomes canon to whatever AU or original project I’m working on. I have all the power in the world when working like this, and it’s very fun.)

What changed and made it so I finished my first ever written project?

This isn’t exactly what was asked, but because I have eschewed motivation as the main driving force in my writing process, I figured I’d give another insight into how TPiaG went against the pattern of half-started and swiftly abandoned projects that came before it and actually got finished. Late into October, I adopted a new method of producing first drafts. Previously, I would spend weeks polishing the same chapter and would only move on to the next chapter once the current one was perfect. My new method is the complete opposite. I’ve started calling it Writing BFF:

Write bad

Write fast

Write fun

First up, write bad. The point of this is not to waste your time writing prettily during your first draft. Don’t bother agonizing over how to reword that one sentence to be more elegant when it does the job well enough to get its point across. Don’t go off on a 30-minute research tangent in the middle of a writing session because you want to fact-check that one detail and make sure it’s perfectly accurate when you could just put a placeholder detail in brackets and CTRL+F search and plug in something accurate later on. Don’t write pretty, write bad. And be okay with it. You can’t edit an empty page, so fill the page with as much garbage as possible so that you can turn it into gold later on.

Next, write fast. This is only effective when paired with writing bad. Don’t pause, don’t hesitate, don’t deliberate. Write as much as you can and do it as fast as you can. This idea is best illustrated by Chris Fox’s book 5,000 Words Per Hour, where he talks about increasing your WPM (words per minute) and how it makes everything about your writing better. The person who creates a beautiful first draft once every three years is doing okay, but the person who cranks out a complete manuscript every three months learns leagues more about writing than the first person does by the end of three years. The second person has practiced outlining, drafting, editing, publishing, and more with every manuscript completed. The faster you write, the better you get, because practice makes perfect and quantity begets quality.

Finally, write fun. I write what I enjoy, and if I’m not enjoying it, I pivot the project so that I enjoy it again. I like writing deeply personal stories, so pretty much everything I write is heavily based on my life and experiences— TPiaG included. Grovyle’s portrayal is deeply influenced by my experience being an elder sibling who has been a bad example of self-talk, and cleaned up my act because my younger sister started echoing how I spoke to myself. Dusknoir’s portrayal is informed by my experiences with being the therapist / mom friend in different social circles as well as attending actual formal therapy. Twig is the character that my experiences have the greatest influence on in her portrayal, and I joke about her being a self-insert, but ultimately all of the characters are self-inserts to some extent. I also enjoy low-stakes and slow slice-of-life stories that are driven by character growth. If I ever stop having fun with a project, I inject more of myself and my preferences into my work to get it back into my favor.

TL;DR / Writing advice lightning round

Write as badly as possible as quickly as possible, and have fun as you do it. Momentum yields motivation and stagnancy yields doubt. Editing comes only after the first draft is complete. Be your own fandom and your project’s biggest fan. Give yourself direction and ward against writer’s block by making detailed chapter-by-chapter outlines. Make the writing process as easy and enjoyable as possible. Motivation is a lie and if you chase after it instead of making your own, you’ll be writing on hard mode for the rest of your life. Reject perfectionism, embrace flawesomeness.

If I didn’t answer your question right, let me know! I’ll do my best to correct it.

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