*Doorbell*
Trick? Treat? GIB 👐
(If you don't know what's happening, here: https://www.tumblr.com/amaiguri/732313964829097984?source=share )
Oops I'm late on this... uh gonna just double up and also have this be my writing for today haha....
We'll go with a treat! Some bits of trivia about one of your favorites
Character Trivia: Spectre
Real name: Evelyn Nokes
Home city: Alemere "I return every so often, some of my most interesting jobs come from the clientele there."
Age: Unknown, there is a very old record of Evelyn Nokes in the Alemere city registry but she's marked as deceased in childhood. "I wonder just how much dust is on that record by now?"
Arcanist designation: Binder, Spectre also shows abilities common with Mirror and Key arcanists. Rumors say she has been able to exert control over demons but this is unconfirmed. "Having one designation is so limiting... I should go and update their records on me."
Extra Trivia
She has a strict rule with her crew to never kill someone unless you yourself are about to die. "It's never worth It to involve the seekers, they'll only get in the way."
Ghost Lilies are her favorite flower, not only does she cultivate them under the city, she and her crew always leave one behind at the scene of their crimes. "By now the constables and seekers must have several vases of my lovely blooms."
When meeting with clients she wears a mask to hide her face. It's rumored that the mask belonged to the last governor of The Capital City, likely passed down from her predecessor who wore the same mask. "The Grand Commander was less than pleased when she saw my mask. She was even less pleased when I offered to trade masks with her."
I believe that should work well as a little treat of information. Though I also have one more to leave with you...
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its almost midnight so you know what that means! random thoughts while i unconsciously panick over how tired i’m going to be tomorrow when i have to wake up at six again :D
today im thinking about love languages. more specifically, unconventional love languages that i hc the sides do! from the same people (complete lie but just roll with it) who brought you remus biting people to show affection, we bring you
virgil likes to pat/slap people. just. pat on the head. slap on the face (gently,,,must hit affectionately)
roman loves all love languages, but only in specific contexts. quality time, as long as he is fully aware of how much the other is enjoying it as well as he is (silent quality time is a big nono). physical touch BUT ONLY SOMETIMES!!! and sometimes, ONLY PHYSICAL TOUCH IF YOU DO NOT HUG HIM RIGHT NOW HE WILL CRY
janus squeezes. squeezy hugs. squeezy hand holding. sometimes its feels like hes trying to literally squeeze the life out of you (hes not, but he doesnt really understand his own strength)
is it possible for someone to be touch adverse but also touch starved. because that is logan and roman. ask them rn if they need a hug. god knows they wont tell you themselves-
patton is so gifts of service its like. stupid. nothing even belongs to him anymore. he has no concept of personal belonging. everything that is his is also everyone elses. must,,, gib everything,,,
janus, remus and virgil also headbutt people. just to check up on them. they dont rlly do like, words of affirmation or quality time. they communicate purely on physical touch and gifts sometimes. sometimes they engage in friendly headbutting battles
remus needs to spend all his time with the people he likes. all of it. just be with them all the time. even if its just pure silence, he needs to know somebody is there or else he will explode
oh also they have specific things for different people!!! like remus spends most of his time w/logan bc he’s the only other one who also needs to be around people a lot!! must of the time logan needs it to be quiet, but he still wants someone in the room
vi nd pat exchange many gifts. it started with the cards and now they make each other a bunch of handmade stuff too!!! like patton whittles figurines for virge and virge sews pat stuffed animals.
similarly, janus and patton exchange food. all types. just. gib meal. ily
honestly patton is the only one who rlly tells ppl that he loves them. nobody else rlly likes to say it out loud. it means so much when they do say it tho
virgil and roman obvs do the opposite of words of affirmation. they tell each other that they hate each other so that they know that they love each other.
the reason that logan and roman argue a lot is bc they don’t share love languages rlly. they have like, opposite cycles for needing/hating touch, which leads to some hurt feelings when one of them gets denied. they remedy this by spending at least one full day a week hanging out and doin things together
remus and virgil fight. so often. they wrestle a lot. it means that they’re having a good day
janus is very smoochy. did i mention that. did i mention that that one college projection au by haysgrove made me obsessed with that hc. yeah he’s a kissy boy. the others never really mind, they know it’s just a thing he does (nd he always asks first!!!)
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Maybe you can do a "being sick sucks" ventfic with Danny having a ghostcold or something?
Ahaha, this was a brilliant idea. Very cathartic lol. Thanks, Anon!
Fleeing at top speed from a lumbering ghost in a mechanized suit who’s threatening to hang your pelt on his wall is one thing. Fleeing at top speed from a lumbering ghost in a mechanized suit who’s threatening to hang your pelt on his wall while you have a frickin’ ghostcold is another entirely.
Danny makes it all of twenty feet before just laying on the ground and pressing his hot cheek against the blessedly cool pavement of the sidewalk instead.
Skulker’s heavy boots come to settle against the cement by his face with a rumble, a distorted, echoey, “whelp?” coming from above Danny as he does.
“Just, give me a couple minutes,” Danny says, the words coming out more like jus’ gib be a coubble minus’ through his stuffed nose.
“Are you trying to lay some sort of trap? Because it won’t work. I’ll have you know I’m the—”
“Greatest hunter in the ghost zone. Yeah. I’ve heard,” Danny says flatly, closing his eyes. Just for a second.
When Skulker seems convinced that the Jello-y mess Danny makes on the sidewalk really isn’t a threat, he lowers himself to a crouch, the metal of his knee joints creaking.
“What ails you, ghost child?” Skulker asks.
Danny blinks hot, sticky eyelids open, peers up into the skeletal faceplate of the ghost.
“I’m sick,” he moans. Ib sick.
Skulker gives the low rumble of an echoey laugh from his barrel chest. “Oh?”
The slightest encouragement is all Danny needs to push himself up onto his elbows, spinning his rant only after a cough has finished rattling his lungs like wax paper.
“This is so unfair,” he says. “I’m already dead. Half dead? Somewhat dead. Why do I have to still get colds? Do you guys get ghostcolds, or is that just a halfa thing? And why is it called a cold when I’m so hot? I have ice powers, how am I fevered? Can I melt? I think I might be melting.”
“I believe the human remedy for this is…rest?” Skulker offers as Danny’s head starts to droop on his neck.
“Yeah, and, let me guess, I’ll get a lot of rest hanging on your wall, right? Fat chance. You come near me, and I’ll cough all over you. You ever seen War of the Worlds? That’s your fate, buckethead.”
“Buckethead?”
“Look. My dude. My brain is full of radioactive bees, every muscle in my body hurts, and I haven’t been able to lay down without waking up in a puddle of my own drool every twenty minutes, so I’m operating on even less sleep than usual. You’ll have to excuse me if my insults are a little bit lacking at the moment,” Danny says, sniffling as he lays his head down on crooked arms.
“Alright,” Skulker says, lifting defensive hands. “Though, can I offer a suggestion?”
“If you must.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t just lay down on the sidewalk in the middle of the night? Seems…unwise.”
“Noted,” Danny says, but he doesn’t move.
He’ll get up. He will. In a couple minutes. But. For now. The pavement feels really nice on his cheek. And his eyes are so heavy. Just. A couple minutes.
He doesn’t remember falling asleep—doesn’t remember getting himself home—but he must, at some point, because he rolls over hours later in his own bed, in his human form, blankets tucked up beneath his chin. He doesn’t know for sure what’s happened, can’t parse out reality from the delirious fever dream, all he can say for certain is that being sick really, really sucks.
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👑 + ... gib me Luffy back 8)
@sagnaevi
SEND ME 👑 + A CHARACTER NAME OF A CHARACTER YOU THINK I SHOULD WRITE !
WOULD I: YES / MAYBE / NO
HAVE I EVER BEFORE: YES / NO
ICON & WRITING SAMPLE (IF YES TO EITHER PREV. QUESTION):
The thing is...he never left. He just sits there on the kitchen floor, waiting, stuffing his face with all of the Sunny's food supplies while no one else is around. It's alright! The others will be back soon! Surely they just went to grab more stuff (more meat !! ). Yes, that must be it. He trusts his nakama more than he trusts himself, after all.
( He trusted Ace and Sabo the same way. Still, he refuses to let himself worry. His friends would never leave him behind. )
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azure
https://twitter.com/buitengebieden/status/1664948374263545859
Muzaka stealing kissies
darkicedragon
much sneaky
frankenstein grabs his face the next time he tries and muzaka is just like 030 between his hands
azure
XDDD
adorbs
darkicedragon
m freaking kentas out
bc he sneaks a kiss and is gone before kentas turns around
so much sneaky kentas didnt even realise he was therw
azure
XDDD
also M doesn't show affection??? he's like a cat???
if he's in the near vicinity and tolerating you, that's him actually liking you???
Kentas is much
( | ) . ( | ) ???
darkicedragon
the doggo instincts is overwhelming the cat instincts
so m really Wants closeness and puppy piles
but you just Dont Do That
so he just grabs quick touches hoping that satisfies the instincts
it does not
azure
poor Kentas is so 0v0??? bc he has no idea what's going on?
M want to touchy? but also no touchy???
but he gibs kissy???
but stay away???
darkicedragon
has to be on ms terms
and m is def Not Talking Abt It bc hes trying v hard to ignore his stupid bodys feelings again
kentas takes a nap on the sofa and wakes up to m curled up against him
must. not. move. that would wake m up and he'll disappear again o3o;;;;
azure
absolutely
is like having a cat on his lap
no moving
but the more Kentas does it, the more M understands that he won't be judged and starts to feel comfy and trust Kentas more
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Misadventures of a 40K Ork in Faerûn
Alternatively titled: "Da Legend of Da Panzysmasha"
CHAPTER TWO
Suddenly, a wave of hatred came over Gib-Gob. This was an Eldar brain. Eldar think they're so much smarter than Orks, but they're wrong!
Farther back than any boy could remember, the Eldar ruled the galaxy and made it their cosmic playground. But in the age before the Imperium, their civilization was nearly wiped-out---leaving whole sectors ripe for the taking. The age of the Eldar had come and gone, as did the brief and destructive age of Mankind. Now was the time of the Ork and this talking brain needed a reminder of that!
Reaching inside the exposed cranium, Gib-Gob placed both hands around the quivering brain. For a brief moment, it must have thought the Ork was going to grant its request. But once Gib-Gob grasped this lump of greymatter like a Squigg Burger, he squeezed down like it was a grot's windpipe. It screeched, causing the body to flail widely before popping like an over-ripened grape.
Despite the face full of cerebral fluid, Gib-Gob was pleased with himself. He humbled a pansy Eldar like never before, proving just how weak their minds were. So much for the superior species!
Hearing another roar from outside, Gib-Gob ran to a still-steaming breach in the ship-creature's hull. Looking outside, he saw legions of devils fighting in burning chasms below and dragons flying overhead. Believing the Mindflayers had taken him back into the Warp, Gib-Gob sprinted along a section of exposed flesh---until he came upon a curious individual.
Leaping over Gib-Gob with lethal grace, a strange fighter landed before him and cut off his hasty retreat.
"Abomination!" she growled, aiming her blade at his throat. "This is your end!"
Far be it from an Ork to refuse a fight, but his would-be opponent was both familiar and alien: she had the speed and agility of an Eldar, but the muscular frame of a Sister of Battle. Her ears were large and frilled like a Gretchin, yet she lacked the needle-like nose. She wasn't quite green-skinned, though she certainly wasn't pink, grey or brown like a Human.
"Oi!" Gib-Gob barked. "Wot da zog is yoo supposed ta be?"
Confused by both his speech and his ignorance, the female warrior must have thought Gib-Gob was some failed experiment---brain butchered and mind warped beyond repair. But before either of them could speak again, the two suffered spontaneous and simultaneous headaches. They saw visions of themselves through the other's eyes, eventually coming to the realization that they were both taken captive.
"Tsk'va, you are no thrall," the woman said while sheathing her sword. "Vlaakith smiles on me this day. Together, we may yet survive."
"Hold on now..." Gib-Gob raised a fat finger in dissent. "I still dunno wot or who yoo is. If we'z gunna krump deez squiddy-boyz togethah, I needz ta know who's got me back."
However, a literal hellscape was no proper place to make acquaintances. Out from the corner of her reptilian eye, the woman saw a trio of imps in the adjacent room. She immediately charged inside, cleaving the small demon in two. Formal greetings would have to wait, but Gib-Gob approved of her fightiness.
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Hey what's up randomly coming here to tell you you're a joy and I hope you have a wonderful day. Seeing you on here always brightens things up but regardless you deserve to take some time off, I wanted to acknowledge how much you're doing as of late (at least what I've seen or heard of it online heh) and you're handling things good. Take a breather sometimes, things are gonna be alright
Each time I recieve an ask from you Morso it's a utmost blessing from the heavens themselves ;////;!!
IT GRACES ME HEART AND SOUL WITH SUCH NUCLEAR LEVELS OF PURE EXISTANCE MELTING NESS </////>!!
That and it spooks me just how i've been thinking & worrying bout how I pause quite alot from this chaotic site recently!(So truly your timing couldn't be more perfect for lifting me spirits .///.)
I've really been low energy wise (May be facing tad bit of a burnout from the current evidence quq')
HAVE been trying to focus on this upcoming project for halloween I have in mind!
tho has resulted in me not really being able to start & finish full art pieces or other projects i have gnawing in the back of me noggin -u-' (Seriously my art folder just now has entire rows of wips when I look up my clip files nowadays with maybe one or two seperate pieces i fully coloured inbetween asdfgfds 'x3 sight i ain't use to that for sure)
whyy must there only be 24 hours in day>:/
I'mma hold and cuddle your words for quite awhile if you does not mind,cause again they gift me such a smile and MORE Morso-!! I truly HONEST TO LORD can not thank you enough for the JOY YOU grace MY days with Q////Q (And UNO REVERSO my days shall only be wonderful if yours are aswell unu)
I do have plans to get tumblr schedule done before college this monday! Will gib swing at such tomorrow if my drive doesn't drive off into a void >:/ (+ many a refs on hand still to be yeeted & posted Here >:D)
Though as of this moment,may I offer you small sketchy doodle in these times?
(Been thinkin bout showin this one cause i've also been focusing on style change as of recent! even though this was done durin start of august it still looks pwetty neat 👉👈)
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Talk about an opera you don't get to talk about much...let it all out
Alright, peeps, buckle up! We’re gonna talk about Die tote Stadt today!
so first off, seriously, if you have not seen or listened to this opera, you NEED to. I basically found it by chance in 2017, one listen and I was hooked forever.
specifically we’re gonna talk about this famous scene and its reprise at the end of the opera.
so if you don’t know the plot, the basic premise is that we’re in Bruges, Belgium, the “dead city” of the title—a decaying place that hangs on to the past, to ritual, to memories of past glory, and so on—sometime in the late 19th century (although this frequently changes). there’s this guy named Paul who is severely depressed on account of his wife Marie having died sometime in the past and he just cannot. move. on. like “he has an entire room in his house that’s frozen in time and is essentially a shrine to his dead wife”.
(like, okay, as someone who has also suffered loss like that, I get it, but buddy, that is not a healthy coping mechanism at all. you are not doing well.)
enter Marietta, a visiting dancer who looks exactly like Marie but whose personality could not be more different. however, Paul, who has met Marietta in the street by chance, does not know this and invites her to his house, and they end up in this shrine to the dead wife.
at one point, Paul asks Marietta to hold a lute that belonged to Marie. Marietta takes this opportunity to say they should sing an old song together, and thus begins “Glück das mir verblieb” or the “Mariettalied”.
the translation of the Mariettalied is roughly as follows:
Joy, that near to me remains,
Come to me, my true love.
Night sinks into the grove
You are my light and day.
Hearts beat uneasily against one another;
Hope itself soars heavenward.
How true, a sad song.
The song of true love,
that must die.
I know the song.
I heard it often in younger,
in better days.
It has yet another verse—
Do I know it still?
Though sorrow becomes dark,
Come to me, my true love.
Lean your pale face towards me.
Death will not separate us.
If you must leave me one day,
Believe, there is an afterlife.
the parallels and connections between the song and Paul’s situation are pretty clear, I think.
(the thing happens to be one of the most gorgeous pieces in all opera. but I digress.)
so not long after this, Paul and Marietta get into a somewhat heated argument because Marietta accidentally pulls the curtain covering a portrait of Marie and it all kinda goes downhill from there, and she storms off to her rehearsal. left alone, Paul engages in a series of progressively more horrifying hallucinations/dreams that make up most of the remainder of the opera, culminating in an extended hallucination/dream in which he strangles Marietta to death with a braid of Marie’s hair (don’t ask).
but in the opera’s final scene, he snaps out of it, and bewilderedly realizes that it was all a dream. nevertheless, it is a dream which has affected him very deeply:
“I shall not see her anymore.
A dream has dashed my dream to earth,
A dream of realities has killed
the dream of fantasy and sweet deception.
Such dreams are sent to us by our dead
if we live too much with and in them.
How far should we give way to grief,
how far dare we without disaster?
Harrowing conflict of the heart!”
(translation taken from a Met libretto from 1921, the year after this opera premiered)
His friend Frank then asks him, “Paul, will you come and leave this city of death?”
Paul’s response is simple and it always gets me:
“I will—I will try.”
because trying is always the first thing. it’s that first step of hope, of strength, of resolve, things which Paul was sorely lacking in before.
from there, Paul sings the last lines of the opera once again to the tune (and same opening line) of the Mariettalied, but this time with a twist:
Glück, das mir verblieb,
Lebe wohl, mein treues Lieb.
Leben trennt von Tod,
Grausam Machtgebot.
Harre mein in lichten Höhn,
Hier gibt es kein Auferstehn.
Joy that near to me remains…
Farewell, my true love.
Life parts from death,
a cruel reality.
Wait for me in the light of heaven,
for here there is no resurrection.
(this translation is mostly my own)
And on the final, gloriously gorgeous notes of the opera, he closes everything up in the shrine to his wife, closes the door, turns back for just a moment, and then leaves. the end!
he’s going to try. it hurts—and his final lines make it clear to me that it’s a reality that hurts him dearly, but now he’s going to face it in the moment instead of singing old songs and trying to bring back this past that can never be again.
it just—*screams incoherently into my pillow*. it’s about love and loss and grief and learning to move on and move forward through unimaginable sorrow and trauma and growth and just learning to close the door on the past and move on. it just hits me in the gut every single time I think about it.
anyway, that’s that. thanks for giving me this space.
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Trumpself: the only real desire Trump feels is a ferocious and animalistic desire to brutalise, humiliate and main anybody who tries to love Trump. Trumpself had to rip out Ivana's hair at the slightest pretext. Why? Because it's fun when you're spoiled. Even in the case of a woman... just a sort of practice bitch on the world you're too spoiled to join in with, only having ever been spoiled by a white dominator, you're only ever wanting to white dominate it.
Trumpself and the Trump 5: never will trust you unless you earn it, make the effort to show you care. All efforts you did to earn it in the past and show you care are for naught, nothing, we spit them up in your face, fuck you you piece of shit, baby only wants to TAKE TAKE TAKE TAKE GIMME GIB MIR DAT FOR FREE GIB MIR MORE PAMPERS ME BRIEFSBOY WHERE YOU GET THEM FANCY BRIEFS FROM... PAMPERS MIR I SED!
(no offence to Pampers brand diapers, as I was just passing them today and realised I'm the kind of existentialist who finds everything on earth exquisitely meaningful to the point of it almost being torture... it's not quite a nihilist save for those masochistic nails being driven into oneself by one trying a little too hard to apprehend reality)
Trumpself: I'm a typical American and cuck of Trump but want to frame that Canuck who can scarcely even stand to be in my country and gets the fuq out of it and cries like a little bitch over the thought of having to even set foot in it most of the time... as one.
Trumpself: I can never trust anyone or anything, because my daddy spoiled me too much and provided the shelter that said the outside world is not to be trusted.
Trumpself: Doesn't understand that things don't grow by gobbling them all up and by painting oneself in neon tones of silver and gold all the time. Do you know what that is, kids? That's called garish. That's called capitalism. That's called what you kids would call a clown -- overwrought kitsch and camp -- ye who is so dismissive of gay culture yet so eager to find value in the Gods and the Devils of Christ Inanity -- would be less of a nerd if Christcuckself and Trumpself knew what KITSCH and CAMP are, especially in the pointless selfpromo land of what you kids call 'late capitalism' in which people can't even string 4 chords together decently but give 'interviews' as if anyone should care about the 'artist' who has apparently learned the lessons of The Apprentice... make some crap but don't worry so much about the crap as the fact that American life is about mastering MARKETING MARKETING MARKETING...
You know, whatshisface and my mother say that the Trump 4 aren't worth my time -- for some reason they go easy on my brother, and that reason is a simple reason: this is how American patriarchy and dumbing down work... it's always THE EVIL DADDY MUST DIE, but the son who is even 'neckier and dumber than the evil daddy must be... coddled and shown pity... until perhaps everybody's dead and he's left to be THE EVIL DADDY or give birth to some of em...
It's really so... tiresome, America.
But whathisface has a point... why, exactly, do I waste my time on the Trump 5... for the penetrating insight into typical America? For the game of seeing if selfish boys who never learned how to love can be reformed and taught to do more other than fish for material goods and prizes and money and toys, soaking humanity for what you can soak as is the teachings of the Trump and the Nation who cucked em'. Is there a childlike element in me myself in which the big world and its unanswered questions, it's challenges of 'speaking French fluency' or 'earning enough money to retire' seem so overwhelming that dwelling on the past and past betrayers is a sort of safe space, a small pond in which I win every argument but can never win so much as a sincere apology and expression of remorse with any of the Trump 5, let alone shift their value systems out of what they think are 'smart' value systems (the value systems of Kid Rock and Trump and various Cuntry music superstars and all that cornpone crap of belittling others all the livelong redneck day whilst getting one's Wascally Wabbit on when on a sugar high and making excuses for the values of sportsmen, if such males can be called men -- the sportsball and YOU'RE NOT GONNA GET WHAT YOU WANT THROUGH THE GUBBAMINT OR MY TAX DOLLARS CERTAINLY YOUR SOCIALISATION IS BULL YOU CANNOT BE TRUSTED CErTAINLY YOU WILL NOT GET WHAT YOU WANT OUT OF ME FOR I AM AS UNLIKELY TO GIVE IT YOU AS A COLICKY BABY IS being all the suburban white Wonderbread truly has in mind for the world --
Why, exactly, other than every protagnoists needs antagonists because too much art -- especially too many films and tv shows -- were designed in this way so my mind has been warped by them -- although that's the state of the world too...
Every 'Merica needs its Russia
Every France needs its Germany
and the vice-versa
Pourquoi, though... pourquoi specifically... well, that already delineated everything that came to mind off the top of my head, but it still feels like the real motherload of the answer is in Mommie's mind and invisible to her. Either that or Mommie is self-sabotaging by painting her superficial immediate reaction as 'not nearly insightful enough, the mere glaze of an isnight'...
Hmm, well, this is one of those 'how many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop questions' and since I feel like maybe it could be answered by rewatching Tootsie, the movie, I'm clearly ready for bed, since, objectively speaking and objectivistly speaking, I doubt Tootsie actually really is the answer to the puzzle -- though I half think it probably actually is the answer.
At the very least, these people like my daughter Christina should consider that Mommie thinks all the homosexuality is the earth telling the human race that 8 billion people is too many so go stick your dick into shit-coated asses rather than make any more of them for fuck's sake -- and just look at dumb dumbs like Elon Doofus trying to fight mother nature on this and get everyone to breed some more for capitalism -- anyhow, Montréal actually posits Degrowth as good urban planning and policy -- and if homosexuality has anything to do with James Lovelock's Gaia hypothesis, famously transmuted by Will Wright -- Lovelock served as an advisor! -- into SimEarth -- well, kiddo, then you'd better put down the Pantheon of Gawds and roll around in everything twinkletoes you can possibly get your hands on because that is -- to do an involution of a mostly unrelated book by Iris Murdoch -- The Message From the Planet.
Also, I think homosexuality has something to do with those ants with wings and lesbians in the beehive but I haven't really looked into it. It's different in humans though because it's sort of more exclusive, but is it? Because I did have some hookups with the womens, and think of all the gay mating behaviours of the humans, how many ON THE SURFACE fuck the womens all the time, 'cluding Bruce.
Dragonflies are apparently really gay. I used to have a poem about dragonflies memorised in German, but I only remember some lines from it these days. I'm not sure I've read it in translation, though you'd think I'd have done so when learning the meaning.
Anyhow, this English version seems very unfamiliar... I don't remember the thing being called JOY at all, but this is the poem. Goethe is proof that all Germans are not as stupid as Nietzsche, and he came much earlier, which made all his prowesses, of which there are so very many, far more impressive. Goethe is a German I can still get behind even if so many of the others -- Hegel, Kant, Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, Heidegger, even Habermas... seem to be, well, not rubbish, but let's just say uh, not where I'm looking anymore... i'm not even looking to The Frankfurt School though I'd mostly approve of them and would look to them before the rest of that batch, in a spiritual sense, I do believe. Plus The Frankfurt School was something Camille Paglia just wanted to throw out of academia so she could write about having the hots for Diana Rigg from The Avengers instead... anyhow, she later acknowledged wanting to write about MOO - VIES as a mistake... I do respect the movie people, I just seem to really lack the patience to write about movies. I don't respect lack of patience, either, but I guess I'm just a book guy and a music guy before I'm a movie guy. Jesus Christ, a movie is gonna move at its own pace... a book moves at your own, and music is adjustable for the pace you want -- I so often choose a faster tempo even though reggae is my favourite genre.
Reggae tries to put the world onto the OFFBEATS -- a rhythmic, stead offbeat world -- and that seems to suit me well as a homo, not to mention as a force of whatever anti-Wonderbread anti-nuclear counterculture I might be.
Although damn, speaking of sleepy Habermas... do you find him sleepy too kids, or is that just me? I would imagine many do... anyhow, that stuff about Habermas on 'and thus is merely TOTALIZES, blah blah blah TOTALIZES IT and TOTALIZES IT'... that was kinda some intense stuff.
The poem:
Joy
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
A Dragon-Fly with beauteous wing
Is hov’ring o’er a silv’ry spring;
I watch its motions with delight,
Now dark its colours seem, now bright;
Chameleon-like appear, now blue,
Now red, and now of greenish hue.
Would it would come still nearer me,
That I its tints might better see
It hovers, flutters, resting ne’er!
But hush! it settles on the mead.
I have it safe now, I declare!
And when its form I closely view,
’Tis of a sad and dingy blue
Such, Joy-Dissector, is thy case indeed.
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Miraculous: Tales in the Opposite Universe (Inversed Personas AU) Chapter One part 3/3
This story is a fanfiction (Not an official script for an episode of the TV show). Some characters result from Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir (original title: Miraculous: Les aventures de Ladybug et Chat Noir). It contains some original characters (OC) but they're fanon. All rights reserved to ZagToon.
Part one part two
In another alley from the parallel Paris, Cat Noir was detransformed. Adrien talks about the strange day he was just living with Ladybug.
Plagg: "What a strange adventure we're living, Adrien: An akumatized villain who's travelling across parallel worlds, two other heroes, a "charming" Butterfly girl."
When Adrien hears the word "butterfly girl", he's thinking about to be kissed by Lycène Bleue during the battle (His love for Marinette is more important). He feels ashamed and guilty at the same time.
-Adrien (blushed and annoyed): "Plagg !"
Adrien was still thinking he's responsible for Lycène's escape.
-P (sighing): "It's possible we can eat some cheeses from this world. (licking his chops) Mmhh… Parallel cheeses. I would know what cheese tastes like."
-A: "You will know when we'll buy theses, Plagg. I hope I have some money on me for that."
He quits out the alley.
-A: "I hope too there aren't hysterical fans to run after me."
While Adrien goes back to his home (he seeks the Agreste Manor from this other world), an unknown boy calls him from the other side of the street: "Hey ! You ! You are Adrien ?"
-A (thinking): "Oh no ! As we talk of WOLVES…"
He turns to see behind.
-A (sighing and pissed off): "Yes. It's me. I am Adrien Agreste. Do you want an autog…"
Adrien finds out there is a group of three boys and one girl: they look like delinquents. The gang is leaded by a teenage ginger boy who is the shortest of the group. And their faces surely indicate they don't seem friendly.
-Ginger Boy: "We finally found you, you bastard. little piece of…"
Adrien is confused to meet people who are capable to speak ILL of him (and directly at him !). It was never happened to him before (certainly not since he goes to Françoise Dupont middle school since the first day). Each bad guy raises his baseball bat as weapon. Ouch ! Adrien has a bad feeling.
-GiB (intimidating): "You finally will pay us for your nasty jokes, Prince of Pranks. Your cousin (Félix) is not here for saving you this time."
-A (worried and thinking): "Prince of Pranks ?"
-GiB (menacing): "Catch him, pals !"
Adrien is afraid. He runs away while the group is purchasing him. During the run, he crosses so many roads without watching cars in circulation. Listening his instinct, he violates pedestrian crossing. That's making stop some cars (drivers were retaking their paths after Lycène's lastest attack). Some drivers yelled after the "mad boy".
-A (feared and thinking): "It must be a nightmare. Please, Ladybug. Save me NOW !"
After a long chase, Adrien ends up finding a hiding place by sneaking into an alley.
-A (short of breath): "What the hell is this madness ?"
-P (sarcastical): "It seems everyone's hating you instead of liking you, Adrien. (slightly laughing) Prince of pranks."
-A: "Shut up, Plagg, and transform me. Claws…"
Suddenly, a voice is speaking behind him.
-?: "Oh ! It's you, Adrien ?"
Adrien recognizes Wayhem's voice. Still under the shock because of the run, he tries to tell a lie to the latter. But he finds out a former Rouge Chance in crouching position: This boy was mourning alone.
-W (sadenning): "Are you okay, troublemaker ? I am not."
-A (compassionate, trying to apologizing): "If it's about the battle, it's isn't your fault. It's only MINE. I am sincerely sorry. You are Rouge Chance, right ?"
-W (a little surprised): "You've watched us ? Fine. But Rouge Chance is no longer active. Don't blame yourself."
-A: "I feel guilty for the lost of your Miraculous, believe me. Do you remember these other heroes from another world ? I have a personal secret to confess to you, Chance."
-W: "What do you mean ?"
-A: "That's the secret I'm going to confess you. I am Cat Noir. (to Plagg) Plagg. Claws out !"
Adrien transforms into Cat Noir under the teared eyes of Wayhem. The latter has ceased to mourning, stands up and
-W (interrogative but interested): "What kind of boy are you, Adrien ?"
-CN: "A boy who tries to be friend with people like you, Wayhem. I'm just searching the good point in each person."
Wayhem is already realizing the Adrien is not really the Adrien he knew. Thanks, lord ! Parallel worlds exist. He's actually seeing in Adrien as the opposite of the other Adrien from his world.
-W: "The Adrien I know has a bad reputation because of his pranks. His actions are reguraly… like Bad."
-CN (taking a entertaining tone): "Isn't my counterpart in this universe ? My "evil twin" ?"
-W (nervously laughing): "Yes, "Buddy Cat" ?
-CN (nervously laughing): "Nobody had never called me like that."
They laughed together. Thanks to Cat Noir, Wayhem is retrieving back the happiness. Cat Noir makes him remembering of Alley Cat and Cerise.
After a long time between the boys, the sun had already set. And Wayhem notices to Adrien the way is clear.
-W: "Do you want to come to my house ? Consider it as a refuge."
-A: "Of course. Merci, Wayhem."
-W: "I thank you for boosting my moral. Your secret stays top secret with me."
-A: "Cool."
-W: "And one last advice: Be careful of other residents. They will be surprised to see you."
-A: "How many of you are living here ?"
-W: "That's a surprise, buddy."
-A: "Okay. I follow you."
They're going to the Wayhem's place for relax for the night. Tomorrow is a new day for Adrien.
A new adventure awaits Marinette/Ladybug and Adrien/Cat Noir.
End of chapter One.
<-Previous
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gibs smooch ! mwah mwah (ꈍ ᴗ ꈍ✿)♡
THERE was a slight curve of his lips , rugged features and all showing as minimal as he could. ❝ You've no shame in being a thief do you? ❞ the wanderer spoke lowly. brows knitted to fit the mood. Of course he had jested about the few kisses stolen by the woman, who as always had no shame. Her silken locks were toyed with between his calloused fingers, admiring the beauty before him - despite her stolen kisses.
❝.. A greedy one at that.❞ Yasuo huffed lightly. Digits moved strands behind her shoulder, leaving her cheek exposed. Skilled with not only a sword - he swiftly placed his thumb against her cheek and held her chin upward to meet his gaze. There was no use of charms or magic .. maybe a bonified seductress beneath it all. ❝Are you expecting something in return I wonder? I protect you, yet it seems I must also protect your lips ... ❞ He was a swordsman not a poet, though often than not the calming of poetic words brought some ease.
He stared longer at her plump lips, debating on if she truly deserved to win her hunt or make her play a little longer. Yasuo felt his guard grow weaker when he was around her, wanting much more than his duties. Thumb brushed idly against her soft cheek, his other hand finding its way to her waist. A kiss was what she wanted .. and a kiss she shall have. A few strands of his own hair fell between their faces - but that did not stop him from holding the kiss just a few seconds longer.
❝Your lips are mine to protect now. Consider that a promise.❞
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Hi wolfie!! This be a greedy panda, asking you for something somft. Because 31. swaying side to side whilst hugging, Im. Somft. Gib.
Gib please. Love you ~
I did this with Geraskier! Taglist undercut!
CW: canon typical injury, injury recovery and Jaskier being a bit out of it on potions
_
Pain.
That’s all Jaskier had known; blinding pain. His side burned from the oozing wound, infected and really fucking sore… or at least it had been. Geralt had dragged his broken and half unconscious arse to a nearby healer, and now Jaskier felt like he was flying.
The pain was swiftly becoming a distance memory as he drifted happily in the tiny little healers hut. In fact, he wasn’t even sure why he had to lie down anymore. He wasn’t hurt! He felt fucking fantastic, nothing in the world could bring him down. With that in mind he decided he was done being a lazy shit, and ready to go out into the world again. People to see, music to write, ooh maybe he could even visit Cidaris and give Marx a piece of his mind. It had been far too long since they’d verbally sparred, and he found he rather missed it.
“Time to go!” he declared as he tried to sit up, but there were hands pushing him down onto the table. “Oi! Geralt!”
“Stay still,” the witcher grumbled.
“I’m fine, darling. Now. Let. Me. Up!”
“No.”
“Geralt,” he whined, pouting up at his friend.
His very pretty friend. Really Geralt was unfairly attractive; tall, strong, big man with the pretty eyes and hair to die for. Jaskier wanted to smooch him. He should be allowed to smooch him.
“Maybe later,” Geralt hummed, and Jaskier realised with a start that he’d said all of that out loud. “Yeah.”
He whined, covering his face with his hands, but that was even worse because then he could see Geralt. He wanted to see the pretty man with sunshine eyes, most beloved witcher, gorgeous, lovely, Geralt.
“Jaskier, shut up.”
“Don’t mean to,” he mumbled and tried to sit up again.
“Stay still, Julek.”
Jaskier’s jaw dropped open and he stared up at his friend with wide eyes. He was sure Geralt had never called him that before… no one had. No one had ever cared about him enough to even think about it. He whined again, reaching for Geralt’s hand on his shoulder. “Geralt,” he whispered… or at least he thought he’d whispered it. Clearly he had no idea what nonsense was spewing from his mouth right now, but he didn’t really care.
Julek.
“Hnnnng,” he choked out, struggling to stop himself from throwing himself into Geralt’s arms.
“Stitches aren’t done, then I’ll hug you, but carefully, Jaskier.”
“Okay,” he mumbled, still pouting up at his friend.
He felt restless, even with Geralt’s hand in his and the touch on his shoulder. It was hard not to try and fly away. He wanted to fly, to sing, to scream out to the sky, but Geralt’s touch kept him grounded until finally:
“All done.”
“Well, thank fuck for that!” He laughed and tried again to stand up, but despite the lack of pain, his legs gave way underneath him. “Oh shit!”
Luckily Geralt caught him or he would be a mess of bard on the floor.
“Still a mess of bard,” Geralt chuckled as he held Jaskier steady.
Oh… they were hugging! That was nice. Jaskier giggled and wrapped his arms around Geralt’s neck. “Say it again?”
“You’re a mess?”
“Oi! No! Not that!”
“My Julek,” Geralt murmured, pressing his lips to Jaskier’s temple.
Ooh didn’t that just give him weird fluttery feelings in his chest. This was flying, he decided. It must be. He felt like he had wings! He could soar above the world and never have to look down, and Geralt would soar with him… because- because…
Oh.
Because Jaskier loved him.
“I-”
“I love you too,” Geralt replied before Jaskier could say the words, unless he’d already said them. Who could be sure?
He decided not to think too hard about it and just swayed into the hug, too tired to dance but still unable to hold still. Geralt’s hand pressed into the small of his back and they stayed like that for… well Jaskier wasn’t sure how long. It could have been forever or just the span of his heart beat. He sighed happily, swaying gently in his witcher’s embrace, the man he loved and who loved him in return.
_
Taglist: @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde, @comfyswitcherblanketfort, @fontegagrilledcheese, @dani-dandelino, @dapandapod @damnbert @officerjennie @feraljaskier @geralt-of-riviass @kueble @gilberik @llamasdumpsterfire @wherethewordsare @trickstermoose67 @alllthequeenshorses @skai6 @karolincki (Lmk if you want to be added)
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lots of innocent and not so innocent touches
With Dwayne Pride if you wright for him if you don't just Gibbs please <3
who - leroy jethro gibbs x reader
an - i’m sorry! i haven’t seen ncis new orleans, so i probably couldn’t write dwayne very well … hope this is okay, for some reason i had trouble writing it :/
please continue to send in asks !!
unedited :/
Blankets surrounded your body, your leg ontop of another while light snores left your mouth. Hair was messed up and a hand was slowly moving to stroke your cheek. The curtains allowed peaks of the sunlight to peak through in your bedroom. A man lying beside you in his sweatpants and old tee.
The grey haired, older, man kept his eyes on your peacefully sleeping face, truly enjoying whatever dream you were imagining. He made no move to remove your leg from the top of his, but did make a move to place his fingers above your face, lightly pushing some stray baby hairs away.
A part of him silently cursed to himself, wishing that he had learned how to work his phone better, then being able to snap a photo of this calming moment for his own purposes.
Gibbs wouldn’t admit it to you, but these moments were more important to him than working on a boat, or the thrill after finally catching a bastard. There was something so domestic, so calming, with these times spent together. Time for him to think to himself, and also have the one he loves so much be so close.
Time to think about the past, and wonder how he got lucky enough for it to land here. Though, he may have lost a lot, and they would never be forgotten, he was grateful for another opportunity at pure happiness.
But his time to enjoy the peacefulness soon ended with a ring of a cellphone, causing you to stir a bit in your sleep. You eventually opened your eyes, staring up at the man who now had the hand that was formally on your face, resting on your chest.
“What’s that?” You questioned, trying to sit up and rub your eyes. “Can you get it?”
“It’s your cellphone,” He answered, missing the warmth of your leg, now having it be moved to lay on the mattress itself.
“Mmk,” You mumbled, reaching over to your side table and grabbing it. Flipping the screen up, you moved it to your ear. “L/n,” You tried to make your morning voice sound more as your own.
“If it isn’t little Y/n!” A cheerful voice spoke loudly on the other line. “Ya miss me?”
“No. What do you need?” You rolled your eyes, getting off of the bed, Gibbs eyes traveling your body as you walked to your dresser, picking out a outfit. “Mhm, okay,” You nodded to yourself. “I’ll be there, text me the address. Oh. Never mind then. Bye.”
Gibbs got out of the bed, going to stand beside you. He silently observed as you rolled your eyes once again, opening another drawer, he snaked his arms around your waist and pulled you into his chest, a small kiss on the inside of your neck.
“Who’s that?”
“A old coworker.” You opened your underwear drawer, picking a pair for the day.
“Purple,” Gibbs commented, as you dropped the blue pair back into the others, reaching for the one he chose.
“Gosh, it’s like we really are married,” You laughed to yourself, looking back at his straight face. “Sorry, you would know too much about that. But that’s not my point, there is a dead marine there and that means we’ve got work.”
“You didn’t seem to happy to hear from him,” Gibbs unwrapped his arms as you moved to your closet, picking out a dress shirt.
“I wasn’t. He’s annoying and almost cost me my job at the time. But, it’s our job, we have to go, so grab your clothes in the bottom drawers,” You turned around and pointed at the dresser that held some of his items, now finding what you needed and beginning to change.
———————-
“If you are all interested to know… I spent the morning watching a old TV show airing about a classic comedic couple who travels the world with their adopted son,” Tony announced to no one in particular, sitting at his desk as the others sat at theirs.
Ziva had her arms crossed, leaning back in her chair a bit. McGee sat in his, rubbing his eyes and looking down at his phone.
“What did you do this morning, McGee?” Ziva looked over to McGee, watching as his eyebrows furrowed.
“Trying to work on my new writing.. but for my character, uh, Miranda, I need a good backstory for her, people are really grasping onto her character from the former story. I’ve read some things saying they think she’ll get with Gibbs, I mean Libbs!”
“Interesting,” Ziva tsked. “I read the story and your Miranda character, who is obviously Y/n, and I don’t see it.”
“You know nothing about romance, Ziva,” Tony waltzed over, his own coffee in hand and his face near hers. “I think no one expects you to think about who would get together. But, no, I don’t see Gibbs getting with someone like L/n who is very, you know-”
“I’m what, DiNozzo?” You walked in, moving straight to your desk as you placed your bag down.
“Amazing! I meant, you’re so great that someone like Gib-” Tony looked at Ziva’s eyes widen. “He’s right behind me, isn’t he?”
“Someone like me, now what’s that, DiNozzo?” Gibbs questioned.
“Uh-” Gibbs smacked the back of DiNozzos head, moving over to his own desk.
“Dead sailor, body is already getting examined by Ducky and some visitors are coming to drop off some of the evidence.” Gibbs informed everyone.
“They think this sailor had something to do with a past robbery and murder, a cold case,” You clarified.
“L/n!” A guy smiled widely, another girl following in pursuit behind him as he walked to you with his arms wide open. “It’s been too long,” He quickly hugged you, tightening his grip around your shoulders and moving his hands to cup your face. “You still look as beautiful as ever!”
“Y/n, is that your boyfriend?” Ziva inquired.
“He looks a little out of her leagu-” You shot DiNozzo a look. “Or not?”
“Ah no,” The man laughed. “Old coworkers, that is Lila and I’m Carson, nice to meet you guys.”
“If your old coworkers, you must have a ton of embarrassing stories about Y/n!” DiNozzo beamed, moving closer to Carson.
“Uh, a few,” He responded. “We only worked together for a year or two, some, but not a ton.”
“Some will do.”
“DiNozzo, we aren’t here to make friends we are here to solve a murder,” Gibbs shot him a look and hit the back of his head.
“Right, sorry, boss.” DiNozzo put his head down like a sad puppy dog and made his way back to his desk. The two visitors looked at the scene that had just happened oddly.
“We brought all of our evidence, not much, but something,” Lila announced, placing the box on the table now and taking some of it out. “Should we get started?”
“I’ll show you to Abby, she is our forensic analysts and will probably want to take a look at this stuff for herself,” McGee told Lila, putting the evidence back in the box and letting her grab it, soon walking towards the elevator.
“You think I could check out the body?” Carson asked you. “It might be good to see what he looked like more and talk with your doctor.”
“That makes sense, I’ll show you to him,” You smiled at your old coworker and took another way to Ducky’s area.
The both of you chatted on the way down, catching up with how things differ since you worked there and a bit about your new workplace here.
“I really thought you would be Jeremy, the one who called me. I was a bit worried,” You laughed, walking into Autopsy with Carson as Ducky moved near you.
“Hello, dear, who’s this?” Ducky questioned, Jimmy moved near his boss.
“Hey, Ducky, this is Carson. Carson, this is Doctor Mallard. He is a old coworker of mine, Ducky,” You told the older man. “That’s Jimmy, he is Ducky’s assistant.”
Ducky began to explain how the man had died, pointing out various things on the body and even putting in a few past experiences of his own into the conversation.
Soon the four of you had heard the doors open, turning around to catch the view of your boyfriend entering into the room and moving to stand right in between you and Carson.
“I just want to hear some of the explanation myself, you can continue, Ducky,” Gibbs commented, all of your eyes turning back onto Ducky who was back to talking.
You felt a warm, larger hand travel to the middle of your back, a thumb softly pressing into the fabric that covered your skin. You turned your head slightly to make eye contact with Gibbs, but he just continued to stare forward ignoring it.
It was like a goosebump went up your spine, yet it wasn’t not encouraged. It was a bit of a energetic feeling, so you rejoiced in the innocent touch, a sign he was there.
Eventually, Ducky was done with his long explanation and you were back to heading upstairs with Carson and Gibbs to do more research regarding the deadman and cold case.
“So, Y/n, I was thinking we could go out to lunch or something soon to really catch up, outside of work,” Carson mentioned while you three were on the elevator ride up.
You were surprised at his somewhat boldness to announce this in front of your boss (and boyfriend), but he was always a very open person, kind and open.
“That doesn’t sound too bad,” You replied.
“We are busy most afternoons.” Gibbs added. “So, if you plan it at some ridiculous time don’t expect my agent to be able to make it.”
The doors soon chimed open and Carson quickly left, making a bee line straight to Lila. Gibbs let you leave first, placing another palm against your back to secretly lead you back to where the desks were, even though you knew where you were going.
———————
The rest of the day was spent with much more working diligently. You all had made some progress but not enough, and you could tell it was really getting to Gibbs. He dismissed everyone and told them to come back in the early hours in the morning.
Gibbs had told you that he was going to stay and work on this some more, so you told him you would stay as well and order some food. Once Carson had heard that, he decided that he would do the same.
A hour later, three burgers arrive and you hand them out to the two other men, soon taking a bite into yours. A bit of the condiment had spewed onto the corners of your mouth, but your hunger caught up with you, continuing to avoid the feeling for a moment and just eat.
Carson caught the look of your messiness, breaking off into a small laugh, and you joining, him then making a joke about how this used to be a regular for you. Gibbs got up from his seat with a napkin and bent over a bit to wipe it away from your mouth.
It was certainly a small gesture, but had caught you and Carson off guard, the both of you quieting. You just stared back at him while he continued to eat with a pride grin on his lips, looking over the papers.
It seemed like a blessing from the sky when Gibbs had finally connected the pieces. Everyone was called back in to look over what he found and to excite a plan on how to continue. You all were able to get the murderer into custody and with old evidence and Ducky’s help you were able to identify he was the killer. With Abby’s help you were able to put him at the scene where your old coworkers cold case took place.
It was a relieving feeling that the case was solved and over. It was easy to tell that your current coworkers were also happy with the fact that your old ones were leaving for good. Having unfamiliar people in a familiar place is always a weird feeling for everyone.
You watched as everyone packed up their things to head home from the tiring few days of work. Standing up, you grabbed your bag and moved to Gibbs desk, chatting with him until Carson came over.
“It was nice working with you again,” He commented, you turned around to face him.
“It was. We make a good team.”
“We really do. I was wondering about that, uh, date?”
“Hm,” That had slipped your mind, and almost did once more when you felt a brush of a hand against your bottom, turning around to make eyes at your boyfriend. “Sorry, I actually have a boyfriend. But if you mean the lunch date to catch up, then I’d love to.”
“The second one,” He nodded, his cheeks brightening a bit at the dejection but also confirmation.
“Great,” You grinned, writing down your phone number and handing it to him. “Talk soon, bye.”
“Goodbye.”
You watched as Carson entered the elevator and soon disappeared, the office area looking very empty with the lights darkened a bit and only you and Gibbs being in the area.
“Glad he’s gone,” Gibbs laughed.
“I figured,” You laughed alongside with him. “I could tell by your touchiness at work, are you trying to let everyone know?”
“If I was, I would do something bolder. Didn’t Ducky ever tell you I used to be like DiNozzo?”
“Yeah, that would be a interesting time to see.”
“I think if I was that same man, we might’ve had sex right o-”
“Let’s get home, now,” You both soon left the workplace, hand in hand, laughing along at stories of the younger Gibbs and his flirty persona.
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Me again !!!
I think 63 would be ADORABLE with boba 🥰 just him knowing you wanna gib kith whenever you pass by him so he just. Makes it that little bit easier for you. Even if he’s wearing his helmet, it’s such a habit that he doesn’t think twice. Plus I canon that he would love someone special kissing his armour 😌
Anyway why am I talking about soft boba what has gotten into mE-
Kyra this is like the fucking sweetest thing I’ve ever written oh my god
Boba x gn!Reader
Just a lotta fluff and Fennec being a snarky shit. Mentions of children at the end and brief mentions of smut
Join the celebration!
Boba Fett isn’t used to affection, let alone casual affection. Jango wasn’t a physically affectionate person, neither were any of the adults that ‘took care of him’ following Jango’s passing. So he doesn’t know what to make of it the first time you kiss him on the cheek of his helmet before he goes off world.
It’s platonic, at the time at least, and he has to stop himself from jerking violently away from you. You give him a soft smile as he steps on board the Slave I and Boba nearly has an existential crisis as he sits in the pilots seat. Fennec slots herself in the co-pilots chair, leg slung over the armrest as she laughs at him.
“Loth-cat got your tongue, Boba? Or does our little ward have you by the balls?” Boba’s visor snaps over to her as she speaks and he snarls under his breath,
“I should have left you in that blasted desert,” and Fennec laughs again.
-
He’s at least expecting the kiss when he gets home but what he isn’t expecting is for you to throw yourself in his arms and smother his helmet and visor in kisses.
“I expected you back on the planet three rotations ago, I was worried,” you explain between kisses and his back goes rigid as Fennec slinks away, laughing at him again.
-
Then you start sleeping together and it just gets worse? Is worse the right word? It’s not necessarily unpleasant, just unexpected because you kiss him every time you pass by. Every time he’s sitting at his desk, writing contracts or drinking a nightcap. A small kiss on his pauldron, the gentle brush of your fingers over his wrist, the ghosting of your lips over his cheek.
-
Then he has to leave off world again and you see him off, repeating the motion of the first time he headed off world. This time though it’s a kiss on each cheek and one on the barely exposed skin of his wrist. He almost, almost leans into it but then you pull back and tell him and Fennec to be safe, come back in one piece and try not to kill too many people. His eyes are still fluttering at the feeling of your lips on his skin and he swears that if Fennec mentions anything he’s going to shoot her.
She must know what he’s thinking because she doesn’t say anything, just chuckles a little bit as she flops into the co-pilots chair, shooting him a sly grin.
“Stuff it, Shand,” Boba snaps.
-
When he gets home this time he’s expecting your reaction. He’s expecting to be smothered in kisses as he descends down the ramp of his ship.
And you do. You kiss every available inch of him, whispering about how much you missed him and how glad you are that he’s home.
What he’s not expecting this time is that you remove his helmet for him as soon as you’re in the safety of his quarters, setting it on the closest surface and smothering his heavily scarred face in kisses as well. In the darkness and safety of his own personal area Boba leans into it, ever so slightly, his eyes closing as he breathes in your scent and his large hands grip your waist. That night he takes you to bed, making soft love to you and grunting praise as he ruts into you over and over again. As you’re laying in his arms, the moonlight from Tattooine’s twin moons lighting your features, Boba realizes he loves you.
-
Your daily affection becomes commonplace after that night and Boba doesn’t tense every time you press your lips to some part of his armor or skin. Sometimes he even leans into it, loving the feeling of your softness against his battle-hardened body and Fennec stops laughing at him about it.
Your affection is constant, welcome after so many years of change and eventually Boba finds that he loves when you pass him, dropping a gentle kiss to whatever part of his body is closest.
Boba won’t talk about how he feels watching you kiss the Mythosaur on his pauldron and the way his cock twitches in his pants when you do.
-
Yet again Boba has to head off world and you see him off, hating that he has to leave but knowing that it’s a necessary evil.
This time though, Boba leans into you. He offers up his cheek for you to kiss him, first the right, then the left. You’re so stunned that you freeze and Fennec is laughing, but for once it’s not at Boba. It’s at you and the shell-shocked look you have on your face.
“I’ll be back soon, little one,” he promises, thumb brushing across the skin of your cheek and you stammer a ‘be careful’ before they’re boarding and taking off.
-
He does it again when he gets home, throwing his arms open wide and offering up both cheeks for welcome home kisses that you happily supply him with.
“I missed your kisses while I was gone,” he admits later as you both lie naked in the bed you now share. He offers up the soft part of his wrist for you to kiss and you do, kissing all the way up his strong arm until you reach his face, straddling his hips and pulling him in for a deep kiss.
“That’s good, because I missed kissing you,” you tell him, gasping as he slides into your heat once more.
-
It goes like that from now on, Boba offering up his cheeks for a kiss every time he even so much as leaves the room you’re in and you oblige him every time.
Once little ones come along he does the same thing, squatting down so they can kiss daddy on the cheek before he stands to pull you in for a deep kiss. Then he’ll put his helmet on, offering up both cheeks for kisses before boarding his ship.
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