@candlewick-corporation: asked: “You’re cold. Come here.”
atlas winds carry no more cold than winters and altitudes he’s felt before, but combined with the shivers wracking his body more form within, a still daily reminder of its want for the familiar fluid burn. ugh, his aura must be running rather dry, too.
qrow’s not doing too hot if dysregulation reads on his features so easily. pale red eyes look longingly across the short distance between the men, and his hands run up and down his arms in soothing strokes. he can imagine if not already feel warmth from Roman’s body from here, and those ears do look quite cozy to have draped over a shoulder or back of the neck... body heat might make a nice enough substitu-
no, qrow wants to pull away from these vices. (and pretend like it doesn’t play right into the one where he pulls away from people, too.)
he moves forward, but one step at a time, all right?
he doesn’t know who to trust these days. While the rankings have turned on their head, it doesn’t exactly put Roman at the top of the list.
it likely shows in how long qrow halts and hesitates before shaking his head, ruffling up some friction from his own feathers instead.
“...i’m good, thanks.”
okay, maybe to the contrary, he scoots in to a little less than arm’s length, “though, i could sure use some’a that coffee we brought.”
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trying to distract myself from the very real fears i have about vol 2 by thinking about a ronance veronica mars au.
the story always starts the same. barb dies at the first blush of sixteen and nancy’s life shutters to stop. it’s senior year now, and around her everyone is making plans for their future, but nancy is stuck living in the past, haunted by the ghost of her dead best friend that everyone is too happy to have forgotten about.
then we have hopper, a washed up police chief with a drinking problem who barb’s parents hire as private investigator. nancy would, of course, con her way into being his assistant for access to barb’s investigation. (plus i love the idea of innocent, suburban good girl nancy wheeler sneaking out of her house at night and going around hawkins terrorizing people while hopper just sighs tiredly in the background)
but peace in hawkins only lasts so long, even without supernatural disturbances, and teens start dying again.
when eddie munson is named as suspect #1, nancy doesn’t think much of it. there’s little to connect chrissy cunningham and barbara holland’s deaths. but when her brother comes to her with his big pleading eyes and claims eddie’s innocent, c’mon nance, don’t you believe me? she finds that she does. and of course it makes sense her brother and her friends are mixed up with eddie munson. she’s more surprised to see her ex and his weird friend getting involved.
and while this nancy is really more of a solo act, steve and mike get all wide-eyed and worried and there’s someone out there offing high school girls, you really shouldn’t be wondering around on your own and that’s how nancy gets stuck with robin buckley, certified disaster who never stops talking and insults everyone without prejudice, who keeps looking at nancy like she’s waiting for nancy to laugh at her terrible jokes and it feels a little too close to how barb used to look at her and -
she was my friend, too, y’know robin tells nancy, one day, soft like the confession cost something, and nancy didn’t know that, or didn’t want to remember that. you weren’t the only one who lost someone.
(nancy is starting to suspect she lost more than just barb that day.)
and in between the casual breaking and entering and some light larceny, robin starts to take the shape of a friend. or something friend-like. robin does things like remembers how nancy likes her coffee, and shows up unannounced to hang around hopper’s while nancy works and never feels like the distraction she is. it makes nancy’s chest sharp.
and then fred benson’s body is dumped at nancy’s front door.
it’s as clear a warning as any, but all it does is piss nancy off. this bastard has stolen so much from her already. she’s going to be the one to put a bullet between his eyes.
and robin is right there, unusually calm in the face of nancy’s thunder. robin’s hand is a little sweaty and bigger than nancy’s, but she slots her fingers between nancy’s like she has the right to and swears she’s with nancy, whatever happens. it’s the sort of vow begging to be broken, but nancy is tired of being so alone.
the first time nancy kisses robin, they’re both soaked with terror, trembling from the relief of a near miss. she does it so she can blame it on the rush of adrenaline, but she’s never as good at lying to herself as she is to everyone else, and she’s been thinking about using her mouth to shut robin up for weeks now.
their only real connection is a misplaced loyalty to a dead girl. and there’s still a killer out there, painting a bloody target over nancy’s life. she isn’t even sure if she remembers how to be a part of the living anymore. but robin kisses her back like tomorrow is promised and nancy thinks it may be worth it to try again.
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This is a very body dysmorphia adjacent problem but I am constantly shocked by the size of my own tits. Second puberty hit me extremely hard in my 20s and I'm still frequently surprised by the way my body changed with the addition of a few cup sizes. Like I consistently forget about them until they're a little larger because of the point in my cycle or whatever else and I'm surprised by the intersection of the bra I'm wearing and my own body. It's not even a negative feeling. It was at first but it's like after almost two years I still haven't adjusted to the way my body has changed. Although honestly I feel like that applies to so much of my post puberty body. It felt like a point of pride that I still fit into clothes from my childhood essentially and now I don't even fit in the clothes I wore in high school for more reasons than one. I know at this point the way I developed means I am in many ways a version of conventionally attractive that can make me more visible but it still surprises me that when I dress in a way that is more cognizant of that fact I attract exactly that attention. Maybe it's because of the way that I was invisible for a lot of my developmental years in any even mildly sexual or aesthetic context but sometimes in my brain I'm still a gangly twelve year old that is too precocious and is only seen when she opens her mouth to make a smart comment.
Except I am not that girl anymore. I'm of above average height for a female, and I meet many western beauty standards. Personally I don't feel as if it's very obvious how attractive I can be with a lack of effort but I've definitely noticed I can turn heads with less effort than I feel comfortable with sometimes.
I often purposefully shrink my charisma just to not give off whatever means that strangers feel comfortable asking me for directions in multiple different countries.
Anyway all of this to say bodies are weird existing inside of them is even weirder and being here in a place where no one knows what I look like is deeply comforting because in a very specific way I do not feel comfortable with the way can be judged by others because of a lot of good genetics that allowed me to fit several eurocentric beauty standards at once.
It mostly exists outside of gender because I am either very in touch with my gender presentation or it's very much an after thought but when I can tell that other people perceive me being female in very specific ways it forces me to consider it in ways I hate.
That's why I've never wanted to label my gender expression or presentation because it feels so personal that declaring it publicly to anyone else feels violating.
There's also a lot of safety in my ability to pass and the ways in which I have been opted into other people's perceptions of me
But generally I only like to think about how other people perceive my gender so much as how I have chosen to manipulate it into what I wish for myself that day.
Maybe it's the religious upbringing (it most definitely is) but I just have a strong desire to never box myself in. I know I'm not the norm and like to remind everyone I know of that in as many ways as possible all the time but specific declarations about anything feel too rigid.
Nothing is definitive or for certain and as long as you know I'm not what you may perceive me as on first glance that's good enough for me.
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HC: Tommy has a cat who doesn't like many people, but she always demands cuddles from Buck.
Anon, you sparked a Thing™️
Tommy tells Buck he has a cat fairly early on in their relationship. She's his baby, as he calls her. He's had her since he came out to L.A, having adopted her from a shelter a few months into him working with the 118.
One of the first selfies Buck receives is of Tommy lying on his bed, and the cat curled up protectively on his chest. She's a tabby with a dusting of white around her nose that makes Buck wonder about her age. The way Tommy talks about her makes her sound like a kitten, fresh from the womb, but Buck suspects she's probably around 13-14 years old.
When Buck goes to Tommy's apartment for the first time, he warns him about her. Buck can tell Tommy's a little nervous with the way he keeps glancing back at the lounge as he talks, as if he's expecting the cat to give him some big lecture about bringing a boy home without her express permission.
"Now, don't take it personally if Luna ignores you. She hates pretty much everyone," Tommy says as he kisses Buck's cheek and drags him inside the apartment.
It's a nice place, pretty much exactly what Buck expected from his boyfriend (is that what they are now? Boyfriends?). It's full of trinkets from Tommy's life, but it isn't cluttered - a perfect mixture of clean and chaotic, exactly like Tommy himself.
Tommy keeps his hand on the small of Buck's back as he guides him through to the lounge. Buck likes the way Tommy touches him. It makes him feel safe, grounded, as though Tommy could catch him if he falls.
Tommy' s got a couch not too dissimilar to Eddie's, but a deep maroon rather than blue. And there, right in the middle and nestled among a mess of blankets that Tommy has clearly set up for her, lies the person (creature?) in Tommy's life that Buck has been the most anxious to meet.
Tommy makes a chirping noise with his lips and Luna's ears perk up. Slowly, as though her very bones are creaking, she untangles herself from the blankets and hops down from the couch with a quiet "brrrpp". She stretches deeply, ears flattening against her head and eyes screwing shut, and the look of pure bliss that crosses her face is enough to capture Buck's entire heart.
Buck looks at Tommy for guidance as Luna gingerly walks over to him and looks up at him with big, beseeching eyes.
"Go on," Tommy prompts, giving Buck a small nudge with his elbow. "Let her sniff your hand."
Buck crouches and stretches out his hand towards Luna, offering her the backs of his fingers.
"Hi Luna," he almost whispers as she eyes him suspiciously. "I'm Buck, your dad's - uh - friend."
Tommy scoffs from behind him. "I think we're well past the friend stage, Evan."
"I didn't know - I'm sorry - I'm your dad's boyfriend," he corrects, looking back up at Tommy with a raised eyebrow.
Tommy nods, looking pleased. "Much better."
Buck just about leaps out of his skin when a wet nose touches his hand, and he turns back to see that Luna's moved closer, and is sniffing his fingers with interest. He holds stock still, remembering Tommy's words about her crotchety temperament and not wanting to frighten her, lest she bite him, or worse, run away.
Luna continues her sniffing, tiny pink nose moving minutely as she inhales, and then, much to Buck's shock, she rubs her whole face against his hand, with what can only be described as a smug purr.
"I-" Buck begins, looking back at Tommy with wide eyes. Tommy himself looks a little stunned, clearly thrown by his cat's rare display of affection.
"Huh," he says, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at Buck and Luna with a deeply fond expression. "She's never done that before!"
Luna sits back on her haunches and gives a loud, croaky yowl, as though she's been a chain-smoker for most of her life. She nudges her head against Buck's hand and meows once again.
"I think she wants you to sit down," Tommy says, barely concealing his laughter at Buck's bewildered face. He takes Buck gently by the arm and gives him a quick kiss before directing him to the couch.
"I thought you said she hates everyone?" Buck questions, almost numbly as he allows Tommy to push him onto the plush cushions. The moment his ass has touched the couch, Luna leaps up beside him with a pleased chirp and climbs into his lap.
"She does," Tommy grins as he pulls out his phone, taking a quick snap of his extremely confused boyfriend and even more contented cat. "Clearly she has good taste."
Luna's purring is reaching volumes previously unknown to man, drowning out all other noise in the room as she begins to make biscuits against Buck's thigh. Her claws are sharp and needle-like, pricking into Buck's skin but he's too stunned to do anything more than mutely pet her silky fur.
"Wh-what do I do now?" Buck asks, looking at Tommy for guidance. He'd been expecting to possibly see a streak of Luna's fur as she raced across the apartment to hide under Tommy's bed - her favourite place apparently - but now here he is with a whole ass cat on his lap, one who apparently loves him and hates every other guest Tommy's ever had over, and Buck really has no clue where to go from here.
Tommy chuckles and reaches over to scratch behind Luna's ears before leaning forward and capturing Buck's lips in a soft kiss, his fingers gently caressing Buck's chin.
"Stay there, I'll go get us a beer," he says as he pulls away, and leaves Buck in the lounge with Luna. She's curled up completely in his lap now, tail tucked over her paws, and every so often she tilts her head up towards him, demanding scritches that he is more than happy to provide her with.
Tommy returns with two beers and hands one to Buck before flopping next to him on the couch, looping an arm around Buck's shoulders.
"I guess you've gotta stay forever now, Luna's not gonna let you leave," he jokes, and something twists in Buck's stomach, making him a little giddy.
He really likes Tommy - hell, he might even love the guy - but receiving the seal of approval from his cat is probably the biggest step in their relationship to date. Well, it really isn't but is sure feels like that. Like he's being welcomed into the family.
Buck sighs happily and rests his head against Tommy's shoulder, a small shiver rushing through him as Tommy noses his hairline, his lips brushing ever so gently against Buck's temple.
"Yeah, I guess I do."
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What kind of punishments would Lucifer give to Mc if they did a mistake without meaning it? NSFW of course!!
NSFW MDNI
Hrm, well, I dunno. I think if MC messed up on accident, Lucifer would probably be pretty lenient about it. I don't think he'd do much of anything, to be honest with you. I've always been of the opinion that Lucifer is only strict because he wants his brothers to be safe. And that obviously extends to MC.
That being said, it seems to me that you may be implying a different sort of dynamic exists between MC and Lucifer - one that they've discussed previously. So that an accidental mistake turns out to be something that's used as an excuse to indulge in "punishments" wink wink lol.
And if we're talking about sexy times, well, I have opinions on that, too. But I'm gonna put it below this read more 'cause we're getting a bit explicit.
I personally have always headcanoned Lucifer as a switch. I think he can absolutely take on that dom role if his partner wants him to, but I think he also likes to sub for someone he fully trusts.
However, if he's the one doling out punishments, then he's obviously the dom in this situation.
And if that's the case, I think Lucifer is a pleasure dom.
This demon is so madly in love with MC, all he wants is to make them orgasm again and again. And again. And then again.
I think the kind of punishment you're likely to get with Lucifer is a lot of edging. He's gonna bring you right to the brink and then deny you that final release until he thinks you've had enough.
I kinda think he'd probably tie you up, too. I can just imagine Lucifer putting you into some elaborate shibari - dark red ropes or maybe black because he likes to see you in his colors.
But that's only if he has the time to be that thorough. If we're talking a quick and dirty punishment, you know he'll make use of his tie instead. Depending on his mood, he'll wrap it around your wrists or tie it over your eyes or in your mouth.
I think he'd go for the blindfold most often. He wants to hear you whine for release. And he likes to keep you guessing. You get to just sit there, not knowing fully what he's doing because you can't see and he's too quiet to let you hear him.
By the time he's done, you're screaming his name and he's never heard anything quite so pleasant as that.
Neither of you are silly enough to think that this is going to actually deter you from making a "mistake" again. In fact, it's more likely to encourage your bad behavior. But Lucifer doesn't mind. Not if it gives him an excuse to make you come over and over again.
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