I’ve seen a lot of ideas about humans being on alien ships, and most are like “because of [whatever reason], it would be good if ships had one human on board” and there are a lot of stories that say that there’s only one human on the alien ship. But I don’t think that’s a good idea?? A lot of people have a hard time being a foreign exchange student a country where they don’t speak the language; I don’t think most humans could handle being the only human on an alien ship???? For various reasons, like loneliness/medical issues/etc. Being on an alien ship sounds awesome, but they wouldn’t have any support.
Maybe aliens don’t understand THAT; “Despite being capable enough on their own, humans have to come in groups of 2+ for some reason.”
“Let the humans choose their own groups; their social systems are much more complex, and despite their famous ability to socialize with just about any other species, if two humans ‘don’t get along’, meaning that they cause each other to have unfavorable emotions and occasionally will not cooperate, the result is negative for both the humans and the crew that they reside in.”
Maybe something like this?
The first time humans and the recently-contacted alien species “X”, the first to form an alliance with humans, attempt to team up, everyone realizes that they need to learn more about each other. They decide that should should be a simple exchange of personnel; these crewmen would work simple jobs on each other’s ships and interact with the crew in order to learn more about each other and how to successfully communicate. Both humans and Xs desperately want this to succeed. But, hearing rumors of the humans’ prowess, the X want to minimize any possible casualties, so they suggest that they exchange just one person each at the start; one X heads to the human command ship, and one human heads to the X’s.
Everything begins successfully.
The X on board the human ship is a model worker. It observes, asks questions, and when it doesn’t understand something, many humans surround and brainstorm ideas on how to explain things to it. Throwing out ideas left and right “It’s a bit like seeing color, but it’s invisible, and through the nose-” “No you idiot, it’s like those feel-auras it was talking about, but the nose is the sensory organ for it-” and eventually the X understands. In turn, when contributing ideas not easily understood by humans, it finds that many take this as a challenge, and will not stop bothering the X until they are sure that they understand. But with or without the aid of its new crewmates, the X never seems distressed that it can’t understand or be understood by others.
The human crew quickly notices that the X has not contacted its main ship, or for that matter, anyone else.
“Have you tried talking to your ship?”
“There was no need to try, I already know it won’t work because of conflicting signals.”
“Well, did you need to? Talk to your friends or family or anything? I’m sure I can rig something up if you need to.”
“I have no need to communicate with anyone as of now. Any information that will eventually need to be communicated will be included in my report to the High Command.”
“No, but did you WANT to talk to anyone? Like your family or something, so they know you’re okay? And I mean, I’m sure you must want to talk about how weird we humans are and stuff, right?”
“My family will be notified of my status when I return to the High Command. And all data I gather on humans will be included in my report.”
The X, despite being so far away from home and surrounded by pushy humans, does not seem homesick or lonely at all.
On the X’s ship, the human is enthusiastic and excited to learn new things at first. After all, they’re learning about and interacting with ALIENS; it’s freaking awesome. But it doesn’t take too long for the novelty to wear off and the human to realize that they are truly alone. No one else speaks a human language, or is physically capable of doing so. While translation technology makes communication possible, linguistic differences make both exact or truly accurate translations impossible, so it’s not the same as being able to have a simple chat with friends. And chatting with friends doesn’t come easily; technology between the ships is not compatible, and any communication signals from the human’s own communication device are cancelled out by signals from the Xs’ ship.
The human becomes isolated from all other humans, on board a ship of 200 Xs.
Any difficulty communicating is eventually pushed aside and ignored but the Xs; if the human can’t communicate an idea, and the Xs don’t get it, what can they do? They do not need to understand the human or have the human understand them in order to do their jobs, so there is no point in trying. They understand that this project is important to the alliance, but do not understand how important communication is to humans.
The human has no help from others; several humans asking the same questions might get the idea that communicating certain ideas are important. But there is also no one who could understand them, no one to brainstorm ideas with:
“Now, how do we explain the concept of smell to a species from a planet where no organism has a nose?”
“Oh! My cousin was born without a sense of smell, and we sort of explained things like…”
Any problems communicating human ideas, or understanding X ideas, they face alone.
On that note, the human finds it difficult to to relate with any of the Xs. Xs can socialize fine between each other, but their standards for camaraderie is much different than that of humans. Humans are famous for their ability to empathize with any species, but it is not a two-way street, leaving the human caring about their new ship-mates with little care for themselves in return. They do not put more effort in helping the human understand, nor do they go out of their way to interact with the human outside of work situations. The human knows that it is not the fault of the Xs, that this is just the way Xs are, but they can’t help but begin to feel unappreciated, unwanted, and depressed.
Having long-since passed simple homesickness and culture shock, the human just wants desperately to talk to another human. It wouldn’t have to be anyone from the same country, or someone from the same field of work, or heck, even someone who spoke the same language. Even humans who can’t understand each other’s words can have get an idea from hand gestures, and historically, people who speak different languages that live in proximity to each other develop new dialects or learn to understand each others spoken language to communicate. Even with an age gap, they’ve lived during some of the same world events; they could find something to relate to each other. Another human would understand how strange X biology is compared to human biology, right? Another human could make jokes, laugh at the new, awesome, and weird things that they encounter. Another human could confirm that their feelings were real, right?
Humans are biologically engineered for socialization after all. Their species survived and evolved over hundreds of thousands of years because of their social nature. Xs understand this, and have heard that humans occasionally might have special needs like extraneous physical contact, but do not understand the implications. That this made humans biologically dependent on socialization for survival. That humans’ mental, emotional, and eventually even physical states can deteriorate without affection from friends and family.
And so the human gets ill.
Not quite used to human physicality in general or variation in physicality between individuals, and after hearing the legendary stories of humans surviving seemingly impossible situations, the Xs work their human crewmate hard. The human, already emotionally exhausted from isolation, easily gets physically exhausted. They contract an illness not unlike the common cold, though it couldn’t be given that their current location does not have any traces of the virus. With proper rest, and maybe more chances to chat with some friends back on the command ship, would help the human immensely. But the human, in their emotional and physical distress, can not communicate the idea that yes, humans can recover from illness like this without 5 different medicines. That talking to loved ones, or someone, anyone, would do more than just make them happy but give them the emotional will to make them physically well. There are no other humans around to explain human medical issues, or to provide a cool cloth for their fever, or to talk to while they’re sick in bed and unable to work, or…
The Xs change course and modify their signals in order to send a message to the human command ship and inform them that the human has fallen ill. Afraid of retaliation and wanting to ensure good faith, they request a strategy, asking what needs to be done in this situation. The human ship responds; the X on their ship has recently fallen ill as well. Xs do not have the hardy immune system that humans do, and while precautions were taken, it still caught a cold. The decision to return the crewmates to their home ships is made. The information that they managed to gather during their exchange this time will be used for a more successful future exchange and other interactions in the future.
The X suggests to their commanders more precautions regarding illnesses, and also advises any future volunteers to talk as much as possible to the other humans; they love interaction, learning, and teaching.
The human suggests that a special channel be created for easy communication, and makes only one demand; it doesn’t matter what the other species demands, don’t you dare let anyone go alone, ever again.
when rowan finally gets to aelin, and she’s probably locked inside the coffin without any hope of ever getting out, so completely battered and broken physically but content because she knows she did everything possible to give her people, her court, her family a chance, and then suddenly she hears some kind of inhuman roar through the iron box that muffles almost all noise, but somehow this sound is loud enough to still hurt her ears even through the box, and screeching as someone physically rips open the box, and she can smell copious amounts of blood in the air and the entire cadre is there, summoned by Rowan for the break in a day earlier and using all of their strength to save the queen they want to serve from the one they deplore, and they shakily lift her out of the coffin but she can’t even be grateful because Rowan’s not t h e r e, and if he’s not with them he must be hurt and oh g o d s what if he’s dead, and she’s starting to lose it because she can handle whippings and beatings and torture but she can’t handle her mate being gone, not having been able to save him– and then there’s a shriek nearby and suddenly he’s there, her mate is there, in the same room as her, cut and bruised and limping but alive, and with him is Maeve, but something is different and–oh gods, her neck is broken, her mate killed the woman who has starred in every one of her nightmares for the last year, the ones that didn’t end when she woke up, when the pain from the bone deep injuries pulled her out of brief unconsciousness, her magic unable to heal so many extensive injuries, and not in an iron box, iron shavings sprinkled onto her tattered skin after her session every day before she could be returned to the coffin, Maeve is DEAD she’s finally gone, and aelin lets out the smallest sound of relief, and then rowan is next to her, snatching her out of his brothers’ arms quickly, but so carefully, tears building up in his eyes at the sight of her in so much pain, shaking with rage at quite how much blood and muscle is visible, and her mouth starts to move, and she wants to apologize for not telling him about the mating bond and for sacrificing herself and not telling him, but he can see it in her face and cocks his head in the way she knows means don’t you dare apologize, Fireheart and gods she has missed this effortless communication, and Rowan, everything about Rowan, her husband and consort and mate, and they’re both grasping each other tightly to assure that they’re real, because Rowan has seen his mate’s face day in and day out in battle strategy discussions next to Aedion and in the nightmares that never seem to end, and Aelin never thought this suffering would end but he’s here, he came for her even though they both knew he shouldn’t have, and she can’t stop looking at him, at that face she loves, and then he turns to face her directly and for a moment she thinks she’s seeing double–but no, there’s that scar above his left eyebrow, so the only thing that makes sense is– “You got a new tattoo.” her voice is quiet and hoarse, but still so unequivocally Aelin, and he wants to both laugh and sob into her because of course, of course that’s the first thing she notices, the first thing she says to him, the first thing his mate says to him after being apart for a year, so he nods and clears his throat, “I–our story needed to be represented there too. I mentioned the idea to Fenrys the morning you–the morning after our ceremony. And then you were gone, and…” his throat felt swollen shut, but he continued speaking. “and then it seemed only right that you had a place next to Lyria’s, even though I hadn’t learned my lesson and…” he trails off, but she can read the “failed you, failed you both but here again Maeve went right by me and I failed you” “Buzzard,” she says, and she could tell him all the same with her eyes and her face but after so long of nothing escaping her mouth but screams, it feels so good to talk, “I can’t have you taking credit for my abduction when we both know I’m simply too clever of a mastermind for you to have realized what was happening. And you’re here now, and that…I could never have asked it of anyone. You came.” “Of course I came,” he can’t stop looking at her, hands still wrapped gingerly around her emaciated frame, and if he hadn’t already rutting killed Maeve and Carn he would lose it right now at feeling her ribs poking at skin where there used to be layers of muscle. “I’m not just anyone.” his voice cracks, and he so so hates displays of emotion and mushiness but he needs her to hear it, to know. “I love you, Fireheart. You’re going to have to get used to the idea that I’m never going to let you go if we’re going to be mated for the rest of both of our fae lifespans.” and she’s laughing and crying, because of course she is, and this arrogant, territorial male is hers for all of that time, and she wants to ask after Aedion and Lysandra and Elide and Dorian and Chaol and Nesryn and the thirteen, but she knows he wouldn’t leave them defenseless for anything, and her mate is here and he knows he’s her mate and gods is she so glad to have the ridiculous buzzard in her life. He gets her out of the dungeon, out of the palace and she can feel him tense when they get into the sunlight and the iron in her wounds is visible, and he starts to growl but restrains himself when the sound makes her cower the tiniest bit, and he presses his lips to her temple but she can feel the wind delicately removing the tiny metal bits from her back, and her magic slowly, slowly starts to knit the skin back together, cell by cell, and then she’s in a featherbed sleeping finally because she knows there’s no way in hell he will take his eyes off of her for the next century, and a few hours later she opens her eyes because something thumps onto the deck of the ship, and she startles and clenches her fists because they must have found her, but then her door is thrown open and Lysandra is there, running to her with tremendous sobs, and she can smell the cadre in the hallway, and Chaol runs in too, but they’re both thrown out of the way by a volatile Aedion, and she knows something must be wrong because Dorian and Manon and Elide aren’t there, oh gods not Dorian, and she knows well enough that war comes with sacrifices, but it was supposed to be her, not her book loving best friend, and of her a moment they’re all crying together before Lysandra pulls a sealed envelope from her pocket, addressed to her in that regal script, and she bursts out laughing because of course he left her a note, of course he’s going to tell her he chose this, it’s so very Dorian, and she spends days like this, crying and laughing and healing and trying not to flinch at every noise and voice, wrapped in Rowan’s arms and catching up on hundreds of hours of sleep deprivation, until one morning he’s shaking her and she groans in opposition, but he pulls her to her feet and helps her to the deck, and her breath catches because she can smell it already–pine and snow and love and happiness and oh gods, they’re finally– “Home,” Rowan breathes in her ear. “We’re home, Fireheart.”
If someone adapted to your drawing style, should they give you credit??
Hmmm, I’m not sure how to answer this question…
Let me think. Theoretically, when I only started, I took A LOT of inspiration from burdge. There were times when people mentioned my style looked very similar to her, quite strongly. I gave credit whenever I took inspiration from one of her drawings (sometimes they led me to ideas and situations); but overall I drew it freehand, not using Burdge’s art as a reference. BUT I really REALLY wanted to branch off from that style, because I wanted to be myself.
If there was someone who adapted to my style, but with no intention to really change it, and not taking anything from themselves or other artists (so their style resembles mine as much as it’s physically possible) I think it might be kind of…credit worthy in a way? Or maybe not, it’s like. When someone’s style resembles the style of another artist who “was there first” people will notice anyway. The resemblance (even a slight one), is usually very striking, not to mention the whole style adapting.
THOUGH. I think there would be the difference between “adapting to someone’s style” and “adapting someone’s style to yourself”. I think the majority of people start with adapting to someone’s style, when they start drawing, but they don’t yet have a good understanding of what they do and who they are. I guess with time, even if someone used a certain artist’s style most of the artists want to develop their own way of doing things.
I can say with honesty I am not a big fan of people adapting to my style, but I always remind myself that they might be in the beginning of their journey, and they might really want to find something unique and their own, but it doesn’t happen over night, so I should never judge them for the point they are at this moment I see them.
That’s why I guess it’s never a good thing to bash someone in a name of a certain artist. Even if you see that resemblance to someone’s style, when it’s “not credited”, I don’t think it’s worth all the yelling. Unless it’s straight up tracing, of course. Though even then it might not be worth it.
Uh, anyway. I’m still not sure how to answer your question, I’m sorry. I guess…As long as someone doesn’t trace my drawing, and only takes inspiration from the style, it doesn’t have to be credited. Hopefully this person will realize eventually they don’t want to be the second someone.
So my custom icon contest ended today, but just cause it ain’t physically possible for me to do a custom icon for everyone doesn’t mean I didn’t want to do something that everyone could use if they wanted to, so I’m doing a full set of completely free to use avatars/icons featuring the companions from fallout 4 (including dlc characters)!
First batch features Macready, Cait, Curie and my boy Preston.
These are free for anyone to use on tumblr. Credit is not required but is appreciated. If you wanna use these off site I’d prefer if you ask first.
I woke up at about 2:30 to get ready to watch Sesnse8 and had some quality discussion with Mik ( @octanakin) about possibilities for 4x11 and I’ve come to share some Grade A spec with you all:
OK so, we know that Clarke has Nightblood, but as of yet, that Nightblood has gone untested. The show needs to introduce a way to show that the serum works. This made me wonder if the plot for next episode goes something like this:
1. Bellamy tries to get out of the bunker (this is the scene we get with all of the running, shoving and that culminates in the promo with Clarke holding a gun on Bellamy),
2. We, as the audience, know that Clarke would never shoot Bellamy, so that scene has left us all hanging, because most of us are only looking at it from one possible angle, I’m here to propose another:
3. In the promo we hear Jaha discussing the increasing radiation levels. (His exact words are: “The radiation levels have become critical” voice over-ed a screen showing the increased gamma, alpha, beta and infrared ray levels.
4. We have a shot of Echo saying to Octavia: “Your plan is to hope Bellamy come to your rescue?” to which Octavia responds “Yes.” I think this is a misdirect, and a good one. We all know how much Bellamy loves Octavia and what he would sacrifice to keep her safe. It makes absolutely perfect sense that he would risk it all to save her by stepping out of the bunker.
So if Bellamy isn’t coming to save Octavia, then who is?
5. Clarke and Bellamy have already had a (pretty intense) argument, about Clarke’s willingness to let Octavia die for the sake of Bellamy. I don’t think that Clarke has forgotten it. Clarke says to Bellamy in the promo: “What I have to. Like always.”
Now we come to the crux of my speculation. Clarke’s entire journey this Season has been about moving past advice she’s received from bad leaders. Clarke has very consistently relied on statements like “I bear it so thy don’t have to,” and “I had no choice” as excuse. Those statements are meant to imply that Clarke is making a sacrifice, but usually she’s actually trying to excuse the fact that she’s sacrificed others for the sake of her people. Every time Clarke (literally, I went back and checked) says “I had no choice” she is trying to excuse the fact that just like L/xa said way back in Season 2 all of her victories stand on the back of the sacrifices of others. Not truly on her. Even as Clarke tells herself “I bear it so they don’t have to,” others are bearing the true cost of her decisions for her.
The very first time that Clark says “I bear it so they don’t have to,” and actually physically takes on a possible sacrifice, is when she injects herself with the Nightblood.
6. So, with all that ^^^ being said: what if Clarke isn’t holding Bellamy at gun point just to keep him in? What if she’s holding him at gun point to keep him from stopping her from going outside?
7. We know, thanks to an interview with Bob, that Bellamy and Abby bond over their mutual concern for Clarke’s safety. And yet, Bellamy and Abby have spent almost no time together. Thanks to the stills, we know that they spend time together this week. Perhaps, Abby and Bellamy discover Clarke’s intent to go outside and team up to try and stop her?
8. Clarke knows that Bellamy isn’t a Nightblood, which means he is nowhere near as possibly resistant to radiation as she is. (I’m unsure if Clarke having Nightblood is one of those things that Bellamy and Clarke have discussed off screen or if they have a reveal at this moment.
9. Clarke will go outside (probably through a secret, second door, and find Kane, Octavia (probably Indra and Gaia as well) and bring them safely back into the bunker.
10. Because they need to test/show the effectiveness of the Nightblood, I think it’s possible that Clarke might begin to present with the symptoms of ARS (which we know is possible thanks to Luna showing up at Arkadia episodes earlier suffering from the disease).
11. Because they don’t know that the Nightblood serum was successful yet, it seems as if Clarke might die.
12. Now, my running theory since L/xa died has been that Clarke always waits too long to tell people what they mean to her. We’ve seen it with Wells, Finn and L/xa, every time waiting until right before the person died, the person is dying or the person is already dead.
13. In conjunction with Bellamy’s realization just last episode that even at the end of the world, he still couldn’t be open about his emotions with Octavia, it seems like we’re reaching a boiling point where both Bellamy and Clarke can no longer hold their feelings back.
14. What if this time, it’s Clarke who is dying/seems to be dying and we have a moment where she decides “I can’t keep waiting,” and she manages to eek out some sort of confession to/about Bellamy before she dramatically passes out.
15. This is all spec. Don’t hate me if none of this happens.
OK we all know Whitebeard and his crew but now imagine a fallenangel!AU where Whitebeard is the leader of a bunch of fallen angels, who where sent down from heaven bc of their sins and instead of their white wings, they turn night black and are hated by absolutely everyone
Now imagine Ace being one of the strongest fallen angels and being the most brutal/heartless creature and there you come, a innocent white angel, white wings, eyes that burn with passion and a pure heart- one of the strongest angels that fight for heaven
So, now imagine a fight between the fallen angels and the angels of heaven- good against bad- and since you and ace are pretty much on the same level, it’s clear to say; you’re going against each other. It’s a bloodbath, you and him keep fighting and then he does it, in one quick moment, he opens his giant wings and surrounds you, the lights turning into darkness and the disgustingly pleasing smell of him in your senses. You feel numb for a few seconds, then a hand touches your face, a quiet laugh is heard and then everything turns bright again, but something is wrong; you feel something burn on your chest, cutting deeper into your skin and you groan in pain. You look down, trying to find the source of pain and what you see let’s the blood freeze in your veins; a black print of Ace’s wings is tattooed on your chest, a white print of yours on his chest.
He turned you into his soulmate; you lost the battle.
Summary - The one where Jack gives you some assurance.
You and Jack were having a lovely evening in. After ordering pizza take away, drinking some wine, and watching a film, you were both now laying on your bed contently. Your head was on his chest and he had his fingers in your hair. As you looked up at him, you kept finding more things about him that you enjoyed. He was just so nice to look at. “Why are you with me?” you voiced suddenly. The amount of alcohol you had consumed (though minimal) clearly was impairing your filter.
“What are you talking about?” Jack almost laughed.
“I don’t know,” you said, still staring at him. He was looking down at you now too with a look of confusion written in his eyes. “You just, well, you look like that and I look like this,” you laughed lightly.
“Oh shut up,” Jack laughed back. “What are you even talking about?”
“I’m being serious!” you pressed. “You could have a million other girls who look way better than I do and who are way cooler than me and you choose me. I guess I still just don’t get it.”
“You’re being crazy,” Jack said with a shake of his head.
“I’m just thinking out loud,” you said. “Like, I mean, look at your eyes, right? They’re the clearest most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen. Mine are brown. Just plain old brown.”
“Now that’s not true,” Jack said, frowning a bit. “Yeah, your eyes are brown, but when I look I see little sparks of gold. I don’t have that.”
“I guess,” you mumbled. “Well, I like your hair. It’s always soft and looks flawless.”
“Your hair never tangles and somehow when you wake up you can put it in the most perfect bun,” Jack said. “How do you do that?”
“I like your tattoos.”
“I like your soft skin.”
“I like your smile.”
“I like your laugh.”
“I like your lips.”
“I like how my lips can touch you and you’ll react the same way every time.”
At this, you blushed a bit. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you huffed.
“Don’t you?” Jack teased. “So, if I kissed you right here,” he paused and let his finger trace along your jaw, “you wouldn’t let out the tiniest moan?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said again firmly.
Naturally, as Jack was a guy who always had to prove a point, he quickly placed his lips on your skin, kissing softly along your jaw. He stopped just below your ear and nipped at the skin a bit. As badly as you tried to hold back a moan, a faint one escaped your lips.
“Mhmm,” Jack hummed against your skin. “That’s what I thought.”
He had pushed you onto your back now and you stared up at him, your cheeks a little pink. “And if I kiss here,” he said, tracing down your neck to the low collar of your shirt, “I won’t get the same reaction?” Before you could even offer a reply, Jack began kissing down your neck to where your shirt exposed the curve of your chest. There, he nipped at your skin and began sucking harshly. You couldn’t help but arch your back a bit and let out another quiet moan.
Jack continued to do this all the way down your body. He had discarded your shirt and was now working at your leggings. He kissed down your body as every inch of your skin was exposed. When your leggings were off, he slowly (agonizingly slowly) kissed back up your right leg. He stopped when he got to the hem of your panties. You desperately wanted him to take them off of you, but he instead went to your other leg and kissed down that as well. “Jack,” you finally said, your voice coming out as no more than a whisper.
“What is it?” he asked, looking up at you with a cheeky smirk.
“You know what,” you said, almost begging now.
“I don’t,” he lied. “I need you to tell me.”
“Jack,” you whined.
“(Y/N),” he teased.
“I need you to touch me,” you said.
“I just don’t know what you want me to do.”
“Jack I need you to touch me, there,” you said. “Please, you know what I mean.”
“Begging is very becoming of you,” Jack laughed. He kissed back up your legs and, just when you thought he was going to touch you, stopped. “Now, do you want my fingers or my mouth or-”
“Anything Jack,” you said. “I don’t care. Surprise me. Anything. I need you.”
Jack laughed again and hooked his fingers around your panties and slid them down your legs. He brought his face closer to where you wanted him the most, and you felt his fingers touch your skin. The small touch alone set a shock through your body. Needless to say, when you felt his tongue lick a single strip along your folds, you let out a loud moan. His tongue continued to work inside you as his hands held your legs apart. “Oh my god, Jack,” you said, gripping his hair in your fingers. He hummed and looked up at you with his tongue still sending waves of pleasure through your body. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge. “Jack,” you whimpered, “I’m getting close.”
To push you farther, Jack pushed a finger inside you while still flicking his tongue against your clit. Only moments after he added a second finger, you came, calling out his name loudly as you did so. Jack stayed where he was for a moment, letting you ride out your high. By the time you managed to catch your breath, Jack was already stripped, pumping himself as he waited for you. When you looked up at him, he smiled and placed a kiss to your lips. Then, he lined himself up with you and pushed into you. Once he got to a steady pace, he looked down at you again with such loving eyes. He leaned down and placed gentle kisses to your neck while your hands reached up and tangled themselves in his hair again.
Jack was moving at such a loving pace which was somewhat abnormal for the two of you. Jack was usually so dominant and rough, so to see this side of him was making you fall in love with him all over again. “Are you close, babe?” he asked as he let his hand go between the two of you to rub your clit. The feeling made you gasp.
“Yeah,” you said.
“Me too,” he groaned, his lips still close to your ear.
“Fuck, Jack,” you said, wrapping your legs around his waist in an attempt to get closer to him (as if that was physically possible). “You’re so hot, Jack. And so fucking good to me.”
“(Y/N),” he said back, your name falling as a moan from his lips. Hearing him say that sent you over the edge, and that set Jack off as well. You were both breathing heavily when Jack pulled out of you and laid beside you on the bed. He was sweating and you turned on your side, reaching out to brush some hair away from his forehead. He gave you a tired smile then pulled you into his chest to lay on top of him.
“You know how much I love you, don’t you?” he asked, tucking some of your hair behind your ear.
“I do,” you said, smiling down at him.
“I don’t like when you doubt yourself,” he said softly. “You are incredible and beautiful and so so sexy. You shouldn’t compare yourself to anyone else, because you’re you and that’s what I like the most.”
You smiled and leaned down to press a small kiss to his lips again. “Thank you,” you said to him.
youre so unthankful for your followers on here and the asks you get wait until the day youre irrelevant and no one cares abt your blog youll miss getting 100 messages/day. you lit complain abt ppl giving u attention. ppl go out of their way to send you well thought out asks and you still only answer like 30%? we will get tired of you only answering witty asks that make you sound funny. i wonder how it feels having everyone's saying this behind ur back and hoping you'll finally get wht u deserve
oh don’t worry i get loads of what i deserve in real life
Stiles is too curious for his own good, and he can’t help himself, so he joins a website advertising to be a good place for “kinksters.” He just wants to be nosy and see what total strangers are up to. Then he meets Peter, who wants to be called Daddy.
Peter shouts the last words of the exorcism ritual and looks up expectantly. The demon sitting on his kitchen counter just blinks and him, then yawns. Peter’s tempted to just chuck the book he’d been reading from at him, but that wouldn’t accomplish anything but earn him a ruined book.Based on the prompt “I accidentally summoned some sort of demon and now it’s just kind of hanging around my flat”.
And anything by Veterization. I loved Red Wall. Very bleak and melancholic atmosphere, but with a hopeful ending.
Peter finds Stiles selling himself on the streets years after leaving Beacon Hills. He takes him in.
would you write a fic/headcanon about isak looking after a hungover even and even looking after a hungover isak? seeing the differences with what they both like and need when they're hungover and the comfort that soothes them <3 your work is incredible!
when Even is hungover:
Even doesn’t actually really get hangovers he’s that asshole who hangovers just don’t happen to
in fairness he isn’t a massive drinker, even if he wasn’t drinking in moderate because of meds and his health alcohol wouldn’t be his substance of choice (that substance would be a little more, ahem, green)
he usually gets a bit of a headache if he was drinking the night before and he’ll play it up like he’s going to die if Isak doesn’t get him a glass of water immediately, but he’s actually fine. Even usually wakes first too so he gets his own water and has a couple painkillers and he’s all good but he likes to make out to Isak that he almost died because Isak couldn’t be bothered to get out of bed to get his favourite boyfriend some water
Even doesn’t really get the love of alcohol if he’s honest???? like yeah some of it tastes nice but most of it tastes like shit and it feels bad to drink and he’s seen what a bad hangover looks like and he doesn’t get why people would do that to themselves. nah. not really his scene. too loud and too messy and too much.
when Isak is hungover:
now Isak is a different story
if Isak drinks he always ends up drinking harder than he probably should and he ends up with hellish hangovers and can hardly move for the next 24 hours
Even discovers pretty early on that Isak’s solution to hangovers (and most other things tbh) is to sleep it off. it’s not exactly a solution though????? because it doesn’t cure the hangover it just means Isak waits the thing out?????
Even’s had his fair share of big nights out and friends who do get hangovers so he knows some tricks and if Isak has plans to go out Even makes sure he has necessary ingredients in for his magical hangover cure drink
he also makes sure there’s a big glass of water next to the bed for when Isak gets in (he always leaves a cute doodle with it reminding Isak to drink all the water before he goes to sleep)
hungover Isak is the most pitiful and needy thing Even has ever experienced, right up there with sick Isak
Isak demands to be cuddled so he can press his face in Even’s chest and block out the sunlight
but he’ll also make sad tired eyes up at Even and pout asking for fried food (he swears it always help a hangover pass) but if Even tries to get up to make something Isak just about throws a fit so it always ends up with Even awkwardly phoning the take out place while Isak is using him as a life sized teddy bear
the main thing Isak gets with a hangover is more thirst than he feels should be physically possible, so Even makes sure they have a lot of juice in (he tries not to let Isak live off fizzy drinks, which Isak would if he could)
thankfully Isak isn’t one for vomiting everywhere when hungover, but there have been a couple of nights when Isak stumbled straight to the bathroom to empty his stomach before he does anything else (those are usually the nights that someone convinces him to do shots, he just isn’t meant to drink like that RIP)
but if he’s been sick the night before Isak will feel even more sorry for himself than usual and needs a lot of cuddling and kisses (only after he’s brushed his teeth, even Even’s love has limits he’s discovered)
when Isak gets the spins (this usually happens if he comes home drunk out of his skull) he’ll clutch onto Even like he’s the only thing anchoring him to this world. Even kinda loves it, though he doesn’t love the sound of Isak’s anxious breathing as he tries to regain his sense of equilibrium
Even’s magical hangover drink usually works pretty fast though and it doesn’t taste half bad so Isak doesn’t protest necking the concoction back the next morning
he does protest that Even won’t tell him what’s in it though. Even insists that it has to remain a secret otherwise what will Isak need him for???? Isak usually rolls his eyes and gives Even some sass, because he’s hungover not dead and death is the only thing that will stop Isak Valtersen’s sass
like I said, Even’s concoction works pretty quickly so Isak only really suffers for about an hour after he’s drained the glass, but he still feels kinda gross and sluggish after a night out so those days are always reserved for cuddles in bed and quiet activities like watching Netflix
Isak always whines and swears he’ll never drink again, and Even can’t help but laugh because he knows they’ll be in this exact same position in a couple weeks if not sooner
but that’s alright
because he’ll always be there to make his magical hangover cure and cuddle Isak back to full health
Request from anon:Hey, do you think you could write a Bucky x Reader based on the line “ I lost myself between your legs, your medicine is in my head ” from Jaymes Young’s song “ Habits of my heart ” please ? It’d be awesome ! :)
Note: I hadn’t heard this song before so I read the lyrics and also listened to it too and if I am perfectly honest this piece is actually probably based on the whole song but the line that was given in the request helped to open the piece. I hope this is what you were looking for and I apologise a) if it wasn’t and b) for being a dick to Bucky in this *strokes him* I don’t mean to be so mean :(
Bucky x Reader
Warnings: Smut. Oral foreplay, slight dominance, language, angst and heartbreak.
Disclaimer: None of the GIFs used are mine so all credit goes to their wonderful creators <3 ….and obviously the lyrics in the request are not my own.
Here’s a little something for you. I am so glad that this time I got something out for your birthday. And I didn’t forget to tag you. It should have been up at your midnight but I will assume there is still somewhere when it’s just the beginning of your birthday.
Emma’s leg started jittering as she waited for her laptop to power on. She missed the comfort of her bed but with the wine she had already drank she was reluctant to get too relaxed, lest her mind wandered to less than innocent territories that she wasn’t ready for yet. She still believed that online dating sites were a farce, especially ones with the cliched names like - Happy Endings. But, drunk Emma made questionable decisions and signing up to an online dating site at Ruby’s prodding was one of them. She signed in and carefully made her visibility selective. She didn’t want the entire world to know she was online and having to fend off sleazy come-ons that would put her perps to shame.
No, Emma was interested in only one - therealkillianjones.
Emma was intimately aware of the nitty gritty of an online dating website, she had used them too many times to lure in her perps. Men were predictable that way. Act a little coy, laugh, or in this case, send a winky emoji on their crass pick up line and -boom- you had a date. She had fake profiles set up on many of these platforms but Ruby raved about the advantages of finding dates through them, gushing about the men and women she had met. So one day, Emma sat with her friend after sharing a bottle of wine between them and proceeded to set up her profile. Though drunk, they had created her profile including as much information as they could without revealing too much. It was fun while it lasted. Together they had vetted potential suitors and fended off some sleazy ones - a nice way to blow off some steam. So, she was surprised to get a direct message from someone named therealkillianjones.
therealkillianjones - Oh My God! I love that quote and the book. It’s one of my favorites.