seen from Bolivia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Israel
seen from Germany
seen from China
seen from Mexico
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Romania
seen from Saudi Arabia
Sam Reich, unknowingly constructing a perfect 40-min parallel for what it felt like to be a bisexual kid at a sleepover where you’re desperately trying to appear more drunk than you are so you can say “haha what if we kissed” and can excuse it in the morning as inebriation instead of the genuine yearning that seems like a deep and shameful betrayal of your friendships:
why you do this to me short king
Okay look I’m looking to get wasted today so I’m counting on yall to get me fucked up this evening
1 note = 1 drink (spam is encouraged :3)
1 ask = 5 drinks
Etc etc let’s get this started :3
Intox notes game 💖
1 sip per note
1 shot per 5 notes This will either happen right now or tomorrow depending on how crazy the notes are~ Get me fucked up lovelies~
hannibal drinking game
Headcannon:
Varian surprisingly has a pretty good alcohol tolerance. Now why you may ask?
Season 3 finale. They’re all at the Snuggly Duckling, about to go on their mission, and they sing. You guys know the drill. BUT VARIAN? HES DRINKING BEER FOLKS. Mind you he’s 16 at the time. He then goes on to be Royal Engineer, and I’m telling you dealing with Lance all day every day has given him a reason to drink. So. To conclude. Varian drinks. I’m not saying he’s an alcoholic, he’s smart enough to know when to stop, but still. He’s not an innocent little guy.
SO fast forward to vat7k. They’re in a pub or something. Nuru and Yong have gone to bed, and that leaves Hugo, Varian and a bar. Hugo would make a joke about how Varian probably couldn’t handle alcohol as it’s his first time, and Varian, being Varian, would challenge him to a drinking game. Let’s just say it ends up with them both barely able to walk, and Hugo’s both pissed and impressed.
Idk I need to write this now.
❤️𝓟𝓲𝓮𝓻𝓻𝓸𝓽 ❤️
First of all! I haven’t written any smut for a long time, and I also feel as though I’ve inadvertently strayed a bit from Pierrot’s character whilst writing this. As it’s my first attempt, there are a few rough edges. I hope you’ll bear with me 🥺
Pairing: Pierrot x Female!Reader (F/M) Rating for this post: PG-13 / Teen (No explicit content in this preview) Overall Story Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ (Only on AO3!) Word Count (Preview): ~1.1k words Warnings for this part: Alcohol consumption, drinking games, heavy petting, kissing, non-human tongue/saliva mention, biting (mild), extreme height difference, tease. ⚠️ IMPORTANT NOTE: This is only the clean/safe-for-work preview of the first chapter. All explicit 18+ action (smut, knotting, breeding talk) happens in the second half, which is available only on AO3!
The flat was oppressively quiet.
The television was on, but you’d turned the sound off. You’d picked up your phone for the third time and put it down again without looking at anything. Even social media hadn’t managed to offer content exciting enough to hold your interest; you felt you were paying for the internet for nothing. The window was open; the hum of the city coming from outside was no longer enough to distract you.
Boredom seemed to have seeped right under your skin. You were squirming constantly and wanted to throw yourself from side to side. Even fish must be happier than you.
As you leaned your head back against the armrest of the sofa and looked up at the ceiling, you heard a few rhythmic taps on the balcony window.
You sat up straight at once, because the tapping on the glass could only mean one thing. How many people could there possibly be wanting to enter your home via the balcony?
The moment you opened the door, the expression on your face changed. Your ticket to salvation was standing right in front of you.
“Pierrot!”
Pierrot looked as calm as ever. His tall frame almost seemed too large for the doorway. He was holding a small white bag; he’d probably brought some food. When he looked at you, the gentle expression on his face became immediately apparent.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you, my lady.”
“No, quite the opposite.” You stepped aside with a smile. “Come in. I was dying of boredom.”
When Pierrot walked in, the flat really did feel a bit more liveable.
As he took off his shoes, he glanced around briefly. It was as if he were checking to see if anything had changed. His eyes lingered for a few seconds on the oversized T-shirt he was wearing, then drifted to his face.
“When I couldn’t find you at the café, I thought you’d be at home.”
“You were right.” You sank back into your favourite armchair; it instantly enveloped your whole body and seemed to swallow you up a little. “It’s just… empty. Meaningless. I think I’ve been staring at the ceiling all day.”
Pierrot tilted his head slightly. He stared intently at the bag in his hand, as if weighing up whether he should give it to you now or not. But then he chose to set it down on the table.
“Is there anything I can do?”
He’d asked the question so seriously that you laughed involuntarily.
“I don’t know. I don’t even know what people do when they get bored at home anymore. Isn’t that funny?”
A brief silence fell as Pierrot nodded quietly. You watched him duck his head to avoid bumping into the chandelier on the ceiling. His attempt to adapt to your living space struck you as very domestic.
“Pierrot?”
“Yes, milady?”
“What do you get up to?”
He looked over his shoulder and bowed his head. The bells on the tips of his hat jingled.
“Why do you ask, my lady?”
"When I get bored at home—or rather, at the circus."
"Er… usually… I’m in the kitchen. Or…"
"Or?"
Silence. You waited for him to finish his sentence, but he never did.
Pierrot’s gaze drifted away from you for a moment. Then he turned back to the kitchen worktop. He’d given up on sitting on the sofa because it was too short for his legs and had instead crossed his legs on the carpet.
“I’m...wandering about outside, my dear.”
You raised an eyebrow.
“Where outside?”
“On the pavement...”
“On the pavement?”
“Mhm…”
“That doesn’t count as an answer, you know that, don’t you?”
He just gave you an embarrassed smile and pushed the chocolate cake—which he’d brought in a plastic box from inside the bag—towards you.
“Oh, did you make this for me?”
“Yes, my lady, I hope you like it…”
You remembered Pierrot mentioning cooking before, but you’d never actually seen him do it. He’d exceeded your expectations.
But hang on a moment—you’d asked him something else, and he still hadn’t answered your question. You wouldn’t forget that.
You watched him stand up—trying not to bump his head against the chandelier for the second time—and walk towards his kitchen, straightening his posture. He’d been popping round to your place for a while now, and he seemed much more at ease and confident about moving about your living space.
Sliding over to the edge of the sofa, you called out to the kitchen:
“All right then. We’ll play a game.”
“…A game?”
You stood up and, grabbing the cake Pierrot had brought, dashed into the kitchen in a few strides. You found Pierrot fetching a fork for you. Damn, he’s so tall. You might forget just how tall he is because he’s always bending down to your height, but of course he always found a way to remind you just how tall he was in the kitchen.
You don’t want to know what he’d do to you if he knew what filthy things you were thinking about him.
...
Actually, you do.
...
Ah, you’ve lost your train of thought.
You’d left Pierrot’s cake on the worktop and, as you watched him take the cake out of the packet with a broad smile and place it carefully on the plate, you leaned your arm against the worktop.
He was constantly watching you, and for once, you’d actually enjoyed watching him at work. His eyes kept drifting towards you, and he smiled at you every time your gazes met. You don’t know how his cheeks didn’t ache from smiling so much.
“We’ll take turns asking questions. If the answer’s ‘no’, we’ll have a drink.”
The expression on Pierrot’s face grew slightly confused.
“Jester doesn’t really approve of me drinking.”
“Jester won’t find out. You’ll probably have to stay at my place tonight, but you’ve stayed here loads of times before, haven’t you?”
“Can I stay tonight too? Will you let me?? My lady!! You have no idea how happy you’re making me!”
He always seemed really excited about staying in. No matter how many times you did it, he looked just as delighted every single time as he did on the first day.
But he hadn’t understood the game. You know that.
You went to the cupboard and took a bottle out of your stash, then grabbed a shot glass and gestured to Pierrot to follow you.
When you set the two glasses down on the table in the living room, Pierrot was watching you intently. It was as if he was trying to work out whether this was a bad idea. He followed you in, holding a plate of cakes, and as you filled the glasses, he nudged the plate towards you with his fingertips.
“Here goes.” You raised your glass. “Have you ever been scared of visitors?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Once, someone threw a chair at Harlequin.”
You burst out laughing.
“You must be joking!? Why!?”
He watched your laughter silently. Knowing he was the reason for your laughter made him bite his lip beneath his mask.
“Your turn! Ask me something simple.”
“The people in that picture… are they your family, my lady?”
You looked where Pierrot was pointing; he was pointing at the photograph on the chest of drawers.
“Yeah. Why do you ask?”
“Please forgive my curiosity, my lady; it keeps catching my eye.”
He looked at the small shot glass. When he held it between two fingers, it looked as if he were holding a toy plastic cup. He downed the whole drink in one go; for a moment, you thought he was going to swallow the glass as well.
“I’d better get you a water glass; this isn’t fair.”
At first, the questions were rather silly;
“Have you ever cried at the circus?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever wanted to kill someone?”
“…Yes.”
"Have you ever loved anyone?"
"Yes."
“Have you ever wanted to leave the circus?”
“No.”
“Have you ever been forced to wear someone else’s underwear and go out in public in it?”
“Yes-wait...what??”
After a while, the alcohol began to warm you up. The stifling atmosphere of the room had eased by now. Pierrot looked more relaxed too. Admittedly, ‘relaxed’ for him still meant sitting bolt upright with his hands clasped on his knees, but never mind.
With every answer, you relaxed a little more. The alcohol had warmed your face; your thoughts were growing hazy, yet at the same time you were becoming strangely more honest.
Pierrot, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. No matter how much he drank, it didn’t seem to affect him at all. You, on the other hand, could barely keep your head steady.
He watched as your face grew warmer and warmer, as you began to hiccup, and as your tongue loosened, letting the words spill from your mouth like a jellyfish drowning in water. He’d never seen this side of you before.
You looked so at ease, as if there were no problems in your life at all. Carefree, almost too happy. And far too honest.
The liquid courage was doing its job well.
"…People," he said slowly, "why do they feel the urge to touch someone?"
You fluttered your eyelashes. Your buzzing head and the liquid courage had reduced your mind to the consistency of the inside of a public toilet, making it struggle to process the question.
“Wha?”
“I mean,” he said, trying to appear calm. “I’m wondering what physical contact means to people, my dear.”
Your brain was a bit slow on the uptake because of the alcohol. Pierrot continued on your behalf.
“Why does the human body seek the closeness of another person? The change in heart rate, the warming of the skin...”
There was a brief pause.
“…I just can’t understand why everything moves so slowly with you, my lady.”
He wasn’t looking at you anymore. His face was bright red.
Suddenly, he seemed incredibly endearing to you.
“Pierrot,” you said, smiling foolishly. “You’re so sweet.”
If Pierrot had had a pair of ears on top of his head, they would both be pricked up right now. A deep warmth spread across his face, and his eyes followed his lips as if he could actually see the words coming out of his mouth. It felt very hot inside the mask.
“My lady…”
You tilted your head slightly to one side. For some reason, the man—twice your height—suddenly seemed very likeable to you. It was obvious what a dirty mind you had, but what happens when the filter is completely gone?
“That’s what happens when you love someone,” you replied to his question. You swirled the amber liquid at the bottom of your shot glass. “Or when someone catches your eye...”
Pierrot’s fingers tensed slightly. God only knows how many thoughts were swirling round in his head right now.
“Catches my eye…” he repeated quietly.
“Yes,” you said. “For example, when someone you love comes over, you want to touch them. You want to hug them. Because…” You gave a soft laugh, though in your state, it came out of your lips with an exaggerated intensity. “I don’t know. Brain chemicals or something like that.”
This time you looked at him for a long time. You’d started to notice. Pierrot’s eyes kept drifting towards you. He was looking at your lips whilst you spoke. His shoulders relaxed when you smiled.
Even inside the house, he was paying attention to the little things that belonged to you.
It was as if he were etching your entire living space into his mind.
“Pierrot.”
His gaze turned to you immediately.
“Hmm?”
“Have you ever had sex?”
The question had slipped out before you’d thought. You were playing along in your own way, just wanting him to say yes or no, and to down the courage liquid at the bottom of the glass whatever the answer might be.
The expression on Pierrot’s face changed so quickly that your breath caught in your throat. It was as if someone had caught him off guard. The flush on his face deepened suddenly, so deeply that you could see the warm vapour rising from beneath his mask.
You weren’t even aware that you’d severed all the ties that bound you to him.
He lunged forward and pounced on you like a hunter closing in on its prey. Your back slammed against the wooden floor under his thrust, and the breath was knocked out of your lungs.
“Oh, my lady… do you really wonder?? Do you really want to feel me as much as I want to feel you??”
His heavy breaths were slapping against your face. He’d braced his arms on either side of your head, trapping you completely beneath him like a caged creature. You could feel his chest heaving violently beneath his costume and hear the faint, wet sounds accompanying his breathing. He looked like a beast that had broken free from its cage.
You liked it.
“Oh, Pierrot...”
“Please say yes, my lady… please don’t torture me any more… I can’t take it any longer… please…”
His hands, resting on either side of his head, slid beneath it, so that you were now resting against his palms. Then you pressed your forehead against his, listening as he closed his eyes and his breathing grew increasingly ragged.
So what did you do? Well, as a reckless drunk, you did what you do best, of course.
You lifted your legs and wrapped them round Pierrot’s waist, one by one. His lower body jerked in surprise and he staggered forwards. How eager he was.
“Pierrot… if I tell you to carry on…”
“Please! Please let me feel you…”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
You’re absolutely desperate.
You see Pierrot’s mask part slightly, revealing a long, yellow tongue emerging from between a mouthful of teeth. It reaches for your lip and gently traces the line where your lips meet.
Gently, so very gently. Even when you told him not to stop, you could sense his hesitation and restraint.
But he wasn’t stopping, that much was certain.
The wet tissue glided between your lips; as it plunged into the warmth of your mouth, he let out a soft sigh. As if he were the happiest man in the world.
I suppose so.
His tongue found yours and circled around it, twisting and sliding. You marvelled at how long it was—and yet that wasn’t even the whole of it. You wrapped your legs around his waist, causing his lower body to tremble and press against yours.
It coiled around your small tongue and gently bit your soft lower lip. It was gentle for him, but the sharp tip of his tongue pierced your flesh slightly, and you winced at the metallic taste that filled your mouth.
When he heard your wince, he flinched; his pupils shrank in their sockets, and you felt his saliva trickling down your chin.
“Oh, I’m sorry…”
He pulled back, running his long, yellow tongue over the wet sheen glistening on his mask, licking away the last traces of the taste. His flushed expression and the red hue enveloping his face were so pleasing that, for a moment, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the beauty of the slit before you.
You don’t want to think about what else that tongue might be capable of. But your unfiltered mind won’t let you—or your wild imagination—stop.
“So… does that mean yes?” you asked between breaths, as your chests rose against one another, creating a small, intricate symphony.
“No…I mean...I’ve never done it before… but I’d love for you to be my first, my lady…”
“Great…let me teach you, then…”
Leaning into his arms, you pulled yourself up, and he stepped back to let you straighten up. But you didn’t straighten up.
You slid your knees towards Pierrot and pushed him back; you must have been a bit too rough, because he looked at you with wide, hurt eyes.
Poor thing. You’d hurt his feelings.
“Did I do something wrong—”
Before he could finish, you slipped between his long legs and climbed on top of him. Despite the fabric between you, you could feel the warmth of his skin beneath his circus uniform.
He was burning up.
“No… you didn’t do anything wrong.”
His eyes watched in astonishment as you climbed on top of him and settled on his stomach. There, your face was flushed, you couldn’t keep your head still, and you were looking at him with unfocused eyes.
Beneath you, you could feel his chest rising and falling towards you, and even though you were sitting on his stomach, his heart was pounding like mad. His breaths were so deep they were lifting you up with them. His hands immediately flew to your legs and held them firmly in place; he didn’t want you to leave.
And neither did you.
“Would you like me to teach you, Pierrie?”
He nod his head eagerly. How sweet. So keen to learn more about it.
“First of all, we relax… help me…”
🔞 THE SHOW CONTINUES UNDER THE COVERS… (18+) 🔞
The lessons are about to get much more hands-on, much warmer, and a whole lot wilder. Want to know what happens next? To read the full, explicit version containing smut, horn-play, knotting, and breeding talk, click the link below to head over to my AO3! (You might need to be logged into your AO3 account to view it).
👉 [CLICK HERE TO READ THE FULL STORY ON AO3]
So after not being on tumblr in years, I am delighted to find a thriving Babylon 5 fandom!?!? I think there was only one dedicated blog 15 years ago (good god, time) and now I am delighted to see so many!
In honor of that, I would like to share the rules of a game that makes any rewatch of the series more entertaining.
*The Babylon 5 Drinking Game*
Drink when-
Someone says "Back Home"
When an alien race says a "My God" i.e. "In Valen's Name", "Great Maker", "By G'quan"
Londo Drinks
When Delenn says "A Thousand Years ago"
Bonus Drinks-
Sheridan mentions oranges, or you spot oranges in his room.
Bester says "Mundanes"
I'm sure there could be more rules, but I found these were the most reliable to the point now if I'm just chatting with a couple friends, who I started this drinking game with, and anyone says "Back home" we reflexively say "Drink!"
Enjoy!
