#insert i'm going to give me everything i want meme

[biffhofosho]

She did it. My baby did it. 😭 First fic to 100 notes was my most self-indulgent malarkey. Thank you for loving her, too. ❤️🫰🥹

Perfect Game

Fandom: Monsta X

Genre: Smut, natch.

Word Count: 15k

Pairing: Hyungwon x OC

Trope: Best friends to lovers

Synopsis: Who would have thought that a game of bowling could change the trajectory of a friendship? Then again, maybe that’s been the plan all along…

The Vibe: Dreamboat university best friend Hyungwon, a little jealousyyyyyyyyy, gratuitous falling in love, smut with so many feelings, awkward admission of said feelings, and happily ever after.

A/N: This was inspired by two things, both from the same source: Inssa Oppa, specifically, the man behind the introvert—the Chae Hyungwon I’m dying to call my best friend—as well as that one bowling scene. >.< That viciously up-ended my life. I am not the same woman I once was because of it.

This is ONE HUNDRED PERCENT self-indulgent and most definitely my gift to myself on my 40th birthday, but I hope you enjoy it, too.

Keep reading

[dazais-guardian-angel]

went to my first con in 4 years on Friday to meet Kaiji Tang and got a Dazai autograph + video recording of him reading to me. He was the sweetest person (as I knew he would be) and interacting with him was lovely, but also at the same time oh boy it sure was an extremely stressful, ugly wake-up call of what it feels like to live in a world now where everyone around you has blissfully moved on from covid and can enjoy things normally and happily, while you'll forever be trapped in a hellscape of perpetual fear 🫠🫠🫠

[beanghostprincess]

Silly goofy wild and funky idea:

Transman Crocodile who transitioned via Ivankov.

Cross Guild events and Cross Guild Poly where Buggy finally gets the nerve to come out to her two lieutenants and also boyfriends. Mihawk just blinks like "yes? Your Haki is distinctly feminine, so this makes perfect sense. Oh, dear why are you crying, stop that-" meanwhile Crocodile has to bite back every single we traded genders joke and instead just shrugs, going "I quite literally could not be paid to give a fuck. You know I'm bisexual, this changes little, Clown."

Croc does off hand offer to hook Buggy up with Iva if that's smth she's interested in, tho.

Meanwhile Sanji has come out to the Strawhats as a transwoman as well, and the reactions are much more dramatic but no less supportive - if anything, some may be too supportive /hj ((Franky calls her queen and sis and Hawt Mama, Chopper already began working on ways to synthesize estrogen Just In Case, Luffy could not be made to give a single fuck, Ussop is swooning, Zoro informs her that this changes nothing and he'll still kick her ass, Robin offers her congratulations, Nami is already mathing out adding another bed in the girls' room or making a room JUST for Sanji and Ussop to share, Brooke waits 0.006783259 seconds before asking to see undies, just everyone being supportive and stupid))

This leads to Ivankov getting two separate contacts for their services, and so they arrange to meet at a small-ish island to help both, two birds, one stone :)).

Both crews go full Spiderman meme when they come across each other, and Iva handles it with all the gentility of a bull in a china shop, whisking both ladies away while the rest are left just plain gaping and awkwardly avoiding eye contact or completely oblivious to the tension (cough cough LUFFY).

Insert your own silly ideas here, generally.

But when they come back, Mihawk, Crocodile and Ussop are all just absolutely SWOONING for different reasons, full of Respect Woman Juice and I Love My Wife energy, it's adorable and cute and funny.

((Bonus: Luffy calls Buggy auntie without hesitation, and she almost cries even as she punches him over the head))

THIS IS SO CUTE SELJKFNSFLEFNLNDFDLKNSDLK

Okay, so, my thoughts on this. Crocodile having to hold back the 'we traded genders' joke is so damn real and I laughed SO hard. Love him. So true. And transfem Buggy lives in my mind rent free so this is just perfect because I absolutely love her. She's my beloved. She'd be so anxious about it and cry and Mihawk and Crocodile are like-- So done with her because she's acting stupid and dramatic and of course they're going to still want her. And she's crying and they're rolling their eyes and patting her head at the same time. Poor thing. She needs comfort okay??

And,, Transfem Sanji coming out is always so beautiful in my head. She's been battling her gender issues for AGES and now she feels comfortable enough to come out to the crew. She's anxious but she knows she has to do this now or she never will. And it's-- It's so real to me. The way she would explain everything that happened to her back in Momoiro Island and then say that she's actually a girl. And everyone's quiet because they know she's looking at Luffy only right now, expecting an answer from her captain. And Luffy is just like "??? Okay? You're still my cook. So who cares? You seem happier now!" and that is when Sanji starts crying. Because of course she's crying. And of course, Usopp is the one to hug her first because that's his girlfriend and she needs a hug and forehead kisses right now. But they have 0 privacy because Luffy wants hugs too. I mean. Obviously.

Franky is loud af and he's SOBBING while he screams how proud he is of their cook (I've always said Franky feels like a girldad because just look at how he interacts with Nami. And he's sooooooooo loving Sanji right now). Robin would be so so proud too and would say she's happy for her and smile in the sweetest of ways (Robin please adopt me). I think Chopper would also ask a lot of questions before making estrogen, just in case, but then he'd go and try to make it right away. Nami hugs Sanji but the sweet moment doesn't last long because she's already telling Franky her ideas for a bigger, better room for the girls or!!! "Better!!!!!! A room for Sanji and Usopp so we don't have to deal with them!!!!!! But also make the girl's room bigger because I say so!!!!!!". Zoro says he doesn't give a fuck because he will still kick her ass but he's secretly happy that she looks more relaxed and comfortable in her skin. Brook is Brook and he says his Brook thing about panties but I think Sanji would kick him having the best gender affirmation moment of her fucking life. And Jinbe is just the cutest because I think he'd laugh at the chaotically sweet situation and say that strength comes from being happy with yourself and Sanji is the strongest for being so brave and true to herself (he be saying poetic and cute shit like that and he expects me not to absolutely love him. Dad behavior. I am SO sure he would beat the shit out of anybody who misgendered Sanji. But that's what any Strawhat would do, so,,,).

They go see Iva (Iva my beloved) and they're all,, So uncomfortable,, Buggy acts overconfident and says she's perfectly fine and not scared at all of what Iva's going to do to her body (liar. She's scared af and Crocodile and Mihawk know so they keep scaring her even more because it's funny to see their girlfriend crying. Look. The fact that they're soft and dating doesn't mean they're not gonna bully her). And Sanji has smoked like two fucking boxes of cigarettes already despite saying that she doesn't care about it (she has never been more excited in her entire life) and she's holding Usopp's hand so hard she's going to break it at some point. Anyway, Iva is a dramatic bitch and they make Sanji and Buggy come with them to a more private place because they want it to be a surprise for everyone (drama queen. Love them. I would do it too. Trust the process, girls, you're in good hands). So Cross Guild and the Strawhats end up alone and waiting for their girls to come back. And. Yeah. Uncomfortable. Zoro looks at Mihawk at some point and goes:

Zoro: I thought you were gay. Mihawk: I swing both ways. Usopp: Actually, you swing sword- Mihawk: Awful. Shut up. Don't ever speak to me again. Don't even look at my direction, actually. Roronoa, why is your crew like this? Zoro: It was really funny, though. Mihawk: I wish to not partake in this conversation anymore. Everyone just shut up and wait. ............. Luffy: Hey, guys, do you think Sanji's going to have bigger boobs than Zor- Nami: OH MY GOD LUFFY YOU CAN'T SAY THAT Luffy: BUT I'M CURIOUS Zoro: Yeah, she's going to ask for the biggest of boobs only to piss me off because she's annoying like that. Mihawk: Why would you even care about your breast size, Roronoa? Crocodile: Tsk. You care about mine. Usopp: OH MY GOD SJKFNSKDEWKFJNJKSFN

Okay, so Sanji and Buggy eventually come back. Finally. And they were gorgeous before but now they're even more beautiful because they actually look extremely happy with their bodies. I want to describe how I see them but just check @/vongulli's account and see their fem Buggy because she kills me every time and that's the only way I can see fem Buggy now. And Sanji to me looks like @/sibmakesart's fem Sanji. This artist made a nude fem Sanji not long ago and I loved it,, So much,, ANYWAY!!!!!! Getting carried away.. Thinking about women. It's not my fault I'm a lesbian. But they look perfect and they're comfortable and happy. And Sanji's boobs are surprisingly not huge and Zoro makes a comment about that but Sanji is like:

Sanji: WHAT????? YOU ONLY SEE ME AS A BOOB-OBSESSED GIRL OR WHAT? Literally everyone at the same time: Yes. Sanji: Well, for your information- Usopp: She likes thighs more Sanji: Usopp, don't tell them- Iva: And also, my dears, that is not how my power works Zoro: So you did ask for big boobs and you couldn't have them Sanji: I'm going to kill you and wearing heels it's going to hurt even more Usopp: Is it weird that I'm kind of turned on right now? Nami: ...Haha Usopp: Are you okay? Nami: Hey, Usopp, I- Usopp: You can't fuck her Nami: I swear I can't have anything!!! What do you have against lesbians??? Usopp: YOU WANT TO SLEEP WITH MY GIRLFRIEND WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY??? Nami: I dunno, yes??

Crocodile and Mihawk are having... A moment. They will still bully her and they're sure she's going to look extremely pretty crying and whining but right now she deserves to be worshipped because just look at her. Buggy approaches them and she's like "If you laugh I'm going to throw knives at you and then leave Cross Guild and!! And!! And I'm going to be really mad so pleasedon'tlaughireallylikethispleasedon'truinit" and they look at her with the fondest of looks (but gotta be honest, they're so horny right now it's unbearable. Like yes, happy wife happy home happy everything but also happy dick because just look at her). Crocodile is just frowning and genuinely asks "Why would we laugh? You look stunning, dear" and Mihawk follows with "I must say I'm not surprised, since you've always looked beautiful. But you look... More satisfied with yourself." And Buggy has to hold back the tears and that's why she starts saying things like "Pffft. Yeah! I knew I'd be gorgeous like this too! Now I look even flashier!" and y'know, the two men are letting her have her moment because now she looks even better and they can't stop staring at her. So maybe she's right this time when she fakes confidence.

Usopp and Nami need a second to process everything, I think. Also, they both hit Brook at the same time when he's about to ask Sanji the question™. Nami is having a lesbian moment, but of course Sanji realizes and does her Sanji thing like opening her mouth and speaking:

Sanji: Nami-swaaan!!! Do you like how I look now??? Nami, ignoring her and whispering to herself: Disgusting. I hate this. Zoro: At the end of the day it's just curly, huh? Nami: I was thinking with my dick. Zoro: Yeah. Happens. Been there.

So, Usopp and Sanji finally get their moment together because at least the Strawhats are respectful enough to give them their sweet uhhhh two minutes before they start complimenting Sanji. So that's something! Sanji is confident with her body but is a bit shy and isn't sure what Usopp will think about this. Not that she has changed much, even, but, you know. Just different. In a good way for her! But different. And Usopp approaches her slowly and smiling and he's just so so so happy. And he's like "You look gorgeous!" / "... Really? I wasn't sure whether you'd like it-" / "I will always like you! But more importantly, do you like you?" / "I mean- Weird phrasing, but yes. Yes? I think so. Yes." / "Then that's all that matters." And Sanji really, really doesn't want to cry because she has never cried in front of the whole crew. She just can't help it. But Usopp knows she doesn't like it when others see her cry so he quickly wipes her tears away and when she starts laughing (so so happy and full of love) Usopp just needs to kiss her.

Meanwhile, Luffy is there calling Buggy auntie and asking when she's going to tell Shanks about this. She keeps saying she will never tell him and if he wants to find out, he'll do it through her new wanted poster or whatever, but not from her.

[hayatheauthor]

Update Regarding My Sudden Hiatus + Author/Publishing News

Guess who's back from the dead!

Jokes aside, I truly do feel terrible for going on hiatus without saying anything, and then I come back and see that I've hit 2k (which btw is absolutely amazing and left me shell-shocked) and that just made me feel worse for leaving unannounced. So, here's everything that's been going on:

(click read more if you want to learn about my experience at my first writer's workshop & pitching to an agent ++ publishing updates for The Traitor's Throne)

If you DON'T want to read more: long story short I'm back and will revamp this blog Monday onwards.

Would you look at that I'm finally getting the hang of Tumblr etiquette!

Anyways, I know if I took the liberty of casually explaining everything we would just be here all day and I would ramble endlessly SO, I'm going to summarise everything into a list:

One of the biggest reasons for my departure was because *insert drum roll* I graduated! That's right, your girl is officially a diploma holder and ready to conquer college! Although I've seen the 'finals week or my final week' meme enough times to start questioning what I signed up for.

My writing life has been a little...disappointing. There's no other way to break it to you folks, but when I started this blog, I was knee-deep in the query trenches, and now, I'm still there. Does that suck? Yes. Am I going to give up? Absolutely not! BUT I do have some changes planned:

I've officially decided if this final shot at traditional publishing doesn't do well, I'm going to give in and self-publish The Traitor's Throne in May-June 2024. Which means you might potentially be able to purchase my baby pretty soon!

BUT I decided to give querying one last shot and actually joined a writer's workshop (which is going on as we speak btw). I joined the online Boston Writing Workshop, I'll drop a review on that on Sunday, but so far I've actually learned A LOT from it, and have decided to give querying another go while implementing what I've learned. Dw I'll also be putting out a review about the workshop on Sunday.

So, here's a summary: I've created a self-publishing deadline for my current project while also giving traditional publishing a final shot. I also joined my first ever writer's workshop this weekend and will be pitching to agents for the first time.

Overall, I think my lack of success in the querying scene kind of made me feel like a fraud when giving writing advice. I'm the type of author who does A LOT of research when I write, which is why I have so many tips on so many topics, but that doesn't make me an expert.

This workshop especially made me realise I've been making some rookie mistakes and focused so much on my story that I forgot the query and synopsis are just as important. Maybe this realisation came too late and I've lost my chance of traditionally publishing The Traitor's Throne, but I am grateful for everything it's taught me.

ANYWAYS—see what I meant by we'd be here the whole day if I didn't use a list??

Let's get back to the important stuff; yes, I will start putting out blogs again, and answering my asks. I'm also thinking of launching a beta reader project where I'll beta read some of your works for free! Stay tuned to see that announcement since it'll come soon.

Thank you so much for supporting this silly little blog of mine, and I hope you have a good weekend! As always, I'll see you on Monday! 💕✨

[pennyserenade]

three's company

pairing: dieter bravo x ex-wife!reader x dustin mulray rating: e (explicit) tags/warnings: smut, pinv, protected sex, oral (female receiving) *inserts good for her meme*, oral (male receiving), dirty talk, light voyeurism, talk and use of drugs and alcohol (weed & wine), the weirdest situationship you ever did see, a bit of angst, jealousy, fingering, dubious consent (but like, only a tiny bit dubious. the tiniest bit) word count: 16.k+ (don't ask me what happened there) summary: The world is slowly descending into madness all around you, so you decide to give in and go with Dieter to his latest poor decision: a franchise movie filming in England. One night while there, you both sweep another into this odd half-hearted, life-long tryst you've got. a/n: i don't know how i got here but i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it. i could dedicate this to a lot of things but mostly i'm going to dedicate it the red shoe diaries. thanks to david and the horny '90s. also to maria (@sweetly-yours-and-mine) who has spent countless nights working through this with me. you are a gem

“I don’t like the idea of you being alone.”

“I’m not alone.”

“Facetime isn’t the same as real people.”

“Those are bad movies, Bravo. I’m not sure I want to be around those who make them for that long.”

“I know.”

“Actors have never been my favorite company.”

“I know.”

“And I just don’t want to go.”

“I know.”

“I’ll learn to stop answering your calls one day, you know? And then you’ll do everything alone, even a global disaster.”

“I knew you’d give in. That's my girl.”

——

The hotel is a converted English Manor - the very stuff of childhood fairytales and honeymoon daydreams with its Italianate architecture and technicolor green grass. It is warm, inviting, with high ceilings and the soft, consistent hum of human activity as workers scurry around to greet the incoming guests. They filter you in through white plastic tents and stick cotton swabs up your nose before giving you the WIFI password and a room with a stunning view of their expansive, manicured grounds. You don’t have any grounds to look in America, and your studio apartment has been eerily quiet as of late. The pulse of life has stopped in Los Angeles, but here it comes back with an unvarying rhythm.

You don’t like to admit it, but Dieter was right: you are not above loneliness.

The room they give you feels anachronistic, too modern and beige, but cozy in the way all four star hotels aim to be. You’ve got a television, a pristine bathroom that hosts a bathtub and a shower, and enough floor space to move around without stubbing any toes. There’s ample furniture too: a reading chair by the large window, the queen bed, and another chair by the door, which looks like it’s meant only for bags and the stray suit jacket. They’ve given you decorative pillows and instructions not to leave for two weeks - not for any reason.

You lay out on the queen bed and Facetime Dieter. The irony of the situation is too good not to tease him for.

“I know,” he gruffs, picking up your call immediately.

You can’t help but laugh at the misery that drips from his voice. “I’ve always been better at being alone. I think it was you who didn’t want to be alone.”

He runs a hand through his unruly hair and frowns. Even if you won’t take it, you like the idea that he’s only a long walk away now. You give in and shuck off your winner’s ego. “It’s only two weeks,” you assure kindly.

“If I’m good, do you think I can earn a sleepover?” There’s mischief in his eyes, flirtation thick on his tongue. You look askance at him and the dimple in his cheek deepens. “I’m only kidding of course.”

“Ha ha,” you deadpan.

“It’ll be nice after two weeks,” he promises. You know that tone, far off and introspective. It’s not good.

“Just Facetime me when you’re losing your mind.”

“You don’t want that. I’ll be on the phone with you all the time.”

You stare down at the phone, frowning. He smiles, coming back to his body. “I’ll be alright, kid. I always am.”

“Two weeks is not so long.”

“No,” he agrees quietly.

——

Two weeks is a prison sentence.

The room they put you in, while spacious, is merely a cell block now, reduced down to its most basic elements: the bathroom with the shower and the tub, which you’ve used so much it's a miracle your skin hasn’t fallen right off; the bedroom area, with the reading chair by the window; the queen bed, which you stopped making after day four and try your damndest not to fall in before 3pm. You’ve paced the floor so many times, feeling the angry itch of loneliness coupled with a newfound, perpetually lurking anxiety.

“One more day,” he reminds you over the telephone, trying to allay your fears. You hear the sound of his tub running in the background, over the static of his voice, and you wonder what he looks like right now. You picture two week’s more worth of beard growth, the slouch of his back as he sits on the edge of the tub, the pudge of his stomach, and the inciting trail of hair below his belly button. And his naked self. At home he was perpetually nude, and you imagine it’s no different now.

You find your own reflection in the mirror over the sink: sunken eyes, with bags underneath and your flesh taking on a slightly gray cast, the color of isolation.The window sun doesn’t seem to be helping much. You frown self consciously, but try to remind yourself he must be in a state himself; he stopped Facetiming you a week ago, opting for the good ol’ telephone call at least once or twice a day since.

“I’m going out of my mind,” you say as you continue to look at yourself. You lower your voice, vulnerability shared in a hushed, confessional tone. You imagine Dieter again: with that soft concentrated look that pulls his eyebrows together, the one that enhances the lines between them. They called him a curious child and now he’s got the lines to show for it. He told you that. The thought makes you smile at yourself, but you still look so tired.

“Just one day,” he supplies again. He sounds vaguely apologetic.

“I know,” you tell him simply.

“What have you been up to today?” he asks. You hear water come to a stop and a gentle splash follows it. He’s gotten in. “Anything fun?”

“I read, watched a movie. You?”

“I got high and jerked off. So, you know, nothing different than the past thirteen days that you’ve called.”

You scan your reflection in the mirror, contemplating your next words. It isn’t a good idea, but nothing is. “What did you think about?” you ask.

“Lots of things.”

He tells you this as casually as if you’ve asked him his name. You are so achingly lonely and this is so embarrassing, but you can’t help it. You know he’ll let you. Hell, he’s probably been waiting weeks for this. Years.

“Do you ever think about me?”

There’s a short, considerate pause. “Do you want the truth or a lie?”

“A lie.” You worry your lip between your teeth.

“Oh, never.”

You laugh, relieved. “I thought you were going to say something different.”

“Hm,” he hums, “I don’t think that’s the truth. I think you worried about what the real truth would be. We’ve got something here and it’s worrisome.”

“You sound like my mother.”

“Mine too. She thinks inviting you was a terrible idea but she wants you to know she’s thinking of you.”

“Mine hates you.”

He grunts. “Suppose I deserve that, don't I?”

“I think this is the first time in history that you diverted phone sex with talk like that.”

“I’m getting older, wiser,” he jokes. Then, “Do you think of me?”

“Do you want a lie or the truth?”

He considers it for a moment. “The truth. Hit me with it hard, baby.”

“Oh, a lot more than I should.”

——

The rapt sound of knuckles against your door incites an excitement in you that you haven’t felt since childhood. You jump from the bed, uncaring of the state of yourself, hungry for the news that awaits on the other side.

A kindly British man tells you that the quarantine has been lifted and that there will be a party and dinner for the cast and crew in a couple of hours. Formal wear is encouraged but not required.mYou spend the next few hours undoing what’s been done by isolation: the bags under your eyes; the unkempt room, with the fetid smell of loneliness wafting over everything; the living out of your suitcase and the wrinkles on your best clothes. You find an iron in the closet and shave your entire body.

Dieter stops by your room while you’re in the middle of getting ready. He sits quietly at the edge of your bed, watching you in the mirror with that dazed look in his eyes. He wears the ugliest goddamn housecoat you’ve ever seen, but he’d smiled so wide at the door that you’ve forgiven him for it.

“You’re excited,” he observes. His fingers fiddle with the sunglasses in his hands. “I thought you hate actors.”

You try to steady your hand as you bring the eyeliner up to your eyelid. “I don’t care what they are, as long as they can hold a conversation,” you mumble.

“I can hold a conversation. Maybe we ought to stay here and celebrate with each other.”

You look at him in the mirror, trying to figure out if he’s serious or not. You can’t tell. “You’re kidding.”

He shrugs. There’s a distant look in his eyes, as if he’s thinking too hard about something.

“Are you high?” you ask him.

“No, but I’m thinking maybe I should be.”

“Cheer up, boy scout. You’re the one who wanted to do this goddamn movie.”

He lets out a defeated sigh and falls back into the mattress with a groan. “I’m going to kill myself.”

———

He doesn’t kill himself, but he looks like he’s still weighing the prospect of it as you take your drink from the bartender.

Dieter suffers no one lightly, and you have a feeling the personable strawberry blonde in front of him isn’t exactly his crowd. You smile over the rim of your drink, enjoying seeing him squirm for once. Everything seems to come easy to him–except this. He’s never been very good at socializing when he doesn’t want to.

“That your boyfriend?”

You turn your head and find Dustin Mulray. You feel a hint of your teenage self come back to you as you look at him, struck wordless. It’s nothing as strong as the love that had you tacking up posters with his face on it to bedroom walls, but something vaguely akin to it. You’re happy to find it manifests itself as a friendly smile instead of love confessions. Perhaps it’s helped by his appearance: In his infinity scarf and beige knitted sweater, he reminds you more of a homely professor than a Hollywood movie star. You think: Movie stars! They’re just like us! while shaking your head in answer.

“No,” you tell him, “He’s my ex-husband.”

“Ah. That’s my ex-wife with him. Marriage is tricky, isn’t it?”

He takes a seat next to you and orders a drink. The bartender sits it on a napkin for him and he turns to you, his blue-green eyes awaiting an answer. You hadn’t thought he would want to talk to you, not really. You’re used to being invisible at events.

“I guess you could say that,” you reply.

“Are you working on the movie?”

You remember what Dieter told you to say if anyone asked: “For legal purposes, yes. Art coordinator #3.”

This amuses him, drawing out a smile. “That title come with pay or would you say it's just an internship?”

“I guess you could call it an internship.” You smile back at him. “Why? You think you could pull some strings and get me a paycheck?”

“I think I’d do you one better and get you a better place of employment. Have you read the script?” This makes you let out a genuine laugh. He brightens, smiling a little wider. “What? It’s the truth! Everyone thinks us Hollywood actors just commit to this shit knowing it’s shit but we don’t! I mean—“ He looks over the crowd, lowering his head closer to yours conspiratorially. “—Not those of us who started at the beginning. We thought it’d be good. Like Jurassic Park, but yanno, we didn’t get Steven Spielberg. We keep getting arthouse fucks. And I like arthouse fucks–don’t get me wrong–but what’s a man with an IPhone know about blockbusters?”

“Ah, I feel you but I can’t quite reach you from here.”

“No, I bet not.”

There’s something simmering in that line. If you didn’t know better, you’d figure it was a light flirtation. Surely not.

“I liked your early stuff better,” you confess.

“Me too. But those were the glory days and now I have alimony and child support to pay. How about him?” he nods in the direction of Dieter. “You get half his ass in court?”

You shake your head. His candor, although surprising, is refreshing. “No, no big payout. We’re amicable.”

He clicks his tongue in awe. “I envy the bastard but I can’t say I didn’t deserve my lot.”

“You haven’t even finished your first drink and you’re already gonna confess your sins?” You raise a curious, teasing eyebrow. He hangs his head and laughs.

“You married an actor. Don’t we all wear our hearts on our sleeves?”

“Mm, not mine,” you shake your head. “It seems he saved his emotions for the silver screen.”

It’s Dustin’s turn to raise his own curious eyebrow.

“How cozy.” You look over your shoulder to see Dieter standing in front of your chair, his fingers reaching out to the back of your chair. He looks…jealous.

“Dustin, this is Dieter,” you introduce them. Dustin sticks his hand out and Dieter plays nice, shaking it with a passing grin.

“Nice to meet you,” Dustin mutters. Dieter nods his head. “Yeah, you too. I was actually coming over here to steal her away for a moment. If she doesn’t mind.” He looks over at you, expectant. There’s a bite to his words you don’t like at all. How fucking rich, you think bitterly, remembering all the times you had to sit by while he shamelessly flirted with half the fucking world.

“She does mind,” you respond. The sharp finality of it makes even Dustin cough awkwardly.

Dieter looks taken aback. “Okay,” he mutters, looking between the two of you. He nods again, as though he’s drawn some conclusion. “Alright.”

You watch as he walks away to the other side of the room. Looking back at Dustin, you give him a rueful grin. “Sorry. And here I was, talking about how amicable we are. Exes of the year.”

He raises his glass. “To us pitiful people and our pitiful crash and burn marriages.”

You clink your glass against his, fighting the urge to cry or kill Dieter. “To us.”

—

The dinner table arrangement is unforgiving for Dieter. He’s sat next to Dustin at the far end of the table, with yet another red headed actress to his left. Unlike the talkative one, this one is in a state of brooding and continually huffing at everything he says. You’re slightly more lucky, sat at the other end, sandwiched between Dustin's ex-wife and the director.

He watches woefully as you chat with the ex-wife, nodding your head along politely. You were always such a good listener, even with the worst people. He frowns. He had changed his outfit between the party and the dinner, opting for a classier open dress shirt. He had seen the look in your eye when you had opened the door for him earlier, and figured he could use all the help he could get now that he’s undoubtedly pissed you off. He had hoped that they would’ve sat him next to you so you could talk. He’s even wearing that cologne you like. Or used to like. He doesn’t know anymore.

“So, like what—you usually get along with her or…?” Dustin asks him, following his eyeline right to you. Dustin brings the cool champagne they’ve served to his lips, his eyes too burningly curious as he gazes at you.

Dieter tries not to be possessive. He saw it in your eyes, heard it in your tone: that sharp, angry disappointment that you’re so used to delivering him. You don’t like when he gets like that. Not that he has much. This is a relatively new side effect he’s required since the divorce. He shrugs lazily, pushing the sunglasses up his nose. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

This earns him an even laugh. He looks over at the older man, frowning. “What?”

“I see magazines with your face all over it, man. C’mon, we all kiss and tell, even if we don’t want to.”

Dieter bites at the side of his cheek and considers him for a moment. “Look you and your wife-“

“Ex-wife-“

Dieter nods, uncaring. “Sure, your ex wife — you both like to talk a lot.”

“I’m just trying to figure out if I can make a pass at her or not. Make it easy for me. I don’t want to have to suffer this entire shoot because you’ve got some weird shitty thing going on between you. I don’t step on kept grounds….Well, not anymore,” he adds.

“How noble,” Dieter says wryly, “She’s not mine to answer for. Besides, it seems like you were already doing a good job at making a pass earlier.”

He fights down the petulant child inside of him, biting at his lip instead of wearing an all out pout. Through the concealed tint of his sunglasses, his eyes soften at the sight of you across the room. He can almost feel the crack in his heart as he considers the fact that you might have actually liked talking to this man.

Dieter knows one day it’ll come, the moment when you find yourself in a serious relationship with someone else. Most of the time he thinks he’ll be okay — that it will affect him like it must but it won’t ruin him entirely — but sometimes, like right now, he worries he’ll get on his knees and beg you not to do it. You don’t deserve that. He hates himself for the greed he feels, how he can’t ever just let you be happy. He doesn’t want to be like this dick, taking and taking from his ex-wife, all while he noses around and wets his dick in anything that will let him. He never wants to embarrass you like that. Not again. Never again.

Chugging the last bits of his drink, Dieter looks over at the man. Dustin looks back at him, nonplussed. It takes herculean strength to say the next words.

“She doesn’t like men who are crude or too direct, but to be frank, I think you can’t really fuck up with her. She likes you and always has.” Dieter casts a glance in your direction again, feeling mischievous. He smirks, letting himself have this one. “Well, since you were last relevant, that is.”

Dustin laughs the burn off, shaking his head. He touches Dieter’s shoulder in a show of faux friendliness. “We’re in the same shitty franchise now, bud, so welcome to the club,” he whispers, just low enough for him to hear.

Dieter raises his empty glass to Dustin with a forced grin. Feeling defeated but comforted by the fact that he’s now got something to separate him from that asshole, he raises his hand to the pretty waitress for another drink. To celebrate.

But he truthfully doubts there will be much to celebrate.

He fucking hates Hollywood.

—-

Truth be told, Dieter didn’t plan on doing this tonight. Getting high. He planned, if he was being honest with himself - and he is trying, at his most introspective more now than ever - to be doing you. Had he invited you on the vacation just to fuck you? No, but ignobility inevitably follows in the tracks of his nobility. It was written between the lines, something you both had hinted at over the past two weeks. But now you’re somewhere else. There's a lot of rooms in this hotel. Maybe you’re in your own. Maybe not. Dustin had looked like he was going to devour you at the bar earlier tonight, so probably, you’re doing him in his room.

Or do you bring men back to your own place now? He doesn’t know.

Dieter would blanch if he wasn’t so high. He sits in the middle of the decorative couch, staring at the ceiling with glazed eyes, and he tries to imagine a different version of your last phone conversation.

When you asked if he ever thought of you when he touched himself, he’d tell you the truth. Because you like the truth. He’d say: all the time. More than he should. Really a sickening, depressing amount because he misses you, especially lately. New York is a terrible place to be these days; death permeates everything and nothing seems as right as it used to. Even loneliness feels worse, no longer poetic or artistic but just lonely. It's less like Al Pacino on the set of the Godfather and more like Michael Corleone, sitting alone at the empty dining room table. Days stretch on and on, and he’s hungry for life that has halted so he paints terribly, insecure of even hobbies. What else is he supposed to do but play with himself and remember poignantly that he had once been married to a lovely sort of woman who would’ve made it all better, if only he hadn’t fucked it up?

Well, he doesn’t think about that last part so much. It doesn’t really make for good masturbating material.

He wasn’t sure he was going to survive the pandemic before they asked him to do this movie. And of course he asked you along when they had. It’s the only way in the world he could ask for your help: through omission of truths and beating around the bush. He wonders if you might take pity on his soul again and let him crash with you for a while, just to wait the rest of this out together after the movie wraps. If you really are fucking Dustin, it might make things tense but not impossible. He’ll learn to live with it. He’ll have to. What else is he going to do? Go back to this moment in time and stop you?

Perversely he wonders if Dustin is not the first man you’ve fucked since the divorce. You’re not his last but he wishes you were a lot. It’s been nearly two years and he’s forgotten what you feel like, what you taste like. It’s miserable. When he touches himself and thinks of you, you’re like an apparition, some Franksteinian woman built of fragmented, hazy memories. All he remembers was that the last time wasn’t nice and that you didn’t cum. He couldn’t make you, something about you being too sad or too angry. It was a shame, because he’d always imagined the two of you would’ve gone out with a bang.

This thought makes him smile, but it doesn’t last for long. There's nothing funny about your divorce, not really. He broke your heart tediously, and now you’ve got to tell people that it wasn’t just one thing but many things. He knows that. An unanswered phone call. That waitress in Vegas who he flirted with so unabashedly your mother thought he was cheating on you - along with half the internet and for a brief moment, yourself too. The apartment in New York he bought and moved into without asking you. That art house opening he missed, the one you’d asked him continually throughout the week to set time aside for. So many things—the seven sins and just a few more to top it off.

He wasn’t really surprised when you had asked him for a divorce over lunch one day. You didn’t even live together at the time - the New York apartment became more permanent than he had originally planned for - and you looked so tired, like you were drained of life, overwrought and quiet. What surprised him was the fact that you hadn’t done it sooner. The knowing that you had tried against hope was not an easy one for him to reconcile with for a long time after that. Even in that moment you had developed a sort of halting lisp as you pushed the statement out, as though your own body protested it. He remembers that better than the sex.

You had waited for him to get better and he never did, so you both took your chicken salads with a side of failed marriage that day, and now here you are. Dieter sighs, feeling the familiar pangs of remorse.

“Whatever drugs you’re on must not be very good because you look miserable.”

Dieter lifts his head off the back of the loveseat, straining his eyes to make out the shape that’s hovering in his doorway. His brain catches up with him before his eyes do, and the distinct mumbling voice of the figure comes to him. Dustin.

Shaking his head, Dieter laughs, relieved. “I was thinking.”

Dustin takes this as an invitation to cross the corridor. As he comes closer, Dieter finds he’s in more casual clothes - perhaps even sleepwear - clutching a bottle of wine in his hand. If this is a peace offering, Dieter will take the olive branch. He’s so goddamn pleased you’re not fucking this guy, he might even kiss him.

“You want a joint?” he asks him, straightening on the couch. Suddenly it’s not so hard to be magnanimous, not with the sheer euphoria of you not having betrayed him (is he allowed to call it that? Probably not, but there’s no word quite so apt). He feels he might even be smiling, but he can’t be sure. He hopes so.

“God, please,” Dustin groans. He sits the bottle of wine on the table and rubs his hands together eagerly as Dieter lights the one he’s been puffing away at.

“I figured you were the one with the goods,” Dustin says around a cloud of smoke. He looks over at the open door, nodding at it. “We should close that, huh?”

Dieter shrugs. He thought he had closed the door, truthfully. “Probably should. I think I saw a kid here,” he says. Neither of them get up.

Dustin passes the joint to Dieter. He takes another hit when he gets it because fuck it, this is a celebration. “What, she didn’t want you?” he can’t help but ask.

Dustin laughs mutedly. “I don’t know. I figured by the way you reacted at dinner that I better not try. And there's that thing with my wife.” He shrugs. “I’m always fucking that one up. I thought I should just wander around and see where the night takes me.”

Dieter rests his head back against the couch again, nodding sympathetically. “Mm, I understand. Me too.”

“What’d you do?”

“The better question would be what didn’t I do.”

“Did you cheat?”

Dieter turns his head. “I don’t know. I didn’t fuck anyone else while we were together but she said I might as well as have. And I guess she’s whose opinion really matters, isn’t it?”

Dustin mumbles an agreement. “I fucked a lot of people,” he confesses. “Even the divorce lawyer.”

“And she still talks to you?” Dieter asks.

“We’ve got a kid.”

“That’s right. She told me that, because she likes to talk.”

“Hey don’t be a dick. Yours does too, you know? That’s what women like to do—talk. And they like to be listened to.”

Dieter narrows his eyes. “Is that what you were doing at the bar? Talking?”

Dustin nods. “Yeah. Listening, too.”

“I listened.”

“But you didn’t like what you heard.”

Dustin says this more as a statement than a question. Dieter looks back to the ceiling and pinches his eyes closed, too high. “Mm,” he mumbles. “I’m just so happy she isn’t fucking you right now. I really thought she would be there for a second and it was making me sick.”

Dustin huffs out a laugh. “I take it you never shared?”

“What do you mean ‘shared’?” Dieter asks. “Like wife swapping? No. We seemed to have left the practice in the sixties.”

“Not necessarily. Threesomes?”

“Have you done that?”

Dustin shrugs, smiling unashamedly. “Before we got married, of course,” he tells Dieter. Then, “And a little after too.”

Even with the high, Dieter can’t help but feel curious about the arrangement. “With men?”

“Sure. It wouldn’t have been fair with just women. That was the rules, anyway. Why? You’ve never been with a man?”

“A few. That’s not what strikes me as odd. You just didn’t strike me as the type.”

“I wouldn’t say I was, but fair is fair. And it can be nice. Interesting.”

Dieter rolls his eyes. “Gay sex is gay sex, no matter how you cut it. If you’re about to tell me it doesn’t count, I’m gonna laugh.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t. I just like there to be a girl there too.”

The information weighs heavily on Dieter’s drug induced state of mind. He finds himself beginning to laugh. “Wait a minute, are you trying to talk me into a threesome? Is that what this is? Are you trying to seduce me, Mrs. Robinson? That’s what the wine is about, isn’t it?” He points to the bottle in question, and everything suddenly seems much too funny.

Dustin begins laughing too. “No! The wine was for something. I just couldn’t figure out what”

Dieter ignores him. “Your…your wife hates me,” he manages to hiccup out, “And mine? She—“ She hates me too. This thought makes the laughing come to a slow halt. That’s right. She hates him too.

“I bet she’d do it,” Dustin supplies, soft chuckles still emitting from him. “They can surprise you like that sometimes.”

Dieter shakes his head, his smile more soft, almost sad. “Not with me. I pissed her off. I was thinking I’d try with that waitress downstairs but she’s young and I’ll for sure hate myself for that later.”

“Don’t do that. Your wife really will hate you for that,” Dustin advises. “Take it from an expert. Just call her. Apologize.”

Dieter shakes his head. “That won’t work. It’ll just make her more mad when she realizes I’m high.”

Dustin considers this. “Maybe. I don’t know. Let’s go to her room. Do it in person.”

“You can’t go,” Dieter tells him evenly. It’s not often he’s the voice of reason — even less so when he’s high — and this dynamic is beginning to make him feel out of sorts. He wants to shut his eyes and sleep this off, but naturally — because he is who he is — he will follow this train of thought through with Dustin.

“Why not?” Dustin smiles widely, catching his stride in the conversation. He speaks more animatedly, bringing his hands into the mix for emphasis. “She doesn’t want to fight with you in front of me! And she can see we’ve made friends. That’s progress! She’ll like that.”

Dieter considers this. He does want to show you he’s sorry — really.

“You just want to fuck her,” he says to Dustin. He’s too high to be angry, even if he really wanted to be, but he is suspicious.

When Dustin doesn’t respond to that, Dieter narrows his eyes. “You do!” he accuses, acutely horrified by the idea.

Dustin looks at him, a smile playing across his lips. “C’mon, aren’t you a little curious to see what it’d be like?”

“No. And besides, even if I was, I don’t think she would. She’s not…I don’t know, I don't know how to explain it.” Dieter pinches up his face, stuck for the right words. “She’s not a prude by any means, but I don’t think she would.”

“Would you? If she did?”

Dieter doesn’t consider the question, only beats around it. “She wouldn’t. I know her.”

He watches as Dustin rises from the couch. “Let’s just go ask her.”

Dieter jumps up, feeling sobriety sneak up on him. “No!” he says, horrified.

But Dustin has snatched up his bottle of wine and began to make his way out into the corridor before Dieter can stop him.

So crumbles the olive branch.

—-

When you see Dustin standing at your door, holding up a bottle of wine with a goofy grin, you think it's a sign from the Heavens above. No more Dieter, that’s what it tells you. He’s ruined your life for a decade now and it’s a cause you’ve got to accept is a lost one. A new man is here and you’re lonely, and you didn’t even have to go search this one out. You smile, open the door a little wider.

But then you see Dieter shuffling down the corridor, brown eyes blown wide. Dustin looks over at him with a grin and you realize with a sinking feeling that this wasn’t what you imagined it was. You don’t know what it is, to be exact, but you’re sure it’s not right.

They look up to no good, with glazed eyes and Dustin’s too wide grin. You close your door just a smidge when Dieter shoulders to the front. He smiles apologetically, and you instinctively hold out a hand to keep him steady. But he’s steady, in no risk of tumbling forward. He puts his hands over yours before you quickly take it away. He looks stung but you don’t care.

“Hey kid,” he says sheepishly. His eyes seem to be asking you something - saying something - but you’ve long lost that way of communicating. You frown, slumping against the doorway.

“Make friends?” you ask, nodding back to Dustin.

Dustin nods his head, unaware or — more likely — too high to be aware. “He’s being a good boy,” he vouches.

“I’ve been good,” Dieter echoes. He tries another grin and that easy charm of his, but none of it works. You fold your arms over your chest.

“Listen, I’m a little tired and—“

“I’m sorry. I know what I did earlier was shitty. I don’t know why I do things like that. Don’t shut me out. Please.” Dieter pouts. The sincerity of his words punches you in the gut, and makes you angrier somehow. Like it’s mocking, even though you know it’s not. He seems to sense this and he continues talking. “I know I don’t own you like that. I had no right. None at all. And I’ve been meaning to say it to you all night. And I know you’re thinking ‘this prick is high.’ I am. I’m really high, and I can’t deny it, but I’m sorry too. I was sorry even before I got high. That’s why I got high.”

Dustin giggles behind Dieter. You look over, feeling pangs of annoyance for him too. Now that he’s not your knight in shining armor he’s just some asshole in kahoots with this asshole. “That’s terrible,” he huffs out. Dieter glares at him over his shoulder before you’ve got the chance.

“I’m sorry,” Dieter tells you again, pleadingly. You shake your head.

“You’re always sorry. That was always the problem.”

“I know! God, I know.”

“Ask her if she wants some weed,” Dustin whispers.

“And I suppose you smuggled that in?” you ask, straightening yourself up. You feel motherly, glowering at him like this. You want to wring his neck. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed fuck you, make you feel eternal and sexy. But no. Now you’re so matronly, standing there in your PJs, frowning so hard wrinkles are mapping their permanent home in the places your face creases.

He nods guiltily. “But you knew that! I’ve talked about it all week.”

“Yeah but—“ you wave your hands in the air. “It all adds up with you. It’s..”

“The little things,” he finishes sadly. “I know.”

“Why do you know so little if you know so much?”

Dustin coughs suggestively behind Dieter and Dieter turns around swiftly. “No,” he tells him sharply.

You furrow your eyebrows. “No, what?”

Dieter shakes his head dismissively and Dustin shrugs, looking around aimlessly. He’s trying hard to contain a laugh or a grin, you can tell. You hate that Dieter is making you a bitch in front of him. You could be fucking him for God’s sake, but you’re just annoyed.

“Go to bed,” you tell them.

“Well that’s the idea,” Dustin counters, his lips drawing upwards. Dieter looks pallid.

“It wasn’t,” he tells you. “I swear. I came here to stop him from asking!”

“Asking what?” you say, exasperated.

“For a threesome,” Dustin says simply, like it’s nothing at all. “Though I can see now that’s probably not in the cards. And it wasn’t really asking for one, just a hypothetical.”

You look over to Dieter. He looks down at the floor, like a kid in trouble. “Dieter,” you scold.

He shakes his head. “I didn’t want him to ask. I told him—I said you wouldn’t. I didn’t even want to suggest it,” he mumbles helplessly. “That’s not what this was supposed to be at all, kid. I swear. I just wanted to say sorry and…I don’t know.”

You don’t know whether to believe him or not. “But you talked about it?”

“Hm?” Dieter raises an eyebrow.

“The threesome? You were talking about having one?”

“Yeah, but not like—it wasn’t locker room talk. Not really. He just started talking about it and asked if you would and I said no—“

“How do you know I would say no?” you huff. “You don’t know. You don’t know me.”

Dieter frowns. “That’s not true.”

“Yeah it is,” you nod. “I’m different now. I’m not the woman you dragged around all those years.”

“I never thought of you like that.”

“Well, still, yes,” you say, feeling angry and stung and in a desperate need to prove him wrong and spite him all in one go. It’s such an ugly feeling and it’s not right, but you can tell the words take him by surprise.

“Yes?…” he asks. “Listen, I get that you’re angry, but you don’t have to do this.”

“No I want to,” you say. “If that’s what you want, what he wants, I want it too. If that’s what you’ve come for, then you’ll get it.”

He shakes his head. “You’re angry and you’re not thinking straight. You’re…being mean. And you’re only going to piss yourself off more, I think, and then you’re going to be mad at me because I drove you to it.”

You shake your head. “No. I think I’m being quite nice. I’m standing here telling you I want you to fuck me. I want him to watch. I want him to fuck me and you to watch. Whatever perverse things you cooked up together, let’s do them. If you’re going to make me mad, then I’m asking that you have the decency to fuck me too.”

Dieter struggles to compute the information. You do too. You hate him. You love him. You are so high strung and pissed and you’d do anything to be touched. Let him prove himself, goddamnit, or let him be damned jealous. Either way, you get fucked. Everyone's a winner or only you are. You don’t give a shit.

Dustin seems altogether pleased by this, clapping a hand onto Dieter’s shoulder. “I told him you might surprise him.”

“Mm hm,” you hum. You do not break eye contact with Dieter. He nods his head, resolving to trust you—or to go along with it. It doesn’t matter, just so long as he doesn’t question it.

When he steps forward, you put your hand up, blocking him. “First the weed.”

He lets out a soft sigh and stays put for a second, looking as though he wants to say something more. He’s wise enough not to in the end.

As he rounds the corner, heading back to his room, you finally glance back up at Dustin. He smiles softly. “You don’t have to do this,” he tells you. “I really was just to get some fire under his ass. I mean, I’m not against it, but if you’re just doing it because you’re pissed—“

You cut him off with a hard look. “I want to,” you say resolutely. “And I am pissed. So be it. Men start wars for less.” You shrug. He looks amused and you feel something arise in you, up alongside the anger — arousal. Desire. Something. He smiles handsomely. The grayish scruff on his cheeks bodes well with his aged features.

You do want to fuck him. That’s freeing information. Propping the door open wider with the kick of your foot, you nod him in. “C’mon. Get in here before I change my mind.”

The dichotomy between his laughter and the intensity of the fight you just had with Dieter makes you smile despite yourself.

“Wouldn’t want that,” he responds with a wink.

He brushes past you with his body and you fight the urge to suck in a shallow breath at the sudden casual contact. As he moves into the room, he pulls you away from the door with him, gripping at your shoulders. He doesn’t let you stay back and wait for Dieter like some lost puppy.

You look at him, eyes wide, and he hands you the wine in his hand. He is so unserious that it’d be plain endearing if it hadn’t been a source of annoyance a moment before. You watch as he wets his lips and looks down at yours. There seems to be a pregnant pause, eyes searching yours for an answer to an invisible question. You think of Dieter, of all the sex you’ve not had since the divorce, and how hurt he seemed when you pulled back from his touch. You love him so much. It isn’t fair. You will love him your whole life if you don’t stop this. You heed your mother’s warning too late and you kiss Dustin hard on the mouth. He takes some of your grief with a practiced tongue, kissing you deeply until you’re interrupted by a cough in the corner a few blurry moments later.

Dustin smiles, holding your face between his hands. “The weed,” he remarks. Dieter nods. He looks a little hurt, a little angry, a little betrayed—looks like he’s always made you feel, and you are not surprised it doesn’t make you feel any better.

You love him. You fool.

You shake Dustin off and Dieter hands you the joint with a forced grin. “It’s strong,” he warns softly as he lights the end. As you inhale, Dustin comes to stand behind you. Dieter’s eyes watch as his arms snake around you. He plants wet kisses alongside your neck and Dieter worries his bottom lip between his teeth.

Dieter reaches out to you, touches the wrist you’ve risen to put the joint in your mouth. His calloused fingers try to reach across burned bridges and you aid him, handing the joint back and reaching out to him too. His baggy sleep shirt is easy to take between your fingers. He takes a hit and then comes closer to you, pressing into you.

When he kisses you for the first time, you think of an ouroboros. Whole and eternal, destruction and rebirth. Your mother hates him when she once loved him. He knows your birthday and the way you like your coffee in the morning. You don’t know what he did yesterday. He doesn’t know your friend’s old cat died and that you’d been to two weddings before COVID hit. He tastes familiar and feels strange against you, unreal and vivid. You open your mouth and he slides in his tongue. The kiss isn’t like the one with Dustin; he does not explore you as much as he remembers you.

Dustin and Dieter pass the joint between them. When you feel the loss of warmth behind you, you turn curiously, detaching from Dieter’s lips. Dustin goes to abandon the joint on the table by the bed and Dieter’s hot mouth presses kisses alongside your neck. You wrap your fingers in his hair and you can't help but moan when he tongues alongside your jaw. Dustin’s eyes spark with delight at the sound.

You look down at the wine bottle still in your hand and hold it up. Dustin takes it from you, grinning. “I forgot to tell you it was my gift. I’ll open it. It’s good, aged to perfection,” he comments.

He searches your bedside for a glass and finds a crystal one beside the water vase that they gave you earlier that week. He looks down at the bottle in his hand and frowns. “Fuck, I forgot the wine opener.”

“Call the desk,” Dieter says against your skin.

You turn your head back and begin kissing him again, humming an agreement against his lips. Dustin shuffles behind you as you return completely to Dieter, your lips ghosting over his. He licks into your mouth and grasps at the back of your neck, keeping you attached to him as you begin the dance backwards to the bed.

The weed gives you a cloudy feeling, enhancing the warmth of his fingers and lips on your skin, but erasing any inhibition that would make you embarrassed to be doing it in front of another man. You like the idea of it, actually, that there’s some stranger - albeit a familiar one - standing somewhere in the room as Dieter’s fingers lift up your sleep shirt and dip beneath the hem of your underwear. Your ass presses against the edge of the bed and you feel his erection against your thigh. You moan carelessly, tugging at his hair, and he exhales into you, the line between pleasure and pain thin and delicate as he rushes to do what he’s afraid Dustin will get to first if he doesn’t.

Dustin hangs up the phone and looks at the two of you on the bed, a surge of desire filling him as he watches. You’ve got your legs open and Dieter’s got his hands down your underwear and he can see it all from this angle. You’re making delicious, breathy moans and Dieter’s arm muscles flex as he works them out of you. There’s a wet spot on your underwear and he wants nothing more than for Dieter to take them off so he can see more of you.

He watches a while longer, captivated by what makes you tick and what kind of a lover Dieter is. It's kinda like hotel porn that he’s had on repeat the past few days, but live. Before he can get out the request for Dieter to take your underwear off, or wait for the inevitability of it, there’s a knock on the door. He rushes to answer it, holding the door open only enough to take the glasses and the bottle opener. He mumbles a quick thanks before shutting the door on the confused worker.

Dieter enters you with a thick finger and you let out a loud uninhibited moan around his kiss. As Dustin attempts to open the wine he smiles, thinking of the young man who was just outside the door. He likes that you aren’t afraid; he’s always found that attractive in women.

“Here,” he says, pouring the pinkish liquid into three separate glasses. Neither of you look at him, so he repeats it again, this time with more command in his tone. You look so thoroughly kissed when you look up, red lipped and swollen, that it makes him ache, and Dieter’s wild haired annoyance is charming in its own way. He hands you both a glass and you take it with a shy smile. Dieter is less pleased, but takes it anyway with a soft ‘Thanks.’

Dustin watches as Dieter wipes your slick from his fingers with a pang of envy, swallowing down the wine. This isn’t something he’s made a habit of doing often— watching people fuck, threesomes — but he had felt that it wouldn’t have been right to do without Dieter. Truthfully, he had had every intention of going to your room by himself before he had peered into Dieter’s open door. The sight of him sitting there, staring up at the ceiling like he had been doing, inspired sympathy. He hadn’t been entirely truthful about that with Dieter, but what he’s learned over the years about sex is that some little white lies must be told sometimes.

A part of him feels guilty, knowing his own ex-wife lies somewhere in this hotel, probably brewing in her own anger. But he’s leaving her alone. That’s what she asked of him, isn’t it?

“So, any rules?” he asks, abandoning this train of thought before it crashes.

Dieter unwraps himself from you, sitting on the edge of the bed like you are, and shrugs his shoulders. You both look at each other. Dustin feels like an outsider, intruding on something too big and personal, but he doesn’t mind. A bit of self-flagellation mixed in with pleasure was always how he did his sex best, and there’s nothing quite like sleeping with two people very much in love during a pandemic.

“Dieter said you’ve never done this before,” he says, looking at you. “Is that true?”

You nod your head. “What do you mean by ‘rules?’”

“Well, I guess it’s a bit different because no one is with anyone here, but sometimes there will be requests people make to ensure no one gets their feelings hurt. For instance, you might not want me to cum inside of you or enter you at all. They’re for safety too—consent, boundaries.”

“I see.” You look down at your glass of wine, thinking. “I don’t really have any rules. Maybe just use condoms.”

“Are you sure?” Dieter whispers, tugging at your shirt sleeve. He leans in closer, says something Dustin can’t hear. You shake your head. “No, it’s fine. I don’t care if you do that,” you tell him. He seems surprised by your answer.

Dustin can’t help himself. “What’d you ask?”

Dieter shrugs his shoulders. “Just about how she feels about us.”

“Do you have any rules?” he asks.

“Don’t cum in her first.”

You look at Dieter quizzically and all he provides is a shrug that says nothing. Dustin nods his head. “That seems easy enough: condoms, don’t cum first.” He swallows down the rest of his wine and sets the glass aside.

You twirl the liquid around in your own glass, smiling faintly. “I can’t believe I’m gonna do this,” you say.

“Me either,” Dieter replies. He sits his glass, half finished, on the nightstand.

“I’m feeling high,” is your next sentence. Dieter seems to grimace.

“You’re in the wrong state of mind,” he tells you.

You shake your head. “No. I made up my mind before I got high. I want to be fucked,” you tell him, voice plain and even. “If you don’t want to fuck me, I’m sure I’ll be okay with just him.”

Dieter shakes his head adamantly, cheeks beginning to red. “I—I do want to. I always want to. I just want to make sure you’re not doing something you’re going to regret later.”

With a smile, you tell him teasingly, “I won’t regret it later. Not if you do it right.” You offer him a teasing wink that draws out his dimple. He leans forward and presses a chaste kiss on your lips, too romantic and sweet to be good for your soul.

You decide then that this will have to be less Dieter focused if you want to last. “Lay on the bed,” you say to him. He nods his head, prying off his house shoes. You look over to Dustin, who stands awkwardly at the head of the bed. He smiles again with that charming Hollywood grin that age hasn’t dimmed in the slightest, and you grin back. “I want to kiss you again,” you tell him directly.

“That can be arranged,” he says, dipping onto the bed.

Dieter lies back against the heap of pillows at the headboard, his knees spread apart to make a spot for you. Dustin guides you there slowly, his body pressing into yours until there’s nowhere left to go but into Dieter. He kisses you deeply, hands strong and warm and unfamiliar in an entirely exciting way as they bunch up the fabric of your sleep shirt and expand over your skin.

Dieter doesn’t touch you, even though he badly wants to. Part of it is heartbreak and disbelief, and the other part is erotic fascination—watching you come apart like this, at another angle, is undeniably doing something to him. You are so pliable under Dustin, so easy for him, like you’ve waited your entire life to be like this. Maybe you have. Maybe he never paid enough attention—maybe in all your thousand little, subtle ways you had once alluded that you’d like to be this way. Maybe if he hadn’t been such a prick, he could’ve made more rules, one like ‘Don’t enter her at all’ and ‘Don’t kiss him like that because I know once upon a time you kissed me like that and I screwed it up, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better husband. I’ll be a better friend, just don’t kiss him like that.’

But then again maybe not. That’s a mouthful and you’re high and he’s high. Maybe it would be just like this. It’s just that he loves you. It’s an odd kind of love, but it’s real. Dustin has his tongue down your throat, his exploratory fingers beneath the fabric of a sleep shirt, but Dieter loves you. The fool.

Blissfully you are unaware of the pity party Dieter throws for himself behind you. He is a body, a springboard for desire and heat, as you surrender yourself to lust the way you never really have before. You do draw up some comparisons, unable to help yourself.

Dustin is grittier, all command and surrender. He is an electric taste of the illicit, some faraway fantasy made palpable. Dieter is your ground zero, vivid and stormy. He is what yesterday was. You read somewhere once that when you have a child with a man, their genes have the ability to change your own. Though you and Dieter have no children, you feel like something irrevocable like that happened — that you carry a part of him in your genetic makeup. It doesn’t make Dustin worse for it. In fact, it makes him better, an exotic vaccine into your very tired bloodstream. You deserve it. You deserve it so much, and you practically beg for it, mewling as Dustin kisses his way down.

“I bet you taste like heaven,” he mumbles warmly into your skin, licking a teasing strip over your midriff. You watch, mouth agape, heart beating wildly in your chest. Dieter tilts your chin up, directing your attention towards him, feeling impossibly greedy now. He kisses you languidly, tonguing lolling gently against yours, making it lasts forever. Your mind is in a haze, the slow, sensual turn of your tongues lighting a fire in your belly as Dustin uses his own on you. He trails lower and lower, warm and wet, fingers drawing down your underwear and then—

“Fuck,” you say, gasping out the word. You surprise yourself. Dieter captures the word in his mouth and groans in soft appreciation. You glance down your body, your knees hanging loosely over Dustin’s shoulders, watching his warm tongue pressing against your clit. It’s a sight to behold, the way his pink tongue flattens over you. His large hands grip onto your legs, holding you apart as your back presses into Dieter’s front. You feel his semi-erection nudge into your back.

Dustin spends his time with you, teasing you lightly with his tongue at first, learning the careful intricacies of your body. As you run your hands through his unruly bed hair, the tip of his tongue dips into your opening experimentally. He looks up to you, blue-green eyes searching for approval. You buck against his face, desperate, full of want and drugs and something indescribable but undeniably exciting. Ambition. Want. Joy. You used to masturbate to this man. His nose grazes against your clit and he laughs as you struggle. It is warm and bubbly, and you feel it all the way down to your bones.

You tug his hair so hard that he sends another noise vibrating through you: a low, half pained, half aroused groan.

Dustin brings his mouth back to your clit, grazes it gently with his teeth. “Oh,” you say, your head drawing backward, falling into Dieter’s shoulder. He watches you, his dark eyes fixed. He presses his lips onto yours like time hasn’t changed anything. You bask in it, give yourself over to the fantasy with the ease he’s offering it—you kiss like lovers, familiar and intimate, an unformidable duo in sex where you weren’t in marriage.

Dieter doesn’t leave your lips as he says, “I never got to see this sort of thing from this point of view. You’re so goddamn pretty.”

His hands tease up your sides, fingers drawing closer to your chest. “Is he making you soaked? Just like I used to?” he asks, his voice a low drawl. You arch up, bringing your lips up to his. He slots his mouth over yours, pressing into you roughly as his fingers find a pebbled nipple through the cloth of your night shirt. As he scraps over the top of it with the pad of his thumb, you draw your eyes closed. The heady scent of Dieter surrounding you mixed with the intoxicating feel of Dustin pressed against your cunt is almost too much to bear. Almost. You moan against Dieter’s lips again as Dustin’s tongue works you, and Dieter smiles, nodding. “Oh baby, he’s gonna be like me. A pitiful, helpless fool for you. Aren’t you?” he says, looking down the valley of your body to the other man.

Dustin grunts wordlessly against you and your hips fail you again, pressing up into the vibration. Sensing this isn’t the end of lack of control, Dustin presses a hand against them, pinning you down. As he licks you open, spreads your folds with the warmth of his eager tongue, you feel on fire, the sensation reaching every part of your body. He’s good at that. He’s lapping and lapping, his strong nose meeting your clit at just the right time each time he comes up.

“He’s so fucking good,” you say helplessly, uncaring of who hears. The drugs make you uninhibited, looser. You meet Dustin’s eyes as he takes your clit into his mouth again. He is sucking lightly and you try to roll your hips into him, but he presses down, a silent no. “Fuck, you’re so—good at that. Oh my god.”

Dieter pinches your nipple between his fingers, humming softly at the sight before him. “You’re gonna make me jealous, baby.”

Dustin’s mouth grows more focused, intent. You feel your orgasm drawing up, coming closer and closer. You open your eyes, blown wide with desire, and focus on Dieter. He kisses you softly again, bringing his hand up to your other breast. Dustin sucks your clit into his mouth, his fingers digging into your soft flesh, and your hardened nipple scraps against the warmth of Dieter’s palm. It's all so right. You cum then, toes curling into the sheets, body going rigid beneath the touch of them both. Dustin doesn’t stop; he laps up your want greedily and Dieter draws up his head to watch. His eyes darken, full of desire and what you assume is a begrudging respect.

After you’ve ridden out your orgasm on Dustin, Dieter huffs out a soft laugh. “He wants to fuck you,” he tells you, thumb swiping affectionately across your cheek. Dustin, unable to let that one go, presses a kiss to your inner thigh and muffles a laugh against your skin.

“Bravo, you’re so jealous it’s making you stupid. She knows that,” he says, nuzzling his face against your inner thigh. “Of course she knows that.”

“M’not jealous,” Dieter denies evenly. When he looks down at you, brown eyes too kind, you half believe him.

You break the eye contact and smile appreciatively down at the man between your legs. A finger you’d locked in his hair now swipes across the bottom of his shiny lips. He takes it into his mouth, wetting the pad, and you say, “You aren’t a very good team. I think it’s important to be a good team.”

Dieter places a hand on your arm, more of a phantom touch than a grip, but you know it’s a stroke of possessiveness. You glance back up at him, cupping his cheek in your palm. “Dieter likes men,” you tell Dustin, not looking away from Dieter. “He’s not playing nice now and I think it’s a shame because I bet you taste just like me right now. And I know—“ your gaze drops down to Dustin, your voice velvet “—how much this dearest ex-husband of mine likes the taste of me. Have you ever kissed another man, Dustin?”

Dustin bites at your bait, smirk growing wide as his body stalking up yours. “Of course. I looked like a God in the ‘90s. Everyone wanted me and I wanted everyone,” he jokes, his warm hands flattening against your torso. His legs rest behind your thighs as he sits upwards, and you can see the tent of his erection against his sleep shorts. The black of them does little to conceal the full outline, and you thrill at the idea that he’s probably not wearing any underwear beneath the fabric.

You’re not one for getting starstruck - not anymore, anyway, a Los Angeles resident for years and the ex-wife of a star - but the fact that you used to masturbate to this man in front of you is something you still can’t shake. It occupies your mind, the way you had rewinded scenes from his raunchy, made for tv erotica over and over. Even now, many years later, you can still picture it: his younger frame pressed behind a blond woman, fucking into her in haste, his hands all over her and his thrusts rough. It was incredible to you back then, placed in some seedy location like an alley. Public and animalistic—the stuff of paperback romance novels. You remember the way he tugged her shirt upwards, how in the heat of the moment he grasped at any part of her he could get. A black bra and a long skirt, the bra pushed askew, going higher and higher with each thrust, and the skirt gripped onto, used for leverage as he pushed into her from behind. The VHS that hosted the scene had been passed from friend to friend in your college days, until someone’s VCR had eaten it. You feel a bit excited to know you’ve got the real thing right here. You think about telling him.

But it’s not about you, not now; it’s about Dieter. You widen your legs, make room for the ‘90s heart throb to slip between your body and come closer to the man you’ve dedicated your life to. In this moment you can admit as much. Dieter’s got his cock pressed against your back, and you know he would do anything - anything - for you if you’d just ask. His love burns like a million suns and you’ll be Icarus in every lifetime. You fool. Kiss another man hard and seek penance in his presence behind you.

Dieter stiffens as Dustin presses closer and closer to him. You shift to accommodate them, moving your body up, guiding Dieter along. He holds you close like a shield but doesn’t protest when Dustin’s lips press into his.

Dustin tastes of earthy vineyards and you—like sweetened strawberry wine and the familiar palette of tangy and acidic that’s blessed Dieter’s tongue many times over. That’s it, he thinks with a smile against Dustin’s generous lips. That’s how you taste. He savors it like a wine connoisseur does his wine, running it over his tongue and thinking too long about how to describe it. It is so utterly you, it makes him yearn for another life.

He plunges his tongue so deeply into Dustin’s mouth, it threatens to gag them both. But it doesn’t. They’ve both got their party tricks, after all. Dieter’s kiss grows hungry and suddenly there’s no space between any of you. You are a perfectly molded puzzle, fingers on skin, in hair, tongues swiping against lips and chests, and there are deep guttural moans exposing what the erections do well to show.

You know Dieter wants this, can feel his evident excitement press into your back. You happily welcome the warmth of Dustin’s firm body pressing impossibly close to yours. Dieter wets his bottom lip and squeezes you reassuringly, a habit from other life slipping into this new one.

You alternate kissing one another, creating a new taste on your warm, eager tongues. It is perfect. Dustin’s hands gingerly fumble over your chest, not focused or intent but curious, and Dieter’s allow it. The possessiveness has translated into something entirely more agreeable, and these men work together like lovers.

Your fingers grip at Dustin’s muscular shoulders, trail lower and lower over the slope of his chest down to the dip above his shorts. The path is slow and arduous to your lust riddled brain. He grunts against your collarbone, his hot breath fanning over you, and you go lower still, taking the shorts with you.

Dieter’s eyes trail the same place yours do, his chin tucked into your neck; you share the same view of Dustin: the red weeping head of his cock as it bops against his toned stomach, eager to be touched and licked and surrounded. Dustin sighs hotly against you as you press against him - against it - and Dieter swipes his tongue behind your ear. It is heaven, the way Dieter and Dustin feel against you, combined like this. You want them both. You need them.

You wrap your hands in Dieter’s curls, let him support your body as it rubs frantically over Dustin’s. Dieter peppers kisses alongside your neck and whispers, “God, you’re so fucking hot. God, I was so fucking lucky—“

The rest of it is lost against the shell of your earlobe. Some things - even the kindest, most genuine things - are better left unsaid.

Dustin emits soft, urgent moans as his cock catches between your bodies. The tempo of your shared thrusts grows quick, more focused, and he is close, on the very brink of letting go. You knit your brows, watch curiously and excitedly as he draws closer. You think of it: A hot spurt, just for you. Dieter holds up your sleep shirt, seeming to expect the same.

But then Dustin stops, his thick fingers rough and tight against your skin as he stills your movements. In the morning you’ll be bruised, a thought that thrills you. “Not yet,” is what he says in explanation, leaning his forehead against yours.

Dieter laughs softly, some terrible joke about bad endurance dying before it rises to be heard. He’s on his best behavior. Dustin tastes of you, of him, and you’re all naked and you’re so happy, so pliant. You lean against him like he’s someone you can lean on, and he swallows the serenity of that thought silently. Dieter is a half guilt, a perpetual bleeding heart, and you are his salvation. He knows it doesn’t work like that, can’t, but sex is not about what is real and logical. That’s why you were always so fucking good at it; it was beyond the both of you, and somehow a language you spoke best together.

He should feel worse about Dustin. Perhaps it’s because you want it so bad, or maybe it’s because he’s so horny, but the inclusion of him feels less intrusive than before. This is not your marriage bed - it’s been lost to the cruel seas of time - but it feels like a union, and Dustin plays a curious part. Not the voyeuristic onlooker, but the active participant, his glistening cock hot and heavy against your beautiful stomach. It should make Dieter sick. It did, thirty minutes ago. But now it makes him hard, wets his mouth. The bastard is good looking.

What can he say - you have always had good taste.

You turn your head and lick into Dieter’s mouth, redirecting your attention. He turns you between their bodies, pressing you into him as he kisses you feverishly. Dustin assists him, holding you against his body like Dieter had been doing before, only upwards. Dieter draws back and lifts the cotton sleep shirt over your head. He takes advantage like Dustin hadn’t been smart enough to, wetting your nipple with his warm mouth and tweaking the other between his fingers. You squirm, pressing your hot cunt against his stomach. He feels too clothed suddenly, having been denied contact because layers. You help him take off his shirt and Dustin helps you take off his pants. You waste no time wrapping your hot hand around him and tugging loosely.

His mouth finds your nipple again and you wrap your fingers into his unruly hair, jerking him off slowly as he kisses and sucks at your bare chest. He knows you’re already dripping, seen it on Dustin’s glossy lips when he got done with you, but this is his body remembering you and he can't stop. He remembers the way you got when he licked at you like you were the last scraps of his final meal on earth. How desperate and needy you became, just as desperate and needy as him. His hand travels down your stomach, straight down to your cunt, and he palms the wet heat of you into his hand. Dieter relishes the way you gasp into his mouth as the heel of his hand finds your clit, a smirk on his lips and a sentence like, “That’s it, baby,” coming out against you.

He fingers your entrance teasingly and finds you devastatingly wet. This is heaven, he thinks, the wet stickiness of you on the pad of his finger and your hot breath on his lips. You dig your nails into his shoulder, shut your eyes against the sensation of one of his fingers entering you. Dieter is ground zero. In your Garden of Eden, Dieter was there, at once Adam and the serpent. This is the apple. How delicious it is to be fucked, how perfectly human. Of course they’d turn on God for this. Cover up with leaves and be terrified of the whole earth later. Bleed and cry. Divorce. Whatever. This is worth turning back on perfection for. Poor Eve. Poor you.

You rub yourself against his hand and Dustin takes one of your breasts into his hand, watching. Dieter is so focused on the squelch of your juices and the way his finger - fingers now, two, and you stretch so perfectly for him - enters you that he doesn’t even mind. You’re no pissing contest, he sees that now—you're the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He swallows your moans and tries his best not to cum. Your grasp on his cock is so loose and it’d be so embarrassing to cum on your stomach when the tugs are nothing, and besides this is about you. So he focuses on trying not to.

“Condom,” you mutter, your lips landing on the side of Dieter’s mouth. Dieter nods his head but doesn’t pull back from you. He watches, enchanted, as your hips move against his hand. He can feel your orgasm build in the way you clench around his fingers, the penultimate pressure too much to bear. When you come, its with a shudder, your body tight and rigid above his as you ride it out. Dieter is so high and so in love with you, and he’s so sick about it that all he can do is laugh earnestly, even though what he wants is to ask you to marry him again.

Dustin is touching you all over with his hands, palming your perfect breasts, and you’re arching farther and farther back. Dieter can hardly bear the sight—not because of the jealousy—but because he’s deathly afraid this is it for him. You’re the best thing he’s ever had, and he knows he can’t think that way. You had a good run—you’re great friends now—but God, you married him in Vegas and you used to sketch his nose with careful affection onto canvases you kept for yourself. Who’s gonna sit in your studio now? Who’s gonna take up space in your heart, make you smile over the canvas as you work? He would weep if you didn’t look so pretty and sated, leaning into Dustin the way you are.

He kisses you hard on the mouth just to get rid of the thoughts, and then he kisses Dustin too, grabbing roughly at the back of his hair the way he hasn’t ever with you. It’s not kind, but Dustin doesn’t seem to mind; he moans gruffly, absorbing nothing but the desire behind it.

Your hands explore Dieter’s exposed skin as they kiss, warm and gentle, unconsciously fingering the scar he got as a child. You know the map of this body. When his hard cock bops against his stomach you take it in your hand again. Before he has time to think, you put him in your mouth.

“Fuck,” he mumbles against Dustin’s lips. They stop kissing, looking between them at the sight of you. Dustin is so considerate, so much better than Dieter has ever been. He moves aside your hair, kisses against the curve of your spine. All Dieter can do is think about not cumming. He feels bad about this, wishes he could gather enough strength to think about your hair and things like that. But your mouth is warm and you take him in with expertise, bobbing in a rhythm he wouldn't dare break. Up, down, the tip of your tongue running alongside a vein, back up again. He’ll cum like this. You look up at him through your eyelashes and he touches the top of your head with unspeakable tenderness. Cum, you beckon, but he won’t. Can’t.

Where is that goddamn condom? How can he make this last forever?

He pulls back from your lips smiling an apologetic grin when you at him, surprised. You seem to understand, a devilish little smirk playing across your glossy lips. He wants to kiss you, but even that feels dangerous right now. He thumbs your lips instead.

“Condoms,” he tells you softly. You nod your head.

“In my bag.” You point over to the corner of the room. Dieter pads off to get them.

Dustin’s hands sneak between your thighs and you sigh when he finds your entrance, the tip of a finger rubbing the spot Dieter abandoned. You’re so wet and you want it so badly. He presses his lips against your shoulder and you feel the heat of his breath against your goose pimpled flesh. As you loll your head against him, he slides a finger in. You scratch the back of his head and nod frantically.

“You’re so tight.” He nips your skin and then licks at you with a desperation you’ve only experienced in Dieter. You like being wanted this badly. You lift your hips and ride his finger, squeezing around him. So tight, right. He laughs and you feel that too. “You like being talked dirty to, don’t you? You’re being so good, riding my finger like this. I can’t wait to fuck you. To feel you around my cock like this. And I bet he’s thinking that too.”

You both look over to Dieter as he unwraps a found foil and takes out the condom. You sigh; Dustin’s thumb finds your swollen clit. “We’ve got to make him cum in you, but I don’t think you’ll find that hard. He wants you so bad. Look—“ You feel Dustin’s grin already across your back. “He’s so fucking hard for you. Just as hard as me.”

Dieter strokes himself through the protective sleeve as he watches the two of you. You feel the familiar sensation of heat spreading low in your belly. When Dustin dares to enter another finger into you, you gasp, feeling full and stretched and yet not full enough. He spreads his fingers inside you, preparing you. You tug at his hair and make eye contact with Dieter.

He smiles lopsidedly, suddenly boyish and more handsome than he’s ever been. You think he looks happy for you—so pleased that you’re pleased, with a glint in his eye. Maybe it’s the drugs. You don’t know. Maybe he is happy that you’re happy. He was always better at saying he loved you than he was at showing it, but you suspect that this is his showing you. Love. Maybe it spills over in divorce, just another cruel thing you’ve got to cope with.

When Dieter comes back, he presses a condom into Dustin’s thigh. You are at the edge of another orgasm, everything perfectly in place — the sensation of Dustin’s thumb, the way his breath hits your skin, the idea that Dieter is watching you—but he denies you it, interrupting. You go to protest, whine, but he doesn’t give you a chance.

Dustin’s fingers are still in you, on you, when Dieter leans down and presses his tongue flat against your clit, greedy with lust. He licks at you around Dustin’s fingers and it feels like too much. They seem to make an agreement, working you at the same time. You cum quickly and this one seems to go on for eternity. You squeeze Dieter’s shoulder. The other condom package falls loosely onto the bed as Dustin uses his hand to keep you steady, your knees weak from the pleasure.

You tug at Dieter’s hair to make him stop. Dustin seems to know instinctively, leaving you feeling empty when he takes his fingers away. His slick covered fingers rest on your hips as you tell them both, breathlessly, “I can’t do another one. It’s too much.”

Dieter shakes his head in protest but Dustin takes the information in stride. He’s too good at this, moves through the motions with ease, improvising quickly. He extends his slicked fingers to Dieter. Dieter, who has been so focused on you, looks at them quizzically, unsure of what they mean. Then he seems to get it, hard features smoothing out in realization.

He looks at Dustin, and it’s not like with you. He's focused, not icy or angry but so intent. It’s not a loveless gaze, per se, but it is devoid of love; filled not with something warm but something hot.

Dustin’s cock presses into the small of your back. As Dieter’s mouth wraps around his fingers, you feel a warm bead of pre-cum drip onto your skin. You bite at your lip. You’ve never seen Dieter with men before, and this new side of him excites you—like unlocking a new door in a house you’ve had for ages. He puts on a show for you, bobbing like you did on him. Dustin’s fingers seem to be an extension of yourself. You shudder as Dieter tongues along them, and Dustin rubs himself helplessly against your backside.

“I want to see what you’re like with men,” you say to Dieter, your voice barely a whisper. But Dieter hears you and his eyebrows perk in interest. This is a long unanswered question to something you’ve never been brave enough to ask. You’ve always known that he’s been interested in men — that he’s had sex with them — but you’ve never really questioned outright about what it was like. It felt equal parts too personal and hurtful; you didn’t want to know what it was like with other people before you. But everything seems different tonight. You want to know badly, like he’s got secrets that could be your salvation hidden in him.

You slip from between them, lying against the pillows. Before filling the space, Dieter looks over at you. His brown eyes implore you for a sign and you nod your head.

He’d asked you earlier, when Dustin asked about rules, if you’d be alright with them touching each other, maybe even entering one another. You hadn’t expected it to get to that, so it had been easy to say you didn’t mind. In fact, you had figured Dieter only said it as a means to scare you away from the idea. And now that the notion is not only on the horizon, but a reality, it comes just as easy to say yes—maybe even more so.

He stalls, hesitating, so you nod again, laughing. He smiles. Your ex-husband is a startlingly beautiful man like this, looking so openly vulnerable. He’s physically and emotionally naked and you’ve waited decades for it.

Dieter and Dustin kiss each other like men do, aggressive and dominating, neither willing to lose the good fight just yet. You feel your interest piqued, watching the way their fingers touch each other. How they tug and grip, search for purchase all over. Dieter is much rougher with Dustin than he’s ever chanced to be with you, with bruising kisses and bruising touches. When he grabs the man’s cock, it is with an ugly dedication, fast dry and quick tugs. Dustin hisses the first time but doesn’t protest. In fact, he thrusts his hips unashamedly into Dieter’s closed fist, licking into his mouth with a degree of delight. They tug at the back of each other’s heads of hair and eventually Dieter gives way, falling back to allow Dustin to mount him.

Dustin searches for the condom on the bed, his chest rising and falling heavily in an attempt to grasp at long denied air. You watch through heavy lids as he slides the latex onto himself. He’s circumcised, pink and swollen at the tip. Drips of pre-cum have made him all glossy and you bite your lip watching him struggle to line himself up. When he gets the latex down to his base, he smiles a satisfied smirk. He doesn’t look at you. If he notices you staring, he doesn’t mind at all. This is his favorite play, and he’s an actor after all.

Dieter’s knees knock apart to accommodate his frame—a body you’ve begun to notice with quiet admiration in your desire. He’s broad, much broader than he’d been in his youth, and he’s got muscle all over now, whereas before he’d been lean and lanky. He’s hard and tight and as he begins to rub himself against Dieter, you’re taken with the way his skin stretches over the plains of his back, his arms, his stomach. Dustin is in impeccable shape, perhaps one of the only men who can claim he’s doing better now than he was in his youth. Gone is the boyishness, replaced with a heady, sure masculinity.

Dieter seems to relinquish his fight happily now, soft growls emitting from his lips. Dustin presses down into him, and while most of what they’re doing is obscured by Dieter’s legs, you can imagine it well enough: the steady, erratic thrusts of Dustin’s cock rubbing against Dieter’s. There’s a sheen of sweat on them both and Dustin buries his head in Dieter’s neck. He licks at the places you had once, and it is nothing but erotic little huffs from them both.

“You’re…” Dustin begins, but falters off. He lifts himself up, repositions, bracketing Dieter’s head between his strong arms. Dieter’s eyes are pressed closed, his dark features etched with pleasure. All they do for a while is rub against each other. You feel like an intruder, like something stopping them from getting where they need to be. Maybe you are.

You dare to speak: “Aren’t you going to touch each other?”

Dieter looks startled. He’s red in the cheeks, the exertion of their movements and the heat of his desire making him flush. He taps Dustin on the arm, making the steady roll of his hips slow until suddenly it’s nothing. It’s all quiet for the first time in minutes.

They both look at you with intent eyes. But Dieter is the first to take charge. “You should fuck her,” he tells Dustin. Dieter looks at you, questioning.

“But—“ you protest. Dieter shakes his head.

“It’s okay,” he says. “Later.”

Dustin has no qualms about the interchanging of you and Dieter. You notice that he's notably gentler with you than he was with him, though. He crawls to you, kisses you chastely—as if testing the waters. There’s nothing necessarily erratic or rough about what he does to you. He looks between your spread legs and fingers at your entrance once more, circling the area teasingly. You groan in anticipation and his head falls to your chest. He takes a taut nipple into his mouth as he plunges his fingers inside of you, pushing them against your front wall. As you sigh heavily, he moves his wet mouth to the other nipple.

You turn your head, catch Dieter’s fixed gaze. He reaches out his hand and you lace your fingers together. He’s touching himself through his condom, stroking softly. You want to devour him.

Dustin takes his fingers from you, and you look back at him. Before you can plead for more he says, “I’m gonna enter you now.” You nod, wordless.

He gathers the slick from his fingers and coats his latex covered cock with it. As you squeeze Dieter’s hand, Dustin lines himself to your entrance. His kiss is soft, barely a kiss at all, and he enters you, inch by careful inch. He feels so overwhelmingly right, snug, puncturing something decidedly primal inside of you when he bottoms out.

“Oh, fuck,” you groan hotly against his shoulder. He manages a small laugh, running his lips against your cheek. “Go hard,” you ask. He hasn’t moved yet, stays still inside of you. You think of the way he was with Dieter.

“I don’t know if I can. I think I’ll…” He swallows. “I know I’ll cum.”

“Please,” you beg. You dig crescent shaped nail marks into ass and he smiles teasingly, running his warm tongue against your sensitive skin. He presses so intimately into you, your nipples scrap against his chest. It feels so good. Everything does.

“He said no,” he answers, looking up to meet your eyes.

“He’ll give me anything I want,” you say. Dieter’s fingers leave yours then, and you look over. You think you’ve made him mad but he’s only repositioning himself, coming closer to your bodies. He doesn’t say anything.

Some things are so true they don’t need to be confirmed. They just are. The sky is blue and people die, and Dieter is a man who will give you everything because he was once a man who gave you nothing.

“Oh, I’m sure,” Dustin mumbles, finally drawing back. You nod your head, encouraging, but he doesn’t go harder. He moves in the same way he did before, experimental and slow. When you look at him, imploring silently, he shakes his head. “But a rule is a rule, baby. ‘Sides, I think he’s making me get you ready. Your husband is a bit of a pervert. He’s touching himself, watching me stretch you open with my cock.” Dustin presses his lips into yours. Against you, he mumbles, “Did ya know he likes to watch? Bet he likes to hear too. You—“ Dustin pushes back into you, stopping himself, and the squelch of your juices adds to the effect. He smirks. “—You’ll get fucked. Just not by me. Not yet. Maybe I’ll fuck him while he fucks you. Maybe we’ll do it..” he grunts, bottoming out again, “We’ll do you together. You’re tight as hell, but I know we can get you wide. Couldn’t we?”

You feel Dieter’s fingers but can’t move your eyes away from Dustin’s. They’re greener like this, up close. Dieter trails a line over your body, and then up to Dustin’s, with a lone finger. Dustin turns to look at him and he smiles, nodding. They seem to work without words.

Dustin reaches down to grip the condom as he pulls out of you. You look over at Dieter, half angry and half amused that he could interrupt. You realize what they’re doing almost immediately. Dieter holds open your legs by pressing his palm against one of your knees, and Dustin shuffles, moving back to let Dieter take his place.

His cock probes against your entrance and he smiles down at you like a fool. “Hey,” he tells you evenly, half sober. You ache for him. You clench around nothing as he licks into your mouth.

“Hey,” you respond, overcome. Your fingers wrap around his arms and you notice that he’s got more muscle than before too.

“You want to be fucked?” Although he attempts to make this a question, it is more of a statement. You nod along anyway. He kisses you hard, rough like with Dustin, and he nearly enters you as he rubs himself greedily against your naked warmth, wetting himself with your slick.

“Yes. Hard, like you do with him,” you tell him. He smiles against your lips. You take his cock in your hand, so much more sure with him than anyone, and he slides into you. It feels like homecoming, wet and warm and familiar, your fingers digging into his skin and the smell of sex in the air. He does what you ask, his thrusts sharp, his hips snapping against your hips.

“Dieter,” you pant out, nodding your head. He kisses the side of your mouth sloppily and you smile the best you can. Where Dustin felt right, Dieter feels perfect. You feel like you touch the hem of eternity as he plunges into you with the intensity you requested, uninhibited and giving in the roughness.

He repositions you both in one expert movement, moving to his knees, pushing your hips farther up. This makes you let out a startled gasp; he hits you far deeper like this, his thumbs digging into the flesh on your hips with bruising intensity. You can’t kiss from this position, but it doesn’t matter. He fucks you. Really fucks you.

You see Dustin in the hazy peripheral. Lolling your head to the side, you focus on him. He stands at the side of the bed, smiles at you when you catch his eyes. With his cock standing out in front of him like that, he looks a bit unserious. If you weren’t so full of Dieter, perhaps you’d be amused by this. He doesn’t even touch himself. This makes you frown.

“D—Dieter,” you stammer out.

“Huh?” he grunts.

“Dustin.”

“Mm, what—what about him?”

“Let him fuck me too. Please.”

Dieter shakes his head. “No, you’re mine right now. You’re—“ he snaps into you roughly, the bed creaking. “I’ll suck him off. Or maybe—“ Dieter grunts again, “Maybe he’ll be smart and he’ll get behind me. And maybe he’ll—“ his head drops to your neck, and your head the next part through mumbles. “Maybe he’ll rub against me like he was doing before. But it doesn’t matter right now. Just think about you. It’s all for you.”

You close your eyes, nodding. That sounds fine. Great. Dieter’s finger gazes at your clit and you nod, your hand reaching out to hold his wrist. You always liked to feel the way his forearm moved as he did this to you.

“Cum for me and I’ll cum for you,” he says, and you feel it begin, the stirrings of another orgasm. You think of him, of the way he punctures his thrusts with grunts, how good he feels inside of you, bottoming out like this with measured fury. You like how rough he’s being, like never before. You like this side of Dieter. You like that there is more of Dieter to know.

When you cum, you call out his name. He swallows it, pressing his lips to yours. “Fuck, you’re such a good girl for me. You’ve always been.” He fucks faster into you, his own release on the horizon. You squeeze around him once, twice, and that’s it; he’s filling the condom up and he’s gasping earnestly, amazed and so goddamn in love. He kisses you on the mouth and it’s so genuine. You kiss him back, smiling like a newlywed.

“Dustin,” you say against Dieter’s lips, after a moment. Your chests are both heaving and you're drenched in a thin layer of sweat. He presses his forehead against yours and you smile. “Let me take care of him,” you tell him.

Dieter rolls off of you, collapsing into bed with a soft groan and saying nothing. You take a moment to recuperate, breathing in and out, letting the bliss of this moment wash over you.

“Come here,” you say to Dustin, patting the open space of the bed beside you. He listens, the bed dipping beneath his weight. It takes a lot of effort on your part, but you rise to your knees. You guide him onto his back and he helps you straddle him. For a moment, you just sit there on top of him, looking at him.

“I used to masturbate to you,” you finally admit. This makes him grin. Beneath your cunt, his erection jumps a little.

“Thanks,” he says. His hand palms one of your breasts again. “You don’t have to do anything to me. I can finish myself off if you want.”

You shake your head, grinning. “Didn’t you hear me? I used to masturbate to you. This is a dream.”

Another hand comes up to cup your other breasts. “Are you sure you don't feel too sore? He fucked you pretty good.” You begin to glide your cunt alongside his prominent erection. He sucks in a swallow breath. “Guess that’s a no.”

“That’s a no,” you confirm.

“Just let her fuck you,” Dieter tells him quietly. You smile over at him but he doesn’t see it; he’s too busy watching the way you move your hips over Dustin. Even with a flaccid penis and in a state of post-coital peace, you manage to get to him.

You ride Dustin quickly, grabbing onto his strong shoulders as he tongues your alongside chest, finding your nipples. He groans, the sensation vibrating throughout your body as you follow the motion his hands set for you. A fast up and down, your back arching, taking him in completely and then pushing back so far he nearly falls out.

Admittedly he does most of the work, your legs wobbly and your body tired. But it feels good. God, does it feel good. You like this, being with two men back to back, each of them taking turns. Dustin generously tries to get you to cum again, his fingers sliding between your bodies, but you stop him.

“It’s too much. Just this,” you tell him. You grind down on him to make him feel better about it, and he hums sympathetically around a mouthful of your breast.

You ride him less enthusiastically the closer he gets, both of you too tired and worn. He stops aiding you so much, kissing anywhere he can access: your jaw, your neck, the side of your mouth. He lets your body fall forward into his. It’s a sort of lazy fucking that you do, meeting halfway to create the sharp thrusts that push him closer to climax.

“Cum in me,” you tell him, voice silky against his ear. He knows how tired you are, feels it too. He gathers up the last of both of your strengths, rutting up into you with intent. As he cums, you ride him, curious, taking all he can give. Dieter is too sensitive, can’t stand to move when he cums, but Dustin nods, moaning against you. When it’s over, you collapse into him, hugging his sweaty body. He laughs against your warm skin.

“Thank you,” he tells you softly, so only you can hear. You nod. You lie on him like that for a moment, listening to the beat of his heart. Dieter watches you, his expression unreadable. But he doesn’t look faraway.

You reach out to him with your fingers and he smiles, coming to.

Dustin helps you off of him and you fall between them, sated and spent. He slides off his condom and reaches across your body. “You want me to take yours?” he asks Dieter. Dieter, no longer feeling jealous but merely tired, nods. He hands the man his condom and Dustin pads off to the bathroom. Dieter and you watch this, amused.

“I kinda understand what you see in him now,” he confesses, smiling. He interlocks your fingers and you let him.

“Thank you,” you say, ignoring his comment. You look over at him.

He nods, sincere. “Of course. I assume I did it right?”

“You did it right.”

“And you don’t regret it?”

You shake your head. “I don’t seem to regret you. Even though sometimes it’d be better if I did.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I love you.”

You kiss him chastely, even though you know you shouldn’t. “I know,” you tell him softly. “I love you too.”

“Like a friend?”

“No.”

“Like a husband?” he asks, testing the waters. You laugh. Dustin comes back from the bathroom.

“No. Something more than all of that.”

“I can handle that.”

You nod your head. “Me too,” you tell him.

The bed dips from the weight of Dustin once more, and you roll over to your side, cuddling into him. He passes a warm rag to Dieter and he accepts it, cleaning himself. He goes to hand it to you, but you shake your head.

“I’ll take a shower in a little. When I can walk.”

This earns a laugh from them both. Dustin reaches an arm around you, drawing you closer to his body. Dieter, surprisingly, doesn’t mind this; he curls up behind you, too, wrapping an arm around your waist. You’re all so close, and it’s nice. He thinks maybe they might be something to this sharing after all.

“I liked that,” you say to no one in particular.

Dustin hums, fingering trailing over your arm. “Enough to do it again?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I think the opportunity for this kind of thing only happens once in a lifetime, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t know about that. This is Hollywood, and they love sequels,” Dieter adds, smiling.

“Yeah,” Dustin nods, “That’s true.”

You close your eyes, smiling faintly. “A sequel, then, maybe,” you say tiredly.

In the morning, you do not regret any of it.

—-

A YEAR LATER.

SUBJECT: THREE’S COMPANY, BUT ONLY SOMETIMES from: dustin.mulray@gmail.com

I was at an art show the other day and I saw a painting with your name on it. The guy in it looked a little familiar (they told me it was an old painting, from nearly a decade ago, before you were both famous. Cute). I bought it, of course. Not that I’m in the habit of buying paintings from people I’ve slept with, but it was for charity and it looked good and I’ve got a new apartment that I’ve got to fill, so I thought why not? It cost a lot (good for you!) and because of that they let me wrangle an email address from them to tell you what a brilliant job you did. You did great. Very Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton of you. Anyway, to the point: You weren’t at the premiere of the documentary with Dieter last month. He told me that it's because you don’t like that scene, and I don’t blame you. Neither do I. But I was wondering how you feel about commissioned paintings? And do you think that Dieter would like to come with you to deliver it if your opinion is positive? (He told me I had to ask you that myself, so I think he’d be happy to accompany you if the canvas is too big to carry by yourself). P.S. I’m asking you for sex–a sequel, as it were–but I really would like a painting, too. I’ll spend a lot (not for the sex, but the art. I guess for the sex too, if you’re into that). Love, D. Mulray.

—-

SUBJECT: HOPEFULLY NOT ROSEMARY’S BABY SITUATION to: david.bravo@gmail.com, dustin.mulray@gmail.com

Sometimes I commission art work for people I like and sometimes I make an exception for those I don’t if they pay enough. I’m sure you fall somewhere in those categories, Dustin. But I must warn you: I won’t do dick drawings. I might do a vagina one if the inspiration strikes. I must admit I’ve never had a man ask me for sex over email. Kind of thrilling, like a retro sext but without any of the sexy parts. I’ve attached Dieter to this email for obvious transparency reasons. He says he’d gladly help me carry your canvas (figuratively and literally). P.S. It will cost you. For tax purposes, I hope you’ll let ‘it’ be the art.

—

from: david.bravo@gmail.com to: you, dustin.mulray@gmail.com

Who said divorce couldn’t be sexy?

[aplaceinme]

Here's the thing… all the people saying that if buddie doesn't become canon this season, they won't watch anymore, are straight up lying lol They have been doing this since s2!

So, here's my experience with shipping buddie and seeing people going crazy over them since s2! (I started watching the show live since the second half of s2).

The moment that made me realize that this people were just TOO MUCH and that I was going to step aside a bit and just enjoy the ship without looking for 'clues' and theories, etc., was after “Eddie Begins”.

After that episode, everyone and their mother were saying that 'there's no heterosexual explanation to the way Buck reacted'. And I was like, what do you mean? Yes, there fucking is! So, I asked one of the big blogs if they truly wouldn't react that way if what happened to Eddie happened to a close friend of them. Their answer? “No, I wouldn't, only if I had feelings for them.” And the rest of them agreed with that.

And I was just [insert the guy blinking meme] What do you mean? What type of friendships do you have?!?

So, I pretty much stayed away from speculation and things like that. I just continue to watch the show, and reading fics.

But, obviously, I would still end up seeing a lot of things.

This is what the pattern has been since s2 till now (and it will for sure continue for however many seasons there are of the show):

Big buddie blog makes a post speculating about when buddie will become canon. To do so, they use different theories: couch theory, Oliver's social media theory, color theory, what they are wearing theory, what song is playing theory, the way they shot the scene theory, the way the light/sun was in that scene theory, etc. etc. They would also use the interviews (which they would twist as much as possible so that it would fit their narrative). If someone said, 'buddie is not going canon' then it means that it's obviously becoming canon bc they can't say it will, they won't spoil the show. And if someone said sth positive about Buck and Eddie's friendship, it also meant buddie canon. Basically, they would make the posts with absolute certainty that buddie was going to happen that X season.

All the rest of the buddie fans, would see those posts and theories and would eat it right up. They would reblog and be excited to watch the episodes because at any moment, buddie would be canon.

The first half of a season ended without even a hint of buddie happening anytime soon.

People would go to the big buddie blogs and asked them why they lied? How can they explain what happened? What does it all mean?

The big buddie blogs would make a post saying: "Guys, I was just speculating and theorizing as one does in fandom. Just having fun. I've never promised anything. I'm going to step away from my blog from a while because I don't deserve those asks."

Two days later, they would make a post again, this time saying, "Guys, I've thought about it. And don't give up hope, buddie is so becoming canon in the next half of the season. We have to remember this a slow burn. They have left us all of these clues (insert everything I put in the number 1 point). By the end of the season, buddie canon! Also, Oliver wants it!"

Everyone would buy it again, and would watch all the episodes of the last half of the season expecting buddie.

Buddie would not happen.

Repeat point 4

Repeat point 5

Repeat point 6, but adding that it was going to be the next season.

Repeat all the points over again.

During all of that, they would threaten to quit watching the show if buddie didn't become canon (this has been happening for years and they have never quit, unfortunately!), they would say that it is queerbaiting, they would hate Tim and Kirsten and x writer and x somebody. They would obviously hate on any love interest and the actresses that were playing them.

Some other things that happened:

When the will episode happened, and Eddie used Evan instead of Buck, they all freaked out. It was romantic, and of course Eddie was the only one to use it (besides Maddie). So many fics were written with Eddie using Evan. So, really the only reason they are upset about Tommy using Evan is because Tommy is the one doing it and not Eddie.

When everything with Ryan happened, Oliver and Ryan stopped following each other on Instagram and both of them even deleted pictures of the other. What did the big buddie blogs say? “Oliver and Ryan are professional actors, even if they hate each other now, they will still have to act in love when buddie happens. This situation is not going to change that from happening. They have to do what the script and Tim wants, so…buddie canon!” Therefore, them saying that Oliver hates Lou and so bucktommy will break up, it's once again bullshit because in their own words: “they are both professional actors so it doesn't matter what they feel for each other.”

Pretty much every single thing that they hate about the bucktommy storyline, every single that they complain about, it's just because it is happening with Tommy. If Eddie had made the 'God, I hope so' line, they would have been all over it, writing fanfic and everything.

Honestly, there are probably more things but right now this is all I can think about.

Right now, because of everything that happened, I don't longer ship buddie (obvious if you see my blog). I could have happily been a multishipper and love both buddie and bucktommy, but they have absolutely ruined buddie for me. I can't even read fanfic of them anymore.

[cornunut]

Surprising no one, I am going to ask about The Lads™ for the send a character meme

(d twins + rogier pls ty)

holds them out to you (also this got kind of long sorry in advance)

darian:

First impression

how does he fight with that fuckass armour. is he religious he looks religious can i get some guilt. can he kiss my tarnished.

Impression now

i need to do this to him.

Favorite moment

I CAN'T DECIDE DKFJGHDKFJHG he has so many little bits of dialogue that i love. "don't you dare. unless you want to die like a dog?" "just as long as he doesn't starve to death, eh." "another fool who won't listen to reason, eh?" i want to chew on him. but i really like how you can summon him for both the liurnia mariner and the black knife further north! it makes it feel like i'm dragging him along on my littol journey for a bit. gives him some enrichment lets him touch grass

Idea for a story

ah... i have a few wips regarding him and my tarnished, but one thing i really want to write is how they meet because lucio actually knows him before the proper run of the game! i just need to... yknow... actually figure out How they meet and need to write it DKFGHKJDFGH

Unpopular opinion

he's not a heartless asshole... seriously his first introduction in summonwater shows how compassionate he is with mourning this corpse that he's never met and he's very friendly towards the tarnished if they work with gurranq. he's a good person!

Favorite relationship

d & rogier... romantic or not, i need to know more about them.... how they met, how they fell apart, their interactions during the game... ough

Favorite headcanon

i like to think that he and devin were either killed by one of their parents when they were children or abandoned and died to the elements b/c of the whole cursed twin thing, then reborn as tarnished and taken in by gurranq who raised them. in either situation i feel like devin died first and that's one of the reasons why darian's so protective of him.

devin:

First impression

hey why is his voice so hot. why does he sound so insane.

Impression now

ouuuuugh my little meow meow who has so many problems

Favorite moment

given that he has all of two scenes on screen i'm gonna go with him yapping over fia's body because every word of that speech is ingrained in my brain. smth smth "ROTTEN WHORE"

Idea for a story

i really want to explore either the aftermath of darian's death and how that affected him, or what happened immediately after he killed fia and dipped.

Unpopular opinion

he is entirely justified in his anger about fia killing his brother, actually! cannot believe that that's unpopular

Favorite relationship

with darian - i looove the whole fucked up twin sharing a soul intricate deep connection thing. it makes it hurt more when darian dies :)

Favorite headcanon

related to the previous point i like to think he felt nearly everything when darian was killed due to weird twin soul bond thing :))

rogier:

First impression

he looks wreckable. why must he die.

Impression now

he gives me such insane cute aggression but i also want to move him to a more comfy place in the roundtable hold than that chair on the balcony and tuck him in with a warm blanket.

Favorite moment

i love how sarcastic he gets after you tell him you can't see grace in stormveil KDJFGHKDJHFG he's so passive aggressive its so funny

Idea for a story

[insert rogier lives fic here] but also like what happened when the deathblight took his legs. how the hell did he get back to the roundtable hold.

Unpopular opinion

free my man from the archetype ppl want to shove him into (soft sweet wholesome boy who can do nothing wrong)

Favorite relationship

d & ro... like i was saying above i neeeeeeed to know more about them (luckily that's what fanfic is for)

Favorite headcanon

this is more of a tarnished hc tbh but i think lucio (my tarnished) would, assuming it wouldn't cause any pain to rogier, try and prune away the deathblight vines to try and make him more comfortable. he'd also bring rogier books that he found while exploring tlb. otherwise, for a more rogier-centric hc, i do subscribe to prisoner starting class rogi :)

[breakingblorbos]

Pinned Post/Blog Info!

Hiya!! Welcome to my BrBa & BCS focused blog! 👋🏼😊 The primary purpose of this pinned post is to give some info about me, my blog, and what you can expect to find on it. Everything below the cut is not required reading to follow or interact; merely just additional info if you are interested, or if you want to make requests. The only thing I require you to read is the following disclaimer:

This is an 18+ blog ran by an adult. You will find NSFT art/fic, dark and potentially upsetting themes, as is common for the BrBa/BCS universe. And I make very thirsty comments & posts about my blorbos, so just keep that in mind. However!! I am not going to restrict anyone from following/interacting with my blog. Use your own discretion and awareness. That's your responsibility, not mine. Anything that needs a content warning will be tagged appropriately, of course.

🌌About Me!🪐

Basic info - You can call me either Orion or Riley! I'm 25, neurodivergent, trans masc & nonbinary, and bisexual. Pronouns are he/him and they/them. I do also live in New Mexico (born and raised babyy!), which makes the shows that much more special to me!! I'm very friendly and open, but also very shy, so I tend to not reach out to folks even when I want to talk to them (which, honestly, is most of y'all. Oops.) If you ever do feel compelled to chat with me, please don't hesitate! I'm super excited to talk about BrBa/BCS with literally anybody!

I'm a writer, but I struggle hard with getting anything actually published on here or AO3. I try to write but it's not nearly consistent enough to ever expect anything from me. I'm working towards getting better at this! My main hurdle to overcome is my perfectionism and my fear of rejection (RSD).

I have a lot of interests, being autistic, so the only important one to list here is obviously Breaking Bad & Better Call Saul. You can certainly ask about my other interests, and I'll be happy to tell you more! I like to keep my special interests all separate on their own dedicated blogs, so that was the main motivation behind creating this one. Which leads me to the next section:

☣️About This Blog!⚗️

Most of the content is gonna be reblogs from others: fanart, fics, writings, memes, shitposts, etc. I myself am not an artist and cannot contribute with art even though I wish I could, but I may sometimes write little drabbles, oneshots, and universe willing, fic chapters for my ships/blorbos (more info on that below ↓). If you want to see something in particular, you're more than welcome to submit a request! I think I have a lot more motivation to write when I get specifically asked to write something, perhaps?

My main blorbos: (red shows the character currently occupying my braincell the most rn)

🥊Tuco Salamanca

🐍Nacho Varga (and by extension, Vaas Montenegro. I simply love MM.)

💀Marco & Leonel Salamanca

❤️‍🩹Jesse Pinkman

🎭Saul Goodman/Jimmy McGill

Of course, I adore all the characters (except Walt ofc) and they're all very special to me!! But these seven men listed above have an absolute chokehold on my brain at any given time lmao, so they will be featured prominently in this blog.

My fave ships:

Default ship is character x reader

Vaacho (Vaas x Nacho)

Lacho (Nacho x Lalo)

Beef Sandwich (Nacho x Twins) I fucking love this ship name holy shit

Tucho (Tuco x Nacho)

McWexler (Kim x Jimmy)

Jesse x Jane

Jesse x Andrea

Jesse x happiness (this is a joke, but also not. Man deserves it.)

📨Requests!📝

My asks are always open for questions, requests, or really anything! I love sending/receiving asks and interacting with this fandom! If you're interested in requesting a writing from me, first read this list of what I will and won't write before you submit your request:

Yes, no problem!

Vast majority of ships

Smut/Explicit/PWP

Headcanons

AUs

Oneshots

Drabble

Reader Inserts

Gender Swaps

Fluff

Hurt/Comfort

Angst

Violence/Gore

Dubcon

Toxic Relationship

Most Kinks & Fetishes

Please ask first!

Fandom Crossovers (mostly just to ensure I know the fandom)

Consensual Noncon (depends on character)

No, I will not!

In/ce/st Ships (i.e. twincest, cousins)

Explicit content involving underage characters

Ageplay (calling a character daddy doesn't count lol)

Extreme Kinks, such as s/ca/t, v/or/e, n/ecr/o, etc.

Keep in mind that I reserve the right to deny your request for any reason, including no reason at all! 9 times out of 10 this won't be necessary, but if you're rude or demanding non-jokingly, I won't write for you! Just be chill and it'll be Saul Goodman! :)

Also I don't have a Masterlist to link here, because I've never posted anything ever! It's all just vibing in my Google Docs while I polish and tweak until the end of time! Fun! :D /s

So, yeah, I suppose that's the long and the short of it. I didn't expect for this to be so long, but I have a tendency to just keep adding details to things! Good for writing; not great for writing a blog intro. I'll edit as needed over time, though. Thanks for reading if you got this far! Seriously, props to you. Here's a cookie mwah 🤲🏼🍪

[musubiki]

btw idk if someone already asked this but do they say ily right away??? do they hook hook up right away??? i need the deets

YOU KNOW THIS IS SOMETHING I SHOULD HAVE SOLID ALREADY BUT I DONT YET!!!!! i DO know that lime definitely wouldnt let a large amount of time pass between when they hook up and when he tells her hes in love with her (in either order it happens on the same night. now way hes gonna be regularly sleeping with her and still be like "but what if she doesnt like me...")

at least the version in my head i have right now, they dont get together until the post-game (after the main storyline)!! after the witch king is defeated and everything is FINALLY, for the first time since mochi became a witch, quiet and normal. (im putting the rest under a read more bc its a bit long, its just me rambling about what happens) ->

i think he would tell her during the little dinner celebration they have after the witch king is defeated. everyone is there, the witches and their guilds and sulluvan and even the merchant takes a night off to party with them (strange). mochi is outside with pom, pom probably scolding her again on "this is the way you shouldve handled the fight so all that bad stuff wouldnt have happened. you shouldve been more resourceful as a witch blah blah blah--" and lime has to come rescue mochi from poms scoldings. grabs the cat by the neck and gives her to coco (coco likes snuggling pom against her will. shes the friend that grabs cats and forces them into hugs while the cat struggles and meows)

so he stays out there with her for a bit (alone 👀), chatting about nothing. eventually he asks "So now what?" since they always had something going on. and mochi says "Now...we can finally just. rest. run the shop and help people where we can. normal witch stuff." and starts rambling about how theyll still do commissions and fun adventures and travel around and stuff but for the most part, everything will be normal and theres nothing they cant handle anymore. and after shes finally done talking lime just goes "...will you go out with me?"

(the woman was too stunned to speak meme). its a mix of emotions cuz theres a 5% chance hes joking but the look on his face is so serious. and its also not a total surprise given their very blurred line relationship but it still stuns her to hear him say it.

and in VERY tcwg fashion, of course somehow gets interrupted before she can answer him. coco or sulluvan or SOMEONE starts yelling from the house "HEY THE CATERING GUY IS HERE AND NEEDS MOCHIS SIGNATURE AND OSCARS ALREADY TRYING TO EAT YOU NEED TO HANDLE THIS ASAP!!!" and lime is ready to kill somebody. the rest of the night mochi cant get a second alone with him and every time they make eye contact across the table they both get flustered.

the next day lime probably had to report in or something and mochis groaning to coco about "Noooo i didnt even get to respond what if he hates me!!!" and lime stressing over "Was I too forward...? No way right..??" (hes not overly stressed. at that point hes decided to just be dedicated to being unapologetically in love with her. he has a PRETTY good idea that shed say yeah but in the off chance shes like "nooo" then he decided to love her anyway and just be there for her)

so as soon as he comes home mochi is like "Hey!! Lime!! so uh!! I just remembered I need to go hunting for ingredients in (insert remote getaway she has access to)!! I was wondering if you wanna!! Come with me!!" the whole time red-faced and fidgeting with her braid. lime, bag in hand goes "I'm ready. Lets go now." (pom is like "mmm adventures yum" and mochis like "ahah....just lime." and forces her to stay there)

when they get there (via mochis magic doorway portals), and lime sets his stuff down, and mochi is there stammering and red in the face trying to get her words out, mumbling like "Lime! Uh! About yesterday!! I wanted to!! Um!! Well!! I wanna--//"

and before she can even get proper words out, he grabs her by her waist, pushes her against the counter and kisses her. its one of those deep, passionate, hands-all-over-her kisses. and when he breaks away from her, he nuzzles her hair and presses his forehead to hers and tells her he loves her. he tells her EVERYTHING. how he thinks about her day and night, he misses her when he has to leave, he loves her laugh and her smile and the softness of her touch and the feeling of her warmth on him, and he loves the tone of her voice and the way she cares and does little things for him, and every time he looks at her it makes his whole day. and he tells her how just knowing her has made him a better person and he wouldnt be anything without her. and how hed love her no matter what or no matter how long or no matter if this is something she wants or not, hed love her anyway.

he gives her little kisses between each thing he tells her, and by the end of it shes crying (getting back to the thing i was talking about a few asks ago). she hugs him tightly around his neck with her tears dripping on his uniform and tells him shes loved him her whole life and was always terrified to tell him because she didnt want him to leave and she knows how he generally was with other girls who have crushes on him. as soon as lime hears the "I've loved you my whole life" thing though, his response is "WHAT?! THAT LONG?! WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SOMETHING?!!" and feels a tinge of being pissed off that he couldve had her this WHOLE TIME, to which she responds "I WAS SCARED!!"

and he smirks at her and says "God, you really are literally a scaredy-cat." and shes still crying lowkey so just leans forward into his chest and muffles out a "Shut up you jerk." and he just stares at her for a bit, stroking her hair and planting little kisses on her head, and asks "...do you really love me?" because hes still in disbelief and this doesnt feel real, to which she reminds him that she (as a witch) will always always always love him and never stop loving him for the rest of her life.

so lime kisses her again. and again., and starts escalating it because god knows now that he has the green light there is NOTHING stopping him from having her. probably lifts her up and carries her into the bedroom to have his way with her

(funny tidbit though-- they were originally gonna stay there for like a week because lime wants her all to himself for a while to get all the s*xual frustration out of his system. he thought once he finally gets to be with her then he would have a better grip on how much he wants her, but in fact it makes it worse. so they end up staying there for like 2-3 weeks and even then they had to be forced to come back because oscar was tired of running the shop by himself and they were fucking up the business)

[super-hero-confessions]

The Marvels was good, it does not deserve to flop. However Marvel brought this situation upon themselves by pushing politics too hard–I'm not talking about this movie specifically, I'm referring to other movies where they would virtue signal a lot with social causes, social justice, human rights, and then never deliver in the actual movie, pitting fans against each other. Like the whole "Valkyrie will find her Queen in Love and Thunder" *insert the "so that was a fucking lie" meme*. Sure there was a hint of ValCarol here in The Marvels but for me that was too little too late. I am within the LGBT community and it's gross that they're using my fucking rights to promote a movie.

Superhero movies should be apolitical. With this I'm not saying they can't make a villain be fascist, of course they can, and they should. I'm talking about the message superhero movies have been pushing without actually pushing it. Virtue signaling with zero substance. We're going backwards. Take a look at the real world–why do you think pathetic fucks like Andrew Tate had such a big audience of little kids and teenage guys? Because the loudest feminists started claiming that "men bad" and while an adult man should know that this does not mean "all men", a boy or teenage guy does not know this, they take it at face value. Then they cling to sick fucks like him because they're the only ones telling young boys that they aren't terrible. I'm not defending him, personally I hope Tate bites it because he's gross, I'm saying he takes advantage of how unwelcome the far left makes them feel just for being AMAB. "Well it sounds like some people are just tired of being told how shitty they are". Yup, you figured it out. People are tired of being told how shitty they are, constantly, all the time, for everything they do, and I don't mean taking away human rights I mean going to KFC and have vegans go on about why you are the worst. You are the ones doing this. You are the ones making people feel like they're never enough. You are the ones pushing people away from the political left and they turn to the right, where they are welcomed with open arms. And I fucking despise the right. They want to take rights away and they are disgusting for that. That's why the left needs to fucking stop giving them wings by pushing people in their direction, by constantly playing the victim and telling people, including minorities, how to think.

Now a fun, entertaining movie starring three women is flopping and while far right incels aren't blameless, neither are you.

[theliteraryluggage]

I have no idea, if you've answered them already sorry, if you did and I missed it 😅

🐇🦷🥐

I have not! Thank you!!

🐇 ⇢ do you prefer writing original characters, reader inserts, or a mix of both? 

Hmm I don’t really like reader inserts personally, but some of my fics have a fair amount of OCs, because when I write an AU or something, I need characters to fulfill certain roles (like the antagonist) that I can’t always use canon characters for. I do like to focus on the canon characters, so I try to keep the OCs as few and unobtrusive as possible, but for a fic like Vox Populi for example … I have to have a bunch of soldiers and people working at the military court and journalists etc that are just not given by canon. That being said, I don’t at all dislike writing OCs, I quite like coming up with them, giving them their little quirks to make them seem a little more rounded … I just worry sometimes that readers will be put off by the amount of OCs, that they’re taking away too much attention from the canon characters. But as I said, with fics like VP it’s kind of unavoidable. Uhhh all that to say I definitely prefer writing OCs! Sorry for rambling 😂

🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on

Ahhh at first I couldn’t come up with anything and then I thought about it and now I have too much 🙈 But I think I’m gonna go with this one because I was thinking about it just earlier when we were texting.

Basically, it’s this post that’s been at the back of my mind since I first saw it and that I often consult mentally when I’m overwhelmed with how much I have to do and stressing and don’t know where to start. I don’t have kids, but I am often struggling to balance my part-time job and my freelance job and housework and my hobbies and social life and other obligations.

So I find myself thinking about if what I’m struggling to catch is a glass ball or a plastic ball, and if it is a plastic ball, perhaps I just have to let it fall, but that’s not a disaster. It’s just plastic.

Like sometimes I get really stressed out at the end of the month because I haven’t finished my Patreon exclusive art but also have too much other stuff to do to sit down and draw, so I have to remind myself that a) Patreon is not a big source of income for me, I’m not reliant on it, b) most of my patrons are friends who will not mind if the artwork is posted a few days late, they are my patrons to support me and not because they want to get all their perks on time. So I may have to drop that ball, and I can always pick it up a few days later, it’ll still be there waiting for me.

Or when I’m doing stuff like Nanowrimo or febuwhump or similar events, where I put a lot of pressure on myself that I have to keep it up and get everything done in time and feel like a failure when I miss a day … I have to remind myself how thoroughly plastic these events and my writing in general is. Not that it’s not important to me, but these challenges are self-imposed and I won’t be penalised for not completing them, and I’m not doing them to “win” them but to inspire and motivate me. If I have to drop writing for a while, it will always, always be there for me to pick it up again when I’m ready, no harm done.

Because plastic ball does not equal unimportant, and dropping it does not mean you do not care about it. You don’t have to feel guilty if you need to focus on the glass balls for a while.

Keeping this in mind has made it much easier for me to prioritise and not get overwhelmed as much when there’s a lot going on. I can definitely recommend it.

🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh 

I don't know about always but.. I do quite enjoy the "something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve" meme. and "use the sleep" will usually get at least a smile out of me because I love that stupid post. I'm a bit desensitised by now to references to the "you cannot kill me in a way that matters" post, but "tell me the name of god, you fungal piece of shit" still makes me laugh too.

[gravitywonagain]

Ask-Meme-Based Fic Recs <3

these are all mdzs/cql based because that's what this blog mostly focuses on for now, but if you want recs for other fandoms, i have a few of those, too!

👍🏽 A fic you bookmarked recently

Wei Wuxian, worst supervillain by antebunny "recently" is now relative, but i still want to rec this fic <3

🔁 A fic you’ve re-read several times

Ribbons and Heartsongs by jeyhawk and i'll read it again!!

😂 A fic that made you laugh out loud

My chain hits my chest/When I'm bangin' on the radio by x_los

👀 A fic that you love a normal amount

Compatibility Is for Phone Chargers by Khashana

📆 A fic you’d re-read 10 years from now

leave all your love and your longing behind by ScarlettStorm

😊 A fic that made you smile on a bad day

necromancy is a valid career path! by coslyons, Skadiseven

💯 A fic that makes you think #writergoals

watch your anger by loosingletters

🥰 A fic that gives you warm fuzzy feelings

Keep You Safe by airinshaw

👌🏼 A fic someone else recommended to you

speeding up my heartbeat by plonk

👽 A fic that isn’t prose (poetry, text fic, etc.)

junodoom's fancomic for wen ning's birthday!

🛳️ A fic that brought you aboard a new ship

the doorway that belongs to you and me by theLoyalRoyalGuard and now i'm so starving for mxy/wzl content that i'm gonna have to go write it myself, probably ;)

💘 A fic you couldn't stop reading once you started

watching my heart go round by typefortydeductions

💌 A fic that inspired you to create something for it

i never actually have! i'm always too nervous about it! but there have been several fics that have made me want to...

🤩 A fic that made you SLAM that “subscribe” button

Climb Every Mountain by athena_crikey i also went and bought her published original fiction <3

📚 A fic you wish you could display on your bookshelf

In Imitation of Life by travelingneuritis with the art and everything, but also just, YES

💞 A fic that led to you making friends with the author

If I should come upon your house by bluerainmist my first author friend!! <3<3<3

✨ A fic you wish you could read again for the first time

CSI: Gusu Edition by Stratisphyre

😭 A fic that ripped your heart out (but it hurt so good)

When You Wake, 怎能当梦一场 by acertainrogue

🤔 The first fic you think of when I say [insert word here]

okay, this one i can't really do on my own :|

💖 A drabble that made you want 100K more words

i don't read a ton of drabbles.... but there have been a lot of one shots that make me want more? watch your anger from above is actually one of those. actually most of letters' one shots do this to me.

[kribuki]

LOOKING FOR ATTACK ON TITAN LITERATE-ADVANCE LITERATE RP PARTNERS [OCs welcomed]

Henlo! I'm Kri, in my early 20s, in the CET (GMT+1) timezone, literate to advance literate, 1500~ keystrokes, 300~ words, third person perspective, past tense, only use Discord and absolutely love to dive in details and characters' psychology. I'm an enthusiastic and hyper writer who might annoy you with headcanons, plot-relatable clips, ideas and memes so I'm not for the weak hearts (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

We might be a good match if:

You're around my age or older (20+ y.o.).

You are not looking for smut-centered roleplays. I'm okay with smut and NSFW, but when it's only that, it gets boring, honestly.

You're active: I'd appreciate if you can at least send a couple replies every week. Of course, I completely understand if you'll be busy, just tell me in advance. I'll do the same.

You're literate to advanced literate, meaning that you can give me a good amount of text like two+ paragraphs. Though, quantity isn't everything. I prefer quality and if you give me details, psychology, description and all the good stuff, we're gonna be besties.

You can write multiple characters and multiple couples: my style of writing evolves around many characters, since it's a nice way to insert drama and chaos. I'd love if we could write more than one couple. It can be considered as doubling, but maybe it's closer to mumu, since I prefer the ships to be written in the same story rather than having a complete different rp.

You like to mix different genres: romance is a must for me; it will always be there either as the main plot or subplot, but I also love to include many other genres, such as action, thriller, psychological, drama, fluff, angst, gore, fantasy, even comedy.

You're okay with mature and dark themes (dead dove: do not eat): I'm not going to write sugar coated stories, I like to write and explore many themes and they include possibly disturbing ones. I don't want to traumatize anyone, so, if you want to write with me, be prepared. I do not have triggers, although my only objections are adult x minor ships and incest. You may talk with me about your triggers and I'll gladly respect them.

You are open to both canonverse and AUs: I personally prefer AUs (alternative universes), since I believe they allow more freedom and creativity. Examples could be medieval, royalty, knights, monsters, ghosts, gangsters, professional hitmen, mafia, car racers.

You'll match my energy and don't mind OOC (out of character) chatting: like I said earlier, I get very excited and will most likely send you random stuff related to the story for fun, and I love it when people can match my energy and spam me with content. It helps me keep my interest up and also gets me emotionally attached to our story. Moreover, I would really appreciate if you could be honest with me. I wish for both of us to enjoy the story we are writing so if you lost interest, if you want to change/drop it, please let me know instead of ghosting me.

Ships I'm interested writing

Only MxF ships. In bold are the characters I'll write. If both are in bold, it means I can write either of them. ♡ = prefered

Ships I'm looking for:

Pieck x Jean Kirstein

Pieck x male Hange/Hanji

♡ Nanaba x Mike/Miche Zacharius

f!OC x Levi Ackerman

f!OC x Jean

♡ f!OC x Mike/Miche Zacharias

♡ f!OC x Furlan Church

Ships I can write:

Erwin Smith x f!OC

Kenny Ackerman x f!OC

Zeke Yeager x Pieck / f!OC

Eren Yeager x Mikasa / f!OC

Mikasa x Jean

Reiner x Historia / Annie / f!OC

Bertholdt x Annie / f!OC

Porco Galliard x Pieck / f!OC

Nile Dock x Marie / f!OC

Petra x Oruo

Eld Gin × f!OC

Please keep in mind I do want one of my main characters to be a female. My other characters can be of any gender. I'm open to any ship if you want to write an OC. Those listed are the ones I'm most confident writing, but you can always ask. I'll put the same effort in all the ships and couples, unless we decide otherwise, and I'm not going to cast anyone or any ship aside because I love including many characters and see different dynamics.

Ok, I'll stop here and thank you for reading through this long post! If you're interested feel free to dm me, if you've got any questions I'll gladly enlight you. I look forward to meet you! (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

[beefslipper]

More headcanons!!

My second post got a lot of interaction, so I'm making another post. This time I'm just gonna be focusing on HSR characters. Just a heads up that some things won't be canon and can be seen as mischaracterizing or something. I just like headcanoning my faves in a way that makes them more like me :D

Warnings: age regression, mentions of scars and sh, pacifiers, diapers, self-inserting? I guess.

First off, I'm doing bladie-boo <3

A pattern you'll see with me is that I HC my faves as regressors and/or caregivers.

I HC Blade as a super duper young regressor because I'm sure all the crap he's dealing with overwhelms him and can feel impossible to manage.

Aside from that, I HC that he has multiple SH wounds from the past, but he's slowly recovering because I said so and I love him <3 I'm sure he'd always feel upset about his scars, but one of his caregivers (Dan Heng, Kafka, Trailblazer, whoever you think fits him most) would give him kisses and one of his little emotional support stuffed animals to make him feel better.

Returning to the regressor HC thing because my teeny tiny pea-sized brain came up with stuff; I think he'd be a nonverbal regressor. Words are hard, man. When he's regressing, he's definitely a teether or thumb-sucker. Pacifiers and those cute little chewing ring things are a must, otherwise, EVERYTHING will have little teeth marks. Don't even get me started on the poor guy's sleeves.

Onto Aventurine!!! (CURSE YOU, FALSE TRANSPARENT BACKGROUND!!!!!!)

Back at it again with HCing my fave as an age regressor (I cannot be stopped, insert evil cackle while rubbing hands together.)

I feel like he'd beg and beg and BEG for Ratio to be a caregiver of his or something, and Ratio would only accept by saying "Only so your stupidity doesn't get you killed" but bro would go protective mama bear for him.

Sunday might be one of his caregivers, but I feel like he would be uneasy around Sunday while regressed. (Sunday would say some "be not afraid, child" BS like a biblically accurate angel and scare him LMAO)

Aventurine probably has a wide range on ages when regressing, but I think that when he regresses from stress, he's real young. When he's just being a silly goose, he's probably 5-8 years old.

DAN HENG, MY BOY!! (DAMN YOU YET AGAIN, FALSE TRANSPARENT BACKGROUND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

*insert deep breath* INFANT REGRESSOR DAN HENG

Bro's definitely nonverbal when regressing. I don't doubt that he'd need diapers from all the nightmares he'd have that might lead to accidents. Papa Welt and Mama Himeko 100% take care of him 24/7, even when he's not regressed.

March is definitely like a sisterly figure to him, sometimes a younger sister, sometimes an older sister. She lets him stay in her room instead of his room to play in or something since the room he normally sleeps in is super dull, doesn't even have a real bed and has some dangerous things in it.

Besides him being a regressor, I think he's also a caregiver. So a flip? IIRC that's what they're called. Correct me if I'm wrong. I think he'd be a caregiver for a wide variety of people, mostly Trailblazer, March, and Blade.

I'm done yapping.. FOR NOW! I'll try to post more regularly, but it's hard without requests. Start yapping at me for stuff to write about! I do free requests y'all!

I can write character headcanons, little stories on situations, I can even do more meme-y things if you want. I'm open to pretty much anything!

P.S. When I figure out what thing I'm using for this website, I might download Tumblr on my phone to make more professional-looking posts. So no more jumbled paragraphs and ghits and siggles.

Anyways, have a great day, evening, and or night. Stay hydrated and remember to try to eat at least one thing today, no matter what it is!

[nevgig]

It's kind of weird of me to bich and moan about, but ever since I graduated with my associates from college, it's just... difficult to share my art, not because I don't want to but because there was a 2 semester period that completely destroyed my routine of posting, (and drawing art for a different company and project kinda sucked the life out of me and not in the sexy way) and it's easier to post on Twitter than it was insta or tumblr sometimes, but now everything is just kinda blown up and it feels weird to start over.

Not to mention, my life has changed dramatically since then, and I'm not the unemployed silly guy who gets to sit with his laptop and draw all day as I used to be

It's weird to reminisce when I would share fan art and my ocs and I got to collaborate in so many zines and talked with a lot of people and made a lot of gift art, and nows it's like "let's hope I get to post or make something this week!"

And then top the fact I developed some crazy art kind of perfectionist trauma from my years of art high-school and taking two kinds of industry art associate degrees, so that was another four years of trying to please strangers for good grades

(Insert meme of wow 16 yr old me did so much art I wonder what happened!)

This isn't me giving some sign that I'm gonna give up and leave the internet, tho!!! I'm just venting and kinda trying to come to terms that i might have developed something in my time in college, and I felt like sharing it because maybe someone out there is going through the same thing or understands me

[burningdarkfire]

books i read in sept 2023

[these are all short + casual reviews - feel free to ask about individual ones if u want my full thoughts or ask for my goodreads!!] 

sometimes u travel somewhere where u have a relative lot of downtime + no data and u reinvent urself as a person who reads

she who became the sun (reread) + he who drowned the world - shelley parker-chan ★★★★★ (historical fantasy)

i reread swbts before tackling hwdtw and the way that this duology is so emotionally devastating! big win for readers who are fans of characters tearing the world apart in their grief and then realizing they cannot live in their new world! and the insane gender goodstuff, of course. ough. will think about this for a while

into the riverlands - nghi vo ★★★★★ (fantasy)

excellent third entry to the series that felt more fun than the other two thus far - i love playing around with myths and legendmaking

[reread] raven quest - sharon stewart ★★★★★ (adventure)

really happy to find out that this book from my childhood absolutely holds up. tightly plotted and paced and really poignant. i love animal adventures <3

the last devil to die - richard osman ★★★★★ (mystery)

no more withholding 5*s from genre fiction!! this book made me tear up for real so even though a silly murder mystery is probably never going to change my life, we have to give credit where credit is due. the most character-focused entry of the series so far and it definitely shows!

war of the foxes - ricahrd siken ★★★★☆ (poetry)

individually less interesting but collectively more coherent than crush. it's cool to have a conversation with a bit of poetry standing in a field, and I do love a good metaphor

the paper menagerie - ken liu ★★★★☆ (sci fi short stories)

great collection to go over slowly - i suspect it might have felt a bit tedious reading it front to back in a sitting. i liked how chinese a number of the stories felt. lots of ideas to chew on!

the poisonwood bible - barbara kingsolver ★★★★☆ (historical)

i just know this book went crazy in high school english class! it has themes and motifs and characters to compare and contrast! there's so much rich ground for analysis. and also treating characters like a bizarre personality test (the avenue of entertainment i chose). fantastic book to chew on and i greatly enjoyed talking to people about it

carrie - stephen king ★★★★☆ (horror)

yeah, i get the hype! this is a book that's impossible to read divorced from how deeply it's ingrained in current popular culture, but it stands up beautifully for itself. i'd love to read more analysis of it that puts in the cultural context of the 70s

hotline - dimitri nasrallah ★★★★☆ (historical)

surprisingly kind and hopeful story, definitely lovely if you want something feel-good. i really enjoyed how the occasional french was threaded into the english, it felt very montreal to me

the monstrumologist - rick yancey ★★★★☆ (historical horror)

tremendously gory and often unsettling. i found myself surprisingly attached to the characters and all the historical affectations of the book - it's not a series that i'm itching to continue but it was a good read

hark! a vagrant - kate beaton ★★★★☆ (historical humour graphic novel)

skimmed through parts of this but it was a fun read from cover to cover. always entertaining to see the origins of some very famous internet memes and there are also some hidden gems!

dead silence - s. a. barnes ★★★☆☆ (sci fi horror)

the author writes a very good spooky ship and very mediocre everything else

the word is murder + the sentence is death + a line to kill + the twist of a knife - anthony horowitz (-★★★☆☆+) (mystery)

decent murder mystery series. the author self-insert is goofy, the random homophobia is persistent, but they're quick and easy reads that go down like junk food

all that's left in the world - erik j. brown ★★★☆☆ (post-apocalyptic romance)

genre-mash that just didn't quite work for me. the tonal shifts between "fluffy gay YA romance" and "the world has ended post-apocalyptic bleakness" were jarring and the book never felt like it cohered into anything meaningful