#it can’t always be easy

[natalievoncatte]

“We don’t have a friendship, Supergirl.”

It took a moment for it to sink in. Lena stood before her, chin proud, staring her down with enough force to that Kara knew she wasn’t the most powerful woman in the world, no matter what they said. She wasn’t even the most powerful woman in this room.

Kara could push press an attack submarine. She could move between the ticks of a clock, perceive things so small and so fast they could barely be said to have happened at all. She’d bested foes that had humbled the Man of Steel. She’s outclassed even him.

Yet in this moment, she was all but powerless. There was nothing she could do with all her strength. All of this had been about weapons. Kryptonite. Lena needed neither to destroy Kara. She needed only cutting words.

“U-understood,” Kara mumbled.

She felt her shoulders draw in and sag, felt herself shrinking back into her own skin. Supergirl was banished instantly, and suddenly a defeated, frail Kara Danvers stood in her place, feeling silly in her cape and skirt. Her boots pinched her feet and everything was too tight. She could barely breathe.

“Ishouldgo,” she gasped out, fleeing, running, getting the hell away from here. She took the fastest available route until she was airborne, slipping the burly bonds of Earth.

The rush of pressure and the concussive wave built up around her skin and cut loose, releasing a rolling boom over National City. By the time Kara slowed and came to a hover, she was over the Pacific Ocean, calm blue seas stretching out in an endless expanse.

She relaxed, hanging impossibly above the clouds, absorbing pure sunlight.

Bitterly, she remembered when she’d tried to abandon Kara Danvers, not long ago. It had seemed that a life outside of Supergirl, outside of endless battles and self-sacrificing service, was pointless, and hurtful. Fitting in brought pain, forced her into a world that was all angles and wrong turns, lying to everyone around her and forbidden the simple concepts they all had. She was a stranger in a strange land, always seeking acceptance and understanding of peculiar customs, dogged by an incessant need.

It was one she barely admitted, but it was there, always there, just over her shoulder and ready to lead the assault when the walks came closing in.

Why her?

Out of all her people, her entire race, why was she the lone survivor? And she was, because while Kal was Kryptonian by birth, he had escaped Krypton. Kara had survived it.

Survival offered no escape.

For him, his birthright was a joy. Incredible powers, a sacred calling, a love of adventure and excitement. Kara could only imagine how wonderful it must have been for him when he discovered it all.

Oh, he mourned, or tried to. Kara bitterly indulged his laments for his lost world; a world he’d never walked, customs he’d never shared. His parents were a blessing to him, but to her they were her aunt an uncle, real people that Kara had lost.

Being Kara Danvers was difficult and painful. Being Supergirl was difficult and painful- now with the world killers, it seemed to Kara that Earth might have been better off had Krypton never noticed this yellow star or the beautiful blue world that orbited it.

Maybe Krypton was meant to end, and maybe Kara…

Maybe Kara…

Tears stung her eyes and she blinked them away. She’d ruined everything. Lena Luthor was kind, and good, and had spent weeks risking her life trying to help a friend, and what had Kara done? Made it about her. She’d wrapped everything around herself. She’s torn Lena’s relationship apart because she just could not believe that her best and most trusted friend wouldn’t hurt her.

It made sense when she was doing it. Was she not doomed? Had she not watched her world die? Kara had been a little girl one day and the next she was trapped in hell, her mother’s touch still felt on a tear-scored cheek.

Kara screamed. Red-sun fury exploded from her eyes, burning the sky itself. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair!

When the scream faded from her throat, leaving it ragged and dry, her eyes aching from the wild energy blast, she was still hanging in the air.

A terrible inevitability settled within her chest. She knew what she had to do, but she didn’t know if she had the strength. She could overcome any foe, break any barrier, reach any height. She was Supergirl. She could do anything.

“I have to take responsibility for what I’ve done,” Kara told the sky.

The sky didn’t answer her. She closes her eyes and absorbed Sol’s warmth. Sometimes, Kara really wished these stars were gods, that the golden light that gave her limitless power could give her answers, that Sol could be a nurturing mother, taking in a wanderer so far from Rao’s grace.

It wasn’t. It was a superheated ball of hydrogen undergoing nuclear fusion. There were no answers in the sky. There were none anywhere. She’s have to find them on her own.

Kara first went back to her apartment, resolving to do this right. She changed into one of her favorite outfits (Lena had once made a curious compliment about Kara’s biceps, the last time she’d worn it) and texted her best friend, asking to meet soon.

Lena, predictably, replied that she was busy.

Kara thought of Lena, not as Supergirl, but as herself. Lena toiling in that lab in desperation, not feeding herself

She was tempted to say that Supergirl told her about the lab and the situation and beg to be allowed to help, but there had to be a better way. An honest way.

I know you’re busy. I just want to make sure you get something to eat and you’re okay. Just a few minutes.

The reply came a moment later.

Oh, alright. You know I can’t say no to you.

Kara’s heart leapt and crumped at the same time. She let out a slow breath and decided to grab something on the way, something she could leave if Lena threw her out.

When she arrived, Lena had moved to her office. She was sitting behind her desk, and as much as she’d look remarkable out together earlier, she was showing her fatigue now. There were bags under her eyes and she’d changed into a loose sweatshirt, and Kara thought she might fall asleep on her desk.

When she looked at Kara, her face lit up with such admiration and affection that Kara’s heart could have burst in her chest. In the fading afternoon light, most like that of her lost star, Lena seemed impossibly beautiful and perfect, the sharp-tongued being of cold fury replaced by someone small and soft that Kara simply had to cup in her hands and protect and…

Oh.

Oh Rao.

FUCK.

Kara almost dropped the bag of donuts. She couldn’t do this. Not now. Not today. She couldn’t do this she couldn’t, she couldn’t lose… couldn’t lose…

Lena.

It was like seeing her for the first time. Kara sucked in a drawing breath and had to let it out very slowly, as a new and perilous understanding took root and changed everything.

“Do I look that bad?” Lena said, but there was no heat in it.

“You look beautiful,” Kara answered in a breathy voice, before she could stop herself.

Lena smirked. “You’re too nice. Are those donuts?”

Kara gently placed them on the desk, and she looked. Stared.

One of the gifts, and curses, of Kryptonian physiology was an eidetic memory. This moment would live in her mind and heart until the day she died, so she dragged it out for as long as she could, to keep it. To keep the sight of this woman who truly treasured Kara. Just Kara.

“Kara?” Lena said, confused and maybe a little scared.

“I have to tell you something,” said Kara.

“What is it?” said Lena, always so eager to help.

Kara’s hands balled into fists, arms trembling. The tears broke before she worked up the will to say it.

“Earlier today, you asked me why it’s so important to me that we be friends.”

Lena stared blankly for a too-short moment, and then her eyes went wide. She rocked back in her chair as if struck, then bolted out of it, rounding the desk. Kara stood still, unable to face her, and watched it all reflected in the desk.

“Look at me.”

Kara didn’t move.

“Look at me!”

Kara looked. With shaking hands, Lena grasped the frames of her glasses and pulled them free, setting them aside. Kara then flinched as Lena reached behind her, the gesture so much like an embrace, so curiously intimate that Kara’s own body betrayed her, her heart hammering in her chest.

Lena released Kara’s hair and it spilled in curls around her shoulders.

“Oh my God,” Lena whispered.

“I’m sorry,” Kara whimpered, the tears hot on her cheeks. “Lena, please, I’m sorry.”

“It was all a lie. You were lying to me the whole time.”

No, she wanted to scream, I never lied, I didn’t, you had no right to know, I was protecting you. A hundred futile excuses crashes through her mind and when they were gone only the truth remained.

“I was scared,” Kara choked out. “I was so scared and then I messed it up and I was even more scared and I just kept trying to fix it. I’m sorry.”

Lena was crying, too. The tears fell freely, though her expression remained still, calculating.

“I would do anything for you. I would die for you. I don’t know why I did what I did…”

“You pretended to be another fucking person and talked my boyfriend into spying on me while pretending to be my friend.”

“I wasn’t pretending,” Kara pleased. “I am your friend. You mean so much to me, more than I’ve ever told you and I was scared.”

“Of what?” said Lena. “That I’d make Kryptonite and kill you with it? Make weapons to kill you? I thought you really believed in me, Kara. I listened to your bullshit and I believed it and you were just fucking… you were… you bitch!”

Kara stood, transfixed, as Lena came apart in front of her.

“Why did you have to do this? Why did you have to tell me now? Why did you take my Kara away from me when I needed her most?”

Kara sucked in a shuddering breath and hugged herself.

“Because I deserve this. You deserve the truth and I deserve the consequences for what I’ve done. I did hurt you just like you said, and I thought I could just smooth it over and charm my way into fixing it, but I can’t. I’m a fuckup. I make things worse just by existing.”

Lena shuddered and formed her hands into fists. “Don’t you say that. Don’t you say that to me ever again.”

“This is my fault. I made this happen. I should have told you after you saved the world. The first time, with Medusa. If I trusted you, you could have come to me and we could have saved Sam together. You trusted me and I hurt you.”

“Are you going to ask for forgiveness? Is that where this is going?”

“No. I don’t deserve it.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Let me help you with Sam, and then I’ll leave you alone. I know I can’t come back from this. I can’t fix it. I don’t know what else to do.”

“Leave me alone?” Lena snapped, jabbing a finger into Kara’s chest. “What the fuck? You think you can just crash into my life like this and then just leave?”

“I… I…”

“How about this,” said Lena, stepping closer, her green eyes full of fury. “How about you ask me what I want instead of telling me?”

Kara swallowed.

“What do you want?”

Lena stepped back.

“I want to save my friend. I want Ruby to have her mom back. I want to fix the world. I need your help to do that, whether I want it or not.”

“And then?”

“And then…” said Lena. “Then I want to know why. I want to know why you did this to me and what the hell you really want, and then I’ll decide if there’s anything worth saving with you, or if I’m going to go back to Metropolis and rebuild my life.”

“That… that’s… I’ll help.”

“What do you want?”

Kara swallowed.

“I… I ummm…” Kara reached for glasses that were no longer there. “I want to try again. I want to be your friend again, as my whole self. There’s so much I could share with you.”

Lena swiped the tears away from her eyes, and stilled herself, regaining her control.

“I’ll be in the lab. I’ll call for you when I need you.”

Lena heard for the door, stopping at the threshold.

“Kara,” said Lena, without turning.

“Yeah?” Kara said, thickly.

“The night Edge was trying to set me up… the plane. Would you really have dropped the chemicals if I couldn’t make the jump?”

Kara took her glasses from the desks, turning them in her hands, and drew in a breath.

“Yes,” said Kara. “I’d have found a way to fix somehow, but if it was the only way, yes. I’d have let them fall, but I’d never let you fall. I said I’d always protect you, and that was the truth. I always will. No matter what.”

Lena hesitated at the door, then left without a word.

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Thing about just clicking with someone and not having to put in the work is finding not making and those relationships - whatever form they take rarely last or manage to develop past a surface level.

Buck is such an all in or nothing kind of person that has had to fight for pretty much everything (when it comes to relationships of any form) he just cant comprehend that other people experience various levels of friendships or relationships more widely.

We see it in his training of Ravi, it comes out in his father son reltionship with Bobby, it’s part of the underlying reason the lawsuit happened and stems from his childhood abandonment issues. We even saw it in the other sneak peek where he’s with Tommy - he’s trying so so hard to make a friend that he comes across as slightly intense and focused. And while the worthwhile people will stay (the fire fam, his sister, Eddie) those who can’t take that level of focus will pretty quickly drop away, Abby and Ali are prime examples of this and even Taylor to a certain extent - she just didn’t care enough to be bothered by it.

It’s one of the reasons he’s oblivious to the fact his relationship with Eddie is different on multiple levels and it’s part of what makes Buck so interesting and why so many of us think he’s neurodivergent.

[what-even-is-thiss]

.

[dykeomania]

𝒎𝒊𝒂'𝒔 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒃𝒔: parenthood (3).

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: parenthood means stress, and endurance, and exhaustion, and learning curves, and ... sometimes, really, really, really good sex?

𝐚/𝐧: this is my Parenthood (Thought) Piece because i understand that i am mentally 30 but i llloooooooooooveeee a good domesticity concept i eat that shit up nnomnomnonmonmnom. i needed to talk about early parenthood with ellie and i needed to talk about some of the ... Alternate Consequences ... of early parenting .. if you will. this was fun. this was also composed between the hours of like, 2-4am. i think it's pretty literate, and kind of alright. you may have a fun time reading it. if you don't, sorry i'll venmo you a dollar. not ssssure if i really have anything else to say, honestly. proofread (at a very early hour, mind you) but i always make mistakes, i'll always edit over time.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: i understand these tags are like super weird and i always preface my fics like "fuck around and find out," but just to be clear, this fic does not sexualize children in any way. any way. just to really make that clear. mentions of you and ellie being engaged. joel's technically alive. mentions of children. parental uncertainty. stress. a little bit of sub bottom!ellie. we're dipping our toes in. also dom top!ellie. mentions of oral (both receiving), mentions of vaginal penetration (reader receiving). both ellie and the reader being milfs / ellie thinking its really hot how you are a good mom (there are still so many things in this category that i could've hit that im probably not even thinking of, so if y'all like this and wanna talk about them, Please talk to me) i write in past tense for literally all of it and this is just a me thing, but that's not really my style, so things may be .. off. or maybe it's just me. maybe i'm tripping. we'll see. it's like, 4am. so.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.1k, just about (i did too much).

.   .   .   .

you both lived on the farm. it was a quiet, proud little life that you lead. a picturesque actualization of all of the little thoughts and dreams that you and ellie have had about living together, about having a family. though, parenthood was new, and difficult. there were some nights that the baby wouldn't stop crying, and both of you would take turns feeling like shit -- one usually at a grander magnitude than the other --  because neither of you would know what to do. what, am i like, a bad mom? does he hate me? you spent time convincing each other that that is simply not the case, and that this was all part of the process. that you were both new, and learning, and that it's okay.

if you knew nothing else, whether that be due to not having experienced parenthood before or the delirium accompanying the heavy set bags and dark circled ruminating under both of your eyes, then you did know that there were a few things for certain: he will suck his thumb. his cries will turn to wails which will turn to sniffles, which will turn to sighs. he will get tired. he will roll over, and coo, and will go to sleep.... eventually.

granted, while this mentality in general made things easier throughout the early days of raising your newborn son, there was still no doubt that it was.. exhausting. in every way. parenting was a constant learning curve, and it took tolls on both of you in different ways. for ellie, she'd get quiet. snippy, even, and gain a little bit too much audacity at times. a snarky remark or demonstration of blatant impatience towards something minuscule, but still hurtful. her frustration would always point toward some deeper issue that she often struggled met with annoyance first, and words second. one of the first things that ellie learned while parenting was that she was really bad at communicating. she'd find herself throughout the first three, maybe even six months, constantly finding ways to say sorry.. even without saying really having said it. like, slipping into bed when after you'd finally went to sleep, and pressing kisses to your temple. or making sure the dishrack was completely empty, so you'd have one less thing to work about. albeit she struggled to verbally explain that while she understood you were too, she was just.. a little tired.

maybe it was the sleep deprivation, or her willingness to take up most of the tasks that required attention in areas other than just the inside of the home. which.. you did have to admit, were a little bit more intense than cleaning and washing dishes. no one asked her to do all of that. she took it upon herself to do extraneous tasks, like fix the fucking roof, during the peak of summer. and you'd always offer to help, truly. but it was always no, i've got it. you've got other stuff to do. you just go play with him, and i'll be in to take over in a little, okay?

you would, at times, have to sit her down and remind her to take it slow. that the roof isn't really bothering either of you, right now, and it won't until .. october, probably. that it's okay to swap out, if need be. she can do dishes, cook if she wants (burn down the house, if she wants), clean up while you go fix the wiring of the fence, tend to the horses, whatever the fuck she feels the need to do, on top of having to do already.

you would have to remind her, that she just can't do everything all at once. and that's okay. but that's also neither of your faults.

both you and parenthood alike would teach her to .. slow down, take it easy, and to talk.

ellie would have to teach you something similar, believe it or not. your back hurt. your tits wouldn't stop fucking leaking, and ever since you gave birth, you wouldn't stop getting these aching migraines that made your ears ring. you quite literally found yourself bending over backwards, trying to do everything all at once all of the time (sound familiar?), because you knew that it was as much of your job as it was ellie's. you can change the diapers, you can pump the breastmilk, you can clean the house, you can stop him from crying, you can read him books (that he couldn't understand, yet, technically), you could do everything. and theoretically, you could. and you would, until it made you frayed, and unhealthy.

that would be enough to make ellie to step in, put her hand on your shoulder, and advise you in a tone that was about as gentle as it was stern:

hey, let maria take him for a couple of days. you're tense -- i can feel you from across the house.

despite the anxiety and the frustration and the sleep deprivation and the exhaustion, you really would feel grateful to be experiencing this trying time together. there were some patterns characterizing it that were obviously stressful, and anxiety-inducing. but there were some consistencies throughout it that were be sweet, and tender. like, running each other warm baths. sitting – either in the bath, with the other, or on the toilet, or the side of the bath – and talking in low volume, not really out of fear of waking the baby, but just to kind of relish in the pocket of peace that existed between the two of you in that moment. the affection never died between the two of you. you were always snuggling close to each other when it came time for bed. always pressing tender kisses to each other's shoulders, holding each other's hands, circling your thumbs and indexes over each other's engagement rings.

… But!

you know... i'm a whore. so honestly, what really spurred this whole thought, is the fact that .. during parenthood your sex lives would practically be nonexistent. and it's not something that either of you really notice, until one of you explicitly brought it up. raising a child -- especially raising one in an environment that you both worked to keep safe, secured, and comfortable -- is a lot of work.

it wouldn't dawn upon either of you until you both were eating one night at the table - another tradition that you did not forfeit. you managed to dance around the subject due to something entirely tangential, and then it hit you, and you said – out of pure realization, ellie, we haven't had sex in .. like, months.

and just like that, the consequences of at least 98 days of involuntarily celibacy hit you both like a fucking truck.

for you, it came in the form of .. the simple reminder that your soon-to-be-wife is really... really fucking physically flawless. you'd notice this everytime she'd wear short-sleeves, or shirts no sleeves, which was really only.. every once in a while, as jackson got colder, or whenever you both woke up. sometimes you'd find yourself looking at ellie's back profile as she sat upright on the bed, adjacent and turned from you, stretching a big, grand stretch, and you'd feel a specific heat beginning to tickle the insides of your thighs. you found it harder to keep your gazes to yourself as ellie exited the shower, muscles apparent, and glistening. her whole body was littered with scars, and yet she was still so gorgeous. it was hard to believe that even for a second you failed to recall – or be conscious of – the fact that as much of a teddy-bear as she was, you were practically dating a fucking sculpture.

naturally, you would act on your desires first. and frankly, ellie would be so willing to lean into them. 

she'd be lying if she said sometimes she didn't wake feeling a bit restless, and like there was only one thing that soothe her. she craved it, sometimes – your hands, on her. all she needed were some quick rubs against her clit and kisses against her skin to motivate her to get out of bed and feed the animals. and she was so, so fortunate to have a fiancée good enough to her to give her just that.

she dared, shame on her, to forget how good you could make her feel. ellie never really let anyone touch her, before she met you. before she met you, she was honestly convinced a lot of the parts "down there" didn't work. she could hardly achieve making herself cum. it’d take so long. ellie hardly masturbated because she’d get impatient in any ordeal that wasn’t some needy, feral 3am occurrence that left her stirring, sweaty, and overwhelmed. it was a lot of buildup for what she saw as, in the end, very little payoff. and as far as other people making her cum went? well, no one had ever gotten that far. frankly, she didn’t think anyone would get that far.

that was until she met you.

it definitely wasn’t easy. there were a lot of tired wrists and upper biceps, and your jaw did get pretty sore. her pussy was gorgeously messy. but her clit liked to hide sometimes underneath the extra skin. when you found it, you learned that it was usually, extremely sensitive. but you told her that that was okay. you could make that work.

you spent a lot of time learning all of the technicalities. what was too much, what wasn’t enough. what to say to her; how fast to rub her.

it paid off, because about a month into dating, you showed her that it — and frankly, anything — was possible. just takes a little bit of time, and patience, kisses and whispers of affirmation how about how good she feels. how good she’s doing. takes some listening, intently, to what she needs. to what her body needs. 

can feel you twitching. you want my finger right here?

fuck, yeah. right there. just like that, baby -- please don't fuckin' stop.

and once you got good at it (and you got so fucking good at it), ellie couldn’t get enough. she jokes, regularly, that that’s one of the reasons why she’s going to marry you.

ellie's voice in the mornings would breathless and empty. all bostonian accent, rasp, and nothing else. they were vulnerable. whenever she'd let you between her thighs and you placed those kitten licks across her clit transitioning into these longer, learned drags, her moans would break, like glass. her hips would shuffle. sometimes, you’d have to hold her still.

no no, fucking running. it’s okay. just let me. can you let me? can you let me take care of you, baby?

fuck. yes. yes, yes, fuck. s— sorry just – oh, fuck.

it would mostly just be wake-me-ups. but ellie's back would always be arching by the middle of it. she'd find herself gasping, and sighing, and fucking -- against your tongue, against your finger -- and gripping onto whatever, all while mumbling to gods she didn't believe in.

that feels so, so so fucking – g–good.

so fucking good to me; feels so good, babe, thinki'mgonnacum–

ellie's orgasms hit her the same way every time. hard. ridiculously hard. leaving her breathing heavy, and screwing her eyes shut while she grasped at your hand, or your hair. her thighs would tense -- sometimes scramble -- and then collapse, after a while. she became this perfect amalgamation of tinted cheeks, chapped pink lips, messy brown hair, and sticky skin. 

she was such a fucking .. painting. she's so incredible.

the plan, as she wrote it, often was to immediately get out of bed after you made her cum. but oftentimes, she couldn't do anything for the first couple of minutes except lie there, body just a sack of bones and jello. her head would rest instead of pressing into yours, or would nuzzle its way deep into your neck. both occasions a precursor to her finally catching her breath. when she moves her head to kiss you, capturing your lips in something thankful, and sweet, it is almost always grounding for the both of you.

better?

so much better. holy shit, babe.

and that's not to say that ellie would never act on her desires. she was always just a little more calculated.

for ellie, her frustrations would creep up on her in the weirdest ways. it would be.. small things. things that were, actually, probably mutual. watching you wash the dishes, even when you’re not bent in a particularly promiscuous way. watching you cook, even when she wasn't really watching you, 'cause she was keeping the baby busy. but what really did her in was watching how you handled your son. something about seeing you have him on your hip, cooing at him or laughing with him, or playing with him, or smothering his cheek in big kisses that elicited these big, big giggles from him, drove her.. a very, questionable? kind of crazy? it was pure. it was so sweet, and most of the time, it was just that. but you were so, good with him. after so many months, despite all of the struggle, you really did blossom into a beautiful, capable mother, who still held the glow and all of the weight from the pregnancy and just–

ellie would realize how good it all looked on you. she would feel.. really proud.

and it made her feel like you ..  deserved something.

you both remember the first night she’d acted on her desires like it was yesterday. it was on the night that you two had hosted a dinner party for all of your mutual close friends and people who you called family. the dinner was a 3-week-long process of grocery picking, tablecloth finding, invitation designing, and recipe collecting. it honestly stressed you out more than it did ellie because, to be honest, she was kind of just there for moral support. it was your idea, after having had maria over for dinner once. and it was a great idea. but it left you drained – defeated from the final week of preparations, which was especially hectic. when you bathed that night, you bathed alone, a little overstimulated from the day. but you’d let ellie run the bath, though. only because she insisted on doing so. 

the soak cured some of the ache that settled deep into your joints, muscles, and bones.. but not all of it. after you'd set the tub to drain, brushed your teeth, and wrapped a towel around your body, you entered the room with an expected level of silence. you slathered moisturizer on your face, over your arms, over your stretch marks. when it came time to take off your jewlery, the rings – except the prized one – came off easily. but when it came to your necklace, your hands were simply too slippery. you sucked your teeth. you always did this. 

you eventually sighed, filling your lungs to call:

hey, bug. can you come help me take this necklace off, please?

ellie eventually would appear behind you, probably shuffling off of the bed or rounding some corner after changing and becoming into her own definition of comfortable. if she seriously complained, you didn’t hear it. you only felt her, how her hand placed itself on your shoulder just to let you know that she was behind you.

some things never change, move your hair over.

you do as asked, and hang your head. ellie's fingers brush against your skin with a kind of delicacy that makes shivers run down your spine. you lift your eyes, catching ellie's in the mirror before you. yours, heavier than hers.

you watched as she fought a smile, or a smirk. either was a given with her, honestly — in retrospect, it was most likely the latter. you couldn’t really tell, though. she’d dipped her head, eyes fixated on her fingers that fiddled with your necklace clasp.

you did a really nice job on the dinner, tonight.

suddenly, you were the one fighting the smile. you watched her, still.

yeah?

oh, you like.. completely knocked it out of the park. you did great. it was really, really really nice.

you didnt know if ellie was referring to the food, or the setup, or the wine choices – whichever. but something about the appraisal made your head buzz, like you were coming down off a two glasses of champagne (which.. maybe you were). ellie successfully removed your necklace, and yet didn’t back away. instead, she pressed herself closer to your back, and tilted her head so that she could speak just above the top of your ear,

you looked really nice, too.

been waiting for you to settle down, a bit. so i could tell you.

you probably hummed something in response, something that was probably suggestive but also thankful at the same time. it gets lost, though. because ellie bent down, and placed these slow, unassuming, appreciative kisses down your neck, and against the plateau of your shoulder. between those words and the way her hands lingered over your skin, the way she was breathing you in and drinking up the moment, and your scent, made you melt into her way too easily. like butter in a warm pan.

you exhale, like you've been meaning to for .. you don't even know how long.

el..

mhm?

you realize though, that the house is quiet. too quiet. there is a stillness to it that makes the pit of your stomach twist, and anxiety and guilt bubble in the base of it before you could even stop it.

...where's our baby?

you felt ellie grin against your shoulder. she masked it with a peck,

he’s at joel’s.

and then you felt her tongue drag across your skin. a long, open-mouthed kiss across the midpoint of your neck. she presses the padding of her tongue against tender flesh, sucks hard enough for blood to make the skin bloom, and almost -- against your own will -- makes your eyes roll shut.

the simple act -- acts rather, of ellie coordinating behind your back to have the baby taken off your hands (you knew it for a few days –  it's always a few days). she thought she was so slick. it was odd, how much relief those three words gave you,

but at the same time, you kind of wanted to be mad at her.

it was hard to, though. but you couldn't think straight, with how her hands were moving over you, over your towel. with her pelvis pressed against your ass, and her lips on your neck.

you tried,

he was fine here. everything was .. fine, ellie.

but she was so..

i never said everything wasn't fine.

i just think... you've had a really long, stressful week.

you hate how your body reacts to ellie's hands smoothing up your towel. your whole body broke out into goosebumps, seemingly trying to fit into the pores of ellie's palm, 

and i think i wanna make it better.

ellie's breath was hot on your ear, and you didn’t realize it, but your head was already tilted. your eyes had begun to flutter closed. you felt yourself, almost swaying against her. your mouth hung as her teeth grazed over sensitive flesh. her tongue pressed against familiar spots that had been untouched -- like the rest of you -- for so, so long. it was too activating.

in your best effort of defense, you spun yourself to turn around to face her. ellie’s head was tilted, her eyes were low. her breath spanned over your mouth while your palm laid flat against her chest. you stalled – shivering, shaking, suddenly caught in a rapture of toiling emotion that you hadn't felt that strongly in .. god knows how long.

her head dipped back into your neck. she pressed her cotton-clad hips against your towel-covered ones, and it just wasn’t enough. it was a lot, and yet, not enough.

your hand snaked over the nape of her neck as you breathed against your cheek, whole body feeling heavy and compliant. your knees were jelly. you could feel your clit. pulsing, and pleading. it ached as you feel ellie's hand slip over the backs of your thighs, inching under the cusps of your ass.

you needed something. you needed anything. you like to think that you had no idea what necessity meant before this moment, because you had never felt it so strongly. it knocked the wind out of you, only leading you to ask – to plead, without pleading,

e... ellie?

and she understood.

ellie’s head lifted from the crook of your neck she crashed her lips upon yours. the kiss was heavy, and deep. your knees buckled, and where you swore you may fall, she made sure you didn’t. you were shuddering, a hand suddenly possessive around the back her neck. her hands suddenly possessive and stabilizing with the grips she held on your ass. months worth of unknown tension relinquished itself in the pushes and pulls you demanded from each other's bodies while teeth clattered and bit into chapped flesh, turned glossy. moans and breaths circumvented between the two of you, and suddenly, the whole room felt like it was on fire.

she delivered a verbal command, teeth tugging at your lower lip as she half-way parted from it, 

jump.

you’d used whatever remainder of your energy to follow the simple instruction, your legs wrapping around ellie's waist like she was your lifeline. they remained around her as your back fell against the duvet, and as she kissed you so deep, your head ran dizzy and your body was left no choice but to arch into her.

you remember your hand smoothing over her abdomen, and reaching up to grab her chest. you remember sighing into her mouth over the fact that you could. you relished in the moan she released your mouth, and only returned it halfway. 

you remember gripping her and massaging her and bucking your bare hips up against her in hopes of making her make that noise again, louder. you remember how she bucked her hips into you in hopes of the same sentiment, her waistband grazing against your bair clit cauisng her to succeed far quicker than you. 

the night was filled with mind-blurring, fuck-until-the-sun-rises kind of sex. sex that you had no idea your body had needed until ellie had given it to you. your body reeled with every kiss that she'd placed over your skin – you’d watched as she peeled back your towel, and replaced bits and segments of the fabric with her lips in soft, attentive kisses.  it was hard to believe that they would transpire into messy, sloppy things. wet, tantilizing things that would trek down the axis of your body. that would hold your body hostage as her tongue and her lips worked on your clit to bring you closer and closer to your third orgasm of the hour. 

your body wasn’t used to it. any of it. it was, however, too used to and hyperaware of having a tiny human in the house that you simply couldn’t wake at this time of night.

you were shuffling, at one point, scrambling to put a hand on your mouth, or to bite your own knuckle.  when that didn’t work, you let your head fall over to a pillow while you fucked up against ellie’s tongue and bit the fabric, trying so hard not to moan. but you felt yourself cracking. 

you’ll never forget how ellie looked up at you. eyes a deep, pointed shade of green as she shook her head – mouth still attached to your clit – which in and of itself had almost made you cry. when she pulled away, it was the only time you let yourself make a noise. only because the whine that was ripped out of you was entirely unanticipated, just like her action.

her breath rippled over your the nerves as she ran her fingertip up, and down your hole. you whimpered, hips shifting up relfexivley, cunt tightening just from the invitation. nearly gushing from the feeling of her beginning to small rub circles against it, instead.

i’ve missed you so fucking much.

she dipped a finger inside of you with such ease, and no warning. a long, slender digit bottomed out inside your cunt, before she pushed in another, and made your jaw go slack. her eyes hung on yours – glossed over with lust and a bit narrow as a result of the devious smile that’d begun to overtake her expression.

she’d begun pumping her fingers.

he’s not here, baby.

it’s just us.

her fingers were so fucking long, you swore to god, you would never want a life without them in it. couldn’t bear another 3, 4, 5 months without having them in you. jesus fuck.

wanna hear you. 

wanna hear you be as loud as you fuckin’ want.

ellie emphasized her words by proceeding to fuck you faster. her tongue latched back onto your clit, rolling over and slurping at the nerves, rolling beads of saliva and your juices into and against the bundle. the sound of your cunt was so encompassing, it was hard to believe that it became the backdrop for the moans that ellie had ripped out of you. that made it into, and mostly out of, the pillow, amidst a sea of praise and bucking hips.

the next morning was luxuriuosly unproductive. ellie had only woke to feed the animals and returned to bed and slept with you until noon. she was always affectionate, come mornings. but especially riding off of the honeymoon buzz of the night prior, she made the morning after memorably tender, often pressing kisses to your forehead, and your shoulder, regardless of how awake both you or she was. she’d whisper sweet nothings into your ear, promises of how much she loved you. how she’s really glad this is how she gets to spend her life, as long as it’s with you. all of the sugary things that eventually caramelize into jokes and giggles and laughter, and that how you’d know it was time to get up.

it’s safe to say that parenthood brought you and ellie both very interesting things. it brought you challenges, and it brought you lows. it brought you highs, and photographs, and moments where you did feel like all of your hard-work was paying off, even when it didn’t seem that way. having a family meant having the opportunity to open your house up to people you who you loved. having a family meant having traditions, and things to fall back on – things that you would develop over time, as you learned more and discovered more of what you wanted. and having a family with ellie meant that you could fall back on each other, no matter how tough things got.

.. it also just meant sometimes having really.. really good sex. 

(whenever you remembered that that was something that the two of you could actually do, that is.)

[allthethoughtsandstuff]

rereading the ballad of songbirds and snakes and I stg any time this man is considering doing anything he’s gotta be like,, wait,, let me consider the ✨optics✨

[makotonaegiunderstander]

something I’ve been thinking abt is how many people think Makoto is immune to despair. I don’t think he is. I think becoming the ultimate Hope was BECAUSE he felt despair. He wouldn’t have fully reached that point without Junko. Makoto becoming such a beacon was his last attempt to avoid completely falling and it wasn’t because he didn’t feel despair, it was because he was too damn stubborn to allow everything to go to waste and he refused to sacrifice his beliefs for someone else’s. His inner monologue tells me he DID experience the same new low the other suvivors did in the final trial, but at the point where he had the choice to give up and die, he looked at the others and he looked at Junko and he couldn’t allow it to happen, not out of self preservation, but because the idea that Junko would have control over their lives made him FURIOUS. and that utter refusal to die kicked in, wether luck or otherwise, and he made the concious effort for one last push while something in him was breaking. He had to be broken in order for the Ultimate Hope to come through so aggressively, bc it could only exist in the face of the Ultimate Despair. He snapped the same way she did, but in the other direction. In what could have been his final moments he chose to embody everything Junko wasn’t, and every single optimistic and luck fueled ideal in him suddenly charged forward and pushed him. It was a combination of the final straw and a choice. Makoto isn’t immune to feeling despair, he’s just too stubborn to fall into it of his own volition. I think that’s why I like that scene in DR3 so much. People were SO SHOCKED Makoto actually fell for the tape, that he actually became despair for a moment. I saw people getting mad or disappointed, saying it was pathetic and Makoto seemed to fall from some sort of pedestal for them. Honestly part of me wonders if that sort of mentality, which clearly people had in universe, affected Makoto a bit. Like he started to see himself as less of a person, subconsciously. Prompting him to take more risks, less self preservation, act way more bold. It seems he has to be reminded a lot not to put himself in danger by his friends, to not do something too reckless. All over the place I would see in regards to that scene either this frivolous ‘oh this was just angst drama with no meaning behind it’ or ‘he can do better than that. he’s so weak’ or ‘come on, there’s no way he’d fall into despair, he’s the Ultimate Hope!’ This kind of mentality, which was kind of ironic considering Ryota was there the entire time saying the same thing and treating Makoto the same way. Like Makoto was superhuman. Like Makoto didn’t feel despair the same way ‘normal people’ did. In a way that was also how Munakata saw Makoto. Makoto stopped being a PERSON to the world when he became Ultimate Hope, he became a concept, a belief system, much the same way Junko ascended beyond herself. But the difference is that treating Makoto that way is the opposite of the reason Makoto became such a representative for hope. He wasn’t doing something no one else could. He was doing something everyone had the chance to, he just… was a little more optimistic, a little more stubborn, a little more ‘gung-ho’ about things. He just took the lead where no one else did, where no one else knew they even COULD in the face of Junko’s unstoppable force. She had overcome the biggest threats and obstacles in the world, what could one person do? And the answer Makoto found was, anything. Everything. It doesn’t all rest on Makoto, he’s just the one that was inspired to try to do what seemed like the impossible. But as evidenced by the change in his friends after that trial, it’s clearly not something only Makoto is capable of. The others pulled out of despair thanks to Makoto, but it was their choice to do so.

“But… this world is so huge, and we’re so small. What can we do…? No, we can probably do anything. Yeah! We can do anything!”

[miciiq]

Happy Birthday Shinonome Ena 2024!

Reblog if use

Also here’s square jawline Ena as a bonus

[my-chemical-rot]

Florida!!! by Florence + the Machine and Taylor Swift, Daytona Sand by Orville Peck, Spanish Moss by Against Me!, White Crosses by Against Me! //Pictures: map, surfers, post card, fountain of youth; plus my own photography // The Truman Show (1998) // Sunny Side Up by Jennifer L. Holm and Matthew Holm // Wikipedia

[puppyeared]

Get sillay

Xīn Yá (left) belongs to me, Little Sailor (right) belongs to @crow-cap

Song: piranha creeper creek from super mario 3D world

[pbpsbff]

i see a lot of fics where peter gets put on civilian duty when he’s helping out the avengers and is generally pretty bummed about it which yeah i get it he wants to be in the action and directly make a difference in the fight

BUT i need a fic that talks about how emotionally taxing his job must be like yeah iron man just got thrown through a wall and punched in the face but what about spider-man, kneeling on the sidewalk cradling a horribly injured man in his arms, instructing karen to call his wife because they both know he isn’t going to make it long enough for help to arrive

or give me peter having to comfort a child who just lost their parent in a collapsed building (and having to ignore all of the reminders of ben it brings) or having to stop by someone’s home to break the news because police are too busy given the fact that the city was literally under attack 5 minutes ago and wow it is just as bad being on the other end of this conversation is this how the cop that brought him home after ben was murdered felt

give me peter who walks away uninjured but forever has to live with the blood that stains his hands and blends in with his suit and the dying faces he can’t erase from his mind and the cries of anguish and grief that play on loop in his head every time it’s quiet and and and AND.

[elliesbelle]

NOW I HEAR YOUR VOICE EVERYTIME THAT I THINK I’M NOT ENOUGH

[nattaphum]

Mile is such a kind person 🥺

[whoblewboobear]

Matt either needs to learn to cook for himself or shut the fuck up like he’s not 5 why is he acting like America is his mommy and she needs to cook for him like he isn’t a grown ass man???

This is the perfect chance for him to learn too bc you don’t have to worry about fucking up ingredients you paid for.

[itspileofgoodthings]

I love the rhyming on ttpd. can only think of two examples currently but I know there’s more.

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

anyway shout out to other people in the dead parent club who are going through important benchmarks in life and keep wildly oscillating between celebrating and grieving

[thewingedwolf]

one thing about hbo is that when they get a journalist coming up to them and going “man do i have a fucked up story i want to follow” they really do let that person go wild. i’ve mentioned the way the ronan farrow one really moved me emotionally and that’s just because ronan knows how to investigate and tell a story to get you righteously angry for who it is he’s defending. he’s good at his job!

but this one, quiet on the set, has genuinely made my jaw drop a few times, even if i think some of the framing could have been better in the last episode. of course i know about all the rumors about dan schneider and the abuse on set, it’s hard to have been into the teen nick scene and not notice, and it’s pretty easy to figure out which kids were being harmed through too much attention and which were being harmed through not enough attention, and there’s been all sorts of rumors floating around for over a decade!

but the build up to the drake bell reveal was well handled, i thought. i was initially skeptical because i think it’s hard to make a documentary about child sexual abuse without leaning into being exploitative in some way. and at first, where you have the actors who left early, like katrina, or who you remember but weren’t mega famous like giovannie, and they’re all saying “this set was so weird & inappropriate, i knew something was wrong but i didn’t have the experience or vocabulary to say what” it feels a little too schlocky. like, oh we’re just kind of speculating on the inappropriate nature of dan’s “friendship” with amanda bynes for two episodes? yeah it is fucked up that two pedophiles were on that set, but did they hurt anyone on set?

and then drake bell walks into the room dressed like timmy turner and says it was me. he hurt me.

i can’t stop thinking about the choice of clothes here and the way it helps drive home the point of the doc. he’s sitting there in fairly odd parents colors as an adult and can’t describe the sexual trauma he experienced as a child still, has never spoken about it, had his mom lie to his father over it because he was so screwed up. really driving home the point that he was just a kid who had a knack for physical comedy and it got him preyed on by dan, a man who should have protected him, set up and handed over to a monster who traumatized him for months and years.

but when that reporter said she got a judge to let them unseal the court documents because drake bell told her how much support peck had? my jaw dropped, like yeah this is reporting, this is someone who saw this story and finally fucking cared not about the salacious details but about who knew what and why they did nothing to stop this from happening. it’s not about forcing drake bell or katrina jackson or alexa to live through the worst moments of their life - it’s about how so many people knew what was going on and didn’t do a god damn thing to stop it. it’s about how these monsters, these convicted pedophiles, were given access to little kids to hurt and traumatize and everyone knew and didn’t just look the other way, they actively helped cover it up. THATS the story. Not that it was an isolated tragedy but that it was a clinical, purposeful environment built by people who wanted to harm little kids.