#[ but on the other hand I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO EXACTLY WRITE?? ]

[grimsonandclover]

Write write write

filthier the better

Sending all the love 🫶🍑

What He's Made For

Sub!Patrick Zweig x Dom!Fem!Reader

Eeuuuhhhhhh I'm sorry, just been thinking a LOT about just having enough of Patrick's shit and taking it out on him. Turns out, it's exactly what he was aiming for.

I'm writing this in a horny, ovulation-fueled daze so it's not going to be great or even good but its what I need. not proofread at alllll

consider this a foreplay part one since it ends abruptly because i need to post this before i pass out (im so tired). i need the horny freaks of this fandom to let me know if a part two is desired because I WILL write it

MDNI

1.1k words

This is entirely self serving and I'm opening up to you guys. This is me sharing. No more 600 word angst and fluff it's time for PERSONAL FANTASIES. kind of a 180 after i JUST posted that little la chimera fic lmao

You're fighting, you don't even know what for. Patrick's been pushing your buttons, getting on your nerves, and testing your limits all night. God, fuck, he won't stop. Every little word from him, all day and now night, is spoken with the pure intention of pissing you off.

"Did you really ask him about the weather?" He'd scoff on the drive home from a party. "You're miserable at small talk. Really, it's embarrassing."

The walk to the apartment elevator: "And those shoes. You've been whining all night like a fucking baby. I told you not to wear them, but you'd rather be a prissy little princess than listen to me." You're silent, breaths quickening as your fist clench around your apartment keys in the elevator, watching the floor numbers tick up. "They're ugly, anyway. I don't really get why you insist on wearing them."

Unlocking the front door, fumbling and struggling because it's hard to see through the boiling water behind your eyes. "Do you need help with that? You had, like, what- one shot of tequila the entire party? Didn't think you were such a lightweight, can't even open a door. God, you're a mess."

Once the door is open, and a sickly smug smirk is plastered on that stupid face of his, you shove him in. The action is abrupt and unexpected, Patrick stumbling back and catching himself on the entryway wall. You almost miss the smirk returning to his lips. Who cares, it's time to speak your peace.

His back is on the wall and he stays where you threw him as you rip off your coat. "What the fuck is your problem, huh?" The coat is thrown to the floor and he blinks as you fist the collar of his stupid button up. Since when does he wear these, anyway? "All fucking night, you're in my ear like a bitch. Do you need a leash?"

He's been playing with fire so far. "Woof." Patrick grins.

The taunt makes your eyes narrow and glare harden. "You think it's funny? I've got a migrain because of it. I'd be in the middle of talking to someone and you'd start your shit again. That's what's embarrassing, not my small talk."

"You're like a child, how you beg for my attention. A dog. Is that what you are, Patrick?" You tug his collar and his breath catches. Drool pools in his mouth and he swallows, eyes zeroed in on his mouth while he still smirks. "Are you a misbehaving dog?"

He doesn't answer you, just giggles. In a sudden move, your hands are on his shoulders and you're pushing him forcefully to his knees. It's only because he doesn't anticipate it that it works. In a flash, your hand is gripping a fistful of curls at the back of Patrick's head, yanking it to make him look up at you. His mouth falls open, a soft gasp escaping from it. Yes. Finally.

"Are you," The words are spoken through your teeth, and this time he really is on the brink of drooling. "A fucking dog? Or are you going to start behaving like a man?"

His grin spreads again from ear to ear as Patrick slowly shakes his head. "Uh-uh."

Oh, that does it.

Your fingers tug his head further back and he gasps again at the slight sting of his scalp. Your other hand comes up, and before he can blink, a crack is heard through the entryway.

Patrick's cheek is red and stings so badly he can't feel the pain on his scalp anymore. It's so delicious he moans. He never knew until this exact moment that he liked to be slapped, lucky you.

"Wrong answer." He shivers at your tone, the blood in his body rushing to his cheek and to his dick. "Are you going to behave?"

"No." He whispers, eyes fluttering as he anticipates the next stri-

Oh, fuck. Patrick can feel a wet patch form in his boxers when you do it again-- he hasn't cum in five days, and Patrick's hyper aware of it now. The sound that comes from his mouth is almost pornographic and anyone else listening would swear that he must be at least getting his dick sucked and not just slapped around. The hand that slaps him moves to his mouth, index and middle finger shoved forcefully until you hit the back of his tongue. He wants to suck them, so he does, but then you shove them even further back until he gags a little. This isn't for him to enjoy (though he is anyway).

"Shut the fuck up." You sneer, fingers in his throat and hair, taking back the power he's had over you all night. They way he looks on his knees, peering up at you like you're his god with tears in his waterline and-- shit, that smile is still there. "I'll make you behave, then."

The hand in his hair lets go, pushing him back by the forehead till he hits the wall with a thunk. "Look at me."

He already was, but Patrick angles his head again, this time on his own, to better suit your needs-- especially when you tell him to open his mouth and you have a grip on his cheeks. You lean down the tiniest bit for better aim before collecting spit in your mouth, then spitting it into his. "My fucking mouth. Don't ruin it with all that cheap talk, acting like you don't know who owns it.

"Who owns it."

Patrick's got stars in his eyes as he swallows, so lost in you he forgets to answer-

A smack across his cheek again, another filthy moan. "You- you own it."

"Own what?"

"Me-- my mouth, my body, fucking all of it. It's yours."

"It's mine." You nod, gripping his cheeks again until his lips pucker. Patrick's drooling. "Mine. Don't use it against me, or I won't be so nice."

If this is you being nice, Patrick doesn't know what he'd be willing to do for mean. Every word you say, every tug, your spit in his mouth-- it all sends shivers of pleasure down his spine and through to his dick, aching and tenting in the shorts he wore to practice and then to a party. He truly is as filthy as you make him out to be.

You grab his hair again just to shove him in between your thighs, the material of your jeans rubbing harshly against his face and the irritated skin of his cheek. Patrick can smell you through it. He feels punch-drunk. This is what he was made for. This is his true purpose, not tennis.

His large palms slide up and down your thighs, hungry fingers begging at the button of your jeans. Off. He needs them off.

You let him peel them off you, not for him but for yourself. You need him to show you what he's actually good for. Why you keep him around.

[bitchface24-7]

dude i love jayce so much it’s a problem like AHHH i wanna request sum fluff but i literally don’t care what it’s abt i js want him bro. like it can be domestic shit or like whatever LMAO i’m so bad at doing requests but i love how u write

T-T

I LIKE THE BEARD… - JAYCE X READER

synopsis: your lovely boyfriend Jayce has changed his look as he's gotten older. His hair has gotten longer, messier; and he’s grown a wonderful beard. He wants to get rid of it. You say otherwise.

warnings: Jayce is hot, fluff fluffy fluff, appreciating Jayce, Jayce getting flustered, some insecurities mentioned, pre-established relationship, man I don’t know this is fluffy self-indulgence that this anon and myself are craving, Grammarly is my beta

genre: m/f or m/m

p.s. Y'all don't understand how happy I am that people are requesting things and just talking to me in either my asks or my comment sections in my fics. Keep it up, love ya <3

Dating Jayce is a dream come true. You two have been friends for as long as you can remember. You've had a crush on him since you were both twelve; you're breaching into your thirties now.

He's always been a massive sweetheart, willing to help anyone out, incredibly smart, funny, witty, if a bit naive with a massive tunnel vision when he's inspired.

You love him with all your heart.

This new look has you blushing like a tween again, rather than you being his partner of almost five years.

Jayce isn’t a massive fan of it.

You can see it in the way he runs his fingers through his hair, or scratches his heavily stubbled cheek. You know he's only putting up with it for you. And you greatly appreciate that.

Jayce has always been handsome, but this… this elevated him to a whole new level.

So when you wake up one day, the other side of the bed cold, you know exactly where he is. He's contemplating how he looks in the mirror.

Judging every supposed flaw and imperfection he sees.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You trudge your way over to the ensuite connected to your bedroom. Your hair is a mess, you quickly threw on one of Jayce's massive button downs, and you think your underwear is crooked.

With a light sniff, as you rub one of your eyes, you enter the bathroom and see Jayce; nitpicking his reflection in the mirror. His shaving kit is out. You feel a jolt of energy enter your body as your eyes widen.

“Sweetheart… what’s that?”

Jayce looks at you through the mirror and lightly shrugs, “My shaving kit. Gotta look presentable at the next council meeting.”

Your eyebrows furrow at that, “You were so proud of yourself when you first grew out your beard, then like a switch you didn't like it. What's going on in that big brain of yours?”

A sigh escapes the handsome man and his shoulders drop, “Some of the council members made comments about my new look. Something along the lines of me looking more like a ruffian than the Man of Progress.”

You want to throttle those council members.

You walk up behind Jayce, hugging his back and putting your chin on his shoulder, “Well I think you look even more handsome! You're not in your early twenties anymore Jayce. How you look and style yourself is going to change, it does for everyone! Do I still have the exact same look when I was in my early twenties?”

“No, you've changed a bit over the years.”

You run a hand through Jayce's longer hair and bring it down to his beard; the back of your hand caressing his face, “Your opinion matters most. Do you want to keep this new look, or do you want to shave it?”

Jayce looks into the mirror in a contemplative silence, before smiling at you and putting the shaving kit away.

“I like this look. Those council members can kiss my ass, they're just too lazy to make new posters and cups.”

You laugh at that, throwing your head back before kissing his shoulder. Jayce whirls you around and gives you a passionate kiss, he wraps his arms around you and lightly lifts you into the air. You wrap your arms around his neck.

“I love you, you know that?”

“I love you too.”

“You better, you're stuck with me for all eternity.”

You beam a grin at him, “I wouldn't have it any other way. Now, when's this meeting? Let's dress you up so nicely that those members choke on their own spit and hopefully die.”

“Babe! You can't say that!”

“Oh yes I can, they sure as shit can't hear me. We’re at home. What're they gonna do? Send in a swat team of enforcers and put me in Stillwater because I'm offended they made my wonderful, beautiful, sexy boyfriend upset! I don't think so!”

Jayce boisterously laughs as you drag him back to the bedroom, “The meeting is in about an hour and a half.”

You smirk, “Time to doll you up then.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It honestly doesn't take that long to doll up Jayce. He's always been handsome.

You pull out his killer outfit. It’s an all-black ensemble with red accents. He's always looked so scrumptious when he wears it, and he knows it.

He gets dressed, puts a small bit of pomade in his hair so it loses its frizz, and sprays on some delectable cologne. There's almost fourty minutes left until he needs to leave.

He should've gotten ready a bit later. He's so gorgeous, you're itching to get your hands on him and ruin the work you two just did.

And he knows it.

He just keeps smirking at you, his dimples popping out each time. He lightly licks his lips, he even subtly poses for you. That bitch.

You walk up to him as he appreciates himself in the mirror (as he should) and squeeze yourself in between him and the dresser, you wrap your arms around his neck and fiddle with the collar of his shirt.

“Would it be so bad if you were… a little late to the meeting?”

Jayce looks at the clock on the wall, “Nah, we got time.”

Before you know it, he's picked you up and tossed you onto the bed. He quickly follows suit as you unbutton his top as he kisses your cheek and goes down to your neck.

Fuck those councillors who talked shit about your boyfriend. He's the most handsome man in the world, and you'll make sure he knows it everyday.

JAYCE WITH MESSY HAIR, A BEARD, AND THE ALL BLACK OUTFIT WAS MY DOWNFALL IN S2. WHY DID HE ONLY HAVE IT FOR O N E SCENE ISTG WHY DID THEY DO THAT?!?? PAPA ME WANT MORE MOVIE 🫴🫴

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

You know, what would Firefly think of a s/o who has the G-Gundam or Armored Core mech?

(H:SR) Firefly with an overdramatic S/O

I spent the last 2 hours writing for this piece, only to realize it was exceeding 2.5k words so I'm drafting that and scaling this back down because I got WAY too carried away. But enough of that!

LET'S GET THINGS STARTED! GUNDAM FIGHT, READDYYYYYY...GOOOOOOOOO!

Firefly has met some strange people in her life so far. There were the Stellaron Hunters, the people of Penacony, the Astral Express Crew, and countless more.

Even if they seemed fine on the surface, any extended period of time spent witht hem would prove that they would be unhinged in some capacity. But in this vast galaxy, of course they would be! Who wouldn't?

Firefly couldn't deny she had some strange qualities herself, and yet nothing could prepare her to meet the King/Queen of Hearts.

And absolutely nothing in this universe could have told her that she would have fallen in love with this person.

Firefly was inside her own suit as she watched her S/O first enter that colorful mech of theirs, kicking and punching rapidly as their transformation finished.

What stunned her the most was that people just watched it happen.

Upon realizing that she was SAM, most people immediately went for their guns or tried to stop her in some capacity.

Then again, they were probably stunned by the yelling and grunting S/O was doing as they performed some honestly pretty admirable martial arts skills.

And before anyone could react, S/O lunged forward with their right hand burning.

(S/O) "ERUPTING, BURNING, FIIIIIIIIINGEEEEEEEEEEEEER!-"

To which those admirable skills turn into something horrifying, as their robotic fist suddenly grabbed someone's torso, lifted them into the air.

(S/O) "AND NOW, HEAT END!"

Firefly watched with a mixture of curiosity and terror as the guard they had grabbed suddenly exploded, without any warning or even any way to trigger that explosion as far as her suit could tell.

S/O seemingly could just detonate whatever object they grabbed after screaming their signature move on command.

(Firefly) "If I can ask, how exactly can you do that?"

(S/O) "Hah! It is a secret technique from the Undefeated of the East! The School of Master Asia! However, of all the people I have met in this world, I believe you could master it as I did!"

She couldn't deny that their moves were effective, and honestly it'd be great if her suit could recreate their devastation.

But...did she really have to scream out their moves?

And much to her embarassment, yes she would.

In the worst way possible: In front of all the other Stellaron Hunters.

It was during the climax of their first mission together, S/O and Firefly had traveled together for nearly half a year as friends, usually on their own and sometimes joined by other companions.

The two had developed feelings, but Firefly was too conscious of her identity as a Stellaron Hunter and Elio's script, and S/O was never good at speaking their mind, always thinking with their fist first.

But after an argument, Firefly felt guilty and charged off to defeat their final quarry alone, causing her suit to get heavily damaged, with S/O rushing in just in time to save her.

...

(S/O) "FIREFLYYYYY!"

S/O's suit flew down next to Firefly's, one hand propping her back up as they shook her.

(S/O) "Firefly...Can you hear me?"

(Firefly) "...S/O?"

Her suit's hand grabbed theirs, yet S/O took that moment to phase out of his suit, much to her confusion.

(S/O) "I don't need you to answer just...hear me out...When you told me that your mission with me was part of your script...I was angry, yes but...it doesn't matter."

Firefly's suit phased out promptly with S/O's, letting her wide-eyed expression be seen fully.

Truth be told, she was actually fine, better than S/O, she had suffered much worse than this, but decided to stay quiet.

(S/O) "Did you seriously think that I would hate you when you told me who you were? About your mission?"

(Firefly) "I...I didn't want to lie to you, S/O. You had told me everything about you and I...-"

S/O shook their head, gently standing her up finally, both their hair drifting along the wind, ashes from the fires below them slowly scattering into the air-

WAIT, THE MONSTER-

Firefly's eyes turned to the corner, seeing the monster-...

...Patiently waiting? It was literally standing a few dozen meters away, towering over them and not doing anything as S/O continued to spill their heart out.

(S/O) "Do you remember what I said before we fought? That once this mission was over, I wanted to talk to you about something?"

Firefly's attention was brought back to S/O, who held both her hands tightly as their soft expression made them her only focus.

(S/O) "I'm a person who's ill at ease and only knows how to fight. That's why it's been hard for me to say this...Honestly, I...I...!"

S/O clenched their fist, just as the fires around them surged even higher, the heat escaping both their notice as her heart skipped a beat.

(S/O) "I LOVE YOU! I WANT TO BE WITH YOU!"

At that very moment, both their suits came back on as the flames swirled, as if moved and empowered by S/O's confession.

The absurdity of this situation was ignored by Firefly, who only shed a single tear, her guilt being replaced by overwhelming love and determination.

Though unknown to her at that moment, Silver Wolf, Kafka, Blade, and even Elio was watching from the sideline.

(Kafka) "So, was this cheesy love story in the script too?"

(Elio) "All I could see was that The King/Queen of Hearts would be an ally. I said and saw absolutely nothing about...whatever this is."

(Silver Wolf) "Maybe it's a secret romance route?"

(Blade) "Why did the monster stop attacking them midway...?"

As if on cue, the monster lunged forward to attack, though the Stellaron Hunters saw S/O and Firefly step into motion, still inside their mechs.

Both their hands were still held together, facing outwards as if ready to tango.

(Elio) "...What are they?-"

(S/O & Firefly) "THESE HANDS OF OURS ARE BURNING RED!"

Instead of Sam's voice coming through the mech, it was entirely her own, loud and clear with her S/O.

She didn't have time to think how ridiculous they looked, Firefly was too caught up in the moment with them.

Letting go for a split moment, they both extended their fist outwards.

(S/O) "THEIR LOUD CRY TELLS US-"

(Firefly) "TO GRASP HAPPINESS!"

The wings on S/O's suit flared out as a glowing halo appeared behind them, while Firefly's entered Complete Combustion, the suit's visor flipping up as energy wings shot out from her back.

Instead of actually using their weapons, Firefly and S/O got into position to tango dance once again, with a heart of pure energy forming behind them.

(S/O & Firefly)

"SEKIHA LOVE LOVE TENKYOKEN!"

With their furthest arms, they both motioned together outwards and to the monster, the heart that had formed behind them turning into a physical projectile, which was still heart-shaped somehow, through the chest of the beast.

(Kafka) "...Oh my god.-"

(Blade) "This is asinine.-"

(Silver Wolf) "This is cringe."

With their fists raised high and hands burning red, the two flew off into the sky as explosions erupted from the massive, comical, heart shaped hole in the monster, a final detonation setting the trees ablaze, the two mechanized lovers leaving a pink trail behind them.

Which was impressive, given that Firefly's thruster colors were typically blue in that mode.

Later on, Firefly would get teased by Kafka and Silver Wolf about their whole "love" technique being able to destroy monsters.

Meanwhile Elio and Blade tried to forget they even saw the whole affair.

[angelltheninth]

Heyheyyy!

I'm feeling cheeky so I wanted to ask for a little drabble for Maddie (if not her, than whoever you else,) - giving fem!reader her first orgasm with a partner/hcs on how your first time together would be? Thank you!

Of course I'm gonna write about my favorite ginger! I'm happy when people ask me about her, I have a few more requests for her too. Yay!

Pairing: Maddie Nolen x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, first orgasm, cunnilingus, fingering, orgasm encouragement, teasing, blushing, kissing, dirty talk, praise

Word count: 0.9k

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: If there is a Maddie Nolen fanclub I would like to enter please.

It was supposed to be just like any other night you spent together, kissing, talking, teasing but this time when you started you just didn't stop until both of you were naked. Maddie was never the one to waste precious time, least of all when she has an absolute feast in front of her.

Her lips were locked around your clit, her middle and ring finger fucking you quick and deep. Every little whimper she made when you pulled her hair traveled and vibrated exactly against your clit, making your while body tingle. Your eyes were getting misty, teary, harder to stay open as you felt the hot pleasure coiling low in your belly.

Suddenly, before it could reach it's peak you moved away from her, leaving her with a bewildered look on her face, mid-lick.

"Don't hide from me. You scared I'm gonna bite you or something?" She teased as her lips got closer and closer to where you wanted them most. But as soon as they brushed against your clit your hips jerked, you pushed her away and closed your legs again. "This doesn't work if you keep closing your legs. Is something wrong, love? Am I moving too fast for you?"

"No? Yes? I'm nervous." You bit your lower lip, not exactly knowing what to say that wouldn't be embarrassing for you.

"Nervous." She echoed, cheek resting on your thigh.

With a nod you continued, "Maddie I... I don't know what to expect."

"Hopefully to come." The ginger wiggled her eyebrows but her smug expression wavered when you embarrassingly looked away.

"I don't know what that feels like." You whispered into the silence between you two.

"What?!" Maddie couldn't believe this. How could you not know what it feels like? It was one of the best feelings one could have with their partner. "You never had an orgasm before? With a previous lover, or even by yourself?" Her face softened and she ran her hands soothing up and down your hips.

You shook your head, feeling that embarrassment with your whole body.

"Sweetheart, that's not right. You should get to experience that when you're having sex. The thought that you never did, that your exes didn't bother with your pleasure, it... it makes me angry." She shook that anger away for now. There would be time for that. Now she had more important things to take care of. She eased your legs open slowly, her eyes soft and touch just as so. "I want to make you come. Do you trust me enough to let me do that?"

"Of course I do." You reached down to cup her cheek and she leaned into your touch, planting a quick kiss on your palm and then your wrist. She grinned when your pulse spiked under her lips.

"Well then, I should get back to work shouldn't I? I'll make you come so hard, I promise you that." She had a lot of confidence but the skill with which she licked her tongue into your pussy and curled it upwards just a bit. But she didn't stay there for long, "I'll talk you through it, relax. Be a good girl for me, let me give you what you need, what your pussy needs." Her fingers pushed back in, which made you gasp and leaned forward, back tense and hands back in Maddie's ginger hair.

You didn't mind her taking the lead.

Maddie's fingers curled upwards when she pushed them in all the way, hitting that little spot inside of you that made you see stars every time. It made you half gasp, half whimper when she grinned against your clit at the noises you made. "Such pretty sounds from my pretty girl."

She licked a slow path from your aching clit to her fingers. Everything in her wanted to tease you but she didn't want to make you wait any longer for what she promised. Her lips returned to your clit, this time only kissing it, but doing so every time she fucked her fingers back into you.

"Maddie... I... fuck... ah!" You moaned faster, louder, felt your body grow hot and your pussy clenching around her fingers quicker.

"Yeah, I know, I know. Let it happen, come for me." She whispered against your clit and that was all it took. The pressure that you felt in your lower belly spread through your entire body, ending in your curling toes. "Good, doing so well, a bit more." You felt her fingers make a little scissor motion inside your cunt and your vision went white.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you registered her kissing your stomach while she eased her fingers out of your pussyhole. But you couldn't even muster the strength to pull her into a hug. Your entire body hummed, boneless. "Holy fucking shit. T-Thank you, I... oh my gods."

"Don't thank me for that, love. Although the way you look right now does give me an ego boost." She grinned at you, still between your legs. "You doing alright?"

"Mhm. Is it normal to not feel your legs?" You asked with a laugh welling up from your chest.

"Sometimes. Want a massage?" Her hands were already running up and down your legs by the time she asked the question. "It's good to calm down after an intense experience like that."

"Y-Yeah. That does feel nice." Better than any other time you had sex with anyone else. Maddie aimed to please. Always.

[gatheredfates]

I know what I say won't make much of an impact. I haven't said things in the kindest, gentlest way that it could possibly be said. But I don't want to be someone who couches the truth in sweet words. I don't want to feed into the idea that the truth must be comfortable, or that people's feelings must be comfortable to be heard.

I just wanted to grab these in particular because I wanted to express that I do believe your words have merit and I don't think you words were unkind or harsh. Even if they were, like you said, we should be able to have good-faith discussions with each other about why we feel a certain way without feeling like we've put out hand on the chopping block, and we should be able to babble to the universe without feeling like we have to be profound or add something new and meaningful to the conversation. Your story alone reiterated to me that... yeah, it's not in my head. There are issues when it comes to mods and peoples' overutilisation of them, especially when they are talented and should feel comfortable enough in their own ability to express how their character looks and acts without being told 'oh, there's a mod for that'.

Ultimately, it doesn't matter if there is a mod for that! Your friend should feel confidant enough to write their character completely modless (if they wanted to) without fearing any repercussions. The fact that they feel they can't, whether it's mental illness, community perception, etc. is sad. When people get angry because there's no synchshell available or people don't use mods, it's sad. You're giving yourself so much anxiety and isolating people who don't have or use mods... for what, exactly? A few extra aesthetic points that are ultimately meaningless in the face of creating genuine connection with another person?

It's needless gatekeeping. Not everyone can afford a 3000$ computer with the capability to run FFXIV at max level with everyone's mods installed. It shouldn't be a barrier. As long as I can walk up to you and string a coherent sentence together from my character, I should be taken at face value.

And, like you said, it's a symptom of a greater issue(s) that would take another 10,000+ words to unpack, but you are right and you should say it. People crave interaction so badly that they claw for these spaces and to have that cool individuality that people admire, but so often end up being more isolated because they're put on a pedestal. People are afraid to interact with them because they're intimidated and then those people don't know how to interact because everyone else seems aloof and unwelcoming.

Like I said I am just. Gnawing at the bars of my cage. I love it when people are unabashedly weird and creative within their own means.

Playerscope, modding and the hunt for aesthetic: why you should be more upset about mods and community expectations than you already are.

I love that this sounds like an academic paper but HONESTLYYYY. I need to put my thoughts to paper in regards to my burnout with xiv, otherwise I think I'll go insane. This is a controversial yet brave post. I am well aware that I partake in some of the things I'm going to be critiquing; aka, "thank you, dinklebottom, we live in a society." I'm also not critiquing mods from a space of offering more accessibility to people and/or facilitating representation not currently offered within the context of the game. There is nuance to every discussion and I'm coming at this from an overarching view around mods and community expectations/standards rather than player joy. I hope this makes sense. I'm also predominately writing from a roleplay perspective, though I'm sure a lot of what I end up saying can reflect in the art party/social space. Just know if I haven't mentioned the latter it's because that's not my scene and I don't pretend to know otherwise.

Anyway. For those who don't know, there's a new mod that's causing some strife in the xiv community called Playerscope. Here is the reddit thread about it. I'm not going to be talking too much about the mod in general because that's not the point of this post, but seeing discussion around it today just made me feel more exhausted than I already am when it comes to modding and the xiv community around it. It made me realise... I'm actually really sick to death of mods. I'm sick to death of what they're doing to the community when it comes to gatekeeping, policing and in general the interactions we have with each other in the community.

Let me explain: I wrote a post about the roleplay mod on bsky that kind of articulates at a surface level what I mean.

I think what makes me sad, which I'm sure is echoed by a lot of people, is that mods feel like the standard now rather than an option and that there's a certain expectation for people to have them if they want to engage with facets of the community—whether intentional or not.

Unlike XIV, WoW has a supported mod scene (within reason) and TRP 2 and the like have been accepted for years now. In a space where people can't slap on an RP tag, having that tool readily identifies you as a writer/roleplayer and you can include as much or as little of your character as you like. The general idea is if you have one of these tools enabled, you're a roleplayer to some capacity. You can dress up the profile to a certain degree, you can add links and supported pictures, but you're mostly reliant on what you put to paper in regards to your character. Even then, I find filling out what my character is doing currently and marking the rest as a WIP doesn't necessarily exclude me from roleplay if I want to find it. A lot of people will do that and a super simple description to incite interest around their oc.

These days in XIV... I don't know. I do think communities have gotten more insular—it's why I'm so pedantic about trying to find them for the Compendium—but I also think mods and, to a certain extent, the 'nightclub' scene have gotten in the way of it as well. My argument is such.

I want to go to an event (for example sake, I'll call it Seascape). In order to fully participate, I may need:

Their discord.

A roleplay addon.

A carrd/google site/etc.

Their synchshell (including mods, mare and everything else)

Potentially a mod of some description so people know I can see theirs (and vice versa).

Also that your mod isn't made by a shitty person.

Appropriate understanding of the scene/social space.

Some luck and a prayer that it's an inclusive space and not a closed rp group advertising as being open and/or a mod showcase advertising itself as something different.

Like??? Holy shit you guys. If you are someone who doesn't want to mod because you're worried about repercussions it really just feels like a big 'fuck you, good luck'.

And let me be clear, not every community is like this. I'm incredibly lucky to have found fantastic roleplay within my own rp event/community, I have great friends who run awesome, inclusive events for people of any skill (writing or otherwise) and I do fully believe you can just enable the rp tag and find fun, fulfilling roleplay. But I've also found the above a lot of times, too. I've had people point-blank get mad at my partner because he won't install mods and try to exclude and/or circumvent him in spaces. It's weird. I've been to events where the only time I felt like I got proper interaction(s) was when I joined the aforementioned, even if I have my character's profile linked in my about. It's weird.

Honestly, no wonder new roleplayers feel overwhelmed. Not only do they have to learn roleplay etiquette, they have to be a mod expert overnight? It feels less about what someone can bring to the table as far as a story but what mods they can install to either look cool or pass an unspoken social barrier. As much as I'm down bad for aesthetic and looking the part, I hate it being at the cost of accessibility and fun for someone else.

Arguably it's the same for gposing and the like as well, which contributes to my exhaustion alongside all the graphical changes and I just. I'm gnawing at the bars of my cage.

I don't think it's going to change and arguably it's more of a Twitter/X issue than a Tumblr, one but Tumblr lets me write mini essays and Twitter will tell me to kms.

Ergo, I'll go with the essay-writing platform.

Anyway, I guess this is just a reminder that you don't need 4596419651 mods to be in the community and that people should be more vigilant on including people who don't have them for whatever reason, provided they operate in good-faith and want to contribute. I think we're careening to a slippery slope of expectation for something unsupported and I don't like it.

[khys-treasure-box]

AN: The area I live in doesn't get snow often at all, but it actually snowed yesterday! First time in years that we've gotten more than an inch! That said, the snow I can see outside in real life is exactly what inspired me to write this. <3

CW: Just some sweetness with our beloved 11th Harbinger! Reader is gender-neutral and in an established relationship with Ajax!

I just know in my heart that getting snowed in with Ajax on one of the rare occasions that he's back home is the best. Sure, you're trapped inside, and that's unfortunate, but you're trapped inside with your dearly beloved partner that you only see once in a blue moon! He's off on business so often that it's hard not to cherish any opportunity you can get to spend an extended amount of time with him.

You're not the only one who's happy either! Believe it or not, I don't think he'd be complaining at all about being forced by nature to put his thirst for battle on hold in order to stay in and catch up on quality time with his dearest. He could fight to his heart's content any other time. So, while the snow was practically thick enough to be an immovable wall that isolated the two of you from the outside world, he'd do everything he could and more to make up for lost time.

Actually, he has one singular complaint... He hadn't had time to catch a nice, big fish for you two before the snow hit!

It might be freezing outside, but Ajax can and will make sure you're nice, warm, and cozy. He's got all manner of blankets around the house (some you didn't even know were there), he knows just how to make your favorite hot drink (doesn't matter if it's hot chocolate, coffee, tea, or something else; he learned how to make it just for you <3), and he's more than willing to lend a hand when it comes to cooking a nice, warm meal. If all of that isn't quite enough, he'll gladly cuddle up with you and offer his body heat too. Basically, anything for his darling partner to keep warm!

Also, don't mind him for being practically attached to you at the hip the whole time. He's honestly just very starved for contact with you. If you get up to go grab something, he's going with you. If you're going to bed, he's going too. If you want to take a bath, you'll have to forgive him for insisting on being there with you. Poor Ajax has missed you immensely, so he can hardly help it. He has to make the most of every second he has with you, and if that means he has to be all over you, then so be it.

I fear you're also gonna have to put up with him talking your ear off too. He's gonna eat up so much of you guys' time in just asking how things have been here at home and then catching you up on his adventures, just leaving out the more... objectionable parts. He can't have you thinking badly of him, now can he?

When the snow has eventually melted away and he has to leave again, it's honestly bittersweet. You hate to see him leave again because you don't know how long it'll be before next time, but rest assured, you're one of the absolute most important people in his life. He'll always come back for you any time he can so long as he's still breathing. <3

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

I love your writing so much! I also love the Curtis bros and a little bit of low stakes angst, so, for a request I would love to see Ponyboy and Soda having a rare fight and Darry having to deal with them being absolute children while being super flabbergasted that they’re even fighting in the first place and trying to figure out what the heck is going on

OOOH LOVE this ask I will do my best!! fic under the cut!!

When Darry pulled up at the house to yellin' that damn near echoed down the block, he wasn't exactly surprised, per se. The boys were always yelling. It didn't matter if they were pleased or hacked off or dangerously close to tears. They didn't have what you might call volume control.

Darry threw the truck in park 'n killed the engine, listenin' carefully. If he was gonna have to go break up a fight he wanted at least some forewarnin'. He can pick out Pony's voice as it rises shrilly. Not a good sign. But he can't quite identify the second voice, or voices?, but if he had to guess, he would play his chips on Steve. He couldn't leave those two alone for five goddamn minutes without them tryin' to kill each other. He rests his head on the steerin' wheel for a moment, bone tired. But there was never any time to just be tired. So out he gets.

He climbs out, easin' the door shut behind him. He doesn't want to give his troublemakers any heads-up. If he had to pry them off one another at least he could deal with it right away instead of havin' to watch them shoot glares 'n jabs 'n ill-placed kicks under the table.

"Tell him to knock it off!" Pony's voice has hit an all-time high note, forget whinin', this was wailin'. The other person isn't yellin' yet, but they're gettin' there. Darry locks the truck, cocks his head. If he didn't know better he would say that it was-

"Soda! I can't believe you're takin' his side over this!" Soda? Now that was not what he had expected.

"Well if you stopped actin' like a brat-" The second Darry hears the word brat leave Soda's mouth he's up the steps before he can blink. Somethin' had to be seriously wrong. Brat was only ever used by Steve and at a high price every time.

Darry's got his hand on the knob but he hasn't quite twisted it when he hears Pony's shocked little gasp and then his vicious "Dropout."

When Darry opens the front door Soda is already on top of Ponyboy. For a moment he just stands there. They don't seem to notice at all. Pony shoves his hand hard into Soda's chest 'n Soda grabs a fist full of Pony's hair 'n yanks. Pony yowls and knees him in the stomach. Soda yelps 'n pins him down to the floor, jabbin' 'n scratchin' 'n not doin' any serious damage at all. Pony wriggles fiercely, manages to worm out from beneath Soda 'n scramble to his feet. He looks like he's seriously considerin' jumpin' back down on him with Darry grabs him by the back of the neck. Soda dives for Pony again and Darry snaps him by the bicep, forcibly keepin' them apart,

"What the hell has gotten into the two of you?" Pony registers shock for a moment, blinkin' up at Darry with big, wet eyes before he refocuses on Soda.

"Ask him. He's the one that jumped on me!" Darry turns to Soda, shakes him when he doesn't say anythin', just keeps on glarin' at Pony.

"Sodapop Curtis, what is goin' on here?" Soda turns his scowl on Darry, anger blazin' in his eyes. He only falters when Darry matches his stare, rattlin' him by the arm for good measure.

"He was bein' a brat." Soda mumbles 'n Darry releases him only to cuff him up the back of his head.

"Ow!"

"Don't call your brother that." Pony smirks 'n Darry rounds on him. "'N don't let me catch you lookin' smug, lil boy, I know better than to think you didn't have a hand in this."

"Aw, lay off him Darry." Soda kicks at the carpet and Darry whips back to him with a scoff, jaw open in bewilderment.

"Lay off? Soda I just yanked you off him!"

"That's different." Soda bats his eyes at Darry like he always does, hopin' for leeway 'n knowin' he was a pushover when it came to his first kid brother. "Pony was bein' an assh-"

"What the hell-" Darry heaves an exasperated sigh 'n Pony at least has the sense to stop while he's ahead. Out of the corner of his eye he catches Soda stick his tongue out. Pony lets out an indignant wail 'n is only stopped from resumin' their scrap by Darry's hand squeezin' the back of his neck.

"Glory God. I don't know what is wrong with you two today but I'm not dealin' with it. Ponyboy Michael, you go to your room. Sodapop Patrick, you go to mine. I don't want to hear a peep from either of you."

Both boys instantly start whinin'.

"But Darryyy-"

"C'mon Dar-"

"No sirree, I'm not hearin' it. You want to act like lil' kids I'm more than happy to treat you that way. Now not another word before I stick the both of you in corners, too."

Darry releases his grip on both of them, givin' a gentle shove down the hall. The second they're out of his grasp 'n around the corner Darry can hear the sound of a slap on bare skin 'n a shove that sends one of them careenin' into the wall.

"Darry!"

"If I need to escort your asses down that hall neither of you are goin' to like it!" He clenches his fists so hard his knuckles are white. Mercifully, he hears a muttered asshole 'n the respondin' bitch 'n both doors slam without any more fightin'. Glory god, they were gonna make him grey before he was twenty-five.

He sighs again, runs a hand up the back of his neck 'n finally realizes Steve has been standin' stock still in the living room the entire time, lookin' more than a little shell-shocked.

"You alright, kid?"Steve shakes his head to clear it, lookin' just as bewildered as Darry felt.

"Yeah? Yeah. I'm good."

"Am I right to guess you were involved in all this?"

"Uh, kinda? I wasn't fightin' or nothin'." He rubs his hands sheepishly back 'n forth on his jeans in a way Darry knows he picked up from him. "But, uh, I was teasin' the Ponykid. I didn't expect it to get ballistic or nothin'."

Darry sits down heavily at the table, exhausted. "We've talked about you ribbin' on Pony before, yeah?"

Steve bites at the inside of his lip. "Yeah, sorry Darry." Darry didn't mind the two of them goin' back 'n forth a bit. Privately, he thought Soda coddled him too much. Well. Normally. But Steve 'n Pony could never stop when they should. Their digs could turn into brawls before you could blink.

"It's alright. Somehow I don't think I can blame you for Soda jumpin' on the kid." Steve cracks a smile, still lookin' lost. "Tell you what, you get over there 'n wash those dishes 'n I'll call this one even."

Steve nods, ducks into the kitchen 'n flips on the tap. Darry scrubs a hand over his face, tryin' to find his head. Darry knew exactly how to break up a fight between Steve 'n Pony, or Dallas' 'n Steve. He had it down to a science how to navigate the fall out of Two makin' the wrong jokes to the wrong people. Hell, he could settle a fight between nearly any of his kid brothers with practiced ease in five minutes flat.

But Pony 'n Soda? God, they were their own entire world.

Darry remembered, back when they were kids, nothin' was worse than a true Soda/Pony beatdown. They just got each other better. So when they managed to get each other's goat, breakin' them up like steppin' in the middle of a shoot out. They were just as liable to turn on you as they were to go after the other.

There were very few things about how their relationships had changed Darry was grateful for, but if it had made Soda 'n Pony closer so Darry didn't have to deal with any of their fighting, well, he wouldn't lick a gift horse in the mouth.

Apparently, the universe thought things had been goin' too smoothly lately.

Darry sighs again, leaves Steve scrubbin' at the pan Darry had been dreadin' washin' all day. Small favors.

He hesitates in the hall, tryin' to decide which of the two boys to talk to first. He worries his lip, figures he better sit Pony down. He's got a naggin' feelin' that this has more to do with Soda 'n he wants to get one of them dealt with. Plus, bein' alone had a repentant effect on Soda. Pony could sit in a dark room for a week 'n come out more mad than he'd gone in.

Darry swears he got that particular vice from Dallas but it's more likely it came from Darry. They were the same brand of fool-headed stubborn sometimes.

Darry knocks lightly on the door and slips inside, schoolin' his features based on Pony's attitude. He's not surprised when he finds the kid knees up in his chest, forehead down. Darry softens, concedes, if only to himself. They were more similar than he admits, 'n he knows from experience, fightin' with Soda hurts worse than just about anythin'.

"Hey, kid." Pony lifts his head up miserably, he's not quite cryin' but he looks like it wouldn't take much to work him up to it.

"He hates me, Darry." Glory God it takes everythin' in him not to roll his eyes.

"No, he does not hate you." Darry plops down on the bed, nudgin' Pony over.

"Yes, he does!"

"Ponyboy, your brother does not hate you now hush." Darry snaps and Pony whimpers. Darry takes a deep breath. Pony feels things different. You gotta be gentler. Glory, when Soda wasn't takin' a chunk out of the kid he was far better at this than Darry.

"Now you hate me too!" And he dissolves into messy tears.

"Oh, baby," Sometimes Pony couldn't see the obvious through all the things he told himself in his head. Now, that was where Darry 'n Pony split. Darry was all ruthless practicality. Soda was where they met in the middle, he supposed. The perfect balance.

Darry cups a hand behind Pony's head and pulls him to his chest. He knows the kid must be feelin' particularly vulnerable when he doesn't protest at all.

"Wanna tell me what happened?" Darry asks after a long moment broken only by Pony's sniffles. Pony wipes a hand across his eyes and sniffs.

"Steve called me a baby and a tag-a-long and I said... somethin'... back 'n Soda got mad 'n told us to knock it off but we didn't 'n then he jumped on me." Darry grabs Pony gently by the shoulders, pullin' him away from his chest, 'n fixin' him with a look.

"Stop givin' me the Ponyboy special." The Ponyboy special was what they all called Pony's tendency to recall only the parts of a story that made him look good. "I know you must've said somethin' real nasty to Steve, 'n from what I heard, Soda was doin' a decent job of not yellin' until you kept pushin', kiddo."

Pony at least has the decency to look sheepish. "You heard that?"

"Yes, siree. Wanna explain to me what was goin' through that head a yours?" Pony worries at his lip, runs his hands back 'n forth over his knees in a way that gives Darry deja vu.

"Nothin', Darry. I wasn't thinkin'. I was just real mad at Steve for callin' me those things." Darry sighs, figures that's the closest he's gettin' to the truth.

"That was no reason to carry on that fight with your brother." Pony drops his chin to his chest 'n Darry uses a finger to gently lift his head til he's lookin' him in the eye. "I'm gonna need you to apologize to Soda 'n Steve when all's said 'n done, understand?"

Pony nods miserably 'n Darry presses a kiss to his hair. "Good, honey. I'm not mad, alright? 'N neither is Soda. Now, I want you to stay here until I let you out, savvy?"

Pony bobs his head 'n Darry squeezes his shoulder, standin'. "Love you, kid."

"Love you too, Dar." Darry eases the door shut and takes a steadin' breath. Soda rarely found himself in these predicaments. He'd get himself in trouble until the cows came home but always in the pursuit of a good time. When Soda fell for somethin' serious he fell hard.

Darry turns, puts his hand on the knob of his bedroom door 'n hears the sounds of Soda tryin' to muffle his own sobs. It nearly cracks his heart in two. 'N suddenly he remembers somethin' else about those fights from when they were kids: Soda fought like he smoked- never without a damn good reason.

Darry swings the door open 'n Soda jolts up, runnin' both hands across his face to wipe away the tears.

"Is Pony ok?" God, Soda was the best of them sometimes.

"Pony's fine. Just a lil' shook up." Soda crumbles to the bed, buries his head in his hands.

"Fuck. He's gonna think I hate him." Glory. Sometimes it was hard to tell where Soda ended 'n Pony began.

"He knows you don't." Darry walks to the bed side 'n sits, runnin' a hand up 'n down Soda's back.

"No, he don't." Soda whimpers 'n Darry sighs, enfoldin' him in a hug 'n pullin' him up beside him.

"Soda, if I know the two of you, you'll be right as rain by dinner. Pony'll bounce back. He's a resilient kid." Soda bites the inside of his cheek, shrugs a shoulder, looks generally unconvinced. "I want to hear about you right now, Pepsi."

"You don't gotta worry about me, Dar." Soda gets to his feet, paces once around the bed 'n back.

"Soda, don't lie to me. I'm not in the mood. It's my job to worry about you." Soda pauses by the foot 'n studies Darry with those piercin' honey headlights that can see straight through any of them. Apparently findin' Darry wasn't foolin' he sighs, drops back to the mattress.

"I'm sorry, Dar."

"I know, honey. Why don't you tell me what's buggin' you?" Soda opens his mouth 'n Darry cuts him off. "'N if you tell me nothin' I'm not gonna let you out of this room until next week." Soda shuts his mouth, pulls at a straw thread at the bottom of his DX shirt.

"Some guys from my old class dropped by the DX today." Darry lets out a low hiss of understandin'. Soda's year would be graduatin' before the end of the month.

Now, Soda was real good at actin' like he didn't care. He was a master at shruggin' off digs 'n laughin' off punches. If Soda decided the world would see him as just fine? Well, no one would ever know the difference. 'N Soda had decided everyone would see him as someone who didn't care he'd dropped out.

Just about the only person who didn't believe that routine was Darry.

"They were ribbin' about savin' up for caps 'n gowns 'n all that bullshit 'n... I dunno. 'N then I got off 'n came home 'n Pony 'n Steve were at it again 'n I just couldn't take it." Soda doesn't wait for Darry to offer, just collapses against his chest. "I just couldn't take the fightin' on top of it all. 'N I know he didn't mean it but then Pony called me a dropout 'n I-"

"Oh, Pepsi-Cola." Soda lets out a weak little sob at the nickname and Darry hauls him against his side. "I'm sorry."

Soda sits back up suddenly, scrubbin' tears away with blunt nails that leave red trails along his freckled cheeks. "It's fine! I mean I'm fine with it! I like workin' at the DX 'n I hated school because I'm too stupid for it 'n-"

"Sodapop Patrick you are not stupid. You hear me? I won't let anyone talk about you that way 'n I'm not gonna listen to it from you. You are smarter than I will ever be in all the ways it matters- you hear me? And sometimes... sometimes it's ok to not be fine."

Soda takes a big hiccupin' breath 'n looks at Darry with those big eyes that Darry would let him get away with murder for. "Ok." He sniffles 'n Darry gently wipes the last of his tears away. He's quiet for a long moment, just blinkin' at Darry. "You're allowed to not be tough all the time too."

God, Soda.

"Fine. We'll make a deal then. No more actin' like were tuff when we don't feel it, alright?" Soda smiles wetly, runs his sleeve under his nose.

"Deal."

"Good, now c'mere." Darry pulls him into a hug 'n Soda melts against him. Darry could have let him stay there forever, but Soda isn't one to be held still. He pulls back 'n runs his hands through his hair, pats at his pockets for his cigs.

"Can I go see Pony?" Darry ruffles his hair 'n smiles at him fondly.

"If Pony wants, yes." He doesn't know why he bothers. Pony would forgive Soda highway robbery 'n Soda would do anything' for that kid.

Darry drops one final kiss to Soda's temple 'n he peels out of the room 'n into Pony's, not botherin' to shut either door. Darry takes a deep breath, listens as Soda 'n Pony babble incoherent apologies over each other.

He ducks out of the room to give them more privacy 'n moves back down the hall. Steve's finished the dishes 'n is awkwardly shufflin' back 'n forth in the kitchen.

"Good job, Stevie." Darry pats him on the back 'n Steve lets out a sigh of relief. Soda 'n Pony tear back out, hootin' at some joke 'n Darry thanks his lucky stars he was right. Soda 'n Pony fall hard. But they always somehow manage to land on their feet.

"You ok, Superman?" Steve drops into a chair at the table as Darry kicks the stove on for dinner.

Darry turns 'n find Soda's sharp eyes already on him. "You know, Steve? A little tired, but I am." Soda grins, drops beside Steve 'n pulls a chair up beside him for Pony.

"Are you alright, Soda?" Darry leans back against the counter 'n watches the automatic of course! come 'n go in Soda's mouth.

"Not really, not right now. But... I think I will be."

[francisofthespook]

DIY Santa pt.2

Daryl Dixon x F!Reader

Summary: Part 2 to 'DIY Santa', after walking Judith home, you run into 'Santa' and you both elaborate a little bit on your 'Christmas wishes'

Setting: Alexandria

Warnings: Suggestive content but nothing too explicit

Word Count: 2,455

A/N: OKAY OKAY IM SORRY HERE IT IS FUCK ! In my defence, I'll say in twd they lost track of days and yes I am posting this on janurary 11th but for all we know, they could have celebrated Christmas in Janurary because they don't know the date ! Lol but fr sorry this took so long, I just couldn't figure out exactly how I wanted it to go. And I was in a bit of a writing slump after Christmas, then school started and ugh idk. But I'm back now and I've got tons of ideas and I think I wanna open up requests ??? We'll see... anyways, I hope y'all enjoy this very very very late part two to my little Christmas one shot !!!

(Divider made by me :) )

“What did you ask Santa for?” Judith asked as she swung your interlocked hands. Laughing, you told her, “I asked Santa to make sure your wish comes true.” You looked down at the little girl and gave her a big smile. She squealed in excitement and began making plans for you two to go on daily loops of the neighborhood when she got her new skates. You zoned out a bit as she went on, thinking about if you had maybe been too forward with Daryl. Maybe he wasn’t really looking for anything, just flirting with you out of boredom. You made a plan to try and avoid him for the next few days, in hopes that the possible awkwardness will diffuse by the next time you have to go on a run together.

As the two of you finally reached Rick and Michonne’s porch the sun had set, leaving the streets of Alexandria in a dark blue hue. Michonne opened the door and Judith ran inside to tell Rick all about seeing Santa. “Thanks again for taking her, she insisted that you were the one to do it.” Michonne laughed. “It was really no trouble at all, definitely worth it to see Daryl dressed up as Santa.” You laughed in response. “And by the way, she wants rollerskates and a jump rope for Christmas.” You whispered to Michonne. “Ah well, I think I can make a jump rope happen.” You were both thankful that Judith had kept her Christmas wishes simple. “Yeah, shouldn’t be too hard to find. I think I remember seeing rollerskates at that old sports supply store a few towns over. I was gonna grab those for her, I’ll look for a jump rope while I’m out.” The lack of sun was making the air even colder and unfortunately, you had opted for just jeans and a thin long sleeve today. You wrapped your arms around yourself to try and keep warm as you two spoke. 

“That would be amazing if you could! God, it’s cold. Do you wanna come in for a minute? We have some soup left over if you want any.” She kindly offered. As enticing as that sounded, you wanted nothing more than to curl up in your own bed and read a bit before going to sleep. You had recently found yourself a thick fluffy comforter that was absolute heaven on the colder nights. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m gonna head back, found some new books the other day I’ve been dying to start.” You gave her a warm smile and she gave you a hug before you turned to leave.

The slight wind from earlier began to pick up as you trudged down the street and back to your house. It was so quiet outside, almost like it was just another normal day and there weren’t dead people walking around just outside these walls. It made you think of before, and the evenings when you would walk home from your grandparent’s house after dinner, the street lights flickering as you walked down the empty streets listening to music. You would give anything to be able to do that just one more time. As you walked past the gazebo, you saw the last family leaving. Daryl stood up and stretched as Carol began to clean up. You slowed your pace just a bit as you got closer. You weren’t planning on stopping, but you were hoping you could get a sense of how Daryl was feeling after that interaction. Hopefully, he would wave if he saw you?

Daryl waved Carol off, telling her that he would take care of it. As she turned to leave, she spotted you, calling out “Hi (Y/N)! Thanks for stopping by!” You gave her a smile and a nod as you continued walking. Daryl hadn’t said anything, so you assumed he had felt weird about what happened. You began to pick up your pace just a bit before you heard, “Hey!” Turning around, you saw Daryl at the gazebo waving you over. Maybe it hadn’t been as awkward as you thought… hopefully. 

You slowly turned and headed in the direction of the gazebo, its dull twinkling lights being the only thing shining through the dark. As you approached, Daryl slowly walked towards you. When you two finally met at the steps, he gave you a warm smile. “I hope Jude had a good time meetin’ Santa.” He said, with air quotes around the ‘Santa’. You laughed a warm laugh and replied, “Yeah, I think she did. Not sure if she actually believed you were ‘Santa’, but I think she had fun.” He chuckled and a small silence filled the space between you, but it didn’t feel awkward. If anything, it kinda felt…comfortable. You looked down at your feet, trying yet again to hide the warmth on your cheeks. The wind blowing around you making it cold enough that you had to wrap your arms around yourself again. 

“Oh, here, lemme give ya this,” Daryl said, running up the steps to grab his coat. As he came back to you, you tried to argue, “No, really it's fine, I’m not that cold.” But the chatter in your teeth told him otherwise. “You don’t always gotta be like that,” He said, as he walked behind you to drape his coat over your shoulders. When he positioned himself back in front of you, he grabbed the two sides and pulled them tighter around you. “Like what?” You asked, confusion obvious in your voice. “Ya know, like yer always fine and dun need help. Puttin’ others ahead of yerself.” He chuckled, “I know yer gonna say now that I need it more than ya do, and yer warm enough with that thin long sleeve on.” 

“I was not gonna say that…” you tried to retort, but he knew you better than that. He gave you a knowing look and you couldn’t hold back your smile. “I would have worded it differently.” You both chuckled and returned to the silence, just staring into each other's eyes. It was almost pitch black out now, but the dim glow of the moon and the string lights lit the small area around you. Daryl looked angelic in the soft warm light, and you couldn’t keep yourself from breaking eye contact to look at his lips. He smirked, the movement bringing you back to reality. “So what does Santa want for Christmas?” you tried, being half flirty, but also half serious. Talk about someone who's hard to get gifts for…

“I think Santa,” he started, stepping closer to you. You kept your arms wrapped tightly around yourself and looked up at him through your lashes as he got close enough that you could feel just a whisper of his hot breath on your face. The smell of cigarettes brushed past your nose as he continued, “Would like to find his Ms.Claus fer Christmas.” You tried not to look shocked as he spoke in a low tone. As cool as you could, you leaned closer to him and whispered, “Is that so?” He smirked at you again and gently reached up to brush a strand of hair out of your face. His fingers were soft but warm, and that warmth burned through you as he moved his hand to cup the side of your head. “Mhm,” he replied as he leaned in towards your face.

You were so close now, that your noses almost touched. Every exhale he made swept across your face like the wind from a flame at a campfire. The smell of cigarettes had never smelled so enticing before, and you felt like you could get a buzz just from breathing him in. You weren’t sure if time had actually slowed, or if you were just so comfortable around him that the silence wasn’t noticeable. You opened your mouth slightly, to breathe out “That’s funny, because what I really wanted for Christmas was to be Ms. Claus…” 

If time had been slowed before, now someone had hit fast forward. It happened so quickly but so smoothly that you didn’t even have time to register what was going on. At some point, Daryl had wrapped his free hand around your waist and pulled you in closer. Using that hand that was cradling your head, to tilt it slightly upwards so that your lips landed right on his. He tasted sweeter than you would have thought, and you basked in the taste for a moment before you started to match his movements. It was a tender and gentle kiss, but you could feel the need and desire behind it. Like it was second nature, you unwrapped your arms from around your sides and brought your hands up to his head, tangling your fingers in his long locks. He moaned slightly into your mouth, causing you to grip and tug lightly at his hair. 

He exhaled roughly and gripped your waist tighter, pulling you into him as much as he could. You felt yourself slightly leaning in his grip, your knees beginning to feel like they would give out. The way you moved against each other was like a practiced dance, like you had been doing this for years and didn’t know any different. It felt right, and you didn’t understand how you had survived before without this. Slowly, he broke the kiss and pulled back enough to rest his forehead against yours. The both of you were so out of breath, that you just stood there for a moment, exhaling into each other's mouths.

When you finally came back down, you removed your hands from his hair and rested them on his shoulders. He moved his to the small of your back, thumbs gently rubbing in soothing circles. “I think my Christmas wish just came true…” You whispered to him, this time not trying to hide your blush or bite back your smile. “Mine too” He replied, mirroring your grin. He leaned down again to quickly peck you on the lips before grabbing the fallen coat on the ground. You had been so mesmerized in the moment, that you didn’t even notice it falling off. “Now let's get ya home. It’s too cold for a pretty little thang like ya out here.” He chuckled as he put the coat back on you.

You looked at him with so much love and adoration that it made his heart flutter. He put his arm around your shoulder and the two of you walked toward your house. The walk was short and quiet, the two of you basking in the silence of the world. All the houses were dark as you walked down the sidewalk, and the moon was now the only source of light. As you approached your house, you both walked up the steps and you turned to look at him as you rested your back against the door. He leaned down to rest one hand above your head and gently grabbed your waist with the other. 

Smiling, he spoke in a low voice, “Now are you gonna invite me in? Or am I gonna have ta come down yer chimney?” You couldn’t help but giggle. You glanced down at your feet for a moment, trying to calm your heart rate, before looking up at him and biting your lip. Slowly, you leaned in, looking up at him through your lashes, “I’ll invite you in,” taking a beat to stare at his lips before making eye contact again and continuing, “If you promise to also come down my chimney…” With that he moved his hand from above your head to the doorknob, holding your waist so you didn’t fall as he opened the door.

The next morning the two of you tried to stagger your exits in hopes of preventing rumors from spreading around the small community. Daryl had left out your back door about thirty minutes earlier, while you took a little extra time to get ready (and to dress yourself carefully enough to hide the marks on your neck). As you left the house, you spotted Carol and Judith in the garden and headed their way. 

“Hi Jude!” You called out as you approached the two. “Aunt (Y/N)!” she shouted as she ran towards you to give you a hug. You knelt down to catch the little girl and picked her up. She started telling you all about the tricks she was gonna do with her new jump rope when she got it as you walked toward Carol. “Thanks again for setting all that up.” You told her as you set Judith down. “Of course! I’m glad you had fun.” She replied then looked down at Judith. The two of them shared a look that confused you. “What?” you said, laughing. The two of them looked at you and then back to each other, Judith bursting out in laughs while Carol tried to hold hers in. “Oh nothing,” Carol said as she looked back again at Judith, the little girl unable to stop giggling. 

“Aunt Carol said she saw Aunt (Y/N) kissing Santa Claus!” The little girl squealed before running to hide behind Carol, her laughs never ceasing. You stared at Carol with a shocked look and were speechless. You tried to stutter some sort of explanation, but nothing was coming out. “I-Um-It wasn’t-We just-” Every sound you made just made it worse. Little Judith started skipping around the garden in circles chanting, “(Y/N) kissed Santa Claus! (Y/N) kissed Santa Claus!” You tried to hide your face with your hands in embarrassment, “Oh my God.” Was all you could finally say. “Oh honey,” Carol said, placing a hand on your shoulder. “We’ve all been wondering when it would finally happen” You dragged your hands down your face before meeting her eyes. “I also saw that Santa spent the night, but we can keep that between us” She whispered in your ear. 

“OH MY GOD. OKAY. BYE! SEE YOU GUYS LATER!” You said as you turned and walked away. You could hear the two of them laughing behind you as you speed-walked away. You turned back and rolled your eyes at them in a playful way so that they knew you weren’t upset…just embarrassed…very embarrassed. You couldn’t wait to see Daryl later and find out how they had harassed them. Your heart sped up at the thought of seeing him again, sure it may be a bit embarrassing to feel like a schoolgirl in love, but it also felt good. Like finally, your heart was starting to beat again after having been still since the world ended. Your Christmas wish definitely came true.

eeee okay I hope y'all liked it <3 I only proof read this once so I will go back in and edit it more later today, I just didn't wanna wait any longer posting this !!! ok I love you all <333

(ps also should I make a tag list ? Like would anyone even be interested in being notified the 2 times a year I post ? lol)

[burnforyou]

oh I feel like a millennial typing this but my ass needs Luigi in Harry Potter AU type of smut fic

!SUMMARY! you approach professor mangione about your exam grade and it goes further than you were expecting. this is a Harry Potter AU but it can be read normally as well.

!WARNINGS! smut, age gap, kinda cum too quick, quickie, cunnilingus, this is a student/teacher relationship (everyone portrayed is 18+. reader is a 7th year student so she'd be 18.)

anon I will never judge you.... Harry Potter is the reason I began writing and reading fanfiction back in my day. I feel seen.

the knock on professor mangione's office door echoed down the silent hallway of Hogwarts.

"office hours are..." he swung his door open with a scowl, beginning his spiel. until he saw you standing in front of him in your tight button up, short Gryffindor skirt, stockings pulled up to your mid thigh.

"oh! come in Ms. y/l/n," you smile up at him and brush past him, making your way into his office. the cold, but comforting wood smell of his office encapsulates you.

"muffliato," luigi whispered on the door, quiet enough so you couldn't hear him. he closed his eyes and controlled his breathing, before opening them and approaching you casually.

"how can I help you, ms. y/l/n?" he shoved his hands in his pockets to try and hide his hardening cock in his slacks.

"I want to discuss my exam grade." you sit perfectly straight in his chair, your thighs pressed together.

"what about it? If I remember correctly, you had the top score." he tilts his head to the side and looks down at you.

"I don't think that my grade is accurate. it doesn't reflect the effort I put into your class."

"how so?"

"I think I deserve a better grade."

"no, no, the grade you got is exactly what you deserve. you did very well y/n," his praise sends tingles down your spine "and I'm not truly grasping on to what you're implying."

"is there something I can do to improve the grade? I'll do any extra credit I can get. please, sir." you beg him, looking up at him with the sweetest doe eyes you can do.

his eyes flicker between your face and the valley of your breasts appearing through your unbuttoned blouse.

"with the way you've been acting all semester, I don't think I'm going to grant you that privilege."

"I don't know what you're talking about?"

"I think you do know." he said with persistence.

"as head girl I think I should-"

he cuts you off with a sharp tone.

"as head girl I don't think you should be talking to me like this. As head girl I don't think you should be in my office after hours, whining because you missed three points on my exam."

"and you know what else? I don't think a proper head girl should be altering her school-issued skirts to make them impossibly shorter. just to tease her professor." he smacks your bare upper thigh and the sound echoes through his cold office.

he grabs you under the arms and lifts you up onto his desk smoothly. he brings himself in between your legs and leaves soft kisses down your neck, starting to unbutton your top teasingly slow.

"please," you whisper, arching your back into him and burying your fingers in his curls. he presses the growing tent in his pants onto your heat, expecting to feel the fabric of your panties. he pulls his head out of your neck and stares at you, his eyes darkening, his chest heaving.

"no panties, really?"

you shake your head and smile up at him.

"mm, naughty girl." you flush under his gaze, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. "yeah, look at me like that. look at me how you do during my classes."

he forcefully pulls apart the rest of your blouse and the buttons fly everywhere. he lowers himself down onto his knees, his face directly in front of your bare pussy.

"fuck, I've been dreaming about this." he groans before leaving a soft kiss on your clit, testing you. your hips buck in response.

he licks down one of your lips and up the other, tasting the juices on your outer edges. he groans into your pussy and the vibrations make you moan.

"have you ever been with a real man before baby?" he peers up at you, pushing his tongue into you.

you shake your head erratically and move your hips on his face.

"mm, I'm gonna show you how good you can feel." he holds your thighs down hard to keep you still while he laps at your juices. his hips buck in the air, looking for any friction he can get. you lean back on your elbows and let yourself dissolve in pleasure.

he comes up to you again with swollen and glistening lips. he kisses you feverishly and grinds his hips on your thigh.

"you'll be punished for this later." he rubs his 2 fingers up and down your wet slit "but I'm gonna take care of you now, okay?"

you nod against his forehead and he flashes you his charming smile. you squirm when he cautiously slips a finger in and out of you, trying to prepare you for his already very hard cock.

"what if somebody hears?" you hook an arm around his neck and whisper.

"don't worry about it." he replies and slips another finger in you. he feels all around your gummy walls, curling his fingers just right inside you.

"please fuck me," you whimper and grasp onto his wrist.

"you think you're ready now?"

"yes, sir, please!" you grind into him and feel his knuckles against your skin.

you let out a breath when he backed away from you completely, losing all of his warmth.

"tsk, the head girl wants her professors dick. that's not very appropriate, is it?" he shook his head at you, undoing his belt without breaking eye contact.

"I know," you whine, reaching your arms out for him again. he slips his maroon sweater over his head and stands bare in front of you.

he stalks up to you, but doesn't touch you.

"are you sure you want this?"

"yes, yes sir," you tremble weakly, your hands running all over his bare skin. he finally puts his rough hands on you again, feeling down the shape of your body. he leaves one hand on your hip and the other goes to stroking his throbbing cock.

"call me luigi." he says before lining his tip up to your entrance.

he slips the tip in, eyes dark looking into yours. you suck a breath in.

"oh, luigi," you test the waters. at the sound of your sweet voice saying his name, his hips jerk uncontrollably into you.

his cock goes all the way into you, his hips completely flush against yours. he stretches you out so well, your pussy pulsing around him as you adjust to his length.

"you've never had a dick this big before, hm?" he groans, feeling you gripping onto him like a vice. he can barely control himself, trying not to pound into you too hard, or cum too quick.

but you make it nearly impossible for him to not cum prematurely.

he picks up his pace, bringing himself completely in and out with every thrust.

"fuck, you feel incredible baby," he groans, his head falling into your neck, where he plants soft kisses. "I'm not gonna last long."

"you've worked so hard to please me. mmm, my head girl, my good girl." he growls the last part, feeling your pussy flutter when he praises you. he wraps both of his arms around your waist and thrusts into you erratically.

his dominant demeanor was gone now, dissolved into complete bliss. he whispered your name repeatedly like a spell.

"oh, luigi," you whine, whole body bouncing with each thrust. with each thrust, his lower abdomen hits your clit, making your brain even more fuzzy.

"Luigi, oh my god!" you nearly scream as your orgasm shocks you, making you cream unexpectedly on his cock. you arch into him and wrap your legs tight around him. you tremble as he keeps fucking into you.

"cum on your professor's cock. atta girl." he groans into your skin, also nearing his orgasm. he can barely keep his dick inside you as you grip him impossibly tighter. your liquids drip down on his cold wooden desk.

"I'm gonna cum," he whimpers, screwing his eyes shut.

"I want your cum luigi. cum on me, cum on your students uniform." you gasp.

"oh fuck," he pulls out and sputters of his cum land on your uniform skirt, pussy, and thighs. "shit." he shakes his head, looking down at you in disbelief, panting and covered in his cum. he kisses you again, more delicate this time.

"I've never cum that fast in my life." he says against your lips. you giggle in response, in awe of him.

MASTERLIST - PREV. WORK

!TAGS!

@legendaryclancy @strawbrriess @bellobambino @f4nfic-lover @btcowboy @chmpgneprblem @soggysouppp @hereandqueer6540 @poohkie90 @miarosalie11 @v1rtualsalvat10n @hypnotizedbyhood @webanglikethat @croucify @cumdnmp @ga33y3 @zeervzn @marzipanlvr @seesaw-it @raekensluver @ddlydevotion @hujirose @darleneslane @babydollfacedangel @withloveforlu @mxdnvghts @strawbxrryaxolotyl @bricapellan16

[crazyyluvr]

Hello(different anon), but I have a kinda angst idea for male Ravenclaw reader x James! During a quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin, maybe Slytherin’s beater(let’s say Mulciber for the sake of this) hit the bludger toward Ravenclaw’s seeker and reader hit it, but the slytherin’s beater hit reader with the bat to take them out of the matches for a while. James sees reader get attacked and fall from his broom and whatnot and the aftermath.

I really liked your writing of James for this fic and I would love more of it if you could so! No pressure and love your writing!

You're Just a Bit Less Graceful than Icarus When Falling from the Sky, but It's Okay!

summary: As James crush on you continues to grow, you play Quidditch against Slytherin. I think we can all guess where that goes, especially when Mulciber seems to have it out for you.

note: I have given up on putting my oneshots in a layout. nonetheless, thank you so much for the request anon! sorry if the writing is bad, this is the first thing I've written in a while. enjoy!!

wc. 2.6k

cw. injury, fighting, cursing

my other james x male!ravenclaw!reader: part 1 | part 2 | part 3

Over the course of the next few days, James had the wonderful opportunity of getting to know you better. He quickly learned that you were quiet but you had your moments were you said things that made James turn red. He didn't like feeling embarrassed, but he could deal with the feeling as long as he heard your laugh.

Today was another break from school, since it was time to resume the Quidditch Cup. James didn't have any matches this weekend, but you had one against Slytherin. James didn't have friends in Ravenclaw and definitely not in Slytherin, but he told his friends that he was watching the match.

He didn't even have to say that it was for you, since they already knew. If Remus's knowing smile and Sirius's teasing smirk was any implication of that.

It didn't exactly matter to him what his mates thought of his "down bad behavior" (Sirius's words, not his). All he really cared about was supporting you, since you had expressed your nervousness for Quidditch now that you were made an official Beater of the team.

"I don't know how you can deal with this type of pressure James." Your tone was lighthearted, but James knew that you were feeling antsy about the upcoming Quidditch matches.

"It takes a lot of practice to get used to it, but I know you will," James replied. You were both in the library, studying Potions until a few conversations led to your schoolwork being momentarily forgotten on the table.

It was easy to forget things that were right in front of James with you sitting close to him, so close that your shoulder brushed against his when you used your hands while talking.

You sighed, leaning back against the comfortable cushions of the couch. "I better get used to it soon, or else Connor will skin me alive."

"Oh I would love to see that."

"How you wound me, Potter." You put a hand on your chest in mock hurt.

You both snickered like high school girls until you fell silent after Madam Pince's severe shushing.

James glanced around. He was waiting for you to leave the Great Hall so he could wish you good luck one last time before the match began in a few minutes. Peter, Remus, and Sirius were already in the stands, saving him a seat in the front so he could properly watch the game.

You finally emerged through the large double doors, and you spotted him almost immediately. He felt his chest warm when he saw how you relaxed at the sight of him.

"You guys go ahead, I'll be in the tent in a bit," you told your other teammates. They whistled and 'ooh'ed in response, making you roll your eyes and wave them away.

"Ignore them," you said once you were alone and closer to James. "They're always like that with everyone."

James shook his head, his lips donning a fond smile. "Don't worry, I'm used to it from my own mates."

"Mmm, they seem like the type," you chuckled, making James laugh under his breath.

He took a moment to look at you from behind his glasses, studying your expressions carefully. He may not be as observant as Remus, but he liked to think that he knew you well enough to recognize when you use humor as a distraction from your nervousness.

"How are you feeling?" He finally asked.

You let out a breath. "Like I'm gonna shit my pants while I'm up in the air."

James let a quiet laugh escape him, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you closer into — what James hoped — a reassuring, friendly hug. It was a bit awkward with the height difference, making you bend down a bit, but it worked. "You got this." He said with surety. "You're the best Beater I've ever seen. You'll do well out there."

"You better make sure Black doesn't hear you, or else it'll destroy all the progress I've been making in getting closer to him," you teased.

James laughed again. He didn't see the way you quietly admired him and the way his facial features crinkled to accommodate the sound of joy that left his lips.

You cleared your throat, smiling down at James slightly. "I better get going," you said. "The team's waiting for me."

"Alright." James reluctantly let his arm slip down to his side and watched you leave. "Good luck!"

"Don't laugh at me if I fall off my broom!" You called back, disappearing from his view into the crowd pouring into the field without letting him respond.

He let out a breath, running a hand down his face to calm his racing heart.

Having a crush sucks.

—————

You exhaled sharply as you swung your bat, the thick wood hitting the Bludger with a mighty thwack as you sent it sailing towards a Slytherin Chaser.

Your hit landed on its target, sending the Chaser off-course and making her let go of the Quaffle. Your teammates caught it before it could hit the ground and quickly scored another point.

"As Ravenclaw scores another ten points, Captain Harlow makes a deep dive! It seems like he has his eyes on the Snitch!"

Your eyes immediately looked for your captain. You knew Seekers became an even bigger target when they were in pursuit of the Snitch, so you followed Harlow a few meters away, batting stray Bludgers towards other Chasers while also keeping a close eye on your Seeker.

"You're fucking annoying!" Mulciber, your opponent Beater, sneered, shouting your name around twenty feet away from you. You had been deflecting his hits throughout the entire match, no matter how hard he's been hitting. He wasn't used to being opposed and he obviously didn't like it.

You didn't reply, simply trailing behind Harlow. The Slytherin Seeker was hot on his heels, but you trusted your captain to get to the Snitch first.

Thwack!

Your body moved on instinct, like you had become one with your bat and broom as you raced forward and swung as hard as you could before the sailing Bludger could make contact with Harlow. Your arms hummed from the heavy impact, but you were able to counter the hit with your own strength, sending it towards the Slytherin Seeker.

It made contact with him, stopping his pursuit and letting Harlow grasp the Snitch.

"Harlow has the Snitch! Ravenclaw wins the match!"

The crowd erupted in cheers, numerous students in blue and silver jumping around in the stands as they shouted for their house.

Harlow turned around and gave you a grateful grin before pumping his fist enclosed around the Snitch in the air victoriously.

You were about to let out a laugh when you heard a cry of outrage behind you.

"LOOK OUT!"

You didn't get to react before you felt something hard hit you at the back of your head and make your world fade into darkness.

—————

Before James could even fully process what he was doing, he found himself on the field, pushing himself through the players that crowded over you.

He saw everything; how well you performed, your accurate bats, up until Mulciber threw his club right towards you out of anger.

He wasn't fully aware of his actions, even as he cradled your head in his hands to check if you were conscious, or alive even. All he could think about was how Mucliber had gone out his way to severely injure you even when the game had already ended, when Ravenclaw had fairly won.

He snapped back to the present when Madame Pomfrey appeared behind him and someone pulled him onto his feet.

James felt something warm on his hands. He looked down at them to check, and he swore his heart stopped.

They were red with blood.

Your blood.

"Prongs," Sirius was saying — he was the one who pulled him up to his feet.

"Pads," James said hoarsely. He slowly turned to face his best friend, and Sirius saw his hands, eyes widening in shock.

"Where the fuck is Mulciber?" He managed to get out behind gritted teeth. Sirius looked around, and James knew he spotted him when Sirius's jaw clenched and his face contorted in anger.

James didn't hesitate. He turned and once he saw Mucliber, he ran towards him and rammed him to the ground with so much force dead American football players rolled in their graves.

One hand wrapped around the neck of Mulciber's Quidditch jersey while he swung the other towards the Slytherin's face, making contact with a satisfying crack.

He pulled back, ready to hit again, before a hand wrapped around his arm, stopping him from continuing. Another hand grabbed his other arm, tugging him away from Mulciber while yet another set of hands wrapped around his stomach to keep him from throwing more punches.

"You fucking bastard!" James shouted out, thrashing in the hold of who he faintly recognized as your teammates and Sirius. He saw Remus and Peter jogging towards them in the corners of his eyes, but he didn't care.

He didn't care, because you were hurt, and the fucker who hurt you was right in front of you.

"JAMES FLEAMONT POTTER!" He heard Professor McGonagall's roar, and it was enough to stop him from struggling, breathing heavily. He would have continued, but he's never heard the professor sound that severe before.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor and detention for two days," she said harshly, glaring at him from over the rims of her square glasses.

"But Professor —!"

"Say anything else and I'll make it fifty points and a week's worth of detention."

James closed his mouth, but he pulled himself out of the arms of the Ravenclaw players.

The professor turned to Mulciber, who was being hauled to his feet while he moaned in pain. "Eighty points from Slytherin and a month's worth of detention with Mr. Filch," she all but spat at him. "Your actions were absolutely reckless and caused severe injury to another student who did nothing wrong except win a Quidditch match. Your punishment will be discussed among the teachers soon."

She turned to James, eyes just a tad softer. "He's in the hospital wing now," she said. "I suggest you pay him a visit before visiting hours end."

Not that it's ever stopped you before, James knew what McGonagall was implying. He gave her a nod, shot a heated glare at Mulciber, and stormed away to the hospital wing, too mad to even say a word to the other Marauders despite their questions.

He needed to make sure you were okay, then he would be okay too.

—————

The first thing you noticed when you regained consciousness was not the bandages around your head, or the pain, or even the chill that creeped up on you from the gaps of the blanket around your body. It was the weight of a hand over yours, warm and gentle, as if worried your hand would break under more pressure.

It was a struggle to raise the heavy lids over your eyes, but you were successful nonetheless. Once your eyes adjusted to the darkness in the hospital wing, you saw the one and only James Potter, leaning face-down on the side of your cot, his back rising and falling evenly from his breaths.

You pushed yourself up to a sitting position, squeezing one eye shut at the pain that pierced the back of your skull from your movement.

Your hand slipped away from James' as you shifted, and it was enough for him to jolt awake, glasses crooked on the bridge of his nose and curly hair even messier than normal.

"What're you doing here this late, James?" You asked, your voice raspy from the lack of use.

James decided to leave your question unanswered, handing you a glass of water from the side table before speaking. "Do you remember what happened?" He asked carefully.

You tilted your head a little, trying to recall what caused your unexpected stay in the hospital wing. "I remember winning against Slytherin, and then something hit my head."

You shivered a little, and James scooted closer to you as if trying to provide you with warmth even from a distance.

"Did you see what happened?" You asked. "Did a Bludger hit me in the back of the head or something?"

James didn't speak for a moment, debating with himself. You sensed his hesitation, and that was all you needed to understand what had happened to you.

"Someone threw something at me, didn't they?" You leaned back on your cot. “Who?”

"Mulciber." You felt a bit taken aback at the venom in the boy's voice as he said the name.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair before pausing as a flare of pain emanated from the back of your head. “I expected as much. He seemed pretty pissed when I knocked their Seeker away from the Snitch.”

James watched you with an incredulous expression. “How can you be so calm about this?” He demanded. “You could’ve been hurt worse because of Mulciber.”

“I know,” you said placatingly, trying to soothe James’s rising anger. “But honestly, would you have expected anything less from him? He’s a sore loser, always has been.”

“You don’t understand.” James said your name with a tone much more serious than you’ve ever heard from him. “You fell off your broom. You could have died!”

You were once again caught off guard by his words. You paused, reaching your hand out to pat the back of James’s hand that was still on your cot.

James felt his cheeks heat up, both from your touch and the way you looked at him. Eyes soft, lips slightly upturned into a reassuring smile that was doing wonders at calming him down.

“I’m sorry you had to watch that,” you said genuinely. “But I’m alive. I’m living and breathing in front of you, right?”

James nodded reluctantly. “Right?”

Your smiled widened. “See? It’s gonna take more than Mulciber and his pettiness to kill me.”

James finally let out a small chuckle, and you felt your chest warm victoriously.

You pulled your hand back. “You should go back to your dorm,” you said. “I don’t know what time it is, but I’m fairly sure visiting hours is over and Madam Pomfrey would have your head if she knew you were still here bugging one of her patients.”

James moved before thinking, hand moving forward to grasp yours again. “I’m not going anywhere,” he declared with such emotion it made your heart stop and you cheeks slightly warm. “I’m staying here until you get better.”

You let out a shaky laugh. “You sure? That could take a while.”

“I can wait,” James said simply, flashing you a smile that made your cheeks feel even warmer. “For you, I can wait forever.”

You smiled at that, leaning your head back and trying to keep your eyes open despite the drowsy spell that was suddenly laid over you.

James noticed your struggle. “Sleep,” he said, adjusting his grip on your hand so it would be more comfortable for the both of you. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“You better be, Potter,” you said in a joking manner, but James knew you meant it. He knew that you often hid your yearning for human contact with jokes and crooked smiles, so he knows how much him staying there with you actually meant to you.

It’s just proof that he’s getting to know you pretty well.

“I will,” he reassured, shifting in his chair so and leaning back, while still keeping his hand with yours on the cot.

Staying true to his word, he was still there when you woke up.

[pistol-grippump]

Stability is something I really admire, I really would appreciate to experience the understanding of being able to comfortably exist. Something I feel that I personally struggle with is definitely boundaries and simple thinking. I am always interested in the psychology behind people who don't have extremely in depth thoughts about nearly everything, I don't say this in a way where I'm trying to make it sound like I think my thoughts are superior or some shit.

I kind of wonder about this a lot, like how exactly other people think; this is probably the reason I enjoy reading Dylan and Eric's writing so much. While there isn't a lot of material (not as much as I would want, anyways.) it still gives you a bit of insight on their personalities beyond the guns n shooting n overall being a profile of violence.

I know this is wondered a lot but I always wonder what their last thoughts were before dying, which is generic of course but none of us are dead yet, so none of us have really had "ultimate" thoughts. I feel like that's something I'll think about when I do it? I'll think about what my last thought would be.

I don't think it'd be so much about family or feeling bad (except for the cleanup guy. Maybe don't choose that profession then I guess.)

Coming close to suicide multiple times has always given me a sort of idea where my mind would be, like the general field of thought I would be in, which is almost always afterlife. I personally don't care so much about religion, as said before. Like I know I'm not about to meet "god" or higher power; I just want to understand whether or not there is anything after? Unless it's just straight reincarnation, in that case, you just cycle through the universe millions and millions of times until the sun explodes or something.

Whenever I think about this, I always get some sort of idea that I'm definitely right. Like my predictions are definitely on point, because why else would I think it? Unless I know something everyone doesn't? My mind is complicated I think. I just want some sort of release. It just kind sucks because I'll have to wait a couple days short of exactly a year from now.

I kinda already had a plan for it, whether or not it's classified as cringe is up to anyone else but I truly believe in spiritual connection towards the people I envy (Dylan, upon a couple others) and not that I expect to meet him in some sort of afterlife or anything but the way I plan to go about it might leave me with a better understanding of something. I don't exactly know what I would understand with how I ideally want my suicide to play out but I guess we'll get there when we get there.

I want a different understanding of myself that I'm not convinced I can grasp by simply living and waiting to see the day I have a "moment of clarity" because I frankly don't find the idea of that to be realistic at all. I think there's a reason I feel like this and I'm not necessarily mad about it, but having no closure towards it other than guessing it's for a "reason" is a bit depressing. It just feels like everything is nonstop or never ending, like if I don't die on my own terms, I just never will. That's always somehow been a fear of mine? I know nobody lives forever but sometimes I think I'm special, that unless I'm dead at the exact date that came to me, I might be the one that lives forever.

I mentioned this in my last rant about shooting but I notice that more often than not in the recent years, I almost always have some sort of god complex or belief that I'm some sort of "chosen one" and of course, it's beyond being in the presence of firearms. To clarify, what I meant in my last post was that i feel that way without fail every time I pick one up, which I think is quite reasonable.

Having a gun in your hands is definitely a possibility and opportunity to play god so it's not like that's just some weird columfag kinnie thing.

Above all else, suicide is definitely a release process. I entirely believe that suicide is meant for some people, like that's how they were meant to die. I don't understand the concept of suicide being an evil act or selfish or anything above since it's undoubtedly an escape, more people should fkn realize that of all things.

I also believe that it's one way to fix "unfixable" people. Like people who don't or for whatever reason, don't have the capacity to change their genuinely horrific mindset or can't live with themselves? I think it's okay. I think a lot of people just want to live comfortably and happily which most people don't seem to experience.

Whatever. I don't really have anything else to say without basically encouraging it, which I don't see as a bad thing under the right circumstances, but I'll also just end up repeating myself. Which I'm already pretty worried I do.

[glorifiedstreetmagician]

To My Dearest

Three letters from Haku Kusanagi to Zenji Kotodama that he did not send and one that he did. Thank you @danieyells for the inspiration. This is dedicated to @zenji-kotodama-official, for hopefully obvious reasons.

[unsent]

Zenji,

This is the sort of thing you would do. But now I find myself sitting at my desk, the weight of the time spent apart hanging over me like an axe about to drop, and I'm writing a letter you'll probably never see. I'm pretending to write to you anyway. Rui said it might help me figure my feelings out if I wrote them down like this, but after ten of these already I'm starting to think I'm doing this just because it feels like the only way I can speak my mind to you while you're not here.

It reminds me of the time I found a poem left on your desk when you weren't there. You wrote of a ghost of a poet and an heir to a shrine. I didn't read it all—I won't pretend to have had the patience or the nerve to try at the time—but I still think about it. You were trying to tell me something and I wish I knew what.

I shouldn't have told you what I did, that I wished I had kissed you when I had the chance. I should have said that I'd still try. You still reach for the people around you with such reckless love, like that time you moved for my hand and fell through your own bed. Your embarrassment was priceless. Oddly beautiful, too. And if you'd let me try to embarrass myself, just once, I'd try to kiss you, ghostly air and all.

It's shameful. Sometimes I lay awake at night, curled up on my side and staring at my door, asking myself what I did wrong. But I know I've done plenty wrong. Even so, I wish you'd just talk to me. I miss you. I hate that I miss you.

You're so annoying, but why did I have to get used to your annoyingness? Why do I miss it? Why do I yearn for just one more obnoxiously loud song, one more melancholic poem, one more masterpiece played on your biwa with your imperious voice demanding I record?

I hate you. I hate you for making me cry. I hate you for being gone. I hate you for not talking to me. I hate you for your silence more than your noise ever annoyed me. Please come back. Please be silent somewhere I can see you again. Just please come back. Come back and be your annoying self and I won't complain again. I won't roll my eyes. I won't tease. Just come back to me, Zenji.

Why do you avoid me? Is it so terrible if I want you, alive or dead? Is there really no other way for us to have our happily ever after? Is there a reason you won't try with me?

Haku

[unsent]

Dear Taro,

Do you remember the day we first met? It was the start of second year for us both, though I didn't really know you until I first stepped foot into Hotarubi, my new dorm at the time. To be honest, I don't really know why I chose it when I'd hardly spent any time there before I left Frostheim. I guess it just reminded me of home.

That first day though, it didn't feel exactly like home. It felt a bit like betrayal when I walked in, knowing who I'd left behind. I was quiet, and then there you were. An explosion of colour and fabric, pale skin glowing even in the dim mists of Hotarubi, and I could swear your eyes sparkled. You were all smiles and friendly chatter, welcoming me like I was just some childhood buddy you hadn't seen for a long time. You didn't even know me.

And you wouldn't leave my side. You said "hi" to at least a dozen people on the way to showing me my room, but stuck by me. At mealtimes, you were there. In the evening, you walked me back to my room even when I said I remembered the way. You did the same the day after that and the day after that and, seemingly, almost every single day forward. I'm not sure you knew it, but you made those first months bearable for me. I'm not sure I ever thanked you for that.

I've always been ungrateful when it comes to you. For your life, your company, and your smile.

What I'd give to see your smile again.

Sorrowfully, Haku

[unsent]

Dearest Taro,

I see the way she looks at you. I see the way you look at her. I've never been a jealous man. At least, not until now. She brings so much more life to you, and for someone always on my case for flirting, you certainly charm the hell out of her.

We talk now, but it doesn't feel the same as before the ball. I wish we'd never gone. I wish I hadn't asked you to dance. I'd undo it all if it meant you wouldn't keep averting your gaze from me when I'm in the room.

What does an honor student have that I don't? Why will you entertain her and not me?

How much longer will this go on?

Yours, Haku

[the downturned card]

Haku didn't show up to the wedding. How could he go on pretending to be perfectly serene and happy, seeing two of his friends get what they always deserved and he selfishly wished against?

The closest he made it was a short distance from the reception, under the shade of a tree grown into the form of a bench. It was wrapped in white and soft indigo ribbons, purple roses tucked among them. That was where he left his folded-up letter.

He glimpses Zenji in the distance, dressed down for this part after the ceremony, considering it was only for close friends. Who would have thought that all the ghouls would not only help lift not just a curse, but a spirit from the dead to allow this newlywed couple to stand here today? Zenji moved and interacted with the world with so much grace and enthusiasm. Every step, every wave of his hand, every turn of his head filled Haku with a love so deep and aching that it hurt.

Love. He had fallen in love with his old friend. It was a terrifying, tragic feeling.

If not for the pain, Haku wouldn't have had the means to walk away, leaving the letter in the tree for Zenji to find if he went looking.

To My Dearest,

There's a poem I've been thinking about. A few lines specifically:

Trees outside the window and a big band sound that makes you feel like / everything's okay, / a feeling that lasts for one song maybe, / the parentheses all clicking shut behind you... I sleep. I dream. I make up things / that I would never say. I say them very quietly.

Sometimes it's easier to use a poet's words when I'm lost for ways to articulate just how I'm feeling. The full poem is more hopeful, but I keep coming back to these lines. It's like he knew, somehow. Precisely how to describe the way grief feels, where you stand in one place but time moves on anyway. Contentment is fleeting, the situation is final, and I betray my own healing by whispering all the words I wish I had said long ago and clinging to them like they might impossibly change the present.

I fear I have become the ghost in bringing you back. I'm stuck somewhere between that night and all the nights after where something got lost in translation.

You deserve this happy life. I'm writing this letter to say goodbye. I have always been a selfish, selfish man. I can't watch you love someone else anymore and live the life with her that I wanted with you.

I'm sorry, Taro. I'm so sorry I never did anything right by you.

Yours, still, Haku

[the upright card]

Haku went through the motions of the day in a kind of stupor. A few years ago, if you told him that he was going to get married one day, he'd laugh self-deprecatingly and ask if you were planning to propose to say such a thing. If you told him he was going to marry Zenji Kotodama—to him, Taro Kirisaki—he would blankly demand what gave you that ridiculous idea, arms crossed and unimpressed.

Currently, his arms are draped over Zenji's shoulders as they slow dance in an empty garden party. All the guests had left. Soon, Haku was going to clean up before he and Zenji collected their bags to board the late train. But right now, he's content just dancing to a song Zenji hummed sweetly in the quiet.

The moment feels so surreal. Zenji's buzzing solidness after years of growing stronger, the rise and fall of his chest so close to true breathing, the fact that they could still hold each other even while one remained a ghost. But the sound of his voice remains the same as always.

"You seem lost in thought, my dear." Zenji's ruby eyes glitter with gentle affection as he observes Haku. "Will you tell me about it?"

"It's nothing," Haku says, only for the rest of his excuses to melt away at a kiss to his forehead. It feels as real as anything.

"Tell me anyway," Zenji replies once he pulls away, smiling encouragingly.

Sighing, Haku glances off to the side at the curved tree. "It's... not something I can say aloud right now."

"But we are alone!" Zenji says, incredulous.

And Haku finds himself chuckling. "Yes. I know. But it's because it's for you that I'm struggling to say it." They stop dancing and, with a tremoring hand, Haku draws a folded piece of paper from a pocket in his coat. "Here. Read this, please. I should start cleaning, or we'll never make it to that train."

"But these are not your vows from earlier?"

"No," Haku says, wandering off to start collecting glasses to take inside. "Just read it and you'll see!" he calls back before leaving.

To My Dearest,

While I like poetry, I've never been all that good at it. I've written this letter probably a dozen times already, trying to quote every Romantic poet you could name. And many of them, I find, are so sad in their works. It just wouldn't do because I find myself so incredibly happy.

I'm writing this version the night before our wedding. You're asleep in the next room over (I know this because I can hear you snoring) and the moon is bright. I have the window open and the breeze is so nice, even if it's also messing with the paper right now.

You know by now that I'm stalling. You've always known me better than anyone else, particularly my own family. And while you've felt like family for a long time now, I can't believe I'm—and yet I look forward to—officially making you mine tomorrow.

You don't know it, but I've been writing letters to you for years. It started in our third year at Darkwick Academy, when I thought I had ruined our friendship for good. Ruined any kind of relationship we might have had. I wrote to you almost every day for a month, and then I continued to write after, but I never sent anything. You know me, after all. I couldn't be openly honest if my life depended on it.

Keats wrote once about the harmony in silence—or something close to that. After years of writing to you what I cannot say, I think I've finally reached that harmony. In my silent missives, I've found a new appreciation for your endless songs. I want you to sing until I go deaf. I want to love you until the end of my life, and then even after.

I used to scorn fairy tales. They weren't real. I had experienced the real world with all its unfit couples, doomed lovers, and sex addicts. I thought that was all there is. You may remember that there was a time I never thought I'd marry, simply because I didn't think a happy marriage was possible. But I want to make a promise to you, Taro. The vows I read out tomorrow are for everyone else. But this promise is for you only, in the beautiful simplicity of silence as you read.

While it is within my power, I am making this our happily ever after, my dearest. I owe it to the both of us to believe in fairy tales again. And I promise you that in this one, the moon and the fisherman can devote themselves to one another, the heir to the shrine can know of the ghost's love, and the beast can marry the princess.

We will have bad days. Someday I might find I grow tired of noise again. You might detest my criticisms. But I promise to never forget the love that's bound us through life and death. If you ever fear that I will, come to me with this letter and we will read it again together until we both remember our happily ever after.

I'm going to marry you tomorrow. You'll see.

With love, forever yours, Haku

[rimichas]

Hi, about the smut, can it just be about Luka (lnst) with a female reader or gn? on the topic you like

"Love me like you mean it."

contains: smut, reader has a pussy but gender is never specified, luka x reader, dom!luka, praise but also slight degradation, creampie, breeding — no beta read.

a/n: I'm kinda nervous since this is my first writing anything like this here but I hope this is what you wanted (even if I replied ,, awfully late...) also let me know if I should write reader fucking luka LOL

It was common for others to see Luka as odd or strange by those who actually knew him. Still, he wouldn't care much for whatever they had to say. You felt that it was your duty as his partner to let him know that he had many good qualities besides his enchanting princely looks, and he wasn't strange or unlovable.

You had been planning for a while to show him how loved he truly was, that he was loved by you— Luka wasn't stupid, so he had eventually realized that you had some plans, although didn't know which exactly those plans were. Even if he tried to get you to say it without you realizing, you knew how to not fall for his tricks.

Now, the day had finally come. Everything was set up. You had also cleared out his schedule for the day, just so you made sure that nothing was getting in your way.

"Oh, I am definitely excited," Luka's intentions were definitely to tease you a little bit. He sat on your shared bed, his hand placed on the spot next to him on the bed, as if he was reserving that spot for you.

"Don't worry, I just hope you like it." You spoke, sitting down next to him and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. Despite his behavior and personality, it was surprising how Luka's face slightly heated up every time you kissed him. "So, what are we going to do? Go out?" Luka questioned you, still curious.

How cute. You couldn't help but laugh softly at his question. "Well, we won't be going anywhere." You replied.

Luka's confusion was clear. He raised an eyebrow before speaking again. "There's not much we can—" You don't give him a chance to finish his sentence as your lips press against his. His eyes widened, but his hands immediately moved towards your back in an attempt to get you closer to him.

Luka's hands wrapped around your torso, attempting to press you against the bed softly. Your hand was pressed against the back of his head, preventing him from even pulling away for air.

As he succeeded in making you lay down and getting on top of you, he softly bit your lip, eliciting a small whine from you. He took advantage of this, then pressed his tongue against yours, tasting you.

After a few seconds, Luka breaks the kiss. He made sure your head was placed comfortably against the pillows, as he didn't want to cause you any discomfort. Then, after making sure, he smirked. "I think this is enough to let me know what your plans were," Luka teased.

Well, you definitely didn't expect him to be so dominant, but not that you didn't like it. You breathed in and out a few times. Trying to find any words to say was completely useless as he buried his face in your neck, pressing wet kisses on your flesh. You trembled slightly, wrapping and clinging onto Luka's shoulders as your breathing grew heavier.

It didn't take long until you felt something poking at your hip. You let out a particularly loud whimper as Luka sank his teeth on your neck.

"Ah..." Luka whined slightly, grinding against your leg. He was dominant, yet so pathetic, so cute...

Well, out of the both of you, you looked probably the most pathetic — saliva was slightly covering your neck from the earlier kisses.

God, Luka wanted you — no, needed you.

"So pretty like this," Luka whispered, carefully taking off each piece of your clothing. The way he was doing it was teasing, but he wanted to admire you and your gorgeous body.

When he was done with your clothes, he quickly took his own off — not wanting to leave his cute little lover waiting.

His cock was pressed against his own stomach, precum leaking from the tip. Luka leaned in closer towards you now, and his hands slowly slid down your thighs before pressing and rubbing against your clit. As much as he wanted to cruelly tease you, he also wanted to reward you for caring for him.

Luka was so beautiful. This was everything you've ever wanted — your pretty boyfriend on top of you.

He found you way more beautiful, though, and he made it known how absolutely gorgeous you were as he slightly pinched your clit before rubbing his fingers against it again. "You're so gorgeous, my love," Luka praised. "So adorable, too. You're all mine, only for me," Luka spoke as his fingers teased and touched your entrance.

Carefully, gently, he slipped a finger inside you. Teasing you, scissoring you, preparing you for taking him inside.

When he felt like you were ready, he added in a second finger, his cock throbbing slightly as he noticed how you seemed to grow more aroused as he slipped his fingers in and out of you.

Suddenly, he pulled his fingers out, watching as your hole seemed to clench around nothing, his own cock dripping with arousal. He pressed his cock around your entrance, nudging it and smearing your cunt with pre cum.

Carefully lifting your leg onto his shoulder, his cock slowly entered you. You whimpered out his name as he slid into you, trying to get you used to the feeling of having him inside you.

Funny enough, Luka may seem manipulative and calculating, but once he was deep inside you, he was nothing but a needy slut — desperately thrusting in and out of you, moaning nonsense as he fucked himself deep inside you.

His pace was gentle and slow at first, allowing you to accommodate to it. He rocked his hips forward, pulling them back at a quicker pace than before.

"I love how you feel around me," Luka whispered, picking up the pace to let you know how absolutely beautiful he found you, how absolutely aroused you got him.

Your body jolted slightly as his hand moved towards to rub your clit once again. You were not going to last long if he kept it up — it wasn't only the way he was fucking you, but also the way he was praising you. Muttering out phrases like "My pretty slut", "You're so tight", "So pretty for me and just for me", and even more that your brain couldn't process as he fucked himself inside you.

You were close, and you could also feel that Luka was close as well — cock twitching as he thrusted in and out of you. You didn't stifle your moans, letting him know how good it felt.

You tightened around him as he pressed your clit between two of his fingers, moaning out his name and a few curse words.

He whimpered and moaned loudly as he kept going. He let out a specifically pathetic moan before speaking again, "Ah — I'm... gonna cum," Luka stuttered out as he started to speed up.

You moaned his name loudly as you came around him, his cock twitching before thick strands of cum came out from the tip, filling up your insides.

Luka pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before dropping your leg and collapsing beside you.

Now, you were filled up by him nicely.

[male-us-prison-experience]

INMATES WEARING RELAXED BELLY-CHAINS WITH SIDE-CUFFS

Interesting trio of photos of a group of six male prisoners in San Diego County Jail, all wearing brown plastic slippers and a two-piece blue prison uniform; for some the text on the back of their short-sleeved shirt (ending in the word JAIL) has already disappeared. All six inmates are wearing a belly chain, which is secured with a padlock at the back; the end hangs down loosely. On the sides of this chain, left and right, are handcuffs attached to a short chain.

None of them, however, is fitted out with leg-irons. Out of lenience or as a result of carelessness? Let's correct that mistake at least immediately here. Luckily I had stored in the past a pic of an inmate in blue, fitted out with the same belly-chain plus handcuffs at the sides. Now, in the very moment this pic was taken, while kneeling on a low bench he is getting proper leg-irons too.

The two prisoners in the second photo of our trilogy can be found in the first photo as numbers 3 and 4 from the left respectively, and in the third photo as the pair in the middle row. The front pair of this third photo is on the first left, of the last pair one can be seen in the first photo, the other is most likely to the right of it out of the picture.

The six inmates on all three pics are shown in the same room; the letters on the wall on the right in the first photo are the same as in the third photo in the middle. The pair of words: "Face the" can be clearly read in that third photo. Presumably followed by the word "Wall" - 'Face the wall' is exactly what the inmates in the first photo are doing, although some are stricter than others. I don't know what word follows the just-visible "N" on the line below in the first photo; suggestions are welcome.

It is quite relaxed anyway. The middle three hold their hands pressed against the wall at about neck height, with two looking at each other and talking to each other. The one on the far left looks at them, while he stretches his hands high above him. The two prisoners on the right also look at each other, with the one on the far right clearly holding his hands higher, although not as high as the prisoner on the far left.

Whether this order of the photos is also the correct chronological order is not certain, but it probably is. In the first pic, where the prisoners have lined up against the wall on command, they still had their hands free. In the other two photos, this is no longer the case, as their hands are already secured in the designated handcuffs. In the second photo, two inmates are clearly instructed by a guard, presumably where they should stand. In the third photo, all six inmates are lined up two by two in front of a door through which they presumably now have to go; the guard is waiting next to it . All six are now neatly handcuffed. It is not clear whether they are on their way to their cells or on their way out.

The whole group of inmates still makes a very relaxed impression, like the inmate on this 'official' pic found in Wikicommons, illustrating the Wiki-webpage ''List_of_California_county_jails".

The way they wear their handcuffs is the most comfortable of all alternatives: not a pair linked together on the back, or a pair attached to the belly chain at the front, which would leave little room for manoeuvre. Because they are handcuffs attached separately to the side, the prisoners can let their arms hang down next to their upper bodies in a very natural way.

While the chain is short enough to prevent violent use of the hands, this construction also gives the necessary freedom of movement. Writing - for example in court - is no problem, and it is an ideal set of shackles for prisoners to do community work outside of this kind. here done by four inmates shackled together to make a chain-gang.

Because in that case of course combined with leg-irons to prevent sudden running away, as can be clearly seen the next pic, looking to the shackled feet of the foremost two inmates, of whom the very first one just is stepping inside the cage of the special prison van.

You can effortlessly hold a wheelbarrow or pick up rubbish from the verge, or whatever work there is to do. The next pic in this respect is a very instructive one, as two inmates are carrying some stuff. Judging from the three inmates who are more or less completely visible, all at least six guys (from the first one one of his feet is just still visible while he steps into the van) are shackled exactly the same way.

Full restraints in this case doesn't mean that they only wear leg-irons and a belly-chain with handcuffs at the sides, but that there is added a connecting chain between those sets of shackles too. Four inmates are dressed decently in prison stripes (the standard two piece prison uniform), the other two in a white T-shirt and strange grey pants.

The one half hidden behind the bus door, while thus handcuffed, holds up a piece of cardboard in his hands; a next prisoner holds a heavy bag in his right hand, and something else, lighter, in his left. In both cases, the handcuffs clearly are no obstacle, as they allow enough movement for the wearer; if attached to a belly-chain not at the sides, but at the front, none of this would be possible to do.

Interesting is the guy between the two luggage carriers. As he has his cuffed hands 'free' in the usual sense of this expression, our view on his set of restraints is free too. Thus we get a good view of the whole system of shackles in use as a standard in this quite rural specific county jail. Whereas the inmate behind him keeps both his hands at the side to carry his stuff, this one holds his hands diagonally in front of his belly, to hold the long chain that leads from his belly-chain to his leg-irons. Apparently it's a bit more comfortable this way. He doesn't seem to look too unhappy. Like all his fellows he walks rather relaxed towards the waiting prison van. Has he already fully adjusted to his new life as a labor prisoner kept in cuffs, chains and shackles all day?

Perhaps life is not so bad over here, less worse than in many other prison. Perhaps he knows he is lucky to stay here. You haven't to care for anything yourself, you're cared for all the time from now on. You get your daily drink and food, you get a decent black and white striped uniform which also makes you one of the bad boys, you're allowed to work outside in the nice sun, and all those iron-hard shackles and clanking chains on your limbs remind you every moment that they keep you safe, because they make sure that you don't even think of the stupid idea of ​​trying to escape. Better here than to be locked up uncuffed all day in a cell where daylight doesn't penetrate.....

So better be ready to get cuffed every morning in your tiny cell, waiting for your guard to be taken out as the very first of all inmates...

That connecting chain seems to be attached to the belly-chain with a round ring; how it is at the other end is not easy to see, because this prisoner's feet are in the shadow, and the same for the one behind him. It is a fairly long chain, and he doesn't pull it up either, so that the chain that connects his leg irons drags across the asphalt with a lot of rattling with each step he takes, just like with the other inmates.

Only when the connecting chain is much shorter, this dragging can be easily prevented, as is often the case when not a belly-chain is used, but the handcuffs are connected directly to the leg-irons. This at the same time however, also severely limits the freedom of movement of the person in custody. For transport to court such restrictions of course are no problem, perhaps even a plus, but if a inmate is forced to do some physical work, it might be a big hurdle.

So the use of a belly-chain with sidecuffs offers a lot of opportunities for the prison authorities to put you to work and be useful. And at the same time you, as the securely shackled victim, are still completely unable to physically resist a strict guard who just grabs you to bring you to the place where you belong according, be it a dirty country road for convict labor, your cell or the court-room.

Prisoners at San Diego Central Jail.

[fluentisonus]

working in a factory has you thinking so much about the insane chain of labor & transport that goes into making literally anything

[hickeygender]

you ever write up a combination of words you're really proud of at the time bc you think it's vivid but it's actually so atrocious that you remember it eight years later bc it's burned itself into your long-term memory? just me?