#But there are limits to that kind of thing

[elainewritesthings]

I always think back to that idea of how censorship takes away the ability to address topics that are universal. In an effort to sanitize things to a specific kind of 'child-friendly' that really just means 'treated like a fragile thing that needs protecting'. Which entails limiting someone's rights to information and speech. Sewer-slide is kinda funny tho

tiktok refugees i believe you are few but it is VITAL that you know on tumblr you can speak freely. kill. die. sex. fuck. you can say things here

[oceantornadoo]

ch7 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

tw: oral sex both ways

masterlist | next

John Price thrives on routine. His days are filled with meetings and bloodshed, negotiations and betrayal. Routine keeps him sane.

Unfortunately, that resolution crumbled the moment he gained a wife. It’s getting harder and harder to leave in the morning, to ignore the fluttering of your eyelashes as you feign sleep. That’s what he blames for this break in routine.

The morning after, he stays for ten minutes instead of five. Counts the ticks of the old clock in the corner of his room as he memorizes the scent of your skin. You always end up with your head in the crook of his neck, legs tangled around his torso. He’s never been much of a back sleeper, but now it’s the last thing he cares about. It’s the sound of your breathing, the plushness of your skin, the brush of your chest against his. When he eventually gets up, he doesn’t look at the bed until he’s ready. If he glanced back at your eyes in half-slits, shifting closer to his pillow to soak up the remaining warmth he left in the bed, he would never leave the room. 

At night, though, he succumbs to his weakness. He creates a new routine.

It’s the start of a new week after the getting-off confession. John had business in Glasgow over the weekend, lonely and cold in his hotel bed, but now he’s back.

“So Laswell sent me the contract. I definitely have enough to pay in full, but I’m thinking of paying half and then doing installments for the rest so I can have enough for immediate repairs. What do you-John?” John’s nodding along to your rant, disappearing under the covers to the place he’s been thinking about all weekend. The blanket’s a bit heavy, limiting his breathing, but it’s worth it for the sight of your clothed cunt, waiting for him.

“Keep talkin’, sweetheart.” Instead of following his orders, you peel back the cover until his head peeks out. “What are you doing?” He rubs circles into your thighs, reveling in their softness. John moves upwards, teasing the fabric of your pajama shorts. “You miss me this weekend?” He murmurs, not sure if he’s talking to his wife or her cunt. Both seem happy to see him, if that’s any consolation.

“No, I actually got the best sleep of my- hey!” He shoves his face into the triangle of your lap, sniffing with wonder. “Fuck, I missed ya.” You’re silent at his admission, but your hand finds a hold in his hair. “You did?” It’s soft and unsure, forcing him to rip his focus away from your pussy. “I did.” You bite your lip adorably. You tug him forward, gripping his scalp hard, until his face is in front of yours. 

“Maybe next time, you take me with you.” Absolutely not. He was meeting with a new prospective manufacturer, shady and dangerous. He was not putting you in any sort of danger. John shakes his head, heart clenching as your face falls. “Not the kind of place fer you, baby. Gonna let me eat you out now?” You nod, but your face is still hard with repressed emotion. He kisses your forehead, trailing down to your cheek, then nose. “Give us a kiss then.” It’s the first time you’ve ever kissed him first, the notion sending blood straight to his cock. The kiss is short and sweet. Can’t believe how quickly you’ve gotten him under your spell. Two bloody weeks. He pulls away, a final kiss laid to your jaw. “Keep talkin’. Don’t mind me.”

The new routine continues for weeks. He gets you off a different way every night, from fingers to tongue to plain old grinding. And then he goes to sleep with you tucked to his side, taking care of himself in the morning. John needs you to be the one to ask to fuck, to reciprocate. The alternative leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Plus, every time he gets you off, you fall asleep immediately, like it’s the only way you’ll go to bed. It’s terribly endearing.

A month in, he starts noticing changes. The furniture in the sitting room, for one. They used to be 18th century relics, designed to make sure a guest didn’t overstay their welcome. Except now they’re eclectic, blue and green against the cream walls. The couches look comfortable, like you could spend a whole day there. The paintings change as well, from Rembrandt to Monet and Picasso. The impressionist works, blues and greens and yellows, work well with the new furniture, making his flat seem like a home. When he asks you, all you do is shrug and say something smart about updating his old man apartment. He leaves bite marks on your thighs that night. 

It’s a beautiful Friday night when John gets home early, around 9. He usually gets text updates from Terrance, your commandeered security guard that Price assigned to you full time, about your movements. You’ll usually get home at 7, but nothing yet. Two hours late. He calls Terrance and gets his voicemail. Highly unusual. Calmly, he presses on your contact's name, and it goes to voicemail. Three times.

Fingers shaking, he calls Kyle.

“Sir?”

“Where is she?”

“Who?”

“My fuckin’ wife, Garrick.”

“Isn’t she with Terrance?” “No one’s answerin’ their goddamn phone.” Gaz sighs on the other end, like this is an inconvenience and not his wife they’re talking about. Keys click, then a mouse, before Gaz answers. “They’re at the bookstore. Been there since this mornin’, sir.” John drags a hand down his face, then grabs the keys to the car he barely uses. 

“Garrick, this is the last time you take more than three seconds t’ know where she is. I want a full team on ‘er at all times. I won’t hesitate t’ assign someone else as my Head of Security, someone who isn’t lettin’ their judgement take over their goddamn job. Copy?” He hasn’t dressed down one of his men, especially Kyle, but he’s tired of the man’s judgement on this marriage. What’s done is done. “Yessir.” John hangs up, too miffed to say goodbye. He’s got a wife to find.

-

Your bookstore is coming along well. It’s been over a month since you’ve been married, a month of John’s fingers and tongue loosening you in more ways than one. You swear you’ve developed stronger thigh muscles, simply from the orgasms he coaxes from you night after night. And then he just goes to sleep. You’ve felt his cock in fleeting touches, brushing against your thigh or hard in his lap as you grind on him. He never takes it out, never drags your hand in that grueling way men do with shady eyes and slimy smirks. Every night, he asks you if you hate him, and every night, your lie convinces him less and less. 

And every night, you think of how adamant he was against you joining him. His insistence that it “wasn’t the kind of place for you.” Your old problem with him has faded, a mess of childhood fears rolled into new ones. In its place are your insecurities, the word bastard floating through your head every time you think of his rejection. The clause in the marriage contract. It rolls together into a simple thought: he doesn’t trust you. That’s why he’s barely let you in on his business, content to stick with late night chats and orgasms. It should be fine, it should be what you wanted, but instead you feel a hollow hole in your heart where the word ‘friends’ lives. Even friends should share their secrets. 

But back to the bookstore. Your new baby. This first month was full of cleaning, dusting out odd corners and greasing creaky door hinges. You listed a hiring notice on online job boards, looking for an assistant to help with the grunt work. Which landed you Phil, a wonderful addition to the team. He was around your age, an American with sandy blond hair. Handsome in a basic way, something you noted and never thought of again. Terrance ran a background check on him, something you gladly consented to, and insisted on helping you interview him. It took a week of recon, but he was officially your new assistant as of two weeks ago. An amazing help around the store, handy with tools. You’d told Phil that you were the daughter of a lord, a minor lie to explain the bodyguard. He shrugged it off, the ex-pat seemingly used to the oddities of London.

Now that the space had been cleared, it was finally time to paint. Terrance insisted that he couldn’t help too much, his main duty too important, but with the help of Phil, you convinced him to paint the walls with you. You all left your phones in the half-fixed office, donning plastic sheets to protect from paint splatter. Your business plan, formed from your downtime during the day and shaped by your late-night conversations with John, was to have a store section and a community section. The community section would be at the front, with a beautiful light blue accent wall, perfect for book influencers. It would be surrounded by comfy couches and warm lighting, complete with a cafe space you intended to build out. Your idea reminded you of the library waiting hours away, with its own fireplace and furniture. You decided to recreate that cozy feeling and bring it to the public.

Farther into the building there would be bigger shelves for rows and rows of books, organized by type. The color scheme was influenced by the one in your home, as you decided to hand paint metal shelves light blues, greens, and yellows. Most would be bought, but you were planning a book drive far out for people to donate old books and get discounts on new ones. It’s an idea you had wanted to do in Manchester but never got around to.

Now that the front of the store was cleared out and bare, it was time to paint. The hours fly by as you paint the light blue wall while Phil and Terrance work on a cream wall on the other side. When you blink, the sun is already down, and your watch is flashing 10PM at you.

“Guys it’s almost ten! I think we ought to lay down the brushes for tonight.” Phil opened his mouth to respond but is cut off by a harsh pounding at the locked front door. It was supposed to be clear, but there was newspaper on all of your windows to prevent the glass from getting paint on it. Frowning, you moved to open the door, but Terrance stopped you with his arm out, his other hand reaching for his gun. “Go into the office, ma’am.” You followed his command reluctantly, Phil following on your heels as you went into the back office. It didn’t have any windows, so it was a space you did not want to be in for a while. Phil looked nervous, running his hand through his hair and tapping his foot on the ground.

“I’m sure it’s fine, Phil. Probably one of the neighbors complaining about our music.” You insisted on a jam session as you painted, blasting music from a speaker you stole from the Castle. “Shady things happen in London no matter what time, boss.” You shrug, picking up your phone to quell your nerves. A glance at your notifications explains everything.

Oh no.

You burst from the office, phone already returning one of your many missed calls. That’s when you ran into your husband, face hitting his hard chest with a harsh oof. “Christ, sweetheart, gave me a near heart attack.” John steadied your shoulders with his large hands, anchoring you in his grip. His brow was furrowed, eyes crinkling in worry as he scanned you up and down like he was looking for injuries. “You didn’t answer-” “Everything good out here?” Fuck. Phil.

“Who are you?” It was a tone you’d never heard come out of John’s mouth. You imagined it was his mafia man voice, gruff and short like he had a better place to be. John shoves you behind him, reaching for his gun. You rolled your eyes, hand covering his to stop a potential shoot-out. 

“John, he’s my-” “Assistant, sir. Good to put a name to the face, I’ve heard a lot about you.” You could practically hear Phil winking, laying on the Southern charm. You wrestled out of John’s grip, stepping out from behind his back. Phil’s hand was out for a handshake, but John hadn’t taken it, scanning the man up and down with suspicious eyes. “Funny, ‘cause I’ve never heard about you.” John tore his gaze away to catch yours, eyes slanted in anger. “I don’t have to tell you everything, John. I’ve got my own life, you know.” He looked almost hurt at your words, which couldn’t be true. Sure, you were fucking, but it’s not like this was a normal marriage. You knew he wouldn’t have wanted Phil working with you, just on the basis of him being a man. You didn’t want to be micromanaged by your own husband, so you simply hadn’t got around to telling him. 

“C’mere.” John tugged you towards the office, his grip hard. You could hear Terrance telling Phil to go home and wait for an update. Probably for the best. You imagined Terrance following him out, then debriefing with John’s driver about how much of an asshole their boss was.

“Why didn’t ya tell me?” John asked, arms crossed and face red. He’d shut the office door but remained standing since there wasn’t any furniture yet. “Because I knew you’d get like this.” You spit out, crossing your arms to mirror his. “Fuckin’ concerned fer the security of my wife? Tha’s a bad reaction?” You took a step back from him, crossing your arms tighter so you could pinch your waist, a reminder to stay strong.

“Controlling and caveman. This is my place of work, John, and you’ve embarrassed me in front of my coworker.” He doesn’t meet your eye, staring at the door so hard it might burst into flames. He looks like a predator ready to pounce, muscles trembling from restraint. “Ya don’t realize how many enemies I have. Every person needs t’ be checked.” Did he think you were stupid? “I had Terrance check him out. I know you don’t want me around your work, but I’m not an idiot, John.”

His rejection of your offer to travel with him weeks ago had stung more than you cared to admit. He clearly didn’t trust you, only seeing you as someone to fuck around with. You didn’t realize how far that lack of trust went.

“He should’ve reported it to Gaz.” John mutters. “He did. I know that for a fact.” John ran a hand through his hair, then dipped down to tug at his tie. “He didn’t fuckin’ tell me. Christ, he’s worse than I thought.” You wanted to ask what that meant, but you bit your lip instead. He obviously didn’t want to tell you.

“Look, I know I’m a bastard and you had that goddamn clause in the contract, but you can trust me. I’m not running around behind your back.” That got John’s gaze to snap back to you, eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Tha’s wha’ ya think this is about?” You nod, suddenly unsure. “Sweetheart, that was Gaz’s idea. T’ see if you’d argue. I intended for you to ask fer another cheatin’ clause fer me, but ya didn’t so I let it go. ‘S nothin’ like tha’. Plus, I didn’t know ya then. I know ya now.” Oh.

“So you trust me?” What about the trip? You wanted to ask, but you figure that would show your hand too much. John nods slowly, uncrossing his hands to put them on his hips. “Don’t care tha’ yer a bastard. ‘M not fuckin’ anyone else, either. I’m just concerned fer yer safety.” He takes a few steps towards you, gauging your reaction to see if you step back. You don’t, uncrossing your arms and praying they don’t shake. He grabs your hands in his own, blue eyes swimming with openness. There are so many things you want to ask him about: your childhood, his father, the future. They all fall to the wayside when he leans down to kiss you, a gentle brush of his lips against yours. “If I didn’t trust ya, ya wouldn’t sleep in my bed.” He kisses your forehead, then cheek, before pulling back. “I need ya t’ believe me.” He demands it seriously. A sudden rush of affection hits your heart. He looks so truthful, so concerned, and you want to show him that same care back.

You lower to your knees. John steps back, unsure. “Sweetheart, ya don’t have to.” You shake your head, beckoning him to come near. “I want to.”

John tugs off the blazer he’s wearing, folding it into a light pillow. He squats down on his haunches, eyes on yours. A warm hand brushes your knees, urging you up so he can slip the blazer under them. He then stands; blue eyes dark as he brushes your cheek with his thumb. “Go’on, baby. Take whatever you want.”

You reach for his black belt, unfastening it with trembling hands. It unclips with ease, and John’s hands, hairy and veiny and strong, cloud your vision as he unfurls it from his belt loops. You continue downwards, undoing the midnight black of his button. You unzip slowly, licking your lips in anticipation. His fingers brush back the creases on your forehead, trailing down to brush the shell of your ear. “Feel ok?” You nod at his question, cupping him through his boxers. John releases a sharp exhale, a heady sense of power coming over you. You work the pants down fully to give you room, petting him this way and that.

Finally, you peel down the dark fabric of his boxers. He’s hairy but well-maintained, similar to his fuzzy torso you’ve felt in bed. His cock is thick and heavy, wet with precum as it slaps against his upper thigh. You tuck his boxers down to give you room, then start exploring. Kitten licks to the base of him, his hair tickling your nose. Your hand joins you to squeeze his balls, eliciting a sharp groan. John tugs on your hair, more out of instinct than control. “You feel ok?” You throw his words back at him, a cheshire smile growing as he moans again.

“Christ, those fuckin’ hands.” He responds. You move to start stroking, licking him from base to tip. He tastes like salt and musk, but clean with the scent of pine. It’s the most addicting scent on earth. After he’s wet and leaking, you steady yourself with a hand on his upper thigh and the other on your husband’s cock.

You finally take him in your mouth, tongue swirling around his tip. You hum and his grip on your hair tightens. “‘M gonna fuck yer mouth sometime.” You let go of him with a pop, leaning backwards. “Not tonight?” He shakes his head, reaching down to pump his cock in your absence. “I’m a few strokes from cummin’, sweetheart. You look too goddamn good on yer knees.” That earns a grin from you and a renewed sense of vigor.

You suck him hard this time, your hand making up the length you can’t cover. You work yourself into an easy rhythm, up and down as he cradles your face. It’s much softer than you’ve ever experienced from a man, careful and protective. He wasn’t kidding about how close he is, harsh pants emitting faster and faster from his chest. “Where d’ya want me, baby?” You don’t respond, keeping him in your mouth. All you do is blink sweetly, willing your eyes to look bigger than usual. “Fuckin’ perfect, my wife.” That sends a jolt to your heart, and you have to stop yourself from accidentally biting down. Instead of responding, you stroke faster and faster. His abs tense, and you pull back just slightly, letting him coat your tongue and lips. It’s salty but not bitter, a marker of how fucking healthy he is. You lick your lips, swallowing thickly. His thumb brushes off a bit from your nose, pushing his thumb into your mouth. You suck hard, like you did the night he first fingered you. He continues cleaning you up, careful and quiet in his movements. John tucks himself back into his pants and offers you a hand to help you off the floor.

“Your knees sore?” He whispers. You shake your head, suddenly feeling exposed despite not having taken your clothes off. “C’mere.” He tugs you into his arms, tucking you under his chin. “We good?” He asks. You want to say no, want to ask him all the questions swirling around in your head, but all you do is nod and hold him closer.

-

In the car, John’s hand on your thigh, your phone vibrates. It’s Phil.

Everything ok?

Yep! Marital problems, all good.

Your husband is intense.

He’s a sweetheart for me, all that matters 🙂

Good to know. See you tomorrow.

His tone is odd, but you shove that thought from your mind. John squeezes your hand, and you tuck your phone away, content to focus on your husband. Phil is the farthest thought from your mind.

-

um. smut. now they're like friends with problems? idk enemies got boring.

-

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[annmariethrush]

Ugh I don’t have time to write the fic yet so here’s what keeps bonking around my brain

Jayce becomes Viktor’s internal monologue for taking care of himself and his chronic issues.

It takes months of observation before Jayce starts piping up when he knows Viktor is doing something that will cause him pain later.

First it’s just big things— moving him to the couch when he falls asleep on the desk. Getting him a rolling stool and then making him sit on it when he’s spent too long standing at the chalk board.

Then it becomes smaller things. When Viktor has his bad leg bent across his other knee, twisting his back and hip and leg all in the wrong direction, Jayce will come over with a chair and a pillow to prop it on. Jayce clears all of the top and bottom shelves in the lab, only having things that are within Viktor’s normal range of motion. He tuts when ever he hears Viktor get up to go across the lab briefly without his cane, not even looking up as he goes “nuh uh” until viktor sighs and picks the damn thing up. “It’s only 12 steps, Jayce, I can go 12 steps” “you make that walk 25 times a day. It’s adds up.” He’s even started setting an alarm for 2 pm every day where he makes them both stop and do stretches to combat the stiffness of sitting and writing for hours on end.

Slowly, viktor’s internal voice that tries to remind him that something he’s doing will make him hurt later shifts to sound like Jayce. “Be nice to yourself, V” “that’s gonna hurt later, don’t do that” “if you leave your leg like that you’ll have a hard time walking home.” Even things that Jayce has yet to see, like the correct configuration of pillows on his bed, the way that he has to lay his arms so that his back doesn’t tweak in his sleep, start getting corrected in his mind with a “nuh uh” instead of the usual “whatever”

By the first anniversary of their meeting, every thought he has that encourages him to be kind to himself comes in Jayce’s voice, Jayce being so synonymous in his mind with the desire to treat himself well and be mindful of his limits. Jayce has no idea how much of viktor’s routine now consists of choices fueled by the thought that Jayce would be disappointed if he knew he was doing something that would cause him pain later all because Jayce can’t help but love viktor until he loves himself.

[kwoniele]

thanos headcanons (n)sfw ۶ৎ

warnings: smut, jealousy, sensory deprivation, bdsm mention (they don’t actually perform anything of the sort), fingering, oral (f receiving), public fingering lol, tease, edging, overstimulation, manhandling aaanndd thats all!

𖦹 really unpopular opinion (or so bc i’ve never seen anyone really talk about it) but i feel like he’d be really protective 😭 for example; if you two were on a date, rather than sitting across from you, he’d be next to you so it’s more obvious you two are together etc.

—

𖦹 in the games, he’s very silly and childish and that doesn’t change with you at all. he’s the same goofy person you know, but he will always make sure he gets babied by you lol it’s like healing his inner child.

—

𖦹 will absolutely spoil you if ever he finally voted x (which he would never do but its a headcanon) he’d buy you luxury bags, limited edition jewelry… literally everything you’d look absolutely gorgeous in.

“baby what about this one? this looks cute on you!”

“subong-ah.. that’s $350.?”

—

𖦹 never lets his friends near you lmao 😭😭 nam-gyu would just be talking to you for help with something and he’d butt in and give him advice instead LOOL

“hey, so i was thinking maybe this color would look nicer—”

“looks like shit. absolutely not. go away.”

—

𖦹 definitely the “i know you can, but let me” kind of guy. you could be baking a cake for se-mi’s birthday and then suddenly you look beside you and thanos is putting on a purple apron and cracking eggs for him to whisk up afterward.

“thanos, i can do it myself—”

“i know, but i want to do it with you. so teach me how to do this so next time i can help you better.”

—

𖦹 okay so he’s a very unserious person, but if you were in a vulnerable state, he will always be there to embrace you. he’d rock you in his arms and let you get his shirt all wet bc he loves you and he can’t stand seeing you cry ☹️

“shh, it’s okay. i’m here. i’ll always be here for you.”

—

𖦹 an absolute sweetheart to you in public, fucks you like you’re his slut in private. the things he would do to you oh my goodness 😭 definitely the type to manhandle you, esp when ure being bratty

—

𖦹 loves to edge & overstimulate you lmfao he thinks you squriming and moaning for him is absolutely theatrical 😭

“fuck. subong—”

“what’s wrong baby? need to cum that bad?”

—

𖦹 isn’t the biggest fan of bdsm bc you’re his princess and he’d never want you to feel otherwise BUT this man would def be into sensory deprivation 😭 if you’re asking to be fucked HARD, he won’t hold back and will make sure a blindfold is on and your hands are tied to the bed frame so you can’t touch him at all

“you’re so pretty like this, baby. i could listen to your moans all night. yeah? you want that? want me to fuck your cute pussy until morning? hmm?”

—

𖦹 thanos can be both a soft dom or a hard dom. it just really depends on his mood. if you managed to piss him off by flirting with other guys to pique his jealousy? you won’t be seeing the light of day. if you’re both exhausted and in need of relief? he’ll take care of you so well.

—

𖦹 the absolute MASTER of fingering & eating u out. you are an independent, iconic woman and yet you become the biggest pillow princess around that man. if you were at a restaurant? best believe his hands are on your thigh, slowly hiking up towards your core until he slips in a few fingers into your hole.

“they’re going to hear you, love. wouldn’t want that do we? or do you want them to know how i’m making you feel so good?”

—

𖦹 if you and thanos were living with nam-gyu, min-su, se-mi, gyeong-su … etc they will absolutely tease the both of you bc of how loud you guys are during sex 😭 it’s so bad that they would probably have to move out bc u keep disturbing them at night LOOOLL

“subong-ssi was not holding back last night, huh?”

“se-mi! what the fuck??”

[cazort]

this is exactly how I feel whenever someone responds to a cry for help by "You need to get therapy."

like no shit Sherlock, would you see someone bleeding out on the ground and tell them "You need to see a doctor." ?!?!?

cause that's how it comes across sometimes.

Therapy has been hard enough to access when I have had insurance. Imagine not having insurance. I spend around 7 years of my adult life uninsured. Any therapy I paid for was out of pocket.

now, self-help WAS useful. and I got some precious good advice during this period and it helped me a lot.

some things that REALLY helped me:

the right self-help books, which I was able to get used online incredibly cheap

stable and supportive friendships, especially people who reached out to me and checked in on me periodically

good financial management skills. a bank with a low minimum balance and a transparent fee structure with few fees. a brokerage account that I could move money into and out of with fewer limitations than a bank, allowing me to save and access higher interest rates. paying my credit cards off in full every month and totally avoiding high-interest rate debt

having a cheap place to live and roommates to share rent and utilities and also to hang out with and look out for each other

having mostly good relationships with family at least most of the time. and having some other people in my life who were like family.

eating well, and specifically, knowing how to eat well. realizing I was vitamin D deficient and starting taking vitamin D. discovering red lentils and how cheap, easy, tasty, and healthy of a food source they were. more broadly, realizing the financial and health trap of processed foods and getting out of it.

I don't want condescending or trite advice to do some stupid thing I've already heard 100 times. I want real, actionable advice and tips. The kind that I share with others.

Like yesterday I realized I could use foam packing material I had saved, to fill a gap under a windowsill that was leaking cold air, to reduce my heating bill. I want tips like that. 1000 of them. Things I might not have thought to do that will improve my life, my comfort, my finances.

i think a lot of the conversation around self help is useless to anyone who isn’t financially stable. no amount of affirmations and manifestation and effort to take control of your own life can change the material reality of living to work and pay rent and scrape by. and it’s not a moral failing to be incredibly frustrated by this or even to experience depression and dysfunction because of this

[echo-riot]

hiii, can you do a headcanon of Ambessa with a girlfriend who is super spoiled and Ambessa does everything for her cause she’s in love. thanks

✞⛧ Ofcccc here’s Ambessa with her super spoiled girlfriend ✞⛧

Ambessa is completely and utterly smitten. She sees her girlfriend as a queen, and she’ll stop at nothing to make sure she’s treated as one.

She loves spoiling her girlfriend with extravagant gifts: jewelry, designer clothes, rare perfumes from foreign lands—you name it, Ambessa has it wrapped and delivered to her door.

Ambessa’s favorite pastime is watching her girlfriend’s eyes light up when she surprises her. “You deserve the world, and I’ll make sure you have it,” she says without hesitation.

Breakfast in bed? Always. Ambessa ensures her girlfriend starts every morning with freshly brewed coffee or tea, perfectly made pastries, and her favorite fruit.

If her girlfriend even hints at wanting something, Ambessa makes it happen—whether it’s a vacation, a limited-edition item, or a small luxury like a specific shade of lipstick.

Massages on demand. After a long day, Ambessa insists her girlfriend relax while she knead the tension out of her shoulders with her strong hands.

Ambessa personally oversees her girlfriend’s security. She won’t tolerate any risks to her safety, assigning her most loyal guards to her at all times.

She never lets her girlfriend lift a finger—ever. Whether it’s opening doors, carrying bags, or even pouring a drink, Ambessa insists, “That’s my job.”

When Ambessa is away on business, she writes long, heartfelt letters and sends lavish care packages so her girlfriend never feels lonely.

She’s fiercely protective. Anyone who dares insult or hurt her girlfriend learns quickly that Ambessa is not one to be trifled with.

Ambessa often calls her “my little empress” or “my treasure,” and her tone is always dripping with affection when she says it.

Private chef? Check. Ambessa hires the best culinary talent in the world to cater to her girlfriend’s every craving.

If her girlfriend ever gets upset, Ambessa immediately clears her schedule to comfort her. She hates seeing her unhappy and does everything in her power to make her smile.

Ambessa loves brushing or playing with her girlfriend’s hair. It’s one of her favorite ways to bond, especially during quiet moments together.

She’s attentive to her girlfriend’s needs and can read her moods easily. “What’s wrong, love? Tell me, and I’ll fix it.”

Date nights are always luxurious. Ambessa takes her girlfriend to exclusive restaurants, the opera, or on yacht trips under the stars.

Ambessa’s girlfriend is always dressed to impress, courtesy of Ambessa’s insistence on buying her custom-tailored outfits.

When they’re relaxing at home, Ambessa enjoys curling up with her girlfriend in front of the fireplace, sharing a glass of wine and soft conversation.

She keeps her girlfriend warm and cozy. Ambessa has an oversized fur cloak she drapes over her girlfriend whenever she’s cold, pulling her into her lap for added warmth.

If her girlfriend enjoys hobbies like painting or writing, Ambessa makes sure she has a luxurious studio filled with all the best supplies.

Public affection? Always classy but unmistakable. A hand at the small of her girlfriend’s back, a kiss to the knuckles, and a piercing glare at anyone who looks too long.

Ambessa constantly praises her girlfriend’s beauty, intelligence, and kindness. “You’re perfect, darling. Absolutely perfect.”

On anniversaries, Ambessa goes all out—planning surprise getaways, designing custom jewelry, or even commissioning a portrait of the two of them.

Soft moments are her weakness. Seeing her girlfriend laugh, smile, or fall asleep in her arms melts the cold exterior Ambessa shows to the rest of the world.

Ambessa has no qualms about reminding her girlfriend how much she loves her. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Never forget that.”

She’s not shy about reminding people of her girlfriend’s status, either. “Do you know who she is? Treat her with the respect she deserves.”

Ambessa secretly adores when her girlfriend gets a little bratty or demanding. It only fuels her desire to spoil her more.

Her girlfriend’s happiness is Ambessa’s top priority. Whether it’s through small gestures or grand displays, she lives to see her smile.

Ambessa dreams of retiring one day to a private estate where she and her girlfriend can live in peace, surrounded by luxury.

In the end, Ambessa would do anything for her girlfriend. She’s her greatest weakness, her greatest love, and the one thing Ambessa is truly soft for.

[marzshin]

thinking about having a secret relationship with Jamil…

•honestly it’s probably better for the both of you to have a secret relationship. his duties as kalim’s servant can go undisturbed by kalim’s excitement about him being in a relationship, he’d still be able to fly under the radar like he wants to, and you, as the kind prefect, can do without the teasing and probable odd looks from other students.

•something about having to be quiet about your affections in public can be cute at times; the knowing glances you guys exchange when denying someone’s suspicions, walking a bit too close together before realizing and making distance with a breathy laugh. it might not be ideal but it works for you guys.

•the fact that you all are limited in how you show pda, makes alone time all the more special for the two of you. when he’s alone in the kitchen of scarabia, while you’re there too, he’ll invite you over next to him and allow you to assist in his cooking and answer any questions while guiding you hands with his own. another precious time is when you two are alone in his room. now this is rare… as much as he wants to be with you more often, it just can’t be helped sometimes, which is why during the time he’s with you in his room, he spends it relishing in your touch.

•your limbs tangled together with your foreheads rested against one another, it’s a fleeting moment, as jamil’s duty calls yet again as kalim’s voice rings through the hall to their rooms. kalim calls for jamil and your both quick to get up and move to act like you’re studying instead of cuddling. and as if on

que, kalim barges in with a beaming smile. “Jamil! so i was wondering… oh! you guys are studying? i didn’t know there was a test coming up?” his voice rings through your ears and you glance at jamil before looking towards the white haired boy. “there’s no test. y/n just had a question about some homework. we’re done now if you need something.” jamil answers with an almost unnoticeable sigh. guess it’s time to say your goodbyes and try again tomorrow.

•just because you have to be careful in this relationship doesn’t mean jamil loves you any less. he’s glad he has somebody who wants him as much as he wants them.

woohoo! another little thing written, let’s go me! i actually like this one quite a bit, i hope you all like it too! thanks so much for the support on my kalim x goth reader headcannons, i really appreciate it as i’m not used to writing things like this. if you have any suggestions or critics, please feel free to share them!

[thegreatstoryteller]

The Great Shift: Awkward Tales - Vignette 2: Athletics Run in the Family

“Hey dad! Ready for that workout? I think this football jersey is getting a bit tight. Might need a new one later.” Kyle boomed as he bounded across the hall. The sound loud enough to cause his dad, Bill to jump!

“Oh uh… yeah sure Kyle. Maybe we skip the workout today. We could go shopping and get you new clothes.” Bill offered, gulping as he walked over to his towering son.

“Haha! Very funny dad. I know how you always said that every workout skipped, is a day wasted. I finally get it now! I just beat my PR for bench presses last week! Pretty sure I could do it again this week too if we keep at it! Now let’s go!” Kyle smiled and carried his dad to the car.

Bill sighed. Kyle wasn’t wrong. Before the great shift Bill was a retired amateur athlete. He never could quite go pro, but his passion for working out and fitness was always there. It was something he tried to inspire in his son Kyle, but it never took. Kyle was always more artsy. More sensitive. Less in the physical space and more in the mental. Bill didn’t even care that his son was interested in men, only that he tried some kind of athletic activity. Even as he was making his way through college Bill held on to hope that Kyle would find some athletic spark in his son. Something for them to bond over, but it never came… despite how many times he tried to force sports on to Kyle.

It turns out he should’ve been careful what he wished for. After the great shift, Kyle had landed into the body of a professional athlete, Dallas Turner. Now his one shrimpy son was a 6’5, 250lb titan of athleticism.  Suddenly, Kyle finally understood what his dad was talking about. Running around, lifting weights, hell even playing football. Kyle was in love! The consistent amount of fitness planning that Kyle had done in the 1 year since the great shift was more than he’d ever done in his entire life! And the results had shown! Kyle had gained over 10lbs of muscle since he’d got that body!

NFL scouts had even come around and asked him if he’d consider joining the league after he finished college! After all, a majority of former athletes were now in much smaller bodies that couldn’t play anymore. Kyle was considered a top prospect!

Meanwhile Bill was experiencing the opposite end. Where as Kyle had gotten huge from the shift, Bill was on the smaller end. Previously Bill was a proud 6’3, and now as a modest 5’0 he was seeing the world from a whole new perspective. Not only had he gotten significantly younger, now around the same age as his son, but he was not blessed with the same athletic disposition. Somehow most of his body was much smaller everywhere, but he maintained a bit of pudge around the belly, almost like a reminder of the beer belly he had once before. Only now smooth with no hair. 

Needless to say, it was clear that Bill’s new body was not built for physical activity. That didn’t stop Kyle from dragging his dad to every possible gym that was open post shift. Kyle loved testing the limits of his new strength. At first, Bill liked it too. Helping Kyle reach his physical potential is what he’d been waiting for ever since he had a son. However, the longer they worked out, the more tired Bill became. Not only from the actual exercise, but also from discovering his new sexuality at the gym with all the hot guys in the area.

Bill had gone from a sternly athletic father, to a nervous gay nerd quite quickly. His behavior became more shy and reserved. He began to understand more and more why Kyle liked things like music, art, and games compared to football. Most importantly he even understood why Kyle could never focus around his athletic peers. Every time Bill and Kyle went to the gym, Bill would get distracted after a new hunk began their workout! Kyle was too, but more so happy to show off his incredible new bod!

These thoughts raced through Bill’s mind as Kyle drove them to the gym! Bill could only hope that his secret crush was there. The handsome bearded bodybuilder was a large Arab man who was some sort of janitor in his previous life. Now this guy was second only to Kyle in the gym the more he worked out and showed of his manly body. Bill had already rubbed one out in the gym locker room thinking of him.

By the time they arrived Kyle got to working out as Bill went to refill their water bottles. Then as he joined the gym floor he was stunned to see Kyle talking to the big bearded gym crush!

“Hey dad! This is Amir! I said he could workout with us. It’ll be nice lifting with another huge guy who could keep up with my lifts. Maybe if I play my cards right with him I could invite him over for dinner.” Kyle gave his dad a confident wink.

“W-what?! I mean. Are you sure? You just met him and-” Bill sputtered as the large man came over and shook his hand. The young father was mortified. The guy he’d been obsessed with at the gym. Here? Now!? Talking to Kyle!?

Amir didn’t seem very interested talking to Bill. His banter was mostly with Kyle as they worked out. The two of them matching their routines and flexing at one another. Bill was practically seething with jealousy as Kyle and Amir tossed their sweaty workout towels at him. They were so lost in their workout and getting to know one another they'd completely forgotten about Bill.

“Hey it’s pretty nice of you to bring your little brother to workout.” Amir smiled as he spotted Kyle.

“Oh that’s my dad. He taught me everything I know about working out.” Kyle corrected, as Bill blushed.

“That so? I’ll have to thank him, because he sure made a handsome son. I hope he won’t mind seeing more of me. Especially if I’m gonna be seeing more of you.” Amir arched an eyebrow and smirked.

Bill’s hands were over his face. His son was gonna start dating his gym crush. It couldn’t get more awkward than this!

[quailfence]

[Video description/transcript: A TikTok by @/rainbolt_, captioned "He found the exact location of this vine (skull face emoji). The video is split in two: The top half is a facecam showing a pale man, and the bottom half is various other images and videos. The TikTok starts by RainBlot playing a vine. In the vine, a person reads out a sign reading "Road Work Ahead", the turns to the camera and says, "Yeah, I sure hope it does!" The person on top, mouths along, grinning, then says "Okay, that six-second video has a lot of context." He then begins jumping around to various points in the video and pointing things out, narrating as he does so. "Obviously you have things like the cacti and the palm trees, and the like, overall arid climate. We can probably narrow it down to two states: California and Arizona. In this video here we can also see that in the reflection right here, er, outside in the window right here, the car also does not have a front plate. So that kind of ruled out the possibility for California to me immediately. We have a couple of context clues right here, is that we have a four lane highway - two lanes here two lanes here. And the max speed is gonna be forty-five miles per hour."

He then continues with a map of roads in Tucson, stating "the only highways with a speed limit of forty-five miles per hour". "I did this for every single forty-five mile per hour road in Phoenix. After that, I noticed we had this speed limit sign beneath that was forty miles per hour. That's kind of rare, I feel like? But we can see that's a night speed limit. And I did some research, and I found this news video from Tucson. Actually, there's not that many forty-five mile per hour roads with data listed in Tucson - but, eventually, we can scan, we see a road here with forty-five miles per hour. East Valencia Road." He drops into a street view of the road and scrolls around, saying "And - we can see. Oh, look at that, the road has vegetation on it." He goes through a list of years for street view and selects August 2016, saying "Let's get back to 2016 here. And would you look at that." He zooms into a large road work ahead sign and looks into the camera. "Road work ahead? I sure hope it does." He continues on with "And believe it or not, the road does work ahead. And there's cars driving there, and this is the exact road. I've never looked at this, what were they working on here?" He moves down the road and looks around for the source of road work. "Now I'm actually curious. Where is the construction here?" He finds a group of workers in high-vis vests and waves his mouse around them. "The impact these guys had on Internet culture? You think they even know the impact they had? They don't." End description.]

@a-captions-blog

[justtheclippy]

Tips and FAQ for Asks

Hello beautiful humans, I want to do my best to get to everyone's asks so here are a few things you can do to help make that happen! (if you're looking for the cast stream master list, skip to the bottom)

Please don't spam the same question repeatedly. I will get to you eventually, I promise! But when you submit the exact same thing multiple times, it just slows me down. I've got one single brain cell, please have mercy.

No spoiler requests. I cannot tell you anything about future episodes, when they will come out, what will happen to certain characters, how the story ends etc. We're limited on what we can say in general until more episodes release. The entire cast has signed NDAs (non disclosure agreement) preventing us from revealing anything, but more than that, we wouldn't want to ruin your experience of watching and engaging with the show organically! Trust me, just enjoy the ride, it's better that way.

Don't take anything too seriously. Please keep in mind most of these answers will just be for fun. My thoughts and opinions on the character, both for silly things like favorite dessert and more serious things like character analysis, are not hard and fast canon. Same goes for any of the actors. We can speculate about our characters, we know and understand them well, but when in doubt, assume its allllllllllllll non-canonical haha

Read through previous asks. This will help prevent asking things I've already answered. I'm going to be tagging (i swear I'll do it fr) my answers with #amanda asks and #tadc asks so you can find them more easily. If you do ask a question I've already answered IT'S OK DON'T PANIC I won't be upset haha

Even though I'll be tagging my answers so you can easily find them, here are a few frequently asked questions just to get them out of the way. If you decide to ask me something I've already answered, or something that goes against the guidelines above, I'll probably skip it, you silly geese.

Q: I've seen people use several different pronouns for you, what are your preferred pronouns? A: They/them and I prefer masc leaning terms generally! I'm queer, NB and very open about my identity. But people will sometimes use she/her because they don't know. I will never get upset with someone for not knowing- it's ok. But now that you've read this, you know! So you can go forth educated. You're welcome to correct anyone who doesn't know, but please be kind to each other. We've all been the person who didn't know before.

Q: What do you think of X ship? A: I love and support all the ships! Ships are part of a healthy fandom, keep creating content that makes you feel seen and that YOU want to see, that's the foundation of creativity. And if anyone disagrees with you, remind them that a lot of classics are just fanfiction about the gods at the time. It's always been here.

Q: What is your favorite ship? A: Bunnydoll and Buttonblossom, because the dynamics are so much fun.

Q: Do you like X AU? A: Yes. It doesn't matter what it is, yes. I love the AUs and if it's a new one, you better include a link so I can find it. I want all of them, thank you so muuuuuuuuch~

Q: Have you seen or played X game/show/movie/meme etc.? A: Always happy to chat about other media! But if you wanna ask about something specific, please include a link or explanation because lets be just so very honest, half the time my brain is off in adhd land so there's a good chance I'll have no idea what you're talking about at first.

Q: Have you watched Raggedy Ann & Andy: A Musical Adventure? A: Not yet! But due to VERY POPULAR REQUEST I will be putting together a watch stream to watch it live with yall. Once that's happened, I'll put the link here.

Q: Have you seen Queen's second game and will you be playing it? A: Yes, we've all seen the trailer and we're very excited! We will be playing it as a full cast, just like last time, as soon as the game is finished. For now, please go enjoy the demo and support the team! Once it's out and we're ready to stream it, I'll post the link here.

Q: Can you come to X convention? A: I will come to any convention that yall want to see me at!

BUT

In order for that to happen, you have to request me directly with the convention. Most will have either a request form on their site or a specific email for requests. Just write in that you would like to see me at their event, and then they will get in touch with my agent to book me!

Q: Can I request a song for you to sing? A: Of course! I promise yall I'll do my best to put out more songs this year. If there's a cover you want me to consider doing, or an artist/composer you'd like to hear me work with, let me know!

Outside of that, if you just want a little clip, you can drop requests in the asks and if I know the song I might record a bit. This is COMPLETELY dependent on time, especially if I'm busy. Please understand ❤️

You can also make requests during stream signings, which is easier to accommodate in the moment. Just put the request in the order notes, and I'll sing a little bit for you while I sign IF I know the song. So choose wisely.

Q: Can I write an ask just to show you cool stuff or tell you you're awesome? A: Of course you can! You can also tag me in stuff, that's ok too. I appreciate all the love and support yall have shown for me, Ragatha and the show in general. Yall are truly incredible. ❤️

Q: Do you have a PO Box so we can send you stuff? A: I'm setting it up THIS WEEK. I will post it here when it's ready.

Q: Where can I find X stream that the cast did? A: Moving forward, I will keep a master list of our group streams in order of date aired, to the best of my ability. If I miss one, let me know and I'll get it on here!

Saberspark TADC Cast Interview

Streamily Signing #1 (Amanda, Michael, Alex, Marissa)

Streamily Signing #2 (Amanda and Michael)

Streamily Signing #3 (Amanda and Sean)

Streamily Signing #4 (Amanda, Sean, Alex, Michael, Marissa, Vera, Hamish)

TADC Fan Game Stream: Game 1

Streamily Signing #5 (Amanda, Alex, Ashley, Sean, Michael, Marissa, Vera, Hamish, Wiz)

Fast Food Simulator Charity Stream (Amanda, Lizzie, Marissa, Michael, Ashley)

[grimmtells]

✦ Wizarding Lore Compendium |​| The Three Elders and Winnie (TBA) |​| Grimmverse Heroes of Yore (TBA) ✦

✦ Son of 𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞, the galaxy's most renowned mage, 𝐎𝐳𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐝 has risen to serve wizardkind as their second Grand Magister following the "passing" of his mother. Wielding her staff as both a symbol and a legacy to carry on, he now has the duty of safeguarding Magic itself. When 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞 threatened to engulf the galaxy in darkness, the wizards stood alongside the GSA and the Nichibotsu assassins. Together, they fought for years, united against this cosmic threat. Unfortunately, the assassins betrayed their comrades, aligning themselves with Nightmare. This treachery devastated the GSA, thinning their numbers and shaking morale. And though morale wavered, the GSA pressed on. Yet, the war reached a tragic turning point when 𝐘𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐠𝐞, the orchestrator behind the ninjas’ treachery, abducted Ozwald from the battlefield astride a fearsome dragon demon beast. In a final, desperate cry before disappearing into the enemy’s grasp, the Grand Magister called out to his kin, commanding them to flee and never return. At that moment, none of them looked back, they obeyed their magister's last command and deserted the battlefield, leaving the GSA behind. A mere few weeks later, Ozwald reappeared, but the man who returned was no longer the same. Nightmare’s corrupting influence had taken hold, and wizard had been lost to darkness. Many years after the Great War, on a faraway planet called Popstar, King Dedede noticed that 𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐛𝐲 was quite confused by magic tricks Tuff was performing. Without skipping a beat, Dedede activated his downloading system, a contraption from Holy Nightmare Enterprise, and demanded their most skilled magician. Thus, Ozwald was sent through their channels and set upon Kirby’s trail. A fierce battle ensued, with the young Star Warrior pushed to his limits. Yet, through resilience and determination, Kirby succeeded in breaking the spell that clouded Ozwald’s mind, freeing him from Nightmare’s grip and allowing the Grand Magister to finally regain his senses. Ever since, the Magister has been residing in Castle Dedede, occupying the vacant top of a tower.

✦ 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 ────────

✦ Voice Claim | Patrick Page, Oz speaks with a West Country english accent. ✦ Likes | Reading, Opera & Theater, Moonlit strolls & Stargazing, Lemons, Tea ✦ Dislikes | Hypocrisy, Disrespect/ Disdain against magic, Egotism

✦ 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 ───────────

• Despite looking as imposing as he does upfront, few are sweeter than him. Kind and endlessly patient, he'll engage in conversation with pretty much anyone, even Dedede. • While Ozwald believes that a certain degree of sterness is required to properly teach the youth, he also believes that being too harsh and demanding will not give positive results. He prefers to teach with rewards, and attempts to make any topic interesting to get the attention of easily distracted children like Tuff, who usually dislike learning "boring stuff". • Ozwald is extremely forgiving, perhaps to a fault, even. He, himself, says that as a man who has committed sins against his comrades, he does not get the luxury to be critical of what is done to him. • He is, however, never forgiving when it comes to humane decency and decorum. Rudeness is one thing he quite dislikes, and will grow annoyed by it very fast, still remaining as polite as can be on his end. He does not want to stoop down to this level. • Ozwald is very doting with children, and has a natural fatherly disposition that usually warms him up pretty quickly with kids of all ages, even the most cold and distant. • Old man rambles a lot. He's got a fondness for discussions around magic and any topics he enjoys, but quickly finds himself talking at length until he gets nervous that he might be bothering his interlocutor. • Ozwald has an easygoing sense of humour, while he does not hold grudges, he is not above using previous events as ammo to tease someone. • Ozwald gets quite competitive with games of any kind and events putting him against other people/teams. He's a bit of a sore loser, but he tries to hide it !

✦ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚��𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧 & 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫 ────

In depth description of the Mark here ! • About the Scar ~ Pierced through the eye by a kunai imbued with Nightmarish power, the wound defied all attempts of healing, leaving behind a hollow scar from which magic occasionally seeps through. • It resembles an unstable counterpart to the Mark of Merlin. While the MoM serves as a gateway to the core and source of all Magic and remains flawlessly stable, the scar can become volatile, leaking magic uncontrollably when Ozwald grows overly agitated.

✦ 𝐓𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 ────────────

✦ 𝐇𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 ───────

✦ 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 ─────────────────

• Ozwald's closest loved ones are his mother, Merline, his little sister Winnie, the Three Elders of the Observatory Bumbledorr, Grindell and Maggie, and his magical owl, Duke Owlbert Hootsalot. • His birthdate is December 25th (12/25) • He has backpains, because Old. He gets very cranky when they start acting up. • He's a tea-drinker over coffee all the way. • He loves playing boardgames ! Always a good time between friends. • He's got quite the encyclopedia knowledge in astrology & astronomy. • Particularly likes the occasional baking of treats. • Ozwald is very adept at Offensive magic and Defensive magic, but also Supportive magic. During the Great War against Nightmare, him and most wizards were very important assets of the GSA, able to ward of most demon beasts, aside from those with magic resistance. • Ozwald and wizards as a whole do not really have mana. However, using magic, especially strong spells, for long periods of time can tire and wear them out. Ozwald can perform staffless magic. • He only has one eye ; he lost the other one during the war after a certain treacherous ninja threw a kunai at him. He tends to hide it with a glamour spell. He almost never lets it show.

[osakanone]

Writer here.

Actually to hell with this false equivalence and the advice.

Advice is a form of social nostalgia. We learn something, but we remove the bad parts to help us remember the thing. We simplify it down.

When we pass it on, we conveniently forget to put the shitty parts back on, because that's how memory works and its part of how we value advice appropriateness of past experiences.

We do this even when someone's situation and context is totally unlike our own and we do so with confidence until we learn not to.

The big lesson?

Life doesn't generalize. Neither does context.

Experience does not generalize. That's literally how and why people are different from one another. We get to know people unlike ourselves so we can see differing contexts, so we know when our experiences do not generalize. So we can see beyond ourselves.

Some people desperately want to think all of life generalizes, but that's the same mentality which produces people who think they can personal choices their way out of any imaginable problem.

As an example, a thousand Signalis like tragedies doesn't prepare someone for a dead spouse.

A million Disco Elysiums cannot undo decades of catastrophic self-hatred.

Its not like a fire-drill where after doing it enough you go into autopilot with some kind of readiness and automaticity even if it claims to sell you that fantasy.

It can put tools in your hand, but only if your context is close enough that the tools are actionable and useful.

If the realization is not useful, you can't act on it.

Sometimes it is, sometimes its not, often because minor contextural factors will intervene.

What if you have a lot of complex feelings about both a dead spouse and your concept of gender and its all too muddled to process in Signalis and it messes with your ability to process your grief?

What if you have a lot of complex feelings about an alcoholic parent and Harry makes you forgive things you shouldn't forgive?

People are influenced by media, and they do do things like this.

Sometimes instinctively, they even know they shouldn't and will drop something.

Like don't get me wrong, advice is helpful sometimes but its ultimately still advice in the form of roleplay with number of players zero.

The real thing is not an abstraction.

Sometimes what people actually need isn't piles and piles of tools, but distance. To know things can be different, or just not to think about what's happening so they can get things done that will help their situation. To know there is something worth working towards. That it isn't going to rain forever.

Sometimes what people want is catharsis or just relief or to feel seen rather than to learn or be told something or shown a different way to think or be given actionable tools.

They just want to escape so there's a reward to getting things done that let them continue to exist. A carrot on the end of a stick so things feel worth doing.

Sometimes people aren't willing to suffer to get there because they're already so depleted, and get those lessons because they just want a carrot to only be a carrot.

You might say that unreasonable or unrealistic or even childish but many people don't get a controlled environment in their heads to begin with (and potentially not even one in their lives) so your bit about a controlled sandbox doesn't generalize either.

The sheer distance of how far away two human contexts can even be is beyond imagination in its nuanced emergent subtleties.

Nothing in our evolution has prepared us for the era we live in.

Lots of people as a defense mechanism will struggle to connect with others who have difficult experiences as a means of limiting the incoming pain as they're already saturated.

That's not going to help someone connect to a story or care enough to complete it.

Fiction can be useful to bridge those gaps or even bring people closer, but it won't make people whole again, especially if they don't even know what being whole is or if they don't have space to walk.

Remember Maslow's higherarchy?

Think of where you have to be for personal growth to happen.

Lots of people begin from below the ground up, not even knowing what experiences they didn't get to have or what lessons they weren't taught as children, assuming they were even taught any.

The context where your advice genuinely helps?

Not everybody is there.

Please remember this.

Take care.

whenever people say they can't watch/play/read anything slightly upsetting or scary or challenging because it's... upsetting or scary or challenging all i can think of is this lol

[bellamoooon]

A/N: So…Patrick’s sister, this was supposed to be shorter but I uh…I got carried away, enjoy anyway!! <33

As patricks sister, you always understood the dynamic; Patrick is the overprotective annoying older brother and you are the nerdy—he says— younger sister.

So obviously, growing up with him was an interesting experience to say the least.

Before going to MRTA, he’d usually bring his friends over after school, and of course you being the pretty little thing you are, they’d always joke around about how Patrick’s sister was hot, (literally average twelve year old when they see any female) and well Patrick, Patrick was pissed, so this is when the golden rule—he calls it— came in.

Patrick’s sister is off-limits.

Which eventually stopped being a big deal when he left for MRTA, since you’d only see him for holidays and breaks, and you didn’t really get to meet any of his friends.

Then Art comes into Patrick’s life; Bunkmates since they were twelve, both in their first year away from home.

For the first summer break, Patrick left to go to your family’s lake house with you and your parents, and Art went back home to visit his nana, he knew his parents would most likely be away working—as per usual.

But he actually finds out that his nana had already been sent to a retirement home 15 minutes out of his home town, so he visited every couple of days during that summer even though his nana kept telling him, “Artie, you don’t have to visit an antique like me, go be a kid, enjoy your summer” however he insisted in staying around her to keep company.

So when they get back, Patrick “loud mouth” Zweig rants to Art about his summer, and Art simply nods thinking about how he’d most likely stay in the academy next summer, not like he had much to go back to at home.

Fast forward a couple of months, it’s Christmas; Art is helping Patrick pack last minute when there’s a knock at the door, then they hear a feminine voice.

“Come on dickwad, mom and dad are waiting in the car”

Patrick groaned as he started to shove his things into his bag, then looking back at art as he folded some of Patrick’s shirts.

“Hey, Donaldson, mind getting the door? It’s my fuck ass sister” he said casually as he grabbed the shirts from Art.

“Sure” Art mumbled not thinking much, only trying to imagine a female Patrick behind the door, seeing as he’s never met you, so there he goes, he opens the door and finds—not a female Patrick— but the prettiest girl he’d seen just standings there in the most angelic way.

“Hey…?”

“Art, it’s uh— my name is Art” he’s stumbling over his own words in the stupidest way possible.

“What kind of name is Art? Are you like an Arthur or something?” He cringes internally but before he can answer Patrick pushes past him.

“It’s just Art, leave him alone, he’s my best friend, only I can make fun of him, find one yourself, kid” Patrick speaks as he walks out the door with his things then turns to Art, “going home for Christmas, Donny?”

Art despised that nickname, the tips of his ears went red as his whole face flushed, but he shook his head.

“My parents said they won’t be able to make for Christmas and I— I don’t want to worry my nana so…” he said shyly and a bit disappointed but, they were the same parents that had forgotten his birthday a year ago and days later brought a cake that said “happy 14th birthday” when he was turning 12.

“Awe…that sucks man, I’ll talk to my parents, you can tag along with us to our lake house next summer”

And that’s how the tradition all started, every summer, Art would spend it with Patrick’s parents, you and Patrick at the lake house, which gave him enough time to catch a little something his nana called a Lovebug, essentially, his was crushing hard.

But of course, there was the golden rule— totally off-limits.

And Art was…fine with it, it’s not like you’d ever like him back, he was probably just “Patrick’s quiet best friend” to you.

Little did he know…

Then fast forward a couple years later, coincidentally, you would also be going to Stanford without actually knowing Art had already been there for a year.

And Stanford was full of frat parties, Halloween costume parties and in general, any party within a 10 mile radius.

And you, pretty little freshman had been invited to a frat party by one of the juniors in your econ class, and I mean, you can’t be rude, right? You have to go.

So, you do.

You wind up in a frat house with a shit ton of people, some cigarette smoke and, a whole bunch of red disposable cups, so why not grab one, what’s the worst thing it could have in it, beer probably?

Wrong.

Something that to you tasted exactly what rubbing alcohol smelled like, so it goes straight from the cup to your mouth then back to the cup as you cringe letting out a single dry cough.

“You alright there?” A gentle voice popped up from behind you, familiar but you couldn’t quite tell, but as you turn there he is; Art fucking Donaldson. With a backwards red Stanford cap and a grey Stanford hoodie.

Oh.

“Oh— Art…hey” you chuckle softly still smelling the mysterious alcohol from your mouth.

“This isn’t quite your scene, huh?” He spoke as he took a sip from his cup with that goddamn side smirk of his.

“Yeah— no, I mean, I’ve been to parties, fun, fun parties. And this, this is so my scene” you rambled nervously, it was already embarrassing enough you, a freshman was at a frat party with a pretty floral skirt and a crochet sweater.

“Really? Oh…then have fun, fun girl” he laughed as he lifted his cup a bit towards you to then walk away.

Fuck it. You were gonna get wasted.

And so, that you did; Somehow ending up in just a soaked tank top, a soaked skirt, hair dripping water and, squeaky wet shoes as you stumbled out of the pool from the backyard.

“Hey, watch it—“ Art turned as he felt your body bump against his, “oh it’s you, fun girl.” He giggled as he saw you, clearly too drunk to even know what was going on, and he could’ve just laugh it off and get back to the party, but Art wasn’t like that, and specially not to you, you’re such a pretty little thing all wasted and soaked past midnight, plus, you were Patrick’s sister. He had to.

So he said his goodbyes and grabbed you as you both walked out of the frat to go back to campus.

“So tell me, miss Zweig, how does one, as drunk as you, not drown in a pool?” He said as he saw you hold onto his arm for dear life trying not to trip, which might have just dug up something he had buried years ago.

“Y’know, im fun, and this is so my people” you said looking up at him—just barely— as you let out a hiccup.

He blushed as he heard it, clearly it was your first time getting drunk drunk, adding on to the wet hair and your shivering body,

“Right, fun girl, my bad” he chuckled “come on you’re shivering, here” he pulled his hoodie off as he handed it to you, “can’t let you catch a cold, how else will you go to your next party, miss fun girl”

“Thank you, Artie.” You said as you grabbed the hoodie sliding it over your head feeling the warmth it carried from Arts body, accompanied by the faint smell of his cologne.

Meanwhile, Art was feeling like his spine had just been ripped out; Artie.

You hadn’t called him that since the summers at the lake house, where he had attempted and failed to forget his crush on you.

“Yeah— I uh…yeah” he blushed even harder as he fumbled his words not knowing how to react.

You just shut your eyes and breathed in the scent of his cologne to then open them up, there you were, doe eyed looking at him, in his hoodie, hair soaked as you unconsciously made it harder for him to be a good friend to Patrick, he felt horrible.

Not only did the disgusting thought of wanting to fuck you against his jeep popped into his head, this is Patrick’s sister he’s fantasizing about.

“Come on— I uh, I gotta get you back on campus” he cleared his throat as he looked away avoiding your stare.

“You’re no fun anymore, Artie…” a pout made itself present as you took a step closer, your hands landing on his shoulders, “come on, Donny…”

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

“Patrick would kill me, you know that.”

“I won’t tell”

He wasn’t proud of himself for turning back to look at you, but you were just so pretty, lucky he didn’t have a boner, if he hadn’t given you the hoodie to cover your very visible nipples against the tank top, he’d probably have you bent over his cars hood.

“I really— I can’t…” he mumbled, his face inches away from yours, noses brushing against each other.

“You sure?” You whispered as you stared down at his lips, “not just this once?”

“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, well…there goes his willpower, he was in too deep already.

Next thing he knows, you’re riding him in the backseat of his car, all flushed, tits out, him whimpering as he dug his fingers into your hips holding on for dear life throwing his head back, and windows all fogged up.

Yeah, he was so screwed.

He will most definitely be breaking the golden rule for…well, let’s just say it’s not a one time thing.

[moon-and-candlelight-0501]

Five Times Daisuke Didn’t Fall for her Touch (and the one time he did)

Daisuke x Reader | NSFW!! | ooc | Reader is AFAB and uses She/Her | Friends with Benefits | Plot HEAVY | Car sex | P in V | Cunnilingus | Inexperienced Daisuke (lol) | Blowjobs | Handjobs | Cum mention (?) | Dirty talk if you SQUINT (not rlly though) | Weed | Sex under the influence (weed) | Kissing/making out | Swearing | Implied Art Student!Daisuke | Alchohol mentioned | The curtains are NOT just blue | Angsty

A/N: The warnings make this look so much scarier than it is lol I promise this is VERY vanilla. Yeahhh these were supposed to be just a couple smutshots but I got way too into the story. I’m a sucker for fwb.

story is supposed to have a kind of beachy setting, but picture it as you will.

Wc: 4.3k

One - Remembering the important things. Such as (but not limited to): Dates, places, names, articles of clothing, jewelry, words that were distorted by pleasure

He had met her at a party, or she was watching from the sidelines of the baseball field. Actually, it might have been through a mutual friend on instagram. Whatever, whenever, wherever it had been, he knew he wanted her.

He knew he wanted her when her tanlines peaked out from the green halter-top she wore (or maybe it had been orange?)

He knew she wanted him when her fingers ghosted over his for longer than needed— just to pass a water bottle, or something of the sort. Her fingers left dripping condensation on the coke or sprite bottle, and Daisuke knew she wanted his warmth too.

Daisuke’s assumptions were proven correct when she pulled him into her apartment to “make a change of clothes”, and in all fairness they do technically get halfway there by the time they reach her unmade bed. [Name] is mumbling apologies into his lips — something about her strewn clothes across the room — but Daisuke is feeling much too hot and bothered to care or even notice.

They needed to meet their friends at a bar in an hour, but the way they got down you’d think they were already running thirty minutes late. He couldn’t help it (he also couldn’t deny that he wanted nothing more than to spend hours exploring every inch of [Name]’s sun-kissed skin), they only had so much time together and he needed to get off, like, now (and, fuck, she’s so warm. Maybe it’s the high temperatures, but whatever it is, it’s getting him there fast).

“Shit. you’re tight. Fuckkk, g’na cum quick”

“Dai, pull out-”

And he does nothing less than to oblige immediately. He finishes himself with his hand, cursing under his breath as he does so. When he looks back towards [Name]’s bed, she’s looking straight through him whilst leaning back against her forearms.

“You uh… you didn’t like, finish, huh?” Daisuke asks softly.

“Nah, but you’re good. I don’t have to- shit!”

He’s on his knees faster than she can register it, gently spreading [Name]’s legs apart for easier access.

He’s far from experienced, tongue only just missing her clit every time he ran it up and down. [Name] is quick to guide his head though, right over where she needs him.

Experience he didn’t have, and it was evident, but eagerness? That he did. And it was working for [Name].

Lost in pleasure, [Name] didn’t even notice his hand tracing its way under her thigh and towards her entrance. He slipped a finger in, moaning softly at the warmth he had missed. [Name] on the other hand was practically singing for him, choking out moans into the back of her hand when he slipped another finger in.

“Fuck! fuck, fuck, fuck…”

He snaked his unoccupied arm under [Name’s] thigh, pushing it up and allowing him to hit new spots inside her. His choices were met with the sweet reward of her gasps, followed by barely coherent words.

“Shit Dai, keep doing- keep doing that… oh my god… don’t change anything jus- just keep doing that.”

When she finished with a squeal, Daisuke pulled away quickly, giving [Name] some space to cool off. Wordlessly, she sat up and scanned the messy bedroom while Daisuke collected himself, shoving his cargo shorts and t-shirt over his body.

“m’gonna change before we leave” [Name] finally stands up, snatching an orange floral bikini and some mini shorts on her way to her bathroom.

It’s a small apartment, and Daisuke finds that simply stepping outside of the room, he is met with her living room that he had not had the time to appreciate earlier. It wasn’t an eyesore or anything, but it definitely had personality that he was too busy (for lack of a better word) earlier to notice before. A large cork board with photos of [Name] and friends, more clothes scattered over the sofa (He’s starting to add up that [Name] is very picky about her outfits), an ashtray in the shape of a sun resting atop a dark oak side table. On the table, there's what seems to be the first strokes of green paint over it, as if she had started the project but ultimately decided it wasn’t worth the time. His analyzing is interrupted by [Name] finally leaving her bedroom, now in a pink and orange striped tank-top and light-blue jean skirt.

“You have a nice apartment.” Those are the first words he says after having sex with her within less than eight hours of meeting?

“Uh… thanks? You ready to go?” [Name] asked, grabbing her keys and wallet off the less-than-half-painted side table.

When she takes the lead out the apartment, Daisuke pinches his nose bridge in embarrassment and shakes his head at his own words.

The walk to the beach bar was silent, Daisuke preferred listening to cars and bikes passing by, the birds flapping their wings, and music fading in and out as they strolled past different shops and restaurants. He was burning up, and couldn’t tell if it was because of the high UV or current situation he was in. Granted, it was a short walk. Before he could reach to open the bar doors, [Name] reached for his wrist.

“Daisuke, we’re, like, cool? I mean, it was a nice time but I don’t want to make anything weird or… different… we’re cool?”

Her warm fingers were still on his skin, no different than before. So, Daisuke pulled his hand away from hers and gave her a thumbs-up with a smile.

Two - Following Alcohol Runs and Nicknames, Fogged up Windows are to be Expected

In his cheap Toyota, they have cheaper small talk. The weather, school shopping, all the works. Daisuke hopes that [Name] doesn’t notice the soda stains on his gray microfiber seats, or the smell of weed disguised by his “Caribbean Colada” scented tree hanging from the rearview mirror.

“Dai.” [Name] breaks the silence, and Daisuke freezes up in the driver's seat. “I’m glad I saw you tonight. It’s been a while, I was starting to miss you.”

It’s not like he was trying to avoid her. As the summer died down, the memory of that end-of-June (maybe it was early July?) afternoon did too. Different one-night-stands and complicated almost-somethings made that day seem to just be another drop in the pile of summer flings building for the both of them.

“Shit.” It’s like something snapped in him, Daisuke makes a quick turn behind a Walmart that had already closed for the night. He parked in the middle of the large space, and immediately rested his head against the steering wheel, eyes shut. “Uh, Dai?” [Name] called, but he only groaned against the steering wheel and ran a hand through his dyed hair, “fuckkkk”

“Daisuke. You’re freaking me out a bit.”

He mumbled a few more curses under his breath before raising his head to look at her with those deep brown eyes. Even in the dark lighting [Name] looked so hot. Yeah, she had opted for a zip up hoodie, but by now it had fallen off her shoulders, and Daisuke noticed the very low cut purple tank top she wore under.

“M’sorry” He said against the steering wheel.

“For what?” [Name] leveled her face to meet his eyes.

“Nothing was supposed to be different. It’s just, I dunno. You said my name, and like, everyone calls me Dai, but you just say it some type of way. Fuck. I’m sorry.”

By now Daisuke had turned away from her, but [Name] knew what he was feeling. He got fucking turned on from her saying his name. Well, his nickname. And in all fairness, she understands. The only time she had ever called him “Dai” was when he was between her legs.

Well, she thinks, they’re behind a Walmart after-hours, it’s dark, and no one’s around anyways. What’s another sexual encounter before school starts?

Daisuke felt a hand gliding up his thigh, and he whipped his head around to face [Name].

“I think I need to return the favor from last time” She did her best to speak seductively, but had to bite back a cringe at the fake voice. For Daisuke though, he was way too into it to care.

“What do you mean?” He has to resist the urge to hit himself on the head for this question, but [Name] just chuckles and shifts her body to face him from the passenger seat.

“Dai, just put the seat back.”

Deciding it’s best to not speak, he listens and lies back against the seat, waiting for [Name] to make her move.

“So pretty, you know that?” She praises him as her palm only ghosts over the denim covering his bulge. Daisuke let out a shaky breath, and [Name] decided they really didn’t have any time for teasing. With Daisuke’s help, his jeans and boxers were pulled down in a blur, and [Name] grasped his cock from the base, gently of course. As she leaned over the console, she gingerly kissed his tip and was rewarded with a strewn moan from Daisuke— who was clearly very sensitive, judging by how quickly pre had collected on his tip. [Name] doesn’t waste any more time and takes all that she can of him in her mouth. Daisuke swears he’s died and gone to heaven, completely lost in bliss.

“Fuck, [Name], you’re so good. Feel so good. God, just like that, you’re so good. So pretty.”

He doesn’t say it, but [Name] could feel Daisuke twitching in her mouth and knew that he was about to finish, so she pulled off and looked at his wrecked face. He had a hand tangled in his own hair, mouth open and eyes screwed shut as he whined out, “No, no no.”

He looked almost betrayed at her, eyes glossy like he was about to cry. “Why’d you stop?”

[Name] only chuckled and pressed his chest down onto the carseat, crawling over his legs and going in to kiss him, “Close your eyes, Daisuke.”

The kiss was anything but slow, Daisuke nearly shoving his tongue into her mouth and whimpering against her lips. He only pulled away to moan when her hand found its way back to his cock, stroking him softly. His hips bucked up into her hand, causing her to bounce, giving Daisuke a nice view of [Name]’s tits in that low cut tank.

[Name] sped up her strokes, and Daisuke was practically arching into her touch, the only word he could repeat was “Please, please, please, please.”

When he finally came, most of it dribbled down to his thighs, but a particularly far shot splashed onto [Name]’s tank top, causing Daisuke to ramble apologies as he was still coming because she was still working him through it. when all calmed, [Name] slipped back into her seat and properly zipped her hoodie up.

Daisuke also got himself decent, and they both just sat in the heat of the car.

“Your windows fogged up.”

“Yeah…” He scratches the back of his head in embarrassment

“Nothing's different right?”

And this time, Daisuke was confident in his words,

“Nothings different.”

Three - Ashtray is Put to Good Use (And so is an Art Major)

“Shit, Dai.”

[Name] had her bare back draped over the arm of her couch, the cool leather sending shivers down her spine. Daisuke was above, her waist in his grasp as he placed open mouth kisses trailing from her collarbone down to her abdomen.

“Who taught you about foreplay?” She chuckled and reached for the sun-shaped ashtray on the side table behind her, pinching a near burnt-out blunt between her fingers.

“I’ve gotten some experience in since last time” Daisuke mumbled against her skin, and looked up at her with a coy smile. [Name] rolled her eyes and blew smoke towards him, to which he responded by pressing two fingers against her core through her lounge shorts.

“Fuck.”

Normally she would never be this sensitive, but the weed and the way she was practically on display for him made every nerve spark ten times brighter everywhere his touch lingered.

It was Thanksgiving break, and [Name] had a fat blunt that might as well have been rolled to share. All friends were home or on their way home, except for Daisuke.

It’s not like he didn’t miss his parents, but maybe he didn’t dwell too hard at the first google search revealing that there were no flights home available. Maybe another month to prepare before dealing with the inevitable questions about his future, followed by food being shoved in his face, wasn’t the worst thing to happen.

Not when he could be here instead, between [Name]’s legs. And when she unravels while calling out for him, fingers gripping harshly onto his grown-out roots, for a moment everything is just the same as the first time he went down on her, his head is void of deadlines and applications.

“Damn. Definitely better than the last time.” She teased while pulling up her bottoms, as Daisuke leaned over her to take a last drag from the joint. He hovered for a moment, before she guided his jaw towards hers and spread it slightly to shotgun the smoke. When he pulled away, [Name] tapped his chest lightly, as to signal that he give her some room to sit up, “Thanks.”

“I mean, it wasn’t for you…”

“Hey not that this wasn’t great, but are we gonna keep taking turns going down on eachother or are we actually gonna fuck again at some point?” [Name] disregarded his statement, and Daisuke scoffed before sitting back comfortably against the couch,

“I mean I would. But I’m like actually hungry. Munchies, man.”

[Name] rolled her eyes and grabbed a t-shirt off the floor, making her way to the kitchen (it was only on his way home the next morning that Daisuke realized it was his t-shirt she had picked up, and forgotten to return, resulting in an awkward shirtless drive in the middle of November)

“Not that your decor isn’t great or anything, but your side table kind of throws it all off.” Daisuke chatted to her from the couch.

“Eh, I didn't see the point in finishing it. Didn’t have the right supplies, or patience to see it through. Like you said, great decor.”

“You have the paint still?”

“Yeah, Why? Gonna put that Art Major to work?” [Name raised an eyebrow at him from the kitchen, as she grabbed a couple different varieties of chips.

“I dunno. Maybe.”

Four - Broken Heaters and Absent Roomates Aligned

“Thanks for letting me crash, Daisuke.” [Name] sighed, as she threw her duffel bag to the side somewhere beside his second-hand couch. Daisuke nodded, “Yeah of course. They said the freeze is supposed to be pretty bad. Wouldn’t want you sitting in your apartment with a busted heater.” Without words, [Name] acknowledged that any traces of roommates were missing. It was still only just after New Year’s, and Daisuke was clearly the only person who made a beeline to get back on campus.

1:25 AM, and [Name] had only managed an hour-or-so of sleep. She groaned and pulled the thin blanket Daisuke had oh-so graciously provided her with over her shoulders and made her way towards his bedroom.

Her fingers were shaking as she pushed the door open, she could just barely make out Daisuke’s sleeping silhouette, and the edge of his bed. Deciding she had little to lose, [Name] crawled into the bed and shook him by the shoulder slightly.

“Dai. Dai, wake up. Don’t freak out.”

She was only met with a groan, signaling that he was only slightly conscious. “I’m freezing out there, all you left me with is this thin-ass blanket,” she feigned sadness to get his attention.

“No one told you that you had to sleep out there.” He muttered into his pillow.

“I was trying to be appropriate!” She can’t see it, but Daisuke raises an eyebrow at her remark, as if to say, ‘Seriously?’

“Look, my fingers are basically gonna freeze off”

“Let me see,” Daisuke takes her fingers into his grasp and thinks for a moment, “Feels the same.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Dunno. Your fingers are like, always warm. No different now.”

“Well I feel cold.”

“I know what’d warm you up” He rested his head on the palm of his hand to face her, trying to analyze her face with the little moonlight that hit her just right. She only smiled and lowered her voice,

“Are you serious?”

“If you are,” Daisuke let his head hit the pillow again, and sighed “I’m too tired to move though.”

“God, you’re such a tease. Here, roll over. I’ll get on top.”

Daisuke did as she asked and gave her a loopy smile when she climbed over him.

“So pretty like this.” He ran his hands up and down her clothed sides as she reached into his sleep shorts and gently pulled his length out.

[Name] began to softly stroke him, until he was hard enough to slip in. Daisuke was already huffing out and tightening his grip on her waist. She lifted herself up a bit to slip her bottoms off, and when Daisuke went to assist, his hand was met with thin silk.

“No shorts?” He chuckled and she playfully slapped his chest,

“Shut up. Are you ready?”

“Mhm.”

[Name] inhaled and sunk herself onto him slowly. Daisuke was groaning at every inch of her core that he felt. When her hips finally met his, [Name] gasped and entangled her fingers with his, pinned beside his head.

Yeah, the sex felt great. It always had. but the view Daisuke had right now, [Name]’s bottom lip caught between her teeth, hair in every direction. He thought she was more beautiful than any beach sunset, late night drive or joint shared between two lonely people. Here, in her oversized tee, was the most gorgeous work of art Daisuke had ever seen, sat on his dick.

When her hips started rocking to a steady pace, he brought her right hand to his lips and mumbled praises into her fingers.

“So good for me.”

“You’re gorgeous here.”

“Just like that, keep going.”

They finished at the same time. [Name] rolled onto her back beside him, still catching her breath. Daisuke turned his head to meet her eyes, but she wasn’t looking back.

“It’s different.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, slightly panicked.

“We’re at my place this time, you were on top, and you’re staying over. In my bed.”

“Yeah. In your navy blue sheets. Nice.”

“Do you feel different?” He pushed, but her eyes still wouldn’t meet his.

“You told me how I feel, Daisuke,” she sighed “the same, right?”

He nodded and looked back up at the ceiling,

“Warm.”

Five - Finding Comfort in Activities Other than Sex; Baking, Reading, Calling up a friend, Painting, etc.

The biting chill of winter had long dissipated, April showers had passed and May flowers were blooming as they do every year. Pinks, oranges, greens, they bloom before [Name]’s eyes, and it’s almost as beautiful as the days and nights spent with Daisuke.

Almost.

Finals season.

This afternoon pens are scattered around her living room floor, along with forgotten notebooks and sticky notes with words scribbled on that mean nothing to either of them, what matters is their connection, where they connect. Between each other's legs, on [Name]’s brown leather couch. The familiar summer breeze made for a sweaty study-session-turned-hookup, but [Name] is in her element. She’s almost too lost to notice the puffiness on Daisuke’s face, how his eyes are screwed shut, lips tucked in. Almost.

“Wait- Daisuke, stop.”

He halted any movements immediately, all hands off her skin. He was trying to catch his breath and search for any signs of discomfort on her face.

“Is it, um, are you-“

“Daisuke, are you crying?”

“You’re making this a bigger deal than it is, you could’ve at least let yourself finish”

The second [Name] saw the smallest tear pricking at his eyes, she pulled herself away from him immediately, and suggested that they both get decent.

“I couldn’t possibly in good conscience hook up with you when you’re clearly upset.” She explained, whilst handing him a coke and taking a seat next to him. Daisuke muttered just a small ‘Thank you’, opened it, and took a drink immediately as if to show that he didn’t feel like furthering the conversation.

[Name] sighed and propped herself up on her palms, “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. But you’re more than just some fuck-buddie to me, okay? I’m not gonna send you home after you clearly had an emotional experience.”

Daisuke took another sip of coke.

“Hey, since we have the time, think you could finish painting my table for me?” She nudged him.

And paint he did. At some point Daisuke wondered how little patience [Name] must have to not complete such a project. Her side table was a standard square one, the hardest part being the wait between each coat of paint. On the third and final, Daisuke finally decided to speak up about the earlier situation,

“My mom got me an internship.”

[Name]’s eyes lit up, “Oh my god! Daisuke, that’s really awesome. Where at?”

Daisuke painted over the last small area that needed its final quote. As he put his brush down, he turned his body towards her,

“Space.”

She laughed.

One - No excuses.

July 27th.

The air was still sweetly sticky with Summer, every fan unit blowing in [Name]’s apartment.

Today, there was no meetup to attend. No late night convenience store runs, no smoke to share, no broken AC unit, and no finals to pretend to study for. There wasn’t an excuse, just an “I’ll be there in 10” text. [Name] dressed herself up without knowing why. It’s another outfit that will be thrown on the floor the moment that boy walks through the front door. She glossed her lips, and rolled her lashes with mascara, but she knew that the gloss would be kissed off within the hour, and she has to hope that the mascara won’t run by the end of the night.

Without much surprise, no words are exchanged when he walks into her apartment. In fact, the door isn’t even closed before her lips are on his. It’s messy. As a matter of fact, she might have missed his lips the first time because pink lipgloss smudged against his cheek, but neither of them seemed to notice.

When they make it to her bed, all clothes are off. Daisuke pressed his lips against her neck as he lined himself up with her. When he pressed in, he started off with strings of praises. But the closer he was to finishing, his words began to sound like whispers of goodbyes.

“I’m gonna miss you, fuck, so much.”

It was slow, and careful, and nothing like the first time. And when he kissed her, it was like he was trying to make up for every individual day he would be gone on that goddamn ship.

“I love you.” Daisuke whined as he came with her. [Name] pretended like she didn’t hear.

They didn’t exchange words that night. Both of them took turns cleaning themselves in the bathroom, and then crawled into her queen bed. It’s not weird to hold a friend who you won’t see for a while, so that’s what they did.

Daisuke woke up first the next morning, [Name] still in his arms. The sunlight had already begun filtering in through her blinds, and it made her look majestic. He took this time for himself, to trace shapes on her bare back. To brush the hair from her face, and memorize her features. When she stirred awake, [Name] did her best to avoid eye contact, a common tactic she used in these situations. Surprisingly though, Daisuke believed this was his first time seeing her anywhere near bashful. He kissed the top of her head before speaking,

“It’s all different now.”

And [Name] almost winces. “It doesn’t have to be.”

Daisuke chuckled and pulled back from her a bit, “No, it’s different.”

“Why though?” [Name] sat up now. She was trying to salvage anything left of what they had. Trying to salvage the year they had, as if she could make it extend, and they could stay 22 forever.

“Because I don’t expect you to let life pass you by, waiting 382 days for your friend-with-benefits,” he explained, “but up there, It’s like I’ll be frozen where I am now. When I come back down, I’ll still feel 22. I’ll still want to leech off my parents and drop important things just to do stupid shit like painting a table.”

“It’s only a year.”

“A year that I will only be able to think about you the entire time. As long as I see the sun I’ll think of the summer I met you, and as long as I see the moon I’ll think of how you took me in my own car, or how you crawled into my bed that January night.”

Silence fell between the both of them now that there were no more words to say but goodbye. Leave it to Daisuke to find something else though,

“Why’d we do this anyways?” He asked, more directed towards himself than anything. Still, [Name] replied,

“Why’d I keep the side table I was never gonna paint?”

[the---hermit]

Shout out specifically to the kind girls who i have met before exams in my academic life so far. Complete strangers i have met once for a couple of hours who have made the wait for the exam lighter. Talking to me like we had known each other for years. This includes, but is not limited to, the girl who saw me nervously waiting before my medieval history exam om my first year, and decided she was going to adopt me in her small friend's group for the morning to review things together and who kindly stood up for me when the professor ignored me while i was trying to get his attention to ask for something before the exam. The girl who randomly complained to me about a broken door in the bathrooms and who then saw me in line waiting to get in the exam room and chatted with me for over an hour while the professor was late, because being annoyed at things being broken/not working as they should is the best bonding excuse on the planet. The girl who i asked directions to yesterday and ended up waiting for my same exam who acted with me, a random stranger, like an old friend. I am collecting these people like pressed flowers. I have no idea of half of their names but i will forever be grateful to then for being there and being kind. As an extremly anxious person who becomes a nervous wreck before exams and who has terrible social skills people like this are such a gift and I wish them all the best.

[ceescedasticity]

I wonder what kind of class it is where papers could reasonably be written during the span of a class period without having to, like, look up citations. I've actually taken in-class by-hand essay tests (my hand was not happy with me), but an actual college-class research paper with sources and citations?

Maybe it's a different definition of "paper"? That would make more sense.

I just hope anyone using this strategy is mindful that:

Some people can't handwrite very fast. Probably proportionately more students can't handwrite fast than a hundred years ago. You need to relax your length requirements for everyone and make accommodations for students who have trouble with it even then.

It's a lot harder to revise in a handwritten work. You can't easily go back and add an explanatory paragraph you realize you should have put at the beginning. Do you try to squeeze it in the margin? Put it later and draw arrows? Just put it later? Things will be much less polished. Of course that's also the case just with limiting work time to a class period. Summary: Quality expectations have to be adjusted.

And this is going to be easier on people who can spit out something passable on the first try, and harder on people who get good results when they really work at it but don't find it easy, so keep that in mind.

It would be unfair to penalize for spelling, punctuation, and/or grammar.

Also maybe check with your grader(s) first, if you won't be doing that yourself.

In-class handwritten essays are completely doable, yeah, but you can't have the same expectations for them, and the expectations you can have after suddenly pivoting to them are different from reasonable expectations when they're standard practice.

Also I would think you might need to look out for disparate impacts.

An ex-colleague of mine was complaining to me the other day about the ai problem in her students' papers, and I told her, "Just make your students hand-write them in class. Easy." She looked at me like I was insane and tried to explain how that would never work, but I just said,"That's how we did it for a thousand years. The invention of word processors doesn't erase all that."

To me it seems obvious. Readings are done out of class, handwritten essays are done within it. No more ai papers.