#God. Writing really does repeat itself every so often doesn't it

[donuts4evry1]

lets ramble abot my first jellyfish oc(s)

Since I'm not planning on making this idea into an actual game anymore, all lore is fair rambling game :)

Their full names are as follows:

Aurealis Aurita Vita (15) and Chrestos Chironex Vita (11)

they are brothers :)

I'll ramble under the cut, hehe

Aurealis Vita was born to Pleione Vita and Chryos Vita, two prominent figures in the noble society. He hails from a kingdom of human-marine animal hybrids, operating under a monarchy of crown jellyfish.

Aurealis themself was a hybrid with moon jellyfish (Aurelia labiata, to be exact) as well as his mother, while his father was a hybrid of a black sea nettle. As a sort of hybrid species, their hair acts like jellyfish tentacles. This fact will be important later.

Chryos was... not the best father, but his mother was loving and warm, so his early years were great.

Then came Chiro.

Aurealis was only 4 years old when Chiro was born and his mother died.

All the odds were against her with the birth. Coming from a long line of box jellyfish hybrids, there was a small chance that she could give birth to one.

Even then, newly born box jellyfish hybrids usually don't have venom potent enough to kill, but Chiro was different. His venom was unusually strong, and Pleione died in childbirth.

Everything changed then. Chryos upgraded from a not good father to an absolutely terrible father- often showing preferential treatment to Chiro and berating Aurealis for not meeting his standards. Sometimes verbally, other times physically. Sorry :(

Chiro himself was a precocious child, showing more interest in books than others. He quickly grew to be more smarter and competent than Aurealis, and stronger too. He often injured Aurealis on accident on account of his deadly hair, which would grow longer or shorter depending on his emotional state.

He still was not happy, however. He longed for affection and validation that didn't come from his father- which only came when he did something destructive.

The servants obviously feared him, and no matter how nice he was, he couldn't help but feel self conscious about their nervous demeanor around him.

Aurealis loathed Chiro, and she would bully him to make themselves feel better. He took the bullying- even internalizing it, because he felt as if his own existence were the cause of all the problems. Admist all that, he gained an interest in nematocytes, and spent much of his time studying them, and finding cures and uses for them.

Eventually, Aurealis had enough of life at home, and ran far, far away, to a whole other place full of different people and different... Everything, really. Leaving Chiro alone. Leaving everything they knew behind.

Honestly, their story came out of a desire for me to write something wholly dramatic and emotional, and I really liked it. I could develop it so much.

I latched onto Aurealis in particular, because her story involved heavy themes of self-hatred and the different ways to cope with it. They belittled others, they acted the opposite of the way they actually felt in a "fake it til you make it" sort of way (ie. ore-sama like). Of course, I give him a redemption arc, but they eventually have to deal with the fallout of their actions and I think that's great :).

Chiro, on the other hand, dealt a lot with gifted kid burnout and a different sort of self-hatred. He feels immense guilt for events that he had no control over, and seeks to fix them. He doesn't feel worthy if he doesn't have anything of worth to offer anyone, and his story is just. Incredibly sad.

Especially since terrible things could happen to him (I haven't decided yet tbh). Which I will ramble about in a different post. All I will say is that I named his theme is named "Lethe" for a narrative reason, hehe.

So anyways. They're the perfect comfort characters.

Recently I've been super into writing the brothers as adults (hence the florist Aurealis) and... Ugh. I've been missing them more and more lately, especially since I still need to write and design for Ite!

[pastelwitchling]

It Happened One Summer by Tessa Bailey

⭐⭐⭐

It's official. I'm over romances.

There were a few legitimate critiques that knocked down the rating for me, but I do feel like the romance genre is just not for me anymore, not when the romance is ALL that's going on. Not since they're all written the. Exact. Same.

Legally Blonde meets a Hallmark story in this book, and while I truly enjoy both of things, 400-500 pages is just too much for a story about nothing but pining for each other. I should say, I really liked the characters. Piper was spoiled, but far from a snob. I really appreciated how kind she was, how kind her sister was, how kind Brendan was, how kind the people of Westport were. But I think this is just where the genre itself comes in, because there was no reason for them to be apart other than drama.

Piper acknowledges she doesn't like or trust the phony LA life or its people, yet she doesn't think she can stay in Westport because "real life is back in LA, isn't it? The flashy LA girl is just who I am, isn't it?" blah blah blah. It's just nonsense, the book could've easily been 200 pages, I don't know why it was almost 400.

That, and the next to final chapter was soooo unnecessary. I thought she was going to build her own independence, save herself for once, and instead he had to show up and save her FROM HER OWN CROWD. What, she can't say no? She can't make up her own mind? Why did she leave in the first place if she didn't want to? I know that the way things unfolded upset her, but to make a snap decision like that just showed SUCH a lack of growth on her part. So people don't seem to like you this particular night; you don't have a little faith that the people you built a relationship with had a good reason for not showing up? Your own grandmother, for instance? You instead go running off to a crowd you don't even like so you can whine about the decision a few hours later?

Also, I usually don't mind at all the use of "male" or "female", "masculine" or "feminine", but these words were often used as the main and sometimes SOLE description of things, and I just didn't understand what they were supposed to mean. What is feminine handwriting? What is a male scent? She felt "female" and he felt "male" and what does that mean , Tessa?

And this is really nitpicky, but the writing was very, VERY repetitive with the names God and Jesus Christ. They would often come up three to four times in one paragraph at least once a page, and it was just way too much.

Other than that, I think the story was reasonably entertaining, I certainly didn't feel like I HAD to keep going, the characters were pretty likeable, but I just felt so much nothing for so much of the book because it was just the same longing repeated over and over. Yeah. Think I'm hanging up my contemporary romance hat for a while since I'm kind of sick of just reading the same thing happen in every book.

[divinegrey]

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐚 / 𝐯𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

got a few requests to write a second part to 'repeat until death' which you can read here because this doesn't really make too much sense without prior knowledge. title inspired by 'pareidolia' by tsuki.

prompt: sabine saved your life, and it leaves you at a crossroads.

words: 1800

warnings: grief, angst with minimal comfort

pareidolia [noun]: the tendency to perceive a specific, often meaningful image in a random or ambiguous pattern.

— — —

You awake, alone, behind glass. 

This in itself is not strange. 

You wake up, and you’re alive. 

That is strange. 

You search through the foggy hazy of your memories for the last thing you can find. It’s blurry, the words distant, but you make out the face of Sabine— the Sabine not of your world and instead of Alpha Earth, as they like to call themselves. Sabine, who had carried you away from danger despite you being the enemy. 

You hold your side, waiting for the pain of where the knife once sat in your body, but you find there is only soreness and a slight pinch. You feel disorientated from every angle, like the world is spinning around at your feet and you can’t even begin to catch up. There’s a weariness in your bones you’re not used to, and a strange sort of sickness in your stomach that you do recognize. 

The kind from being healed by Sage. A lot of healing. 

“You’re awake.” 

You turn your head to the voice, the warm voice that speaks to you like the sun breaking through the clouds. 

“Sabine,” you say breathlessly. Getting to your feet proves to be a bad option; you’re woozy and before you know it, you’re falling back onto the floor. 

“Oh, for fuck’s—” Sabine sighs, coming through the door hurriedly and pulling you upright, settling you back on the infirmary bed that you’d been sleeping on. She places her hand on your cheeks, her thumb on one side and her fingers on the other. She looks into your eyes, raising her hand. “Follow my finger.” You do, and then she flashes your eyes with a mini light from her pocket. After you groan, Sabine says, “No signs of a concussion. Still some sluggishness from severe blood loss. I— we almost lost you.” 

You blink at her. “We? Sabine, I shouldn’t fucking be here. Why didn’t you let me fucking die?” 

Sabine’s gaze steels over. “Because.” 

“Oh my god.” You throw your hands up. “You’re so fucking stubborn. Just like you us—” 

Your words die out in your throat. 

For minutes, only minutes, you’d forgotten the truth of your reality. This woman beside you isn’t your wife, it’s her carbon copy from another planet that you’re currently on. This isn’t the Legion, this is the Protocol. This is a place you shouldn’t be, and this is a woman you shouldn’t be talking to. By all means, you should be killing her. 

Never could you bring yourself to hurt Sabine. Never. 

You’d rather die before doing that. 

You turn your head away. “Should’ve just let me bleed out, Sabine. It wasn’t smart to keep me here.” 

Sabine scoffs. “Not even a thank you? Somehow, I feel as though I should’ve predicted that.” 

“What did you think I was going to say? Thank you for taking me away from my home planet?” You shake your head, curling your body in on yourself. “Bullshit.” 

“Atlas,” Sabine says. “You don’t exist here on this Earth.” 

Wait. What?

“At least, not anymore,” Sabine continues, rubbing her hands together on her lap. “Cypher searched high and low for a name to match your face, and we found one. Belonging to a kid, ten years old, by the name of Y/N, child of Dr. Callum Hanover, one of my former employees at Kingdom. Your body was found at the bank of a river, and the case was closed.” 

Your heart thunders in your ears. That is your father’s name…

“I’m… dead? What about my twin? Does it say anything about her?” You turn to Sabine, grabbing her arm. Sabine meets your gaze. 

“You don’t have one,” Sabine says. “You were an only child.” 

Only child? 

“I don’t understand,” you say, blinking at the floor. “I don’t— I don’t understand.”

“Neither do we. This is one of the first major discrepancies between our two Earths, one that seems too suspicious to look over,” Sabine says. From your lap, she takes your palms, prompting you to look at her. “I know that if the same thing had happened to your Sabine, if she had run into you dying in the hallway, she would’ve done the same thing. There’s something going on here, Atlas, something that I intend to find out. I don’t give a goddamn fuck about what the others say. There’s something here that needs to be uncovered, and you’re the key to it.” 

Your head aches from all of the confusion, all of the words Sabine has just said. You stare down at her hands, rough and dry in the way that they always are because of how much time she spends in the lab. The glint of the ring sitting on your finger, the one that bound you to the Sabine from your Earth (or perhaps, not your Earth at all), shines into your eyes. 

The simple truth is that you have nothing left on Omega Earth. There is nothing for you there. No one. 

Here…

Here there is Sabine. 

“Stay, Atlas,” Sabine whispers. “Stay, and I promise I will do everything I can to figure out why there’s a discrepancy.” 

You don’t say anything, not for a few seconds. Your grip on Sabine’s hands grows ever so slightly tighter. 

“Do you know—” You force the knot down your throat. “How hard it is to be here? Next to you? Next to the woman that I loved and watched die in my arms? To—”

You cut yourself off. To want to kiss you and hold you and apologize for everything I should’ve done? Grief is something that pulls you headlong into the abyss, roaring up with vitriol and anger that leaves your body dull and aching. You don’t realize it, but a splash of your tears have landed on the back of Sabine’s hand. You wipe it off, muttering a small apology that can’t even begin to rid you of your sins. 

“I can’t say I do know,” Sabine whispers, bringing her hand to your face. “And I won’t pretend that I do, Atlas. And I certainly won’t make you stay. I’ll send you off to the nearest teleporter if you so choose— safely— and let you go. But the choice is yours, and yours alone.” 

Everything in your body wants to stay. You can be close to Sabine again, but even through your haze of grief and pain, you understand that this Sabine will never be your Sabine, and this Earth isn’t yours to call home. No, your Earth is on the brink of destruction. 

“I can’t stay here, Sabine,” you whisper, and the words are like a knife in the air. The small glimmer of hope in Sabine’s eyes is dashed, but there’s an understanding there that cannot be so uniquely explained in the terms of the human language. No, it’s an understanding recognized and forged from years of a relationship. Years of which you did not spend with this woman, but with her copy. 

Sabine nods; you don’t miss the disappointment that flashes across her features. Part of you yearns to stay, but you know it would only cause you further heartbreak to be near Sabine but not love her the way that you did. 

The way that you do.

“Okay.” Sabine is quiet. “Give me a few minutes, I’ll go tell KJ to boot up the teleporter.” 

Sabine doesn’t look at you when she leaves, sealing you behind glass once more, and it hurts in its own strange form. 

You’re taken to the teleporter with a bag over your head, but Sabine’s hand on your arm is calming. 

Once your veil is removed, you see the blue hue of the teleporter whirring away in front of you. 

You exhale softly, pulling the ring off of your hand. 

“Keep this,” you say under your breath, pressing it into Sabine’s hand. You turn your head to the scientist, and in any other world, this ceremonial passing of the ring would’ve been something better; something where you would’ve seen Sabine in a white dress and your friends gathered all around you. 

But this isn’t your world, this isn’t your place. 

Sabine thumbs the ring, looking at the small line of emeralds and green stones embedded on the side and enclosed in silver. Then, she says, “This teleporter is wired to a location in New York City.” 

“That’s fine,” you say, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your torn up jacket. “Thank you.” 

Sabine stares at you for some time, and you wonder what the repercussions would be if you did what you wanted to do. 

But before you can think any more on that train of thought, Sabine wraps her arms around you tightly, knocking the air out of your chest. She hugs you with her arms around your back, and you thread yours around her neck. The smell of her perfume clings to her shirt and for a moment in time, the grief is gone, dulled by Sabine. 

You turn your head to the side, feeling her breath on your cheek, and in the whirlpool of emotions stirring in your body, you make a mistake. 

You kiss her. 

It becomes so very clear that this isn’t your Sabine, this is her copy, but she doesn’t pull away. Sabine allows the kiss to happen, allows for you to imagine that your life hasn’t fallen apart to shreds. 

Tears slide down your cheeks. You wipe them away when you step back out of Sabine’s hold. The woman stares at you with something you don’t recognize in her eyes, and that alone terrifies you. 

“Sorry. That was not cool of me,” you say, scratching the back of your head. Your voice is thick with emotion. You jerk your thumb to the teleporter. “I should— I should go.” 

“Will I see you again?” 

Sabine’s question is a weight that is pressed onto your shoulders, and you’re reminded keenly of your namesake; Atlas, the man who held the world on his shoulders. 

Sabine was your world. She was all you had, and now she’s gone. 

“Sure. Don’t shoot me on sight,” you say, but the words aren’t even close to the truth. 

But Sabine doesn’t know how you lie— placated by your answer, she nods, stepping away from the teleporter with your ring in her hand. You give her a salute, forcing your body to step back in the teleporter so that Sabine’s face is the last thing you see. 

— — — 

New York City is loud. 

It always has been, especially since the Dome was made around it. 

But it’s a good place to start. 

You’re done with the Legion. You’re done with a past that you have no claim to anymore.

You simply are. 

Every now and then, as you walk in the streets of New York City, moving from place to place, taking the pain of those who need healing for a pretty penny, you swear you see Sabine’s face. 

Maybe in another lifetime, you can try again. 

— — —

Sometimes I see you in the streets

Or at least I think I do

Strangers begin to resemble you

Oh, how I wish these sights were true

~~~~~ A/N: Atlas's story isn't quite done, as it seems.

[kaisa-ryo]

Megumi Fushiguro NSFW Alphabet

Warning: English isn't my native language!

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*

A = Aftercare (What he likes after sex)

Nothing can be better than looking at you, studying every part of your face up close. Watch how your eyelashes tremble, how your chest rises and falls, inhaling and exhaling air. So familiar, so lovable. What a beautiful and so necessary face at this moment. From time to time he wants to run his fingers over it, remember it, photograph it. I want to look at your face for a very, very long time. Then he drops those thoughts because he needs to focus on trying to sleep.

B = Body part (His favorite body part)

Lips.

God, he so enjoys watching you bite them, lick them, paint them with glitter. This is essentially a small insignificant part of the body, but so demanding for courting and kissing. Yes, kisses ... Megumi so wants to touch them and do it yourself: bite, lick, paint with glitter ... After all, they seem so soft and delicious.

C = Cum (Everything about sperm)

Into a condom. Even if it is not always convenient and completely satisfactory with an elastic band, Megumi still prefers to protect herself. In addition, it is useless to oppose this if you do not want problems in the future. But if you ever ask him to do it without a condom, he might even agree, though not right away. First, make sure that you really want it, since he was not ready to ever do this. So don't be surprised if he gets worried during the process.

D = Dirty secret

From time to time he thinks about how you will take full control over yourself. It makes him mentally convince himself what a lustful bitch you are for him. He understands how you revel in your own perfection, how this thin erotic veil allows you to devour him with your eyes, hypnotize. It almost makes you a god. But the deity should not so protrude his sexuality in front of his beloved. Therefore, if you do so, then in the morning Megumi will throw some reproach in your direction, but at the same time he himself will remain satisfied and completely satisfied.

E = Experience

There is. If in high school he was a cold-blooded bully with a good appearance, then it is possible that Megumi had favorites back then. Not to say that, under the influence of hormones, he wanted to fuck every girl, because on his mind he had only the goal of maintaining justice with vague and false concepts. Yet he tried it once. She was a girl with high status and good connections, which were beneficial for him to achieve his goal. Sex without commitment is not the best experience that can be obtained, because apart from the pleasure of the process, you do not feel attracted to your partner. But what you just do not go to achieve the goal, right? The guy did not particularly remember that incident, but a clear understanding of the foundations of the art of submission remained.

Now he doesn't want to remember school life, because both character and actions were not sugar at all. In addition, the intentions of what then and what from now are different, one should not exceed expectations. But speaking of being intimate with you, Fushiguro has acquired a real bond that makes intercourse more sensual.

F = Favorite position

A deck chair is a great option. It seems like an ordinary missionary, but both he and you have something to hold on to. And as a bonus, he sees your face, by which he can give an accurate analysis of how well you are now.

G = Goofy (Are you serious at this moment?)

Yes. Despite the main goal of getting pleasure, it is also important for him to control it. He is not afraid to death that everything will go downhill. It's just that perfect sex hasn't bothered anyone yet. In addition, it is not at all difficult for him to do as he wants. Therefore, he feels a great need for complete control over intercourse. If everything is done correctly, he feels proud of himself, which cannot but please him.

H = Hair (Is the hair ok?)

Hygiene is as important to him as every other aspect of his life, especially if it somehow, no matter how, concerns you. You never need to remind him of this, as he himself tries to take care of the intimate area as often as possible. Therefore, he is unlikely to have problems providing comfort for both of you.

I = Intimacy (Romance)

There is. These are mostly cute things that are usually not considered very important, but for you they are like a trophy. For example kisses on the forehead, crown of the head, knuckles of thin fingers, neck and shoulders. It is like a ritual dedicated to love for your beauty and uniqueness. Even if the process is not very sophisticated, you get pleasure every time. Towards the end, you realize that you have gained much more than the warmth from light, but sensitive touch.

J = Jack off (masturbation)

There is such a thing. And you don't have to be far away. If you have not done this for a long time, but for some reason he is afraid or does not want to offer you, then do not mind masturbating to one of your photos in the gallery.

K = Kink (Kinks and fetishes)

The guy is not indifferent to your body, no matter what shape it has. Feel his smell, touch, stroke, listen until all these tenderness reaches light bites, squeezes, licks ... He feels everything much more sophisticated than it seems. And nature is such that subconsciously very subtly feels desires. Even if they are not at all.

He likes it when you walk in sexy pajamas, stockings that accentuate the shape of your legs or open clothes, although he doesn't always approve of this, because he knows perfectly well that he is not the only one who likes your body.

I like to give you different jewelry because they look so perfect on you. It is not for nothing that people say: "It is not clothes that paint a person, but a person's clothes."

For Fushiguro, this is both the main aesthetics and a source of inexhaustible pleasure, which is noticeable with the naked eye.

L = Location (Favorite places to have sex)

Not a lover of variety, so the option with a bed is the most ideal for him. Moreover, the bed is large and soft, which allows you to do a lot without any discomfort. You often feel tired after sex (unless you're a sex addict), so in the case of a bed, you don't have to worry about passing out on the table or floor. Yes, with the bed, you are subject to almost all poses!

Fushiguro is also not cold to the sofa, which is not much different from the bed in terms of sex. On it he can relax while you ride it, clutching his shoulders or pants. The sofa is also a good control plane, which can be easily used if you understand that you need to get up. It's still convenient! Why do you even need a shower and a table?

M = Motivation

When you walk around the house in the open in only panties and a bra. He doesn't like it very much, but heck, he really doesn't want to admit that he is actually embarrassed and it still turns him on. And when he comes to pick you up from home to take you somewhere, and then finds you not ready, in only one underwear, he will be indignant at why you are still not dressed, then he will turn away, covering his face with his hand and making a slightly trembling exhale. At this time, you will notice how his cheeks and ears turn red and giggle softly, pulling on a T-shirt. Once you specifically asked him to fasten his bra, knowing that it will start. After all, in front of him, a close-up flaunts your completely naked back, which you can touch and stroke. It seems that another second and he will lose control of himself and go into a rage. Holding his breath, he will begin to gently stroke the delicate skin and excitedly run his fingers up and down the spine, feeling his legs trembling from the touch. You will have to bite your lips in order not to turn around, and all this time with concentration to look in the direction where your shadows are reflected in a black silhouette on the wall a few meters away.

Also no less exciting for him is your passion for something. If you diligently write an essay, essay, read interesting books, even just tap your nails on a hard surface - he will be immersed in your actions. After all, the main thing for him is not the process of action itself, but how you perform it. When Fushiguro sees you at work, he enjoys every second of what is happening.

N = No (Which won't do)

What he considers to be risk or abnormal.

Megumi is for healthy sex and will not settle for BDSM, role-playing or sadomasochistic procedures. Especially complete submission. It does not arouse and does not cause orgasm from the word at all. He believes that such an idiotic variety was invented by mentally ill people, after whom everything is repeated for the reason of "fashion", public manipulation and self-hypnosis. In addition, in order to decide on such an idea, you either need to be a crazy psychopath, or stop respecting yourself. At least Megumi thinks so and has no doubts about it.

O = Oral (Likes to receive or to give)

In this regard, Fushiguro tries to maintain balance.

Yes, he likes to hear your drawn-out muffled moans. I like how you all wriggle under it and beg you not to stop. I like the way you cum. But it is no less exciting to see how you walk with your thin fingers along the entire length of his penis, and then clasp your lips and swallow it as deeply as possible, periodically circling the head with your dexterous tongue. Therefore, he is not inclined to prioritize. He continues to give you pleasure simply because he thinks it is right, and when he himself wants to feel pleasure, you will guess it yourself by his eyes, facial expression and swaying his hips in time with your movements.

P = Pace

As a rule, Megumi tries to do it in full force. Physical strength is still a man's trump card in love, and should not be underestimated. But it needs to be properly stimulated. Energy should not be pushed to the limit. Fushiguro was used to stretching his orgasm, speeding up and then stopping for ten seconds. Then the surge of feelings becomes even stronger. Too much speed will immediately lead to overwork, and the orgasm becomes smooth and short. It's too predictable. Of course, the guy is not a fan of variety, but that does not mean that you absolutely cannot pamper yourself, right?

Q = Quickie

Average. The most common.

And what else do you need? High speed does not allow you to feel the process properly, and low speed dampens all excitement and quickly gets bored. Medium is perfect for both of you.

R = Risk (Ready to experiment)

Not ready.

You shouldn't force him to try new sensations. This will cause him discomfort or even anxiety, which will not lead to the best outcome. Once you talked to him about this, at the end he said that he didn’t like it and asked him not to bother with this topic anymore, since even the thought of it introduces him into slight stress. Not because of the experiments themselves, but the very fact of their fear. He is currently struggling with this because he wants to be completely perfect for you. However, it is unacceptable for him that it is easy for him to control the process, but it is so difficult to start experimenting in terms of sexual relations. He will definitely deal with it. Not right away, but it will cope.

S = Stamina (Stamina)

Pretty decent

Getting pleasure is enough for both of you, so you have the strength to wash in the shower, make tea, read a book and just lie around, warming your bodies with hugs. It even happens that there is enough strength to walk along the street, restoring not only physical balance, but also emotional one. Still, a walk in the fresh air with conversations on various topics does not let you forget that your love is real and is not a farce for sexual gratification.

T = Toys

It treats all their varieties badly.

Another trinket invented by the unbalanced and sexually addicted. You both have enough and an ordinary hookup without stupid "decorations".

* In fact, once the thought flew through his head about how you would react if he shoved a vibrator into your vagina as close to your clitoris as possible. And how he later, in all seriousness, assured himself that he would not offer you such a thing for anything. Recalls a magazine article about sexual fantasies among teenagers at thirteen. As a result, having mentally slapped myself in the face, I never thought about it again.

U = Unfair (Does he like to tease)

Yes!

He doesn't like to admit it, but oh my god, how your pleading and sobbing drives him crazy. At such moments, he seems to be in seventh heaven. He would like to listen to them, but then all the pleasure from the upcoming orgasm will disappear. He wants to satisfy his desire as soon as possible, but he really doesn’t want your sweet voice to stop at such seconds ... And when you finally finish, everything inside him contracts. Because now you shout his name instead of muffled moans. It feels like he is special to you. Yes, only he can make you make a mess in your body, which was just so obedient. Only with him can you finally plunge you into ecstasy.

V = Volume (How loud is it)

At first, he is silent, as if swallowed his tongue. But by the middle it already starts to grow. But if you only knew how uncontrollable he is in the end ... although, why am I crucifying here? Of course you know.

At this time, along with orgasm, he realizes how fucking he is. So inside him begins a feverish flow of internal current, and at the same time a fire flares up in his heart, turning into a high.

W = Wild card (Random headcanon)

When you first slept, the spontaneous thought came to you to look into his phone. Nothing criminal, you just wanted to make sure you were the first.

Waking up first and looking at the phone, which surprisingly had no password, you checked the list of contacts that were not embellished in some way, and in general there were not as many of them as you expected. But you, apparently, so much enjoyed digging into his personal life, feeling like a real Sherlock, that you decided to look at Google. There already began something from which you simply could not help but emit an unrestrained laugh: more than ten tabs related to sexual relations, the structure of the vagina, the consequences of the "first time", precautions for intercourse and a bunch of other things. You could hardly restrain your laughter so as not to wake up your loved one, who apparently became a real Alpha and a sex guru in just one evening.

It's been a long time since that moment, but you still haven't admitted to him that you then got into his phone.

X = X-ray (What's under the clothes)

14.5 cm during erection ± 1

Y = Yearning (How high is the sex drive)

Megumi cannot be called “lonely-touchy-with-a-broken-heart”, but “addict” is certainly not about him. This is an unexpected manifestation of desire when he himself begins to kiss your neck, in the hope of showing your initiative. Usually you make love at your request or at a noticeable hint. Fucking you in bed, he is not looking for any benefit for it and is not chasing cheap bonuses. He thinks that he is simply satisfying his sexual need, and does not go further so that you, too, do not get hung up on sex as an important part of your life.

4/10

Z = Zzz (How quickly falls asleep)

Quickly, if you are not trying to distract him with conversations (you are not always sure that you did everything right and completely satisfied him).

If you want to annoy him with requests, for example, if you are cold and you tell him about it, he will immediately cover you with a blanket. But you are more cunning and you do not need a blanket at all, but his strong arms.

— Mmm... and I wanted to warm myself in your arms...

Then Fushiguro will roll his eyes, sigh loudly and hug you from behind.

— I want you to kiss the top of my head! — you will rather smile when he reluctantly, but still will do it.

— Will you sing me a lullaby? - then the guy will understand that further you are just making fun of him.

— Maybe you still dance?

— What a good idea! Stand by that closet.

— Sleep, princess.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*

[firstumcschenectady]

“The Fabled Wisdom of Solomon” based on 1 Kings 2:10-12 and 3:3-14

(Image: Lamp of Wisdom, Waterperry Gardens, Oxfordshire, England)

What I wouldn't give for the wisdom of Solomon right now. I've prayed for it already, lack of asking isn't the issue. Life feels like a series of unanswerable questions. “Is this safe?” “Is this wise?” “Is this fair?” “Who does this exclude?” “Whose needs does this meet?” “How do I create balance?” “Whose needs do I prioritize?” “How can I find a middle way?” “How do I manage risk? As a person? As a parent? As a pastor?” “What are the risks of NOT doing the thing?” “How do they compare to the risks of DOING the thing?” “How worried should I be?” “How courageous should I be?”

I'll stop. It's probably unpleasant to hear already, and truthfully those are MOST of the questions, they just repeat a lot. Furthermore, these are variations on the themes of everyone's questions, maybe with a little bit more pressure on those making decisions for others or for groups.

We're nearing 18 months of pandemic based impossible decision making. I'm also nearing 15 months of parent based impossible decision making, which has led to SO MUCH more respect for every other human who parents or offers caregiving. (I already had respect for those things, but my respect has increased exponentially.)

I find myself thinking about presidents who wear the same thing every day, or offload trivial decisions so that they can keep their capacities for the important stuff. I remember articles about how our decision making capacities are finite, and I think about how incredibly overwhelming it has been to be in this “new world” where everything carries risk and every decision is suddenly BIGGER.

And I want to be Solomon. I want to be blessed by God to be wise. I want God to give me “a wise and discerning mind.” I want to know what to do!!!!!!

But even as I say this, I realize that I have projected onto Solomon and on to this blessing from God a supernatural sort of wisdom and discernment. I've read this story and assumed that Solomon always knew what to do, and was always right when he decided. But, I don't actually BELIEVE that. That would be superhuman.

(Also, if that were true, then the kingdom of Solomon likely would have outlasted … say … Solomon because he would have been able to fix the underlying issues and pick a good successor.)

Which means that the Bible has just served as a very good inkblot test for me to realize that in the midst of incredible uncertainty, certainty would be superhuman. (Or dangerous. That's another way this can go.) I yearn to feel good about decisions, but that's not possible right now. I yearn to feel confident as I decide, but that isn't possible right now either. I yearn, truthfully, to pass my authority off to someone wiser, more prepared, better read – but no one knows the struggles and the questions I face quite like I do, so there isn't anyone to pass them to.

John Wesley's “Three Simple Rules”: “First do no harm, then do all the good you can, and stay in love with God” have never seemed so hard to work with!

To keep the challenging more challenging, people judge each other on decisions. I can't remember the last time I had a conversation that didn't involve either 1. someone who had to make hard decisions struggling with what is right OR 2. someone who doesn't have to make the decisions frustrated with those who made them. I hear clergy and bosses worrying over safety procedures, balancing risk tolerance with the will of the body with the needs of the vulnerable. And, at the same time, I hear others complaining on ALL sides.

I'm definitely not Solomon, but I want to offer to all of you some of the models and tools I bring to discernment, under the assumption that we're all bogged down by the weight of all these decisions. Welcome to a pragmatic sermon. ;)

In terms of the pandemic itself, I've been really grateful for an idea I heard put into words in the NY Times in June of 2020.

Manage your exposure budget

Risk is cumulative. Going forward, you’ll need to make trade-offs, choosing activities that are most important to you (like seeing an aging parent) and skipping things that might matter less (an office going-away party). Think about managing virus risk just as you might manage a diet: If you want dessert, eat a little less for dinner.1

During a pandemic, every member of the household should manage their own exposure budget. (Think Weight Watchers points for virus risk.) You spend very few budget points for low-risk choices like a once-a-week grocery trip or exercising outdoors. You spend more budget points when you attend an indoor dinner party, get a haircut or go to the office. You blow your budget completely if you spend time in a crowd.2

This has been super helpful. I often call it the “risk budget.” We all have different risk tolerance, and we have different things we particularly value and need. I hear from many families with kids that day care or school are imperative to someone in the family's well being, and so they do it. But then their risk budget is spent. I hear from others that going to work and being exposed to a whole lot of people is already an over extension of their risk budget, and they fear bringing something home to their kids, so they don't do anything else.

I'm mentioning this right now, because people without kids or other unvaccinated people in their households have had an increase in risk tolerance, and aren't always seeing how carefully others have to manage their risk budget. And, for some in our community that means not coming to worship – even outside, even masked, even distanced – because even that TINY bit of increased exposure is more than the budget can handle.

It isn't really a FUN thing, a risk budget, but it brings a model to something otherwise incredibly overwhelming. Deciding on each individual activity separately is simply too much for any of us, so a budget gives us a guideline on how to make decisions. It also reminds us that we're working with different budgets and different expenditures, and none of us need to judge how someone else makes their decisions.

Not quite the fabled wisdom of Solomon, I'll grant, but a tool nonetheless.

Another simple tool is one I've mentioned before. “Daily examen” is a prayer process. It is quite simple. You center yourself, ask for God's help, review the past 24 hours, identitfy when you felt most alive and connected with love, identity when you felt most disconnected from life and love, thank God for the best the worst and all that's in-between, and either share that information with another person or write it down. It is entirely too easy to zombie our way through life, especially in the surreal pandemic times. But taking the time to be reflective helps us learn about life, ourselves, God, and what we value. It helps us learn what we need to change, and what we actually love about our lives as they are. This is the single best discernment tool I know, although it is most useful for BIG HUGE decisions that can be made over an extended period of time.

My final “simple” tool is one of those deceptive ones. It is simple, in ideas, but it is much harder in practice. It is: trust God to be working in and through you. That is, notice when something feels off-kilter in you, and trust that it is significant and matters. THIS is the most subversive thing I'm saying today. Trust the wisdom of your body as being connected to the wisdom of the Divine, and when a decision brings a dull ache to your gut or any other part of your body STOP and listen. Figure out what emotions fit into that ache. Then, figure out what needs are under that emotion. (Handy-dandy helpful pdf chart here: Feelings/Needs). We KNOW more than we think we do, and God often works with us in subtle and embodied ways. As we learn to trust ourselves, we are learning to trust God-who-is-with-us-and-for-us.

Well friends, it doesn't feel like much, and it DEFINITELY doesn't feel like the fabled wisdom of Solomon, but in the midst of unending difficult decisions, I hope these little tools are gifts for you. May God help us all, as we discern. Amen

1 I'm not convinced diet culture is safe nor healthy, but I left the reference in because I fear it is familiar.

2 Tara Parker-Pope “5 Rules to Live By During a Pandemic” https://www.nytimes.com/2020/06/09/well/live/coronavirus-rules-pandemic-infection-prevention.html June 9, 2020.

[bunny-banana]

For the director's cut thing, the story where Fabri asks Ermal out on a date but Ermal doesn't realize that? 👀

YO SO WE GONNA DO THAT OR WHAT

Its this fic btw if anyones curious.  

Chap 1

Even with closed eyes, he sensed the man lying next to him turn towards him but Fabrizio did not spoke immediately. No, he just stayed silent for a bit, Ermal wasn’t quite sure what he was observing but before Ermal could ask, Fabrizio broke the silence.

its u. he’s gazing at u, u idiot.

*

*

’You didn’t exactly give off the vibe that you’d say yes’

“What the fuck does that even mean? I don’t give off the vibe?!”

mr no-homo meta has NO right to be surprised at that. boy went into a panic attack every time someone as much as breathed the suggestion ofc fab was Anxious

*

*

A certain Roman showing up at his doorstep looking like he’d belong to the Milan Fashion Week.A tight grey shirt whose top three buttons almost begged to be opened (yet remained miraculously, in Fabris case, closed!) clung nicely to the body underneath it. A very fine silver chain hung around his neck that perfectly fit with the rings and the watch on his hand.Instead of ripped denim, now tight & shiny dark jeans were worn and to round this look up, an impeccably tailored black, suit jacket was thrown over him.

so not to be Hoe on main but we all just love Sexy Fab.  but more so, i really thought Fabrizio would have put a lot of effort into dressing nicely this time around. Probably called a few friends, crying to help him. He just wanted Ermal to like his look. Which he did.   A lot.  again, outstanding heterosexual of the year, ermal meta is completely mesmerised by that look.

*

*

“Well, well, Fab. Gotta say, this place is on a whole different level“ The curly haired man commented as he flipped through the menu.“You like it?”“How could I not?”

again, Fabrizio intentionally looking up a fancy place for their Date, something he actually felt a little bit uncomfortable about himself and wouldnt normally chose for himself. But then again, he was greatly relieved when Ermal actually did say he liked it.

*

*It felt.. nice. The whole evening was quite nice, Ermal had to admit, even with the unusual ambient.

Ermal is just honestly iconic in this fic. man enjoys fabrizios appearance, enjoys talking with him,  eating out with him, just spending time with him in general sooo much……and yet.

*

*

Fabrizio tilted his head and was it the candle light or something else, but a intriguing shine filled his eyes.“I’d know something sweeter than this.” In the next moment, everything turned upside down when Fabrizio suddenly took his hand and intertwined their fingers, his thumb gently brushing over the back of the younger man’s hand.

THE COURAGE THIS TOOK. THE NERVES WHICH WERE WRECKED.  Fab really just went “ok here we go balls to the wall now or never”

*

*

Chap2

“So, Fabrizio….Fabrizio likes me. Apparently.” It felt interesting to say it out loud. Ermal got a tingly feeling at the thought. So ..it was him who made Fabrizio blush earlier? Who made him nervous? And smiley?  Christ, he actually really wanted Ermal to like his outfit, didn’t he? A small smirk found its way on Ermal’s face. Who would have thought that he’d have Fabrizio Moro of all people wrapped around his finger.

erm: so im het

also erm: wow i really really like the fact that fabrizio is into me. its actually super exciting. kinda makes me happy in a way.

*

*

“Wait, what?! I should ask him out?!”“Yeah? Isn’t that something you want?”Is that something he- But that would imply that he’d want to pursue Fabrizio, his very male, masculine, manly friend Fabrizio who was definitely not by any chance a woman. To have a relationship with guy that was …..romantic… and oh sweet Mother of God, sexual?!“I- I- I don’t know.”

so yeah, to get to the bottom of this, when you’re in the process of realising your own …..non-heterosexuality, its just A Lot to take in.  I thought, realistically, that would just be a bit too much for Ermal to take in at that moment. He had to process the mere thought of “yes, you could have a romantic relationship with this guy, since he’s into you. Its absolutely a possibility”. When you’re conditioned to think “i can only ever date people of the opposite sex” all your life, it takes a bit of time to get accustomed to new possibilities.

And then theres the sexual aspect which is like, on Jupiter, for Ermal’s current state of mind.

*

*

Chap3

The video he currently was immersed in showed a slow-mo fight between a mongoose and a cobra that in all its intensity outdid any action movie in a heartbeat.

i remember watching that vid before writing that chapter and being mesmerised by it. u fucking go lil mongoose!

*

*

[Bizio]: sorry i cant this weekend

First, i just love the thought of him being saved as Bizio on Ermals phone. Second, the reason why he replied so late was because he was wrecking his mind about it. Should he go? should he not? god, the thought of seeing ermal excited him and yet scared him. nonononno. he’s trying to get Over Ermal. He needs space. he is not ready yet.

*

*

[Ermal]:Fabri!! Heard you’re coming up North! 😁 I have this excellent bottle of wine that a fan gave me the other day (don’t ask) so how about we open it at my place? I know you love a good wine 😉🍷

He couldn’t even slide the phone back into his pocket before it started buzzing. Surprisingly, the reply came almost instantly this time.[Bizio]:sorry no the schedule is pretty tight for me at the moment i dont think ill have much time in milan

i just image him getting the weirdest fucking fan gifts. also lmao the lightning speed with which fab replied. homeboy saw that wine would be involved and imemdiately thought “nononononono. worst case, my drunk ass might kiss him, god forbid. we are absolutely not gonna do that”

*

*

[Ermal]:So I’m flipping through the channels at home and there comes a baking show and I wouldn’t normally stop to watch but you know what they’re baking? Those creamy pastry things we had in Lisbon!

Now the idea about the Pasteis de Nata stemms from a real life event! During ESC 2018 i slept at a friends house and since the contest was held in Portugal we decided to cook something portuguese. Thats what we did. They fucking slap. Also, one of the best weekends ive ever had

*

*

However, this is how things continued as to all of Ermal’s messages, he’d receive rather uncharacteristically short replies. When he sent him photos he’d often not reply at all and even when he called Fabri didn’t pick.

Okay we have to image in WHAT kinda mental state Fabrizio is in that time. Boy is EMBARASSED to death. Then obviously, he is trying his hardest to get rid of this crush.  So he just isnt talking to Ermal at all. Which in turn makes him lonely and sad.  So then Ermal shoots him a message, sends him a picture and Fabrizio is immediately head over heels again. Which he shouldnt be. Bad Fabri. And the circle repeats itself.

*

*

Fabrizio who smiled sweetly at the host, who hugged her tightly, who joked with her and oh, whose eyes didn’t stick to her face but wandered more and more south.

Dude honestly, Fab was not flirting with anyone. He was just being nice as he usually is. And we all know he a lil bit sleazy so yeah, he might have looked down once or twice. but he really was not flirting. It was just Ermals affection-deprived mind going berserk.

Also that was the first time Ermal witnessed Fabrizio being affectionate with someone else. And the contrast to that cold shoulder he received was just the last straw for him.

*

*

“Why is he all smiley and lovey-dovey with her while he treats me as if I’m a war criminal?!” Ermal shouted the second the other line got picked up.“Uhm, hello? Maybe a ‘Good morning’ first of all? A simple ‘how are you doing, Sabina?’ would have been appreciated too.”

Damn bitch can ya greet ur sister first before going off smh

*

*

And would it have been really that bad if Ermal had just held on to his hand? Let Fabrizio gently stroke him with his thumb, maybe even squeeze back while Ermal’s finger draws circles over letters that covered the older man’s knuckles.It would have been nice and Ermal would have liked it.

I think he just needed to see what he was missing out to realise what he really has always wanted. If things were to go back to normal, he would have never made any realisations.

*

*

“Am I- Do I like Fabrizio?”

No, we dont ask what he is. Because thats for another time, a calmer time. Or maybe not at all. He doesnt know the answer to that question and its not important right now. All he knows is that despite it all, he likes Fabrizio.

*

*

The fact he was a guy was new, but those feelings involved weren’t.

I feel like this is just a very bisexual experience. At least to me it was. Its very confusing when u are genuinely attracted to the opposite sex, so you make the conclusion: you are obviously straight. Its not possibly that you are not-straight.  

Then u start feeling attraction to someone of ur own gender and its like “hmmm. Obviously this must be fake since we have established that Im genuinely attracted to the opposite sex ”

But the thing is..it aint going away. And then u think how you’d perhaps be down for sex, and perhaps be down for something more, and perhaps do all those nice things you would be doing with someone of the opposite sex.  

So yeah, its ..its really confusing and complicated to figure it out. And if you actually do have a feelings for someone it only makes matters more complicated ig

*

*

“Jesus, I really do like him. Me. Liking a guy.”

Again, once u made That Realisation, its just the WILDEST thing in the beginning. a complete NEW concept being applied to yourself.

*

*

“LISTEN CUT THE BULLSHIT I KNOW EXACTLY THAT YOU’RE HOME! OPEN UP OR I WILL STAND HERE ALL NIGHT I’M NOT FUCKING AROUND!” In addition to the knocking he now also started ringing the doorbell. He sure as hell wouldn’t move here until that door wasn’t opened.“I DONT GIVE A FUCK, I WON’T EVEN SLEEP AND NEITHER WILL YOU. I CAN GO ON FOREVER YOU HEAR ME, FABRIZIO MOBRICI?!”

Ermal is just unhinged in all my fics.

*

*

Epilogue

[Ermal💛]: You ready?

Fabrizio added that heart right immediately after Ermal left his house a week prior.

*

*

Ermal looked….cuddly.

So yeah we all know Fab isnt the keenest on fashion and shit. And i just though Ermal would want him to be as comfortable as possible on their date, so he was like “ay come casual” . and also, its sort of cute that Ermal lets Fabri see him so casual too, its sort of more private in that sense.

*

*

And those were still the mild surprises, let’s not start with the downright shock he felt when his brain started providing words like kissable, attractive, sexy and hot during lonelier nights.

i have a fic for those kinda nights too

*

*

“It’s not that far and God knows men your age need the exercise anyway.”

ermal just cant show affection like a normal person, he has to roast u even when he’s madly in love with u

*

*

What followed behind the colourful door was a small chaos. Literally. People constantly coming and going, with buzzing voices chatting in every corner. They made their way half through the rather crowded establishment, got greeted by a waiter who rushed past them, before they finally spotted a couple leaving, liberating two chairs for them.

SO YEAH. the restaurant. it is loosely based on a place here in Vienna. Its pakistani food too, its a buffet, its kinda chaotic like described in the fic. also u can pay as much as u want.

i just thought, yknow, its home made cooking and its kinda relaxed and chill and casual and has a certain liberal flair to it. and i thought yeah that has fabri energy we gonna use that. also their mango rice puddings fucking slap

*

*

Languages were not his forte, those belonged to Ermal, but Fabrizio ran through his options. It surely wasn’t French or Spanish, that he would at least recognise. German looked different too; they had those dots over their U’s and those curly B’s which allegedly weren’t B’s at all. Swedish? Danish? No. He’s been to Ikea often enough to know that his wardrobe wouldn’t be called Qershor. And Russian had different letters but maybe it was something similar to Russian?

Okay, so I’m a known Slut for Languages.  Fabrizio is not. I can pretty much recognise most European languages in written form at some point in a text. Fabrizio can not. Therefore writing this from the perspective of someone who really isnt into languages was kind of interesting and a bit challenging. I was just thinking ‘how would he recognise them when he isnt into them?’  And i think, in the end, i did it realistically.

*

*

“Is it like..Serbian? Croatian? Or something?” He mumbled while putting a piece of eggplant in his mouth but quickly realised the answer when Ermal almost spit out his water from laughing.“No, definitely not. I can guarantee you, it’s very much not Serbian or Croatian ‘or something’.” Ermal chuckled with a bright smile, obviously enjoying their little guessing game. “But you’re close. In a way.”

This is SO embarrassing but this whole language guessing game was just a setup to an inside joke I have with myself.  So, for those who don’t know, I speak Serbo-Croatian. And I study Slavic studies. The first things they tell you in the first lesson of the Slavic Linguistics course is “Please, for the love of God, PLEASE, dont say Albanian/Hungarian/Romanian is a slavic language”. Apparently many europeans assume these languages are because theyre surrounded by slavic countries. BUT TO AN ACTUAL SLAVIC NATIVE SPEAKER, the difference is immediately obvious and so its quite comical when people assume theyre related languages.   So i thought the reverse would be kinda funny to Ermal too.

*

*

“I can be anything the teacher wants me to be. A good student, a naughty student, whatever floats his boat…” He asked sultrily before winking at the man across of him whose higher brain functions seemed to have ceased at once and just gaped at him like a fish.

boys whole brain got fried when the sexiest man in italy started flirting with him. issokay, he was just shocked. fabrizio has never been flirty with him before, he’ll get used to it.

*

*

“I was just trying to give you the best date that I could.“At those words, the Roman frowned however."Wait, this was a date?!”

im just an asshole honestly

*

*

They giggled as they finally closed the gap between them going for a slow and deep kiss.

i just love them being all SOFT and in LOVE

*

*

“Erm, I- I have an instore tomorrow, I better be well rested.”His counterpart just huffed and raised an eyebrow.“So were you planning on staying up all night, huh?”

Fabs horn dog brain definitively went HmmmmMmm this is nice:) ..could get even nicer:)  but no fuck, i have work to do tomorrow

*

*

“Love how you immediately forget about a good night’s sleep once you have a tongue in your mouth.”“Fuck off.”

He just got carried away as if u were complaining ermal smh

*

*

"I bet on everything I have that your password is 'liberoanita1’ so yes, I actually can.”

Parents culture is just using ur children’s names as all your passwords and we all know Fabri is that kinda parent.

*

*

All in All, i also wanna talk about how the epilogue mirrors the first chapter, but in a more successful light.

Fabrizio dresses for Ermal - Ermal dresses for Fabrizio

fancy place - more casual place

They take the car - they walk

Fabrizio takes Ermals hand on the open for everyone to see - Ermal takes Fabrizios hand under the table, in private

They eat their dessert seperately - they eat theri dessert together

they fall out - they become closer, kiss

they dont talk - they plan the next date

anyway thanks for reading and thank uuuuuu for this ask julchen

[gretavanfleetlife]

Only Time Will Tell:

Chapter 8

AN: Hey guys, it’s sooo good to be back!😊Sorry for such a long wait for this chapter, I was on vacation. Anyway y’all are gonna need to pace yourself with this one, it’s double the usual chapter length and so much is happening!!! Love you all, thank you so much for your support, enjoy!💛🌻

Warnings: swearing

Word count: 4,700 words (lol oops)

Officially, it's been exactly one month since your best friends left Frankenmuth. You steadily raise a thick black pen up to your calendar and mark an 'X' through today's date. Your eyes skim through the rest of the month, landing on a date with a large red circle around it. You stare at it for a moment before gazing back at today's date and lifting your finger to count the number of days between today and the circled date. 12. You count again, hoping you counted one more than you should have. Still 12.

You toss the pen onto your desk and turn to skim through your record collection. Your fingers land on Bob Dylan, and you give a loose smile at the esteemed man on the album cover, who smiles back. Placing the needle carefully onto the record, you then cross your bedroom and collapse into a comfy, blue beanbag chair. You close your eyes and listen to the record spin. You remain perfectly still throughout the entire record, humming along to the dreamlike tune. You only open your eyes when you hear the record stop, the needle lifting itself upwards and returning to its resting place. You let out a heavy sigh.

"God bless Bob Dylan, a true legend," you smile, repeating Josh's timeless saying. You miss him terribly. You begin to wonder if he's been thinking about you as much as you've been thinking about him.

You lean your head back and stare mindlessly out the window. You consider sending Sam a text but quickly decide against it. Since he's left, you've been texting Sam almost every day, earning a harsh wave of guilt every time that you did.

The only other person you wanted to talk to more than Sam was Josh, but that wasn't going very smoothly either. You've tried calling Josh multiple times throughout the month, but each time the phone would loudly ring until you were eventually sent to voicemail.

You shift uncomfortably on the beanbag chair beneath you, feeling complete boredom rain over you. You've been bored all month without them, you just didn't know what to do. Only two weeks to go, less than that even. You know you'll survive for 12 more days, but their arrival seems to be taking an eternity.

You decide to try and call Josh again, dialing his number effortlessly. You listen eagerly to the phone ring against your ear. With each ring, your hope of an answer increasingly fades. The last ring chimes brightly as the phone gives a final effort to reach Josh before you're sent to his voicemail. You listen to you and Josh recite his voicemail that you recorded together years ago. A faint smile tugs at your lips, hearing Josh's joyful voice as well as your own encouraging you to leave a message at the tone. You sink further back into the chair with a sigh. He probably just doesn't have his phone with him again, as usual. Josh never likes to carry his phone with him, you recall optimistically.

You decide to try calling again in a few days, tossing your phone lazily onto the bed across your room. You try to remember a time before now that you've gone this long without talking to Josh, but you can't seem to think of one.

You miss him terribly. You miss watching the adorable pair of dimples appear on his face when you make him smile, how his eyebrows furrow when he concentrates on something, and how he always looks after you and puts you before himself.

You close your eyes, hoping with your entire heart that he's not ignoring you on purpose as you drift slowly out of consciousness.

-Sam's POV-

It's been a month since the last time I saw y/n, the last time I talked to her in person, and the last time I touched her. I'm certain that I would have gone crazy by now if it hadn't have been for our consistent texting. The one thing that keeps me from wanting to give up on the tour entirely and go back home is the promise she made me. She said she's gonna wait for me, and as long as that's true I'm willing to wait a little longer. I've been waiting for her for years, and although it still hurts, another couple weeks won't kill me.

I raise the bottle to my lips and take another long sip of beer, gazing up at my brother seated across from me. I need to know what's going on with Josh. The way he speaks to me is different now, although I can barely even explain it. He doesn't look me in the eyes as much when he talks to me, and our conversations are often much shorter than normal. When we're not recording or performing, he makes up excuses to be away from me, and they're fairly easy to see through. I've brought it up to Jake, and he seems to know much more about what's going on with Josh than I do. It's possible that Josh may have told him all about whatever's got him in this mood, although I have a pretty strong gut feeling it's just their twin telepathy thing. Either way, Jake hasn't told me why Josh is acting so weird, he's only told me not to bother him about it.

The four of us sit in our new trailer in peaceful silence. Josh and Danny share one couch while Jake and I lounge on the one opposite them. Josh is seemingly very busy writing music, scribbling down lyrics while he concentrates on the notebook gripped tightly in his hands. Jake downs the last of his beer with one swift raise of his arm. He stands up rather unsteadily from his seat beside me and announces that he's going to bed. Danny seconds Jake's actions, saying a quick goodnight and following him to the bedroom in the back of the cramped trailer. Calling it a bedroom is a stretch by any means, though, since its really only four pullout couches divided from the rest of the trailer by a thin curtain. Danny slides the curtain closed behind him and soon you hear both boys flop heavily onto their beds.

I steal a glance at my brother. Josh doesn't seem to notice that he's alone with me, or if he does he doesn't care. His focus doesn't break as he thoughtfully pours lyrics onto the busy page, his eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration. I relax backward into the soft couch, quietly taking another long sip of my beverage.

Another ten minutes go by and there hasn't been a single word exchanged between Josh and I. Normally, this is a scenario I have only ever dreamed of, causing me to feel slightly uneasy in the somewhat tense silence. I decide to let him finish writing without interruption, not wanting to distract him from writing a potential masterpiece.

Gentle snoring cuts through the silence of the trailer, coming from behind the far curtain. I can tell with complete certainty that the noise is coming from both Danny and Jake.

Looking up at Josh, I watch as he gently closes his notebook and places it on the coffee table along with his dull pencil. He leans back and sinks into the couch, lifting a hand to his mouth and softly tracing his lips in a steady contemplation. Josh's phone suddenly begins to vibrate on the small wooden table in front of him. His face falls into a frown as he leans forward to read the name of who is calling him this late at night. I watch his face fall as he reaches out, grabbing the phone and staring at it. Josh hesitates for a moment, and then slowly taps the screen. The vibrating stops and he shoves the phone quickly into his pocket. He leans further back into the couch and crosses his arms.

"Who was that?" I ask quietly, breaking through his dazed thoughts as he raises his head in attention.

"Mm?” he grunts, keeping his arms crossed while his fingers continue to gently trace over his lips.

"Who was that calling you," I repeat. Josh shakes his head and looks downwards.

"Oh just y/n, I'll call her back later," he says unconvincingly. He begins to stand up but I cut him off.

"Josh, can I talk to you for a minute?" I ask hopefully. Josh slowly descends back into his seat.

"Uh, sure I guess. What about?" he shrugs. I place my beer bottle on the coffee table next to the tattered notebook and lean forward, resting my arms on my knees.

"Well, first I wanted to know why you've been ignoring all of y/n's calls," I wonder, noticing Josh's shoulders tense in anticipation, "It's been, what, a month now? Have you talked to her once since we left home?" Josh stares steadily into my eyes, seemingly hesitant on how to answer.

"N-no, I haven't," Josh stumbles, glancing at the floor. His eyebrows furrow as his gaze returns to meet mine, "but that's really not any of your business, Sam. I strongly advise you to leave this alone." I give a small laugh, unable to prevent it from escaping my lips.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure whatever's going on is my business too. Listen, Josh, I just want to help you get over whatever this is," I say, motioning to him, "that's all."

"Get over what?" he prods, crossing his arms and leaning back.

"Well for starters, you're ignoring your best friend, avoiding your brothers, including Danny, and for a month you haven't held a conversation with me that's lasted more than five minutes. Should I keep going? Or do you have an idea of what's going on now," I ask sarcastically, frustrated at how difficult Josh is being. He knows damn well how different he's been acting. God, Josh can be so fucking annoying sometimes.

"You have no fucking clue what you're talking about Sam," Josh spits, pointing at me angrily.

"Oh yeah? Enlighten me," I respond crossing my arms and trying my best to appear relaxed. Growing up with Josh has taught me exactly how to get under his skin just enough to make him confess anything.

"Alright fine Sam, if this is what you want, then here it is," he begins, his eyes narrowing and the muscles in his jaw clenching. My tactics seem to have worked, as I notice Josh speaking faster, concentrating less on what is actually coming out of his mouth. However, what I hear next disrupts my relaxed facade.

"Before we left, y/n told me all about how she feels towards you. Obviously, she's had a rough past dating experience so I didn't want her to get hurt again. Especially by some ignorant prick who's about to leave on tour for a month and a half," Josh says firmly, his voice raising the more he proceeds. I sit unable to move, shocked at the words that come flying out his mouth. "So I told her," Josh pauses dramatically. The way Josh edges me on makes me furious, but I manage to hold back my raging emotions.

"Told her what?" I ask, knowing it's what he wanted to hear, but feeling too eager to refrain from asking.

"I told her not go after you," he admits. I feel my face turn hot with anger, "in fact I asked her to promise me that she wouldn't go near y-"

"And what did she say?" I cut him off. His face visibly saddens.

"She agreed to the promise," he remembers quietly, as my heart sinks low into my chest. Everything makes so much more sense now, but Josh isn't finished. "And she broke that promise, but you already knew that," he says, shaking his head as I lower my gaze to the floor. Josh was talking much more quietly now, the former anger replaced by sadness as he recalled what had happened. "And that isn't even the worst part," he continues, seemingly lost in the memory to care whether he was telling me too much, "what hurt the most was when she told me nothing happened with you, again, and again, and again, right to my face. It hurt me. It really did," he stares across the room at me, "is that what you wanted to hear?" I swallow hard, not wanting to meet his gaze. He runs his hands across his face with a heavy sigh. Josh attempts to stand up but I cut him off again.

"Josh wait, hear me out," he pauses briefly before returning to his seat across from me. I meet his sad eyes with my own, "listen, you know me, better than most people. Do you really think that I would treat y/n like shit?" I ask, silently hoping that he'll say no. Josh opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He quietly shakes his head, and I know that I've gotten through to him.

"Look, I'm sorry that had to happen. You can hate us both for being together, or try and break us apart," I continue, "but I love her, and that's all I'm really concerned about."

-Time skip: 12 days later-

-Y/N's POV-

You wake up with a start, excitedly checking your phone for the time and reading 10:53 a.m. glare brightly back. You went to bed extremely late last night, unable to fall asleep due to the anticipation of your friends coming home the next day. You throw your comforter off of you and swing your legs around to sit up on the side of your bed. You stretch happily and let out a loud yawn. You decide to make a trip to the record store to buy some 'welcome home' presents for the boys. You change quickly and hurry outside toward the black pickup truck parked in your driveway. You hop in the vehicle and back out of the driveway, turning on the radio to your favorite rock and roll station. You hear the ending of 'Sympathy for the Devil' fill the silence of your car. Once the song finishes, the upbeat voice of the radio announcer fills the car.

"Alright, Frankenmuth, up next is a new song by a local and upcoming rock and roll band, Greta Van Fleet!" You gasp loudly as a familiar guitar riff fills the air. You crank up the volume as loud as the speakers will allow, singing along loudly to 'Highway Tune' as you speed down the gravel road and enter the town. A huge smile graces your face as you pull into the driveway of Siren Records. You park the car but remain seated until the song finishes, giving an excited squeal as the song fades to silence and the radio announcer returns.

You happily hop out of your car and enter the record store with a new skip in your step. Your mind feels extremely crowded with everything that's going on, but you still know exactly what you want to get for each of the boys. You're as familiar with their individual music tastes as you are with the back of your hand. Searching through the endless bins of records, you find your gift for Josh with ease, proudly picking up Nashville Skyline by Bob Dylan and tucking it under your armpit. As you continue to skim through the dusty records, you feel a vibration in your pocket. You reach for your phone and see who's calling you.

"Oh my god," you mumble, your eyes wide with anticipation. You fumble with your phone, almost dropping it as you accept the call and raise it quickly to your ear, "hello?"

"Hey y/n, it's me," Josh answers, his voice sounding deep and raspy through the phone. You've missed the sound of his voice the most, his greeting bringing a genuine smile to your face.

"Hey, Josh-" you begin before abruptly cutting yourself off. By habit, you almost called him 'Joshie', which you know would not have gone well judging by the last conversation the two of you had. He clears his throat into the phone, pausing for a moment. You grip the phone tightly as you hear muffled mumbling in the background.

"So I just wanted to ask how it's going, uh, back home," he wonders aloud.

Placing down your record momentarily, you make your way outside of the record store so as not to bother anyone inside with your private conversation.

"Well, it was incredibly boring without you," you smile, "Frankenmuth has never been so quiet." Josh laughs into the phone, and you feel your heart begin to beat faster. The sound is like music to your ears, you've missed making him laugh. You picture familiar dimples gracing his cheeks as his mouth tugs into a wide grin.

"That sounds dreadful," he chuckles.

"It was," you agree, "so when do you think you'll be home?"

"Around another half hour or so, I'd say," he estimates, making your heart flutter at the thought of their arrival.

"Oh that's fantastic, see you then!" you smile, feeling exhilarated and over the moon with joy, "bye Joshie!" You clap a hand over your mouth as you realize what you just called him. You close your eyes, bracing yourself for his response.

"Bye y/n, see you soon," he laughs before hanging up. You let out a huge sigh of relief as you shove your phone back into your pocket, thankful that he didn't scold you for using his nickname again.

A hand taps you on the shoulder, breaking you out of your daze as you turn around to see who it is. Your eyes gaze upward to meet Ethan's, as you force a smile onto your face. You were hoping to avoid him until school started up again, not wanting to interact with him after watching him make out with another girl at Josh's party.

"Hey! It's good to see you," you lie. Being friendly seems to be the quickest way through this conversation.

"Yeah, you look great," he says, visibly checking you out as you cross your arms in front of yourself in a weak attempt to stop his wandering eyes.

"Thanks," you say, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. You go on to talk about what you both have been doing this summer for a while longer, as you patiently wait for your conversation to end.

"So, uh," Ethan proceeds warily, "did you happen to get my text? I sent it to you a while ago, like, a couple of days after Josh's party or something like that." You frown and shake your head.

"No, I must not have seen it. Sorry about that, I'm just never really on my phone that much," you reply apologetically. That was a total lie as well, as you had definitely noticed that you had received a few texts from him a while back, but decided not to answer.

"No worries, I just wanted to tell you that I think you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen," Ethan continues, taking a step towards you. He's standing so close to you now that you can almost feel his breath. You look down at your feet to refrain from rolling your eyes at his comment. You feel his hand lightly lift your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. He quickly closes the gap between you and leans in to kiss you. Before his lips can meet yours, you swiftly take a step away from him, stumbling backward. You weren't about to break another promise, the last one was bad enough. You look up at him with a look of insincere apology.

"I-I'm in a relationship," you hear yourself say. It seems like the easiest way out of the situation. His eyebrows furrow as he glares at you with confusion.

"Oh," Ethan sighs, "with who?" Your eyes widen and your heart begins to beat faster.

"Sam Kiszka," you blurt, feeling a familiar blush creep onto your cheeks as you realize what you just said out loud. You watch Ethan roll his eyes.

"Come on, really?" You frown and furrow your eyebrows as he shakes his head, "I'm way better looking than that guy." A sharp laugh escapes your lips as you smile up at him.

"Yeah right, have you seen Sam?" you say as Ethan's face falls, "you wish you even came close," you scoff, turning on your heel and walking back towards the record store. You swing open the door with a smirk plastered onto your face, finding where you left your Bob Dylan record and resuming your search.

After a few more minutes of skimming through the dusty bins, you settle on The Beatles' Revolver for Danny, Hot Rocks by the Rolling Stones for Jake, and none other than Van Morrison's Moondance for Sam.

After you pay, you hop back into your truck and check the time. The boys should arrive home any minute now, so you begin to drive back towards the Kiszka house. You want to see them as soon as you can, so you don't waste any time as you quickly speed down the dusty dirt road.

Pulling into their driveway, you park your car and wait for their van to drive in beside you.

Another ten minutes pass, feeling like an eternity before you see their van roll up to the house and park beside you. You jump out of your truck and run over to theirs just as Josh steps out of the passenger seat. In the moment, you forget all about your fight, immersed only in feeling ecstatic that Josh is home. You rush towards him and throw your arms around his neck. He doesn't hesitate to hug you tightly against himself in return.

"I missed you so fucking much," you say into his shirt as he grasps you tighter.

"I missed you too," he replies, pulling back while keeping his hands on your shoulders, "but don't think I'm not still pissed," he says with a smirk.

"I know, talk later, okay?" you ask hopefully. Josh smiles and nods.

"Okay," he agrees.

"What are we, chopped liver?" Jake says, causing you to tear your eyes away from Josh and walk towards him with your arms outstretched. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you in for a hug, rubbing your back gently.

"You didn't forget about me, did you?" he whispers in your ear, hugging you close to him.

"Of course not, are you kidding?" you grin. Suddenly, your hug is disrupted by Danny pushing Jake away from you.

"What the fuck," Jake chuckles, as Danny wraps his muscular arms around you tightly, forcing you into a soft hug.

"Shut up, it's my turn," he answers loudly as you laugh against his chest.

"It's good to see you, y/n," Danny beams as you hug him tighter in response.

He lets go of you and you turn towards Sam. Your heart flutters as you stare at him, admiring his seemingly flawless features. He looks even better than you remember as he closes the distance between you.

"Hey," he says awkwardly as you wrap your arms around his torso. He hugs you back, enveloping his arms around you and nuzzling his face into your neck. You close your eyes and smile into his chest in a state of total serenity.

"I missed this," he mutters quietly into your neck, too muffled for anyone but you to hear it, "I missed you." You feel butterflies swarm in your stomach and your heart skip a beat.

"I missed you too," letting out a content sigh and pulling out of the hug. You gaze at each other for a moment, both of you admiring the other. You hear Jake clear his throat, causing you to tear your eyes away from Sam and look towards the abrupt noise. The three boys were standing a few feet away, smiling at you and Sam. You blush, trying to think of a way to divert their focus from you two.

"Oh, I almost forgot, I have presents!" you say enthusiastically, heading to your car to hide your rosy cheeks. The boys exchange low murmurs of excitement in anticipation of receiving their gifts. You grab the records from your car and skip back to the group. You hand them out and smile as you watch each of their faces light up.

"No way!" Danny says as you hand him his. "Alright I've gotta hear this," he says as he gives you a quick hug and rushes inside to find a record player.

"Me too," Jake and Sam say in unison, hurrying to catch up with Danny.

"Thanks, y/n!" Sam calls while he runs into the house with Jake. You laugh at their reactions as you realize you're left alone Josh. You glance over at him, watching him study the album cover of his new record.

"You like it?" you ask as he quickly looks up at you with a wide grin, soft dimples appearing on his cheeks.

"You know I love it, thank you y/n," he says, but his smile soon fades, "can we go somewhere to talk?" You nervously scratch the back of your head.

"Of course," you reply. You follow him as he leads you to the backyard, each of you taking a seat on the porch steps overlooking the forest beyond their property. At first, neither of you speak, both of you gazing thoughtfully at each other not seeming to know where to begin. You both decide to break the silence and begin to speak at the same time. You apologize and Josh gives a small laugh.

“You can go first,” he speaks gently. You suck in a sharp breath and begin to explain yourself to him, apologizing every now and then. You tell him that although you may not deserve his trust, you are going to be nothing but honest with him from now on. Fiddling with your hands, you go on to say that you still like Sam, but you’re unsure what that would mean for everyone else.

You speak for a long time, words that you longed to say while Josh was gone pouring out of you without restraint. Josh stares attentively at you the whole time, listening to everything you have to say without interrupting. You finish speaking with a sigh and look up at him nervously. He smirks at you.

“Are you done?” he asks gently. You nod, swallowing sharply as he raises a hand to his face, tracing over his lips with his fingers softly. He gives a small sigh and looks to the ground, seemingly deciding where to begin.

“While we were gone, I talked to Sam,” he says steadily. Your heartbeat quickens and you anxiously bite your lip. “I gave it a lot of thought, and I realized that I haven’t been completely fair. I didn’t realize how much you mean to him,” he continues, your heart fluttering in your chest, “and come to think of it, if I loved someone as much as Sam loves you, I might have done the same thing.” He pauses, looking up at you with a small smile.

“And although I don’t think I’ll ever understand how you can find that freak appealing,” he says, causing both of you to laugh, “I do know that he’ll treat you right,” he smiles. You stand and move towards him, reaching down to him and hugging him tightly.

“I love you so much, thank you, Josh,” you grin, your eyes shut tightly as he accepts your embrace. He stands with you as you pull away, turning to walk with him back to the house.

“As long as you’re happy,” he grins at you, throwing his arm loosely over your shoulder. “But if you ever lie to me again-" he laughs, wagging a finger at you as you cut him off.

“I promise I won’t, under one condition,” you smirk, causing him to stop walking and look down at you with confusion.

“And what’s that?” he asks.

“I get to call you Joshie,” you say as he laughs loudly, mimicking your wide smile.

“Deal.”

Taglist: @aliensforleaders @kiszkaboi @greta-gvf @rogers-wristbands @obetrol-and-cocktails @strawberry-fieldsssss @gretavanqueen @spngvf @goodoldfashionedqueen @mutantpanda54 @allons-ytomyworld @diggrycedric @sammysgirll @rogerinascigarette @thaliamessi @pazmonkey @yesmynameisbelle @a-queen-and-her-throne @grapesarepurple @cherrrywitch @edgeofdrkness @livcappolella @ohsososophisticatedd @lunautica13 @oddolive @daydreamqueenjaycee @jenjenhill @neonslushies @fruityfreddie @izmo16 @gwilsbri @safarimama @thicchardy @mr-stank-i-dont-feel-so-dank @brian-mays-curls @literally-allidoislistentomusic 💕love you all💕

[hbhfquotes]

The recurring motif of the unnamed sea snail is a metaphor for loneliness and I hate that this fandom never acknowledges that. It’s all “cute snail baby uwu!!” or “smol bean! i want to hold him!” he is LITERALLY isolation incarnate god y’all are so dense

I really like this ask! I do think the snail is woobified by the fandom, or at the very least fans tend to neglect what he represents. As we all know, or at least those of us with critical thinking skills know, HBHF leans really hard into a lot of existentialist, absurdist, and nihilist thought. I think that the snail in particular is often viewed through a really nihilistic standpoint, and I don't personally agree with that. Of course, in general I enjoy absurdist philosophy a lot, so my own biases are almost certainly a factor. I'll be discussing relatively surface-level absurdist philosophy here, as to keep this post relatively accessible (and for my own sake given that I was a chemistry major before I dropped out, so I'm not really an expert on philosophy by any means. Tunny, I believe it was you who majored in philosophy? Feel free to create more coherent points if you wish, haha); namely The Myth of Sisyphus by Albert Camus, given that it is one of his most obviously absurdist pieces of writing. Sisyphus, a character originating from Greek Mythology, is condemned to roll a boulder up a mountain for all of eternity. Every time he brings it to the top of the hill, it simply rolls back down, and Sisyphus walks down the mountain and rolls it back up again. Camus compares this to the average modern life at time (1942), and it still holds up to this day. As Sisyphus rolls his boulder, mankind works aimlessly, often doing menial tasks, the same thing every single day. Camus states that "...one must imagine Sisyphus happy." and how could that be? How could one be happy, doing the exact same task over and over, endlessly, confined to his fate? Contentedness has to be found in the absurdity of it; he will do this futile, aimless task, over and over and over. There is no changing anything. Of course, there is no hope in that, no chance things will get better for him, nothing else. And when you have nothing to long for, no hope, you can find contentedness in that. That is the life of essentially every human on Earth; we wake up, go to work, we do the same thing we do every day at work, we go to bed, and the cycle repeats. Of course there is nuance in this; I don't exactly have a consistent schedule on account of running from the law. I don't do the same thing every day in the most literal sense, sure, but I sort of do. I still do tasks that will ultimately amount to nothing and only have the value that I have ascribed them, and the only resolution to anything will be death; and yet I find happiness in the absurdity. Now, to tie this to the sea snail. The sea snail doesn't do anything important in the show in terms of the plot; he doesn't talk to anyone, he doesn't interact with the world around him besides eating algae, he doesn't even have a name. No friends, no family, nothing to cling to and no hope of anything. He is alone, resigned to doing ultimately aimless things. Sure, he consumes algae, and one day he will be consumed by some predator; this benefits the ecosystem in which he resides, which ultimately benefits the whole planet. But none of that has any inherent value in the meaningless, godless universe in which we reside. As humans we place value on it, sure, but there is no intrinsic worth to you or I or Earth or the universe itself. It just is. And yet, the snail is content; the snail is, to some extent, happy. He embraces the absurdity, that all he does will one day be nullified by death, that none of what he does matters, that his fate is set in stone. He finds joy in his own life, even with the absolute knowledge that none of it has true value. His life and it's transience are a core part of who he is. It's remarkable how the writers of the show manage to convey that, even with the sea snail never speaking a word. He is loneliness, he is isolation, he lives with this knowledge, he embraces the absurd, and he is content.

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