#I want to try to finish this book by October

[livvyofthelake]

do you even know we’ve got a new cassie book this month. next week even. do you even care.

[malusokay]

becoming a better student ₊˚⊹♡

Prepare for your classes ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Wake up on time. We don't want to be stressed first thing in the morning, right?

Eat breakfast. So you will be able to better focus in class.

Assigned reading and homework. Make sure you are prepared for your classes!! :)

Review your notes. Going through some of your flashcards before class is really helpful.

Check your bag and charge your devices. Ensure you have everything you need: Books, homework, chargers, pens, water...

In Class ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Listen and pay attention. You can save yourself a lot of trouble by simply paying attention, trust me.

Take notes. My favourite note-taking method is the Cornell method; I can make a separate post on that!! <3

"Quick notes." If you struggle with note-taking, try taking quick and messy notes. You can clean them up once you get home!!

Engage. If you have any questions or don't understand something, make sure to ask!! Most teachers really appreciate students who speak up. :)

No distractions. Turn off your phone, no chatting, you'll be glad...

After class ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Finish your assignments as soon as you can. Go home, put on a cosy outfit, have a snack, and get working!! <3

Prepare flash cards. A great way of reviewing your notes, too... :)

Update your Study schedule. Write down any assignment and due dates, reading you must do, upcoming tests, etc...

Clean up your notes. Review them, highlight the important parts, and maybe even make them look cute!! :)

Don't avoid topics/Subjects you dislike. I know it is tempting, but you can't avoid them forever, so you might as well get them done

Structure and routine ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Goals and Priorities. Keep them realistic and manageable.

Time management. Having a set schedule makes studying less overwhelming; it takes some discipline but is so worth it!! <3

Develop a routine. Figure out what works best for you; I prefer studying in the morning or at night.

No "zero days". Even if you can only do a bit, do it!! NO. ZERO. DAYS.

Remember your goals. Dreams will keep you motivated; remind yourself of what you're working for!! <3

Self-care and balance ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Don't forget about your hobbies. You need to do things that make you happy, so make time for those things!!

Maintain a balanced diet. I know chocolates and junk are tempting, especially when you are busy studying all day, but you're not doing yourself any favours.

Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. 8 Hours. Non-negotiable.

Exercise regularly. Even if it's just a walk, put on some headphones, listen to music, and give yourself a break. <3

Care for your social life. Reach out to your friends, make plans, and keep in touch; a good work-life balance is critical!!

Romanticising ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Study dates. Meet up with your friends at a cosy cafe, discuss your work, and have some fun!! Studying doesn't have to be all serious all the time ;)

Silly Pinterest boards. Visualising your goals will help you find motivation!!

Music to set the mood. I have a bunch of playlists on my Spotify that might help!! <3

Cosy sweater and candles. The cosy Rory Gilmore vibes haha...

Getting a coffee before class. A little treat before things get serious... Simple pleasures, you know? :)

Babes, The hiatus is OVER, and I'm finally back!! I got a lot of asks on studying, burnout, and school in general, so I thought, why not start off with a little student guide?? I Hope October has been kind to you, and school hasn't been too overwhelming (though I know it, unfortunately, has been for many of you), and I'm glad to finally be back!! <33

As always, Please feel free to add your own suggestions and tips in the comments!!

✩‧₊*:・love ya ･:*₊‧✩

[imsofreakingtired]

Sevika x mascfem!reader headcanons 💙

(haven't seen anything like this on tumblr before so i needed to be the change i wished to see in the world 😔)

artist is @/heehawweewaa on twitter

~~~

spotting her at the gym only to get distracted by her thighs

(and she in turn getting distracted by your abs)

thrifting together, she has a hawk eye for exactly the type of oversized band t shirts you like

her being confused as hell by your skincare products (she uses a 3-in-1 but her skin is fucking flawless)

"why is this shampoo in a petri dish" "sevika my love. those are moisture pads"

her making fun of how short you are but following you around in bookstores in case there's a book on a top shelf you want

you making fun of the way she always hits her head on low hanging stuff (you kiss it better after)

listening to her nerd out over some car mechanic thing (you dont know what the fuck the difference is between a straight and inline engine cylinder but at this point you're too afraid to ask)

her listening to you rant about the gay subtext of the classic novel you're reading (she tried to read it but got bored by the monologues of "a pathetic straight white man")

begging her to try on one of your baseball caps with some shit like "MILF" printed on the front (acts like she's annoyed but you saw her smirking at herself in the mirror) (baby knows she's finee)

walking in the park together and she swings you on her arm like a baby monkey

the foyer is just a mess of doc martens and converse (yours) and her timberlands boots

sevika gay panicking over you on the days you decide to put on lip gloss

"do we have to go out? with you looking like that?" "i know sevi, try to control yourself"

and then you absolutely losing it on the days she wears a tux

"call me a bond girl the way i-" "no."

watching gay shows like Killing Eve and yelling at the tv together like dads during a football game

(neither of you know how the show ends because you started making out in the middle of it and one thing leads to another and,,,)

sevika running her fingers through your long hair after a shower (she says it relaxes her)

you tousling her short hair like she's a puppy (you are the only person she allows to do this)

beer cans and monster energy drinks in the fridge

she can cook like a 3 star michelin chef, you can make successful fried eggs on a good day

"baby, just sit down and let me do it" "i swear i didn't burn it last time!"

sevika picking you up and tossing you over her shoulder to carry you to bed when you're exhausted from working late

"i need to finish this in three days-" "will you finish it? because it looks like it's finishing you"

sevika losing a bet and having to let you put eyeliner on her (jokes on you, the second you see her in eyeliner you're a gay puddle on the floor)

(wheezing) "babe get up" "HGNNNGGGHH NOOOO what have i DONE" (still dying from laughter) "whats wrong with you" "you're too hOTTTTTT!!!!!!"

you being sevika's impulse control on her endless woodworking ambitions

"you are not building a raft in our living room!" "you say that now, but what if there's a flood and we could be the only ones safely out while everyone else is waiting to be evacuated."

sevika wearing your hoodies and you taking pictures because it's fucking adorable how small they look on her

watching something sad and comforting her when you hear her sniffling (she swore she never cries at movies)

cackling together outside the supermarket after the cashier lady calls sevika your husband

she keeps getting cuts on her hand that she doesn't feel and never remembers how she got them but she likes how you fuss over her and bandage her fingers

she is endlessly confused by your jorts

"why can't it be jeans or shorts?? like pick one" "yk you like how i look in them mama" "..."

also is confused by why you Need to wear Only Flannels during the first week of October but she's supportive <3

grumbles that she misses your hair after you get a wolf cut but then you catch her staring at you when she thinks you're not looking with the softest most lovesick puppy dog look on her face

sevika making rings and necklaces for you out of scrap metal but she hates making a big deal out of giving gifts so she just leaves them at random places where she knows you'll see them

you ask her about them ("sevi did you make this??") and she'll quickly be like "no idk where the hell that came from" and then not a minute later she'll be like "...do you like it?"

yea......sevika x mascfem reader.....

[thestrangepoet]

The Ninth Life | The Magnus Archives One Shot

Based on @ultramarinaa's Cat!Martin AU, and not upon @coworkerjonathan's soul-destroying tragic version of it. If you want that version, it's here.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Buttocks-clenchingly sweet fluff. 

DISCLAIMER: I, once again, wrote this in an hour and haven't proofread it. Forgive the typos and any “first draft” vibes. 

──── •✧• ────

[CLICK] 

Oop, yup, it’s on! Right, erm…This is Martin Blackwood, Archival Assistant at the Magnus Institute. I thought it would be a good idea to—

[A VERY LOUD, VERY RASPY HISSING CUTS MARTIN OFF]

[A LONG, WEIGHTY PAUSE FOLLOWS; SOMEONE IS BEING GLARED AT]

What? I-I mean, given the absolute palaver we just went through, shouldn’t we record what happened and how we fixed it? 

[SILENCE FOLLOWS. BUT MARTIN EVIDENTLY GETS HIS ANSWER]

Exactly! Right, so…ah-hem. This is Martin Bla—

[ONCE AGAIN, A LOUD HISS]

What? What is wrong with—No, Jon, you’re going to hit the—!

[CLICK]

[CLICK]

[MARTIN RUFFLES SOME PAPERS, THEN EXHALES LOUDLY THROUGH HIS NOSE. WHEN HE SPEAKS THIS TIME, IT’S SOMEWHAT TAUT]

Statement of Martin Blackwood, Archival Assistant at the Magnus Institute, London, regarding an encounter with a feline-based Leitner book called The Ninth Life. Recorded by subject, October 17th, 2017.

Happy now? 

[LOUD PURRING NEAR THE TAPE RECORDER SIGNIFIES THAT MARTIN HAS INDEED DONE A PASSABLE JOB]

Good, good. Right, oop! Yeah, okay, you can…sit on my lap while I record this. That’s not…that’s not weird at all. Knowing you’re…you’re Jon. 

…You could at least sit like a cat, Jon. No, no, no, don’t get the claws out, it’s fine! Sit how you want! Heh…K-keeping an eye on me, hmm? While I record? Oh, r-right, yeah, ‘Get on with it, Martin’, noted!

So…about ten weeks ago, I came across a book while tidying through some of the old statement boxes. I’m not sure why it wasn’t in the library or in Artefact Storage, but I suppose that’s a mystery for another time. A-anyway, I had a flick through to try to figure out what it was. Could have just been a normal book, you know? E-especially since it wasn’t put away properly, I mean, really, that’s a health and safety risk that wasn’t my fault, and—Ow! Claws! 

R-right, ‘Stay on the subject, Martin’, loud and clear…

Where was I? O-oh, right. So I took it through to the break room, sat down with it, flicked through, read a few…err, well, ten pages to be precise, and basically, it was written like an old fairy tale. Something about a man who turned into a cat to get away from everyone and…W-well, what I’m trying to say is that it didn’t seem like a Leitner! 

I’d probably have finished reading the whole thing, but the microwave dinging made me jump and look up. No one usually uses the microwave outside of lunch hours, but Jon actually makes cups of tea by microwaving mugs of water and then—Ah-ah-ow! N-no, I’m not getting claw-bullied into not telling people the heinous way you make tea, Jon! 

Right, right, fine! Yes, so, microwave dings, I look up from the book, and…I drop the book. And I drop to the floor, a-and the book’s suddenly huge, and there’s Jon, and he’s looking at me, and…

…and I was a cat. I-I-I guess Jon hadn’t noticed me in the break room before putting his mug in the microwave, because he didn’t realise I was me. Next thing I know, I’m being picked up, held over his shoulder, petted and cooed at and—Owwww, claws, claws! Right, okay, no, no one can know Jonathan Sims has a heart, right you are! 

E-erm, so…Yeah. Panicked a bit. I-I tried to make it obvious to the others that it was me, but they just didn’t cotton on. And I couldn’t read the book to figure out if the ending would tell me how to turn back. O-or if I even would turn back. Honestly, in any other situation, I-I might have been really terrified, but it’s hard to keep worrying when people are suddenly stroking you and giving you all this affection. Heh, Jon even named me Champion. 

But, right, I-I really needed to turn back into a human. You know, as lovely as it was to be liked by everyone, I figured, well, it’s deeply unprofessional to turn into a cat at work, isn’t it? And I really didn’t want to be written up for unauthorised absences when I was technically in the room? 

It took a while – I don’t know who moved it, but the book had gone when I managed to slink back into the break room, had to wait for someone to open the door for me, you see – but I eventually found The Ninth Life again. 

It took ages to drag it over to Jon’s desk. And even longer for him to stop laughing and telling me what dedicated little chap I was. He picked up the book though, and I got so excited that someone would finally realise a Leitner was in play that I jumped up onto his desk and…

…and I…erm…I knocked his cup of tea over the book. 

I could feel my heart sinking. What if I’d ruined it? What if the answer was all smudged up? Jon could tell I was upset, and he started trying to pet me and calm me down, mopping up the tea and everything. Took a while before he got back to the book, and, well…the bookplate had been smeared by the spilt tea, I guess, because he didn’t see any mention of Leitner at the front. He started reading the book, and I tried to nudge him to read the back pages first, to get to the answer before the book could turn him into a cat, but he, erm…well, he read it. Five pages, we think. 

And there he was. 

One minute, Jon’s at his desk, the next, there’s a little black cat with too many scars sitting in his chair. 

Well, after he’d stopped hissing, running around the room – Tim thought he had zoomies, ha ha! – and bapping me on the head every time I got close, he realised who I was. 

And then, he bapped me on the head again. 

So. We were both cats! And it’s so funny, because in the office, Tim and Sasha and me, we all say how Jon gives off major black-cat energy? He’s like this poor wet cat in human form, and now that he was a cat, and it turned out, he is…w-well, he’s not very good at being a cat? 

[A LOUD HISS – EVIDENTLY, MARTIN HAS FORGOTTEN JON IS SITTING THERE]

Don’t hiss at me! You know it’s true. I mean, look, you’re literally sitting in my lap now like a human. Cats don’t do that, Jon! It looks weird! 

R-right, okay, let’s, erm, get on with the story – ah, statement, statement! – before I get scratched again. 

S-so, right, Jon wasn’t really getting the hang of being a cat. He kept clambering up onto desks to type on keyboards, trying to tell Tim what was happening. He wouldn’t even jump up onto the desks, he would literally shimmy up the leg like he was climbing a tree. And, yeah, he doesn’t sit in your lap like a cat, all curled up, no no, he sits…like a person sits. So I figured actually, this was pretty good, someone had to realise something was up with this cat that just wasn’t catting. 

But no. No, no, Tim just laughed and named Jon Skrunkly and got on with his day. 

[A LONG, LOW MIAOW OF CONTEMPT IN THE BACKGROUND]

Nooo! You’re not skrunkly at all, Jon! You’re a very handsome little kitty!

[A HISS]

Right, right! Back to work! Erm, yeah, so, there I am, trying to teach Skr–err, Jon how to act more like a cat. Not because it would help get us back to normal, but because I was worried? He kept falling off stuff, not landing on his feet…jumping and missing things…He was having a really hard time, and I figured if we were stuck like this indefinitely, it might help to, you know…teach him a bit? 

And then, one day, he just…vanished. I wandered in one morning from the canteen, ‘cause Sasha had snuck me a plate of milk, and I couldn’t find Jon anywhere. Tim realised pretty quickly that something was up, that I wouldn’t settle down, and then he noticed Skrun–err, Jon, was missing. 

It took days for me to sniff him out. Which is…a really weird thing to say out loud. On record. Erm. I sniffed my boss out. But it’s insane, as a cat, the difference in senses, a-and to be honest, my eyesight was dreadful because I obviously couldn’t wear my glasses. A-anyway, sniffed him out, and realised he had somehow fallen into the tunnels through the trapdoor? Which is weird as well, ‘cause the trapdoor is always closed. No one would have opened it? 

[ANOTHER LOW MIAOW, BUT THIS ONE SOUNDS STRANGELY LIKE SKRUNKLY IS TRYING TO SPEAK – IT ALMOST SOUNDS LIKE HE’S SAYING ‘SASHA!’]

I know, Jon, you’ll tell us when you, erm, get back. 

So, now I knew where he was, I went into full hyperkitty mode. I was zooming around, miaowing, pawing, jumping on Tim, jumping at Tim, launching myself off bookshelves, you name it! Somehow, I managed to get the message across, and Tim went to open the trapdoor. 

I��I hate going into the tunnels. I really, really hate it. But Jon was down there, and as far as we knew, he’d been down there with no food and water for days! So, down I jumped, with Tim clambering after me telling me to slow down. I kept sniffing, and it was actually pretty easy to find him after that! 

There he was, curled up and shaking near a wall, and I ran towards him, miaowing my head off so he knew we were coming to the rescue, and…

And I…changed back. Right there. Just pop! There I was. 

Tim, erm…Tim screamed. Jon hissed and nearly ran away. It was chaos, and…I’m actually surprised all three of us made it out. Especially with Jon going wild on Tim and clawing him every time he tried to pick him up. What was that about, anyway, we were helping you!

[ANOTHER GRUMBLING MIAOW – DID SKRUNKLY SEE SOMETHING IN THE TUNNELS? OR SOMEONE? WAS HE TRYING TO TELL THEM?]

We got back up to the office, Jon in tow, and now that I could speak, Tim, Sasha and I managed to hash out a theory. 

Basically, we figure that there are a lot of Leitner books that kind of do different things depending on how much you read of them. S-so we have one on record, A Disappearance, if you read one line, you disappear for a bit. But, if you read the whole book, you disappear from the world for good. 

I read ten pages of The Ninth Life, and I was a cat for ten weeks. Checks out! So we reckon Jon read about five pages, and it’s been three weeks, so…two weeks of Skrunkly to go!

Right, think that’s it. Yeah! So, erm, if you’re looking for a cure for The Ninth Life, just enjoy your time as a kitty and wait it out! U-unless you read the whole book, in which case, erm…I-I really hope you enjoy your life as a cat. 

End recor–Ow! What did I miss off this time? 

[SEVERAL LIGHT THUDS SOUND]

Why are you pawing the book, Jon? I…oh. Right. 

Erm…I think Jon wants it on record that, erm…the book is eleven pages long. And…and I read ten pages. 

[THUD-THUD-THUD!]

Yes, yes, all right, you microwaving your tea saved me from an eternity as a cat! That does not mean I am going to let you continue to ruin perfectly good cups of tea like that!

[A LOUD MIAOW OF PROTEST. MARTIN SIGHS]

Recording ends. 

[CLICK]

[coldilikeit]

Yandere Batfam x Camp half-blood (Neglected reader)

DC x Pjo

Part 6

This had like a huge timeskip

___________________________

It's been 3 months Since you decided to stay at camp

It's been so good, the camp is quiet, since it's school year right now, it's currently October, the weather outside doesn't really affect the camp but it's chilly, the good kind

Percy and Annabeth have been sending you photographs of their schools, since you can't go to school anymore

Because you're "dead"

Still even if you're not studying, no way you're gonna let them get ahead of you, so you spent an entire day carving an Athena statue

You got a bunch of food from the Cornucopia as offerings

Then you pray "Lady Athena, may you please guide me, I need books on grade 6 studies.... Please?"

For good measure you decided to place a drachma on the statue

"I- I want to study... And uhhh, I've never really prayed to a god before- I mean what kind of god would - okay going off topic, I want to learn because I don't want to feel helpless anymore, I've been there, never again, so if- you could help me... I'd appreciate it, but you don't have to if you don't want- sooo... Yeah I guess, do I say amen? Um bye"

"didn't think a child of Aphrodite would ever be interested in learning"

"AH!" You yelp as a voice appears behind you

" 'Thena can you not sneak up on children, that's fucking creepy"

You tilt your head "Mr. D???"

"kid next time you want to study just bother Chiron, there's legal procedures to this kinds of things" he groaned

You were about to apologize but then Athena spoke up for you "Nonsense, if she wants an education is it not reasonable to get it from the best?"

She turns to you "kid, what do you want to know about?"

With great determination you say "I want to know everything I can manage to learn"

"really?" She smirked

"Yes. Whatever you can teach me, how to use an abacus, what body part do you stab someone to kill them in an instant, how to crochet, whatever you can teach"

"yeah while you two are at it can you teach her how to undo my punishment" Mr D opens another new diet coke

______________________________

"Gods- Wait crap" you collapse on the floor

4 fucking hours now, she's been training you for four hours, Mr D had finished 55 diet cokes watching and laughing at you

Out of every fight, she wins, of course she does, out of every train, sparring, archery and everything she made you try

"new rule, all you have to do is make sure this cloth touches me, whether it be a momentary graze or wrap it around me, it just needs to make contact, and I will try to push you out of bounds" she says pulling out a blue cloth and a bunch of rocks and twigs form a square

You didn't think it'd be easy, at all, she'd dodge and dodge and dodge

You lunge at her and change direction to where she's going, but she flies instead

The sun is going down, and Athena flies down and kicks you near the bounds

"AHHH! ow! Shit!" Your form looks disfigured, your arm is under your body and it doesn't look good

You cry, tears coming out as you try to not scream "I fell the wrong way, I-" you sob on the ground

"Shit, Thena what did you do?!?" Mr D stands up

"I'm sorry- I didn't, help please...." You scream in pain

Athena teleports to you and kneels, she turns to Mr D "I'll call on Apollo to heal her arm and-" she stops talking

She stops talking as she feels a silky texture on her cheeck

With wide eyes she looks at you, and your smug smile, that stupid smile

"I finally won against you" you stand up and dust yourself off

You can't beat the goddess of wisdom, but- you can trick her

"huh..." She says

Mr D spikes his diet coke on the ground "(name) go fuck yourself"

___________________________

I'm about to take a test rn, it's mathematics 😀

Anyways enjoy the chapter:3

@delias-stuff @sadslasher13 @ellaprime7 @wpdarlingpan @mountvesuvu @chinxinsomnia @nathaly36 @vanessa-boo @bat1212 @ceramic-raven

[dollyhao]

succubus!reader x nerdy!ellie

summary: ellie is desperate to lose her virginity that has been looming over her her whole college career.

toni’s note: i made it guys! i promised this back in october and it’s the end of january… but it’s here.

cw: this is pure smut, no plot at all lol. 1.8k words

༊*·˚

ellie has not a single regret about what she’s about to do. ellie is in college and is still a virgin, at this point she didn’t think she’d ever lose her virginity. until one of her friends joked that she should summon a sex demon, that it was ‘the only way she’d get laid’. it wasn’t meant to be taken seriously, but desperation makes people do crazy things.

she read in an old book she found in the library about one in particular, the book had a picture of you drawn in and ellie thought you were absolutely gorgeous and perfect for her. what was the worst that could happen?

ellie lights the candles around the circle she made on her bedroom floor. she chanted your name 5 times like the book told her, then after 20 seconds the candles all blew out and a gust of purple smoke floats in the air. you pop out the smoke looking even more perfect than the book describes.

“who dares summons me?” you say in this slow sensual voice that ellie feels course through her body. you look around the room you were summoned in before your eyes rest on a short girl with black rimmed glasses on her face. ellie is looking at you with those pretty green puppy eyes, mouthed formed into an o shape.

“a girl? well thats new,” you walk closer to ellie sizing her up. “your cute… tell me what you want from me.” “i-i,” ellie is literally speechless. shes staring up at you, the lady demon whos probably gonna take her virginity. you have long horns on your head and a cute skinny tail, but the best part is that your completely naked. breast out in the open, nipples standing at attention, nothing covering your cunt and it’s just begging for ellie to drop to her knees to taste you.

“did you call me here to waste my time?” you ask her putting your hands on your hips with a quirked brow. “no no! i-i want you to take my virginity.” ellie says playing with her fingers. you hum, “ok ill do it. but you have to sign a contract-” “yes yes! anything!” you spawn a paper out of thin air, “dont you wanna know what your agreeing to?” but by the time you finish your sentence ellie has already signed the paper.

after she is done signing, the paper disappears. “i wanna let you know i-i’ve never done this before. well i almost did in my fourth year of highschool but that was a missed opportunity-“ ellie’s nervous rambling was cut off by you running your hands over her shoulders and ripping her shirt open exposing a blue sports bra underneath. ellie gapes at you, suprised at the sudden intrusion. you push the ripped shirt off her shoulders. “do you wanna touch me?” you say voice softening seeing how nervous the poor girl is.

she nods vigorously trailing her hands up your tummy to your breast. “you can touch me however you want.” you say smirking at her. ellie feels like she can hear your voice inside her head, a slow sensual voice with a rasp that can only be described as wild and sexy. she feels a rush of arousal pulse through her as she pushes you to lay on her bed. your eyebrows shot up, you feel her start to kiss down your stomach swirling her tongue around your navel before her head dips between your legs.

you buck slightly when you feel her inexperienced tongue flicking all around your cunt. she takes your clit into her mouth rolling and flicking her tongue all around it (like they do in the videos she watched before the summoning). you can feel her breathing heavy against you. she pushes two experimental fingers into you feeling how wet and tight you were. you taste sweet like honey and something else addictive that ellie can’t name, ellie suspects its part of your demon powers.

you grab her hair squeezing your legs around her head trying to contain your moans, no human has ever made you feel so good. you might just… like this girl. she’s cute and gentle. and she looks at you like your aphrodite instead of a sex demon.

you feel yourself about to cum when you push her head from between your thighs. ellie is looking at you, chin covered in your juices looking pussy drunk with her glasses fogged up. “are you ok?” she asked you, looking genuinely concerned. you want to coo at her but instead you flip her over taking place in between her legs this time. you peer up at her with this look that looks like you want to devour her. you pull down her sweat pants and underwear licking your lips at her slick pussy.

you give her clit a sweet kiss before using your thumb to rub circles on it. ellies moans out loud when she feels your abnormally long tongue enter her. your tongue is reaching places her fingers couldnt possibly reach. she chants you name which only encourages you to move your thumb faster on her clit. ellie grabs your horns and pull before locking her ankles together keeping you still as she grinded on your tongue feeling the knot in her stomach ready to explode. you let out a groan as ellie tugs on your horns. “im so close.” she says before her body goes rigid.

you pull away from ellie, swallowing her essence, seeming to have had an energy boost. “is there anything else you wanna try?” you say rubbing up and down her legs. she nods getting off the bed grabbing a box from under it. in the box are sex toys but ellie pulls out a girthy purple strap. “oh,” you say eyes widening, “you wanna use that on me?” you ask with that same sensual tone from the beginning. “yes.. please”

she puts the strap on before she feels you push her down on the bed straddling her. you hover over her dick grabbing it and running it up and down your slick cunt. “you want me to fuck you?” you say placing a hand on her chest still hovering over her. ellie nods her head grabbing your hips panting in anticipation, “yes please…” “ask nicely,” you say leaning down licking and biting her ear. “please fuck me. please.” ellie says bucking her hips. the tip of her dick pushes into you, you moan sitting completely on ellie’s cock.

you are bouncing and riding with no sign of slowing down. ellie is running her hands over your body, transfixed at the way your breast bounce as you ride her. when she sits up, she wraps her arms around your waist, holding you close to her as she kisses your neck and chest leaving marks.

you grab ellie’s face, tilting her head to the side so you can have access to her neck. you use your tongue to lick and suck marks into her neck until you get a little too excited and nick her neck drawing blood. ellie let’s out a groan followed by a guttural moan, completely dazed. you lick at her neck getting all the blood up before humming and planting a kiss on the mark.

ellie is gripping your ass meeting your thrust with her own desperate ones. “are you close?” ellie asked desperately, leaning to kiss you again. “very.” you coo out, kissing her using that long muscle of yours, twirling your tongue around hers.

you let go and ellie is staring in awe at the beautiful look you made while cumming. she lays back on the bed, exhausted and satisfied. when she feels your very sharp nails trail up her stomach and latch at her sports bra causing it to rip as if it was being cut by scissors. “more.” you whisper with a wide grin.

“what?” ellie asked wide eyed. “i want more. i think im going to keep you.” you whisper in her ear.

༊*·˚

I, Ellie Williams, am allowing succubus y/n to take on a human form and co habitat with me. I will fulfill her needs of sex so that she may stay by my side and use me for a long as she wills.

signed: ellie williams

[deesseshesca]

PAC: Why does your partner find u irresistible ?  (18+)

October is about to get real spooky....

Good morning pretty soul ! I am so excited ... IS OFFICIALLY KINKTOBER ! For the whole month of October on my Ko-fi and Tumblr we are getting real nastyyyyyy! Everyday I will be dropping a reading. Whether it be here or on my ko-fi ... if you don't want to miss anything you can purchase my A.N.G.E.L soul tribe for the audio+moodboard+written PAC OR B.A.B.Y. soul tribe for my written only + moodboard PAC.

IS NOT ALL. Until October 7, just to finish up the love edition I started, you can purchase a reading for your future lover for 20$. ANDDDD my SEX Douala are now on sale for 25$

Rules and Disclaimer 

I am the type of tarot reader to say as it is. Nothing is sugar coated but everything is sent with good intention. If you are not ready to face some truth, you should vagabond somewhere else.

MINOR DON'T INTERACT WITH THIS POST 

MINOR DON’T READ THIS POST 

PILE 1 

9 cups (revere), 10 wands (reverse), Hermit (reverse), Star (reverse)

They find you irresistible because you are boring. Y’all remind me of the beige character in Lazytown. You are probably the mother/father of your group of friends. You rather stay inside than to be the life of the party. You prefer being in a comfy spot with your fav blankie reading a book or even watching anime. Also you don’t mastubate and there is no dark reason nor strong conviction, it doesn't have any effect on you. You don’t really care for it. They find your kinda self control sexy. Plus you are a very logical person and you don’t date around. You also don’t fall for the glitz and glam of the world. The fact that you are not easily entertained and you choose them as yours make them feel wanted. The way you treat them is hella hot.

💌:Imma throw this here because I know y'all don't be reading intro. Y'all be to excited : IS OFFICIALLY KINKTOBER ! For the whole month of October on my Ko-fi and Tumblr we are getting real nastyyyyyy! Everyday I will be dropping a reading. Whether it be here or on my ko-fi ... if you don't want to miss anything you can purchase my A.N.G.E.L soul tribe for the audio+moodboard+written PAC OR B.A.B.Y. soul tribe for my written only + moodboard PAC.

IS NOT ALL. Until October 7, just to finish up the love edition I started, you can purchase a reading for your future lover for 20$. ANDDDD my SEX Douala are now on sale for 25$.

PILE 2 

5 cups, Queen wands, 7 swords, page of cups

They find your clinginess irresistible. I feel like past lovers often hated how physical you are. I just heard someone say: ‘’Get a life already !’’. But the one you have now loves your hug, kisses, hand holding, hair playing and back rubbing that you keep doing because physical touch is your love language. You are literally a sex symbol pile 2, before you get all self conscious on me … just know that Marilyn Monroe is a sex symbol, so is Kylie Jenner and Angelina Jolie let me throw Esther Jones and Precious (Top model) ,all different symbols and all very much SEX ! So now you can stop comparing yourself to the standard and realize you are born  with it. You have it or you don’t. A lot of y’all reading this have hip dip but baby that bubble butt… hun… let me catch my breath real quick. I feel like a lot of your ‘’wannabe’’ lovers try to get with you just for your body. I’m hearing : ‘’ Cauze 99.9% of this fuckboys can’t fuck me !’’ PERIDOT ! I know that’s right. They think you dumb for not catching their hints but I just heard someone say : ‘’ It's not my fault I refuse to speak the bum language …’’. Just so you know pile 2, I’m taking that iconic statement from you for my next insta post. It does not stop here, y’all be so skillful in the bedroom. Most of y’all have a girly girl aesthetic (even if you are a goth it still has a very feminine touch to it) so people think y’all are pillow princesses/princes. If you are a man it is because you have a clean look to you. But y’all be doing tricks on a dick. I heard  the tiktok sound that goes : ‘’ Bus, club and another club no sleep’’ but for you it be ‘’ handjob , cuddlefuck, doggy and missionary ‘’. So I ask : ‘’ All in one round …’’. Your energy : ‘’I am a ride they won't survive …’’ OK ! PILE 2! I SEE YOU! The sexiest thing of it all is the fact that you are very loyal. Y’all be having your partner as a lock screen, as your profile pic or even on your boxer or panties. If you play video games, you might get your equipment costume with their picture. That together makes you a hottie !

💌: Imma throw this here because I know y'all don't be reading intro. Y'all be to excited : IS OFFICIALLY KINKTOBER ! For the whole month of October on my Ko-fi and Tumblr we are getting real nastyyyyyy! Everyday I will be dropping a reading. Whether it be here or on my ko-fi ... if you don't want to miss anything you can purchase my A.N.G.E.L soul tribe for the audio+moodboard+written PAC OR B.A.B.Y. soul tribe for my written only + moodboard PAC.

IS NOT ALL. Until October 7, just to finish up the love edition I started, you can purchase a reading for your future lover for 20$. ANDDDD my SEX Douala are now on sale for 25$.

PILE 3 

4 pentacles (reverse), knight wands (reverse), page of wands, 7 pentacles. 

You guys are dangerous. Fucking dangerous. You are the reason  why a love witch is always going to catch a check. People are getting cut ties spell  because of the impact you have on them. You are the soul tie final boss. If you are a owner of dick you are out here hitting it raw having those ladies often older than you thinking maybe a baby with my sneak link ain’t that bad (shake my motherfucking head) . Is not their fault. Is yours. You are out here whispering bullshit but that good bullshit. I’m hearing : ‘’ I’m yours baby …’’, 'Are you almost there princess…’’, ‘’ I know baby, I know it is too much but you can give me one more …’’. Hey ! where y’all think you are going ? Yes, you , women ! Out here making men double your age believe they still got it. What’s irresistible about this group is that y’all are loving lovers. For the women, I am channeling a dilf that you met while traveling. You are out there living life like a Lana Del Rey video clip. You let that man slide it in raw, because for you it is just for fun. Pile 3, you cannot trick me. First y’all don’t use condoms, some of y’all are allergic to it. But you still don’t use birth control out here timing yourself with your natural calendar. God do be having�� favorites ! That older man was mesmerized by your moaning and the way you speak some life into their sexual skills. Making them think they're the best. Loving lover + big dick/gripping pussy+smooth talk and sexy moan = Irresistible to the point of insanity .

💌: The lover that I channel for this collective whether it be the girls/boys they are done trying to manifest you back in their life. But they still miss the intimacy your share. Imma throw this here because I know y'all don't be reading intro. Y'all be to excited : IS OFFICIALLY KINKTOBER ! For the whole month of October on my Ko-fi and Tumblr we are getting real nastyyyyyy! Everyday I will be dropping a reading. Whether it be here or on my ko-fi ... if you don't want to miss anything you can purchase my A.N.G.E.L soul tribe for the audio+moodboard+written PAC OR B.A.B.Y. soul tribe for my written only + moodboard PAC.

IS NOT ALL. Until October 7, just to finish up the love edition I started, you can purchase a reading for your future lover for 20$. ANDDDD my SEX Douala are now on sale for 25$.

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

lover, you should've come over - m. schmidt

a/n: you guys should have seen this one coming! as always i appreciate any likes and reblogs and hope you enjoy :) warnings: suggestive themes, big angst, lots of talk about tattoos and pain and needles, mike having horrible anxiety and commitment issues, reader is mostly gender neutral except for one thing ! tattoo aftercare, hurt/comfort, kissing word count: 3.6k summary: you get a tattoo, and it terrifies mike. mostly because he realizes how much you love him. pairing: mike schmidt x gn!reader now playing: lover, you should've come over - jeff buckley "my body turns and yearns/for a sleep that won't ever come/it's never over/my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder."

Penny has done almost all of your tattoos, save for the stick and poke star you gave yourself while you were way too high to be handling that sort of equipment, and a few flash designs you’ve gotten for holidays. And usually, you keep it simple and easy, pitching a design idea and getting a finished stencil a few hours later.

But this time, you go into the shop a few months before you plan to get the tattoo and describe to her what you want. She’s shocked that you want a half sleeve—It’s a big step, she tells you, and it’ll mean sitting for a few hours while she does her work. It’ll be painful, and the design will take a few weeks to get made, because she wants to give you the best possible design.

She does good work. When you visit again in about three weeks, you put down a deposit and make an official date to get it done. October 9th.

You go home that night to your small, but warm home to find your boyfriend trying to make chicken parm. His goal all year has been to learn how to cook, not just to make things out of a box. You know a bit better how to cook, but you let him improve his skills, always providing helpful, gentle critiques.

Abby is worse at being gentle.

She’s brutal with her brother’s cooking, and even though Mike loves your gentle words, he appreciates Abby’s feedback, and just wants her to eat a full plate of food before bed each night.

Tonight, his food smells good. You mentioned about a month ago how you missed your mom’s chicken parm, and since then, he’s been reading and researching different recipes at work. Ever since he quit working at Freddy’s, he’s put down the book of dreams and has picked up cookbooks, working his way up slowly.

You tell him he’ll be making Thanksgiving Dinner in no time. You kiss his jaw when you say that, and later, he returns the favor by placing a kiss to your shoulder.

You go to him, standing in the kitchen, as he squints at the recipe book in front of him. He wears washed blue jeans, an old Foo Fighters tee shirt and a pair of blue fuzzy socks. A towel hangs over his shoulder as he mutters to himself, as he gets ready to put some garlic bread in the oven.

You’re still in your work clothes, though, it’s not as if you’re wearing anything fancy. Just a different pair of jeans, and a tee shirt with your shop’s logo on it. Your hair is messy, and you smell vaguely of dirt. The smell has become comforting to him in his time knowing you.

You step closer to him, a hand resting gently on his shoulder. He relaxes at your touch.

“Hey, Mike.” You say softly, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Hey, how was your day?”

“Not too bad. The food smells pretty good.”

“You think so?” His voice is hopeful, especially since he’s trying to live up to your memories of the dish as a kid. It’s his way of thanking you for being so good to him while he’s gotten his shit together.

“Mhm. I’m gonna go wash up and have Abby help me set the table.” You tell him. You kiss his jaw quickly before heading off to the bathroom to scrub the dirt from beneath your fingernails. You wash your face and arms too and begin to realize how domestic this all is.

You never saw yourself having kids, and never thought of yourself dating someone who did.

And you still never think about having kids, but you did find yourself treating Abby as if she is your own. This has nothing to do with how much you adore her brother. Abby is just easy to love. You wonder if anyone’s ever told her that.

When your work boots find themselves at the end of your bed, you change into a muscle tee. You’re awfully fond of them. You find a pair of Mike’s fuzzy socks and slip them on too. You take a moment to stare at your shoulder in the mirror, imagining how it’ll look when ink covers it. Most of your tattoos are on your legs, and for a long time, this arm has been bare of any ink. You’ve been saving it for this project for years.

You go to Abby’s room and knock gently before entering. You find her painting at this aisle you got for her birthday. She’s been working on this painting for a few days now, and it’s turning out quite nice.

“Hey, Abs.” You say softly, and she puts her paintbrush down to give you this big, toothy grin. “Go wash up and help me set the table?” You ask.

“Sure.” She hums and starts to skip along to the bathroom, but you stop her at the door.

“And remember, even if Mike’s food is bad, what do we say?”

“Mm, this food is so good and not horrible at all!”

“Abby.”

She sighs.

“This is unlike anything you’ve made before, and I appreciate the effort?”

“That’s it.” You let her go wash up, and then go to set the table.

When Mike eventually serves dinner, you’re starved. You don’t care if it’s bad, or if it’s burnt, you know you’ll like it because you weren’t able to take a lunch break that day. But it genuinely looks good.

He cuts up Abby’s food and puts the plate in front of her before sitting down and looking to you two for a reaction. You take a bite, and you have to pause.

Did Mike really cook something not just edible, but… good?

Not fine, not decent, really good.

“Mike, this is—”

“Amazing!” Abby gasps, going in for another bite. His cheeks flush.

“You guys don’t have to pretend, it’s alright—”

“No, Mike, we’re not pretending, it’s really good!” You defend, going in for a second bite yourself. “Try it!”

He does, and he even looks shocked at the quality of the food he’s produced. And it sets the mood for the whole dinner, until you eventually blurt out,

“I booked a tattoo appointment for next week.”

“What are you getting?” Mike can’t ever admit this to you, but he adores your tattoos. He thinks the placement of them are all wonderful, even if they’re smaller. He likes to kiss them, to trace his fingers over them, to just admire them in the summer.

“It’s a surprise.” You tell him. Owning your own shop and being your own boss has its perks. You have no worries about people judging you for your half sleeve, deciding that you can just ban them from your shop.

Your conversation drifts off and you focus on other things. When you’re done, you and Mike begin to clean up with him, letting some of the pan soak in the sink. You sit on the counter, drying some of the plates as Mike rinses.

“Thank you for dinner.” You tell him.

“I’m glad you liked it.” Comfortable silence fills the room. “You’re really not gonna tell me what you’re getting?”

“I told you, it’s a surprise.” You smile softly. He dries his hand and steps between your legs. His hands land on either side of you, caging you in.

“Tease.” He mumbled, leaning forward, and kissing your shoulder. A hand goes to his hair, your fingers tangling in his locks.

“I’m not teasing, I’m just being a little secretive.” You tell him, playing with his hair. You’re a fan of the scruff he’s been growing out lately.

“Isn’t it gonna hurt?”

“Yeah, but I’ll take breaks and remember to eat.” You tell him. “This isn’t my first tattoo, Mike.”

“I know, baby.” He says softly, “I just get worried—”

“You get worried about me? And yet, when I’m worried about you, you ignore me but—” He cuts you off with a kiss, and your hands land on his jaw, the scruff tickling your face.

• • •

The ink swirls around your shoulder, a moth wrapping around your shoulder and reaching to the top of your arm. Vines wrap around the moth, as flowers bloom in different places. Your birth flower is one of them, as well as your mother’s. You also place Abby and Mike’s around the moth, maybe protecting it. Thorns poke out of some of the vines, and the ink covers your shoulder, and down to just above your elbow.

You got it done on a Saturday afternoon, leaving late enough so Mike could sleep in without having to deal with Abby, but being able to give them some time to relax together.

It takes a few hours, and by the end of it, you’re exhausted. As with all your other tattoos, you’re sore, but this is a new type of sore. You ache for Mike’s hands on you, to hold you and kiss your shoulders, even though he can’t kiss your left shoulder for a few days.

The second skin will remain on your arm for a day or two, and then you’ll have to go through the process of moisturizing your tattoo.

You have Penny take lots of photos of it before you head home, Mike and Abby both waiting in anticipation for you to come home and show them your new ink. You’re excited to show them, since there’s a connection to them in the art. 

When you open the door, Abby runs to you and immediately starts to look for the ink in question. She gasps when she sees it, all wrapped up on your arm.

“It’s a moth,” You tell her, “With my favorite plants.” You crouch down to point out different plans in the works. “These are my mom’s birth flowers, they’re carnations.” You tell her, “Do you know what these are?” You point to another flower.

Abby shakes her head, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the fresh, raw flesh of the person she considers to be her caregiver.

“They’re lily of the valley flowers. They’re your birth flower.” You reach out and tuck hair behind her ear. Then, you point to the third flower. “And these? They’re honey suckles. They’re Mike’s birth flower.”

Mike watches your interaction, listening to your explanation of the tattoo. Suddenly, this anxiety pools in his chest. You’ve been living together for a few months, but somehow a symbol of him and Abby being engraved on your skin makes things all too real.

He could cry.

“Did you get the flowers because you’re a flower person?” You grin, knowing she doesn’t remember the title of your job.

“Botanist, you mean? Sort of, but you two mean a lot to me, and I wanted to tribute something to you guys.” You confess.

She grins and turns to look at Mike.

“I wanna be a tattoo artist when I’m older.” Mike is pale with anxiety.

He wants to tell you it looks good, that it’s brilliantly done, but he doesn’t find it in himself. He wants to run, to abandon this relationship at the door, to never speak to you again to avoid the fact that he wants you desperately and thinks he might marry you one day.

He walks off to the bathroom, and he’s unsure if it’s to throw up or to cry.

You’re disappointed, because you wanted him to like it desperately, since this tattoo is now on you forever, and you wanted it to be a tribute to him. It almost hurts you that he doesn’t love it. Or at least pretend to. Instead, his disdain is visible on his face, and you do your best to turn your attention back to Abby.

“Wanna help me make dinner?” You smile softly, and she nods.

“Did your tattoo hurt?” She acts gently.

“Yeah, but with a good artist it goes quickly, and they don’t aim to torture you.” You explain, as you begin to make mac and cheese.

As she sets the table, you turn back to her and ask, “Can you go get Mike for dinner?” She nods and skips along to your bedroom, where Mike sits on the bed, frustrated with himself.

“Mike?” She asks gently. “We’re making mac and cheese.”

“I’m not hungry.” He says softly, and Abby can just tell something isn’t right.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t feel well..”

“Oh…” she suspects this is a lie.

“I’m sorry. Tell them I said sorry.” Tears prick Mike’s eyes. He’s unsure why he’s like this, and why he can’t just admire your tattoo and love you and tell you how much you mean to him. But he can’t. He gets the words out. He wants to love you so badly but something in him demands to not let him be happy.

He lays on the bed and tries to stay quiet as he cries.

• • •

Hours later, you sit at the table anxiously, your hands tapping on the wood, a cold bowl of Mac and Cheese on the table. You decide to get up to clean up dinner, and just as you do, soft steps creep out of the bedroom and into the kitchen area.

Mike stands and stares at the cold dinner that he feels bad for rejecting. He should just tell you what’s bothering him. Instead, his gaze turns and looks at you, doing the dishes.

“You didn’t have to make dinner.”

“You didn’t seem well, and Abby needed to eat.”

This comment sparks a much larger fire in Mike, and he isn’t sure why he’s angered by how much you care about his sister, his world.

“You aren’t her mom, you don’t have any reason to make her dinner or put her to bed—”

“Yeah, Mike, well, You’re not really her dad.” You glare. “I’ve taken care of her for months, fed her, made sure she’s taken care of, I’ve picked her up from school, and now suddenly, you’ve decided I have no right to just care about her? Fuck you, if you don’t love me anymore, then don’t take it out on your sister, talk to me like a god damn grown up and stop acting like a child.” You spit, angrily turning back around to keep doing your dishes so that Mike doesn’t see your red face or your tears.

With your back turned, he can see the moth on your shoulder blade, and he aches to trace the lines of your tattoos, kissing the skin around it. But cotton fills his mouth every time he tries to sew the gap between you two.

And your words strike him. He knows why you might think he doesn’t love you anymore, but he does. He loves you deeply and finds himself enamored with you, and yet he can’t even compliment this tattoo that you have obviously put a ton of time, effort and money into.

“I’m sorry—” You start, but he cuts you off.

“I think we should give each other some space.” The words hit you like a ton of brick, and you’re ready to get on your hands and knees and beg him, beg him to not leave, beg him to forgive you (for what, you don’t know), beg him to touch you, beg him to want you.

“What..?”

“I just think I need some space.” He said softly, leaning against the kitchen doorway. You want to ask if he’s hungry, to kiss away all the sadness in the worry lines of his face.

You nod, bite your tongue. He wants to hold you and tell you he doesn’t mean it.

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” You mumble, sighing softly. You also plan to leave early before Mike gets up.

Mike steps towards you, maybe to apologize. You step past him to go get pajamas from your dresser, not letting him grasp onto you. You don’t want him to apologize now. You want him to sit in his regret and you want to sit in your anger.

As you attempt to fall asleep that night, you pray Abby didn’t hear your conversation with him.

Both of you try to drift to sleep and salt streams from your eyes and into your ears.

• • •

A few days pass. Your tattoo starts to heal, and you take the second skin off your shoulder and arm and begin the process of aftercare.

You and Mike exchanged a total of about thirty words over the next few days. Abby noticed your angst towards each other and tried to get the two of you to make up. She figured that Mike was being an idiot, and just needed to apologize.

She was right, but he didn’t want to admit that to his kid sister.

It’s hell. You have to pretend that you don’t want to beg for his forgiveness, but you know that neither of you are blameless. Your pride tells you not to be the first one to cave. His anxiety tells him that you hate him.

When he gets home one afternoon from work, you’re napping in bed. He knows the couch isn’t that comfortable and he’s sure you’re home because you’d mentioned to Abby that you weren’t feeling well. You probably didn’t expect to still be asleep when he got home.

But you’re wearing one of his shirts. He kisses your head and leaves a glass of water and cold medicine on the nightstand, before going to make himself busy somewhere else, as if not to disrupt your rest.

He takes one last glance at you before he leaves.

One night, he comes home from work late. You take it as an opportunity to take a hot shower after putting Abby to bed and taking a few minutes to sit in the bedroom that you missed while sleeping on the couch.

Besides, your bones ached from that uncomfortable couch while you were spoiled, used to Mike’s warm bed.

You barely hear the front door open as you continue your nightly routine. You need to apply lotion to your tattoo, to keep it moisturized as it heals. But you find yourself struggling to reach your shoulder.

Mike watches you from the doorway of the bedroom, biting his lip. The bags around his eyes have grown darker since your fight.

He takes off his boots first, and then strips his top down to an undershirt, then takes off his jeans. If you weren’t so busy, you’d acknowledge how handsome he looked in just his boxers and a gray tee shirt.

The bed dips behind you, as he sits behind you. You stop what you’re doing.

“Give me the lotion.” He says softly, and with a sigh of defeat, maybe even a bit of relief, you hand him the lotion. He squirts some lotion on his hands, then begins to rub it into your skin. You shudder at the contact, and he feels tears in his eyes again. He missed you. “I’m sorry I didn’t say I liked your tattoo. I love it.”

“I’m sorry I said you didn’t love me, and I’m sorry I said you weren’t Abby’s dad.”

“But I’m not—”

“But you are her parent.”

“So are you.”

A silence fills the room.

“What happened on Saturday?”

“I got anxious when I saw Abby and I’s birth flowers on you. Like how much I loved you was just engraved in your skin, and I didn’t know what to do with it. I didn’t mean to push you away, I was just terrified. Terrified that you’re going to leave. Terrified that I won’t be able to protect you.” His voice cracks at the end, and he leans his head against your shoulder that isn’t inked.

Your head turns to kiss his head.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know..” he says softly, but a part of him doesn’t believe it. You and Abby, you’re the only ones who have stayed, the only ones he’s been able to save. He doesn’t know who he is without the two of you. “I’m sorry, I was such a dick.”

“Yeah, but so was I.” You tell him.

“I love your tattoo. I love all of your tattoos. All of them. I love kissing them. I’m desperate for this one to heal so I can kiss this shoulder again.”

“Thank you for helping me with it. It itches like a son of a bitch.” You tell him, a weak smile on your face. Tears stain your shirt.

“Can we go back to normal now? I’ve missed you.”

“I miss you so much.” You turn and wrap your arms around him, the warmth radiating from his body as he holds you close. You wonder if either of you will ever be able to let yourselves be loved.

You hope to let each other try.

You kiss him, salty tears mixing, as you hold him close. He’s careful of your tattoo, not wanting to scratch or hurt you. He’s gentle in a way that betrays him. He desires you in this way that transcends want or need, something that is vital, as if it were breathing.

Yet his hands remain respectful. Gentle. You’re the one that adjusts your position to be over him, as you gently push him back against the bed, kissing him deeper.

He decides he will marry you someday. That maybe the idea of being with you for the rest of his life isn’t scary.

Not when you kiss him like that.

[luvrodite]

ᯓ★ TWO. OCTOBER 5 | COCKWARMING

SIT STILL, LOOK PRETTY [1.3k]

jason doesn’t know what’s come over you, but he’s going to finish this chapter. then, if you’re good, he’ll make you cum.

content warnings. f!reader, established relationship, dominant jason. more tags to come

ⓘ minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact, you will be blocked!

<< previous installment | kinktober masterlist

The sounds of the street below float in through an open window when you enter your apartment, a cacophony of engines and raised voices, neighbours chatting over their balconies and exchanging stories. You can make out the familiar burr of your upstairs neighbour, grumbling about delays on the subway to someone on the phone. Downstairs, you can hear the raucous laughter of apartment 407's twins, squeals for the other to slow down as they presumably chase each other.

The most lovely of it all, you find a handsome man sitting on your couch.

A rare break in the clouds, the afternoon sun cuts in through the window and casts him in gold, folding him in swathes of amber as he turns the page of the book in his hand.

At the sound of the door, he lifts his eyes, azure pinning you in place. They crease around the corners, immeasurably fond. A rosy mouth parts to form the shape of your name, curling into a sweet smile.

Lovesick and caught in his thrall, you totter forward. The aches of the day wash away under his stare, tender feet closing the distance until you're sitting by his feet. Beautiful boy, sunlit and warm, he gazes down at you through lowered lids.

"Hi," you whisper, wary of shattering the delicate film that encloses around the both of you, the world cut off beyond this spot.

"Hi, sweetheart. Good day?"

It's difficult to concentrate. The shirt he's wearing distracts you, simple black cotton that stretches over a broad chest, the gentle scent of laundry detergent still clinging to it. His thighs remain spread on the couch, grey sweats that offer little coverage of his softened length, the shadow of it against his thigh making you squirm.

"You look really good," you blurt out, after a moment and he huffs out a laugh through his nose, pretty eyes shining down at you over the top of his book.

"It's one of those days, hm?" he muses teasingly but doesn't offer much beyond that, returning to the pages in front of him. You make a noise in your throat, pushing yourself upwards, hands on his knees until you're leaned over the book to command his attention.

"Do something about it, then," you implore, trying to keep yourself steady, demanding. It's difficult when a shiver rolls down your spine at the brush of his nose against yours. You're putty in his hands and when he grins, teeth flashing, you know he knows it, too.

"You can't wait for me to finish this chapter?" he asks. "C'mon, be good for me, just wait a bit, baby."

"I want you now." You pout at him, pushing forward to press your lips against the corner of his mouth, ghosting a kiss over his jaw. Desire pools between your legs, warm, dizzying. You squeeze your thighs together in an effort to relieve your ache but it's not nearly enough.

A weight rests against the back of your neck, his hand warm against your skin.

"So needy," he laughs, lightly. His breath skitters over your cheek and you can smell mint on it. "I'll make a deal with you."

You hum, eyes closing to press a kiss to his cheek. I'm listening. He lets out another huff, then and you feel him echo your movement, lips pressing against your jaw gently.

"I'll make you cum, but only after I've finished this chapter. You'll keep me warm until then. That sound alright? I'll take care of you, but only if you're good for me."

You open your eyes, blinking at Jason. He waits for an answer, a placid expression on his face.

"Hm?"

"Okay," you murmur, pushing yourself up. He grins, leaning forward to capture your mouth in his.

You don't bother taking your clothes off, only kicking the pants you'd worn off before climbing astride him. Jason pushes himself further into the couch, adjusting to tug the waistband of his sweats down. Both hands still occupied, book in one, the other against your back, he nods to you in silent instruction.

With a grin, you take him into your hand. He's half hard, the head of him flushed and bright, a bead of pre-cum smearing under your palm as you work him to full mast. With your other hand, you touch yourself, gently working yourself open to prepare for it.

He hisses your name, breath catching when you guide him to your entrance, tugging your underwear to the side. You chance a look up at him, finding him flushed, hues of pink sweeping over his face as he tries to focus on his book. Biting back a grin, you lower yourself around him.

The slight sting isn't unexpected. Your harried preparation hadn't been enough to properly soften you for the thickness of him. But you let out a quiet moan anyway, head emptying at the stretch, the aching fullness of him inside you.

"Be good," Jason whispers in reminder, eyes on the pages. You hum.

The sun is warm against your bare thighs and once he's seated fully, you lean against his chest.

"Missed you, today," you mumble. His hand smooths a path up and down your back, gentle caresses that lull you into stillness.

"Yeah? I missed you too."

It's easier than you thought it would be, to settle into the cradle of his arms quietly. Your need quiets to a low simmer, sitting beneath your skin, second to the contentment of your closeness. He continues to rub your back, squeezing your hip in praise.

The soft breaths he lets out keep you company, the occasional whisper of you're being so good sinking into your skin like a balm after your long day. All the while, he turns the pages.

The minutes pass in a slow crawl, falling one by one like dandelion seeds. The feeling of Jason, thick, and warm, swims in and out of focus, never fully forgotten. You hear his breath catch when you squeeze around him, the fingers at your back pressing into your skin in gentle cautioning. Absentmindedly, the thought that you ought to have put a towel down flits through your mind.

It's an eternity later, that he sets the book aside and turns to you. Blown pupils and ragged breathing belie his composure, hunger etched in the lines of his face, lips parting, wanting.

"Finished?" you breathe out and he tips his head, a hum muffled as he captures your mouth with his. He kisses you deeply, tongue sliding against yours, slow, but you sense an edge to his movements, a barely restrained need thrumming beneath his veins.

"C'mere, baby," he says softly. "Let me take care of you."

Sensitive and keyed up, you inhale sharply when he rolls his hips beneath you. The length of him drags deliciously against all your sensitive, soft spots, drawing forward a stream of moans. Your orgasm creeps up on you with little warning, your softened muscles surrendering easily to the wet strokes of your lover's cock.

He brings his fingers to your clit, roughened hands circling the button with gentle strokes and you tip over the edge, seizing around him. Jason chokes out a breath at the feel of you and you slump forward, shuddering into the soft material of his shirt.

"You okay?" he whispers, a little laugh in his voice.

"I think I just blacked out," you admit, dazed.

"Don't tell me that," he snorts. You press your cheek against his shoulder, winding your arms around his neck. "You're going to give me a complex."

"Deserved." He nips at your cheek at that and you giggle. A kiss is pressed to your shoulder, before he leans back against the couch, the two of you counting your breaths for a moment longer before you shift atop him, squirming.

"Stop that," he warns, eyes closed. "Unless you want to give me another."

At your silence, he opens a tourmaline eye.

You meet him with a hopeful gaze and his expression slackens in surprise, before he shakes his head. A smile curling the corners of his mouth, he bands an arm around you and stands.

"Come on, then. I can't leave my girl wanting."

love a short fic from infinity to infinity!!! easy breezy slightly lovesick fic u r my favourite ever!!! hoping kinktober is treating u freaks (affectionate) well!! this is the second installment of this month's fics and has a shorter gap between the last than the upcoming ones, which will all be released on saturdays!

i had a reason for this, but i can't remember at the moment (i think it's because i wanted to post the first fic on october 1st but posting them seven days apart would land all of them on weekdays so i've sped it up a little to get this to you guys on the weekend! i hope you enjoyed this baby fic!!

[minyard-05]

twinyards timeline but its correct this time

i reworked my original timeline because something was bugging me about it and now it SHOULD be correct

NOTE: some of these dates are approximated from generalizations made in the book– for example, nicky says andrew's letter to aaron arrives two weeks after cass calls tilda. i assume this is an general use of 'two weeks', but i've taken it literally as 14 days, which is why the letter is dated to arrive november 29th. approximated/assumed dates are marked with a *

november 4th, 1986: aaron michael and andrew joseph minyard are born to tilda minyard in san jose, california

november 7th¹*, 1986: tilda gives the twins away to foster care

november 14th*, 1986: tilda returns to the hospital and takes aaron home with her, leaving andrew behind.

november 4th, 1999: aaron and andrew turn 13 years old. aaron lives in san jose with his mother, and andrew lives in oakland with his foster parents cass and richard spear. they are unaware of each other

november 14th², 1999: oakland raiders vs san diego chargers football game at ring central stadium in oakland. aaron and tilda go with one of tilda's boyfriends, and whilst there, aaron is mistaken for andrew by officer phil higgins, who takes tilda's contact information to pass onto andrew's foster mother, hoping to reunite the brothers

november 15th, 1999: cass spear calls tilda to arrange a meet up for aaron and andrew, but tilda refuses, telling cass she wants nothing to do with andrew and to not call her again. aaron hears all of this by listening in on the upstairs phone line, and he and tilda argue.

november 29th* 1999: aaron recieves a letter from andrew that basically says "fuck you, go away."

december 1999: cass writes aaron a letter asking him to try contacting andrew again in the spring, and that holidays are a difficult time at their house

march 2000: andrew goes to juvie for an unspecified offense

may 2000: tilda and aaron move to columbia, south carolina, and aaron meets his cousin nicky hemmick for presumably the first time.

*unspecified time in early-ish 2001³: luther hemmick finds out about andrew and begins a 'years-long' campaign to reunite him with tilda and aaron. i am choosing to place this around april 2001

six months later, approx. october 2001: luther flies to california to meet andrew and his foster family

one month later, november 2001: aaron flies out to 'meet' andrew for the first time at juvie. they have probably just turned 15

march⁴ 2003: andrew makes early parole and is released from juvie. luther makes tilda take him home, and then aaron, andrew, and tilda, finally all live together in columbia

→ sidebar: on the second night living there, andrew makes his deal with aaron

august 2003: aaron and andrew start their junior years at macon high school, andrew's first outside of juvie

early september 2003⁵: tilda mistakes andrew for aaron and hits him. andrew goes to the hemmicks' who call tilda and she takes him home. aaron is actually at a study group standing in for his brother, and on the drive back, andrew orchestrates the car crash that kills his mother

→ nicky hemmick moves back from germany on the day of tilda's funeral, presumably about a week after the crash. he gets a job at sweetie's diner to provide for the twins, eventually becoming their legal guardian⁶

→ not long after, andrew locks aaron in the bathroom to get him clean from the drugs tilda got him addicted to

october* 2003: nicky and the twins start working at eden's twilight

november 4th, 2003: the twins turn 17, their first birthday together

december 2003: nicky is attacked by four homophobes outside eden's. andrew saves him, almost killing the men in the process, and he is arrested

may⁷ 2004: andrew, 17, finishing his junior year of high school, is put on trial for what he did and sentenced. his parole agreement includes court-mandated therapy and mood altering drugs that he is scheduled to be on for 3 years

august 2004: andrew and aaron begin their senior year at macon high school

february⁸ 2005: kevin day and riko moriyama offer andrew a contract to play with the edgar allan ravens, which he refuses. kevin and riko travel to south carolina to find out why, where andrew refuses again and he and aaron play a scrimmage with kevin on the court

march 2005: david wymack meets with the twins and nicky at subway, and gives the three of them contracts to sign with the palmetto state foxes, which they do

june 2005: aaron, andrew, and nicky finally join the lineup for the PSU foxes

---

notes/citations under the cut

1) guesstimate based on when i think it's legal to give children to foster care. i assume its not that long after birth, and i believe the twins had to spend time in the ICU beforehand as well. the 14th is an approximation based on the fact that nicky says tilda went back for aaron after a week

2) raiders v chargers was an actual football game that took place in oakland 10 days after aaron's 13th birthday and therefore works out perfectly for the timeline thank youu nora

3) nicky says this in the start of the raven king, october 2006:

4) he went to juvie in march 2000 so i'm assuming his 3 year sentence just works out linearly like that

5) approximated from being about 5 months after andrew moves to columbia

6) while he DOES do this it's probably a very long process so i assume its ongoing as other events in the timeline happen

7) this is just me counting backwards because andrew is SUPPOSED to come off his drugs in may 2007 (obviously he doesn't) and so once again i assume the 3 year time period is linear or nothing else works

8) i'm saying february for this for two reasons: 1) i'm completely guessing when college teams recruit athletes 2) in the EC aaron describes the drive home as being darker earlier in the evening, so late winter feels about right

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

clarisse x gn!child of nemesis!reader where the reader keeps a black book of everyone who's pissed them off and why and clarisse gets curious. love your work! :)

The Journal

|| Clarisse La Rue x genderneutral!nemesis!reader

|| Warnings; swearing, Clarisse and reader have a small argument, Clarisse invading reader's privacy, short drabble

|| Summary; when Clarisse comes looking for reader at their cabin, what she didn't expect to find was a black leather journal coated in red scribbles. Curiosity gets the better of her.

Requests open!

Started; october 9th

Finished; october 9th

~~~

Clarisse and you have been dating for some time now. The two of you were a pretty intense combo, beyond loyal to each other but almost always fighting about something. Most of the time it's just for fun, though. None of your arguments are really serious. You just like keeping each other on your toes. With you being a child of nemesis and Clarisse a daughter of Ares, it's no wonder things were intense. Both of you had such intense Godly parents.

Despite all that, today was a rather calm afternoon. Clarisse had just come into the Nemesis Cabin to look for you when instead she found a black leather journal on your bed. Scrawled on the front in red was a bunch of crossing lines and scribbles which peaked her curiosity.

She walked over and picked it up, right away she noticed that there was just something intense about the book before she even opened it. When she did open it, she immediately realized why that was. Her eyes widening slightly as she reads through the text. The book was full of names of people who had clearly pissed you off, you even stated why. Most having a massive paragraph or two. The more she looked through, the more she noticed that some names were even repeated. An example being Drew, the daughter of Aphrodite. She was in there more than three times. Damn, you and her really didn't get along.

Clarisse sat herself down on the edge of your bed, looking through the book. At one point she even found her own name, though the reason you had was fair enough. It was after one your more intense arguments with her. She couldn't necessarily fault you for that.

The daughter of Ares took her sweet time reading through it, enjoying everything about it and making mental notes of those who'd wronged you. She knew you had probably already gotten back at most of them by now, but she was still going to do some stuff herself. She was your girlfriend, after all. Plus, she needed to start some fights anyways. She was getting bored.

She found herself wondering if you'd always kept books like this and if you had anymore laying around. This one specifically only went back a few months, so it was relatively new but there were still lots of pages filled regardless. You seemed to have a lot of enemies, which she thought was kinda cool. You definitely weren't afraid to speak your mind.

"Clarisse?"

The sound of your voice got her attention, her head snapping away from the book to look at you with wide eyes. Then glance at the book in her hands before looking to you again.

"Y/N..." She muttered and cursed, setting the book aside," hey."

You folded your arms across her chest as you stood in the cabin doorway," 'hey'? Really? Were you going through my shit?"

She immediately shook her head, trying to defend herself from what you just saw." No, I swear I was just coming in to find you then saw the book laying there so I got curious."

You rolled your eyes and walked over, picking the book up." How much did you read?"

"Enough to know that a lot of people pissed you off, including me." Clarisse admitted, you were the one person she could never bring herself to lie to," ...could I help plan your revenge?" She asked, hoping that maybe if she showed interest you would forgive her.

And you did think about it. For a long moment. You knew you couldn't stay mad at her forever, no matter how badly you wanted to some days." Fine..."

"Fuck yes." She couldn't help but grin. This would be fun.

[bluedelliquanti]

Before I go on vacation, I present my list of my top books for 2024.

COMICS:

Roaming by Jillian Tamaki & Mariko Tamaki

Bunt! by Ngozi Ukazu & Mad Rupert

Ukazu and Rupert are a powerhouse team, and as an art school adjunct, this already funny GN is even funnier (albeit in a way that necessitates a skull emoji in the educator groupchat)

Tiffany’s Griffon by Magnolia Porter Siddell & Maddi Gonzalez

Phobos and Deimos by J Dalton

Delicious in Dungeon by Ryoko Kui

It's a tough task to reach a satisfying conclusion to a series that was as strong as Dungeon, but I think Kui accomplished it!

Fool Night by Kasumi Yasuda

King in Limbo by Ai Tanaka

Over the last year I've been drawn towards comic series that work with a retro, fixed-width inking style, and King especially informed some recent experiments of mine.

PROSE:

Twins by Bari Wood & Jack Geasland

When I learned Wood was responsible for the book that became Dead Ringers, I knew I had to try it. This is the one that wins my "Oh, shit! Wow!! Okay!!!" award for the year (distinctions previously awarded to Cyteen and Manhunt).

The Bezzle by Cory Doctorow

DS9: A Stitch in Time by Andrew J. Robinson

Those of you who read my journal comic from last August might recall that I met Robinson at a Trek convention! I'd learned from reading these books that Stitch was considered a white whale among collectors, and now I absolutely understand why. If you're a DS9 fan and you want to try any book from the original run of novels, try this one. By which I mean, try the far easier-to-find audiobook version.

Translation State by Ann Leckie

A Woman of the Iron People by Eleanor Arnason

Fellow SBCF participant Erin Roseberry had shared this title as an inspiration for their comic, The Maker of Grave-Goods, and I was especially interested in trying a book by a Twin Cities author. What a serendipitous find!

Arboreality by Rebecca Campbell

For the third year in a row, a book nominated for the Le Guin Prize makes the list.

Always Coming Home by Ursula K. Le Guin

This is another book I always told myself I'd try someday, and was it ever worth it! I spent some time talking about my experience with this story (and its accompanying materials that fill out the world) in my talk with Evan Dahm on his show.

See you in the new year! I've packed some thick books for a long flight, so I'm starting my 2025 reading pile right away!

Reruns of my previous two lists, 2023, and 2022, below the cut.

2023

COMICS:

Yokohama Kaidashi Kikou by Hitoshi Ashinano

Out of Style by Devi Putri Megwati

Skip and Loafer by Misaki Takamatsu

The Harrowing of Hell by Evan Dahm

The Infinity Particle by Wendy Xu

Esteban by Matthieu Bonhomme

I covered my ShortBox reccs back in October, but since then I also picked up Pearl Hunting by Hana Chatani when it came to itch.io and adored it.

PROSE: 

So yes, maybe I'm cheating by including Moby Dick since I'm not all the way finished, but Whale Weekly really did end up being a great tool for getting me to crack open my gorgeous Evan Dahm-illustrated copy I've had for a while.

My favorite book of the year is Roadside Picnic by Arkady & Boris Strugatsky. I genuinely did read it the first week of January, but after having it recommended to me for years, I'm thrilled it didn't disappoint. Maybe I am someone who likes Russian novels after all???

Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto

Such Nice People by Sandra Scoppettone

Cyteen by C.J. Cherryh (I jokingly placed these three in the "READ 👏 FEMALE 👏 AUTHORS 👏" category because they don't have anything in common other than describing some of the most upsetting/bizarre scenarios I've read this year. Cyteen especially! Wowee!!!)

Brother Alive by Zain Khalid

Glory by Vladimir Nabokov

A Different Trek by David K. Seitz, which I mentioned as my vacation book for the Star Trek convention, but it's given me some great suggestions for more books, both fiction and otherwise. Also, I read... 11 more DS9 books this year. 

2022

COMICS:

Fullmetal Alchemist by Hiromu Arakawa

Vattu by Evan Dahm

The Well by Choo and Jake Wyatt

Wash Day Diaries by Robyn Smith and Jamila Rowser

Some ShortBox Comics Fair entries that are graphic novella length and are really good include Food School by Jade Armstrong and The God of Arepo by Reimena Yee et al.

PROSE:

Detransition, Baby by Torrey Peters

The Murders of Molly Southbourne by Tade Thompson

How to Blow Up a Pipeline by Andreas Malm

Manhunt by Gretchen Felker-Martin

Dead Collections by Isaac Fellman

Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabokov

A Psalm for the Wild-Built by Becky Chambers

The Past is Red by Catherynne M. Valente

edit: oh my god I can't believe I forgot Perfume by Patrick Süskind

Honorable mentions from the pile of DS9 novelizations include Revenant by Alex White (for successfully pulling off a Sara Paretsky-style mystery in space) and Dominion War: Call to Arms by Diane Carey (for absolutely unhinged adjective choices).

[sreidisms]

Sweater Weather

Spencer Reid x Mid/Plussize!Fem!Reader

Summary: you wish you could be able to wear Spencer's clothes, but you wear completely different sizes. However, one day he comes home with a surprise.

Genre: ever so slight angst if you even notice it, fluff

Word Count: 1K

Warnings: insecurity, self-comparison, kissing. Only she/her pronouns are used, so trans girls and anyone who uses these pronouns, this is for you.

A/N: I read @tenpintsof-sundrop 's post about how SO many Spencer writers love the "girlfriend wearing their boyfriend's clothes" trope, and honestly as they should, but as a mid-size girl, it's not that realistic. So I took it upon myself to write a short blurb where Spencer wears one of your sweaters. Enjoy 😙

Autumn was undoubtedly your favourite season: the crisp air biting at your skin, the crunch of browned leaves on the pavement, the feeling of a freshly-made mug of tea warming your hands, and of course, wearing sweaters. Sweater weather, is what you called it.

What made it better was the fact you enjoyed experiencing all of this with your lovely boyfriend, Spencer. You could only describe it as luck that you both shared a deep love for autumn, and Halloween naturally. You and Spencer enjoyed taking walks in the afternoon dusk of October, watching obscure foreign films that only he could translate while you were wrapped up in a blanket, and baking cinnamon goods when sleep was long forgotten on the nights he was off work.

Nothing could disrupt your joy during this time - well, except maybe one thing. Both avid sweater collectors, they were all you wore during the colder months. And as usual boyfriend-girlfriend relationships go, you often thought about borrowing a sweater or two from his wardrobe. He had a red striped one which you adored, a memory of his younger self when you had met each other at a flea market and both grabbed the same vintage book. His brown argyle one was definitely your favourite though. And you would ask him to wear it if it wasn’t for one thing.

You wore a larger size than Spencer. It was always blaringly obvious to you how different your bodily proportions were. Although the taller one, your boyfriend wore trousers that you could hardly fit a thigh through and his shirts would only reach past your neck, or at least you assumed - you had never attempted to try.

It shouldn’t have bothered you as much as it did. There were plenty of girls who were taller or chubbier than their romantic counterpart, but it still stung. There was nothing you wanted more during colder evenings than to steal one of his sweaters and bury yourself beneath the warm wool, enveloping yourself in his smell. So you opted for cuddling up as close to him as possible, letting him wrap his arms around you - it was as good as it could get.

However, one day during November, when you were alone at your shared apartment, a very wonderful thing occurred.

The kitchen had just been cleaned after another one of your baking fiascos. Amongst many things, you knocked the bag of flour while putting the tray of odd-looking cookies in the oven, and thus made a mess of the entire floor and counter. It took a while to clean up and it was not rewarding to open the oven door to deformed, sad-looking cookies. Whatever, you thought. It clearly wasn’t your day.

You found a place in your favourite armchair, your current read in your hands. It was the ideal way to pass the time since Spencer had texted you about his mountainous pile of reports he had to finish getting through. He could surely read faster than everyone else, but it didn’t mean they would be finished in a short period of time.

As you delved deeper and deeper into the story, you were startled when you heard the front door click open. You glanced at the clock up on the wall. Almost midnight, poor boy.

“Angel?”

“I’m in the living room!” you called out.

The shuffle of shoes and a gentle thump echoed through the corridor as Spencer took off his converse and dropped his messenger bag. The sound of soft footsteps neared you until the tall man rounded the corner and appeared in all his nerdy glory.

“Hey, finally home,” he sighed.

But you didn’t listen to what he was saying because you were too focused on something else: resting on his lanky frame was your sweater. One of your warmer ones. It was obviously a little too big on him, the material slipping off his right shoulder to reveal his white button-up underneath. The dark green sleeves were always a tad too long for your arms, and you’d assume they wouldn’t even reach Spencer’s wrists, but there they were covering his knuckles, only his fingertips poking out.

“Is everything alright? You seem distracted.” Spencer’s voice pierced your bubble of awe.

“Is that my sweater?”

He looked down and pulled on the hem of the sweater, a faint blush tainting his cheeks. “Uh yeah, it seems to be so. Does it bother you?”

Bother you was the last thing the image of your boyfriend in your clothing would do.

You cleared your throat as you tried to gather your thoughts into an intelligible sentence.

“N-Not at all! You just never asked me to wear anything of mine before … did you not have any sweaters left?”

“Oh no, I did! I um- well yesterday you wore it and left it on my desk chair, and it looked so warm and it … smelt of you.” His voice went up an octave at this last part. “And I thought I could wear it. Is that okay? Did I do something wrong?”

Wrong wasn’t the word you would use. Cute, adorable, heart-warming were adjectives that fit to describe the situation.

“Far from that, Spence. You look … you look adorable,” you said warmly.

He smiled in embarrassment and lifted his hand to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He truly was the spitting image of domesticity in this moment.

“C’mere.” You urged him to walk towards you, tucking your legs underneath your body. He shuffled closer while he picked at the stray ends of wool fraying at the sleeves.

Once he was close enough, you held his face in your hands and left a tender kiss on his plump, pink lips. He whined quietly at the sudden action, but let you do as you pleased - he couldn’t really say no, he was putty in your grasp.

After stopping the sweet kiss, your eyes traced over his outfit again - God, he was such a darling.

“Please wear my clothes more often, you look cute in them,” you said while looking into his hazel eyes.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he grinned.

Need him to wear my sweaters, I swear 🤧

[silencesscreams]

𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞

james potter x reader

“inescapable, im not even gonna try, and if i get burned, at least we were electrified.”

a/n: maybe (just maybe) this was inspired by dress - taylor swift 🫡 also, ive had this in mind for AGES now, pls tell me about any grammar mistakes, english isn’t my first language!! also, i made up some characters just to have something to fit into the story pls dont mind that

warnings and tags: afab!reader, angstyish if you squint, uncomfortableness??, oh my god the tension, intimate and touchy relationship between friends, james mentions other girls blablabla, kissing, stitches, open wounds, falling, body shots, hickies, slighttt choking, oral sex (f receiving), praise, degradation???????? penetration, unprotected, v soft ending, use of y/n a couple of times, slow burn?? words words words. (god how i love james potter). james is a player !! r is in the marauders group, r is v close with lily, like two years after finishing hogwarts, marauders working together on the orderrrr

it started on your third year.

you were seated with a redhead named lily in potions, she was sweet. she was friends with boys mostly, so when you started getting close she was happy to have you as a friend.

on your first trip to hogsmeade, she came a long with you and brought four boys along with her; remus, sirius, peter and james.

james potter caught your eye as soon as you saw him for the first time, he was laughing to something sirius had said, and you swore that was the sweetest sound you had ever heard.

you bonded over the same taste in candy at honeydukes, music, books and enjoying the same sorts of jokes. not much longer, you could consider him one of your best friends.

after a while, you found out james was touchy, at least he was with you. he would play with your hands when he was bored, cracking your knuckles for you.

he’d always listen about all the gossip and talk shit on mutually hated people. lily was happy you got along, and most of her girl friends and guy friends were also your friends now, which made you incredibly happy to have found yourself in a group like that. you were happy about how a great friend james was, he was so nice to you.

well, until your sixth year. that was when james started getting girls, suddenly, over the summer, everyone started to drool over him. at first, it didn’t even bother you that much, sure, you bawled your eyes out when he skipped your usual outing in hogsmeade to go on some stupid date with some stupid girl, but it didn’t even bother you that much, did it? you dont know, but it started really to bother you at some point, sure, no one else was caring about it like you were, but maybe no one else was around him like you were. maybe no one else knew him like you did, at some points you even asked yourself if you really knew him after all those years. you even spent christmas with him once, how could you not know him? maybe you only knew what he wanted you to see. god, you hated this feeling.

around october it was really pissing you off. he barely hung out with you anymore, of course you always saw him in groups, but you liked being alone with him listening to music or doing nothing at all. james was sweet to be around. he was caring, and you liked his smell. the way his arm would always be around your shoulder.

but in november, what really pushed you over the edge, was him showing up to dinner with his neck filled with hickeys, really showing them off. he sat down next to you, as sirius and remus both eyed him, pretending they weren’t seeing shit, but they would probably joke around about it when you and the girls weren’t around. and that was it for you. you got up, got your books and left, you couldn’t stand to do this on that day. not when your clothes didn’t sit right, not when you didn’t feel clean, not when your hair was not staying how you wanted it to stay. not when you figured out you might be in love with your best friend.

“where you going?” james asked as soon as you got up, you ignored him and just started walking. your eyes just might’ve started to water and god you needed to go somewhere you could be alone.

so you found yourself in the library, sat next to the window, thinking about how you were going to explain storming off like that to your friends, and worst, to james. all of it was so fucking stressing.

“hey.” you heard someone whisper, and so you quickly dry your cheeks with your sleeves, turning around to face james.

“hi.” you whisper back, he signals to the chair next to you, asking if its taken. you shake your head in response, he smiles and sits down.

“what’s going on?” he asks, staring at you with his brows furrowed.

“don’t worry about it, you can leave. i know you have a date with that ravenclaw girl, i’m just upset. its nothing.”

“you really think i care about her?” he asks, rolling his eyes. “you’ve been quite upset these days, haven’t you?”

“yeah, i guess, don’t worry, really. you should go and have your fun.” you reply, smiling empathetically.

“i dont wanna go.” he answers quickly, he looks around, trying to find something to say. and then he sees your redish eyes.

“oh y/n, com’ere” he gets up, opening his arms, you roll your eyes playfully, getting up and hugging him. you dont know why but his hugs always made you feel better. it was like he took all of the sadness from you and just threw it out. he was wearing a new perfume. he smelled like 2 in one shampoo and lavender soap.

“you can go to your date, i’m fine. i swear.” you say, still hugging him.

“i dont wanna go. i wanna be here with you, that okay? plus, i need to catch up on history of magic.” he said, sweetly kissing the stop of your head, and afterwards, pressing his chin on top of it. and you didnt know if it was the moment or something else, but that was when you knew.

when you were sure of it all. when you needed to tell someone else or you’d explode.

“lily, i need to tell you something but you need to promise me this stays just between us. really.” you whisper as she takes a sip of her butterbeer.

“what’d you do?”

“i didn’t do shit. listen, don’t judge me, alright?” you reply, frustrated. she nods a yes. “i think i might be very into james and i have no idea how to deal with it.” you blurt out, staring at your own cup, too nervous to look at her.

“oh, i already knew that.” she answers.

“no you didn’t!” you whisper-shout at her

“i mean, it was a very firm theory. i just know you and the way you get silly around him and his dates sort of made me sure of it.” she smiles.

“god. im so stupid” you whisper, facepalming yourself.

“no you’re not. you should see the way he looks at you.” she says, grinning at how red your face is.

“lily, he’s had like, 20 girlfriends this past year, he’s not into me.” you answer, rolling you eyes.

“alright then.” she said, irony taking over her voice.

“im serious!” you reply, and she nods, still ironically.

for the rest of his 6th year, james didnt have any girlfriends. and on his 7th he had a few flings, but so did you.

“i just don’t get why you’re going out with this asshole!” james said while you walked with him to transfiguration class.

“he’s not like that, james, just give him a chance.” you smile at his horrified look to your comment.

“corrigan almost made me fall off my broom once, he actually is like that, sorry sweetheart.” he emphasized the part where he says corrigan is like that.

“james, we’re not getting married, its just a date.”

“a fourth date.”

“come on, he’s fun.”

“y/n, if you wanted fun you should be dating me.” you roll your eyes at that. “where’s he even taking you anyway?”

“madam puddifoot’s, i think” you answer, knowing exactly what was about to go on.

“oh, in his dreams. he’s gonna try to bang you i just know it.”

“at a tea shop?” you laugh.

“oh please, don’t tell me you’ll let that asshole suck your face.”

“i dont talk about who sucks YOUR face. because just let me add that this gale girl you’re going out with will probably give you a disease.” james laughs at that. “im serious! shes sick all the time, every time i see her shes coughing and sniffing and all of that.”

“that reminds me i gotta break up with her.” he sighs.

“nooo, why? i thought things were going well”

“nah, we’re just not good together.”

“maybe because every time you went out with her you used it as an excuse to spy on me and corrigan.”

“just trying to protect my closest friend. thats all” he smiles, winking at you and you swear you can melt into a puddle right there.

“shut up, you’re just doing this because you hate him.”

“im serious, darling. he IS an asshole.”

“i guess i’ll just have to figure it out myself.” you wink back at him.

-

“oh would you just look at that.” james whispered, looking through the window at mrs. puddifoots door.

he could ser how corrigans face was close to yours and how suddenly he kissed you, one hand on your upper thigh and the other on the back of your neck.

“is that jealousy im sensing, prongs?” sirius laughed.

“n-no! its just disgusting, he’s a prick” james was suddenly defensive.

“y/n/n seems to like him though” remus commented.

“shut up.” james said, still watching how corrigan was gripping onto you. ‘god, i hate him so much’ he thought to himself.

and that went on until you and corrigan broke up. he did end up making james fall off his broom, he had to get 20 stitches, and you cried about it. as soon as james hit the grass you were in the field, it wasn’t even a real match, just practice. you took him to the infirmary, you even held his hand.

“its just a few stitches, don’t worry about it.” he said, as the nurse started to clean the wound.

“20 is definitely not a few, just let me stay here.”

“she’s right” the nurse added, she rubbed alcohol onto the cut and james hissed.

“told you he was an asshole, hun”

“watch your mouth, mr potter” she added as he groaned again.

after you were finished with school, most of your friends went to work at the order of the phoenix, you had a part time job as a baratender but also participated in the order. james had been trying to convince you to quit the job, specially because your ex was the manager (even though he wouldn’t admit it).

“james!” you shouted, laying down at the couch in the orders house.

“what?!” he screamed back from the kitchen, he was making those god awful scrambled eggs you said you loved because he made them with such care you were sorry for his cooking skills.

“you’re taking anyone to sirius’s birthday tonight?” you ask, hoping to god he’d say no.

“no, mia and i broke up last month, remember?”

“of course i remember!” you were all smiley about it, you could squeal if he wasn’t there. even if it was silly, you were anxious to ask lily to come over and she’d help you pick out your outfit.

you both ended up deciding on a black dress she was willing to lend you. being so excited for something as casual as a friends birthday, was a bit stupid of you, that you could admit. but you couldn’t take your mind off of james now, sure it had been that way for like four years now, but he still was your best friend and you couldn’t do much about it. what was even worse was that his hugs, his voice, his smell, was all so addictive to you. and you tried, you really did, you just couldn’t.

when you got to the party at the order, you were a like two hours late, you got held back because of work and you still needed to get ready, but you somehow made it before they sung happy birthday. you wished sirius a happy birthday, giving him his gift and a tight hug. even though you weren’t close, he was still one of the most present people in your life, and you loved that about him, and so before you could even ask, he said:

“james is in the bathroom right now, but believe me, he’s been waiting for you all night though.” you smiled.

“thank you sirius, but i have other friends took, you know?” you said.

“he’ll love the dress” he whispered, and started walking away, you knew why. him and lily have been trying to get you and james together for ages now, and so you knew that when he just walked away like that, james was coming near, probably to talk to you.

“hey” you heard, and so you turned around to face him, and honestly, he looked great. he was wearing those jeans you liked and a shirt you complimented once.

“hi” you looked at him, smiling.

“you look amazing” he said, you felt your blood rush.

“thank you, i really like that shirt.” you felt the need to say something back.

“really?” he was just teasing you at this point.

“really.” and you liked to tease him back.

“y/n! finally, come on, we’re taking body shots” said lily, pulling you with her, and james came along.

everyone was there, laughing having fun. it was all super sweet, like you were in school again.

well, that was until sirius decided he’d make you regret you were ever born.

“PRONGS!” he shouted, as james was staring at him from a safe distance “COME ON LETS JOIN THE GAME, ITS YOUR TURN!”

“i’m not so sure about that, i feel like its sort of y/n’s turn, right?” james smirked to you, you glared at him. god, you didn’t know if you wanted to kiss him or kill him.

“ah james, you know how they say, gentlemen’s first? i believe that’s the phrase” you found yourself very idiotic in that place.

“i’m not drinking tonight though” james winked, you were trying to get yourself out of the situation, though it only seemed to get worse.

“perfect way to solve it, hear me out, y/n takes one off of james, problem solved!” sirius didn’t seem to have any common sense when he was drunk.

“good idea sirius!” said lily loudly through the music, and so you glared at her. this was definitely going to be the lowest point of your year, being sure james would say no, you looked over to him and he just decided to say

“fine by me” and just like that the shirt you liked too much was thrown on the counter.

“oh, uhm, okay then” you felt hot and red and you were sure that was exactly how you looked and it did not feel good. you were hoping the lighting would mask i, until james said “no need to be nervous, princess” and somehow that made you even more nervous.

“you know how this works right? lick, shoot, suck?” james asked, and so you nodded a yes, staring at the ceiling. he slipped a lime wedge into his mouth, and so you begging for this torture to end because you already felt so wet it was scary.

his tongue fell upon the rind, and so he could taste the citric flavor as you sprinkled salt onto his skin, from his navel to his waistband. he felt himself blush but decided to just ignore it and try to focus on something else.

and so it begins, you didn’t know it, but maybe james was more nervous about that than you. he was begging to the universe, spirits, everything he could, to not get hard on that moment you leaned over him, your warm tongue sticking out and licking a stripe up the salt. he tried his best to suppress a groan, you smiled, nervously, as you took the shot from his stomach, he could hear sirius saying something loudly, lily screaming and remus’s laugh. and he just saw you.

leaning towards his face, you looked at him with your ‘i’m so sorry oh my god’ look, your lips falling and plucking the lime from his mouth, but when you were going to pull back, your lips touched around the wedge and you felt your whole body ignite as your lips brushed against his.

but as quick as you tasted him, as quick it was gone.

james quickly got up and fixed himself, putting his shirt back on.

“good job” he didnt know what else to say and just high-fived you. you smile confused.

“thanks i guess” you say, as lily pulls you to the side to discuss what happened right in front of her and wasnt just actually one of your dreams.

around three hours later the party ended, and james did actually drink, once most people were hone and you were headed to the guest room you felt a hand pulling you by your dress, holding on to the silky fabric. turning around you found yourself very up close to james potter.

“hi” you whispered.

“hi” he said lowly.

“is everything okay?” you asked, his breath smelling like mint and lemons.

“yeah” he answered, still staring “can i crash with you? ‘dont wanna go home” you nodded a yes, and suddenly his hand was on the back of your neck.

“i’m about to do something so stupid.” he whispered.

“so am i.” you answered, your eyes not really knowing where to focus, his eyes, his lips, his neck, his mouth.

“good.” he nodded, and suddenly his lips were brushing over yours, your eyes started to close and then there it was.

your lips met, softly completing one another, which involved a pulling back and crashing. his lips strong against yours, and then his tongue was brushing over your lips, and so you opened your mouth and god, you dont know for how long you waited. his hands now roaming your body, you felt the heat of his body, and he pulls back.

“youre so fucking pretty” he blurted out, going back to the kiss. his hands now on your lower back, you pull him towards the guest room.

and then you were both sat on the bed, your heels off and his shoes too. your lips still attached, more and more eager by the second, and now his lips were on your neck, teasing you, as his right grabbed onto your upper thigh and your dress was riding up.

he pulled away to take off his shirt, you just stared at him, having no idea what to say next.

“hey” he was so close.

“hi”

“you wanna do this? because if you don’t that’s fine by me, really, we can just forget it and pretend we were both really drunk” he started trailing off.

“no. i want you, really, i do” you were trying not to look at him because that would make you even more nervous. just like that, his lips were back on yours, his hand on your waist, laying you down on the bed, your head on the pillow as he unzipped your dress, he was back to working on your neck, pressing kisses and nipping at it as he started to pull down your dress, his knee right between your legs, he was so so close to where you needed him.

you felt his cold hand reach for your breast, his lips trailing down to your chest, starting to suck on one nipple as his hand stimulated the other. you couldn’t help but just run your hands through his hair as you let moans escape through your mouth.

“james” you whined, as he left a trail of kissed from you chest to your inner thighs.

“yeah princess?” he looked up at you with doe eyes, right between your parted legs.

“please” you whispered.

“i cant hear you, what’s that?” he teased.

“please, i need you.” he smirked at that, pressing a kiss to the damp spot on your lace panties, your body now electrified because of the gesture.

“can i take these off?”he asked, his thumb playing with the fabric as you nod, he smiles as he pulls them down your legs. he’s using his hands to part your thighs. you can feel his breathing over your clit, he watches you as he places his thumb pad over your clit, rubbing it in slow circles and you let out a moan. his arm coming up, resting across your stomach.

embarrassment quickly turns into pleasure as he starts to kitten lick your clit.

his lips now attached as you threaded your hands into his hai, tugging and making james grunt. he’s slipping in a finger and you start to whimper.

“that feels good?” he asks, pulling his mouth off of you, you nod.

“yes, please…" he’s smiling lightly at that.

“what is it, huh? can you take another? is that it?” he teasingly asks, you whisper a yes. he watched his fingers as they slipped into you, he lets out a low groan. his fingers moving quicker as the feeling in your abdomen got stronger. his lips attach again to you clit and you whimper at the feeling. he’s flicking his tongue and his fingers are hitting the perfect spot.

“james”you whisper, he looks up at you, his fingers still going at it. “i need you now, i’m serious.”you blurt out, his fingers leave you, making you feel empty, his thumb rubs your clit as he goes up to kiss you, you’re able to taste yourself on his mouth. you moan into the kiss as he rubs you clit. his hands leave you, he starts to take off his pants, your heart races as he unbuckles his belt.

he reaches up to pin your knees up to your chest, you can feel the bulge on his underwear as he goes up to kiss you harshly. god, he did feel big.

“you sure about it?”he asks one more time.

“yes”you quickly answer.

“good girl.” you feel your soul leave your body because of the praise. he takes a moment to palm himself through the boxers,

“fuck, need you so bad” he whispers. you moan as his pulls himself out of his boxers, his erection hitting up against his stomach. he runs his hand up and down the shaft, you can feel his tip up against you.

“shit”you whisper,

“gonna be a good girl?” he’s lining himself up against you.

“yes, please, i will” you quickly answer, giving in because of how needy you were. he presses himself closer to you, stretching you around him.

“of course you are.”he says lowly, “tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”he says, and you nod. he pushes himself into you just in one stroke, the sudden stretch makes you moan breathlessly. he groans into the crook of your neck, biting down on a soft spot. “still so tight. you feel so good, princess” he praises, and wastes no time and starts to move, shallowly rolling his hips up to you. he kisses your neck as you moan.

“oh my god”you whimper. he’s thrusting harder now, starting to pick up a pace. you moan as he trusts forward, filling you up so well. you were starting to adjust to his size. your hands were back on his hair, holding on to it for dear life.

"fuck, james, harder please." he cocks an eyebrow, then pulls out to the tip, you whine at the loss,

"you asked for it, alright?” he thrusts forward roughly, filling you up with his cock, you feel him even deeper this time, the press of him against your walls making you whine louder as he thrusted even harder,

"can you take this, hun?" he fucks into you rapidly, mocking you, pushing you against the headboard, "you said you wanted it harder, didnt you?" your cheeks start to burn up. “you feel so fucking good” he groaned, the heat in your stomach building up again. you were blabbing incoherent phrases, all similar to ‘fuck please’ and ‘holy shit, oh my god james’. he’s filling you up perfectly and your walls start to tighten against him.

the sound of the slap of skin fills up the room, the base of him stimulating your clit along with his thumb, his right hand reaches up to your neck, squeezing lightly. he can tell youre close, the way your hips started to buck up, grinding needily. you yelp as he throws your legs over his shoulders, fucking you even deeper and hitting your g-spot.

“need it so bad, please” you whimper and he hums at that.

“need what?” he’s back to teasing again.

“i need to cum, please.”he’s fucking into you faster and harder than before. you clamped around him desperately, your high building up. he felt it, his hand pinching your clit as you moan in pleasure. his thrusts only getting harsher along with your whining. you just couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“you can cum princess, don’t worry” his thumb rolls on your clit faster, just like his thrusts. you came with a cry of his name, walls clenched around him as you gripped the back of his neck. seeing you, head thrown back in ecstasy, in pleasure as you cry out his name has him groaning, head dropped into the crook of your neck as his thrusts get faster and sharper, the overstimulation of it drawing out high keening noises from your throat, his cock nudging against your cervix as he spills inside of you.

"fuck, so good for me, princess," he kisses your shoulder, "such a good girl," he murmurs.

he pulls out slowly, putting himself back in his boxers, and lays you down when you mumble that you're too sore to sit up. he grins at that and you shove him, "what-? i'm just proud of myself that's all."

“you’re an idiot, you know that, right?” you tease him.

“you have no idea. i’ve loved you since i was seventeen.” he smiles, a bit nervous with his confession. and you pull him into a kiss.

“i’ve been in love with you since the first time i saw you” you whisper, and he lays down next to you, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

[thecurioustale]

I Went into the Caves

I reread nostalgebraist's The Northern Caves (TNC) this weekend for purely selfish reasons, and wanted to share a few thoughts...

I originally read this book when the final installment was published, late in October of 2015. For me, this happened to be during the single sharpest downward gradient of my entire life: I'd just finished up the so-called Year of 32, my most creatively productive period ever, but my life circumstances had changed drastically for the worse, with health and financial and family problems (and more) all at once, and I had found myself thrust into a new chapter of life that I call the (Joshalonian) Troubles. To go from one of the best years of my life to one of the worst was not a fun thing.

I had read TNC while still early in the "fall"; in fact things would go on to get much worse for me from there. But the seed had been planted for this story to be very important to me personally.

For those who aren't familiar, TNC is about a fan forum for the fictional Chesscourt series, by children's fantasy author Leonard Salby. Some members of this forum get the chance to explore Salby's unpublished final work, which, unlike the quaint children's fantasy novels of the Chesscourt series, is a cryptic, 3,000+ page tome of gibberish and horror and surrealism. The monstrous nature of the book gets into the minds of these forum members, and they end up in a drug-fueled, days-long manic state, reading the book together out loud at the house of one of the forum members.

For me, this monstrous book, which also has the title "The Northern Caves," was the draw of Rob's TNC. Even though we only get to see a few fragmentary excerpts of it, I was completely riveted by the premise and by the excerpts. The story of Rob's TNC, about the forum members engaging with this work, wasn't what drew me in. Yet when I was rereading it this weekend, I also read some of the AO3 comments on the chapters, and I found that most people had been almost completely absorbed in that aspect of the story, and didn't seem to be trying to directly comprehend Salby's TNC at all. It just goes to show that different people will get different things out of the same source material.

One of the things I most deeply crave in life is to encounter and experience "the other world," i.e. the mystical, the beyond. This has always been a pursuit of my storytelling, and is indeed how my mind has been structured for my entire life. Even when I was very young, I would map this desire onto things like vacation road trips, where we would drive away from home and into some other, wonderful place, by way of passing through many other, wonderful places, liminal places, to arrive at our destination.

Well, those final months of 2015 and the first several months of 2016 went very badly for me, till in March of 2016 I finally escaped the situation that was the single biggest source of my stress. But harm had been done to me, damage of a kind I had never before sustained. What followed was the mortal demise of the old Josh: Once I was in a safe place again, albeit with many other troubles still among me and ahead of me (not least that I was homeless at the time, and relying on the hospitality of friends), I first felt a great fatigue, which preoccupied me for several days. Then, a few weeks later, I had one of the most interesting experiences of my life: I think the term that would most quickly get the point across is "psychotic episode," even though I wouldn't use that term myself, as I was fully in control of my behavior and speech. But a funny thing happened to me when I would sit down to write, in that sunny office of the home where family friends were hosting me, during a week when they were out of town for Passover and I had the whole place to myself:

I composed a series of short pieces loosely telling a bizarre story. This is where the seed planted in my mind by TNC months earlier finally bore fruit, for my style was very much inspired, directly, by the Salbian style in TNC.

My story consisted of material like this (this is one, continuous excerpt; there are no cuts here):

May I ask you a persona lqoeutns? How do you know ll 26 nbubers? If where more than 26 numbers how would we have mathemathicsmomg? A don’t nw’ ijow gonigo to the bakery o ngo minutes on et imo elovne fnow tmrweio ncoirrect toemperautre.

HUSH NOW MY DARLING THE NUMBER NINE IS

static

Gracious are the houses of the DORAL> Plentiful are the tables he spreads for his esteeme dugest. Even though the splendors of his bounty are bested only by the GREAT SLN.

FLESDGLFGING MY WINGSO THIDID NOW THOGING THNOW NOW EW E FALL FROM THE NEST OTO BA F TAKE FLIGHT AFOR THE FIRSRTR TIMRO BUT THE WUNDERCARRIAGE OF OYUR WINGS IS TNDER AND YOUNG AND WE CANOT GUARATNEE EGHEROGUNA AND THE FLIGHT IS ROUGH EVEN WITHOUT THE TRUBULENCES WTHAT WE KNOW ARE ALL AROGUND US THOU IT LOOKS EASY BY THE ECAMPEL OF THE EPXIERENCED GENERATION YET WE STRUGGLE AIND FLUTTER AND WE ARE TRIRED WHEN WE LAND.

good grief gentle gosling now for the dinner table you are

if we don’t know what the air is ssupposed to be?

IU WANT AND EXPLANTION FROM THE CAOSMOR.

Understandably the selkie preferred to eavesdrop:

“Pray what is the abstractification of fulfillment?”

“Let us go ask Father Christmas.”

And thus a great transversal of geography ensued.

“Father Christmas what is the abstatication of fulfillment?”

“Do not take that tone with me child.”

“Then what of my many toys?”

“They have been destroyed.”

“How is this a reply?”

“It is none other but a reply.”

“So be it Father Christmas I now know the antithesis of what I ask and thus I know what I ask.”

“Yes you do stripling. Now go on to Mount Sghar where F shall await you. and though in fact it be only the month of April may your Christmases ahead be equally merry.”

“It shall be so and merry do.”

What I wrote in that strange week wasn't principally a mimicry or emulation of Salby's writing, although Salby's writing was clearly the inspiration and certain conventions and devices used by Salby were appropriated into my own work at a low layer—such as the deliberate spelling mistakes, a character ("F") known only by a single letter, the direct reuse of certain words that were still in my mind months later such as "vouchsafe," and so forth.

But the work was all original. I didn't copy any of it, either directly or in the manner of rewriting phrases and passages that Rob had written. I wrote all of it myself, and rather effortlessly at that. I did not labor over every last spelling and misspelling; it all just "came to me."

What I would say, then, is that Salby's TNC was "the right inspiration at the right time." It was what my brain seized on to express the inexpressible. What I was actually going through was nothing less than the mortal demise of the Old Josh. My entire life as I had known it, and my sense of self, had perished, and I had escaped just enough of my ongoing emergency to have a few weeks of rest, and that was when I "grieved" or "coped" or whatever word you want to use. Really it wasn't grieving or coping; it was a spasm. A spasm of the psyche, poured into words.

Something that I have struggled with my entire life, although I only developed the language to talk about it very gradually over many years, is the fact that I find it exceedingly difficult to say what I really mean. If you know my writing (fiction and nonfiction) you know that it tends to be overbuilt: formal, in-depth, pretentious, and quite verbose. This is, in great part, a result of me trying to say what I really mean. Pithy, aphoristic speech doesn't usually serve my needs, and although I am at least moderately capable of writing it I don't tend to reach for it often. It's much more typical of me to try to pack as much meaning as possible into my words, resulting in quite a lot of words and rather a slow pace.

But with this week of essays I abandoned all of that, by saying what I really meant without regard to its comprehensibility to the reader. Everything I wrote that week, including the excerpt I shared up above, has a meaning. I can look at it right now and still see the meaning nine years later. It is perfectly clear to me; it makes as much sense to me as a typical piece of writing from me.

The only difference with it is that I'm quite sure it makes very little sense to you. It isn't readable. For that one week, I abandoned the effort to be understood—another lifelong struggle of mine—for the sake of saying what I really mean.

While the individual excerpts are fascinating by themselves (I think), they combine to become something considerably more interesting. Taken as a whole, the story I told isn't a particularly coherent one at a face-value narrative level: Very loosely (and with much oversimplification on my part here), the action of the narrative is about carefully following "indicators" to traverse "atmospheric geometries" and arrive at a place called "Mount Sghar." However, it does this by way of many detours, such as:

A1: CLASIFEDS

WANTED: EVIL LOGICIAN

aAre you prepared fro a fast-apaced career in the exciting world of LGOI>?e Yet you don’t wish to sopend oyour life giving lectures to students who don’t want to be there and engaguing in intraepartmental fueds with other lecturuers.? You think there’s no other way don’t you fiend . findout there’s another way o redound into the WORLD OF WORK!

PUll up your jodhpurs and your justaucorps until rthe sentiment overtakes you that LOGIC shall deliver your remittances frmor the cEntral Authority.

Live in the lap of luctury with swimming pools and bars and wet bars and gymnasia and sitting rooms and drawing rooms and solaria and convenientiously spacious closets with thpower of EVIL LOCI> But don’t fret supplicant! Your candidacy is not ineligible soimply because you have no logica ofl your wn. All you need is THE ONE OAMEWETH. then the appointment shall be yours without ado.

must have own railroad, biogenic weapons program, a trifle really

That's a classified ad. It doesn't literally figure into the story before or after its appearance. It is a standalone statement if you will, a single "sentence" embedded in a larger paragraph. But because so much of the writing for this story comes in incongruous and disjointed forms like this, it isn't really possible to extract a coherent plot per se, nor is there a protagonist or even a point-of-view character most of the time. Those roles are filled by me, personally. It's like a first-person POV story without the first-person POV.

As for what the story is actually about, it's a mixture of two things: The first, though I didn't consciously realize it at the time, is that, like I said, I was dying. It was the end of the old me. But that doesn't actually say anything about the contents of the story. For that, and the true answer to the question of what this story is about, is that this is a story about trying to be understood. Ironic, huh? 😂

I wanted to say what I really mean so that I could be understood. This was what I was expressing, during this death-of-self, because I had never truly achieved it, and I was bitter and frustrated, and I was leaving this world without closure or resolution on those matters.

To "not be understood" is one of the fundamental conditions of aloneness. We are each apart; we cannot truly share our perspectives in full. We can never be understood in totality. And that fact hits a lot harder for someone like me who never had unconditionally loving and emotionally present parents or a ludicrously loyal and always-on-call gaggle of "best" friends as a kid.

In full disclosure, this story is saying a lot more that I can't see myself getting into here, because to explain it in communicable terms would, after all, be a rather tall ask; that's why I wrote it so incomprehensibly in the first place.

Rob's TNC gives us Salby's TNC as something that is deliberately meant to be inscrutable but with profound insights just-on-the-cusp of becoming realized, as a way of engaging the mind of the reader, giving it something to chew on. The story I wrote isn't "deliberately inscrutable"; it's not a toy for readers. It has a clear message—to me perfectly clear in every detail; I'm sure I could account for you nearly every single turn of phrase in the entire thing, even nine years later—but it necessarily isn't clear to you. That's kind of the point. It is a demonstration of my struggle to be understood.

This is the last thing I wrote in my journal before those stories began:

I am so frickin tired of playing by the rules: having to communicate coherently, having to crack my eggs from the right damn end, having to live like a bolt of lightning in a suit and tie and cubicle. It’s not dignified and it’s not true.

That statement about the comprehensible stuff being both not dignified and not true really rings for me even today. The incomprehensible stuff was more honest, in a way, and carried more majesty in its word count.

That one week was a very special time in my life. I have never been able to write like this before or since that one week. I've tried for much of my life; see for instance the words of Sourros in The Great Galavar, from 2014 before any of this happened.

The Troubles would continue for another two years, and in March of 2017, eleven months after I had my crazy storytelling week in California, I wrote the first major contribution to what would become the Galaxy Federal Inaugural Novel, which in many ways is the direct continuation of my work in this incomprehensible story. I've even found ways to incorporate some of this bizarre text!

Rob's story gave me an "other world" I could sink my teeth into. I find Salby's disturbing philosophy of Mundum very interesting, and am able to comprehend it (I think) without actually subscribing to it. But Salby's unhinged writing in particular is a lasting wellspring, and it shows how "built different" I am that so few other fans of TNC focus on this aspect of it. Like, I just don't really care all that much about the adventures of the Chesscourt forum members as they get together and pop pills. They were merely vehicles for me to get more glimpses of Salby's TNC. Rob's work in creating the coherent-yet-inscrutable ravings of Leonard Salby is extraordinary, but, ultimately, unless I have missed Rob's meaning (which would also be ironic, lol), there is no deeper purpose to it than that. My inscrutable ravings, on the other hand, are "real." They actually contain important messages that I personally endorse.

There is something so compelling about text which is perfectly meaningful but nearly incomprehensible to anyone but the author. What happened to me that week was just an altered state of mind. But of course it felt at the time, and ever after, "magical." Such is the sentimentalism of the human mind.

I don't struggle to be understood any more. I accept that I won't be. And in some ways the Galaxy Federal Inaugural Novel is me describing how I feel about that. But! While its ultimate messages may remain forever hidden, unlike the gibberish above at least you'll be able to read it.