#I feel this unrelenting itch suddenly of like

[diivineangel]

“ i’ve got something to confess…i keep you in my pocket to use…. you’re my only compass, i might get lost without you. ”

𝓢ynopsis: toji, your boyfriend, after escaping from the oppressive zenin clan with your help, has managed to find peace and happiness at your side, forming a small family with you and your son, megumi. now, with his heart full and his future clear, he gathers his courage to ask you the question he’s long kept close: will you be by his side, not just today, but for all the days to come?

pairing: toji x fem!reader

cont: pure fluff!!

wc: 944

────       𝓢ince the day Toji met you, his life had shifted like night to day. For so long, his world was a bleak, unforgiving place, suffocating under the weight of the Zenin Clan’s shadow. From the moment he could remember, they had stolen his peace, filling his life with violence, betrayal, and endless despair. But then you came—an unexpected light, so steady and unwavering, guiding him out of that suffocating darkness.

It was you who gave him the courage to break free, to turn his back on the demons of his past and embrace a life he’d never dared to dream of. Now, away from the poison of the clan, Toji finally knew peace. He wasn’t perfect—his work with the Time Vessel Association still bore its own burdens, and the itch of his gambling addiction lingered like a storm on the horizon. Yet, for you, for the person who held his heart so tightly, he was determined to be better.

You weren’t just his love. You were his everything. His sun. His reason for trying, for smiling, for waking up every morning with hope in his chest. And there was one other piece of light that had crept into his world: his son, little Megumi. Barely a year old, Megumi was a miracle—a reminder that even in his broken life, something pure and beautiful could exist. Toji adored him, fiercely and protectively, holding onto him as if the boy was the fragile thread that tied his family together.

It was a golden summer afternoon when this small family—yours, his, and Megumi’s—shared a moment of calm. The backyard buzzed with laughter and warmth as close friends gathered for a poolside day. Children dashed across the grass, their shrieks of joy filling the air, and little Megumi had found a fast friend in Itadori, a boy with the same playful, unrelenting energy. They chased each other around the yard, giggling, their tiny feet padding against the ground.

You leaned back, soaking in the scene, but something tugged at the edge of your attention. Toji wasn’t himself. He sat near you, his eyes sharp and restless, his jaw tightening every so often. Though his lips curved into a faint smile, you could tell it wasn’t quite reaching his heart. You caught his gaze and raised a brow, silently asking if he was okay. He shook his head slightly, dismissing your worry, and you let it go—for now.

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky and the guests prepared to leave, Toji excused himself. You watched him slip inside the house, confusion creeping in. Moments later, he returned, and this time, something was different. His entire presence seemed to glow—his shoulders relaxed, his steps confident, his eyes brighter than you’d ever seen them.

“Hey, everyone,” he said, clearing his throat and catching the attention of the group. The chatter fell silent, curiosity sparking in their eyes. Toji looked at you then, and you could feel the weight of his gaze, heavy with something unspoken yet overwhelming.

He took a step closer to you, rubbing the back of his neck—a small crack in his usual unshakable demeanor. His voice was lower now, softer, meant only for you despite the crowd around him.

“Babe,” he started, his lips twitching nervously. “We’ve been through so much together. More than I ever thought I’d survive. You’ve… you’ve changed everything for me. You gave me a life I didn’t think I deserved. You gave me hope. And Megumi… you gave me a family.”

Your breath caught, the air around you suddenly thicker, the moment stretching out. Toji paused, swallowing hard, his fingers curling into fists as if steadying himself. Then, as if he could hold it in no longer, the words tumbled from him, raw and honest.

“I don’t know how to say this in a way that does justice to what you mean to me, but… I want you forever. I want to keep waking up next to you, keep watching you laugh, keep being the man you make me want to be.” He dropped to one knee, and the air around you seemed to explode with gasps and murmurs from your friends.

Toji reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, simple ring—modest, but gleaming with a kind of care that took your breath away. His voice cracked as he spoke, but his words were steady, strong, and utterly sincere.

“Marry me, sunshine. Be mine forever.”

The world seemed to stop. All the noise—the laughter, the distant hum of summer, the pounding of your own heart—melted into silence as his words wrapped around you. Toji’s eyes, filled with hope and a rare vulnerability, searched yours, waiting.

And in that moment, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing. Only love.

🏷️ : @lemonlover1110 @sugoroo @wintrrxxo @yung-notorious @jazzthatonewriterchick

[didnt-hear-idsb-live-again]

The thing is it is the literal best thing in the world driving across the country with a group of strangers who start becoming family with incredible music blasting all the way down the freeway…….. I just don’t wanna have to do work to unlock that lmao

[jadededge]

Double Trouble || Jookyun - Ch.4

Pairing: JooKyun x Reader

Genre: AU, Romance, Smut

Rating: M

Summary: Jooheon and Changkyun are an inseparable duo. They do everything together, and dating was no exception. You see them all the time and silently pine but eventually meet them and things progress from there.

Basically reader and her two boyfriends. Smut. Fluff.

Wattpad | AO3    (will likely always update these 2 places first)  

Navigation: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

"Switching positions, I like to rotate."

"You ready sweetheart?" Jooheon asks.

You nod shyly, smiling up at him. He eases in slowly while hovering his face just above yours. His eyes are piercing straight into you and it is the most exquisite feeling. You both groan as he stretches you.

He pulls back out just a little and back in, getting you both used to the feeling. Once he's sure you're ready, he starts to pick up his pace. You're already feeling so good, you can't stop your moans of adoration from falling.

As if kissing you passionately while slow stroking wasn't enough to make you cum, he leans back and pulls your legs wider apart. In this new position he slams into you at an unrelenting pace. Suddenly you feel Changkyunnie sit to your left.

"You're taking Honey so well." He praises while stroking your hair. You glow on the inside. You can't help but let out the most sensual moan you can muster and squeeze Jooheon involuntarily. This sends him into a frenzy. The sounds filling the room were sinful. Skin slapping, and begging pleas.

"Fuuuuck. That felt amazing. You like it when we praise our Princess, hm?" He teases you, slamming into with accentuated thrust.

You only moan in response. Changkyun slaps your breast in response. "He asked you a question. Answer with words."

"Yes! Fuck- yes, I love it." You yell. "Feels so good. I'm gonna cum." You manage out in between thrust.

Changkyun moves his hand down to your clit and starts rubbing smooth, tight circles to it. You feel yourself nearing your end. "Let go baby."

You feel it deep in your spine. Creeping up to the surface, like the delightfulness of an itch being scratched. The feel of Jooheon filling you up and Changkyun controlling your body with his hands was simply too perfect. You snap.

"Yes baby fuck, I'm going to fill you up so good." His movement becomes erratic. Joo leans forward burying his head in your neck, whispering the sweetest dirtiest promises to you while he cums.

Rolling to your other side, he caresses your face while panting hard. "You are amazing." He leans up to give you a gentle kiss to the forehead.

"Truly. A sight to see." Changkyun adds, mimicking Jooheon's move. "But you're absolutely not done yet. It's my turn." He fake pouts.

"Then it's our turn." Joo adds

You're still reeling from this round. You can't imagine the next two... _______________________________________________________________

The next morning, you woke up to who you assumed was Honey wrapped around your waist, faced pressed to your back, because Changkyunnie was lying facing you. He was still asleep, his breath even and slow. You took this chance to observe him. You smile to yourself.

This sleeping angel shows no traces of the devil he was last night. You sandwiched between him and Honey, filled to the brim for most of the night, you wouldn't expect to be cooing at him this way in the light. He's adorable.

"Aw, I think it's cute. You staring at me with such adoration." He startled you by speaking. Eyes still closed.

You stammer. "What? I- I wasn't staring.." How did he know?

He slowly opens his eyes, "I felt you." He laughs a little. "It's okay. I told you, I think it's cute." He reaches up to gently glide his thumb over your cheek. "Hi." He says.

Your heart melts. "Hi."

He leans in to give you a kiss and you move just a little to meet him. At this, Jooheon grumbles, "Noo." and tightens his hold on you.

Changkyun scoffs, "Cockblocking baby." You chuckle at the pair. "You want breakfast princess?"

"Sure. Whatever's easiest to make." You offer not wanting to have him going out of his way.

"It's easiest for me to give you whatever you desire." He stares at you deeply. "So what would you like?"

You blush hard. "An omelette and toast?"

He squints a little, "I can do that. Relax a little more I'll come get you when it's ready." He leans and kisses you again. While getting up and out of bed, he reaches around and gives Jooheon a slap to the back.

"Fuck! Man, why would you do that?" Jooheon complains.

"You're hogging her, let her move around." Changkyun reprimands while getting dressed.

Joo rolls over mumbling under his breath, "I wasn't the one sucking face all morning. Stupid..." and drifts back off.

You're left laughing during the whole exchange. Rolling to your side, you absentmindedly stroked Honey's back til you're drifting back to sleep.

"Baby. Get up." You hear in your dream. "Baby... Changkyun made breakfast. A whole spread. I helped though." You grumble awake. "He's going to say I didn't but I did."

You roll over to see Jooheon smiling at you. "What time is it?" You ask.

"Just after 11. When I got up you looked so peaceful I didn't want to wake you up." He coos at you.

You smile. "Okay, give me 15 minutes and I'll be down."

Leaving you to your morning routine, you quickly freshen up with the toiletries the boys left for you and head down stairs.

Honey said Changkyun made a spread but you didn't expect all of this.

"Do you all normally eat this much?"

"No. It's for you, obviously."

He's a smartass huh. That's amusing. You think chuckling to yourself. "Thank you Changkyunnie."

You notice he blushes a little before abruptly turning around. "It's nothing.

Jooheon leans in and whispers to you, "He really likes you."

After eating, the 3 of you lounged for some time while chatting. Before you knew it, a couple of hours had passed. You start to think maybe you should leave. You could use a shower in your own space, and, to be honest, you didn't want to seem too clingy.

"Well I had a great morning, but I need to get home." You move to face Jooheon. He had maneuvered you into a cuddle, with you leaning on him.

With a pout he responds, "Nooo. Why? Stay." He puts both his arms around your waist and pulls you in. When he puts his face in the crook of your neck, you nearly lose your resolve.

"Yeah, why? You're tolerable to be around." Changkyun says, kind of off handedly still staring at the tv.

"Aw, see, you have to stay. Changkyunnie really really likes you." Jooheon reveals. "He doesn't like anybody hanging around too long."

"Dude.." Changkyun throws a small pillow at Jooheon.

"I mean, I need to shower and change for starters. And.. well," You regret instantly saying anything. You try to back out.

"We're not sick of you. If that's what you're thinking. Are you sick of us? Are we too clingy?" Jooheon grabs you tighter, staring at you nearly pouting. God, he's adorable. And dangerous...

This is baffling to say the least. This man is nearly the complete opposite of what he seems. He's worried that he's too clingy, ha!

You chuckle a little, "no, you're not too clingy. And I would stay but I still need my things."

"We can get you stuff or take you to your place." Honey moves to put his head in your lap and look up at you. The same position you were in last night. Funny.

Changkyun moves to sit next to you leaning back with his arm stretched along the couch behind you . "I can take you home to shower and get your things. Stay the rest of the weekend with us, Princess."

"What the hell." You decide. "Okay, sure. Take me home and bring me back." You smile at them.

[warabidakihime]

Heart's Refuge

Characters: Bakugou x Reader Synopsis: In your eyes, I found a refuge from the chaos of the world, a place where I could rest my weary heart and discover the beauty of love. Content warning: none A/N: was feeling kinda icky so i gave birth to this lol. hope it'll comfort some of you too. love u. <3

-

The night at U.A. High grew quiet, swallowing the usual teenage energy into an eerie hush. Even Bakugou's dorm room, usually a mess of activity, was eerily still. He sat under a single lamp, worry gnawing at him like a persistent itch.

You'd left for your parents' place earlier, promising to be back before lights out. But as the clock ticked, his unease grew into a restless monster. His mind, usually sharp as a tack, conjured nightmares, each worse than the last.

What if you were hurt?

Attacked by a villain?

Or worse, what if those creeps from the League of Villains got you?

Unable to sit still, Bakugou stomped around his room, glued to the clock. Each tick felt like an eternity. He wanted to call and yell at you about your whereabouts, but something held him back.

You were strong; he knew that.

But with each passing minute, his tough-guy act crumbled.

Keeping you safe mattered more than pride.

With a frustrated groan, he dialed your number. His heart hammered as he waited. The phone rang, echoing in the silent room. But there was only silence on the other end.

Worry turned to anger and frustration.

Where were you?

Why hadn't you called?

The questions spun in his head, making him even more restless. He wanted to charge out and search, but he knew it was pointless.

Time crawled. Each minute felt like an hour. Bakugou's worry started to mix with a low growl of annoyance.

Where in the world could you be?

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. He marched towards Aizawa's office, determined to report your disappearance. Every creak of the floorboard echoed in the empty hallway as his mind raced with possibilities.

Just as he reached the door, a flash of movement caught his eye. He whipped around and saw you. There you were, slipping out of the dorm with a frown that could curdle milk. Bakugou's heart lurched.

What happened to you?

He ditched his plan to talk to Aizawa. He had to follow you, see where you were going, and see what was bothering you so much. He stalked behind you, a silent shadow, careful to keep a safe distance.

The way you walked, with heavy steps dragging behind you, told him something was seriously off. Bakugou gritted his teeth, watching you disappear into the darkness.

You headed straight for the training grounds. Bakugou's worry spiked. Every step you took seemed to carry a weight that he couldn't understand. He found a hiding spot and watched you.

Upon reaching the center of the training grounds, you suddenly unleashed your gravity quirk and started training all by yourself.

Bakugou watched, captivated, as you trained. Each move was a blend of power and grace. Your determination crackled in the air as you manipulated gravity, the ground trembling with your strikes.

The raw emotion you poured into your training both worried and impressed him.

Right there and then, he understood your need for an outlet.

As you prepared another attack, Bakugou surprised you by expertly joining your practice and catched and evaded your punch. Shock turned to intrigue as your eyes met. Without words, Bakugou offered himself as a training partner, ready to absorb your emotional blows.

The sparring session became fierce.

You unleashed your frustration with every strike, pushing your limits, while Bakugou matched your intensity with finesse and expertly blocked and countered all your attacks. 

Time blurred as you trained, the tension slowly releasing with each blow. A connection bloomed between you, a silent conversation spoken through combat.

Bakugou pushed you, his support evident and unrelenting despite being clueless as to why you're acting like this. To be completely honest, the minute you saw your boyfriend, you felt instantly better and even greater when he played along with you.

Suddenly, the sparring escalated.

With a silent agreement, you unleashed your quirks. The air crackled as your gravity manipulation met Bakugou's explosions. You dodged and countered, a raw exhilaration coursing through both of you.

The training ground became your stage, a display of combined power and cleverness as the two of you tried to outsmart one another.

After a few more rounds, the both of you were rendered absolutely exhausted; you both collapsed on the floor, the air thick with exertion. 

"You worry the hell out of me," Bakugou finally said, his voice gruff but strangely gentle.

"I'm sorry, Katsuki," you whispered, your tears welling up. "I just... needed an escape."

Bakugou's gaze softened. "Tell me," he said, concern lacing his voice.

You poured out your pain, and the disappointment from your parents was a heavy burden. Bakugou listened intently, anger simmering in his eyes.

"They're the worthless ones, not you," he growled, his words offering a balm to your wounded spirit.

"I just wanted to release it all," you continued, voice trembling. "So I trained until I felt nothing but exhaustion."

His hand reached yours, and his touch was surprisingly gentle. "Don't go through this alone," he said, his voice surprisingly vulnerable. "I'm here for you, Y/N. Always have been, always will be."

Relief washed over you. Tears streamed down your face as you whispered, "Thank you, Katsuki. I don't know what I'd do without you."

He squeezed your hand with a flicker of something deeper in his eyes. "I won't let anyone hurt you again," he vowed.

Silence settled between you, a comfortable quiet punctuated by your shared breaths. You realized how lucky you were to have Bakugou by your side.

A brief moment of tenderness flickered as Bakugou leaned down and kissed your forehead. He pulled you close, but you playfully swatted him away, earning a playful scowl.

"Whoa there, Sparky," you teased. "Maybe a shower first?"

An irritated scowl crossed Bakugou's face, his temper flaring up. "Oh, like you smell like roses, huh?" he retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "That's rich coming from you, Y/N."

You couldn't help but laugh at his fiery response, knowing he was incapable of holding back his trademark arrogance. His outbursts were as familiar to you as the back of your hand.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Katsuki," you replied, rolling your eyes but still grinning.

Feeling the heat of his temper rising, you swiftly extinguished the flames before they consumed him. "I'm sorry for teasing you. I know you were just worried about me."

He huffed, his pride slightly wounded, but a faint smile played on his lips. "Damn right, you should be sorry. I can't believe this is what I get for worrying about you."

The remorse over teasing him was clear in your eyes, so you leaned in and kissed him fully. It was playful yet sweet, a way to show you cared about his feelings.

Pulling away, a gentle warmth settled between you. Bakugou cupped your face, his gaze intense. "Glad you're okay," he mumbled, sincerity lacing his rough voice. "Maybe I nag, but..." he trailed off. "Just know I worry 'cause I care. You need saving; I'm here."

Reassured, you smiled. Just as your sweet moment blossomed, a booming voice shattered the night's quiet.

"Do you have any idea what time it is? What are you doing here training so late at night?"

Startled, you both saw Aizawa, his sharp gaze and annoyed tone leaving no room for arguments. The weight of breaking curfew crashed down on you.

Guilt flickered as you quickly disentangled from Bakugou. "Sensei, we..." you began, but a raised hand stopped you.

"No excuses," he cut in sternly. "Curfew's a rule. Dorms. Now."

Regret filled your voice. "Sorry, Aizawa sensei. It won't happen again."

Bakugou stood silent beside you, his apology unspoken but acknowledged with a nod to their teacher.

Aizawa's sternness softened as he sighed. "Just go back and get some sleep. Rules exist for a reason."

With silent nods, you both turned and walked back to the dorms. Reaching your door, Bakugou stopped.

"Sorry. Didn't see Aizawa coming," he muttered.

You smiled softly. "It's okay, Katsuki. Maybe I owe you an apology too, getting you in trouble."

He nodded, his eyes softening as he moved closer. "Night, Y/N."

"Night, Katsuki," you replied warmly.

He leaned in and gave you a tender kiss on the lips in hopes of vanishing any sadness or heaviness you might still be feeling at the moment. Pulling away, he brushed your cheek, his eyes holding yours.

"Rest," he said softly. "Need anything, you know where to find me."

Comfort washed over you. "Thank you, Katsuki. You too."

With a final, lingering look, Bakugou left. Your heart fluttered, a smile gracing your lips. Upon entering your room, gratitude filled you again for having Bakugou by your side, someone who cared deeply and always had your back.

As you settled into bed, peace and contentment washed over you. 

[eliotquillon]

Your Cameron timeloop fic sounds so cool! I don’t write timeloop usually bc it stresses me out to write but I love it as a reader and a concept. What kind of gave you the itch to write it - like what are you finding super fun about it?

OKAY SO time loop stories are kind of my white whale; always wanted to write one, have about 6 different drafts for different fandoms dating back as far as 2017/18, and never really managed to pull it off (apart from a one-shot i wrote 3 years ago, and that was less ‘time loop’ and more ‘reincarnation’—the loop wasn’t an enclosed time period). time loops are so interesting to me because they’re a physical manifestation of what is (usually) an internal conflict of some kind; the loop is a metaphor and a way for characters to work their shit out, but it’s also real, and brings its own set of problems. in groundhog day, phil’s loop forces him to confront his own cynicism and become a better person; in russian doll, nadia and alan’s loop forces them to process their own trauma (with the addition of them dying at the end of every loop); in undertale (i would argue that its save/reload ‘memory’ and the fact that you have to play it at least twice for the true pacifist ending qualifies it partly as a time loop story), the loop forces the underground to reckon with its desire for freedom and what they’re actually willing to do to get it. it’s an external obstacle that forces internal processing, and that is FUN but also scary as hell to write. my gut instinct whenever i consume a new character-driven piece of media is always to daydream ‘well what if there was a time loop?’, because for me it is THE ultimate blender to stick people in and see what comes out.

why i chose cameron (and the events of hunting specifically) is a bit more complicated. first things first: i love cameron. i love WRITING cameron, because time and time again in the show there’s a clash between what she believes abstractly and what she actually finds herself capable of following through on, and that’s a fun internal/external conflict. can you see where i’m going with this. and cameron is having…a TIME in early s2. the premiere of s2 literally has her going through the stages of grief in order, and that foreshadows the next few episodes pretty well for her. she’s not happy, and stuck in a rut, and everyone can see it—the other fellows, house, wilson, even the TB doctor. and it’s not like she’s going to just pack up and leave—she’s worked hard to get where she is! she’s fought so hard to be taken seriously! it’s got to mean something! and i think she’s been feeling that way a while (for example, why does a person like cameron apply for a job under house in the first place? he’s the best there is, but they have very different beliefs and attitudes towards patients, and when she finally leaves the fellowship she turns around and ends up doing something completely unrelated—i think it’s because she’s looking for meaning even back then). hunting is such a great episode because it brings to a head what’s been bubbling under the surface for a while now: secretly, a part of cameron does want to change. she suddenly has the perfect excuse to throw caution to the wind and do something different. and it’s tragic because of course it turns out that the patient is lying to her, that he’s just as unhappy as she is even with all the partying and casual sex, and ultimately cameron comes away from that episode with a better understanding of herself but…she’s still unhappy, you know? she’s determined to act like it didn’t happen and move forward. and the great thing about a time loop is that it forces you to confront things. the only way out is through. that’s why the loop is set the day after she does the meth, and not the day before: if cameron were stuck in a loop of that day, the first thing she’d realistically do is. Not do the meth. and not call chase. and since the main point of this fic is to force her to confront the aftermath of that, it has to be the day after. she can’t change the past, but she can (and will!) change how she deals with it.

i’m also interested in hunting because of cameron and chase’s conversation in lockdown, when she tells him that she slept with him on meth because she was starting to already have feelings for him and it scared her and she pushed it away. because like. this is entirely characteristic of cameron. i 100% believe this is what happened. there is also zero fucking evidence from the writing that this is what happened. there are occasional callbacks to cameron’s HIV scare later in s2, and the fact that she’s slept with chase before gets brought up in s3 during the fwb era, but between hunting and insensitive cameron and chase basically act like none of it ever happened and most of the s2 drama is between cameron and foreman instead. so this is kind of a fix-it, as well: i’m bringing those feelings to the surface and making chameron happen earlier because this time there is no running away. the fallout of this is gonna vary—@all-pacas wrote up a very good meta recently about how chase’s provoking of the patient’s brother into suing him in the mistake very likely happened a day or two after he slept with cameron, and therefore that might not happen if him and cameron actually TALK ABOUT THINGS and he doesn’t hoard up more guilt and frustration—but there will be a happy-ish ending. i say ish because ultimately this isn’t really a ‘shipfic’ and therefore things will be a bit messier than they are in, say, groundhog day, but the fic will end with them together and things will be better than they were at the beginning.

anyway this fic is so crazy fun to write for a lot of reasons, but what has really taken me by surprise is how much i’m enjoying writing FOREMAN into this fic. cameron is spiralling (time loop) and chase is concerned and house is intrigued and meanwhile foreman is just stood in the corner going ‘guys 🤨 anyone gonna fill me in 🤨’. one of my fave parts of the first chapter is the section where cameron starts drawing a clock to see if she has encephalitis and then is like ‘wait the clock will look normal to me anyway. What if i email it to foreman. Nevermind he’s going to think i’m insane’ lmaoo. foreman and cameron were actually decent friends in s1 (never forget him shovel talking house and saying he considers her a friend) until articlegate, and in s3 it’s revealed he knows she has a brother (and chase didn’t!), so i’m putting foreman/cameron friendship BACK ON THE MENU. he will probably still steal her article anyway but she wouldnt be as mad about it. not that this fic is going to cover articlegate but yknow

anyway thank you for letting me be very self indulgent and yell about this fic LOL

[harrowharks-iliac-crest]

Fuck. Yeah, let's talk about grief.

Have you ever lost someone close enough in such a way that you would, if given half the chance, lobotomise yourself to dull the pain even a little bit?

I have. And I was twenty-six, nearly a full decade older than Harrow.

Really, when you take a little step back, this book is all about grief. About how grief can drive you to do horrible, awful things.

Not just what Harrow did - erasing Gideon from her existence entirely - or at least trying to; though this is probably the most obvious example.

(I kinda can't believe that when I first realised Harrow's memories were all skewed, my literal first theory was "Harrow couldn't deal with the grief and fucked herself up so she could go on not feeling it".)

But also God - in his grief for the whole world, resurrecting it - resurrecting his love, his friends - and then having to deal with the consequences.

But also Mercymorn and Augustine - ten thousand years later still driven to murder by their grief - justifiably, to be honest.

It comes though in Gideon's narration - her grief for her mother, her grief for Jeannemary, her grief for herself! -

It's an undercurrent in the entire book, more present than the River.

If you lost someone that close to you, wouldn't you also fuck yourself up so you wouldn't have to remember?

I remember when I first learned that my best friend had died, suddenly -

Just having to sit there, as the world came crashing down around me -

And just not knowing how to deal with it. at ALL.

I still don't know, to be honest. It's been years.

There's something about the unrelenting cruelty of, of having to get up, having to go on. Having to eat dinner (or at least unenthusiastically pick at it), having to go to bed, try to sleep, having to get up, and go to work in the morning.

Maybe not right away. But whether you like it or not, the world just fucking keeps on turning. It's unrelenting, uncaring almost. How can everything just keep going when your world has just been shattered?

I don't blame Harrow. I don't blame John, or the Lyctors - I don't blame any of them.

I don't blame any of them.

What do you do??? What do you even do?????

And it makes me angry -

It makes me so, so angry, that it's so, so difficult to talk about it.

Grief is one of the most universal human experiences. It is. None of us will go through life without losing someone close to us. If we do, it's only cus we die young enough to become that someone to the people around us.

And how do we deal with it??? In the culture that I grew up in and live in, it's just not really talked about. You talk about it maybe, when it happens, briefly, you maybe mention going to a funeral. You hear awkwardly, sorry for your loss, condolences, I don't know what to say.

I don't know what to say. No one does, ever. It's a problem. It's a problem.

You might bring it up on anniversaries or if something reminds you of them. You might swallow it because you don't wanna bring the mood down. You might not even know how to talk about it yourself.

I don't. Not really.

I really feel like grief is the big elephant in the room in western societies, largely ignored, yet always present. Aren't we all grieving in some way? It doesn't even have to be for a person - a relationship or the climate or a place you've had to move away from - a place you remember being different to how it is now - a time you can never go back to. A pet. Your health. There are so many things you can lose forever.

Aren't we all grieving in some way?

I guess finishing this book has brought a lot of mine up to the surface, quite suddenly. I didn't expect that. But like a kaleidoscope, grief reflects in many colours. I like it when books can play on my emotions like harp strings - and this book has definitely done that; it held up a mirror, and it said:

If you had the power to erase your pain, wouldn't you?

And if you're itching now, as an older, wiser version of yourself, to tell Harrow - tell her that grief isn't easily escapable like that - tell her that those memories are precious, don't you get it - tell her that it will hurt worse, in the long run -

How would you feel? How did you feel, back then, when the wound was still so fresh and raw? When you were younger, more desperate, with fewer options?

Wouldn't you also have chosen to live in a world where your pain was overwritten?

[thek1ngtalks]

whumppie tobers day 4 - Hiding An Injury yall gon love this

Hajin shakes the warmth off, suddenly feeling dread pool in his gut. New information scratches at the back of his mind, an unrelenting itch. “Suho,” His stomach curdles like spoiled milk. “We need to evacuate the building.”

if 👉👈 if you wanna read this uwu (i'm sorry), link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50635261

i'm catching up on my late days, i swear i am

[macrocest]

22 works in our Cestember ao3 collection so far!

Here are more that have been added since the first Cestember rec list.

the start of the big bang by rodykatkami 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime)  | Chousou/Itadori Yuuji

Chousou watches Yuuji touch himself from the cracked doorway and he feels his world imploding because suddenly he’s consumed by the need to have Yuuji screaming his name while he’s fucked into oblivion.

My Sister, The Sneak by KittyDaydreams Avatar: Legend of Korra  | Ikki/Jinora

Jinora tries to get some time to herself but has an unexpected audience.

night call by dalula Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling  | Orion Black/Regulus Black

His soft hair is ruffled in sleep and Orion, sitting next to him on the bed, dares to reach out and touch it—testing how deeply unconscious Regulus truly is. Like the well-trained boy he is, he moans.

saltwater taboo by rodykatkami Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game)  | Floyd Leech/Jade Leech

Jade uses his brother’s pretty thighs to get off

Longing to Touch by Herochick007 Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling | Bellatrix Black Lestrange/Narcissa Black Malfoy

Bellatrix watches Narcissa undress

Between My Legs by KittyDaydreams The Waltons (TV) | John-Boy/Mary-Ellen Walton

Mary-Ellen Walton tries to solve her own version of the seven year itch with someone she definitely shouldn't.

peeping tom by dalula Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan | Eren Yeager/Zeke Yeager

Zeke dares to push the door open a little more. Spying on his brother was risky enough, but this was getting careless. Stupid, sloppy, his father would've said. Not that Zeke would ever let him find out about his... hobby. The risk was worth it, though, to watch Eren shed his clothes piece by piece and reveal himself to Zeke.

what it takes is one word by rodykatkami Blue Lock (Manga) | Itoshi Rin/Itoshi Sae

Sae overhears his brother moaning his name when Rin thinks he’s asleep

loophole by dalula Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling  | Sirius Black/Draco Malfoy

“Hey!” Draco grumbles. He leans back into Sirius's chest, smiling when he feels Sirius's hardening cock nudge his back. “I am not a prude. I'm just saving myself for marriage.” “You—what?”

the consequences of lust by rodykatkami Shall We Date?: Obey Me! (Video Game)  | Asmodeus/Lucifer

Lucifer decides he must show Asmo that his casual flirting has repercussions.

sinful fantasies by Morphine (morphine666) No Game No Life - Kamiya Yuu | Shiro/Sora

For Cestember 2024 by @macrocest on Tumblr! Prompts: Wet dreams + Fantasy + Somnophilia

Workout Session by kryptophaps Original Work | Original Female Character(s)/Original Female Character(s)

Eve has a type. Tall, athletic—has that nice mix of lean and defined. Definitively feminine with the right amount of masculine—or maybe it’s the other way around. Really cool, but super nice. There’s someone in her life who fits that description. That person is her sister. And Eve has a plan to enjoy her a little bit.

verbatim by rodykatkami Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types | Fujioka Haruhi/Hitachiin Hikaru/Hitachiin Kaoru

Cestember Week 1 Theme: Siblings Day 6 Prompt: Threesome

Doubling Up by KittyDaydreams Daria (Cartoon)  | Daria Morgendorffer/Quinn Morgendorffer

Quinn has uncovered Daria’s secret and wants to take advantage of Daria’s newfound expertise… in bed.

If I Should Die (Before He Wakes) by Anonymous 9-1-1 (TV)  | Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz/Christopher Diaz

A series of unrelated buddtopher fics for Cestember 2024.

bad decisions by rodykatkami 鬼滅の刃 | Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba (Anime) | Kamado Nezuko/Kamado Tanjirou

Cestember Week 1 Theme: Siblings Day 7 Prompt: Spanking

[just-a-carrot]

Hey! Just a heads up, I'm sending this to multiple people, since I wanna get as many different viewpoints on this as I can. I hope this doesn't bother you. Also, this is pretty long.

So, I have a question about gamedev, but more on the marketing/presence side.

Most gamedevs I know, even hobbyist ones, keep their accounts relatively professional. Sure, they may shitpost here and there, but it's mostly in relation to their games, the gamedev sphere in general, or very general inoffensive stuff. And, most importantly, I've seldom seen my favorite gamedevs (or any of my favorite internet personalities, for that matter) comment on random videos unrelated to what type of content they usually post.

All of my social media accounts are quite unprofessional. I've also had them for a long time, so there are a few things on my digital footprint that I'd rather people not see. I also, for lack of a better way of explaining, watch and read random shit and like to leave comments on it sometimes.

I feel like, I were to become a gamedev, I wouldn't be able to do that anymore. I'd have to treat my internet presence as its own balancing act, rather than a place for me to express myself unabashedly. I know this is working under the assumption that I would get big and that people would give a damn about me, but there is always the off chance of that happening. Of a random game you make suddenly blowing up because it hit the algorithm just right. So it's better to be prepared. And even if I don't get that big boom in popularity, I still plan to at least make games consistently enough to build a community of their own. Nothing like, huge, but I really enjoy the idea of people enjoying my work and sharing that enjoyment with others. But I don't want that to cross over into my personal life!

I know that's not an impossible feat, but I feel like it kind of destroys the purpose of the internet for me. To me, it's always been a safe space where I could express myself and easily connect with people with similar viewpoints, but I am now coming to odds with this concept as I consider how I want to become a gamedev.

There's also the side note that I don't wanna rebrand. At least not completely. I don't mind cleaning up my accounts or deleting some old ones, but I've grown very attached to being "Quamai". I can't imagine myself having any other online identity, even if there are some cringy moments attached to it.

So, do you have any advice for my situation? How did you personally go about your own online image, and what do you think is the best course of action?

Thank you in advance!

oh gosh what a question ldkjfadl

hmmmm

putting this under a cut because it got long and rambly lakdfa

for me personally i don't think i've ever made that many "right" choices when it comes to how i handle my online presence in game dev, it was mostly just me doing what seemed like the right thing to do at the time. it's also changed a lot all throughout my time as a dev

tho i guess the main thing is that i did create a whole new game dev online identity, so to speak, when i first got into game dev. this wasn't really due to any purposeful thought put into it though and was more just because 1) i didn't really have much online identity anyway at the time and 2) in the beginning i was trying to be more "professional" LOL

when i released easter, i did it without any presence at all. i had no accounts or anything. i literally just finished the game and threw it up on itch and gamejolt using the new studio name i had come up with based on an inside work joke. it wasn't until i started to get a few people talking about the game or linking to it/making vids that i was like hmmm i should have a twitter maybe LOL so like a week later i made a twitter. but i barely posted on it, it was just responding to other people. a year later when i released the 2.0 update i also made a few posts. then thought i might start using it more so started posting just a few random updates of new stuff i was trying out/working on (this was when i made my first couple of posts about early OW stuff)

but then when i shifted out of game dev again for a while, i abandoned it

it wasn't until august of 2021 that i began actively using my account again to post production updates for work on ow. but back then i was a lot more "emotionless" for lack of a better word. like i approached it in a more no-nonsense way than i do today. i also never got that much response from it either, usually lucky to get like 2 or 3 likes on stuff 🤣 over the course of that first year or so though i would change a lot in how i handled my online stuff, acting much more like myself, interacting a lot more with people, and getting increasingly more unhinged(???) LOL perhaps because i'd begun to see that being "super professional" when i'm just a little random person making a game all by myself there's no reason to be so stiff (and it's just much more fun and genuine to not be afraid to be myself and be a bit silly). over this time was also when i'd shift away from using my studio name and just taking the "carrot" identity. because i realized i didn't like people thinking about me as an impersonal studio and wanted to just be me, carrot, interacting with people, making games, and getting unhinged about my chars and stories

is this the right way to do it???? i have no idea. but perhaps since i never have any aspirations of grandeur and don't plan to be any kind of business, it's fine for me. and while it's true that i don't like to post, reblog, interact with, content unrelated to my games or other VN stuff, that's mostly because i don't want to annoy people who i know only follow me for game stuff (i worry about annoying people a lot, actually, it might be one of the core foundations for how i handle myself online LMAO). i don't have any other presence online though. once i started my game dev stuff, carrot became me, and it's all that's out there. so it's not like i need to "separate" anything. but also i'm not a very avid user of social media in general so it's not like i have an active desire to have different accounts so i can tweet about or comment on other stuff lakdjfasd i'm an old socially anxious duck who gets mentally exhausted just scrolling my feed. i don't need to spend any more time online than i already do with my game dev stuff hahaha. i do know some other devs though for instance that have private accounts on twitter just for their friends and more personal thoughts. so that's always an option too

as for what you should do in your own situation with your own online presence, i'm not really sure, as it all comes down to what you want. for me, since i didn't have much presence anyway, and because i wanted my game dev stuff to be its own thing, it made sense for me to create a new presence just for game dev (that eventually evolved into my entire self LKDJFAS). so it's hard for me to say what would be the best course of action if you already have an online presence that forms a core part of your identity that you don't want to lose. it also depends on what you want to eventually do with your games and if you see yourself really wanting to pursue it actively and make it a big part of your life. most devs that i know do have "game dev" presences for lack of a better word, where if you go to their accounts, it's just for game dev. or they create studios and studio accounts. i think no matter what you decide to do, even if you keep the name the same, it would probably be best to at least keep your game dev stuff separate, because people could potentially be put off from following an account for games but then their feed gets filled with a lot of non-game stuff from you that they don't care about

no matter what you decide to do though, i recommend being yourself no matter what. whether you keep with your same identity or craft a new game dev only one, still do what feels right for you on that account and be yourself and have fun with it!! game dev can already be such an isolating and hard experience, so creating a space where you can be silly and have fun with other devs and fun with your chars and ideas can really help so much to give you motivation and just enjoy your time creating games!!!

(sorry if this was a complete ramble that didn't even still fully answer the question; i can only speak from my own personal experiences that i went through after all and i don't really have any good or professional answers since i also have no idea what i'm doing most of the time 🤣)

[giratinazero]

I am so uncomfortable in my body right now it's insane

there's two spots on my stomach that look like bug bites but idk how they got there bc they're. right in the center of my stomach. an area that's always DOUBLE covered because I tuck my shirts in so there's two layers of fabric between that area and the outside world. and I have no other bites or similar marks literally anywhere on my body. and my anti-itch cream has not done a goddamn THING over the course of like two days

I've also had, for at least a couple of months now, this weird,,,,,, idek what I'd call it, hives, a rash, whatever. popping up on my face. on both sides of my face. in the exact same spot on each side, and seemingly completely at random. at the start of the week it was on the right side of my face, today it's on the left side of my face. it's completely inconsistent. not related to my period. there's been no changes in my diet or medications. it seems entirely unrelated to my shampoo or conditioner. it happens whether I do or don't wash my face. I've been using the same stuff to wash my face for over a year so it'd be weird as hell for me to suddenly start reacting to it now. and it itches like HELL

and then idk if anyone remembers, but when I hurt my back around my birthday last year. I've been dealing with that pain on and off, actually, bc we figured it's my ~hip flexors~ apparently; my dad had almost the exact same issue awhile ago, so he gave me the same stretches he got from physical therapy, and those have helped clear it up every time it acts up. the problem is it keeps acting up. my hips are visibly out of line, and it feels like the joint is fucking grinding in the socket on my left side. GRINDING. MY BONES

everyone else in my family sees a chiropractor fairly consistently, and a lot of the adults in my life [I say, as if I'm not 25] swear by it. but I hate being touched and I don't believe in chiropractors anyways. "ooooooo come gimme a ton of money so I can TOUCH YOU A LOT and then tell you to come back next week and pay me MORE MONEY so we can do the same thing forever." NO!!!!

I've also never in my entire life had a good experience with doctors. NEVER. the one I'd been seeing my entire life until I was 17 tried to fake test results bc she didn't want to be wrong about my blood sugar condition. the one that gave me anxiety meds for once didn't even entertain me when I tried to say adhd. the dermatologist got snippy when I told her I hadn't kept up my prescribed skincare because I BROKE MY FUCKING WRIST IN A CAR ACCIDENT. I hate doctors I hate doctors I hate doctors. I don't wanna pay them money I dont fuckin have so they can tell me I'm lying, stupid, and getting knocked up would fix my issues. I HATE doctors.

I am fucking miserable sdfghjmk,l.kjhgf

[perpetual-fool]

I don't think I fully appreciated that things being 'wrong' causes me actual tangible pain.

Like, 'this thing was built non-functional and was designed such that it literally cannot be fixed' causes tightness in my chest and makes my internal voice start screaming.

I guess I should try to stop that? I've been conditioned to think it's wrong to feel that way, and as a matter of practicality it seems like there's bigger things that need taking care of. For instance, I finally got a mouse bungee awhile back after years of not being able to justify the purchase. It cost twenty bucks and all it does is keep the cord from pulling on my mouse. But it's a huge quality of life upgrade, like an unrelenting itch that's just suddenly gone. I finally bought it because it became a big deal, I got a mouse that was so light the cord could pull it halfway off the desk. If I were to do it all again I still wouldn't be able to justify it. Am I wrong?

Are the more important things less important? Like, my clothes are wearing out, should I put that off for another month so that I can buy a better guitar stand? Or, projects that cease being cost-effective, should I keep dumping resources into this guitar until it's done? (Something something calculating value by dividing the cost by the number if times it's expected to be used? however that went?)

Since I'm the one who has to answer that, I guess I'll have to try it and find out.

- I'm inclined to lament about how it shouldn't have to be this way, but maybe it does, in a society kind of way. For instance, a problem I just worked out is that zither pins (the general term for them) need to be lubricated. Short version, the pins stay in place due to friction, but the amount of force necessary to overcome that friction results in turning the peg too much. Unlubricated I keep having to tune up, tune down, tune up, tune down, hoping I land on the right pitch. A little beeswax fixes that. And hypothetically the manufacturer should know to do that (or to leave it unfinished). But if the buyer doesn't know it needs to be done then they won't know to demand it, and won't realize something's wrong if it isn't done. So the quality of goods is going to drop to the users' level of competence? So a world in which goods are built to a basic standard would entail users who know exactly why that standard is what it is? So someone would have to go through all this regardless.

I could be doing this better. just assume everything is gonna be borked from the get-go, focus on projects I think I'll be able to rebuild. I am so tired though. It'd help a lot just to have a tiny bit of happiness in my life.

[laciere]

The station is swarming with maggots too. I can't find a seat and am being pushed here and there, getting squashed against the train doors, staring dazedly as the mass of maggots reflected in the window. I can't even secure a spot to set my bag down for a bit. Now that i think about it, I've taken the subway at rush hour. I am stone dead. Is happiness merely a mirage? Is it a rainwo that disappears as suddenly as it appears? An unstable cloud that looks like it might shortly burst. That's the state I'm in. My gums ache and itch. My teeth are ripping at my cheeks, screaming to be let out. I hold my shuddering mouth shut with two hands. My eyeball threatens to slide behind my right ear, and my left leg bends backward like a deer's. Haha... what a mess. I become the focus of the other passengers' gazes. They whisper to each other, Look over there, what's wrong that person, so weird, I'm scared. Hello, everyone? I can hear you all. Let me tell you, my hearing is perfectly sharp, even if my earlobes are dripping onto my shoulders.

As soon as the doors of this not-coffin open, I totter off in search of the toilets (although I wish I could run), swinging my arms that have stretched and bloated like overcooked noodles. I feel like a food waste bag dripping its rotten soup. I'm in a jam. People are busy avoiding me up close and pointing at me from afar. My gait has quickly become the object of ridicule and horror. Am I wrong? It would be great if i was. I undestand their hearts, a hundred, a thousand times over. For them, life is so boring that if someone doesn't walk with ease, taking steady steps on two healthy legs of the same length, they violently overreact as if they were waiting for it. I think their bar for reactions is pretty low. They can't wait to ogly a monster. Without monsters, how would they withstand the unrelenting futility of their days?

Walking Practice by Dolki Min, translated by Victoria Caudle (2022, HarperVia)

[thiaquiche]

Got super excited about @crunchy-pringles’ Subway in the Sky AU and had a whole bunch of thoughts about it lol none of this is like. Canon to the AU or anything, I just think this is all very neat :P

It all got started when I was thinking about how fun flying is, and I was wondering about how maybe Ingo would start to wish he could fly like the skykids after a little while and he stopped being quite so freaked out about it. It would certainly be more convenient than being lugged around like a sack of rocks, and much safer in the event of an accident which might cause him to fall, even barring any excitement about the idea of actually literally flying under his own power instead of being carried. The kids accompanying Ingo lead him to a Winged Light to explain how they get their wing energy, not really expecting anything special but for “because I said so” reasons (that I justify below the cut) Ingo is actually able to collect the Winged Light. He feels the warmth spread through his core to his extremities and settle, not uncomfortable but noticeably different, and it swallows and soothes the background aches and pains in his body. He feels young again, though his stature has not changed.

There’s a sudden itch in the back of his mind to shrug off his jacket that he justifies as being suddenly too warm in it, and he does, draping it across his shoulders like a cape instead. One of the skykids accompanying him points out how there’s a new icon on his jacket now, like there is along the back of their capes, it’s a symbol they’ve not seen before (Arceus’ little fence hoop) but that’s not unheard of, and they urge him to try taking off like he’s seen them do. He flaps his arms, his jacket flaps along with him, and he floats into the air several times his own height before gently drifting back down. The kids cheer.

Even before he has enough wing energy to fly very far on his own, the experience of gliding hand in hand with his child guides is completely different now that he can float along beside them. Flying gets a lot less scary when he doesn’t have to worry about plummeting forever should he lose his grip.

The experience isn’t all sunshine and roses, though. The first concerning thing to happen is when the buzz of his first proper flight has worn off, and he realizes that actually, his face feels rather stiff. When he reaches up to touch it, his hand is met not with skin, but with something harder and flatter. He beelines to the nearest body of water and sees in his reflection a skykid-like mask with glowing eyes and a cartoony, painted-on frown.

It takes a little while for him to calm back down after that, and the kids apologize for forgetting to tell him, they figured he’d probably have noticed his face transforming into a mask.

The next incident is when he runs into Emmet for the first time in this world. Neither of them can understand one another’s speech - Emmet’s words roll right past the part of Ingo’s brain that is supposed to understand them (though he recognizes the sound of his voice), and in another change the children forgot to mention, Ingo’s speech has turned into train whistles. Combined with Emmet being just as freaked out by Ingo’s new mask as Ingo was, there’s a definite rollercoaster of emotions during this reunion that is for once entirely unrelated to memories and amnesia.

Fortunately, one of Ingo’s companions has a chat table at the ready, and the kids teach Ingo how to gift candles if he hasn’t learned to do so already, so the communication barrier situation is resolved quickly.

Now, I’m a little less sure of what might come next. Emmet may also decide to start collecting Winged Lights, or he may not. He might decide immediately or change his mind later. There’s cool potential stuff for each possibility, but for now, for simplicity’s sake, I’m just going to stick with Emmet not collecting any Winged Light. I’m also going to put the rest of this post beneath a Read More, for spoiler reasons relating to later game content. There’s no more art below the cut, if that matters to anyone.

Content warning below for temporary death and injury.

Another consequence of Ingo’s transformation that he discovers later is his new and different vulnerability and resiliency. While Emmet finds the rain in the Hidden Forest and the greasy polluted water in the Golden Wasteland unpleasant at worst, Ingo has an absolutely miserable time with them. The rain and pollution are searing cold, cutting right to the deepest parts of him like they’re trying to drain every last ounce of warmth from his body. He avoids both to the best of his ability. While he’s vulnerable to some things, though, he thankfully also has the near-invincibility of a skykid. He can get the wind knocked out of him by a crab or be punted halfway across the boneyard by a krill and end up more or less fine in terms of not being injured like a human, however unpleasant the experience may be otherwise and how shaken he may be by the shock of it. Emmet is more fragile, as they discover when a charging crab leaves a nasty bruise on his thigh. They never have to find out what might happen if he were to be krilled, but it’s not hard to imagine that it would be nothing good.

I’d like to take a quick detour to talk now about Megabird, what it wants, and how it’s involved here. It was established that Megabird wants Ingo and Emmet, during the duration of their stay in the kingdom, to save the Children of the Light. I’m understanding that to mean the Winged Lights, which is why Ingo (and, if he tried, Emmet) are able to collect Winged Lights like skykids. Now that Ingo has undergone the transformation, Megabird won’t let him go home until he returns his Lights to the sky. Which, of course, means that he needs to go through the Eye of Eden. And die. Joy.

Of course he has his friends to escort him through the storm, but the experience is still quite frightening, and there’s no avoiding the fact that he needs to cross the point of no return. The red rocks knock him around as normal, but once he loses his last Winged Light, something inside of him cracks. Human sensation returns to his body, and all at once he’s as fragile and human as ever. He goes quickly, bludgeoned to death by the hail of rocks.

In the empty place, he is numb. His clothes are pristine. He knows that he has died, in the same way that one knows two plus two is four - it is a simple, unemotional, abstract fact. Before him is a glowing silhouette of himself, its clothes still torn and its face masked. He reaches out to touch it, and it shatters in a shower of light. Out of the darkness comes a gold and white bird the size of a manta. He climbs onto its back and it flies him into the light.

The Ascent is serene.

In Orbit, the Winged Lights wave goodbye as normal. He cannot collect their ascended candles. The thought-that-is-not-his that echoes through his head as he steps into the swirling light is not, “You are about to be reborn,” but “You have done well… you are free to go.”

He reappears in Homespace as human as the day he was born before a waiting Emmet in a shower of light, and then the experience hits him, and he realizes oh my god, I just died.

Okay that got a little dramatic and a lot long lmao anyways Prince hope you like it hfkjsdhf

[teaspoon-full-of-sugar]

that lesson fic was... 👀👀👀👀 very good

also do you think you would ever write the overstimulation they talked about in full?

me? who is as vanilla as can be? writing something as kinky as overstimulation in graphic detail? something, perhaps, like this, which may or may not be an excerpt from the fic that i’m currently working on?

—

“Don’t take it away,” he says, “You got another one in ya. You can do it, lovie.”

His voice is muffled beneath blankets where her phone lies, lost in her ravenous bouts of pleasure, limbs writhing and tossing. Her body aches when she twists to put it back up by her ear to hear him more clearly, muscles tight from her previous orgasms. Legs closing slightly, she whines when the vibrator presses harder against her clit, hips ducking away from the strong vibrations, eyes fluttering closed. Her phone falls out of her grasp once more, but the light illuminates the dark room, casting a warm glow.

“Please—”

She’s not really sure what she’s begging for; it just slips out, a weak plea. Perhaps, she just wants him to be there instead of on the other end of a phone call, in some faraway place she doesn’t even know. The room would feel so much warmer with him here, her back pressed to his chest, their sweat mingling. Maybe he would wear those pretty lace stockings he showed her a picture of once, the glittery fabric coarse against her skin as he teases his toes along her leg, keeping them spread. His freckled and inked arms wrapped tightly around her middle, paying special attention to her tummy, he would whisper sweet things in her ear and press on the area right below her belly button, telling her of how he wants to grind his pretty cock against her soft middle until she is sticky with his precum, how he can fuck himself that deep inside her. She would feel him for days after.

“I know it hurts, baby, but just one more, then you can go to bed.”

It sounds so nice, the thought of sinking into her pillows for a good night's rest, but an orgasm sounds even better, one leaving her spent and satiated and sleepy.

“Such a good girl f’me.”

As much as she wants to, the sensitivity becoming nearly unbearable, she can’t stop; she wants to make him proud, to prove to him that she’s his good girl who can take it. Even though he’s not truly there with her to hold her and make sure she comes, she still wants to do as he says. Her legs tremble, threatening to close.

She squeaks when the vibrator hits a particularly sensitive angle on her clit, and she bites into her pillow to keep from crying out. Her hips work desperately, to reach that high for the last time, just one more, like an addict itching for one more hit. It’s her fourth orgasm within ten minutes, and this might just be her breaking point.

“I dunno if I can.” Her words slur, and she can feel spit dripping down her puckered lips. She suddenly wishes he was there to wipe it away, thumb soft and subtle against her skin, lingering on her puffy lips.

“One more, babylove,” he insists. “Just one more. You’re doing so well.” She bites back a mangled cry, eyes squeezing shut, her thoughts lost in a dark chaos. His voice is the only anchor amidst a dizzying high, coaxing her through her stupor with sweet words.

“My pretty girl, my good fucking girl, taking it so well.”

His gravelly voice pulls her from drowning, his words gritty from his clenched jaw.

“You’re not hurting too much, are ya?”

His deep voice is soft, lilting with a tender care she needs. She could simply melt, blanketed in the warmth of his rich voice.

“A little,” she admits, a dull ache in her belly when she clenches too tightly. “But it feels so good.”

The vibrations pulse through her body, leaving her voice shaky, and she shifts slightly, hips digging into the mattress. It settles on the underside of her clit, and it’s so close to that one spot, until finally—there, there, there—right there. She groans, low and guttural, drawn out from the depths of her chest, animalistic almost. Her body burns and trembles for a second before yet another strong, unrelenting wave drowns her. Every muscle in her body tenses as the head of the vibrator finds the one tender spot on her clit, catching at just the right angle that leaves her eyes teary, world dizzy. She knows it’ll be painful if she doesn’t pull away, a harsh orgasm building, but she can’t stop, not with him listening to her, waiting for her final bitter end.

She’s doing so good for him, such a good bunny. She trembles in the wake of such a violent euphoria, weak moans slipping in time with her belated breathing. It passes through in waves, the pain, a bittersweet burning welling deep inside her, but a different ache persists, one that leaves her yearning for more, one that makes her dig her feet into the mattress and press herself harder on the toy. Her toes curl, and her back arches, free hand twisting the sheets.

He hums appreciatively.

“My bunny likes it when it hurts. Doesn’t she?”

—

no, that doesn’t sound like anything i would do at all ;)

[javier-pena]

interlude I

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader x Katie

Word Count: 4.5k (or a “drabble”)

Rating: Explicit (there’s s** in this)

Summary: You invite Katie over for dinner, but Javi is late.

Warnings: smoking | some language | f/f/(m) | fingering | voyeurism | light dirty talk | praise kink | bi panic | a tiny bit of plot if you squint

Notes: Okay so first, this is actually set after Part 2 of Triumvirate which I haven’t written yet, but today is also Dani @javierpcna​‘s birthday and I wanted her to wake up to a short drabble, so here we are. Dani, my beloved, happy birthday!! I hope this is a small surprise, it took everything in me not to give anything away, I wanted to text you about it multiple times a day, and I do hope I wasn’t too obvious in the things we discussed. I hope there aren’t any embarrassing typos in this, but I’m sure you’ll forgive me if there are.

masterlist | join the taglist

***

It’s just dinner, nothing more.

Javi is late. You‘re used to it, and you’ve learned to live with it. His job is demanding, unpredictable, capricious, he keeps irregular hours, and you know he hates to keep you waiting, but sometimes it is out of his hands. Only tonight … tonight you’ve got plans, and he’s not here.

Katie is.

She’s been here for more than half an hour. And still there is no sign of Javi. If Katie had been anyone else, you would have been embarrassed by your boyfriend’s tardiness. But Katie knows. She works in the same field, the same office; she knows what it’s like when something comes up, she knows you can’t always keep the promises you make. All you can do is wait for a little while longer and then start dinner without Javi.

But it’s a hot day, and you’re both on the couch in the living room, enjoying cold drinks and idle conversation. Katie tells you about one of the men at the embassy who always wants to get into Javi’s good books but who is too much of an asshole to be taken seriously. You laugh at Katie’s impression of him, the way she pinches her eyes and hunches her shoulders and lowers her voice. It’s only when you’re breathless with laughter that Katie lets herself fall back into the cushions of the couch with a happy sigh.

She looks so proud that she’s making you laugh, and your chest tightens at the sight.

“God, it’s hot,” she complains with a grunt, pulling her shirt away from her chest. “Would it be okay if I undid some of the buttons?”

“Of course,” you answer with a nod.

Katie smiles a silent thank you and unbuttons her shirt until you can see the top of her breasts. Your eyes immediately snap back up to her face, and you hope she hasn’t noticed where they were a second earlier. Still, you feel your heart pick up speed.

It’s just dinner, nothing more.

“It’s kind of cruel they make you wear all of this,” you say with a nod at Katie’s outfit. “Especially considering the weather.”

Katie smirks but it’s more of a grimace than a smile. “It’s all about keeping up appearances,” she explains, taking a sip from her drink.

You know how much Javi hates having to wear a suit, but he always says it’s part of the job, especially his job, his position. And you busy yourself trying to recall what he told you the last time you were talking about this because three small droplets are currently making their way down Katie’s neck and into her cleavage. You don’t think she’s noticed, but you also don’t want to draw any attention to it because you don’t want her to know you’ve been looking.  

“Javi says the same,” you tell her instead, a lame attempt to keep the conversation going.

It’s just dinner, nothing more.

Katie is right, it is hot, you feel it too, even though you’re wearing a light sundress. And it doesn’t help that the droplets are still making their steady way down, and it doesn’t help that you can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to lean forward and catch them on your tongue.

“Are you okay?” Katie asks you.

You realize you’ve been staring at her neck for too long, and it makes her look down, too. She wipes at the droplets before they reach their destination.

“Oh no, I think I’ve made a mess,” she says with a small, angry sigh.

“It’s fine,” you tell her quickly, trying to take the glass from her. You just brush your knuckles against it, spilling even more of the liquid.

Katie giggles breathlessly.

You can’t tell who starts it, but her lips are soft and hot against your own when you meet them, her tongue lazily grazing against yours. Your eyes are closed, all your senses are focused on her hot skin and wet kisses, and you feel too tired and wrung out from the heat to do much more than nip at her bottom lip. Katie sighs happily and brings up a hand to cup your cheek.

“Missed you,” she admits with a soft brush of her fingers against your skin.

You had no ulterior motive when you invited Katie. It was just supposed to be dinner – and nothing more. But she’s right here on the couch, right next to you, and you can feel the heat radiating off her body, setting your blood on fire until it moves through your veins like molten lava. And you realize there’s no such thing as just dinner with Katie because if her mere proximity to you is enough to make your stomach curl with desire then there’s no way you can pretend any longer.

You shift, so you can reach more of her, pressing kisses against the damp skin of her neck, feeling her pulse against your lips, and it makes you squirm. You bite the soft skin tentatively, eliciting a gasp from her, so you do it again, but she moves away from you only to pull you close again, crushing her lips against yours. You moan into her mouth, too desperate, too needy, but she likes it. Teeth clash, hot air comes out in soft gasps, your body’s heat mingles with hers, creating something like a cyclone, something that will gather its own momentum if you let it. Katie’s kisses are hungry, and so are yours; her encouraging moans are enough to make you grow damp with desire, damp like her skin, and you feel heat pool between your legs, a heat that has nothing to do with the one surrounding you.  

She must feel it, too, feel a steady, unrelenting pull, because her hand is first on your thigh, covered in the soft fabric of your summer dress, then it is on your skin, covered in the glistening sheen of summer heat, and then her finger finds your center, finds your clit, finds the rapidly growing damp spot on your panties. It’s not enough, if anything, it makes things worse, like an itch that you scratch only once so it burns even more intensely. And Katie doesn’t even scratch the itch, she just touches is, probes it with innocent curiosity, while you moan loudly at her touch and feel your eyes close out of their own free will. All you can focus on is Katie’s slim finger pressed against you.

And her breath – her hot, urgent breath on the shell of your ear as she whispers, “Oh, so you do want this …”

You don’t even have time to tell her how much, how much you’ve been thinking about it, thinking about her, how you’re not yet ready to examine these feelings and what they mean for you, how you don’t know when and if and how you should talk to Javi about it, but all of this doesn’t matter when Katie pushes the thin fabric of your panties aside.

It doesn’t matter when Katie’s finger finds your clit.

You whimper and push yourself into her touch. You want to tell her how much you’ve missed her soft, sweet, chaste attention on you, but you’re so overwhelmed that all you can do is find her thigh and dig your nails into the fabric of her trousers. You feel yourself clench in time with the circular movements of Katie’s finger, you feel yourself burn with want, and when you open your eyes, you feel the air being knocked from your lungs. Katie’s eyes are on your face, she’s watching you intently, her gaze roaming over your slightly parted mouth, your burning cheeks, your tense neck. It’s like she’s waiting for some sort of confirmation, for you to tell her everything is okay, and you know that once you give her that, you won’t be able to come back from it. The thing is – you don’t want to come back from it.

You swallow hard. “More, please,” you whimper.

Katie’s eyes shine with something akin to relief as a soft puff of air tickles your cheek. You think about kissing her, about feeling her lips glide against your own, about her tongue mirroring her finger’s movements, before she shifts, leans back, and you freeze in panic. Did you make a mistake? Did she make one? Does she maybe not want this at all? But then her hand claws at your panties as she tears them off of you and pushes a finger into you, and every doubtful thought is forgotten. You clench around her immediately and by the way she bites her lip you know she can feel your desperation.

Everything comes to a stop for a few short seconds, even the cars and people and noises outside seem to be silenced, and it’s just the two of you, it’s just her inside of you and the air between you that you both share. You lean forward and kiss her chin, kiss her cheek, kiss her jaw, and then she captures your lips between hers. You expect it to be soft, but it’s not, she pushes against you urgently, and suddenly, as all the noises come back, you realize it’s not just you – she feels the same way.

Insecure.

Curious.

Turned on.

Katie pushes a second finger into you, and fucks you slowly, lazily, without urgency. And still, it sets you on fire. It makes you burn like she’s a flame and you’re too close to her, you feel like nothing can quench the desire burning your limbs, your throat, in the pit of your stomach. Her slow strokes only stoke it, they don’t bring the relief you thought they would. You feel hot and slick and sticky, you feel trapped in your dress, trapped between Katie’s fingers and her lips and her body and the couch at your back, and the only way to move on is to go forward, so you push yourself onto Katie’s fingers with a roll of your hips. You hear her sigh softly, so you repeat the motion, repeat it a third time, a fourth, a fifth, until she isn’t fucking you so much anymore as you’re fucking yourself on her fingers. You close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of pure bliss this gives you, relaxing around her, trusting her to take care of you. Katie lets you for a while, she lets you take over until you feel like you’re in charge of the situation before she brushes her thumb against your clit, and you almost come.

Your eyes fly open to tell her that, to warn her to … ask her for permission? … you’re not sure yourself. Katie is looking at you in concentration, her cheeks red, her teeth digging into her bottom lip that is even redder, her eyelids low with hazy want. She looks so beautiful, and you feel a surge of pride at the thought that you are the one doing this to her. But then you see something behind her … and you freeze.

It’s Javi.

He is watching you with an expression that is utterly unreadable, and you only know he isn’t frozen because he is clenching and unclenching his right hand in rapid movements. You don’t know what to do, you don’t know what to say, all you can think about is what he might be thinking, but you can’t read his expression. Why can’t you read it? You grip Katie’s wrist and try to push yourself into a sitting position. Katie stills her hand and follows your gaze over her own shoulder. As soon as her eyes land on Javi, he steps towards you.

“Stop that,” he growls.

That’s all the evidence you need. You can tell you’ve fucked up by the way his eyelids lower, by the weight he puts into each step as he walks towards you, by the slight tremor in his voice. The intense pleasure you’ve been feeling this past quarter of an hour is replaced by intense panic, one you can taste on your tongue – metallic, sharp, bitter. All you can think about is to explain to him that you don’t know what you’re doing, that you will make sure you won’t see Katie ever again, that this doesn’t mean anything.

Liar, whispers a voice in your head. You fucking liar.

But Katie isn’t moving, her fingers are still inside of you as she watches Javi walk toward you. You squirm and try to push yourself off her – how does she not see the look in his eyes? How does he not want to run and hide?

“Stop that,” Javi repeats, and it sounds softer now, more exasperated.

You want to tell him that you’re trying, but before you can say anything, before just one weak sound leaves your lips, Katie uses her free hand to push you down into the couch again with so much determination that the air is punched from your lungs. She’s so much stronger than she looks, and if you didn’t feel like your entire world was falling apart, her strong grip on your hip would turn you on.

“What -?” you gasp.

Neither of them is offering you an answer. Katie’s eyes are on Javi and Javi’s eyes are on the floor, the coffee table, the wall … anywhere but on you. He lets himself fall into his old leather chair opposite the couch, not even taking off his worn leather jacket, and pulls out a packet of cigarettes. He proceeds to light one as if he has all the time in the world, as if he was the only person in the room, coming home from an exhausting day at work, trying to unwind, as if there weren’t two women opposite him, his girlfriend and his colleague, one buried knuckles-deep in the other.

He leans back, the cigarette between his lips, and you forget how to breathe. It’s just him now, his intense, hard gaze on you, and you know you couldn’t move even if you wanted to. He pins you down like a fragile butterfly, and all you can do is take it. Katie also doesn’t move, she waits for Javi as a quiet tension settles around you. Javi takes a slow drag on his cigarette and regards you to with deep, dark calmness before he finally speaks.

“Go on then,” he says with a small nod, “make her come.”

You whimper pitifully, all the tension you’ve been holding in your muscles leaving your body as you flood Katie’s fingers with your arousal, as you clench around her tightly.

Katie smirks at Javi. “You know, I think she’d really like that,” she tells him.

Of course you would, there is nothing you want more right at this very moment, but it’s all so much. Katie picks up the pace again, and all you can do is sink back onto the couch and take it, as Javi watches the two of you casually, smoking his cigarette as if he’s standing on the sidewalk waiting for a taxi, as if he’s on his lunch break trying to delay the moment he has to go back upstairs to his desk. Katie’s eyes are on you but her gaze flickers over to Javi once in a while as if she’s looking for validation and praise from him. When she’s looking at you, you feel your throat close up, you feel like you can’t breathe, but when she’s looking at Javi, you’d do anything to pull her attention back towards you.

And Javi? Javi is looking at you, mostly, right at you, and his gaze never flickers, not for one second. You can’t remember the last time you were this wet, this desperate. Katie’s fingers are stroking you, are gliding in an out of you with ease, while Javi watches every movement with interest, while he watches to see what someone else is doing to you, while he studies your heaving chest, your trembling thighs, your hands balled into fists.

Then his eyes flicker down, and he watches Katie’s fingers, watches them disappear and reappear, her slim fingers, coated in your slick. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you know exactly what he is thinking about. It makes your breath hitch, makes you grab Katie’s arm and hold on tight. Katie presses a quick kiss to your damp forehead, but Javi interrupts her.

“Slower,” he says, lighting another cigarette, “make her want it.”

Katie immediately follows his orders, slowing down, and for some reason, it feels much more intense now. You throw back your head, a throaty moan leaving your lips, as you feel Katie curl her fingers, as you feel her hit that one spot inside of you, the one Javi always finds with so much ease. She’s set on doing this right – she’s set on pleasuring you as much as she’s set on pleasing Javi. And it is too much, it already was too much when it was just Katie and you, but Javi watching you is the final straw. You’re so wound up you’re not even sure you’ll be able to come, no matter how well Katie is doing, no matter how much she’s trying to get this right. Your limbs are shaking, your fingers are tingling, your breath comes in short, shallow gasps, as you squeeze your eyes shut, completely overwhelmed by this situation you suddenly find yourself in.

Then you feel Katie hovering right next to you and you open your eyes again – everything else is blocked from your view by her long, wavy, brown hair. Her lips are next to your ear, you can feel her hot breath ghosting your even hotter skin. “Shhhh,” she whispers soothingly, and the air leaving her lips tickles you, drawing a high giggle from you.

From the other side of the coffee table, you hear Javi say, “Let her take care of you”.

With a small whimper, you let your head fall back until you’re flush against the backrest of the couch. The soft look in Katie’s eyes makes you want to give her anything she wants, anything at all, as long as she does what Javi is telling her to do.

“Please,” you breathe.

Katie doesn’t give any sign that she’s heard you, and then the penny drops: She only does what Javi is telling her to do. This might not be about just you and her, this might also be about her and him. You don’t quite know yet how to pigeonhole this information. But there’s something there, something you struggle to place, and everything becomes even more clouded when you look over at Javi and see the cigarette hang limply between his slightly parted lips.

You wish you could but a finger on it, bit all you know right now is that what Katie is doing isn’t enough, it only adds to the tightness between your legs without brining you the relief it should. And the only person who could give you that relief, not with actions but with words, is Javi.

So you turn your attention to him. “Javi, please.”

Javi shakes his head like waking up from a trance and puts out his second cigarette. He locks eyes with you, and there’s a strain in his voice when he answers your plea. “I don’t think I’m the one you should be asking.”

You swallow hard and look back at Katie, whose bottom lip is caught between her teeth as she waits for you to make the next move.

“Katie, please, I –”

But you don’t know how to end that sentence, you don’t know what you want from her anymore, all you know is that you want her to fuck you while Javi watches, and that realization hits you so unexpectedly that you cannot put it into words, even though you know it’s exactly what they both want to hear from you. Instead, you stop being passive, you stop just taking whatever Katie gives you, and you start to roll your hips again.

Katie lets out a surprised sound, something between a sigh and a moan with an edge of breathlessness to it. She flings back her hair with a snap of her neck and glances at Javi. “Is she always this inarticulate?” she asks him in an attempt to regain some control.

Javi has the audacity to chuckle, like this is just a game to him, but his voice is deep and raspy when he says, “Only when she’s desperate for it.”

It’s the way they talk about you like you’re not even there, like all their attention isn’t focused on you that makes you tighten around Katie’s fingers, that makes you pull her in even deeper.

“She’s so wet …,” Katie observes, her eyes shiny with lust, looking down at where she’s buried deep inside of you, “and tight.” And she scissors her fingers as she pulls them out slowly.

You fold in on yourself, mewling in desperation. Katie does it again and you tremble around her, holding onto whatever surface your hands can reach, a pillow, the couch, Katie’s arms, her legs. She makes you feel so good, and she gives you so much – her free hand softly strokes your hot skin, making it flare up even more, her lips find your exposed neck to leave hungry kisses, her mouth whispers to you, things you usually only hear in the darkness of the bedroom, and not in broad daylight with two sets of eyes on you.

And Javi isn’t just watching, he’s observing, his elbows on his knees, his hands folded tightly, and you want to know what he’s seeing, what he’s learning about you. Yes, he is enjoying himself, you can tell from the flush creeping up his neck, from the fact that he still hasn’t taken off his jacket, too transfixed by what he’s seeing, but there is more to it, maybe more than he’s willing to admit himself.

But he is excellent at hiding his feelings, at hiding the conclusion he comes to, at hiding his needs when there is a task to focus on, a puzzle to solve.

“Well,” he says, his eyes roaming across your upper body still covered by your dress, roaming across your naked legs, across Katie’s hand, across your slick coating her fingers, “seems to me like you’re doing a good job.”

Katie draws in a sharp breath and then draws you in for a deep kiss, and you can taste the pride on her lips and tongue, can feel the effect that praise has on her in the way she bites your lip, the way she moans against you, the way she curls her fingers just so.

“Please,” you whimper when she releases you, and your eyes snap back to Javi.

Katie’s hand comes up, her fingers closing around your chin, and she forces you to look back at her. “You heard him.” It’s almost a snarl, her voice raspy and gruff, her face a stern mask. “Ask me.”

And you do, you do it with so much conviction that her eyes grow wide. You do it because just as you know she wants to impress Javi, you want to impress her, you want to hear her praise you, flatter you, worship you.

“Please, I need to come,” you ramble as fast as your tongue can carry the words. “Please, please, let me come.”

Katie swallows hard, then pushes her chin out. “No.”

You feel tears of frustration prick at the corner of your eyes, and you do it again, you look at Javi, but before you can focus on him, Katie’s voice draws you back. “I told you to look at me.”

“Katie.” It’s barely a whisper, your voice strained from the effort of not making a complete fool of yourself by howling her name into the world. “Baby, please,” you go on, relishing how her cheeks are turning red at that. “Please let me come on your fingers.”

Without any warning, she pushes a third finger into you, and your voice turns from a whisper into a scream, one that is loud enough to echo to the end of the block. You push yourself off the couch and down onto Katie’s fingers, riding her, your hips rolling with a desperation that tastes like smoke and iron on your tongue.

“Doesn’t she make the prettiest sounds when she’s full?” Javi asks from somewhere far away.

Katie nods, and if she replies anything you don’t hear it because she chooses this moment to brush her thumb against your clit … just once. You fall back onto the couch, your legs spreading as wide as possible, one slung over Katie’s lap, the other trembling from the strain.

“Shit,” you whisper, over and over, as Katie does it again and again. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“You like this, don’t you?” she asks you. “You like being on display for him like this.”

This time, you don’t look at Javi, even though the answer is yes. You love this, you love the feeling of having his full attention but being unable to participate, you love how he’s studying you, and you love that he is giving this to you, that he lets you have this, even though you don’t yet know what consequences it will bring and what it will mean for you. All you know is that you need this.

“I like you fucking me like this,” you answer.

Katie’s eyelids flutter and you feel a sharp exhale against your cheek. “You hear that, Javier?” she asks, but snarl in her voice is gone.

You don’t let him answer, this doesn’t concern him anymore, it’s between you and her now. You push down on her fingers again, roll your hips until the friction of her thumb against your clit makes you sigh in relief.

“Come on, Katie, fuck me,” you challenge her. “Show him what you can do.”

And she finally does. You feel her tremble inside of you and then she holds your hip, like she’s seen him hold it, and she pushes her fingers in deep, so deep she hits something within you that makes you lose all control. You come on her fingers, flood her hand and the couch, hear Javi’s hoarse gasp, and you can tell this is only the beginning, you know that he let you have this, but he expects something in return, and while you’re still coming, while you still hold Katie’s fingers inside of you in a chokehold, you already feel arousal unfurl in the pit of your stomach again, sharper, deeper, more urgent.

And you ask yourself what it would be like if your positions were reversed – what it would be like to watch Javi and Katie –

Katie stills her fingers, and before you can ask for anything, before she even has time to pull them out, Javi’s voice cuts through your pants, through Katie’s shallow moans, and it makes you both look at him, it makes Katie shiver and it makes your walls flutter and your eyes close with an indescribably deep desire.

“Do it again.”

taglist: @acdeaky​ | @anxiousandboujee​ | @darksber​ | @deliriouslybewitching​ | @dindja​ | @doin-stuff​ | @filthybookworm​ | @for-my-satisfaction​ | @frannyzooey​​ | @itssmashedavo​​ | @kesskirata​​ | @knivesareout​​ | @lawfulgranola​​ | @leannawithacapitala​​ | @maziken​​ | @omgreally​​ | @pedropascaldice​​ | @pedrostories​​ | @phoenixhalliwell​​ | @pilothusband​​ | @reluctantlyresponsibleadult​​ | @silksaddle​​ | @skyshipper​​ | @softpedropascal​​ | @starrdvstkenobi​​ | @sunnydunnydays​​ | @tacticalsparkles​​ | @theorganasolo​​ | @walt-breslin​​

[bomberqueen17]

it’s not art but idk what it is

well. i’ve been awake since 3am, so we’ll really see how today goes.

The family holidays situation hasn’t entirely been resolved. It’s possible I have not communicated that well after all? I verified through my collection of online photos that we last were together for Christmas in an even-numbered year in 2012 (Farmkid did not yet exist), so my assertion that it’s going on for a decade that we’ve had the current pattern is not unfounded. But my older sister isn’t entirely nuts for having failed to notice that was the pattern; I know i’ve *said* many times that I’m on an every other year schedule, but it is perfectly likely, in a family this size, that my sister has never actually heard me say it, or noticed when I did, and so it’s not wildly insane that she hadn’t realized that it wasn’t coincidental. 

(I spent 2013 without family, in Rochester with BFF. I spent 2014 with Dude’s mom. 2015 we all got together at the farm. 2016, Dude’s mom. 2017, we all got together in Maryland. 2018, Dude’s mom. (I believe Middle-Little joined me, either in 2014 or 2016, because Mom and Dad went down to Older Sister’s without her one year, and I think OS lived in Georgia still at that point. Don’t recall when the move to Maryland happened.) 2019, I spent at the farm, and Older Sister did not join us and I do not recall the details. 2020, nobody saw anybody (except I did see Dude’s mom), and Dad died and it was the fucking worst.)

So anyway. For Older Sister’s MIL, there’s the stats-- whatever else they’ve done, Older Sister has spent less than 50% of the last 10 Christmases with her family. Which was what OS was remembering; she felt she’d offered her MIL at least half of the opportunities, and if she hasn’t spent that many holidays with them it is because she refused for one reason or another, and so it’s really not fair to count those against the total. (MIL is wildly jealous because she moved closer to them to see them more, and then my father died suddenly and they’ve come up to visit Mom three times in a year. I can see her wanting to make sure she gets a chance with them but come the fuck <i>on</i>.)

Anyway, Older Sister called to apologize for springing the change on me, but explained that the travel’s not going to work out, and I said well i can do Christmas on New Year’s at your place if you’d rather, OR I can do Christmas on Christmas at FS’s and not see you, so that still hasn’t been resolved. (If everyone else is also coming for New Year’s I’ll do that one, i’d rather see everyone.)

I’ve had several lovely bits of advice to forget everyone else and do what makes me happy, and while I do appreciate this and totally get where it’s coming from, I should specify here that my family is the main source of joy in my life, and for my entire life the highlight of every year has been whatever time i’ve been able to spend with as many of my siblings as possible, at the holidays or whenever. So unfortunately forgetting everyone else and doing what makes me happy are mutually one hundred percent exclusive. I completely understand why that’s not the case for everyone, nor should it be. But I very earnestly want to see as many of my siblings and niblings as possible this end-of-year, however, whenever, and wherever that happens.

Anyway. I feel super gross today but I did get a lot of unrelenting cat snuggles in my insomnia, which I appreciate. i did not make any art but I worked a little bit on several projects, and made two scraps of flannel into makeup-removing washcloths, and yesterday I folded some fabric and marked where I’m going ot cut it but did not cut it, and. Maybe I can make myself do something this weekend, maybe I’ll actually like. Make some art and feel alive.

I should mention too that writing doesn’t seem to count, that’s been going just fine and is satisfyingly progressing, it just doesn’t seem to scratch the Make Something itch, so. Anyway at least I have that, I’ll be grateful for it. 

OH AND. Mom took Farmkid up to Grandpa’s grave for Veteran’s Day and HE HAS A STONE NOW!! It’s lovely, a regulation stone, has his service record on it (Vietnam and Persian Gulf), mentions his Bronze Star (for valor, in Vietnam), and for some reason they wouldn’t let mom put an ampersand in his epitaph, which was supposed to say loving & loved but instead reads in its entirety A GOOD MAN LOVING LOVED

which like i guess gets the point across but we’re gonna go up and Sharpie a comma in there at least.