#I know there is an error in the tags but i can't fix it because tumblr refuses to

[someonesomewheredown]

Bro I just wanted to install custom badges what the fuck is going on. Why is my 3DS bricked I just wanted to put in the funny pngs

[kate-bishops-waifu]

I hate my writing so much. I think about writing almost all day, and everything I put down is truly awful.

[twignotstick]

Flowers for Venus

She's here~ 🩵

Note: This story is based on @cupcakeslushie 's Empyrean Weeping au. These characters are not my own, and this story is in no way canon to the main story. I really made a lot of assumptions here, so this must be emphasized.

Tags: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, ROTTMNT, Venus de Milo (TMNT), NOT MY CHARACTERS, Empyrean Weeping AU, experimentation, mental issues, perspective shifting, intentionally written to be confusing or leave out information at times, they are all family your honor

Warnings (if there's anything I should add here, tell me please!): childhood trauma, abandonment issues, physical violence, repeated mentions of medical(?) procedures

Words: 6,472 🪦

Summary: Venus had one person in her life, and that was what mattered. Until she didn't.

----------------------

“I'm going to fix your body.”

The young turtle gazed up into the glass chamber before him, observing the mangled, underdeveloped, and weak body within. The vitals displayed around it were at acceptable levels; nowhere near as good as needed to survive out of the chamber, but acceptable considering the circumstances.

Not acceptable to the young turtle in front of it.

“You should be out here, learning with me. Being my sister. So I'm going to fix you.”

The turtle within the chamber did not stir- only breathed, as blood was forcefully pumped through its nonfunctional veins.

----------------------

“Huginn and Muninn helped me find more books to help you!”

Three- he had realized that the body in the chamber may not yet know his name, and so he introduced himself not long ago- bounced on the balls of his feet. He had one book clutched close to his chest, with others strewn about the workspace he had made around the chamber.

“Yokai biologists have very interesting methods! I plan on attempting some of them soon- Pops said he is going to get me some more materials before I try. He said that Witch Town will probably have what I need. The fusion of biology and mysticism is incredible! Oh! Oh! And!”

He dropped the book that he was holding on the floor carelessly, tripping over his own feet as he ran over to a table to show the body's closed eyes another. This one was thicker.

“Muninn says that this one was written by a human! ‘Mary Shelley’. It's called ‘Frankenstein’. I believe that's a name too- the surname of the main character. I haven't read it yet, because I haven't had time to. However, maybe with your improved cognitive function as of recently, it could be beneficial for me to read it to you!”

Three got no response, but he could have sworn that a part of the body's brain scan spiked.

“I can't start now. I have to finish my work on the developmental errors in your lower arm, but as soon as I finish that and find what I need to find, I'll start! I'm really curious about human literature.”

Three got to work, as the mind within the chamber grew curious.

----------------------

She didn't quite know what time it was, but she knew what was supposed to happen at this time. The voice was supposed to make noises in the room- Three, that was his name- and he was supposed to talk to her. Her? She thought that sounded right.

Three had told her about pronouns. He had said that since she was biologically female, it was assumed that she would go by she and her. Just like he was male, and went by he and him.

He had said that her name was Five.

Even so, Three liked calling her Vee, justifying it with the reason that they “matched”. Five didn't quite understand where the name came from; perhaps how her name was spelled? F-I-V-E, that was what Three had told her. T-H-R-E-E, that was his. But he spelled Vee as V-E-E. Maybe that's why they matched. Both had two E's in their name.

Their names were numbers too. One, two, three, four, five. She wondered why she was Five, and he was Three. Where were One, Two, and Four? Were they there, but she couldn't hear them? Was Pops another name for One? Pops and One weren't anything alike. She wished she could ask all the questions she had in her mind.

She wished she could see. Maybe that would explain why Three hadn't spoken yet.

Just when she was starting to believe that he may not speak to her this time, Three made noise. She couldn't see, but he stumbled through the door and sat down in a chair near her with a smile on his face. He looked at her, she could feel it.

“I'm sorry I'm home late, Vee. I met a new friend today! But don't tell Pops. He's a human.”

Five knew that word. Weren't those bad?

“Timothy isn't like other humans, though. He's nice! He showed me some insects and told me their names. Surface bugs are very different from normal ones! I think I might ask Huginn and Muninn to retrieve me some books on surface entomology. I can tell them that it's biological research.”

Entomology. That's a big word. What does that mean?

“Entomology means the study of insects, by the way. It's a very interesting branch of science. Timothy said he has books that tell him the names of different insects at his house. Oh, and a house is where humans usually live. Not a lab, like we live in. Or… a glass chamber, like you live in! Though, technically your chamber is within the lab.”

The lab. She wondered what the lab looked like.

“I think that I may be able to replace your eyes soon. I've been developing a prototype, hopefully it shouldn't take me too long to finish! From there, I just have to work really hard to get your other physical errors fixed, and then you can come out here! Maybe I can even bring you to meet Timothy!”

Timothy. That was a nice name. Not as good as Three or Vee, though. They matched. Though, maybe Timothy matched too. She didn't know how to spell Timothy yet.

Maybe they could match anyway.

----------------------

Three stumbled in today. Vee couldn't see it, of course, but Three had tripped, holding in tears. His chest just wouldn't stop hurting. Pops had said he could walk it off, so that is what he tried to do.

He couldn't walk much longer, falling to the floor in front of Vee's chamber. She enjoyed hearing the sound of his breathing, but she never liked it when he breathed this heavily. That meant he was hurt and crying. That meant Pops had done an experiment or a test. That meant Three didn't have the power to work on her body. He would always apologize for that. Of course, that never stopped him. She always heard him working.

“...V-Vee…”

That is her name. He loves to remind her of that.

“M-maybe…” Three gasped deeply, holding the breath for longer than he should before slowly releasing it. “Maybe if… I finish you… he w-won't do this to m-me anymo-ore…”

Vee couldn't feel his eyes on her. Until she could.

“I've shown him y-your guts alr-ready, though… maybe he won't won't w-want to v-vi…vivi…”

That's not how he's supposed to say her name. It's Vee.

“...Vee? Vee~”

That's right.

“Veeveeveevee…”

Is that right?

The mumbling of her name faded away, turning into slow rasping breaths.

She didn't want him to be hurt and crying anymore.

----------------------

“I want to make you as strong as One is. Or, at least, he should be. I haven't met One. Or Two. Or Four. But Pops says that it's impossible for you to be that strong. You're a box turtle, designed for defense. Anyhow, it's more important that I develop your muscle mass enough for you to stand independently first.”

Vee wondered what One, Two, and Four sounded like. Maybe their voices were jumpy and squeaky like Three's was now. Maybe they were sweet, like his was before. She wondered what Pops sounded like.

“Four is a box turtle like you. He developed properly, but don't feel bad! He got stolen away, so really, he got the short end of the stick! You're living the life of luxury.”

So many types of turtle. Did that mean they couldn't match anymore?

“I showed Timothy some sketches of my work with you. He got this really weird look on his face, and I thought he might not believe that I could fix you. But, he promised that he did believe in me! And he said he can't wait to meet you!”

Surely, he was just jealous of Three's hard work.

“I'm still working on your eyes. They're causing me more problems than I thought they would, but I think I'm getting closer to a functional product! It's just taking a while to find a good base that can survive the transfer.”

Eyes. One more sense. He taught her the five: touch, taste, sight, smell, and hearing. She had hearing- or at least, she believed she did. She didn't know what else this could be. To have two senses would be marvelous.

Three's voice went away, leaving a rubbing sound. He had told her what that was. It meant he was “rubbing his hands together”. It was a “nervous habit”.

“Pops told me… he told me that talking to you was ‘fueling my delusion’. I know that, logically, you're comatose. Your body isn't supposed to work right now, for the sake of your life.”

That made sense. She was hurt. Three said that if she came out of her coma as she was now, she would die. Dying wasn't a good thing.

“But I really want you to hear me. Even subconsciously. So- so that way, when you do wake up, we'll already be friends! A-and you'll already know so much about me, so I just need to know about you!”

That sounded nice. Vee wanted to tell him about herself. Maybe she'd know just what that meant by the time she got the chance.

“I promise I'm going to fix you soon. It'll be no problem!”

Vee liked that.

----------------------

Three was hurt and crying again. But this time, he didn't come to collapse by her chamber. He was far away, in the workspace. Vee didn't want him to be hurt and crying anymore. Three had said that hurt could mean dying. Three couldn't die yet. Vee still had to tell him everything about herself.

He wasn't even saying her name this time. He was saying the human's. He was hard to hear, so quiet, so far.

Timothy.

I'm sorry, Timothy.

What does that mean?

I'm so, so sorry.

What does that mean, Three?

Please, Tim.

Three?

Please forgive me.

I'm sorry.

I'm so, so sorry.

Three?

Three, please. She wants to understand. She wants to know you.

I want to know you. Talk to me, please. Tell me everything. Tell me about Mary Shelley. Tell me about entomology. Tell me about One. Tell me about Two. Tell me about Four. Tell me about Pops. Tell me what you're working on. Tell me how you want me to be better already so I can hold your hand and talk back. Let me hold your hand.

Tell me what's wrong.

“---ee? Vee, I'm ---y, I'm here, plea--- calm down. I'm here, please. Do I need- do I need to sedate her? I-”

He's not crying anymore. He's talking to her.

“Vee? Five?”

That's right.

“Should I read to you? W-Would you like that?”

She would.

“P-progress report 13. May 23rd. It happened today. Algernon bit me.”

Flowers for Algernon. Surface literature. Of course he would read surface literature now. He was just thinking of Timothy.

Every time Three would read this specific story to her, he would explain that the first few progress reports were intentionally written with poor spelling and grammar. He would spend the whole time explaining the correct way to write the sentences, up until the writing became legible. Then, when the writing returned to its sorry state, he would resume his corrections.

“I visited the lab to see him as I do occasionally, and when I took him out of his cage, he snapped at my hand.”

Vee knew the end of this story.

“I put him back and watched him for a while. He was unusually disturbed and vicious.”

It never ended nicely. They always had to die.

“May 24th. Burt, who is in charge of the experimental animals, tells me that Algernon is changing.”

She didn't want anyone else to die.

----------------------

Something was different. Where once there was a lack of anything, now there was something. Something Vee didn't have the knowledge to understand just yet. She couldn't understand light. She couldn't understand color. Now, it was right in front of her.

A blur of a color she didn't know the name of, green, with a dash of another, purple. Three's voice came from it.

“Eyelids are open. Should be working. Just one last test-”

Three grabbed a small blur- a silver flashlight- and shined it into her eyes. Her muscles instinctively tried to close her eyelids, but there just wasn't enough power behind it. They stayed open enough for Three to see the pupils constrict.

“Yes. Yes! YES! They work! Yes!”

Three sounded happy. That was good. Maybe he looked happy, too. Vee didn't know what happy looked like yet.

“...I have to show Pops. I have to show Pops! Wait! Stay right there!”

Three left the room, and Vee thought deeply. “They work”. Three had said that her eyes “didn't work yet” before. So that must mean that they work now. That meant that she was seeing. This was what she had been looking forward to ever since Three had attempted to explain the abstract concept of seeing.

This was it.

Those colors. The nameless ones that she didn't know- the ones she didn't even know how to identify as colors- that was Three. That was the face of the voice who had been her only comfort for all of time. That was the face of the person she wanted to comfort. The voice that she heard crying and hurting. The person she wanted to hold the hand of.

The door to the room opened again, and Three returned with a taller figure. Vee had never heard him before, she was sure of that when he got close for her to hear his breathing. Maybe she could have seen him before. He was tall, and covered with new colors. She couldn't name them, but they were gold, blue, and magenta.

“Look! Look! Her eyes are functional now! They constrict and dilate! Watch!”

Three held the light to her eyes once more, and her pupils shrank again.

The new voice only grunted.

“She's so close to completion now! Th-there are only a few more developmental errors, and she just needs a little more muscle mass-”

The tall figure lashed out at Three, as another color, magenta and pink, writhing, latched around Three's throat. He was held off the floor, just a few feet. His happy breathing stopped.

“You have obsessed over this project for too long. Your progress has been agonizingly slow, and this is what you have to show for it?”

A new voice. Deeper. More menacing.

Pops.

Three gasped for air, trying to respond.

“I suppose I must also involve myself. Your inefficiency up to this point will not be forgotten.”

The writhing mass slammed Three into the floor as the tall figure walked away, shutting the door behind himself.

Three heaved shaky breaths from his spot in front of Vee's chamber. He almost sounded like he was crying and hurting.

Was this what crying and hurting looked like? Curling over yourself? Was that what she was doing? She was supposed to be hurting. She didn't think she was crying, though. Could you hurt and not cry?

Could you cry and not hurt?

Three moved onto his knees, placing one hand on the glass. His face looked different, as if the light reflected off of it differently. His eyes looked at her. For the first time, she could feel and see it.

“I'm going to get you out soon. Then… then you can be here with me. And Pops will be proud. And I'll have you, my sister. Forever, and ever, and ever. And no one will take you from me.”

Three smiled, leaning against the glass and falling asleep.

That sounded nice.

-----------🕷️-----------

“What is this?”

Vee stood over Three at his workbench, looking down at the sketch he was working on. It looked familiar, like other ones he had made, but the notes around the margins were different.

“Oh, it's another collar for Big Mama. She has someone joining the Nexus who has some immunity to electricity, so I have to work on an alternative design…”

“How does it work?”

Three looked up at Vee as she smiled softly. She loved doing this. Getting him talking about the things he knew about.

“Okay, well, since the regular electric shock won't result in what we're going for, I have to find another method of keeping the fighter in line. So- so this collar is designed to tap straight into the nerves in the neck- focusing mainly on the more secondary nerves, but also creating a pathway to the spinal column if needed. With this, the nerves can be pinched all at once, effectively paralyzing the wearer!”

Vee looked over the sketch, resting a hand on the desk next to it. “And why is this collar shaped so differently?”

Three brightened again. “Oh, well, for one, to create a visual distinction that makes it easier for Big Mama to know what type of collar it is. But also, because the specific yokai has… no neck? Sort of? They have shoulders, but it would be somewhat easy for them to slip a standard collar off. So, alternative design! And this one can be green.”

“Very good. I'm sure Mother would appreciate the change in aesthetic.”

The stone in her pocket began to glow.

“Speak of the Devil, I suppose.”

Five slipped her mask on quickly, then answered the call. “Hello, Mother.”

“Turtley-boo! Hello! Where are you, my dear? I couldn't find you!”

“I had to deliver this week's recording to Three. I'll be returning home shortly.”

“I would hope so! Everything here is always such a tissy-tassle when you're over at that terrible place. Oh, do come home quickly, please. Your mama is getting lonely.”

Vee looked to Three, and they exchanged a soft look, even behind Vee's emotionless mask. “I'll be there in a moment, Mother.”

----------------------

This was wrong.

This was all wrong.

She was supposed to be worried about being taken from him.

What could she do, now that he was taken from her?

Four was gone. Then Two was gone. Vee thought, surely Three wouldn't be that dumb. Three was smart. He cared about her. He wouldn't leave her.

So where was he now? On the surface, living with rats and humans.

And she was left behind. Stuck under the thumb of a spider that claimed to be her mother. Forced to witness the violent aftermath that had come when Three disappeared, as Lord Draxum berated her and her mother for letting Three get such delusional thoughts in his head. Ideas that made him weak and stupid. Hopes that his family cared for him. 

But he left his family, didn't he?

She was supposed to be his sister.

And he left, in search of a family that didn't even know his name. His face. His voice. That voice was supposed to be hers. The one who took care of her. The one that fixed her.

Draxum may have caused her birth, but Three gave her life.

Didn't that matter to him?

She had been so scared of being taken from him, Vee didn't even consider the idea that he may be taken from her.

Fighting against him was something from her worst nightmares.

This couldn't be happening.

This was all wrong.

----------------------

Empty apologies.

He left, all because of a stupid dream he had been chasing. He left the family he had because of some dumb idea of a family that he had romanticized in his head. He left her.

Maybe he never cared about her anyway. She was just a toy to pass the time.

She wasn't real, anyway. Just a monstrous body given life.

----------------------

“Hi, Vee!”

Four approached her, sitting down cross legged on the floor beside her. He examined the blade she had been sharpening with an odd fascination.

“Where'd you get that?” He asked innocently.

“From Mother.”

Four straightened. “O-oh. Guess I shoulda… guessed that, huh?”

“Maybe.” Of course he should have. Who wouldn't recognize one of Big Mama's weapons?

“Hmm…” Four rocked back and forth, holding his feet. “Do you feel alright with me calling you Vee? I know that's what Donnie calls you, but I know he has like… a thing with names.”

“I’m Five,” she said bluntly, looking up at Four for a moment. “But I don't mind being called Vee.”

“Cool!” Four smiled, almost as sweetly as she remembered Three doing. “What's it short for?”

Vee paused and looked back up at Four. “Sorry?”

Four blinked. “...Vee. What's it short for?”

She squinted. “It stands for the roman numeral for Five. It isn't ‘short’ for anything.”

“Oh. Well, that's not right.” Four shook his head disapprovingly. “You need to match with us!”

That made Vee think. “Match?”

“Yeah!” Four shifted to sit on his knees. “See, cause I'm called Mikey. That's short for Michelangelo. He was a human artist in the Renaissance. And Raph is Raph, short for Raphael. And Leo is Leo, short for Leonardo. And Donnie is Donnie, short for Donatello!”

Vee put her blade down on the ground, giving Mikey all of her attention. “So they match because they're all artists?”

“Well, and since they're from the Renaissance, and since we've all got nicknames!” Mikey grinned. “Do you… want a name that matches with ours?”

“Yes.” Vee answered before she could really think about what she was saying. “I-I mean, I don't really need one, but-”

“Sweet!” Mikey patted his hands on the ground. “Now, what names could work… Genevieve? No, that would be Jenny… Vivian? Nah, that's not good enough. Oh!”

“What?”

“Well, I know all of our names are from artists, but, uh, what if your name was from a piece of art?”

Vee thought for a moment. It was certainly true that she wasn't like the other turtles. Obviously, her name would have to reflect that.

Though, maybe being a work of art wouldn't be so bad.

“Sure. But tell me the name before I agree to anything.”

Mikey's expression suddenly shifted to a more serious one. “Of course. How about… Venus de Milo?”

Venus de Milo.

“...what is it?”

“It's a statue from ancient Greece. She sorta got her arms ripped off, but she's still incredibly beautiful and detailed, and a very widely known masterpiece! Wait, lemme see if I've got internet-”

Mikey fumbled with his phone, desperately trying to gather some internet signal in the depths of the Hidden City. Meanwhile, Vee simmered in the thought. A statue, broken, never to be truly as it was before. And yet, it was beautiful, not just because of what it still had, but because it had lost. It had persevered. Because something so beautiful was never truly perfect. That was what allowed it to be beautiful instead.

Maybe that beauty made it perfect, anyway.

“I like it.”

Mikey's eyes flitted up from his hunch over his phone. “Oh? Great!” He corrected his posture. “How ‘bout you try it out? Introduce yourself to me!”

Vee cleared her throat, checking her own posture out of habit. “Hello, Michelangelo. My name is Venus de Milo. You may call me Vee.” She extended her hand for a handshake. Mikey met it vehemently.

“Perfect! Now, you match with all of us! Man, the teamwork and collaboration on this mission is gonna be on point!”

Venus smiled, turning the interaction around in her head.

Maybe she could be a masterpiece.

----------------------

Donnie loved to talk. Vee always knew that. But, for too long, she had never noticed how much he loved to be listened to; to have another directly engaging in the conversation. Once she learned that, she learned that she had a love for listening.

It was sometimes hard for her to understand her own wants without comparing them to the wants of others. She loved to listen because Donnie loved to talk. She loved to spar because that made Raph happy. She loved to ask questions so Leo could explain the nonsensical movies he showed her. She loved to eat because Mikey loved to cook.

But right now, none of that really mattered. Donnie was talking, and Vee loved to listen.

“Splinter told me that I could make him, as long as I make sure he doesn't turn, like, evil or anything. Though, honestly, if a robot uprising were to happen, I think it would be smart to just accept fate.”

Donnie was cleaning up some sort of schematic on a bean bag as a movie played on the TV. Vee sat next to him, not paying attention to the film at all. Screams about hot food went in one ear and out the other.

“So these are the plans you have so far?”

“Exactly!” Donnie brightened, then slumped as he came to a realization. “He's actually based on a design I made before you got out of your chamber. P-... Draxum destroyed that one, though.”

“Oh.” Vee slumped a bit as well. “I wish I could have seen it. Maybe I'd be more helpful now with these designs.”

“Uh, y-you don't have to worry about it!” Donnie waved his arms frantically. “It was my fault you were stuck in there anyway.”

“No it wasn't.” Vee looked at him blankly. “It was Lord Draxum's fault. He made me faulty. You helped me. You fixed my body.”

Donnie flustered, scratching at his neck. “W-well, not really. I didn't even-”

“You gave me my eyes. You gave me purpose.”

He looked at his sister, hands shaking almost invisibly where they gripped his sketching paper. Something strange came to his eyes- a shimmer, one that she knew. “I-I'm-”

“If you say you're sorry one more time, I might just rip your tongue out.”

“But I am! In more words than I can say, I am! You cared about me so much, and I just left you without a second thought. No apology I can give can ever make up for that.”

Vee sighed, shaking her head, looking at Donnie with tired eyes. “You're right.”

Donnie's nervous energy evaporated and he stilled.

“No apology will ever be enough. When you apologized to me, I didn't forgive you. When you apologized to me, I hated you.”

Venus paused, questioning whether or not she should continue. When Donnie gave no reaction, she decided to.

“When you tried to explain what had happened, I hated you. When you asked for my help, invited me in, told me you wanted me back, I hated you.”

Genuine tears started to well up in custom built eyes.

“B-because… because I couldn't believe you. You left me, and that was what was real. That was what mattered.”

Donnie took a breath in, as if to add something, but ultimately decided against it.

“Part of me still doesn't believe you.”

Months of worrying. Months of waiting. Months of simmering in hatred for the one person she had convinced herself she could trust. Months of wondering, “Would he have stayed if I had been better?” Months of unbridled rage towards her creator, who couldn't have waited just a little longer to make her right. Months thinking of her other so called “brothers” who stole her brother away.

He said no one could take her from him. So why would he throw her away?

“But you showed me otherwise.”

She never knew how to put these things into words. There was something difficult about bringing her thoughts out in that way. Because of this, she could never really tell Donnie how it felt when he first showed her that room he had prepared, which he left mostly empty for her to decorate herself. She could never explain how it felt when Splinter traced her stitches, complimenting how wonderfully they framed her features. She could never properly thank Raph for expressing his admiration for her fighting style. She couldn't express the joy she felt when she saw Leo do something that would make him feel embarrassed hours later. She could never say anything more than “It’s great” when eating one of Mikey's meals, one that should make a food critic cry.

“So you don't need to apologize anymore. You showed me how you cared, and that's all that matters now.”

Vee grabbed Donnie's hand, and the two shared a wordless understanding.

You can cry and not hurt.

----------------------

Vee woke up to the sound of someone else moving around the lair.  All of her brothers were still covered in blankets around her, and a blank tarp hung on the wall stood in front of her that she vaguely remembered watching a projected video essay on before she fell into slumber. There was only one person missing from the scene…

As she pushed herself to her feet and walked into the hall, Vee came face to face with a still bonnet wearing April.

“Oh, morning, Vee!” April greeted energetically. “What're you doing up already?”

“This is a normal time to wake up, isn't it? You're awake.”

April hummed. “I guess you're right. I'm just used to the guys sleeping in super late. You hungry?”

Vee nodded, following April silently into the kitchen. Just a short time ago, she would have wanted to cut April's head off, purely because of her human existence. Now, she felt a strange, foreign comfort around the human. Not quite like she felt with her brother, or her other brothers, but something akin to it.

April started loading up the toaster, grabbing some spreads and setting them out on the counter.

“Got any plans today, Miss Milo?”

Vee chuckled. “It's Miss de Milo, and, uh, no. You got any plans, Miss Neil?”

April laughed in turn. “Actually, I do. And since you don't have any, I was hoping you might help me out with mine.”

Vee nodded, letting her continue.

“I brought some stuff from my place to do a spa day, slash makeover day. Figured you might want to join in.”

Vee thought for a moment. “I know what a spa day is, but what is a ‘makeover’?”

“Well, it's like,” she hesitated, “it's when you put on a ton of makeup and wear fancy clothes and stuff. Not because you're not pretty, but it's just… it's a way of making yourself feel good, y'know? You've worn makeup before, right?”

“No.” Vee shrank slightly. “Mother said that it would be a lost cause. That's why she gave me the mask instead.”

“Oh.” April shook her head, scrunching her nose. “Oh, no, no. That's not gonna work. You are going to be pampered, Miss de Milo. That is an order.”

April strode out of the kitchen, and Vee followed slowly behind. Before she could see where April had gone, there was the telltale sound of a pillow being thrown into someone's face.

“Owf- wha- hey! What was that for?” Leo grumbled through the grogginess of waking up.

“We've got a busy day ahead, boys! Gotta eat breakfast so we can get to work!”

“Busy day?” Mikey asked, slightly more cognizant than Leo. “What are we doing?”

“Makeovers. All of us!”

Vee finally caught sight of April in the hallway of the living room as she saw Donnie jumping up from where he was laying. “Are we gonna do nails?!” He shouted excitedly, running up in front of April. “Can I pick the colors?”

“Of course you can, bud. Just go eat some toast first,” April responded, patting his shoulder.

Donnie hurried to the kitchen followed by his brothers, who were all still wiping the sleep from their eyes. After that, breakfast went quickly.

Raph drug a stool into the bathroom in front of the mirror, where Vee was instructed to sit. Soon, she was surrounded by her brothers and April, with a large makeup bag in the human's hands. She put the bag down on the counter, taking out a liquid foundation in the perfect hue for Vee's skin.

“Where do you even find this stuff? Party City?” Leo asked, taking out another foundation from the bag that matched his own skin.

“No,” April scoffed, preparing her workspace, “I get it online. Its makeup, not face paint. It just happens to be green. Are you complaining?”

“No, ma'am.” Leo quickly shut himself up.

“Good. Now, let's get some jobs set straight.” April started gesturing to the brothers one by one. “Donnie, you're in charge of picking colors out, and themes. Mike, you're executing Donnie's ideas, because his hands are way too shaky. Raph, my bag's in the other room, go pick something out. You'll know what I mean when you get there. And Leo, you're in charge of music and talking. Tea spilling, gossip, whatever.”

All of the turtles nodded in response, and Raph walked out to find April's bag.

“Now, Vee.” April put her hands on Vee's shoulders, looking her straight in the eyes. “You just sit here, close your eyes, and relax. We've got it all handled.”

“Okay.” Vee hesitated, closing her eyes slowly, before shooting them open again. “Wait!”

April hummed, hovering the makeup sponge she had prepared in the air.

“Can you, uh… can you leave my stitches? Not cover them up, I mean.” She couldn't help casting a glance at Donnie, who gave a timid smile.

April relaxed. “Course, Vee. Now, close your eyes and let us work our magic!”

Vee complied, and she found herself surrounded by sounds. A strange nostalgia filled her chest.

“What we thinking, D?”

“How about, uh… this?”

“Ooo! Perfect! Can I get, uh… that one first?... Thanks! Okay Vee, I'm gonna grab your hand now. It's gonna be cold!”

“What am I supposed to even talk about? I don't have any tea.”

No need for sight. Hearing those voices, comforting her. With a slight drone of music alongside.

“How about your date with Usagi?”

“Wh- April! It wasn't a date!”

“Hey! No shoving! This is a delicate art, Leo!”

“Ugh, fine.” Another shove.

“Hey! No shoving me either! I didn't even say anything!”

“Yeah, but April's busy, Mikey's busy, and you gave me a weird look.”

“I gave you a normal look. You obviously went on a date. Vee, you know?”

Vee laughed just a bit, trying not to move and disturb April's work. “Donnie's right. It was pretty clearly a date.”

“No, it wasn't!”

“Just tell us what you did, Leo.”

Unlike before, she had other senses. But somehow, removing this one made her feel comfortable. Knowing that someone else was taking care of her felt so good.

When she felt Donnie's scar covered, calloused hand grab onto hers, the comfort felt warmer.

“We didn't even-”

“Hey, April? How's this one?”

“I think it's great, but how ‘bout you ask Mister Manicure?”

“Oh. Mike?”

“That's perfect, Raph! You got any accessories?”

“Maybe in my room… lemme go check.”

The sound of heavy footfalls walking away.

“Alright, I'm gonna be working on your eyelids, so it's gonna feel a little weird. Just try to stay loose.”

“Ooo, you are gonna look so good!”

Vee allowed the sound to envelop her entirely.

“Listen, we didn't go on a date, we aren't even a thing anyways.”

“I'm going to fix your body.”

“Usagi would be very hurt it he heard that. You wanna tell him, D?”

“You should be out here, learning with me.”

“I can text him right away-”

“NO!”

“Being my sister.”

“Just admit it, Leo! You're down bad for the bunny!”

“He still hasn't admitted that?”

“No, Raph! Because I'm not ‘down bad’!”

“So I'm going to fix you.”

“Okay, keep the volume down. I gotta concentrate…”

Time passed shapelessly. Vee interacted in the conversation when asked, but otherwise, she let the noise flow over herself. Before she knew it, she was being told to stand up and having fabric pulled onto her arms, with a ribbon being tied over her shell.

“Okay, okay, just a few more touches-”

“You've been doing ‘a few more touches’ for five minutes, Donnie. She looks great!”

“SHH! Don't rush perfection, Nardo.”

Vee blushed. “You really think I look perfect?”

She felt Donnie's eyes on her. “You always have.”

Mikey awed. “Okay, okay, okay, now you can look!”

Vee opened her eyes, just as Donnie moved to the side so she could see herself in the mirror. She saw that the fabric put on her was a dress, very light blue and with flowery embroidery patterning on the bottom of the knee-length skirt. Her claws were painted with pastel colors, with a light blue backdrop behind white daisies, each having an undertone of a different color: reddish-pink, blue, orange, purple, yellow, and green. On her face, a soft blue eyeshadow was put on her eyelids, with small painted daisies incorporated into her eyeliner. Similar flowery bows were placed down the length of her braided mask tails. Donnie quickly shuffled behind her to put a necklace on her neck, with a daisy shaped pendant.

Vee found herself speechless, staring at the stranger that had been pulled out of her own skin.

“Is it alright?” April asked hesitantly.

As she rubbed her lips together, Vee forced herself to look up at the ceiling. She waved her hands at her face.

“Oh- Oh! Its waterproof! You're good!”

“It is?!” Vee squeaked, struggling to hold herself together.

“Yeah, yeah, it is!”

“That's s-so cool!” Vee finally let her tears loose, still waving at her face while nervously laughing.

“You like it? Do you like the flowers? It was Donnie's idea!” Mikey asked, beaming as bright as the sun.

“Yes! Yes, I do, thank you!” Vee paused in her flapping to look over her hands again, and the dress, and her face.

Her flowers.

When she looked to Donnie, he looked as if he couldn't be happier.

“Well that's good, cause they cost me my dignity,” Leo groaned, despite the smirk on his face. “By the way, I call next.”

April patted his shell. “Alright, Leo. We'll make you pretty so you can look good for Usagi.”

“Great, because I- Wait! HEY!”

Vee was laughing loudly now, wiping her tears delicately with a single finger. The argument slowly turned back into background noise, as Leo sat on the stool instead, squabbling far too much for April's liking. Donnie recruited Vee for color picking and inspiration searching.

And so Vee let herself exist there, not worrying about mattering or being wanted. Not worrying about if the one she cared about was hurt or crying. Not longing for another sense to experience the world with. Not questioning if she may be taken away for good. Not asking if she really had a family. Not wondering if she did something wrong, or if she even had the right to call herself alive. Not waiting for someone to talk to her.

She had her flowers, and words could never compare.

○●○●○●○

Finally, she is here. I went a little wild on this. There are just so many parts of Vee's story that I can't wait to see. She's my little brainworm 💖

I'm glad that I can get this out before the @tmntaucompetition ends, especially since EW is in the finale. Go vote for them!!! I love them so dearly :)

I'm going to edit the first chapter of my own iteration, (currently titled Second Shot), and post that soon. I simply must get my boys out into the world, especially after discovering @dluebirb's TMNT AU family reunion. Lord knows they need friends.

GO VOTE IN THE TMNT AU COMP! AAH!

Broken Brothers (and How to Fix Them)

[si11yw0rm]

VIRGIN WHITE.

pairing: studio owner bsf gojo! x afab reader (with no use of y/n) blurb: your bsf gojo accepts your offer to help take your virginity after you tell him you were still a virgin. he texts you to meet up with him the next day. (told from gojos pov) tags: protected sex (wrap that willy up please), dirty talk (praise & degradation), nipple play, recorded sex, fingering, oral (reader rec), use of baby, sweetheart and love. a/n: i typed this out on my phone, so sorry for any errors! i will edit it later <3 (hope you love this one! wc: 3k+ (no beta reading)

You sit on the edge of the bed, your eyes fixed firmly on your laps. You don't seem nervous, but Gojo knows better. “So you want me.”

Your voice is shaky, and it almost makes him laugh. He still couldn't believe you could be so oblivious.

Here he was, half naked and standing in front of her with the hardest boner he had ever had, and you were asking him if he wanted you.

He decides to humour you anyway. “I do.”

You look up then, your eyes wide. They fill with suspicion, before they drop to his crotch then lift back up to his face. 

There was that flash of fire he had always loved in you. That part of you that was hidden under all the layers you put up. It made his head feel light.

He still couldn't believe you were a virgin, and that you had asked him of all people. Sure, he was your best friend, but he had seen how you made eyes with both Sukuna and Toji, so there was nothing stopping you from asking them.

But you had picked him. And he couldn't be more pleased.

"And you are sure?" That tremble is still in your voice and he steps closer, and Gojo doesn't bother to try holding back his chuckle when he sees your face turn red.

You were already so sensitive.

"I am." He answers your question and places his hands on your chin to tip your face up, so you were looking at him as he smiles at you.

Running his thumb over your bottom lip, he tugs at it once, making your lips part. "Are you scared?"

You bite your lip, and it takes everything in him to not push you to the bed and shove his cock in your mouth. 

Baby steps, Satoru. Baby steps.

"I am. Can you sit down? I can't focus with you standing." Your eyes drop to his crotch again and Gojo bites his lips to stop himself from laughing, mostly because of the look on your face.

It was a cross between apprehension and anticipation, and Gojo knew it was only you who could pull it off.

Gojo sits down next to you, reaching over to hold your hand. "We don't have to do this, baby."

"I want to." The nervousness is gone from your voice, leaving behind only a firm confidence that has blood rushing down to his cock.

As if you wanted to prove that to him any further, you shift, grabbing at his shirt with both your hands. "I want you. And I would not let my nerves get in my way."

Gojo cups your cheek and you nuzzle into his palm, your eyes closing. He was sure you weren't even aware of the action, almost as if it came naturally to you.

Slow down. Make this good for her.

"We do this your way."

You look at him through your lashes and Gojo once again bites down the urge to throw you on the bed. He wasn't usually like this.

You speak like you weren't aware of his internal conflict, and the words from your lips had him groaning. "I would rather do it your way, Nick."

That's my girl.

"Take off your clothes." The command comes flying out of his mouth and you blink, like you didn't expect it.

Gojo drops his hands from your face and you rub your palms against your skirt, before you start getting off the bed.

You were so gorgeous, that Gojo didn't have the urge to throw you on the bed. He had the urge to just eat you up.

Gojo holds back his curse. Feeling very much like the big bad wolf preying on the naive lamb.

You were still playing with the hem of your skirt, and Gojo clicked his tongue, waiting for your eyes to meet his before he spoke. "You don't need to put on a show for me, sweetheart. Just be you."

You nod, and smile shyly. The smile sends blood straight to his dick, leaving him feeling light headed.

The innocence and shyness in the way you took your clothes off had every dark part of him rising, and he had to hold himself back from jumping you.

You stand upright after you yank your skirt down and finally.

Finally, you stand before him in nothing but a pretty cotton bra, with matching panties. He wanted to take them off with his teeth.

It's painfully innocent, but there's something innately sensual about it.

Just like you.

"Are you going to take off your clothes too?" There's a particular boldness behind your voice, like you are calling him out and he smiles before spreading his legs.

"Do you want me to?"

Please say yes.

As if you had heard his inner thoughts, you nod and gesture towards him. "I want to take it off myself."

He internally shoots thankful prayers to every deity that exists as he grins, spreading his legs apart even further.

You don't hesitate, and you walk towards him, stopping when you are standing in between them and you lift your hands up to rest your fingers on his button down.

Go at her pace.

"You don't have to actually do it, love."

"I want to."

You start off with the first button, and he slides his hands up your thighs as he notices your trembling. "Breathe."

You nod, and your fingers become more stable. A sense of pleasure and satisfaction spreads through him that makes his chest feel heavy.

You push his shirt off his shoulders and Gojo sees your eyes darken as you see his bare chest.

"Are you going to take off my pants too?" Gojo says and you don't even flinch, a grin lifting your lips.

"I will."

Gojo grabs your waist and pulls you on the bed, swallowing your laugh with his mouth. You sigh against him, melting in his hands and he pulls you closer. 

You moan into his mouth and he doesn't bother holding back his curse.

"Toru—Satoru, please."

"Whatever you want, baby."

You push him off you and he lets you climb down him before you start taking off his pants.

He almost laughs at your eagerness, but the blood rushing down made it get stuck in his throat. "Calm down, baby."

You shake your head and he lifts his hips so you can pull his pants down. Once you took a look at his cock straining against the front of his boxers, your lips part, and you look up at him.

God. When you looked at him like that, he nearly forgot he needed to be gentle with you.

He grabs your wrist and pulls you to the bed, moving so he is bending over you. He can't stop himself from dropping his lips to yours, and you moan into his mouth.

"Toru."

Gojo ignores you and moves his lips down to your belly and when your breath hitches, he smiles against your skin.

"Satoru." The tremor in your voice makes him stop, and he looks up to see you staring at him, and the flush spreading over your cheeks and chest makes him want to take a picture. 

You were stunning.

"What are you going to do?" Your hands move to his hair, pinning him in place and stopping him from dropping it. Your grip was strong enough that he felt pressure at the tip of his roots, but he also knew he could easily break out of it.

He slides his hands up your hips, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your panties. "Have dinner."

"You had dinner."

You were so stubborn.

"Then I want to have dessert."

You blush and Gojo feels a grin spread over his lips. "Can I?"

"You want to eat me out?" 

Gojo blinks, and you start to blush again, this time the red flushes down to your neck. "I read about it on a website somewhere."

What other dirty things did you know about? 

The thought is the only thing that has the next words leaving his mouth. "Has someone ever gone down on you before?"

You blush again and Gojo smiles to himself. You didn't know it, but the red made him know just how well your ass would turn red under his hands.

It would turn red so prettily.

"No. I haven't done anything except kissing." You had mentioned something similar in the text you had sent him, but he didn't think it was true.

He was going to ruin you. You were going to get addicted to just him.

"Spread your legs." Gojo says and pride rushes through him when you immediately comply. He moves forward and dives in, your taste bursting all over his tongue.

You tasted just as good as you looked. You had a pussy that was just begging him to spend the rest of his life worshipping it.

He groans, grabbing your thighs to pull you closer. You tasted like heaven, hell and everything in between. Like a magic nectar exploding behind his irises, like he could get drunk off your taste alone.

Gojo could spend all his time between your thighs, and never want to leave. Ever.

Your fingers dig into his hair and you moan, and the single coherent thought that runs through his mind was Mine.

He pulls back and slides two fingers inside you, the slick wetness between your legs letting them enter with ease. The action makes you throw your head back and release a shaky loud moan that makes him tighten in his boxers.

You were so wet that the noises you both were making were obscene.

Fuck. He wasn't going to last once he got himself inside you, and he wanted to make this special.

"Gojo, please. Don't stop!” You whine and your hands grip the sheets as he swipes his tongue over your clit.

Impulse drives him as he bites down on it softly, but still hard enough to make your legs shake.

You were close.

He pulls your legs open wider and increases the pace of his fingers, and presses his thumb on your clit, before rolling it in a circle.

You burst all over his hands and your words slur into groans, your breathing becoming shaky and uneven. "Toru, I…"

"Shh, pretty baby. I still have to fuck you."

He might die if he didn't.

Your eyes widen and you watch him move away from you, grabbing a condom from his jeans that was on the floor. "There's more?"

Sweet, innocent angel.

He almost laughed, but settles for pulling down his boxers. He doesn't miss the way your eyes hone on his dick as he tears off the condom wrapper and pulls it over his dick.

He moves over you, grabbing your hips.

"Is it going to hurt?" The way your voice goes small has sweat gathering at the nape of his neck, and he prays to any God who is listening that he doesnt fuck this up for you.

Gojo nods, angling her hips up. "Just a little. Baby, lift your knees up."

You do, your eyes still trained on his dick, your apprehension clear as day on your features and he bends over to kiss your lips softly.

"I would make it hurt less, baby. You have my word."

You nod, looking up at him with an expression so sweet it had his insides turning. "I trust you."

Jesus Christ, he wasn't going to last a full second.

He smiles down at you, and runs his hands over your thighs, shifting so his tip brushes against your slit. “You look so good like this, love. You have no idea. You’re so gorgeous.” 

“Satoru, please…” You look away from him, not meeting his eyes as he arches his brow. You bit your lip, stopping yourself from finishing the sentence.

Gojo pushes your thighs apart with force, and you move easily, your breath catching in your throat.

You stare up at him as he grabs your hips with one hand, angling it in a way he knows would make you feel him so deep, while his other hand takes a hold of his cock, bringing him close to your heat.

Gojo wasn't going to enter you yet, but a growl leaves your lips as you push your hips forward and a laugh bursts through him. "Okay, baby."

He pushes into you slowly and he can swear his head goes light as he feels you stretching to accommodate him.

"Gojo—Toru... Please."

"I know, baby." Bringing a hand to your core, he brushes his thumb over your clit and you moan, relaxing enough for him to slide forward another inch.

Jesus Christ, he wasn't even bottomed out yet and you already felt like heaven.

“You’re doing well, baby. So good for me.” He was halfway in, and your breath was catching in your lungs, like you couldn't get enough in so you were trying to get them all at once.

"Breathe and touch your nipples for me, sweetheart." 

You didn't hesitate, one of your hands moving to tweak your nipple, and a gush of wetness slicks out of you, giving him the opportunity to finally bottom out.

"Fuck."

You whimper with pain, and Gojo feels something move in his belly as he leans over you to start peppering your face with kisses. "Tell me when it's okay to move."

Your fingers leave your chest and come around his shoulders to lock your fingers behind it, and you push his head down until your foreheads were touching. "Move now."

He nods, pulling out slowly before sliding back into you. 

“Fuck, so tight and warm.” You clenched around him, and a string of curse words left his lips.

"More, Toru."

He compiles, switching to a pace that had you whimpering. “I’ll fuck you so good, baby. I’ll make you all mine”

Your eyes were rolling to the back of your head, but his statement made them suddenly snap into focus. “Do it, then. Fuck me good, Toru."

Maybe it was you talking to him like that, but something snaps within him, and he bites your neck. "Your wish is my command, baby."

"You know what I think? We could use your moans as a backtrack." The thought was so random and Gojo couldn't begin to say where it came from, but through the haze of the lust and pleasure, he can see the telltale sign in your eyes that meant you were thinking about it.

"And we have a camera." He was pushing the line, toeing the boundaries, but you slide your hands away from the back of his neck, pressing them flat against his chest.

"Camera?"

Gojo bites his lips and toes the line a bit further, slowing his pace so he drags against the walls of your pussy in a slow rhythm. "You would look so pretty on camera for me, my pretty little slut. Don't you think?"

Your breathing hitches, and you clench around him again, and Gojo suddenly knew then he had hit the jackpot.

You loved being talked to.

"You think I would?"

Ah, you had no idea. "I know you would."

Your hands start roaming, and Gojo lets his hands go to your waist, holding you in place as he slips his tongue inside your mouth.

He could still taste your juice on his lips, and coupled with the taste of your mouth, it made him know he was a goner. He was addicted to uou. There was no saving him now.

"Toru." You whisper, starting to lift yourself up to meet his thrusts. Your legs came up to lock behind his hips, and you used them to press him down.

Fuck.

His brain suddenly clicks, and he grins, reaching over your head to grab his phone. He had left it on his bed after his workout, and he was never more grateful.

If he had to pull out of you, he might have died. "Hold still, pretty baby."

He opens the camera app, angling it at where you were joined. He hits the record button and the sound makes a whimper slip past your lips.

Keeping the camera where it is, Gojo angles his hips down, so his pelvis brushed against your clit and the added pleasure makes you clench around him again and he curses. "Fucking hell."

He needed to fuck you.

Gojo turns off the camera and throws his phone somewhere on the bed, before reaching forward to place both of his hands beside your head.

Your legs dig into his back as he sets a pace that had his belly coiling, and it gets hard enough to make your tits bounce.

"Play with your nipples, pretty girl."

You mindlessly comply, your moaning increasing a notch.

"One day, I am going to clamp your pretty nipples while I fuck you."

The words came from somewhere deep down within him and pleasure licks at the base of his spine as you nod, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

"Would you like that? Huh? Would you like that, pretty baby?"

"Yes, Toru. Please."

Fuck him. You were perfect in every way.

"You take my cock so well, baby. Like you were made for it."

You scream as you hit the peak of your pleasure, your hands shooting off the bed and coming to grip the back of his head.

Your clenching and rippling around him is what triggers his own orgasm and he drops his head to your neck and keeps slamming up into you. "God, I am going to fill you up and make you mine."

You whimper, and Gojo grins even though you can't see it. "Would you like that? Taking so much of my cum it drips out of you? Then I would push it back in because a greedy slut like you deserves every single drop."

You break into moans of broken repeated prayers of yes and it sets him on fire. You wrap your hands around his neck this time and Gojo lets you ride it out, rubbing my hands down your back.

You shudder against him, and he laughs, running a palm down your arms. Your skin was so soft he couldn't stop himself from not touching you. "That was intense, right?"

Gojo doesn't expect you to answer but you nuzzle into his neck, nodding in answer to his question as your lips left a trail of kisses down his neck, before you climb back up to nip his ear. "Can we stay like this?"

As if he wouldn't do anything for you.

Gojo nods, before tilting his head to give you more space, and he bit back a curse as your lips start to move towards his chest. "We can do whatever you want, baby."

"Thank you, Jojo." Your voice turns droopy and drowsy, like it was getting harder to pick them from your head and Gojo knew you were about to fall asleep.

There was something you were still forgetting, and he clears his throat, brushing his hands over your hip. "I am still inside you."

And still so painfully hard.

Even after the orgasm.

The warmth of you was messing with his head, even through the condom, and he could swear you were actually putting pressure on his heart.

There was nothing else to explain why it was beating so hard.

"I know. I want to stay just like this." You say the words against his chest, and he feels that pleasure that flickers in his chest anytime you ask him for something.

And like always, he obeys.

He brushes your hair this time and grabs a blanket that was thrown on the couch, bending down to kiss your brow before he throws it over the both of you, and you snuggle closer.

The warmth of you sinks into Gojo's bones, and he releases a pent up sigh before he closes his eyes, pulling you in tighter.

It had gone quiet, and the only sounds that he could hear was your soft breathing, and the calls of the birds outside his window.

He knew he would have to clean you up later and dispose of the condom, but for now, he was simply going to enjoy the peace that only came with being with you.

Tomorrow? He would make you his girlfriend.

(end notes)

do i have a ghost fic i am procrastinating finishing up by writing this? yes. yes, i do.

please leave behind likes and feedback! (i am thinking of opening a taglist, so please let me know if you would love to be a part of one)

[thezombieprostitute]

Just needed to write something. Inspired by @navybrat817's post about being taken away so you don't have to work.

Alpha left unnamed so you can picture your own grumpy/protective man.

This was entirely written on my phone. Apologies for errors.

+++++

You've been having a rough day. Your clothes weren't fitting right, that tag kept itching your neck. Your nerves were on edge. You were certain everyone was noticing all of your flaws. Goodness knows you were pointing all of them out to yourself.

Work is only making things worse. It's turning a lot of your nervous energy into anger and frustration. Heaven forbid your boss check her own notes or your co-workers fix their own mistakes.

Worst of all, you've closed off your bond so you don't bother Alpha with everything. That source of love and support cut off because you can't return his energy today and don't want him worrying about you. You make sure to text him, assuring him it's just a bad day and you'll talk when you're both home.

Then someone steals your lunch and, for the briefest second, you send all your sadness and anger through the bond. You quickly work to get it back under control as you try to not cry on your way to the vending machines.

About 30 minutes later there's a text from Alpha, "I'm downstairs. You're going home with me." You text back that you'll be ok. That you need to finish your work day.

A minute after you send that message you get a call from the front desk. The receptionist is clearly nervous, "there's a very big, very upset Alpha here saying he's here to pick you up for lunch?"

"I can confirm he's my Alpha," you sigh. "But I've already had my lunch. Maybe send him up?" Perhaps of you can get in some physical contact it'll help both you.

The receptionist wasn't wrong, Alpha is looking very upset. And everyone in the office is steering clear. As soon as you're in reach, he's pulling you into his arms, scenting you. You're able to let go of some of the day's stress with his help.

Your boss coughs to get your attention. "Unless there's been a change in your heat/rut cycles, this behavior is not allowed. This is a workplace, not a therapy session."

Alpha stands up to his full height and your boss takes a step back. "I guess that means she'll have to find a better job elsewhere." He grabs your bag and packs the few personal belongings you've got.

"Alpha, you can't do this," you protest weakly.

"My Omega is hurting and this place is just making it worse. So yes, I'm doing this." He grabs your hand and pulls you to the elevator. As much as you want to protest, you just don't have the energy.

And, really, you don't want to stop him. You just want him to get you home so he can take care of you, protect you, and everything else your inner Omega is begging for right now.

You open up the bond again and Alpha looks at you with a smile at your feelings of relief, gratitude and love.

+++++

So who did you picture for your Alpha?

Tagging @alicedopey; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @ronearoundblindly

[siriusleee]

Like Blood on Iron | Part 4

Historical Executioner AU

Summary: The executioner has always been an enigma to you - drawing you in. His sword drawing a line in the dirt as he made his way to the village center, and leaving back to his cottage on the outskirts of town. However, your curiosity can't stop the future your family has planned for you.

Warnings: smut, female x male sex, blood, death, decapitation

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: Three very important updates for you guys, please read:

My tag list has gotten way longer than I'd ever expected it to get. Honestly, I thought I'd have like 3 readers and that's it. It is taking me almost an hour to get everyone tagged, update the tag list, and go back to old posts and comment to people who Tumblr won't let me tag. Because of this I will no longer be doing a tag list. In an effort to make this easier on myself and get these posts out faster, please subscribe to my Ko-fi page OR enable notifications for when I post. Subscribing to Ko-fi costs nothing, and I do not expect you to send me any money. It's just the one page I have that I can send out quick updates.

However, I am currently super poor. For anyone that doesn't know, I am an English Literature teacher. This year I moved from middle school to high school, and buying all the supplies that I need for this new grade level is killing me. I am working at a part-time job to afford it, but if you can and want to, I'd love it if you donated. I just bought $40 worth of glue sticks; it's very expensive. You can donate through my Ko-fi. Thank you to @gazs-blue-hat and @devcica for donating to my wisdom teeth surgery - I just made the first payment; I love you guys.

I did not edit this. I literally finished and am hitting post; school starts tomorrow and the first 3 weeks are so exhausting, I will be going to bed at 4 p.m. each day. So I wanted to get this out to you. Adamantine Chains will have a new chapter posted tomorrow. If you see any egregious errors, please point them out and I will fix them. previous chapters + future preview: - one - two - three - preview

The sound of Lily's soft breath in your ear tries to lull you to sleep, tries to force your jaw to relax but you can't. For the first time since your outburst with Jonathan, Lily had crept into the bedroom the two of you used to share. She had curled into your side; her breathing wasn't even before the door cracked open again and Maggie snuck in to sandwich Lily between yourself and her.

Lily's hair tickles your shoulder as you keep your eye on the window - the warmth is fading faster each night, but when you tried to close it before you went to bed you couldn't bring yourself to do it. You needed the feeling of the cool air in the room. 

"Are you going to watch?"

Maggie's voice is so quiet it seems to get carried away by the wind. The bed shifts as she turns to look at you over the crown of Lily's head peeking above the covers. You turn, fingers brushing Lily's hair out of your way. In the darkness, Maggie's eyes gleam at you. 

"I don't know. He told me not to, but I think Father will make us."

Maggie breathes in sharply - once - just enough for you to know whatever she's about to say angers her.

"I think Father is making everyone go. Why did he tell you not to go?"

You want to tell her his name - as much as you know - is Ghost. To call him by his name, but you keep that information tucked close to your chest. 

"I don't know; he didn't say."

The conversation hangs in the air between the two of you, floating with the dust that blows in from the windowsill. Maggie's eyes burn across to you before she rolls back away from you, her hair dark against the pillow, curling down her neck. Mirroring her you roll away, eyes focused on the silver starlight you can see out the window.

You awake to soft hands shaking you awake; through your sleep you see Mother pressing one finger to her lip. Her eyes say it all to you - it's time. You slip out of bed leaving the warmth of Lily behind as the cool morning washes over the bare skin that shows from your nightgown. Mother hands you a dress, a thick black one. The same one you knew Maggie wore two years ago when Father's mother died. 

You pad out the room behind her, trying not to wake Lily up. You let the bedroom door shut softly behind you before you speak.

"I have to go?"

"Lily is staying behind with the Morris girls. Your father expects the rest of us to be there." Mother's voice is tight; she's already dressed in a black dress, simple and loose fitting. She refuses to make eye contact with you as she speaks. "I will be downstairs. You have to be dressed soon."

You dress quickly, ducking back into the room to grab your boots and underdress. Back in the hallway, Maggie crosses you, dark purple shadowing under her eyes - you expect the same exhaustion to be painted across your face. 

The temperature feels twenty degrees colder downstairs; you wrap your arms around yourself. Father is absent from his place at the table. A single slice of toast sits in front of Maggie, the neatest nibble taken from one corner. You drop down across from her and neither of you speak. 

A knock at the door jolts your heart - you shove away from the table before Maggie can. On the other side stands Mrs. Morris and her two daughters, still in their sleeping clothes and barely awake. Without her having to ask, you take one of the girls from her; Mrs. Morris follows you quietly to your bedroom where you tuck both girls in beside Lily. They fall asleep almost immediately.

On your way out of the room, you shut the window, pulling the latch down so that they can't see outside.

You wait at the dining table with Maggie; Mother and Mrs. Morris speak quietly in the kitchen. When the morning bell tolls, the two of them emerge out of the kitchen. You and Maggie follow behind them, pulling your cloaks off the hook by the front door when you pass by. You wish instead to have Ghost's cloak, the heavy and warm scent of him enveloping you instead of the cold wool you wrap around your shoulders. 

The four of you fall in line with the rest of the village, letting the wave of bodies push you toward the town center. Each step you take is heavier, harder to take than the one before. Ghost's voice, warning you not to come, not to watch, rings in your ear with a high-pitched drone that grows louder with each moment. The square is almost full whenever you arrive; you let yourself get pushed away from your Mother and Maggie until you're situated near the far side of the square, right where Ghost will first walk in.

The crowd tries to situate themselves as the council shuffles onto the platform. Your father stands at the back, face pale and empty. Even from this distance, you can see the tremor in his hands as he walks. Behind him, shackled in heavy iron chains, Uncle Henry walks up the platform escorted by two men you've never seen before. His face is gaunt and slack, his lip torn and blood dripping onto his chin.

The abject horror of it hits you all at once and you realize why Ghost had warned you not to come. All at once you think about the executions you had sat in your bedroom trying to strain to see, all the times you watched Ghost come up the street eager to get a glimpse of him and all the families that had been in the same place as yours is now. You think of all the times Father left his boots outside after execution and wonder if blood had splashed on them. You feel sick, horrified. You want to search out the families who had been ripped apart by the executions and beg for their forgiveness. 

A hush falls over the crowd like a velvet blanket pulled up too high. You strain past the ringing in your ears to try to hear the heavy sound of boots that you've gotten used to hearing in the midnight light. The sound is different now, leadened and sinister. Drawing your hood over your head you keep your eyes fixed on the point you know Ghost will emerge from. 

He seems to dwarf everyone in the crowd when he arrives, sword glinting in the early morning sunlight. You're torn between trying to press closer to him and pulling away as the thought of what he's about to do courses through you. He walks slowly, regret heavy in each of his steps as he mounts the platform. 

The head councilman speaks, but you can't hear him above the roar in your ears as you watch Ghost situate himself to the side of Uncle Henry. He turns his face towards the crowd and his eyes search through every person before they land on you. He shakes his head just a fraction of an inch, and you know he's telling you to look away - to walk away before he swings his sword.

But you're rooted to the spot - you can't move as the councilman stops speaking and Ghost raises his sword, his eyes still locked on yours.

There's a moment's pause when his sword reaches its apex - a moment where you hope he'll lower it down and walk away. But the sword falls heavy; you manage to clench your eyes shut at the right second, but you still hear the heavy sound of Uncle Henry's head hitting the wood, and your mother's scream.

When darkness falls, no one stops you from walking out the front door. Father had not come home - you knew he was burying Uncle Henry somewhere, and Mother had to be carried to bed by you and Maggie. Upstairs you'd heard Lily sobbing; Maggie was the only one to witness you slip out the front door. 

The red that dripped off of Ghost's sword as he walked back home is long gone in the dust and daytime; even so, you imagine that you can see it trailing in front of you as you walk, tripping over stones in the dirt. There's betrayal here, you know, running away to the home of the man who executed your uncle, but you don't know anywhere else to go. 

Eyes peer down at you from their windows as you pass through the village, but for once you don't care if anyone runs home to tell on you. You're not sure Mother or Father would even be able to comprehend what you were doing anyway. 

Like he knew you were coming, Ghost sits on the step, hands folded neatly in front of him. He doesn't look up at you, doesn't rise until you're within touching distance. An empty glass sits at his side; without speaking, he pushes himself to a standing position, glass snagged up in his large hand. You don't wait for him to beckon you as he walks inside.

You grimace at the warmth of the whiskey as it goes down your throat. You had never liked the taste of alcohol, but when Ghost sat it down in front of you you had reached for it without hesitation. The glass is heavy in your hand.

"I told you not to come," Ghost says, lowering himself down into the seat across from you. His voice is stern, but without any judgment for you attending the execution.

"I didn't have an option." You speak so quietly, you're not sure if he hears you over the wind and the crackle of the fire. 

"You always have a choice."

"No, you always have a choice. You are a man; you don't understand what it's like to have someone dictate your entire life to you. I had no choice because my father said I had to go. And soon it won't be my father telling me what to do, but Jonathan. And I'll be shackled to a life of listening and obeying."

You shove the glass you'd drained towards Ghost, shaking your head at him when Ghost moves to fill it again.

"I'm sorry your father forced you to watch." 

"My father," you pull your tangled hair over your shoulder, running your fingers through it to distract you from Ghost's eye burning at you over his mask, "thought that if we didn't come, it would show some level of guilt. I should be thankful that he let Lily stay home, but-"

"But what?"

"But I saw what the execution did to my mother. My mother is not a weak woman, but she didn't want to go. She can't do blood - it makes her sick for days. My father told me once it had to do with something she saw as a child, but wouldn't tell me more. She never attends the executions. But he forced her, knowing she's going to be regulated to the bed for the rest of the week. And I-"

You can't get the thought out - that you are a horrible person for how excited you used to be for the executions. Ghost waits patiently, leaning back in his chair, the wood creaking underneath him. You study the patterns of scarring on his fingers as they splay across the table. They're clean, no blood and dirt crusted beneath them.

"I am a horrible person," you finally sob out, fingers pressing into your eyes to try to press the tears that threaten to come out, "I have spent months waiting for an execution to come around; all I wanted to do was see you - I didn't think about everyone that was losing their life. Or their families, or you."

"Or me?" Ghost's voice is rough; you pull your fingers away from your eyes to look into his; they're dark and unreadable. 

"I've never thought about what you must experience - doing the bidding of the council."

"I think you'll find I know more about being forced into doing things I don't want to do than you think."

The wind increases outside, the sound of leaves and sticks hitting the sides of Ghost's cabin. You wonder if it's Uncle Henry, angry with the town and determined to tear it apart. 

"How did you end up here?" The question tumbles out of your mouth, and you feel ashamed as soon as you say it. Ghost's eyes flash, his nails dig into the wood of the table. You expect him to ignore you, but he pushes his hands into the collar of his tunic, and pulls out a necklace. With a flick of his wrist, he pulls it from around his neck and flings it to you. It lands a tangled mess in front of you.

"Read it." His voice is a solid command you follow, fingers tracing the edge of the cross as you pick it up; the metal chain snakes across the grain.

"Lieutenant Simon Riley - King's Guard 141st Division - you were in the King's army?"

"I was a part of the King's Guard; we were tasked with protecting the king when he traveled or during battle. There were four of us."

"What happened to the others?"

"I'm all that remains of the 141. We were-" his voice is whiskey thick, and when he swallows, you hear the heaviness of it, "ambushed. I was not able to save them. And so my punishment for not dying with my brothers was to live out my days as an executioner."

The metal is warm against your fingers, as you trace the engraved letters of his name. Simon Riley. Thoughts swirl in your head, and he seems to read them as you reach across the table to pass the necklace back.

"In this house you can call me Simon. Outside only Ghost."

The weight of the day - of Simon's background pushes against you. The small patterings of rain begin to hit the windows as you stand, taking your glass off of the table. You leave Simon as you refill the glass, bringing an extra for him. You drink yours in one go, refilling it again before you pass Simon his. 

The corners of his eyes are tight as you step beside him, the glass held out to him. His hand wraps around your wrist, warm and electric. A stone settles in the pit of your stomach as a fire spreads across your skin from where he grabs you. 

"You drink much more and you won't be able to make it up the path home."

"Just put me under the table then."

The corners of his eyes relax, and then turn up just slightly as he takes the glass from you with the hand not holding your wrist. He keeps you close to his side as he uses the hand with the glass to push his mask up just over his nose; the edge of a ragged scar peaking out on his cheek. He downs the drink in one go and grabs the glass you'd intended for yourself before finally letting you go.

You'd never enjoyed the way being drunk had made you feel, but as the world outside Simon's cabin swirls around you, you feel nothing but the warmth of the whiskey in your veins. The rain falls slow and heavy, warm despite the cool wind that had taken over the village. You reach one hand out to let the droplets pool into your palm, the rest of you shielded by the small awning above you.

The door opens behind you, the dim firelight spilling onto the rain soaked ground in front of you. The shape of Simon wraps its shadow around you along with the musky smell of him. You watch his shadow as he leans against the doorframe.

"We could run away together."

You had thought about it for a few weeks now. It had started out as a ridiculous fantasy - the two of you riding out on horse in the middle of the night and disappearing into the forest together. It had started out innocently enough, just the two of you escaping with each other, but now -

"Where would we even go?"

Simon's voice is soft, rolling through the rain drops as it passes by you. The timbre of it makes your mouth dry, or maybe it's the whiskey.

"Anywhere. Across the sea. Somewhere just far enough that know one would know who we are."

Simon's shadow ripples; you watch his shadow as he reaches to his chest, to where you know the cross hangs. 

"You could go," he says, "but I will always be marked."

You don't know what he means, can't remember if he's told you something or not. But you let the reckless abandon that started building at you so much earlier in the day take over you. Simon's figure backed by the firelight makes your fingers itch to reach out and tangle them in the front of his tunic.

"But would you go?" You ask, voice rising and falling. "If you could, would you go with me?"

The silence stretches thin. Simon chews on the inside of his lip; the doorway groans beneath his fingers as they dig into the wood. 

"You're drunk," he finally says, the words falling from him. "And you're not happy. I should take you home." His warm hand wraps around your elbow; you jerk it back and in your drunken state stumble. You try to catch yourself, but your feet slip. Simon tries to catch you, his hands wrapping around your elbow, but your feet tangle together and the two of you fall. Simon twists, getting his body halfway underneath yours. 

The two of you land hard in the mud, your forehead clipping his chin. The two of you lay awkwardly, one of your hands on Simon's chest and the other buried in the mud. You try to push yourself up, hand slipping, to peer down at Simon lying beneath you. Mud is splattered across the exposed skin around his eyes. He reaches the hand that had wrapped around your back - the only part of him that has escaped the mud- to your forehead, fingers gently wiping away the warmth that had started to form there.

"You're bleeding."

"Is it deathly?

"I think you'll live."

He pulls his hand away, covered in your blood, and the rain washes it away slowly - the red tinge traveling down his wrist and disappearing into the hem of his tunic. You feel his heartbeat quicken in his chest as you shift so that you're straddling one of his legs. 

"Can I ask for a favor Simon?" You swallow heavily, trying to swallow down the nervousness and embarrassment that's threatening to explode out of you.

"Anything."

A red blush starts to creep up your chest as you speak, each word measured and bitten off carefully - worried that if you speak too fast, Simon will disappear.

"I won't lie and say I haven't kissed my fair share of boys. But I've never - I've always been too worried to - to do anything more."

You feel Simon's thigh tense between your legs, and the feeling tightens the knot inside of you.

"If I'm going to be forced to give myself to someone I don't want to, I want to keep something for myself. I-"

Simon's hands tighten painfully around your waist; you hadn't even realized he'd grabbed you or that your hands had snuck down so that they framed his face, your wet hair creating a curtain between the two of you and the rest of the world. 

"There are some things you can never take back - that you may regret." 

"Why would I regret you?"

Your question cracks the tension between the two of you for weeks. You collide together, the kiss frenetic, your teeth clicking against each other as Simon tangles his hands in your hair and pulling you closer to him. 

He pushes the two of you up, grabbing you beneath your thighs as he rolls and stands, pulling you up effortlessly. You wrap your legs around his waist as Simon stumbles back into the cabin. Your fingers tease the edge of his mask; Simon shakes his head and you pull them away, still worried that at any second he's going to tell you to go home. 

Your shoulder hits the doorway of his bedroom, but you barely feel it as Simon kicks the door shut behind you, darkness enveloping the two of you. This time when you reach for his mask, Simon doesn't stop you from sliding it off of him. His hair is warm and wet; your fingers catch on the tangles there. 

Simon presses your back against the doorway as he lowers yourself to your feet. You pull away from him, unable to catch your breath as your hands slide beneath his tunic. His skin is soft and scarred; you trace your fingers across a jagged one that bisects his chest. Simon's breath hitches when you trace it to his nipple, your fingers ghosting across the sensitive skin there. 

Simon lets you pull his tunic off of him, his fingers tracing the lacing on the front of your dress. He hesitates there, waiting for you to say no, to push him away.

"You've seen me naked before," you whisper, trying to loosen the tension, your fingers curling around the waistband of his pants. "No reason to be nervous now."

"It's different," Simon says, pressing a kiss to the base of your neck, tongue trailing upwards to the shell of your ear, "to think about what it would be like to touch you, and actually doing it."

His admission that he's thought about you like that - the same way you had shamefully thought of him on nights alone in your bed - sends a spear of want through you. You pull him closer, straining to reach up and kiss him again, but Simon keeps himself away.

"You can go home," he whispers in your ear, teeth nipping the sensitive flesh, "I wouldn't be angry with you. I would find no fault with you at all."

And you know he's telling the truth - if you said so at any point, he'd let you leave and wouldn't hold it against you. But you can't even entertain the idea - the instinct to wrap yourself around him, to claw at him and at yourself until the two of you are open for each other, is too much.

You reach up and place your hands over his, guiding them so that they pull at the laces of your dress, the bodice falling open. You shrug out of it, letting it pool at your feet as you kick it away. Simon's hands linger chastely at your side, fingers barely skimming your skin.

"I'm not breakable Simon."

"Of course you are," Simon sighs as you trace your fingers softly up his neck and to his cheek. His breath hitches as your fingers tease the edge of the scar you'd caught a glimpse of earlier when the two of you were drinking. You trace it, trying to map the features of his face. It ends at his hairline, a second scar bisecting it.

"It's my cross to bear." Simon's voice rumbles deep; you can feel it in your chest. "It's my mark as an executioner - the righteous hand of God."

I will always be marked, he had said earlier and you realize what he'd meant. 

Simon wraps his hands around the back of your knees; he pulls you up until you're forced to wrap your legs around his waist to keep from falling. He kisses you again, clumsy - you can feel him shaking beneath the soft skin of your hands. He pulls your hair so that your neck is exposed to him; Simon trails kisses down, nipping at your collarbone.

He's hot, his skin and mouth burning you up. You try to grind yourself against him, to get some sort of friction, but Simon's hands keep you just far enough away from him to drive you crazy. His knees hit the side of the bed and buckle; he drops you gently to the bed. The dark scent of him, and the whiskey that still pulls at you makes your head swim. 

Simon's hands are firm on your knees as he pushes them apart and pinning you down.

"If I start to hurt you-"

"Simon, please." 

He presses your thighs down harder to the bed, stopping your squirming. 

"It can hurt. If I start to hurt you, I need you to say something; I need you to promise that you will."

His fingers have inched upwards and you try to buck your hips and make the connection; Simon digs his nails into the sensitive skin of your thighs and the feeling makes you gasp - more electric than anything you've experienced before. 

"I," you swallow hard, Simon's nails scratching down you lightly pulling all the air from your chest, "I promise."

You're ashamed of the moan that you let out when his mouth finds your core, your back arching off of the bed. Simon's tongue is velvet on you, lapping at your wetness with a gentleness you wouldn't have expected from his size. 

You'd listened to other girls in the village talk about this - about their quick trysts with the boys in the village and how it felt to be pawed at. But this - this was like nothing you'd ever imagined it could be, and nothing like the girls described it as. 

Simon's hands keep your knees apart as his tongue swirls your sensitive spot; your back arching off of the bed as you grind down onto him. His fingers trace patterns in the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. When his fingers reach your wetness, you can't help but clench your knees around him, nervousness and embarrassment filling you. You had never let any of the boys you'd kissed touch you - the thought of their fingers inside of you disgusting, but the want for Simon to stretch you out is enough to make you pull away - not sure how to react. 

Simon's tongue slows as he pushes your knees back down with one arm, his mouth pulling off of you with a pop. In the absence of him you buck your hips, but he doesn't move. He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, and when he speaks, the brush of his lips on your skin makes you shiver.

"We don't-," he swallows, heavy in the darkness, "we can stop if you want."

"No." It's a pathetic whine. You can feel his smile against your thigh, teeth nipping at your skin.

"You're going to want me to stretch you out a little."

His words pull a gasp out of you; you clench around nothing at the thought of him filling you up. Simon's hand traces your wetness gently, before he pushes in one thick finger. It burns as he pumps in and out of you; you're so tight he can barely move in and out of you. You can't tell how long it takes before the burn starts to dissipate; like he can read your body, Simon slips another finger in.

Simon works you until you're comfortable; the sounds you make are filthy. You're so wet you feel yourself dripping onto Simon's wrist. He latches onto your apex, and the feeling sends you over the edge. You come with a choked sob; you try to reach down and stop his hand, but he pushes you away and continues until you can't take it anymore. 

He pulls his fingers out of you, as you beg incoherently - but you're not sure what you're begging for. 

Even in the darkness, Simon's a shadow when he crawls up your body, lips skimming your hip bone, your stomach, your collarbone. A muscle twitches in your thigh; you can't catch your breath in the heat that radiates off of Simon as he dips his head down to kiss you. You dig your nails into his side, and buck your hips up, but he pushes them back down gently with one hand. 

Simon pulls away just enough to speak, lips brushing against your as he does.

"If you want me to stop-"

You feel crazed - the way you claw into him, trying to pull him into yourself, the way your lips crash against his, teeth clicking together in a way that would be painful any other time. Simon snakes his hand between the two of you; you jump when it brushes past your clit. You can feel yourself dripping already - wetter than you'd thought you could get. 

Simon lines himself up with your entrance, and pauses, resting his hand on your chest. His fingers stretch across the expanse of skin, calluses raising gooseflesh.

"You're shaking."

And you are; it's overwhelming - the smell of him enveloping you, the expanse of his body, hard muscle under a layer of soft downy, and being broken down by him. The thick feeling of being stretched out. 

"I'm alright."

It comes out whispered and broken, but you are. You've never felt like this; never thought that you would. You wrap one hand around this wrist at your chest and beg.

"Simon please. I can't - I," you can't get the words out, can't explain that you can't take the feeling of being empty; of being without him. 

Simon presses into you, just barely, but it's enough to make your back arch and your nails to scratch down his arm. He hisses at the feeling, teeth nipping at your earlobe. He moves slowly; the sharp feeling of him is enough to cause you to hyperventilate. On instinct, you press your hands to his chest; you can feel his desire to move faster in the way his muscles bunches beneath your touch. 

"Do I need to stop?"

"No - it's just - you're too much."

You can feel his smile, brief and small, as he presses his face into your shoulder before he bites down. Hands finding his hair, you grip tight enough that you're sure it must hurt him, but he doesn't say anything.

You can feel every inch of him stretching you out; Simon's voice is soft in your ear as he whispers to you to relax - that you're doing so well. One of his hands trace down your side, trying to soften the gooseflesh. The other pushes your hair away from your forehead, fingers pausing at your temple. 

The world pauses when he bottoms out; you can feel him in your throat - he's burning you up from the inside, his skin fire against your own. Simon's mouth his hot against your skin as he trails kissed across your neck. You know there will be marks there tomorrow - something you'll have to hide - but you don't ask him to stop; you beg him to keep going. 

"I need you to relax, my love." His soft voice in your ear makes your fingers curl against the blanket bunched beneath you. "You're too tight."

You try to relax beneath him, but you can't - you can't.

"I can't."

"Just breathe love."

You focus on the movement of his chest against yours, and try to synch your breathing with his. Simon lays his hand against your throat, your pulse slowing beneath the pads of his fingers. His tongue snakes out to trace the shell of your ear, and he rocks himself against you.

You're ashamed of the sounds that escape you, you press your hand to your mouth to try to muffle yourself, but Simon pries your hand away and places it on his shoulder.

"Don't try to be quiet."

His words cut into you, and you grind yourself against him trying to match the rhythm he's setting. 

Sweat and slick mix between your thighs; Simon pushes your knees towards your chest and the shift in angle tugs at something inside of you; you can feel yourself unraveling faster than you did earlier. Simon's nails dig into your skin as he moves faster. Your hands press on his chest, his stomach, trying to find some space to breathe, but his grip on your waist doesn't let you move.

Simon finds a brutal pace. You dip your fingers between the two of you until you can feel him pumping in and out of you; Simon moans at the feeling, nails piercing your skin hard enough to make you gasp. 

He grabs the hand you have between the two of you and guides your fingers to your apex, forcing you to swirl your fingers around yourself. 

You try to commit the feeling of him to memory: the texture of his skin, the sound of him panting in your ear, the feeling of his thumb tracing the contours of your nipple. Your second orgasm starts to break around you, and in the haze, you realize that you will never have this kind of moment with someone else.

The thought puts a knot in your throat; you pull Simon down to kiss him; he must sense your desperation as he slows down, hand wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you closer. 

His body shudders once and he pulls out; you feel the heat of him spill out across your stomach. The wild thought of reaching down, and taking some onto your finger to taste possesses you, but your fingers are still clutching at Simon. You can't figure out how to loosen your grip.

Simon pants between your thighs, one hand still wrapped around your neck as he shifts so that he's laying down beside you. You shuffle, kicking the blanket down beneath you until you're able to pull it up around you. 

You want to say something, anything to dissipate the air that stills around the two of you. But as Simon pulls you into his chest, anything you could think of is washed away. 

Tag List:

tag list: @silverianni, @milfs4lifee, @koi-feish, @shirabeastly, @pookie90, @ghostlythot, @hearts4sky, @crystallizedtime, @the-worlds-tempest, @myconglomerateromance, @elena-ph, @chaoticgoblindev, @pipocfamily, @canadianmilkbag, @caspertheassholeghost, @2512121morningstar, @glitterypirateduck, @elli0t3r, @clairdelunelove, @captainprice4life, @generaldestinychild, @crowsjourney, @c0pernicus, @wistfullyhypomanic, @arbesa-mind, @ray-rook, @daisyfrubies, @september-22-1996

If you are on my tag list - please read my author's note!

[fuck-customers]

I accidentally slightly fucked myself, but it can easily be unfucked. It just gave me insight into just how stupid upper management is and how much they focus on the wrong things in favor of nitpicking shit that does not matter at all.

So I've been snatching unwanted receipts that customers leave behind in order to fill out the receipt surveys that I know my manager reads. The reason for this was because I wanted upper management to fix some shit that would make the store better. Namely, putting fucking prices on the products that are being sold in a store. What an idea.

Do they listen to this part? Or any of the other valid complaints? No. What did they do? They focus on the small handful of reviews that had "no" selected for "did a team member greet you when you entered?"

Which. Is SO beyond the point of any of the reviews. I listen to the real customers that come in complaining and I parrot their complaints to the online reviews and almost everyone hates that there's no scanners and they can't price check items before they get to the register and that the products do not have price tags on them. They hate that the online inventory is fucked up and wildly inaccurate for how many of certain items we actually have in stock. They hate the crappy "music" that is played on the radio. They hate that there's never anyone on the floor to answer questions or assist them.

So obviously, we should focus on yelling hello at the customers "so you can be heard from the back of the store" (honestly how my braindead managers wanted me to "greet" customers...I will not be doing that. I'll greet in a normal voice)

So anyway. Now I have to write some more reviews that say "yes I was greeted when I walked in" Trial and error is actually kind of fun because I get to see just how big of a train wreck this company is.

Posted by admin Rodney.

[night-lie]

so while i was making this gif for my deathnotetober entry for "chess" i noticed something... weird. i mentioned it in the tags but i can't not elaborate.

do you see it too? the side closest to us has TWELVE squares. that's not a standard grid size. there are EIGHT squares going in the other direction, which IS standard.

"surely that can't be right," i said.

well. buckle up.

here’s a quick edit with a neon green outline for the edge of the board and the vertical row that's easiest to count. it really is that size. can this be anything but an error?

EDIT: just for clarity, here's another sc with brightened colors so you can see that the surface in the gap between his face and shoulders is the floor, not the board.

what if the animators were just copying what obata drew? i went to find the corresponding scene in the manga. volume 11, chapter 90.

6x6. not a chessboard size, but heaps more normal than the anime one, even without half of the squares colored in. (they are colored in the color version of the manga.)

the board has some... noneuclidean properties, though.

these are from the same page. on the right it still looks like 6x6 at least from the horizontal row i can see, but the left seems much bigger to me. or maybe i'm starting to lose it?

the board makes another appearance in chapter 93 with this being the best angle of it. unfortunately it's impossible to say how far behind the speech bubble the grid extends.

it's also difficult to count how many squares the rows we do see are. the third row from the left with misa looks like it 7 squares? because why the hell not.

it shows up one last time in chapter 94, after which near stops using it. probably got tired of it changing sizes.

let's check for more apperances in the anime, since we've looked at episode 33 already.

episode 34 and it's. it's freaking 6x6 like in the manga!

the noneuclidean properties strike again. peep the blue arrow pointing to another white square. the row is at least 7 squares.

LUCKILY the board makes no futher appeances after this. the 12x8 scene has not been fixed in ReLight 2.

*deep breath*

so. we've established it's not a chess board, or if it is, there's an error with it. (i'm not gonna blame animators who probably had someone breathing down their neck to work faster. errors happen. obata drew it wrong originally, too, if it's supposed to be a chess board).

but i'm still not fully satisfied. is there anything this could be, diagetically?

my best guess, a checkers board (though i suppose the wammy's kids would call it a draughts board). i have a reason for that, other than the 8x8 boards being interchangeable between the two games.

this quick moment of near knocking down the kira legos with a cork gun.

both in the in the manga and anime he fires two shots BUT it looks like the cork bounces from kira to x-kira, knocking them over. with one move, near knocks over two figurines.

this is called jumping. you've probably seen a cartoon where someone comically jumps over all of someone else's pieces and cinches the win. i would have put a gif of that here but i couldn't remember any.

checkers is often seen as a more juvenile version of chess, like how near is younger than L. L plays chess, near plays checkers. checkers is the "easier" game. it's not a fair comparison, though. they use the same base concept, they have pawns and a king (/queen, depending on language), but the differences are too big to really claim they're the same.

just like L and near.

checkers is, in fact, older than chess. they played a variation of checkers in ur. freaking UR. ancient mesopotamia. 3000 BC. a variation of chess can be tracked back to only the seventh century. that's AD. did you know that?? i wouldn't have if i didn't look it up.

so, now i just need to find a variation of checkers with a 12x8 grid on the board from the wikipedia list. be right back. shouldn't take long.

*genuenly, a two hour long rabbit hole later*

so. bad news.

there's no 12x8 board. there's ARE 12x12 boards which is great, but not what i was after. there's only ONE variant with an uneven grid, a 6x4, in a game called tobit. it looks like this.

...i give up.

post cancelled. thanks for reading.

i'm gonna go mahjong.

[oddballwriter]

The Second

Summary: After going on an unplanned adventure with your best friend and crush, his host, and his host's wife to stop the end of the world, and ending up in an accidental love triangle... square...whatever shape it is, you go back to your hometown to clear your mind. It's a great success for you, helping you reconnect with your childhood friend and even bring him back to continue the fun and show him your life in London. But unbeknownst to you, it seems like it might just cause a rift that is born on one side of the triangle.

Warnings: Love triangle and unrequited feelings. The reader is referred to using she/her. Angst, it's soft but it's there. Third-wheeling. I can't think of anything else but I feel like there's more, if there is just tell me. 

Author’s Snip: This is sort of a pilot for a series idea that I have that involves all kinds of love shape situations, rivalry, and dragging friends into all kinds of avatar shenanigans on accident. So if you guys like this, let me know so that I can prep and have it ready for writing and planning.

Notes: This is not proofread before posting, if there are errors blame Grammarly for not catching it. I might fix them later.  

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Word Count: 2,892

Tag List: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

What an adventure you just went on. It all feels so unreal when you even try and think about it. Even as you stare up at the ceiling above your bed you find it hard to really digest fully.

Your good friend Steven turned out to be an alter for a person with DID who's named Marc Spector, whom you had not met, ever, throughout you and Steven's close friendship. In which Marc is the avatar and fist of justice for the Egyptian god Khonshu and was living his life while Steven was not fronting, unbeknownst to Steven, and has been playing a game of keep-away with a cult and their leader for a scarab. And you ended up finding all that out when some members of the cult kidnapped you to intimidate Steven and Marc. By the way, Marc is married and has been married, to a woman named Layla. And so you had to go on this whole adventure with all three of them to stop the end of the world, or something, nearly dying on several occasions, and now it's done apparently. Crisis averted. Also, there is a fucking third one.

You're sure that if you told someone outside of your journal and your new group of friends about this, then you would be thrown into a psychiatric hospital in record time.

And that isn't even mentioning all the complicated feelings you're having right now about the love triangle, that only you are aware of. Because of course, you're in a love triangle that the two other people have no idea exists. It's complicated. It was a little complicated at the start, and now it's so much more complicated because now there's another person involved.

Scratch that, four people involved. This is a love square.

Fuck it, now that Jake's here it might actually be a love pentagon now!

Either way, it all has to do with your feelings towards Steven. You had developed them pretty early on in your friendship with Steven because you just so happened to fall into your type. Dork, sweet, funny, and polite guys were your weakness. You tried to fight them off, not wanting to ruin the friendship that you honestly valued with Steven. But he just had this aura and energy that had your heart like a moth to a flame. Some might call it a slow burn. You'd say that it all was fast. But the warmth went to heat that got painful when you found out about Marc and Layla, and thus Steven and Layla.

You're not mad at Layla. Of course not! Why would you? She was there first, technically. It feels bad to say that. Both because you'd have to try and snuff out the feelings that you have, but also because it sounds wrong. It sounds like Steven's an object to be won instead of a person with his own thoughts and feelings. And you never once saw him like that. He was Steven. Nice, sweet, funny Steven.

You knew you needed to move on, even if it hurt. You know you don't have the guts and nerve to be 'the other person' even if you got the chance to be. It would be disrespectful to Layla, and Layla's a great woman. You settle on going back home, to your hometown, to see family and friends in hopes that it'll distract you, maybe even help you get over it if you're lucky. You call up your family who gladly accept the idea and will set up the room that you'll stay in by the time you get there. With that, you pack your bags, get ready for the trip, and head off.

You don't tell Steven that you're leaving to anywhere at first until you're just about to leave, figuring that if he tries to visit you and you're not there he'll assume someone else has kidnapped you and panic. You just send him a simple "As a heads up I'll be out of town for a while. I need a break.", at some point in your trip heading towards your hometown he texts you back with a single "Okay. Sounds nice.".

As it turns out, going around old loved ones really does help your blues. Matter of fact it seems like everyone from your life here heard the news that you'd be spending a few weeks in town and all got together to see you. Your uncle and dad actually threw a little family cookout so that everyone can come say hi to you.

Everyone had questions for you. What's London like? What have you been doing? How's life going over there?

Of course, you can't tell them about all the recent events and you also don't want to ruin your good mood by talking about Steven like you probably would have if this were a trip not spawned from him, in a sense. Overall, everyone's just happy you're back regardless.

You meet a really old face amidst the crowd of family and friends who've assembled. Samson. Sammy. God, you'd know his face anywhere and you know he'd know yours too. You and Sammy have been best friends since diapers. Your moms were friends. Apparently, the story goes that your mom and dad were at the courthouse waiting in line to sign the marriage papers and so were Sammy's mom and dad. Your mothers started talking and it turns out they have a lot in common. By the time both parties left the courthouse, they were in each other's weddings, to which they then found out that they both would be moving into the same area to settle down. Your moms swear that you and Sammy being close in age was just a coincidence but you always joked that it wasn't.

Sammy is hard to put into words. How do you describe the person who's been your best friend since both of you were coloring with crayons and all the way to high school graduations and beyond? The number one person you would talk to about things outside of your parents and through all of the other friends you've both had throughout your lives, the one that has always been the same. Sammy is just Sammy to you, in the most sincere way possible.

After seeing each other at the cookout you catch up on just about everything. What you've been up to, any life milestones you've gotten to while apart. You tell him about London and he tells you about his life here in town. Sammy's gotten up to a few things, had a few girlfriends, and apparently, he's developed his own business. Turns out he's a handyman and locksmith now and makes great money. Gets to make his own hours, so he says. Sammy teases you a bit and asks if you've been collecting British boyfriends. You know it's just a tease but it plucks at the still tender parts of your heart a little. You brush it off and say no.

"No?" Sammy questions, "Come on. Someone like you over there? You're kidding me. You've got to have some guys waiting like a dog for you to come back." he says. You decide to play along in the banter.

"Maybe I do. What of it, Sam-I-Am." you shrug, pretending like he's trying to compete and also pulling out old childhood nicknames. Sammy cringes and the nickname, "Oof, not the Sam-I-Am from kindergarten. You know only my dad called me that until you said it in class. Then everyone started calling me that till fifth grade." Sammy laughs. "Not you doing your shitty British accents when I said I had a thing for British boys back in seventh grade." you reference and make a call back of your own. "It made you laugh and that was my goal." Sammy playfully defended.

For a good half of your stay, Sammy was there, like always, and you would be talking about the old days. Referencing various moments and laughing or cringing together. It felt so nostalgic and good to just feel that bond again, have someone who knows all your little inside jokes and references because they were there when it was formed, and you both didn't want it to stop.

So when the day that you were to go back to London you threw out the idea that Sammy come back with you and continue the fun there. Show him what you've been doing and show him the little life you've created there.

Even though you live in a one-bedroom apartment you managed to accommodate your guest pretty well. You always knew that the pull-out bed extension of your couch that you bought second-hand would have a use someday. You two settled on rules and bases, along with where various things are in case they're needed.

After that, it was just more talking that made the time go by so fast and other things seem so minuscule. You hadn't really paid attention to the fact that you had a brief text conversation with Steven when you got back basically just telling him that you were back and what you're up to right now. It wasn't until he texted you something that sort of snapped you out of it.

You: I'm not really doing anything but my friend came back with me and will be here for a bit.

Steven: Oh that's nice

Steven: Can I meet them maybe?

You weren't sure how long you spent looking at that message, but it was long enough that Sammy noticed. "Something wrong?" he asks. "No," you reply, "Just one of my friends. He says he wants to meet you... if you're okay with that," you explain but hesitate slightly at the end, not really liking the sound of having Steven over right now after being able to get him off your mind. "Sure! I'd love to meet one of your friends here." Sammy responds, "If that's alright with you of course." he adds.

You take a second to weigh it out in your mind. On one hand, having the guy that you have feelings for over after you went on a whole vacation partially because he doesn't feel that way towards you doesn't sound like the best idea. But maybe having Sammy here will reduce that feeling of awkwardness since it can just be having your friends meet each other.

Taking the gamble, you tell Steven that he's good to come over.

The next few minutes are spent continuing to talk to Sammy, making jokes and having banter. When you hear the knock at your door you and a text from Steven that announces that he's arrived. You get up from the couch and make your way to the door, unlocking it and opening it up. And there he is, smiling at you and giving you his usual polite little "hello". You greet him back before stepping out of the way so that he can come in.

Sammy gets up from his seat on the couch and comes to shake Steven's hand. You see Steven hesitate briefly and sort of freeze up before taking the hand shake. You step in between them.

"Steven, this is my childhood friend, Samson. Samson, this is my friend Steven." you introduce them to each other and gesture to them respectively. "Nice to meet you!" Sammy comments. "Likewise," Steven responds.

You all take a seat, you and Sammy back on the couch while Steven takes a chair from your little dining table set. Sammy and Steven have some good small talk back and forth, talking the usual stuff when you meet new people. You can see Steven being a little fidgety, picking at his sweater sleeve, nodding along but having a small crease between his brows. All things that he does when he's nervous or concerned with something, you take it as Steven being shy about meeting and talking to new people like he usually is. You take it upon yourself to sort of help him by bringing up subjects that you know he's good at talking about.

"Steven loves Ancient Egypt and mythos. He knows pretty much everything," you mention. Sammy raises his brows in interest, "Really?" he questions. "Oh yeah," Steven confirms, "I would have made a bloody good tour guide if my superior wasn't out to get me." Steven remarks. You see Sammy hold back a laugh in the corner of your vision, you turn to him and light-heartedly scold him with a "Stop it.". Sammy looks towards you, his smile growing to a shit-eating grin. "Stop it," you repeat, "Behave. I told you not to laugh," you say as you struggle to keep your own laughter in. "He said the thing." Sammy squeaks out before letting a few laughs leave him. You lean in and bap him on the shoulder playfully, "Stop," you warn as you give him a few baps.

Steven lets out a small laugh that only you can tell is his fake trying-to-pretend-I-get-it laugh. "I'm sorry, Steven." you apologize, "Not even 24 hours in and he doesn't know how to act," you say as you look back to Sammy and give him a playful shake. "I'm sorry." Sammy says to Steven, "There's an inside joke to it I swear." he says.

"What's the joke?" Steven inquires. Your face drops, knowing what Sammy is going to say. "Don't you dare," you warn Sammy as you try to cover his mouth, but Sammy already knew that you are going to stop him and is ready to block your hand. You both spend a few seconds lightly wrestling as you try to cover his mouth and he blocks you in some way. "It has something to do with her-" Sammy says before you interrupt him with a "No!" in objection, "British boyfriend!" Sammy announces. "I don't have a British boyfriend!" you object through laughs as you hit him with a couch pillow. You both spend a few moments laughing. When you finally calm down you find Steven looking at the two of you like you've grown and extra head.

You sigh and look to Sammy, "Why don't you explain 'British boyfriend' to him since you want to talk about it so much?". "Okay, okay," Sammy submits. "This one," Sammy says pointing at you, "Had a thing for this one kid who was visiting family for the summer in our home neighborhood back in seventh grade, or seventh year, whatever it's called here. And so we have this joke that he was her British boyfriend. And I used to do a really bad accent to make her laugh and get all embarrassed.", Sammy looks at you and reassures, "I'm not going to do it, don't worry.".

The conversation goes on but you and Sammy can't help but say more jokes that you then need to explain to Steven, which leads to other stories and laughing fits between the two of you. You try to do the same with Steven in case he references something between the two of you, but you find that Steven just seems to sit there and listen, nodding along. You want to try and prompt something but at some point, you're able to sense this weird tension in the air whenever you do.

You aren't too sure what to do. You don't want to shoo Steven out since you've always said that Steven was always welcomed at your place, but the atmosphere is strange between the two of you for some reason. It isn't until Sammy gives something that would get the job done.

"You know, it's really nice to meet you, Steven. But I think the traveling is starting to catch up with me." Sammy says as he stretches his arms out. "Oh, no worry. I was actually thinking of getting out of your hair. You know..." Steven responds, "Since you guys probably had to get out early to get back here." he clarifies. Steven was already getting up to leave by the time he even started talking.

Sammy and you get up also, and you go in for the usual goodbye hug that you and Steven do when parting ways, Sammy shakes Steven's hand again and says his goodbyes.

Once Steven leaves, you and Sammy set up the couch so that Sammy can nap for a bit. You head to your room so that you can take one for yourself and reflect on the meeting. You still have a bit of that feeling of weird tension but figure that maybe Steven wasn't prepared for all the energy that you and Sammy created and all the inside jokes. Maybe a second get-together could help with that. After all, it might be great to have two best friends also be best friends with each other.

Meanwhile, Steven walks back, sitting in his thoughts quietly as he walks until Marc appears in a reflection along the walk. "What's with the long face?" Marc asks. Steven glances at Marc for a moment, "Nothing, it's just that..." Steven opens up with, "I felt like a bit of a third wheel over there." he admits. Marc shrugs, "Well it is her friend from her hometown, isn't it? I'm sure they'd be all chatty with each other.".

"Yeah, I suppose so." Steven replies, "It just felt a bit... off." Steven remarks.

[canon-in-too-deep]

Free Much Ado About Nothing Typeset

Back again with another typeset! This time it's Much Ado About Nothing by William Shakespeare, which was requested by anonymous. While I don't take formal requests because I can't guarantee anything, I am always open to suggestions! So if you have any typesets you're looking for, just let me know and I'll add it to my list of potential books! Anyway, this text is sized for half letter (letter folio), and is available for free in my google drive (link below). (I ended up doing two different title pages for this one, so you can find the alt version on the right in the drive, too, but otherwise both pdfs are the same.) Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1-1gTlE6DspB0IVJONpXH7F9Q4-ZVxroU/view?usp=sharing

Please leave a like/reblog if these are helpful, and follow this blog for new typesets. If you use any of my typesets, feel free to tag me! And if there's any errors, just let me know and I'll get those fixed! (Really, let me know, I'm a terror of typos, and affinity has been acting super glitchy for some reason).

[sansxreaderbraindump]

#3 "Unkillable bug" (Errorsansxreader fanfic idea)

Fanfic Idea: CP. (Computer Program) Reader is a computer program helper that helps outside players remove Bugs, viruses, and computer issues. You were made to help people how they wanted to be helped. You were placed in a void to do your job, your void is a safe zone for any natural outsiders. You don't let dangerous entities or any "bad sanses" in your void, only natural people can go in. CP. reader is very clean looking (they dislike being touched like error) they wear all white formal dress/suit to look "professional." You are a bit apathic sometimes but emotional aware of other people. CP. reader likes to organize and keep E.V.E.R.Y.T.H.I.N.G clean! (they are a full on perfectionist, if anything that doesn't feel right. they will spent hours fixing it if they had too. and they kinda have a big ego when it comes to being perfect. Soooo CP. reader and error relationship, you guys didn't like each other but only for a while. Error just crashed in your void unintentionally while you, floating in midair, were helping with a client. you didn't notice him or hear him (you can't hear anyone, only you can hear the clients so you can focus more.) he tried to get out but to no avail, he couldn't get out so he tried to call out to you, but you couldn't hear him so he used a different method. Error decided delete your hologram, you were very surprised by the crash. You've never had any difficulties with a client, hearing a glitched voice calling out to you. you turned around to see a virus, you were impressed and a bit pissed off to see the "Au destroyer" in your void and he ruined your work. you wanted to delete him from your void but turns out it doesn't work and he wasn't happy with your little attempt. so you guys fought till the both of you realized.. You can't kill each other for some reason; so you proceeded to kick him out of the void. you were upset when you gone back to recreate your hologram to see a unhappy review from a player. it damaged your ego so you begin searching for error to confront him about how he gone into your void and you eventually found him. knowing you guys can't kill each other, you and error argued till you left frustrated. Months went by since the incident, everything was fine till THE X EVENT HAPPENED. it interfered with your work and it seems you and error keep on meeting over and over again.. funni tags: (enemies to annoyances to friends to lovers) (Reader is a Perfectionist) (you and error acting like a old married couple moments) (awkward first dating moments) (angst with fluff) (this takes place in underverse idk what part I'm working on it) (non canon and canon scenes) (Reader and error: I HOPE YOU FUCKING KILL YOURSELF! *10 mins later* error to reader: so uhhh you wanna watch Undernovela with me?) (Long ass slowburn like PLEASE KISS EACH OTHER ALREADY! *COUGHS*) (you are the only person that error tolerates to touch) (because you are very clean like mr clean type of clean) (you probably smell like laundry detergent tbh) (first kiss) (....maybe make out AHAHAH /J....unless... ⚆_⚆)

[bigmammallama5]

For me, one of the worst aspects of ADHD is memory issues. I find it interfers so much more than executive disfunction, as I can at least force my brain to work under the right circumstances.

I can't do that with my memory

My memory is definitely the worst symptom of my ADHD (other than probably RSD and some other things but I gotta find a therapist for that lol), and I envy other people with ADHD who don't struggle with that aspect as much as I do. And for those who may not have ADHD, let me try to explain what I deal with because I do wish it was a funny thing but most often it's not lol.

It's not just that I forget where I put my phone down, it's I forget why I enter I a room and literally have to walk back my steps to find it despite there only being three places in my small apartment it would be. It's telling myself three times to take something with me to the clay studio to show another student and I forget 3 weeks in a row despite having it right next to the front door. It's my family telling me something important and I just don't retain it, and then they stop telling me things (this has improved again now that I'm on medicine, but I was the last person to find out a lot of things the past few years bc they wouldn't tell me bc I wouldn't remember, which hurts). It's my mind wiping blank in the middle of a sentence when I hit a certain word which results in varying degrees of embarrassment and understanding depending on who I'm talking to. It's my eye skipping over a spelling error no matter how many times I know it's there and I need to change it, I just forget (there are a lot of stupid errors in all my fics because of this, maybe one day i'll get to fixing them). It's learning someone's name correctly taking weeks to stick, and then somehow flipping the spelling because I know other people with that name spelled differently and I remember that spelling as "correct" (I'm glad we have name tags on our clay cubbies in the studio, it's saved me some embarrassing encounters, which was something I had to train myself into doing). It's being able to recall what someone said to me word for word six years ago but I can't remember what my mother told me three days ago. It's remembering a multitude of old vines verbatim, but I couldn't tell you what important news story I watched last night.

It's being able to sit down and talk to you guys clearly and thoughtfully like the intelligent person I can be, and then having my knees taken out from under me in real conversation because my mind just wipes blank. But yeah, I can at least work through my executive disfunction too with the right prodding lol.

[feedthefandomfest]

Hiya!

I love this blog and just wanted to ask- do you know any advice on formatting and tagging for AO3?

Or just general etiquette!!

I'm not new to AO3 (reading or writing) but I haven't interacted with the actual community much and would love to know more :)

oof, I still feel like a newbie posting stuff on ao3, and tagging is something i've always struggled with. and actually formatting is also on ongoing issue 😅 so with that in mind, here's what i try to consider:

TAGGING

relationships -> tagging the main is obvious, but i'm sometimes torn about tagging side relationships that feature in the fic, especially since it's annoying to be searching for that pairing and get a bunch of results where they're not the main focus; unless the other pairing is a prominent feature, i leave it out of the relationship tags and at most add it to the additional tags

characters -> i remember updating the character tags on my early fics every time another character popped up in the story, but now i'm of the same mind as the side pairing issue; unless the character is prominently featured, i leave them out of the tags

content warning/advertising -> if i know the fic features an element that some people might wish to avoid, i always tag it and also always fret that i've forgotten to tag something in that regard. when it's more about advertising what's in the fic, especially sexual content, i sometimes feel silly listing every flavor of physical encounter unless the fic is pwp/smut (in which case i gleefully list all the depravity); i sometimes worry that over-emphasizing the sexual content in the tags is misleading? like of this 100k fic, if 15k is spent fucking, how do i get the tags to reflect that while also tag cw appropriately? is there an established tag for that?

sometimes i see fics with TONS of tags, like an exhausting amount, and sometimes i see fics with very minimal tags... sometimes frustratingly few. i also know some writers add chapter-specific warnings in the author's notes. in the end, so long as you're making it possible for people to find or avoid your fic as needed, then you're good. Here are some good posts that dive into it more!

(i remember when people on tumblr would scold writers for monologuing in the tags on ao3 like we do on here, claiming it was a strain on the system, but i believe that's been debunked?)

FORMATTING

i've noticed some MEGA annoying quirks with copy & pasting over from Google Docs and Word, and I know there are some tricks to get around them, but i tend to just slog through the Rich Text window fixing everything manually 🙃 OKAY I FOUND SOLUTIONS LINKED BELOW.

spacing problem #1 -> pet peeve of mine, but i dislike it when the paragraphs have massive spaces between them (ditto for indented paragraphs). idk why, but it's tiring for my eyes to constantly leap the chasm between paragraphs. so whenever i copy and paste from Word, which for some reason ALWAYS appears with double spacing between line breaks, i go in and manually fix it. SOLUTION

spacing problem #2 -> when copying over from Google Doc, whenever there's a punctuation mark following an italicized word, a random space appears between them. and yep, i have to go in and fix every one because typos make me twitch. (this might not be an issue for everyone; i overuse italics and dashes like it's my job) SOLUTION

spacing problem #3 -> again probably a me issue, but i tend to include song lyrics a lot, and it's always a headache to format because when pasting from the doc, ao3 embeds these spaces between the lines that i can't remove by backspacing. only fix i've found is to copy and paste lyrics directly from a website, and then it formats fine. random and annoying and weird. (no solution 😔)

since this section has just been me whining about finding SOLUTIONS for formatting issues, i'll offer one tip that's more about general editing: i try to proofread best i can in Word/GDocs, but it's always easier to spot errors when i'm reading the draft on my phone. the typos always jump out at me from a phone screen. it's now my favorite way to edit!

every writer has their own preferences on formatting, and every reader has their own level of tolerance for formatting quirks. in the end, so long as the formatting doesn't interfere with the reading experience, you're all good.

[kaija-rayne-author]

Dragon Age Veilguard Review 4th in series

22 game hours 20 actual playtime

Spoilers for Dragon Age Veilguard

Critical review and a rant

Obligatory disclaimer. If you've already read it you can skip to the cut.

Something came to my attention. I need to make it crystal clear that I utterly love the diversity in DAV. It's fantastic. I'm also a heavily left leaning, non-binary, queer as fuck reviewer, editor, and author.

I'm on media blackout while I play this, so I'm only getting second-hand info on how awful it is right now in the DA Fandom. Please be safe and take care of yourselves. Arguing with incels and white supremacists is completely pointless. They sea lion worse than an actual sea lion. Your mental health is important.

Y'know? Every single time the anti-queer brigade comes out for a new DA game, I sit there thinking 'have you Bozos ever played any DA game, like, ever?' My guess is nope.

3.5 in series is here.

If I've ever played a glitchier piece of shit game in my life I honestly can't remember it.

So I went to go watch a movie with the partner and kids. I saved my game and turned it off.

Came back and it played okay for a few hours. I met both Mae and Dorian squeeeee!

Met Davrin and Assan. Everything's going fine. I got creamed (again), I swear the devs have no idea. I'm a consistent gamer who plays on hard/tactician mode in most games I play. (Many the same style of fighting as DAV.) And I'm having trouble with the strength of these monsters. WTF do they think someone just getting into gaming is experiencing?

Anyway. I got creamed, clicked reload last save, and it loaded with the now far too familiar no CC reverted back to the basic elf body error. I went back to the main menu, and now absolutely none of the saves are showing up with video. They load with sound, map in the corner, and tags above heads but no fucking video. They're either corrupted or the game is just a piece of shit.

Yes. I'm rather annoyed. I was looking forward to finishing recruiting Davrin tonight and it doesn't make my brain happy to have to stop in the middle of what I wanted to get done. In game or out.

I'm currently verifying my files from steam. We'll see if that fixes it. I just... and this is what the devs thought was releasable? REALLY?

I know I keep using BG3 as a comparison (which honestly isn't a very good one because one is turn based and one 'live' fighting). But the Venn diagram of people who play DA and who play BG is probably a circle so that's why it comes to mind.

It's also the most recent game I've actually purchased and played a lot.

I played that day of release and on into the week and had nowhere NEAR this many problems. I actually think I've had more trouble with DAV in three ish days than I've had in BG3 for over 700 hours FFS!

Anyway. Vent over (for now. I imagine this game will give me plenty of more opportunities).

Dorian looked really weird. He has what I'm now dubbing the 'Solas effect'. He doesn't look like himself. I wouldn't have recognized him at all if it weren't for him introducing himself.

Oh, and way to retcon the condition of the veil guys. For three games it's been getting more and more tears and holes in it. Now it's solid and the only thing holding off a world of blight that hadn’t ever really existed in the fade like that before? It was just the black city. Do these guys ever get sick of retconning shit? I sure get sick of playing retconned shit.

My partner saw the game and he really can't get over how jarring the art is. He's a pretty consistent gamer too but I doubt he'll play this one.

Y'know how I said I didn't know WTF the devs were thinking in my review of the game play trailer?

I'm even more flabbergasted now. I just... seriously?

The game doesn't work well. it has numerous glitches.

The art style sucks.

The bad dudes are WAY overpowered for even a pretty decent gamer. Not so experienced gamers are likely rage-quitting in droves. Every one of the glitches I look up is pretty common. Even for people with better machines than mine.

The story took bloody forever to get started. It finally seems to have but it shouldn't take me 20 hours of game time to get somewhat invested in the story!

The characters are honestly pretty meh so far. My much beloathed Lucanis is the only mildly interesting one so far.

I honestly just can't get over how they felt this was A. Good. and B. Ready for release.

I'll keep trying. But if it's corrupted my whole 20 hours I'm not sure if I've got the stomach to replay all that boring assed nonsense to get to where I only just got to today.

I HATE writing critical reviews as a matter of course. I especially don't want to write them about a piece of intellectual property like Dragon Age that I love so very much. But What. The. Actual. Fuck.

Part 5.1

[marys-little-cringes]

Let me start with a clean slate Pt.1

Pt.2 - Pt.3

Fandom: Smallville

Relationship: Clark Kent/Lex Luthor

Additional Tags: Bromance, Bromance to Romance, AU, Curtain Fic, Pre-Slash

Summary:

[4s17ep "Onyx"] An alternate ending in which the Lexs didn't reunite, instead Alexander is captured by Lex.

A/N:

I finished watching season 7, I am sad and frustrated. Starting with Belle Reve, it became vital for me that everything would be fine, because I can see perfectly well how everything is f*cked up. This series has become some sort of guide for me to the world where these two have a chance. The thing is, English isn't my native language and this is my first ff in English, so my also not-native-speaker-editor @nigthwingsleftbuttcheek and me did our best.  Anyway feel free to mark my typos or other errors if you find any. I would be most grateful!

 “Clark! Are you there?”  

 “Lex!” Clark jumped up on the couch and almost flew to the railing.

 Luthor was standing in the barn’s doorway.

 “What happened?” Clark asked anxiously. First of all, of course, he was worried about whether Lex had the opportunity to talk to him. Alexander found out his secret. “The second one—”

 “No.” Lex hastened to reassure him and went to the stairs. “The second... me is taken care of.”

 “What did you do to him?” Clark would never admit even to himself what kind of answer he really wanted to hear right now.

 “My specialists have put him in a medically induced coma. It will be safer for everyone. Including him.” Lex smiled tightly, putting his hands in his pockets.

 “Lex—”

 «Clark, before you say anything, let me say it first: you're right.”

 Lex strode up the steps, not taking his gaze off the young man.

 “«I have to merge with him eventually, we were and we are to remain connected. We have existed together for as long as I can remember, and therefore it is fair to say that even longer than that.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “I just need some time.”

 Finally, Luthor caught up with Clark and smiled, looking into his eyes.

 “What are you going to do?” Kent asked suspiciously.

 “You see, Clark...” Lex turned on his heel and moved to the window. “As I was saying, we’ve always been together, and we always fought. A lot has changed in my life since I settled in Smallville. You appeared, your parents, Lana — so many good people. Suddenly I found myself stronger. Suddenly I realized that I could fight back against him. I began to see the world differently next to you. You were always there for me, even when I pushed you away. You've always miraculously helped me out in the last moment! Clark, you...” Lex turned to him swiftly. “You became my personal hero, my savior, in so many ways — you can't even imagine it.”

 Kent smiled awkwardly, still standing by the railing.

 “Being friends with you gave me the strength to fight him. At some point, it seemed to me that I could start with a clean slate, leaving my past under his rule behind.”

 “But?” Clark looked at Luthor, and he turned away, leaning his weight against the windowsill.

 “Yeah, this everliving "but"... No matter what happened to me in Belle Reve,” his voice hoarse, “no matter what was done to me at my father's behest, I felt that he became stronger than ever before. It was getting harder to resist him every day. He was crushing me. Under his rule, I have distanced myself from everyone, from you. He knew that this was what helped me resist. It was like he cut me off from oxygen and just waited for me to finally suffocate!”

 “Lex, I couldn't even imagine—”

 Luthor stopped him with a hand gesture.

 “It's okay, no one could. I didn't always understand it myself while whole. I see many things much more clearly now than I could before with him . It’s sad, yes... I know it can't ever be fixed. I also know that I can't get rid of him for good. As much as I hate to admit it, it's because of him that I'm still alive. He is too stubborn and angry to accept his fate and die. I just want to... I just want to find a way to weaken him, at least to the level that he was before Belle Reve. Anyway, at that time it seemed to me that I could hold him back.”

 “What kind of help do you need?”

 “What? Why are you—?” Lex looked around, confused, and then his gaze filled with understanding. “Right, I came here. You know, Clark, it always seemed to me that this problem of ours started from the very beginning.”

 Lex patted the windowsill with his palm, inviting. Clark looked at him blankly, but approached.

 “The only way I know how to be… friends is to be mutually beneficial. You give me, I give you. Only this way was communication clear to me, it is advisable. So now, I'd like to take the opportunity to fix this. Of course, you can always count on my help, but I would be glad to have informal meetings from time to time. Visits without a clear reason. In the Talon or… You said you like to watch the sunset from here. Perhaps you would like to watch it with me from the highest tower of the mansion? I'm sure this new experience will be no worse.”

 Clark stared at him in disbelief, not even trying to hide his feelings in any way.

 “Of course, if you have other plans—”

 “No! I mean, no, I don’t!” the young man started. “You… Er… You're right, this is something… new for... us. But… Yeah, why not, let's go. Now? I’ll let my parents know.”

 “Now. I know that this will not erase our recent past. I've undermined your trust, it's true,” Lex looked straight into his eyes. “All I'm asking for is another chance. I hope, Clark, that we can use this time while I'm here to get to know each other again.”

[starlightbelle]

8, 17, & 30 for the fic writer ask!!

8. if you had to write a sequel to a fic, you'd write one for...

Of the ones I've shared, probably Here's to Not Being in Love. Zoro/Nami's dynamic is so fun to write; I left it open-ended for a reason, because I imagine I'll probably write more for them at some point. I don't have a sequel in the works yet, but if a compelling enough plot bunny should surface in my brain, I'm sure it'll insist upon being written. 😆

Ahhh I nearly forgot!! I intend to write a continuation of A Crisis of Confidence! Isuka doesn't get much appreciation among One Piece fans but I like her and I want to explore her relationships with other members of the Revolutionary Army. I've already penned her interacting with Dragon, so I think next on the docket would be something opposite Sabo. Both pre- and post-Marineford. I expect the latter will be very angsty, and I can't wait to explore it.

17. talk about your writing and editing process

✨The stars align. An idea strikes, either seemingly out of the blue, while discussing characters with my friends, or after hearing a line in a movie/song that hits just right.

Generally I jot down as much as I possibly can (if I'm at work or something I'll loop the idea/scene/dialogue in my head until I have a free moment to type down as much as I remember), key points or words to jog my memory later. I do often have a line or two that I know exactly how I want written. There are no shortcuts or abbreviations of those, I have to write the line out entirely.

After that, once I have a block of time I can more fully devote to writing I fill in the blanks. Whatever flows, whatever works. I am kinda an edit-as-I-go type of writer, though normally at this stage just finding a synonym for a word that works better or fixing the phrasing of a sentence.

If a particular scene is giving me trouble, the draft will remain a cocktail of disconnected snippets (sometimes in the wrong order) until I have a breakthrough with the gaps.

Once the story is penned, I read through it. Usually this stems from a desire to have the manuscript look tidy and neat and complete in my notes app. Along the way I'll make little changes, fix any errors I find, rearrange paragraphs if needed, etc.

After that, I reread it an absurd amount of times. This is motivated by pure enjoyment. I am my target audience so I like reading what I write. 😊 It just so happens that that's how editing works, too. Win-win.

If I'm sending it to a friend, or preparing to share it, I'll give it another pass or two (or three). Normally I don't have much to correct at this point.

I also will reread it again after I've shared a piece to make sure the formatting works, everything flows, etc.

Yep. That about sums it up. 😅 It isn't really a conscious checklist I go thru, just kinda how it ends up working out.

30. share a fic you're especially proud of

I'm proud of all my works! 😁 But one I haven't seen get much love is my seventh Corazon Week piece. Although I believe one of those three kudos is yours already lol.

It doesn't have any relationship tags, which I suspect might be the reason it's not showing up on Cora fans' radar, because the pov character is left intentionally ambiguous. It was an artistic decision I knew might keep it out of search results, and I debated using multiple relationship tags instead to cover all bases but I worried that might come across as baiting so I left it without. I may change it though if I get feedback on that.

Thanks so much for asking! I know my answers tend to get a little rambly, so thanks for your interest! This one was a bit like a behind-the-scenes feature on a DVD! (Prompt list)