#I wrote this in about 2 hours

[stevebabey]

have sum steddie! maybe modern!au, no upside down!au & a meet cute <3 | ao3

Steve sits in the booth, his foot tapping away mindlessly under the table, with half a mind to abandon the table entirely.

In fact, the only reason he hadn’t yet was because of the $20 he was hanging out for at the end. And the bragging rights, of course.

Robin had set him up on this blind date, plied him with all the promises in the world that he would enjoy it — said she’d spent a decent amount of time hunting for the right first gay date for Steve.

She also conceded that if he, for whatever reason, didn’t enjoy it, she would cough up 20 whole bucks for his wasted time. But he had to actually see the date through for the prize to be claimed.

And the bragging rights were so that Robin — with her uppity, healthy, and happy relationship that Steve was only a little bit envious of — could ease onto the breaks when it came to Steve’s love life.

So it was looking a little bleak at the moment, so what? Every stallion or… lion or whatever had their moments, right? Moments where their mane is a little uncouth and food is low and…. Where was he going with this?

The point was, that Robin got into one relationship and suddenly decided she was fit to become a high and mighty matchmaker. Never mind that Steve had reminded her numerous times that he had dated a lot more than she had.

So, for 20 bucks and the right to stick his tongue out at his best friend when she tried to meddle, Steve could stick one night out.

Besides, she was right about one thing. They weren’t in Hawkins anymore — and San Francisco had a hell of a larger dating pool than his hometown.

Still, that didn’t make people anymore for prompt for dates though, apparently. Steve’s foot taps incessantly under the table, his knee bouncing up and down in his nerves. He runs a hand through his hair and checks his watch again.

7 o’clock, Harvey’s Diner, a cute little Italian place that Steve had begun to frequent since they moved to the city, and a date with a dude called Daniel whom Steve had no idea what he looked like.

This was his Friday night plans.

His watch reads 7:12pm and Steve sighs, his fingers beginning to fiddle with the strap of his watch just for something to do. Great. He had gotten all dressed up for this? To be stood up? How was this any better than his usual Friday night plans that Robin claimed were so pathe—

“Hi.”

Someone sits down in the booth across from Steve, landing with a thump loud enough to give him a fright.

Steve’s head whips up from its focus on fiddling with his watch and— woah. Steve blinks once, twice, and feels his jaw unhinge a little, his lips parting an inch as he gazes at the stranger across from him.

Holy shit, this dude was hot.

He’s got curls for days, dark chocolate ringlets all messy and unkept spilling over his shoulders— long and probably perfect for burying your hands into. Steve flushes a little at the unexpected thought.

He has beautiful brown eyes, widened with a smudge of eyeliner and framed with long lashes. Steve thinks he can spy a smattering of freckles across his forehead. His nose is long and his lips are plush and pink and holy shit, this dude was pretty.

“Oh— hi.” Steve manages to remember his manners. Only after he fully checked this dude out, of course.

God, couldn’t Robin have given him a better warning than just ‘he’s probably your type’? Couldn’t she have warned him that this dude was ‘do-a-double-take-on-the-street type hot?’ What the fuck Robin?

The man across from him grins, wicked and alluring all at once, and shucks off his heavy leather jacket. His eyes do a once-over on Steve, taking his time to check him out— which is great because Steve is stuck on all the glorious tattoos that have just been revealed. So much skin shown in his roughly chopped muscle-tee, swirling ink all down his arms. This dude is hot.

Silently, Steve curses Robin and the 20 dollars that is totally slipping away from him. Why did she have to be right all the time?

“Been waiting long?” The man, Daniel, asks as he makes himself comfortable across the table. He pushes his hair back with both hands, using one hand to gather it into a ponytail, holding it up to air out his neck and Steve now realises he is slightly puffed.

He must’ve run part of the way here, to avoid being later than he was. Steve can’t help but be slightly endeared by that fact.

The man grins again, “Promise I was trying to be on time but, you know how the subway is.”

Steve huffs out a laugh, any annoyance at being kept waiting melting away at his date’s sincerity.

“Not too long,” Steve admits, smiling to ease Daniel’s apparent concern. Across the table, Daniel slumps a little and releases his hair, his curls pooling back around his shoulders. Steve watches, entranced.

“Well, that’s good,” Daniel smiles, eyes bright like he really means it, and his hand darts out to steal the drinks menu from the edge of the table. He looks back over to Steve, a furrow in his brows. “You didn’t order anything?”

“I thought I should wait,” Steve says with a shrug. No point paying for food if your date never shows up.

Daniel looks up from the menu through his lashes and smiles, placing his elbow on the table and dropping his chin in the palm of his hand. “Aw, you’re sweet.”

Steve is a little embarrassed by how easily the compliment makes him blush, feeling his cheeks glow lightly. Across the table, Daniel seems to revel in it, drinking in the way Steve’s face filled with colour with a cheeky smile. His eyes flick back down to the menu.

“You know,” Daniel begins, keeping his eyes on the menu, scanning it with a hum. “Chrissy said you were good looking but I think she seriously undersold you.”

He takes his eyes off the menu to trail up Steve’s body, his gaze heavy. Steve feels a delighted zing go up his spine, feels the way he preens at Daniel’s attraction. Steve opens his mouth to respond, more than ready to return the flirt when—

“Can I get you two started with anything?”

The waitress interrupts. She’s poised with her notepad, standing at the edge of the booth. Daniel perks up and nods.

“Can I get a chocolate milkshake please?” He asks with a polite smile. Steve laughs lightly at his selection and Daniel’s gaze cuts from the waitress to Steve.

“What? Not a milkshake man?”

Steve tries to contain his grin, all too endeared by the man before him. He shakes his head and raises his hand in defense. “Nothing against milkshakes just… for dinner?”

Daniel gasps theatrically and his head snaps back to the waitress. “This man has never had the delight of a Harvey’s milkshake with his dinner. Please bring us two chocolate milkshakes!”

Steve watches as the waitress dutifully writes down the order and turns on her heel, heading for the kitchen. He turns back to his date and gapes, taken aback by the forwardness.

“Did you just order for me?”

“Did you just diss milkshakes?”

Steve scoffs, but even then he can’t stop his lips from curling up into a smile. He can’t believe it but he’s genuinely glad he waited this date out. It's not at all like he was expecting. Even Robin's short description of this dude pales in comparison to the real thing. Steve nudges his foot forward into Daniel’s shin lightly.

“I did not diss milkshakes,” Steve argues, his smile widening at how Daniel’s eyes dart to the table before back up at Steve with a grin.

“Uh huh,” Daniel nods, his voice sarcastic and 100% unbelieving of Steve’s insistence. “Just wait, okay? You’ll be changing your tune soon enough. Harvey’s milkshakes are class. I’ve had a thousand of my best ideas in here, sipping on a chocolate milkshake.”

Steve grins and leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. Under the table, he feels Daniel’s boot nudge against his leg gently— and he laughs to himself. This has gotta be the most teenage way of flirting and he’s fucking loving it.

“You know,” Steve begins hesitantly, letting his forearms lean up against the table. “You’re not quite what I expected, Daniel.”

Across the table, Daniel scrunches up his face, his expression one of pure befuddlement. He puts his hands flat on the table and leans forward.

“Wait, you think my name is Daniel?”

Steve splutters for a moment because even though the answer is duh, yes, it’s become increasingly apparent that the man across from him is not who he was expecting. But if he’s not Daniel, who is he?

Suddenly, the door chimes and someone else is entering the diner. It’s a man dressed like Steve — on the preppy side with hair that must’ve taken at least an hour. He scans the booth and spots Steve’s booth, wandering over, his eyes fixed on the man across from Steve.

“Hey, are you Eddie?” He asks confidently, ignoring Steve’s presence on the other side of the booth.

The man — Eddie — freezes as he glances up at the newcomer and then back down to Steve ahead of him. Steve deflates a little inside as he realises abruptly what’s happened— a mix-up of wrong dates that was completely warranted because this dude dresses exactly like Steve. Steve doesn't stare too long to see if he's any hotter.

Instead, he tries to give Eddie the all-clear with his eyes. He smiles polite as he can and gives a little nod to let him know it was alright to abandon him for the date he was supposed to go on. Not to get stuck with Steve.

Eddie clears his throat and smiles, not cheeky like he had with Steve, but stiff and polite. “Ah sorry man, I think you’ve got the wrong guy. My name's Daniel.”

Huh? Steve takes his eyes off the table to steal a glimpse at Eddie (is his name even Eddie?) and something inside him burns hotly when the man glances across at Steve and winks.

The man standing by the booth wavers for a moment, glancing between them in the booth as Steve schools his expression to neutral. After a moment of silence, there's a half-assed apology as the man retreats, heading back out the door he had just come through. The door chimes again on his way out.

Steve straightens up and peers over his shoulder, watching the door slowly swing shut. He turns back to the man across the booth and squints at him. The waitress returns briefly, dropping two large chocolate shakes onto the table, topped with a mountain of cream. She murmurs something about coming back to take their order in a moment.

"Wait, so who are you?" Steve asks, gently sliding his shake closer to him. "Daniel or Eddie?"

His date —well, his new date— has already begun taking a big long sip from his own milkshake, so enamored with it that when he pulls away there's a dot of cream on the end of his nose. He swallows with a satisfied ah and grins across the table at Steve, not noticing the dairy on his face.

"I'm whoever gets me talking with you a little bit longer."

Steve grins, an endeared roll of his eye at the blatant flirting but he can't deny how it makes his chest warm. He grabs one of the napkins and reaches forward, adoring how Eddie goes cross-eyed as he watches Steve smudge away the cream on his nose. He laughs sheepishly, giving his nose a little wipe with his own hand.

"I'm Eddie." He says, finally introducing himself. He doesn't offer his hand, just gives Steve a little nudge under the table and a grin over his milkshake. "And I think you just saved me from a terrible date."

Steve laughs, giving a little shake of his head. He finally goes in for a sip of his own milkshake— and it's just as heavenly as Eddie had promised, glorious chocolate dancing over his taste buds.

Steve groans quietly, eyes bright when he glances at the other man over his glass, entirely amused by how wide-eyed Eddie has become. He releases the straw and sits back, more invested in this date than he has been in... years. Stallion's got its mojo back. Or lion. Whatever.

"I'm Steve," He responds, giving a little nudge back under the table and a grin of his own. "And I think you saved me from being stood up."

[sophiethewitch1]

congrats on the milestone sophie! i'm so excited to read what you have to share with us! For your 1k celbration, if it's not too much, I'd like to ask for ABXS for Jason and Dick uwu And if ur feeling particularly sharing I'd also love an L from all of them owo

Strei!!! Thank you for the kind words, here's what you asked for. I even did the L's as well for my dearest most beloved mutual <3

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, gen yandere behaviour, murder, stalking, worshipping/weirdly religious undertones for Dick, um pet play sort of?? Jason would bark if you asked him to is all I'm saying.

A = Affection (Is Their Love All-consuming, Expressed Through Possessive Gestures and Overwhelming Intensity With No Bounds?):

Jason: Spreading my Jason Todd Loyal Dog Agenda here but he’s so unbelievably loyal. Way, way too loyal. It doesn’t matter if he personally agrees with whatever your decisions are, he’s listening like the loyal hound he is. Will push and prod at you, but at the end of the day, he’s devoted. While he’d always prefer to be as close to you as possible, he’s willing to stay away if that’s what you really want. Simple guy, aware of himself, and mostly in control of his more fervent tendencies. He refuses to lose control of you, to take too much, so he doesn’t take any. Just giving, giving, giving. He only hopes you’ll take him.

Dick: Dick is probably one of the most clingy yanderes out there. While others might stalk you, or protect you from afar, that’s not Dick’s methodology. He wants to be with you all the time, and make you happy all the time, and he spends his afternoons daydreaming about sitting between your thighs for hours at a time. All the time, if it was possible. While he’s trying not to overwhelm you, he’ll stay as calm and charming as possible. But eventually, he’s going to have to start confessing his love to you because he feels like he’ll explode with it. Along with acts of service, physical affection, and verbal affection, he also really likes buying you things. He’s an all-rounder. Still, he prefers buying you experiences rather than items, like holidays or trips to the fair. He decides against buying you a private island to visit for the summer, but only after staring at the property page online for three hours straight. Like I said, he really is trying!

B = Blood (How Messy Are They Willing to Get in Pursuit of Their Darling? Would They Embrace Chaos and Revel in the Crimson Tableau Painted by Their Actions?):

Dick: I’ve mentioned before that he’s pretty hesitant to kill. He’s gotten over his wild younger years, and is now more mature and in control of emotions. Now, all of that is one huge lie he tells himself that only lasts as long nobody ever tries to hurt you. Dick wears his heart on his sleeve, and then it gets even worse when you come around because his heart is just walking around outside his chest, with no aknowledgement for the dangers of the world. He does try, he really does, but when he snaps, he snaps hard. He’s not too bad of a sadist (also a lie) but when he easily catches whoever has been bothering you, he… well, he might play with them. Just a little bit. He doesn’t kill, he’s very careful of that, but honestly if I was that poor soul, I’d rather be dead. And then the next day, he goes back to being the cheerful sweetheart we all know and love!

Jason: I’ve also mentioned that Jason, unlike Dick, is very, very eager to get bloody. In canon, he enjoys punishing sinners and whatnot, and when he’s fallen for you, uh… So, basically, Jason would rather die than admit it, but he thinks of himself as your protector, your knight in shining leather armour. And along with that previously mentioned possessiveness, he totally lets it get out of hand. He’s aware you probably don’t want him slaughtering everyone who has ever harmed a single hair on your head, but unless you specifically tell him not to, he’s not going to stop. But if you do, he will. He’s loyal, he’s fervent in that loyalty. He wants to destroy anything that could ever hurt you. But he’d never go against your ruling, your will. He might complain about it, though. Loudly, very loudly. However, if you do want everyone who has ever annoyed you dead, he’s totally up for it no questions asked. Would probably consider it a date night of sorts.

S = Stigma (Can the Roots of Their Obsession Be Traced to a Dark Past, a Blend of Childhood Trauma, Twisted Curiosity, and a Skewed Perception of Love?):

Dick: Oh boy, this guy… He’s the poster child for childhood trauma affecting your perception of love. When his parents were murdered, he latched onto Bruce. And when Bruce kicked him out, he latched onto Bludhaven. And now when even Bludhaven can’t bring him any semblance of comfort, of home, you’re fucking heaven-sent. He latches onto you like a benign growth, and god help anyone who tries to tear the two of you apart.

Jason: Oh boy times two. Not the best childhood, raised on the streets. Taken in by Bruce, things are looking better and then- Well, we all know what happens then. After the trauma of literally digging himself out of his own grave, he feels a bit… disconnected from the world? He feels like a ghost, like he’s still dead, like his death never even mattered and the world kept going after he’d been gone. And that’d fuck up anybody, but someone personally trained by the Batman? Woof. We see in Under The Red Hood that Jason really does think vengeance is proof of love, at least in his case. To him, love is bloody and ruthless. It’s cannibalistic. A give and take. But since he doesn’t want to take from you, he’ll just give himself over wholly.

X = Xoanon (Does Their Reverence for Their Darling Border on Worship, Reaching Extreme Lengths to Prove Their Devotion and Ensure Unwavering Loyalty?):

Dick: He sees you like the sun. Powerful, brilliant, beautiful. And you’ll probably burn him to cinders as he loves you, but he doesn’t care. He probably enjoys the idea a little. Wouldn’t it be nice, to die in your arms? To close his eyes and disappear into you, where he’d never be apart from you again? He realises that sort of thinking is a bit creepy, but it’s one of the few things he simply can’t fight against. Not even the littlest bit. He’s self-aware to know he’s putting you on a pedestal, that you’re not some god or something, you’re just like him. Human. Maybe that makes him worship you even more. He can’t tell, it’s too blurry these days. He just knows you’re important, more so than he is. More so than anything is, really. Also, gotta mention body worship kink. Like, he’s really way too into it honestly. He’ll service you for however long you can last, and then place a hundred kisses against your exhausted body telling you how good you did, how perfect you are. When you look at him after a session like that, you can always see something a little too intense, too crazed to be called love. He knows he’s trying to hide it. He’ll do better next time, okay?

Jason: You’re his master. The hand around the leash. He’s angry at the world, so fucking angry. He wants to destroy it all. Assuming here, you probably don’t want the entire world blown to smithereens, so you’re his… conscience. Whatever you say goes. If you say Joker dies today, then he dies. If you say he can never kill another soul, then he won’t. He’s sassy about all of it, but it’s painfully obvious to literally everyone that he will follow every single order you give. And of course, he wants it that way. Maybe he really should get a collar for himself. He thinks it’d be cute, with your name on it in brilliant gold letters. He certainly thinks that the reaction his goons would give would be worth the effort, never mind your own reaction. Call him your good boy and you will get railed so hard you break the bed, lmfao

L = Love Letters (Is Courting an Intricate Dance Marked by Obsessive Letters and Gestures That Blur the Line Between Devotion and Insanity?):

Dick: I can’t see Dick ever actually sending you the letters he writes, but my god, he writes them. At first, it’s just little doodles in the corners of his very important paperwork, and then he’s scribbling on sticky notes, and eventually, he just gives in and buys a fucking notebook. They’re long winded and silly and he’d absolutely rather die than share them with you. But they make it just the slightest bit easier to choke down his devotion to you, so it doesn’t strangle him right then and there. He almost finds it as addicting as you are, almost being the keyword here. It’s genuinely pretty embarrassing, from an outsider’s standpoint. It’s like what a middle schooler would write in their diary, just lots of your name and hearts and very ridiculous poetry. He’d be good at it if it wasn’t about you, okay?

Jason: Jason, in direct contrast to Dick, writes very good poetry. Especially when it’s about you. It’s the sort of stuff they’ll put in museums, that future historians will write about. Of course they won’t know half of his more demented metaphors are just… straight up things he’s done for you. It’s flowing and beautiful and it’d make you tear up if you ever read it. You probably won’t just because Jason doesn’t really care if you read it, so he won’t share it with you on purpose. However if you find him one day in the library, and you ask to see whatever it is he’s made, you’ll be so very, very lucky. And Jason will turn tomato red, so that’s another plus.

Tim: Everybody knows that when Tim starts a list again, his mental health is on the decline. The list about you is concerningly long. And I’m really not saying that lightly, for Mr ‘I stalk literally everyone at least a little bit’. It’s something at four hundred thousand words by now, he’s not sure exactly. The little note app on his phone has had to suffer through hundreds or even thousands of hours of Tim writing down the most minute details of you and your life. How do you like to sit best? Is your posture okay, or should he worry about it? When you’re hungry, what food do you go for first? What about when you’re sick? If he’s ever around, tapping away on his phone, and you think he’s not paying you any attention, you’d be very, very wrong. Would probably share it with you just to laugh at your horrified face.

Damian: Damian was raised to perfect every form of art, from martial to dance, to even the more traditional ones. He’s always had a fondness for painting, and you’re most certainly his muse. Instead of letters, he paints you. For every memory he has of you, he has at least a sketch. He doesn’t care for almost all of them, as he doesn’t think they capture your beauty properly, so he doesn’t really care what happens with said drawings. Your first meeting has been drawn at least twenty times, and your sleeping face probably double that. Yes, he does draw you in more passionate poses as well. Your face all fucked out, drool leaking from your lips, is a personal favourite of his. He’ll probably share those ones with you, enjoying seeing you squirm. Asking if you want to help him find some extra inspiration because he’s all irritatingly smooth like that. Will laugh if you crush the lewd drawing up, agreeing it doesn’t do you justice. He’ll just have to try again.

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

"nobody wants to work anymore" but a low paying casual retail job wants you to travel to a capital city you don't live in, which is a considerable distance and time travelled from you (when you actively have a branch of this shop in your LOCAL shopping centre, 15mins down the road); for a group interview assessment centre. they then make you CONGA LINE into the said group interview with party poppers and streamers. like ma'am. I don't care how "ironic hipster millennial and 90s nostalgia" and "life of the party" this brand is supposed to be. but I ain't conga lining into this interview like a fucking clown. fuck some hiring managers and HR depts, honestly.

[isthemedia]

Poolerverine-Yoink! (1/2)

Since Ao3 is down for maintenance right now.

Here it is! Part One of two. Ao3 link to come when it's up and running again!

@manicpixxiedreambitch

@leo-i-am

@nickisgirl

(Since ya'll left comments figured to tag ya)

=====================================

Logan thought he had an idea of how Wade’s moods went. Sure they were sporadic and nearly unpredictable. The keyword being ‘nearly’. There were little tells Wade had, probably just natural instincts and habits his body did. Despite the constant dying and regenerating Wade’s body did-a story Logan STILL isn’t sure he was ready for-it seemed that there were just some things that always came back to Wade. 

The way his hands would twitch when he’d be on a short fuse, ready to fight or maim or pull out god knows what kind of weapon from who knows where. Luckily Logan knew how to take a hit. He also knew just WHERE to hit to get Wade somewhat under control. 

How Wade’s leg would bounce from being cooped up for too long-sometimes five minutes would be too long. Logan needed to yank him by the hood of his sweater as he tried to climb out of the window to the fire escape cause he needed out ASA-NOW. 

How some nights, when he’d be jolted awake from his own nightmares and warped memories to see Wade also up on the pull-out. The glow of the tv casting an eerie blue glow over him, as he’d just watch whatever was playing…without a word. At least Logan thought Wade was watching what was ever on during the first few times it happened. However, once he’d get a better look, he could see Wade…well, how did that saying go? Lights are on but nobody’s home? Something like that. Those times, well, those times were the ones he didn’t really have an idea on how to handle. 

Logan figured he learned enough of those cues and habits that nothing could really surprise him with Wade anymore. 

But it was just like the fucker to come up with something new. 

Which is where Logan was now. Staring at the lump in the middle of the pull-out’s mattress. Just what the hell was Wade doing? Sure the man could be lazy, but this was something else entirely. 

“Come on!” He gave a kick to the pull-out, jostling it somewhat. “Get up! This thing takes up enough space as is!” 

Wade refused to move. Hell, he wasn’t even saying anything. It was actually pretty damn quiet, that the familiar snikt sound seemed almost too loud. “Wade, ya know I won’t be afraid ta force yer ass out.” 

No response. 

Not even a snark.

And that was pissing Logan off the most. 

That does it! Raising his claws, ready to--

A knock came on the door. 

The sound was enough to knock some of the fury out of Logan. He couldn’t quite stop the growl that left him as he turned away from Wade, claws sheathing back, and stormed over to the door. He nearly tore it off the hinges when a second round of knocking started up. “WHAT!?” 

“Huh, you do have fangs.” 

Logan faltered some. Embarrassment was quickly quelling most of the boiling rage. “Ah--Vanessa, um…” 

Vanessa smiled sweetly. “It’s fine. I had worse greetings-and most of those came from Wade. Which, by the way, gotta call from Al,” she continued. “Mind if I step in?” 

“Huh? Ah, yeah sure,” Logan stepped aside and let her in. He noticed she had a canvas bag slung over her shoulder. Figured she was out doing errands. Even though it didn’t work out between the two of them, Logan could still feel how much the two loved each other. That both would drop whatever they were doing if the other needed help. 

Vanessa made her way over to the pull out and knelt down. “How long has he been like this?” She asked. 

“Hm? All monrin’.”

“Ahhh,” she sounded like she knew exactly what was going on. Probably did, she was with him long enough. 

“He’s done this before?” 

“He has, but it’s been a while since the last time,” she set the bag down and started digging through it. “He’s not gonna move for a while when he gets like this. Well, at least when somebody can see him.” 

“Gonna fill me in on what’s goin’ on?” Logan asked as he made his way over to her. Peering over he could see the bag was filled with…quite a bit of stuff. And all of it was stuff Wade liked. Snack, drinks, shit he saw a couple of toys in there too. Looked more like something you’d bring for a sick kid.

“Hard to explain,” Vanessa said as she pulled out a small Hello Kitty plush toy. “But you know how some people just, shut down sometimes? Burnout? Crash?” 

“Yeah?” He knew that all too well. “Wait, is that what this is?”

“Kinda?” She said. “It kinda is, but kinda isn’t.” Logan huffed. These answers were getting him nowhere. “You know about his cancer, right?” 

“Y-yeah.” He kinda felt like an asshole when he decided to ask what happened to Wade. He thought all that scarring was from like a fire or a chemical spill-or maybe his mutant gene just made him look like at. It wouldn’t be out of the possibility-hell he knew Beak. He didn’t know that Wade had cancer-STILL has cancer. That his healing factor wasn’t healing that cancer, just kept replacing it. That those scars were from it. That he’s constantly dying and regenerating. 

“Well, some days that pain gets to be too much,” Vanessa continued. “Says that even the voices in his head get too grating to listen too. That everything feels like static cause he’s being watched. Like sticking your tongue to a 9 volt battery, kind of static.” 

Well now he really felt like an asshole now. Dammit. He shoulda realized something was bad when Wade stopped being so damn chatty. “So what do we do when he’s like this?” 

“Not much,” Vanessa said. “Just time, and just making sure he’s alright,” she added with a slight grin. “Watch this.” 

Logan wasn’t sure, but that grin Vanessa had reminded him of Jubilee’s when she managed to steal some snack from Hank’s hidden stash in his lab. She always managed to somehow just pull out the good without knowing. He watched as Vanessa set the plush toy on the edge of the pull-out. She slowly inched it closer to the mound on the bed. She got about three inches away, when--

Logan blinked. 

It happened so fast he wasn’t sure just what he saw. Vanessa was too busy laughing, the plush toy gone from sight. 

So he did see that right. Wade snatched it and took it under the blankets with such speed it was almost cartoonish. 

“That-is what I call the Yoink-Zone,” Vanessa explained. 

“The what?” 

“Yoink-Zone,” she grinned. “It’s hard to get Wade to come out from under the covers like this-cause again static feeling. So I had to find some way to make sure he ate something. Found this out through trial and error,” she explained as she pulled out a small pack of fruit shaped marshmallows. “It’s dumb, but it works.” 

“I guess,” Logan heaved a sigh. 

“Here, your turn,” Vanessa said as she handed him the packet of marshmallows. 

“The fuck you mean, my turn?” 

“Hey, you live with him now, so that means you gotta take care of him.” 

Logan wanted to argue with her. He didn’t need to do shit.

But that wasn’t true. Hell, if this was all it took, it was the least he could do. Wade did more for him and dealt with his nightmares. Taking a set of claws to the gut. Needing to calm him down from his fight-or-flight response. Hell there was one time he bit off two of Wade’s fingers cause he got too close to his face. And the asshole had the gall to tell him it was all alright. 

This was less destructive at least. 

Logan slid the marshmallows towards the lump of blankets, and again, lighting quick they were snatched up. “...yeah this is dumb.” 

Vanessa laughed and smiled warmly, before inching her hand towards the ‘Yoink-zone’. Instead of getting snatched violently, Logan watched as Wade reached out and took her hand. Fingers threading together, and just holding her hand gently. “Things are gonna be alright Wade,” Vanessa said softly. “I’ll stop by later on if this keeps up, but Logan should be able to take it from here then. That's alright?” She felt him squeeze her hand softly before letting go, giving a thumbs up, before disappearing underneath the pile of blankets. 

She got up, one of her knees gave a pop while doing so. “Got a couple of snacks and drinks in that bag,” she gestured. “I’ll take it back next game night.” 

“Alright, ah…thanks Vanessa,” Logan nodded as he walked with her back to the door. 

She took his arm and patted it. “It’s no problem. I know Wade can be…well, Wade…but I know you’ll help him out with this.” 

“Yeah, I got it,” he nodded. They shared their good-byes and Vanessa was on her way. Logan leaned back against the door and heaved a sigh. This was probably going to be a long week. He hoped it wasn’t going to last long, but then again Vanessa made it seem like there was no real time frame for how long this thing lasted. 

He made his way back over to the pull-out. Mary-Puppins was now beside it, whining as she stared up at the edge that seemed to be too far out of her reach. 

Alright, this could be a bit mean, but then again, Wade loved the ugly thing. So maybe it wouldn’t hurt. Logan scooped her up and set her on the bed. Watching as she sniffed and toddled closer to the pile of blankets. When she was near that space-yoink!

Mary yelped as she was pulled under. Logan heard concerned shushing and small mumbling-Wade absolutely trying to appease the dog he probably spooked like that. Logan couldn’t help but laugh at the whole thing. He only proceeded to laugh even harder when one of Wade’s hands snuck out from under the blanket to flip him off. 

--

It was only the second day of this mood of Wade’s. Logan had to go out and restock on things for the merc, since the bag Vanessa brought was emptied before noon. And to be honest, Logan needed that time to be out of the apartment. 

Some thoughts were starting to rear their ugly heads again. The more he tried to push them back. Or cut them off-only to have two more replace them. Fucking hydra analogy, like the actual hydra and not the organization…though isn’t their motto something like that?

Whatever. 

He sighed as he roamed the aisles. Maybe after this he should start thinking about moving out. It’s not like he wants to-well not fully. It’s cramped, three adults and a dog all staying in a one bedroom apartment? Two over six foot men sharing a pull-out? The apartment itself definitely has seen better days-hell seen better years with the upkeep. 

Sure they could probably move-Althea included, he knows Wade wouldn’t want to leave her behind. Despite their sniping back and forth, and that godawful namesake Wade gave her, he did care about her. Shit, Logan did too. There was something about her…she wasn’t Chuck, that’s for sure. But there was just something about her. Something comforting and welcoming. She definitely filled a gap that was missing for him. 

While all moving out together sounded nice-well, alright that was the problem. It was a nice thought. A nice idea for a nice, somewhat domestic, somewhat fucked up future. 

But, if there was one thing Logan learned in his long life was this: Logan Howlett doesn’t get a nice life. 

That’s just how it was. That was why he seriously needed to think about moving out, and away from them. Because he was getting too accustomed to the idea of living with Wade. Too comfortable with the other man laying right by him. Being a constant in his day-to-day life. 

Great so much for escaping those thoughts. 

He wasn’t sure what it was with Wade, but there was something there. Something he’s been missing for years. The lines between companionship and desire were starting to blur. Fuck he’s been alone way too long to think of Wade like that. 

Then again, it isn’t just because he’s been alone for so long. Wade was different. Different then a lot of people-and he wasn’t meaning his looks or that weird quirk of him making comments to someone he couldn’t see. Wade sorta just, accepted him. The good and the bad. Wade didn’t try to change him, or make him more suitable for living with him and Althea. 

He didn’t need to be a ‘good guy’ to bring home. To Wade, Logan was fine just as is. PTSD, anger issues, alcoholism, and all. It was something Logan never even thought possible. There was always SOMETHING about him people needed to change. But not for Wade. 

So when was the other shoe gonna drop? It was gonna happen, he just knew it was. That’s why he had to be far away from Wade when it did. 

He sighed as he made his way back to the apartment, bags in hand. Well, that can be something to go back to worrying after Wade gets over this mood he’s in right now. Couldn’t last that much longer, could it? Maybe he should call Vanessa. Get an idea on how short or long this thing lasted. 

Entering the apartment, he could see the lump on the pull out hadn’t moved, but Mary was laying on the mattress just slightly out of the ‘yoink-zone’. He made his way over and sat on the edge of the bed. Mary whined, and he just gave her a quick little pet before digging out a bag of chips. 

He slid it close to the pile of blankets. It was getting easier to catch it. Wade’s hand shooting out from under the pile to grab whatever there was, and back under again. Logan chuckled softly and shook his head. 

Wade was absolutely ridiculous sometimes…and he was getting used to it. 

Mary made a small sound before she settled onto his lap. Welp, looked like he was stuck there for a bit. Could be worse. He knows he shouldn’t, but to hell with it. He knows he’s gonna need to abandon ship sometime, but for now he could enjoy this for a little bit. 

He absentmindedly pet Mary, his eyes slowly trailing back over to the pile of blankets. With his other hand he slowly slid it across the mattress. He was expecting Wade to just snatch it when it was close enough-but that didn’t happen. 

Like with Vanessa, Wade reached out slowly. Placing his hand over Logan’s. Wade’s hand was cold, despite being tucked under that pile of blankets. It wasn’t bad…it actually felt kinda nice. Logan ran warm anyway. 

“Yer gonna need to let go or I’m gonna need ta stop pettin’ Mary if you need somethin’ else,” Logan said. Wade gave a soft pat to the back of his hand before giving an ‘okay’ gesture, and retreating back under the blankets. Logan laughed and looked down to Mary. “You get so damn spoiled.” 

--

Laura and Vanessa were over. Day four of Wade’s mood. Laura got a first hand experience and witnessed the ‘yoink-zone’. She actually jumped-claws shooting out and everything. 

“Just so you know, he’s not gonna shut up when he’s over this,” Vanessa warned. 

“How is that different from normal?” Logan asked. 

“You’re mean,” Vanessa teased. “I mean that he’s gonna be dumb and talk himself dry,” she explained. “He’s a bit, out of it for like a day after all this. So just keep an eye on him, alright?” 

“Been babysitting him for four days already, shouldn’t be a big deal if another gets tacked on,” Logan shrugged as he leaned back on the bed slightly. 

“You miss him talking, don’t you?” Laura smirked. 

“Dunno what yer talkin’ about,” Logan grumbled. 

“Suuuure you don’t.” 

He huffed and shifted slightly. He was about to say something else when--

“SHIT! I forgot!” Two, scar roughed hands grabbed onto his arm and pulled-HARD. He toppled back and found himself partially under the pile of blankets. It was dark, but he could mostly make out what was in front of him and well…over him. 

Wade had this almost soft, fond looking smile on his face. The same one Logan always saw him give Vanessa-but there was something just slightly different with this one. “Got too close there Peanut,” Wade’s voice was hushed. A bit raspy from not being used for a few days. 

“Yeah, figured,” Logan said softly. “Better?”

“Hmm…a bit,” Wade murmured. “Gonna talk your ear off, cause I had a lotta thoughts goin’ through my head during all this.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” the smile stayed on Wade’s face as he leaned down. 

It was obvious what was going to happen, but still Logan felt his breath hitch. The position was awkward, but not the worst kiss he had. Wade’s lips were chapped and scarred-but felt so right against his. He almost wanted to chase after them when Wade lifted his head. 

“...ready ta come out? Say hi ta Laura and Vanessa?” Logan asked.

“Yeah, ‘m pretty sure I’m good,” Wade nodded. 

Logan shifted and pulled the blankets back and off of himself as he sat up right. Wade pulled them back as well, but still remained cocooned in them. He shifted and shimmied across the mattress till he could comfortably lean against Logan. 

“Hey,” Vanessa greeted softly. 

“Hey,” Wade gave her a soft smile. 

“Missed ya,” she added. “Logan did a good job at taking care of ya.” 

“Hmmm he did…thanks Peanut, I owe ya.” 

“Nah,” Logan shrugged. “ Deal enough with my shit, the least I can do.” Yeah, sure, maybe this was a bad idea. Logan’s all too familiar with bad ideas. He knows that there’s gonna be a consequence for this sooner or later. But that can wait. 

Wade hummed as he felt Logan’s hand slide under the blankets. Feeling around, until he reached Wade’s hand. “yoink,” Wade said softly as he took Logan’s hand, threading their fingers together.

[shalomniscient]

i just woke up, it’s 7am and i’m having thoughts about jingliu…

if there was one person on the luofu who knew jingliu the longest, it was you. not the high cloud quintet or the cloud knights, you. the daughter of jingliu’s master, and the stubborn sword champion’s personal healer. she entered your life as a gangly, hungry girl who could barely hold a sword in both hands—and now, she’s the greatest warrior the luofu has ever seen.

but more importantly, now, she’s your wife.

it seemed almost like an inevitability, that you’d fall for her. for all that she was your mother’s disciple, you didn’t see her much as children. jingliu would always be training, and you would always be studying. it was only after she became a member of the cloud knights, and you a member of the alchemy commission, that things would really start to blossom—like a lotus flower, bright and pure.

you were the only healer jingliu really trusted and even allowed to heal her. the warrior had a stubborn streak several miles wide, but perhaps it was the echo of your mother in you that had her obediently heeling to your treatments—a fact that always awed her fellow cloud knights, who teased her relentlessly about it. “whipped,” they’d say. jingliu would only grumble and grudgingly thank you, before leaving the clinic and decidedly and publicly putting every one of her squadmates on their asses during a sparring match.

but nonetheless, it is no one but jingliu who comforts you when teng xiao arrives at your door, a set of armor folded neatly in his arms, and a grim, apologetic look on his face. that night it is jingliu who sits by your side, letting you weep into her shoulder as she awkwardly and clumsily attempts to console you. grief burns through you like a wildfire, but jingliu is there, her presence soothing and cool like moonlight. you both fall asleep tangled in each other’s arms, finding that, if nothing else, there is comfort in shared loss.

the next morning, you ask her about it as you both still hold each other close. jingliu’s mouth opens and closes, struggling to choose the right words. “i swore to her that i’d protect you,” she answers. it makes you smile, just a little, even if grief still twists sharply in your heart.

“you’re protecting me by cuddling me?” you tease her, and her pale cheeks flush.

“that’s— i believed you might have needed—“ she stammers, and you cut her off by pressing closer against her cool body.

“i’m just teasing,” you whisper against her skin, arms tightening around her muscular form. as if to ground yourself, as if to assure yourself that she’s really here. “i appreciate it, jingliu. thank you.”

at your words, the warrior relaxes. her voice is barely higher than yours when she replies, tinged with a hint of tenderness. “of course.”

jingliu is different, after that. you guess that it’s because you are all she has left—much the same in how she is all you have left. there is a gentle awkwardness to her now, like someone who has never known how to be soft trying to learn for the first time. she sits patiently as she lets you fuss over her wounds, knowing that you need this, that you need to know she’s alright. she only looks away when you get a little too close, when she can feel the warmth of your breath on her skin, and she hopes you don’t notice (you do).

she comes to the house whenever she can, which feels just a little emptier without your mother’s commanding presence. she stands shoulder to shoulder next to you at the counter making dumplings, her rough, battle-scarred hands dwarfing your own more delicate ones—but she wraps the dumplings with finesse all the same. you eat them together, quietly, but the silence is comfortable. you know each other enough that words are unnecessary. these nights you can only ever fall asleep in her arms—and she can only ever fall asleep in yours. neither of you question it, but what is there to question anyway?

jingliu ends up being many of your firsts—including your first kiss. it happens on one of those nights, tangled in each other’s arms, with nothing but a sliver of moonlight to illuminate jingliu’s pale face. you feel her pulse jump under your touch, as your thumb traces the ridge of her cheekbones and your lips press gently against hers. kissing her is nothing grand, no fireworks or butterflies—just the quiet sense of finally coming home.

jingliu is your first time, too. her hands trail down your body with reverence, lips pressing kisses like prayers against your skin. she brings you to the edge of heaven with her fingers and her mouth until you lie boneless on the sheets. she kisses you while your essence is still smeared across her lips, and you eagerly return the favor.

jingliu is your first and only love. it’s the soft, quiet kind, more of a respite than a whirlwind in and of itself. a shelter where both of you can return to, when the world becomes too much. you’re there for each other at the lowest lows and the highest highs—jingliu attends the ceremony as you’re sworn in as the cauldron master of the alchemy commission, eyes trained only on you as you accept the honor. and you attend jingliu’s ascenscion ceremony for the title of sword champion, standing at the forefront of the crowd, a proud smile on your face. to jingliu, that is her true victory.

and yet, even as the sword champion, there are still things she fears—like telling you she loves you. it takes a grand amount of coaxing from her new friends—a blacksmith, a high elder, and a pilot, respectively—before she works up the courage. she whispers it against your neck one moonlit night, intertwined with you in the sheets. her voice trembles ever so slightly, her breath fanning unevenly against your skin, and she tenses when you laugh softly. but the tension bleeds out of her immediately when you say it back, and she slumps against you, as if the weight of the world had been lifted off her shoulders.

(baiheng and yingxing later force her to buy them drinks, and she does so, grudgingly. after all, they were right when they said there was no way you’d say anything other than ‘i love you too’. dan feng only attends for the free alcohol, but he is happy for her nonetheless.)

your marriage is a quiet affair—or as quiet as it can get, with baiheng and yingxing together on the guestlist. but it is perfect, to you and jingliu. the rings were crafted by yingxing, inlaid with stones baiheng discovered along the trailblaze. neither of you actually wear them on your fingers due to your jobs, but none other than dan feng gifts the both of you corded red rope to loop the rings through and wear as a necklace. it becomes your greatest treasure, even centuries down the line.

the next few months of your life are calm and routine—until jingliu returns home one day with a teenager, of all things. the boy has long, shaggy, white hair, and curious golden eyes. He reminds you of a cat.

“this is jing yuan,” jingliu introduces to you. “my disciple.”

the boy greets you politely, before jingliu sends him off to an empty room in your home for him to claim as his own. once the boy is out of sight, you turn to jingliu, quirking a brow.

“disciple?”

she nods. “yes. i believe he has potential.”

you only hum at her answer, stepping forward to fix her collar. she lets you fuss, as you always have, and then presses her lips against yours gently, her hands on your waist. “trust me,” she whispers, and you do.

jing yuan fits into your life more easily than you expected. a sharp-witted young man, quick with a blade but even quicker with his words. it isn’t long before you grow fond of him as well—in an almost parental sort of way. before you realise, you start fussing over him the way you fuss over jingliu. it seems you’re not the only one susceptible to jing yuan’s charm, since the newly formed high cloud quintet adore him just as much—baiheng, especially, is delighted to have another little brother figure besides yingxing. jingliu is no exception; the pride in her gaze as she watches jing yuan train is visible to anyone.

nowadays, your home feels fuller. it is no longer just you and hingliu making dumplings—another pair of hands, sometimes even another three appear to help. the dinner table is full more often than not, and there always seems to be more plates in the sink. sometimes you find purple fur on the floor, or the occasional jade-like scale in between your couch cushions. but joy, you learn, is fleeting. nnd no one ever notices it is here until it is gone, ripped from your hands before you can even blink.

jingliu is your first and only love. she is also your first and only heartbreak.

everything you’ve built with jingliu over the course of centuries crumbles in a matter of days. the battle against shuhu is vicious. you can barely even keep up against the constant stream of injured that flood the alchemy commission. you and your colleagues down energising pill after energising pill to stay on your feet and support the xianzhou forces. tet the news from the frontline would nonetheless bring you to your knees.

baiheng, dead. yingxing, cursed. dan feng, imprisoned. and worst of all—

jingliu, mara-struck.

the ten lords commission keep her under strict watch in a holding cell. you barely have the time to visit, what with the number of patients that demand your attention. jing yuan is the one who visits her, by his authority as the new arbiter general. he speaks to you when he can, updates you on her condition—but you’ve treated enough cases to know when something is bad, even if jing yuan tries to assuage you with purposefully vague wording.

she barely recognises you when you approach her. her beautiful ruby eyes are covered by a ragged, black cloth. thick, metal bindings encircle her wrists and restrain her arms behind her back. you call her name, quietly, gently, trying your hardest to stifle the tremble in your voice. sometimes, there is a flicker of recognition. most of the time, there is nothing.

you return to an empty house. it’s so, so cold, and your bed is far too big. you hold tightly to your ring, praying that jingliu be spared this fate. but the aeon does not listen.

because no more than a few months later, jingliu breaks free from her confinement, and rampages across the luofu. smoke chokes the air as ice and frigid wind sweeps across the epicenter that is jingliu. but instead of running away, you run towards her. the ice seems to part and melt before you as you run. you need to see her.

instead, all you witness is the majesty of the lightning lord, as he strikes down your beloved.

nothing remains of jingliu. they find no body, not even any remnants of armor or personal effects. after that, they strike her name from every record for her dishonor. all her achievements, her victories—erased. as if she never existed. you are forced to resign as cauldron master in shame, with your apprentice dan shu taking your place.

you feel… nothing. only a pervasive, parasitic emptiness spreading through your entire being. you spend your days in a bed in a guest room—you can’t bring yourself to set foot in the room you once shared with her. the kitchen lies deserted. you barely feel hunger or thirst, or any sort of sensation. and yet, you keep living. your cells respire and your lungs draw breath, and your heart still thumps in your chest—even as your soul rots and decays.

the only thing—or person, rather—that stirs you now somewhat is jing yuan. he has lost everyone too, this general who will always be that curious-eyed boy to you. you do your best to pick yourself up; if not for yourself, then for him.

(but jing yuan knows. he sees it in your eyes, the truth of the matter. the guilt that gnaws at you, that compels you to keep fussing over him.

you think that caring for him will help you atone for the way you failed jingliu. he wants to tell you that his master would’ve never thought such a thing. but he doesn’t, and lets you mother him all the same.

he needs this too.)

jing yuan appoints you as his personal healer, even as his advisors protest. they question your ability—after all, how could a good healer not even mend the one she loved most?

that moment is the first and last time you ever see jing yuan angry. it fades as quickly as it comes, however, and you are appointed as his personal healer nonetheless. you remain by his side for the next few centuries, watching as he grows more and more into the role of the general. the pain of your loss doesn’t heal—not fully, at least, but it scabs over.

still, you can’t help the ache in your chest when jing yuan approaches you one day, a young boy at his heels.

“this is my disciple, yanqing,” he introduces. the boy has flaxen hair, and expressive amber eyes. there’s a fire in them, a determination that you remember seeing in a pair of ruby ones. he greets you, politely and a little shyly.

it’s a painfully familiar scene, and the best you can manage is a wordless smile.

yanqing becomes another target of your fussing soon enough. he squirms when you check him over for injuries, insisting that he’s fine. the boy is incorrigibly stubborn. but in the end, he is still a boy. his enthusiasm, unmarred by grief and loss, brings a liveliness to your monotone life. you can’t help but sneak a few more extra strales into his pockets for swords when jing yuan isn’t looking.

(but he knows. jing yuan always knows.)

you are not happy, not truly, not without her, never without her, but for now you are content. the boys in your life give you reason enough to keep going.

yet your life turns upside down once more when the stellaron bursts on the luofu. jing yuan keeps you away from the whirlwind of conflict, assigning an elite squad of his knights to guard your house. it makes you curious, but the answer reveals itself to you only a few days after the crisis is resolved.

there, standing amidst the unconscious bodies of the cloud knights supposed to guard you, is none other than the ghost of your beloved.

she’s as beautiful as the day you lost her.

[yea-baiyi]

translation of the “true form” conversation is as if hua cheng gave xie lian a fake name when they first met, so when xie lian asks “so what’s your real name” and hua cheng panics it’s bc he thinks xie lian is asking for his dead name but actually xie lian was just asking for his real chosen name because he wants to fuck him

[ofthemorningstars]

Delicate Work

TerzOmega ~ Smut below the cut 1.8k words A continuation of an idea explored in Water's Edge

Ao3 Version

Terzo and Omega try something new. ---

Omega had been waiting for this moment for a long time. 

Of course, he didn’t know he was waiting for it. He didn’t expect it to happen at all. Yet here he was, about to embark on a new adventure, after all these years, with the only being he wanted to take along for the ride. He couldn’t believe it’d taken more than two decades to find an answer that had been literally staring him in the face every day.

He certainly felt more than a little silly, standing there in his human form, completely naked save for his mask, but he needed its glamour magic tonight. He couldn’t do what he had in mind with his claws. No, this was far too delicate work for those.

If Terzo felt similarly silly, if he were uncomfortable at all, he didn’t show it. He, too, was completely bare, spread out on the bed of tonight’s hotel room, his calves dangling off the side. His face and chest were flushed. His arms were up above his head, the perfect frame for the dreamy smile on his face. He was visibly excited, already rock hard and throbbing with anticipation. The sight made Omega’s heart skip a beat. “Mio caro,” Terzo spoke softly, reaching out a hand to Omega. Omega took it in his own now smaller, much more human hand, the back of which Terzo smoothed over with his thumb. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t hide the slight tremor. “It’s alright. I want this. I promise.” 

Omega desperately wished he could kiss him. Instead, he reluctantly pulled away after a moment to grab the bottle of lube from the nightstand. He coated the fingers of one hand with a generous amount, but then hesitated, looking down at Terzo for reassurance. Terzo’s smile was warm as he nodded, spreading his legs. Taking a breath and trying not to have an out of body experience as he watched those strange, alien hands doing something so intimate to his mate, he reached out. His slicked fingers found their target, carefully slipping inside Terzo, starting with just one digit. Terzo’s eyes fluttered as Omega entered him, groaning softly. Slowly, almost shyly, Omega began to move, sliding in and out. He could hear his breath echoing harshly inside the mask. Oh, but if there was a heaven, surely this was it. Terzo felt even better than he’d imagined.

Taking great care, Omega added a second finger. Terzo gasped, nearly causing Omega to withdraw out of fear that he’d hurt him, but Terzo caught his hand. He guided Omega into fingering him, flushing deeper, breathing hard through his nose. Omega was aching, obscenely turned on by just how excited Terzo was, by how excited he had been from the very beginning of this entire process. Terzo had said yes practically before Omega could even finish explaining the idea the night before; Terzo’s face had turned such a lovely shade of pink at just the thought of it. His teasing on stage had been exceptionally unbearable that night, and Omega kept catching Terzo staring at him, those big eyes twinkling with mischief. More than a couple of the other ghouls had picked up on the tension, had snickered as Omega passed by. If Omega didn’t know any better, he would’ve sworn that Terzo wanted this even more than he did. 

Omega began curling his fingers, eliciting a long moan from Terzo, his back arching. Omega shivered. Terzo began to move his hips in time with Omega’s motions, making soft sounds that grew a little louder with each sweep. Omega knelt on the bed next to him, cock dripping onto the sheets. He wished he could kiss every inch of skin on display, could lick up the precum that was pooling on Terzo’s stomach. The mask was feeling increasingly heavy and oppressive, but oh, Terzo felt so good under his fingers. So tight, so warm, so responsive. This was an experience he thought was barred to him, and he wanted to savor every second. Terzo reached out and grabbed the side of Omega’s mask, forcing him to meet his gaze, his eyes glazed over with a feverish lust. He held it until Omega gave a particularly forceful thrust, causing Terzo to close his eyes, raising his own hand to his mouth and biting his finger against a whine as he squirmed. 

“Omega,” Terzo panted, eyes pleading. Omega could feel the heat coming off of him; Terzo was going to cum soon. Omega wanted to bury his cock in Terzo in place of his fingers, but he was too mesmerized by the sounds Terzo was making to stop. Wanting to hear more, he grabbed Terzo with his free hand and began to stroke. Terzo’s hips nearly arched off the bed at the added sensation as he cried out. He was so close. Omega picked up his pace, beginning to sweat, waiting for Terzo to shatter. And then came the absolute last sound he wanted to hear at a time like this: a knock at the door. They both froze. “Just– Just a minute!” Terzo attempted to shout with a hoarse voice, forcing himself off of the bed and onto shaky, unstable legs as Omega pulled away reluctantly. Terzo looked around frantically for his robe as Omega hid in the bathroom, heart racing and ready to attack if necessary. Dammit! Who the hell would come barging in at 1 in the morning?! On a Wednesday, no less! What if a crazed fan had followed them back to their hotel room? What if one of the other idiots had gotten hurt? Worst yet, what if the ministry had finally caught up to them? Omega felt nauseous. “Oh, what the hell!” Terzo whispered, voice filled with anger and confusion. Cautiously, Omega peeked around the corner. There was no one else standing in the open doorway, but there was a white envelope sitting on the floor in the hallway. Terzo quickly looked around and picked it up, shutting the door behind him as softly as he could. They huddled around the envelope together. Inside, they found only two things: one of the Ghost-project branded condoms from their tour, and a note that read, “Have fun you two, remember to wrap it before you tap it!” followed by a crudely drawn winky-face and two hearts. At the bottom were all of the ghouls’ signatures, save for Omega’s. Omega felt his face heat up, his normally even temper threatening to break, but before he could open his mouth, he heard Terzo begin to swear like he’d never heard before, in English, Italian, Latin, and something else that he bafflingly couldn’t identify. He stood slack-jawed, the wind taken out of his sails as Terzo spat enough vitriol for the both of them and then some. His back was turned to Omega, glaring at the paper still clutched tightly in his hands as though it held some secret. Omega finally took his mask off, dropping it to the floor with a thud.

“And that is another thing! Even if it were any of their business, why would those idiots think that we need this?!” Terzo spun around and waved the condom around in the air, eyes wild. “We have been together for ages, and it’s not as though I can get pregna–” Omega cut off Terzo’s ranting, pulling him forward by his robe, their lips meeting in a crushing kiss. Terzo froze for half a second, dropping the condom, before kissing back furiously. Not wasting any time, Omega stripped Terzo in what felt like one smooth motion. Terzo backed Omega to the edge of the bed before pushing him down onto it. Omega pulled Terzo down with him. 

Straddling Omega’s hips, Terzo broke away from Omega’s mouth to suck at his neck, leaving possessive marks in his wake before biting at Omega’s earlobe. Heat speared through Omega. Clearly, he mused, Terzo was just as horny as before, only now also frustrated and aggressive at being denied release over a stupid prank. He saw with a thrill that Terzo was already hard again. It wasn’t what he had pictured for their evening, but with the things Terzo was doing to him with his mouth… Satanas, he’d take it. As Terzo was licking and biting his way down Omega’s chest, he reached up with a now-clawed hand to leave marks of his own down Terzo’s back. It was nice having his own body back, even if tonight would have been earth-shattering, were they not so rudely interrupted. 

As though reading his mind, Terzo growled against Omega’s skin, “We’re doing that again,” staring Omega down before taking him in hand and roughly stroking him. Omega whimpered.

Terzo briefly dismounted him to reach the lube that had managed to roll to the floor at some point during the night. Bottle in hand, he hurriedly prepared Omega, moving like he was on a mission. Climbing back on top, Terzo lined himself up before sinking down on Omega’s thick cock, throwing his head back and letting out a shuddering sigh of relief. Omega groaned and involuntarily bucked his hips in overstimulation. Terzo took a moment before he began to move, and then he was riding Omega mercilessly, bouncing and grinding, moaning loudly. His hands roamed over Omega’s body as though he didn’t want to leave a single inch within his reach unexplored. Terzo was making such intense eye contact that Omega almost wanted to look away, but he was hypnotized. Terzo finally broke the spell by leaning forward to catch Omega’s nipple with his mouth. Omega shivered, quickly taking over thrusting, desperate for friction. Omega was reaching his limit, but he refused to allow himself release until Terzo was satisfied. Gently he encouraged Terzo to sit upright enough that he could slide a hand between them. Breathing heavily and trying to hold on, he took Terzo in hand, jerking him off while thrusting harder. Omega could see Terzo was quickly unraveling, he just needed one more push…

With one last powerful buck of Omega’s hips, Terzo came across Omega’s chest with a sob. Omega tumbled off the edge right behind him, his hands clutching at the sheets, claws tearing the fabric. Terzo pulled himself off of Omega while he still had the strength before collapsing in a heap beside him, Omega’s cum trickling out of him. Omega gathered him up in his arms. They lay there together for a long while, catching their breath.

Omega was the first to speak, audibly winded. “I take it you liked it, then?” Terzo lifted his head weakly, eyes full of exhaustion but overflowing with adoration. He threaded his fingers together with Omega’s. “Si, amore mio. Very much.” Omega’s face lit up. He stole a kiss before sheepishly asking, “Does that mean we can do it again?” “Si.” Terzo had that twinkle in his eye that made Omega’s stomach do backflips. “I want you inside of me, mio caro,” he purred, kissing Omega’s fingers, never breaking eye contact. Omega’s heart skipped several beats. “But tonight, we rest. I have several ghouls to kill in the morning.” Omega laughed in surprise, having completely forgotten about the note in his ecstasy. “I’ll help you bury the bodies.”

[bongo-clash]

Peacock Au Part 1

Okay so Big Huge credit to @stealingyourbones for letting me do my own take on their amazing eldritch Danny idea!!!! This started out as me just doing a drawing but then I ended up with a whole DPxDC fic that I'll be posting the part two for at some point!!! Anyway, here's the vague designs:

And here's the part one of the fic under the cut!!! :D (Edit: Part 2 is Here!!)

There’s a Lazarus Pit forming underneath Gotham. Normally, this would not concern John Constantine at all, because it’s Gotham, therefore Bat territory therefore not his problem, and honestly he has his own things to worry about. Unfortunately for him, however, the infamous Dark Knight has somehow gotten it into his head that he can do something about it and, Hell, he’d said it would be a ‘big favour’, which meant the man really must be desperate; had to have been in the first place, he supposed, to have even bothered with John in the first place. 

Still, he’d almost kind of forgotten what a huge mess any kind of favour for Batman could be, and thus, he now holds possession of a book that is probably going to get him killed. 

Whether the actual book itself wants to kill him is up for debate, but Constantine has read the contents of this particular Book of Summonings and nothing in here seems remotely safe. He’s absolutely going to be hiding this away somewhere deep in the archives of the archives of the Justice League watchtower with an incredibly pointed ‘DO NOT TOUCH’ on it once he’s done with this, but for now, it’s the only thing he’s got in the way of sorting out this Pit problem. 

There’s an entity that exists, this book claims, that keeps the balance between realms. ‘Closes doors’, apparently, and the doors the pages depict certainly look like a Lazarus Pit. This is brilliant news, obviously, but the book doesn’t describe the entity itself at all beyond that; barely any of the other entries are as vague as this, and that plus some of the frankly bizarre sigils he’s having to draw to summon the damn thing are giving him no comfort. The only remotely comforting thing about it is that the ritual doesn’t require any blood- which either means the entity is benign, or it wants something more valuable than blood. 

…Okay, maybe not that comforting, actually. 

But, before he can consider that maybe this wasn’t his best idea and backing out would be for the best, the sigils flare with light, and Constantine squints to keep track of the way they activate, desperate for any indication of what he’s managed to summon with that stupid book. 

His feet feel feathery against the ground, like they’re barely tethered by gravity and just waiting to float away, and perhaps the seeming lack of atmosphere is fitting with how dust like stars lift from the summoning circle, bringing with them intercepting layers of purple-blue-pink-white, galaxies and nebulae being peeled off the floor. It comes with a sound- something whistling, almost. Seeming hollow, between a shriek and a bell ringing, or maybe more musical than that. It seems to change every moment he tries to focus on it, as if it’s something his ears can’t really hear but his brain is desperate to process, painful to try. 

And then, the entity begins to form. 

Unnoticeably at first, a white glow drifts forming in the centre. It congeals as Constantine’s gaze finally fixates on it, layers forming like jellyfish trails, or flowers, or peacock feathers with runic circles at the tips, fading smaller and smaller as they reach the centre, and a thing akin to a body unfolds into view at the front, a centrepiece. A child’s image of a shadow in opalescence, a strange curving feature where a neck might be, and searing-green spots of varying sizes scattered along the space where cheeks and eyes could’ve been, fading up and down across the lower-half of the ‘face’ and into the ‘hair’. He barely understands what he’s looking at, but maybe that’s the point. 

The sound of a thunderstorm rings across the room, and the curve of the neck unfolds, and it’s an eye, and the tips of a thousand twisted, cosmic peacock feathers become eyes as well, if they weren’t always. They move, wavering, either lashing or flickering from visibility. 

“And what is this?” The voice is a kaleidoscope, echoing off and from every corner of the room, and when they speak, infinite eyes become infinite mouths, too many teeth barely contained by the edges of what seem vaguely like frostbitten lips. To have something even remotely human suddenly etch itself onto the entity is somehow worse than the parts he can’t comprehend. “Who are you, to have summoned me, and seem so afraid?”

Constantine wishes, maybe for the first time, that it hadn’t been an obligation to do this alone; he’s never wanted Batman or one of the Light members with him more than now. It’s a difficult thing, almost impossible, to shake off the speechlessness. It’s a wonder that it’s possible at all, with how the room seems to have been twisted into a vacuum. “I was told you could- you could help with the pits?”

“The pits. There are many pits.”

God, this is creepy. “The Lazarus pits to, uh, to be specific. There’s a huge one cropping up under Gotham that’s not supposed to be there, and the local- I mean, the locals are getting antsy about it. …I heard you can take care of them.”

“I can smell its blood between the gaps of atmosphere, encircling. You, whose soul is bound in so many directions, who may be pulled apart like meat in time- can you sense it? Does it draw you?” John doesn’t know how this- this thing knows that, but he’s scared asking will invoke some kind of consequence, and more and more he’s wondering why the Hell he decided to do Batman this favour. He feels exposed. 

“Uh… no, I don’t think so. But can you fix it?”

“Yes.”

“…Will you fix it?”

The chill is getting to him. Goosebumps are running across his arms like a livewire, and he’s never doing anyone a favour ever again. The entity makes an approximation of a hum, his ears shriek with whale song and stars, and after a pause, everything switching up and down on itself, the peacock eyes form into huge, reaching hands. For a second, Constantine’s whole body freezes with terror, because he’s petrified the thing’s going to grab him, but then the arms tumble phasing into the ground, and the green spots on their ‘face’ flare with a supernova glow and they make another piercing noise, chiming or trilling. 

A long moment later, the hands slowly return to the entity’s back, and fade into the peacock feathers or jellyfish bells or whatever they were before, blinking at him. “It is gone.”

“Uh… cheers?”

“It will not return, but this place shall see its dead for some time. Try not to look.”

This is maybe the worst day of Constantine’s life. “Can I- uh, yeah, great advice. ‘Appreciate it. But, can I ask just, y’know, what you are? Or not.”

“That is up to you.” They say, and though the eyes that appear briefly between sentences bely or reveal no expression, it feels scrutinising. “What is it that closes doors? Is it alive?”

He hates riddles. He hates riddles and he hates cosmic horrors and he hates eldritch entities and he hates Batman for getting him to agree to this horrible favour. He wants to go back to the House of Mystery and pass out for long enough that this whole thing becomes a dream. “Fair enough! Forget I asked- cheers for sorting out that pit, though. Uh, don’t suppose you’ll just let me go on my way or anything now.”

“I know of your Bat.” 

Oh dear. Constantine’s stomach sinks like a shipwreck into the Mariana Trench, but the entity moves on like they’d never even said it. “I will recede, and find you in time, perhaps both. You will know when I am coming, and I will find my recompense.”

And just like that, their whole form shimmers into clouds and pearls and smoke and mirrors, and they fade back into the runes that summoned them like tap water down the drain. The galaxies they’d formulated within the confines of the room fold back in on themselves and turn to whispers and then nothing, but the feeling persists on his skin long after weight has settled back onto his bones. He hadn’t known a thing like that existed until now. He doesn’t know what it can do, doesn’t know how all-encompassing it truly is. 

And he owes it a favour. 

Crap. 

[polaroidcats]

Ugly crying & the marauders generation - a pseudo-scientific approach (my marauders crying PhD abstract)

Abstract

In recent days, there have been a variety of claims as to who the prettiest and ugliest crier in the marauders generation could be. This paper aims to address the recent surge in opinions on the matter, and categorize different approaches as well as add a new approach to the scientific examination of ugliness/prettiness when it comes to crying. I hope to provide readers with an overview of the current state of research and encourage all marauders scholars to add their own and I intend to make a contribution to the discourse by committing to the bit and writing a pseudo-academic paper about it instead of actually working on my thesis.

Introduction

In the following paper, the discourse about 5 marauders era characters will be examined in regards to their various levels of perceived ugliness whilst crying. Scholars who may ask why Peter [Pettigrew] is not included in this analysis are advised to refer to acclaimed marauders ugly crying scholar @lynxindisguise's (2023) original poll on the popular blogging website "tumblr.com" which did not include Peter, but rather two non-marauders characters named Lily and Regulus. This paper will follow that approach, since Peter is the nastiest skank bitch I have ever met, I do not trust him and he is a fugly slut. The characters included in this approach are as follows: James Potter, Lily Evans, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Regulus Black.

Following the scientific criteria for ugly crying, as stated by lynxindisguise et. al (2023), the question of the ugliest crier can be answered by observing the crying person and assessing their ugly-levels on the following parameters: (1) unbecoming facial expressions, (2) facial swelling/blotching, (3) unsettling noises, (4) snot factor, (5) tear volume, (6) general loss of dignity, (7) glistening eyes/lashes, (8) Victorian heroine factor, (9) elegant tear-wiping, (10) post-cry glow (ibid).

Criteria (1)-(6) can be categorized as the ugly crying parameters whereas (7)-(10) are pretty crying parameters, creating a false binary between ugly and pretty crying, which may be problematised and addressed in another the paper. In contrast to lynxindisguise’s original 10 criteria to measure the aesthetics of crying, this paper proposes to add (11) explosiveness of cry as another ugly crying parameter, in order to get a more clear assessment of where on the ugly-pretty crying scale a character falls.

The ugly crying parameters

(1) Unbecoming facial expressions

James Potter is mentioned in this category by several marauders scholars: @jaylienpotter talks about his red face and ugly sobbing, @artbyace mentions his “scrunched up cry face” and @sectoren claimes “james (…) is that one handsome guy that when the waterworks get going becomes like. Cartoonishly ugly”, raising the question of upkeeping toxic masculinity in order to avoid having to witness more of James Potter’s crying “mug”.

Though James Potter features heavily in this category, another character who is also mentioned just as often is Remus Lupin: @kaaaaaaarf, @appreciatedmoron and @http-starboy all emphasise that Remus Lupin is the one with a red and blotchy face.

(2) facial swelling/blotching

While there is a definitive overlap between the categories of facial swelling/blotching, unbecoming facial expressions and snot factor, Sirius’ and Regulus’ victorian heroine complexions, which give them an advantage in the homonymous category, may be to their disadvantage in the “blotching” category. This will require further research by other scholars.

(3) unsettling noises

James Potter is mentioned in this category by Jaylienpotter (2023), claiming he not only hiccups when crying but also that “his cries are one of the most heartbreaking things you’ll ever hear” and similarly, artbyace states that “James loves and feels so loudly”, whereas “Sirius is silent”, both sentiments are reminiscent of znelda’s (2023) statements that James “was allowed to feel his emotions freely in a loving household” and “Sirius (…) [is] used to hide [his] feelings and [has] become stoic”.

With several other scholars, among them also @jamesunderwater (2023) raising the point that James may be the ugliest crier due to him being “the only one well adjusted enough to have access to his feelings” this raises the question of possibly introducing another category, maybe of emotional awareness/stability to be able to measure this parameter more efficiently, though emotional vulnerability may also just be a part of the unsettling noises parameter, suggesting that there is a correlation between noisiness and the existing environment being welcoming to and accepting of various expressions of emotions.

(4) snot factor

The most popular winner in the snot factor category seems to be Remus Lupin, with several scholars agreeing that his sobs are the dampest and snottiest out of all the candidates. kaaaaaaarf (2023) writes “he turnes all red and blochty and snot drips out of his nose (…) he cant (sic) not cry with his mouth open as well so there is a lot of spit”, and appreciatedmoron (2023) agrees with kaaaaaaarf on this.

It only seems right to me to include spit in the snot category as well, seeing as they’re both crying-related bodily fluids that add to the ugly-cry factor. http-starboy (2023) also mentions snot in regards to Remus Lupin, which compared to both their comments in (1) opens up the question of how unbecoming facial expressions, more particularly redness of the face and snot factor may be related, as several authors seem to write about both specifically in relation to each other. Whether this is just pure coincidence or not would need further research, for which we currently do not have enough funding. This is only one of the many research gaps in the relatively new field of marauder’s ugly crying studies, which cannot fully be addressed in this paper.

James Potter is also mentioned in the snot category, namely by the marauders scholar artbyace (2023).

(5) tear volume

Artbyace (2023) claims James Potter is “full on bawling” which can only be assumed to refer to tear volume, but the most convincing argument for tear volume comes from the acclaimed marauders scholar @fruityindividual (2023), stating that “tsunami warning tones go off in sirius’ brain anytime remus is close 2 (sic) tears” which already indicates high levels of tear volumes. The author then goes on to specify the volume by claiming that “indeed the ocean wishes rj lupin would jump in and help contribute 2 (sic) rising sea levels”, further emphasizing the volume of Remus's tears.

(6) general loss of dignity

@pastaplatypus (2023) writes about James Potter not being able to do a Melodramatic Bollywood Cry, which is perceived as inherently racist by the crier.

I would like to argue that Sirius Black also deserves to be mentioned in this category. While as of today, with less than 1 hour left to vote, 15.5% of voters agree that Sirius is the ugliest crier, the more outspoken voices all argue for different ugly criers. Due to their upbringing, I am tempted to name both Black brothers in the “loss of dignity” category and look forward to reading future contributions to this discussion.

The pretty crying parameters

(7) glistening eyes/lashes

Undoubtedly Sirius Black deserves to be mentioned in this category. I believe his dark lashes and glimmering eyes are part of what makes him the prettiest crier. Whereas Remus’s eyes also sometimes glisten or appear red, and it is usually attributed to be caused by drug consumption, which more often than not is a wrong assumption, but he happily goes along with the pretense of being a weed-smoking bad boy in order to hide his ugly crying damp tendencies.

(8) Victorian heroine factor

It almost seems superfluous to even mention Sirius (and, to a lesser degree, Regulus) Black in this category. This category was made for Sirius, as is apparent when reading lynxindisguises (2023) description of the victorian heroine factor, in response to a question by the scholar @plecotusauritus:

“the Victorian Heroine Factor is a deeply scientific assessment of the Vibes. Is this person giving tragically beautiful, windswept Victorian Heroine, sobbing gently into their hands while sprawled across a boulder or a well or a fountain of some sort? When they look up at you, do their tear-plumped lips part elegantly as a single tear slides down their cheek?”

(9) elegant tear-wiping

There hasn't been a lot of research in this area, but I would like to propose handkerchiefs with embroidered initials and family crests as another potential factor in favor of the Black brothers scoring high marks in this category as well as the Victorian heroine factor.

(10) post-cry glow

Artbyace (2023) claims “lily is always beautiful (…) even when crying”, which is echoed by znelda’s (2023) earlier claim that “Lily (…) [is] a woman and no woman is ugly when crying.”

Sirius is the other popular choice by marauders scholars for this category, with @in-flvx (2023) stating that he “handsomely handsomes while dying after 12 years of torture hell and another year in shackles”, which would mean that “a few tears would[n’t] stop him from being the hottest person in the room at all times” (ibid).

Additional parameters

I am suggesting to introduce an additional metric in order to further specify and better assess the ugly-crying levels:

(11) explosiveness of cry

@felixantares (2023) introduces the idea that Remus “is the type that very few people have been seen cry because he ignores every difficult emotion hes (sic) ever had (…) and it all explodes at once and its horrible to watch when he breaks down”, a sentiment shared by several of the other authors mentioned above in various other categories.

Further opinions & conclusions

The most popular consensus seems to be that Sirius cannot be the ugliest crier, sometimes also in direct comparison to his brother: @spindrifters (2023) answers the question of the ugliest crier with “obviously it’s regulus”, elaborating that “at least [it’s] definitely not sirius bc (sic) reg is canonically less handsome in all ways” which brings up the question if regular beauty plays into ugly crying. This is contrasted by lynxindisguises argument, that Sirius may be an ugly crier because he’s so gorgeous, and his ugly crying subverts the expectations of beauty:

“the most beautiful man alive looks hideous while crying, and his deeply awkward and perpetually damp bf (sic) is literally in his element while crying – dampness becomes him, you might say.”

This statement raises yet another question – does regular crying make the crier more or less ugly? Can an ugly crier become a pretty crier by practice or are we all born either ugly or pretty criers, condemned to this fate for life?

While this paper has given an overview of the current state of research to ugly crying/pretty crying, it has also raised many more questions. Other topics which may be addressed in future papers also include the philosophical question whether ugly crying is in the eye of the beholder and if it is possible to ugly cry without being perceived, and if it is possible to ugly cry if the person perceiving you doesn’t find it ugly. Since the research field of ugly crying is a relatively new one, we can only hope to read many more opinions on these and other topics in the future, and I look forward to reading different scholar’s approaches to these highly relevant topics.

[spectrumgarden]

I keep thinking about how no one seems to think about nuance when it comes to like, the concept of "autistic traits / symptoms" and discussing them, and how that is intertwined with the push to not consider it a disability. And its complex to discuss, but here's my convoluted thoughts. I know it's long but I hope people will take the time to read it.

There are in fact people who do fit some commonly associated with autism traits that are not impaired by them. Let's make up a guy, for a second:

They like routine and repetition a lot but easily handle change in them. For example they wear the same set of clothes for years with no desire to ever branch out, but if you made them wear something else they wouldnt really be bothered by it as long as they dont think it's super ugly, etc. They like to watch the same movies over and over but happily agree to watch other things with their friends when spending time together, and are engaged and interested in those movies. Etc. They speak very formally or choose "complicated" words for things that could be expressed easier. They however do not face problems with communication beyond annoyance of others because they're able to rephrase things easily to be understood, and they also have a normal back and forth in conversations and initiate conversations normally. They sometimes engage in subtle self stimulating behaviors and recognize the desire to do so during boring or stress inducing times (which pretty much everyone does, btw). They dislike loud environments but do not respond with melt- or shutdowns or any other "severe" reactions, and while for example preferring to go to a museum over a club, they easily go through their daily life in busy areas like city centers, shops or cultural events like parades without issues beyond like, mild annoyance and no desire to stay for longer than necessary. They have strong interests in seemingly random topics and spend quite some time researching or engaging with those, but they do not view the world through the lense of said interest, they do not neglect caring for themselves or fulfilling academic or professional responsibilities because they are so engrossed in their interests, they are easily able to hold conversations about other topics. I could go on.

This person would not be diagnosed with autism by any doctor who pays attention to the impairment clause of the diagnosis. They would probably be told "you're subclinical / you do not meet enough criteria / ..." While his person would probably relate quite a bit to (parts of) descriptions of (level 1 and / or low support needs and / or high masking) autism. And this is an imaginary person I made up, but these people obviously exist (and as a side note, are probably what people refer to when they talk about "everyone being a little autistic" etc)

And this person being told they're not autistic might be upset. Because clearly, they have so many autistic traits. They relate to so many videos! But the thing is! There is no impairment! The one thing that connects all of the symptoms related to autism to the actual diagnosis. This does not mean they do not in fact relate to the autistic experience. This does not mean these parts of their life or personality are fake / non existent / not important to who they are and how they experience things. But it is important to differentiate. If they consider themselves autistic, if the world considers them autistic, it waters down the definition to a point of being categorically useless from a medical standpoint, from a standpoint of figuring out who needs support and in what ways. Who needs (early) intervention, who needs extra support in school or at work or at home or in public.

And like. Humanity at large will probably always want to shove themselves into random categories. "Which character are you like?" "What is your personality style?" "What is your star sign?" or "which sports team do you support", and countless more come to mind. I dont think this imaginary person is wrong or silly for wanting to find a category of people they are like, or recognizing this similarity with some autistic people. I wouldnt even mind if they made up a non-clinical category / group of people who relate to autistic experiences without the impairment. It would get the point across that it is a group of people with shared experiences, but it is not the same as autism.

However autism is increasingly treated like something thats just a personality type without impairment, by people online and offline. And when they go "this is an autism symptom" without nuance, without looking at the need for impairment, or even differential diagnosis, it spreads that attitude. "Liking to eat the same foods is an autistic trait"... or is it normal to have food preferences to a degree if it does not cause you stress to eat new foods, if you are capable of eating other food if hungry and presented with them and not the food you prefer? Or is this person anorexic and their mind has created categories of "allowed to eat" and "not allowed to eat" based on arbitrary categories relating to their fear of weight gain? "Only eating with small spoons at home is a common autistic trait"... or is it a harmless preference as long as you are still able to eat food outside a strict routine set up with zero possible deviations? Or is it a person with OCD and eating with small spoons is a compulsive behavior for some sort of intrusive thoughts?

I could go on forever. But in the end, these short sentences are all the same. They are, at the same time: autistic experiences and allistic experiences, because they are so non specific. They are watered down and any additional information is removed.

autism is about a specific combination of experiences that impair you. That's literally all it is. It does not automatically turn us into a category of "other" that is fully not possible to relate to, because we are human too. And some of it will be relatable to people that are not autistic!

And there is value in discussions of experiences of autistic people that go beyond the impairment, as long as we do not forget about it, or treat it as secondary instead of the defining factor. I dont mind if autistic people bond over something they're not impaired by, that they see as a common experience, for example not easily going along with authority. Being creative. Preferring the small spoon (without being impaired by it while having other impairments), whatever, and call those common autistic experiences. But those are not the pillars of what make up autism and solely relating to them should not be your reason for calling yourself autistic. Neither should relating to commonly impairing symptoms without being impaired by your version of them. The impairments resulting from abnormal development are what makes someone autistic.

There needs to be more nuance, detail, when discussing autism symptoms. And the push to, at the very least, expand autism into an area of experiences that do not cause impairment of any kind, or worse claim it never caused impairment, need to stop. It does not help anyone.

I genuinely think part of the whole "everyone is autistic these days" crowd who likes to go after people and invalidate them has picked up on some of this, but they lack the skills to criticize it for what it actually is and / or they want there to be a simple solution, which is that everyone who calls themselves autistic online who does not fit their very stereotypical view is faking. They are wrong of course. But I dont think this comes out of nowhere. There is something to criticize about how autism is treated in many circles, especially among younger people.

I'm really not sure how to end this post because I like to come to some conclusions on my long posts but just. Uhm. The way some people treat "autistic traits" as completely unrelated to the impairment they cause while staying exclusively autistic traits is wrong. The way people try to redefine autism is harmful and in the end not needed because they could simply invent other words for that experience.

[gaytedlasso]

A day spent with the American gaffer who has been tasked with bringing AFC Richmond out of their extended period of mediocrity. While his accent and vernacular are quite what you’d expect, don’t let them fool you into thinking you understand everything about the coach underneath. If the Lasso way is wrong, it’s hard to imagine what is right.

[dvasva]

Tbh? I think the radiant emperor duology deserves more critique than it gets in its tag, so after stewing it over for a couple weeks and also discussing it with my friend, I have decided to do it myself.

So. Spoilers for She Who Became the Sun and He Who Drowned The World ahead.

First off, so nobody accuses me of hating the series, I liked the series. I'd say I'd give the first book a 4.5/5, I thoroughly enjoyed it, and I like both books. I truthfully skipped the fisting scene, it triggered some dysphoria that I wasn't comfortable with personally but I don't have problem with it existing in the book, it's good where it is, no changes.

No, my critiques come mostly from the second book, hwdts. Which sucks because I absolutely loved Baoxiang in it, it's a well known fact that my ideal type is pretty, really mean, characters. ('What about Madam Zhang?!!!???!? Shes mean and pretty!!' I hear you ask. Give it a second cause i will get to my beloved madam zhang) So, my critiques are mostly organized as 'The first part I didn't like in Hwdtw that signals the thing that became my biggest issue, the bits in the middle that i did like along with the bits that I felt didn't really work well, and Act 3 which is where my issues really were exacerbated.'

By the end of book one, I had a general annoyance but acceptance that Ma Xiuying was a bit of a weak character, and not weak as in 'dang shes a woman and cant fight' or any other sexist way you may interpret that, but weak as in structurally, she didn't really have as much depth as other characters. I thought she didn't have as much time put into her character as others. And yeah you could have a million character analysis essays over Ma and her place in the story and etc, but for me, her setup for the next book as potentially having conflict with Zhu or her own morals was the most interesting part of Ma. In general I think a lot of people tend to overlook this flaw partly because Ma is a cis lesbian character and the main 'love interest' in a book that is usually marketed to people as sapphic, which yeah there is certainly a sapphic relationship in the book but I think saying it's a major part of the book is really giving the relationship a load bearing wall ot isn't strong enough to carry. The Radiant Emperor Duology is not a romance, first and foremost. To describe it as a wlw romance is gonna leave people who read ot specifically for that reason kinda dissappointed by the end of book 2.

My big critiques didn't start until book two, and a particular scene, though. Ma, at the start of book two, was generally filling the niche of 'nagging wife' to zhu, which yknow, is a fine place to start from. I was a little disappointed there was no further discussion of Ma's disapproval of the morality of Zhu's actions, and in fact the dead child was pretty much entirely forgotten by Ma in favor of being Zhu's wife. Which, yknow, sure.

The Scene I had issue with happened (Spoilers once again) after Zhu finally captures Ouyang and imprisons him at her base of operations. Ma, dressed in her empressly regalia enters his room with the intention of being the bigger person. She walks in, looks at the stripped down and humiliated general who killed her father and famously is also really a women hater, and tells him she forgives him for killing her father. And then she gets upset and cries when the prideful general who hates women gives her a dressing down and taunts her and is like 'I'm glad I killed your father'? She nearly cries because Ouyang was mean to her (notably only cause he was mean to her and didn't gracefully accept her forgiveness, not because he killed ehr father) and runs off to Zhu. And Zhu responds with 'Wow, he's just a weirdo, everyone likes you and everyone in existance immediately knows you're a good person and you change people.' Which, my friend suggested before she finished the book, was a case of Zhu placating Ma and dismissing her feelings which would be an interesting dynamic.

Really my hangups with this scene come from multiple parts.

1. Ma' few character traits including being observant and reading people really well (a thing she's praised for in book 1) and having good social intuition are completely thrown out by her thinking being alone with ouyang and forgiving him would be a good idea and then her being shocked and upset when he spat on her forgiveness. And

2. Zhu's response is never once treated by the text as her dismissing Ma and placating her, and Zhu's statement despite never being shown to be true before and that moment being the first time it's ever mentioned, ends up becoming Chekov's moral purity by the end of the book, where the plot hinges on Ma being able to magically heal a damaged character's mind enough for Zhu to win in the end. Which I will get back to. There's a lot of other stuff happening between here and the end.

So, before I get back to Ma and her role in the story, I'll address some other bits from after this scene. Both problems and things I enjoyed generally.

Madam Zhang and her parallels to Baoxiang and her being the absolute queen of dissociating really was interesting (before act 3). She was a very compelling character who I completely understood and felt positively about. She had a way more interesting relationship with gender imo than Ma did, especially in book 2. I didn't really like that she was overwhelmingly shown having sexual villence done to her, that felt weirdly like a punishment. But, I did like her a whole bunch, and I liked the look we got into her head. She was probably my second, maybe third, favorite character in the whole book until Act 3.

I really, really liked Ouyangs dynamic and relationship with Zhu. The weird sexual tension between them, their weird kinda nonsexual but also kinda very sexual S&M relationship. It was somehow the most sensual, sexual part of a book that featured Madam Zhang having sex with multiple people, and Zhu going down on Ma, and a lot of other mentions of sex or scenes involving sex. Tbh I feel like, in a way, Ma was left to the sidelines for most of the book because Ouyang became the primary 'love' interest for a hot second there and the only reason Ma could get her spot back was Ouyang and Zbu's separation. Also, from what I've seen when people talk about this book, they always kinda try to express Zhu and Ouyang's dynamic as very nonsexual and nonromantic, as platonic mostly. And there is no inherent superiority of romantic over platonic, but I think to insist that it is only platonic, and not a strange swirl of romantic, platonic, sexual, frustration and relief, and a swirl of familiarity and vulnerability all wrapped into one, is doing the dynamic a bit of a disservice. And ther is, imo, very clearly a subtle hint of romantic intent and interest on Ouyang's part before he realizes Zhu has a body he hates.

Which is also another point I didn't like. Ouyang and Zhu's relationship end felt off. The entire bit with the pirates felt off, but especially how Ouyang found out about Zbu's body, and how Zhu reacted. I think Ouyang finding out second hand, from a combination of being suspicious and from Jiang saying it, was a poor way for that to be revealed. I think there was a better way for that to happen that woyld have felt more like a betrayl to zhu than this did. The fact that Zhu and Ouyang were so in tune and could see each other perfectly, but this one thing was a blind spot for both of them because of how unaffected by gender Zhu was compared to how overaffected by gender Ouyang was is a really interesting thing to explore, an interesting disconnect between two character's whose entire basis for their relationship is 'like recognizes like'. I think Zhu seeing it as a betrayl would have been more impactful if she had presented this informatuon to Ouyang herself and been rejected than how it went down. And, I think her not realizing Ouyang would be disgusted that he felt connected and felt a sameness to someone with a body he found grotesque and that he feared would have been more interesting for zhu, who views herself outside of womanhood and didnt really think that other people would not see her outside of womanhood, if she was the one who told ouyang herself.

Also, less importantly, think going into Ouyangs annoyance that zhu kept moving his target further away was a good move but it wasn't expanded on as much for my taste. I also really liked it when (spoiler) Xu Da dies, and that entire part despite some minir bits, was extremely good in that Zhu finally has tasted loss. She had, up until that point, been riding a wave of positivity, she was the underdog who won over and over again despite all the odds and despite her own reckless choices. So I did appreciate that everything went wrong for her at least once. that would have been, imo if other things were changed, a good place to end a book two in a three book series. Which will make sense as to why I mention it im a bit.

I also didn't like how Ma was nonexistant unless the plot was like 'ok we need to remind people that Ma exists.'

And there's of course other stuff but those are the main points of acts 1 and 2 that i wasn't fond of or that i liked.

Act 3 is a wholely different behemoth which can be encapsulated with 'I wish it was longer but also different' (courtesy of the convo my friend and I had).

My friend and I both agreed that we liked this kind of courtly drama game it was playing. My friend doesn't tend to like the structure or writing style of a lot of the chinese wuxia, danmei, or courtly drama translated books i read, so it was nice to know that the genre content isn't the issue for her there.

The biggest problems I had with the ending though was 1. I think Baoxiang and Ma had an interesting dynamic despite it being really rushed and how distasteful I found the entire concept of Ma being such a good wholesome goody good good person that she could change Baoxiang, quiet his demons and fix him in some way. That was annoying in an otherwise interesting dynamic. And 2. I think Madam Zhang's character traits and cleverness and all that were wiped away to make her inexplicably jealous of Ma in a way that I don't think fit her character and just served to fit a trope of jealous empress who hates the favored concubine.

So, here's my major proposed changes.

1. Ma gets sent to Khanbaliq extremely early on. Like, act one maybe after ouyang is captured early. This serves three purposes. A. Ma has something to do and is more present in the story. this could be a good xhance to let her actually feel frustrated or upset at Zhu in some tangible way that needs to be resolved or talked thru eventually. B. she gets more time to build a relationship with Baoxiang, whose entire defeat hinges on him having a strong connection with her. and C. Her absence in the other parts of the book feel less like she's being ignored or forgotten. It makes Zhu's lack of haste more than just a way to annoy Ouyang, and turns it into an interesting moral choice. Should she rush to Khanbaliq to save Ma or trust that Ma will be ok in favor of gaining power? Her lack of haste means Ouyang leaves, depressed, and she loses Xu Da, all while she doesn't even have the assurance that Ma is ok, she is truly at her lowest point with nobody with her. If Ma is in Khanbaliq and that's explored, then Zhu and Ouyang can also explore their dynamic without Ma feeling a bit like she is battling for Zhu's attention.

2. Madam Zhang is suspicious of Ma, or feels actually tangibly threatened by Ma. In act 3, Madam Zhang's anger towards Ma feels really out of place. She got exactly what she wants, she is empress, her emperor isn't interested in removing her from her position and her position isn't threatened by anyone. Baoxiang won't get rid of her, he won't demote her, he has shown zero sign of ever even considering it. So, why is Madam Zhang jealous of Ma? Imo, especially since she very clearly has dissociated into oblivion and has no love or affection for anyone anymore, and no real desire or motivation to secure her position further aside from maybe producing an heir to make sure shes taken care of after Baoxiang dies, there's no reason for her to be inextricably jealous of Ma. It kinda just erases all of Madam Zhang's political savvy and cunning into jealous, petty woman, and that sucks. If she was suspicious of Ma's intention, or Baoxiang genuinely expressed spmething that actively threatened her position, her hatred of Ma would make sense, but instead she hates Ma cause Ma is ugly and spends every night with Baoxiang. She hated rice buckets concubine cause that concubine used a lot of funds and competition genuinely made her position less stable. She needs better motivation for hating Ma.

3. As I mentioned earlier, Zhu needs to be the one to tell Ouyang that she does not have a dick. That's just all around better, it feels more like a betrayl to bare your secrets and be rejected, etc etc.

4. The duology should have been a trilogy, with book 3 starting when Zhu is at her lowest, ouyang is dead, ma is in khanbaliq, Xu Da is dead, a new guy is the emperor. This is where a book three should have started. in a series that has so many important characters, i feel like it needs more space. she's in a 10 gallon tank when really she needs a 30 gallon tank. Lots of it, especially towards the end of book 2, felt rushed and the extra book will absolutely push that back a bit and make it less rushed.

Anyways that's my critique of The Radiant emperor duology. Once Again, I liked the series, its one of my favorites i've read all year. I don't dislike it, and having a critique or opinion about something doesnt mean I didn't like the book or understand the book (because obviously if i understood it i would understand why its flawless). I liked it, there are things I wish were different, that's it.

[anewp0tat0]

late as per usual, but this was April's theme back at the Black Butler Animo: (video)games!

I chose a game that not so many people know but still is my favorite game so far(I mean sure I haven't played so many but whatever) so yea, I'm gonna chose it as an AU. the dialogue is pretty weird cause I'm trying to cram exposition in there lol, but whatever, hope the art's fine atleast.

*ciel speaking*

*sebastian, then ciel speaking*

*ciel speaking*

[deoidesign]

Hello I stumbled across your profile and I just say I love your art style! I've gotta ask, how'd your develop it? And do you have any advice for someone who can't decide what they want their art to look like?

Thank you so much!

To be entirely honest, I don't feel like I truly "developed" my style. I feel a lot more like I finally let myself draw it! But I am incredibly deliberate with my work, and I do have clear tendencies and preferences... So I'll do my best to explain how I got to where I am now as an artist.

It's important to remember that "style" is something of a nebulous concept. It changes with you as you grow as a person, and most artists can work in and emulate many art styles! Art really is a form of communication with yourself, and your "style" is a reflection of the tendencies and preferences you have. My art does not look how it looked 5 years ago, and my art will look different 5 years from now too. I've changed, and my art reflects that!

(2012, 2018, 2023; two pieces I remember being incredibly proud of and considered my best work up til that point, and then my most recent piece)

What you need to do, as everyone will tell you, is study the fundamentals (anatomy, perspective, form and structure, lighting and shadow, color, and composition) so you have the proper tools to make the most informed decisions possible about your art, and so you can deliberately break or follow rules as you please for your desired effect. I know it sounds silly to learn rules if you're not gonna be following them anyways, but they help you be much more consistent and intentional! More knowledge is NEVER a bad thing to have!

However, I know it's a bit demoralizing to just be told to study fundamentals. Everyone knows you're supposed to do that, but it takes YEARS to learn, and people want their art to feel how they want it to now (which is very very very normal to want!)

So on that front, I have 2 follow up suggestions that I personally find helpful (of course, everyone is different, so it's not like this is the only way to learn! But, if it resonates with you, it might mean it will work for you too.)

1: Separate study from application

I believe this is beneficial for a few reasons:

If the goal of every piece is learning, it can become frustrating, overwhelming, and boring

It's harder to self critique when there are multiple variables to investigate. I like to study one fundamental at a time

Study (usually) works best with a large quantity of output, whereas application of knowledge (finished pieces) is often more satisfying and effective when you get to take your time

Deliberate practical application of what you've learned in a finished piece helps cement the learning in your mind, and also lets you get satisfying finished pieces with noticeable improvement after a good study session!

I've found that keeping these things separate helps me improve faster and more deliberately, and it takes a lot of the pressure off of both aspects! I'm not worried about my studies looking beautiful, they're just to learn! And I don't feel pressured to critique my finished pieces, cause they're just for fun and to make something pretty. I personally find this helps me have a much healthier relationship with my art.

When studying, copy! Copy things as best as you can, all the time. It gives you something to compare to for self critique (and of course, if you're copying someone else's work and you share the study, ALWAYS give credit, share the original, and say it was for study.) In application, don't copy: reference. Make it yours!

2: Let yourself do the things that feel "easy" or like "cheating"

This one is simpler: nothing in art is easy.

If something feels easy to you, most of the time it's not because it's actually any easier... It's because it's part of your natural tendencies and preferences! This took me forever to realize, but as long as you're actually doing some study, then you're learning. You don't need to learn All The Time. When you're doing the "application" portion, you should let yourself do whatever is actually the most fun and feels easiest! This is where your style will start to come through, and where you get to learn about yourself. Take the pressure off, and have fun!!!

The only cheating in art is theft. If you're not stealing, then it's allowed!

My whole life (and yes, still!) I'd get regular criticism about both my style and my subject matter. You will too. You'll see a thousand different styles, and a hundred different things to admire in each. Your heart will ache that you don't draw like others do.

But art is a form of communication with yourself. It's like your voice, or your accent; just something that's a part of you! It can be fun to mimic others', but when you sit to have a conversation you speak naturally. (I know some people want to and do change their voice, but this is a metaphor and metaphors aren't perfect)

Don't stress so much about what you want your art to look like, especially if you're not sure. There's a lot of value to be had in constant experimentation, I think it'd be rather boring to only draw one style the rest of my life. What I draw is what I want to see, right now, for who I am now! It's a part of me and comes naturally, if I let it!

I hope this helps!

[charles-simmons-fanfiction]

Late summer nights - Todd Anderson / Neil Perry

Description: Neil is a summer person, and Todd is a Neil person. That's the story. 💛 [fluff, 800 words]

By the way, this is based off of this post! It's a headcanon by the super cool and awesome @perksofbeingpoet <3 This was so fun to write, I might write more summer fics with dps <- me projecting how energetic I get during summer on them

Todd could swear he would pass out from the heat any second now. Neil, on the other hand, hadn't been this energetic it's been weeks.

"Physics homework, done!" Neil exclaimed victoriously, closing his notebook and throwing it on his desk.

"Already? How?" Todd had just finished the first half of his work, and he hadn't even started the one for chemistry. Soon summer break would start and the teachers weren't taking it easy on them, not that they ever did.

"It looks like it'll rain tomorrow, explains why today's so hot," Neil ignored his question. The window was wide open and he had half his body out of it, only a small push away from falling. "We should go outside! While we still can, y'know."

"What? No, I still have way too much work to do," the physics assignment in front of him was pushed aside before he could protest.

"I'll give you the answers and explain them to you tomorrow. C'mon!" Neil grabbed him by the arm. Todd wanted to insist, but he wanted to go with him a lot better.

They had to be silent while they sneaked out, so, naturally, they couldn't stop laughing. It was quite a struggle and they had to be constantly shushing the other.

Once they got outside, the hot wind blew on their faces. Todd considered going back in again.

Neil smiled and, without any warning, took off running to the woods, laughing way too loudly as Todd tried to catch up with him. They didn't stop running for a while, to not risk getting caught.

"Oh my god, shut up!" Todd covered Neil's mouth with his hands, pushing him against a tree to keep him quiet. "Are you crazy?? There's no way no one heard us!" Despite his heart beating quickly from the adrenaline, he could only laugh with him.

"Carpe Diem, my dear," Neil's voice came out muffled and he gently took Todd's hand off his mouth. "We'll be fine."

For a few seconds, neither of them said anything, looking into each other's eyes, close enough to feel their hot breath on their already warm cheeks. A light breeze wiggled the trees and everything felt silent, except for the crickets probably not too far away.

Neil's deep brown eyes seemed to shrink when he smiled, almost sparkling as he looked at him so contently. His pink lips were slightly parted and a strand of hair had fallen on his face. He had an image of graceful disarray, and the night suddenly didn't feel as half as warm as his presence did.

"Your hair is getting long," was all that Todd managed to say.

Neil was caught slightly off guard and chuckled. "Yeah, I have to get a haircut soon."

"Please don't," Todd asked, maybe a little too fast. "It looks great like this."

"Thanks," they broke eye contact awkwardly, not knowing how to continue a conversation, and also not really wanting to.

It was way too hot. Todd couldn't understand how anyone could even like summer. He had always hated the way his hand felt sweaty, and how hard it was to fall asleep even with the window open. Also, any class outside was insufferable if there was sun.

At the same time, Neil seemed to be doing so well. And let the truth be said, it only took a little attention to see how depressed he could get some days. But not recently. No, Neil seemed to be genuinely doing fine.

Todd smiled at the thought, and for the first time, he hoped summer would last as long as possible. "Next weekend, if we finish our homework, we should go get ice cream. To make the heat more bearable," he shyly suggested, mentally repeating "carpe diem" to himself.

"I was thinking about that! I'm sure the other's would be super down for i-"

"Wait, no," Todd stopped him. "I meant like, you and me."

"Oh," Neil was taken aback, but nodded slowly, a smile creeping on his face. His tone was soft when he spoke. "Yes, I think we should."

The two went silent again, and Todd did his best not to smile like an idiot. The next hour wasn't anything but mundane chatting and walking around, but they wouldn't rather be anywhere else.

At some point, Neil tried to take his hand as they walked, but Todd pulled it back. "It's way too hot for this," he complained, yet eventually gave in and took Neil's hand back. Neither of them mentioned it.

"I love summer," Neil stated matter-of-factly. "It's easily the best season. To me, at least. What's your favorite?"

"You"

"What?"

"Autumn"

Again, neither of them mentioned it. Although Todd briefly considered hitting his head against a tree and just staying there forever.

That night, Neil fell asleep as soon as he got back to his dorm, without even changing. Todd didn't, it was too hot. He sighed, and looked at his roommate, who was smiling in his sleep.

"He's crazy," Todd thought, still not getting why anyone would like summer, but suddenly not feeling so bad about it. He fell asleep with a soft smile too. At least they'd get ice cream.

💛.

[sanjithesimp]

♡ fallen angel ft. park jimin♡

a/n: omg this came so soft yet so f*cking HAWTTT. i’m in love with this fic, like at first i hated the way it was going but as i continued writing i couldn’t stop.

warnings: nsfw (minors DNI). pwp. alcohol mention. toxic relationship mention. oral sex (m! receiving). unprotected sex. fingering.

w.c: 1.4k words

summary: he was so addictive, you didn’t know what it was about him…but you couldn’t stop seeing him, letting him do as he pleased with you.

playlist suggested to listen while you read this <3

“you really don’t want anything to do with me?” he said, offended “that’s not what you screamed last week when i was fucking you in your friend’s bathroom” he whispered, his lips grazing your neck. you were trapped in between his arms and his broad chest.

“no, not at all, park jimin” you freed yourself from his strong arms, although deep down you wanted to feel his body against yours. you were just playing hard to get, but you both knew you would end up begging him to fuck you hard. and you also loved hurting his ego.

he rolled his eyes and followed you around, but somehow he lost you. and before he could turn around and go back to where you were originally, you pulled him inside an empty room.

“you’re such a dirty sl-” you didn’t let him finish, pressing your finger on his plump lips.

“shhh…just shut your damn mouth, and don’t fucking ruin the moment” you said as you slowly kneeled in front of him. the sight of you looking up to him made his cock twitch, dirty thoughts flooding his mind. he loved it when you overpowered him

you bit your lip, as you started to unzip his pants, and reveal his cock that was already pocking through his boxers. suddenly you heard the door open.

“what the fuck are you doing with my boyfriend, bitch?” you turned around, to see who the fuck interrupted you two. then you glanced at jimin, he was just as surprised as you were.

everything after that was all a blur, there was insults and lots of yelling. so you decided to go home, and wash it off with a hot shower and a freshly made pizza from the joint close to your apartment.

what you had with jimin was never serious, so you didn’t really had a conversation about your past relationships or that jimin had a crazy ex-girlfriend. your head started hurting again just trying to make sense in what had happened a few hours before. it was not your problem.

“fuck it” you said and decided to completely forget about it and enjoy the dumb romcom you were watching. but jimin had other plans, he messaged you.

j.m: i’m outside, can we talk i brought the doughnuts you like ;) . you sighed, guess this wasn’t really over.

you opened your door and there he was, as handsome as ever. wearing that smile that made you weak in the knees. the reason that you could never say no to him.

“come in, it’s freezing” you said, rubbing your shoulders as the silk robe was the only thing covering your body.

“well, its your fault for wearing that” he said, scanning your body slightly bitting his lower lip.

“stop that” you said blushing and yanking the doughnut box from his hands. “you owe me one after what happened at the party” you said as you sat in your couch.

“i’m sorry, believe me i really wish she didn’t interrupt-” you punched him, although it was nothing to him. he cleared his throat “ but really, i’m sorry. i didn’t know she was back from wherever she went after we broke up…she’s just crazy” he said, sitting next to you.

“what happened between you two?” you asked him.

“i think we shouldn’t talk about these things” he said, clearly not wanting to talk about it anymore. and you could see it in his expression, how it had changed completely…he almost looked anxious.

“i’m sorry, let’s do something else…could i interest you in watching a cheesy romcom that you probably already know the ending before it has even started?” you asked him with a smile while you brought the pizza to the living room.

“sure, why not?” so you started playing the movie from earlier.

as the time passed and jimin almost ate half the pizza, you both started getting closer until there was no more space between you two. you had never been that close without taking your clothes off, but this time was different, it almost felt as if you were a real couple. you could hear him breathing softly as he held you tight around his arms.

you had been friends for not so long, and it all started when you became fuck friends after meeting in a random app. but weirdly this felt as if you had been together for a long time. you wanted to stay like this forever. it was like a dream you never wanted to wake up from, but it would eventually end.

“hey, what are you thinking about?” jimin asked you, bursting the thought bubble you were in.

“oh nothing, i’m going to get some popcorn. want some?” you asked, trying to erase all those thoughts you had earlier.

“wait, stay here a little longer” he said pulling you back, and into a kiss. his soft lips against yours, your hands on his chest feeling how his heart was beating fast.

“let me make up for what happened earlier” jimin whispered in your ear.

“mmhmm” that’s all that you managed to say, as he slid his hand under your robe, his fingers playing with your folds. he rubbed circles around your clit. drinking away any soft moan that came out of your mouth.

this felt different. it wasn’t that desperate, needy sex you had to take the stress away. were you almost ripped your clothes off and went at it. it didn’t feel like all those times when you were bored. this was soft, and sweet. you could feel that every touch was filled with love. jimin paid attention at every move and sound you made, wanting to know what you liked.

you slowly got rid of your robe. “you look very pretty, you know?” jimin said, stopping to take you in. his eyes were soft and loving, what he was saying was genuine. you had to look away, feeling heat on your cheeks.

“is it because i’m fully naked in front of you?” you reply.

“no, it’s not- i’m being serious here, you are a very pretty woman” he said, making you smile from ear to ear.

“and when is it your turn to take your clothes off?” you ask him, teasingly.

“is that what you want?” he asked, you knew he was going to make it a little difficult for you.

“yes, that’s what i want. it’s not fair being the only one.” he laughed and started to take off his clothes.

he looked ethereal, the way his skin glowed with the little light that was coming from the tv and the small lamp in your living room. you had never really looked at him like this, of course you knew he was hot, but this time you looked more into him. he was not just hot, he was beautiful. you couldn’t help but your eyes roamed all the way to his cock, the veins that covered it, the way his mushroom tip leaking with precum. unconsciously you were biting your lip.

“hey, eyes up here” jimin said, noticing the way you stared at him.

“i- i know” you stammered and tried to hide the way you were explicitly looking at him, while dirty thoughts flooded your mind.

and as if he could read your mind, jimin got closer to you until you could feel his chest against yours. “do you want me to fuck you?” he asked against your lips.

“yes, please” you said, sighing as you felt his tip grazing your wet folds. he started sliding himself inside your walls, feeling how they adjusted to him perfectly.

“fuck, you feel so good…” he said once he had bottomed out.

his thrusts were slow, making you miss his cock filling you every time he pulled out, leaving only his tip inside. his kisses burned on your skin as he whispered how beautiful you looked under him.

your moans were music to his ears, as he started speeding up. the way you clawed your nails to his back letting him know that you were enjoying it as much as him, as well as the few tears that rolled down your hot cheeks. “i- i’m cumming” you said under your breath.

he continued thrusting in and out of you, his grip tightened around your hips. he could feel himself close to his own orgasm too.

moans and whimpers left your mouth as he filled you completely with his cum, as he kept on fucking you until the coil on your belly snapped. you could almost see a galaxy of stars, the bliss of the moment was too much, it felt so good. none like the other times you two had sex. this had felt special.

likes, comments and reblogs are welcome :)