#New record timing on writing

[angel-wings-storys]

Layers of naturalistic hell (TW warn: dark topics, death, mutilation)(kinda based on the Devine comedy)

Titus Marcellinus, once wrote in 20th century (pre-communist era)

"what if hell had layers? Each one having a different sin associated?"

Each layer has different biomes that belonging to mother nature"

"limbo is the least harsh, being an almost Erie and lonely looking

"place, you won't meet much people here, but if you end up here you

"were either: a baby who died young, an unbaptized person, or someone who had never known god nor Jesus"

"wandering the lonesome, almost familiar planes despite never setting foot until this moment"

"layer 2 is for lust, you are surrounded people of your interest but, you can never talk to them, in a park filled with empty feeling plains"

"never getting to interact with them, they're like ghosts, you can't touch them either, interaction you never get to have, yet no matter you're personality you feel alone and ignored"

"layer 3 is a place filled with wild animals, all wanting a taste of you're flesh, this agony is caused because of gluttony, constantly chased, and you slowly starve and get weaker until they finally get to you"

"it takes place in a dense jungle, once you get caught by the animals you get devoured alive, and then you come back to life in different spot as if nothing happened, but you keep the memories of what took place"

"greed is a cold landscape filled with people of whom you hurt for short-term fulfillment, all mutailed, bodies frozen and dead way beyond saving, the more into you're past you venture the more mutilated and rotten the bodies get"

"but no matter where you venture, you can see them frozen in time with anguish & pain on their face upon realizing you used them"

"you slowly freeze you're self, getting frost bite and nasty cold related diseases, once you die you come back to life in a different spot to begin the spectial again"

"layer 4 is rage, in the tree tops there are birds nests, but they are everywhere, if you crush them you will either be electrocuted by a demon or you get swooped by the mother leaving big cuts or even picking you up, if you fall to the forest floor there are thousands of eggs making it almost impossible to not eventually step on one"

"layer 5 is wrath, a field filled with untamable fire, and you are stepping on glass, the glass cannot be melted by the flame of hell, you suffer from fatal burns and wounds, yet you never die, just a consistent suffering"

just got writer's block, so I'm going stop it here, got 440 words, and 2,465 characters, which is on the lesser side of essays, in like 4 hours +creative block and minus writer's block it was 2 or 3 hours, edit here's some music to listen to while reading this

[paradox-n-bedrock]

me in big fandoms: oh cool, it's so active and there's so many people to vibe with, this is amaz-

*finds my niche angle that appeals to approximately six people*

me: okay, folks, it's you and me now

[remxedmoon]

(You don’t know how much longer you can do this.)

hi the wip for this was absolutely not supposed to blow up. why does that have 1k notes. horrifying. anyways!!!! it’s update time baby!!!! 64 new assets this time around!

so that’s what the caption was supposed to be. this update was already pretty damn big and took a ton of time to make!!! and i was finally done!! but then my hand slipped and now we’re at 143 new assets. super sorry for the delay! That Was Not Supposed To Happen.

i’ll go more indepth below the cut, but this update encompasses all menu/profile art for both isat and sasasaap, battle portraits for sasasaap, every single pixel icon in isat (to my knowledge anyways), the dialogue skipping animations, and a few miscellaneous additions.

also i spent too much time on these to put them below the cut so Please God Look At My Icon Resprites I Spent 16 Hours On Them. enjoy!

okay first things first. why the hell is this batch 143 assets. so. i HEAVILY underestimated how many times the menu drawings are used in the games. even removing all of the custom art, it’s still ≈30-40 variations! that’s a lot! and once i finally finished everything, i got Posting Anxiety and somehow convinced myself that attempting Animation And Pixel Art (two things i haven’t done in YEARS) would be easier than writing a normal post. so here we are.

the custom art here is pretty much par for the course at this point. extra menu art for bonnie, extra expressions for the party in act 5, we’ve done this enough times that it’s expected. i am aware that bonnie’s custom menu art gets completely covered by the ui. i kept it in because it’s really funny (and also i didn’t feel like extending the sprite (but then the sasasaap version forced me to extend the sprite anyways so Whartever)).

once again, provided a spritesheet for sasasaap’s battle portraits! i do intend to cover both games, it’s just a slightly lower priority atm. unlike isat though, i’ve got Less (read “No”) experience with sasasaap, so there might be more issues with those assets?? apologies if there are, i’ll try to fix any issues that come up!

the Miscellaneous Additions i mentioned above are the sprites used on the teleport map and the loading screen, which is just a tiny version of the skipping animation. they were pretty small, so i figured i might as well get them out of the way!

not actually much to say about the 75 icons surprisingly! i haven’t done pixel art in about 5 years?? and that’s a Travesty actually these were super fun to make. i did make mockups for the overworld sprites earlier, but they aren’t Officially part of the redraws (yet) so they’re getting posted seperately

and also!! some exciting news!! this project might actually become a Proper Published Mod pretty soon!! i’ve been in contact with someone who’s willing to help me get everything set up, and i’ll be getting a Usable Computer around the end of the year!!!! it’ll still be at least a month before it’s up (i’d like to get the enemy art finished beforehand wauaua) but!!! still exciting!

okay, i think that’s everything relevant to the update!! i Definitely can’t fit all of the relevant assets here lol. but i’ll try my best ! please enjoy !!

[stealingyourbones]

I’m so glad I started to listen to Star Trek audio dramas. The silver age comic levels of whimsy and shenanigans in them is incredible.

[pinkshiftbites]

nothing (in my head) - the deep dive podcast

premiering 9.26.24 on patreon

[nevertheless-moving]

But Peter Parker (no not that one, the other — yeah that guy) does actually have an OnlyAdmirer’s account though.

He doesn’t remember exactly when he started it — sometime after losing the job at the pizza place and before picking up the tutoring hours; he remembered he was short for one of Aunt May’s prescriptions that month, but isn’t sure anymore which one it was. Sometime during college.

Low ebb on crime that week, which meant he wasn’t making much from the Bugle, but he did have some extra time, enough to take a deep breathand set up the encyptions on his account (he should probably go this hard for all his spiderman stuff too, but eh, it had been fine so far).

He wears a mask (no not that one, though he did consider it because, you know, it would be freaking hilarious).

He pulls...a grand, whopping total of.... $100 a month. Wahoo.

Ok, maybe a little more on average; and sometimes its up to $200! It’s just worth the fees and the time, and after a while he has to admit it’s less stressful than any of his other gigs.

At first he’s paranoid about someone finding out, both in his personal life and his superheroics (he has, like, 10 self righteous rants prepared about the moral neutrality, nay the moral Good of sex work).

(He’s a little disappointed that it never comes up.} Eventually he doesn't think about it, especially not on patrol, not any more than he thinks about the taco shop, or the GrubHob gig, or any of the bazillion odd jobs that come with working class heroics. Eventually he doesn’t think not to mention it, and the set-up was perfect for him to — ok— sue him, he might have been trying to sound cool in front of an X-Man who was laughing at his jokes— He, uh. May have forgotten. How much X-Men gossip. It’s not like it would have been a big deal had the press event not happened two days later, and— why do other people always get a laugh when they repeat his jokes anyway!

Plus! He was on maybe two hours sleep when the tabloid asked him point blank and for a moment he was so wrapped in the euphoria of a non-Bugle rag interviewing him, and also not yelling at him for damages or anything serious, that he forgot he lived in a world where sex-work was stigmatized so— yeah. Good news! His secret identities are still fine, no-one’s even figured out which OnlyAccount is his. Bad news! Because his secret identity’s still intact, and noone’s figured out which twink is spiderpowered, he’s still only going to make $134 this month, which is barely more than minimum wage when you include prep time.

Other good news! Most fun he’s ever had explaining something from the internet to Jonah.

[thevioletcaptain]

I know the ask is about ships but could you make a non ship one with Dean and Carlos from the Winchesters? I can't think of an exact thing for Dean to say, but the first sentence can be what Dean would say for their first meeting. Thank you if you can (*^‿^*)

"I like your hair," Dean says, staring up from where he's clinging to the bottom of Mary's winter coat, and Carlos grins wide when he adds, with all the breathless gravity of a four year old eager to impress their opinions upon a new friend; "It's swooshy and it's pretty like Mommy's hair, and your-- your beads are pretty and shiny and shiny is my favorite color."

"Swooshy and pretty and shiny is exactly what I was going for, so thank you, little buddy."

Even with almost six years between now and the last time he'd seen Mary, Carlos is relieved to find that they still have a good sense of one-another -- can still communicate silently, swiftly, like they used to when it was life or death. He meets her eye, and her face softens, and understanding passes between them before he slides one of his lucky beaded bracelets -- the bloodstone one -- free.

Dean's eyes light up when he takes it.

When he smiles, he looks just like his mother.

[for this askbox game if anyone else wants to send me a prompt]

[hanzajesthanza]

dandelion is indeed the worst but if he’s not present in the next book i would legitimately be sorrowful as the whole thing will become a slog . you basically cannot have the “short stories” era-of-the-timeline iteration of geralt without dandelion, it would be like eating unbuttered bread.

though it’s not like season of storms did them dirty, i wasn’t disappointed with it (… with regards to them), but since it’s literally been over 20 years since the saga was finished i’m trying to prepare for any potential reality

[becca-e-barnes]

It's been a really busy week so I'm just going to indulge myself and talk about exactly what I'd love to be doing rn with CEO!Bucky

When I imagine CEO scenarios though, I don't think of the reader as his assistant or an intern. Maybe the CEO and his comms director. Someone he considers an equal because I think that's a hell of a lot more sexy and still has a power imbalance 🥵

He knows you're incredibly capable. He knows you've got more drive than anyone else in the company. He knows you've spent years pushing yourself to get to where you are and you're determined to keep climbing.

But at the same time; it's nice to get a break from that too. Sometimes it's nice to just be tossed around and given orders. You get to switch your brain off and give in to whatever feels good.

And that's how you found your knees hitting the plush grey carpet of the CEO's office on a Friday afternoon.

"Good girl. So fucking pretty." Bucky's hand on your chin directs your face upwards. He's continuing the task you started a few minutes prior; stroking his own cock at a leisurely place and enjoying the sight of you in front of him with your blouse missing the top few buttons.

There's nothing else you'd rather be doing right now. There's no other release that lets you unwind like this. You don't have to think about anything other than the glossy bead of precum gathering on the tip of your boss' dick and the way that even the sight of it makes your mouth water.

His other hand is still holding your chin but you don't want to just watch when you can do so much more than that. You lean over, taking the head of his cock in your mouth, flicking your tongue over the very tip to lap up the precum you've been craving.

Your hand replaces his, jerking his length slowly with a measured pressure while your tongue swirls, keenly licking away any fresh evidence of his arousal.

"Fuck." He groans, melting into your eagerness. He's had a long week too. You know he needs this as much as you do but he's just as respectful as ever, conscious not to press himself into your waiting mouth.

"I bet you're wet already, aren't you? You look like such a sweetheart. No one would ever guess that you get off on sucking my cock. I bet everyone thinks you're so innocent but they don't get to feel the way you drip down your own thighs after you swallow my cum." You imagine that mouth of his has got him in plenty of trouble over the years but fuck, you love it. You swear he could probably get you off just by talking to you.

You hum happily, taking as much of his length into your mouth as you can manage, wincing slightly the first time his tip nudges the back of your throat. Your flat tongue rolls against the underside of his length, your hand cupping his balls and you feel his palm settle on the back of his head.

"You're so fucking keen." His blunt fingernails scratch gently against the nape of your neck and it feels like such a tender gesture. You get to be unashamed of how keen you are with him. There's no embarrassment or reservation. You don't have to hold yourself back to save face and it's refreshing to want someone this much.

You head bobs on his length, your lips forming a perfect tight ring and every now and again, you're rewarded with the sharpness of some fresh precum smeared onto your tongue.

"You should slow down, sweetheart. I don't want to finish yet." His voice is a little strained and it's beautiful. Now you're torn though. You don't want this to end but you're desperate to feel hot ropes of his cum splash over your waiting tongue and across your face.

Somewhat selfishly, you do as you're told. Your body reminds you of your own desperation and you don't want to ruin your chances of getting bent over that desk.

[novelconcepts]

the truly problematic thing about having insanely vivid dreams just about every night--and i mean the kind of vivid where you remember details days or even weeks later, like it's just another normal-ass memory--is that you wind up losing track on an emotional level of what's real. like. i know that was a dream. obviously it was a dream. but some part of my brain misses it like it really happened. i am painfully, achingly nostalgic for people i've never met, places i've never been, shit that literally could not ever happen--but i feel as though i remember. which is just the most unhinged thing, right? like, i remember going on a run that took me over a fence into Disneyland, and i remember having to take a shortcut through a Chinese restaurant, but it was fine, because Erika Ishii was there, and they'd done this before, so no worries. right? no! obviously not! why do i remember this with such visceral clarity three weeks later?

oh, what's your favorite episode of this TV show? the one i dreamt. yeah, don't worry about it, it didn't make coherent sense, but it was in the feelings, right? my ship had the best fucking scene. no, of course i can't explain it to you, that's madness. it involved a rocking chair. don't worry about it. it's fine. it's super important i don't accidentally reference this in a fic someday, though.

this shit is deranged, dude. missing people who are quite literally my own brain's invention with an actor's face. missing places that are a meld of a movie i saw once, my childhood bedroom, the second floor of my high school, and inter-dimensional space. like. no! no, this shouldn't be a thing! is, though. the clarity of it. just fucking bananas. this has been happening to me my whole goddamn life.

[haru-chi]

Can we talk about Reiko for a bit ...

(I wanted to write this one because I wanna see how far this theory of mine going to develop in the future)

I don't know how to start with this one or from where exactly, but I'll try to make it organized as much as possible despite the chaos in my mind ><

I saw alot of people's theories about Reiko's husband or that some believe that he's Yorishima or other different theories about her, but I had very different theory about her or maybe her story in general. ...

- Her connection to the exorcist world

I guess it's already a given that her husband might've been an exorcist which in result would also explain how she knew about some spells .. but the connection doesn't seem to end there I fear.

the first time Natsume went to an exorcist gathering someone recognized him as Reiko, was that a human or a Youkai ?? but I believe it might be a human more than a youkai. since...

when Nanase first heard his name, she asked about Reiko so that prove exorcists do know of her somehow, she said she knew of her from the youkai, but is that really true ??

I mean one of the reasons Seiji was interested in Natsume was because of Reiko, in the manga (we don't talk about the anime ver here cuz it's too different ugh) when Seiji start threating Natsume, it was because he wanted info about Reiko that badly but what kind of info ??

Seiji also said the same as Nanase that he heard about her from the youkai and that it's natural to want to know more about someone this powerful since they're rare ...

that can be normal if Reiko is alive, but she isn't .. would you go as far as threating a little boy to get some info about someone who's already died ?? unless what you want is something that she left behind so you're desperate to get this info to the point you're threating like that perhaps ??

now you'll think, " oh so they heard about the book of friends from the youkai?!!!"

but nope, I don't believe it's from the youkai such rumors spread, why do I think so, you ask ??

in the same chapter, Madara stated even if Seiji heard about the book of friends, then that's likely from human than youkai since the youkai by instinct won't mention such a thing which hold their own life in it especially not to exorcists.

maybe it's as a myth or uncertain rumors, when and how did it start I don't know but I think the exorcist world DID hear one thing or two about Reiko and the book of friends.

in the same chapter of when Natsume first went to the exorcist gathering, Natsume realized that the book of friends must be kept a secret from those people, I tend to think of such things as having indirect meaning since Midorikawa-sensei craft her stories carefully so I took this as indirect sign that they already knew of it one way or another which led to what I'm gonna bring up next.

Now that I established that the exorcist world do know of Reiko one way or another be it as a myth or more we're yet to actually see or confirm

PS : it's normal for Natori to never have heard about Reiko or the book unlike Seiji or the others since Natori wasn't always there or grow up in this world and he's hated on top of all.

-Next is about Reiko's death

now to the next question, how did Reiko died ?? do we actually know the details ?? was it an accident ? sickness ? or killed ?? all we know is that she died at a young age leaving her daughter behind.

when Nanase showered Natsume with all those questions about Reiko and her way of death, Natsume stated that he only heard she was found died under a tree one day, nothing else is known. I smell a crime here :)

now if Reiko was indeed killed by someone, was it a human or a youkai ??

personally, as far as of now, and as far as what I stated before, I'd go to say it's a human who killed her and an exorcist at that too.

I don't think I need to state why she was killed; the aim was the book of friends :)

another reason why I believe it was an exorcist is ...

Madara stated the first time Natsume went against exorcist that he can't protect him against such humans 100%. I mean Madara for sure knows what actually happened to Reiko be it her life or her death, but he chose to stay silent about it, so if he was there but failed to protect her then he said this line out from experience.

also, an exorcist is the one who sealed him in his cat form, so what if this happened when he tried to protect Reiko from her attacker ?? but he got sealed while Reiko got killed.

and what if that time when Madara went berserk after seeing Natsume get hurt by an exorcist's arrow was very triggering to him because it happened before ??

thus, I kinda feel so far all of this point out to Reiko being killed by an exorcist more than by youkai ...

something else I think of is, where was her husband ?? her husband mostly an exorcist, right ? now what if he's the reason all this tragedy occurred, that he's the reason Reiko got into the exorcist world, that be it by him or someone around him the existence of the book of friends became known which endangered them all.

what if he tried to protect his family so that's why he was never there when Reiko had his daughter, or maybe simply he died in the line or work since it isn't a normal line of work ?

now where does that leave Yorishima in all of this ?? he clearly knows Reiko and the book of friends, if such myth or rumors going on in the exorcist circles then you can't convince me that the "walking dictionary" never heard of such a thing, he's also older than he looks so he might've witness it all. actually, what if that's the very reason he cut ties with the exorcist world ??

at first, I was like he might be the one who sealed Madara or Reiko's killer and out of guilt decided to live in isolation but Madara has no reaction when they met the first time so that was the end of that idea before it starts xDD

does he know Natsume's grandfather ? was he related to what happened to Reiko ?? many ideas go through my mind, but I don't know so far too little info for me. but that's one of the reasons why I'm against him being Natsume's grandfather and why I think the role he plays is different :)

(actually what if he's Natsume's uncle than grandfather?)

hmmm, that sum up what I have about Reiko overall, I feel I forgot to mention something but more or less that's all I hope, there's a missing link which I'm searching for (mainly Natsume's grandfather, Reiko's husband but yeaaah) but for now that's what's been living in my mind. I do have other few adjustments to the theory but will keep it to myself until I see which way it rolls with future info's.

just imagine what if Reiko's killer was a Matoba or even a Natori the paper master's family, or will it be a family we never heard of before. plus, whom to say his grandfather wasn't from a family we already know too if he's an exorcist :)

when will Midorikawa-sensei give us new info about his grandfather, been hungry for more since I know the next info gonna be a big one for sure T^T

anyway, I'll end this post with this panel and leave it at that.

[sysig]

Greetings, human! ♥ (Patreon)

[statementlou]

Hello, do you think is possible that we will get a FITF live album? Louis and the band sound so good on tour.

they doooo! I love Steve's arrangements and additions to the songs so much! Honestly I have no idea; on the one hand it seems like Louis might be more focused on moving towards new stuff, like we are still in FITF mode but by the time it came out he had had it forever and now he's well into LT3 and probably feeling more excited about those new songs and sounds; on the other hand he is very good at working the industry stuff and all the angles and it's basically free money, right? He has said FITF was a further step towards the sound he wants most rather than the finish line, so it's possible that as happened with Walls as he works more on the new one he is getting less enthused about sharing the old stuff; but I think adding Steve's arrangements and just moving away from some of the songs seems to have lessened that this time around, so maybe that isn't a factor. Here's the thing though: the only way it would happen or make sense I think would be if it was recorded pretty recently, like one of the UK shows; the show was still being tweaked and gelled and cooking until then. But if they wanted to make vinyl (and surely they would? fancy double vinyl of live albums is SUCH a thing), that is very very long process of waiting around these days. First you have to get lacquers made (this is the physical thing that the recording is cut into that all the records are duplicates of- if you want quality it has to be more or less handmade by an artisan) but one of the two places left in the world that made those burnt to the ground in 2020 so there's a super long wait time on that. Then it just has to get made; but there are basically ten large scale factories left (again, in the WORLD) that press records so that also has a very long wait time... so it would take forever and the thing is I think we're getting LT3 in the late fall/ early winter (I bet he's using this month to finish it up so it can begin this lengthy process). So I kind of don't think so, like I guess they could do a CD/ cassette/ digital only in late spring and make so much money, and it would be fun, but who knows. Either way, I just hope Louis has Steve do some production work on LT3, I like his sounds and ideas a lot, and that he keeps him around to do his tours forever!

[icewindandboringhorror]

Apparently I can meet my goal of roughly 400,000 words in 6 months if I just somehow write at least 2,200 words a day ghbjh... Almost 2,500 today... huzzah...

[bittsandpieces]

Only one person asked but that's all I need, so: here's my little excerpt from one of my writing pet projects! Content warnings for: fictional depictions of incest between brothers, offscreen homophobia, and uhhhh silly names

Some info on the setting and characters! The Cobbler family, parents Lisa and Jeff Cobbler, and their nine kids, from age 7 to 26, all named after types of cobbler dessert (their mother is... an eccentric powerhouse). This excerpt centers on two of the older set of triplets, fraternal brothers Blackberry and Strawberry, who are 21 years old and in their junior year at the same local university. Rumors have been flying and things come to a head.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, breath rushing warm and humid across my cheek. I laughed, just a little bit.

“I’m okay, I promise. Are you?”

“Strawberry, I’m not the one who got in a fist fight ten minutes ago, I’m fine!”

I smiled at him, feeling my face protest loudly. “I did, didn’t I. I got into a fist fight, Bick!”

The anger in his eyes softened, and was replaced by a questioning look. “What they were saying, Berry, was it true?” Flashes of audio came through my mind. Queer, I think they had been saying. Like it was an insult. I might have said it the same way, once.

“Yeah, I guess it is. Though it seems like they might have figured it out before I did. Funny, how shit happens, huh bro?”

We were standing close to one another, still in the entry to Blueberry’s dorm room, dusk-blue light filtering through the curtains, just barely. I made a move to step back, to give him some space, but he grabbed my arm, searching my face for something.

I don’t know if he found it. I don’t even know what he was looking for. But I do know that the light coming into the room made him look like some kind of painting come to life, and that his eyes were shining, and I swear I’d never seen something so damn beautiful as he was in that moment.

“Yeah,” I repeated, dumbly, ”it’s true.”

And the moment that had stretched thin in the air snapped, just like that.

He pushed away from me, off of the entry wall, and began pacing across his room. He was mumbling, I realized, agitated in a way I had rarely seen him.

“Bick…” I started, but he didn’t let me finish.

“NO, Strawberry. No, no, no, no, don’t you even talk to me right now. I never should have- this is all my- UGH. If I had just kept my fucking mouth shut, none of this would have- fuck, who told you? Was it David? It has to have been David, there’s nobody- oh my god, I trusted him-”

He stopped abruptly, turning to face me with something that I almost thought was, was fear, but that didn’t make any sense, why would he be afraid. Was he afraid of me?

And my brain caught up with his words, finally.

“Who told me what?”

I’d never seen my brother look so defeated.

“That I’m in love with you, Strawberry.” He laughed, a little, but it sounded a lot more like grief than joy. “I’m in love with you, and you’re going to hate me, and I’m going to be known as the guy who couldn’t maintain a goddamn relationship because he wanted to fuck his own brother. God. God, what have I done.”

Oh.

OH.

I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I saw him like I’d never seen him before, in that moment. Like I’d always seen him. Pacing again, pulling at his dark hair, a silhouette against the fading evening light through the windows.

My brother. My triplet. My favorite person. My life.

I stepped towards him, stopping his pacing with just one touch. He whirled towards me, tears in his panicked eyes, his mouth open just a bit, breathing heavily from his panic.

I took his face in my palms, feeling the beginnings of stubble catch on my skin. I stared into his eyes, seeing his hands hovering in my periphery, halting in mid-air, like he wanted to touch me but didn’t know if he could.

“Blackberry Mint Cobbler.” 

He flinched, just the tiniest bit, and I almost lost my nerve in the face of his fear of my reaction. I pushed on.

“I have never hated you, not one second of my life, not even in sixth grade when I said I did because you gave my lunch to Rebecca Simmons. I don’t hate you now, and nothing you could ever do would make me love you any less than I already do.”

His face screwed up on a shaky inhale, and I was helpless as I leaned my forehead in to meet his. 

“I’m not good at words, Bick, you know I’m not, but for you, I’m gonna try. I love you. I have a list in my head of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen, and three quarters of it are mental pictures of you.”

His knees began to buckle, and I pressed him to the wall with just my body, refusing to let go of his face or let him fall. He made some kind of sound when I did, some mewling exhale, eyes sliding closed, and I decided in that moment that I would do anything to hear it again, for the rest of my life.

“I know I’m slow on the uptake sometimes, and I think maybe I’ve made you wait for me to get it for far longer than you deserve, but if what you said is true, if you love me. If you want me. Then… then I’m here. I’m here Bick.”

I felt tears running down my cheeks, felt my brother’s tears on my fingertips.

We always did match each other in the ways that counted.

He exhaled, that sound that he made when we were nine and he fell off of his bike down the street from our house slipping out from his lips. When I had gone to him, limping over, restricted by my knee brace from when I had torn a ligament a few months earlier. “Hey Bick, don’t cry,” I had said, pointing to my knee, “we match now!” He had made that sound, like I was being ridiculous or maybe incredible. I never found out which.

He spoke, and I came back to myself.

“What are you doing, Shortcake?” he asked me sadly, like he had resigned himself to his fate without ever asking me, using my oldest nickname, like he was trying to remind me who I was talking to. He pulled back, making me meet his eyes again, though our bodies were still pressed tightly to one another against the wall. I didn’t think he could stand right now, and I wasn’t about to risk him falling.

I thought about his question, moving one hand to trace over his brow, pressing out the tension, though it returned immediately. 

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “What do you want me to do?”

He shook his head, displacing my hands momentarily, tensing up again.

“No, no, Strawberry, you’ll hate me,” he said, tears in his voice.

I pressed against him just a bit more, an idea forming in my mind. He inhaled sharply.

“You already told me so much, Blackberry, what’s one more thing?” My tone was cajoling, almost demanding. “I’ll even help you.” He looked at me, like he had never seen me before. To be honest, I hadn’t ever seen this side of me either. It felt dangerous, almost, but right. Like right now, in this moment, this was who I needed to be. Who he needed me to be.

“It’s okay, brother. Just repeat after me.”

I saw a flush begin on his cheeks, different than the one he got from crying. One I hadn’t seen before. In that moment, I felt him twitch against me, and knew that what I saw was arousal.

“I,” I began.

“.....I-I,” he echoed me.

“Want you to.”

“W-want you to.”

I smiled, feeling a new edge to it. Predatory, I thought.

“It’s your turn, Bick. Tell me what you want.”

He closed his eyes, clearly fighting himself.

And I saw the exact moment he gave in.

He opened his eyes once more, meeting mine, scared and fierce, beautiful and messy. He spoke.

“Kiss me.”

----

I pressed against him, burning hot, pressing my lips to his, remembering everything he had ever told me he liked. I kissed him, and felt him shake, and knew that I would do anything for him, that I would take on the fucking universe for the man against me, kissing me like he thought I might disappear at any second.

I pulled away, panting, and got to watch his eyes flutter open, dark with want in the rapidly fading light.

“Tell me, big brother,” I said, rolling my hips into his, “does this feel like hate to you?”

His eyes rolled back, and then suddenly, he pushed me. I stumbled back a step, ready to catch him if he ran, ready to ask what the hell he was doing, but he was dropping.

To his knees.

I looked down, and I saw my brother press his mouth against my jeans. My hand went to his hair, his hands to my thighs, and when my hand tightened on accident, he fucking made  this sound- like a whine, and pulled harder against my fingers. 

And my vision blacked out.

When I came back, ears ringing, I had pushed his head against the wall, and my cock to his mouth, harder than I had ever been, painfully constricted in my jeans. I made to pull back, worried I had hurt him, but the moment I moved he reeled me back in by my thighs, trying to get a hand between us to open my jeans without moving his mouth.

I was helpless to stop him, to help him, to do anything but stand there, shaking, my triplet whining on his knees, struggling with my zipper before giving up and yanking my pants down, my underwear going with them.

He crowed a wordless victory, and cut himself off by shoving my cock in his mouth, down his throat, gagging and pushing through it, and my mind shut off, and I pushed further in, and he moaned on my cock, and I came.

My hand yanked him onto my cock by his hair, as heat tore me apart from the inside out, and as I began to come down, I realized what I had done, and I pulled back, out of his mouth, afraid I had hurt him.

I dropped, wincing as my knees hit the floor in front of him, cock out, still half hard, hands in his hair, and I met his teary eyes as I said his name.

“Blackberry…” I said, and my voice was deeper than it had ever been, and he keened wordlessly at me, jerked his hips forward, and came, without a single touch. He shuddered, his body tensing, shaking, never looking away from me. I could have cried with how beautiful, how fucking hot it was. Maybe I did.

He collapsed forward into me, and I twisted to get my back against the bed frame, and dragged my exhausted brother into my lap, curling us into each other in a strange mirror of how we had been in out mother’s womb, so long ago.

----

We didn’t talk, that night. Eventually, when we had both stopped shuddering, I pressed a kiss to his hair, and scooted him off of me, helping him up. We made our way to the bathrooms, co-opting the one private shower, uncaring if anyone were to see us entering or leaving.

The halls were empty, but still, we didn’t speak. We just got there, locked the door, and began peeling each other’s clothes off, slowly and carefully. I turned on the shower, and when I turned back, he was there.

I mean, obviously he was there, we went in together and there was no one else around, but. He was there. My brother was there and he was naked and his cock was beautiful and smeared with come, with his come, and I did that, I made him come, and before I even knew I was moving I had stepped to him and kissed him, reverently, softly, trying to say everything in one kiss.

When we finally pulled apart, I took his hand, and led him into the shower, which definitely wasn’t made for two people, much less two 6’4” athletes. It was perfect.

[sollucets]

fic: prisms

When Sand’s awake, he has all the appearance of being unyielding, the sharp lines of his cheekbones and his jaw all made of pretty edges to be caught on. Ray likes the edges. He can take a little pain with his pleasure; he hasn’t ever done anything else. But without Sand conscious to uphold the image, those sharp edges seem closer to the smooth facets of a glass, clear and transparent and strong enough to cause damage when it breaks.

or; Ray wakes first, in three different beds.

(2k, rated t, ray pov. technically a 5+1 about ray waking up. canon compliant to the present day / e6, hospitals + implied suicidal ideation )

read it on ao3 💜