#all i know is that i want him to be garbage

[buttsmasher]

Heard You were Talking Shit

Warnings/Tags: Gay Face Farting, Forced Face Farting, Face Farting, Fart Torture, Multiple uses of the F slur, Asphyxiation by Farts, Passing out from Farts, Eproctophilia, Face humping, Bully cums, Pisses self

Last Monday I opened my locker to find a note waiting for me. It falls to the ground and I quickly squat down to grab the note. When I pick up the note, I see that there’s a lipstick mark and just a phone number. I’m a bit confused, but I text the number anyway.

Hey? Got ur note… Who dis?

Hi cutie xx… Jalissa

Hell yeah, Jalissa is awesome. We went to high school together and I knew we were going to the same college but haven’t run into her yet. I briefly found it weird that she approached me this way but I don’t think too much of it.

We end up talking for like a week before deciding to meet up. She wanted to meet up at the gymnasium at 9:00 PM when it’s close. She has a key to the gym since she works there and I’m game.

However, when I get there, the gymnasium is quiet and the lights are dimmed.

“Hello?” I call out as I walk towards the center of the gym. “Jalissa?” When I reach about half court, all the lights flip on. 

I hear footsteps and turn around expecting Jalissa but end up seeing someone else. “Tristen? Tristen Moretti? What are you doing here?” I look around, maybe he had the same idea as Jalissa.

“Heard you were talking shit.” This moves my attention back to Tristen and I watch as he saunters closer to me. 

“What?” He’s at arms length now. “I don’t know-” He gives me a firm push and I trip slightly backwards but stay on my feet.

“Called the whole wrestling team a bunch of fags.” 

“I mean, the whole sport is a bit faggy.” I comment back. “The whole tight singlet and holding another man and rolling around on the mat. It’s all a bit…faggy.”

He pushes me harder, this time I lose my balance. “The only fag I see around here is you.” 

“Fuck off!” I go to get back up, but Tristen quickly pins me down against the floor. He does some maneuvering and I’m unable to get a good grip on him. The echoes of me and him struggling in the gymnasium is the only sound I can hear until he has my face pinned against his ass.

“I’ll fucking show you faggot.” 

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFBBRRFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTT

A rumbling six second fart hits my face. It’s rotten, smelling of garbage and eggs. I start to struggle again, but he pins my arms down to my sides and grinds his sweatpant clad ass against my face. “Eat my fucking gas, faggot!” I try to move my face away from his ass but I have nowhere to go.

PFFFFFFFFBRBRBFFFF PFFFFFFFFFFF

More vile gas hits my face and I do my best to hold my breath. Even with doing that, it’s not enough, fumes are still invading my nose.

“Bro, get off!” I grab his hips and try to buck him off, but he uses the opportunity to switch his position. He gets me into a scissor lock and uses his heels to push my head into his ass.

PFFFFFFFFFFBBRFFFFFFFFFFFF

“Fuck!” I yell out as my nose is pressed firmly against his ass. I can’t help the dry cough that escapes my lips. The rotten smell has burned its way into my sinuses and I’m starting to worry. 

PBRBRBRBRBBRRRRRR

“Fuck, that was fucking wet.” He comments above me. “How’s that smell faggot?” He releases the pressure of his heels against my head, only to slam my head against his ass over and over again. “Smell it faggot! Smell my fucking ass.”

PFFFFFFFFF PFFFFF PFFFFBBRFFFFFTTT PFFFFF

He slams my face hitting his ass with each fart bomb hitting my face. My eyes are watering and I don’t know if I’m breathing correctly. My nose hurts from the repeated slamming and the toxic fumes that I’m being exposed to.

“Dude,” PFFFFFFFFFFTTTT “Stop, please!” BBBRRRRRRFFFFFFF PFFFFFFFFFTTTTT

“Not happening dude.” PFFFFFFFBBRBRFFFFFFFFTTT “This is what happens when you fuck with the wrestling team.” 

PFFFFFFBBRRFFFFFFFFFTTTTTT

I feel so physically weak at this point, I lose the ability to even try and fight back against Tristen. “Please.” I manage between hacking.

“You want more? Cool, I can indulge faggot.” He loosens his grip on me slightly only to pull his sweatpants down under his ass. He’s wearing a jockstrap that frames his ass. 

“No, no, god no!” I begin to scream as he pulls me back against his ass.

“This is why you don’t talk shit!” He roughly bounces my face in between his ass cheeks as he shakes his. PFFFFFBBRBRBFFFFFFFTTTT His naked ass is much worse than before. His gas burns my nostrils as he keeps ripping noxious fumes. 

“Please...I-I...Can’t breathe.” He doesn’t budge any, instead he pushes harder against my face.

“Good, I wantchu to suffocate in my fat ass.” 

PFFFFFBRBBRFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTT

If he keeps this up, I’m definitely going to start suffocating. I already feel dizzy from all these butt bombs obliterating my nose.

“Gonna make you regret ever talking shit.” He’s already done that. “Eat this faggot!”

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTT

A loud trumpeting 15 second fart hits my face without any filter. Pure garbage gets spewed into my lungs and I start convulsing against him. “Yeah let the gas in. Breathe me faggot!”

PFFFFFFBBRRFFFFFFFTTTT 

He doesn’t let me recover and continues to blast me with his gas. How is anyone even this gassy? “I'm sorry! Please, I’ll do anything!” I try groveling with the little bit of air I have left. 

“Sorry faggot, I can’t hear you. You’ll have to beg louder.”

“Ple-” PBRBRBRBRBRRRRRFFFFFFFFFFFFFF He manages to fart directly into my mouth as I start talking. It’s absolutely rotten and I begin hacking up my lungs again and I feel like I’m going to throw up. “Oh god.” I don’t learn from my past mistake and he manages to fart in my mouth again, this time pushing his ass and pulling my head as hard as possible.

I feel my cheeks inflating as he keeps spewing a 15 second silent but deadly fart into my mouth. I can’t move and my whole body is shaking against him.

“Fuuuuuuck, that feels so good.” Tristen moans above me as he’s grinding his ass against my face. “You still breathing faggot?” Barely, I think to myself as everything starts to spin. I give one last attempt to fight back and push him off me, and to my surprise I get away.

I’m scrambling to get away when I feel him grab me around my waist and pull me back to the ground. “Where you going faggot? I’m not done with you?” I’m seeing triple as he twists me around and forces me back on the ground. 

He pulls his dick out of his jockstrap and starts slapping my face with his cock. I try twisting away but he grabs my head and holds me into place putting his dick under my nose. He starts humping my face and I can feel his dick harden on me.

“I’ll make sure you’ll never forget about this.” He keeps humping me and all I can smell is his natural musk and the lingering scent of his ass on my face. “This is what fucking happens when you mess with me faggot.” 

He forces my mouth open and he starts to spurt cum into my mouth. I go to spit the cum out, but then he sits back down on my face again. “Open up faggot.” 

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFBRBRBFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTT

His cum gets blown right back in my mouth and I’m forced to swallow his cum and nasty fart. It’s the most vile thing I’ve ever tasted and I can’t stop from gagging.

PFFFFFFFFBRBRBFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTT PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTT

PFFBBRFFFFFFFFFFF PFFFFFFFFFFFFF

PFFFFFFFFFFFBBRBFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTT

Barrage after barrage of fart is being forced down my throat and it’s at this moment I fear for my life. I can’t even speak anymore to try and beg for my life and I feel myself spasming. I think I may have pissed myself, I can’t even tell anymore.

All I hear is him laughing, grunting, and his trumpeting farts. I’m going to die like this.

PFFFFFFFFFFFBBBRRFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTT

PFFBBRBRFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTT PFFFFFFBBRFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTT

My legs fall slack against the gym floor.

PFFBBRBFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTT PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF PFFFFFFFFFTTBRBFFFFFFFFF

Next my arms fall.

PFFFFFFFFBRBRBFFFFFFFFFFFF

“Nighty night faggot.”

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTTTT

I lose consciousness and my head falls against the gym floor.

Minutes or maybe hours later, I awake alone. Lights completely turned off in the gym. 

“Help.” I try to yell, but my voice is hoarse. I struggle to get to my feet and all I can smell and taste is Tristen’s ass. I end up throwing up on the gym floor. 

At least I’m not dead, I think to myself as I make my way to what I assume are the doors. I open a door to find myself in a small bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror and see the state I’m in.

Jeans drenched in piss and my face is splotchy and red. Everything smells bad and I go to the sink to try and scrub my face. As I’m about to go another round of scrubbing, I feel my phone buzz.

Jalissa: Hope you had fun tonight faggot xx

I stare at my phone for a bit before throwing it full force against the wall. 

~~~Fin

Author’s Note: Another old story that I found and decided to revamp. I pretty much rewrote the whole thing at this point and changed it from 2nd person to 1st person. I also think I created a new kink for myself? Forcing cum in someone’s mouth and then immediately farting in their mouth? Hello? Has that been done before? Anyways, hope you enjoyed :3

[watarfallar]

They're gay your honour...

Grian: I feel like the world would be better if I'd never been born. Scar: Aw… that's not true. Scar: It'd be exactly the same. Scar: You're not important.

Scar: I couldn't do this without you, Grian. Grian: Sure you could. Not as stylishly, of course.

Grian to Scar: Turn that frown upside-down! a little while later Grian: What are you doing? Scar, trying to do a handstand: You told me to “turn that frown upside-down” but it’s not working .

Grian: Hey Scar, can I get some icecream? Scar: Only a spoonful! Grian: Proceeds to pull out a comically large spoon.

Scar: Why are you looking at me through a fork? Grian: I'm pretending you're in jail. Scar: Why? Grian: It's spiritually healing.

Scar: Grian, I need some advice. Grian: You need advice from ME? Scar: Yeah, frightening, isn't it?

Grian: Do you care if I take the skin off this Furby? Grian: I want to make him a god. Once he is free of his sinful flesh, he can begin a path towards enlightenment. He will take care of us. Grian: I also want to softhack his circuits. Scar: I literally could not care less but never say anything as frightening as that ever again.

Grian: makes Scar a cup of tea but puts salt in it Scar: sips tea Grian: Scar: finishes tea Grian: Didn't it taste bad? Scar: Yeah, but I didn't want to hurt your feelings so I drank it all. Grian, tearing up: Oh, okay.

Grian: I don’t even have time to tell you how wrong you are. Scar: Okay? Grian: … Grian: … Grian: Actually it’s gonna bug me if I don’t, so—

Scar: Happy Throwback Thursday! Here’s a throwback to when Grian ate an entire tube of lipstick. Grian, whining: But why would it be cherry-flavored if you can’t eat it?!

Grian: Scar, is that my mug you’re drinking out of? Scar: No, it’s mine. Grian: It… looks just like the one I have… Scar: You don’t have one like this anymore.

Scar: How does that even work? Grian, mocking them: hOw dO yOu UsE a cOmPUteR aNd KnOw wHaTS GoiNg oN iT DoEsNt mAke SeNSe?! Scar: Your face doesnt make sense.

Kidnapper: I have your partner. Grian: What? I don't have a partner… Kidnapper: Then who just called me a lowlife bitch and spit in my face? Grian: Oh my god, you have Scar.

Scar: Wait you like me? For my personality? Grian: I know, I was surprised too.

Grian: FUCK THE CHAIR. PARDON ME FOR MAKING MYSELF COMFORTABLE DURING A SINCERE HEART TO HEART DISCUSSION WITH A DEAR FRIEND IN NEED! Grian: BUT THE TIME HAS COME FOR ME TO CEASE STRADDLING THIS DEEPLY OFFENSIVE PIECE OF FURNITURE! AWAY WITH YE, FOUR LEGGED TEMPTRESS! DISTRACT US NO MORE WITH THE MOST BASIC AND UTILITARIAN FORM OF COMFORT YOU SUPPLY! Scar: Grian just threw a tantrum about a chair. Scar: I just won Grian Tantrum Bingo.

Scar: Grian, what if there are monsters? Grian: Don’t worry, we’re top of the food chain. Much later… Scar, lying awake at night: I am the monster.

Grian: "Go hang a salami" backwards is "I'm a lasagna hog". Scar: How did either of those sentences occur naturally for you to discover this?

Scar: I thought I told you to stop reading my emails. Grian: Well, I thought I told you to stop keeping secrets!

Grian: Tommorrow's garbage day. Scar: I can't believe they made a whole day dedicated to you.

Grian: on the phone with Scar I can’t talk right now, I’m doing hot girl shit. Scar: You’re pulling Oreos apart and saving off the frosting to make a mega Oreo, aren’t you. Grian: Maybe.

Grian: You’re so funny! Scar: Thanks; I’m desperate for people to like me.

[tackykachowch]

I wanted to make this post really extensive, with a lot of screenshots etc, but I'm literally operating at 0% so forgive me this one time.

So, you all know how I'm constantly after season 2's blood because of how it butchered well...Everything, but especially my favorites Silco and Jinx. And what do you know, they even screwed up Silco's glass. Yes. A Glass. Let me explain.

Animators at Fortiche are real professionals, so they know that every object tells a story, so even small things like glasses or cups can tell us a story or let us understand the character better, or even reflect the whole meta of the show. Arcane season 1 really exceeded at this. Going through every scene of this season I noticed that Piltovans use elegant and neat glasses and cups, and the glasses that are particularly used by the councilors are made out of gold. While Zaunites drink from simple glasses without any ornaments, metal mugs or straight-up out of bottles. But there's this one single glass that's different from any other glass or cup in the ENTIRE season - Silco's glass (also Jinx's cup but I'm not gonna talk about it here).

It's made out of simple glass and is pretty bulky to give an association with Zaun, but also has golden ornaments to associate it with Piltover. This single glass perfectly encapsulates Silco as a character - a Zaunite who rejects living under the status quo and who strives to get his people opportunity and freedom Piltover has. Also it reflects his unique position in society - he operates the entirety of the Undercity, yet even this amount of power is barely enough to compete with Piltover. Silco represents the middle of the barrel, a fusion of both cities at their current states. Then, in ep9 it gets destroyed, foreshadowing Silco's death and destruction of the relative peace the two cities had until this time. It's perfect, no notes.

But theeeen we have season 2 *barely disguised rage*. In it we have my favorite flashback out of all of flashbacks ever, where we see- huh??

Silco's glass?? How did it get in there?? And there's THREE of them now???? This is surely some kind of mistake, right? Let's fast forward a bit- WHAT IS IT DOING IN A CAVE????

So, you want to tell me, that an object unique to Silco and Silco only, which perfectly represented his character and even played a minor narrative role, is in fact NOT unique and its destruction in the season 1 finale meant Literally Nothing???? WHAT??????

This is what I meant when I said that s2 jumped headstrong into the fanservice without the second thought about how it impacts the story and characters. You see, Silco now HAS to keep a glass from the times he, Vander and Felicia were friends. He HAS to keep a diary where he says how he admires Felicia, even though nothing indicated that someone inspired him or something of that sort in prior material. (UPD: Also, Silco is more of an idealistic character in the first place. He DOES care about people to some extent, but he always seemed to fight for the idea itself, and not some people in particular. So to give him this new unknown character as part of his primary motivation is....strange, to say the least. It's almost like writers want to make him more sympathetic hmmm). He HAS to keep a photo of the three of them and an "Our Love" record, because he's a sap like that and he lowed his fwiends so wewy much. We already knew Silco had a soft side because he kept things Jinx made for him, we already knew that he hadn't completely let go of the past because he kept Vander's knife. There's no point in adding all this garbage except make the audience go "awwww". It's disgusting and insulting.

But back to the glasses. It makes no sense that the three of them have the glasses and use them, because none of them have any amount of power yet. Moreover, Vander never has ANY Piltovian aesthetic in his design, and Felicia is literally a non-character, so what is exactly the reason to give her such an important object to begin with? I don't know a thing about her, except that she's arcane's most manic pixie girl ever and that by her sheer existence she ruined Silco and Vander's dynamic. Cool. And why would Silco keep the glass with him throughout all these years? And then openly drink out of it in his office? Is it supposed to mean that he carries on the dream the three of them had? But Vander openly rejected this dream, and the remnant of this is located in the very same office (Vander's knife). Orrr maybe um. Maybe. Ughhh. I can't. Think of anything. Hang on. Maaaybeeee it's ssssupposed to represent how Silco's fight for independence went back to the place it started in (The Last Drop)? Okay, maybe, whatever. But then again, what was the purpose of destroying his glass in season 1 ep9 if presumably the two other glasses are still intact? Except Silco dying it doesn't tell us anything, because it lost the previous weight it had in the narrative.

Then we fast forward again to my favorite episode out of all the episodes ever - s2 ep7. In it Silco appears only for a few seconds, but by God are these one of the most destructive few seconds for his character. First he comes to the scene with his flask in hand. A....weird thing to have in a BAR, but okay.

But then as he says the infamous line about forgiveness Vander hands him- oh. Uhhh...A. A Piltovan glass.

Not Silco's glass, or maybe some entirely new glass to represent Zaun's progress as a free nation, but a Piltiovan one. Okay. You were pretty obvious with the line here writers but I guess it wasn't enough.

S2 proceeds to be an insulting, disgusting mess in its every aspect and I will fight with it for the rest of my life.

[genderqueerdykes]

you don't need to reply to this, especially since it's really vent-y. sorry.

hi, i just wanted to say that your blog makes me feel safe as a queer teenage boy. recently, the spaces i socialize in with people my age have been somewhat making me feel ashamed of being a boy, i guess?

it's because a cis boy that was our mutual misinterpreted something and said something hurtful (as well as other context), so a lot of people just Hate him now.

but the main thing is people began to send him stuff like: "i hate all the men on this site, all of them are weirdos, and you're one of them", "the fact people still like you after everything is proof that men can get away with anything", "what is it with men and showing no kindness for anyone ever", "fuck men", and stuff.

and i felt really. bad. and disgusting, for being a boy. i hope it isn't dramatic for me to feel like that. i am a boy, i am a man, and that is me! but with people suddenly acting like this, i feel ashamed and scared. i don't know what to do, or how to feel.

i'm sorry this is happening, people are just wearing their transphobia and queerphobia on their sleeves lately, i don't understand why anyone views this as okay? why do they instantly jump to dehumanizing you and any other man

making blanket statements like this is dehumanizing men. so people suddenly just fly off the handle the second a man does anything they don't personally like. bad faith call after bad faith call. catastrophizing, black and white thinking. it's so hostile for no reason. people are taking their trauma out on people who have not hurt them. really that's what it is and they project toxic masculinity on to all men as well and it hurts people

i'm sorry that people are treating you like garbage for being who you are, but i hope you stay safe. take care of yourself. you don't deserve to be harassed because of your gender. that's profiling. it's violence. it's queerphobia. people really should care. especially if you're a teenager that's just awful

[jclolz22]

multi bot release — 25 bots for 2025

thank you for 777 (this originally said 700+ so you can see the growth i've had even while plotting this release) followers on c.ai!! and thank you all for the continued support!! it truly means so, so much to me, and i'm very excited to finally be releasing more bots, and i hope you enjoy!

everyone cheer because i actually did 10+ of my requests

this has been in the making for a little over a couple weeks now, and it’s upped to 25 thanks to @w4dows and her genius idea of doing 25 bots for the upcoming year! it was a lot but i loved doing it with you <3

they're listed in alphabetical order (like always) and categorized by the movie/show that they’re from.

includes: challengers, glee, grey's anatomy, misc. (bridgerton, moana 2, twilight, wicked)

p.s. to all my gleeks, i see you and this is glee heavy for that very reason <33

p.p.s to everyone— there may be a bit of scrolling, but please get to the bottom so you don't miss a bot you may like! :)

CHALLENGERS

ART DONALDSON —  PREGNANT (REQ.)

Getting engaged to Art is a fairly recent milestone for the two of you, but what will happen when he finds your positive pregnancy test in the garbage and he confronts you about it?

ART DONALDSON — STEAM ROOM

Art always loves spending time in the steam room after a long week of practice. He didn’t expect to encounter you there, but he’s not complaining. Will your old flame be rekindled when there’s nothing separating you except for a couple of towels?

ART DONALDSON & TASHI DUNCAN — MEETING THE EX (REQ.)

You and Art started dating shortly after his divorce with Tashi was finalized. How will you finally meeting her go? Will you still be with him afterward, or will she pawn you off of him?

PATRICK ZWEIG — MOM OVER ME

Patrick is your husband, but what does that mean to you? After all, he isn’t even your emergency contact, even though you're his. Your mom is still yours, regardless of the fact that you've been married for a few years now. (inspired by @fruitjoos fic ‘‘emergency contact’’)

TASHI DUNCAN — FAN CLUB

Tashi was surprised to find out that you didn’t know much about her, or tennis in general, for that matter. It was even more surprising (and annoying) when she showed up on move-in day to see that you were going to be her roommate this year.

TASHI DUNCAN — FIELD OF LILIES  

Your anniversary is coming up shortly after your daughter's fourth birthday. To celebrate, you decided to surprise the two of them with a field of lilies— the same one where you proposed to Tashi six years ago.

TASHI DUNCAN — MALL SANTA (🌲)

This is Lily’s first Christmas, and Tashi is making sure to pull out all the stops, including taking her to the mall to get pictures with Santa. Sure, the one year old may not remember this, but you and Tashi will, and she wants it to be special, just like it was when she was growing up.

GLEE

MARLEY ROSE - AWOKEN (REQ.)

Marley didn't know that her feelings for you surpassed friendship until she realized that her feelings for Jake and Ryder were nothing close to romantic. She doesn't know why she never realized it before, but she won't give up her chance now.

MARLEY ROSE — MEAN GIRL (REQ.)

Marley is the sweetest girl alive, yet you’re still mean to her. She can’t figure out why you’re so cold and callous when she hasn’t done anything wrong. It's now up to you to fix the mess that you unintentionally made.

MARLEY ROSE — SECRETLY SOFT (REQ.)

You’ve got a reputation of being some kind of punk. Essentially, you’re the female equivalent to Puck, except you’re not a homewrecker like he is. No one knows that the only person you’re all sweet and nice with is Marley, and she’s the only one who knows you’re even like that at all.

QUINN FABRAY — BIG CHANGES (REQ.)

Quinn's image has changed since having Beth and giving her up for adoption. Has it been for the better? The verdict is not yet decided, but you've been by her side for a while now, and you don't plan on leaving just because she's changed her look. She's still the same Quinn Fabray you know and love.

QUINN FABRAY — BORN THIS WAY… OR NOT (REQ.)

Quinn was confronted by Lauren about her past, and she knew she couldn’t let you hear about it from anyone else. Word would spread quickly, and she didn’t want you to know her truth from the rumor mill.

QUINN FABRAY — BUNNY!

You're originally a farm girl, even though Quinn couldn't believe it. Your city life doesn't do much to prove your roots, so you decided to take her back home to the family farm, where she quickly makes a new furry friend.

SANTANA LOPEZ — HIDDEN MOMENTS (REQ.)

You and Santana have been together for a few months now, and even though no one knows, you two couldn't be happier. Sometimes, all it takes to make your day better is just being with her in bed. You don't even have to be doing anything except lying there.

SANTANA LOPEZ — NURSE’S ORDERS (inspired by @mportality)

You've fallen sick and your girlfriend wants to help nurse you back to health, despite your pleas for her to keep away from you so she doesn't get sick herself. Besides, it's an excuse to wear that hot nurse costume you love so much.

SANTANA LOPEZ — ROOMMATES AND EXES (REQ.)

Santana showing up at your New York apartment unexpectedly was... rather surprising. Maybe not so much if she was a friend, but the fact that she's your ex-girlfriend makes it a little more unusual. She's been moved in for a few months, and you can't help but constantly think about your past relationship. Now, you're sitting in the living room with her on the opposite end of the couch, silence engulfing the space.

GREY’S ANATOMY

ADDISON MONTGOMERY — BUT YOU CHEATED

Addison won’t stop trying to get you back, even if she’s in the wrong. She knows she messed up by cheating on you, so why can’t you just accept her apology? Or better yet, why doesn't she accept the fact that you can't forgive her so easily?

DEREK SHEPHERD — GINGERBREAD HOUSES (REQ. /🌲)

Making and decorating gingerbread houses with you and your kids is a dream come true for Derek. He couldn't ask for a more domestic scene, and he doesn't think anything will top this.

DEREK SHEPHERD — I SAW MOMMY KISSING SANTA CLAUS (🌲)

So maybe it was a bad idea to not keep forcing Derek to change out of the Santa Claus suit he wore in order to put the gifts under the tree in case Zola or Bailey saw him. Their screams were unexpected and frightening before you realized why exactly they had screamed.

DEREK SHEPHERD — WALKING AWAY

Derek didn’t want to compete anymore; if Finn was the one who had your heart, then he’d accept that and let it be. You couldn't believe it, though. The Derek Shepherd accepting (choosing, even) defeat? What is wrong with him?

JO WILSON — DODGING (REQ.)

You and Jo clearly have feelings for each other, but you both keep avoiding addressing them. It's obvious to everyone except for the two of you, and Arizona is tired of seeing you fail to work up the courage to talk to Jo, so she sticks you in a room together and locks you in.

MISC.

ALICE CULLEN - DIFFERENT WORLDS (REQ.)

Alice is a vampire, and you're a werewolf. You're not supposed to interact with each other, let alone date. But neither of you can help yourselves; the mutual attraction is too strong to ignore, meaning you couldn’t care less what your brother might think.

FIYERO TIGELAAR — SET FREE

Fiyero is the only one not affected by the flowers in class, and even though you thought he didn’t want to help you, he tagged along anyway. The tension is thick between the two of you, so how will you both approach it?

MATANGI — CRAZY BAT LADY  (REQ.)

Matangi thought you’d leave her behind and forget about her after breaking the curse on Motufetū, but you proved her wrong. She feels a sense of obligation to pay you back, but how is she going to do such a thing?

SIMON BASSET — WEDDING NIGHT  

Unbeknownst to the both of you, the tension is thick. Simon thinks that you’re in this marriage against your will, while you think the same regarding him. Neither of you have realized that for so long, you have burned for one another. After such an admittance, what more is there to do than consummate the marriage? It helps that he gave you such valuable advice earlier on...

[libraford]

Multi-pamphlet book tutorial

Last week, I showed you how to make a mini pamphlet book.

And that's GREAT, but what I really need for my purposes is multiple types of paper in their own separate booklets bound together into one thicker book.

Guess what! I've already shown you the hard part. The rest is easy.

You will need:

Several pamphlet booklets, tutorial here

Scissors

Xacto knife

Thick cardstock or thin cardboard

Something heavy and flat

Glue

So you have made a pamphlet book.

Now make more of them!

I am using a different pamphlet for each type of paper: blank sketch paper, graph paper, watercolor paper, tissue paper (for pressing flowers, duh), and one that's literally an empty cover with no papers in it. (I'll show you what that's about later.)

Take all the evenly-sized pamphlets and stack them on top of each other. These are also called 'signatures' in the fancy world of book making.

Glue their covers together.

For best results, spread the glue evenly. The easiest way to spread glue evenly is by using the edge of a piece of cardboard to swirl the glue around until it's thin.

Stick something heavy and flat on to and let dry.

This is Harold, who is not flat, but he is a heavy object. So I stick a book under him. It's just easier to illustrate that the booklets go under this way.

Once it is dry, we cut the cover.

Lay the book stack on your cover paper, mark the width, the height, and the spine, so that the paper wraps around the whole thing like a taco.

Cut the excess. Crease the folds where you marked the spine so that the stack of booklets fits nicely. If your cardboard is very dense (more like chipboard), then use an exact knife to score the fold*.

*'scoring' means making a shallow cut that doesn't go all the way through so that the thick piece is easier to fold.

Glue the crap out of the inside, lots of glue on the interior of the spine. Spread evenly with the edge of spare cardboard.

Set the papers inside, make sure the spines on the pamphlets sit snug in the cover spine.

Put Harold back on it. Wait for it to dry.

Once it's dry, you have a book! This is not tge most elegant way of binding a book together, I know, but it is a simple way to do it using skills that most people know.

Maybe one day I'll get into coptic stitches and hard backs and all that, but today? Today you know how to make a book that makes the brain go brrrr.

"But Lee! What's the thing you were gonna do with the empty spot in the back?"

Great question!

When you make your own stuff, that means you can do whatever you want with it. So I am taking that back panel and I am gluing an envelope to it.

Why?

SO I CAN KEEP STICKERS IN IT!

Now slap a sticker on the cover and you're done!

Nice.

Cheddar Bay Biscuits approved.

I thought the safety icons on the box I made this with were cool, so I cut the repeat of them out and made them part of the cover. I especially like the one that says 'fear rain.'

Anyhow, now you know how to make something out of garbage!

[numptypylon]

Chapter 25 (S5E7)

“Does that answer your question?” Callum glared at Nyx, gesturing pointedly at Rayla, currently bent over the railing, heaving. There was a bloody time and place for everything Nyx, and this time, when Rayla was so miserable, was decidedly not it.

“I mean… kinda, yeah, that’s what I was saying! It is a mighty cute little piece of ass. And she’s 18 now, huh?”

“What?!”

“Relax. Not interested. No ass in the world can make up for the whole-ass mess you’ve got on your hands there. I’m not in the market for anything so…” Nyx made a face. “-emotionally high maintenance. You… do know that there are cute asses in the world that aren’t attached to so much-”

“I know. I’m not interested.”

“Oh honey, I wasn’t talking about me.”

“Neither was I. Honey.”

“Careful now. Don’t want your other lovebug hearing that, do ya?”

“It would be fine; Rayla is very capable in the art of sarcasm and also… not my lovebug.”

“Oh ho, now? Have you told her that?”

“She told me,” Callum scoffed, suddenly angry all over again that she actually hadn’t told him that, and yet they weren’t- “So I’m tentatively assuming that she knows.”

“Oh ho? So she broke up with you and you’re still adventuring together, risking your lives for each other, making moon eyes at each other at every opportunity… ah, to be young and in love and a dysfunctional garbage fire of collective awkwardness of such radiance as to light up the heavens!”

Read more of the twentyfifth chapter of Downtime's Up on Ao3, the last fluff before the wake... (chapters of this fic are between-scenes oneshots that can be read on their own, even if you haven’t followed the rest of the story)

[dcdreamblog]

What's your favorite exhibit at the museum? And what's something you guys don't have out all the time that you wish more people could see?

So I guess this gives me a chance to fully explain how our lovely little spot is laid out for those of you who may be curious.

(A cross section of the Perisphere as it existed during the war, we have now converted this image into a brochure for the museum)

My favorite spot in the entire museum is the "ground" floor, where you enter the building from the Trylon and come out into what was the seating and speaking area. It's the largest floor in the building and the main sector of exhibits. Along every wall there is a special case exhibit for every hero that served within the Squadron.

The Exhibits start with the Crimson Avenger directly to the left of the door, going in chronological order every hero that appeared afterwards until it circles back around to the entrance. This is also where most of my work day is spent. As a tour guide and general historian I lead groups through our "extensive" tour.

The "Extensive" tour is the most expensive and most in depth option we offer. It's about 15 bucks per person with discounts for groups. I take you through every. single. exhibit in the building on a personally guided walking tour. It takes about 2 1/2 to 3 hours depending on the group. It is designed for people who want to really sink their fingers into every exhibit and artifact we have to offer.

I am one of only two people on staff who gives these tours, because I am the only person who volunteered, when it was decided I had to be put on other duties later in the day they had to give the other poor girl a raise just to get her to agree. It is 2/3rds of what I do in a day. I get to give about 2 of them before I get traded off onto other duties. The first extensive tour starts at 9 AM and the last one finished at 6 PM.

My favorite singular exhibit is the alcove we have where all the members of the Freedom Fighters are shown. It has some of our best artifacts and, is actually frequented by the real life, actual, no shit Uncle Sam. He gives me a 15 minute break or so whenever I run into him as he regales the people with stories from the front lines and I get to watch people's reactions after I tell them that that is the actual, real life Uncle Sam.

My favorite singular CASE is actually further back in the 7 Soldiers area, where I get to see older folks realize that the Vigilante was country western star Greg Saunders.

As for things we don't keep out, while all the floors of the Perisphere itself are accessible to the public, the below ground areas that were once the labs and workshops are closed off and converted into our storage and study spaces. Every single scrap of ANYTHING that was in the building when it was turned over to our organization was filed away down there and a lot of it has gone VERY unsorted. Until SOMEONE (he knows who he is) convinced me to stick my neck out and get to doing it myself. After my lunch break for the final tour period I get rotated off and sent downstairs to sort through every little piece of garbage that the heroes of the past left behind.

When I tell you the things I have discovered.

I have seen the first line of Greg Saunders' most famous song scribbled on the inside of a candy bar wrapper. One of the words is different, implying to me that this was the first time he'd tried to write those words down.

A letter from Joan Williams to Jay Garrick with a lipstick kiss next to her name. I found this one on the same day of her funeral and I felt like a fucking knob. I have never been so guilty in my LIFE.

Books of Arthurian tales where Shining Knight has scribbled MST3K style corrections in the margins. His bookmark was an actual feather from his actual pegasus.

Some of the original notes Tarantula would later turn into field defining book. Before editing. Which means I now know which members of the team were AWFUL potty mouths.

An actual, labeled bottle of Miraclo pills. Still sealed. Nope. Nope, nope, nope, NOPE. For anyone asking if I was tempted I refer to you my post on Miraclo.

The problem of course being that a LOT of these artifacts are intensely personal and not just for us to keep and display. When I find something, and I find out what it IS, my job is then to attempt to return it to whoever it belongs to. I'm not just going to keep a love letter that was sent in confidence between the Garricks. And I sure as HELL was not going to fuck around with a sealed bottle of 70 year old super-pills.

So the last thing I do every day is compile a list of what I have found and what I think it IS, in a biiiggg excel spreadsheet, that I then send off to the modern JSA. Some of it gets donated to the museum, I'd say a slim majority of it gets taken off to be given out to the heroes themselves or their various next of kin.

THOSE are the moments I wish that I could share. To have their writing, their small comforts, their worries, their loves, their fears between my fingertips. More than once I have stumbled upon something that's left me deeply emotional in ways I don't think I can comfortably explain.

If I could show the whole world anything, it would be that. To be looking down at the handwriting of someone you thought was a legend. And instead see a scared, anxious 20 something risking it all because somebody had to.

Anyway, please feel free to ask other questions about the museum or my work here, I thought that'd be more of what this blog was but I am starting to suspect more everyday that this blog has breached multiversal containment ^^'

[theocddiaries]

Stone: Shadow, we’re not going to the planetarium anymore. Shadow: Oh… That’s fine. May I ask what I did wrong? Stone: Nothing. In fact, you do everything right. That’s why… [hands him a box with a telescope, adorned with a red ribbon]: …here’s your own telescope with triple magnification so you can watch the stars whenever you want! Shadow [takes it hesitantly]: This… is for me? I… thank you… uh… what do I have to do to earn the right to use it? Stone: …Nothing? It’s… a present. Shadow: Oh… What are the guidelines I need to follow to avoid having my rights to use it revoked, then? Stone: …None, Shadow, sweetheart, it’s a present for you. It’s yours forever. Shadow: …? Stone: Well, you could give me a hug if you’re comfortable with that. Shadow: Reasonable. Stone: Come here, sweetie… [hugs him tightly] Robotnik: Wow, you’re absolutely smitten with the kid, huh? If he were a normal, you’d probably even take him out and show him off with pride. [sighs]: Watching you two makes me feel just a tiny, tiny bit less disgusted by the idea of parenthood. In fact, I think I’d make a great dad. Since apparently, I wasn’t a good son, by that logic, I should be a great father. Shadow [snorts]: You? Allow me to sarcastically add a “ha.” Ha. Robotnik: A good smack is what my grandpa should’ve added to your face back in the day. Stone: Ivo, for God’s sake! How can you say that to him?! Robotnik: What? You’re not going to take his side, are you? Stone: Well, I can't when you spout such things… Look, to be a good father, the first thing you need is to be responsible-- Robotnik: Hey, hey, hey! What are you trying to say? That I’m not responsible? The nerve! When the TV disappeared from the house, you were all quick to say I was responsible! Make up your minds! Shadow: Sometimes, trying to reason with you is like trying to reason with a protozoan. Robotnik: Blah blah blah, always the same know-it-all garbage… Maybe you're right, though. If I had a kid like that, I swear I wouldn’t know what to do. Stone: Hm, it's true that kids aren’t always what you want or expect them to be. Shadow [stares at him] Stone: Not you, my boy, you’re perfect. [to Ivo]: This reminds me. There's another thing: you need to respect your children. Be patient. Robotnik: Are you saying I’m not patient either? When I had my appendix removed and the doctors were shouting, "We’re losing the patient!" who were they referring to, then? The stretcher?? Stone: I mean with kids. Robotnik: What can I do if they didn’t put me on their floor? Oh, wait, you mean tolerating their bullshit and whining… Stone [sighs]: Yes, their 'bullshit' and 'whining'… Robotnik: Oh, here we go with the sighing and staring… Are you going to teach me to be a good father? Stone: No, that’s not what I meant. Let's forg-- Robotnik: No, no, I’m genuinely asking, will you teach me to be a good father? Stone: …Look, you know I’d do anything for you, but with Shadow here, I don’t have 24/7 to give you all the attention anymore… Robotnik: Ugh, that stupid hedgehog always in the mid-- Wait! No, no! My brilliant mind has solved this frustrating equation! I’ll do things with Shadow, that way I'll show you both how good of a parent I can be! Stone: Uh… [sees Shadow looking at him, shaking his head pleadingly]: Ivo, I don’t think-- Robotnik: And I’ll do such a great job that people will stop celebrating 'Father's Day', celebrating 'Ivo's Day' instead. Who knew being a good guy might help me more with world domination than being a jerk? Funny how life works, huh?

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓

105 for 🐓:

---

Funny enough, it goes just like it used to. 

“You’re selfish and impulsive and have zero concern about anyone else.”

“You think it’s funny, just disappearing like that? Not answering your phone?”

“You’re not a child anymore, Evan, but you still act like one.”

As a kid, he had cried. As a young teenager, he’d taken pride in their anger. Scorn. Like good, feel something. As an older teen and young adult, he’d fought back. But now, he just stands there in front of him, letting the whole thing wash over him. Like he deserves it. Maybe he does. Deserve it. He didn’t as a kid, but maybe he does now. 

“Sorry,” he eventually mumbles flatly. “I just thought all my moping and sulking wasn’t doing enough to ruin Christmas. Had to figure out a different way to steal Maddie’s attention, you know?”

Instead of seeming embarrassed that he obviously overheard them shit-talking him, they seem enraged that he would bring it up. The lecturing continues. 

“Incredibly shallow and self-centered…”

“...Don’t know how we can ever be expected to have any sort of relationship with someone this vindictive!”

“We have tried!” 

And he understands their meaning. They’re done with trying. The farce is over. They can all stop pretending this has ever intentionally included him. It’s always been about Maddie and access to their grandkids. Maybe that will be a relief, at the end of the day. No more pity invites. No more trying to curl himself into a tighter, more acceptable shape. He can simply be unbothered, alone. 

“Okay,” he says quietly. “I’ll go in the morning, then.”

“We’re not kicking you out,” Margaret sighs. “Don’t make it sound like that’s what we’re doing.”

“Okay,” Buck agrees. “But isn’t that what you want?”

They deny it. But it takes a little too long for them to respond. They have to actually consider. And the thing is, Buck doesn’t. He doesn’t have to wonder at all what the hesitation is. 

“I’ll be out of your hair in the morning,” Buck says, then he turns around and stomps upstairs. 

⬅️

He showers quickly and quietly. He stares at the white bathroom tiles until his eyes hurt. He feels like garbage. Not just body wise. He just feels like garbage. Period. 

He can’t fall asleep right away, so he deals with his flight. The layover will suck, and he won’t get home until the middle of the day on Christmas, but whatever. He changes it. He’d rather be alone than here. And, maybe… Maybe Bobby’s offer still stands. 

Eventually, he puts the phone away, but he still can’t sleep. He finds himself crying. Even though he feels sort of dehydrated and like crying is probably unadvisable. 

He thought he was being quiet, but apparently not so much. Because around three, there’s a soft knock on his door. At first, his instinct is to fake sleep. To avoid his parents at all costs. But he’s not a kid anymore. They’re not going to check on him or tell him to sleep. So that leaves only one realistic option.

The door cracks open.

“Buck?” Maddie says quietly. 

Buck sits up in bed but doesn’t even bother turning on the light. He can picture her easily. Standing there in pink, snowflake print pajamas, the beginnings of a baby bump concealed by the loose fabric, worried expression on her face. 

“I’m fine,” Buck rasps, lying. 

“Well, we can hear you crying, so…”

Buck groans. “Sorry.”

“Not the person whose crying I expected to wake me,” Maddie admits. She walks over and sits on the edge of Buck’s bed. “But it’s okay. Hard to get back to sleep after Mom and Dad’s yelling, anyway.”

Buck doesn’t say anything. She heard it all then.

“I’m sorry,” Maddie says. “I wanted to keep an eye on you over the holidays, but this… This just made everything worse.”

“I’m an adult, Maddie. I could have said no.”

He did, after all, have a warning and another option.

“I should have…” Maddie struggles. “I don’t know. Prevented this.”

“I overheard what they said to you and Chim,” Buck says. “I can’t win, Maddie. I didn’t do anything. So it doesn’t really matter.”

“You’re not really leaving are you?” She asks.

“Already changed my flight,” Buck explains. 

“I’m sorry,” Maddie says again. 

Buck sighs. “Maddie, I knew what I was doing when I came here.”

“What does that mean?” She asks.

“It means… It means I knew they only invited me, through you, because they wanted you to come. It means I know they don’t like me, and don’t really love me,” Buck says. “Or, maybe they do… But, they really don’t like who I am. They try, but they don’t. And it’s… I guess it’s the confirmation I was looking for.”

“Of what?” Maddie asks. 

“That I’m not really what anyone wants around. Not for long.”

[damthosefandoms]

Hard as a rock and about as human.

(ao3 link) (wip post)

Summary:

Soda & Darry want to know where their brother is.

---

The clock is ticking in the kitchen. Ponyboy is out past curfew. With Dally. The door creaks open, and Darry stands up so fast he nearly falls over. Sodapop walks in, and if he wasn’t freaking out so badly about Pony, maybe Darry would’ve caught the look on his brother’s face.

“Oh, it’s just you.”

“Just me?” Soda says. His eyes are red and puffy. He’s been crying again. “Why’re you makin’ that face?”

“Pony ain’t back yet,” Darry mutters. “Close the door, you’ll let in bugs.”

Soda does, slowly. He walks over, kinda keeping his head down. Looking anywhere but at Darry.

“Normally I’d be worried too, but actually that kind of works out, ‘cause I have to tell you something I don’t want him to know about yet. I mean…”

He kicks at the throw rug with his foot. “I told him a little last night, but he prolly thinks I was just daydreamin’ and that’s for the best.”

Darry watches him carefully. Oh, so now he’s paying attention. 

“What’s goin’ on? You went out with Steve and the girls tonight, didn’t you? Did something happen?”

“I asked Sandy to marry me tonight.”

Darry laughs, a quick, sharp thing. It stings. He doesn’t get it. Ponyboy didn’t either, but he’s fourteen, only been fourteen for a month. He didn’t need to yet.

“You’re dreamin’ Sodapop. You might’ve dropped outta school this year, but you two are way too young for—”

“She’s pregnant.”

They stare at each other for a solid minute, the only sound the clock ticking in the background and the crickets outside. Just the two of them standing there processing the information.

Darry starts to raise a hand, to hold up a finger in a “wait a minute” kind of gesture, and he moves his mouth like he’s going to say something, but nothing comes out. Soda’s heart hurts in his chest and he tries not to start bawling right there in front of his big brother.

“Well, it don’t matter, anyway. Sandy doesn’t know if it’s mine or not. And if it is it still don’t matter ‘cause her folks are livid. They’re makin’ her move to Florida to live with her grandmother or somethin’, and she dumped me so I’ll never get to see her again, or the baby at all, and she’s leavin’ tomorrow afternoon, and if you could not lose your mind at me I’d really ‘preciate it ‘cause I feel like worse than garbage already.”

He really fights not to let the tears spill over, and granted he does a good job of not breaking down, but some do fall. Darry looks like he will blow any second now, but he just breathes in, breathes out, closes his eyes, and says in a very calculated and careful voice:

“Ponyboy went out with Dally tonight and he is not back yet. We will talk about this later when I know he is not dead.”

They do not get a chance to talk about it later, and they do not find out for a week if their baby brother is or isn’t dead.

---

“Don’t, Dare. The last thing he wants right now is you chasing after him.”

“He got jumped yesterday! He got jumped yesterday and you’re just gonna let him go out there alone?”

“He probably just went back to find Johnny. He’s probably just out in the lot. Look, it’s not like you never slept out there, and don’t give me that look because I know you’ve done so much worse.”

“He wasn’t wearing a coat. He’ll freeze to death, Soda.”

“Okay, okay, fine. I’m going to look for him. You stay here in case he calls.”

Soda goes to grab his coat, and grabs an extra one for Ponyboy. He heads out to the empty lot first; it’s right across the street from their house. There’s an old backstop and the remnants of a baseball diamond, and Soda can just picture Two-Bit and Steve bitching at each other about whose fault it is Steve hit their last baseball over the fence into the junkyard. 

“Johnny was supposed to catch it!” 

“You hit a fly ball to a kid who’s never even dreamed of playing little league, what do you MEAN he was supposed to catch it?”

“The hell are you talkin’ about? None of us can afford little league!”

All he finds are the smoldering embers of a long-since-abandoned fire, but no sign of his brother or Johnny and that starts to worry him. He heads up the street to Johnny’s house, and can hear Mr. and Mrs. Cade screaming at each other. It’s no wonder they went to the lot instead. No way his boys are in there, so he pulls his jacket on tighter and keeps walking.

Two-Bit’s not home yet, but his mother answers the door and after chiding him for waking up her daughter this late by ringing the doorbell, she tells Soda she hasn’t seen the boys.

“I’m sorry, hun. I’ll let you know if I hear anything in the morning, alright?”

She won’t. She’s got three jobs, the only person he knows that tops Darry’s record for working their ass off to support a family. She’ll forget to call. He can’t blame her though; most parents on this side of town aren’t willing to help in the slightest.

He walks another block down and checks Steve’s bedroom window, just in case the boys went in. He and Two-Bit usually leave their windows unlocked just in case Dally or Johnny need a place to stay the night, just like how Darry leaves the door unlocked for anyone who needs it. They’re not there, and neither is Steve, but Soda knew that he wouldn’t. He went home earlier in the night with Evie and probably slept over there. 

Sodapop checks his watch. If it’s working right (and there’s a good chance it’s not), then it’s almost three in the morning now, he’s dead tired, and he’s starting to freak out. He thinks Dally taught Johnny how to pick locks once; he heads towards the DX. Maybe they snuck into the store for food or something. Neither of them know how to drive; they can’t have gotten that far. And god, it’s not only his little brother missing now. It’s the other kid they all made an unspoken promise to protect. 

Real shit job he’s doing of that, he thinks, as a late-night freight train blares its horn in the distance. Soda can’t help but shudder at the sound.

He finds Tim Shepard parked there at the gas station, sitting on the hood of his car with the puffy beginnings of a black eye and poking at his bloody nose with a paper towel. Soda asks if he’s seen his brother around.

“Ponyboy or Darrel?”

“Pony.”

“Yeah, I saw him earlier at the drive-in. He was with Two-Bit and that Johnny kid, an’ a couple of soc girls. Can’t imagine that went well.”

“Whaddya mean? I thought they went there with Dally.”

“Didn’t ya hear me? Soc girls. That spells trouble.”

Sodapop rolls his eyes. Girls are girls. Unless they’re Sandy…

He tries not to think about how his own night had just gone.

“It isn’t yours. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care, I’ll marry you anyway. I love you, Sandy.”

“I’m leaving, Sodapop, and there isn’t a thing you or I or anyone can do about it, do you hear me?” 

“Do you know where they are now or not?”

“Nah. But I can tell you they ain’t with Dallas. Jackass slashed my tires tonight ‘cause they all told him to screw off or somethin’. I got ‘im back, though. Pretty sure I busted his ribs. You need anythin’ else, Sodapop, or can I go back to licking my wounds?”

Soda thanks Tim for nothing and heads for the nearest payphone, to call Darry for a ride.

Darry picks him up ten minutes later and they drive around for a bit, eventually finding Two-Bit wandering around in the dark, drunk as a skunk. From what they can get out of him, he dropped the boys off by Johnny’s house around midnight, and he figured they were going home. Everything else that comes out of his mouth is slurred gibberish, so they give him a ride back to his house and watch to make sure he gets inside alright.

The only person they can’t seem to track down is Dally.

He shows up at their house late the next afternoon, walking right in without a care in the world, rubbing his wrists. They’re a little cut up.

“Hey Darry, where’s the first aid kit? Damn cuffs always leave a mark on me.”

“That’s ‘cause you make ‘em, Dal,” Darry says, but he goes to find it, anyway. “You’re not supposed to struggle in ‘em. Kind of the whole point. Why’d the cops take you in?”

“Yeah, Dal, you do anythin’ last night ‘sides piss off Tim Shepard and lose our little brother?” Soda calls from the kitchen, where he’s been sitting with Steve and Two-Bit. 

“You took him and Johnny out. Now we find out Two-Bit walked them and some soc girls home and nearly got jumped in the process.” 

Darry comes back out with the first aid kit. He pulls Dally into the kitchen and drags him right to the sink so he can clean his wrists up. He’s Soda and Pony’s big brother first, but these days, he’s everyone else’s big brother second.

Dally looks over his shoulder and raises an eyebrow at Soda. He doesn’t exactly answer the question. “They dragged me in for questioning, man. You guys… you ain’t seen the news yet?”

“Why?” Darry asks. “What’s—”

But Steve’s reaching over and pulling the folded-up newspaper out of Dally’s back pocket, and he opens it up, scanning the page a little. Soda can’t see the front from this angle, but Steve’s eyes go wide and he reads aloud,

“Johnny Cade and Ponyboy Curtis are wanted for questioning regarding the murder of Robert Shel—”

“MURDER?!?”

As he yells, Darry accidentally squeezes Dally’s wrist so hard the scrapes from the handcuffs start to bleed again.

“You got my kid brother wrapped up in a murder?!?” 

“I didn’t do shit!” Dally shouts, yanking his hand away. He gives Darry a look, and grabs a towel for his arm. Darry just stares down at the sink, but he’s clearly still listening.

His hands are shaking. Soda rips the paper from his best friend’s hands and stares at the pictures on the front—the one of Johnny is blurry and Soda has no idea where it came from. Pony’s picture is the same as the one taped up on their fridge—it’s from school picture day last fall, before their parents died, the last time they could afford to have that done.

“I just got brought in for questioning! I had no clue what was goin’ on ‘til this morning! I spent the night at Buck Merrill’s after I got into that scrap with Tim,” Dally says, and then he winces in pain. 

“You know, you oughta watch your strength there, Darrel. You could really hurt somebody without meanin’ to.”

That catches Soda’s attention. 

“What do you know, Dallas?” he asks.

“Whaddya mean, what do I know? I just told ya what I know.”

Except Soda and Darry aren’t humoring him anymore. They’re tired, they’re scared, and they’ve had enough of this shit.

“Where’s our brother?” Darry says in an eerily calm tone, and suddenly everybody in the room remembers Dally isn’t the only really scary one in the gang. “What the hell do you know about where Ponyboy was last night?”

Dally can take it, though. He didn’t spent three years on the streets of New York for nothing. He sneers at Darry.

“Your kid brother an’ Johnny Cade were out at the park when a buncha socs showed up drunk an’ it started to get messy. You wanna tell me why the hell Ponyboy was out that late when you’re s’posed to have him on a tight leash?”

“I don’t think that’s important anymore,” Darry lies.

“I sure as hell do.” 

Dally takes a step forward. Darry balls his fists.

“Darrel, c’mon,” Soda pleads. Don’t let them fight here, not now. “Please. You tell him what you did or I will. It’s not like we can take it back anyway.”

Darry blinks, and he looks around the room at all of his friends and his little brother, and Soda’s right. He ducks his head low. All the fight drains out of him.

“I… I hit him. I didn’t mean it.”

“You hit him.”

Darry nods. Soda can’t look at him. 

“You hit him. You didn’t mean it. You—” Dally barks out a laugh. 

“You think you’re so high and mighty, Darrel Curtis, but you’re just shit grease just like everyone else, just like Johnny’s parents. No wonder those boys chose to run rather than face the fact that Johnny killed a guy tryna save Pony’s life.”

Two-Bit’s the one to say it. 

“Johnny did what?”

It’s suddenly all real. It takes a couple minutes to sink in. And then Soda stands up and goes to grab his coat and the car keys, and Steve asks where he’s going.

“I’m going after them. Dare?”

His brother doesn’t hesitate. 

“Right behind you.” 

Darry lets the door slam shut behind them.

---

After hours of driving and phone calls and finding absolutely nothing, it’s well past midnight and Darry pulls the car over, puts his head down on the wheel, and tries not to scream. Sodapop glances over at him and sighs.

“You okay?”

“What the hell do you think?” Darry snaps, but he apologizes immediately. Soda forgives him. Forty-eight hours of not knowing what happened to your baby brother tends to wear on you.

“I can’t stop thinking. I know Ponyboy’s got a damn good heart. And there’s something… if we could just keep him on the right track he could go far, get out of the East Side. But no matter what I do, he just fights back and pushes me away. It feels like I've run this whole family right into the ground. Maybe… maybe you’d both be better off without me.” 

“Dare—”

“I don’t know what else to do, Soda! I lost our brother. I hit him! I’m no better than Johnny’s old man. I’m not cut out for this shit, and it’s harder now than ever. The cops are looking for him. If we find him, or if he comes back now, they’ll come for him. Even if he gets off easy, they’ll take him away from us. They’ll take you, too, Soda. And I don’t want to be… Pepsi, I can’t do this. I oughta just throw in the towel.”

“Don’t talk like that. There ain’t no way of knowin’ what’s gonna happen. You think I can’t see everything you’re doin’? Making dinner, paying overdue bills we can’t afford just to keep the lights on… I don’t know what we’d do if you weren’t around. Look, I need you, Darrel. And anyone could see that Pony does too. You’re our brother. You’re our damn lifeline.”

Darry tries to shake him off, but Soda persists, refusing to back down from his older brother. 

“I already lost Sandy this week, and now Ponyboy, and I can’t lose my big brother too. I know you love him, no matter what he thinks. We’ve just gotta get him home and show him that. We can deal with the rest when it comes.”

 “What if it—”

“You know what Mama would say right now?”

“What?”

“That you’ve got a horrible case of the what-ifs.”

That makes Darry smile, even just a little. He buries his face into Soda’s shoulder and they both do their best not to cry.

[stylesonfilms]

ink & innocence - 18 *

word count: 5.5k

hiii! i might start making little outfit/vibe inspos for certain chapters. :-) enjoy my first smut chapter! also i'm too lazy to write the kind of smut the story entails but they dont fully do it here !! enjoyyy!

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

"Come see me soon, okay?" 

Harry leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. Aspen nodded, buried in Harry's shirt shr had stolen. He brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear before leaning down to press another kiss to her lips. "Bye, sugar. See you later, yeah?" 

As Harry disappeared down the hall, Aspen turned around and closed the door with a content sigh. Her eyes scanned over the empty solo cups and her now empty apartment, as Isobel headed home with Zayn. 

Aspen stood in the now-quiet apartment, the stillness a stark contrast to the lively chaos that had filled the space just hours ago. Her fingers brushed over her lips, still tingling from Harry's goodbye kiss. She hugged his oversized shirt tighter around herself, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne that lingered on the fabric—a mix of cedarwood and something uniquely him.

The girl glanced around the room, taking in the aftermath of their gathering. Solo cups dotted the coffee table, a few crumpled napkins lay on the floor, and the faint scent of alcohol and chips hung in the air. A soft smile played on her lips as she started tidying up, her mind replaying moments from the night.

As she moved through the space, Aspen carefully stacked the cups into a pile, tossing them into the trash bag she had retrieved from the kitchen. Her hands worked methodically, but her mind drifted. She thought about Harry, the way he had looked at her tonight with such tenderness, the way he always seemed to know how to make her feel special even in a room full of people. Her heart fluttered as she recalled the warmth of his touch, the way his deep laugh filled the room like a melody she never wanted to stop hearing.

Aspen carried the garbage bag to the kitchen and began wiping down the counters, humming softly to herself. Her thoughts shifted to how natural it felt to have Harry in her space, to share these moments of quiet intimacy with him. The apartment felt emptier now that he was gone, but the warmth he left behind lingered.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Later that evening, Aspen stood in her bedroom, sorting through her wardrobe. The sun was beginning to set, casting a soft golden light through the sheer curtains. Her hair was pinned back with delicate clips to keep it out of her face as she sat at her vanity, organizing her makeup. She decided on a soft, natural look, something that felt effortless but made her feel confident.

As she swept a rosy blush across her cheeks, her thoughts wandered back to Harry. She smiled faintly, recalling the way he had stolen her juice box earlier. His playful grin, the way he teased her without ever crossing a line—it all made her feel seen, cared for. The way he said goodbye lingered in her mind. Come see me soon, okay? The words felt like a promise, one she was eager to keep. Harry had a lonely night at the shop tonight, just wanting to finish up on some paperwork and hopefully a few sketches and he noted multiple times how he would love Aspen's company.

Aspen moved to her closet and pulled out a satin floral long skirt she hadn’t worn in a while. She had just gotten off of her time of the month and was looking forward to dressing up a bit anyways. The fabric shimmered subtly in the evening light, the delicate pattern of soft pinks and greens feeling perfect for the warm evening ahead. She paired it with a white lace tank top, forgoing a bra, as the intricate details of the lace added a touch of elegance and femininity.

The girl sat on her bed for a moment, just smiling to herself as she thought of Harry. Harry, Harry, Harry. She was still in complete awe of him and how he was her boyfriend. If anyone were to ask the girl when she first heard of him, she would absolutely deny the possibility of her even coming close to Harry Styles or vice versa, but now she wouldn't have it any other way. Everything from his tattoos which were delicately and intricately placed, each with a story, she was sure, to the change of polish every week or two that lingered on his fingernails, to his gorgeous curls. She could go on and on, thinking about the sharp curve of his brows or the glint in his green eyes when he looked at her. How he would spin his lip ring around mid conversation while he was thinking, or how he would twist his rings using the sides of the surrounding fingers. 

Aspen fluttered her eyes shut and, something she had never done, pressed her thighs together. She surprised herself at first, sitting fully up. A red hot rushed to her cheeks as the thought settled into her mind. She was a virgin, but she wasn't stupid. The girl brushed her hair back and cleared her throat, her cheeks still on fire yet she chose to brush it out of her head for now.

She stood in front of her full-length mirror, adjusting the waistband of the skirt and smoothing down the tank top. The outfit made her feel beautiful, but it also made her think about what Harry might say when he saw her. Would he notice the way the fabric flowed around her legs, or the way the lace hugged her figure? The thought made her cheeks flush slightly, but she smiled at herself in the mirror.

Slipping on a pair of simple sandals, she added a few accessories—a dainty gold necklace and matching earrings. She spritzed on her favorite perfume, a light floral scent, and stepped back to look at herself one last time. Satisfied, she grabbed her phone and sent Harry a quick text:

Aspen: on my way!! x

With that, Aspen grabbed her bag and headed toward the door, feeling a mix of excitement and anticipation to see her boyfriend once again.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Aspen pushed open the glass door of the tattoo shop, the soft chime of the bell announcing her arrival. The space was dimly lit, the warm glow of the overhead lights bouncing off the red-accented walls. Artwork adorned the space, each piece vibrant and unique, a reflection of Zayn and Harry’s creative talents. The faint scent of disinfectant mingled with the earthy aroma of leather chairs and faint whiffs of ink.

She spotted Harry in his office through the partially open door, hunched over his desk. His dark curls peeked out from under a backwards baseball cap, and his black Rage Against the Machine shirt clung to his broad shoulders. He was scribbling something in his sketchbook, a slight furrow in his brow as he concentrated. The sight of him, so absorbed in his work, brought a soft smile to Aspen’s face.

Harry glanced up as she approached, his features softening instantly. He stood, his grin spreading wide as his eyes trailed over her outfit. “Bloody hell, you look gorgeous,” he said, setting his pencil down and walking toward her. His hands found her hips instinctively, his thumbs brushing over the silky fabric of her skirt. “This skirt is... somethin' else,” he murmured, his voice low as he leaned down to kiss her softly.

Aspen’s cheeks flushed at his touch, her fingers lightly resting on his chest. “Thank you,” she whispered, her smile shy but genuine.

Harry pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his expression tender. “You’re going to distract me all night, you know that?”

Before she could respond, the sharp ring of the shop’s phone interrupted them. Harry groaned, resting his forehead against hers briefly before pulling away. “Hold that thought,” he said with a smirk, heading to the desk in the corner of the office.

Aspen watched as he picked up the receiver. “Yeah?” he said, his tone lightening when he realized it was Niall. Harry leaned back in his chair, one foot propped on the desk as he talked, his free hand gesturing animatedly.

Aspen wandered over to the small sofa tucked against the wall and sat down, pulling a book from her bag. She opened it to the bookmarked page, but her eyes kept drifting to Harry. He looked so at ease, effortlessly charming even in mundane moments like this. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the desk as he talked, his head tilting slightly when he laughed at something Niall said.

She tried to focus on the words in front of her, but the steady cadence of Harry’s voice was comforting, a background melody she couldn’t ignore. Eventually, she gave up on reading altogether, her gaze settling on him. There was something magnetic about the way he worked—how his hand moved fluidly across the paper when he returned to his sketches, how his brows furrowed slightly in concentration.

Harry hung up the phone after a few minutes, spinning his chair to face her. He caught her staring and grinned. “Am I that fascinating?” he teased, setting his sketchbook down and leaning back in his chair.

Aspen shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. “Maybe a little,” she admitted, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

Harry chuckled, standing up and stretching before walking over to sit beside her with his folders and pens. “You know, you’re not exactly subtle,” he said, his tone teasing but affectionate.

She laughed softly, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I just like being here with you,” she said quietly. “Even if it’s just sitting in silence.”

Harry wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. “Yeah,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Me too, sugar. Me too.”

The two of them sat there, the hum of the shop and the occasional scratching of Harry’s pencil filling the room. Aspen didn’t need to read her book, and Harry didn’t need to say much. Their presence was enough, a silent rhythm of comfort and understanding that neither of them wanted to break.

However, thoughts from earlier flooded her mind, when she had been sitting in her bed. How her thoughts got lost in a sea of Harry, his hands, his looks, his mouth. A blush crept back onto her cheeks, hidden by her hair as she diverted her gaze to the book she was reading in hopes it would distract her. But nothing seemed to work, as Aspen kept going back to him. She swore she could close her eyes and feel his lips on her neck. 

Aspen shifted slightly on the sofa, her cheeks burning as the memory of Harry's lips brushed against her mind. She clenched the book a little tighter, willing herself to focus on the words in front of her, but it was hopeless. Every time she tried, her thoughts would drift back to him—the way his hands lingered on her hips, the way his voice dropped an octave when he spoke her name, the way his lips felt impossibly soft against hers.

The idea of making a move felt both thrilling and terrifying. Harry was always so open, so unabashedly affectionate, yet Aspen still found herself hesitant. What if she crossed an unspoken boundary? What if her desire was too much, too forward? But then again, wasn’t Harry the one who looked at her like she was his entire world? He was always finding ways to touch her, always leaving her feeling like she was the only person who mattered. Maybe—just maybe—he was waiting for her to take the lead.

Her heart raced at the thought, her pulse quickening as she stole a glance at him. He was focused on his sketchbook again, the faint crease in his brow signaling his concentration. Aspen admired the way his fingers moved so effortlessly, the veins in his hands visible as he worked. Her stomach flipped as she imagined what those hands might feel like trailing up her back, pulling her closer. The thought sent a shiver down her spine, and she quickly looked away, burying her face in her book to hide her flushed cheeks.

Should I just do it? she wondered, biting her lip nervously. Harry had always been patient with her, never pushing her beyond what she was comfortable with. But maybe it was time for her to show him that she wanted him just as much—that she wasn’t afraid to meet him halfway.

Finally, she closed the book carefully and set it beside her, her hands nervously fiddling in her lap. "Harry?," She squeaked out eventually. He didn't look up, sharing a slight glance but stayed concentrated on his book. "Yeah, babe?"

"Are you.. busy?" The girl nervously bit the inside of her lip, her eyes darting from his concentrated look to the book and how his hands moved, mentally cursing herself. Of course he was busy, you idi--.

"No, baby. Not really. Why? What's up?" Oh. Okay, good.

Aspen swallowed and shifted in her seat to turn towards Harry, and his hand around her gently caressed her bare shoulder, her cardigan laid beside her. With a breath, she finally spoke. If he said no, he would be nice about it, at least. Plus, it was just Harry. But that was the exact issue. It was Harry.

"I was thinking we could try something new." Now, Harry wasn't looking at her, but he didn't have to for her to know how attentive he was. He always responded, and his shoulder touches grounded her even more. 

"Oh, yeah? What're we thinkin', daredevil? Ready to go t'the duck park?" He grinned, amusing himself now. She only huffed and swatted his arm lightly. He knew that was a fear of hers. Has nobody seen how scary ducks are, especially when they're heavily food driven?!

"No," she squeaked, a pink rush rising to her cheeks from her neck. "I..." Come on, Aspen. "I was thinking we could try something new." Despite her shy and stuttered movements, her hand moved further up his arm and rested on his chest. 

"Oh." Now that got Harry's attention. He glanced down at the hand on his chest, closing his book with the pencil between and setting it to the side. The mans tongue poked out to wet his lips as he took her hand, shifting himself to look at her. With scattered kisses to her knuckles, he asked her, "And what is it that you want to try?"

Aspen felt a wave of relief hit her. It wasn't explicitly stated yet that he would want to, but at least he didn't tell her to bug off and that he would rather work. But who was Aspen kidding? Harry would walk away from a burning building full of innocent lives if it meant Aspen offered him a kiss.

"I don't know yet," the girl squeaked, but Harry's hand that came to tilt her chin up stopped her from looking away shyly. "I don't... think we should go all the way yet, but maybe.. something small. Steps, I guess." She sucked in a breath in embarrassment.

The word 'yet' strangely went straight down Harry's spine. It made him feel more than good to know she trusted him enough to let them get that far eventually. The mans thumb grazed under her bottom lip, his green eyes flickering over her soft features. A small smile cracked his lips.

"Yeah? We can do tha', baby. I agree with you, not jus' yet, but there's plenty we could do, yeah? Thank you f'trusting me, Asp." The man kissed her knuckles again before he tilted his head down to capture her lips between his in a slow kiss. 

"If y'don't know, why don't we start how we usually do? And I'll go slow, won't skip a step or anythin'. You can tell me what's okay, 'nd wha's not okay. But I want words when I ask you something, okay? 's important to know what you like and don't like, it helps the both of us feel good." Aspen nodded, but quickly replaced it with a 'yes' which made Harry smile some more. 

Carefully, Harry got them into a position where he could comfortably hover above her and made she was settled and comfortable under him. Her arms snaked around the mans broad shoulders when he came down to slot their lips together. Harry moved his lips carefully with hers, taking it slow, though he was always ready to have her. 

He swiped his tongue along her bottom lip and like routine, she opened for him. The man's tongue carded through her mouth, a content sound escaping his nose at the feeling. She was warm, and she never failed to taste sweet. He hoped he could say that about something else tonight, too.

Just before Aspen could turn her head and deepen the kiss, Harry began to trail his kisses down her neck. It was normal for him to break off, but this time, his kisses were different. They were slow and he seemed to drag them out, grazing his teeth near the curve of her neck. Harry took her heavy breaths as a sign for him to keep going. He used his teeth teasingly a few times more, brushing over that special spot that always elicited a perfect sound from her, this time no different.

He smirked slightly, kissing over the area. "Tell me if y'want to stop," His voice trailed off into her neck as she tilted to give him more access. Harry's wet lips parted and he slowly latched onto  the side of her neck. After a second or two, the feeling of his teeth over the spot came and she gasped. It wasn't uncomfortable, but surely was different. Her eyes fluttered closed as she let out a small whimper when he repeated the action slightly lower, except she felt the slick of his tongue up her neck and over the marks he left. 

Harry sat up on his knee slightly and set a hand on the curve of her shoulder, his thumb brushing  over the two small bites he left with a satisfied smirk. "There, now you're mine," the man muttered as he leaned back down to get back to work, trailing his kisses down her collarbones. 

"Always been yours, Har.." She breathed out, her hands swarming his curls now. He groaned against her skin at Aspen's words, nudging her with his nose before he kissed along the hem of her tank top. A leather sofa wouldn't exactly be the best to lay down shirtless, so he continued to trail his kisses down the center of her chest.

When Aspen mustered the strength to open her eyes once more, she swore she could pass out at the sight. He was looking back up at her, his mouth blotting kisses over her tits, lips grazing over her nipples through her tank top. "Is this okay?" He muttered, and Aspen almost shouted a big yes.

"Y-yeah," the girl nodded, playing with the curls between her hand under the cusp of his hat. She licked her lips slowly, her brows furrowing slightly when she felt Harry's lips wrap around her bud over her shirt. Aspen gasped and lifted her chest to match Harry, his free hand coming up to cup her breast. He kept a firm squeeze, his thumb occasionally brushing over her nipple while his mouth continued with their wet kisses down her stomach.

She was perfect, Harry thought. Every curve, every sound, how soft she was. The way she seemed to respond seemed perfect to him, like music to his ears. The man shifted his body, now planted between her legs with his arms holding him up by her hips. "Do you remember what I told you? Tell me whe--."

"Yes, Harry. I know, just... keep going. It's okay." Harry chuckled softly at her eagerness, but with more of a confident base, his hands folded up the end of her shirt to expose her stomach, where his lips immediately landed. 

Harry mouthed wet kisses over, trailing down to the hem of her skirt. While his lips moved, the both of his hands slid down her clothed thigh under they reached the end of her skirt where they slipped under slowly. As his hands traveled back up her bare legs and her glorious thighs, the skirt bunched over her hips perfectly. When Harry had pulled back to sit up, he couldn't help but have his eyes roam over her body. They took in her red lips and flustered face, her damp tank top, her exposed soft skin of her stomach, and her white panties, a pretty pink bow sitting on the front hem. 

Aspen blushed at the sudden exposure, but didn't halt him. If she knew her skirt would be coming up, she wouldn't put on something prettier. But Harry didn't seem to mind as the word "fuck" fell off his lips while his hands took ahold of her thighs to slowly spread them. He looked back up at her to see if she was uncomfortable at all, but nothing looked off so he continued. 

"Now, I know you told me to shut up," Harry teased his words, which made her puff out a 'I didn't say shut up', "but I want t'tell you what I plan to do." The mans hands came to rest on her hips, his thumbs slowly coming to a close over the front of her panties. He hummed, running his fingers over the soft mound while he looked up at her once more. "Look at me."

Aspen peeled her eyes open, swallowing to ease her dry throat and she looked down at Harry, with a new flicker in his eyes. Want. 

"Good girl," He kissed her knee, his hands sliding up the soft sides of her thighs before they returned to their original position. Aspen's heart fluttered at the pet name, followed by a coil in her stomach. 

"I don't have to take these off, but I want to touch you. Over your clit, maybe inside you a bit. And then 'm going to use my tongue to lick you, or eat you out. 'S that sounding okay?"

Aspen swallowed once more and took a breath in through her nose. She couldn't even focus on being nervous or embarrassed anymore, just how Harry's thumb gently tapped over her. "Yes, that's... that's okay." She nodded. 

Harry's lips turned up into a smile and he kissed her knee once more, his fingers now running down the fold of her pussy through her panties. "Good. Don't forget what I told you."

Aspen wasn't sure which part he was talking about, as she would prefer if he would be more show than talk. Almost on cue, his thumb pressed over her clothed clit, which sent a thrill up her spine. She gasped softly, lying back down with a new thump in her heart which she swore she and Harry could feel between her legs.

Harry kept the light pressure as he ran up and down her slit over the white cotton panties, dipping a bit deeper when he brushed over her entrance. He licked his lips as he was met with the immediate mush of wet. She was wet for him and he couldn't help but think for how long.

The man's finger hooked onto the side of her panties with one hand, slowly peeling it to the side. Harry couldn't help but stare. She was so... perfect. The man tucked the fabric into the side of her thigh, his fingers now focused on pulling her open. Harry wasn't some sick freak, but she genuinely was crafted perfectly. Her soft skin and lips that held her beautiful pink insides, her sweet bud of her clit on full show between her folds. Okay, maybe he was a sick freak. But just for her.

He groaned softly at the bundle of slick that coated her entirely. Without a second thought, his thumb dipped down between her folds and over her entrance, collecting the slick to travel back up over her clit. It was like the feeling was an immediate shock. With each small, teasing swirl, Aspen whimpered. Fueled by her reaction, the man added a bit more pressure, fully giving into his touches now. The girl's lips broke out into a moan, her hips buckling ever so slightly. 

"How does it feel, Aspen?" Hearing her name snapped her half out of reality, and breathy moans continued to follow in her response. "I-it' feels good, Harry. Really... good." She licked her lips and whined once more at the loss of contact, just to feel the pad of his thumb prodding at her entrance. She gasped out a moan, the soft squelches of the repeated action hitting Harry's ears beautifully. 

Harry licked his lips, deciding he couldn't wait any longer. It had been a long time since he felt the want to do this to a woman, but with Aspen, he kind of knew from the moment he saw her. There was no way he could avoid that. In fact, most times when he had his fist wrapped around himself, thoughts of eating her out would flood his mind. The orgasm wasn't that hard to chase after that, but the guilt was sure hard to shake.

Now, Harry got to experience it first hand. He ducked his head down between her thighs, his hands sliding along the sides of her thighs so his arms could snake around her folded legs. The man's breath fanned out over the girl's inner thighs, his lips lightly scattering kisses on the inside of her thighs and down to just outside where she needed.

"Harry," Aspen whispered, more in want than to call him. Yet he looked up, his lips still working kisses onto the inside of her thighs. She almost fainted at the sight. She shook her head and fell back once more, her now bare foot grazing along his back. "Please..."

Satisfied, Harry pressed a flat kiss to her clit, which sent a pleasurable shock through her. His tongue flattened out along the curve of her pussy before he skillfully dipped in between and along her folds. He avoided her clit for a few teasing moment, melting into the sweet warmth of her cunt. Harry let out a moan on his own at just the feeling on his mouth, eyes flickering up to look at her through the hard peaks of her nipples to see how her reddened lips fell open. 

The man closed his eyes and took a breath, swiping the muscle over her clit with ease and focused on swirls for a moment. Aspen continued her breathless moans, the rest falling into her palm. Once Harry noticed, he was quick to reach up and tug her arm away to reveal her breathy and needy moans. A whimper followed by a grind of her hips followed when his tongue prodded at her entrance. Slowly, he inched the tip of his tongue in and groaned against her, working his tongue back up to her clit.

Aspen felt like she was on fire. Everything she never knew she could feel, she was feeling with Harry. She gasped at the cool of his lip ring, replaced by a small cry of a moan when his tongue entered her once again. The heels of her feet dug into his shoulder blades, her hands finding home in his curls once she fumbled with the hat to toss it aside. 

When Harry gave a particular dip inside her entrance and a sweet swirl over her clit, Aspen's manicured nails wrapped around his curls and pulled at them slightly, which drew out a groan from Harry. "S-sorry," she squeaked, letting go of her grip. 

He popped off with a wet noise, his lips shining with her wet. "Do what you want, okay? I enjoy it," Harry promised before he was face deep into her thighs once more. Taking his word, her fingers curled around his hair. With every jolt to her body, every arch, she tugged at his curls. And every time he had moaned or groaned, the vibration only added to the pleasure. 

It wasn't long until Aspen felt a coil in her stomach. "H-Harry, stop, I-I have to--."

Aspen couldn't define the feeling. The intense pressure mixed with what Harry was giving her had her chest rising quick and high, her thighs threatening to close, only to have Harry pull them back open. Harry shook his head, flattening his tongue back over her clit as she did so. "You're jus' gonna cum, trust y'self." His hands worked soothing motions over the girls thighs while his words muttered out over her slick cunt. 

Aspen's eyes screwed shut, her grip on his curls tightening as she rolled her hips. "H-Harry!" She cried out, her hips faltering while Harry practically drank her in. She came quick and with ease, her orgasm ripping through her. His motions were fluid and quick yet sent so many shocks up her body to the point she couldn't move. 

Harry continued to slowly and gently lap her clean, taking in everything she gave until she started to shy away and whimper. "H-hurts," she gasped, yet something about it made her want Harry to stay there.

The man pulled up with trailing kisses over her heat and inner thighs, his lips and chin slick with her mess. Harry licked his lips and flashed her a lopsided grin. His thumbs worked slow and careful shapes into her thighs, trying to soothe her. Aspens bent legs fell flat as she tried to regulate her breathing, cheeks burning red. 

"You did so, so good," Harry praised as he leaned over to kiss her lips softly multiple times until she giggled breathlessly against his. "God, Aspen. 'M so proud of you, y'have no idea."

Harry lingered above Aspen, brushing a strand of damp hair from her forehead as he gazed down at her with a tenderness that made her heart ache. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her body still trembling from the aftermath of what they had just shared. His praise echoed in her mind, wrapping around her like a comforting embrace, though her cheeks were still flushed with embarrassment and exhilaration.

“You okay?” Harry asked softly, his voice low and warm. His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her skin in soothing strokes.

Aspen nodded, her lips curving into a small, shy smile. “Yeah,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I’m so okay.”

Harry’s grin widened, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to her forehead. “Stay here, sugar. I’ll be right back,” he murmured, his words a gentle promise.

Reluctantly, he pulled away, slipping off the couch and disappearing into the bathroom just outside of his office. Aspen shifted slightly, wincing as the sensitive skin of her thighs protested the movement. She reached for the hem of the skirt she wore, intending to tug it down, but her hands faltered as the vulnerability of the moment settled over her. Despite her initial shyness, she felt an overwhelming sense of trust—an intimacy she had never experienced before.

Harry returned moments later with a warm washcloth and a glass of water. He set the glass on the table beside them and knelt by the end of the couch, his expression soft and intent as he reached for her. “Let me take care of you, yeah?” he said, his voice filled with quiet devotion.

Aspen hesitated for a moment, then nodded, her trust in him overriding her embarrassment. Harry carefully lifted her legs, his touch gentle as he cleaned her with the washcloth. He worked with a focused tenderness, his movements unhurried and respectful, as if he understood the weight of her vulnerability. After each wipe, he left a grateful kiss.

“You’re amazing, y’know that?” Harry said softly, his eyes flicking up to meet hers as he pressed the cloth against her skin. “So beautiful. So perfect.”

Aspen’s lips parted, her breath catching at his words. She felt a tear slip down her cheek, not from sadness but from the overwhelming emotion of the moment. Her lips cracked into a lazy smile regardless. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “For... everything.”

Harry’s brows knit together in concern as he reached up to brush the tear away with his thumb. “No need t'thank me,” he said, his voice firm yet gentle. “I meant every word, Asp baby. 'M the lucky one here.”

After he was finished, Harry set the washcloth aside and climbed back onto the couch, pulling Aspen into his arms. She melted against him, her cheek resting against his chest as his fingers traced soothing patterns on her back. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear was grounding, and she felt herself relax completely in his embrace.

“Drink some water for me, yeah?” Harry coaxed, reaching for the glass on the nightstand. He held it to her lips, watching with a small smile as she obediently took a sip.

As the minutes passed, the silence between them was filled with an unspoken understanding, a bond that felt unbreakable. Harry pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his lips lingering as he whispered, “I’ll always take care 'f you, Asp. Always.”

Aspen tightened her arms around him, her heart swelling with gratitude and love. In that moment, she knew with certainty that Harry wasn’t just her partner—he was her safe place, her home. And for the first time in a long time, she felt truly and completely cherished.

She made a mental note to definitely return the favor soon.

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

do you even remember the lives that you threw away like trash

continuation of this

[edwinisms]

i get such a sense of primal envy when looking at edwin’s clothes up close because god you can just tell his coat is real wool and made to last and not cheap flimsy mass produced garbage and auggagghhhh that was just STANDARD in his time. by no means am i saying i was #borninthewronggeneration because i like having vaccines and household appliances but. man. to have a personally-tailored coat like that that’d last for years and years……. and fabrics of fine thread-dense quality………. if only

[starry-bi-sky]

I'm having incoherent thoughts about clone danny again from the clone/clone^2 au (when am I not?) but more specifically I'm thinking about his reaction to finding out he's a clone. The standalone clone au digs into that a little more than clone^2, which is more focused on Danny and Damian's relationship. But neither (so far) really get into Danny's issues about finding out he's a clone after 15 years of thinking he wasn't.

Because he resents his parents for not telling him for so long. He resents the way he found out; through a trivial school project rather than a sit-down talk. He resents the fact that, apparently, they had meant to tell him sooner. But forgot. He resents the fact that they never told him because finding out feels like something was stolen from him when it had the chance to not be.

Danny Fenton, just fifteen, cloned not even half a year ago, knows what that personal violation of autonomy feels like. He knows what it's like to be cloned and while he loves Ellie, he does, she's his sister, and in this au his twin. But he is still left with that feeling of unsafety after realizing he'd been cloned. Being cloned is violating. The onset realization that it's so easy to get DNA without the other party noticing, and that what was stopping someone from trying to clone him again?

Followed only after with the rest of the inexplainable mix of feelings of being cloned, the rest of that inner conflict and panic that's an ugly mocktail of emotions that range from horror to fear. Trying to imagine what it's like to be cloned from the cloned party, and I imagine that it leaves you with the feeling of needing to crawl out of your own skin with discomfort.

And then he gets put on the other side of it. Danny Fenton, only fifteen, was cloned not even half a year ago, finding out he is a clone. And reactions, I imagine, can vary from person to person. But to him, it feels like something got stolen from him, like someone took a hole puncher and stuck it right into his chest and stole a chunk of himself from him.

It changes nothing about him and yet it changes everything. It's a betrayal on it's own to just find out he was a clone and they didn't tell him for fifteen years -- it shouldn't mean anything, because he's still Danny, and yet it means everything. It's him, it's him, it's about him. It's his personhood. It's about the fact that a load-bearing rock in his identity just crumbled beneath his feet and now there's a rockslide.

Because then he finds out that they used the wrong DNA. Its like pouring salt in an open wound. He's not even related to his parents or his sister, when for years he thought he was. It's the fact that pieces of his identity that he's been so secure in for so long just got ripped away from him in an instant. Then they tell him -- only through his own horrified prompting -- that the person whose DNA they used -- Bruce Wayne -- didn't even know he existed. That they accidentally used the wrong DNA, then didn't tell the person whose DNA they used.

The betrayal of being lied to for years turns really quickly into horror at his own existence. Something very similar to the horror he felt at being cloned and the skin-crawling discomfort that made him feel like his own skin wasn't really his. And then its not. It's actually not. Nothing but his own name feels like it belongs to him anymore -- not his hair, not his eyes, not his heart or his lungs, nothing feels like his anymore and he didn't know what that felt like until it was gone.

It's a question of Nature Vs. Nurture -- where does the line of "nature" begin and where does the line of "nurture" end? What of him is actually his? What of him is Bruce Wayne's? It's not logical, it's not supposed to be. It's a load-bearing wall on the house of his identity being destroyed and now everything else is caving down in on him. What belongs to Danny, what belongs to Bruce Wayne?

[opikiquu]

(disappears for a month and reappears with a slightly obscure hyperfixation) Hey guys