#also maybe its my turn to learn about communism

[aideshou]

blessed memorial friday from last year's hikoboshi (male star)

remember to live for those who have died .

[snickerdoodlles]

there's a point at which someone's fear of being a dick wraps back around to them just being a dick anyways

[early-october-skies]

Me when we don't speak anymore by bears in trees

[the-busy-ghost]

Warning- this is a very petty post, but I think I'm entitled to at least one petty, pissed-off reaction every time I finish a classic novel that hit harder than I expected so take this as my quota for the year.

Also spoiler warning for a book that came out over a century ago but still, I didn't know the plot going in so don't want to ruin it for anyone else, if you haven't read it shut your eyes. (Also Local Tumblr User Going Wild Over Book Published a Hundred Years Ago That Everybody Else Already Read should probably be categorised as akey part of indigenous tumblr culture at this point).

Anyway I just finished the War of the Worlds and in between studying I've thinking about Themes and Motifs as you do, and idly looking for further analysis. I then accidentally ran into an article called 'A Quiet Place II Succeeds Where the War of the Worlds Failed' and:

Now I haven't seen any of the Quiet Place films, this is not a rant against them and of course everyone is entitled to their own opinions. But re: the ending of The War of the Worlds, I have to ask, did this guy somehow miss, uh, the entire point of the book or am I just utterly insane?

[bsotted]

"The subtext that undergirds this new anti-racist discourse—that Black-white relationships are inherently fraught and must be navigated with the help of professionals and technical experts—testifies to the impoverishment of our interracial imagination, not to its enrichment. More gravely, anti-color-blind etiquette treats Black Americans as exotic others, permanent strangers whose racial difference is so chasmic that it must be continually managed, whose mode of humanness is so foreign that it requires white people to adopt a special set of manners and 'race conscious' ritualistic practices to even have a simple conversation."*

*(emphasis mine)

By: Tyler Austin Harper

Published: Aug 14, 2023

The hotel was soulless, like all conference hotels. I had arrived a few hours before check-in, hoping to drop off my bags before I met a friend for lunch. The employees were clearly frazzled, overwhelmed by the sudden influx of several hundred impatient academics. When I asked where I could put my luggage, the guy at the front desk simply pointed to a nearby hallway. “Wait over there with her; he’s coming back.”

Who “he” was remained unclear, but I saw the woman he was referring to. She was white and about my age. She had a conference badge and a large suitcase that she was rolling back and forth in obvious exasperation. “Been waiting long?” I asked, taking up a position on the other side of the narrow hallway. “Very,” she replied. For a while, we stood in silence, minding our phones. Eventually, we began chatting.

The conversation was wide-ranging: the papers we were presenting, the bad A/V at the hotel, our favorite things to do in the city. At some point, we began talking about our jobs. She told me that—like so many academics—she was juggling a temporary teaching gig while also looking for a tenure-track position.

“It’s hard,” she said, “too many classes, too many students, too many papers to grade. No time for your own work. Barely any time to apply to real jobs.”

When I nodded sympathetically, she asked about my job and whether it was tenure-track. I admitted, a little sheepishly, that it was.

“I’d love to teach at a small college like that,” she said. “I feel like none of my students wants to learn. It’s exhausting.”

Then, out of nowhere, she said something that caught me completely off guard: “But I shouldn’t be complaining to you about this. I know how hard BIPOC faculty have it. You’re the last person I should be whining to.”

I was taken aback, but I shouldn’t have been. It was the kind of awkward comment I’ve grown used to over the past few years, as “anti-racism” has become the reigning ideology of progressive political culture. Until recently, calling attention to a stranger’s race in such a way would have been considered a social faux pas. That she made the remark without thinking twice—a remark, it should be noted, that assumes being a Black tenure-track professor is worse than being a marginally employed white one—shows how profoundly interracial social etiquette has changed since 2020’s “summer of racial reckoning.” That’s when anti-racism—focused on combating “color-blindness” in both policy and personal conduct—grabbed ahold of the liberal mainstream.

Though this “reckoning” brought increased public attention to the deep embeddedness of racism in supposedly color-blind American institutions, it also made instant celebrities of a number of race experts and “diversity, equity, and inclusion” (DEI) consultants who believe that being anti-racist means undergoing a “journey” of radical personal transformation. In their righteous crusade against the bad color-blindness of policies such as race-neutral college admissions, these contemporary anti-racists have also jettisoned the kind of good color-blindness that holds that we are more than our race, and that we should conduct our social life according to that idealized principle. Rather than balance a critique of color-blind law and policy with a continuing embrace of interpersonal color-blindness as a social etiquette, contemporary anti-racists throw the baby out with the bathwater. In place of the old color-blind ideal, they have foisted upon well-meaning white liberals a successor social etiquette predicated on the necessity of foregrounding racial difference rather than minimizing it.

As a Black guy who grew up in a politically purple area—where being a good person meant adhering to the kind of civil-rights-era color-blindness that is now passé—I find this emergent anti-racist culture jarring. Many of my liberal friends and acquaintances now seem to believe that being a good person means constantly reminding Black people that you are aware of their Blackness. Difference, no longer to be politely ignored, is insisted upon at all times under the guise of acknowledging “positionality.” Though I am rarely made to feel excessively aware of my race when hanging out with more conservative friends or visiting my hometown, in the more liberal social circles in which I typically travel, my race is constantly invoked—“acknowledged” and “centered”—by well-intentioned anti-racist “allies.”

This “acknowledgement” tends to take one of two forms. The first is the song and dance in which white people not-so-subtly let you know that they know that race and racism exist. This includes finding ways to interject discussion of some (bad) news item about race or racism into casual conversation, apologizing for having problems while white (“You’re the last person I should be whining to”), or inversely, offering “support” by attributing any normal human problem you have to racism.

The second way good white liberals often “center” racial difference in everyday interactions with minorities is by trying, always clumsily, to ensure that their “marginalized” friends and familiars are “culturally” comfortable. My favorite personal experiences of this include an acquaintance who invariably steers dinner or lunch meetups to Black-owned restaurants, and the time that a friend of a friend invited me over to go swimming in their pool before apologizing for assuming that I know how to swim (“I know that’s a culturally specific thing”). It is a peculiar quirk of the 2020s’ racial discourse that this kind of “acknowledgement” and “centering” is viewed as progress.

My point is not that conservatives have better racial politics—they do not—but rather that something about current progressive racial discourse has become warped and distorted. The anti-racist culture that is ascendant seems to me to have little to do with combatting structural racism or cultivating better relationships between white and Black Americans. And its rejection of color-blindness as a social ethos is not a new frontier of radical political action.

No, at the core of today’s anti-racism is little more than a vibe shift—a soft matrix of conciliatory gestures and hip phraseology that give adherents the feeling that there has been a cultural change, when in fact we have merely put carpet over the rotting floorboards. Although this push to center rather than sidestep racial difference in our interpersonal relationships comes from a good place, it tends to rest on a troubling, even racist subtext: that white and Black Americans are so radically different that interracial relationships require careful management, constant eggshell-walking, and even expert guidance from professional anti-racists. Rather than producing racial harmony, this new ethos frequently has the opposite effect, making white-Black interactions stressful, unpleasant, or, perhaps most often, simply weird.

Since the murder of George Floyd in May 2020, progressive anti-racism has centered on two concepts that helped Americans make sense of his senseless death: “structural racism” and “implicit bias.” The first of these is a sociopolitical concept that highlights how certain institutions—maternity wards, police barracks, lending companies, housing authorities, etc.—produce and replicate racial inequalities, such as the disproportionate killing of Black men by the cops. The second is a psychologicalconcept that describes the way that all individuals—from bleeding-heart liberals to murderers such as Derek Chauvin—harbor varying degrees of subconscious racial prejudice.

Though “structural racism” and “implicit bias” target different scales of the social order—institutions on the one hand, individuals on the other—underlying both of these ideas is a critique of so-called color-blind ideology, or what the sociologist Eduardo Bonilla-Silva calls “color-blind racism”: the idea that policies, interactions, and rhetoric can be explicitly race-neutral but implicitly racist. As concepts, both “structural racism” and “implicit bias” rest on the presupposition that racism is an enduring feature of institutional and social life, and that so-called race neutrality is a covertly racist myth that perpetuates inequality. Some anti-racist scholars such as Uma Mazyck Jayakumar and Ibram X. Kendi have put this even more bluntly: “‘Race neutral’ is the new “separate but equal.’” Yet, although anti-racist academics and activists are right to argue that race-neutral policies can’t solve racial inequities—that supposedly color-blind laws and policies are often anything but—over the past few years, this line of criticism has also been bizarrely extended to color-blindness as a personal ethos governing behavior at the individual level.

The most famous proponent of dismantling color-blindness in everyday interactions is Robin DiAngelo, who has made an entire (very condescending) career out of asserting that if white people are not uncomfortable, anti-racism is not happening. “White comfort maintains the racial status quo, so discomfort is necessary and important,” the corporate anti-racist guru advises. Over the past three years, this kind of anti-color-blind, pro-discomfort rhetoric has become the norm in anti-racist discourse. On the final day of the 28-day challenge in Layla Saad’s viral Me and White Supremacy, budding anti-racists are tasked with taking “out-of-your-comfort-zone actions,” such as apologizing to people of color in their life and having “uncomfortable conversations.” Frederick Joseph’s best-selling book The Black Friend takes a similar tack. The problem with color-blindness, Joseph counsels, is it allows “white people to continue to be comfortable.” The NFL analyst Emmanuel Acho wrote an entire book, simply called Uncomfortable Conversations With a Black Man, that admonishes readers to “stop celebrating color-blindness.” And, of course, there are endless how-to guides for having these “uncomfortable conversations” with your Black friends.

Once the dominant progressive ideology, professing “I don’t see color” is now viewed as a kind of dog whistle that papers over implicit bias. Instead, current anti-racist wisdom holds that we must acknowledge racial difference in our interactions with others, rather than assume that race needn’t be at the center of every interracial conversation or encounter. Coming to grips with the transition we have undergone over the past decade—color-blind etiquette’s swing from de rigueur to racist—requires a longer view of an American cultural transition. Civil-rights-era color-blindness was replaced with an individualistic, corporatized anti-racism, one focused on the purification of white psyches through racial discomfort, guilt, and “doing the work” as a road to self-improvement.

Writing in 1959, the social critic Philip Rieff argued that postwar America was transforming from a religious and economic culture—one oriented around common institutions such as the church and the market—to a psychological culture, one oriented around the self and its emotional fulfillment. By the 1960s, Rieff had given this shift a name: “the triumph of the therapeutic,” which he defined as an emergent worldview according to which the “self, improved, is the ultimate concern of modern culture.” Yet, even as he diagnosed our culture with self-obsession, Rieff also noticed something peculiar and even paradoxical. Therapeutic culture demanded that we reflect our self-actualization outward. Sharing our innermost selves with the world—good, bad, and ugly—became a new social mandate under the guise that authenticity and open self-expression are necessary for social cohesion.

Recent anti-racist mantras like “White silence is violence” reflect this same sentiment: exhibitionist displays of “racist” guilt are viewed as a necessary precursor to racial healing and community building. In this way, today’s attacks on interpersonal color-blindness—and progressives’ growing fixation on implicit bias, public confession, and race-conscious social etiquette—are only the most recent manifestations of the cultural shift Rieff described. Indeed, the seeds of the current backlash against color-blindness began decades ago, with the application of a New Age, therapeutic outlook to race relations: so-called racial-sensitivity training, the forefather of today’s equally spurious DEI programming.

In her 2001 book, Race Experts, the historian Elisabeth Lasch-Quinn painstakingly details how racial-sensitivity training emerged from the 1960s’ human-potential movement and its infamous “encounter groups.” As she explains, what began as a more or less countercultural phenomenon was later corporatized in the form of the anemic, pointless workshops controversially lampooned on The Office. Not surprisingly, this shift reflected the ebb and flow of corporate interests: Whereas early workplace training emphasized compliance with the newly minted Civil Rights Act of 1964, later incarnations would focus on improving employee relations and, later still, leveraging diversity to secure better business outcomes.

If there is something distinctive about the anti-color-blind racial etiquette that has emerged since George Floyd’s death, it is that these sites of encounter have shifted from official institutional spaces to more intimate ones where white people and minorities interact as friends, neighbors, colleagues, and acquaintances. Racial-awareness raising is a dynamic no longer quarantined to formalized, compulsory settings like the boardroom or freshman orientation. Instead, every interracial interaction is a potential scene of (one-way) racial edification and supplication, encounters in which good white liberals are expected to be transparent about their “positionality,” confront their “whiteness,” and—if the situation calls for it—confess their “implicit bias.”

In a vacuum, many of the prescriptions advocated by the anti-color-blind crowd are reasonable: We should all think more about our privileges and our place in the world. An uncomfortable conversation or an honest look in the mirror can be precursors to personal growth. We all carry around harmful, implicit biases and we do need to examine the subconscious assumptions and prejudices that underlie the actions we take and the things we say. My objection is not to these ideas themselves, which are sensible enough. No, my objection is that anti-racism offers little more than a Marie Kondo–ism for the white soul, promising to declutter racial baggage and clear a way to white fulfillment without doing anything meaningful to combat structural racism. As Lasch-Quinn correctly foresaw, “Casting interracial problems as issues of etiquette [puts] a premium on superficial symbols of good intentions and good motivations as well as on style and appearance rather than on the substance of change.”

Yet the problem with the therapeutics of contemporary anti-racism is not just that they are politically sterile. When anti-color-blindness and its ideology of insistent “race consciousness” are translated into the sphere of private life—to the domain of friendships, block parties, and backyard barbecues—they assault the very idea of a multiracial society, producing new forms of racism in the process. The fact that our media environment is inundated with an endless stream of books, articles, and social-media tutorials that promise to teach white people how to simply interact with the Black people in their life is not a sign of anti-racist progress, but of profound regression.

The subtext that undergirds this new anti-racist discourse—that Black-white relationships are inherently fraught and must be navigated with the help of professionals and technical experts—testifies to the impoverishment of our interracial imagination, not to its enrichment. More gravely, anti-color-blind etiquette treats Black Americans as exotic others, permanent strangers whose racial difference is so chasmic that it must be continually managed, whose mode of humanness is so foreign that it requires white people to adopt a special set of manners and “race conscious” ritualistic practices to even have a simple conversation.

If we are going to find a way out of the racial discord that has defined American life post-Trump and post-Charlottesville and post-Floyd, we have to begin with a more sophisticated understanding of color-blindness, one that rejects the bad color-blindness on offer from the Republican Party and its partisans, as well as the anti-color-blindness of the anti-racist consultants. Instead, we should embrace the good color-blindness of not too long ago. At the heart of that color-blindness was a radical claim, one imperfectly realized but perfect as an ideal: that despite the weight of a racist past that isn’t even past, we can imagine a world, or at least an interaction between two people, where racial difference doesn’t make a difference.

[ Via: https://archive.today/8zfvc ]

[writella]

Reckless Romantics

Synopsis: Can be read as a stand alone or part two to getting ready for me; a return to innocent, inexperienced!reader and her relationship with Rick Grimes; two weeks after their first time together there has been some distance, but now Rick wants to make up for how hasty he was when he touched her last.

Details: Rick Grimes x fem!reader, smut: oral (f receiving) and teaching reader how to give a handjob, unspecified (of age) age gap, sweetness + kissing + a little mutual pining maybe, probably cliche, and leaning more into Rick as the dutiful leader and gentle lover (I feel this is just as in character as dom!Rick). Reader is a music lover— any kind of music you like— but she also likes a specific band only because I watched a documentary about them at the theater in July so it made its way into the story. Slightly proofread— will be corrected more later. wc: 5-7k (I lost track after finishing it on tumblr).

A/N: I wrote this message before I returned for the summer, but I still want you to read it: Been spending time outside this summer, trying to reach some goals— time got away from me. I don’t think I’ll ever stop saying I miss you, but please know it’s always true.

— with love from writella, my beautiful reader. ♡

Rick Grimes was not a man to give in to temptation.

My mercy prevails over my wrath, he’d say— his secret keepsake phrase. The one he whispers to himself in moments of hardship; the one he uses when he needs to make decisions only a leader would. Rick was a man of discipline; honor. He never boasted about how seriously he took these qualities, but when others did— admired, applauded, stuck by him for it— it would be a lie to say that he didn’t take note and use their pride to keep him going. This is how he knows he is strong-willed, why he wouldn’t fall for foolish, forbidden things. He was better than that. The safety and prosperity he brought to Alexandria proved it, reaffirmed it.

So why couldn’t someone remind him of that two weeks ago before he touched you?

As for you, you believed yourself to be a girl who wouldn’t fall so easily for the first man who showed you any kind of affection.

From an adolescence of peers who never seemed to take notice of you to one filled with walkers and adults who were either dead or seldom your age, you learned how hard love, let alone any connection, is to come by. It has made you quite the perpetual daydreamer because of it. One with a heart and mind filled with fantasy worlds, creating what you lacked externally. It often made you see yourself as much younger than you were despite all you’ve been through. No regular person your age in the old world has probably escaped as many deaths and wannabe cowboy dictators as you have. Still, they probably knew what it was like to have a high school romance, or at least go to the movies with friends, and have graduated from well, anything. You were simply born too late and shoved into this new world too early to experience even half of it.

This upbringing has brought you up to believe yourself precocious, although— maybe you were already too old for that word now. No, you were, so maybe– sensible, realistic despite the overactive imagination; you could decipher between right and wrong, real versus fake. This is why, for as long as you could, you did not entertain any thoughts of Rick Grimes.

Other people would though, women mostly. But you did have your suspicions of others who thought the same— they just weren't as shameless. Those who were, could be found during lunch breaks from work on house porches; or laughing and whispering at community gatherings and at the back of town hall meetings. Basically any time or place they could turn into a gossip session, which was often. And it didn’t always have to do with Rick. It could be about any one of the men in town; or retelling funny moments to their friends or complaining about their co-workers. But anything of true, great interest always had to do with the community leaders. You wish you could say you were the exception to this interest, but hypocritically, you loved a good inside scoop, and luckily for you, you had a trustworthy way about you. Almost everyone who spoke to you or allowed you to sit with them and their friends for meals agreed: you were a intent, quiet listener making you the best kind of person to say things to without judgment; and people assumed you as shy, yet you loved to laugh which was great for boosting egos. They often treated you as a little sister in that way, as if the pleasure was all yours to get to hear their ramblings because they were either older or perceived themselves to be more sociable and experienced than you. You tried not to care too much about what they took you for. It was nice to feel trusted, even if people could be a little too mean or weird for your liking because no matter who it was, they made you feel as if you were watching television, and you missed television. They told you things from period mishaps– (it’s the apocalypse, there are a lot of free bleeding queens okay)— to which people in their workstations annoyed them most with very detailed explanations as to why and, of course, rumors or general talk about the leaders: who they thought each of them has slept with, if there seemed to be any fighting between them and what side they were taking, and obviously, anything that had to do with one of the guys. Some were downright obvious that one or the other was their type, while others might try to be more sly about it, always bringing whichever man it was up more than the others. But unless they were diehard Daryl girls, wanted to dominate Glenn, or had some military man, hot priest, or doctor kink for Abraham, Gabriel, or Siddiq, most of them apparently felt that Rick was the love of their lives. He was like a local celebrity. A band’s frontman.

“So, what about you?” One of your scavenging partners asked on the ride home. “Which one do you like?”

“They’re all attractive guys,” you say, keeping your eyes on the road. “But I don’t really think about them like that.” You feel a flush coming on. Crushes, or anything romantic, is a part of your internal world, not something you discuss aloud.

“Come on,” she prods. “You never join in. You just laugh at us for being delusional.”

“Whose us?” Rosita asks, her voice sharp, humorous, and not without judgment. “I don’t talk about that shit.” But secretly, she loved the drama as much as you and would have many questions for you later tonight about why you have yet to tell her of the town obsession of treating her friends like the cast of a reality show.

“I don’t laugh at you! I like it when you guys talk about that stuff.”

“But what I’m saying is that I didn’t let you ride shotgun this time so you can hold out again,” the girl jokes half-heartedly.

“What do you mean this time? I get to ride shotgun because I’m the one with the CDs.”

And it’s true, the only thing that cancelled out the silence of drive in moments where conversation ceased was your Oasis album playing in the background. Learning about the band was your new obsession. Much like listening to the crazy imaginations of the girls in town, you found the Gallagher brother rivalry riveting even if you only knew pieces of the story from the music, scraps of magazine articles, and by asking whoever in town happened to be a teen in the 90s. Thankfully you had hit the jackpot today though. One of the houses you visited was once occupied by a dad and daughter with an insane music collection in the living room and a smaller, more curated one in the girl’s room. After gathering what new music you wanted to try from downstairs, you also found some old issues of QuizFest in the girl’s room, filled with activities that were themed with shows you remember from when you were a kid, but the most important discovery— the find of all finds— was one of those Ultimate Guide, Complete Life Story magazines of none other than the band Oasis.

You would now probably know all of the drama between the brothers to tell a coherent story about the band’s history to anyone who wanted an escape from walker related events and farming talk. When you weren’t listening, that’s what people would come to you for: to borrow music, get recommendations, or to tell them a story. In all, you were getting the reputation of being the town’s music historian, meaning you usually used your knowledge to avoid talking about yourself. And it mostly worked.

Except for now.

“Well, if I had to guess,” the girl persists despite your silence, “I think it would be Rick.”

“What?” Noticing the incredulity in your tone, you calm your voice. Shrugging you say, “Why Rick? Everyone likes him.”

Rosita sends a look your way. It’s innocent enough, probably just showing that she is still listening on as she drives but you were refusing to look at anyone now to know for sure.

“Exactly,” the girl says. “He’s a classic knight in shining armor type. I feel like he’d talk you through it, which I think would be good for— someone like you.”

Your face is on fire, you can’t even speak properly. “I- first of all, what do you know about my experience?” you ask, the incredulous tone returning. But all you get as an answer is knowing snorts and chortles from the two women. Ouch. Nonetheless, you continue, “Second, you think shooting a guy in the head in front of his wife and the whole town is chivalrous?”

Oh—

That makes car goes quiet.

You know you made a mistake.

You didn’t mean it as crassly as you said it, and you did feel bad for saying it knowing that the situation was more difficult than you summed it up to be, but you didn’t apologize. All this talk about crushes and especially Rick made you embarrassed. It’s not that you didn't see what others saw anyway. Of course you noticed how nice Rick’s curls are, how he doesn’t have to use any product for them to look as they do; or those blue eyes and how when you get closer, they become that much more stark and crisp; or how good he was at talking to people, convincing them of things or simply just reassuring them as a friend; and that southern drawl that still sometimes catches you by surprise by sounding so pronounced at the end of certain words, making his voice that much more intoxicating. Of course you saw the appeal, but that didn’t mean you had a crush on him.

Right?

Maybe it doesn’t matter. You just felt you knew better. He was like a president. You know of them, and you believe in them, but you don’t get close to them. And it didn’t matter that he told Carl to personally deliver you a stereo he and Daryl found while out once. How he remembered how you liked music. How he told Carl to tell you this one was probably better than the old one you had, that it was louder. You only showed him your old stereo that once when he was helping you move. He was just a perceptive guy with a good memory. All leaders are like that.

Right?

Anyway, let’s get back to your crass… joke.

“Hilarious.” Rosita says and you hear the low contempt in her voice at your insensitivity.

“That was ages ago though,” the girl chimes in, saving you just a little, “and he did it to help her. He didn’t care about the mess he made. He save her. I’d say that’s pretty romantic.”

“Let’s not call that romantic,” Rosita scoffs, and despite the slight frustration, there was a quiet sadness in her voice at the memory. “That wasn’t love.”

“That was reckless, not romantic.” You agree. Partly because you truly do, but also in attempt to win back favor from your friend. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

But after that day, it was all you could think about.

The idea of a knight; a romantic; someone that would do anything for you, ruin his reputation for you; find gifts from the outside that he’d send is son to give to you. Maybe you did find it charming, idyllic.

These thoughts soared in your mind so much so that on one night when thinking about boys from books or your favorite artists wasn't enough during moments under your sheets when your back arched and your fingers trailed up your thighs, your mind switched from people you would never meet to him, to Rick. Your eyes scrunched tighter, and you tried to shake it away, telling yourself it was just the women in town and the talk in the car getting to you. But then you thought about how rich and hot pink his lips looked on a bright sun-burning day and how it would feel like flames firing inside of you if he kissed you with them.

Ideas like these went on for nearly a year now. You even started questioned if maybe you had always liked him, maybe you were always just like the other girls even though tried to not be. You had thought it made you respectful, realistic; after all, how could Rick be the love of your life if he was everyone’s? Wonderings like this became even worse and more confusing when Rosita had asked if you’d like to move in with her. Becoming closer with her meant being around the leaders more often, which meant coincidental encounters and conversations with Rick as well. Quickly, he wasn’t just that president or celebrity anymore who talked to you sometimes and got you that stereo that once. He was becoming a peer— at least in some ways. One who was curious about your interests as much as your opinions. But it’s not exactly like you were in the in-crowd now as some people assumed. You didn’t get to go to leader meetings, and as much as you knew Rosita must have been telling you more than others know, she couldn’t have been telling you everything. But you did see him more than other people now, when he and the leaders came over to the house or when Rosita was invited over to theirs and she’s tell you to come too. And now, with these thoughts spiraling, you can’t help but to look back at the at the times where Rick approached you, gave you all his attention no matter how small it was and asked you about what you were listening to or reading that week, letting you ramble. He was an older guy, yes, but he cared, he actually listened, and he didn’t make you feel like the childish little sister others do.

Sadly, you did become the fawn like you had told yourself you wouldn’t be. But you couldn’t stop picturing him when you closed your eyes, and in fact, it was nice to imagine someone to fall asleep with, to wake up to. It was just going be your secret. Part of your fantasy world. But then— it all caught up to you.

Through the sliver of the open door he saw you, fingers between folds, goading yourself on as you chanted his name in whispers.

And to your surprise, he encouraged it. No, he did so much more than that— he helped you, made you come; gave you your first orgasm and made you his like no one has before.

You loved it. You gave into it. Even if it was just one secret moment. It made you give into the idea that this would continue but of course, it didn’t. He hasn’t spoken to you in almost three weeks until—

“Woah-” you gasp, almost crashing into just the person as you exit your room.

“Sorry,” you both say in unison, holding onto each other's forearms before quickly letting go. Your arms cross over into your chest before dropping as you enter your room again, clearing the hallway, and his hands go behind his back. He’s still as unsteady as you are, his mouth is slightly open, thinking of what to say.

“Hi,” you whisper tentatively.

“Good morning,” he politely replies. His eyes now smile slightly as he nods to you. You don’t miss how the light emanating from your bright room makes them shine. And he doesn’t miss how the light shining behind your figure makes you, in your white cotton sundress, look like an absolute angel.

“Good morning,” you repeat, giggling slightly, not knowing what else to say.

“Good morning,” he says again, lost and as giddy as you are.

“Oh wait— is the leader’s meeting here today?” Rick starts to nod and answers yes as you continue to speak, “I totally forgot! I’m sorry. I know I should be gone by now.”

He shakes his head, “It’s fine. I was just going to the bathroom.”

“Here? Was someone in the one downstairs?”

“Just wanted to be away from everyone when they came. Daryl and I came early so we started talking and I just- we didn’t see eye to eye on something. I needed a minute.”

You nod. That seems to be your signature when to talk to him. You hated it honestly. Often over-analyzing your words, worrying you’ll sound immature or stutter in front of him. “I'm sorry,” you tell him sympathetically. For a moment there is only silence which makes you worry he will go away, so without thinking, you ask: “I know you’re busy but, if you need a moment, maybe you would like to come in here instead?”

Rick freezes but then, inevitably agrees. As he enters, you close the door and quickly go to shut off the low playing stereo and rehang some of the dresses on your chair in the closet— you had been getting ready for the day. Rick goes to sit on the chair after you empty it but you stop him. You sit on the vertical side of your bed and guesture Rick to sit in the spot next to you, closer to the headboard. You wanted to sit next to him.

Rick doesn’t question this, maybe he wanted to be as close to you as you had, so as he sits, your thighs touch. You try not to move too much at the first contact. Still, the heat that starts to burn inside you makes you realize how much you’ve craved this. Can two weeks feel like a lifetime? It’s like you haven’t felt him in ages.

“What were you playing today?” He asks and you realize you eyes went straight to the area where yours and Rick’s legs touched. You know he noticed but still you try to answer normally.

“Selena. Rosita loves her. It’s one of her most famous songs: Amor Prohibido.”

He nods. “I probably wouldn’t understand a bit of it,” he laughs.

He would probably remember the singer from the news if you gave more context but you don’t. There is a silence that follows until you ask, “So,” starting slowly, “what’s wrong? Is Daryl aright?”

He doesn’t answer. His mouth is open as if he’s deciding what to say, but nothing comes out, so you continue, “You know, nothing is ever right in the world when Rick and Daryl fight. It makes me sad.”

The joke makes those lines at the sides of his eyes appear— a quiet laugh. “Well you know I’d never want to make you sad. Especially not you.” You two exchange a light smile while that heat rises fast to your heart. “We’ll be fine,” he finally says, but then he goes quiet again. Rick seems unsure if he wants to continue. He even looks at the door, wonders if the others have shown up yet, but— he knows he doesn’t want to leave. And even more, he knows he shouldn’t after ignoring you like some teenage boy. He decides to tell you what’s happening: “Daryl wants us to bring new people in. You know how he’s always going out there. But I think it’s way too soon.”

You hum agreeingly, but at the same time, you understand Daryl. “I think he just likes to give people what he never used to have,” you suggest.

“I know,” he nods a bit annoyedly; “and that’s a nice way to put it, but you know him, when he has his mind set on somethin’ he can be so damn stubborn. It’s frustrating. He won’t compromise or listen to anything.”

Endearingly, you try to withhold a laugh, your lisp pursing. Not only because when he says anything, it actually sounds like anythang, but because Rick sounds like he’s describing himself and he doesn’t even realize it.

“And,” he adds, pausing for a moment before he continues, scratching his beard. It looks as if maybe he shouldn’t tell you what he’s about to. His head hangs low to say: This is not information for everyone to know, okay? But the last time he went out there with Glenn, the reason Glenn’s arm is in a sling right now, is because they met a group, tried to bring them back and before they could make it even close to home, the group fought ‘em, tried to steal what they scavenged, and almost kill Glenn.”

You widen your eyes at the statement. You actually already knew this from Rosita, but that will stay between you two. All you feel is humbled that he felt he share it with you, despite it being a dark thing. It was a close call. Rick was right for being very cautious right now. “Wow,” is all you can get in before he speaks again.

“Imagine if we lost him. Fought this war with his wife and unborn baby at the time for nothing? So he couldn’t even meet him?” Rick shakes his head, and you notice his foot tapping lightly, making his knee bounce. This had happened a month ago now but it was obviously affecting him. “It was reckless and I told him that. That right now we need to be focusing on what’s inside these walls. People have only just started getting back to being comfortable now; to feeling like this is a home.”

Your eyes remain wide, “We did so much rebuilding you.”

“We did complete rebuilding.” He corrects, though not rudely. Shaking his head, he goes back to talking about Daryl: “I think I made it seem like what happened to Glenn was his fault. So not only were we arguing but I must’ve hurt him,” Rick realizes, “and now he definitely won’t be back today— maybe not even until next week.”

A silence hangs in the air after this; it seems he finished. Now, you know you should speak, but as the silence continues, you grow more unsure of what to say. Issues like these are things you’ve never dealt with. You didn’t want to say something stereotypical.

“I’m sorry I’m putting all this on you.”

“No, no,” you quickly console, trying to think. “Um, well,” you say, starting unsteadily, “this is probably going to sound stupid and not helpful. I don’t even remember the exact context or what was truly said so it might not make any sense either but, do you remember when I had my Oasis obsession? Earlier this year?”

“I do,” he laughs, turning his head over to your music table. His eyes scan any of the visible album titles to see if he can find it, but the print on most of them are too small. He turns back to you as you continue:

“This is going to sound a little far off but I think you and Daryl are like Liam and Noel.”

His eyebrows furrow, “Didn’t those two hate each other?”

“I mean, yes— but it’s much more complicated than that to me— but no, I don’t mean in that way. It just that there is this quote Noel says that I don’t remember exactly, but I really liked: he said that even though he wrote the music and Liam did the singing that Liam meant the words just as much as Noel did because they’re brothers and he wrote them. I thought that was beautiful, but…” you trail off.

He stays silent, trying to give you space to find your words but you feel like you’ve gone too far. It’s all pretty convoluted and not a true comparison to what’s going on that you’re even confusing yourself a little. “I think what I mean is that even though they have their different roles, they still feel very similar things and believe in the same purpose. I think that’s like you and Daryl. You two are so similar yet so different. But there’s still a binding force that always brings the two of you together. So, like I’m sure you already know and I didn’t even need to tell you, but you two will be okay. You two have different ways of doing things, but the music or the life you’re trying to create in Alexandria still has the same meaning to the both of you.” You laugh small and breathily as you end. “That probably didn’t make sense.”

Rick smiles to himself. “I didn’t get that first bit, with the quote, but no… that made a lot of sense to me.” He nods toward you and you return his smile. “You’re so bright. You know that? Not everyone knows how to stitch things together like that the way you do.”

This makes you feel good. Rick thought you were smart. You know you should say thank you, but instead, something else comes out: “May I, may I kiss you?”

“Yes,” he answers, almost stuttering it out, a hint of hesitation before he did, but he nods so kindly, so reassuringly as he tells you again: “yes.”

Your fingers touch his lower cheeks lightly, feeling the bristles of his beard. You’re slow, and careful, and scared. Your fingers linger on his jaw for a moment until they completely caress his right cheek and then you move in, swiftly— worried you’ll lose your confidence, worried he’ll change his mind. You catch his lower lip and seal the kiss. Your lips are locked for a few seconds until you retreat. It was nice, and exciting, but short. You knew you could have put your tongue in his mouth. You believe he would have let you because you remember when he did it last time, but you didn’t want to embarrass yourself by doing it wrong and once again reminding him how much you don’t know. But you’re sure giving him a grade school kiss like this one was enough of a reminder.

Your eyes roll down, chin low. Your cheeks are on fire and your hands do not know where to go so you start fiddling with the hem of your dress and then you laugh. You were trying to be courageous this time, and you were, but you also weren’t.

Rick grabs your left hand, holding it at the end of your thigh, “I liked that,” he says softly.

“You did?” You ask as softly as he, eyes meeting his.

A short, airy snicker comes out, “Mhm,” he hums, giving you a closed-mouth smile. He found you simply adorable.

“Can I… try it again?”

Rick pulls on your forearm, attempting to bring you closer to him. “Yeah,” he nods, voice gentle. “Do you want me to help?”

You nod before you speak, happily accepting, “Yes.”

He puts your hands on his shoulders. One of his grabs onto your waist and the other holds you lightly under your chin, adjusting your head to meet his lips. The first kiss he places holds just for a couple of moments as the one you gave him did, gentle but packed with longing. The next two are slow, pretty pecks that already have you melting at his touch, lips agape waiting for the next one. The fourth is the one where he brings his tongue into your mouth, carefully bringing it in quarter by quarter. He tastes the top of your mouth and tongue and you feel him as he slowly starts to explore how far you may like to go, but truly you become stagnant other than your hands that press into his shoulder. Luckily, Rick either doesn’t notice your hesitation or is already silently helping you as he takes the lead, pulling you closer by the hips and slipping his tongue in and out of your mouth to kiss you more. It makes you smile— the excitement of your first make-out session. You giggle, and then it makes him smile too and your teeth slightly bump into each other. Accidently you nip his lip because of it, making you pull back.

Your fingers hover over your lips as you impart a quiet apology but Rick just shakes his head giving you another quick kiss instead. He starts to move back on your bed, back pressed again the headboard and he tells you quietly, “Come here.”

You get up and sit higher up on the bed as well, calves folded under your thighs. He takes one of your legs and starts to put it over his as he asks, “Is this okay?”

You nod, vigor growing as you do it now, thrilled to sit on his lap. Your dress bunches around your hips and the tops of your thighs. You move closer to press your chest into his and you kiss him first again, another small one but with intent as you look at him afterward, feeling the scratch of his beard on your fingertips as you smile at him, in awe that this is happening.

“You want to try this time?”

“Uh,” he means you put your tongue in his mouth this time, but you’re afraid to do it wrong but you know you want to say yes so you do, “Yes, okay.”

So he brings you in again and you kiss him. He mouth opens a little and you try to bring your tongue in slightly but you teeth clash. “Sorry,” and quickly he responds that it’s okay and rubs your cheek, telling you to just open your mouth a little wider, no teeth, let your tongue go on top of his.

You try it. Your tongues meet again, licking each other tips before you slowing press in more, your chest touching his as you try to close the gap.

Rick starts slowly rocking your hips against his and he takes control of the kiss again. It helps you not think, you like it. And you like the feeling of that incoming tight bulge starting to form under his jeans, but then you let go. “Wait,” you say, “I like this.” You pause for a moment, confusing him more as to why you stopped. “But… there is something I wanted to ask you.”

“Okay,” his hand stay fixed on your hips and waist, rubbing soothily, “What it is?”

Another pause. “I feel nervous,” you whisper.

“You have no reason to be, sweetheart. You can ask me anything.”

You laugh, smiling as you look off to the side. Anythang.

He smiles too, although unknowingly to what you found funny. His head tilts as he tries to find your gaze and turn it towards him again.

“Well, the last time we were together here you taught me how to do something. You taught me how to pleasure myself better so,” you stutter, “I want to pleasure you. If that’s okay. And I was wondering if you’d teach me how- to touch you here.” You remove yourself from straddling him and point in the direction of his cock.

Instantly he feels a stir of his already hardening dick.

This is not how he expected things to go this time. Or truly, he didn’t expect any of this at all, but when you asked to kiss him he decided he would be gentle, more giving. It felt like you wanted him to take again, the exact thing he was trying not to do. “I feel like I took advantage of you last time.”

“Rick…” you shake your head. “I’m the one who didn’t close the door all the way. You asked if it was okay and then you asked if you could go faster. I said yes to everything…” You start to worry— is he second guessing everything now?—“I feel maybe we remember this differently.” You bow your head again now. Feeling ashamed, wondering if he did.

Rick places one hand on your knee to comfort you although he still says, “It’s just that I’ve never done something like this before.” His thumb sways on your skin. “I just don’t want you to end up feeling like you’re wasting your time. Your first times.”

You’re surprised, “It’s so funny how you can be so self-assured in front of a crowd and now you don’t think you’re good enough.” You take his hand and press it towards your chest. Your heart was racing. “I like you. So much.” You swallow as he says your name softly, realizing how fast your heart was going. “No one in town is truly ever mean to me or anything, and Rosita has been so kind with letting me move in with her and we talk and its nice but, you know— she has her flings and her friendships that are separate from mine and everyone just always seems like they have their person and I just don’t. I don’t have my person, or any person.” You remove your hands from your chest but Rick still holds onto it, squeezing your hand as you start speaking again. “You’re kind, Rick, and you make me excited, and you remember things about me… “ If your face could get any hotter, it does, “And, well, you’re very handsome. If you could teach me again, I would like that.”

God… Rick was trying to be a romantic yet you were so adamant on getting him off. He laughed inwardly, shaking his head, deciding that the best way to handle this situation— and make up for some of his guilt as he was trying to— would be to give you the thing you say you want and not what he thinks you want. Suppose that’s one for widower’s wisdom.

Decidedly, Rick gets up from the bed, giving you a once over, still admiring how adorable, and how sexy, you look to him with your feet under your lap, hands on your knees as you look up at him from the bed and your white dress. He starts undoing his shirt buttons. “Remember when I did this the first time?”

A smirk came on, there’s the Rick you remember. Blue eyes intense, and voice getting cocky as he gets ready to give you what you need, what he knows you only want from him.

“Yes,” you say quiet yet with budding excitement. You start going for the hem of your dress, “Should I start taking this off too?”

“Mm, stay like that.” He’s taking off his belt. “Thought you looked beautiful in it right when I saw you.”

Your thighs squeeze together slightly. Rick Grimes was undressing before you, for you, and calling you smart and beautiful all the while.

As Rick lowers his boxers, his cock springs up. He returns to his spot on the bed, back leaning against the headboard. All of a sudden he seems to truly recognize that he is the only one exposed. He would tell you what to do, guide you, but in a small way, in a way you probably didn’t realize, you were in control. It seems that each time this happens— although it’s only been twice— and each time he talks to you— which has been plenty— you steal a little more of Rick’s heart and he just can’t stop it.

“So,” he clears his throat, your eager eyes on his cock making him twitch, “you usually just wrap your hand around, start from the base and keep pumping up.” He shakes his head, “there’s not too much too it but it’s best to keep your hand light at the start, you—”

You nod quickly, “May I?”

As he nods back you, “Yes.” And as he says it you’re already licking your hand.

“Is it okay if I spit? That helps right? Or is that nasty to you?”

He’s caught off guard, “No, no, that helps.”

So you do and you place your hand lightly at the base as he said and you start to pump. Instantly, he lets out a gasp, and the next noises that follow are repressed grunts and groans. You want to ask him to stop doing that but you’re a little scared to speak up that way just yet and you’re too engrossed in how you can see the light veins of green and blue on him and how he’s so red at the tip. It was honestly exciting. Just this, touching him with your hand, staring at his member and watching him twitch as his mouth opens to pant lightly. It still felt unreal but you liked it and you were happy to learn. You start to pump him more towards the top, placing your thumb on his slit- pressing in. His abs clench at that. You push in a little harder and you squeeze your fist around him a little— testing it out to see what happens—and he groans, unadulterated this time, “oh, fuck.”

The heel of your foot that’s under your lap pushes into your center at that.

You start pumping faster. “Am I doing good, Rick?”

Hearing your voice sets him off, “Fuck, sweetheart. Yes.” He’s honestly choking out each of his words, he didn’t expect to get so turned on by all of this. He realizes the last time he had sex was with you that first time, and before that… he can’t even remember. “You’re doing an amazing job.”

As you pump, you start to slow down, only doing it shallowly towards his base. You’re feeling confident and you kiss the side of him, licking a fat stripe up to the top and then you pump him fully again.

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” he breathes out. He wants to tell you to slow down but it comes out of nowhere, he stutters before he can even speak. An unintelligible groan mixed with a moan comes out abrupt and louder than he intends and white spurts of liquid come out.

You go faster for a few moments, then start to slow down, a little unsure of what is best to do, but you notice when you start squeezing him a little more as you continue to pump up and more whiteness fall out from inside of him.

“Did I, make you come?”

“Yeah,” he says, huffing.

“I did?” your cheekbones rise as you ask with awe— it was another first for the books.

Rick’s tries to let his embarrassment fade, he can tell you were just excited about it, but still, he looks down and to the side, avoiding direct eye contact— almost like you typically would. You peer at him, almost nervously because of it. Rick is usually the confident one. “Doesn’t always happen that fast,” he explains.

“Well before a month ago I didn’t know how to make myself come so I wouldn’t know,” you say with self-deprecating assurance. You had heard from the girls in town that it was easier to make men orgasm. You already had it in your head as something not to judge. You wonder how hard he must have been restraining himself the first time he placed himself inside you, or if it just happened to be easier for him that time around. “I didn’t expect I could do it or anything really. I thought it was…” you smile while giggling, “interesting.”

“A good interesting I hope.”

“Very,” you assure. “I liked it.” You kiss his cheek as you take some wipes that are by your night stand and you start cleaning him up. He doesn’t tell you that you don’t have to; he helps along with you.

“You sure you’ve never done any of this before?”

You shake your head. “I just read fiction books.”

He smiles to himself, a quiet snort of laughter leaving his nose. You always surprise him.

When you two are done cleaning, he puts his boxers back on. Quickly, he is on the bed again and starts to kissing you. Rick holds your shoulder and pushes you down. Finally, it’s time for his redemption, he feels. It was your turn to be pleasured. Just like he wanted to do from the beginning.

Rick kisses down your neck to your collarbone, and the parts of your exposed chest and he pushes your dress up past your hips. His lips move back up to yours, kissing you more before saying, “I really wanna show you something sweetheart.” He presses his thumb into your clit over your underwear. “Can I kiss you down there? Have you ever had that before?”

You shake your head slowly, eyes wide. “I-” you start nodding your head, “-I would really like that.” And in such a small voice you add, “Please.”

Rick kisses your cheek. Deep and softly he breathlessly tells you, “I would love to.”

Rick moves his head lower and gives you slow kisses over your underwear from your mound to the end of your lips. He starts to drag your panties over your legs and once they’re gone he kisses up your thighs. Then his nose rubs and sways ever so lightly on your lips. He breathes in and it makes you shutter. Your heart is going crazy again. Finally, he licks upward. One long and languid stripe ending with a kiss to your clit and then he truly begins.

Tongues are wet and sticky and everything you ever dreamed of. Your eyes roll back instantly from that first lick and kiss. You remember a time when you started touching yourself that you used to never think of receiving oral. You thought it was scary, nasty, that you wouldn’t like it until the moment you thought about it as a million kisses on your most sensitive lips, or someone liking you so much that they’d get drenched by your wetness just to touch you, to taste you. After that, you thought about it all the time and now it was finally happening– someone needing you so much they just had to know what you taste like. Here he was: kissing, licking, sucking, not caring about how he looks but only how you feel— you now knew what it was like to be desired.

Rick presses his tongue flat on your clit, rubbing deep circles. His eyes are open, looking up at how your mouth opens wider and wider. You let out little whimpers, enamored by his tongue, still deciding if you like the scratch of his beard, but your eyes stay glued to the ceiling, scared to look at the scene below.

He gives you kitten licks in between speaking, “Look down. Don’t miss your first time.”

Your eyes go down slowly, watching as he gives open mouth kisses to your clit and right lip, tilting his head. He stays there for a moment, hearing your short and breathy pants, kissing and licking your clit and lower lips like they were the ones above your chin. His eye contact sends bursts of sticky wet fluid down your hole and you release a whimpered moan, they’re always sp short and soft and high pitched. He can tell you like it but he can also see you’re nervous. You don’t trust yourself, you know it, and he’s starting to realize it too. You’re scared of completely letting go.

He peppers kisses to your clit before moving upward, his tongue rolling and mouth kissing from your lower stomach to your breasts till his face reaches yours again. “No one’s here,” he tells you. He then kisses your lips allowing you to taste yourself for the first time. “Relax,” he whispers, rolling out each syllable. He holds your chin with one hand while he inserts a finger into your hole with the other, his pointer is instantly drenched and you shudder at the feeling. His single calloused finger reminds you of the time he was last inside you. He pumps slowly, looking into your eyes as he speaks, “Don’t think about who could come downstairs.”

“What if Rosita or Daryl come back?”

“What if?” He says it so simply as if he’s ready for everyone to know. Truly, that would be an issue, but right now it was not about him and it was completely about you; he wanted to give. It was short-sighted, reckless, yes, but… you were just so pretty, so bright, so insightful, and he felt like he needed to make up for all the taking he did last time, of your first time. Rosita had went to run after Daryl, hopefully no one was here anyway. But again, he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. “Lay back,” he gently commands, “forget what I said before- close your eyes. Just give in to it. Like I’m the only one who's here.”

Rick licks zig zag stripes down your slit and then he decides to insert his tongue in your hole. He goes as deep as his tongue allows, collecting your wetness and trying to swallow it in moments when he turns back to kissing. He his nose is brushing and rubbing up against your clit as he sucks wetness from down below and you start letting out stringy moans you can’t control. Soft, pretty, and continuous, “uh, ah, uh, uh” that turn into “sorry, I’m sorry.” You’re still self-conscious about your own noises. This was still only the second time you’ve heard the sounds you make when someone else is fucking you.

But Rick shushes you. Giving small kisses to your clit as he looks up at you, seeing your scrunched eyes and open mouth. “I like knowing you like it, pretty girl. I like all those pretty sounds you’re making.”

Your pussy tightens around nothing at that phrase.

“Keep going. You don’t have to be shy.” He grabs your chin and you look down at him. His beard is wet. “We’ve already made a mess anyway.”

He starts kissing your labias, licking up wetness when you decide to ask, nervously, “Can you make sounds too?”

Instantly, Rick goes again to kiss your clit, humming into it as he sucks. Breathing against you he says, “Want me to tell you I like it, sweetheart?” His tongue slides down again, tongue reaching into your hole and he moans into your pussy.

Your back arches and you mewl, you could almost scream.

That’s it, he thinks. Rick keeps humming and groaning into you now. His voice is so seductive. “I love tasting your pussy, baby.”

You couldn’t breathe.

Rick starts rubbing your clit with his thumb and going fast with his tongue in your hole “My bright, pretty girl gonna come for me? Hm?”

“Oh, Rick, I want to. Please, Rick.”

Rick starts to go faster and your brain turns to mush. Only noises coming out and when he stops his tongue movements to say something more you push his head down. “Sorry,” you say. You’ve never been forceful before but he says nothing, just continues going down on you and taking his free hand to place it over his, gesturing that he wants your hands in his hair. You tug on his curls and he grunts into you. You start chanting his name and then he switches to placing his lips on your clit and putting two fingers in your pussy. It reminded you of the first time but instead of your three fingers they were two of his and it felt so much better than you ever knew before, better than you could ever do it yourself. It sets you off. Your eyes shut tighter if they could. “Rick! Oh my god,” you moan and then again and again and then you come.

Rick laps at your cunt, vigorously trying to wipe you clean. He makes it look like it will be the last and only time. It makes you worry but at the same time he looks so sexy like that; needy for you even after you finished.

He takes your wipes and cleans his lips before cleaning you up as you did for him. He kisses you thighs and your lips and your cheeks as he continues. “You did such a good job,” he says. “You always do.”

You’re filled with pride at that. “Thank you.” Then worry sets in. You realize how public you’ve made everything. “Did I just ruin your life?”

He laughs while caressing your thigh. That anxious expression of yours that he just got rid of returns after all the work he did.

“I’m gonna check downstairs. Okay? If they’re there, they’re there.” You nod. We already made a mess anyway, you remember him saying. “They might want to start the meeting when I go down so, whatever happens, happens alright? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Your eyes are still nervous, but it’s all too late anyway. “Okay,” you respond.

“Okay,” he says back, kissing you once more. As he dresses himself again, he tells you, “I promise I won’t wait two weeks to see you again.”

“I’d like that.”

“Me too,” he says as a send off and goes into the bathroom to clean his face.

When he reaches the living room, there is no one. Rick is thankful but confused.

As he nears the coffee table there is a sheet of yellow lined legal pad with a talkie next to it.

Call when you’re done, it reads.

“Rosita?” He questions into the device. Who else could it have been, right?

He can almost hear the grin on her face. “They should start calling you Reckless Rick for all the agony you put these Alexandria girls through.” She pauses for dramatic effect. “There’s just something about that stupid hair cowboy accent, I guess.”

Before he can respond, telling her that it’s absurd to think of him as a playboy, that he was far from it, she continues:

“So, fucking my roommate? You’re glad Glenn and Maggie called everyone over to theirs instead. Hershel took his first steps while you were teaching someone else how to take theirs.”

She unpressed the button to suppress her laughter. “Just get over here,” she concludes, putting down the walkie and going back to meet the rest of the group with a perfect poker face. She tells everyone Rick will be here shortly.

Oh, Alexandria’s leader and her new little best friend who has been hearing the townswomen’s fantasies of him for years: Reckless Rick and his reckless romantic girl.

Rosita would give you so much shit for this when she gets home.

[nightcolorz]

always thinking about the development of abed and Brittas dynamic. Pov ur Britta and ur starting community collage and u meet a visibly autistic guy in ur Spanish one class and when ur introduced to him u can’t help but think of ur older brother who works with autistic kids and u wonder if ur capable of making positive change in someone’s life the way he does or if ur always going to fuck everything up like everyone says u do, and u befriend this autistic guy in ur Spanish class who realize as u soon become close friends rlly needs a type of daily support that he isn’t and has never been accommodated with and ur like wow, sad, what if I can be the support he needs, and obviously you can’t, bcus ur one person and also u know nothing about autism and also this random man from ur Spanish one class has an acute mission to push u into emotional despair bcus ur earnest desire to help him bcus of ur personal internal conflict combined with ur huge amount of ignorance reminds him of his mother and he wants to consciously emulate his relationship with her with u so that he can use footage of u to make a shitty art film about his childhood trauma and that’s when u realize that u aren’t ur brother and also are stupid asf to think that u can be like ur brother for ur adult friend who is low key having some form of psychotic episode but even still you’ve grown to love this autistic Man U met at ur Spanish one class and it breaks ur heart everyday that u will never be enough to meet his neglected emotional needs so u decide to become a psychology major so that maybe one day u will be adequate enough to do this right, bcus rlly u have a lot of unaddressed existential terror that the world is a cruel unjust place that u are too insignificant to do anything about and it fills the hole in ur heart a little to feel like u are making an impact in at least one vulnerable persons life, but ultimately ur an ignorant and self centered collage student and ur autistic friend from Spanish one loves to remind u that u are not enough and ur attempts to help him will only ever backfire or register to him as infantilizing condescension and as u try to therapize ur adult friend u become the one getting therapied as he turns every attempt of urs on its head so that now u are the one being confronted by ur own psychological problems which eventually come to a head when he comforts u about ur own failure while he’s having a hallucinatory psychotic episode prompted by his mom giving up on him where he tells u in song form that you are “broken” bcus u desperately want to help people but u lack the tools to make any positive change and u cry a whole lot about this bcus from now forward u are forced to reckon with the reality that u are not qualified to fix ur disabled friend bcus ur a psychology student in collage and he has autism and psychosis and childhood trauma and all u can rlly do about that is be a good friend and an adult about it and also accept that ur disabled friend is just as much of a person and an adult as you are and u cant violate his autonomy by using him as a tool for ur own self betterment and now u don’t use ur baby voice on him quite as much bcus you’ve learned that ur friend is going to psychologically torture the shit out of u if u try to be his mom so instead u set ur sights on being his collage friend who he can talk shit with and such and everyone’s just going to try their best

Then pov ur abed and ur like lol. Britta is Talking to me Like im five. What if I stop talking to her to emulate my childhood speech delay so that she’s forced to deal with the burden my mom did and she leaves me like everyone else does so I can make a movie about it. Oops she’s still here. Well, her romantic subplots would make rlly good sitcom storylines in the tv show that is my life. 🍜🍜🍜🍜🍜coolcoll

[dropsnectar]

Pollen and Potions: Bee-men x afab!reader

PART THREE

This is a longer part than the rest, but its all necessary dialogue so it should be fine. More fluffy and romance than smut, BUT!! Their will be smut in the next section! I know I said this will only be 4 parts, but it may actually be more like 5 or 6. Anyway, hope you like!

So. You were starting to learn that using large batches of magic back to back weren't ideal for a young witch's health. It seemed like you might have overdone it, as when you woke you found you had been asleep for TWO WHOLE DAYS. So. If you were going to do magic, it looked like you were going to have to pace yourself, or perhaps use LESS magic.

You put yourself to learning more about witchcraft. The thing was, your grandmother's books didn't really go into the basics, and as witches were so rare, information was hard to find. Of course, the internet was full of supposed witch spells, or frameworks, but it was like throwing dice. Some spells didn't work. Some spells took up WAY too much energy. Some were just… fine? But not what you needed. 

Next you checked out forum sites. Maybe you could find a community through that way? But all you found were psychics and tarot readers. Nice people, but not what you needed.

Whelp. Maybe you needed to look at the issue differently. The environment used to be a beautiful, thriving area. What had changed between now and then? In order to understand a magic ecosystem, you had to understand ecosystems. So, for the rest of the week you busied yourself with ecology study. It was turning out that this project you had adopted on a whim would need a lot more time and breadth of knowledge then you originally thought.

***

When you met with Rena, under Lyith’s friendly gaze, you found that the magic you had cast hadn't waned at all. The flowers had grown beautifully and continued to give magic nectar that created the best honey. Rena was beside herself. “The elders of the hive say they haven't had honey of this quality since they were children! You are really onto something here, little one.”

Rena had now gotten in the habit of calling you little one. Sure, as a Bee-man she was slightly taller than you, but not by much. Also the constant fluttering and floating didn't help. 

“You've been given permission to test your magic on our other gardens as well. As long as we are careful and continue with caution!” Rena babbled. You gave her a small smile and felt Lyiths arm on your shoulder. He laid his head on your other shoulder, leaning his fuzzy head against yours. 

“Whats wrong?”

You wiggled a little. “I'm just having a hard time brainstorming how to do this. I know I said I'd help you guys, but I might not be able to use as much magic as last time. To be honest, I don't really know much about my mana and my limits…” you explained your situation. Expecting there to be disappointment, you were surprised to find none.

“I can’t help but think… How long will this last? One spell isn’t going to cut it for that long. I want to create something that will last for you guys, but that might take a while… and doing just this took all the mana I had. I want to do better. But I don’t want to hurt myself either, especially when I don’t know how this could affect my health in the long run…” The bee-men seemed to be catching on.

“Of course, little one. We wouldn't want you to harm yourself.”

 Lyith also popped up, his voice almost in your ear.

“Us Bee-men also have something like mana. Our magic is not never ending. We would have fixed this situation ourselves if it was.”

Rena reached forward and grabbed your hand, giving it a reassuring pat. “We don't have to do anything today. We can commence whenever you'd like. Our flowers have spread out beautifully and even this is enough.”

You frowned.

“I may have to do this every spring. Or even redo it in the summer…”

“You don’t owe us anything. You are trying your best to do us a kindness. And our hive knows and sees that. We are beyond grateful to you… Its… We’ve needed…We are truly grateful.” His expression fell at the mention of his hive, his antennas drooping. Rena moved forward and held Lyith, a sad expression on her own face.

There was a pause in conversation that grew somewhat awkward.

How do I make this better? You tried to brainstorm, but only one thing came to mind. 

You went over and gave the both of them a big bear hug. It was a tense one, but you tried to adjust your emotions, instead concentrating on how fond you had grown of the two. You tried to shout it as loud as you could through your brain at them.

This seemed to break the spell, as Rena started to laugh. Lyith looked at you affectionately. 

“I know we haven't known each other long, but I just want to say, you can count on me. If you ever need to talk about anything let me know. I'll listen.”

Rena and Lyith hummed in response, returning your group hug with a long squeeze.

Long hugs. The favorite actions of a Bee-men.

After some quiet reassurances, the two of you decided to idle while the two foraged on the edge of the Wood. You walked with them and asked them as many questions you could think of. How old were they? Were they able to do other magics? You had thought Bee-men to be isolated. How come they knew so much about human culture?

Lyith was the one who answered you most of the time. It seemed that bee-man typically lived double the life of a human, with Rena and Lyith being about 45, and 51, Lyith being the oldest. They were in the same season of life as you though!

Bee-man could do some other magics(they didn't go much into what), but they specialized in making their magical honey, which fortified the health and wellbeing of a Bee-men. 

They didn’t say it outright but it seemed like the dip in magic had affected the nutrition of their food source. They kept their own bees and shared honey, but it still wasn't enough, so they had ventured out into human society to buy fruit when it was necessary. They also did trade with neighboring beast-men, the Wolfmen being happy to share their fruit for their Bee’s wax waste. I 

“What exactly do you guys do for fun though?” You asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Lyith smiled. “Late night flying is fun.”

Rena snorted. “You mean late night spying. Lyith has a habit of looking through people's windows.”

Lyith wrinkled his nose at Rena. “If they did not want to be seen they would have drawn the curtains. It's not strange, I am just curious about human life is all.”

Rena reached forward and pinched Lyiths nose. “Poor thing. So bored he must make mischief.”

You looked at Lyith with surprise. His big eyes grew in concern and he pouted at you.

“You are not going to tease me too are you? I promise, I never see anything scandalous. I'm a good little bee.” He fluttered his eyes at you.

You giggled and pushed his shoulder. 

“As long as you're not spying on me I guess it's harmless.”

Lyiths expression shifted to one of his dopey smiles. It always surprised you how innocent he could look despite his size. Was it maybe…

“So… I may have read that you guys are telepathic right?” 

Renas face changed into a smirk. 

“Yes, and?”

“ Well, have you guys ever… used your powers on me?” 

Rena snorted. Lyith gave you an unreadable expression. “We Bee-man are very particular about sharing our heads outside of our hives. But no. We haven't done anything to you if that's what you meant…”

Oh. He was pouting now.

“No! Thats not what I meant! I just… i feel so comfortable around you guys it's almost supernatural. I just. Idk. Wanted to know. Please I didn't mean anything by it!”

Lyith wrinkled his nose at you and Rena continued to seem amused. You felt helpless and got a bit upset with yourself. You did your best to calm yourself down but you were upset. You had so few friends here and you were afraid you blew it. A wave of loneliness swept through you.

Lyith was watching you the whole time, before sighing. “All will be forgiven if you give us some of those fruit tarts you made yesterday.”

You looked at him, shocked. 

“I thought you said you didn't spy on me!”

“I wasn't spying, I just happened to be foraging by the window, and smelled something amazing. It was all incidental.”

“There's sugar in the crust. Won’t your tummy get upset?”

He just smiled. Rena laughed. “He named his price. For offending us, we must get fruit tarts.”

Finally feeling better, the three of you walked(they let you walk!!!) Back to your home. You served them up your tarts, when finally the questions started coming about you. Why did you move here? Do you have any siblings? What were you like as a child?

This went on until dinner time, at which point you decided to shoo your new friends away. “ I'll be back to do the flowers tomorrow. We… we will see what I can do.” You admitted. The two of them smiled at you, hugging you tight for a good three minutes. They always lingered, nuzzling your face and hair, as if they were getting a whiff of you. You could smell their own perfume and tried not to think too much. Their goodbyes always felt so intimate. 

 Rena decided to pepper your face in kisses before they left. Lyith just rolled his eyes at her. When they drew apart you felt empty, like some piece of you was going with them.

***

As always, Lyith picked you up that morning. This time, you made sure to bring a scarf and hat, alongside emergency snacks in your bag. Where he was taking you next was a little longer of a trip, a whole ten minutes to the usual six. That was a long time when you were hurtling through the air.

You were surprised to drop into a small crowd. There were ten Bee-men present besides Rena, who seemed to be communicating silently with them. The air was full of bee noises; humming, purring, the fluttering of wings. The air smelled amazingly fresh, floral and syrupy. It was an odd smell, but it seemed to put you at ease somehow. And maybe a bit peckish.

A Beeman a whole foot and a half taller then Rena fluttered towards you. They bowed, of which you awkwardly returned before they reached forward and took your hand gently. Lyith started,

“This is Elder Bisou. He is the eldest of our hive. He is showing you respect.”

Elder Bisou smiled at you. “Little Witch, I welcome you to our territory. My human is a bit… unused. Please receive our thanks for your efforts.” He took your hand and leaned down so that it met his temple. You could feel the rush of his magic, like your mind was a fish bowl and he was putting a gentle hand on the glass. You could feel his warmth, his deep gratitude through it. 

Your back straightened and you felt water prick your eyelids. You gave him a slow nod, becoming acutely aware just how serious this whole situation actually was. Rena and Lyith had been dancing around it, but the Bee-men must be slowly starving to death. That was the only explanation for the depths of what you had felt.

“I will do my best.” Was all you could reply. 

Lyith, acting as your translator, took you to each Bee-men he could and introduced you. It seemed that some of the elders, as well as some of those who had free time had come to watch the “little witch” work. Most took your hand gently, and sent you a ghost of what their emotions were. There was a sort of film around the emotions, a barrier of sorts. Whether this was on purpose so you wouldn’t be overwhelmed, or just how their telepathy worked, you couldn't tell. 

You did your best to not let your nerves get to you as you dissected the sections of the field where you would be doing your experiments. You didn’t know how these particular flowers would take to your spell, so it was still best to be cautious. The bee-men looked on with interest.

You did your chants in a loud booming fashion, and channeled in as elegant a fashion as you could. Like always, the magic came, and the spell did its work. These flowers were different, like rainbow colored lavender. Rather than letting the magic gush through you, you let it gently trickle out, pacing yourself. When the deeds were done, you still felt sore, and you still held a headache in your temple, but there was no nausea, so growth! 

Once you were done with your work, there was a large excited buzzing throughout the forest. There was clapping, dancing, stomping of feet, pumping of many hands, whoops from Rena and Lyith. One Bee, a worker named Aidenn held a small wooden instrument in his hands and started to play. This triggered a chorus from the Bee-men. There was a harmonizing among the crowd and they started to circle each other, laughing and dancing. A circle of flying, spinning Bee-men formed.

Rena grabbed you by the waist and hoisted you onto her shoulder before joining in the circle of the dance. You giggled as you spun, feeling the giddiness in the air like it was laughing gas. That same pressure filled your mind and a part of your heart started to soar. It was intimate, but not stifling and you loved feeling so close to everyone.

You lifted your hands and, feeling in the spirit, decided to hum along. At some point Rena had taken you in her arms and held you close as they continued to fly in a circle, spinning and perrying, and switching. It was similar to square dancing, where there was a pattern to it. 

At one point, the tune changed and Lyith swooped down from above and grabbed you out of Rena’s arms. She snorted at him but let it happen, joining hands with another passing Bee-men. When Lyith gathered you in his arms, he cradled you as close as possible, surprising you. One hand was gripping firmly around your waist and the other crushing you to him. He landed on the ground, and the rest of the bee-men followed, causing something of a ballroom dance. 

“You did wonderfully today.” He breathed in your ear, causing them to redden. You pulled yourself back a bit to see his face and he was looking at you with such pride and affection it felt like a weight crushing your chest. You moved your hands from his shoulders to reach his own hands. You were shaky, but you wanted to return his feelings somehow. His palms were soft.

This caused him to laugh, a purring sort of trill coming from his throat. You couldn’t help a silly grin form on your face.

“I’m glad you came to my garden.” Was all you could think to say.

He looked at you, with those big black eyes, then reached forward and kissed you on the lips. It was only a peck, but you could feel his joy through it. 

Something complex within you, a mix of happiness, excitement, hope, all of your feelings rose up into your throat. Unable to find the words to express yourself, you took all of those big heavy emotions, wrapped them all up together and kissed him back, right there, in the middle of your makeshift dance floor.

When you pulled away Lyith looked shocked, his bottom lip hanging open. Adorable as usual. 

Rena hollered from the otherside of the gathering, sending out a big whoop. There was laughter, buzzing and an echoing whoop from some of the younger bee-men. Elder Bisou made some clicking sounds, but the sides of his mouth were slightly upturned.

It occurred to you then that you were in the middle of a group of very telepathic monster people. Your cheeks grew hot in embarrassment and you pulled away from Lyith a bit. Your shoes suddenly became very interesting. 

Lyith eventually turned your chin back up to face him. He held a small peaceful smile, before bumping his forehead to yours. He didn’t share his emotions but the affection was still there.

After you grew too tired to dance, you took a seat under a tree, munching on a granola bar. Another one of the Bee-men, a younger drone named Haven, made his way to sit next to you.

“I don’t know if it was mentioned, but honey production has picked up enormously since you agreed to help us. I haven’t felt this great in… well ever! Thank you little witch!”

“I’m not little, but thank you for saying so.” You were starting to get a bit lightheaded now, and not from the dancing. It was possible that some of the symptoms of mana sickness were surfacing a little late.

“You are strong! That is true! Even elder Bisou has said he hasn’t met a human or beastman with mana like yours!” Haven turned his voice down to a whisper, as if he was sharing a secret, “Your magic smells so much like flowers, really, its a huge blessing! In fact, I would eat you up if I could!” He laughed as if he had made a joke. He sighed and looked up dreamily at the sky. “Alas, I am saving myself for when we find our queen.” He wrapped his arms around himself, as if to fend off imaginary suitors.

You wrinkled your nose. “Queen? You don’t have a queen? Isn’t that super bad for bees, I mean bee-men?” 

Heaven tilted his head at you, reminding you of Lyith. 

“Of course. That's why we are all so small and weak.” You stared at him in shock. He put up his hands. “We are doing well though! It's been 20 years since our queen died but we are still here! Oh! There is a hive up north! Any day now, one of their queens' daughters might descend and bless us! Or.. Or we--”

“Little One! You seem like you're getting sick!” Rena Descended from above and put a hand to your forehead.

“You are far too warm! Haven, mind if I take her out of your wings?”

Heaven looked up at Rena, his face a mask of confusion. He eventually gave in though and stood up.

“I should check on Elder Bisou! He might need something!” His voice was flat, obviously fake, but he ran away- flew away with gusto.

Rena took your face into her hands, tilting your head back and forth. Your lightheadedness turned full on dizzy. Rena’s face screwed up in an annoyed expression.

“You overdid it. And after that whole speech about not knowing your limits too..” She gently put a hand on your back and picked you up princess style. You would have been embarrassed, if your brain was functioning properly. Instead your gaze fixed on Rena’s beautiful iridescent wings. The lights were so lovely and they helped ground you. Honestly, everything about Rena was lovely. Well, maybe lovely wasn’t the right word. She was rough around the edges. A tease and a know it all. But she doted on you so, it made you feel a bit overwhelmed. Your gaze shifted from her wings to her lovely nose, pretty sharp for a bee-men. 

Rena started conversing with Lyith about you, pointing her jaw and humming. Huh. Rena was actually incredibly attractive. You had known that before. Maybe it was something about how dizzy everything was. The last time you had felt this way she had been kissing you, her textured tongue pushing nectar down your thoat-

“Little One”

Your mind immediately focused. She was using a demanding tone. 

“Lyith will take you home. Next time, we will only do one spell at a time.” She leaned forward and placed her cool lips to the side of your mouth. Making you blush. Well your face was already heated so you would have blushed. “I will see you again soon. Rest.” And she was off.

You were in Lyith’s arms again. A place you were starting to get comfortable in. He stared at you for a moment, his lips pursed, then sighed loudly. He held your gaze for a moment.

“I do not like this habit you are forming. You will not get sick again, understand?” 

You nodded at him, mind hazy. Sleepy. You were sleepy. 

You didn’t register the fly home, only that the coolness felt nice. You were carried from the porch, into the living room, up the stairs, and laid on your bed. You were covered in warm, delicious blankets. 

You never saw Lyith leave before you passed out. Probably because he tucked himself in right beside you, the cool air washing over both of you from the open bedroom window.

Part Four

[taro-pdf]

Humans are Space Oddities: Foster Human

When humans went to space, they expected themselves to be one of the more advanced species, only to find that space was already very populated. To less advanced, they were predators, and to more advanced, savages. Space is vast, and eventually some humans were kept as novelties.

Guang was excited to foster a human. After all, it had read about how humans would fight anything, eat anything, and survive anything. And though Guang was not strong, it’s partner, Hei, was, and would keep it safe.

The human arrived disgruntled, but Guang was not perturbed. It had heard of their pack-bonding abilities, and was ready to be patient and gentle. It even made sure to pick one that knew the Universal Interplanetary Language, so they didn’t need to wait for translators to work. Guang moved and spoke slowly; they didn’t need anything to slow the communication process more. It bent down to eye level.

“Hello. My name is Guang, it/its, a light alien. I process slowly, so don’t speak too fast. I am glad that you arrived safely. You are called Fern, she/her, human, correct?”

The human flapped her hands, nervous, or maybe excited. “Human, correct?” she repeated, then spouted out, “Hei is a powerful space fae that was born on earth but left as its magic grew," she inhaled, obviously making an effort to slow her speech. Guang blinked. It appreciated her effort, but why was she telling it about its own partner? The human continued, “this is common for fae. Did you know space fae are understudied due to the fact that they are extremely powerful and hard to approach? It’s theorized their power comes from dark matter.”

“Right,” Guang replied, “well-”

“Light aliens are a species often used for service for the ultra wealthy,” the human interrupted. “They are treated as living lamps due to their ability to produce both bioluminescent and electrical light extremely efficiently, as well as their ability to stay still for long periods of time.” 

Humans did like to talk, but Guang was unsure if this is what they usually talked about. 

“That’s correct,” it replied. It sat down and held out its hand, which the human grabbed and studied. “I was also on a ship from hatching until Hei approached me and I was given to it as a gift. But it treated me as a being, and I learned to think of myself as a being as well.”

“I’m a being as well,” the human said, dropping Guang’s hand and turning to the door. Guang followed their line of sight to see Hei walking in. It had taken a smaller, humanoid form, as Guang had asked it to.

“Hello Fern,” it said, speaking its native tongue.

“Hello Fern,” Fern repeated in the same language, approaching Hei. It squinted at her.

“Pardon me, do you understand what I am saying?” it asked. The human didn’t reply. She gazed at Hei’s translucent wings, and it turned so she could touch them.

“She’s been repeating what I say as well,” Guang explained.

“Call the agency and ask. The human should have been told how to introduce itself.” Hei handed Guang a communicator. The human mumbled something about aerodynamics.

“In the broader universe, convergent evolution meant that wings…” Fern started to explain.

With the human telling bits of information in the background, Guang called the agency. It was referred to a specialist that told it that human neurology varied greatly. The human’s behavior was not worrisome, but it may socialize differently than typical humans. If that’s a problem, it could be returned. Guang assured them it was not a problem.

At the end of the fostering period, Hei and Guang had learned much about their visitor. They learned to avoid certain textures, loud noises, and flashing lights. They learned that the human could tell them about almost any alien they wished. They learned that not every human would fight anything, and definitely wouldn’t eat anything. 

“Fern,” Guang’s chest had been feeling tighter and tighter as the day to return her grew closer, “I was wondering if you would like to stay?”

Fern was outside tending to the various lower species that she had befriended during her time on Hei’s planet. She didn’t turn toward Guang, but she did repeat its words.

“Like to stay.”

“Right,” Guang agreed, “I don’t want to treat you as a belonging to borrow and return. Being once one myself, and knowing you so well… I want you to stay”

“Humans have a rich history on their planet. They fought each other in countless wars. Some wars were for resources, others were for freedom.”

“I didn’t know that.” Guang was silent for a bit.

“Humans want freedom. It’s in their DNA. I’d like to stay.” Fern smiled, and Guang smiled back. Humans were ferocious, tenacious, and violent, but they were also gentle. Fern was proof of that.

[babushkatty]

Tranquil SAGAU - Part 6

-> Part 1

-> Part 5

With Dvalin gone, you were left basically homeless. Not that it was much of an issue, not really. The forests had been very kind to you -- you could easily live the life of a hermit if you so wished, without having to worry about food, water, shelter or animal attacks.

But it would also be horribly lonely. No compassionate silence, no background noise and buzz of other people scurrying around and going about their day without minding you, no one to speak to if you ever felt the need to.

You liked being alone, but you were still human and humans were social animals.

Soooooo, you promptly asked Crepus about working in his Winery in exchange for accommodations, because 'one that asks, does not stray'... or something like that anyways. Your sister always made her life that much harder because she outright refused to ask for help even when hopelessly lost or overwhelmed, so there must be something to the saying at least.

"You don't have to work to earn your keep, (Name). I'd be more than happy to house you as my guest for however long you want!" is what Crepus 'Sunshine Personified' Ragnvindr responded with.

Crepus used Puppy Eyes, it was super effective!

You laid defeated, a puddle of cuteness overload once again wishing for sunglasses to protect yourself from the blinding smiles and imaginary wagging tails.

Crepus was horrible for your heart.

Still, you would go insane if left with nothing to do for days at a time, so you went to turn the Ragnvindr library upside down with Crepus' blessing, a bunch of notebooks, a bunch of pens and a delusion that you'd do any actual studying in there.

This was Teyvat, but this wasn't Genshin Impact -- a library wouldn't have interesting lore, it'd have dry history and even drier geography, accompanied by boring economics and even more boring politics (which was a damn shame too, politics were so interesting when written right).

You never quite had a head for those, prefering subjects with more practical applications that could be practiced instead of having to be beaten into your thick skull until you memorized it just long enough to write the exam.

Though for some ungodly reason you still remembered that onions were actually leaves. It was one of the very few things you remembered from school, actually.

Probably the trauma speaking.

Still, you did find some interesting books - a diary speaking of the Decarabian rule, for example.

Today, I don my very own Windblume.

I can only hope Lord Decarabian never learns of its' significance.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

The winds are particularly harsh today.

I am afraid, but I smile and play my lyre as if nothing were happening at all, like I always do.

Sometimes, I forget if what I do is to reasure the people or to delude myself that everything is as it should be...

Then again, does it matter when the result remains the same?

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

The people are growing restless.

Their yearning for freedom gave birth to a small wind spirit that seems fond of my playing. It is an adorable being, even if it has yet to communicate with us.

It remind me of a newborn puppy.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

The people are planning a rebellion.

I want to help, but how can I? I am no soldier, my strength lays with the pen and the lyre, not with the sword.

Ragnvindr told me there was no need for more warriors, that I was doing enough by keeping the morale up with my performances... I am hesistant to believe him.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

The little spirit has spoken for the first time today.

It said that it knew the song I was playing, despite it being a new piece I was in the midst of creating, and sang along to lyrics I had yet to write.

It was strange, but it made me happy nonetheless.

Perhaps I was strange too, for feeling that way.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

You had a suspicion on who the author of the diary was by that point. Maybe Crepus would be open to giving this diary to Venti, instead of it gathering dust on the shelf?

Idly, you wondered how it had survived so long, but figured Ragnvindr and his descendants took good care of it.

I met Ragnvindr today.

Something compelled me to share my worries with him, even though I knew he had enough weight on his shoulders and I ought not to add more.

"If you cannot trust in yourself, then trust in me and my trust in you instead" he told me.

It helped.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

Meetings regarding the rebellion are more and more frequent. Ragnvindr, alongside a man named Amos, have convinced the Gunnhildr clan to participate against all odds.

I can understand their hesitance. Should we fail to kill Lord Decarabian, their legacy would be no more.

I admire their bravery.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

The wind has long since realized change is imminent, even when Lord Decarabian himself has not - the little spirit said so.

King of Gales indeed, even the wind has rebelled against him.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

Ragnvindr speaks of a bad premonition.

In truth, my heart is uneasy as well, but how can I share those feelings with anyone but myself? It is not the time to bother others with my issues -- it is time to reassure everyone, to rouse their spirit and not to let fear take root even as they stand against a God. It is my duty as a bard and as a fellow rebel.

The Windblume feels particularly heavy as I write this.

I fear I will not live to see tomorrow's sunset, but I fear for my dearest friends and for Mondstadt even more.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

My little spirit friend is still without a name.

I know it does not bother them, they are the wind itself after all, but I would still like to give them a name others can remember them by.

A name that they can remember me by once I pass on, selfish as it is to bind an immortal to a memory.

But I am selfish, even if Ragnvindr may see me as a paragon of virtue. I am a human and to be human is to be flawed. I am not ashamed of it, even if I often feel guilty for it.

Perhaps it will be the very last thing I achieve in this life of mine.

It is hard to name them.

I've thought of many names up until now.

Caelus. Liberius. Aella. Calliope. Achill. Carmine. Hilarius. Hanne. Zephyrinus. Dieter. Sascha. Scilla. Paulus. Notus. Veronica. Agna. Vergil.

Those are just a few of the ones I discarded.

None fit.

I can only hope the right name reveals itself when it is time.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

That was the last entry.

You closed the diary and carefully put it aside.

☆(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ* ✨ Author Note✨

It was not supposed to be mostly nameless bard POV via old diary.

It really wasn't.

Mans literally kidnapped the chapter entirely against my will while I was half asleep yesterday and attempting to write at nearly midnight and I was powerless to stop it, on god.

But hey, at least we got potential Venti bonding set up for the future?

I was planning for more fluff, but I also have no outline for this, so my chapters have a chance of getting kidnapped at any time.

✨BY THE WAY!!!!✨

The charm of spontaneous writing, I guess?

If you have something you want to happen - for example we're in the library right now, so maybe you want a book about a specific tidbit to appear - do let me know, maybe I'll write it in!

I had 2 tests and 1 retake yesterday and holy shit i got through all of them and tomorrow is last day of uni then it's ✨HOLIDAYS✨

✨Taglist✨

@game-savvy @chaoticfivesworld @mmeatt @avalordream @ymechi @andromeda-gay @naynayaa @undecidingfate @thedevioussmirk @tumb3ld0wn @balaur-bondoc @yi-chii @yarabutterfly @nervouseaglelover @vexingpraedyth @indelible-colouring-markers @whitefantasy21-blog @kapitankarate

[strayheartless]

There is a part of me that thinks young Angeal was just as bouncy and friendly as Zack. There is also a part of me that says adult Angeal is so stoic because war trained that out of him. I also have the idea that Sephiroth uses EVERYTHING he learned from his time with Glenn to try and stoke up friendship between Angeal, Genesis and himself.

So now I am sat here trying to write an essay as this scene plays out in my head:

Sephiroth: *offers fist to bump, because thats what Glenn did*

Angeal: errr...

Sephiroth: it's a "fist bump" I'm told its a good way to communicate friendship and morral between comraids.

Angeal: *snorts* sure thing bud *bumps his fist with Sephs*

Sephiroth: hm *offers his fist to Genesis*

Genesis,nervously: *bumps Sephiroths fist*

Sephiroth turns and walks away while Angeal turn to grin at Genesis who looks like hes about to melt into a lovesick puddle.

Angeal: *cocky grin* hear that Gene? it communicates friendship and Moral. who knows maybe if you bump his fist enough he'll fall in love with you

Genesis: *pouting* Literally fall on a land mine and die 'Geal.

[spookykoolkat]

Plus Size!Metalhead!Reader x Eddie Munson smut idiots to lovers!

The reader is Robin’s best friend and has just moved back to Hawkins after studying abroad.

When she returns she is introduced to everyone and quickly becomes part of the gang. Eddie quickly falls for her as the two have quite a lot in common, however, he doesn’t act on his feelings as he thinks the reader is Robin’s girlfriend. Little does he know she has major feelings for him as well but she thinks him and Steve are together. Eventually they are forced to bunk together on a camping trip (orchestrated by Steve and Robin who have been dying for the two to finally admit their feelings) at first things are awkward between the two but they soon heat up into something neither of them expected.

the cabin in the woods - e.m. request*

main masterlist

an: just a story i tried to convey the best, about two very confused adults who don't really know how to communicate! i hope this does your idea justice it took me FOREVER i'm so sorry 😭 and its so long omg this is my longest work ever PLS I HOPE ITS NOT BORING THANK U FOR SENDING UR REQUESTS I LOVE THEM 🩷🩷 i'm also doing requests for kinktober if anyone wants to send them in :p thank u everyone to all of ur love on all of my fics u dont even Know how much it means to me 🥹

wc: 10.4K

warnings: 18+ ONLY, mentions of mutual pining, explicit thoughts, mentions of eddie and you wishing the other weren't gay, lots of mentions of sexualities, miscommunication, porn with a plot, p in v, (unprotected. do NOT do this), oral sex (m and f receiving), slight ass play, ownership, pet names (sweet girl, baby, princess, pretty, sweetheart, etc)

MINORS NOT WELCOME. DNI!

 ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

IT WAS WEIRD BEING BACK IN HAWKINS, being back in the states in general felt like a culture shock. and disappointing. the euphoric feeling of learning and living in another country for a year was not comparable, and you promised your best friend robin that when you got back, you'd tell her all about it.

over the year you were gone for your studies, she told you about a few people she met while she was in high school, and had been with ever since. she was excited about bringing you to a party the night of your arrival so you could meet everyone, she said you were all she ever talked about, and how excited everyone was to meet you. 

robin was insistent on your attendance, getting small hesitation on your part, and she swore up and down that you'd fit right in. you questioned her judgment sometimes, especially in women, but you had no other reason not to trust your best friend.

you and robin were complete opposites, you were the girl who liked metal, death metal, and occasionally rock music and she enjoyed the oldies, harboring weird talents and interests that you enjoyed learning about. but you clicked so well, meshed together in a way where you could never be separated.

it wasn't long before you arrived at her place, dressed and ready after hitting your house first, and was met with a lethal scream of your name and tears of joy. it didn't take long to catch up, talk, cry, and laugh so the minute robin decided it was time to go to this party, you guys drove into the city together.

"are you excited?!" she dragged as she noticed your fingers tap against your faded gray jeans that were maybe two sizes too bog, hanging low on your hips with the help of a belt. 

"i'm fucking nervous." you admitted and ran your fingers through your hair.

"for what? dude, these are not people who need to be impressed. they're going to love you and i know it!" she exclaimed.

it was a bit before they drove past buildings, and turned into nothing until they pulled into a trailer park. 

“eddie’s trailer was the destination party zone tonight, so, yeah.” robin said as she parked next to a van, presumably eddie’s. you weren’t one to judge a single person, especially not one you didn’t know, so you just nodded with a smile and stepped out of the car. 

you adjusted your black tank top that, unlike your jeans, was maybe two sizes too small and hugged the curves and rolls of your body.

you liked the way you looked, your wrists covered in bracelets with studs and beads on them, your hair parted down the middle and frizzy from the hawkin’s heat. the makeup you had on was minimal, just black eyeliner smudged around your eyes and lipstick that was lined with black and filled in with a blood red. 

robin was so drawn to you when she first met you. she thinks about it as the two wait at his front door, and how she was so lucky to meet you. to bring her out of her shell and be honest with herself.

she knew being with you meant zero judgment, and if someone dared to fuck with you or robin, robin knew you’d be quick to defend her with your life. you honestly reminded her a lot of eddie once she met him, telling him she had a friend that he would just love. he doubted it of course. eddie didn’t think there was another person like him that existed, impossible.

but robin knew, she believed she knew everything. and she made a small promise to herself that she’d help you find someone, even though you insisted on being happy alone. she knew it was true, but when she first met eddie she realized maybe she could play cupid when you came back into town. 

“robin, did you bring the-” eddie said, opening the door, until he looked beside the skinny, jittery girl.

you didn’t blush at the unsaid compliment, you just watched as eddie looked over your full figure.

“eddie… you’re staring,” robin said, looking between you and eddie to make sure he wasn’t scaring you off. you just laughed a little. 

you stuck your hand out and introduced yourself by your name, “i’m robin’s friend.” 

he took it with grace and stuttered out a small hey, as normal as he could but it was indeed weird. eddie looked at robin, gleaming with pride, and he tried to put two and two together, failing miserably. 

“friend?” eddie asked, looking between the two of you before letting go of your hand. 

“yes idiot! she just moved back to hawkins, she’s the one i’ve been talking about!” robin said as she grabbed your hand and dragged you inside. you give him a smile, and a look over, going with your friend. 

she’s the one i’ve been talking about. how could he be so stupid? he totally forgot about this girl he’d been hearing about. robin would go on and on about her friend coming back from another country, and how much she adored this friend and missed this friend and how badly she wanted the group to meet this friend. 

he didn’t think too much about it, he didn’t want to assume. everyone knew robin played for the other team, so he wasn’t sure if you were her friend or her friend. so, he took advantage of the gray area and checked you out as robin introduced everyone to you. eddie saw how robin held her arm, close to her and tight.

he also tried to pay attention to the groups reactions, to see if maybe they had the same idea as him. he was a shit expression reader. he was going to feel bad about staring at this girl,  imagining her in every way he could, if you were in fact robin’s girlfriend. 

as the night went on, it seemed like it got more difficult. you kept seeing him stare at you sitting on the floor in between nancy and robin, he watched you as you drank and laughed and got to know the crowd that robin found herself in. you enjoyed everyone, nancy was such a nice girl to you, constantly asking if you needed anything and if you were okay.

you wondered if eddie would come over to you and maybe try to talk to you, but he just engaged in conversations with steve.

you got to know everyone, who was studying what, if they decided to go to college next fall or not, life plans and enjoying each other’s company. it wasn’t often you were alone, but the minute robin and nancy got up to get another drink from eddie’s fridge, he slithered his way to sit next to you. 

“i was wondering when you were going to stop staring at me,” you spoke, turning your head as you sat crisscrossed in front of the small coffee table.

“i was trying to figure out, and i’m being honest here don’t laugh at me” he warned before speaking again, “if you were real.” 

you laughed a bit more than you expected, feeling it in your tummy and he gave you a pout. 

“and your conclusion?” you asked, taking a sip again. 

“honestly? i’m not so sure yet.” 

it was the beginning of long conversations, laughter, bonding, and hidden flirting. the two of you were dancing around each other, bouncing off of each other's wit and casual snarkiness. 

it was fun, you could admit. and you finally assessed him, his faded metallica shirt was paired with black jeans that might’ve been tighter than yours, almost the same bracelets. his arms were covered in aimless tattoos that were small and looked like they were just drawn on from how many he had. you loved them. 

“i love metallica,” you murmur against your cup, indulging in eddie while everyone talks amongst themselves and listens to the music.

it was loud enough to not hear your conversation if you were someone else, that you were grateful for. you watched as he sat up a bit to glance at his shirt, and gave you a nervous smile.

“wha- oh, right yeah. me too, i can play a few songs on my guitar actually.” he tried to impress after remembering the shirt he was wearing, and it worked. you were a sucker for guitar players, especially ones who preferred metal and rock. 

“oh yeah? are you in a band or something?” you laughed softly, there was no way he was actually in one because it’d make it ten times harder not to want to jump his bones. “what guitar?” you asked excitedly. 

you appreciated the instrument even with no knowledge about it and would appreciate it more seeing him play it for you. eddie liked seeing the excitement on your face, the way you got closer to him sent excitement somewhere else for him. 

“i am actually, maybe i can play for you one day.” he teased and finally, you blushed.

the way his eyes met yours made you want to melt into it, have his gaze consume you whole. he was everything, he was adorable, handsome, sexy, attractive, funny, and god was he charming. he didn’t even have to do much to send you pining after him.

“it’s on my wall, in my room if you wanna see it,” he suggested and you raised an eyebrow, too distracted to remember what he was talking about and he notices, “the guitar, i don’t use it often but i think this one time is an exception, afterall you might just be my favorite guest. wouldn’t want any of my hospitality going to someone like steve,” he joked and steve whipped his head around. 

“i heard that, asshole.” steve replied over the music, sending you to laugh before looking back to eddie who blew him an exaggerated kiss.

“i’d love to see it,"

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

you were staying for good, which meant you had all the time in the world with eddie when he wasn’t working at his uncle’s mechanic shop. he would brag about being the one to take over, shaking his head at the thought of going to college.

you didn’t mind though, you told him that college isn’t for everyone and it’s okay going a different route despite ghosted voices that were haunting him about it.

he admired the fact that you were so similar to him, finding himself getting lost in you when you explained the lore of texas chainsaw massacre and actually being interested in it too. he heard everything you said, listened to every story you told about being in france, and helped you through whatever hump you were trying to get over.

you didn’t believe robin when she said he was actually the only other guy she got along with besides steve, and how she believed it would be the same for you. she was right, but you’d never tell her. 

and she’d never tell you her true intentions by introducing you to eddie, and how she wished that maybe he’d open you up enough to the idea of possibly dating again. but, she didn’t really think it through. she figured maybe she’d let the universe handle it, but then started to notice the dynamic of your idea forming about eddie. 

you found yourself at his trailer a lot, smoking his weed that he offered and drinking, watching movies and enjoying the company of one another while robin was busy. 

he gave you soft touches here and there, let you sleep in his bed with him when you were too high to drive back, gave you massages, picked you up when you needed a ride. he was there when you needed him, there at any moment you called for him. 

and so were you. you really liked eddie, the feeling weighing on you everytime you let yourself take his flirting and touches for more than what they were. you felt guilty for lying next to him or on him when you passed out during a movie, you felt guilty for thinking about his lips on yours and on your body. 

the only problem that kept the two of you from indulging in the fantasies you both had was… you strongly believed that eddie was in a relationship with steve harrington. and as for eddie, he was fully convinced that you were off limits because you were going with robin buckley.

and this was the problem robin worried about.

you knew robin was lesbian of course, and she knew you were bisexual. unfortunately, eddie knows robin is lesbian but figured you were lesbian as well. he couldn’t shake the feeling of craving you and wanting you the way he has, and he felt guilty because in his mind you were robin’s girl.

so, all of his dirty thoughts and ideas about you felt wrong, and instantly tried to bury it when one night he found himself wishing you liked men.

but where was the harm in imagination? eddie was so infatuated with you that his self indulgent behavior was harmless. he knew he couldn’t have you, he knew you only saw him as a friend and that was that. but he was so wrong, and so were you. 

he thought of you daily, and in ways that were almost embarrassing. he craved you, the desire and want he had every time you were near was almost uncontrollable. 

you never asked anyone if eddie was gay, to be fair. it wasn’t your place to ask of course, plus you figured if eddie was into you he’d just simply tell you. 

you just assumed, and the way that he and steve interacted all the time made you think maybe they were romantically involved. eddie’s teasing and flirting towards steve made you wonder if eddie was completely off limits, but affirmed it when eddie would plant a wet kiss on steve’s cheek.

you didn’t know, but that was just what eddie did. 

eddie was a flirt, to everyone but robin in their group. even if it was out of nowhere, that’s just how eddie carried himself. of course in your mind, you hoped that he was at least bisexual.

you felt incredibly guilty about that too because regardless if he was bisexual, in your mind he and steve were still a couple. to not only hope he turned out to be bisexual, but to fantasize about someone else’s partner was just incredulous to think about. 

but there you were. daydreaming about the guy who sat next to you almost every other day on his couch after work, and would have to snap back into reality when he asked you if you wanted to smoke.

it was a routine.

you’d say yes, the two of you would smoke and listen to his cassettes, talk about urban legends and myths, movies and how you always felt like you could act—you couldn’t—and topics that seemed to flow between the two of you. 

it was easy with him, and you appreciated it. 

the only thing hard about the relationship you hold with him is that you’re thinking of being face down for him on your bed with your ass pushing against him. you were fighting every nasty thought of your friend, wondering how he’d feel inside of you and if he’d be able to make you cum.

the attraction the two of you had for each was obvious, so obvious that the entire group were pointing it out to each other. 

robin needed a plan. and quickly, because she couldn’t fathom another minute of you denying yourself as well as him just because he thinks you’re lesbian. she didn’t want to address it actually, she wanted to scheme and plot. better to make them think it was coincidental when really she had something to prove. 

robin felt weird about plotting a set up for you, especially because robin knew there was obviously a better and more logical way to approach this miscommunication between you and eddie. so, in hopes of setting the two of you up, robin goes to steve with her probably weird borderline disturbing idea. 

turns out, steve and robin felt the same way. watching you two was just as painful for them as it was for the two of you. thus, mission cabin in the woods was put into place. 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

you regretted this terribly. you weren’t an outdoorsy person even though the place you were staying was like a cabin. just a cabin in the woods, six young adults, left to their own devices for two days. it wasn’t the absolute worst you soon found out, the cabin was right near a lake that had a long extended pier, trees and dirt and grass surrounding you, and a large bonfire opportunity behind the cabin, right before you went to the lake.

it was more modern than anything, as everyone settled in and went around the cabin, pairs started calling dibs on the three rooms, leaving you and eddie the last pair to bunk together. 

“robin, i thought we were going to stay together? what the hell?” you whispered as you grabbed her arm to drag her down the hall away from everyone. you already settled in while eddie quietly took his things to his side of the room. 

“oh! um, right,” she didn’t think of what would happen after phase one of her and steve’s plan, nervously glancing at steve who was peeking at the girls from his door frame.

“steve, i mean you know steve, he needed to talk to me about how he keeps getting rejected by every woman, like ever. he was a little upset about nancy and jonathan rooming together.” 

she was lying, and you followed her awkward gaze to steve, when he immediately withdrew himself from peeking and behind the wall. but you heard a small gasp from that room since it wasn’t too far from where you and nancy stood at the stairs.

it was steve’s gasp, because when he rested his back against the wall and opened his eyes again, eddie was standing there in front of him with his arms crossed. 

“dude, what the fuck,” steve said, and eddie shook his head. 

“i should be saying that to you. care to tell me why on earth i’m rooming with her?” eddie asked condescendingly, expecting the truth. 

“what’s wrong with that? i thought you guys were friends. robin, she needed my advice to-”

“i’m going to ask you again.” eddie said, “why am i not rooming with you?”

steve looked defeated and he hasn’t even tried, but he knew if he gave no excuse it would be worse than a shitty one. he was also a little scared that robin would become unfathomably upset if steve told eddie what was really going on.

and so would you, so before either of the two could mutter out another lie while you and eddie interrogate them unknowingly at the same time, nancy ended up coming out of her room with a grin, 

“i need to go swimming, come on!”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

the entirety of the day you spent at the cabin on your first day of a three day trip, you spent at the lake. not by yourself of course, you and the other two girls swam and tanned as the guys sat in their swim trunks, drinking beers.

to make things more interesting, the three of you decided to have fun diving off the pier and into the lake, splashing each other, and playing marco polo. 

now the three of you swam around each other, keeping yourselves afloat to talk and converse. the conversation started about you being in france again, and if you met anyone there, if you had a french lover for the semester or if you were too busy with your head in books. 

“there was this one girl, god she was like five foot eleven and just, she was so fucking gorgeous. we met at a cafe and we talked for like a few days until she was like, ‘well i don’t really think i’m gay,’ and i was just,” you explained to the girls and paused. “we kissed and i guess she wasn’t into it so i never heard from her again.” 

“you’ve lived like ten lives.” robin deadpanned and it made a laugh bubble to your throat. 

“so you’re bisexual?” nancy inquired, genuinely. “you know i thought you were straight actually.”

“yeah i thought i was a lesbian for like six years but then i started dating this guy during high school but i still liked girls so, figured i was bisexual.” you said with a small laugh, and the girls smiled at you. 

“so, do you think eddie knows?’ nancy asked the two of you as you guys kept afloat in the water and you raised your eyebrow, looking between robin, nancy, and even glancing over your shoulder to the guys who were now smoking so you could look at eddie. 

only for eddie to already be looking at you while you swam in the water. a blush creeped onto your skin, thanking god that your slight sunburn covered it. 

“knows what?” you asked. 

“that you’re not actually a lesbian,” nancy laughed and you heard robin wince and say nancy’s name.  

“what?” you couldn’t help yourself from the high octave in your voice, and nancy looked surprised.

“she didn’t know, nance.” robin said bleakley and nancy mouthed a small sorry to her. 

“explain. now.” you demanded, swimming your way to the pier to pull yourself up and sit on the ledge. the girls followed you but stayed in the lake. 

“well, see, he kind of thinks that we’re together, like girlfriends. and well, fuck,” robin said as she looked behind you and hit her wet hand against her hand. 

“what?” you asked worriedly and saw a forced smile creep onto her lips. 

“hey!! eddie!” robin said dramatically and you looked behind you to see eddie, standing in nothing but his black swim trunks and right in back of you. so much as to where you were practically face to face with his groin. you whipped around quickly. 

eddie was watching you all day. he couldn’t help but watch you. your bikini set didn’t help him either, steve actually had to tell him to close his mouth when you pulled yourself up from out of the water and onto the wooden pier, every movement causing a bounce and jiggle in your body and sending an ache to his cock. 

he was thinking of you so impurely, so twisted that he didn’t even feel like he was being himself. he didn’t understand why he was so obsessed with you, why everything about you made him want you even more. 

“well apparently those two assholes have suffered major injuries to their legs because they both asked me to come over here and tell you two girls,” eddie said pointing with his index and middle finger at nancy and robin, “that you are wanted as of now.” 

you didn’t bother turning around to peer up at him again, instead you just watched the girls look at you, then at each other, then swimming to the stairs of the pier. eddie takes a seat next to you, legs dangling off the pier. you feel the burn of his body heat sitting right next to you, and you look down to see the distinction between your thighs and eddie’s. 

he’s like half your size. 

you were nervous, you knew that you were a bigger girl and didn’t care, but suddenly you felt like you were taking up too much space. but he sat this close to you for a reason, your thighs spilled over to touch his at this point. 

“is it just me or are they acting reaaaaaaaaally weird?” eddie asked, peeling his eyes from the crease between your tummy touching your thigh, and how the bikini bottom you wore pressed into your hip, to robin and steve. he needed to distract himself before he felt himself forming a tent in his not so stretchy swimming trunks. 

you watched robin and steve from across the lake, sitting in lounge chairs and talking, while looking at the two of you. you tried to think back on the way robin had been acting this last month, wondering if she was showing any signs of suspiciousness to understand why she had been so secretive. 

“he kind of thinks we’re together, like girlfriends,”

you were thinking back to finding out you weren’t sharing a room with your best friend, and instead the man you’ve thought about between your legs. 

she was fucking lying. 

“right…. hold that thought, actually.” you said blankly, lifting yourself from sitting on the wooden edge of the pier and fast walking your way to robin’s seat. 

one, it was hard to sit next to eddie without being awkward about his presence. and two, this would be your only time to talk to robin about whatever she had up her sleeve. 

eddie watched you walk off, how could he not, and watched as the pumpkin orange bikini get taken in between your asscheeks. he was definitely enjoying this view of your curvy silhouette, the rolls of your back, where the strings of your bikini bit into. he was enjoying all of this, and he immediately felt his cock harden again as he let himself consume all of you, and the way your thighs jiggled with every step. 

eddie could say he wouldn’t know what love is, which would be true, but whatever it was, he felt it when you came into the picture. he had crushes before, girls in the classes he barely went to, his newest supplier, a girl he made eye contact with once. but you, you torched his body into flames with every touch and laugh. he was consumed by you, his mind only thinking of ways to make you smile, to make you happy. he remembered your favorite foods, what color you chose to wear out more, and even your own childhood crushes. 

he wanted to be buried in them, to feel the way they suffocate him when he’s face to face with your thick core, spreading your lips to taste all of you. he couldn’t name a person that made him feel like you do, and he couldn’t imagine anyone else being made for him like you were. 

knowing eddie’s eyes were on you, you ignored it as you pulled robin up from her seat. 

“you were lying! steve didn’t fucking need your help, you were trying to set me up with eddie!” you hushed out, your cheeks hot. 

“what?! i would ne-” you tilted your head and looked at her blankly. 

“fuck okay, fine but steve helped me too!” your head whipped to steve who glared at robin and held his hands up in surrender. 

“why would you help?” you asked, confused as ever now. you looked between the two as they looked at each other as if they know something you don’t. 

“i mean, why would you want to set us up? eddie’s gay!” you said, as a matter of fact. 

“and he’s dating you is he not?” you asked questionably, pointing to steve and now as you understood their faces more. 

“what? no! you thought he was dating me?” steve exasperated from his seat, which wasn’t that far from where you stood. 

“eddie’s not gay… that’s why we tried to um, set you guys up because both of you thought the other one was dating us. so, we took it upon ourselves.” robin explained and you crossed your arms over your chest to put a hand on your forehead. 

“why would you think me and eddie were dating?” steve kept on, and robin shushed him as she looked back to you. 

“i mean does it seem like we’re dating? like, am i-” 

“steve. not now.” robin said curtly and you tapped your forehead. 

“eddie’s… not gay?” you whispered to yourself and looked back to him, only to see him standing behind you. 

“you thought i was gay?” eddie asked, finding it a little funny. he was amused, at least. not angry. 

“um, steve i need, uh,” robin said and looked at steve. “that thing, you know like that thing i was talking about that time-”

“just go!” you grumbled, keeping your eyes on eddie as you heard their footsteps falter. 

the only sound you can hear is nature, the lake, and your breathing. the sun was going down already, and the pink hue of the sunset coated the sky, and glimmered on eddie’s face. he looked beautiful, his curls were tighter given the lake water from earlier, dry now and his pale body was glistening with a small sheen of sweat from the humidity. 

“you thought i was dating robin.” you said to defend yourself and his eyes went wide.

“you’re not dating robin? but she’s been like talking about you since forever and the way she talks about you━wait so you’re straight?” he said once he remembered what he was talking about. 

“well no, i’m bisexual but, still like men.” you smiled.

there was a shift in the air once those words left your mouth, and when eddie’s eyes fell over your body from your face to your toes, you felt your core clench around nothing. there was something in his eyes that you’d never seen before, knowingly at least, and when your eyes raked over his body, you noticed a bulge in his trunks. 

now you felt bare to him, only in two pieces of small cloth that covered your most vulnerable areas. something that eddie noticed too, knowing that he could get you naked bare for him with a pull and a tug on your swimsuit. 

“so you’re single?” you blurted and bit your lip.

eddie smirked at the question, and stepped a little closer to you. 

“and ready to mingle, baby.” 

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

it was fairly surprising that everyone decided to shower and settle for watching a movie on the tv in the cozy living room. the fireplace was lit, only because it was practically freezing inside. 

you were the last one to shower and after you finally got dressed in the humid bathroom, you ringed your hair dry with your towel and shook the strands apart. you decided that you were ready to hit the sack, wanting to get as much rest as possible before you find yourself out of breath and passing out from heat exhaustion the next day while you’re on your hike with the group. they wanted to actually try the whole campsite thing, roasting marshmallows and drinking water out of a can, meanwhile you just wanted to go dip in the lake again. 

you decided to say goodnight to everyone who was downstairs, half already snoring, sprawled out on the floor. one person you didn’t see was eddie, who you actively looked for until you guessed he was in the restroom. your heart was already in your chest as your feet hit each stair, only taking you further to having to spend eight hours in the same bed with eddie munson. 

maybe you were nervous. the thought of feeling this guy lay next to you in bed was putting a flutter in your tummy, everything felt like it flipped upside down when the confusion was cleared up between the two. no one ever made you feel like this, not even the six foot straight french girl who seduced you. 

before you could even open the door to the room you were hoping that you’d be asleep by the time he came upstairs, just so that the ache between your legs would finally settle down. but to your dismay, you opened the door to eddie, shirtless and laying on his back over the comforters. 

he sat up without a second thought, and you almost got whiplash with how quickly he moved and looked at you. 

“i can take the floor if you want,” suddenly you felt small. it was a weird feeling, but walking into this room to sleep with him only felt like it was an invitation for more. and you wanted more. 

“no it’s okay, i’m just ready for bed.” you said and smiled, closing the door and going to the right side of the bed. 

“can i turn this off?” you asked looking over your shoulder just to see him looking at the bare skin of your back that your skimpy little shirt didn’t cover. 

“you can do whatever you want, princess.” he muttered under his breath and you turned your head, smiling and pulling the beaded string until you heard a click. his lamp was still on as you pulled your legs into the lifted covers, sliding down to lay on your side and face the opposite direction of eddie. 

eddie on the other hand was thinking of what to say as he turned his lamp off, doing the same maneuver you did to get comfortable, except he was facing you. staring at your back again, his eyes went lower until the blanket was resting at the curve of your waist. he noticed where your shirt copied the and molded your rolls and back. 

eddie felt like now it was a free-for-all. knowing you’re not tied down to someone, and knowing you were still very attracted to the opposite sex. 

“steve and robin tried to set us up didn’t they?” he asked you from behind, his voice still very close to you. 

“they did,” you confirmed, softly. 

“did you want to be set up with me?” he asked, a little nervous. 

“if i tell you then robin and steve would be right.” you said and turned awkwardly to face him, now eye to eye. he couldn’t help but notice the way your tits pressed together. 

“who said we have to tell them the truth?” 

his hand didn’t waste a second to press into your cheek, his thumb rubbing over your lips to trace them. 

“you really want me?” eddie asked. 

there it was, the shift in the dark air that was only scarcely lit by the full moon flooding in through the bare window. 

you didn’t answer, you only shifted from your position to your knees, moving the blanket off of eddie to see his pale white skin, and straddle his hips when he laid on his back. your hands moved to his chest to steady yourself and his hands fell naturally to the dip of your curve, gripping into the fat of your hips.

he tilted his head to look up at you, your hair cascading down your shoulders to create a sort of shield around your face. he couldn't help but tug at a strand,making you smile. 

you just decided to go for it. all the nervousness and teasing and flirting built up to this, when you leaned down to press your lips into his. 

it was odd because eddie pictured this moment just like this, with you straddling him in just shorts and a loose fitting tank, watching your soft lips come closer to his with your eyes closed. you were so fucking cute, and he tried to constrain himself from going wild by digging into your skin. 

the kiss was soft first, eddie let you move your lips on his before he found a rhythm and moved with you, gentle, soft, teasing kisses to test the waters. you were growing wet with every minute you fixed your lips to his, using one hand to put right under his jaw, rubbing his throat with your fingers. 

you thought maybe eddie was just enjoying the kiss way too much as you got a little more messy, the two of you giving hard kisses, but the minute you felt something poking your inner thigh, you realized you had been grinding down on him the entire time. 

you pulled away first, leaving him just as breathless as you, but he followed you and sat up with you, chasing your lips. he had a dumb grin on his face, looking over your disheveled look to see where you two met. god, she looks fucked out already. 

“eddie?” you hummed, letting your fingers trace the small tattoos and the ones that lead to his manhood. 

“fuck, yes baby?” he breathed and watched you take your plush lip between your teeth and sit back fully on his clothed cock. he let out a strained groaned and it brought a smile to your face. 

“can i suck your dick?,” you asked unabashedly, “i’ve always wanted to, wanted to taste you,” 

eddie was practically already close to exploding in his pants, and you felt the throbbing of his cock against your ass now that he’s fully hard. you were sure that a wet stain would be left on his light colored pajama pants.

“you can do whatever you want with me doll, i’m for your pleasure,” he said as he watched you slide back down between his knees, eddie spreading them so you had more room to lay between him, and you rubbed at the skin above the hem of his pants to admire the growing bulge that was asking for relief, pleading. 

“you’re so fucking pretty, baby, can’t fuckin’ believe i could’ve had you since the beginning,” he said in a hushed voice. 

you didn’t take long to drag his pants down to his ankles letting eddie kick them off as your eyes stayed pointed at his cock. it looked almost painful, for you and him. he was throbbing, his cock jerking against his abdomen. you salivated, looking at him as you grabbed his shaft at the base and softly stroked him lazily, looking at every vein, every little freckle, and the waay his slit dripped with beads of pre cum. 

it was a sight to see. you heard eddie’s low moans as he sat up against the headboard, getting a view of you jerking him. 

“you’re dick is so pretty,” you murdered as you watched your fingers tease his slit to use the precum as some sort of lubricant, massaging the head. he let you take full control of him, and the way he tries to buck into your fist made your cunt clench around nothing. 

“baby, please,” he begged as you kept your lazy pace up. he was craving your mouth and before he could ask again, you directed his tip into your mouth to let your tongue swirl and play with the angry head. 

“ah, fuck-shit,” he hissed, finally feeling your mouth envelop him entirely, not faltering when you tried to stuff as much of his as you possibly could. you hollow your cheeks as you sucked him gently twice, releasing him with a pop, and smiling. 

he was focused on only you, not the laughter that came from downstairs, not the crickets singing outside of the window, only the way you went back down to take him in your mouth, reaching the back of your throat this time and gagging. 

“my fuck- fuck oh my god,” he strained, letting his hands find your hair to get a better view of your face. 

“so fucking good, taking my dick so well baby,” he praised and you moaned with your mouth still taking all of him, keeping the steady pace of bobbing, up and down his shaft with a hand wrapped around his girth, following the same motion of your mouth. 

it was a euphoric feeling eddie had, to see his crush be the one to take, or try to take all of him. the girl he’d dream about, think about going down on, was laying between his legs playing with his cock like it is your favorite thing to do. 

and slowly, it was becoming your favorite thing. your air was coming in through your nostrils as you cupped his balls, using the slobber that was falling down his cock to massage and fondle them as you flattened your tongue under the base of his shaft, forcing yourself to take all of him. he was trying to cover his moans with pants, but it wasn’t happening.. 

“fuck, just like that, you’re fucking filthy,” he said sitting up fully now so the top of your head was touching his belly button, still letting your drool and spit create a mess under your hands. you were loving this even when your jaw was crying, you liked being the center of attention for eddie. 

you released him again with a long string of spit connecting from your lips to the head of his cock, sitting up on your knees to become eye level with him, still using the spit to jerk him. your grip tightened, loosened, and teased around his red tip to watch his buck, and jerk his body to you. 

“need you to fuck me, please,” you asked politely, the spit still on your chin, your eyes watery and your nose a little runny. taking all of him was impossible for you, maybe with his help he’d be able to squeeze the rest of him down your throat to make room, but that was for another time. 

eddie’s eyes were on yours, then back between your two bodies to see how your hand worked against him, he felt the heat building up in his stomach, feeling the strings snapping with every stroke. 

before he could even release, he grabbed your wrist and halted your movements, using your vulnerability to flip you on your back, gripping your wrists beside your head. 

“so you do want me?” he queried, and you giggled. 

“no eddie, of course i don’t want you, i’m totally not soaking my panties right now,” you said unbelievably sarcastic as he moved to kiss your cheeks, your neck, licking your jawline and kissing you once more on your lips before he straddle you. 

“you’re gonna lay there, your hands up just like this, and you’re gonna be a good girl and take it, yeah?” he shifted, his voice dark and his eyes pitch black as he grinds his naked cock into your thin shorts. 

“eddie,” you pleaded, not wanting to keep your arms in the fixed position he held them in. 

“need you out of these fucking clothes now,” he said and immediately yanked your shorts and panties down, moving to your shirt. 

“take it off for me,” he encouraged and you did, reaching your tank and arching your back to get rid of it. he marveled at your complete nakedness, spreading your legs to situate himself between them. lifting your legs in the air while spreading them, eddie leaned back to take a mental picture of the way your pussy was dripping for him. slick sliding between the cheeks of your ass, over your hole and onto the bed sheets. 

“this all for me? no one else?” he asked as he tugged on his cock, stroking himself. 

“yes, you, only you, please,” you were bracing for the impact of his hardness pressing and stretching you out, but instead you felt the pads of his fingers trace down your tits, to your belly, to your fupa, and spreading the fat of your pussy lips to see all of you completely.

what he conjured up in his mind was nothing near the actual sight. it was breathtaking, the way your hair fell into a ring around your head, how your tits moved and jumped with every movement you made, the way your belly creased and curved with your legs mid air, the way your thighs looked so meaty with his inbetween. this was heaven, and you were god. 

he watched you completely as he sat back on his achilles, your legs still spread for him like the good girl you were, and teasing your clit. 

“i need to taste you,” eddie groaned, taking the wetness from your clenching hole up to your clit, rubbing smooth circles. 

“eddie, no fuck, please i wanna be full, please,” you moaned, louder than you intended, “you’re just so fucking big, and fucking pretty i just need t’ feel you, need all of you please eddie, give it to me,” 

he’d never seen you so fucking responsive, so vocal with him. he was remembering the way your voice dripped with urgency, and seduction. he couldn’t ever tell you no, even in circumstances of being fully clothed and feet away from each other. 

“just a taste, please baby,” he bargained, too distracted with the way your cunt sounded as he plays with your pussy. he was teasing your hole at this point, threatening to let you feel the stretch of one finger until he got too impatient to wait for your answer. he quickly dove down onto his stomach, letting his arms hook around your thighs and latching onto your cunt like a fucking bottle. 

“you-what the fu-, my god,” you tried to spit it out, but fuck his tongue swirling around your clit and the way his fingers kept your lips spread made you grind against his hand, moving your hands from where eddie told you to keep them and into his curly hair before he pulled up and landed a small slap on your pussy. he watched in enjoyment as it jiggled. 

“what’d i tell ya, keep those fucking hands right there baby, be good for me yeah?” he breathed, going back down to lay on his stomach, arms hooked even tighter now. Your hands were thrown up above your head, gripping onto the edge of the bed to stop yourself from yanking his long hair. 

“eddie, please, fuck,” you moaned out, the feeling of his finger inching inside you was a fucking tease. 

“shit, didn’t know you’d be this tight for me, needa stretch you a little bit, that okay?” 

“yes, fuck eddie it’s okay, just, fuck i need more,” you found yourself out of breath, eddie’s arm reaching from your thigh to toy with your nipple, watching every reaction he pulled from you. 

“pretty fucking pussy baby, look at you, taking my fingers so good for me,” he continued with the praises, the small words as he released your clit to focus on the way you were sucking his fingers, your walls gripping him tight. 

“fuck baby, cum for me, need to taste more of you,” he groaned, unable to help himself when his puts you back into the position of having your calves resting on his shoulders. until he folds you even more with his large hands, to where your knees are touching your shoulders, or at least as far as he could bend you to his preferred shape with your belly in the way. but he liked it, he loved seeing you so mendable for him, pushing your limits of how much you can take. 

he wanted you to be pon full display for him, being able to see both holes shine with your wetness.he practically held your ankles bound together to push against your chest, going back down for the third time to watch your cunt spread for him like this, to watch how you leaked down to your asshole. 

he licked a wide stripe from your clit to your asshole, licking and spitting on your tight hole to start rubbing his thumb to create a ring of spit on it. 

“tell me you want me, princess,” he ordered, eyes trained on the sight in front of him. 

“eddie i want you, fuck, fu-,” you breathed and tried to gasp for air, “need it,” 

“so good baby, look at you holding those pretty legs for me, let me eat you right,” you didn’t even notice your hands went from the edge of the bend to your legs, holding yourself spread open just for him. If anyone walked in right now, they’d see everything. 

the way you were laid for him made you wetter by the second, never being folded or manhandled this way, but as he grabs the cheeks of your ass to move and spread them, he spits on your cunt again and goes back to brutally assaulting your oversensitive bud. 

that pressure on your spine was familiar, and the way you felt tingles spread from your inner thighs to the rest of your body, even your legs going weak as you struggled to keep your eyes on his. it was beautiful, mesmerizing even the way he ate your pussy. it was pornographic, the slurping and wet sounds were only growing louder as eddie shook his head, his ose rubbing against your clit when he goes to lick and fuck your hole with his tongue at the same time. 

“i’m, cum, gonna-fuck eddie, im fuck-” you couldn’t even get it out before your eyes were clenched, your pussy pulsing and throbbing, pushing all of your release out of your hole where eddie was to lick up every drop.

the moans were eccentric, he’d never heard you this way and seeing you come undone because of him made his cock scream for touch. it was something he could listen to for hours, only wanting to finger fuck you and eat your sweet cunt just so he could listen to the little noises that made him feral.

“need to feel you sweet girl, let me fill this pussy,” he lets your legs fall from where they rested after you went slack during your orgasm, letting your feet plant on the bed bent at the knees. 

“can’t fucking  think when you’re looking at me like that, princess, do you want me to cum already?” he smiled, watching you watch him with pure adoration and desire, not seeing him as a freak or a lowlife.  

he saw your softness in your eyes, soothing a part of him that has never been healed until now. 

“please, eddie i want you to make me cum again,” you gasped, lifting your head a little to look over your stomach as much as you can, now letting your eyes lazily travel between eddie’s eyes and where he prodes your entrance with his tip. 

he took pride in the way he made you feel, how you looked sweaty and cockdrunk already. he couldn’t get enough of your frizzy hair surrounding you, and the smell of your shampoo mixing with sweat. 

“can’t believe you want me, you’re unbelievable,” he said, letting his cock slip between the fat of your pussy lips. he wanted to be covered in you, all of you. 

“you’re so big, eddie,” you groaned, feeling his length slip back and forth between your wetness. 

“you want it, baby? want me to fuck this pretty pussy?” he asked, his palm flat against the bed next to your head, gripping his manhood with the other. 

“fuck eddie, yes i need it, need all of you fuck,” you cried, gripping thr back of his neck to lift your head a little, watching your hips try to pushed down on him. 

“let me watch you take it, yeah? wanna see you stretch just for me, only for me,” 

he sat up on his knees and spread your legs, lifting them to rest on his shoulders as he admired your glistening sex. every part of you felt like you were burning up, all of your nerves subsiding and turning into pure greed for him, your want stronger than anything else. 

he pushed in slowly, softly, watching the fat head slip and disappear into your tight hole. 

“holyfuckingshit,” he rushed, watching you take him with a little resistance. it felt like a sting, but spreading into pleasure when you feel his balls against your asshole, filling you up completely. 

now, he pressed into your legs to fold you again, this time he was able to watch you and force you to see him as he ruined you for anyone else. 

“you’ve got to be kidding me,” he was out of breath already, the few slow strokes he did to the sound of your moans were to stretch you enough for him to lose control on you. 

“so, f-, so fucking big,” you almost felt the wind get knocked out of you as you feel the loss of his warmth and length, only to be pushed back into you with more force. hitting the back of your cervix repeatedly, he was lazily smiling at the sounds you were making for him. 

“oh baby, there you go, sound so fucking pretty for me,” he encouraged, letting his arms hook around your thighs for more leverage. he pushed you up a little further, almost bringing your chest to your chin as he pounded you harder. 

“e-eh, fuck, eddie, s’ lot- it’s, oh eddie,” you cried watching him, grinning with an open mouth as he pants out groans and moans from the way you gripped his cock. felt better than anything and anyone he’s ever fucked. 

“what, too much for my pretty girl? what happened?” he cooed, “thought you were, fucking hell, thought you could handle it,” he teased, taking your legs from his shoulders and using his hands to grip at your ankles, spreading further so that your legs are flailing in the air as he fucks you. 

it was fucking intense. you couldn’t make sense of anything but him buried inside you, the way your cunt twitched and squeezed around him, and just how close you were to another orgasm. 

“fuck, this pussy is mine.” he growled, gripping the fat of your stomach and waist, massaging, “always gonna be mine, sweet baby.” 

“tell me, sweetheart . tell me whose pussy this is and i’ll, jesus fucking christ,” he was cut off by the clenching of your cunt, your hole rapidly pulsing as his two fingers dove down to play with your clit, rubbing in lazy fast circles. 

“i’ll let you cum, tell me baby,” he urged and you tried to form the words, but nothing but sounds were coming out. the way your breasts jumped with every hard thrust, the way your fat jiggled on your thighs and tummy, how smooth and warm you felt under him, he was losing his mine. 

not to mention your little sounds. the whimpers, the silent begging, the cries and gasps for air, it was going straight to his cock that was already starting to twitch from your eyes on him. 

“it’s yours eddie, only you fill me up like this, please,” you finally mustered up the words, and you felt your own ball in your tummy growing bigger and bigger with the way you obsered eddie. 

out of breath, his hair was clinging to his sticky face and his silver chains he never took off dangled above you. you watched as his muscles flexed and gripped the hard biceps when he pulled you in for an embrace, holding you as he fucked you. 

your forehead rested against his right shoulder, peeking down to watch the sloppy mess between you grow wetter and messier. he looked down with you, pressing kisses into your damp hair and face. 

“look at that baby, creamin’ all on my dick, my fucking messy girl,” he was aggressive, more aggressive than you’d ever seen him and so much more filthy than anyone could comprehend. 

“look so good, fucking me,” you whispered, not even trying to get him to hear but he did. and he was encouraged by it, looking down again as he heard your labored pants in his ear. it was a beautiful sight. 

your pussy lips enveloped him completely, letting his length reach the deepest parts of you over and over again. your arousal was dripping down your ass even more now that the two of your juices were mixing together, and forming a white-ish ring around his cock. and it just kept building with every thrust, sending your pussy to clench around him again. 

your head was completely empty, nothing but the sensation of being filled to the brim over and over. it was incredible, and having already reached your peak once, to do it again was going to ruin you. 

he was already ruining you, the way he turned so dirty so fast, how he spoke to you and watched you completely. he took all of you in as much as he could and let himself watch you undo beneath him. 

“cum on my dick, baby,” he said, “pussy feels so fucking good sweet girl, don’t wanna fuckin’ pull out,” he sounded like he was slurring, and his fingers went faster on your overstimulating bud. 

he felt the clench of your cunt at his words. “aw you like that? wanna be full of me? give you my babies?” 

it was impossible not to scream no, tell him that mentioning babies was practically a threat to you, but the way he moaned those words as his hand went up to your throat just to grab a hold of you, and his other started to toy with your nipples. 

“eddie,” you dragged, crying out with your back arching when you felt your buildup finally crash over him. you didn’t even need to tell him, he could feel it by the way you twitched and how you clenched so hard you practically pushed him out of you. 

“fuck baby,” he said as he fucked your hole with his tip, the feeling of the curve and edge of the fat cockhead was a different sensation, and as he kept fucking you like that, slow and soft, you felt an oddity in your new buildup. 

it was faster, stronger, and as he teased your hole with just his tip, you were cumming again, but this time it was wet. you could heard the small gush over his cock, coating him and his pelvic bone as he gleamed at the sight below him and feeling his own release starting to snap. 

“fuck, eddie please, you fuck me so good,” you breathed as you pulled him flush to your chest, letting him still slip in and out of you lazily. 

“fill me, please, fuck i don’t care i need it, mark me, make me yours. please, its your pussy please cum inside of me,” you whispered in his ear in a cry, scratching down his pale back as he moaned against you. the vibrations of his noises sent a tingle all over your body, your nipples hardening again. 

the thought of eddie getting you pregnant was intense. for you at least, for eddie, he thought it was the best decision to ever make. of course he’d fill you up. why would he have the opportunity and not take it? he wanted everyone to see you knocked up with the freak’s baby, he wanted everyone to know even if you were too smart and too goddess looking for him, he had you. 

it was even sending another pulse to your cunt, letting your weak and abused hole tiredly clench on his. you were losing your breath at this point, you’d never been fucked and pleasured like this ever, never for this long either. 

he made sure to worship you, to cherish you, to make you feel sexy. he wanted to make you see what he saw, make you feel the way you made him feel. and this was it. 

he was falling in love with you, the way he felt like you were made for him even now was pulling at his insides, pulling hard enough to finally let him still his hips inside of you and letting his cock twitch at the deepest part of your cunt. 

“fucking, mine. my fucking pussy,” he groaned into your chest, your hands gripping in his hair and rubbing on his scalp. 

“s’ yours, only yours,” you said softly as you felt his cock twitch even more, until he groaned and slipped out of you. 

it was a new feeling, still feeling full even though all contact was lost between you two. still feeling warmth inside your cunt, until you felt the mixture of both of your releases leaking out of your hole and sliding down your ass. your eyes were closed after he got off of you, and you weren’t sure how he put on his clothes so fast but when the door opened again you saw him walk back in with a wet rag. 

“baby?” he asked, craning his neck to see your face in the dark. 

“mmm?” you hummed, still laying on your back after turning your head back to the ceiling. 

“let me clean you up and we can go to bed, does that sound good princess?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed to separate your legs again. 

you expected to feel the coldness of the rag, but you instead felt his fingers softly spreading your pussy lips apart and it sent a chill through you. 

“look so good like this, fuck, i think i really truly want to die by your pussy. please?” he said, letting his finger dip his cum back inside of your whole. 

“eddie,” you dragged, clenching your thighs together. he just smiled and chuckled a little. 

“alright, lets get cleaned up and you can take my shirt,” 

you lay there, trusting eddie as your eyes fluttered closed and felt him wipe between your legs and wipe your thighs, finding his shirt that he threw on a chair in the corner to bring back to you, but he already hears the soft snores coming from your body. 

he shook you a little before you finally opened your eyes again and smiled sheepishly at him, before listening to his commands and following them, still half asleep. 

all he asked was that you sit up and raise your arms, and he tugged the faded iron maiden shirt that was too big for him, but fitting just loose enough on you. before he could even pull the covers over you, still with your eyes closed, you gripped the blankets and pulled them over your bare legs up to your chin, and nestled into the softness. 

eddie was a man who did his fair share of sleeping around, with all types of people, and he’s been with older, smaller, skinnier, taller, bigger. but being with you, watching you and being able to sleep next to you was a fucking blessing he didn’t deserve. 

so he indulged in it, letting himself wrap you in his arms and holding you until you push him off because you’re too sweaty. 

but you don’t do that. you let eddie hold you all night even after hardly any words were exchanged after. and in your dream that night besides dreaming about your future with eddie, was a dream of you thanking robin and steve for their ridiculously foul plan. 

a ridiculous foul plan that worked. 

[wszczebrzyszynie]

sorry for the train ride… I hope the destination is at least interesting. I would LOVE to hear more about Przemek… he’s one of my absolute faves and I would honestly love to hear anything about him… maybe what inspired you to make him? or how he feels about his sexuality? or maybe his ethnicity (which I remember you saying you didn’t really have an answer for, but maybe you could talk about possible ideas you’ve had for it or how it affects his personality/how people treat him)

Nothing to be sorry for. i love trains. But it is a long trip with nothing but my phone and one book. Well not anymore im in Gdańsk now

Any way this is fun Przemek is one of my favourites as well. I created him because i wanted Ryba to have more friends, so he was very much a side/background character that i learned to love very much very quickly. Im not even sure why. Design wise there were plenty of inspirations... mainly the unbread twins from omori (which i think is where Lena came from as well and it shows), Artur from parties are for losers and Norton IDV (hence the scar... in the first draft Przemek was also a miner so it was very much my Norton at home). He used to be the straight man to Rybas whole... being at that time. They used to be childhood friends but Przemek was the smarter and more of a loner of the two. Tried looking for some old art of him but couldnt find much

Sexuality wise hes mostly in denial. He doesnt like thinking of himself as queer and doesnt want to be considered a part of the community, which affects the way he treats others (initial embarrasement to be seen with Ryba or Mikita, who are either visibly queer or just simply stand out; he grows out of it as the story progresses) and later on shapes his relationship with Ryba (mostly his struggles with being vunreable and opening up mixed with a very crushing need to be normal; he tends to force himself to do things he doesnt really want but thinks will be either for the ultimate greater good or just to be able to lie to himself more, either harming himself or Ryba in the process. Communication is a skill they both are learning as they go but it is a hard one)

And exact ethnicity wise I Dont Know. Well i mean he is polish ethnically and culturally but he does have darker skin from back where the story was set in a fictional dystopian world and i never figured out how to make it work with the background he has in current more historically grounded DNS. Most probably will never know until it just dawns on me one day. In the original DNS story hes simply "from here" (as is the case with most of the characters) and it doesnt really shape his experience as much as his class and upbringing does; hes catholic, he speaks polish, his family are peasants and hes a working man. In modern au its a different case that i dont know how to resolve and he does have a different experience with it; i dont like being cruel to my characters, especially with things i dont have personal experiences with, but i do know my country pretty well, so i can imagine some of the hardships he has to go through. It definitely can be a stress factor; hes a shy, slightly anxious person (which he doesnt even realize that he is? Second nature), so "standing out" and possible conftontations that can come with looking different in a relatively middle sized nowhere town is something he had to learn how to ignore throughout his life. I will finish this by saying i think it would be funny if it turned out some of his ancestors are from the old yugoslavia but not to explain anything just because i think at some point he used to be half balkan (and also many other slavic identites) . No clue from where exactly and it wouldnt affect him at all. Normal thing in lower silesia but he is from the other side of the country. Sadly. Bit of a lacking response hope you can forgive me for that

[too-antigonish]

Endeavour and Fascism

There's a thread of history running through Endeavour that's been on my mind a lot recently. It's a somewhat unified arc that runs through 3 episodes: Coda, Colours, and Raga. I was curious to learn more and did some research.

It's probably nothing new for folks in the UK, but for most of us in the US, it's not something we learned about in school.

So here goes...long post...

S3E4: Coda

We get the first glimpse in in Coda when Thursday comforts Trewlove with the offer of a cigarette as she copes with the murder of a fellow officer:

THURSDAY: All right? TREWLOVE: They just shot him. Like it was nothing. THURSDAY: Here. For the nerves. Keep the pack. Stick 'em behind your notebook and nobody'll know. TREWLOVE: Thanks. THURSDAY: Tip my old governor gave me. Sergeant Vimes. Cable Street. “No Pasarán!” All right? Let’s have that jacket buttoned up, then. TREWLOVE: Sir.

It's such a little exchange, but it delights me in so many ways. There's the sweetness of the interaction between Thursday and Trewlove. There's the irony in hindsight of his "thoughtfulness" in helpfully encouraging her to smoke. There's the nod to Terry Pratchett's Discworld with the references to both "Sergeant Vimes" and "Cable Street." And finally there's the nod with “No Pasarán!”  to the actual Battle of Cable Street that occurred in the East End of London in 1936.

A nostalgic reference to “No Pasarán!” is actually a bit ironic coming from a former Met officer. As the unfortunate party charged with keeping the two opposing sides "peaceful," the Met faced some of the worst violence on that day. However, Fred Thursday would not have experienced it as a police officer.

We know from the episode Home that he didn't join the police until two years later, in 1938. We find out in Cartouche though, that he did grow up near Shadwell Basin—about a ten minute walk from where the main showdown in the Battle of Cable Street occurred—so there's a good chance that Thursday would have witnessed the events of that day and maybe even participated.

Here's my understanding of what happened: The British Union of Fascists—a group openly aspiring to create a British  state in the style of Hitler's Germany or Mussolini's Italy—attempted to stage a march through the middle of London's East End. Their leader was Oswald Mosley, a horrible but charismatic minor aristocrat with a Hitler-wannabe-mustache, his own cadre of paramilitary "Blackshirts," and—unbeknownst to him—a major problem in his ranks with deep infiltration by Special Branch. 

Why the East End? It was the poorest area of the city and thus home to the most recent immigrants—in particular, the UK's largest Jewish population—many of whom had escaped rising persecution elsewhere in Europe. At the same time, the East End was also home to the Londoners hit hardest by the rising unemployment of the 1930s.

Mosley's rhetoric had finally become openly and unapologetically anti-Semitic in 1935 and the idea that Jewish immigrants were the ones responsible for stealing jobs from the "native" British was a simplistic explanation offered by the BUF that unfortunately resonated with many East Enders. So ultimately, the East End was home to both the main target and the BUF and some of its biggest supporters.

In October of 1936, Mosley planned for his Blackshirts and their supporters to march through the heart of the East End. Determined to both defend themselves from threats of violence and stop the march from passing through their community, Jewish leaders and others mobilized, successfully recruiting thousands of their East End neighbors and others allies to assist.

© Jewish East End Celebration Society

On the day of the march, despite a massive police escort, the BUF was turned back repeatedly. The slogan of the day, borrowed from the Republican fighters in the Spanish Civil War was, "They shall not pass" or "No Pasarán!” 

Eventually, things came to a head at the junction of Cable Street and Christian Street. Multiple barricades were erected and the BUF marchers were pelted with rotted vegetables and the contents of chamber pots. It became a pitched battle at one point. Unable to break through the East End, Mosley was finally forced to relocate his followers to Hyde Park.

© Copyright Jim Osley Detail from a mural painted on the side of the former St George's vestry hall

S5E4: Colours

The Battle of Cable Street was a humiliation for the fascists and for Mosley, a victory for the Jewish community and their allies. Sadly, the happiness was very short-lived. Mosley was able to frame Cable Street in the press as an attack by the left on his right to free speech.

There was an immediate increase in support for the BUF in the greater London area, particularly in the East End, and an increase of violence against Jewish people in the UK.  Oswald Mosley himself travelled  to Germany only two days after Cable Street. There he married socialite Diana Mitford in a secret ceremony at the home of Joseph Goebbels with Hitler attending as the guest of honor. 

Mosley and Mitford CC-BY-2.0

However, the increase in support that occurred right after Cable Street was brief in itself. As the threat of Nazi Germany became more apparent in the UK, the popularity of the BUF declined. Once the war began, the Mosleys were interned under a provision that applied to active Nazi sympathizers.

Post-war, Mosley attempted to once more find a place in politics but fortunately never moved beyond the fringe. He and his wife became prime movers in advancing various Holocaust denial theories and later espoused rather unpleasant opinions on topics such as the forced repatriation of immigrants and mixed-race marriages.

If this all sounds familiar, it's because it all crops up in the storyline of Colours where the character of Charity Mudford, Lady Bayswater is a stand-in for Diana Mitford.  RL's dialogue very much captures the sheer banality of the real Diana Mitford's  evil:

BAYSWATER: I can't change the past. If Winston hadn't been so eager for office, all the unpleasantness might have been avoided. My husband had Hitler's ear. We could have persuaded him. Softened his resolve. He wasn't immune to reason.  THURSDAY: Charming conversationalist, no doubt. BAYSWATER: Actually, he was a very good mimic. Terribly witty. MORSE: Sir, is it time for that telephone call? To the station? I can take it from here. THURSDAY: The unpleasantness, as you call it, cost me six years of my life, and untold millions a great deal more.

S7E2: Raga

But we're not quite done yet. The BUF had a successor. The National Front was founded by a former member of the BUF who then joined forces with John Tyndall, the leader of the Greater Britain movement which had a big anti-immigration focus.

As with Jewish immigration a generation earlier, heavy South Asian migration to Britain in the 1970s made it an easy target for those seeking to pin all of the nation's economic and social problems on "outsiders."

The National Front eventually came out with an agenda that called for the revocation of citizenship for all non-whites in Britain and forcible repatriation to their "native" countries. NF rallies were frequently accompanied by violence whipped up by the kind of rhetoric we hear in Raga where the character of Gorman serves as a stand-in for Tyndall and his ilk:

THURSDAY: Well, we're very concerned about young Pakistani lads getting knifed on the street. GORMAN: Terrible. But I can't say that I'm surprised. You cram all of these incompatible cultures together on one small island, of course it's gonna lead to blood. And worse. MORSE: Sounds like a threat, Mr. Gorman. GORMAN: It's just an observation. If the police can't keep the streets safe and defend the indigenous population against outsiders, well, no wonder people take it into their own hands. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a seat to win.

If anyone sees anything that I've gotten wrong here, please let me know. This was my first time reading through any source material on this whole topic and it's complicated (and depressing as hell).

I haven't got any pithy, final point to make except to say that there are certain ideas that seem to cycle back with horrible regularity every time certain conditions are in place. They're wrong. They're simplistic. They're hateful. And they need to be stopped every time.

[shadowdaddies]

Hi can I request a nessian x male!reader, where he is deaf and mute. How they met, when did the bond snap, inner circle reactions, maybe they are lerning sign language, and some Cassian scarying him. Maybe also a bit of angst, where they have a little spicy time and he cant say stop or smh. I know its weird, and detailed, but I really want to see this and i know you are an amazing writer and i know you will write it the best🫶🫶

hi, thank you so much for this request! I enjoyed writing this, and I hope I did your idea justice💜

A/N: for anyone who wants to read this without the angst/safe-wording, I've put that part between sets of "***" so you can skip over it if needed

Everything to Me

Nessian x m!Reader

warnings: (this is fluff, smut, and angst) smut below the cut, oral f!receiving, anal sex, use of safe word

The icy Illyrian air whipped around you, nose and cheeks tinged red from the cold. You felt the new-fallen snow crunch beneath your boots, the chill in your lungs from the wind making you desperate to get back inside quickly.

Pulling back the panel of animal hide that served as the entrance, you ducked down and moved into the healers’ tent. Instant warmth seeped into your bones, muscles relaxing as you sighed with relief.

A motion in the corner caught your eye, gaze drifting to where another healer, Attia, smiled warmly at you. “I made some tea for you,” she signed, turning to pour steaming liquid from the kettle into a cup. 

She held it out for you, nodding politely when you signed a stiff “thank you,” before wrapping your hands around the warm drink. The heat from the vessel alone was enough to lift your spirits, bringing life back to your numb hands.

A small chill hit your back, and you followed Attia’s gaze to the entrance of the tent where two Illyrian males stood. You offered a grin to the one you recognized, hazel eyes meeting yours as he matched your greeting with a nod of his own.

Setting your cup to the side, you freed your hands to talk with him. “Azriel,” you greeted, “how are your wings?”

“Much better, thanks to you,” Az signed back, and only then did you realize who was standing in the tent slightly behind the shadowsinger. 

General Cassian looked on with interest as Azriel turned slightly towards him to speak, signing his words as he did so you could follow the conversation. “This is our new best healer. He is who repaired my wings last year.”

“...And this is Cassian,” Azriel continued as he turned to face you. Your eyes met the general’s, but his eyes did not fall to where you were moving your hands in communication.

Instead, the Lord of Bloodshed stumbled back slightly, his eyes going wide the moment you made eye contact. Sudden fear struck you, unsure of what you did to prompt Cassian’s reaction - but before you could amend the situation, he’d uttered some words to Azriel before disappearing into the cold.

Even the stoic shadowsinger’s eyes flickered with shock before he composed himself. “I am sorry about Cassian - it seems he had somewhere to be.” His gaze swept the room, noting the teapot on the table next to Attia. “Would you mind if I joined you both for some tea?”

You knew his friendliness was a distraction - in the time you’d known the spymaster, you’d learned that while he might be kind at heart, he was not friendly. Nonetheless, you nodded, joining him as you sat on a cushion and enjoyed the conversation.

~~~

Several days passed before a familiar face showed in the healers’ tent again, Cassian looking much calmer and more put together than you’d last seen him. A striking female stood next to him - his mate, Nesta, from what you had heard.

There was an air of curiosity about her, silver eyes boring into you as though she were looking for something that not even you could see. Chin raised in a queenly elegance, the female lifted her lips in a graceful smile.

“My name is Nesta. I believe you met my mate, Cassian, already,” she signed, movements a little slow but uncommonly graceful.

Nervously, you looked to the general, your pleasant surprise apparent when he gestured, “it is good to see you again. I am learning sign language.” It was clear he had rehearsed the motions, but you weren’t sure why he had put in the effort after meeting so briefly.

“It is good to see you, too,” you signed back - slower than usual - making sure to give a pleasant smile as you did so.

From then on, Nesta and Cassian would visit you often, joining you for lunch in between training sessions at the camps, practicing their sign language with you - they were kind and supportive, curious about you and your work as a healer. 

You quickly found the both of them to be an integral part of your life, waking up each morning excited to see them. Days were brighter, the newfound friendship filling a void within you that you hadn’t known existed.

It was unlike any other friendship, or even any other relationship that you’d had before. This connection was deeper, and you were pondering how that could be one night outside by the fire with Nesta and Cassian when it hit you.

As your eyes wandered to where their hands were joined, sipping ale while they watched the fire, you realized with a pang of jealousy that you wanted that as well. You wanted their touch, their love, to stop waiting until they visited to be able to see them.

As if sensing your thoughts, Nesta turned to look at you, silver eyes reflecting the flames from the crackling fire when you dropped your drink into the dirt, frothy ale spilling out on the ground.

As easily as the two people in front of you slid into your life like missing pieces, the puzzle was put together before you. Cassian’s shocked reaction when you first met, the pull that you felt towards him and Nesta - everything snapped into place when you felt that odd tug pulling at your rib.

Nesta and Cassian exchanged a glance before turning back towards you, gentle and cautious while they studied your reaction. 

A lump formed in your throat, hands twitching anxiously as the words escaped you, so you signed the only one that seemed to echo through your mind. “Mates?”

You felt your eyes well with emotion, tears threatening to spill over the corners when they both nodded. 

~~~

The same overwhelming feeling of love and contentment settled in your soul as the dying embers of the hearth brought you back to the memories of that night. Marking your place in the book you were reading, you turned your head to admire the painting Feyre had gifted you - a perfect recreation of your mating ceremony, with Cassian and Nesta seated on either side of you as you dined and celebrated with friends and family.

You noticed Nesta in the corner of your eye, your mate smiling brightly down at you. “What are you thinking?” she signed, taking a seat next to you on the sofa.

The scent of fire and steel invaded your senses, her alluring aroma slightly darkened as you allowed your gaze to drag over the sight of her in her training leathers. “I am thinking how much I love you,” you signed, smirking at the flush across her cheeks, the way her chest began to rise and fall with more effort. “I’m thinking how I can’t believe I lived so long without you and Cassian,” your lips dragged slowly up her neck, sucking softly on her fluttering pulse before you pulled away. “I am thinking that I need you, now.”

Nesta’s throat bobbed as she signed hastily, “then take me.” 

You wasted no time, hands wrapping around her thighs as her arms wove around your neck, teeth and tongues clashing in a passionate kiss. Your knees hit the mattress, your cue to lay your mate down softly on the bed, her golden brown hair splayed out beneath her.

“You are beautiful,” you told her, dropping your hands to the ties of her pants while she helped you pull them off. Nesta slid backwards to the top of the bed, her head resting against the pillows, hands finding purchase in your hair as you kissed the soft skin of her thighs.

Prying her legs open, the scent of her arousal was intoxicating, removing any semblance of restraint you might have had. Diving into her core, you sucked on her clit, tongue flicking out against the sensitive bud. 

She writhed beneath you, sending your male pride surging as you felt the vibrations of her moans against your face and hands. You brought one finger to curl inside of her, pumping slowly as her slick grew before adding a second.

Keeping your mouth on her clit, you curled and twisted your fingers inside her warmth, biting back a grin as you sent her spiraling into an orgasm in no time. 

Pulling your fingers from Nesta’s pussy, you held them up in the light to let her see her release before bringing them to your lips and sucking. “Delicious,” you signed, cock twitching at the adorable blush on her cheeks at your filthy words.

The change in shadows and Nesta’s glance towards the door drew you from the moment, your eyes following hers to see Cassian standing in the doorframe. His hazel eyes were dark and wild, his own cock straining against his pants.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Nesta asked, back arching with a feline playfulness as she watched your other mate stride towards you.

“I did,” Cassian replied, his signing much more punctuated than Nesta’s satiated movements. “But it looks like you’ve yet to take care of our mate,” he nodded towards where your cock was leaking through your pants.

Nesta arched a dark brow at you, a sultry look on her face as she leaned forward, unbuttoning your shirt while pressing soft kisses to the newly exposed skin. You felt Cassian’s warmth behind you, sensed his movements as he undressed. 

They both helped you remove your pants, the three of you now bare and aching with desire. Cassian must have said something to Nesta, because she returned to her place at the head of the bed, kneeling there with her hair covering her full breasts. “Elbows and knees,” she directed to you, sucking in a breath as you obeyed with leisure, soaking in her expressions as you crawled between her legs, ass in the air for Cassian behind you.

Cassian’s strong hands settled firmly on your ass, working the flesh there as you felt a cold substance poured over your hole. One finger slid inside of you, then two, and your head fell into Nesta’s lap as Cassian worked you open.

Delicate fingers wove through your hair, teasing along the sensitive membrane of your wing in just the right place to leave your body shaking. Collapsing into the sheets, you buried your face once more in Nesta’s wet pussy, eating her out slowly this time as Cassian entered you from behind.

It was ecstasy, to be between your mates like this. You struggled to focus on Nesta, your technique growing sloppy the harder Cassian thrust inside of you. 

***

Suddenly, you felt Cassian’s hands wrap around your wrists, holding them together behind you to arch your back in a way that let him hit impossibly deeper. You could hardly breathe, the pleasure was too much, or so you thought. 

Cassian continued pounding into you, but you couldn’t breathe pressed against Nesta’s skin. You pulled away as best you could, head instead falling into the sheets at an uncomfortable angle. You could hardly think of anything except that you needed this to stop, needed a break, but you couldn’t sign to them.

As Cassian thrust into you again, fingertips found his wrists, and you dug a nail hard into the skin there, quickly making an attempt to sign “stop.”

All at once, everything stilled, and you felt Nesta move from beneath you to lay at your side, face level with your own. “Are you hurt?”

Shaking your head, you let your now-released hands fall to the mattress as Cassian slid out of you. You turned over so they could both see your hands, and still catching your breath, explained. “I am not hurt. I could not breathe well, and got scared when I couldn’t use my hands.” 

You noticed Cassian’s face crumble with guilt, the general falling back on his heels. Feeling his pain through the bond, you leaned forward, hands finding his cheeks as you pulled him in for a gentle kiss. 

“I am okay. This is just something we need to talk about in the future - a way for us all to still be able to communicate in bed.”

***

Cass’s gaze softened slightly, visible relief edging at his features. “You are sure you’re alright?” he pressed.

“I am sure. Now, will you please lay with me?” you asked, taking his hand and Nesta’s in each of yours as you guided them to join you under the covers. 

Nesta’s arms wound around your waist, her body curling into your side, one leg hiked across your own. You found Cassian’s hand, intertwining it with your own to press a kiss to the tough skin there. You smiled softly at the feeling of his long onyx hair brushing your neck, soft lips pressed to your cheek before you drifted off to sleep in your mates’ warm embrace.

[gettinontopic]

How am I racist? Other people are constantly trying to get through to you about transmisogyny and you instead choose to constantly try and hide behind being black, acting like that makes you immune from transmisogyny. You can still hurt transfems of any race with the way you talk about opression. You think men are an opressed class who's so so victimized by the mean women and fems of the world that you wont listen to those same actually opressed women.

Maybe if you were more willing to listen onstead of bloack a bunch of us every time we disagreed with you, you would u deratand how you're perpetuating more misogyny than any trans woman/fem whos using a few words not perfectly.

Btw, the standards you put on our words isn't fair and then you turn around and demand we be okay when your word litteraly implues we can opress you.

You should be ashamed of yourself.

How are you racist? How are you r a c i st?? You have to be kidding me! This must be a joke. Your laugh of the day. Your haha of the week.

I d not hide behind being black. Youre sick for implying that. Like many black people before me I beg my community to remember the nuances that come with my race when they talk and a bunch of them spit in my fucking face. They tell me they want the right to opress me (As if their whiteness doesn't already allow that) or they try and argue how another class of trans women is still below me in their sick opression math. They are not below me because this is not a ranking of who has it worse. Me and trans women are working together to rid the world of transphobia.

I have never on my ENTIRE blog said that men are so opressed by women. Words in my mouth moment!! I have said that the patriarcy, a system of opressions, opresses men and encourages the worst in human behavior to survive and be safe.

Those womens opression doesn't matter more than mine. All of our opression matters equal ly. We are all fighting for our rights and safet. There is no reason we need to form a line and force someone to wait a turn. I am not speaking over woman to call out the abuse to to trans men, trans masc, and other nonbinary people. Nor is it speaking over women to make sure intersex voices are included and heard when its said that negtive stereotypes and standards of men hurt them too.

Funny you claim I block all of you but you seem to have no clue how many have me blocked on the word of a racist discourse blog or who blocked me after I rightfully call out their racist remarks. It grossed me out that you assume I can't hold good faith discussion and not that maybe some of you blocked me first for talking at all. Also lmao guilt tripping me for using my block feature to keep my spaces safe and comfortable. Why, did I block your main and you've bee seething?

I'm not bothered by a few incorrect words. I'm litterally pissed at the racism, exorsexism, and blantant transphobia thats been thrown my way and the way of many other trans people at this point in an attempt to stop us from speaking about opression that affects us.

*Slow clap* What standard? The standard not to write transphobic ass shit about trans men/masc? Where you blantanly lie about our experiences ? To the point you're also lying about our nonbinary experiences? To the point where your lying about intersex and multigender and even sometimes other different trans womens experiences? I watch this happen in resl time and you have the audacity to ckme in my inbox and tell me I'm word policong you? Right before admitting you don't want us to have our word bc you still won't learn it's definition!! Fuck.

I am proud of myself. I am so proud of my beautiful nonbinary black fucking ass that you WISH you could have what I do.