#and if this is ever untrue we are in end times.

[multiheadcanons]

DO YOU THINK WE FIND EACH OTHER IN EVERY UNIVERSE?

mikhail did not want to do this.

he has been avoiding the infirmary like the plague, and avoiding its sole inhabitant moreover. it’s too much to even be in there anymore. he can’t think, he can’t reason, he can’t speak, he can’t exist in there anymore without looking like a fool. without feeling his face flush.

he can’t even go in for a visit anymore without his mind wandering. without slipping away into some asinine fantasy of him, and his own doctor.

it feels so stupid. they were fine as friends. they were fine as friends and mikhail got desperate. seemed fritz was too. and then they just… never stopped past the desperation.

and he knows it’s just him. it’s just him who’s feeling this way. the doctor never seemed to skip a beat. even as he wiped the fluids from his face, thanked the russian for a good time, ensured the cleanliness of his uniform and promptly exited whatever bedroom, bathroom, closet, or vehicle they had momentarily commandeered. even as mikhail stood alone, dazed from the flurry of action, the moment they were done the doctor was too, and they were to never speak of it. he never stayed long enough to talk afterwards. it pissed him off that he even thought about aftercare. what would they even have to talk about?

he can’t go in there anymore.

but he has to.

he took a deep breath and shut his eyes. he can’t blink in there or he’ll lose himself.

the swing of the infirmary door was silent. he was thankful for that. it meant he didn’t have to speak until he was ready to. he took stock of the infirmary. clean. organized. a dull scent of chemical, a whisper of blood under that. it smells too clean. he could change that.

but that’s not what he’s here for.

“ah, heavy! lovely to see you here, it’s been a while. you’ve been avoiding me. is there something i can do for you today?” well, there went his element of surprise. and the jab didn’t go unnoticed either. and that desk. that stupid desk. purposefully moved where it was not visible from the door, but the door was visible from its location.

a passing thought of whether the desk was free from paperwork entered mikhail’s mind, and exited just as quickly. he fully entered the infirmary and allowed the door to swing shut behind him. it’s cold in here. he could change that.

but that’s not what he’s here for.

“i need to speak with you. spare me a moment.”

“ah, i’d love to, but i can’t. i’m busy.”

busy? he walked towards the sound of the voice, rounding the corner to see stacks of paperwork.

“…with paperwork. you’ve never denied me before.”

the doctor gave an uninterested stare over his lenses. “well, the lack of denial towards you, specifically, is why i have all this paperwork. so i can’t today. perhaps another time? i’m sure i can fit you in tomorrow—”

“i am not your patient. we need to speak. today. now.” the doctor’s eyes narrowed, and his response was calculatedly slow. the ice they stand on was already melting, and neither seemed to care about the repercussions of falling into the deep.

“if i’ve never denied you before today, why would you continue to press the matter when i insist i don’t have the time? is it a medical emergency? are you dying? i could’ve caught it if you had come in to your scheduled visits.”

“no—”

“alright, then one more day of waiting won’t hurt, will it? i’ll see you tomorrow.” and with that, the doctor was done with the interaction. just that simply.

if mikhail were an emotional man he’d scream. but he isn’t. so he took a deep breath, and looked around. the blue clad doctor may not be an absolute psychopath like his counterpart, but he’s sure the man has something lying around here somewhere.

“should i leave?”

“if you want.”

jesus christ, he hates this man. if this man were to drop dead within the hour mikhail would celebrate. he perused the infirmary, opening cabinets, purposefully not shutting them, moving things out of the meticulous order the doctor kept them in, waiting for a reaction. and nothing came but silence and the scratching of pen on paper.

very well, he’ll up the ante.

he started peering through files. brute forcing the locks on the filing cabinets to go through them. leaving them open. rearranging the papers with others.

“are you having fun over there?” the doctor called out, the scratch of the pen never stopping. a crack in the stone. maybe.

“absolutely.”

fritz was not going to be happy when he realizes the extent of the damage. this is not a new tactic for mikhail to pull when he attempted to get his way, but the absolute decimation of the doctor’s filing system was grounds for death.

this is a hurdle he will handle later. he needs to focus on the task at hand.

“you don’t have a file for yourself?”

“i don’t need one.”

“hm.” this tactic was a no-go. it’s time to up the ante again. he looked around again. “where do you keep your bonesaw?”

“why?”

“just curious.” the silence told him that he probably should look elsewhere.

“if i give you the bonesaw will you get out? you’re distracting me.” oh, that’s perfect. he gave a satisfied smile.

“yes.” he heard the desk drawer open and metal skid across the floor, stopping at his feet. he grabbed it, finding the most comfortable way to hold it in his hands. “thank you, doctor. i’ll leave you be.” a neutral noise of acknowledgement came from the doctor, and with it, mikhail left.

and all fritz could do was put the pen down, and rub his temples. great. now his infirmary was trashed. he had just cleaned it. did he want to know the extent of it? not right now. he’ll explode if he dared look up now.

there wasn’t enough time to stew on it or let it go when something slapped the desk; spattering red across the stacks of paperwork. he did not bother to look at whatever was just thrown. he knows the sight of blood. his eyes slowly trailed upward. and he was absolutely unsurprised to see the russian standing before him, a pleasant smile on his face. the doctor’s eyes twitch.

“are you kidding me.”

“medical emergency. i need your aid.”

“you are an unequivocal nuisance.”

“i have feelings for you.” and the infirmary went silent. they stared at each other. “will you sew my hand back on?”

“get. on. the fucking. table.” mikhail complied. holding his stump out as the doctor grabbed a needle and thread.

“i don’t know why i like you so much. you’re horrible, when i think about it. you’re rude, and a liar, and—” he played up a wince as the doctor began to harshly sew his hand back on. “heartless.”

“shut up.” the doctor snapped. “i can’t focus.”

“really.” he honored the man’s request with a moment of silence. “i have feelings for you.”

“everyone has feelings for everyone. the sky is blue today. i’ve surgically removed two thousand four hundred and thirty seven various organs from a minimum of eight hundred twenty people and four hundred thirty two cadavers before i lost count. is there anything else obvious we would like to state today?”

“you are a cruel bastard.” that got a smirk. he liked that smirk. “i won’t repeat myself. i know you like hearing things repeated. sad little man with bad hearing.”

“i am already at my limit with you.”

“should i leave?”

“i’d say yes, but knowing you you’d just come back in five minutes.” they stared at each other, and the doctor took a deep breath and refocused on his task at hand. “i don’t want to know what feelings you have. we are coworkers. we shouldn’t be having sex with each other at all.”

“that’s an easy exit.”

“why make it hard?”

“ah. right. your need for efficiency. why live at all?” that stopped the doctor. he took a deep breath.

“you have no. idea. what i know about our lives. if you want to live, go. live freely, live wildly, kill yourself in the effort. be my guest. but that’s not what we’re here for and it will never be.” and he continued to sew. “i liked you better as a friend.” he added, softer.

“as a friend?”

“friend, teammate, coworker. whatever you want to call it. i liked you better then. you were happier. we worked better together. we talked more. but this?” he couldn’t help the snort that left him, though none of this was funny. “i— i hate this! i’m anxious, and i’m irritated, and i’m annoyed, all the time! and it feels like nothing helps, because all i think about is you! and you— you can’t help me. because you are anxious, and irritated, and annoyed. and we are fools.” he tied off a knot on the string, and gave the man’s hand a tug to ensure the stitches were tight. but he didn’t let go. “i’m infatuated with you, if it makes you feel better.”

mikhail processed the doctor’s words as he turned for his medigun to finish the job. they didn’t hurt as much as he thought they would, but he also wasn’t sure if this could be considered a rejection. he wasn’t sure why he was so concerned about this conversation.

“so, how do we go back to friendship? is it possible?” he asked.

“to tell the truth, i don’t know.” he said, flicking the medigun on.

the rays were cold. they are usually cold. it felt nice.

“… friends it is. we can be friends. i can treat you better. we can see what happens from there.” he slowly clenched his now re-attached hand, the feeling returning, and with it, the realization that the doctor never let his hand go.

“don’t say you’re going to treat me better. just do it.” the doctor regained the sense to release the man, turning to shut off the medigun and put it away.

“very well… friend.” the doctor could not help the gag that escaped him. and the stare he gave was palpable.

“actually, i hate you. vehemently. get out.”

mikhail laughed. this stupid little man. how could he ever avoid him? he’s never been so humored. and the smile the doctor fights.

perhaps they would be better off friends.

“so. honest question. do we stop having sex.”

“oh, god, no. that’s the best part of the day.”

“so, what, twice a week?”

“…that’s the best part of the day.”

…what kind of friends does the doctor keep? “you are… strange.” and the doctor’s brow quirked. “i like it.”

“aren’t you sweet. clean your mess and get out. i have to finish— ugh. i have to restart this.”

ah, right. that hurdle he said he’d handle later. he really thought this would go differently. but somehow this still ended up being the repercussions of his actions. so he supposes it went exactly how he expected it to. mikhail gave the doctor a final glance as he returned to his desk, and looked around at the infirmary. the files haphazardly stuffed into already overfilled drawers, the papers within the files no longer matching. this will take him a while.

he’s okay with that.

[mayasaura]

It's a bit funny too how carefully John avoids thinking or talking about G— in his flashbacks. When he can't avoid it entirely, he obfuscates with a joke.

What are you afraid of seeing, if you looked directly at him, John?

[lemonsoured]

A Statement on @patricia-taxxon

After recent events over the past couple of months, my co-director and I have decided that we are no longer working with Patricia Taxxon, and her score/sound design will not be used in the final release of our animated student thesis In Your Orbit. She has rights over all of the audio files that she created, and she is free to use or alter them for whatever other projects may come up for her. We only retain the rights to our visuals. On the off chance that the last festival that is showing the current version of the short gives us any prize money, she will still get a cut of it. She is free to continue to state publicly that she worked on the film originally, and use the soundtrack in her portfolio, but we will not be posting it or promoting it. 

Patricia Taxxon has proven to be a person who is irresponsible at best. She has allegedly had inappropriate sexual conduct with minors as young as 13. She also regularly posts her extreme sexual fantasies on her main Tumblr, and has made claims regarding the nature of pedophilic art that she is not qualified to be making. She has also posted from behind closed doors that she has intentionally been manipulative regarding her apologies for her alleged sexual misconduct.

The original victim who accused her was harassed off the internet both times she came out about this, and no longer wishes to be contacted on this matter. However, the idea that any of the allegations were ever rescinded due to misinformation, or proven untrue, is false. In my opinion, I believe the victim’s testimony. It lines up with what I remember the environment of Taxxon’s discord server being like when I was there.

During the production of the short film, I was already aware of some of the accusations made towards Taxxon, but as I was a close friend, I wanted to believe they weren’t true. I was told that she was groomed into doing these things, that she didn’t remember doing them, and that she was likely to commit suicide. She told me she was suicidal on a regular basis during production, especially when the alleged victim was making and then posted a video recounting the allegations. Before that video even came out, she was telling me it was likely to ruin her life irreparably. She had a mutual friend with the victim who was supposedly playing double agent for her, so I heard all about it before and after it came out. I was under the impression that she was in imminent danger of harming herself several times. You can imagine what this might do to a person who cares about her. So, I willfully ignored the allegations for a long time, up until the point that Taxxon showed outward bigotry towards my demographic in a Tumblr meltdown. I deserve criticism for this, and I won’t begrudge anyone who feels like I waited too long or came out with the leaks that I did for selfish reasons. That is your right, and I’m sorry. I decided that all I could do was come out with what I do know and stop supporting this person, even if it costs me opportunities down the line.

Taxxon has also repeatedly shown herself to be extremely unprofessional, even for the standards of an internet drama cycle. She started by vaguely posting about myself on her Tumblr, stating that I am a threat to her, implying that I used her only to “dump her without warning,” and has repeatedly twisted my actions in order to gain sympathy from her Tumblr audience. She even begged her followers for someone else to take her to the Omaha Film Festival, before deleting that addition because she realized it made her look bad.

Her newest gripe with me is that I did not pay her for her work on the film, supposedly finding out partway through the project that she was not being paid. This is untrue. Luka and I were forthright with the fact that we were a team of two college students in Missouri with very little spending money. Thus, we offered her a cut of whatever we ended up making from the film in the festival circuit, planning to split any possible winnings among the three of us based on creative input. We also stated that we would not be taking a cut of any earnings she made off of the sale of the soundtrack, and that it would belong completely to her, just as my characters would to me. If any film companies approached us about the film to license it and the soundtrack, or if they wanted to use her music for another project involving these characters, that money would have gone to her. If she was confused about or had an issue with this arrangement, the time to bring that up would have been when we were discussing the agreement with her, or after any of the many critique sessions we went through with our professors and we were all discussing next steps, or really, any time at all during the year and a half that we were discussing and working on this project. But at no point before, during, or after production did she bring it up. She never suggested a rate, asked about other forms of payment, or anything. I was not holding a gun to her head. She could have brought it up with us at any time, and I am not a mind reader. Her only bringing up the subject now, after all of this time, points clearly to her attempting to extort me or use this issue as a way to gain sympathy from her Tumblr audience. It comes off like she wants to hold this over my head.

All of this not even mentioning that Taxxon was the one to say she wanted to work on the film, years before production started. This started as a collaboration between friends. Luka and I structured our agreement to be a partnership, where none of us were making guaranteed profit off of this project, especially since it is a student work, and we are not established artists with an audience. If anything, the person most likely to make any money off of this arrangement was Taxxon. We considered her an equal participant in this short film, and we wanted it to lift us all up. We gave her full artistic control over what vision she had for the soundtrack, and we often tried to cater our animation to best match it. This is why I found it strange when I asked if she was willing to contribute to festival fees, that she was very flippant with me about it. She stood to gain just as much as us from the film festival circuit, and I had already taken on the workload of doing research on and writing cover letters to each festival. Especially given that I pitched the festival circuit to her as a method to help her get her career offline and away from Kiwifarms, she had a lot to gain from all of this. As someone who had considered her a creative partner, her dismissal felt weird.

This screenshot from the time shows what she said to me regarding the fees, and also shows that she was aware of the arrangement. Thankfully, a lot of this took place on her new Discord account, so I do have the evidence for this portion.

Then, a couple of days later, she asked me if she could stay in my co-directors house or mine for the duration of the Kansas City FilmFest International (or KCFFI). Given she had not contributed to us submitting to that very festival, and had been flippant with me in that same week about the subject, I found it disrespectful. A good friend of mine compared it to “staying at a friend’s house and refusing to help with the grocery tab.”

And the fact that she decided to contribute to the DCP of all things because she “had a vested interest in [the film] sounding good,” as if festival fees were beneath her, but this, now this was something she could be bothered to care about… It was very telling with regards to how she viewed this film.

If she wants to get her 30 bucks back, I can PayPal it back to her.

I stand by everything I said in my testimony on the stream with CrimsonEnder. Honestly, I feel I was much too forgiving on the subject of sexual misconduct, especially since at the time, all of us were trying to gloss over the specific allegations for the victim’s sake, as like I said, they did not want to be involved. As much as Taxxon blustered about “ad-hominems,” I never called her names during the stream. I didn’t even directly call her a transphobe or any kind of bigot. I did not diagnose her with a paraphilia. I specifically stated that her being a trans woman should have nothing to do with why she does the bad things she does. I discussed the things she said and the actions she took. I stated what I remember of our relationship and the events that took place during production, because she had already taken to misrepresenting me in her Tumblr posts. I wanted to lay everything out for full transparency, as she was telling a very specific story about me and who I was. I wanted to present my counter-narrative. I got vulnerable, upset, and fiery at times, but for a public crashout taking place very soon after my falling out of a six year long friendship, I think it gets my points across fine. Especially considering I was still freshly feeling the shock of her outwardly going on a tirade about trans men. The stream is still available on Crim's channel for those who want to hear what I said. Taxxon only presented a couple of my basic notes on the subject that were made to keep me on track.

Taxxon also, notably, sent her followers after CrimsonEnder in a purposeful attempt to incite a harassment campaign against him. She reblogged a reply from him, implying as much, and then he immediately received an anon referring to him with a slur, and saying he was now in “a Panopticon.” Taxxon would later be seen replying in a different but related conversation, misusing the word “Panopticon” in the exact same way (Hint: the term for many people watching one would be a “Synopticon.” A Panopticon refers to one person watching many). You can find Crim's full statement about this incident on his blog.

She also referred to him as a “violent misogynist” who "threatened her in public" in a DM with me where she waved around the fact that she would be justified in “dragging me publicly” for my “betrayal” but wouldn’t, as if it was some big act of charity from her.

Only to, for some reason, make a request to CrimsonEnder (from behind a block) to take my testimony out of his stream and out of his document in a recent post. She is very vested in sowing division between myself and Crim, for what reason I’m not sure. All I know is that she is not above harassing the people who criticize her, and given that, it’s very rich for Taxxon to posture like her not sending her followers after me thus far is an act of goodwill. If I were to guess, now that I have made this statement and cut her off from the project, she will feel much more comfortable going scorched earth. She no longer has a project to protect her connection to.

In Your Orbit will be released at some point in the indefinite future, with a new score and new foley work. I will not be attaching Taxxon’s name to it at all, positively or negatively. I will not be using any of the work that she produced, and I will never work with her in any capacity ever again. I cannot promote the work of a person who acts like this, who hurts others without remorse and uses her power as an influencer to get away with sweeping serious allegations under the rug. Especially given that none of our agreements were set in stone with a signed contract, I have no obligation to continue to associate with her after all she's done. I would be a hypocrite if I used her clout to profit or to expand my career opportunities. Even if it means I have to lose out on networking possibilities, lose the guaranteed audience, and pay out of my pocket to have the film re-scored and have a new foley track added. I am sticking to my principles on this. I refuse to coast on her coattails, and if this means that the film won’t be as successful, then so be it. Any recognition gained through affiliation with Patricia Taxxon is recognition that I don’t want. I don’t want her endorsement, and I don’t want her audience.

I cannot control what Patricia Taxxon says or does. She can do whatever she wants with her life and career, but leave me and my art out of it.

-Jules Hydes

[theemporium]

Hi there! For the Christmas blurb can you please do Nico and mistletoe??

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

“I have a plan.”

“Uh oh.”

Jack instantly frowned, looking somewhat offended as he turned to glare at Dawson in the seat beside him. “What do you mean, ‘uh oh’?”

“Uh oh, as in your plans always end badly,” Dawson deadpanned. “Your track record is shocking.” 

“That is rude and untrue,” Jack scoffed, shaking his head. “And you’re going to see this time.”

Dawson didn’t look convinced. “What did you do?”

“I am doing what we all should have done months ago and take Cap’s crush into our own hands,” Jack insisted, something almost mischievous shining in his eyes. “We are gonna make them realise they are both deeply in love with each other and let them live happily ever after.”

Dawson raised his brows. “That’s your plan?”

“It’s more nuanced than that,” Jack grumbled before grabbing his friend’s arm, tugging him down the corridor of the Rock. “Just you wait. It’s full proof.”

“I have doubts about that.” 

“You just gotta utilise what the world throws at you,” Jack told him before stopping by one of the main doorways that led towards the player facilities. “Taadaa!”

“Am I missing something?” 

Jack rolled his eyes. “Look up, dumbass.”

Dawson’s eyes flicked upwards. “So, what? You are utilising Christmas?” 

“No one can say no to mistletoe,” Jack said before his nose scrunched up. “Well, they can. But they won’t because they are obsessed with each other and they have been waiting for this moment.” 

“And your plan is foolproof?” Dawson asked. 

Jack nodded. 

“Are you completely sure?” 

“Obviously.” 

“Because I am seeing one major flaw.” 

“What do you even—” 

“What the hell are you two talking about?” 

Jack let out an embarrassing noise of surprise, almost jumping out of his skin as he quickly snapped his head around to find Nico standing beside him. He was dressed in team branded workout gear, looking between the two of them with his brows furrowed together. 

Jack looked at him and then Dawson and then up at the mistletoe hanging above them. Nico seemed to take a few moments before he looked up too.

Nico’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh wow—”

Jack spluttered. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to go!” 

Nico frowned a little. 

“Not like that! Not that I wouldn’t kiss you,” Jack quickly added, a sheepish smile on his face. “I would totally kiss you in, like, a totally cool captain way. But that wasn’t the aim for this and—”

“Morning, boys!”

“Thank god!” Jack groaned as he found you walking towards them, wasting no time before he reached out and pulled you towards the doorway. You stumbled a little, finding yourself practically falling into Nico (who caught you with ease). “Tradition says you have to kiss under the mistletoe, bye now!”

Neither one of you got a chance to say much before Jack was grabbing Dawson’s arm and bolting it down the corridor, the latter cackling as they went. You blinked a few times before looking up at the mistletoe hanging above your heads.

Nico’s face suddenly began to heat up. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

You raised your brows. “Who said I didn’t want to?” 

Nico blinked in surprise. “Wait, so you…?”

Your smile widened. “C’mon, Cap, tradition says you have to kiss under the mistletoe.” 

Nico grinned back, his hands cupping your face before he leaned down to press his lips against yours.

.

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids, 

Let’s talk about miscarriages. 

First of all, a simple definition: A miscarriage is when a pregnancy ends on its own before the baby can grow enough to survive outside the womb. 

When we say “miscarriage”, we refer to the pregnancy spontaneously ending in the first 20 weeks (so up until halfway through a typical 40-week pregnancy). If it happens closer to birth (after 20 weeks of pregnancy), it’s referred to as a “stillbirth”. We will focus on miscarriages rather than stillbirth in this letter.

A pregnancy spontaneously ending in an early stage is more common than it happening closer to birth. Most miscarriages happen in the first 13 weeks.

A miscarriage usually involves vaginal bleeding. It can range from light spotting to heavy bleeding. It may also include the passing of tissue or blood clots. Abdominal pain or cramps may also be present. (This is why a miscarriage that occurs before the person is even aware they’re pregnant may be confused with a heavy period). 

However, some people may only experience the lessening of pregnancy symptoms (such as a sudden stop of morning sickness) that alerts them to the miscarriage. Some miscarriages also occur without any noticeable symptoms at all and may only be discovered at the next ultrasound. 

Let’s look at some myths and facts about miscarriages: 

Myth: Miscarriages are rare. 

Fact: About 10 to 20% of all known pregnancies end in miscarriage (and the “real” number is probably even higher, since many miscarriages happen before the person even knows they are pregnant). 

Myth: Miscarriages happen because you do something wrong or aren’t careful enough. 

Fact: Most miscarriages happen because of severe problems with the unborn baby’s DNA. These are usually random genetic glitches in the egg or sperm - meaning there’s nobody to “blame”. The baby wouldn’t have survived, no matter how careful the pregnant person is. 

Myth: When we talk about “medical treatment” for a miscarriage, we are talking about people who choose to have a miscarriage. 

Fact: Nobody chooses to have a miscarriage. It’s by its very definition the spontaneous ending of a pregnancy. A person may need to undergo medically necessary treatment because of a miscarriage. It may be necessary to remove tissue that remains in the uterus. This isn’t the trigger of the miscarriage, it is done after the pregnancy already naturally ended. It is done to prevent infection or stop heavy bleeding. This procedure is called a D & C (dilation and curettage) and it can be a lifesaver!

Myth: If you had a miscarriage, it’s a sign you deep down resented the baby. 

Fact: The most wanted pregnancy ever could end in miscarriage. People who tried  for years and finally got pregnant could experience a miscarriage. People who jumped through legal hurdles and spend a lot of money to be able to undergo sperm donation or IVF could experience a miscarriage. This is just a horrible and untrue thing to say about people who experience a potentially traumatic health event that’s entirely out of their control. 

Myth: It’s easy to get over a miscarriage. 

Fact: It’s a life-changing experience. It’s always emotionally challenging. There’s the aspect of the unexpected (and potentially scary) health event, and of course there’s also the aspect of a loss, of grief. It shouldn’t be surprising that, for most people, it’s not something they can easily shrug off. There are a lot of emotions that can come up - during, right after and also months or years after. There’s no time limit on when someone will be “over it”. In fact, they may never feel “over it”, just learn to live with it as part of their reality. 

Myth: If it was an unplanned pregnancy, the person should be relieved to have a miscarriage. 

Fact: There’s no “Should” in loss. Even if they didn’t want to be pregnant, they may still grieve. Even if they do feel some relief, it may be tinged with emotional pain, frustration, feelings of helplessness or guilt… And all of that is valid. Nobody but the person who experienced the miscarriage has a right to say how they feel about it. 

Myth: If you had a miscarriage, it means you’ll never be able to have biological children. 

Fact: Nearly 90% of people who miscarry will go on to have normal pregnancies and healthy babies! 

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Dad 

[elbiotipo]

If you've ever read about the Ant People of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, you will realize that the fantasy of a post-nuclear holocaust society where everybody just rolls up their sleeves and gets to work and builds quirky microstates with flags and such (happens a lot in post-apocalyptic fiction) is just fanciful thinking. If a nuclear war happened, people would be subjected to the worst hell possible, with no hope of rescue or relief. It would be a complete destruction of any kind of human society where the bombs fell.

War on itself is hellish, but I think people don't realize what a nuclear explosion actually does. It does NOT vaporize everything into nothingness. It reduces cities to rubble, and traps people under that rubble. But the heat pulse is the worst thing. It blinds and deafens people, it melts their skin from their flesh and their flesh from their bones. People walking without direction into the river, dying in piles. I have no words to describe what I've read about Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The details are out there, if you really want to know. It's one of the most harrowing, painful things I've ever read.

This has happened, two times, two times a city full of civilian was destroyed by such a weapon. No matter how much the US historiagraphy tries to say it was necessary to end the war (untrue) and no matter how much they try to downplay it (some today even say a nuclear war would be "survivable"), we have seen what a nuclear weapon does to a city full of people. If you want to know, you can know. You will feel pain and regret, and that means you have humanity. Unlike the ones who ordered that bomb to be used.

[pookietv]

friend's best friend | george clarke

this was a rec! smau where george meets max's best friend (and maybe simps a little)

liked by georgeclarkeey, andrew_spanndy and 3,496 others

yourusername: he told me we were going out for a walk and a coffee, ended up in the pub at 3pm

max_balegde: you were literally the one that said it was pint weather

↳ yourusername: all weather is pint weather with the right mindset

andrew_spanndy: getting a drunk call from max at 5pm was not what i had expected x

↳ yourusername: i told you that he has to be kept on a leash :/

liked by yourusername, andrew_spanndy and 8,839 others. tagged yourusername

max_balegde: she forced me to go outside and experience nature

yourusername: you're the laziest person i know i had to force you outside somehow

↳ max_balegde: untrue and rude

↳ yourusername: you literally had to be set a fitness challenge to start going outside

georgeclarkeey: not another thirty minute walk max

↳ yourusername: to be fair it was a couple hours long

↳ georgeclarkeey: please don't enable him

liked by georgeclarkeey, arthurtv and 4,857 others

yourusername: not going to tell you guys what i did today but i can indeed say it was very useless ;)

username: omg are we finally getting y/n on useless hotline ???

max_balegde: never talking to you again after today x

↳ yourusername: you're just salty i told the stories andrew was too scared to x

↳ andrew_spanndy: did you tell the spain story??

↳ yourusername: you already know i had to tell the spain story x

liked by yourusername, georgeclarkeey and 17,830 others. tagged yourusername

theuselesshotlinepod: Max's Best Friend Y/N talks Max's Embarrassing Moments, Dating and More in This Weeks Episode! (Dressed as 1920s Reporters, for some reason)

yourusername: still very confused as to why you made me dress up, but thanks for having me on!

↳ max_baledge: we honestly thought it would be funnier then it was

View 2,835 comments

liked by georgeclarkeey, arthurtv and 4,279 others

yourusername: when max promises me that we will have a quiet one and i end up plastered and dragged to the kebab shop with arthur and george

georgeclarkeey: you're lucky i shared my chips

↳ yourusername: you literally dragged me there what do u MEAN lucky ??

↳ georgeclarkeey: next time buy your own then x

arthurtv: to be fair it was mostly george that insisted you join at the kebab shop

↳ yourusername: true true but you played a part in the peer pressure

max_balegde: so this is where george dragged u when he made you leave ??

↳ arthurhfhill: i honestly thought they were leaving to do something else

↳ yourusername: @/arthurhfhill please never comment on my instagram again

liked by georgeclarkeey, max_balegde and 5,739 others

yourusername: george thought it would be funny to mock me

georgeclarkeey: it is a little funny to mock you

georgeclarkeey: plus, i did pay so i'm allowed to mock you

↳ yourusername: since when are they the rules?

↳ georgeclarkeey: since i paid and i wanted to mock you

usernameone: they went out alone and he paid ??

max_balegde: when i literally get excluded from my only two friends going out together

↳ yourusername: sorry next time i promise u can come on a date we will be a great throuple x

↳ usernametwo: THEY'RE ON A DATE????

liked by georgeclarkeey, max_balegde and 7,730 others

yourusername: guess who finally got a girlfriend (spoiler, it's this prick)

georgeclarkeey: i have never looked more attractive

↳ yourusername: i think the bloody cheerleeder fit and no eyebrow must have topped this x

↳ georgeclarkeey: brb about to post the worst photos of you ever x

↳ yourusername: okay you go do that then x

↳ georgeclarkeey: okay there aren't any bad photos of you i lied

arthurtv: jeeez whose that fine fella

↳ yourusername: no clue i found him on the street, he's free to a good home

[dearharriet]

a steve with fem reader fix might just cure me. maybe inspired by the song in agreement by lizzy mcalpine? i love your writing :)

ty sm!! sorry this took me a bit, i’m planning a trip for this summer n i’m so so stressed 😭

(1.5K) (cw: fem!r, mentions of sex)

“What’s his name?”

The bed squeaks as you roll over onto your stomach, pushing down a smile

“Steve,” you say, your voice tellingly sticky and sweet.

“Steve who?”

“What, are you gonna find him in the phone book, mom?” She wouldn’t have to. She knows Steve Harrington as well as the rest of Hawkins.

“Maybe I would,” she teases, but you think she’s half serious.

You consider spilling your guts. Your mom has heard very little of your love life before now, mostly because you weren’t dating guys you would ever take home. Steve, though…

You want to. Take him home. Not even as a pride thing (a little bit as a pride thing), but because you think he’s great, and your mom is great, and you know they’d love each other.

It all felt so exclusive, though. Girls take their boyfriends home to meet the family. Steve isn’t your boyfriend. You don’t even know why you’re telling your mom at all.

Sensing your discomfort, your mom changes her angle.

“Well, at least tell me about him. Is he nice?”

The velocity of your answer lodges in your throat and turns into a laugh.

“Um,” you giggle, “is grass green?”

Foamy chittering pours out of the landline.

“O-kay, message received,” your mom jokes. You wrap the phone cord around your finger, smiling.

“He’s so nice, mom. It’s almost irritating. He makes me sandwiches with the crusts cut off.”

“I think I’m gonna like this boyfriend of yours.” She’s obviously smiling, too. You can hear it in her voice. “He sounds wonderful.”

“Well he’s—“ you hesitate. “We aren’t exclusive.”

There’s a puzzled silence.

“He hasn’t asked?” A speck of disappointment seeps into the question. You roll back over, splaying yourself out in shame.

“Oh, he asked. Twice, but I told him no.”

A gasp. “You didn’t.”

“Yeah, I did,” you confirm, wincing.

“Well, what’s the holdup?”

“Ugh.“ The ceiling looms over you, and you track the afternoon light refracted by your mirror, thinking. “I dunno. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Have you guys—” A tea kettle screams over the line. “Hold on.”

Staticky shuffles and your mother’s humming serenade you while you think about her question. What’s the holdup?

It’s not Steve. When you first said no, his face had sunken so severely you almost changed your mind, because you knew he would put the whole thing on himself. The second time around, you might’ve been more surprised than he was that your answer hadn’t changed. It was just…

The sound of the receiver being picked up, and your mom’s voice interrupts your thoughts.

“Have you had sex yet?”

“Oh my god, mom.”

“What? I can’t ask?”

Shoving your face into your pillows, you teeter between laughing and screaming. You’re suddenly glad you kept all your past boyfriends a secret. You pick your head back up and press the receiver to your ear, red-faced.

“No, we haven’t,” you lie. “Steve said he wants to wait until we make it official.”

It’s not totally untrue, Steve did say that. You just leave out the part where he caved two days later.

Gone is your flush by the time your mom replies, having paused so long you thought the call dropped. A serenity coats her voice, like silk sheets after a shower—everything as it should be.

“I hope you keep Steve. I’d like to meet him.”

You both leave it at that, turning over other stones for another half an hour, until your call is interrupted by a handsome devil sneaking through your door.

“Oh—hey, mom I—I gotta go, okay? I’ll call you tomorrow?” Sunny brown eyes watch you from the threshold as you say this, enjoying your casual sprawl, your sweet pajama set. Steve soaks in the privilege of seeing you, of being invited over, and of being a call-ending arrival. The phone is barely back on the hook before he rolls over you and manhandles you on top of him. You shriek but don’t fight it.

“Hi, pretty.” Steve rubs your back in big, long sweeps, melting you.

“Mmph, ‘ey,” you mumble, face smooshed into his chest. Steve is like a furnace, constantly hot, and it’s like laying on sun-warmed sand. When he laughs, it vibrates in his ribs.

“What happened to you, baby, hm? Tired?” You nod. “What’d you do all day?”

You regale the day with minimal words, all the way up to the moment he found you.

“—‘n then called mom, cause we hadn’t talked in awhile.”

“Mm-hm, I heard,” he says, not unkindly. His fingers knead the back of your neck. You close your eyes. “You didn’t have to hang up ‘causa me, yknow?”

Nodding minutely, you slur something incoherent. Steve chuckles.

“Feels good?”

More nodding. Steve kisses the top of your head.

“Talked t’my mom ‘bout you,” you spit out, too blissed to think.

Steve stills for a split second, and then doubles down his ministrations.

“Yeah?” There’s a giddy earnestness in his voice that makes you smile.

“Mm-hm,” you hum. “I told her about the sandwiches.”

An amused rumble.

“Anything else?” He asks, and if he’s trying to disguise his anticipation he’s not succeeding.

“Mmm, yeh.” A dopey smile splits your face as Steve slips a hand under your pajama shirt to scratch your back.

“Yeah? Like what, pretty girl?” Steve knows he has you limp and pliable in his lap, and he’s trying to get as much information as possible.

“Ummm, like, how we haven’t had sex—“

“We haven’t?”

You shake your head, and then it quickly devolves into rubbing your cheek on his thick polo.

“We haven’t.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees blindly.

“B’cause we aren’t official, remember?” You look up just as Steve bites back a flinch.

“Hard to forget,” he murmurs, but he pets your baby hairs back gently despite it all. “What else did you tell her?”

“That’s all,” you tell him.

Something about Steve’s sorry eyes makes you regret not telling your mom his last name. Are you ashamed of him? Do you think he isn’t worth defending? It lights a fire, burning you from the inside out. It’s so typical of you, to have one foot in and one foot out, always ready to run away. Always afraid to emotionally invest.

That’s the damn holdup.

In a self-afflicted fury, you pull yourself back together to sit up. Steve places cautious hands on your legs, gauging your mood. Knees on either side of his hips, you fist his shirt in your hands and steady your voice.

“Would you want to meet her sometime? My mom?”

Steve’s mouth drops open. He sits up, hands gripping your thighs firmly.

“Really?”

Softening, you nod. “Really.”

“‘Course I want to. Yes,” he says, breathless. “When?”

“Well…,” you sigh. Gazing at the ceiling, you pretend to think. “I’d need you to fill out some paperwork first.”

Steve raised a dubious brow.

“What, like, an NDA?”

“Ha-ha. No, not that kind of paperwork. I was thinking some kind of…certificate of exclusivity?”

Steve blinks. “I’m so not following.”

Shifting closer on Steve’s lap, you place a chaste kiss on his lips. You can hardly contain a smile as you continue, kissing between your words.

“I dunno—“ Kiss. “—just something that—“ Kiss. “—proves—“ Kiss. “—that you’re my boyfriend.”

You seal the words with a final kiss, and then hesitantly pull back to see Steve’s reaction.

Awe-stricken, Steve is playing with the hem of your pajama shorts, a thoughtful look on his face.

“You mean it?”

When you nod, Steve’s hands come up and around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

“What made you change your mind?” His hands caress your back like he’s not sure if this is real, like he’s afraid to break the illusion. You shrug, nose bumping his.

“Time, I guess. I wasn’t convinced you knew what you were asking for.”

Steve kisses the corner of your mouth, and then your cheek; Moves down to nip at your neck.

“Think I came on too strong,” he agonizes into your jaw. “But you’re so good for me. I didn’t want ya t’ think I wasn’t all in.”

Golden brown hair slips around your fingers as you massage his temples.

“I am, too,” you assure him. “All in.”

Steve grins.

“Can I get that in writing?”

+

thank you for reading! 🦢

masterlist

[leclercsredhelmet]

Sweet Nothing ✰ Joe Burrow

A/N: Hi! I'm back with another Joe blurb! I was inspired by the bridge of Sweet Nothing to write this, I hope you guys enjoy it!

“They say the end is coming, everyone is up to something. I find myself running home to your sweet nothings” 

Life with Joe is like a rollercoaster of emotions, it’s a bit of a whirlwind but you’ve grown accustomed to it. Much like any other relationship, you guys have your ups and downs but you always have a way to manage through them. Recently you had to deal with his unexpected injury, the road to recovery was a little complicated but you managed to pull through it, and now that you’d both eased into your previous routine everything was smoother than before. 

Now that the season is quickly approaching people are starting to talk and the topic of interest is your relationship, much to your and Joe’s dismay the conversations are varied and most of them are not positive. For the most part, you’ve both done well to drown out the noise and ignore it but this time you’re finding it hard to drown out everything because the attacks are coming right at you. 

Joe’s been the talk of the town ever since his runway debut for Vogue World, there’s been a lot of positive feedback and you’re so thrilled for him. As expected you accompanied him on the trip but didn’t partake in anything runway-related. Still, people found time to criticize you for existing and for enjoying some time alone in the city. 

The rumor mill went crazy saying things that ranged from you not supporting Joe and deciding to go off on your own, that it was a pr-relationship which frankly makes no sense to you because you’re not famous in any sense, and of course; the classic rumor, that you and Joe had broken up. 

It was all utter and total bullshit but still, some of the comments were getting to you and it was making you retreat into the shell you have slowly been stepping out of. 

Reaching for your phone you made the mistake of checking the comments on your most recent Instagram post. Many of them were people questioning the validity of your relationship status, but the ones that hit the most were the ones commenting on your body and whether you’re suited to be Joe’s girlfriend. 

“Babe, give me the phone,” Joe gently says. You look up to see him extending his palm, “It’s fine,” you reply and your voice comes out a little strangled as you choke back a sob. Instead of waiting for an answer, he takes the phone from your hand and reads the comments before setting the phone down. 

His jaw clenches a little and by the expression, you can tell he’s not fond of the comments. Swiftly, he pulls you into him and wraps his arms around your body. Not helping it you just start crying, his grip never falters and he just lets you cry while holding you in his arms. Gently he lifts your chin and wipes your tears.

“It just gets too much to handle sometimes Joey,” you say. “I know baby, but these comments don’t have anything on you okay,” he tells you. “It’s just people projecting their insecurities onto you and I know those words sting but they’re untrue okay? I love you for you; always have and always will,” he says.

You nod and hug him again, “I love you so much,” you say into his chest and he chuckles a little. “I love you the most,” he replies and kisses your head softly. “Listen, I propose a phone-free day for us,” he says. “What are you suggesting?” you ask him. “Hiking your favorite trail,” he says. Smiling you kiss his cheek, “There’s that smile,” he says poking your cheek and you giggle. 

It’s sunny and the breeze combs through the leaves and they rustle lightly. Adjusting the backpack on your shoulders you wait for Joe before starting the trail. “It’s so quiet,” you say while walking. Joe is beside you and he smiles, “We needed this kind of quiet,” he says with a smile. Chuckling lightly you look at him. “We did, there’s no gossip, no soul deconstructors,” you say and he laughs. “Just us and nature,” Joe says. Laughing you place a kiss on his cheek and pay attention to the nature that surrounds you. 

Once you spot the view of the Ohio River you know you’ve reached the end of the trail. Dropping your backpacks you drink some water before standing next to Joe. His arm is around your waist and you lean into his side. “Listen, I want to you know that no matter what people say I wouldn’t change this or you for anything else,” he says. You let out a big breath and look up at him, “I know. Sometimes I just can’t help but feel like I’m here next to you by mistake,” you say with a small laugh. 

Joe turns to you and caresses your face, “You could never be here by mistake, just because there was someone else before you it doesn’t mean we’re a mistake,” he says gesturing between you with a finger. You hesitate before speaking but Joe beats you to it. “Hey, I can see the gears up here turning,” he says tapping your temple and you chuckle. 

“Finding you was the best thing that’s happened to me so far, you’re fucking amazing, smart as hell, kind, honest, stunning, and a great person,” he says. Laughing you look at him, “So I’d be dammed if I didn’t tell you how lucky I feel to have you here beside me, and anyone that criticizes you and what we have without knowing a single detail can go fuck themselves,” he says and you let out a hearty laugh. 

“You’re right, these people are just throwing stones into the void,” you say. “Exactly,” he says before kissing you sweetly before pulling you into a hug “I love you so much,” you say into his chest. “I love you most,” he replies and you chuckle. “Do you feel better now?” he asks, “Much better, I really needed to get out of the house,” you say and he laughs. 

You go down the trail and decide to get some lunch at your favorite spot in town. As you listen to Joe talk with and move his hands around you smile and think about how lucky you are to have found someone who is attentive, kind, caring, fun, and someone who doesn’t stop at putting a smile on your face. Sure, the atmosphere surrounding you both may get a little too heavy, or too much to handle sometimes but there’s no one else you’d rather go through it all with. 

Whenever all these outsiders say that you should be doing more, you find yourself running to Joe in search of sweet nothings.

(all photo credits go to the respective owners)

[newtonsheffield]

What happens when the press find out about little neddy and kate?? Does she freak out?

I think this probably only really becomes public knowledge because Anthony obviously isn’t listed as Edmund Sharma’s father on his birth certificate and Anthony’s hoping to rectify that. He’s obviously a little nervous to ask Kate for this because they’ve also just started dating and he doesn’t want to push too hard.

“Hey Kate?”

Kate stood with her hands in the sink, her back to him. “Whatever you’re about to convince me to do in the bedroom; the answer’s yes.”

Anthony’s stomach dropped and he chuckled as he stood next to her, nudging her shoulder. He grabbed a tea towel and started drying the dishes in the rack. “No convincing ahead I don’t think.”

“Shoot then.” She kissed him on cheek quickly and Anthony took a deep breath as he nudged her forehead with his.

“I don’t really know how to gently broach this topic so I’m just going to go ahead and say it. I’m not on Neddy’s birth certificate.”

He saw Kate’s shoulders freeze for just a second before she nudged him, “Well, I couldn’t really write his middle name is Edmund. Could I?”

“I concede the point.” Anthony sighed, “But you… know my name now and… I’m Neddy’s Dad.”

“I know, I remember the conception.”

“Kate, I’m being serious.”

Kate sighed, placing the last dish on the rack and drying her hands. “I’m not trying to make light of it I just… I respect you as Neddy’s Dad, you know I think you’re a great Dad. I’d never deny that.”

“If he gets sick and you’re not there they wouldn’t even let me see him at the hospital.”

“I’m saying yes, Anthony.” Kate kissed him gently, “Of course, I’m saying yes. I don’t really know how to do it, but I’ll figure it out.”

Anthony let out a sigh of relief, “Thank you. I actually, looked into it and we need to reregister the birth and then I might need to look into whether or not I need to have him recognised as my heir more formally or not.”

“Your heir.” Her brow furrowed as though she hadn’t considered it.

Anthony blinked, “Well, yeah. I’m a viscount,” Anthony swallowed, “Neddy will be as well, one day. It’s his birthright to inherit my title and it’s what he deserves.”

“Yeah I obviously know that logically it’s just… hard to think of him that way. He’s so tiny.”

“He doesn’t have to deal with any of it yet.” Anthony shrugged, wrapping his arms around Kate. “I was tiny once too.”

She chuckled, “I’ve seen the pictures.”

So they go through the process. Edmund officially becomes Edmund Sharma Bridgerton, Future Viscount. AnD eventually the news that Anthony, viscount Bridgerton is trying to have his child legitimised by the crown. They find out that he was recently added to the birth certificate of a three year old boy whose mother is a solicitor. The media speculation becomes so rabid for a while that Anthony ends up releasing a statement.

There has been much speculation of late in certain publications that I am seeking to have a child legitimised by the crown so that he may inherit my family title. This is in fact, true. I, like many people in our modern society fathered a child whilst not married. I am immensely proud of, and to be a father to my son, Edmund. Both myself and his mother, my partner Kate, do not feel that whether or not we were married at the time or will be married in the future should have any bearing on a right to inherit a title that is our son’s by right of birth. The crown has seen fit to agree with us on this matter and Edmund has been formally recognised as the future viscount Bridgerton a fact which has brought my own family much joy. Rumours that I do not have contact with Edmund’s mother are patently untrue. Kate and I are partners and I have the greatest love and respect for her as a woman who gave me the greatest gift I ever could have asked for. I would ask you to exercise your sense and decency with regard to the fact that the life of a three year old boy should not be made public or subjected to scrutiny no matter how free you may be to scruitinise my own. I am proud of the family I have built and I know you will join us in celebrating this occasion- Anthony, Viscount Bridgerton

[isak-dot-gov]

I'm gon' make you feel it

A/n: Uh hey. This is the first time I'm posting on here so I hope you like it. Kinda nervous btw. Also not proofread.

Word count: 2226

Summary: Months after you and Rhea break up, your best friends decide to take you out for a night in the city after not seeing you for a while. while there, you run into Rhea and the rest of the Judgement Day.

Warnings: Suggestive(nothing actually done tho)

My masterlist :)

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

“Y/n, come on. We haven’t gone out in so long,” I heard Jasmine say.

“She’s right, y/n/n, you’ve been MIA for so long now. Please come out with us,” Eve says.

Jasmine and Eve have been my best friends since the three of us were in the first grade. We were placed at the same table in the classroom’s seating chart on the first day and we’ve been friends ever since. They have been with me through all my highs, lows, and everything in between. From celebrating birthdays and acing tests to comforting each other through heartbreaks and family troubles, our bond has only grown stronger. We've shared countless sleepovers, road trips, and late-night talks that have made us inseparable.

Tonight they were trying to get me to join them on one of our ‘late night adventures’. Basically what would happen is that we would get ready to go out and hit the city with zero plans or expectations on what we would be doing or what the outcome of the night would be. Sometimes it would be going from one club to the other and sleeping over at one of our houses. Other times it would end with us getting matching tattoos. The most recent one of these nights was about six months ago, a month after I broke up with Rhea. We got tipsy, went to a trampoline park and I ended up getting a brand new set of nipple piercings. To say these nights were some of the most fun I’ve ever had would definitely be an understatement.

“Girls, I don’t think I’m up to it tonight. I’ve been so busy with work lately,” I said with a tired sigh. Ever since Rhea and I broke up, I’ve thrown myself into my work as a way of avoiding the feelings I not only had for our situation but for her as well. Rhea and I broke up seven months ago after a huge argument. She felt that I shouldn’t be having so many female friends and that I could potentially be cheating on her with one of them, which was completely untrue. The reason I had so many female friends was because I was in an all-girls school for my whole primary and highschool, because of this women have always taken up the majority of my social life. Unfortunately for me, Rhea had always been the jealous type and no amount of reassurance that I gave her ever seemed to calm the green monster that tended to take over whenever I hung out with people she didn’t like. Getting to the point where I was willing to let her go was hard, but I was able to do it after Jasmine and Eve showed me exactly how unhealthy we were together.

I was a wreck for a few weeks after the breakup. Rhea would constantly call, so much so that I had to turn my phone off and only have it on during the hours that she spent working because I knew she tended to stay far away from her phone during those hours. I never wanted to leave the house and I barely got any sleep in. Thankfully, my best friends got sick of it quite quickly and made me start coming out of my shell again.

“Girl, that’s exactly why we should be going out tonight,” Eve says.

“Let loose a little. Give us 30 minutes of your time. We promise if you really feel uncomfortable after that time we’ll go to my place and watch a movie or something,” Jasmine says.

“Promise?” 

“Promise,” my best friends say in unison. 

“Ok ok, I’ll do it,” I say with a smile.

“Yes!”

“Fuck yeah!”

___________________

Two hours later and I’m sitting on a bar stool with my friends on either side of me and my third drink of the night in my hand. We reminisce on our primary and highschool years when four people enter the bar and completely shift the atmosphere in the room. I notice the bartender slightly shift her posture and briefly check herself in the reflective wall that stood behind her, facing those sitting in the bar. After she does so I hear a familiar voice next to me say and my high spirit for the night is immediately crushed.

“Uh can I get two whiskeys on the rocks, a gin and tonic, and a martini?” Damian, Rhea’s friend and fellow Judgement Day member, says next to me. I freeze and shut my eyes tightly, while doing so, I hear Jasmine and Eve fall silent and keep their eyes on me. Once I open my eyes, I notice their eyes on me as they carry sympathy for my current state.

“Oh hey, y/n. I haven’t seen you since…” he trails off and I can hear the cautious tone in his voice as he stops himself from saying anything that would make me uncomfortable. I always preferred Damian over the rest of Rhea’s friends, he always felt the need to make sure I was ok and in moments like these, I really appreciated him for it.

“Hey, Dami. How have you been? What brings you out here?” I saw with a strained smile. I have no idea why I feel this way or why I’m acting this way towards him. He never did anything to me, in fact, all he’s ever done was look out for me.

“I’ve been doing alright. Judgement Day’s going to Wrestlemania, so we decided to go out for drinks as a way of celebrating,” he says with a soft smile. Soon after, the bartender brings the drinks he ordered for him and his friends with a flirty smile and a wink. Uh, ok I guess.

“Anyways, I’ll hopefully see you around. I’ll tell the rest you say hi,” he says.

“Oh you don’t need to…” I start but he walks away before I get to the end of my sentence.

“Well that went better than I thought it would,” Jasmine says obliviously. Eve and I shoot her side-eyes as she gives the two of us a genuine smile, the Essence blush she’s wearing showing on her cheeks a little more due to the lighting in the bar.

“Do you want to leave, y/n. We don’t mind if you do,” Eve says compassionately.

“No no. We were having fun. I don’t want to leave yet,” I say and genuinely mean. I haven’t felt this free in so long and I would be damned if I let Rhea’s presence in this bar ruin that freedom for me.

My friends both give me light nods and we continue with our conversation. As the night continues, one of our favourite songs from our highschool years, ‘No Hands’ by Waka Flocka Flame, starts playing. The three of us immediately get hyped and start making our way to the dance floor to dance. The start of that song marks a streak of throwback songs from the DJ and we continue dancing for a while. As we do so I feel multiple pairs of eyes on me, when I look up I notice Rhea and the rest of her friends watching me. I make eye contact with each of them one by one before my eyes focus on the girl whose whole being makes my heart dizzy. She has an attentive look with a hint of longing in her eyes as she undresses me with them. With the new found confidence in my system brought by the many drinks I've had tonight, I find it in me to wink and decide to give her a show.

‘Feel It’ by Jacquees starts blaring through the speakers and my friends and I huddle up onto each other by our fronts and backs. I’m in front with Jasmine right behind me, her left hand on my left hip and her right hand on Eve’s right hip and Eve’s hands on both of Jasmine’s hips. We start swaying together to the beat of the song and sing along. At the position I’m standing at, I have a clear view of Rhea’s booth on the upper level of the bar. She’s sitting forward with her elbows on her knees and a drink in her hand as she watches me intensely. The chorus of the song starts and I start swaying my hips in circles as Jasmine and Eve take it as a sign to follow my lead. The three of us move in sync as the song continues. I get a little too into the song as a few minutes later I feel Jasmine’s hand remove itself from my hips and two, much larger, hands replace hers on either side of my hands.

“You two wouldn’t mind if I borrowed your friend for the night, would you?” 

My girls take a moment to look at me for reassurance in the response they’re going to give and I nod lightly as a sign of telling them I’ll be ok with her.

“Oh sure, Rhea. Take her home in the morning and don’t do any weird shit,” Jasmine says as she turns her attention to Eve.

“Call us if she starts acting up,” Eve says, sending a glare with her blue eyes to Rhea. I nod and feel Rhea pull me by my waist to the exit of the bar. We walk to her car slowly and in silence as the heels I chose to wear tonight start proving to be harder to walk in. Rhea quickly got impatient with my instability and swiftly lifted me up bridal style before making the rest of the walk to her car. She opens the door to her passenger seat and softly places me in the seat before closing the door and climbing in at the driver’s side.

“You’ve never done that before,” I say as she pulls out of her parking spot and makes her way to her house.

She looks at me briefly with confusion and says, “What do you mean, y/n?”

“You’ve never opened the car door for me. That’s a first.”

“Huh. I guess it is,” she says.

As I look around in her car I notice a bright pink hair tie on her wrist. Without thinking I point at it and say, “Where’d you get that? I like it. Might just get one.”

“Sweetness, this is yours. You left it at mine after you know what happened,” she says.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh,” a moment of silence passes before she says, “How have you been, sweetness. We haven’t spoken in a while.”

Fuck. There’s that Australian accent that I’ve never had the self-control to resist.

“Uh, um, I’ve been good. I mean, as good as a person can be after a break up. You know, I don’t think you should be calling me that,” I say.

“Calling you what, sweetness?” she asks.

“Sweetness. It does things to me.”

She chuckles lightly before she says, “It does things to you? Whatever could you be talking about, my love?”

I tilt my head back into the headrest of the car as I exhale deeply. “Don’t play dumb with me, Rhea. We both know you’re way smarter than that. Don’t act like you have no idea all the things you do to my body by simply being this close to me. This isn’t a good idea and  we know it isn’t.”

“But I’ve missed you,” was her only response.

“I know, Rhea. And I’ve missed you too. You know that,” I say.

As she parks in her driveway she turns to me and asks, “Then why did you leave me?”

I turn towards her and respond, “We weren’t good for each other. You know that. I know that. We were only pulling each other down by being together.”

She gives me a tight lipped smile before saying, “What do I need to do? I can be better, I promise I can. I know I wasn’t a good girlfriend in the past. I was a dick. We both know that, and even when you tried to make me feel secure in our relationship I still pushed you away and blamed you for all my insecurities. I just need the chance to prove that to you. I don’t think I can hand any more time away from you, baby. Take me back. Please?”

This is a side of Rhea I’ve never seen before, and I chose to proceed cautiously because of that. She has always had the ability to use her words to get what she wants from people. However, something in the way she was looking at me made me feel like she was being sincere and my heart couldn’t help but fall for her all over again.

“Fuck I missed you,” I say as I capture her lips with mine. The kiss started out softly but turned hard and passionate really quickly. Rhea held onto me extremely tightly as if she was afraid I’d vanish at any moment. Her hands travelled to my waist and squeezed tightly, earning a breathy whimper from my lips.

“Rhea,” I said in a moan as her lips found their way on my neck.

“Mhm, baby? Tell me what you need,” she said.

“Please take me your house and fuck me.”

“That I can definitely do for you, sweetness.”

[flametrashiraarchive]

Solace

I finished my Reader x Rengoku fic! it’s also on Ao3, but here it is if you prefer to read it here!

(Rengoku x AFAB reader, canon divergent- Akaza doesn’t show up at the end of Mugen Train and Rengoku returns home to you. Mainly smut and fluff.)

Minors DNI

Kyojuro is never quiet when coming home from missions.

In combat, the man moves with stealth and graceful speed which could put even the sneakiest alley cat to shame. But returning in the dim light before dawn, excited and elated simply to be back with you, he bounds toward you with a broad, effusive grin.

“I’m back!” he declares, as though his footsteps didn’t just shake you from the bed.

But you can’t find it within yourself to be annoyed at him for waking you. Ever.

It doesn’t matter that it’s hours before you’re due to rise, or that he and his crow probably woke the whole village on their return. Before you know it, your smile is mirroring his, and you’re crushed to him, not knowing who closed the space between you first. You breathe in the scent of battle and dwindling smoke, and the familiar comforting warmth of him.

Your fingers press to his back, sliding up towards his shoulders, your heart squeezing with the relief that he’s home. He won the battle. He survived.

Strong, sturdy, and real beneath your hands. And yours, entirely.

You could cry; the lump in your throat dangerously close to choking you, but tears would only make him worry. So you press your face to his chest, letting him hold you, rocking you from side to side as he rests his cheek on the top of your head.

You breathe in his scent again and let out a sigh. "Do you want to go and tell Senjuro and your father you're back? Senjuro was so worried."

"In a little while," he says, tightening his hold on you. "My father usually wakes after sunrise."

You can't help but smile. He’s all yours, at least for a while.

“How was it?” you ask, muffled in his embrace.

“Hm?”

You pull your face away to let your voice carry to him fully. “How was the mission? The demon on the train?”

“Ah. Good.” He smiles, raising a battle-hardened hand to gently stroke your cheek. The intensity in his fiery gaze softens as he acclimates to the safety of your shared home. “We prevailed. But it took far too long.”

“Agreed. You were gone for more than two months.” You lean into his touch. And, knowing thanks to his hashira stamina, it’s likely untrue, you add, “You must be exhausted. We could go back to bed for a while?”

He chuckles softly, catching the meaning behind your seemingly innocent words. “I should clean up first. I’m sure I smell less than—”

His sentence dies against your lips as you pull him to you, unable to delay what you’ve been craving for months. And after a muffled chuckle of surprise, he reciprocates the kiss.

Kyojuro kisses like he fights; with every damn fiber of his being, burning you up as he drives you backward, pressing you to the wooden frame of the door and pinning you to it with his body. At once, you’re lost to the world, and all that matters is his lips, his fingers tangled in your hair, and his muscled thigh pressing between yours. Your body reacts to him so quickly you become lightheaded; heat pooling everywhere he touches.

Yours. He’s yours. And he’s home.

A sigh escapes you as he takes your hand in his, and pins your wrist to the door frame above your head.

You could list a thousand reasons you love this man, and one of them is the way he can snap in an instant from dazzling light and exuberant warmth, to an altogether more blistering, primal sort of flame. And you have always reveled in that blaze.

You slide down a couple of inches, pressing your core to the sturdy length of his thigh as you tug his lower lip between your teeth. A quiet groan escapes him, those gold and crimson eyes of his half-lidded as he drops his hand to the opening of your robe.

Kyojuro can– and has– spent all night undressing you and letting your excitement build before granting you release after release. And every time you’ve basked in that drawn out pleasure, trusting him entirely as you do, that the delay will be more than worth the reward. But not tonight. Not after two lonely months of nothing but your hands on your cunt, and gasping his name into the pillow.

“Kyojuro,” you whisper, parting the robe yourself until your breasts are exposed. “Please.”

“You’re so eager this morning,” he says, keeping his breath and voice so level you’d almost think your exposed skin wasn’t affecting him.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” His lips part as he cups your breast, stroking a calloused thumb over your nipple. “If I’m honest, I spent a lot of time thinking about you. About this.”

Pride and pleasure blossom in your chest and snatch your breath, earning you a chuckle. He drops his hand lower, dipping it between the pillowy softness of your thighs.

Where it stays.

Firmly.

“Patience, Little Flame,” he tells you as he takes his thigh from between yours, leaving your pussy aching and wanting. “Let me clean up. I want to be the best I can be for you.”

God, this man. Even after being denied you by duty, he still relishes every second with you, drawing it out and savoring it. You may as well weigh less than a feather as he scoops you into his arms, putting his strength and training to use as he whisks you away to the wisteria-guarded private hot spring at the back of your house; another perk of living with a hashira.

He sets you on the wooden boards at the side of the steaming water, stepping away to leave nothing but the cool morning air to caress your burning skin.

“Let me bathe first,” he tells you, unfastening the cape from his shoulders and folding it carefully beside you.

You’re about to protest that he doesn’t have to; you’ll gladly take him smelling of smoke and spattered with demon blood, but Kyojuro is ever the gentleman. And besides, as his strong fingers begin to work open the buttons on his corps uniform, any protest you can conjure simply collides with your pounding heart and withdraws, defeated.

Because as beautiful as Kyojuro is in his uniform, covered entirely and bursting with pride, he’s somehow even more beautiful out of it. His body is sculpted by discipline, battle, and a love for food; strong, sturdy, soft and firm all at once. Every scar and bruise which marks his skin has no doubt served as a lesson; a reminder of how he could have reacted faster, fought better, improved somehow (and it’s Kyojuro, so of course, next time he will).

The sun breaks over the horizon, casting beams of golden light through the wisteria blossoms as he sets his uniform neatly on top of the cape beside you.

“Are you getting in?” he asks, stepping into the water until it reaches his hips. He turns to face you. “Or are you content with watching me?”

Your face prickles, surely as red as the tips of his hair as he grins and waits for your response. And thank God for the wisteria, hiding you from prying eyes as you sit, bare chested and flustered on the warm, smooth wood, fighting the urge to put your hand between your thighs and finish what you started against the door frame.

He seems to sense it too, his gaze dropping lower, to the epicenter of your aching desire. And for the first time since he got home, you notice his breath hitching in his throat as he wades toward you, placing his wet hands at either side of your knees and pushing them together, pressing a kiss to the seam of your thighs.

His eyelids close as he rests his forehead on your lap, his breath hot against your skin as your mouth becomes dry with anticipation and need. But he simply stays there, breathing you in, and, if he’s feeling at all the way you are right now, torturing you both.

Placing a hand on the back of his head you let it sink into soft golden hair and stroke down the back of his neck, enamored with the way he melts against you as you do.

“There were moments…” He’s quiet when he speaks, so quiet it worries you.

He turns his head to the side, eyes still closed as he rests his cheek against the pillow of your thighs, still holding them together.

“Moments?” you say, hoping to clarify. Your hand delves lower, into the firm valley between his shoulder blades. The corner of his mouth rises into a contented smile. You can spend every waking moment touching Kyojuro and he will never get tired of it. Fortunately, neither will you.

“Moments during the mission… when I was afraid I would not make it back to you this time.”

“Oh—” You snap your lips shut, pressing your unoccupied hand to them to ensure their silence. A weight in your chest presses against your ribs; the agonizing knowledge that this man you adore with every cell in your body feared for his life.

You can’t tell him that you imagine that very thing every time the kasugai crow summons him. Every time you awaken to find he didn’t return while you slept. Every time the sun rises and stains the morning sky red.

And no matter how blissful the time you spend together, no matter how bound to his soul you find yours, the fact will always remain that demon slayers rarely live long lives. To love a hashira, is to welcome death to loom above your happiness.

But you know Kyojuro well enough to know there’s nothing you can say to make him quit the corps. You'd have as much success telling him to walk away from you, or asking the moon to come down from the sky. Nothing can quell those twin flames burning in his heart; one for you, the other his duty to lend his strength to those who need it. Even in a world without demons, he would find some way to fight to protect the helpless.

“I believe in you,” you say, truthfully. Even if your heart torments you with thoughts that one day his crow will return without him, you have never doubted his strength or indomitable spirit. “No matter what happens, I want you to know that. You’re stronger than anyone I’ve ever known.”

"Thank you," he says, with heart-shattering sincerity.

In an instant his hands are on the boards beside your thighs, his arms taut and arrow-straight beneath him as he lifts himself partway out of the water until his lips are level with yours.

"I should be thanking you," you tease, hoping to lighten the mood and help him forget the fear. "You're putting on such a pretty show for me."

Loud laughter bursts from him, and God, it feels so good to see him happy and carefree. It warms your heart to know that you can give him that solace, this man who fights and faces death for people who don’t even know he exists.

“I need you,” he says with a smile, leaning into you and snatching your breath with a kiss before drawing back. “ Your belief, your strength, your warmth. I need you. In every way.”

You can't stand it anymore. Cupping his jaw in your palm you lean closer, bringing your lips tantalizingly close. "Hurry up and bathe, Kyojuro. I'll make certain those needs are met."

He laughs again, although this time quieter, holding your gaze as he lowers himself back into the water. “Beloved, when have I ever allowed you to meet my needs without ensuring yours are satisfied first?”

His touch sparks embers across your skin as his strong fingers skate between your thighs, finally allowing you to part them. You spread wide for him, letting him see you fully, knowing that you’re already wet, glistening with need.

“Mm,” he sighs hungrily, moistening his lips with the tip of his tongue.

He draws closer as you fight for breath, running your fingers through his fiery mane as you lean back and angle your hips toward him.

The wisteria blooms sway in the breeze as your skin pebbles.

Kyojuro begins as he always does, by kissing a path along your inner thighs, snatching the air from your lungs as your anticipation builds. He nuzzles the soft flesh of your pussy with the tip of his nose, and when his lips finally reach your core, he tastes you slowly, eyes closed and face perfectly serene. And he savors you.

He drags his tongue over your tingling flesh, tasting every bit of you and sighing softly as you gasp and buck your hips beneath him.

But soon, any semblance of hashira discipline crumbles as he grows drunk on you. His hands skate over your thighs, hooking behind your knees to lift your legs onto his broad shoulders. And you know you’re done for.

Kyojuro relishes you like you’re his last meal, his tongue voraciously lapping your clit until your fingers in his hair curl into fists.

Afterall, he never knows when he’ll be called away from you. So he makes it count.

It’s no secret the flame hashira loves to eat, and being his favorite meal is pleasure like you've never known. You gasp as he presses his tongue to your entrance, licking a stripe through your labia to your clit, before surrounding it with the wet heat of his eager mouth. His tongue flutters against you; insatiable, skilled, and hellbent on driving you to climax.

"Kyojuro!" You cry out as your trembling legs wrap around his back, holding him to you.

That earns you an appreciative groan before the wet sound of his mouth on you fills the air once more. Your back arches as he pushes a thick finger into you, stroking you inside as he continues to devour your cunt.

His gentle moans vibrate against your clit as he licks and licks, and he whispers a reverent, "Delicious."

His approval drives you wild, lifting your hips to grind your pussy against his face as shivers of pleasure roll through you, driving you closer and closer to the peak of ecstasy.

“M–more…” you whimper.

Far be it from him to deny you.

You gasp as he slides another finger into you, his other hand spreading your folds so he can lick you harder, deeper, while sucking your clit as though it sustains him.

You come undone with a cry, legs trembling against his back as your fists unfurl to press his face into your pussy. You know he adores this, when your control fully snaps and he knows he has done well, that eager mouth still working you. He groans as your pussy throbs and pulses against his tongue, squeezing his fingers as they continue to pump into you, emerging only so he can put them into his mouth and taste you again.

“Umai,” he whispers, smiling as you lay shattered and delirious with pleasure beside the hot spring.

You chuckle as you ride the ebbing waves of your orgasm, vaguely aware of the flame hashira climbing out of the water and wrapping you in his arms. Before you know it you're inside, lying on the bed.

"Are you ready, Little Flame, or do you need more time to recover?"

You shake your head, gazing at him as he positions himself between your thighs. His broad, muscled chest is flushed pink with a combination of warm water and arousal.

He'll wait as long as it takes if you need it, but there's no denying his excitement. He holds his cock firmly in his strong, scarred hand, gently sliding his thumb through beads of clear precum weeping from the slit. He shivers as he gazes down at your semi-naked body, teeth tugging his lower lip.

God, there's so much you want to do to this man, but if the world is kind, you'll have time for that later. Right now you need his cock inside you. You need simple intimacy, his body against yours.

"Now," you tell him. "I need you now."

You gasp as he slides his dick between your folds, coating it in your slick wetness before teasing your entrance with his tip. And when he enters you, there's no resistance; you're already so wet and ready for him. His back arches as you take him all, your bodies slotting together as though you were made with each other in mind.

For every hour Kyojuro has spent studying flame breathing, he's dedicated the same to studying you. He’s noted your reactions every time you’ve been together this way, memorizing exactly where to touch you, the speed you like best, the pressure, the intensity.  When Kyojuro fucks you, it's an art form, and he’ll spend all day dedicated to it if you let him.

That's when it becomes apparent that those muscles aren't just for show. The control he has over his body is almost supernatural, rolling his hips against you, making sure that with every stroke your pleasure builds so that all that's left for you to do is...

"Breathe," he tells you, as if he isn't the one driving the air from your lungs.

But you try, for him. You try your damned hardest, fingers pressed to his shoulders as you pull in a breath.

"That's it," he sighs against your ear. "Good. So good."

Your face grows hotter. "Is it good for... ohh God."

Kyojuro’s lips part around a silent gasp as he pushes deep into you and your body shivers beneath him. Sparks of pleasure shoot through your lower belly as he thrusts. Your grip on his shoulders slides to his broad chest and around his back, pulling him to you. He yields to you without resistance, closing the space between you until his body is flush with yours; hot and heavy, pressing you into the mattress as he kisses your throat.

"Is it good for you?" You continue, not because there’s any doubt, but because his praise and approval only adds to your pleasure.

He knows it too. "So good, Little Flame. You're taking me so well."

You could spend eternity with Kyojuro and never stop craving him.

Basking in the soft warmth of your cunt, his throat flexes as he parts his lips around a desperate whimper, his breath hot against your throat as he grinds his hips against yours. Tingling heat builds between your thighs as he pumps his cock into you, arching forward to suck your nipple between his lips, strumming it with his tongue.

And you know too well he’s holding back. Kyojuro won’t come like this; he’ll have you on top bouncing on his cock when he’s good and ready for that. No, this is for you, and it doesn’t matter how long it takes; the hashira’s stamina is apparently limitless. But his cool is most definitely crumbling. And when he gets excited he gets loud. Every thrust is punctuated by a desperate moan, the feral sound of it making your toes curl.

“So warm, and wet for me,” he practically growls into your ear as he grinds his hips against your clit. ”I was away for too long. I wanted you so badly. I couldn’t take care of you like I wanted to, but I’m making up for it now, aren’t I?”

You cry out in pleasure as his movements become deeper and more urgent, “Yes.”

“My Little Flame,” he whispers. “All mine.”

Your second orgasm spills through you like molten iron as you cling to him, riding the waves of your release.

“That’s it,” he whispers as you shiver beneath him. “Oh, god, that’s it, that’s it. That’s my girl.”

This man. This man and his damned mouth. You’re no sooner back on earth than you’re craving him again, pushing against the firm wall of his chest and angling your hips to roll onto him. He picks up on your cue immediately, pulling his cock out of you and flipping the pair of you over.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his breath coming in short, sharp pants just for a moment or two before he reins it back. “I can keep making you come until you’re fully satisfied.”

“I am satisfied. And I want you to come,” you tell him, lowering yourself onto his dick. Your head tilts back involuntarily as you take him once more.

As you start to ride him, his amber eyes are trained on you, awestruck as his hands grip your hips, not guiding your pace (he's completely at your mercy in that regard) but holding on to you as though he's afraid you'll somehow slip away from him.

You may not be able to fight away the demons which threaten to hurt him or the horrors those eyes have witnessed. You may not be able to expunge every worry and burden from his life like you want to. But you can give him this. You can give him solace in simple pleasure.

And, if you’re honest, there’s something about watching this man melt beneath you. There’s nothing like seeing your powerful, indomitable warrior reduced to a whimpering wreck as he loses himself in you. It’s a power which only serves to heighten your pleasure.

"I thought about this every night," you tell him. "About riding you like this and watching you come undone."

His throat flexes as he swallows, his gaze following the movement of your chest as you bounce on his cock. There's no doubt he's enjoying the view, but it's impossible to resist doubling over to kiss him, letting him moan against your lips as you slowly rock on top of him. Your heart squeezes with the knowledge that you’re making him feel good, that right now, he’s content and safe and gasping with pleasure because of you.

This is one of the few times Kyojuro is lost for words, but words are unnecessary. You know how good it feels from the pink tinge on his cheeks and blossoming over his chest, from the way he loses the battle to keep his eyes open, closing them and throwing his head back to moan as his fingers dig into your hips. You know he’s close from the way he arches his back, lifting his hips so he can thrust into you as his grip on control slips entirely.

You know all this because he is yours.

“I’m going to come–” he whimpers, his golden irises barely more than a sliver beneath his heavy eyelids. His breath blows hot and hard against your skin as his body undulates beneath you.

When he comes, it’s with a cry, thrusting up into you so hard it forces the air from your lungs, his grip on your hips so tight it will surely leave bruises. And you ride him throughout, driving him into over-stimulation as the sounds of his pleasure fill the room. All that power, all that strength and firm muscle quivers beneath you but you know him well enough to know not to stop.

You ride him as he bares his teeth. “Yes. That’s it. One more,” he whispers, taking your hands in his and pulling you down to his lips. “I know you have one more for me.”

He places his hand between you, sliding it down your body until his fingers brush your clit, sliding through the warm concoction of his spend and your wetness. He teases your swollen flesh, the blush on his cheeks growing darker still as you continue to grind against his overstimulated cock. Your legs burn, your pussy aches. But God, you need this, you need him. It doesn't matter that you’re spent and more than satisfied. You need more, more, more, the two of you trying desperately to claw all the pleasure you can from a world which demands so much sacrifice.

Your orgasm tears through you quickly, your exhausted body giving you just enough pleasure to earn rest for both of you.

He holds you. His lips are cool against your burning cheeks, showering you with gentle kisses as his hands stroke lazy paths along your back.

You lie atop him, ear pressed to his chest as his heart beats against you; steady, constant, and yours. There’s so much you need to tell him, and he already knows all of it. You love him, you missed him, you hope his kasugai crow never calls. You hope that one day you’ll see that golden hair of his turn silver and that his smile will never fade as he reminisces about the days gone by where he fought for humanity; days which will seem like an absurd dream.

But none of it needs to be said.

“You’re home,” you say instead, your voice so soft you doubt he heard it.

But he chuckles gently, coiling your hair around his fingers as he sighs contentedly. “I am.”

[towriteloveontheirarms]

Sensitive (Halsin Silverbough x Reader)

synopsis: For what feels like in forever the party stays in an inn, yet the proper bed also comes with a very fidgety lover. So what else are you supposed to do other than to help him fall asleep?

warnings: teasing, kinda ruined orgasm, smut, p in v, afab reader

word count: 1k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall @foxyanon

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

Dividers by me

After years of being together, you thought it was safe to assume you know your partner. His body at least. Yet that was entirely untrue. There was still always more to explore.

“My apologies, I only meant to check in on you. I never meant to disturb you.” Halsins soft voice sounds through the room you used to bathe in. You are just wrapping a towel around yourself as he approaches.

“I believe you are incapable of ever disturbing me, in truth.” You reply in a tone that is only reserved for him in its gentleness.

“Oh, but I have. You were taking a moment to unwind, something you have not done in far too long.” He insists until you finally lay your hands on his chest to shut him up.

“Halsin, are you watching me?” You ask with a smirk. “And what of you? When have you last allowed yourself a moment of respite?”

He shuffles his feet and adverts his eyes from yours.

“You have been looking out for everyone for far too long now. We have a real bed to sleep in tonight. Let us make the most of it.”

It has been gods know how long since you had slept or even simply laid in a real bed. Thinking about it now, you couldn't even properly remember the last time and laying down together promised a night full of wonderful, refreshing sleep without any back or joint pain in the morning.

Hadn't there been your lover's restlessness. Halsin did his best to hide the notion, but you knew him better than that. It was clearly visible in the way he carried himself, in his mimic, the very core of his being almost. So, what were you supposed to do. After hours of him tossing and turning, but to distract him, any way you could. Only to, in the end, straddle him to give him a relaxing massage. Small hands kneading taut muscles in a last-ditch effort to get him to calm enough to fall asleep.

Said massage then soon devolved into Halsin pressing you into the worn mattress, fingers intertwined and his hips grinding against yours as he left hot, wet kisses all over your neck.

You writhe and grind against his large form. Searching to get, but also bring, more pleasure. Halsin’s hands leave your wrists, to run down your arms over your breasts and sides, down to guide your movements by your hips.

Free to touch the druid as you please, your own hands caress his muscular chest feeling the surprisingly soft skin and coarse hair, holding onto his strong biceps for a moment and then cupping his cheeks sharing in the warmth of his eyes and the moment. However, they don't rest there for long as the tips of your fingers find the shell of his ears, tracing them with feather light caresses. It wasn´t new to either of you that Halsin had quite sensitive ears, yet the full extent of it would only be revealed at this moment. Upon touch, a half growl half gasp leaves his lungs that turns into a whine just as fast, his eyes falling half close. There are only traces left of the hot and heavy tension from just moments before, both of you pretty taken back by what has just happened. 

Being the first to get a grasp on the situation, you use the moment surprise to flip the two of you around. It never failed to amaze how easily Halsin’s massive frame would mold into the position you wanted him in these moments. The two of you share a long-lasting look, when you finally brush your thumb over the tip of his ear again. This time intentionally, elongating the motion to trace the long shell of his ear. The gray outer ring on his pretty eyes sparkles up the hazel inner ring darkening with need as his eyelids flutter shut. Alternating brushing your fingers against his ear and carding them through his hair, you gently pinch his earlobe and watch his hips roll forward involuntarily, as if they had developed a mind of their own.

The druid's hips press up into yours, desperately searching for friction against your heated centre.

You take in his every shuddering breath and the way his mouth forms around the words when he tells you he loves you. If you weren´t before, the sounds that leave his lips as you continue to tease his ears get you obsessed with seeing him like this. Splayed out underneath you, writhing in enjoyment as you bring him closer to the edge of his sanity. That is when your clothes carelessly get thrown into the room, anything to free you of them to be skin to skin as fast as possible. Halsin doesn't waste any time to split you open on his thick cock. The pace with which your hips meet is frenzied, your hands growing shaky with desire and need to feel the others skin under the pads of your fingers. His thrusts are precise, hitting all the right spots inside of your velvety walls that make your hands quake against his body, raking your nails over the warm skin and through the thick hair until it becomes too much and you have to rest them against the sizable chest. Through his animalistic grunts and your moans, far away through the haze of gratification as his thumb begins to rub tight circles into the tight bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs, there is a faint knocking against the wall. However, you can´t bring yourself to care.

As the two of you near climax again, Halsin holds your body up by the hips to fuck into you mercilessly, bringing you over the edge first, before following right after as your cunt spasms around his hardness.

The two of you collapse against the bed as you are still feeling the waves of bliss crash over you, too exhausted to keep upright any longer. Not a single word is exchanged as the two of you are catching your breath yet you can still feel the warmth and safety of his arms wrapping around you. A few moments later soft snores replace the space that not too long ago was taken up by sounds of pleasure, steadily growing louder. Smiling to yourself, you shift to make yourself comfortable and with Halsin´s softening length still inside of you, you slip off into the world of dreams as well.

[houseswife]

obsessed with the way that, every time wilson tries to break up with house, it just becomes increasingly obvious why he never could. because. listen. there are plenty of valid reasons why he’d cut house off. dozens. but whenever he provides an explaination for ending their friendship, it’s always the most objectively untrue thing you’ve ever heard, which makes it extremely fucking clear that his ass is just making shit up on the spot. e.g he could say “You take me for granted/you take advantage of my loyalty/you don’t respect my boundaries” and they would all be justified reasons for dumping him. but wilson’s so deluded by his love for house that he doesn’t even acknowledge the reasonable grounds for wanting him out of his life. he doesn’t actually have a problem with the genuinely insane and/or criminal shit that house does; he enjoys it!! that’s why he has to formulate these lost explainations (that are laughable in their falsity, by the way) to keep up appearances, to maintain the impression of outrage. like when he says “The thing is, house, I don’t like you” … my brother… you literally spent every waking moment of your free time hanging out with him for 20 years! but okay. “I’m not doing this because I care” (implying that he doesn’t gaf about the man he consistently prioritised everything in his life over). “I don’t think we ever were [friends]” - does that one even need commentary. he needs to be so fr because babygirl ain’t NOBODY convinced!!

[merakiui]

VIL’S BIRTHDAY!!!! 🎂 GIVE US VIL THOUGHT OR SUFFER!!!!

ANON, PLEASE....... _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):_ have mercy on me... spare me.........

AHEM. LOL as for Vil thoughts!!!!! I think we don't discuss cyberstalker Vil enough,,, the way he was obsessively checking the status of who was most beautiful and Neige's Magicam account during book five........ there's so much potential of Vil being Magicam friends/mutuals with you but never having met you irl, only ever doing online collabs. Whenever he has the time, he's checking your account to see if you've posted anything new, wanting to know what it is you're up to. I like to think he'd try to regulate this obsession so it doesn't become unhealthy (after all, too much screen time can be very bad!), but it becomes impossible the more he falls.

Or a Vil who turns you into a living doll after using various poisons to paralyze you. <3 it's a temporary effect, of course, but he has warned you that it you keep acting out of line and trying to escape he'll employ a more...permanent means of keeping you by his side. Vil takes great care in dressing you up every day, taking the time to apply your makeup and even going so far as to deliberate over which fragrance you should wear. You're not going out anywhere; this is solely for his eyes only, but Vil insists that looking your best, even in the comforts of your home, can be a marvelous feeling.

Or maybe something where Vil is offered a role to be a slasher/horror movie villain. At first he considers turning the role down because he doesn't want to continue to perpetuate an untrue image, and he doesn't like the idea of playing a villain who won't remain on stage until the end. But then he reads through the script and sees that the villain actually wins in the end. Sure, it's a bad ending for the protagonist, but for the villain this is the best possible ending... despite this, he's about to turn the role down when he catches wind that you'll be playing the lead role, the character who is held captive by the character Vil could play. And Vil has always wanted the opportunity to be able to touch and kiss you in more intimate ways without having to trouble himself with both of your reputations or, most importantly, the fact that he's not very close with you...

Beauty and the beast au, but Vil is the beast. >:D cursed to be a hideous beast and now he lives alone in a castle in the woods. The typical monsterfucking scenario. <3

Stepbrother Vil who is your first for everything. He won't allow his precious stepsibling to settle for a subpar partner. That's why you'll practice with someone you can trust, someone responsible, someone like your brother Vil.

[daisymbin]

will you play with me? (always, my love) - lee seokmin

warnings: brief mention of bullying(?)

pairings: lee seokmin x afab reader

genre: playmates to friends, friends to lovers, lovers to ???? hahaha, fluff fluff fluff

wc: 2k

a/n: this is a long one guys im sorry. of course, inspired by that song: Play With Me by Pagaehun & KKANBYEONGZ :)

*for this fic, lets just all pretend we are the same age as our beloved seokmin!! also, im basing the age and education level off of the korean education system!

check out my masterlist! // seokmin's m.list

when seokmin was 4 years old

''why are you guys picking on him?'' you said angrily with furrorwed eyebrows as you stomped over to the group of boys as fast as you could with your tiny feet. your tiny angry stomps coming closer to where your playmates (classmates?) were at. it had been playtime; free and easy. of course, there were your teachers to look after all of you kids, but the playground was so big! the teacher can't keep up with all kids, especially when a third of you were playing hide and seek.

''seokmin takes too long to find us! he's not very good at being IT, we don't want to play with him anymore!'' sunny, your classmate explained frustratedly with a pout, her arms folding over her small frame. ''you guys are so mean! doesn't that just mean that you guys are good at hiding? how can you blame seokminie!'' you defended your kindergarten classmate. this time, minseok, another classmate spoke up, ''he is just too slow! because of him, we are running out of playtime! we will have to go home soon and can't play anymore until tomorrow!'' how could they possibly blame him! you thought to yourself.

without bothering to say another word to your classmates, you held your small, delicate hand out to seokmin who was squatting sadly in the middle of all your other classmates while they surrounded him in a circle. ''come on, seokminie, if they don't want to play with you, it's okay! i'll play with you! is that okay? will you play with me seokminie?''

seokmin has heard tons of fairytales by age 4; some from kindergarten when the teachers were telling stories during recess, but also from mom and dad when they read him bedtime stories. so obviously, seokmin knows what love is. he knows how happily ever afters start and how they end because afterall, the teacher and his parents would never tell him things that are untrue, right? so, seokmin thinks to himself: she must be the one. because why else would you come to his rescue? that's how all fairytales start! and there must a reason why his cheeks are hot and his heart is beating so hard and fast. he thinks it could be because of the sun and the hot weather, but with him squating in the middle of 6 kids crowding around him in a circle while they are standing, he doubts its because of the sun and hot weather because he is in a well protected shade thanks to the kids.

seokmin held out his hand to reach for yours. he knows he should still be upset over what his classmates did but as soon as his hand touches yours, all the hurtful feelings and sad thoughts leaves his mind. suddenly, all he can think about is how safe your tiny hands feel and that you must be his knight in shining armour.

when seokmin was 15 years old

it was a change in environment for seokmin for sure, he was finally in high school with you, yes same school and same class. and right now, he is having his first gym class of the year. as soon as you were done with stretching, you hear your coach say ''alright, i want you guys to group yourselves in either a group of 3 or a pair and then we can start off with badminton .'' seokmin PANICS because today is only the second day of school and he is sad to admit that other than you, he hasn't made any new friends. he didn't seem to think it was important.

seokmin's eyes roamed around the basketball court hoping to find a partner only to realise he is the only one without a partner or a group. seokmin tried to discretly look over to you to see if you have a group or partner and guess what? you do. in fact, you're in a group of 3 and disappointment slowly washes over him as he turns back around. almost telepathically , your eyes started searching for seokmin and landed on the back of his head. you shoulders sag a little when you realise that seokmin doesn't have a paartner or a group. ''hey sorry you guys,'' you said to your 2 classmates, ''i think im going to join my friend over there.''

you quietly walked over to seokmin, almost in tippy toes. ''seokmin ah, can i join you?'' you asked with a soft smile. ''but what about your group?'' he questioned. ''they can play as a pair, dont worry about them!'' you answered. ''are you sure you wanna partner with me?'' seokmin's eyes turn to look down at his feet. ''yes i'm sure,'' your hand unconsciously reaches out for his. ''come on, play with me! badminton is about to start! let's go against my 2 friends!''

''i don't know y/n, im not very good at badminton.'' seakmin said as he lifts his other free hand to scratch the back of his neck. ''that's how it gets fun seokmin! by making clumsy mistakes! now come on, will you play with me?'' and seokmin simply answers with a nod; he doesn't trust himself now to answer you verbally. he is scared you'll hear how happy and relieved he is. he is afraid his trembling and stuttering voice will give away how he can feel his blood pumping through his veins and into his hammering heart; all because you are holding his hand.

when seokmin was 21 years old

''no, i do not want to go to that party.'' was what seokmin said 2 hours ago, and now? he's sitting on the living room couch watching you play beer pong with your friends. his stomach does a little flip when he sees your lips forming into a pout because you were failing horribly at the game. ''seokmin ah,'' you called out to him (more like shouting over the loud music and the swamp of people in the flat. ''come play beer pong with me!'' seokmin gets up from the couch and starts to walk towards you just as you manage to get a tennis ball into a red cup, seokmin watches your down that cup of beer. as soon as he reaches you, he lets out a deep audible sigh; not that anymore can hear him either. it is way too noisy in here.

he reaches for your empty cup and sets it aside. '' alright, that's enough for the night. you had a lot of pre-game drinks. you drank way too much tonight. it's late, let's get you back to your flat mhm?'' he pleaded with such soft eyes. you wonder if he knows just how in love you are with him. you could stare into his eyes and get lost in them forever if the universe allows. but you know thats not possible. ''can we go after we finish this game? pleeeeease? pretty pretty please? i keep losing and you're good at beer pong! play with me! wongil is joining minho so we can play 2 vs 2.''

''now why would i do that?''

''oh come on! minho and wongil only have 2 cups left, the game will end quickly! they're good at it.''

you watch seokmin and see his pondering over that. ''it'll be really quick i promise!'' seokmin then says: ''do i really have to?''

''will you play with me? please seokminieeeee.'' seokmin lets out a playfully dramatic sigh, pretending like he isn't happy that you asked him for help.

when seokmin is 23

around the corner of the street, leading to a big empty field right beside the mall, just so happens to be a carnival so the two of you decide to take a look around, maybe buy some snacks.

''seokmin look! they have a giant bouncy castle! can we please go?'' you asked, giving him the best puppy dog eyes you can. ''but what if you bounced too hard and land on a kid? that's not gonna be pretty.'' seokmin laughed.

''don't be dramatic, that wont happen!''

''you go ahead, sweetheart. im scared i'll hurt a kid accidentally.''

''we can play by ourselves at that corner,'' you pointed at the very back of the right corner where there is no one there. ''is that enough convincing? will you play with me? please please please'' you begged. ''of course, sweetheart.''

when seokmin was 27

tonight seokmin is taking you out on yet another date. except this time, seokmin tells you about how fancy the restauant is. he had told you that its a new place he's been wanting to try out but hasn't got the chance yet. the truth is, he's only telling you how fancy it is to try to hint at you that you should dress angelically; not that you don't but he thinks: just incase.

he simply just wants you to feel beautiful and worthy when he pops the question.

so here you are, sitting across seokmin at a fancy restaurant in your elegant pink silk dress. seokmin lays his hand across the table, you took the cue and do the same, hand finding his to intertwine your fingers and holding it softly.

''do you know i've been in love with you since we were 4?'' seokmin asks. you giggle in disbelief as you said ''oh really? and why is that? what made you fall in love with me when you were 4?'' you rolled your eyes playfully. ''because you asked me to play with you. you were so cool that day. you were my knight in shining armour!'' he laughs while thinking back to that day. we used to be such kids he thinks.

''babe, i dont think you even know what love is at age 4.'' now it was your turn to laugh. ''maybe not the way adults know love to be, but it was what i knew love to be when i was 4. like my favourite stuffed animal, my favourite toy truck. i loved you then the same way i loved the things i loved.'' he shrugged sheepishly.

''did you just compare me to your toys?'' you teased. ''god no, thats not what i meant.'' he lets go of your hand to rub his face and then comes back to hold your hand again. ''what i'm trying to say is that, that is my favourite thing about you.''

''what is?'' you questioned. ''you asking me to play with you. you always did throughout all these years. be it when we were 4, 15, 21, 23 and everywhere else inbetween,'' he pauses to take a sip of water and to catch his breath before he continues. ''and i realise...while you were asking me to play with you all these years, i've realised that looking back, i have not once asked you to play with me.''

seokmin lets go of your hand once again, but this time he is reaching into his pocket. you watch as he lifts a red velvet box up to the table. ''what i'm really trying to say is: i loved playing with you when we were 4, and i loved it more and more each and every time you ask me to play with you. i want to play fun, stupid and meaninglessly with you everyday for the rest of my life if you'd let me.''

seokmin gets up from his seat and goes by your side. you felt tears fall down your cheek, you're sure your nose is bright red as of now. ''y/n,'' he said as he opened the box as he knelt down in front of you.

''will you play with? will you play with me for the rest of your life?''

seokmin feels relief washing over him as he breaks into a smile when he hears you say ''always, my love.'' he takes your hand and slid the ring on. ''i love you, so so much.'' seokmin confesses. ''i love you too.''