#and now I'm in my late 20s and I'm like. balanced in all ways

[zombiesun]

I love being adult I know my palette to a science and also how to keep my body from hurting by not feeding it things it hates it makes eating 1000% times easier than it used to be

[hier--soir]

a lover's pinch | one

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: a one-night stand with a charming texan turns into something much more thrilling when you discover he is your new college professor. warnings/tags: au, age gap [20 something years diff], alcohol consumption, irrational sexual tension, smut, sex in a public place w/ a stranger [and i'm talking depraved/zero time wasted/known you for thirty minutes type strangers], oral [f receiving], protected piv, rough sex, dirty talk, a spot of degradation + misogynistic language, a split second of soft!joel, you get the picture word count: 5.9k series masterlist | main masterlist a/n: my friends.... oh boy, oh boy. this series is a complete au, self-indulgent, fantasy land idea that has plagued me for weeks. horny academic brain rot to the highest degree. hope some of you enjoy it with me x

Friday.

You sit with three almost strangers.

Listen to them talk about their summers and their families and their degrees as you twirl a straw around your half-empty glass, disrupting the melting ice as you try to wrap your head around what a master’s in environmental engineering might entail. One of them, the only man at the table, takes great pleasure in explaining it to you all for the second time. You take mental notes and hope he’s not expecting you to remember words like sparging and leachate.

They do ask you about your undergrad, and your internship, nodding and smiling curiously. They don’t ask what type of job you plan on getting after your postgrad, which is a welcome relief. The bombardment of questions from immediate and extended family is enough.

Cousins wondering aloud, saying you study Greek mythology, right?

Or your grandfather, before he died, berating you ad nauseam at family events about what’re you gonna do, kid? Be a historian? There’s no money in being a historian. Now, being a lawyer, that’s where the money is.

And you’d respond no, not quite Greek mythology, and no, I don’t plan on being a historian, as you gorge yourself on red wine and triscuits and wait for Christmas to end.

Thankfully you aren’t expected to rehash these scenarios with your almost strangers, who routinely ask a few well-mannered questions and then go back to talking about themselves.

After a week of living with them, in a new house, and a new city, you’re becoming used to their company. The way the four of you commune lazily in the kitchen most mornings, swathed in the light streaming through a window above the sink, making idle small talk as you wait for coffee to brew. How Pete and Trin study opposite each other at the dining table, while Nora prefers to spread her limbs across the couch, laptop balanced precariously on her stomach. She’s doing her master’s in education, which she describes as an expensive way to get a pay rise. She’s kind, with wild curly hair and dark humour, and is easily your favourite of your new roommates.

It was her idea to go out that night. One last hurrah, she’d called it. Before we enter the final circle of academic hell next week. And between four overworked, already burnt-out, twenty-something students, it hadn’t taken much convincing before you were sharing three bottles of wine and hightailing it to the bar with the highest Yelp rating.

The late August air is dry; a faint warmth that follows you into a quaint bar in downtown Biddeford. The space is small and crowded with patrons, with dim overhead lighting that casts a soft glow across the booth you’re crammed into. A thin sheen of sweat coats your skin, and your shirt sticks to your back uncomfortably. The others seem unbothered by the heat, nursing sweaty glasses and discussing how different Maine is from where they all grew up. You involve yourself here and there, offering up stories about your family and friends from back home, and suddenly an hour has passed, and then another, and you’re pleasantly tipsy, body humming as alcohol spreads its way through your veins, and your latest drink is practically empty, spare a few melting ice cubes.

“I need another drink,” you tell Nora, who nods absently before turning her attention back to the others.

You wander toward the bar, fumbling for your phone as you go. Fall in between two leather cushioned stools and rest your elbows atop the sleek wooden counter. Check your bank account and mentally traverse the list of reasons for returning to student-life when you see the number staring back at you. I don’t want to be a lawyer, I don’t want to be a lawyer, I don’t want to be a lawyer, your internal monologue runs, although you could admit how sweet a solicitor’s pay check would feel right now.

It’s a low, Southern drawl that pulls you from your reverie.

“Mind if I sit here?”

Deep. With a rough, lilting quality that piques your interest and has your eyes drifting upward from your phone screen.

You notice his body first; a tall frame with thick arms, thick shoulders, thick neck. A navy-blue t-shirt that stretches thin around his biceps, hugging the tan skin there. And then you look higher, and—oh.

Your heart stutters a beat out of time as you take in his face. Loose brown curls that are just long enough to hang across his forehead. Dark, almond-shaped brown eyes. So dark they almost appear black on the first glance. The strong nose and dark hair across his jaw, dappled with streaks of grey. A moustache resting atop a set of dark pink lips. Gone are thoughts of academia, of bank accounts, of your almost strangers. All replaced in an instant by wanton, pulsating desire.

Something like surprise cuts across his face, but it disappears just as quickly. In a far recess of your brain, you register that he must be at least twenty years older than you. You wilfully ignore the thought, perfectly content to continue admiring him.

A dark eyebrow ticks upward then, and you realise you haven’t responded.

“No,” you rush, flashing him a quick smile. “All yours.”

He gives you a pleased nod, a hint of a smirk passing over his lips as he sits down. He looks vaguely uncomfortable perched on the tall chair, all six-foot-something of him cramped onto such a small cushion. You cast a single glance back towards the booth, and then slip onto the stool beside him.

Silence descends between you for a moment. A song by The Eagles plays faintly, but you can’t figure which one - too distracted to make out the lyrics. You take a careful sip of the melted ice at the bottom of your glass, taste the last remnants of tequila in it, and watch him out of the corner of your eye.

“’m Joel,” that accent rings again, sending a volt of warmth through your chest.

You tell him your name, fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt. If he notices the tension in your posture, he doesn’t let on. “You a Southern man, Joel?” The name feels warm on your tongue. Soft and silken like honey.

“S’it that obvious?” he grins crookedly, pink lips tearing back to reveal a straight white smile.

“An accent like that is hard to ignore,” you smirk. “It’s not a bad thing.”

‘Thought it would fade a little since I moved here,” he explains. “Y'can take the man outta Texas, but… you know.”

You hum, eyes alight as you watch him speak. His mouth is beautiful, lips parting around prolonged vowels.

“You here alone?” he asks.

“No,” you say. “With friends.”

“Let me guess,” Joel tilts his body, glancing around the bar. His shirt shifts with the movement, hem raising to reveal the slightest hint of a soft, tanned stomach. He points somewhere over your shoulder. You shut your mouth, careful not to gawp. “Them.”

You turn, a soft laugh of surprise bubbling up through your chest when you spy the bachelorette party set up across the bar. Women dressed in gaudy shades of pink. One of them with a sash—reading Jenny’s Big Day—across her chest, a short veil pinned to her head, and an empty champagne glass clutched in her fist. One of them teary-eyed, gripping the bride’s arm and yelling something in her ear, sloshing champagne onto herself all the while.

“You got me,” you turn back to him with a grin. Hold your hands up in mock surrender. “I wouldn’t be caught dead missing Jennifer’s last night as a free woman.”

The corners of his eyes crease, entire face blossoming into a smile now. He has a dimple on his right cheek.

“Knew you were a good girl,” he nods. Says the words in a matter-of-fact tone. Something twists in your stomach, and your palms dampen. You wet your lips quickly and don’t back down from his gaze, allowing the corner of your mouth to kick up a little.

“And you?”

His eyebrows raise in a silent question.

“Who’re you here with?” you clarify.

“Just you, darlin’,” he says, left eye dropping in a quick wink.

It's easy with him, you find, and the two of you sit there for a while; exchanging small talk about Maine, the hot weather, the music at the bar, slipping in flirtatious comments that are about as subtle as a neon sign, until he finally spies the empty glass in your hand.

“What are you drinkin’?” he asks.  

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” you say, hoping it doesn’t come across too eager. He seems pleased though. There’s something provocative to his gaze, a teasing warmth that raises the temperature of your skin wherever he looks. But whatever it is, it’s gone by the time he reaches across the bar for the bound beverage list.

He peers at the menu, squinting ever-so-slightly to see through the dim lighting of the bar. The skin beside his eyes is soft and creased with age, crow’s feet that hint at years of laughter and smiles. You wonder again how old he is. How much older than you.

“Forget your glasses?” you tease, testing the waters.

Joel’s eyes flash up to yours. The muscle in his jaw ticks.

“Watch it,” he says. There’s a playful note in his voice, but it rings deeper somehow—a hint of a warning.   

Your thighs squeeze together on the stool, warm sweaty skin peeling off the tacky leather as you move. His eyes dart to the bare skin of your legs, and then back to the menu.

He orders you both a whiskey, and a moment later the bartender is sliding a crystal tumbler in front of you. A finger of amber liquid with a single grandiose sphere of ice resting in it. Fancy.

“Cheers,” he holds his glass out. You knock yours against it gently before taking a short sip, fighting a grimace as it burns down your throat.

He watches your face closely, tries to gage your reaction. You take another sip, holding strong in your efforts to show him that you can handle it. Whatever he wants to give to you, you can handle.

“So what brings you here?” he asks. You notice how large the glass feels in your palm, and how small it appears in his. Long, thick fingers wrap around the object, dwarfing it. He takes a sip, and you watch him swallow. His Adam’s apple bobs, and you want to graze your teeth across it.

“To the bar or to Maine?”

“Either.”

“Well, I just moved into town last week, from the West Coast. It’s actually my first week back in the US; I was travelling before the big move.”

“Busy girl,” his tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth. You blink. “Travellin’?”

“I was in Greece,” you explain, sip your whiskey and definitely don’t grimace at the harsh taste. “For a month or so.”

“A month in Greece?” His eyebrows raise and he does a low, impressed whistle that has your stare zeroing in on his mouth.

“Ever been?” you ask faintly.

“No,” his reply is swift. “Never had much interest.”

And you’re nodding absentmindedly, but you can’t seem to drag your stare away from his mouth as he speaks. The trance is only broken when he raises his glass for another sip, and you shake yourself out of it, eyes shifting to stare into his brown orbs once more. They’re darker than you remembered, gaze loaded as he looks back at you. The tension was palpable when you first sat together, but now it feels impossible to ignore; an electric tangle of wire between the two of you that just keeps getting shorter and shorter. And you think, fuck it, if you’re about to descend into the final circle of academic hell, why not have a little fun?

“Can I tell you something, Joel?”

You say it softly, make your voice as sultry as possible. He watches you over the rim of his glass, eyes sparkling with intrigue. And then his mouth tilts into a sort of knowing smirk, and he’s nodding.

“I’d really like to kiss you,” you confess.

He hums, smirk broadening.

Sets his glass down on the bar top with a soft clink, and then lowers his hand to the bare skin of your knee. You gasp at the contact, nerves fraught. The callouses on his fingers scrape against your skin in slow, rhythmic circles, goosebumps raising in their wake. His fingers are long, and as he tenses them over you, squeezing your knee once, you see the way deep blue veins flex beneath the skin, hot blood pumping through him. Your stomach turns molten.

“Is that all?” he asks, a taunting lilt to his voice.

Your mouth is dry, eyes wide as you sense the proposition in his words. The hint of something darker—something greedy—in his gaze.

“No,” you say definitively. “That’s not all.”

A sharp tut escapes his mouth, fingertips dragging higher on your leg as he shakes his head. “Do you have any idea how old I am?”

“Don’t look a day over forty,” you hazard a guess, resting your shoe onto the rung of his stool, using the leverage to drag yours closer. Both your legs are between his now, thighs bracketing thighs. The denim of his jeans scrapes against your outer thighs, and you shiver. His hand pauses, fingertips just shy of the hem of your skirt.

Joel wets his lips. “Guess again, sweetheart.”

A low heat licks at the base of your spine, spreading its way through your veins until you feel like you could combust at any given moment. Fuck it.

“Don’t care,” you mutter, and drape your hand over his. You trace your nails over his skin, feel how the bones shift underneath it, how warm he is. He still doesn’t move, face pensive as he regards you. You arch an eyebrow. “You approached me, you know.”

His lips purse tightly. Another squeeze to your thigh, fingers moving again. “I know.”

Driven by boldness, by arcane desire, by animalistic instinct, you lean forward on your barstool and rest your hands atop the thick expanse of his thighs. Hear his breath kick as your nose traces the side of his square jaw, lips settling at the shell of his ear. Right at the soft, sloping crest of his neck. And you whisper those same words again, quiet enough that no one in the world can hear it but him, can I tell you something? 

Your movement drove his hand higher on your thigh, the heavy weight of it now settled beneath your skirt, fingertips skimming the indent where your leg meets your hip, toying at the soft fabric of your underwear there. Painfully close to where you want him.

“Yes,” his deep voice rumbles.

Ever so slowly, your tongue slides out of your mouth to trail against his earlobe. Joel’s thighs tense beneath your palms, and you roll the balls of your thumbs against the muscles there.

“I want to kiss you,” you murmur. “So I’m going to. And then I want you to fuck me, just like I know you want to.” Your teeth graze his lobe, and you bite it once, gently, before rearing your face back to peer at him. “Hmm?”

The muscle in his jaw jumps, shifting beneath the skin, and instead of responding verbally he cups your face with a rough hand. Cool drops of condensation from the glass have stuck to his fingers, and the liquid smears across your skin as he cradles your jaw and draws your mouth to his.

Soft lips envelop yours, the coarse hairs of his moustache tickling your face as he steals the breath from your lungs. And when you lick into his mouth you can taste peppermint on his teeth, and then that oh so familiar whiskey tang across his tongue. You don’t mind the taste so much when it’s on his lips.

You nuzzle closer, dig your fingertips firmer into his thighs and grin when a deep groan falls from his mouth into yours. Wet heat pools between your thighs, liquid fire that stokes at your insides, begging for more more more of him. And, as if he can read your mind, Joel is dragging his mouth away, teeth grazing against your swollen bottom lip as he departs.

“Bathroom,” he says, voice low and commanding. “Now.”

Shock and excitement lace your blood, the proposition of something so dirty, so lewd, making your heart race. With your pulse a dull, thrashing roar in your ears, you allow Joel to help you down from your stool. Your legs feel unsteady now that you’re back on solid ground. Gripping your hand, dwarfing it in his, Joel tugs you away from the bar top and towards an obscured hallway. You amble past the bachelorette party, down the dark hall and then he’s pressing a dark hand against the ambulant bathroom door and dragging you inside, sliding the lock shut behind you.

Joel’s on you in a second, arms bracketing you against the door as his wet mouth slips over yours. His hands are so big, all wide palms and long fingers splaying across the entirety of your back, tucking you against his solid chest. He bunches your shirt in his hand, twisting the material between his fingers as he pushes into your mouth. Tongue hot and wet, gliding against your teeth, your tongue, tasting you, devouring you. there’s nothing polite about it. No more wariness, no more hesitation, no more eyes that could see the two of you at the bar. He’s insatiable, touching you everywhere he possibly can, and even then it doesn’t seem like enough for him.

“Fuck, I want you,” you say against his mouth. He makes a low sound in response, and one of his palms lower to grab a handful of your ass, dragging your hips against his. You can feel him, hot and hard, straining in the confines of his jeans. Your hand presses into the crevice between your bodies to palm him through the material, grinning into the kiss when he groans. His lips trail a slick path across your cheek, past your jaw.

“Gonna let me fuck you here?” his hot breath fans across your neck, tongue darting out to taste the salty sweat there.

“Yeah,” you say. “Fuck—yes.”

He steps back, dragging you with him, and then he’s turning you around so that you’re facing the mirror. Your hips dig into the sink, and he’s holding you there, forcing you to stare at your reflection as he bites and licks and sucks down your neck with reckless abandon, leaving marks in his wake. There’s a low, steady throbbing at the apex of your thighs, and you can feel how your underwear clings to your skin, damp and ruined. You whimper, tilt your chin up to give him access to more skin. He grinds against your ass in response, and then he’s crouching down on the ground behind you.

Fast hands push your skirt up over your hips and then flare across your ass, massaging the flesh there. You feel a nip of teeth against the sensitive skin there and flinch into the porcelain. He makes quick work of dragging your underwear down to dangle precariously at your knees. And then long fingers are spreading you apart, revealing you to him. You tilt your hips back so he can see more. Moan at the sensation of cool air rushing to meet your dripping core.

You think you can hear him speaking, but can’t be sure over the sound of your heartbeat in your ears and the low music playing in the bar. And then it doesn’t matter anymore, because you can feel his hot tongue glide through your folds, parting you like the sea. He buries his face in you, nose nudging against your asshole as his tongue swipes at your clit, moaning roughly as he absorbs the taste of you. You’re gasping, hooded eyes staring back at you in the mirror, and this time you can definitely hear him saying you’re so fuckin’ wet. The flat of his tongue smears from your clit to your entrance, and then he’s sinking it inside you. You reach behind your back and card your fingers through his hair, gripping the salt and pepper curls between your fingers and holding him against you. Joel doesn’t complain, groaning as you tug on his locks in encouragement, in fucking desperation.

Your thighs tremble where they bracket his head, threatening to squeeze around him at any moment if it weren’t for his vice grip keeping your spread apart. A choked sob of a moan claws its way out of your throat and then he’s standing again, chest against your back as you hear the clink of his belt coming undone, and he’s saying, I know, I know, you need it so bad, don’t you?

Your hand skirts around the firm sink and slips between your thighs, fingertips ghosting over your throbbing clit. The sound of foil crinkling echoes around the room, and you hear him exhale a ragged sigh as he rolls the condom down his length. You peek over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of him, eyes widening as you take in the sheer size of his length. It’s long, with a prominent vein running from base to tip. It pulses, raging beneath the skin, practically daring you to drop down and run your tongue along the length of it. And you would if you thought he’d let you.

“Shit,” you breathe, skin tingling with a fresh wave of nerves and anticipation.

“It’s alright,” his voice is a low rasp, filling your ears like molasses, and his hand is rising to push stray hairs out of your face. “So fuckin’ wet f’me, I know you can take it, honey. You gonna show me how good you take co—”

He cuts himself off, eyes narrowing as he spots your fingers shifting between your thighs.

“So impatient,” he smacks your hand away with a grunt. “Silly little slut, can’t wait just a minute for me?”

A broken moan falls from your lips, shameful heat soaring through your chest. You shouldn’t love the way that word sounds falling from his lips, shouldn’t be so turned on by it, but you can feel how the ache in your core intensifies, and so you push your hips back against him.

“’m sorry,” you whine pitifully.

“You want it that bad?” Joel asks. His lips brush your earlobe as he nudges the thick head of his cock between your folds, gliding it through your slick once, twice, before notching himself at your entrance.

“I want it,” you gasp. “Wanted it from the second I saw you, Joel, please, pleas—”

Joel curses under his breath and loops a hand around your front, pushing the neckline of your shirt down to reveal your left breast. He slips his palm underneath the cup of your bra, long fingers pinching at the peaked bud of your nipple. Your skin burns under the attention, and you push your chest further into his hold.

“Shit,” he grunts, beginning to press himself inside. “I wanna fuckin’—wreck you, sweetheart.” 

“Whatever you want,” you’re pleading, arching your back for him. Your fingers tighten around porcelain, bracing yourself. “Give it to me.”

You hear a muted, dark chuckle before Joel says, “Whatever I want, huh?”

And then he’s pressing inside you with a single, harsh thrust. His thighs come flush with yours and you gasp, face twisting at the sharp sting. The weight of him inside you is heavy, and you squirm at the intrusion, shifting on your feet. He allows you a moment—just a moment—to adjust to him, before he’s moving.

Joel finds a pace he likes and sets it. Heavy, unrelenting, expert rolls of his hips that have his tip brushing against the opening of your cervix with every shift forward. The air fills with harsh sounds of skin smacking against skin, and stilted moans and spilling from your lips as your hipbones collide rhythmically with the sink.

“Christ,” he spits, hand leaving your breast to grip your jaw. He forces your face forward, pace never slowing. “Fuckin’ look at you.”

You do as your told, gazing at yourself in the mirror. And you look wrecked. Hair a wild halo around your head, makeup smudged around your eyes and mouth, lips swollen and shiny with spit.

“Bein’ so—fuckin’—good,” he punctuates the words with his thrusts. His thumb digs into your cheek, and you can see him grinning in the mirror, lips peeled back to reveal that fucking perfect smile. “Dirty little thing, lettin’ a stranger fuck you like this.”

You mewl in response, stomach tensing as his cock grazes a particularly sensitive spot within you. Joel notices and seizes your waist, one hand holding you in place and the other falling to rub your clit while he pistons into you from behind.

“Shit,” you cry, eyes pinching shut as the intense medley of pleasure and pain begins to overwhelm you. Your orgasm claws its way up your chest.

“Yeah, you like that, huh?” he’s panting. “Can you feel you squeezin’ me, sweetheart. Go on, give it t’me, show me how wet that pretty pussy gets when you come.”

“Oh, fuck, oh—oh god, Joel.”

Your lungs feel empty, chest on fire as you rake in rapid breaths. Your entire body is constricting, muscles in your stomach drawn tight as you press firmer against the sink, thighs shaking with every impact of his hips against the plush of your ass. The pressure makes your head spin. And then something in the base of your spine snaps, and you’re falling apart in his grasp. Joel curses behind you, but the sound is faint, almost inaudible over the ringing in your ears. Your vision goes white, body shifting forward as he fucks you through the high.

And even as you begin to come down, muscles going lax and body slumping against the sink, Joel is relentless. He uses you; gripping your hips to keep them tilted at the perfect angle, and just fucking wrecks you, exactly like he said he wanted to. A stream of profanities fill the air as his movements become disjointed, and you know he’s close. Can feel the way his cock twitches inside you, desperate for release. You tilt your face to the side and stare at him over your shoulder. Those dark eyes meet yours and his face crumbles, hand reaching to grip your shoulder and hold you down as he nears the precipice. You rut your ass back against him and he almost shouts.

“Fuck,” he growls. “That’s it, that’s it..”

And then he’s coming, cock jerking inside you in sporadic movements, and you’re wishing he hadn’t worn a condom so you could feel the heat of him spread inside your cunt. It’s intense, the yearning you feel to have him dripping out of you once he’s gone. But you settle for watching his face through bleary eyes, admiring the way his lips part and chin tilts towards the ceiling, eyes pinching closed as his body convulses against you. 

For an all too brief moment, Joel doesn’t move. He slumps against your back, forehead resting in the gap between your shoulder blades, and just breathes. Haggard, drawn out exhales that send whisps of your hair flying forward into your face but you don’t care, too blissed out and relaxed underneath his weight to say anything. And then he’s straightening, and you gasp in unison as he grips your waist and slips out of you. There’s a determined ache between your thighs, pussy clenching around his absence, missing the weight of him already.

You sag onto the cold surface. Your mind is a blur, senses dulled from the intensity of your orgasm. The music in the bar has increased, and you imagine that your roommates must be wondering where you are, but can’t bring yourself to care all that much. You can hear him throw the condom into the trash, then there’s a low rustling as he drags his boxers and jeans back up his legs. Body trembling, you close your eyes and wait. Wait to hear the door open and close as he steps out, and leaves you in the bathroom alone, as you know he inevitably will.

But instead, you feel those hands, almost familiar now, grazing your back. They drag your panties back up and smooth your rumpled skirt down over your ass.

“Hey,” a soothing voice murmurs. “You good?”

You peer at him over your shoulder, uncontained surprise no doubt evident in your face. Joel’s expression is soft; cautious. He grips your shoulder and pulls you up, straightening your body. Drags a thumb over the corner of your mouth, wiping away the lipstick smudged there. His touches are so gentle, so tender, in comparison to a few moments ago. It almost gives you whiplash, and yet you find yourself melting under his gaze, because fuck, he’s handsome. 

“I’m good,” you breathe, and he bares his teeth in a smile, cupping your jaw.

“Sweet girl,” Joel says. His head shakes once, slowly, eyes darting across your features, as if trying to memorise them. “I’m gonna remember this.”

You heart is in your throat all over again.

Your fingers fumble to adjust your top, smoothing it out as you smile, humming, “Yeah… yeah, I think I will too.”

A heady silence swells between you. His thumb brushes along your lower lip again, eyes watching the way your swollen mouth yields to his touch. The tip of your tongue slides out and glides over the tip of his digit, just for a second.

“Probably got your friends all worried,” Joel says then, hand dropping to his side. “Must be wonderin’ where you got to.”

You swallow down the disappointment you feel. It burns its way down your throat and into your stomach, not unlike the whiskey had. I don’t care, you want to say. Take me home with you. But you nod and agree. Glance in the mirror and rake numb fingers through bird’s nest hair, trying to tame your wild appearance. You swear you feel his hand graze the hem of your skirt one last time, playing with the soft material while he stares at you in the mirror.

The bubble pops as he unlocks the door, outside sounds rushing in through the gap, infiltrating the space that once smelt like sex and lust and now just feels like any other room. Joel doesn’t kiss you again. Doesn’t touch you. He steps into the hall, and you follow him out. And when he trails toward one side of the bar, with a final lingering glance at you over his shoulder, you begrudgingly head in the opposite direction to the booth, where your almost strangers await you with curious eyes and pinched brows.

Tuesday.

You feel hungover on the day of your first lecture.

A dull ache blossoms behind your left eye, a persistent reminder of how little sleep you had the night before. Your fingers wrap tightly around a tall styrofoam cup, and you take slow mouthfuls of the black coffee inside, attempting to savour the liquid gold, and letting the caffeine act as a saving grace for as long as possible.

You were normally so much better than this, too. Years had passed since your undergrad, and in the past you’d prided yourself on being punctual and prepared. But apparently one of the professors for this semester had it out for you, because when the required weekly prep work for your 9 o’clock Tuesday morning lecture was released the day prior, you were stunned to find that it included an entire fucking book.

After spending a dutiful two hours going over the weekly notes and required journal articles, you’d found yourself glaring at three sentences, written casually at the bottom of the professor’s notes.

Also, read Hesiod’s ‘Theogony’. It will do you well to have these ideas and themes fresh as you undertake the first weeks of this class. See you tomorrow.

Cue you staying up until two am reading fucking Theogony, and walking to your first lecture with a near-permanent yawn sprawled across your face.  

As you approach history commons, a guy wearing a bottle green shirt that reads UNIVERSITY OF NEW ENGLAND in garish gold lettering shakes a pamphlet in your direction. It has a picture of a girl in a tiny athletic uniform on the front, preparing to spike a volleyball. You avoid eye contact and sidestep him quickly, continuing into the building.

The theatre room is easy enough to find.

Thirty odd chairs line the space on an incline, all facing toward a desk at the front of the room. A projector hangs from the ceiling, displaying the beginning of a slide show on a white wall. The slide is a muted beige colour, with stark black lettering that spells out: The Language and Literature of the Odyssey and the Aeneid.

Your professor stands with his back to the room, shuffling through a myriad of notebooks and loose-leaf pages splayed across the desk. Standard.

You traipse your way up the stairs, buoyed along by the steady stream of other students shuffling into the room, and take a seat a few rows from the front. Not too far back that you seem disinterested, and not so close that your professor will notice you falling asleep on the first day.

You open your notes on your laptop and then slump back into your chair, slurping down the final morsels of coffee in your cup before discarding it to the floor by your feet. And then the room quietens as a final group of students file in, heavy door swinging closed behind them, and you allow your eyes to rest upon the man at the foot of the space.

He’s tall. It’s impossible not to notice that first. Tall and broad. A thin white dress shirt stretches across the arch of his back, fighting to pull free from where it’s tucked neatly into the waist of his brown pants. From where you’re seated, you can see a dark head of hair shaking side to side every few moments, the man muttering inaudibly as he peers down at his notes.

You glance down at your laptop again. Watch your cursor blink against the white screen. And then you hear it.

“Alright folks,” an all too familiar voice drawls. “Let’s get down to it.”

You stiffen in your chair. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, palms going damp as a memory flits through your brain. One of your own voice.

An accent like that is hard to ignore.

You can’t make out what he’s saying anymore, every word overpowered by the sudden roar of your own heartbeat in your ears.

Slowly—so fucking slowly—you peel your eyes away from your laptop and glance upward.

And there he is, in all his glory. Pearly white smile. Strong jaw. Dark eyes.

Joel… your professor.

Fuck.  

thank you for reading!! x

[verstappensseatcushion]

✩°｡⋆ pas de deux, ln4 ⋆｡°✩pt 4

part one part two part three

pairing: lando norris x fem! ballerina! reader

[face claim: luna montana is largely used as faceclaim but some other pinterest girlies in there too]

summary: y/n is new to monaco and quickly finds herself dancing with mclaren driver lando norris despite all intentions she has of focusing on only her career

a/n: i did not proof read so im so sorry if there's spelling mistakes at all! hope everyone had a happy holiday

y/n.ballet posted on their story

⟡⟡⟡

"i think some of the other drivers should be here soon," alex, charles girlfriend, says loudly over the music.

you've been out with charles and his friends for a few hours now, meeting for drinks at someone's yacht and now at a club that you can't remember the name of. alex has quickly become the person you're clinging to, as one of the only other girls out.

"oh! i didn't know anyone else was coming," you yell back. she shrugs and gets up to pull you along with her to the dancefloor.

when you return to the booth in the corner there are more guys at the table, all laughing to themselves as they take a round of shots. charles being the first to notice yours and alex's return goes to introduce you to the new arrivals.

"everyone this is y/n," his words slur together a bit, he then points to everyone, even the ones you've met already, and reintroduces them. "and lastly we have lando."

he looks familiar, and not just from seeing him on tv or in advertisements around monaco, but it's like you've met before.

⟡⟡⟡

y/n.ballet posted on their story

⟡⟡⟡

it's been at least an hour, and a few more drinks, since the other drivers met you guys at the club. you, alex, lando, and charles are sitting in the booth after everyone else abandoned the group for dancing. you've been sitting quietly, giggling with alex, as charles and lando go back and forth telling stories about each other.

alex leans towards charles, whispering something into his ear. he nods and then announces that they're gonna leave soon.

"i should leave too, its getting late i think," looking at your phone you see it's nearly 2am. you go to crawl out of the booth and stumble a bit trying to gain your balance. a hand reaches and grabs your arm steadying you.

"is someone taking you home?" lando asks looking down at you, hand still on your arm.

"that's a bit forward isn't it?"

"wha-oh, not like that, i mean how are you getting home," he sighs, "you're clearly drunk y/n, and no one in their right mind would let you get home alone."

giggling you try to touch both your fingers to your nose (not entirely correctly but the thought was there), "see not drunk im fine! plus i dont live far im just going to walk back to my apartment,"

"let me walk you?" he asks, moving his hand to the small of your back as he guides you to the exit.

...

"and tulip fever is why I like tulips so much, it's honestly one of the best movies I've ever watched," it's been about 20 minutes of you blabbering non-stop, walking through the middle of the street as lando follows you, "oh my god I walked into you the other day that's where I know you from! je le savais! I was on my way to classes and completely walked into you, im so sorry by the way. I can be so out of it someti-"

"breathe," lando cuts you off laughing, "I don't think you've stopped talking once since we left."

you blush with embarrassment, "I'm so sor-"

"don't apologize it's cute, I like it," he cuts you off again, "do you know where you're going, or have you just been walking down random roads hoping your apartment appears?"

you point at the building on the corner, "it's this building! I know where I'm going!"

"are you sure? because this the second time we've been on this street."

"yes I'm sure," you laugh, swatting at his chest.

he follows you as you enter the door code and walk up the stairs to your apartment door, "you coming in?" you ask.

"not tonight, just making sure the pretty girl made it home safely," he smiles, giving a half wave as he goes back down the stairs.

"goodnight lando."

"goodnight y/n."

⟡⟡⟡

y/n.ballet

liked by ybfusername, landonorris and 4,019 others.

y/n.ballet à propos de la nuit dernière 🌷

ybfusername you better be prepared to explain those flowers missy

username5 where's the dress from?? 😍

username2 gorgeous smile

view 43 other comments

landonorris

liked by y/n.ballet, username3 and 320,872 others.

landonorris about last night 🕶

username1 that second pic omg

username3 DJ LANDOOOOO

view 4,274 other comments

[inkskinned]

being single in your late 20s & 30s is so fucking wild bc on one hand it's fun and flirty and you skip a lot of the bullshit because you know what you're looking for and you know how to spot a red flag from a mile away and you've learned to set boundaries and communicate your own and be upfront about your needs and most of the time they've learned it too - and if they haven't, you can tell after the second date that they haven't been to therapy

and every time you feel lonely and dried up and an ugly husk there's a whole community of other single people out there who are just as unhinged and want to hang out with you because they just need a plus-one like you do and you get introduced to like. people in their 60's and 70's and 80's who are all like - nope, single life is my choice and i love it and you feel warm and seen and like okay, it's not the end of the world if i'm not seeing anybody. and yeah it's hard and sometimes exhausting but part of getting better is that you do make like so many friends and do so much wild shit because you made a promise to yourself that you'll actually get out there and try shit and actually work on your hobbies and skills and friendships because to be honest in relationships you wouldn't push yourself this hard and it's actually been super rewarding because it came from you and from what you wanted

and yes of course the apps such and dating in general can suck but after one of the bad dates you go back to your apartment and call up those friends you made and make jokes about what the other person said and it rolls right off your back and you have plans for self-care in the morning. you prioritize yourself and your happiness and you really actually don't mind it, a lot of the time, unless it's like at a wedding and they're doing one of those couples-related things. most of the time it's not even a problem except when you can tell people pity you for it and you're like - i'm actually fine, babe, even without a partner i am still, like a person and yes of course it would be nice to have a partner but you have established yourself as a person and as an adult in a way that feels really hard-won and well-earned and you're protective of that and of the life you're living and honestly you're pretty happy, all things considered

and at the same time you do have to tell your father that you are single on purpose right now and that, yes, believe it or not, they're letting women be single past the age of 30 these days without burning us at the stake (can you imagine!) and you have to kind of sit pretty while people make jokes about how you're losing your marriageability and you're like, a little too old for the bars and the clubs and whatever but you do still want to go out dancing and it's like. the other day you went to a board game party and had the time of your life and then your mom calls you and says she's worried because what if you never find the one, shouldn't you be spending more time looking? and you're like - trying to balance this place where you're actually, like, perfectly okay? except you hear this thing over and over and over - oh no. that's so sad. i hope you find your lover. and you weren't really upset about it until someone suggested that you're running out of time and until someone said that it's so miserable that you live without someone to kiss and you're like why can't anyone believe that i'm genuinely happy. like. joy. like. bliss.

and then they look at you and they look at their partner and the look passes between them that says - poor thing. you're just lying to yourself about this.

[beneathsilverstars]

been doing research on writing plural systems for sif+loop in mundane modern aus, and i think i've got a solid idea of what i want to do! specifics may vary by au but i wanted a base set of headcanons to vary from, so sif+loop being a system can be a background fact of my au musings instead of something i have to reinvent every time.

(i'm a singlet so if any systems have concrit or thoughts they want to share i'd be happy to hear it! i'm not like planning a fic or anything currently, but it's still nice to not be working off of misconceptions for my silly little posts.)

siffrin took over as the main host in their late teens and doesn't remember anything from before that. in their early-mid 20s their work/housing situation was horrible and when they couldn't take another day like that, siffrin split into loop (who kept the mid 20s memories, with a new personality) and siffrin take two (who remembers the 17-20 era a bit better, but then there's a big gap). between the two of them they were able to cope better and hold a not-as-awful job and get a shitty apartment all to themselves!

siffrin fronts more often on average, because they're better at quietly accomplishing day-to-day tasks. but if he gets too overwhelmed or anxious (think their mini loop-backs in canon) then loop takes over, bc loop dgaf about some of the things siffrin worries about, and doesn't shut down as easily. but since they don't bottle up their feelings as severely, they're more likely to react outwardly and make rash choices like quitting their job, being rude, splurging on little treats, etc. so that's why siffrin is the default fronter for things like work and chores, when he's feeling up to it.

loop is fairly aware of what's going on while siffrin is fronting - sometimes they choose to tune more of it out, but they can catch most of it if they want to, and sometimes siffrin will talk to them or nudge them to pay attention. since they know at least the basics of what siffrin was up to, they can usually step in pretty smoothly when they need to take over! and it's very easy for them to take over, with or without siffrin's say-so, though they try to ask if it's not an emergency (and if it is an emergency, siffrin is likely trying to back away from the front anyway).

when loop is fronting, though, siffrin is entirely away, dreaming in the void. loop can nudge them for a vague opinion or relevant memory, but they can't hold a full conversation and they're not aware of what loop's doing. when loop puts them in the front again they're usually disoriented and need a moment for loop to tell them what's been happening. and again, loop is the one deciding to switch; sometimes siffrin might resist getting pulled back if they're still feeling bad, or get antsy and start reaching out if they've been asleep a while or are having bad dreams, but they're not gonna react to environmental situations since they're not aware of them.

mal is in there too but doesn't front. its role is to be socially hyper-vigilant, pointing out when other people might be upset at them so the alter who's fronting knows to fix it or avoid the person. it's been around longer than siffrin, and was helpful way back then, but now that siffrin and loop have worked out an effective balance and are fairly safe, mal's behavior is somewhat maladaptive (ha!). it's not super directly aware of the outside world like loop is, not anymore at least, but it does get secondhand memories from both siffrin and loop. it actually sometimes remembers facts and details that sif and loop both quickly forgot, because maybe those details will end up relevant to spotting and avoiding future problems - but since it got the memories secondhand and filtered them through a particularly paranoid worldview, it's likely to misremember subjective interpretations as literal truth, so you gotta take its claims with a grain of salt.

it mostly hangs out in the void imagining fractals and whatnot these days, keeping an eye on siffrin while they sleep. it occasionally perks up and chimes in with its pessimistic point of view when siffrin is really upset - it can communicate better with sleeping siffrin than loop can. loop is not on speaking terms with it because they're mad that it goes behind loop's back and makes siffrin more upset right when loop is trying to shield him from the upsetting situation. but siffrin doesn't mind it bc it's just trying to help in its own way, and sometimes it is helpful to face their fears in plain words instead of avoiding them. and siffrin will sometimes ask it for help with like, puzzles, because it's good at pattern recognition.

there's also a no-longer-quite-dormant alter that presumably fronted for much of the body's childhood. they don't hang out in siffrin and mal's void, and they don't talk to anyone else within the system. but now that the system is more safe and stable, every once in a while something will catch their attention and they'll gently push to the front and start talking. as soon as their train of thought is interrupted they're gone again, and the other alters don't even remember that they got usurped for a moment, a la siffrin's bits of telling childhood anecdotes in canon. loop and siffrin have surmised that they exist, and call them the lost one.

mal has also implied that there's at least one more dormant alter, but it's from before siffrin-and-loop's time and possibly mal's as well.

if something happens that's so distressing that siffrin retreats into headspace and loop won't take over either, the body goes into dissociated autopilot. it will follow basic one-step instructions (such as "follow me" or "eat this"), speak in a couple simple scripts (such as answering "how are you" with "i'm fine"), and complete rote tasks such as taking a familiar route home from work or going to bed. loop doesn't pay much attention because that would defeat the point / put them back in front, so they usually have very little if any idea of what happened in this state, but it is possible for outside events to catch their attention enough for them to try fronting again. otherwise they'll be back next time the body wakes up. siffrin, on the other hand, usually won't front for at least a day or two after this happens, and will likely have forgotten the events leading up to it as well.

it doesn't happen very often since it's the very last resort, after siffrin dissociating, loop taking over, and loop dissociating. loop and siffrin don't consider the autopilot an alter because it doesn't form memories, have emotions or opinions, or interact in the headspace; it just follows where it's led, by habit or outside influence. loop has argued in favor of trying to imbue it with more personhood so it's less uncanny for other people to interact with and can get loop's attention when the distressing thing is over, but siffrin argues that if it can think that defeats the point, and they'd just end up with this new alter and a new autopilot.

past all that, the specifics will depend on the exact au; particularly the ratio of loop time to siffrin time will depend on how much siffrin works and how awful their job is, whether siffrin and/or loop have friends yet, etc. but i think when they're doing pretty well they'd be happy with siffrin doing work/chores and most of the activities that they both enjoy (since then they'll both remember it), and loop fronting for maybe a third of their free time to do their own thing, and maybe here and there if something goes wrong at work. and then if siffrin starts feeling burnt out, they swap for a couple days of loop doing most things and siffrin just coming out for an hour or two. siffrin and mal probably talk maybe a couple times a month, unless siffrin is really going through it, in which case they might talk a lot for a couple days. it also might be possible for mal to eventually adapt a little more to being safe, and start providing a wider range of possible interpretations instead of just the worst case scenario.

ok that's all! and as i said, i'm totally open to feedback. :3

[tsukinoakume]

RW&RB MovieAlex vrs BookAlex: A Rant

I'm late to the party on Red, White, and Royal Blue for a dumb reason and now I'm obsessed with it. OMG I WAS SO WRONG.

I love the book. I love the movie. I also love the difference between them that I find myself obsessing over: the lack of June.

I love June. I'm also not mad that they removed her from the movie, because I honestly don't think they had the time to do her justice. The important thing is that when they removed her, they split her personality and scenes between Nora and Alex. And the result is fascinating.

Combining June with Alex gives us a calmer, more emotionally mature, competent version of Alex. He is definitely not the hot mess that BookAlex is. (Don't get me wrong here: BookAlex is my favorite character.) But now it's implied that MovieAlex is better at keeping his temper, handles his shit without being micromanaged, advocates for himself more, and I'm pretty sure the speech he gives is his own. Probably with help, but still. Also not having divorced parents means MovieAlex doesn't have BookAlex's abandonment issues. It's never said that his parents' relationship is perfect, but it's implied that he's had a stable family background. MovieAlex still has flaws and he's not Nora Levels of Competency, but he's definitely a lot more balanced. And this actually changes his relationship with Henry, just a little.

Namely in reference to my two favorite scenes:

1) Storming the Castle.

BookAlex is a ball of rage in this scene, and it's GLORIOUS. Yelling at the windows, aggressively dripping everywhere trying to ruin the rugs, making rude comments about Henry's ancestors. He is defiant. He yells, Henry yells back. It ends in tears, but there's a lot of anger.

MovieAlex by contrast is quieter, more hurt. He hardly yells at all. (I rewatched this scene like 20 times for Repeat to be sure.) He's determined, and he doesn't back down, but you get to see that split second of fear in his eyes that Henry is asking him to leave. There's a lot more emotion and tears in this version. It's ... sweeter isn't the right word. Bittersweet, maybe.

Downside: The lack of transition in the morning from the book. I miss Alex expecting to be dumped, and Henry realizing he doesn't want Phillip's life before deliberately making the choice to be with Alex. Also the comment on Alex's hair, which made me giggle.

2) The Museum Scene

I know a lot of people are disappointed with this scene, and I feel the need to argue about why it's brilliant the way it is.

In the book, they go to the museum because Henry has made his choice, and now he's showing one of his favorite places to Alex. He's the one who brings up the music. He chooses to fulfill his fantasy with Alex there, and he chooses to play a song that embodies the romanticism of their situation, about being in love and not being able to let anyone else know. Your Song.

In the movie, they go to the museum when Henry's still trying to decide if this is something he can have, and he's sharing a part of himself with Alex when he talks about his fantasy. Alex is the one who chooses to fufill it, so of course he chooses a different song. For him, it's a song about how easy it is to love Henry. I Can't Help Falling In Love With You.

I also love that they changed Henry giving the ring to Alex to Alex giving Henry his key in return. I love the symbolism of Alex keeping Henry's ring safe for him, of their two homes side by side. But I also love the idea of exchanging parts of themselves. I love that they have those pieces of each other when they're separated and the emails are exposed.

The book tells the story better overall because it has the time to, and the bickering and friendship between the boys is everything. The movie makes me melt over the flirting and affection between them. I can't pick one over the other because both versions of this story are wonderful.

But emotionally mature MovieAlex and how soft he is with Henry, making sure Henry's taken care of? I am WEAK for that.

[ethansluvbot]

hotch unconsciously favouring new bau!reader and she doesn’t even notice 😭😭 she just thinks he’s super sweet and everyone is like 🤨🤨 where’s our special treatment aye?

WHERE DO WE GO NOW | A. HOTCHNER

warnings: mostly fluff, but a kiss?

an: SORRY I TOOK SO LONG HOPE YOU LOVE IT, ignore how bad im at writing like technical fbi stuff lol

as he returns to his seat on the jet, hotch gives you a pack of food and some water. you put your earplugs back in after grinning and thanked him. morgan smirked at his boss's strange actions, but he remained silent.

"all right, let's briefly review the case's facts. while morgan and prentiss travel to the M.E., jj and reid head to the crime site. y/n and i will head over to receive a briefing. okay, everyone, let's get going."

you smooth your dress down and collect your belongings, trailing hotch in the process. as soon as you enter, he opens the door for you and goes inside for a briefing.

"the victim's boyfriend last spoke with shelby at 9:02 p.m. we spoke with the bartender at jack's bar, where she was around for the majority of the evening at 9:30. we are currently obtaining the security footage from her. tell my staff or me if you need anything."

spencer said as he left the room, "i'm going to call garcia and ask for access to the security cameras sooner rather than later."

"how's jack doing?"

"he is doing well! he does, however, truly miss you, especially your homemade chocolate chip cookies."

"does he miss the cookies or do you?" you chuckle.

Thinking to himself, "I will not answer that question," you smile and wondered who else he let his guard down for. we was always open to you, even though he never discussed his past with others.

"what would you say about you, jack, and I visiting the aquarium? ever since you got him that ipad, he has been telling me about dolphins, and i get texts all the time."

as he takes a sip of coffee, reid enters the room and says, "garcia has found the camera footage. what did I ruin something?"

1 HOUR LATER

"as of right now, it appears that the unsub prefers women who are between the ages of late 20 and early 30. Every victim carries a huge risk, and I think he enjoys the possibility of exposure. kidnapped from bar parking lots despite the fact that his face is constantly hidden. he has a dark-colored van and it's clear by the signature he injures the victim, since he has a long-term damage of his own.

"y/n i would prefer if you would lay low on this case, you fit the profile and i don't want anything to happen to you."

"are you certain? given the profile, it could be the greatest option for us."

he nods while leaning back in your chair, knowing that he thought too highly of you to see you be in harms way. you have no idea how much more than you realized he cared for you.

"fine, do not put yourself into a situation where you know it will end bad."

the remaining members of the team carrying on the discussion regarding the unsub's actions. garcia chiming in with men who match the description. you gently brush your hair away from your face and glance at the hotch. even though you quickly avert his gaze, you can still feel his eyes on you.

"i'm sorry to break this terrible news, but I believe there is a match for this suspect. i'm sending you travis's records and the last two address on file." the group leaps up and sprints towards the available cars. together, you and hotch jump into the car navigating your way to his address.

you get out of the car as soon as you get there. as you search the house, some of the team arrives, and you head upstairs. Your mouth is grabbed by a hand and you are slid into a room. you fall as a result of your head slamming into the wall.

you were able to get up and cause him to lose his balance by kicking the back of his knees. your body reverts to its limp form. travis limps his way back toward your body. there's a shot, and you reach for your gun. You turn to face the hotch, who is gripping his gun.

You say, "thank you," as he helps you leave the house. doctors are rushing to your side right away. hotch stays by your side throughout the whole thing. It is a blessing to have someone who is as concerned as he is.

He asks in jest, "so you still up for the aquarium?"

TINY BONUS

With your earbuds in but the volume down enough to hear the entire conversation, the team continues to tease you on the flight back. "Where's our special treatment?" you chuckle to yourself in private.

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Hi, me again, this time with the prompt "6. coffee in bed" 🙏

Send me soft prompts! Find the finished ones on AO3!

Buck has long since resigned himself to the fact that his sleep schedule is well and truly fucked. 24 hour shifts were all well and good in his 20s, but now at the ripe old age of 32 he collapses as soon as he gets home like someone’s hit a hard reset switch, and he never knows if he’ll wake up in an hour or ten. Frankly, he doesn’t know how Bobby is still upright, though he’d never say it to his face.

So, blinking awake on a Sunday (maybe) morning (possibly) in June, he has no idea how long he’s been down. His eyes are glued shut, so probably a while. He throws an arm out and it smacks immediately into Eddie, who grunts.

“Morning?” It’s sort of a greeting and sort of a question, and he feels weight shift on the bed as Eddie cranes to check the clock.

“9:15.”

“Mm.” Buck scrubs a hand over his face and blinks open his eyes. Eddie looks like he's just been taken out of one of those vacuum seal bags you pack your clothes in when you're trying to save space in a suitcase, and Buck has to lean over and kiss him about it.

"Oh my god, Buck," Eddie mumbles, pushing him away with his whole hand smushed against his face. "Did you eat roadkill for dinner?"

"Don't you insult Bobby's casserole like that." Buck goes for Eddie's neck instead but ends up yawning against his jugular. "Fuck. I'm gonna get coffee." He starts to roll over but Eddie slings an arm around him and pulls him back down.

"It's being taken care of," he says, burying his face into Buck's shoulder. "Act surprised."

Buck makes a questioning face at him, but his boyfriend is busy being half asleep again and nuzzling his pec, so he just lays there squinting at the ceiling and wondering if Eddie has developed some sort of coffee based telekinesis. He's started thinking about practical applications in the field (does it have to be hot coffee? How big a container can it be in? Can they just start remotely dumping venti iced lattes on fires?) when Chris enters the room, carefully transporting two mugs. Eddie flops onto his back and then flops upright, passing the mugs to Buck and pulling Chris down for a kiss on the forehead.

"Happy father's day," Chris says, only scrunching his nose a little at the display of affection.

"Thanks, kid," Eddie smiles at him, already flapping a hand at Buck to get his coffee back. He takes a sip as Chris leaves the room again, and Buck holds onto the other warm ceramic in his hands, suddenly feeling very awake and a little awkward.

"Uh- I can head out, if you want."

Eddie squints at him over his coffee. "Why?"

Buck waves towards the kitchen. "You know, if you and Chris want to spend the day together."

Eddie's still making a face at him. "Buck-"

Whatever he was going to say is interrupted by Chris returning, even more carefully balancing a tray of food in his arms. He sets it down on the bed and Eddie eagerly pulls it over, grabbing a waffle piled high with whip cream.

"Cards first!" Chris admonishes, sitting at the foot of the bed.

"Oh, o-kay, okay," Eddie laughs, picking up one of two folded pieces of paper tucked under the plates.

"Two cards!" Buck grins, stretching his foot under the covers to nudge Chris. "Your dad's a lucky guy."

Chris makes the same face his dad had just been making. "One's for you, Buck."

Buck's pretty sure his face makes the exact expression of the emoticon with the colon and the capital o. "Me?"

"Yeah," Chris says, like obviously Buck gets a father's day card, duh, don't be stupid. Buck kind of just freezes there, rebooting, until Eddie grabs the paper and swaps it with the mug still clutched in his hand and he looks down to read it automatically.

On the front, in suspenseful italic, are the words "When Rodan flaps his wings…" and Buck coughs out a laugh, remembering last month's Godzilla night where they'd stayed up way too late watching movies while Eddie was covering for someone on B shift. He opens the card and doesn't start crying immediately, thank you, he lasts a few seconds with dry eyes. On the inside is a full spread drawing of the fiery pteranodon looming over the city of Los Angeles. On the bottom left a firefighter stands on a rooftop, blasting him in the face with a hose. Written in the sky is "... Buck saves the day!"

"Told you he'd cry," Eddie says, smug. Buck tries to glare at him but he's just a big blur through the tears.

"You're so mean to me," he croaks, reaching out blindly for moral support from Christopher, the superior Diaz. Chris shuffles over and wraps him in a hug which, oh boy, doesn't help the crying situation. "Th-thank you," he manages to get out, clinging to the kid a little and fully expecting him to pull away all huffy and teenager-like.

Chris just rests his head against Buck's. "You've been my dad, like, forever," he says quietly, and, really, it's too early in the day to be put through a trash compactor like this. "I probably should have made more cards to make up for the other years."

Buck makes a sound like "gk!" and feels Eddie's hand on his side. "Well, we don't want him to actually keel over. That would be an embarrassing ambulance ride."

Buck laughs, and it sounds wet and gross, and then kisses the side of Chris's head, which probably feels wet and gross. "I love you, so much."

"I know," Chris says, grinning. "I love you too, Buck. Eat your waffle. I put sprinkles on it!"

Buck laughs again, and pulls Chris up onto the bed with them to share. He's big, growing up so quick, and two grown men and a teenager are a pretty cramped fit on a queen mattress, but none of the three members of this family that Buck somehow, miraculously belongs to minds the proximity.

"Happy father's day, Buck," Eddie says, eyes heart twistingly soft as he kisses Buck's cheek. "Glad you're here with me. With us."

Buck makes a face as his eyes start stinging again, and covers Chris's eyes so he can lean forward and kiss Eddie on the mouth, quick. "No place I'd rather be."

[hms-no-fun]

a little late asking you a question but do you have some favourite books to share? and why they are your favourite? like such as how did they influence your way of thinking, your relationship with art, your way of writing, &c.

i've gotten a few asks about books/writing that influenced me and this is the most open-ended one, so, congratulations on winning that lottery anon.

the book that most recently affected me is The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. Le Guin. it's about a representative from an intergalactic alliance of worlds embedding within and learning about the culture of a previously uncontacted civilization, to try to get them to join. but really, it's about observing the sociological particulars of a human culture where everyone is functionally intersex, and sort of swap male/female gender roles during the time period when they're (for lack of the term actually used in the book that i can't remember) "in heat". it's an astonishing work of science fiction that is every bit as good as its reputation suggests. i had a hard time getting into the first 20-30 pages, but once it really digs into the particulars of "shifgrethor" (this culture's all-important sense of decorum and near-invisible communication that the protagonist struggles to understand til the end) i was hooked. i love fictional social systems. i'm a homestuck, i can't help it. there's a profound materialism in how Le Guin observes this culture into being that unlocked something in me. i'll be thinking about the journey across the ice for the rest of my life.

i was also very inspired by This Is How You Lose The Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone, perhaps the most pure distillation of the feminine desire to hatefuck your rival into an ascendant beacon of cosmic revolution yet put to the page. much of how they write about time travel has made it into godfeels, not to mention the wildly extravagant and brief but numerous visions of absolutely batshit speculative alt-history tableau. i mean, the way they talk about Atlantis as this sort of annoying constant of the timeline, sometimes real and sometimes fake depending on the strand, definitely casts a shadow over the metaphysics explored in Chapter 8.

the other book i always recommend alongside Time War, because i read them at the same time while i was in the middle of production on Chapter 8 in 2021, is There Is No Antimemetics Division by qntm. anyone who's read it or knows about it can immediately spot the gargantuan influences it's had on Silverbark's narrative in Chapter 8 and especially in Double Album. if you're not aware, Antimemetics Division is a standalone SCP novel about a branch of the Foundation dedicated to studying & intercepting the phenomenon of antimemes, ideas & entities that defy our ability to remember them in various ways. think The Silence in Matt Smith's second season of Doctor Who, or the Void Fish in the Balance arc of The Adventure Zone. i'm not an SCP person at all, i think i've read maybe half a dozen other SCP entries, so i'm not totally full of it when i say this book stands very tall on its own two legs. i very much intend to take a closer look at it in detail down the road because i think, whether intentional or not, the main "villain" of Antimemetics Division operates as a very handy analogue for the socio/psycho-logical effects of the profit motive on individuals & on society at large. also: Marion Wheeler is so fucking good. i did not know she existed when i came up with Silverbark but you bet your ass it's an influence now.

a non-fiction book that's had an outsized influence on me is Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig. i always feel self conscious about bringing this one up because it sounds like a self-help book or some kind of Chicken Soup for the Soul ass grifter textbook. that absolutely could not be farther from reality. ZAMM was written in the 60s and it's a semi-autobiographical philosophy of metaphysics text by a professor of rhetoric who some years ago underwent electroshock therapy after a destructive manic phase. it follows Pirsig on a motorcycle trip across the American west with his son and some college friends, as he tries to uncover the ideas that drove his past self (who he characterizes as a different person that he calls Phaedrus) off the wall. those ideas concern the nature of "quality" and how we perceive it. as in, why should we Know that a good painting is "good" within seconds of examining it, in the same manner that we know a stove is hot almost before we've even touched it? he digs deep into how we conceptualize the split between objectivity and subjectivity, and posits that understanding Quality requires a substantial re-evaluation of our base assumptions about human perception. of course there's SO much more to it than that, it's a beautiful and strange book that succeeds in part because its philosophy is deeply couched within the metaphor of a road trip, making it a lot more accessible than an otherwise straightforward metaphysics text. i read it in an honor's philosophy class full of incurious Christians at age 22, and that was absolutely the perfect time for it.

another non-fiction entry would be Acceptable Men by communist labor agitator Noel Ignatiev. it's a memoir about his time working at Gary Steel Works in the 70s, at the time the largest steel works factory in the world. it relates in very simple terms how racism sabotaged the USAmerican labor movement through anecdotes from his workplace. it's important, i think, for those of us dreaming of & pushing for a more equitable world to stare long and hard at struggles past and not lose their most valuable lessons in our desire to simply have it be true that unions are good. they are good but they're not everything, and in fact they're just as capable of systemic dysfunction and capitulation to capitalist white supremacy as any other organization of human beings.

what else? i started reading The Traitor Baru Cormorant and much enjoyed its early pages, but holy shit that's one long book in a series of long books. people are telling me to read Exordia so i might give that a shot. i've got Gretchen Felker-Martin's Manhunt as well as May Leitz's Girlflesh on my desk, just waiting for the day i'm psychologically prepared to be ravaged by transfem body horror. i keep picking away at China Mieville's October, i'm sure one of these days i'll just sit down and power through it. of course i recommend everyone check out Lenin's State and Revolution, great book from the original poster, absolutely still relevant more than a hundred years later. and much easier to read than you might expect! no one ever talks about how entertaining he is as a writer, unless you hang out with communists in which case you're probably sick of us never shutting up about it.

i hope there's some good stuff in there, and not too much that i've written about before. i really need to make myself read more, but then again who doesn't?

[bengiyo]

She Loves to Cook, and She Loves to Eat 2 Eps 1-4 Stray Thoughts

The lesbian sister to WDYEY is back and I am so ready to see these two get deeper into their romance. They had barely started when we left.

Episode 1

THEM. I missed Yuki and Kasuga as much as I missed Shiro and Kenji.

Love that both WDYEY and SLTCSLTE are struggling with inflation.

God this rice bowl looks great.

Ladies, I know food is pricey lately but you cannot sacrifice these meals together. This is an important aspect of your relationship. Can we just discuss modifying the menu??

I love the work bestie. She cuts through the noise and calls it what it is. Nomoto is lonely because she stopped hanging out with the person she's falling for.

Kasuga is definitely not moving out. You see that TV and chair? She's settled. I love her because she does everything real big.

Yes! Have a mochi party! You both like hanging out together!

I was into the mochi pizza concept until they added corn. No thanks

Smash cutting into Nomoto fighting off the itis is exactly what I hoped for in the mochi party.

They're both so tentative with each other, but at least the fondness is obvious.

Episode 2

Wow they captured all of lesbian film discourse in one tweet. The only part they missed was a comment about it being a period piece.

Of course she's gonna watch this film from her kitchen table with a tablet. I get it but you have a friend with an enormous TV.

Baby's first gay film. It'll do that to you. I'm fairly certain my first film was Get Real (1998). I'm not sure what my first lesbian one was. It's either Chasing Amy (1997), But I'm a Cheerleader (1999) or Pariah (2011).

Oh good. Nomoto and Sayama were both offered positions. I was worried they'd be outted against each other.

We have a young woman who just moved in who has a bunch of quality ingredients and no idea what to do with them..she looks a bit disheveled and tired. She is in the lesbian food drama. Oh yeah. It's all coming together.

This was really excellent. The imagery of all this raw potential in the new tenant via her ingredients she doesn't know how to use, with Kasuga's ability to move them around, and Nomoto's ability to find a way to turn it into something delicious. I am ready.

Yes, Kasuga! Suggest meal dates! Nomoto's eyes dilate every time!

Episode 3

I like Sayama a lot. I appreciate that they have her pursuing het romance so I don't have to wonder about romantic tension between her and Nomoto.

There's such a huge demisexual component to Nomoto that I really love.

Wow, it's actually so unexpected to see a romance say that the big swells of emotion in film don't match the experience some of us are having. This is how I've felt my entire life.

Nagumo, you have two women who live alone who want to feed you. You gotta let them in, girl.

Kasuga is always so direct about how much she enjoys spending time with Nomoto.

I love Kasuga so much. She asked Nomoto how to receive the news about her new project at work and didn't assume.

I like these two admitting that they like their lives right now.

Episode 4

I love that Nomoto is doing research now that she knows how to describe her feelings.

I'm so invested in these cabbage rolls you have no idea. I need Nagumo to eat one.

450 yen is not bad for that amount of food! Food is so expensive in America!

I'm losing it over this sushi mat business.

I'm worried about Nagumo! She doesn't seem unloved by her family, but she's clearly going through it!

Nagumo is a gamer, and she put her fridge on the opposite wall Kasuga and Nomoto did.

The Japanese really snapped when they decided that soup was a requirement of most meals.

These rolls look delicious.

I hope the friend on Twitter gets revealed.

I love these two so much, and I'm glad we have 20 episodes if this is the romantic pace we're moving at! I like them balancing the challenges of maintaining their dynamic in the changing world, and I like that they were both willing to invite someone else into their space. I especially love that Kasuga encouraged the young woman to be safe and watch out for herself. I can't wait for their romance to be out in the open and for the new neighbor to comment on it.

[atenea14]

Tokyo Love: Shinichiro x Reader 2

Part 2

Part 1 Here Masterlist

Summary: You go on your first date with Shin

Warnings: Just fluff

Word count: 4k

It didn't take Shinichiro long to send me a message so we're meeting this weekend and Rio is more excited about it than I am. She's not fooling me, all she wants is a new source of gossip. Anyway here we are, in my room and she's rummaging through my clothes to find a 'worthy' outfit for the occasion. 

- Y/N you've got too many geeky t-shirts. - I'm offended by that. 

- I'm sorry, but there are never enough of them, right? And the geekier the better. - I look at her indignantly and she looks back at me thoughtfully.

- If I didn't tell you anything, how would you dress for the date? - I admit I wasn't expecting the question. 

- Honestly, depending on the mood I'm in on Saturday. 

- Understandable, okay then how about we think of several sets with different styles? 

- Why are you so interested? 

- Because it's fun, of course. 

- I think you need a date more than me. -Rio sighs as she inspects one of my blouses. 

- Don't remind me.

It's the day of the appointment and I'm more nervous than I expected, why do I suddenly care so much? I look at my watch and realise that I'm on a tight schedule and I still have to get ready but I don't know what to wear, even though I have my outfits pre-prepared. I decide to call Rio. 

- Hello? 

- Rio, it's me.

- Y/N? Why are you calling so early on a Saturday? - I hear her yawning, I must have woken her up.

- It's just... today's the date and I don't know why I'm getting more nervous than I should be.

- It's true, today is the date! Of course you're nervous, silly, because you like him. -  I can imagine her smirk.

- That's not true. 

- Of course it's true and that's why you're panicking.

- You know what? Forget I called. I'll wear whatever.

- Duuuh rude, but I'll forgive you when you tell me all about the date. 

I don't know what I expected from Rio but I decide to stop thinking about it and finally get dressed and head for the train station. 

No way... 20 minutes late for the train? I knew I shouldn't have lingered so long at home. Well, I'll call Shin and let him know. 

I start looking for my mobile in my bag but I can't find it. 

Why am I like this? I left my mobile phone on my bed. 

Shin POV: 

It didn't happen again did it? It wouldn't make sense, Y/N was nice, she even gave me her number... I'm sure she's just late, yeah....

I refuse to think that I've been stood up again, but it's been almost an hour, and I've finished my pack of cigarettes faster than usual because of my nerves. Maybe I should go home. 

- Oi - I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn around to see Wakasa and Takeomi.  

- What are you doing here? - They side glance at each other hesitantly and finally it's Wakasa who answers. 

- Well... we were a bit worried, you know... flirting isn't your thing - I didn't really need to hear that.

- Dude, be more careful. - Takeomi doesn't say anything else and gives me a cigarette.

- Did you call her? - Wakasa is sometimes too direct. But the cigarette relaxes me a bit. 

- Yes, but she didn't answer. -

- Well, don't think the worst of it, from what you've told us she seemed like a nice girl, maybe she has an explanation. - Takeomi tries to cheer me up but right now I just want to go home, if it wasn't for it being so early I'd even go and get drunk.

- I rather not to think abou… -

- Shin-kun!- 

My heart skips a beat as I hear someone shouting my name, I move my gaze to look for where it came from and see Y/N waving at me as she comes running. I can't help but smile as I wave back, until my heart skips another beat as I see her somehow lose her balance on a straight, flat path and fall. I hurry to her side.

-Are you all right? - Y/N raises her head and I see that her eyes are a bit watery as she pouts, I can't help but laugh a bit because I find it adorable. 

- Don't laugh at me! -

- I'm sorry, I'm sorry - Y/N narrows her eyes, trying to look intimidating, but she doesn't succeed at all. - Did you hurt yourself? - I ask her as I help her up and see that she has scraped her knee. 

- Truth is, my ankle hurts. -

Y/N POV: 

Great, limp on my first date, I just can’t get it right. 

- Let's go to a bench so you can sit down and I'll go to a pharmacy, okay? - Shin grabs me by the waist to help me walk and my nerves get even more on edge.

- You don't need to bother. - Shin looks at me in indignation.

- Don't be silly, you're bleeding.-  He helps me sit up and looks me straight in the eye smiling at me, he's so handsome and I can't help but blush.

- Thank you.- We stare at each other for a few seconds, and I'm spellbound. Shin is the first to react.

- All right, I'll be right back - I watch as Shin quickly walks away and realise that I still haven't apologised for being late. Luckily it takes him very little time to return.

- Here, I've brought you some water. - He holds out the bottle and starts to take some things out of the bag, kneels down in front of me and starts tending to my wounds. 

- Thank you very much, really. - Shin looks at me smiling, he has a very kind look on his face.

- It's nothing, besides I have practice treating wounds. - 

- For your little brother? - 

- Uh... yeah, sure. - I see him tense up a bit, but I overlook it. 

- By the way, I'm sorry I was late. 

- Don't worry about it. I called you a couple of times but you didn't answer, actually for a moment I thought you had stood me up. -

- Oh no, I'm sorry to have upset you. It's just that I left home late, the train was quite late and I left my mobile phone at home in my haste… - I feel embarrassed so I look away.

- I see, anyway, I'm glad you're here - I think I'm going to be melting with his smiles for the whole date. -

- I'm glad too. - I look down at the band-aids on my knee and the bandage on my ankle, it looks well done.

- No, I'm better now, thank you. - Shinichiro holds out his hand to help me up, I try to walk and it's still hard, so he holds out his arm to support me. I'm very embarrassed about the whole situation but it's better to hold on to him than to fall again. 

- I had thought about going bowling but maybe we should change our plans, how about we go for a coffee.- I smile and nod.

We ended up in a nice quiet coffee shop. Talking to Shin is very easy so I had a good time and by the time I realised it we had been talking for hours. 

- Oh dear, it's getting pretty late. - Shin looks at the time on his watch.

- That's right, do you want to go somewhere else or shall I walk you home? - I think about it for a moment, I don't want to go home but I don't know what we could do now either.

- I have a free day tomorrow, so we can do something if that's fine with you, do you have any ideas? - Shin smiles at me.

- Yes, let’s go. - He got up quickly and came over to me to help me. - Do the blows still hurt?

- How thoughtful Shin-kun, they bother me a little but I'm much better. - Shin blushes a little and offers me his arm to use as a support.

- I'm glad to hear that. How about a ride on my bike? -

- Oh, uhm... I've never actually ridden one - I don't know why but I'm embarrassed to confess it, maybe it's because of Shin's fascination with them. He quickly changes his expression to a smirk.

- Are you nervous about your first time? Don't worry, I'll be gentle. - I can't help but be startled by his clumsy joke and punch him in the arm. 

- Shin, don't be an idiot. - He starts to laugh so I push him a little with my body in complaint as I pout at him.

- I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. Besides, I know you've never done it before, you told me last time. Now seriously, do you want to go for a ride on the bike? If you don't want to do something else. -

- Oh... my memories of that day are a bit fuzzy... But I do want to, I want to get on one, but you only have one helmet, right? - Shin seems to hesitate a bit until his eyes get fixed on something. 

- I thought so, but it seems that some pixies have done us a favour. - I'm really shocked after hearing this.

- What? - Shin blushes.

- I'm sorry, I promise I'm not weird. It's just that some friends were here earlier and they left another helmet on my bike. That's the one over there, see? - I nod-  You mean the guys you were with when I arrived? -

- The same. - He's clearly more relaxed now than he was at the beginning of the date although he's still a bit socially awkward, it's cute. But I'm not one to talk about social skills, that's for sure. I get so caught up in my thoughts that I don't notice that we've arrived by the bike or the fact that I haven't let go of his arm yet. When I look up, I see that Shin is looking at me.

- Is everything OK? -

- Yes. Which one is my helmet? - Shin takes one and gives it to me.  

- Do you want me to help you put it on? -

- I think I can do it myself. -

- Alright. - While I struggle with the helmet Shin puts his on with no problem and stares at me as I try to adjust it to my size.

- Here, let me help. - I give up when Shin approaches me smiling. - That's it, is it tight? - I shake my head and make a gesture to get on the bike. - Wait, the ride pillion gets in second. 

- What kind of rule is that? - Shin laughs.

- It's the kind of rule that keeps you from falling off the bike by sitting in the back first - it makes sense, will I stop embarrassing myself? I feel my cheeks flush and hear Shin laugh as he climbs on. - It's all right, get on. Lean on my shoulders if you need to. - I realise as I grab his shoulder that he's more muscular than he looks. I manage to pull myself up after a couple of attempts, Shin turns his head to look at me for a moment. - You can either hold on to my shoulders or my torso. - I don't think twice and hug him from behind, Shin gives my hands a little squeeze before he speaks again. - Ready? -

- Yes! - He starts the bike and we start riding through the traffic. I realise I haven't asked him where we're going but I feel safe with him so I don't think too much about it and enjoy the ride. At a traffic light Shin turns his head slightly and takes the opportunity to talk to me.

- Are you doing well? -

- Yes! Where are we going? -

- That's a surprise! In a little while we'll get a bit further away from the traffic so I'll be able to run more, don't panic. -

- Okay! - True to his word, as soon as he can, he accelerates, despite his warning my heart starts to race and I hold on to him tighter. He drives for a while longer, I'm enjoying the ride so I don't know how much time has passed but as we come out of a sharp curve I see that we're coming to the coast. It's been a while since I've been to the beach. A little later Shin parks the bike and we get off. 

- I hope you like the beach. - 

- I'm not a big fan of being in the sun but the sea is beautiful. It's been a long time since I've been here. -

- Do you want to walk a bit along the promenade? Or does your ankle still hurt? -

- It's okay, I’d like to go for a walk. - Shin smiles and offers me his arm again for support so I link our arms and we start walking. I think I'll be able to hold on well with my ankle, I think. As in the café the conversation comes easily but my knee and ankle are starting to hurt again so I ask him if he wants to sit on the sand for a while. We sit in silence for a while looking at the sea until Shin speaks.

- I'm having a great time today, would you like to meet up again? - I turn to face Shin and see that he's already looking at me. 

- Yes, I would like to meet other times, I'm having a good time too. - Shin smiles a huge smile.

- Good. - We stare at each other for a few seconds and Shin slowly approaches me. Seeing that I'm leaning towards him too, he puts his hand on the back of my neck holding my head and we stare at each other. I can't handle the tension so I close the small distance between us and kiss him. Shin tightens his grip a little more and takes control of the kiss, when I gasp for air and pull away a little he pulls me back into him. I could melt in his hands right now, I'm so nervous my heart is going to burst. When we finally pull apart, Shin frowns and makes a worried face, much to my surprise. 

- Are you alright? - I tilt my head, I don't understand why he's asking. 

- Yes, why...? -

- You're shaking. - I didn't notice until he mentioned it.

- Oh... I hadn't noticed, I'm just so nervous… - I blush even more than I already was, if that's possible, and I smile shyly, avoiding Shin's gaze. 

- You're adorable. - Before I can react Shin pulls me to him and kisses me again, this time more softly, then rests his forehead against mine and smiles. I collapse a little from nervousness and I don't know where to put myself so I hug him so I can hide my face in his neck. He hugs me back and it's one of those hugs that feels good, where the person squeezes you without hurting you. Shin pulls away from me and I feel cold, it's getting a little late and the sea breeze is cold. Shin notices. 

- You're adorable. - Before I can react Shin pulls me to him and kisses me again, this time more softly, then rests his forehead against mine and smiles. I collapse a little from nervousness and I don't know where to put myself so I hug him so I can hide my face in his neck. He hugs me back and it's one of those hugs that feels good, where the person squeezes you without hurting you. Shin pulls away from me and I feel cold, it's getting a little late and the sea breeze is cold. Shin notices. 

- Maybe we should go back home, it's late. -

- Yes, it's starting to get cooler - Shin stands up and holds out his hand to me, when I stand up my ankle fails me, it's gotten cold and it hurts a lot so he has to grab my waist so I don't fall down.

- Your injuries? -

- Yes, it's just that my ankle hurts a lot again. - Once I'm stabilised Shin lets go of me and I see him crouch down with his back to me. 

- Hope on, I'll carry you. -

- It's not necessary! I'm quite heavy, and we've had a long walk before. - 

- Don't worry about that, I can carry you without any problems, besides it will be worse if you force your foot. -

I accept his offer and hop on, Shin grabs my legs while I put my arms around his neck so I don't fall off. Quietly and talking about stupid things we get back on the bike. The ride back is quiet, but I still hold on to Shin tightly as I rest my head on his back. Before I know it, we've reached my house. Shin parks the bike and gets off it too. 

- The day has flown by.

- To me too Shin-kun. - He smiles at me and takes a step towards me leaving very little space between us. I didn't notice before because we were sitting but he's so tall, he’s easily one head taller from me so I have to look up. Shin bends down a little and kisses me again, this time it's a goodbye kiss. 

- I'll call you. - He takes my hand for a moment and squeezes it gently. 

- I'll wait for your call then. - I smile at him before turning and walking into the house.

When I get home I run to my room and like a teenager I throw myself on the bed and put my head against my pillow and let out a little scream of excitement. When I finally calm down I decide to call Rio, I need to tell someone about this. 

- Really? That's great! The date sounds like something out of a TV drama. Oh... I wish I… - I can't help but giggle at Rio's comments. - So when are you going to introduce me to him? - 

- No, I won't. I've only just met him, I'm not going to introduce him to you so quickly. -

- Ooh. You're bad. - 

- Oh, come on! You wouldn't introduce me to him after a first date either. -

- I don't know what to tell you Y/N, I don't think any of my first dates have ever gone that well. - Listening to her I have an idea. 

- I'm sure you're dramatising. Anyway, if things go well with Shin, we could go out with his friends later on and who knows, maybe there'll be a decent one. - 

- Oooh. I like that idea, at least I'll get to take you out partying at last. - I don't like this so much anymore. 

- I didn't say it's a party meeting. -

- But it's the easiest thing to do! Especially if the groups don't know each other - 

- Good point, I guess. I can't wait to meet up again. - Rio laughs a little.  

- Understandable. We'll discuss all this at lunchtime at work on Monday if you like. -

- Sounds good! -

Talking to Rio was a good way to let off some of my pent up anger and after a good shower and dinner I start to feel a little tired after a long day out so it doesn’t take me a while to get into bed.

Shin’s POV:

- I can't believe that guy still has it in for you even though it's been a while since you disbanded Black Dragons. Doesn't he have anything better to do? - I look at Wakasa, his worried words don't really match his relaxed tone and posture, but hey, it's Wakasa. 

- Yea, he could get over the fact that his gang lost to ours once and for all. He's gone from funny to be a pain - This time it's Takeomi. 

- Forget about that punk's message. Shin-kun still hasn't told us how his day went. - This directly catches Wakasa's attention and he looks straight at me. However, Takeomi looks confused. 

- And why is that interesting. - Takeomi asks.

- Oh, Shin-kun had a date today. - Wakasa gives me a smirk as the three of them wait for my answer.

- Oh that. - I don't know why I got so nervous all of a sudden, I cleared my throat a bit before speaking again while avoiding their gaze. - That went well. 

- You just turned as red as a tomato, man, you look like a schoolgirl. -

- Thanks Takeomi. -That's all I can manage to say to him while Wakasa continues with his stupid smirk. 

- Ha! And you were worried that she was going to stand you up. I'm happy for you. - I smile sincerely to Benkei, surprisingly he seems to be the nicest one tonight. 

- Will you meet again? - This time it's Wakasa who asks. 

- Yes, I have to call her to decide on the day but yes. -

- What are you waiting for? Call her now. -

- Wait, wait, wait, Benkei, he can't go that fast, he'll look desperate. - Wakasa tries to dissuade me from Benkei's advice. 

- But Shin-kun is desperate. -

- Takeomi! You know perfectly well that I'm not, as if she was the first girl I've ever dated. -

- Yeah? What about the streak of asking all the girls in class? -

- That was when we were in high school! I was a kid so it doesn't count. - I hear Waka laugh. 

- I don't know... It does count for me. -

- I'd better go. - Benkei bursts out laughing. 

- No need Shin-kun, we'll stop now. How about we go get some beers?

The rest of the night is filled with laugh while we remember old times. At some point I finally get home and fall asleep with a dumb smile on my face remembering all that's happened today.

Next part

[words-with-wren]

@chrumblr-whumblr day three: Carrying

Fandom: Endeavour. Four and a half years and I am BACK I missed these boys even though they break my heart <3 kinda bad but all of these are. Barely any editing OR even proof reading I'm ready 20 minutes late and posting from my phone woopsies

Word count: 2,170

__

It was raining. Morse hunched in his coat, squinting bitterly up at the water coming through the trees. The sun hadn’t even started lighting up the area, and the whole morning had an air of misery about it. 

“Morning, Matey.” Strange’s greeting was altogether far too cheerful for the early hour of the morning and Morse turned his glare onto the other man. Dimly, he found himself for the first time a little envious of the uniform Strange sported--the hat and coat looked altogether far more suited for the weather than Morse’s own clothing. 

Morse just nodded in response, risking a hand from the safety of his pocket to wipe wet hair out of his face. 

“You really think we’re going to find something in this?” Jakes joined the two of them, an unlit cigarette between his fingers, looking positively damp. He was holding a torch in his other hand, the light illuminating the falling rain in a narrow beam. Morse found some small vindication that the sargent looked about as miserable as he felt. 

His vindication disappeared a moment later when Jakes flashed the light of the torch directly into his eyes for a split second. Morse squinted abruptly, blinking at the momentary blindness. He decided he wasn’t in the mood for a fight and assumed that was an accident.

“If there is anything, we should start looking soon,” Morse muttered. He hunched his shoulders, trying to find some comfort in his soaking coat and staring at a single point while waiting for his eyes to readjust. “The rain’ll wash it away soon.”

“If it hasn’t already,” Jakes muttered. He put the unlit cigarette between his teeth. It sagged disappointingly, wet through. Deserved. 

“The doctor said it’d be a knife, ‘bout so large.” Strange held up his hands as he was speaking, indicating a length about five centimetres long. Morse nodded, turning his attention to the woods. 

The chances were low that the murder weapon was still in the woods where the body had been found, but DeBryn had said there had been some kind of struggle, and likely not all of the blood found splattered across the scene was the victim’s. 

It was possible the weapon was still lying somewhere in the woods. Morse was of the opinion that their efforts could be better spent chasing other leads, but orders were orders and now here he was, standing soaked in the rain. 

“Right then,” Jakes said, taking charge of the situation. A few other uniformed officers mingled around and it didn’t take long for a search to be organised, starting from where the body had been found that morning and steadily branching further out. 

Morse found himself trudging through the wet forest, mud on the ground sticking uncomfortably at his boots, sweeping his torchlight over the muddy ground. At least he’d thought to pick up some wellys before heading out--his feet were about the only part of him not soaked through. 

He scanned the ground as he went, hoping something would come up soon so they could all go and get warm and follow more useful branches of inquiry. The route he was following started drifting steadily downhill, and Morse had to withdraw his hand from his pocket to keep his balance, grabbing onto tree branches and trunks as he went, torch held tight in his other hand. 

The mud was slippery and he almost lost his balance more than once, grabbing onto a tree to catch himself. His hair was back in his eyes and he wiped it out of his face again with frustration. 

They wouldn’t even be able to get anything useful out of any evidence they found--a murder weapon would be one thing, but after this rain there was no way they’d be able to get any prints off it. This was all a useless waste of time. 

Something flashed in the light his torch cast and he paused, one hand resting on a nearby tree trunk. He aimed the beam of the torch towards whatever it was, making out something sliver dangling from the branch of a tree. He stepped forward and suddenly a sharp pain bust through his foot. 

He was on the ground before he realised what had happened, face pressed uncomfortably into cold mud. Pain flashed through his foot and he gasped, pushing himself up onto one hand. 

Great, now he was wet and muddy. Not to mention his foot was throbbing in a concerning way. He shifted to sit but had to gasp out in pain, vision flashing white as he moved his foot. 

He managed to catch himself before he fell back into the mud, but the world twisted and spun around him dizzyingly. HIs torch lay on the ground nearby, a beam of light illuminating the mud in an almost golden hue, sparkling dots of rain flashing through the light. 

A root was jutting out of the mud just beside his feet and he glared at it--clearly the culprit that he’d missed in the wet and mud. 

He managed to awkwardly shift into a sitting position and retrieve his torch, eyes watering with pain every time he moved his leg. Supporting himself with one hand, he glared at his foot as though that would make it stop hurting. 

He wasn’t going to be able to walk on that he realised a moment later. With a groan, he started digging in his pockets with one hand, finally withdrawing the whistle Jakes had given him before they left the station. 

He blew sharply on it, automatically blasting out three short bursts, three long, and another three short. Someone would be near enough to hear and come to his aid. While he waited, he turned his torchlight onto the silver thing, still caught in a tree. It looked like some kind of locket, sparkling in his torchlight, and he hoped that whatever picture was in it hadn’t been ruined by the rain. That could be an important clue. 

“Morse?” Strange’s voice called from the trees a few paces away, and Morse could make out the flash of his torchlight. 

“Over here,” he called. “Twisted my ankle.” His voice carried a note of bitterness as he spoke, trying not to think too hard about how this was going to take a few days to come right again. 

Strange appeared through the trees a moment later, still looking positively dry. Morse, sitting propped up against a tree, his leg stretched in front of him, covered in mud and rain, glared up at him.

“You alright, matey?” Strange asked. Morse scowled. 

“I will be. Just give me a hand up.” Strange moved towards him but Morse spoke again. “Wait, before you do.” He flashed his torch at the locket again. “I found that.” 

“Of course you did,” Strange said good naturedly. He followed Morse’s torch beam and carefully tugged the locket off the branch it was stuck on. Tucking it safely into a pocket for later inspection, he turned his attention to Morse, in the process flashing the torchlight into his eyes. 

He squinted, holding a hand up and Strange apologetically dropped the light. 

“Sorry Matey,” he said, clicking the torch off and slipping it into another pocket. That unform coat really did have a number of pockets. 

“You’re as bad as Jakes,” Morse grumbled. But it was noticeably lighter now, and the torches were beginning to not be needed. Morse kept his on regardless--he didn’t want Strange tripping on an invisible root and joining him on the ground. 

“Up you get then,” Strange said, holding out a hand. Morse grabbed it with his free one, but the moment he tried to pull himself up, he jostled his leg and let out a scream of pain. He sagged back, eyes squeezed shut against the flash and steady throbbing coming from his ankle. 

“I’m okay,” he said, waving away Strange’s anxious hovering. “Just let me catch my breath.” 

“I don’t think you can walk on that,” Strange said. Morse just groaned in response. At least his boot was doing a better job at keeping his ankle tight than his usual shoes. Though taking it off was going to be a nightmare. 

That was a later problem, now he had to figure out how to stand up so they could get out of this miserable forest and somewhere dry. 

“Everything alright?” Jakes appeared through the bushes, the morning light strong enough to illuminate his pale face. Morse didn’t have the energy to glare up at him, his foot was hurting too much and his irritation at being seen in such a state by the sargent a secondary matter right now. “No time to be sitting down on the job, Morse.” 

“He’s twisted his ankle,” Strange explained. Morse just nodded. 

“Touch luck,” Jakes said. “Best be getting you to Casualty then.” 

“I would if I could stand,” Morse muttered. He shut his eyes as another wave of pain flushed through his foot. 

“I’ll carry you back,” Strange offered. Morse opened his eyes again, his pride battling for a moment with the pain emanating from his foot. 

“Morse is a skinny blighter but I dunno if you can carry him yourself,” Jakes said, staring down at Morse with a critical eye. Then he flicked off his own torch and tucked it away--it was more than light enough to see by now--and moved to Morse’s side.

Before Morse could really process what was happening, he found himself wedged in between Jakes and Strange, one on either side of him. Both of them tucked an arm under him and their other behind his back and Morse found himself lifted between the two of them. He instinctively threw an arm over each of their necks to stop himself topping forward. 

“Easy goes now,” Jakes muttered. Morse gritted his teeth as their movements jostled his foot, determined not to show any more pain. 

It didn’t take long to get back to where the cars had packed on the edge of the forest. The rain had slowed to a steady drizzle, and Morse felt bone wearily exhausted. He was lowered to the ground and somehow managed to remain standing, leaning almost all of his weight on Strange and holding his foot up. Jakes ducked forward to open one of the cars.

“You finish up here,” he said to Strange. “I’ll get him to Casualty. And then home.” 

Both of them fixed Morse with a long stare at that, but Morse just nodded. He was too exhausted to protest, and right now he wanted nothing more than to sleep off the pain. 

They managed to manoeuvre him into the back seat of the car, where he could stretch his leg out over the seats and Morse only briefly blacked out for a second. 

“Oh, here,” Strange said, fishing out the locket he had tucked away safely. “I’ll see you back at the nick,” he added to Jakes. Jakes nodded from the driver’s seat, a lit cigarette alright between his lips now he was out of the rain. 

Jakes didn’t say anything as he pulled away from the forest, moving quickly along the road. Morse bit down a groan of pain as the movement of the car jostled his foot, but it faded to a bearable dull throbbing soon enough. 

(He kept catching Jakes glancing in the rear mirror. There wasn’t anyone behind them, so he didn’t know why almost every time he looked up he made eye contact through the small glass.) 

“What’s the locket?” Jakes asked, finally breaking the silence. Morse couldn’t help be a little grateful for the distraction. 

He pulled it out, examining it closely. It had initials on it--F.C. The letters seem familiar to him, but he couldn’t quite place it yet. Carefully, he pried it open. 

The image inside was of the victim--a young man named Joseph Ethans. 

“It’s got Ethans in it,” Morse reported. He caught Jakes’ eye in the mirror again. “Doesn’t seem like something he’d own though.” 

“A girlfriend’s?” Jakes asked. Morse frowned, biting down a hiss of pain as Jakes took a corner a little too sharply. 

“F.C.,” he mused. Jakes made a questioning noise. “The initials on the locket.” 

“That’s the girlfriend’s name, right?” Jakes said. “Felicity Clarke.” 

“What’s her locket doing out in the woods then?” Morse asked, closing it again and tucking it safely into a pocket. 

“Maybe he was going to give it to her?” 

“I think we may need to question her a little more closely,” Morse said quietly. “DeBryn did say the killing wounds were weaker than one would expect from a grown man.” 

“You think the girlfriend offed him?” Jakes asked. 

“Maybe--aah!” He said the last as Jakes skipped a curb. 

“Sorry,” Jakes said. “Almost there.” 

“We’d better be,” Morse muttered. He shut his eyes, feeling strangely satisfied despite the throbbing ankle. Maybe the morning hadn’t been a complete waste of time after all. 

The rain outside finally made way for a weak winter’s sun. 

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hi sex witch, I (cis man, late 20s) have a bit of an issue regarding medication and my sex life... I'm hoping you can be a bit of a sounding board for me?

I recently started taking an SNRI to help with anxiety and sleep. It seems to be working (not perfectly, but there's definitely a pretty big improvement).

Currently I'm single and all my sex is solo, but I've noticed that since I started the meds my libido has significantly reduced. It's also more difficult to reach orgasm, and the orgasms feel... different? (Not sure how I feel about that bit...)

My main problem is trying to work out whether I want to raise this with my doctor when I go for my next check-up. I'm not in the market for sex with anyone else right now, so the only person it is affecting is me. The positives in terms of my anxiety are great, and the negatives are more "differences" than actual "negatives".

What do you think? Should I push to try a different medication before I get settled on this one? Or should I spend more time working out whether I'm comfortable with the lower sex-drive? I think both are reasonable, and I would appreciate your opinion - thanks!

hi anon,

PREFACE: I'M NOT ANY KIND OF DOCTOR AND THIS ISN'T MEDICAL ADVICE.

I just want to start by commending you for noting the difference between "different" and "negative." people are often taught to think of any change in their sexual function as automatically bad, when in fact it's often nothing more than a very natural fluctuation within their body.

in your case, that fluctuation is very common; many people report experiencing a decrease in libido after beginning anti-depressants. hormones drive much of our sexuality, and anti-depressants wreak havoc on our the delicate chemical balance in our brain - for the better, of course, because they ideally help bridge the gap for chemical deficiencies in our brains that make us feel Not So Good, but as a side effect functions like the libido can be thrown into a spiral.

it's worth noting that the change often isn't permanent; eventually, your body may very well acclimate to the new hormonal arrangement and gets back to business as usual. I can personally attest that my first year on anti-depressants saw my libido pretty much go dormant, but it eventually came back with a vengeance.

I'm not in any way, shape, or form an expert on how the brain works and how medication works in the long term, but as someone who spends a lot of time talking to people about sex and has been on anti-depressants for years, I have to wonder if part of the sex drive's return has to do with the effectiveness of the medication over time. many people have a hard time fully accessing their sexuality when they're suffering from stress, anxiety, and depression, because being horny - let alone actually having sex - requires an amount of mental space and energy that just isn't there when you're struggling to even perform the basic tasks that let you get through the day. again, speaking from personal experience, I know that before I was medicated, WAAAAAAY too much of my energy was getting burned up by my anxiety and the accompanying physical symptoms; there's not much left over for libido when all of you're exhausting yourself shaking and otherwise being a nervous wreck. turns out being horny is WAY EASIER when you aren't constantly on edge!

I will also point out that sometimes the reason people who aren't doing so great in regards to their mental health masturbate so much is for those sweet little dopamine hits that they're not getting anywhere else, which I don't say to stigmatize jerking off while mentally ill (god knows I can't judge for that) but to point out that after a few months with more managed anxiety, you may not even be as interested in solo sex as you previously were. or you will be, but it will look different thanks to the other positive effects your medication has had. sexuality is a slippery creature, and it's impossible to predict exactly how it will shift throughout our lives.

my point being, if you haven't noticed any other adverse side effects of this medication and you think it's going to help more than hinder you, I would recommend continuing with it for the time. you'll keep reaping the positive benefits in the meantime, and you'll have some time to reflect on those changes as they continue to happen and figure out how this new shape your sexuality has taken can still fit into the overall mosaic of your life. if you ultimately decide that you don't like what's changed, that's fine! but I would broadly advise waiting it out through the most dramatic shifts that will happen early on to get a fuller picture.

[topbanana-art]

Finally making an OC info post- by no means is this all of them, just ones that are most active and/or live in my head rent free.

First up- Rhys (DnD 5e - Rime of the Frostmaiden)

20 years Old, Half Orc, Half Elf (sweet baby angel) , He/Him

Fighter- Echo Knight

Absolute Ray of Sunshine; Rhys is from Icewind Dale; more specifically the Nomadic Reghed Tribe of the Elk.

He's unfamiliar with the outside world and even includes settlements in his own country

He's a Himbo basically a big dog.

This campaign lead him to leaving his tribe for the first time after an unfortunate accident which turned him into a small 'painted child' and searching for his missing sister. (both these are sorted now!)

*Rhys found an old oil painting of this child, blacked out and next thing he knew he was that small elf child. Her skin and clothing having the texture of painted canvas, and bleeds paint.

For a good chunk of the campaign he was just a totally normal elf- whose shadow didn't match with the body

---

Dhalas (DnD 5e Annalor)

36 Years Old, They/Him, Triton

Drunken Master Monk

Chill surfer dude vibes

Part of a travelling circus, They're a balancing act

Extremely laid back, Dhalas talks like they fight- dancing around, seemingly without rhyme or reason and occasionally clumsy.

---

Foxglove (BG3)

138 Years old (tweaked her age a lil), She/They, Drow

Arcane Trickster Rogue

Guild Artisan Background- Locksmith & Apprentice Finesmith

Chill and sassy, that Tav who talks their way out of shit.

Skews Towards Chaotic Good

Presents Androgynous most of the time

Must lockpick everything- she's not actually super interested what's inside, she just wants to see the workmanship of the locks and trashtalk how bad they are.

Yeah she's smooching the vampire. (and Halsin)

Naturally cares for others, even at the cost of her own wellbeing.

Has a Phobia of anything touching/going near her eyes- so the start of the game is A Time for Fox.

---

Arslan Dhoro (FFXIV)

21 Years Old (as of ARR), He/Them

Xaela AuRa

Dragoon - White Mage Main (All healer classes tbh)

Stoic, Resting Angry Face Himbo

He struggles to show emotion but he's just pretty shy and cautious about opening up to others.

From the Azim Steppe, he left in his early teens with his father after the death of his mother, to explore the world beyond the Steppe.

His Father Died in his late teens, attacked in Coerthas thinking he and Arslan were Dravanians.

He's extremely soft and protective for the Scions/his friends

---

Shiv (DnD 5e Saltmarsh- campaign completed)

Awful, terrible lesbian

68 years old, She/Her, Halfling

Celestial Warlock - Unicorn Patron w/ a Baby Phoenix familiar, Toby

A piece of shit. Is an absolute asshole and wont let you know she cares.

Lowkey magical girl

Ex-smuggler, who's patron is literally 'I can fix her', 'she can be a better person'. Part of the 'Beyond Skeletons' Pirate crew, she's the medic of the crew.

---

Pymmyr Tathnel (DnD 5e)

Pym

85 Years Old, He/They, Drow

Gloomstalker Ranger

Emotional Support Blink Dog, Princess Liquorice

This boy is scared all the time

Doesn't talk much, but speaks in a soft voice

Has disordered 'Sleeping' and Eating :)

His plague mask has tinted lenses to help ease the strain with how bright the surface is

I wont tell too much about them as a lot of their info is spoilers to other players. But this sad Drow just rocks up in my head on the regular.

---

Erebus (Anima Beyond Fantasy)

AKA- My first TTRPG character! circa 2011-2 I think???

Real name Sho Yoshimitsu

22 Years Old, He/Him

Duk'Zarist Nephilim

Assassin

Textbook 'strong silent and intimidating hot man'

But basically a big soft boy if you break past the mile thick ice

Tragic backstory™ , used to using his body for the job

He really enjoys cooking!

Also hopelessly in love with a small soft summoner, Caelum (the one hugging him), They're RedxBlue gays

---

I think I'll leave it there for now!

I may add more later, I hope it was interesting?? and I'm still pretty shy with yelling this much about my characters haha.

Thanks for reading if you made it this far! 💜

[angria]

Mother told me this a couple days ago, but I think it's starting to sink in now. Of course this happens when T is away.

TW: suicide plan (not me)

The conversation started in the context of another person's daughter, who was recently committed for depression and suicidality. My mother must have shared a bit about herself to this person, without going into a lot of detail (and she didn't describe my history).

I knew she struggled with ideation in her early 20's and her brother had to move in with her so she wasn't alone (this was in the late 70's, early 80's). She moved out of her abusive household at 18, went to college and nursing school full-time while simultaneously working full-time. And similar to me, I think everything hit the fan once you are finally removed from an abusive situation. That your body/brain finally relaxes and everything floods. But, she shared a new detail....

Apparently, she brought home a tool from the hospital and had everything planned. I don't know the aftermath, but that is when her brother moved in and she started therapy and medication. Our conversation moved on and I kind of shoved it to the back of my mind because I was getting ready to go to pub theo. Now it seems to have settled in my head and not sure what to do with the information.

While in high school, I remember when I first told her that I was suicidal and attempted as a child. Her reaction was say I am a liar and slammed the door in my face. Then, when I was a freshman in college, when the stupid counseling center gave me an ultimatum to tell my parents about my trauma symptoms surfacing and the ideation/SH, she once again said I was lying and stormed out of the restaurant (my prof said to tell them in a public place so they couldn't do anything). She later told me her reaction was because she "knew" what it was to be suicidal and I couldn't possible know since my life was better than hers (HA).

Idk....just feel scrambled inside. Trying to balance how she was throughout my childhood and up until a couple years ago when things started to improve and she became more transparent about her own shit. I don't want to have sympathy or understanding because then that feels like it negates what I experienced. I know it doesn't work that way and I'm being all or nothing. But, at the same time, it doesn't make sense otherwise.

[borealopelta]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

thanks for the tag, @seasidesandstarscapes !! 💖

How many works do you have on AO3? 40 :)

What's your total AO3 word count? 137,805

What fandoms do you write for? my active ones right now are the boys in the boat and gloryhammer, but i consider myself a terror/the north water writer despite barely touching any of my fics in yearsssss. i love boat media what can i say !

Top five fics by kudos? i was something made for god to label fragile (now i'm stuck) - 1149 (OFMD) out of time, eternal heatstroke - 641 (OFMD) sure as the sun come up from the south - 380 (OFMD) steppin' around in a desert of joy - 311 (Ted Lasso) I'm a stitch away from making it (and a scar away from falling apart) - 279 (IT Chapter 2)

Do you respond to comments? yes!!! sometimes uhhh years late but that's only because i forget that i only replied in my head. i think even the smallest comment deserves a thank you :) <- tiny fandom rarepair enjoyer mindset

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? amazing question i could list like 6 immediately with vastly different vibes but i'm gonna pick it always leads to you in my hometown (The Boys in the Boat) because i looove the ending. those men are not having a good time with their emotions and marital status.

What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? i HAVE to go with hustling for the good life (never thought i'd meet you here) (Bullet Train) it's one of my fave fics ever and i love the ending so much 🥺🥺 need those guys to be happy (AND ALIVE!) forever and ever

Do you get hate on fics? oh i used to get death threats yeah!! deeply whatever 2 me though i'm writing for me and the 5 freaks who live in my pocket

Do you write smut? less and less lately but yeah :)

Craziest crossover? i don't write crossovers :)

Have you ever had a fic stolen? not that i know of, thankfully!

Have you ever had a fic translated? no, and i'm not sure i'd be into it!! i wouldn't want a translation in a language i don't know because i wouldn't be able to ensure that things are worded the way i want them to be. i've translated my own writing before and i know that's a struggle even when i'm the original writer so you know.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? also no, once again i'm very very controlling about how i want my writing to look and feel and taste. i couldn't write together with someone else without ruining our relationship i think

All time favorite ship i will always always always come back to eddie carr/doc thorne from the second jurassic park novel. they're so crazymaking i'm forever obsessed with them.

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? a so far unnamed continuation of call to rise (Gloryhammer) that lives as a long ass outline and several disjointed scenes in my wip folder. i haven't forgotten about her but i have also not made any progress :(

What are your writing strengths? NOT narration/dialogue balance that's for sure!! i'll get so carried away with my beloved descriptions and fun narration that i'll forget to write a single line of dialogue until i'm 600 words in

Thoughts on dialogue in another language? it's one of my big fic icks to be frank 😭 i simply don't think switching back and forth between two different languages does either one justice. the rhythm is different! the vibe is different! it's always always jarring and a lot of times not done well at all. i avoid it when i'm reading and i don't write it

First fandom you wrote in? everyone can judge me for this. it was hollywood undead rpf

Favorite fic you've written? posssssibly let me under your skin (The Terror) i just like the vibe so so much. absolutely miserable depressing yet tender small town armitozer. beloved!!!! but i have so many unpublished ones i absolutely adore, it would be hard to pick. also i didn't feel like linking my other fav fic which is the dead doviest dead dove i've ever written. it fucks though

If you were forced to write only one genre for the rest of your life (like James Patterson lol) what would you want it to be? keeping this makeshift 20th question by seasides because i like it :) my preferred genres would be either period fiction (not specifying when because i want the wiggle room) or nonfiction. i would LOVE to write nonfiction. who's got the time though

i'm gonna tag @duesternis @derry-rain @smolsleepyfox and @zonkutonshorrifyingpeenie if you guys feel like it :))