#and now that we’re in another city I can’t just go and steal another one I actually have to buy one

[rowanisawriter]

having a kid is genuinely so scary lol sometimes idk where to turn, im hiding in the bathroom trying to process the grief of replacing my vacuum cleaner and how much vacuums cost and she’s sticking her crumb filled hand under the door asking for another snack 😭

[nvuy]

tumblr did not let me post this as a proper answer because tumblr hates me. BUT the council says: BEHOLD. an excerpt from my potential extended hijacked spin off boothill fic that that may or may not be potentially finished and posted so........... take it..................... anon you might not ever see this post but the brainworms are so huge and genius and i think you cooked......................

“Tha’s the hardest part… still bein’ here.”

There’s smoke in the air, and it curls around the windshield of your car. He’s called shotgun, as per usual, but that’s because you refuse to let him drive. Especially at night. He makes you feel sick when he takes corners faster than he slams the brakes at red lights.

The car hasn’t moved for a while. The drive had been rocky; there was no destination. Just away from the city for now. You’ve managed to find a secluded area deep in a stretch of trees, and there hasn’t been a car that’s passed on the dingy highway for ages now.

Smoking does nothing for him. He doesn’t have lungs to fill anymore, and the taste never appealed to him, but it helped take his mind off of everything.

Boothill felt the tug of the cigarette between his lips, and he let it go from his mouth before he watched as you shakily held it to your lips.

It’s disgusting. He snickers slightly when you cough and scrunch your eyes shut. You hand the cigarette back to him slowly.

You fan at your face, careful not to spill the half full bottle of wine balancing between your legs and the car seat. It’s one of the fancy brands Boothill snatched off the shelf on the way out of the bar from earlier after the manager had ordered him out. Something about not serving crooks. Whatever.

Your car reeks of smoke.

As much as the smell clogged your lungs, you hope it stays this way. 

“‘Specially since, y’know, it woulda been better if one o’ my dads lived, or my sisters, or even–” He takes another drag of the cigarette. “But, nah. Fate’s finicky like that. Leaves the worst ones standin’. That’s why we’re still around.”

And he’s right.

You take a sip from the bottle. You’re tipsy now. Definitely. You feel lighter than usual, and you’d worry about driving back somewhere to stay for the night.

You can’t drive in this state.

Boothill could drive back. You're too drunk to panic over how badly he swerves over the road.

And if he can’t, you could just sleep in the car for the night. It wouldn’t be the first time.

And, with him, maybe you would be okay.

Your vision is blurry, and there's an incessant burning beneath your eyelids. You quickly wipe your eyes. “Yeah.” God, you wish it was you who had disappeared. It would’ve saved your parents the heartache. You can’t even look at your reflection anymore. “Yeah, I get it.”

Boothill doesn’t say anything at first. He repeats your reply in his head like a mantra.

Instead, he blows smoke from his nose slowly in a long exhale, and then says, “I know you do.”

Furiously, you wipe your eyes again and tear your eyes away from the rearview mirror. You can’t will yourself to look. Though you feel nothing on your shoulder, you know the past sits behind you, and her hand rests on your skin like a weight.

Sometimes, it’s hard to even look at him, for when the metal of his body is reflective enough, you don’t see yourself, but her staring back at you.

He’s not sure what to say. Instead, he thinks it wise to potentially fry your car battery. He steals your phone charger hooked into the car and finds the slot that fits it best on his hip. Good enough. Hopefully it gives him enough juice to get through the next couple days.

“Oh, give it here.” You grab the wire from him. “You’re gonna break my damn charger.”

You peer at his ports curiously as he takes another drag of the silhouette, before you mumble something about the shape being a ‘USB-C’ and plug it into the right slot on his hip.

A small red light flashes to life above the port.

Boothill hums. “Thanks, sugar.” He doesn’t have to look at you, but the telltale scent of wine on your lips is enough for him to know. “You drunk?”

After a moment, you nod slowly. “Yeah.” Then, you twist in the chair to face him, bringing the bottle to your lips again. Your seatbelt is still on, even if the car has been parked for an hour. There’s a pang in your chest, and it tightens. “I miss her.”

She’s still staring at you in the mirror, but it’s not really her. Whatever this thing is, it’s not her. But it’s there, and it makes your heart race.

Boothill nods. “I miss my family, too.” He leans over and punches your thigh playfully. “But, I know your parents want ya to live for as long as you can. I know she would, too.”

You exhale. You’re beginning to feel sick now. Your stomach can’t take another blow from the wine, but you raise it to your lips anyway.

It burns when you swallow, like fire.

“That’s rich coming from you.”

He stops. Then, he turns away and raises his eyebrows in exasperation. “Just tryin’ to lift ya spirits.” Still, as exhausted as he feels, his rests a hand on your thigh. It’s comforting, the weight of metal, and it takes your mind off the fingers on your shoulders.

“I don’t think you’re the worst,” you mumble. You actually think you’re worse. Then, you shrug lightly. “I don’t want to lose you when you go.” You hear him exhale, somewhat to rid the smoke from his mouth, and also in the form of a sigh. “I know you won’t believe me, but I think I care about you.”

After you admit it, you pull the rim of the bottle to your lips again.

And then again.

And again.

Three sips later, you’re on the verge of collapsing, and Boothill snatches the bottle from your hand and stands it up by his feet on the car floor.

Your lips are stained a dark red, as is your tongue, and there’s a dark flush on your neck.

Sweat gathers over your skin, even if it’s freezing outside. The smoke is warm, and your legs are shaking.

“I just don’t want to lose you.”

Boothill turns his head and stares out the window. The stars are bright out here away from the city. It reminds him of home. None of that awful light pollution back there in that boring old planet that he loved to death.

If he could’ve, he would’ve taken you there.

That place doesn’t exist anymore.

He feels you would’ve loved his daughter. He feels she would’ve loved you a lot more.

“You ain’t gon’ lose me,” he whispers. He’s still not looking at you. He’s not sure if he’s lying, but he knows he wouldn't lie on purpose. Not to you. Not now.

He squeezes your thigh reassuringly. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Boothill hears the sound of your seatbelt unbuckling, and a shaky exhale follows.

Maybe you’re drunk out of your mind, and his breath stinks of tobacco, and it’s awful on your tongue, but you leap over the centre console of the car as best you can and hurriedly press your lips to his.

It hurts, and it makes him dizzy, and you feel like you’re floating, but he reciprocates, pressing further against your mouth. Your teeth clink, it’s messy, it’s awful, but it satisfies a burning in your stomach.

You snatch his hat and toss it in the back seat. His nose is cold, and it smushes against your cheekbone.

It lasts too long, and not long enough, for after a moment, he pulls his hands off your hips grabs your chin gently to push you off him.

You try to fuse your skin with his. Your stomach presses to his. Boothill’s eye softens and a grin grows on his lips when you sigh in defeat.

He laughs gently. “Easy, beautiful. I know you’re drunk as fudge.” He instead moves your head to his chest and pulls you gently into him. “Just sleep it off. You’re g’nna have the worst hangover in the mornin’.”

You hum and shift in his lap.

It falls silent for a moment.

“You’re so uncomfortable,” you murmur.

Boothill chuckles louder and blows a teasing cloud of smoke on the top of your head that you frantically wave away. He stares out the window again, and all the while, his free hand gently pets the top of your hair. He’s mindful that his joints can very well tangle easily.

“I bet,” he answers.

You murmur something he doesn't hear. Despite your complaints, you still fall asleep on his chest before you feel him lean down and his lips press to your hair.

[wannabespacesmuggler]

D.D. | Shane's Girl

Part Seven | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee | Check out the playlist

Summary: Daryl Dixon knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you when he’s alone at night in his tent. Hell, he shouldn’t even be looking at you throughout the day. You’re not his. You’re Shane’s girl. But Daryl doesn’t like the way Shane treats you. And he certainly doesn’t like how you’re forced to play ‘loving girlfriend’ to a man with eyes for another woman at the camp.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x female!Reader

Warnings: Merle Dixon sucks, unedited (I will get to it later, I promise)

Word Count: 1.1K

Author’s Note: SO, your boy's a blue-collar worker currently struggling through increased heat and hours during the summer, but I love this fic and no matter how much time passes I will continue to come back to this guy. Let me know what y'all think of this one & let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist. And thank you for your continued support for this lil fic -- it means the world to me.

“Tonight’s the night, little brother.”

Merle’s voice tears through the silence in their makeshift camp. Daryl peers up at Merle from his crouched position -- the younger Dixon had been going through their food supply before Merle came storming in. Daryl rolls his eyes at the interruption. Although he’s known his brother his entire life, it always surprises him how different the two are. All he’s heard his entire life is: those Dixon brothers, two sides of the same coin. However, where Daryl is reserved, Merle is intrusive, and where Daryl is observant, Merle is careless. Although the two brothers are cut from the same backwoods cloth, they seem to have less in common than one would think.

Daryl ignores his brother’s outburst, returning his attention to their limited rations. He lets out a frustrated sigh before strategizing.

“We’re running low on food. I’ll go out hunting tomorrow. Rest of the group is headed out to scavenge the city; might wanna join ‘em.”

Merle brushes past Daryl, snatches the last bag of jerky from their pile of food, and begins chowing down in front of his younger brother. Daryl furrows his brow at his brother’s actions. Before he can lash out at him for being so irresponsible with their rations, Merle speaks up.

“Won’t have to worry ‘bout any of that after tonight.”

Daryl’s head cocks to the side as he tears his attention away from their inventory and now focuses intently on his brother.

“The hell are you on about?”

Merle rolls his eyes at Daryl’s question as if the younger Dixon should be able to read his mind. 

“We’ve been ‘er long enough. I say we wait til everyone’s asleep tonight and take everything we can.”

Daryl shrinks at the thought of just robbing the camp blind. Merle had mentioned the idea during their first night at the quarry; however, Daryl figured, as days passed, that the older Dixon brother had decided against the idea. Apparently, Daryl was wrong.

“I don’t know, man.”

Daryl’s apprehension seems to only rile his brother up more.

“C’mon little brother, everything they have is just sitting in that camper -- it’s like they’re begging us to take it!”

Daryl shakes his head at his brother’s words. They can’t -- he can’t. He doesn’t want that weighing on his guilty conscience for the rest of his numbered days. The world may have ended, but Daryl hasn’t lost his humanity yet. He can’t steal from children, or families, or you. He pushes himself off the floor before responding.

“Nah, man. Not now.”

Daryl attempts to brush past Merle, leaving the conversation there; however, Merle roughly pushes against Daryl’s chest. Daryl staggers for a second before regaining his balance. He looks incredulously at his brother, who seems to be champing at the bit. Merle’s always been impatient, and he’s never liked to stay in one place for too long, even before the end of the world. On the other hand, Daryl knows there’s safety in numbers nowadays -- who knows how long the two of them would be able to make it on their own? And what of the quarry camp -- would they just leave them to turn on themselves?

“This was always the plan, Daryl. What’s changed, huh?”

“Your plan sucks, man. We don’t even know what’s out there -- how many of ‘em are out there! At least here we’re safe.”

His reasoning does nothing to calm down Merle. Daryl is suddenly very glad that the two brothers were so far away from the rest of the camp -- the last thing he wants is for Merle to make scene, again.

“What you making friends while I’m gone? You going soft on me?”

“Fuck off, Merle.”

Merle doesn’t take the bait, instead, he studies his younger brother’s face for a second. Suddenly, it’s as if a switch has been flipped as Merle’s face breaks out into a shit eating grin. 

“You are going soft on me.”

It comes out as a statement, not a question. This only causes Daryl’s brow to furrow deeper. 

“What are you talking about?”

“This is all about that bitch, right?”

Daryl’s blood boils at Merle’s question. His jaw locks, and his fists clench as he attempts to stop himself from throwing himself at his older brother. Merle seems to be enjoying how his words make Daryl’s skin crawl. 

“Little brother, I never thought you’d be one to go after a taken woman.”

Daryl knows that Merle is just trying to get a rise out of him; he just wants a reaction. And as much as his words are pissing him off, Daryl knows that he simply has to act indifferent to his accusation.

“You could take her with us. Could use something fun on the road.”

Daryl grinds his teeth together at the thought, but he will not give Merle the satisfaction of causing an outburst from his younger brother.

“Shut up, Merle.”

“Can’t believe some bitch has already got you whipped.”

Finally, something in Daryl snaps as Merle sneers at him. He gets up in Merle’s face, attempting to intimidate his older brother, but he doesn’t back down.

“This ain’t got nothin’ to do with her. She don’t mean nothing to me!”

Daryl expects him to escalate the fight; however, Merle’s face shifts into that shit-eating grin once again as his eyes land on something behind Daryl’s shoulder. Daryl turns to face whatever has piqued Merle’s interest, his curiosity getting the better of him, and his stomach drops as his eyes land on you. Daryl’s face immediately softens as he notices the hurt etched into your features. Without a word, you turn and head back toward camp.

“Wait… damn it.” 

As much as Daryl wants to race after you and explain, he lets you go, knowing he’d just hurt you more -- he’s still seething from his confrontation with Merle, and you’re probably still processing what you just overheard.

“Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise?”

Daryl ignores his brother’s question and moves to retire to their tent for the night, but Merle sidesteps, stopping him in his tracks. Before Daryl can question his motives, Merle speaks.

“I did you a favor, little brother.”

Daryl looks at his brother in disbelief. 

“All I did was show her who you truly are.”

“You’re a fucking asshole.”

Daryl pushes past him and enters their tent. He wants to blame Merle for what just happened, but he’s the one who lost his temper. And he only lost his temper because Merle was right. He can’t rob the camp and then sneak away in the middle of the night because that means he’d have to leave you behind -- and he just can't do it. Not after you opened up to him about Shane.  He lets out a frustrated sigh as he lays down his worn sleeping bag. What do you think of him now? Is he just another asshole to you, like Shane or Merle? He wants to think he’s better than that. 

But maybe Daryl is wrong. 

Maybe the Dixon brothers really are two sides of the same bad-tempered, jagged coin -- but that won’t stop him from trying to prove the opposite, as long as you let him.

Taglist: 

@minervadashwood

@hotgirlsshareaccounts

@dreamtofus

@youcantstandit

@ajlovesdilfs

@prettywhenibleed

@luvsvnlqt-things

@strnqer

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@all-will-be-well-love

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@all-will-be-well-love

@azanoni

@ritosparty

@vaniniweenie

[book-place]

Avengers: Lost in Germany

Warnings: none (I think), let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Avengers cast x reader platonic

Request: Uh uh uh I became a second idea. Marvel cast X reader where the cast had a interview or something like that in Germany and because no one ever was there (expect reader who lived in Germany) they kinda got lost and reader is like „seriously guys who in the name of my half eaten potatoes did you even got lost here“ and then comes to rescue

can they even get lost? I DONT CARE they do now for the sake of this request

Request by: @kiyomi-uchiha777

*not my gif*

Summary: Who knew everything could go wrong when you decided to take one nap and leave your co-stars to fend for themselves?

A/N: This was fun to write

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

“Should we call her?” Mark asked in a quiet voice, glancing around nervously at his co-stars as he awaited an answer.

“Are you crazy?” Robert hissed, “We can’t call her! She’s gonna think we’re idiots!”

“You kind of are though.” Scarlett pointed out unhelpfully.

“Uh uh uh,” Downey turned to her, narrowing his eyes and pointing a finger at her, “You’re just as much at fault here as the rest of us are.”

“I just followed you guys, I have no idea what’s going on.” Evans looked exhausted as he threw his hands into the air.

“This city is wonderful!” The other Chris chimed in, looking around in awe, as if oblivious to the others bickering, “Y/n is so lucky to be from here!”

Jeremy looked around and nodded in agreement, “This place is nice.”

You and your avengers co-stars were all in Germany, your home country, on a press tour, and the six of them had gone out for a stroll whilst you were taking a nap in the hotel, only to wind up lost within the first twenty minutes.

“So why don’t we call her?” The actor for Bruce Banner stressed, “We’re lost and she knows this place like the back of her hand! She even said so herself!”

“It’s humiliating!” Robert cried dramatically.

Scarlet rolled her eyes, “I’ll take being humiliated over being lost down this random alleyway anyday.” She quipped back.

The actor dropped his head with a long sigh, and Evans clapped him on the back, “I think you should be the one to call her. You know, since you feel so strongly about the issue.” He had a spark of mischief in his eyes.

Robert groaned, slowly taking out his phone and clicking onto your contact, holding his breath as he listened to it ring.

Six rings in, it was cut off and your voice floated through the speaker, “Hello?”

“N/n, hey,” Downey chuckled awkwardly, pausing. One sharp look from Scarlett, though, had him scurrying to continue, “Listen… we may or may not have… gotten lost?”

There was a silence following his statement/ question, before you sighed loudly, “How did you idiots manage to get lost? It’s really not that hard. It’s quite simple.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He grumbled, giving a dirty look to his snickering co-stars.

You finally allowed yourself to chuckle a little bit at the predicament before you relented and said, “Alright, fine. Send me your location and I’ll come get you all.”

When he did just that, another long silence stretched out.

“… You guys know you’re only a street away from the hotel, right?”

The volume on Roberts phone was apparently loud enough for all of them to hear, because all six of them facepalmed in sync.

[notyetneedcoffee]

Can't Wait

Kinktober - Thigh Riding NSFW - Adults Only

Summary: Steve is not ready to leave the party

The late-night party-goers in Stark’s penthouse fell into either loud groups around the bar or a knot of bodies on the dancefloor.  Music thrummed through the room, obscuring conversations. Lights behind the bar were supplemented by the glow of the city skyline.

One man stuck to the shadows, sitting in a chair away from the bar but with a perfect view of the dance floor. You danced but kept stealing glances to the corner. His face was cloaked in darkness, but you could see his long legs, spread wide. Occasionally, his hands would stroke across the silky texture of his slacks. His hands sliding along his own powerful thighs brought the most indecent thoughts to mind.

You made your way to stand in between those legs. A light sheen of sweat covered your skin from dancing and your head spun just a bit from several martinis. Bending over to run your hands along his thighs, just as he had, you smiled. “Why you sitting all alone, Cap?”

“I promised someone I would stay for the whole party, but I’m not really in the mood for the bar.” Steve’s eyes moved from your eyes, to your mouth, and lingered on the sight down the front of your flowy party dress.

Grinning, you swayed your hips to the music. “You could just go, now. With me.”

Steve bit his lip, eyes laughing. He shook his head. “A promise is a promise.”

He turned more into the darkness and pushed a little table further away with his foot. Further in the darkness, another chair was beside his. “But I could use the company. Why don’t you take a seat?”

You stepped over one leg, but did not move to the chair. Instead, you straddled his thigh and ran your fingers through his blond hair. The heat of his body radiated through his slacks, through the whisp of lace, to warm your core. “How about here?”

His large hands slid along your waist, down to the curve of your ass. Your lips brushed lightly over his, barely a touch. Steve’s tongue wet your lower lip. You pulled him closer by his hair and kissed him. He tasted of whiskey and smelled of something woodsy.

You rocked against his thigh as the heat began to pool between your legs. Steve’s fingers dug into your backside. Touching his shoulders, wide and strong, you ached to feel the bare flesh under the soft shirt. Moving your lips to taste his jaw. Your teeth grazed his neck and he pushed you against his thigh with more pressure.

“Mmm.” You nipped at his ear. “Please, can we go?”

He chuckled, the sound low and sexy. “I promised you I would stay for the whole party this time. So we stay.”

“But Steve,” Your head fell to one side as his mouth painted a wet trail along your neck. It sent heat flowing to your core. “We can forget about that. I won’t complain anymore.”

“No,” His teeth grazed your skin. “You’re just going to have to wait until the party is over.”

Rocking on his thigh, you could feel the wetness pool between your legs. “But.”

“No.” Steve said, this time more commanding. It made you want to roll over and let him do anything he wanted to you. “You can wait.”

“I can’t wait.” You whined.

He kissed you again, his large hand moving you back and forth. “Mmm,” Steve grin against your lips. “Does my Dollface want to come all over my thigh?”

You nodded, arching your back and feeling the graze against your sensitive clitoris. Reaching back you tried to move one his hand to the bottom of your dress. The flimsy fabric already rode up to the tops of your thighs.

He chuckled low and teasing. “Nope, all hands above the clothes.” He cupped your breast and pinched your nipple through your dress. “We’re in public.”

A small whine escaped your throat as he pinched the other nipple. You rocked a little faster. Your panties shifted, causing the seam to run along your swollen nub. Abrasive and yet enticing. You breath came in shallow pants.

Wet and desperate for attention. You felt your cunt clench. Stopped you from reaching under your skirt, capturing your wrist in his big hand. You plead and kissed at his lips, his neck. You needed release.

“Damn you’re gorgeous when you’re all needy.” Steve growled in your ear. “I bet if I told you to, you would strip off this pretty little number and ride my cock right here in front of everyone.”

A fire flared down your body. Your chest felt hot. Wetness pooled between your legs. You bared down harder, riding Steve’s thigh in a desperate chase for release.

“Fuck,” Steve squeezed with your tit with his free hand, pinching and handling you almost brutally. “My leg is soaking. Look at you. Sexy as hell. You want to come, baby?”

You whined, nodding desperately.

His large hand grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you close for a rough kiss full of battling tongues and teeth. You felt his hand on the hot flesh of your thigh. His thumb slipped between your sensitive labia, picking up your wetness. He circled your clit with strong pressure. Your body jerked, moving against him hard.

Your thighs shook. Everything else in the world dropped away. Your fingers clenched in his clothes. The tension coiled tightly in your belly.

“That’s it.” Steve’s voice rumbled in your ear. “Come for me. Right here. Then I’ll bury me cock in you, fuck you, until you can’t move.”

Biting back a cry, clung to him. Your orgasm crashed over you, making you shake. Steve held you tight, mouth kissing along your neck.

“Come on, Dollface. I think Tony’s party is over.” Steve picked you up. He took a few steps into the darkness and pushed open a service door. “We have a party of our own to start.”

Want more? Check out my Master List.

[teecupangel]

So, got another idea. XD What if we take the Monster Hunter asks and the giant snake asks and combine them? XD Dalamandur!Desmond's here to fuck up Templars and save lives!

And since Dalamandur is so huge and his roar summons meteors, Desmond speaks telephaticly to his ancestor/dream shares with them?

Idk if there's stories of giant snakes or snakes in general in 11th century Syria, so idk how Altaïr would react to having dreams of a mountain sized snake talking to him. XD And the snake is weirdly encouraging and tries to tell him to befriend Kadar and Malik more.

Ezio would probably take these dreams as a symbol of the Devil tempting him or something bad, considering the snake tempting Eve to sin is in the Bible. Especially since the snakes tells him he needs to follow it's advice, otherwise his family will die. XD Desmond just worried, because he slept really long and Ezio looks to be 17 and he has no idea what month it is.

Idk about Ratonhnhaké:ton, this is just a quick idea. XD

Here’s Dalamunder (all images from monsterhunter.fandom.com) for those unfamiliar with how the monster look like.

Okay, first of all.

Dalamunder is so big calling it huge is an understatement XD

So I propose Desmond starts off as a baby snakie during Altaïr’s time. And by baby, we all mean he’s already as big as the average size of an adult healthy snake. He also starts learning how to speak telepathically with Altaïr during this time and it all started when the supposed Ark broke apart during the scuffle (with Altaïr distracted by a voice in his head calling his name) and pops the snake.

… that immediately ate whatever was inside the treasure they were ordered to retrieve (steal).

From there, Desmond begins to grow sorta kinda slowly while sticking close to Altaïr because they tried to keep him in Masyaf and he always just slips away. (Al Mualim tried to touch him and Desmond almost bit him. Al Mualim was lucky Desmond wasn’t that used to his new body yet).

By the time Ezio’s time rolls around, Desmond is now the same size as an adult Dalamunder and has been chilling in the expansive underground ‘city’ of Monteriggioni. Assassins have learned to build their headquarters underground with Desmond paving the way through. He starts telepathically talking to Ezio when Ezio is around 16~17 so we can hammer in Ezio’s Catholic upbringing for as long as we like XD

Ezio lived with the fear that the Devil was tempting him with power and knowledge as well as the fact that he believes he can’t tell anyone about this because they might think of him as a devil spawn. If he had told Giovanni Auditore, he would have learned about how Desmond is considered as an old god or a divine beast. The Templars made the whole ‘the devil is a snake’ thing a bigger impact than in the original timeline because of Desmond.

As for Ratonhnhaké:ton, it really depends on whether we’ll let Edward live or not. If Edward lives, that means that Desmond is a swimming snake that everyone thought was the Leviathan and, Ratonhnhaké:ton learned of him because Desmond starts to whisper to him when he was a kid. It’s the least stressful meeting of the three because Edward is there to tell Ratonhnhaké:ton who Desmond is. If we’re keeping it close to canon as possible, Desmond hibernates in the Grand Temple after eating whatever device was keeping Juno’s data and he awakens because he hears Lee and his men. He eats Lee and telepathically tells Ratonhnhaké:ton that they need to go and save the village because the other squads are on their way. From there, the village believes Desmond is one of the ‘beasts’ that sleeps in the land, having awakened because of the atrocities of the colonists.

[orikiys]

✿ ✿ 〞 voicemails before spring ends

✰ pairings: felix x fem!reader

✰ genre: angst, romance, forbidden love, modern royalty au

✰ warnings: mentions of alcohol, insecurities, some cursing (only damn and that too once), felix belittles himself very much

✰ word count: 1.5k + words (got too carried away with this)

FELIX | chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | han | seun gmin | jeongin

one 𖨂

today is another day of me thinking i wish we weren’t impossible. a rather blunt way to start it is, i know. but i cannot help myself as i watch you from across the room, in the arms of a rather worthy man. and i cannot help but think what it is to have what he does. fame, money, personality and. . . looks. i cover up my freckles and drew new ones because they look rather unorganised. i have to set my hair every ten minutes, in hopes i don’t look like i’m at my worst. or maybe, to have your attention on me. how utterly pleasing must it be. the gentlemen– he is everything i’m not. he is everything i try to be. he is everything i ever wanted to be. and now, he’s also stealing the most precious thing i ever had. you. and i’m helpless. i can’t do anything but watch. as i’m only your royal advisor.

two 𖨂

you tell me you love me at midnight. you cup my cheeks and kiss me deeply at midnight. you again tell me that you love me and snuggle against me at midnight. and i love it. every bit of it. but i must ask, why midnight? why not in the daylight? or is it too embarrassing for you to be seen caught in such acts? once again i ask, what’s wrong with us? why are we impossible? that’s the only reason i won’t admit that i love you. because if i do, i’m afraid that it’ll come true. and it’s barbaric. because i can’t love you. you don’t need my love when you have thousands of suitors up in line with proposals. and it’s rather upsetting to say i don’t even stand a chance among these royals. i’m. . . the watcher. just watching you all the time. tell me, is it love if i think of you all the time? and even though i shouldn’t be, i can’t help it. not when you look utterly beautiful when you wake up. your unruly hair, bare face and your smile– the one that has kept me under your spell. and though, i should be sending you the proposal requests from all across the city, i keep them with me. in my chambers, locked up in some rusty box so you don’t get taken away from me. and it is selfish of me indeed. but if it means, i can avoid watching you fall for another man for some weeks, i suppose it’s a rather good idea. good for my heart too.

three 𖨂

why do you make it so hard for me to leave quietly? why did you have to take my leaving notice and tear it? why? i demand answers. why don’t you understand how hard it is for me? let go of me please. along with the thoughts that we would ever have a happily ever after. i have gotten rid of it as well. it’s impossible, sweetheart. and i’m sorry– for not trying harder and going away this easily. but i’ve seen your heart, and i know it longs for me just like mine does. and that’s all i ever need to know. that’s all. but if you still continue to stop me i’ll have to remind you of the harsh reality. yes, reality. what you’re thinking is just a dream. you and me, we’re on two different levels. so, please don’t make it harder for me than it already is. and i wish it didn’t have to be this soon or under such unforeseen circumstances, but i’ll say it right now. i love you. but i hate love. so much. i’m terribly miserable without you. and i want to spend every second of my life with you. and now, here i am. bitterly laughing at myself while thinking of my dreams. dreams, no wonder they sound so unrealistic. it took me a lot of courage to say all this, many bottles of fine wine and a broken heart. you’re the person i cannot love. and even though a mere thought of you has me smiling foolishly to myself, allowing myself to lower my walls and let you in and see my vulnerability, i still cannot love you. because i can never have you. never.

four 𖨂

darling stop hurting yourself over me. please. you deserve someone who can make you happy. someone who has money to spend on you and your future children, someone who has time to take you out and roam around the city and someone. . . who is truly as valuable as you are. as high as you are. an equal. that’s who you need. don’t cry for me. what we had was beautiful. yet tragic. and it’s something i won’t even forget or move on from. it hurts me knowing i can’t comfort you any longer, as i’m too far away now. so far that you can’t even reach it if you wanted to. stop searching for me. stop trying to come to me. stop, just stop. i’m sorry that i loved you. but i don’t regret it in a bad way. i regret that i couldn’t buy you expensive gifts that you received from other suitors, or even cherish you properly. but the intimacy we had was sincere. and i can still sense it. i did receive your calls and texts, but it’s inappropriate of us to be talking that way when your engagement has been announced, my love. whatever we had, should end right here before anyone else finds out. and if they do, i don’t know how i’ll control myself. you need to understand the urgency! they can hurt you, kill you and even use you if they ever find out! and i don’t want anyone looking at you, touching you in a way that can cause you harm. please, for my sake, stop. i’ll meet you one last time, just like you wanted and after that don’t call out for me anymore. i love you. and that’s why it’s my responsibility to also protect you. though not physically, but i can try to avoid any danger that’s walking towards you. text me, only if there’s an emergency. good night sweetheart, try to sleep okay? read the book from where we last left it if you can’t seem to fall asleep. okay? i miss you too, i hope you know that.

five 𖨂

our last time was a goodbye, and i hated that it felt like one so damn much. you looked so weak, are you sure you’re taking proper care of yourself? it was hard to pull away from that hug. because i knew that if i did, you would have to walk away from me. and even though you should, since it’s unsafe for you to be seen around me, it stung pretty badly. every word you said to me– i have it written down in my diary just so that i don’t forget. and when you said, “felix, i’m sorry to have been born in this life where you couldn’t publicly be mine, neither could i be yours. but i hope you know that our hearts are entangled deep with each other”, i felt that. it struck me so hard that i get tears everytime it replays in my head. you may call me a coward for not fighting, but nothing matters more than your safety and wellbeing. nothing at all. i would like to say something as well, and please remember it. i just want to say that our love it’s true, it’s pure and passionate and keeps growing no matter the time, place or the distance between us. in this life, i couldn’t have you. . . but in next life, i won’t let go of you. i’ll stop you, love you and fight for you. i would do all the things i couldn’t complete in this life. perhaps, in the next life this love story of ours will have a happily ever after and i’ll pray for it.

six 𖨂

remember when i told you that you remind me of springtime? i didn’t lie. the air smells different, the flowers begin to bud, after that dark and cold winter; it brings out smiles. and you, my love after the definition of spring, you’re the rebirth of all my laughs that i lost in my childhood. you gave me a new life, a new will to live. you’re the light to my life, like the fresh innocence of spring. forever until death brings us together, i’m yours and yours only. and i wish you a life full of joy. like the spring you are, let’s give us a rebirth and act like strangers who once were lovers as well. i hope to meet you again when spring starts. just like the beat of my heart, i longingly stare at you, so don’t worry, i’ll always have my eye on you darling. spring ends tomorrow, and we do too. i love you even through the harsh winters and scorching suns.

PERM TAGLIST: @taeriffic 🧣 @hello-2-u-from-me 🧣 @ilychee08 🧣 @sleepyleeji 🧣 @spacegirlstuff

[hide-in-imagination]

Paris & a Promise | Simbar Oneshot

The studio was pristine and cozy, with bright colors on the walls, white leather chairs, one in front of the other, and a big screen between them on the far wall so that the people in the audience, and of course, the host and guest occupying the two chairs, could see pictures and videos of the topic that was being discussed.

Behind the three cameras pointing at the studio (one on the guest, one on the host, and one holding a general view of everything), the floor manager, a woman in her thirties with a headset to hear and communicate the director’s orders, made a signal to the host, a charismatic man on his forties with black hair, wearing a suit and tie. In the guest chair in front of him, the blonde young woman, wearing a tasteful long-sleeve blouse and a mini skirt, listened to the countdown overhead until the ‘On Air’ sign lighted up anew, followed by a short rendition of the show’s theme song, and applause from the audience on their seats.

“Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen! We are here live with Ámbar Smith,” the host resumed the show with a big smile, facing the camera and then focusing on his guest. “Ámbar, once again, thank you so much for coming to our show. I hope you’re having as good a time as we are, but if not, do not worry, your torment is almost over now.”

Ámbar laughed along with the audience.

“Noo, don’t say that, of course I’m having a good time, I’m always happy to be here.”

“I’m so glad to hear that. Now,” the host leaned forward, “I’m sorry for deviating from your achievements but, we simply can not let you leave without talking about—” he pointed at her with his hand, “that huge rock weighing on your finger right now.” The audience started screaming. “Poor thing, she can’t even move her hand— Look how she keeps it on the armrest! Unbelievable!”

The audience whooped and laughed while Ámbar giggled, her right hand coming up to try and hide her grin and blushing cheeks.

“Ámbar, my sincerest congratulations on your engagement,” the host said now in earnest as the audience quieted down.

“Thank you so much.” The audience cheered again, stealing another giddy smile from her.

“Now, I know everyone already knows this, but in case anyone’s been living under a rock these last few years, you’ve been dating the Roller Band’s guitarist and vocalist Simón Álvarez for quite a few years now.” A picture of the couple posing together at a red carpet appeared on the big screen of the studio.

“Six years, yeah,” Ámbar said with a smile.  

“Six whole years, and he finally proposed two weeks ago, as we can see in this picture you two posted on Instagram, showing off the ring.”

A screenshot of their Instagram post showed on the screen. The photo depicted their hands together, Ámbar’s hand over Simón’s turned-up palm, the thick diamond ring front and center, shining on her finger, while the background showed an orange and red sky, with the Eiffel Tower blurry but visible in the distance. 

The audience cheered and a warm smile curled Ámbar’s lips at the photo.

The host looked at her again. “Tell me, Ámbar, did you see it coming? Did you know he was going to do it or did it take you by surprise?”

Ámbar made a complicated face. “Um, I kind of saw it coming, but no, not really,” she broke off with a laugh.

The host looked at her with intrigue. “What do you mean? Like, you did and then you didn’t? What’s the story?”

“Well. We were in Europe because the Roller Band was touring there, and they had stops in different cities, and Simón was like ‘You should come with me, you could visit Paris’ blah blah blah, so I joined them. He knows that Paris is my favorite city in the world, I’ve always loved it— In fact, I spent some months there when I was in university, as part of an exchange program for six months, and I just have very good memories of the city in general. So anyway, that got me thinking, you know… We’re going to be in Paris…” She started hinting. “He invited me to join… We’ve been dating for 6 years… So, on that front, I did have my suspicions, but I just— The timing didn’t make sense to me,” she said. “That was the problem, that’s what threw me off.” 

“How so?”

“Because we were only staying in Paris for one day,” she emphasized. “The guys were scheduled to arrive in the morning at the hotel, then they had their soundcheck in the afternoon, and then their concert, and that same night we had to go to Italy because they had their concert there the next day. So I was like… Yeah, no. No way.” She laughed. “Like, it was a lot in less than 24 hours. How could he even find the time for it? It’s insane.”

“He totally got you then.”

“He did. It took me completely by surprise, it was so sweet.”  

“It was like in some sort of balcony, right?” The host checked. “I mean, I remember from the photos you two posted— Those ones.”

New photos appeared on the screen. It was two selfies of the two of them standing close together on a black iron balcony with a view of the sunset, the city of Paris, and the Eiffel Tower. They were taken by Simón, one of his arms around Ámbar while the other extended beyond the frame, holding the phone. In one of them, they were both grinning brightly at the camera, Ámbar showing off the ring, her eyes glistening with emotion. The second was very similar to the first, probably taken seconds apart from each other, except in that one Simón wasn’t looking at the camera but kissing Ámbar’s cheek with his eyes closed. Ámbar was still grinning and showing off the ring like in the first picture, but she had her eyes closed in that one too, basking in the love. 

“Yeah, that’s the balcony of the hotel room we were staying at,” Ámbar answered, pointing at the screen. “Simón specifically looked for one that had a view of the Eiffel Tower for us.”

“He had it all planned out,” the host said, impressed.

“Everything,” Ámbar confirmed. “From the very first second. Cause— Look. This is how it all went down.” She leaned forward in her seat, entering story-telling mode, and the host leaned forward as well, giving her all of his attention. “We arrived at around 11 am in Spain. The first thing we did was sleep because we were all dead on our feet, and then around two, Simón asked me if I wanted to go out to eat, and I was like ‘Yeah, sure’, so we went to this restaurant I recommended to him, I knew it from my many trips to Paris, and we just, you know, had our meal, talked, walked around the city for a little bit after— Very normal stuff. Then, Simón had to go to his soundcheck, so he left, and I just kept walking around ‘cause, you know, I was like ‘I don’t know when I’ll be able to come back, better make the best of it now.’”

“Of course.”

“And that was all I was planning to do for the rest of the day really, but then, like an hour or so later, I get a call from Simón like ‘Hey, I’m done with the soundcheck, I’m going back to the hotel now, let’s meet up there’, and I was like… Why didn’t he just stay in the arena?” She said, bemused. “His concert was like in two hours, it would’ve made more sense. But anyway. I got back to the hotel, and I asked him how the soundcheck went, and he was like ‘Well, very well, everything good’— Which was a complete and total lie, by the way,” she pointed out, looking at the audience.

“What do you mean ‘lie’?” The host asked with surprise.

“He never went to the soundcheck,” Ámbar said. “I only found out about it later. The guys went to the soundcheck by themselves, Simón never joined them.”

“Then what was he doing?”

“I’m getting there,” she said. “So, we met at the hotel, and Simón was like ‘Hey, so, I only have like an hour and a half before I need to leave but, what do say if we order room service and eat a little something before I leave?’ and I was like, ‘Yeah, that sounds nice.’ So we sat at a little table there on the balcony, and we were just, you know, having like a regular dinner, when suddenly he says: ‘My love. I didn’t want to tell you before, but I have a surprise for you.’ And I was like.” Ámbar made a face of curiosity. “‘What?’ And the very instant— I have this so ingrained in my mind— the very instant the sun started setting, he got down on one knee.”

“Oh my god.” The audience cheered and clapped, joining the host’s excitement. “That’s crazy! So, he had it all timed down to the second.”

“He did! He totally did. I couldn’t believe it. And then he, you know, started saying all these beautifulthings, and once the shock wore off, I just started crying,” she laughed a little bit. “And just, you know, I said yes, obviously.”

The audience screamed. Ámbar laughed, radiantly happy, the camera capturing the emotion in her eyes. “Then we hugged and it was very sweet. I really couldn’t have imagined it a better way; it was perfect.”

“And then you two went to celebrate, right? We’ve got some pictures of you on a rooftop.”

“Yeah! That was the craziest part! We had just gotten engaged and Simón was like ‘I’ve got another surprise for you’ and he led me to the hotel’s rooftop, and the whole time I’m thinking, ‘What now?!’ Like, what else had this guy planned? Fireworks? I genuinely couldn’t put it past him by this point. And then we got to the rooftop, and my whole family was there.” The audience went aww. “With our closest friends too; it was like fifteen people up there. And I was like— ‘What are you all doing here?!’” The audience laughed. “‘When did you get here?!’ It was insane!”

“Simón got them all there without you knowing?” The host expressed with awe.  

“No one told me anything! I genuinely don’t know how they managed to keep it from me,” Ámbar said with disbelief. “And the rooftop was decorated with balloons, flowers, there was food— Well, you’ve got the photos there.” She pointed to the screen where the pictures from her Instagram were displaying. “So, like, it was amazing. It was truly amazing, and so beautiful. And our friends started hugging us and giving us their congratulations, and… What got to me the most was that, well, my mom couldn’t go,” she started explaining. “I don’t speak about her a lot publicly but, basically, she’s got a certain degree of blindness, so it’s complicated for her to move around on her own, she has to be accompanied— And honestly, good for her that she didn’t go, I would’ve felt terrible if she had made that huge trip just for me. But she did send me a video congratulating me. I watched it on a tablet. And I just… Well, if I had already cried, that was the moment I finished ruining my makeup.” The audience laughed with her. “But it was sweet. It was all very sweet and moving and just amazing. I had a very good time there with my friends and family until we had to leave.” 

“Sounds wonderful.” The host had a sweet smile on his face. “I bet it was a very treasured moment for you two, for your family, your friends—I have a question though,” he said, more serious now, “that I imagine all of us are wondering as well— What about the concert?”

Ámbar nodded like she knew exactly what he meant. “Yeah, you see, that’s the funniest part! Cause like— Just imagine: Simón organized this whole thing— When he was supposed to be at the soundcheck, by the way; he never did that, he was on the rooftop with everyone else getting everything ready— and in the end, he just like, stayed for half an hour and then he left.” The audience laughed. “Because he had his concert! You know?” She said over the noise. “So like. It was crazy. It was really crazy, he totally rushed to the arena. He must’ve put on his outfit and the microphone in record time, the poor thing. But he always tells me that it was worth it. So.” Ámbar shrugged with a little smile.

The audience went aww again.

A mischievous glint appeared in the host’s eyes. “Yeah, he looked very excited the night of the concert. There was even this video that went viral— You saw it, right?”

“I’ve seen many,” she deadpanned, nodding her head.

“Well, here we’ve got the one that made the most headlines on the internet; a little video posted by a fan.” A video of Simón taking the stage started playing on the studio’s big screen on mute. It was a vertical video, filmed from up close, maybe from the fifth row, or maybe using a lot of zoom. “This is the same night you were telling us about, when the Roller Band was playing at the arena.”

The volume went up and the screams of the crowd could be heard as Simón walked up to the front of the stage where a microphone stand was waiting. He had his guitar hanging from his shoulder, ready to play. For everyone watching at home, the video took the whole screen of the TV, replacing the image of the studio. 

“Paris, how are you doing tonight?!”

The crowd went wild in response to Simón.

Simón laughed a little and started talking again, so the crowd went quiet to be able to hear him. “You know, I’m the exact same way as you, guys, like, exactly. Because this next song,” he started leisurely playing the guitar as he talked, not a melody but just a simple, soft up and down of his hand on the strings, “is one I wrote about a very special someone to me, many years ago now. And since then, I’ve had the fortune, the pleasure, the utter privilege of having this gorgeous, amazing woman by my side. And this night is very special, Paris, because… This very, very night…” He started laughing and had to take a step back, unable to contain his joy. The crowd was screaming. Simón walked up to the microphone again and yelled out ecstatically.

“SHE SAID ‘YES’!!!!”

Simón began strumming the guitar as the rest of the band joined in, playing together the intro of ‘Tiempo de Amor.’

The studio came back on screen and the video continued rolling in a lower volume as Simón started singing the song, eventually going mute, and then pausing altogether. The audience in the studio was screaming excitedly.

“You do realize that because of this 15 thousand people knew about it before many of our relatives and acquaintances, right?” Ámbar told the host, making everyone laugh again.

“I can just picture them seeing this on Twitter or Tiktok and calling you up like ‘WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED?’” The host acted out.

“It happened with more than one person,” Ámbar declared. The audience laughed.

“Alright but, putting all of that aside, the important thing is that you two had this magical moment and now you’re going to take this next step together,” the host moved the narrative along. “Tell me, have you set a date yet for the ceremony?”

“We don’t have an exact date yet, but the idea is to have a Spring wedding next year.”  

“Love that. So, that means you’ve got plenty of time to plan for the event then. I imagine you’ll need it. Are you planning for a big party?”  

“We’ll see,” Ámbar replied. “We’re still deciding whether we wanna do this biiig, over the top wedding or just a small ceremony with our closest friends and family. But, whatever we end up choosing, I think the most important thing is just, our promise to always be together. So,” a serene smile graced her lips, “the rest is just a complement to that and we’ll figure it out as we go.”

“That’s beautiful,” the host said. “Seriously, I’m so happy for you two, congratulations— Give it up for Ámbar Smith, ladies and gentlemen!”

The audience went wild.

“Thank you so much for being here with us today, Ámbar,” the host told her, starting to wrap up.

“Thank you for having me, it was lovely,” she replied with a smile.

The host turned to face the camera and the shot focused on him. “And to everyone watching us at home, you’ll want to stick around because our next guest is an artist who’s been trending all over social media, not only in Spain but in all parts of the world. We’ll be right back!”

…

..

.

. * ⋆ . · 　.╰──────༺♡༻──────╯. * * . 　 *

Okay so, originally, I had this idea in the context of my Actress!Ámbar x Musician!Simón AU. It was going to be, like, a second chapter where I mixed different interviews, some of Simón, some of Ámbar, as a way to tell how their relationship developed after the ending of chapter one. But then I thought—Why limit it to just that one context? I really loved the idea I came up with for this proposal, so I wanted it to fit as many different worlds as possible, especially canon for those who aren’t such big fans of AUs, so— Here it is! I really hope you liked it. It’s very different from everything I’ve written before in terms of format, but that’s precisely why it was so much fun to write. What would you even call this type of POV? Second Person or something? Sdfkjn. I don’t know, I don’t remember much of my high school lessons; it’s been too many years.

And speaking of years. It's been 6 years now since the show ended and this proposal took place 6 years into their relationship, so I think it would be sweet to imagine that Simón and Ámbar are engaged right now as we speak and that they’ll be getting married next year in 2025 <3

Our babies have grown up, and so have we.

See you all next time. – C

[eyra]

winning arguments without crying

Three years ago I liked you and now I think you’re hideous That’s really all it is. Crumbling stone above your sink in a houseshare bathroom that feels like an aeroplane toilet. A corona of snakes that couldn’t be saved by a beautiful tragedy. You have to train them, you see To bite beautifully and in a tragic sort of way A literary way You can’t just wash your red hair and let it dry like that. I would know. Mine are revered and I think people are afraid of them but in a beautiful sort of way.

That’s another story that I’m trying to write and I wish I could block you from the pages like I’ll block you on Instagram.

I think you’re hideous A gradual  and then very sudden descent into a cramping hatred like the way you think hot weather is just fantastic and I think the sun is fucking obnoxious Like you A loudly epic microcosm  A study in how to learn to hate a stranger measured by unprecedented times and a handful of afternoons eating  blue cheese and crackers on London grass waiting for the time to pass If nobody likes you and everybody likes me then does that make me awful too? or does it just mean I’m right

You glittered like a mirror for a morning our sisterly reflections in mourning A summer snapshot from the lens I’m still in charge of Now you’re a black hole or something worse probably an empty shell pretending to be a whole person. Boring boring boring Everything about you is boring I’m bored with how boring I find you This poem is boring. It’s boring to talk about you but I can’t stop none of us can stop we’re all awful. You were a mirror and isn’t that funny considering how much you fucking love looking at yourself now Is this fucking play about us? as long as it’s all focused on you Tell us to knock the f-stop back as far as we can until it’s just The You Show again but you’ll say you hate the lens I’m standing behind. Apparently it’s all so condescending of me but I think you just don’t understand what that word means and what you actually mean is I’m older than you and know how to win arguments? What you actually mean is I can fight without shaking and my face doesn’t turn red when I’m angry? and I’ve always thought that a very lucky trait to have I think I probably got that from my dad although he doesn’t really get angry. I think you should write a poem about what you got from your dad But you’ll never do that even if  it’s the easy pick to the door you say someone else bolted you behind screaming. I unpicked mine when I was twenty and I’ll always shoot if someone slags off my closet And you think you’re the gunmaster here

But that’s a totally separate conversation and I can’t be bothered having it with you so can we just move on because you’re too narrow to get that.

The most caring person in the world until empathy starts unearthing your enemies As if you don’t already have a thousand. And none of it feels important anymore so I’m embarrassed that I even care but it���s not a caring sort of caring. If you’re compelled by right and wrong I’m compelled by love and hate I think that’s my coin and one day soon I’ll stop spending it on you But for now I’m solvent Even if I’m letting you steal from me and your steel city state is richer than my ancient woodland but your vaults are beneath iron girders of fantastic and thanks so much and so it becomes a girlish and quietly-biting sort of coin that burns lips and makes everything taste like copper mine is just a mist and then you accuse me of being non-confrontational when actually I’ve always quite liked confrontation.

It’s something I’m good at

and yet you keep trying and honestly I find that mortifying But you’re a child so I don’t even care. Maybe I should swaddle you but you said you're wise beyond your years so I guess let’s go with that? And if everyone hates you and nobody hates me then maybe you should go back to your mirror and look there instead of at your front-facing camera because that’s mortifying too  and you should’ve gone to university because you would’ve met other mirrors there And at least I know I’m a bitch

I met my mirrors ages ago.

But you run from reflection and choose your front-facing camera instead because it does that thing where it flips the image and you get to pretend that you’re the opposite thing to the thing you actually are and you get to tell yourself that you’re so tiny and the world is the Big Bad pecking at your nest. But you’re the awful thing And everything is backwards And everything is mirrored to you And if I saw myself in you then send me the invoice and finish your email with  thanks so much  for teaching me how to be something else because honestly if I became what you already are I think I’d just die  I can see you rolling your eyes on the playground because someone else was enjoying the swings but in a stupid way and the tarmac was hotter in Germany but that doesn’t make you more interesting. God I wish I could tell you that.

I told you once that sometimes I pretend I’m on Graham Norton when I’m in the car I thought everyone did that but apparently they don’t But that’s fine I think and you didn’t need to laugh about it with your fiancée But she's left you too and I found that funny So let’s call it even.

I dive headfirst into the oil when it comes to you because it feels so hotly delicious  To nestle in the anonymous ranks of whatever armies you think you did nothing to provoke You’ve got spears for crutches but your armour is accountancy note paper With lecture notes too boring to comprehend I don’t think you’re actually interested in investment risk and taxation or fraud analytics Is anyone? It’s just something else to put on your brown sash and on your HER profile. Tell them about how you’re on every battlefield and I’m just softly at home writing a stupid poem about you And if you’re reading this now because you keep tabs on everyone and everything and if you were waiting for me Don’t flatter yourself. This isn’t about you. Because I already don’t remember how old you are but I think you get a notification when I post an Instagram story of myself as a child.

I have a pitchy black well of everything that you don’t have and I throw myself into it and you screw your face up lime-sour when actually I think you’d love to build one for yourself  but you can’t stop looking at your Instagram followers for long enough to work out  How to cast bricks or divine water or whatever else you need to build a well

You don’t even have the land for it yet.

I’d rather write a stupid poem than be your blank piece of paper I’d rather write myself as a villain than play your antagonist  Write me out of your boring story I’m begging you. It’s been a year and you’re still looking up how to spell my name  Between notes about investment management and derivatives And I don’t even know what that means Thank God. God it’s so boring But I’m laughing at the idea of one day forgetting your name.

I can be rotten but I think the thing that saves you from Hell is the welcoming of the rot and if I can be this but also sleep with my friends and love my American cereal and the little squares of sun my mirrorballs cast to my blue walls Then what does it matter I don’t think it matters. But you can’t be told about any of that Because you’re too busy romancing your front-facing camera and  one-hundred-and-thirty-three people in fluorescent ceiling panels who won’t ever clap at a volume that fills you So I’ll leave you waiting for your lean applause And I’ll just be lighter.

I watched a video today of my niece on a ride-on lawnmower Grinning with my dad in the field behind our house and that was me twenty-two years ago. God I love that I can love.

[deathofpeaceofmiiind]

illicit affairs | sixteen

*Noah’s  POV* “So, where are you taking me?” I looked over at Ellie as we got into her car, she took my breath away like always. She was wearing a cropped brown t-shirt with black ripped jeans and she swapped her signature checkered Vans out with a pair of leopard print sandals. Her eyes were shielded by a pair of sunglasses as we left her parking lot and into the busyness of the city. She let me drive which I was excited about since I was still obsessed with her car, and it also meant I could keep my hand on her thigh the whole time.

“Since it’s so nice out, I thought it would be fun to rent electric scooters and go around Stanley Park.” I replied, stealing another glance at her. “You’re incredible, you know that?” I licked my lips to shield my stupid smile I can’t get rid of, “enlighten me.”

“You just manage to find perfect things for us to do.” She replied, placing her hand over mine. “I missed that.” “I missed it too.” I confessed as brushed my mouth over her hand and kissing it gently. “I’m just glad that I can experience new things with you again.”

She nods gently before leaning over the console and kissing my cheek. My face began to flush pink, making me lose focus on what was in front of me. We pulled up to Stanley Park and I lead Ellie over to where the rental booth was for our scooters. We opted out on getting helmets, despite the worker telling us we should. We just looked at each other and smirked, if she takes me out then so be it. 

The city was taking my breath away as we rode down the seawall, the scent of the ocean prickling my nose. The park wrapped around the shore, giving me a clear view of the mountains. We rode under the bridge and I had to stop to catch my breath. This place was beyond beautiful and gave me a sense of home I never felt before.

“Not bad huh?” Ellie comments as she pulls up beside me, I just nodded on account that I was completely bewildered. I took my phone out and snapped a few photos of the scenery, then turned flipped my camera so I could get a selfie with Ellie. “I think we’re due for a new one.” “Absolutely.” She agrees as she gets closer to me, wrapping her arms around my stomach. We both smiled at my phone, snapping a few so we could pick which one we liked the most. Ellie got on her tallest tip toes and kissed my cheek for a few more photos, then pulling me into a soft kiss, causing me to take even more.

“I’m putting these on my instagram.” “I thought you hated social media?” She chuckled as we got back onto our scooters.

“I made a private one a few months back just to share shit with the band and my close friends. I just didn’t like have so many people following my every move.” “Can I put them on mine? It’s private too, I have maybe 60 followers?” She asked, looking nervous about what I would say. How could I say no? She wanted to show me off as much as I wanted to show her off. I smiled, “of course you can.”

“Oh my god.” Ellie stopped dead in her tracks as we got closer to a playground. It was full of kids laughing and having a good time. She gripped her handle a little tighter as she locked her eyes on a small child with blonde hair. I wondered if it was her son. “What?” “Tyler’s over there with Liam.” She replies, my stomach turning at the sound of Tyler’s name. “I want to ignore them, but I physically can’t ignore my son. On the other hand, I don’t want hide you anymore.”

“Ellie, are you comfortable with me meeting them?” 

“Yes.” There was a tone of anxiousness in her voice. “I don’t know why I’m nervous, I want you to meet them. Let me just call him first.” She pulled her phone out, my heart beating faster the longer she spoke to Tyler. I had to admit I was impressed that they were so civil with each other now and could both be there for Liam. My eyes panned over to a tall blonde guy, his hair was covered by a backwards baseball cap, and he looked like the typical jock. Ellie did say she tried to fit herself into a cookie cutter lifestyle, and he looked like the kind of guy who would give it to her. She got off the phone and peered over to me, I couldn’t read her emotions for once. “Noah…how invested are you in me?” She asked, clutching her phone to her chest. “For the rest of my life.” “Oh wow.” She stammered, not expecting me to say that but it was the truth. “Tyler said he was more than okay with us going over there, but he just wants to make sure we’re serious. Introducing Liam to people random people is something we don’t take lightly.” “Ellie, I love you, you know that right?” I said, taking her shaking hands into mine. I looked right into her bright eyes, not daring to break our contact. “I have to admit I am a little nervous to meet this beautiful child you created, but it’s also something I don’t take lightly. I haven’t been around a lot of kids, so this is a risk I’m willing to take.” “Okay.” She nods, pressing her mouth to mine. “Lucky for you Liam is pretty friendly, so just let him come up to you. If he gets scared just give him a few minutes. Tyler is also cool with this, he’s happy we figured it out.” We walked over towards Tyler, I could feel her hand trembling the closer we got. He took his sunglasses off and shot me a stare with his bright blue eyes. There was some minor tension between us for a moment, I guess me knowing all the terrible things he did to her caused him to be a little reluctant. Much to my surprise, he took a step towards me and extended his hand, which I took immediately and shook. “Nice to meet you finally.” Tyler spoke, looking me up and down as his lip twitched. I felt like he was slightly judging me, considering I looked nothing like him. 

“Likewise.” I replied. “Thanks for letting me meet Liam.” “For sure, I just know how much this means to Ellie.” Before I could reply, Liam ran up to us and grabbed onto Ellie’s leg, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off me. I knelt down to his eye level, taking my sunglasses off so he could see me. My heart was thundering in my chest as I waited for him to make a move. I was as still as I could be, I didn’t want to make any sudden moves. “Liam, this is Noah. He’s my friend.” Liam reluctantly let go of her as I gently waved at him. I half expected him to run away or start crying, which unfortunately happens when kids see the amount of tattoos I have, but he didn’t. He walked right over to me and gave me a hug, catching all of us off guard. I wrapped a hand around his back as the smell of his sunscreen hit my nose. My eyes peered over to Ellie, who had her hand over her mouth as tears glistened in her eyes. 

“That did not take much.” Tyler commented.

“I know.” Ellie replied, sniffing tears back. “I swear this kid has a better judgment of character than we do.” While the two of them talked Liam let go of me and began to trace my tattoos, pointing out the different colours he saw. I couldn’t help but smile every time he got a colour right, it was the cutest thing I’ve ever witnessed. Liam insisted on me coming to the slides with him, which I did with no hesitation. He spent a half an hour going down and getting me to catch him. The fast he went, the louder he laughed.

“Tired?” I asked him when he came down the slide again, a huge yawn escaped his mouth. He nodded, extending his arms for me to pick him up. I scooped him up in my arms, his head fell onto my shoulder as his little eye lids began to flutter. I smirked, his trust in me was enough to make my heart swell. “You gotta tell me your secrets.” Tyler gasped as we made it back over to them. “I can never tucker him out that fast.” “I wish I had an answer.” I whispered as I quickly transferred Liam to Tyler, not daring to wake him up. Ellie came over and wrapping her hand around my arm, she looked so proud of me and it was such rewarding feeling. I was just so relieved that Liam reacted to me like he did, I couldn’t wait to spend more time with him. We said our goodbyes and once Tyler was out of view, Ellie grabbed me and kissed me gently. My hand cupped her cheek as I deepened the kiss even more. 

“Thank you for being perfect and taking the time to be with Liam.” Ellie said as we broke apart, she still had her precious smile on her face she’s had all afternoon. “Anything for you, you know that.” I replied, kissing her again. “I love you, and I know I’m going to love Liam just as much.” We headed back towards our scooters and finished our lap around the seawall. It was so beautiful out and sun was starting to burn my skin, making me realize summer was right around the corner. I was so happy to have the summer off of touring so I could enjoy it for once, especially with Ellie by my side. I wanted our future to hurry up but I was also savouring every single second I could with her. Things were finally falling into place.

[grandtheftgoose]

Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:

Skeppy & Quackity - Wool

The sky is blood red tonight.

It reminds him of the egg, the different hues and tones. There was no breeze with the egg though. Everything was still with the egg, a kind of atmosphere that suffocates. That traps you in and chokes you, steals everything from you, eats you alive. If he closes his eyes he is back in the egg.

Slowly dying, smothered by vines.

If he closes his eyes, he can remember the hopelessness he floated in until it turned into apathy.

However, his eyes are open. He is standing at the tower in Las Nevadas, the desert does not smother but carries a breeze throughout. There is no feeling of despair and there is no apathy, he does not yearn for Bad. They haven’t spoken in three weeks and he is fine.

He keeps his eyes open and looks ahead at the not crimson red sky. It’s more of a cherry red sky. Maybe flecks of cardinal or cerise. Not blood red and definitely not crimson. The air is clear and not suffocating and there is no smell of lava or fire or smoke.

Las Nevadas is peaceful, he decides. He can hear the music from the casino below and the chiming of the slot machines. There are footsteps behind him, someone walking up the stairs. They’re not Bad's footsteps nor are they Ants so he’s fresh out of ideas. He’s fresh out of friends on this server too, the egg possessed them all and then they were blown up.

Skeppy turns around as the footsteps come to a stop, it’s Quackity. The guy who blew up his ex-husband (?) but also was one of his best friends. One of his only friends that wasn't controlled by a sentient egg.

“Hey man, didn’t wanna scare you there” he drawls, “it’s a beautiful view isn’t it?”

“Yeah, love all the lights and scenery” he responds, “beautiful sky tonight.”

The sky is slowly fading to dark, the red draining from the sky and the chill starts to pick up. Quackity lights a cigarette next to him, exhaling slowly out to the night sky. It almost feels like he’s back in the egg. But this time there’s someone with him, he never had the strength to stand then so maybe that's the difference between the egg and now. He can stand.

“Hey uh, whatever happened with Bad?” Quackity starts, “he’s been living with Foolish but I swear you two had a place together.”

Skeppy grits his teeth together. Quackity means no harm, he’s just making conversation. There’s no need to think of the egg and the vines and the voices. Right now he’s here looking at the view.

“Yeah we had a house together,” Skeppy starts “we’re kinda not seeing each other because of the whole egg thing y’know?”

“Right, damn that sucks.”

“Yeah” he looks off into the distance, the sky looks nice now that it’s dark. The casino lights paint a picture in the sky, almost like an Aurora Borealis.

“Well if it helps, I think he’s doing better” Quackity begins, “he’s been trolling Foolish lately. I think it helps him not think of the egg and the prison and everything.”

“Was Bad in prison or something?” Skeppy had basically forgotten about the prison. He was too busy being trapped in a sentient egg to care or notice.

“Uh no, he uh worked for the prison” Quackity rings his hands “he guarded Dream before he escaped.”

“Oh, cool”

“Yeah cool.” Quackity takes another drag of his cigarette. He can barely smell the smoke.

There’s an awkward pause as he takes in the city. He was never one for cities or the factions of the SMP. He could never keep up with the towns that kept popping up. He hasn’t gotten out much lately, other than Hbomb showing him around.

“So, what have you been up to lately with your new found freedom?” Quackity asks, “I’m glad we’ve been able to catch up man, it’s been a while with the prison and the egg and shit.”

He inwardly sighs. I haven’t been doing much besides breathing exercises and staring at the walls in Puffys office and going on walks in hopes to see Bad. I’ve been practicing what I’ll say to him, some days it’s “I hate you and I miss you” but most days it’s “I miss you so much I can’t breathe.”

He breathes out. Clean air. No egg.

“I’ve been chilling” he says instead, “I’ve been touring the newer cities in the SMP, I didn’t realize how many people live here now. Never really realized.”

“Yeah, man there’s a lot now” Quackity grins, “what’s your top three? Other than mine of course.”

He scratches his head. His number one would always be the Badlands but that’s not exactly new or here anymore.

“I really liked the snowy one, I think Tubbo’s maybe?”

“Snowchester” Quackity snaps his fingers.

“Yep,” the sky is full of stars now. Not a red hue in sight. “Uh, I also liked Foolish’s summer home, Hbomb and I checked it out briefly.” Bad wasn’t there when he went.

“Foolish is a great builder, a little crazy and slightly manic but he’s got personality y’know? Sam built some of Las Nevadas and he’s just so boring as a business partner.” Quackity drawls, looking out at the skyline.

“Oh yeah I can imagine,” Skeppy thinks of Sam with red eyes and a dull voice, his personality consumed by the egg.

“I also liked the one with the flowers?” he tries to think of the name, “something with a K, it had mushrooms all over the place.”

“Kinoko.”

Skeppy looks up at that, Quackitys voice turned sharp and on edge.

“Yeah” he says faintly, “that’s the one.”

He thinks of the residents of Kinoko, the ones he saw briefly. Tina, with her smile and comforting energy. Callahan, with his reassuring presence, a reminder of the old days. George, his melancholic demeanor and sleepiness that has never changed. Karl, his friendliness that fell somewhat towards manic. And Sapnap, his confidence and loud voice, his eyes that kept looking towards the door.

“Weren’t you and uh Karl and Sapnap like getting married?” he asks, maybe they’ll have a joint kingdom.

“Yeah we were,” Quackity says quickly, “but things got complicated I guess.”

“Guess we’re both bachelors then,” Skeppy says, chuckling to himself, “does your ‘complicated’ involve a cult?”

Quackity chuckles before shaking his head. “Before with the prison and now running Las Nevadas, I don’t have time. No cults necessary for divorce.”

The prison, an elephant so big he doesn’t even want to address it. But if Bad worked there and Quackity went there maybe he can hear more about Bad.

“So, the prison” he starts slowly, “you go there often?”

Quackity straightens up. Gears turning in his head while he takes a drag of his cigarette.

“Yeah, Sam and I were or are business partners so we would meet at the prison. Sometimes I’d visit the guards and Dream and stuff.”

“Was Bad ever there?” he turns to Quackity, studying his face. Looking for the threads that tie them together.

“Sometimes” Quackity shrugs, “He was always kind to Dream. Always used his kicked puppy voice on him, y’know the one.”

And boy does Skeppy know that voice. He misses it in a way. He thinks some days there is a Bad shaped hole in his heart, so big not even the best doctors or seamstresses could sew it back up.

“Was he a good guard?” Skeppy asks, swallowing his confession.

“Nah” Quackity huffs, leaning in, “he’s always been too soft for fighting or prison. He got fired because of the egg but I think it’s because of his empathy. He cared too much about Dream.”

“Oh” Skeppy looks out at the night sky again, “Bad’s always been like that. He’s got a big heart.”

“Yeah, he sure does.” Quackity stares off again before smiling, “enough about your ex or mine, how about we get out of the cold and go get a drink?”

“Sounds good, as long as you're paying.” he says smiling.

“Sure, sure” Quackity grins, “it’s my casino, I own the place.” he spreads his arms out, with the air of a man without a care in the world.

As they walk towards the exit, Quackity turns towards him. The night sky is beautiful behind him, the stars staring at him.

“Y’know I was meaning to ask you earlier” Quackity starts, “but Bad started a knitting club recently, it might be weird because you guys aren’t you guys anymore. But, I have leftover resources from building so I wanted to see if you wanted to come with me sometime?”

Skeppy stares out at the sky above them and the city below them. He thinks of the egg and Bad and his friends. Quackity in front of him and the messy tie that only ex-husbands could share.

Maybe knitting could be a start. Maybe trying something new could lead to a good hobby full of friends not possessed by an egg.

“Sure” he exhales, “I’ve been needing a new sweater.”

@sixteenth-day-event

[kariachi]

Who wants some Argit 10 fic? Specifically, an Argit meets a Kevin.

~~

Earth isn’t that bad a place. Mind, his standards are as low as it is possible for them to be, beneath underbrush, but the point still stands. It’s a habited planet, dominated by a species he has access to from the watch, where nobody looks twice at a scrawny kid wandering around alone. That the place is a backwoods, pre-First Contact mudball where nobody would expect anyone to go doesn’t hurt either.

Argit doesn’t feel safe, he hasn’t felt safe since he left the pouch and his experiences since finding the watch have only made that worse, but he feels safer. As safe as a kitten can when they’re being hunted and hiding out by pretending to be another species for brief stints at a time on a strange planet. He can’t remember the last time he had a full day’s sleep, and that the locals are most active then certainly isn’t helping.

But after a few nights, and with plans for many more as he waits for his pursuers to well and truly lose the trail, he’s getting into the pattern of things on this new planet. Humans, he’s realizing, aren’t a vertical species no matter how high they build and so he can easily take shelter in high places and know that the odds are far lower of being discovered. There aren’t a lot of trees in the part of the city he’s been adjusting in, but what there are nobody inspects, and there are plenty of spaces a small Erinaen can get and rest with ease that humans would struggle with. He’s figured out the basics of the local money system- everything costs more than they say it costs, he does not know why and doesn’t want to draw attention by asking- and is figuring out where he can steal money, and where he can still find necessities if it’s not an option.  

And it’s that last one he’s working on when things take a turn.

Humans have better day vision than Erinaens, but their hearing is crap, and it isn’t until a local his age has crept into the same aisle of a small store that Argit realizes they’re even there. Both start when they see each other, the local’s hand darting to a shelf and Argit freezing in the midst of shoving a package of nuts and dried fruit into a bag he stole four planets back.

Something happens in that moment, as they take each other in. Both thin, both dirty, ragged, scarred. A sense spreads within each of them that the other gets it.

In two heartbeats the local kitten turns and takes a careful look around the corner, towards where who Argit assumes is the owner has been arguing with someone.

“We’re good,” they says in a near whisper. An amount of tension he hadn’t realized he was carrying drops from Argit’s muscles, and he sets to work shoving more than he’d planned into his bag. For the first time in what feels like an eternity somebody is keeping watch.

“What do you want,” he asks at about the same volume, and the local turns back just long enough to do a quick scan of the shelves, grab an orange bag, and toss it to him before turning back. Argit grabs another one, and some weird stick things he can’t identify but that don’t take up a lot of space. He shuts his bag, adjusts it over his shoulder to account for the added weight, and runs over the layout of the place as he saw it on his entrance. “I need to grab some water.”

The local shakes their head.

“I know a better place,” they say, backing away from the end of the shelf and turning towards him again. Looking him over, their eyes narrow at his now stuffed bag, flickering towards the entrance. They're on the same page again, it might attract attention if the owner isn't properly distracted. Already Argit is considering ways to ensure it, you couldn’t count on an argument doing the job, but the local comes to a decision faster, clapping a hand on his shoulder as they slip passed. “Come on.”

Having already decided to trust them, at least for now, Argit follows without question. Besides, it would be stupid to risk saying no, he has more to lose by making a scene than the local does. They lead him carefully through the rest of the small store, away from the entrance, muttering something he can’t catch in a pleased tone when they come across another door. This one is metal, with a push bar and a well-marked button beside it. The local ignores the button, laying both hands on the bar and letting off sparks that arc over it as they push it open into an alley.

Together they slip out, take a sharp right, and are gone. Down two alleys, over a fence, and through one of the smallest parks Argit has ever seen. Not that he’s seen a lot. It’s not until they’re passed the park that the local finds a bench next to a road, under a small roof, and drops down onto one of the seats. Argit carefully does the same, silently lamenting not being able to scan about with his ears in this shape.

“So,” the local says, sitting up straight and flashing a bright smile, “I’m Kevin Levin.” Argit is surprised to find himself honestly smiling back.

“Argit,” he says, without even thinking, a stupid move he’ll be grateful later didn’t come back to bite him. In the then and now, however, he just pulls one of the orange bags out and hands it over. “Thanks for the help, friend.” It isn’t meant in the moment. A turn of phrase learned from his parents’ tails. But Kevin brightens at the word. Something in Argit brightens to see Kevin brighten.

The rest is a history.

[keanureevesisbae]

endeavors #13 - torture

Summary: August takes the sex toys outside of the safety of their apartment.

August Walker x Grace Stanford (asian ofc)

Wordcount: 1.1k

Warning: Nipple play, vibrating egg, orgasms in public, sex in their apartment. Male and female orgasms

Masterlist // endeavors masterlist

After this morning fuck to die for, August and I are under the shower, rinsing off the sweat and other bodily fluids. ‘August,’ I ask him, ‘what would you like to do?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, it’s always about me. What do you want? There must be something?’

He shrugs, pushing some of the hairs from my face. ‘This is perfect for me.’

‘But you have to have a fantasy. Something you desperately want to do.’

‘I’m not sure you are there yet.’

‘I’m there,’ I tell him. ‘Come on, look at all the things we’ve been doing these last few months.’

He cocks an eyebrow. ‘True. Okay, maybe I have something.’

‘What is that?’

‘I’m not telling you. Not yet at least.’ He grabs some soap, puts in on the loofah and lathers my body. ‘I’ve got plans for tonight though.’

‘Oh, what is it?’

‘You and I, a nice meal and your favorite toys stuffed in your cunt.’ He snickers and says: ‘You know I like to see you suffer.’

﹌﹌

Oh, I am suffering. Suffering big time even. One thing is fore sure, I will never show my face here again. I know I have an magnificent and enviable poker face, but the whole idea of ever going back to the place where August just dragged my first orgasm out of me…

I can’t handle that. 

We’re seated next to each other, looking out of the window over the city. His hand rests on my leg, as he continues to pretend like nothing is wrong. My leg nervously moves up and down and as he takes a sip of his drink the vibrations start again. I clench my thighs together and thankfully the music is pretty loud, meaning it drowns out my soft whimpers and the vibrations of the toy. 

This of course is such a dirty little secret.

‘How are you doing?’ August asks, like he isn’t torturing me. 

‘Fantastic,’ I whimper, taking a bite of my side salad. ‘Could you maybe let me eat?’

He takes a pity on me, but I could’ve known that it was a trap. Giving me a minute of peace and quiet, is followed by more intense vibrations. 

August had strict instruction for me and the clothes I had to wear, meaning I am wearing a very flimsy dress. While the material around my breasts is thick enough to hide my hardening nipples—that scrape against the fabric—it does not hide the heaving of my chest. I know August is having a field day.

And then it happens. 

I cum again. My legs tremble and my knuckles turn white as I hold onto the fork a little too tightly. Finally he does stop and whispers in my ear: ‘While I like to fuck you in the privacy of our apartment, there is a certain beauty to see you restricting yourself here. I kinda wish I could hear you screaming my name right now.’

Two can play this game. I turn to the side a little, placing my hand on his upper leg, my fingers close to his slight bulge. ‘I could be screaming your name from the passenger’s seat of your car, but you prefer to sit here in this crowded restaurant.’

He smiles. ‘Be careful with what you’re doing. No matter how gorgeous and irresistible you look, I will always one up you.’ He smirks, causing him to be deviously handsome and irresistible of his own. 

I take a shaky breath, realizing I’ve overplayed my cards. Because it is true. He will always one up me. But I still steal a kiss from him, knowing I’m in deep trouble already.

During the rest of dinner he teased me, but didn’t push me so far for another orgasm.

Somehow—don’t ask me how—I made it to the car without sinking down to the dirty floor and August chuckles, telling me: ‘Let’s see how many orgasms we can drag out of you on our way back.’

The actual motherfucker turned on the vibrations and placed his fucking phone in the standard, not touching it at all. At first I try to make it seem like I can handle this, but my own self fulfilling prophecy of falling apart is coming true. 

I am a sobbing, screaming and withering mess on the passenger’s seat and my mind is foggy by the orgasms and I have no idea how many times I came. After August parked the car, he turns off the vibrations and I lean back in the seat. ‘You know we’re no where from done,’ August chuckles.

‘I know,’ I whisper. I turn my face to the side and smile. ‘I wouldn’t dare.’

﹌﹌

Within seconds of entering the apartment, we have gotten rid of our clothing. Somehow we made it to the bathroom and as August is standing behind me, his hard cock sliding in after pulling the toy from my cunt and spreading my legs apart. I hold onto the bathroom counter top, his fingertips digging into my sides. ‘You’re fucking drenched,’ he mutters, once he totally bottoms out. 

August is desperate to chase his own high, his hand in my hair, gently giving it a pull so my back is against his chest. 

‘Fuck, August,’ I whimper, especially when his other hand slides down my stomach, rubbing my sensitive clit. The way his cock is angled is perfect and so different than what the toy did. The constant pull of my hair, how he’s stretching me out and the way I am with my head on cloud nine, all works together.

Fluids squirt passed his cock, down my legs and land on the tiles. 

‘Fucking hell,’ he mutters, roughly pounding in me, which only makes me moan louder than I did before. The pull on my hair is a little tighter now, his fingers abusing my clit is borderline painful, but in such an addicting way, I don’t want him to stop. 

Watching myself in the mirror, tears ruining my make-up, sloppy kisses on my temple. 

From his erratic thrusts, I can tell he’s close and I watch and listen to him riding out his high, his cock buried deep in between my wet and semen coated walls. His hand rests on my stomach, while I try to catch my breath.

‘You okay?’ August asks.

‘I am,’ I whisper.

His cock softens and once he exits me, cum streams down my legs. I hold onto the counter, not trusting my legs anymore. From behind me, I can hear August turning on the shower and once the water is a nice temperature, he says: ‘Come on, Grace.’

However I can’t move, not without him holding me. My legs feel like jello, but my lips are unable to form words. 

August chuckles darkly, hoisting me up in his strong arms and whispers: ‘You’re lucky I like to hold you, Grace,’ followed by a gentle kiss on my lips.

﹌﹌

endeavors taglist: @diegos-butt // @thelastsock // @liecastillo // @mis-lil-red // @sofiebstar // @abschaffer2 // @crazybutconfidentaf // @summersong69 // @gearhead66 // @xobriellaxo24 // @kebabgirl67 // @eldarwen333 // @kingliam2019 // @cherry-gemz // @sillyrabbit81 // @enchantedbytomandhenry // @lyrarodriguez // @islacharlotte // @sunshine96love // @oddsnendsfanfics // @xuxszx // @omgkatinka // @pterodactylterrace / @peaches1958 // @pandaxnienke // @teamfan7asy // @raccoon-eyed-rebel // @geralts-yenn

[eyelessfog]

“Where are you going?” Joe blinks at Shelby’s back as she walks off. “Hey, I'm monologuing!”

"They need to build a whole new mental hospital and name it after you,” Shelby tells him.

"Okay, but I'm still talking.”

Shelby, kind and patient and friendly witch that she is, beckons Joe to walk with her. “And the idea is that I’m gonna keep walking, and we’re gonna go into the ancient city I haven’t raided yet, and we’re both gonna be forced to shut up. But mostly you!”

“Can I finish my monologue on the way there?”

Shelby squints up at the trees, then takes a step back. “Well… The hope is that you won’t be able to. But you crush my hopes every day, so there’s no surprises there.”

“You’re so mean to me!” Joe gasps, watching as Shelby twirls her broom in her hand, then swings a leg over it. He’s smart enough, and takes the cue for what it is. His fins - ones that he tells her have the look and feel of a flying fish’s fins - are fluttering and ready to take off.

“And you’re mean to me back, so we’re even.” Shelby is aware she’s more clipped than usual today, but she’s also aware she’s going to die several times before the day is over, so the whole thing is souring her mood. “By the way,” she adds. “If you spawn a warden on me, I reserve the right to kill you and make off with your loot.”

“Make out?”

“What?”

“You said make out.”

“I said make off.”

“Oh. I did think it was a little more on the weird side than you usually are to want to… make out with my loot.”

“Joe. If you ever say another word to me, it’ll be too soon.” And then Shelby kicks off, and her broom begins thrumming with magic as it propels her through the sky.

Joe, a second later, twirls into the air beside her. His wings, or fins, or whatever, are spread out to catch the wind, and Shelby can’t help her interest in watching the way they move to keep steady in the ever changing environment that is the sky.

“Like what you see?” Joe calls over the rushing wind.

“Just thinking about how weird it is that a pirate is flying in the sky instead of taking a boat across a river or whatever.” Shelby wasn’t, actually, thinking about that. But she prides herself on being unknowable, so it’s all good.

Joe’s eyes widen a comical amount, and he searches the land for any path of water he might have been able to take. It’s impressive though, because even through his surprise, he’s still managed to put together a half decent explanation. “Listen,” he says. “When you’re raised by parrots, you learn how to fly pretty well. I’m a parrotfish out of water, Shelby, let me have this!” He has a whine to his voice, and Shelby carefully does not laugh.

“You’re not related to Pete, then, are you?” The question is a joke, but-

“He’s my adoptive cousin,” Joe says, and Shelby dips way too fast.

Joe dips with her, losing a fair bit of altitude in a half second. “Are we at the cave yet?” He asks.

“Yeah,” comes Shelby’s dazed answer. “I’ve been making fun of you to the face of your cousin?”

“Yeah. It’s okay though. He doesn’t care. He likes his books more than me. Nerd.” The word is said with fondness, so Shelby supposes he and Pete don’t have too bad of a relationship.

“Huh. Um. Should I start being nicer to you in front of your crew?” Shelby dips again, but this time because she sees the ravine that spirals all the way down to an ancient city.

Joe follows. “Please don’t. They like you fairly well already and I think if you started being polite suddenly, they’d call possession and uh-“ He pauses here. “I am noticing that rituals that pirates are willing to do might sound really weird to outside ears.”

“Wow!” Shelby gasps, putting as much sarcasm into the word as she can give. “Is that so?”

“Other than the stealing.”

“Slightly more surprised ‘is that so,’ but there’s still a lot of sarcasm in there,” Shelby reports.

The skulk is visible to them now. “Okay wait, Joe, I’m gonna need you to be quiet, alright?”

“Uh,” Joe says, and he’s whispering, thank the magic below. “On it, boss.”

Skulk sensors litter the area they stand by, and Shelby squints into the darkness, wand held out for light. “I’m pretty sure we can get ready over here. No shriekers nearby.”

Joe sets down a shulker, and then another two, and begins putting his good tools away. “The other two shulkers is for stuff we get. Um.” Joe squints into the darkness. “Have fun!”

Shelby can hear him muttering about “goodie goodie gumdrops,” as he leaves, so she figures she may as well start looking for stuff before a Warden spawns.

Fifteen minutes later and three shriekers set off by Joe alone finds the both of them running down the woollen paths and hoping they won’t die.

“You know!” Joe yells, which, by the way, activates another shrieker. “This wouldn’t have happened if you just had let me monologue!”

Shelby gulps in a desperate gasp of air. “This is legitimately more preferable than that!” She tells him. “I know far too much about a skeleton pirate captain than I want to as it is! If you need someone to edit your monologue script, please go to someone who’s-“

Shelby squeals, losing her footing for a half second, then scrambling back up.

“Go to someone who cares and take a left, quick, quick, quick!”

They both turn, and the shriek of the Warden rings in their ears, but not enough that it causes them proper pain.

“Shelby,” Joe whispers between laboured breaths. “If I promise you to never ask you to rate my monologues… will you promise not to bring me on deathly trips with you?”

Shelby hits her forehead against his shoulder. “Yeah, Joe. That’s a fair deal.” She holds her hand out. “Shake on it.”

Joe grabs her hand, then lets go immediately afterward. “Ew! What is that??”

It’s spider web.

“It’s spider web.” Shelby smacks Joe lightly in the face with it. “Deal’s still on, by the way. I just won it, is all.”

Joe squints at her. “This doesn’t feel fair, I think.”

Shelby grins. “It’s not!”

[twilightknight17]

Today on P3R, we spend at least 3 days playing an MMO, let a small child steal our food, and head to The Club for a night of… well, actually we just popped in and then went home to go on the computer. Minato is me, for real. XDDDD

So it’s the start of Golden Week, which means days off school! Which means I can barricade myself in my room and play the game Junpei gave us!

We’re off to a great start. EP starts in October, and IS starts in August, so, close enough. I wonder what the plot is gonna be li--

...

......

.........

WELL. I guess he’s here in some small way, at least.

Of course, even when it’s a fake version of Phil, he’s just giving his vague speeches.

Thanks for the enlightening intro about anything that’s going on in this game, Phil. No other info is forthcoming. We just load into an area called Shinagawa Dungeon (which is not P2) and are immediately approached by another player.

...it’s 2009. It’s 2009. It’s 2009. I’m fine. X’D

Did people really ask “ASL” on MMOs?? I thought that was like a chatroulette/omegle/etc thing.

At least she’s nice, even if she talks like the most LOLSORANDOM 2009 Internet Girl.

...You can’t call me Tatsuya the whole game. You can’t. Aaaaaaa.

I’m having a stroke. Oh my god.

Anyway, Golden Week vacation is not a whole week, so it’s back to school on Thursday to guess my way through another class. At least I guessed right this time. But all my teachers continue to be completely ridiculous. None of them want to teach.

My education is suffering! Let’s go to track practice instead and worry about my physical health instead! Except wait, shit, Kaz has fallen down.

You are NOT fine! You collapsed!

He told his teammates he has anemia, but he confesses to Minato that his knee is fucked up. But he’s supposed to take over as team captain next year, and there’s a big national meet next year, so Minato has to keep it a secret.

Now I’m keeping secrets for TWO classmates. Good lord. Because Kenji wants me to keep it a secret that he’s gonna ask out the ethics teacher, so… grife. I guess I’m too used to P5, where most of my links involved making mutually beneficial deals. You guys are just… guys. XD Which isn’t bad, it’s just very different.

Anyway, Atlus, stop putting dudes on the track team and then giving them knee problems.

I’m also attending to my student council duties, and this dude needs to chill so bad.

Like… dude. The teachers at this school don’t give a shit, and you’re walking around like an army general.

My guy, it’s a single cigarette butt in the boys’ bathroom. This is not treason. Calm down. You’re gonna give yourself high blood pressure.

The manager of the track team walked home with us, and Minato got a new social link out of it. Which was interesting mostly just because it happened after track practice, so I got to do two things in one afternoon. Yuko is very nice, though.

I also went to the shrine to see the little girl, Maiko, and she pickpocketed my weird takoyaki and Mad Bull without actually asking. But I think that means that next time she’s there, she can be a social link too?

It’s been a day for social links, and the usual weird drinks.

I don’t know what happiness tastes like, but I’m suspicious as hell of that lemonade. It’s trying too hard to convince me. XD

The last thing I did around town was finally become courageous enough for Club Escapade! We are rocking out completely motionless up in the club.

I do like it here, though. And it gives me great reference pictures to use. XDDD I wish you had the option to dance, but nothing is perfect. I do wonder why the fortune-teller is in the nightclub, though. And the expensive accessory store???

The funny part is meeting the guy here so we can purchase URLs that lead to the dark web… and the first two lead to a random city rumor board, and an unofficial forum for the school. With… do we think this was renamed, or was it called this before and it’s just a call-forward?

SO. Now that we’ve stopped running around town, it’s the full moon, which means Mitsuru has detected another massive shadow! This one is camping out on the monorail leading to the island, so it’s going to be interesting getting there.

...like father, like son, lmao.

This was actually a pretty cool sequence. You do actually get to run down part of the tracks, but not before Junpei gets all pissy that Minato’s been put in charge again. As soon as you encounter the lesser shadows, he runs off to fight on his own.

It’s pretty clear what Junpei’s character arc is gonna be. We save his overconfident ass, and head for the front of the train.

Literally my worst nightmare, dude.

All the way at the front of the train, the Priestess shadow is driving it out of control, and looks… much more chill and tolerable than the Magician. XD It gives you a 30 minute time limit for the fight, which is fine… and then cuts that in half and in half again partway through. X’’’’D

I don’t do great with time limits. But we made it!

And did not die on the runaway train.

Hehehehe

Pharos promised to come see me afterwards, but he hasn’t yet. :(

Ah well, I guess, since I saved the world last night, I deserve to play my MMO all day on Sunday~

...I’m going to die. :’’’D

It is kind of funny how 2009 this is. You meet some random person online, and whoever they are, you just end up talking about random generic shit from your lives, no matter who’s an adult or who’s a teenager or whatever. In some ways, it was the best thing.

But now, time to log off. The phone is rin--

...never going to understand how the Velvet residents even have phones to call me with.

Anyway, I have been introduced to the Velvet door in Paulownia Mall, as well as Elizabeth’s requests. So next time, I guess it’s time to see what kind of nonsense she comes up with for me. But that’s two full moon shadows down, which means that barrier in Tartarus is down, too. So there will be lots to do!

[dragonfairies]

So what if MDZS was like SVSSS? I’ve seen a couple posts going around, and I love them, they are hilarious, but I've got to thinking of another way.

One thing to think of is that Luo Binghe is the protagonist of the book within the novel, but we never get the story from his perspective. Shen Yuan gives us a very light and quick summary of a 6000+ chaptered story that is Proud Immortal Demon Way, and then he’s transmigrated to “fix” the story. But then we never get to read the “fixed” story that would technically be from Binghe’s POV, but you have to assume that the readers back in Shen Yuan’s world are now reading the new PIDW, but from Binghe’s perspective.

What does that have to do with MDZS as if it were SVSSS? Well we read the novel from Wei Wuxian’s point of view. So Stallion Novel Grand Master of Demonic Cultivation, were Wei Wuxian was, in fact, going around and collecting all of these lovely maidens for his harem. Saving them from salacious and abusive men. Jiang Yanli probably would have been his first wife, Luo Qingyang the next, Wen Qing, Qin Su, most likely even A-Qing, and maybe even Madame Jin just because he could, to get one over Jin Guangshan. 

And through all of this, his MOST outspoken and vehemit rival Lan Wangji. They fight over everything. Lan Wangji using the “righteousness” of his clan to be cruel. Always trying to put Wei Wuxian down. Using the chaos of the SSC as ways to try and kill him. To the culmination of the Nightless city were Wei Wuxian strikes Lan Wangji down and either kills him or keeps him as his long term prisoner.

Now you’ve got some guy from our world that hates this book/novel/series with a fiery burning passion, but oh the cultivation is so cool, and look at all that social and political intrigue, this could have been so much better if you had focused on Wei Wuxian learning cool cultivation instead of him stealing and bedding his shijie, ew(/j). And so this guy dies angry about it, and gets transmigrated into Lan Wangji part way through the cloud recesses arc, and as such has alread started down the harsh and dismissive path, but he’s gotta change it! Psyke you can’t act OOC until later after your first big mission, either the waterborn abyss (or if CQL Yin Iron walk about).

As such the version we’re reading is the “Fixed” version of the original Stallion novel.

This is now a long winded way to say that I have the mental image of Lan Wangji having the internal monologue of a modern Millennial screeching behind his cold visage.