#and so i could experience the finale live! which

[buckiverse]

☆ warnings: mdni, this is literally just a description of how caleb, zayne, and sylus jerk off and if they watch porn

☆ a/n: I have officially decided all the boys are virgins, so i feel it's only right to write about them yearning for you but also being overcome with guilt <3

☆ Caleb

Caleb has spent so long secretly admiring you, adoring you. All he wants is for you to like him the same—but Caleb is patient. Caleb understands long-suffering and is willing to wait for you. He won’t force you to come to him. You have to want it—this, as he does. With this being said, for a long time, he will not watch porn. He’ll feel bad like he’s betraying you—like you’ll know he lusted after another person. 

When you both go to college, he’d spend more time away from you for the first time, and he wouldn’t even dare to think about letting another woman touch him. He’d even have you act as a liaison, discouraging others from approaching him romantically. That didn’t mean that he hadn’t heard stories of what his friends were doing in bed, the fantasies they were living out—now he was curious. 

He’s not a boy anymore, and this is different—it’s educational, he’d tell himself. When the video loaded, a woman, blindfolded, a vibrator pressed between her folds. Teasing her clit gently. The blush spread on his face furiously as he felt himself getting hard. He watched as she writhed against the toy, but not daring to close her legs as her partner commanded. He could feel the heat spreading across his neck—taking mental notes. He would love to do this to you.

Though he had no experience, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t make love to you so good you’d never want to leave. He’d read books and look at fanart, especially of things you like. If you tell him about the latest manhwa you’re reading, best believe he's going to study that shit like no other. You read romance? Well, now he does, too. 

He might even have a whole notepad. Seeing what works, what he likes, what he thinks you might like. He knows you well enough to guess, though he’d definitely ask you directly. 

But when Caleb touches himself, he’d do it with a stolen pair of panties. Sometimes, the washer would eat your socks, underwear, and towels, which was nothing new.

Now, speaking of guilt, he knows this is horrible for him, but he doesn’t know what else to do with himself. But when Caleb saw the pair, unwashed and forgotten in the washer, he couldn’t help but pick them up and stuff them in his pocket. Now he closes his eyes, stroking himself slowly, the underwear in his mouth to muffle the noises from his lips, hoping you wouldn’t hear him. He decided this would do. Using little pieces of you to get himself off. 

He would think of the times before college when he could hear your muffled moans and breaths coming from your room late at night and secretly press his head against your shared wall, trying to listen to you better. He couldn’t wait to use his newfound knowledge on you. He’s just eagerly waiting. 

☆ Zayne

Zayne wants to be romantically involved with you. He desires—yearns for it. But he knows that's not the current state of your relationship and will respect the pace at which you want to take things. His busy life keeps him occupied. He almost relies on it to monopolize his attention since he can’t give it all to you. But it doesn’t stop the guilt he feels—watching porn. 

It takes a lot for him actually to touch himself. He won’t do it often. Yet. It would be an actual internal conflict for him. When he finally decided he was going to watch porn, he would make it quick. The cold metal of his phone in his hand, the dark screen reflecting at him, would almost snap Zayne out of it—but he’s currently wrapped up in his lust. Even so, he still feels like he’s being unfaithful to you—the idea of you more accurately. 

He’ll decide only to watch one while allowing the video to load. He’s just desperate to get off at the moment. It’s almost painful, the way his cock is straining against his slacks. Lately, waiting or sleeping it off hasn’t been working. He’d been so pent up that Zayne stayed hard the whole drive home, and now he gave in. 

It's a short video, but fuck it was hot. The woman squirmed underneath her partner. And Zayne’s pupils blew wide when he saw him suck on her clit, and he could hear the *pop* of his lips detaching from her folds. The groan that fell from her lips when he pushed his tongue inside her—how his arms kept her legs pinned down, though her hips bucked upwards. 

He wanted to do that to you badly. So bad that he closed his eyes, his head thrown back, his lips parted as he leaned back in the chair, jerking himself fast. He had to have you—he couldn’t take it anymore. And he came so fucking hard, and when he finally opened his eyes, he saw the come all over his slacks.

But the guilt was quickly spreading through his chest. It almost feels like he has desires towards the people in the video, but honestly, all he wants is you. He’s never even touched another woman—but still, he felt mortified at the idea that you’d look at him and know what he was doing late at night, imagining it was you there.  

He would never touch another woman. You are all he has wanted since he was a child. Even back then, he only wanted to be connected to you, keeping other girls at a distance even into his adulthood. But maybe now that was catching up to him.

☆ Sylus

Sylus is patient—but only with you. He’d been frustrated for a while. Between your apparent hatred of him and the chaos in the N109 zone, it was slowly eating away at him. Still, no matter how adamant you were about holding your grudge, he’d never be angry with you. Disappointed? Maybe. But never angry.

He loved the game you were playing but wanted—needed—more of you. You were bonded to him, whether you realized it or not. Fated. And the longer you pretended to hate him, the more amused he became. Sylus knew your walls were crumbling, piece by piece.

Like the patient man he is, he waited. Even as you kept those walls standing, even as you unknowingly softened him in ways he never expected—he never sought out distractions. He wouldn’t watch porn. He didn’t need to. First of all, he was busy. Running a city, being a crime boss. You know, important stuff.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t come home late at night, exhausted, missing you. That he didn’t lie in bed on his stomach, the ache of longing settling deep. He might even pull a pillow beneath him, letting it fill the empty space—imagining it was you.

He’d press his weight into it, wishing it were your body beneath him instead. His breath would hitch, a flush burning its way across his cheeks as he rutted against it, slow at first, then more desperate. His fingers would twist into the sheets, knuckles white, your name slipping past his lips like a prayer.

He just felt so desperate. The need for you—your touch, your claim—clawed at his chest, leaving him raw. And when he finally came, hips stuttering in one last, shaky grind, a tear would slip from the corner of his eye.

Sylus doesn’t cry often—if at all. But the thought of you never choosing him? That breaks him.

[beuxwhoyouare]

Dressing Room Score

All the couples wanted the day off for Valentine’s Day but I took those shifts so quickly because hello it’s free money! I took the apparel section because it’s the easiest place to get a peak at the dressing rooms. I’m not a perv I swear, but I can’t help myself. I always kept one vital of bodysuit serum on me. All the eye candy going into the dressing rooms was like a buffet of options. Men, women, pets! Shit I don’t discriminate I love trying on another persons experience to see how they live.

We were getting a weird crowd today since all the couples were out and about. The store was filled with miscellaneous randos so I went through most of my day thinking I struck out. As I locked in refolding some destroyed sections of t-shirts, a customer came up to me asking for help locating more of a certain item I absent mindedly answered looking at what was in his hand before looking up. My words stopping in their tracks as I saw his face.

He was so adorable and dorky looking in his face but the outfit he already had on told a different story. Leaving little to the imagination, it inferred he was going on a date or going out but I didn’t want to inquire too much. I like my mouth mindlessly answer his inquiries as I kept looking back to ogle at his outfit.

Eventually he asked to use the dressing rooms and I knew this was basically my chance. We walked slowly to the rooms and as he walked into the tiny space I quickly pulled the syringe out, stabbing him in the neck behind his back. The mirrors lining the room couldve saved him but he was oblivious of his surroundings.

He began turning into a suit hollowing out into a mound that looked like skin colored liquid latex. I quickly pushed him into the dressing room with me to avoid spectators. As I latched the door, I turned around to see the process completed. I knew I was operating on limited time and quickly pulled his skin on. I love putting on a new body that’s stacked with muscles that I’m not. It’s like you feel bloated, but in a good way because it goes straight to your muscles and any other places you differ in size…if you get what I mean. He was clearly a grower because I didn’t feel anything crazy there though.

I looked through his wallet to figure out a name and basic details. Okay, Reese is the name 5’9” is the height okay there’s the address. Wait the best part! I whipped back upright standing and smiling towards my new phone.

I decided to save the rest of the excitement for privacy gathered my new belongings and headed to the address on my ID. I fumbled through several keys before eventually finding the right one as I pushed my way into a very nice but neutral looking apartment. It definitely gave upper class gay which is what I always pretended to be so this would be easy to embody.

I quickly began stripping as I hastily searched for the closest full body mirror. I wanted to see the goods from every single angle. I ripped the belt holding up my very fitted pants, dropping them down to my ankles and I just gasped at what I could see.

Reese was had the type of body I was always afraid to have. He’s so conventionally attractive that while I wore him I felt like I couldn’t control myself. I needed to push it to the limit and see what I can do.

I headed down to the gym matching the sign in tag on Reese’s keys and just pretended to be there for a good workout. I mean I did go for a workout just not that kind.

I had a hard time breaking a sweat, which only intrigued me more but I headed to the locker room to take pics. I was just so obsessed with his juicy chest. Thankfully this was the better strategy because I kept getting passing glances until someone finally took initiative and approached me.

The man was such a daddy, something I could’ve only hoped to previously attract before. He nearly demanded I come with him after he got dressed and who would be to not oblige? I got in his big truck and we made our way to his home. I don’t know how I deluded myself into thinking I’d be the dominant one in this situation but the second the house door closed behind me. The burly daddy manhandled me and pushed me onto his bed. Gentle and slow was only a dream I could’ve hoped for because that man whipped his beer can out immediately and shoved his way in.

Don’t get me wrong he was BIG but that was the moment I learned what Reese did well. He was a power bottom. There was no moment of pain, me and my new hole took it like a champ. The in and out of his aggressive pace was matched by my new muscle memory eagerness to accept it.

He attacked my muscular backside as I finally began to break a sweat. Loud moans escaped my mouth. I couldn’t control it like an animalistic cry. As I thought I was reaching my limit I came on myself as he kept going. That would become a recurring theme.

Every day I’d show up to the gym and act like the slutty himbo I wanted to be. Ending up at a different home, condo, apartment every night putting my new orifices to work.

[wcnderlnds]

scared of loving you | choi seung-hyun (t.o.p)

・❥・ summary: spending valentines day with your best friend/roommate is the norm but this year ends a little differently ・❥・word count: 1.2k ・❥・warnings: alcohol mention but that's about it ・❥・ authors note: happy valentine's day!! here's some tooth rotting fluff to celebrate <3

Valentine’s Day always seemed to come around so fast. People always seemed so excited for it, always on the search to find someone to spend it with. It was nice in a way that it spurred people to put in the effort but it had never been a day you looked forward to. It wasn’t that you didn’t like – you did but after one bad Valentine’s as a teenager, you never really cared. It was just like any other normal day. One that you would spend at home sat in front of the TV eating as many snacks as you could get your hands on. 

Love was great, amazing even but you had never experienced it properly. It was like you had closed yourself off from it which was ridiculous because you loved love. Or what you knew of it anyway. People told you it could be one of the best and worst things you could ever experience. Having someone that cared for you no matter what? Amazing but putting all your trust in them only to have them break your heart? Not so great. Maybe it was best you hadn’t experienced it because then that way you didn’t have to get hurt. 

The sound of the TV echoed through the walls of the apartment, your feet tucked underneath you as you rested on the couch, some cheesy Hallmark movie playing. If anyone asked, you’d say you liked to laugh at them but the reality was you always seemed to get invested in them. The stories they told (albeit some of the corniest to exist) were cute. Never in a million years would they happen to anyone but it was nice to dream. 

Popping a piece of popcorn into your mouth, a loud yawn was heard from the doorway which could only mean one thing. Seunghyun – your roommate and best friend of the last ten years – had finally woke up. Yesterday had been a busy press day for him so he’d spent most of the day sleeping. You knew better than to wake up a sleeping Seunghyun so you left him to it. Out of the corner of your eye you could see him padding into the room, throwing himself down on the couch next to you. 

“Not got a hot date today?” He asked, reaching over to steal some popcorn from the bowl you were cradling. You slapped his hand away much to his dismay. 

“You ask me that every year and my answer is always no. You know I never do anything today,” you shrugged, watching as he made a move again to grab some popcorn. Giving in, you placed the bowl on the small coffee table in front of you. 

“Yeah, and? One day you are going to have a hot date and I’ll be all alone.” 

“You go find a hot date.” 

“Why do I need to when I’ve got a pyjama princess right here?” He teased, raising his brows at you as he finally popped a piece of popcorn into his mouth.  

It was hard to stop the blush creeping on to your face. Seunghyun always did this. Through the whole time you’d known him, he always flirted with resulting in you blushing each and every time. He was the only person who could ever manage that feat, something he knew and used to his advantage. Your eyes looked down at the pyjama’s you were wearing, shrugging your shoulders. He was the only person you would ever feel comfortable wearing them around. With Seunghyun, you had no worries. There was no fear of him judging you, it was nice to feel like you could be completely yourself. He allowed you the safe space you had always wanted. It was one of the many reasons he was your favourite person to be around. It was also a massive bonus that he was extremely handsome. Maybe even the most handsome person you’d laid eyes on. You had told him so one night when you were drunk and he’d never let you live it down. 

“Wanna order pizza and watch these stupid movies with me?” You asked, smiling over at him. You might not have had a date but you had your best friend. That was all you needed. 

“Guess I can suffer through these stupid movies for you.” 

It was a few hours later, half eaten pizza on the coffee table, an empty bottle of wine on the floor as the two of you sat laughing watching yet another cheesy movie. The wine in the glass you were holding almost spilled out over the edge onto the carpet but you didn’t care. You were having too much of a good time. Seunghyun was sat right beside you, your head on his shoulder as you lazily grinned at the TV screen. His arm was around your shoulder, his fingers twirling a piece of your hair around his finger. It was the first time in a long time you felt content, curled up beside your best friend. 

But, he was more than just a best friend, wasn’t he? 

There had always been a hint of something more, something deeper between you and Seunghyun. There was a reason that for the last ten years the two of you had spent Valentine’s Day together, why you’d much rather be lazing around with him than going out and actually finding someone. There was a reason he made you laugh harder than anyone else, why your stomach would always do flips when he smiled at you. 

It was a terrifying realisation. Was this actually what being in love felt like? If it was, you weren’t sure if you ever wanted it to stop. The feeling of contentment, of feeling so... cared for and appreciated – it was everything. 

Seunghyun’s cheek rested on the top of your head, the domesticity of the moment making your heart pound. As if sensing you were lost in your thoughts, he decided to speak up, his voice softer than normal. “What’s going on in that head of yours, princess?” 

The silly little nickname he often gave you made you feel dizzy, the corners of your mouth twitching up into a silly little smile. Your free hand rested on his thigh, the contact sending Seunghyun into a frenzy much to your obliviousness. “Thinkin’ about how I think I might be in love for the first time.” 

“Oh yeah?” He lifted his head up to look at you, taking your glass and placing it on the table. “Who’s the lucky person?” 

You could hear the hope in his voice, the way his fingers gently brushed against your cheek now. You met his dark eyes, the gentleness of your voice almost taking him back. “I think you already know.” 

There was no hesitation as his hand rested on the back of your neck, leaning down to press his lips against yours in a kiss. All the hidden feelings finally getting their release. Your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer to you as his hand tangled in your hair. It had started off slow, gentle but soon turned passionate. Your head cloudy as the feeling of his lips moved against yours in perfect harmony. It was very reluctantly that he pulled away, his breath heavy as he rested his forehead against yours. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he breathed, barely giving you a chance to reply before his lips were back on yours. 

Maybe Valentines Day wasn’t so bad after all. 

taglist: @ldydeath @infinetlyforgotten @justsisse @sherrayyyyy @come-as-you-are-111 @maskedcrawford

[beardedjoel]

💗🎉💗CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR MILESTONE!💗🎉💗

I’m so happy for you! I found you through Closer, and I couldn’t be happier about it. You’re an amazing writer and such a lovely person!

I’m wondering… what about one of these?🌹the prompt number 1. I love your writing and I cannot stop myself from asking. Perhaps with Joel, or Frankie, or Pero…I’m not picky, I’ll be happy with whatever the inspiration leads you.

Alsooooo… Is it too much if I add a little bit of 💌? I’m curious about your writing process. How do you do it? Is it linear, or do you jump around, and later “paste it”?

wym, you're so sweet and i love sharing this space with you my friend 😘 thank you for sending in this prompt and allowing me to do something special with it. thanks for your patience as i have been painstakingly slow with making my way through this backlog of requests! i'll answer your thoughtful writing question at the very bottom of the post after the one shot, if that's alright!

axel and ember — joel x f!reader

request: "overwhelmed, but happy crying during sex". sent in as part of my 5k celebration! i decided to use this one for something very personal to me. as someone who has dealt with vaginismus, this was challenging to write the last few days but it felt like the right direction for me to go in with this prompt. in no way does this describe the experience every person with vaginismus has (nor 100% true to mine), and it is a lot of hard work to help your body and mind learn to work with the sexual obstacles that come with it. i simplified things for the purpose of this story but still found it really gratifying to write so much from personal experience and feelings that i have dealt with. i highly encourage anyone who has not heard of vaginismus to do a little research as it's something that many, many women deal with in silence or is ignored as much of women's sexual health is. happy reading 💓

wc: 2.9k

warnings: 18+ MDNI, reader has vaginismus, unprotected piv

“Maybe… maybe it just doesn’t fit.”

You’d said the words, exasperated after trying for the third time that week.

“I don’t think that’s how that works, darlin’,” Joel teases the words playfully, his hair hanging down into his face as he holds himself perched above you. His smile brusquely fades when he sees that you’re genuinely upset. Some days, it hadn’t been that big of a deal, you’d been able to shrug off the frustration. Today, however, you felt frayed and emotional, pissed off that your body couldn’t just behave like a normal body should. It’s infuriating, living in a body that won’t cooperate with your mind, seeing others do with ease what you never could. What you could only have as a fantasy. 

“Hey, it’s alright.” He leans down, kissing you softly before moving from where he’d been stationed on top of you to lay at your side.

Another dream of finally having sex with your boyfriend tonight slipped away in an instant. 

“What if I try the dilators again?” you ask desperately, meeting Joel’s gaze. His warm eyes look back at yours with empathy, and he shrugs.

“If y’want. But maybe you should jus’ rest. We already had our fun, yeah?”

He’d gotten you off, you’d gotten him off. Fingers and tongues and mouths, which admittedly were great, but you craved to know what more of him felt like, more than just the one, sometimes two fingers you could handle without soon wincing in discomfort.

You wanted him inside of you, wanted your bodies joined in the way that you were so cruelly being denied by the universe.

“N-no, you’re right. It was fun.” You flash him a somewhat forced smile, grateful for his patience and love when he wraps his arms around you. Joel had been such a constant with you, so wonderful, and that only made it hurt more that you couldn’t give him this. He’d never pressured you, never made you feel at fault these last five months you’d been dating. In some ways, it had brought you closer, not being able to rush into sex, but it didn’t mean that he’d stick around forever if it meant he couldn’t get the one thing you know men always want.

“We’re gonna get it one of these days,” he reassures you, stroking your hair. “You’re workin’ hard at your sessions and here at home. Don’t tell you enough that I think it’s great, seein’ you tryin’ all of that. But don’t do it for me, okay? Do it ‘cause it’s what you want.”

You stare at him for a moment, dumbfounded. You were of course doing all of this work for yourself, so that you could freely enjoy something that should come so naturally to your body. Yet you knew that deep down the pressure was mounting, wanting to give Joel the sexual satisfaction you assumed he craved, something that your hands and mouth couldn’t give him. It was putting up a block between you and your sexuality, making each interaction that much more strained and distressing. You’re surprised Joel caught on to all of that when you’d been trying to put on a brave face for him. 

“I - I know,” you concede with a sigh. “I’m afraid sometimes. That I’ll never be enough without this piece of me.”

Joel’s deep set brow furrows further, looking hurt - for you or for himself, you can’t quite tell. His lips set into a firm line before they part, readying to speak. “I think you’re pretty damn amazing the way that y’are. I want that for us, ‘course I do. But I’d rather jus’ have you, whatever, however you are.”

“You would?” you ask sentimentally, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. You laugh slightly, wiping under your eyes, knowing your question is ridiculous but still needing that extra validation that he’s sure. That he’s okay continuing to try this with you, even if it never results in anything. 

“Yes, silly. Why do you think I’ve kept you around all this time?” 

“‘Cause I find us all the good TV shows to watch?”

He laughs, his burly chest shaking with it. “Quit bein’ a pest, I’m tryin’ to be serious with you,” he quips back, trying and failing to hold back his chuckle.

“I know. I know what you’re saying, Joel. I -“ You swallow, your face falling, pulled back into the seriousness of the moment. “I appreciate you. So, so much.” You reach and wrap your arms tightly around him. You relish in the feeling of being close to him, your naked bodies melding together, the heater-like quality of Joel always comforting to you. 

“You’re all the good in this relationship, baby.”

“Who’s being a pest now?” You flick his chest, sending the both of you into a fit of laughter again, giddy at the late hour and the tax of this evening leaving you emotionally spent.

The voice deep inside your mind taunts you as you slowly listen to Joel falling asleep next to you, his breath falling to a rhythmic pattern interlaced with tiny, endearing snores. You hold back tears that come in the dark, feeling so small and alone in this moment, knowing that despite his reassurances, he could never truly understand how this feels for you.

The next few weeks go by with much of the same - you’re busy with life, work, friends, and going to your physical therapy sessions. It was awkward at first all those months ago, laying there bare underneath the sheet while a woman practically had half her hand inside of you, but you got used to it, even started to look forward to hearing about her life and her kids. 

You and Joel try a few more times to no avail, your body once seeming to have a breakthrough before promptly making you inhale sharply in pain, shaking your head dejectedly. 

You try to let it go, let all of it go. Learn that life doesn’t surround this, it simply can’t if you don’t want this pressure, this hole in your heart that you think you need to fill, to eat you alive. This cannot mean that you’re broken, that nobody could want to be with someone born with their factory settings just a little bit off. 

You see it on Joel’s face and in his demeanor, proudly taking note of the change within you. You start to pounce on him every chance you get, fueled by trying to feed this new, insatiable mental freedom you’ve allowed yourself. If you couldn’t have the sex you were dreaming of just yet, you figured that in the meantime you may as well make the sex you are having something new to dream about.

Joel, as predicted, is highly receptive to your new outlook, hands and lips all over you more often than not the second you step through his door to spend the night with him. You find yourself laughing with him when you’re being intimate instead of focusing on that pit in your stomach that worries if this time could finally be the time. You’ve done away with taking it far too seriously to even enjoy when your gracious boyfriend is buried between your legs like it’s his favorite thing. Now, you can appreciate all of it for what it is - a way to connect with Joel, to share something special and fun and sexy together.

You lie in bed with Joel this evening, cackling as you two take turns narrating excerpts from a friend’s most recent read in the romance department that she’d lent you. For inspiration, she’d teased, saying it might help your mind and body become more open to connecting with one another on the topic of sex. You’d taken it with a grain of salt but now it was the evening's top entertainment. You had to admit that she had a point - it did feel nice to read about characters that were so sexually open that anything seemed possible for them.

“The people in these books are unreal,” you manage to get out through your laughter, wiping the stream of tears that coats your cheeks. Joel wipes at the corners of his own eyes, still chuckling.

“Wouldn’t mind givin’ some of these a try one of these days, bet you’d be sexy flipped upside down or whatever the hell they were doin’,” Joel says, propped up on his elbow, his handsome eyes smoldering in your direction. The implication that many of the acts the fictional couple are doing involves things that your body hasn’t been cooperating enough to even go near makes you stiffen for a moment. Maybe a month ago, the comment would have wrecked you, sent you spiraling or feeling self conscious about this perceived insufficiency of yours, but now you let it slide right off your back.

You scrunch your nose at him, letting it fall into a sly smile as he flicks his eyes over you in appreciation. “Shush,” you tease. “We need to find out what happens next to… whatever their names are.” This had all been in good fun, and their names seemed secondary to the juicy details of their sex lives. 

“Axel and Ember.” Joel cuts in, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You deadpan. “Right… Someone has been paying attention.”

“Go on, then…” Joel insists with sass, his hand motioning expectantly to the open book in your lap. You smirk before focusing on the page and continuing where you left off. You two read until both of your eyelids get heavy, the words muttered slower and slower, your bodies buzzing hotly with arousal from the content yet far too tired to do anything to make a move on the other person. 

“Tomorrow,” Joel utters in your ear just as you’re moving into that cozy, floaty, drifting sensation before it all goes black. “Tomorrow I’m gonna Axel your ass into oblivion.”

You’re awoken by a kiss, feather light upon your lips. Your lids flutter open to see Joel, his scruffy beard and unbearably cute bed head up close and personal with you. It’s barely light out, the room bathed in the pale blue glow that comes right before dawn. Your skimpy camisole strap has slid off your shoulder, the entire thing askew and leaving one of your tits bared to him. Joel’s eyes seem to be glued there before flicking back and forth between your now perky nipple and your face. His lips close around it, gently sucking, and you writhe, your body turning towards his.

“You’re so fuckin’ sexy,” he mutters against your hot skin, breath ghosting over your sensitive nipple. You shudder, your skin prickling with anticipation, the space between your thighs desperately empty. Going to bed so unsatisfied seemed to have done a number on the both of you as you’re now acutely aware Joel pressing up against you, his cock already hard and leaking.

“Joel…” you whine, hips bucking towards him.

He dives in, his lips devouring yours, shifting his body to straddle yours, grasping the sides of your face in his hands. His tongue laps into your mouth and you arch your back into the way his hips start to grind into yours, burning desire low in your belly. You’re already so damn wet from his teasing, more than you’ve ever been, built up longing spilling over from last night.

“I… want to try right now,” you finally manage to gasp out as his lips separate from yours for a brief second. He pauses, looking down at you, his heavy lidded eyes sincere as they dance over your features.

“You sure? It’s okay if we jus’ -”

“No. I’m sure,” you tell him. “I feel so good. I want to feel good with you.” Your fingers dig into his bare back, urging him on.

He only nods, his throat bobbing as he swallows. He places gentler kisses on your lips before moving to your neck, then down your body until he reaches the waistband of your sleep shorts. Tugging those down along with your panties, he moves with certainty and care, adoring your soft skin in every place along the way. 

He touches a gentle finger to your slit, so sensitive and swollen now, and you suck in a breath.

“Holy shit. God damn, baby,” he muses with awe, fire burning in his dark eyes.

You chuckle shakily, feeling your cheeks flush as you avert your eyes shyly. “I - I know. I need you.”

“Can practically feel her puslin’,” he growls, licking his lips, desire clouding his mind.

Your cheeks only grow hotter at his dirty words, pulling your lip between your teeth. “Taking a page from Axel’s book, I see,” you tease him breathily.

“Nah. This is all Joel Miller, baby,” he replies just as he uses his whole hand to cup your slick cunt, the both of you groaning quietly. Joel starts to shimmy his briefs down, leaving him completely stripped underneath the covers with you. You wait for him to climb back on top of you, carefully removing your top and taking you in.

“Perfect.” He smiles, and you wrap your legs around his waist, a silent signal that you’re ready. Joel reaches between your bodies, bringing his cock to your cunt, lazily moving it through the folds until he’s coated in your arousal, each stroke making your hips buck, your need climbing to an unbearable level.

“Please…” you whine, feeling the emptiness inside of you, craving that full sensation you’ve been romanticizing time and time again in your mind.

“I got you, baby. No matter what. I’m right here, ‘kay?” You feel him line himself up, trying to manage your expectations as you nod for him, swallowing down your nerves. Even if it doesn’t work this time, it’ll be okay, you’ll be oka -

The tip of his cock pushes past your entrance, and you gasp, eyes going wide. You both pause, staring at each other in an optimistic, full silence, breathing heavily.

You nod again, mouth agape. “More…” you whisper softly, taking a deep breath, trying to relax your body.

Joel smiles, pressing his hips into you the tiniest bit more. He still slides in with ease, the smallest pinch subsiding when he takes a beat, then pushes a little more, repeating the process a few times. You feel the stretch, the slight burn as your body adjusts, your mind racing at the miracle that’s occurring, barely even able to register it right now.

“Oh my god,” you mutter, starting to shake. Joel leans down to kiss you, a comforting move, but it only pushes his cock in another bit, making you gasp softly at the fullness.

To your shock, when he pulls back the sensation begins to near something pleasurable. “Sorry,” he quickly spits out, his concerned stare meeting yours.

“No. It’s good. A-again. Do that again.” You start to smile in earnest, a toothy grin that you can’t help but feel spread across your face. 

“What… this?” he asks coyly, more overt with the thrust inwards as he pulls his lips into yours. He buries his face in your neck, breathing you in and kissing the sensitive skin there. “You’re so wet, so fuckin’ tight, baby. You feel incredible.”

You shudder underneath him, moaning softly as his words travel right to your core, burning with a new kind of eagerness you’ve never felt before. “You feel so good,” you echo back to him as you pant.

Joel starts to move, testing the waters with slow, steady movements. You keep breathing, terrified that any minute the ball will drop or this will have been a dream or some cruel trick your body is playing on you. But the sporadic bursts of discomfort subside with each new roll of Joel’s hips, blooming into something pleasurable and sweet, pulling up from deep inside of you.

Emotion bubbles to the surface before you can even tame it, your eyes brimming with tears when Joel bottoms out inside of you, pulling back and pushing in to the hilt again. It feels good, amazing even, to be so full of him, to celebrate this victory, even if only for today.

“Shit. Sweetheart, you’re okay, right? Are you hurting?” Joel freezes when he sees your watery eyes, every muscle coiled stiffly, his face screwed up in fear.

You shake your head, fighting the urge to sob, but Joel’s faithful, genuine concern puts you over the edge. Tears spill, rolling down your cheeks in profound little streaks, every bit of your frustration and pain and anger from the last half of a year pouring out into this beautiful display of pure joy.

“I swear, I’m happy, I’m happy,” you cry out, immediately cradled in Joel’s arms.

“Good,” Joel breathes out in relief. “You’re happy, I’m the happiest fuckin’ guy in the world.”

His words make the tears flow faster, but you start to laugh amidst it all. “Stop making me cry harder!” you chastise him, hugging him tightly around the neck. 

“Joel…” you say after a long, tender embrace, the two of you soaking it in. His cock still throbs inside of you, reminding you of the pleasure you’d started to chase moments ago, lost to the emotion of the moment.

“Hm?” he asks, pulling his head from where it had been buried in the crook of your to look at you.

“Please fuck me now.”

He grins, the movement lighting up his entire face with a lusty glow before he eagerly crashes his lips with yours again. When you see his eyes again, you swear they’re a shade darker, his cheeks tinged with the color of desire. Low and gravelly, he finally speaks. 

“Grab your god damned vibrator, sweetheart.”

to answer your 💌 my writing process is a little all over the place! i used to write mostly linearly, that was what worked for me and i kind of thought of everything in order. but lately i have been doing a bit more doc hopping when i get stuck. maybe writing a later scene that i have ideas for and feel like it's more fleshed out or going back and polishing older paragraphs and such. i definitely am not a big outliner and plotter, which i'd like to get better about! but mostly everything just lives in my head and gets blobbed onto the doc once i have time to write it, which sometimes leaves things forgotten hehe

(divider by @/saradika-graphics!)

[petermorwood]

Once there was a bookshop.

Its name was "Dark They Were And Golden Eyed", the title of a Ray Bradbury short story.

I'd seen it advertised in the back of my "Conan The Barbarian" comics, black-and-white UK reprints of the US originals which came out on the same day - Thursday, I think - as a two-hour first period history lesson (9AM-11AM).

So I bought my weekly Conan on the way to school as a pleasant back-of-the-class distraction from such A-Level delights as "Metternich and the Congress of Vienna" or "Bismarck and the origins of the Franco-Prussian War" or "Causes and Consequences of the French Revolution".

I was getting into fantasy at that time because British publishers were bringing it out like there was no tomorrow - Robert E. Howard "Conan" stories from Sphere, Clark Ashton Smith "Zothique" stories from Panther, and the Michael Moorcock book-of-the-month club from Mayflower.

Dark They Were was a sort of holy grail, because London wasn’t exactly round the corner or even a mere long train ride away as Dublin might have been, and my parents weren't willing to let me make a trip like that all alone. (I also suspect Dad had checked a map and found that Dark They Were was in the heart of Soho, a place with Other Kinds Of Bookshop.)

*****

I finally went to London after getting A-levels good enough for Uni, despite my History result not being what it might have been (no idea how that happened). :-P

Dad was right about the Other Kinds Of Bookshop, a couple of which I duly investigated and found to be educational, although not in the way intended. Even though the places I ate and drank and the books and records I bought on that same trip are long forgotten, I can still remember it.

Despite having at least my usual allowance of critical-faculty-blunting late teen hormones, the shops outweighed it with their air of furtive sleaze, like the carpet in a seedy bar that sticks to your shoes - except this was an all-body experience. They certainly filled me with desire, but that desire was for a long, hot shower.

So much for the main attraction of late-'70s Soho...

*****

Far more attractive was my discovery, just a short walk round the corner from DTW, of 58 Dean Street Records, which specialised in soundtrack albums.

I'd been buying soundtrack LPs for years, so what with DTW and 58, I was well laden on my way home, and none of those purchases needed hidden from the parents, either... :->

Despite that, Forever People in Bristol was an even more important SF bookshop, at least to me. For one thing it was easier to reach, less than an hour away when visiting an old school friend who at that time lived in Cardiff.

For another thing, I'd become a keen fan of fantasy anthologies, which were like samplers or tasting menus for different writers - you could call them selection boxes,and Irish / UK readers will know what I mean by that.

FP was where I found imports like Offutt's "Swords Against Darkness" series and DAW's "Year's Best Fantasy" series. I'd already got the first two in Carter's "Flashing Swords" series as UK imprints...

...so the instant I saw the US-import Number 5 I nabbed it.

A bit later, back in Belfast, I found a novel by one of those writers in Queen’s University Bookshop.

It was set in the same world as the short story and though the cover was, er, a less than accurate summation of the contents, those contents made for a fascinating read.

I met that writer twice, at SF conventions in 1985.

Then at a couple more in 1986.

After that came Boskone in 1987...

And the rest is history.

(Pedantic writer note: this has two typos. There's no apostrophe on Authors' - unless it's short for Authors Have A Wedding and I doubt that - and there's an extra O where I don't need it, a first but far from last instance of having my name misspelled in print...)

Happy soon-to-be-38th Anniversary, loved!

[hello-gloomy]

Hello!!! Thank you for your amazing writing so far!!!

I hope if its no trouble could you please do a Xeno Houston Wingfield x reader scenario where the reader is captured at the same time as Gen (by Stanley ofc). And then Xeno kind of like falls for her because she also majors in rockets and space...or something. Feel free to ignore or change it up!

Thank you in advance!!

I love this sm, hope you like it and it's not to crack filled.

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

Black Magic

Dr. Xeno H. x Fem!Reader

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

Description: Being the only American in the Kingdom of Science comes in handy when you finally make the trip to America; being a fellow scientist also helps a little too well, though.

Warnings: Mild violence, touching, the reader is said to be American, maybe a bit creepy Xeno, Sarcasm, and cursing. Maybe OOC. SPOILERS FOR THE ANIME S4.

A/N: I hope Anon enjoys this; I also couldn't help but make the reader an agent of chaos. The opportunity was too good to pass up. I hope this isn't too OOC for you guys

Words: 1,300

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

The only time being American came in handy while in Japan during the petrification was when you were in the Stone World, and Senku wanted to return to America, which meant you were stuck as an encyclopedia for everyone else. When the kingdom reached Texas, you already knew something was off; it was too easy.

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!" Were the first words out your mouth while you and everyone else were running from being shot at. While you were happy that you weren't the only ones who had progressed this far with science, you hated how American this situation was. They were firing on a bunch of randoms on their land that they hadn't seen before, very Texas; at least they didn't leave behind their amendments. After your group had made off with the plane, you were stuck with the scouting group being the only one in their natural element. When Gen had noticed how easy it was to track your attacker, he volunteered to go and find him himself. You wouldn't let him off so quickly, so you followed him just in case.

"We gonna get shot at again," You mused to Gen with a smirk, earning a disapproving look from him. When you finally stumbled upon your attacker, who promptly aimed his gun at you both, you couldn't help but burst into laughter, much to Gen's dismay. As he negotiated for your lives, the blonde with the purple lipstick instructed you to follow him to his colony while sneaking glances in your direction. You had to guess it was due to your clothing; it was more native to your home country than the one you had been staying in for so long. Gen was looking around, amazed at everything but still keeping a poker face; you, on the other hand, were dismissive of the entire operation. It was obvious that they had a smaller group than yours and hadn't found out how to un-petrify anyone yet. When you arrived at what you could tell was a lab, you were finally shown the mastermind behind this whole thing. When he turned to face you and Gen, your eyes and mouth reacted faster than your self-preservation skills.

"You're that fucking Scientist from those NASA articles!" All three men looked over at you, which made your cheeks heat at all the eyes on you.

"How elegant; it brings me pleasure to know that achievements in the old world reached multiple ends of the planet." While Stanley, as you've come to find out from one Dr. Xeno, is hooking up Gen to what you can tell is a fantastic stone world lie detector, he chats it up with you, asking where you are from, how long you've been awake, what your previous occupation was; you can't help but answer him excitedly. For someone your age and with the same or higher level of intelligence as you, it was a truly invigorating experience.

"Please stop telling the enemyyay information about us." Gen pleaded with you; he had a plan, so you did decide to be a little less loose-lipped, but you still did want to talk to the doctor while you loved talking to Senku; he was still a little too young for you, while Dr. Xeno was much older and on your level emotionally speaking in a sense.

"Relax. They're just a bunch of goths."

"Can you take this erioussay!" Gen was practically begging at this point, so you backed off and went to stand by the gunslinger instead. The Dr. went to go and question Gen, and he, in turn, worked his magic to get you both on the inside. When he called Taiju a doctor, you had to steel your face so hard not to cringe at his choice of fake leaders for your group. You saw Stanley looking at you from the corner of his eyes.

"Man, Dr. Xeno must really like you." You start while glancing at his lips; he raises his brow, signaling for you to go forward with your statements about the two of them.

"Purple is a pretty difficult color to make; in ancient times, they used snails to get that color. But while doing that, the species of snail they were using were becoming less common, making it a color only used for the aristocracy." Stanley let out a huff and shook his head.

"God, your just as bad as him with this science shit." He jested, and you screwed up your face. Gen walked over to where the two of you stood along the wall and hit you in the arm. You gave him a half-hearted 'ow' while rubbing your arm.

"You can take Gen and introduce him to everyone else." Stanley nodded while Gen started to splutter reasons for you to accompany him. You waved your hand, signaling you would be fine.

"Relax, Doctor Frankenstein won't kill me." You direct to Gen. While smiling at the X-marked doctor before you, you see his lips twitch, making you smile even more significantly. Gen spares you one last glance before walking along quietly. He offers you a seat, and you take it with a small 'thank you' before taking it.

"Coffee?" he offers, and you practically moan out a yes at the thought of caffeine touching your taste buds. He brings over two mugs before pulling up a seat beside you, watching as you take your first sip and practically crying tears of joy at the taste.

"Make me a monster, and I might marry you." He huffs a little laugh.

"I will get on that for you, " he tells you while taking his own sip. He asks you how long you've been out of the stone; you hold eye contact while weighing the pros and cons of answering him. You decide to give him the time, and he nods in understanding. He also rewards you for your honesty, telling you the timeline of how long he's been out.

"It seems your technology is not too far behind ours."

"We would be farther if we weren't too busy fighting amongst ourselves." You tell him with mild exasperation, mumbling about teenagers and their angstyness.

"Why not join my group?" He offers while grasping your face and staring into your eyes intensely; those black voids make you pause.

"It would be nice to have a headstart on having more intelligence in this new world." He tells you while rubbing a clawed thumb along your face; you feel your heart move to your throat at his implication, his thoughts similar to Tsukasa's in the beginning. It made your stomach twist; you knew Senku's idea of reviving the entirety of humanity was the dream of a naive child; being a couple years his senior, you knew the reality of your situation from the start, so you decided to let Senku have his hope for the future even starting to believe it after a few years. The second you saw the shores of America is when you were brought off of the childish dream you let yourself fall into.

"There's only so many smart people in the world, you know." He chuckles quietly at your statement, moving to brush hair out of your face instead. He moves to bring out some supplies, and you lean over his shoulder in interest. Your eyes widen in recognition at what he brought out in front of you: supplies for makeup.

"Yes, and I happened to have found one of them, " he tells you, letting you make a few makeup products while he watches. He could convince you to join him and see things through his eyes; he would ensure it and never let someone with such potential slip through his claws—not now, not ever.

[fadelbison]

why u like fadelstyle so much? the show ended and i still don't feel like theres love between them, same with all jd couples they don't seem like a couple at all

oh man how to answer this in a way that will do fadelstyle justice? I think @secriden and @bentnotbroken1fanfiction have much better, very in depth analysis of them as a pair and their wonderful dynamic.

but for me personally? simply, it's a type of love that I'm looking for. my personality is very similar to fadel's, the way style always goes out of his way to understand him and push back against all of fadels attempts to push him away - it really warms my heart.

they see each other, do you understand? style guesses that fadel could be a hitman, even if it was just a joke - style always saw him for who fadel is and fadel has been in wanting for that devotion, fadel has been aching to just be held and be able to fall apart - when fadel goes to prison style keeps his dream alive. fadel finally found someone who can understand how much he's had to give, how much he's always had to put himself second, someone who appreciates fully when fadel does it for him - I think style is the only person who's ever even attempted to feel the extent of fadel's sacrifice let alone tell him that he's deserving of the same and then go out and do it.

joongdunk have so subliminally portrayed that growing trust between them, that lived through all of fadel's anger at being betrayed, all of style's fear of fadel's dangerous life. they've just done so well to show what it means to slowly make space for each other, to fall in love through a gradual understanding of each other, I really felt that no matter what happened between them no matter how angry they were or how much distance there was between them every episode fadel and style loved each other more than the last.

fadel and style's romance is one of my favorite couple dynamics period I'm sorry you didn't feel it and even though we are allowed to interpret shows differently and like different things its a pity that I have no way to make you experience the beauty with which they touched my heart.

[lesbianalanwake]

Severance S2E5:

in the behind the scenes clip Dan Erickson said “when I saw the watermelon Irving head I knew this season was going to work” he’s JUST like me fr.

and again: Kier Eagan's frozen fucking Disney head. (Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald…)

Milchick and Helena being mirrored: alone on one side of the table with Natalie and Drummond on the other. toeing the company line and yet seething. the cracks in their performances are really starting to show now, and all that remains is reaching the point of what is going to make them snap.

it is so interesting that this season is so much about the non-severed workers (or halves), the managers sitting above the severed workers, the “faces” of Lumon, Milchick and Helena and Cobel, and the way that they, too, are trapped within or beholden to Lumon in different ways, the way that Lumon sees them as tools as well. I said it before but I really wonder if that is going to be Lumon’s undoing, and if it started with Reghabi and whatever her experiences at the company were. (could be what "Trojan Horse" is really referring to... the Trojan War was about Helen(a) after all.)

speaking of that: where is my awful wife Harmony…… I miss her.

Mark’s automatic reaction to grief is to throw himself into work (not just with Irving and Gemma but Petey too). just like me fr!!!

Helly…… the way she is so much more emotive and physical than Helena, but there’s still this subdued manner to her in this episode. she says she’s not Helena, and that is true to a degree, but I think being Helena is something she fears. the reprise of “forgive me for the harm I have caused this world” in the finale of S1 is just that….. she is Helena, and she knows it, and Mark and Dylan’s reactions to her are confirming that fear even as she tries to maintain her identity as Helly. but innie/outie is like alternate timeline versions of the self in the same body without any timeline shenanigans… Helly is Helena without the repressive cult conditioning; she’s the inner child that has been crushed. those experiences live in her body (the angry defiance, the suicidal ideation) but not in her memory, and so she IS Helena but it's what Helena could be. speaking out at the gala was so, so brave, and Helena has yet to reach that level of courage. but maybe she will…. she’s getting angrier and more vocal about the way Lumon treats her, and I don’t think any of the innies can truly reconcile who they are without making peace with who they’ve been.

and speaking of inner child…. for some reason this episode really made me think about it in earnest. it might be one of the best lenses through which to view the innies, and I think Helly and Mark S and Dylan G are all fairly obvious as to how that comes through, but it makes me wonder about Irving. we know he was a military brat; I wonder if he was religious too, or if Irving B’s religious fervor for Lumon is only a reflection of a strict military upbringing (rules and rituals). and maybe that same struggle with his sexuality played out in his youth, and was part of the reason why he ended up alone in his old age. or did he lose someone? Irving Bailiff who ARE you?

the way Reghabi is like “we need to take it slow” and Mark is like “um more brain surgery now please”.... dude she is trying not to get you killed fhgkshg. obsessed with their weird dynamic. NEED to know more about Reghabi. and thinking about Mark’s ominous coughing, and the flash to Gemma (Orpheus looking back)….. this show makes me want to throw up.

[not-poignant]

Hi,

I'm not sure how to approach this without sounding like an ignorant asshole, but I'll give it a go.

I'm from a country where the Trans movement isn’t very visible, and most of what I know about it comes from the internet. I’ve never truly understood gender dysphoria. I’ve tried to listen and put myself in others' shoes, but I struggled to be genuinely empathetic. Instead, I just tried to be supportive because it was expected of me, without really getting it.

It might sound silly, but reading Underline the Black made me stop and think… Wait, is this what I think it is? Reading Efnisien’s internal monologues and introspection made me feel something—maybe not from the same circumstances, but in a way that something inside my brain clicked, and I finally saw where the pain was coming from.

I guess what I really want to say is thank you. Thank you for helping me begin to understand and for broadening my perspective. It might sound small, but it’s something I deeply appreciate. I’ve been trying for a long time.

I do feel a bit foolish realizing that it took an ABO fanfic for me to get it… but at the same time, I was also reading about your real-life experiences. Or at least, that’s how it seemed to me. Forgive me if I’m wrong.

You have an incredible talent for expression.

Anon, until you know otherwise, everyone has to start somewhere. This applies to unlearning our biases and prejudices, which we all have for something, or many things, until we unlearn them. The fact that you've even tried to be supportive of something you don't really understand is still important, and still matters. It's a step into understanding, even if you don't have it yet.

I don't think it's foolish that it took you a story to realise what you've realised! This is actually exactly why representation of diversity (in gender, sexuality, culture, race, etc.) is so important in fiction. Because it's in fiction we can be free to explore concepts that are different to our own, or that challenge us, or make us see the world differently. This is why it's so important to know it's possible to identify with a trans character, or a POC character, or a character from a different culture to ours etc. Because that's when we humanise what we previously saw as like, different, Other, hard to understand. We go 'oh that's...really relatable actually, I think I'd feel the same way if that was my experience of life' or 'I don't know if I'd feel the same way but I really understand where that person is coming from.'

Gender dysphoria is complex, and different for different people. Being able to write it metaphorically through Efnisien's journey has been really interesting for me personally, because I've been able to depict both the inner conflict of knowing that your being is not...automatically going to be accepted as normal no matter what, unless you stifle or suffocate yourself, alongside the true euphoria and joy that can come with living as your best life, or your very self.

I have once seen a good analogy which is simply: Imagine from tomorrow onwards, everyone uses the pronouns you don't associate with yourself. You are bullied and mocked unless you wear clothing that is opposite to how you want to appear to others. You are put down and treated as psychologically abnormal for finding joy in true expression, even when that expression doesn't actually hurt anyone else at all. And now tell yourself that even your loved ones, when you desperately try to explain how wrong it all feels to be treated as so different to your true self, they explain that it's just mental illness, or that you're just confused, or that you don't understand yourself, and condescend to you, and treat you like they somehow have always known you better than you know yourself. And that's when you realise you might have to choose between your true self, and your family and loved ones who don't understand, or worse, hate you.

And then imagine that's the rest of your life, but it could change in an instant, if all of society just accepted that you are who you say you are! That all of your depression, and oppression, and suffocation could literally just vanish, if everyone was like 'oh sure actually, you want those pronouns? Cool! You want to wear this clothing? I like it!!'

And that journey is very tough in the real world, even in more accepting places (the US is clear evidence of this). In Underline the Black, I get to put Efnisien in a very specific space, and show the journey in a kind of specific way that isolates it and speaks through metaphor.

My experiences are different to Efnisien's, though I am trans, I never actually started out wanting to write a 1:1 trans narrative. Like, in this universe, "conventionally" trans people exist too. Efnisien's experience is a new thing, and a separate thing, but still - as we can see - a very good metaphor as well. I like telling parts of my story, but only small parts. I am more interested in...telling healing stories where I can watch a character heal and go 'oh I would like more of that for myself, as well.'

(Also, it's better to just say omegaverse, or AOB, etc. because a/b/o without the dashes is a slur in Australia, and while I know most people don't live here! We try to avoid slurs from other countries when we can. And we can only know to do that once someone tells us!)

But yeah, no, you don't sound like an ignorant asshole at all. You sound like someone who has learned something, and has gained more understanding, and was open to doing that, and honestly anon if more people came to something they didn't understand from your perspective, acceptance and love would be a lot easier to teach people.

It's so important to read stories about characters who aren't quite like us, or aren't like us at all, because that's when we realise just how much we actually do share so many similarities, and why our differences matter too.

Anyway thank you for sharing your message with me! I really appreciated it.

[xyxofspades]

Has anyone written a character study about Castiel and his predisposition to addiction yet?? Like I don’t mean just endverse!Cas- I mean aaaaaaall of Cas.

Yeah sure in endverse with the drugs and the sec and the etc etc but throughout the series Cas doesn’t seem to understand how to handle human luxuries and so when he’s at his lowest he indulges in really normal things like TV, but he does it so derangedly indulgently.

In S11 when he’s Casifer and we see him in his head when Crowley pops in there to try and pull him out he is glued to that little TV he’s got. He says Lucifer “mostly leaves him alone” and with the way he talks it sounds like he is literally not processing anything except what’s on that TV. He’s not processing Lucifer Rowena’s death, whatever the hell Lucifer was doing to Crowley that whole time, the attempts on the Winchester’s lives. Dude was not seeing any of it.

And that’s not the first time he’s done that either. In the season prior when Rowena had basically given him rabies, after he’d healed, he stuck himself to the TV in the bunker watching show after show on Netflix and trash cable. He’d seemed to develop a sort of agoraphobia and coped with it via television addiction.

Then there’s the scene in early season whatever number I can’t remember where the term “Team Free Will” was coined for the first time. Cas’s famous line of “I found a liquor store.” “And?” “And I drank it.” Cas seeing nothing but hopelessness in the face of the coming apocalypse decided to indulge himself in the human luxury of alcohol. This is the beginning of the timeline leading to the endverse but it still happens in the canon timeline.

Season 5(?) (same season?) (dude idk it’s been a while) around the time all those reapers were gathering Cas said something along the lines of “the world is ending, pick a vice and stick to it” and I cannot for the love of god remember what episode it’s in but if I find it I’ll edit this post.

And of course we all love Cas from that time he absolutely lost his shit and went around doing side quests like beekeeping- but Cas was doing all that as a coping mechanism for the guilt of releasing the leviathans. The sudden shift in personality, the listening to music in the car while Dean puts a lid on his exasperation, pondering the importance of lipstick, the boop he gives Kevin- all human things, or at least things he perceives to be human.

When Cas becomes human he throws himself into this little job at a gas station. He takes absurd, meticulous care of this gas station like he’s preening some sort of million dollar garden. It’s not about the job though, it’s about the humanity of the job. The human experience of working a garbage job for near nothing pay, that’s what he’s hooked into.

The bees, the TV, the minimum wage job, and of course the sex and drugs of the endverse- Every single time we see Castiel at a low point in the show, without fail, he throws himself into a new “humane” addiction. As much as I hate the finale I do think it’s fits his pattern for the last human vice he allows is to be Dean, himself.

There’s so much more little bits and pieces throughout the show I could bring up to touch on this, but these are just the ones off the top of my head. If anyone at all has a character study or a fic about this I would love to read it. The only fics I’ve found that ever touch on this are all about endverse and the sex and drugs thing- which is fine, but it goes so much further than that. If anyone else wants to add to this post please please please- there can be SO MUCH to be said about an angel of the lord with an addiction- honest to god addiction- to humanity.

[alacants]

nadalcaraz as a dynamic is so interesting to me. rafa playing at the philippe chartier like always. He knows this place so well and this is probably the last time he is playing there and he going for the ultimate prize for his country which he has done countless times before but only this time. this time he isn't alone. there is this kid with him who wants it as much as he does only. he wants it for him. for rafa. he could etch history and focus on solidifying his name even more in the history books but no. he is here for his idol smiling and tussling and being a bit silly and lost but he is giving so much. for rafa. and then it doesn't happen. and the other thing doesn't happen as well. (credit novak djokovic but that's a whole other ghost and story.) but rafa is there for him after that in a way he wasn't before? cheering for him at the davis cup on his feet (again. he is doing it for him.) congratulating him on both instagram and twitter (in emoji code too mind you.) and just yeah. Nadalcaraz. sorry for the rant lol

NADALCARAZ. man there is so much there. because in a sense they're both trapped in this relationship imposed upon them. i'm not trying to imply they wouldn't have wanted to have one anyway, just that it's out of their control. the moment carlos won a grand slam at nineteen he became the new rafa and there was nothing that either of them could do about it. 

SO given what has been imposed upon you, you can fight the relationship or embrace it. and both of them have embraced it.

on rafa's side—i've wondered if his enthusiasm for carlos was a sign that he'd more or less come to terms with walking away. this is an imperfect analogy, but i'm always, always thinking of serena williams and sloane stephens, after sloane's ao victory in 2013, when everyone was like, wow serena must be like a MENTOR to you and the response from both of them was, "hell no. absolutely not."

and like yeah, that was about racism. obviously. but i do think the response was not just pushing back at the racism, but also the raw reaction of competitors in their prime. i'm not here to teach/to learn, i'm here to kill the pretenders and feast on their bones/i'm here to overthrow the queen and take MY place on the throne.

(got a great ask-essay about novak and jannik that touches on this idea, op i am slowly but surely making my way to it!) 

sure some of that is just, like, their personalities. i just doubt that the relationship would look exactly the same if carlos had hit the scene even like… 5 years earlier. to quote @oldlizzie's juanki tags that i am always thinking about, they're trying to bury you but you're not dead. until you are.

meanwhile, it's tough for carlos because yeah. you have to live up to THAT. and we see him and juanki doing their best to politely push back on the comparisons—which is a hell of a balancing act, "of course i love rafa, of course i'm flattered, please don't"—because i mean! this is a doomed comparison! for reasons that have nothing to do with talent, carlos is very probably not going to win 22 grand slams! (though, like, i can't see the future. who knows.)

don't let the comparisons get to you. don't let the hero down. don't let him down at his last olympics. don't let him down at his final tournament ever. (the way the stress manifested during those olympic doubles matches was actually so funny, iirc it went like—rafa would indicate something unintelligible and carlos would be like where do you want me to go senpai you have to tell me i don't understand.) it would be very easy to resent this person who is going to shadow you for the entirety of your career no matter what you achieve. but he doesn't. 

like you said, it would have been easy for carlos to want to focus on singles. it would have been easy for rafa to back away from sharing the spotlight and setting himself up for an unflattering side by side comparison. but they both wanted to live that experience of tennis together—to create a moment where pastpresentfuture collide.

so yes. nadalcaraz. :')

[hanayotta]

everytime i remember the jjk finale i have to chuckle at how bad it was

[velvetjune]

judging people who played alan wake 2 solely on if they loved the musical sequence or not

[monotonous-minutia]

I've always like the Barbiere overture but after last night where i was able to be ON STAGE while a LIVE ORCHESTRA PLAYED IT it is now The Greatest Overture In The World

[godsfavoritescientist]

How do I explain the ways in which the bill origins fic 'A Romance of Many Dimensions' by haley3 rewired my brain without needing to give paragraphs upon paragraphs of context. The fic is something like 200,000 words long. Almost every single good moment calls back to things that are set up earlier in the fic

[mbat]

btw i know everyone didnt like elemental before it came out because it was advertised as yet another forbidden love story but i hope people actually watched it and realized its actually a really good movie with good themes and that it felt like, and was, more than just another forbidden love story imo