#and the book has like a plastic box on it too!

[hoshiszora-archived]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[iknityounot]

(Long post, sorry y'all)

A little more than two years ago now, my grandmother passed away. She and my grandpa had moved down to my home town a few years before so we could take care of them. I brought them groceries once a week, helped them write checks, fixed tvs, and found lost things. I was really close with my grandma.

In addition to her hilarious personality and dry wit, one of my favorite things about her was that she was a painter and a crafter like me! She used to crochet, and I took her to the craft store a couple of times so she could get more yarn and books on crochet. But her arthritis and the shaking in her hands kept getting worse, so she eventually had to stop.

She kept her most recent project, a granny square blanket, safely packed away in a plastic bin. She told all of us she was going to finish it one day.

Her hands never got better, and when she got sick, and we found out it was cancer, she rapidly deteriorated.

After she passed, I went to work helping my mom clean out my grandparents apartment so we could move my grandpa in with her. In our frantic cleaning, I found that bin again:

DOZENS of granny squares, dozens of half used skeins. I asked my mom what she wanted me to do with it, and she said she didn't care. I set it aside and later took it home.

Maybe a month later, that tumblr post about the Loose Ends Project was going around. It felt like a sign--I was never going to learn to crochet in order to finish my grandmother's blanket. But they might be able to help!

So I filled out the interest form. They got back to me SUPER quick. And maybe 2 weeks later, I was paired with volunteer in my state (only 2 hours away!) and the box of yarn, granny squares, and my grandmother's crochet hook were in the mail. That was at the end of January this year.

Over the next couple of months, my "finisher" emailed me regular updates on her progress, and asked me questions on my preferences for how she constructed the final blanket.

At the end of August, the blanket was done!

I had always intended the blanket to be a gift for my mother. So I cleaned it up, put it in the only bag I had big enough to fit it, and drove to my mom's. I gave the blanket to her and she was gobsmacked. I explained to her all about Loose Ends, and how someone volunteered to finish the piece for us. She was speechless. (I was quite pleased with this, because I am not the best at giving gifts, so this was a pretty exciting reaction!)

She said that it was the most thoughtful gift she had ever been given. She said "your grandma would love this". To which I replied, "yeah, I know she really wanted to finish it a couple of years ago". But that was when my mom dropped the bomb of a century on me--she told me that my grandma had started making those granny squares OVER 30 YEARS AGO. She had started the blanket when my grandpa was staying in the hospital, but that was back when my mom was younger than I am now! My grandma had packed them all away, planning on finishing it, when my grandpa was sent home from the hospital. Then it went from house to house, from condo in Chicago to their apartment in my hometown. All that time and my grandma had wanted to finish it, but couldn't. First because she was busy, then because she forgot how to do it, then because of her arthritis, and then because of the cancer. My mom said she had given up on expecting my grandma to finish it. 

She said I brought a piece of her childhood with her mom out of the past.

And really, all of this is to say, if you have seen or heard about the Loose Ends Project and have an uncompleted project or piece from a loved one who has passed away--these are your people. They were so kind and treated my project with such care. That box probably would have been found by my own grandkids one day if I hadn't heard about Loose Ends.

Five stars, absolutely worth it!

(From what I understand, you can sign up to volunteer too! If you have time to share, it might be worth checking out!)

[luveline]

bombshell finds tickets to a russian movie thing sitting in spencer’s desk at work and they’re about to like run out (?) so she presents them to spencer and asks him on a date and pretends that she didn’t just pull them out of spencers desk in that bombshell way

You’re looking for gum. If Spencer were at his desk, you’d politely beg for a stick and he’d give it to you, but he’s not here, so you must search. 

You sit in his seat, slinking down as he does with poor posture, your kitten heels hitting the spine of a book kept under the desk. Your dress’ skirt rises up your thighs, the fabric at your neck pulls, but you have bigger problems. You’re feeling the weird franticness of unspent energy and only a stick of gum is gonna fix you. 

He has a drawer full of things, neatness traded for space. Blue and pink paper clips in an arrowhead shaped box. Push pins of all colours, their box more ordinary. He has a travel book on indigenous North American birds with stamps held between the pages, a plastic bottle cap, train stubs from Quantico to the station outside of his apartment and a bottle of ibuprofen missing half of its contents. 

Your fingers dig around for the familiar shape of a packet of gum, hesitating thoughtfully against the thread of a thicker cardstock. 

You pull a cream envelope from the desk and, perhaps wrongfully, unveil the contents: two tickets to see any Russian flick at the foreign language theatre free of charge (if you buy a large drink). They expire tonight. 

You press them to your chest and spin in Spencer’s chair without any regard for whoever might see you slouching. Across the office with his hair out of his face and a smile bordering lackadaisical stands your favourite. He even has a pencil in hand. He likes to underline things in the books he reads for your benefit. It’s the pencil that decides your next move. 

You stand up, brushing down your nice dress that he seems to like, a black cotton with thin pinstripes settling nicely just above your knees. You check your lipstick in the black reflection of his sleeping monitor, buzzing. 

He’s watching you when you turn back. You hide the tickets behind your hip and begin a light walk to his side, the chug of the printer a constant hum you can feel in your shoes. 

���What’s up?” he asks. 

You tilt your head toward your shoulder ever so slightly. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure.” He squints. “You’re acting strange.” 

“Suspicious,” you correct. 

“That, too.” 

“How come you let me hold your hand?” 

Spencer doesn’t hide his surprise at your question very well. His eyes turn deer in the headlights, then down to the printer. “What do you mean?” he asks. 

“When we first met, you wouldn’t shake my hand. And that’s okay,” —your smile is loving in the hope that he finds your question as the curiosity it is and not an interrogation— “I’m just wondering what changed.” 

“I was distracted.” He’s talking about the first time you took his hand, the two of you on the way to the office. “You stopped me from being late.” 

“Right, but I should’ve asked and I didn’t. And now we hold hands all the time.” You take a half step back. “I’m not trying to embarrass you, I’m just wondering.”

“Nobody’s held my hand in a really long time. And you’re mostly clean.” 

“Mostly!” you laugh, giving him a guilty smile. “I’m super clean, I just forget how gross door handles are sometimes.”

You have embarrassed him, in a way. It’s really not what you meant to do, not when you’re about to ask him on a date. 

Ever since you started your official position at the BAU, you and Spencer have grown closer, but there’s a difference between flirting because he’s lovely and flirting because you want him to be your boyfriend. (Not that he knows what you want.) You shouldn’t have started with the hand holding thing. 

“Spencer.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Will you go on a date with me?” You present him with the movie tickets. “Got these, they expire tonight…”

“Are those from my desk?” he asks, taking the tickets from you to look over closely. 

“I’d love to go with you, unless you’re gonna take someone else, which is fine.” You embarrass yourself a little, even though you’re not, hoping it makes up for the hand-holding investigation. “Yeah, they’re from your desk. Sorry. I really wanted a stick of gum, my– my nervous energy is through the roof today.” 

Spencer frowns at you again. “How come?” he asks softly. 

“I don’t know. It just happens sometimes.” 

And that’s nothing you’ve ever admitted to him. Your perfect mask is broken, and Spencer doesn’t look at you any differently. “Do you actually wanna go to the movies?” he asks. 

“Only if I’m not stealing you away from somebody else.” 

“There’s no one else.”

Spencer abruptly turns his attention to the printer, where he collects his copies and shuffles them into a straight, neat pile. 

You recover quickly, though inside your heart is a stuttering mess. “I should hope not,” you say. “Okay. Awesome. I’ll bring hand sanitiser and you can hold my hand through the previews.” 

[consistentscreaming]

I'm relistening to The Magnus Archives, and I made a list of Actual Canonical Details we as a fandom forget about

- sasha gets coffee from a specific coffee shop every morning

- Jon has an excellent sense of direction

- canonically in artifact storage there is: a wardrobe light cannot penetrate, a carved rock eye that interferes with the video cameras and therefore is kept in a black velvet bag, and a scalpel ride with disease no matter what they use to sterilize it, kept in a hermetically sealed plastic box

- during halloween week, they have to call in the archives as backup due to the influx of statements. jon canonically gets a good nights sleep after disproving these statements.

- Jon sincerely believes he is far too unlucky for statements to just be a hallucination

- Not-sasha asked not to be recorded multiple times

- when told he benifited from gertrude's death, jons only response was "...I didn't?"

- [daisy became police in ~2002, almost 15 years before the story starts...meaning she is canonically late thirties/early 40s

- even when compared with the paranormal, daisy considers car accidents worse

- mary keay made an eye pun "i know the institute and i haven't always seen eye to eye, as it were"

- jon noticed when ghost hunt uk stopped updating

- sasha is taller than not-sasha

- annabelle dresses like a vintage clothing store exploded on her, has bleach blonde hair and dark skin

- annabelle looked "like the type of person that talked to cleaners as if they were actual people"

- annabelle looms over the cleaner by almost a full foot, meaning she Tall

- "the moment i die will feel just the same as this one" is not just a georgie thing, it's an End thing in general, as proved in ep 70

- not-sasha tends to stay late

- martin worked at the institute in 2009

- micheal has curly sandy blonde hair

-micheal is tall

- melanie and jon are on the same wavelength, and when working together they both came to the same conclusions with the same evidence

- elias does not think daisy is smart

- georgie is observant, and pays attention to peoples behavior

- melanie thought jon killing someone with a pipe was "wildly out of character" for him

- georgie and jon have a mutual friend named Jess who thinks Hungarian food is "too Soviet"

- jon borrowed georgie's coat when he went to meet jude perry

- jon tells jude to kill him as an ultimatum every five minutes

- elias tells tim that when presented with horrors, he finds comfort in beaurocrocy

- jared hopworth is handsome with cheekbones and a jawline to die for

- georgie was canonically willing to cover for jon to the police with no context after an unpleasant breakup and after no contact for almost 5 years

- georgie grew up poor in liverpool, and had a scouse accent until she went to oxford

- basira is a huge nerd and will talk about what she's reading to anyone who will listen

- nikola makes an allusion to not having a face

- martin and melanie got along fantastically

- georgie told jon that he needs anchors

- "if something happened to you, or-or god forbid, The Admiral, I-"

- "Don't be a Stranger." georgie thinks she's funny

- michael had a childhood friend who was taken by something like michael (schizophrenic) and that's what drove him to the magnus institut-he never you over what he saw or didn't see

- Hannah is a black woman who works in the library, had a "Thing With The Milk In The Breakroom" in april 2016. Went on maternal leave to have a baby in June of 2017.

- elias enjoys scheduling

- martin zones out when he has to read a statement, and often takes little notice of his surroundings when doing so/about to do so

- martin was looking for a book called "marvelous spiritualism and the circus in tge 19th century" and a guy named tom said tim had it checked out

- danny and tim didn't talk much, but were still close

- Abigail Ellison-who tim calls abby- is a mutual friend of tim and danny's from "back home"

- tim shipped danny and abby

- out of the two of them, danny was more assertive and tim "had never been able to stand in the way of his confidence"

- tim has a big armchair, a printer, and a couch

- melanie has made everyone in the archives cry

- [basira loved wtg until it "took a weird turn in season 3" when they introduced something she thought was odd

- melanie, basira, and martin used to go out for drinks, and martin and basira were gossip buddies

- Melanie's dad had dementia relatively young, but he always remembered her. He called her "Little Moth", and her mothers life insurance helped pay for him to be put into Ivy Meadows Care Home-where he was killed by the Corruption at the hands of John Amherst before Julia and Trevor burnt it down.

- julia is in her early thirties and wears nondescript hard wearing denim

- jon thought that reading statements could be a classical addiction, but decided that even if it was he had no time to, as he put it, "experiment"

- Peter was surprised that elias killed people kimself-implying elias has people to do murders for him. what other murders did he commission

- martin and basira both noticed something wrong with melanie after the Elias Incidint when her work started to deteriorate-martin said she'd always been "quite conscientious"

- right after being told by basira that standing by with a cup of tea wasnt enough, when melanie entered the room Martin immediately offered her a cup of tea.

- Martin knocked over a stack of papers and defended himself by saying that they shouldn't have been there. the absolute madlad

- after micheal stabbed jon, jon told martin he stabbed himself with a bread knife; and martin then proceeded to A) believe him and B) not trust him with anything sharp after that

- Gerry didn't care abt what happened in the unknowing bc he's a book. jon asked if he was serious. Gerry responded that he was, in fact, dead serious.

- gerry teases jon by saying he doesn't know anything before rescinding that statement avd giving the vaguest hint possible. he's such a dickhead i love him

- gerard didn't trust gertrude-he wanted to, but she reminded him of his mother

- gerard called trevor and julia "the van helsings"

- gerry was jealous of lietner bc his mom paid so much attention to them

- mary haunted gerard for 5 years before gertrude destroyed her, and gerry cried with relief when gertrude gave him back the destroyed book

- before the unknowing, daisy was running around killing mannequins and other Strangers

- tim didn't think they would be able to stope the unknowing

- jon would rather have tim where he could see him-which is why he let tim come (guilt guilt guilt guilt GUILT GUILT GUIL GU

- basiras dad couldn't stand people who passively whined about their problems. he always said "If you don't like something, you accept it and you adapt, or you fight, and you change it. Whining doesn't help."

- Melanie was depressed before the unknowing

- jon rambles about his latest insights and melanie wants to punch him.

- martin: "it felt good, weaving my own little web." "Also, i get to burn some stuff, so that's cool"

- basira was the one to suggest that they not tell Melanie they were doing surgery

-Daisy made jon listen to the Archers. "I hate it. but it feels... good, to hate something that can't hurt me"

[tiyawnyana]

Kinktober: Day 16

Toys

A/N: I just about screamed while writing this

Pairing: Lo'ak x (fem) Human character

Warnings: teasing, toys, vibrating egg usage, nipple play, finger sucking, clit stimulation, jerking off, mutual masterbating (in a way?), cumming on chest

¤¤¤

The halls to the old compound are messy. Chairs strewn about. Boxes torn open for supplies. But it still echoes as you toss things aside.

"Damn, the air in here is stale," Lo'ak complains behind you. He huffs, but is thankful that for once he doesn't have to crouch as he walks.

"Right? Terrible, I wish they'd at least fix the air filtration systems, we come here all the time to grab supplies," you grumble in annoyance, before stumbling over a stray chair around the corner,"Fuck!"

Lo'ak thankfully grabs you, big hand wrapped around your midsection as he snorts, settling you back on your feet.

"Ever the graceful one, huh?"

"Can you shut up, I just saw you trip over a branch yesterday, Spider monkey," you stick your tongue out, thankfully without your mask in the way. It lays strapped on your hip. You look up before sighing in relief,"We're at the bunks, thank fuck."

Lo'ak nods after chuckling to himself, then follows you through the doors.

"Norm said I'd have better luck going to the far left section to find some old clothes, you're welcome to just look around, I dunno," you shrug, turning to the left to search.

He whoops silently, then walks off to check some stuff out.

"Don't touch the control panels- Lo'ak! Listen-"

"Yeah, yes, don't touch panels, I gotcha!" He yells back, snickering.

You fondly roll your eyes before heading down the hall. You check a few old rooms, browsing the old photos some of the women had strewn up, or books they had kept to the side. You're able to finally find some useful things, sighing again in relief and packing it away in your big bag.

You check out a few more rooms, stuffing clothes into the bag. You enter the last room in that hallway and put the bag down before heading to the dresser, finding a fresh pack of socks and muttering 'Score!' under your breath, before shuffling through.

You're surprised to find an unopened package, a box, so you put it to the side and quickly scour through the rest of the dresser and shoving the clothes into the bag. You look back to that box, then shrug, moving back over to open it with your knife. You're greeted with plastic packaging, a device that has what seems to be Spanish words explaining it. It looks to be a little remote, with two wires connected to two little egg looking things. You tilt your head in confusion before cutting open the container, moving to press the on button but nothing. You look back at the packaging and read that it needs batteries, and you grin in relief at finding batteries in the original box. You pop them in, seal the top, then turn it on and jump as the little eggs vibrate in your palm.

You gasp loudly, realizing what they were.

You would find yourself occasionally tapping into some of the old downloaded videos, obviously by the horny military guys, but still. Videos of girls on girls, guys with girls, too many to count quite frankly but they'd sometimes use devices like this to help their partner cum. Or just to tease them.

Your face grows warm just as a dull arousal begins to pool between your legs. You think for a moment of how you can use this for your own fun.. alone..

"What's that?"

You yelp, tossing the toy to the side. It clatters on the ground and those eggs vibrate loudly against the floor.

"Lo'ak! What the hell!" You gasp, clutching over your heart as it races,"Gonna put a damn bell on you, I swear."

You huff, moving to grab the toy in hopes to silence it and drop the subject so as to not embarrass yourself in front of your friend, but he beats you to it.

The toy looks tiny in his big palm, vibrating a small tickle. He snorts, quirking an eyebrow at you in a questioning look.

"What is this?" He smirks down at you.

You have to think quick. Come up with an excuse, play it off, who cares! Just don't tell him what they are!

"I'm not sure, actually," you play it cool, rolling your eyes,"I was trying to figure out what it was with the packaging, but it's in another language."

You grab said packaging, eyeing it. He peaks at it as well before snickering.

"Aren't those images evidence enough?"

"Huh? What ima-" you cough, eyes widening as your cheeks darken with blush.

Of course the packaging was going to have a universal language of boob imagery, specifically nipple action.

Lo'ak cackles out a laugh, covering his face as you sputter out jumbled words.

"Lo'ak! Shut up!"

Your face is red in mortifying embarrassment. You try to reach up and snatch the toy out of his grip but he lifts his hand, continuing to snicker.

"Lo'ak, c'mon man," you smack his arm, wanting this to end,"Just- put it down and we can go-"

He suddenly stops to grin down at you, that shit eating grin embarrassing you even further.

"I want to see how they work, though."

"You obviously know how they work now, seriously?"

"I want you to show me."

You inhale sharply. A beat of silence passes and you grow more and more flustered.

"What do you m-"

"Show me."

And he lifts one of those little vibrating eggs and trails it from your collar bone, down your chest and over your covered breasts. Even through the thin fabric of your cropped tank top and sports bra, you can feel those vibrations over your nipple, which now firms up.

You gasp quietly, backing up into the dresser, clinging to the drawer behind you.

"Lo'ak- mmph, wait-" you plead, voice already breathless and whiney.

He swallows thickly, crouching before you and grinning in satisfaction.

"C'mon, tahni, it's not like you have any reason to be embarrassed," he coos, head tilting and ears flicking,"I just want to be taught of earthly pleasure from my dear human friend."

His voice has you clenching your thighs, hot arousal coiling between them. He presses that stupid little, amazing, egg against your other boob, somehow pinpointing where your nipple is.

"Bullshit-" you grumble, panting heatedly,"You ass, you just like teasing me-"

"Oh, I love to tease you, for sure," he leans closer, eyeing you closely. He takes note of your scent changing, arousal clear from your thighs,"But this is a golden opportunity for both of us to learn. So show me, c'mon baby."

Your blush is inescapable, as is his stare. He eyes you up and down; from the averting of your gaze to the clenching of your thighs, covered by the shorts he hates so much.

You huff outwardly, grumbling low to yourself,"Fine, learning time," and your tugging your tanktop over yourself, soon followed by your sports bra. Your chest heaves, nipples hardening up in the cool, stale air.

Lo'ak then oggles your tits. Bigger, rounder, softer than the navi women he flirts with. He gulps, wanting to cup them in his big hands and give them a good, sweet squeeze. He so badly wanted to suck those perfect little nipples into his mouth. But he stifles it, despite his cock hardening up out of his sheath.

The bulge is obvious, and you see it out of your peripheral before snatching the toy from his hand. He only watches as you fiddle with the settings and reset the vibrations to a dull buzz, building up only to dull again. You didn't want this extremely hot moment, with the Sully boy that you'd been pining over since forever, to end too quickly.

You breathe hard as you take one of the eggs, trailing around your areola, teasing yourself.

"Humans tend to build up with these, from the videos I've seen." Your voice is soft, breathy.

"I thought you didn't know what it was," he teases softly, eyes not straying from your tits.

"Of course I knew- just didn't want to deal with the embarrassment," you grumble, before gasping softly as you trail it over your right nipple. Your body jerks, not used to the sensation at all but you sigh in pleasure, eyes fluttering shut as you hold it over the bud for a moment.

"Put it-" Lo'ak swallows, clearing his strained throat,"Put it over the other one."

You grin lightly, listening as you again, tease yourself by trailing it lightly around, then pressing it over your left nipple lightly, then adding pressure as you circle around.

"Mmph," you bite your lower lip to stifle your noise, but Lo'ak cups your jaw surprisingly and presses down on your chin to have you release your lip.

"We're alone," he gazes up at you with unfiltered lust,"Let me hear you, how good it feels."

You nod dumbly, and much to your surprise, Lo'ak takes things a step further as he prods at your lower lip before pressing his thumb into your mouth with a low command of 'Suck,' and boy do you, like your life depended on it. You think you almost envision it were his cock instead; which, gazing down between his crouched thighs, looks to be thick and heavy. God, you'd never wanted something down your throat more than you did now.

Your tongue wraps around his thumb, coating it in your saliva until he presses down on your appendage, holding it there with that look in his eyes. That look that makes you whine lightly around him.

He takes his thumb out of your mouth, touching your lower lip soft, almost sweet, before bringing that hand down to your chest where he cups your right boob, groaning low in his throat. He swipes his spit covered thumb over your nipple, the coolness of it making you jerk forward in surprise before he grabs at the other dangling egg and brings it up; teasing lightly then over your now cold nipple.

You moan in surprise, gazing down at him in shock and he smirks knowingly. He decides then, that he's completely involved in this 'experiment' especially when he yanks your other hand away from your left tit, then sucks your left nipple into his mouth.

"Ghk- fuck! Lo'ak, shit, wait, ah!" You're surprised, hand trying to find balance only to grip onto his braids. The growl and groan he releases around the nipple he sucks hard over almost feels like a temporary vibration.

Your pussy is pulsing by now, needy and you can't help the occasional buck of your hips.

Lo'ak pulls back, a thin string of saliva connecting your nipple to his mouth snaps and Jesus, that was almost pornographic. He grabs the other vibrating egg from your hand and presses it onto that nipple, hard, and you yelp, whining breathlessly.

You almost shriek out a moan when he figures out the settings and changes the vibration to be quicker, pulsing for longer durations.

You cling to his braids, panting and whining for what feels like an eternity, but all too soon he yanks them back, grips your midsection and tosses you onto the bed behind him. He smirks down at you, then leans over to tower above you.

"Wonder if these can be used elsewhere," is all he says before he yanks your shorts down your legs, thankfully your panties are soon after as well.

He spreads you open and gazes down at your glistening cunt like you were his last meal.

You pant, groaning with little patience before huffing,"C'mon, Lo'ak," you whine out.

He pinches your thigh lightly and chuckles at your yelp,"Patience, tahni."

You huff again.

But thankfully, he picks up those eggs and teasingly trails them down, over your ribs and across your belly. Unfortunately enough, he decides he's going to be an asshole.

He trails them around the skin of your pussy, not actually touching anything and you growl in frustration.

"Lo'ak, I swear-"

"Patience," he coos, a shit eating grin on his lips.

"Just- do it already! Please!"

He playfully rolls his eyes, mouthing 'Fine' before crouching even closer,

One empty hand reaches up, spreading your folds and with a grin, peaks at your clit, and he very quickly nestles that little heavenly toy right up against that bud and you nearly shriek yet again.

God, those vibrations are perfect. Just beyond your fingers or even, embarrassingly enough, your pillow.

And Lo'aks fingers are big, you can't escape them especially when he roughly gropes your tits, pinching at your nipples to harden them up again.

"Oh, god- Lo'ak, dontstopdontstop," you plead, back arching and neck craning back and you jerk in pleasure. He rolls it over your clit, even fiddling with the settings again to change the pattern.

BZZZ, BZZZ, BZZZ, bzzzbzzzbzzz

It's rough then soft, building you up gradually and thankfully he teases your nipples again, rolling it over before leaning up to suck a nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it then disconnecting to roll the egg over the spit slick nub. He repeats the action to the other, whilst still holding the other egg down hard on your clit.

You can feel it building up quick, too quick, you didn't want this to end but at the same time, if this was the only time something like this would happen, you needed to see his dick.

"Mmph, wait, Lo'ak," you shove at his hands, petting back his braids as you heave for breath. He gently takes the eggs off of you, surprisingly concerned.

"You alright, tahni?"

You grin lightly at the name, nodding quickly but clear your throat,"take off your tewng."

He looks surprised, evident enough in the way his ears perk up, but he listens and his tewng is tossed to the side quickly. You grab at him, poorly dragging him up to crouch on the bed but he gets what you're trying to do.

His cock is massive, and he grips the base, slapping it down over your pubic bone. You groan, gazing down at it with pure want.

Maybe you wouldn't be able to take it down your throat, but you're sure with some fingering and a lot of lube, you could ride him into next week.

But for now you put those thoughts on hold, a wild grin on your lips as you grip one of the vibrating eggs, grasp his cock in your palm, then press it against the tip.

He barks out a rough moan, body jolting against yours and you move up the bed with the force of it.

"Shit, shit, oh fuck," he moans, face pulled back in a pleasured grimace.

His hips roll against your body, cock rubbing across your belly as beads of precum drip down, leaving a mess over your skin. You can't help but moan at the sight.

He suddenly jerks back but thankfully still within grasp, grabs the other vibrating egg and nestles it right up between your folds to pulse hot against your clit again.

You moan loudly, bowing upwards before collapsing. You release his cock and he huffs, taking hold of your hand and bringing it back to his cock to hold that egg against the tip.

"Lo'ak," you drawl out in a whiney voice, blinking blearily at him.

He takes to lifting your thighs to wrap around his waist, hand going back down to press that toy harder against you.

You can't believe how unbelievably hot this is, breathing hard and moan at every single vibration at your clit.

Suddenly your thighs clench around his waist, your whole body tenses up as you grab at the blankets and shriek out a long moan. You cum hard, even somehow managing to squirt, coating Lo'aks thighs.

You breathe hard, vision blacking out as you slowly come back down.

He moans, whining lowly and your cunt throbs around nothing at that sound.

You whine, trying to reach down to move that toy away from your swollen clit, but he lightly smacks your hands away, muttering a 'Not yet'.

You blink quickly, gazing back down at his cock and finally wrapping your hand firmer around him to jerk him off sloppily and using your other hand to trail the egg around the tip, dipping into the slit.

"Shit- tahni, oh, fuck!" He jolts, hips bucking against yours roughly as he finally cums and it shoots up your chest. His release spews out over your tits, pooling into the valley in between, and even reaches up to cover your throat.

He whines as you hold that egg to his tip before jerking back, out of hold but still hovering above you, and thankfully grabs the egg away from your swollen clit.

He heaves for breath, eyes clenched shut. You sit there and breath for a while, basking in the glow of the best fucking orgasm you've had. You know now that you'll never be able to use your fingers again.

Lo'ak finally huffs out a breath, gazing down at you through lidded eyes with a dopey grin on his lips.

You almost think the moment is tender, until he opens his mouth and you snort.

"I'd say that was a successful experiment on human pleasure."

¤¤¤

A/N: I want him

Taglist:

@akoyaxs

(Lmk if you want to be added!)

[janitorhutcherson]

Groceries, Taxes, & Laundry (MSchmidt Fluff)

hey guys, it's me. i'm finally back. did y'all miss me? the writing of this is a lil diff, sooooo please enjoy and lmk what you think!

content: pure fluff yall.

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

Grocery shopping with Mike Schmidt is… special, to say the least. He absolutely despises it. The dreaded time comes around at the end of every week, your vegetables in the fridge starting to wilt, the meat from the previous trip used up, and all of your snacks have been devoured from late night munchie runs to the pantry (xoxo i love gardening!!!). He knows it has to happen. He knows you’ll wake him up early on Sunday morning like always, because apparently it’s “better to get it out of the way,” which he thinks is, well, to put it lightly, utter bullcrap.

You’ll drag him and Abby out to your local grocery store, her drowsy and jittery all at the same time with the promise of pancakes from a local diner after. Once you arrive, you’ll pull out all of the far-too-expensive reusable bags out of the trunk of Mike’s dingy car, ready to fill them with the necessities. Why get those for 3 bucks when you can get the plastic ones for free? He’ll never understand your logic, something about saving the environment, but it’s okay, he loves you enough not to complain, at least out loud.

The fluorescent lights of the room filled with half asleep employees hits Mike’s eyes like he’s looking directly into the sun. He lets out a small grumbled sigh as he takes in the scent of sterile cleaning supplies and produce mixed in one, with the strange almost play doh like smell of the bakery. Your eyes cut over to him, eyebrows raised, Abby’s hand in yours as she rubs her droopy eyes. Mike can’t help but to crack a small smirk, his lips pursed together. “What?” he’ll question innocently, letting out a small snicker as you go deeper into the dreary establishment. 

At the produce aisle, Mike shivers a little as the water from the misting sprinkler on the shelves hits his bare skin. He should’ve worn his jacket today, he usually does, and he’s regretting the one time he hasn’t. Your eyes are glancing over carrots, broccoli, cucumbers, and squash, all that are somehow both too ripe and too.. What's the word... unripe? Sure, he’ll go with that. His hand reaches out to grip yours in a gentle grasp as Abby points to a particularly fluffy bushel of broccoli. “I want that one! It looks like pretty trees,” she giggles out, finally starting to wake with the day. You let out a giggle of your own and Mike smiles because of how pretty your laugh is.

Next, you’re in the snack aisle, filling the cart with doritos, barbeque chips, pringles, salt and vinegar chips (mike gags when you eat them too close to him), peanut butter filled pretzels, whatever can go in Abby’s lunch box and whatever is tastiest. Mike insists on buying the cheap queso, his nose scrunching up at the price of the name brand one. He knows it doesn’t taste any different.

Now you’re looking at meats, finding chicken breasts and filets, steaks, pork, whatever was on your list from meal prepping. Yes, meal prepping, Mike did that now. Apparently stable people with stable lives who had stable relationships did that. He’d grown fond of sitting over a recipe book with you on Saturday nights, really, shoulder to shoulder, pressed up on the couch well after Abby had gone to bed. Something about it felt safe, a kind of domestic feeling he wasn’t used to.

You’re basically done now, and he couldn’t be more relieved as you make your way towards the dairy section. He grabs a few things, string cheese, yogurt, cream cheese, cheese slices for sandwiches for work. Oh, did he mention he works in construction now? It’s stable, makes good money, and he’s home on time to see you, to be a husband-not-yet-husband (he plans to propose soon, but that’s another story), a brother-more-like-a-father, a person with a regular schedule. He looks over at you, watching as you and Abby skim over the different selections of chocolate and strawberry milk, finally settling on a carton of strawberry. He once again scrunches his nose, smiling all at once. “Nasty,” he mumbles out. Abby playfully hits his arm and you lean in for a kiss.

Finally, thank god, you push the cart towards the bakery section, grabbing bread and a sweet treat or two for the week. Cookies, a birthday cake for no particular reason, cheese danishes, whatever his little family was feeling for the week, that’s what it’d be. This week, it was a huge box of chocolate chip cookies and some kind of cherry pastry he’d never had before. You three finally head to checkout, where everything is stuck in those stupid reusable bags and the price of everything you got feels obscenely huge for what’s in your cart, but he pays it anyway. Walking to the car, in the trunk the groceries go as you all climb in one by one, ready to head for pancakes.

As he reverses the car out of his good (only because it was so goddamn early) parking spot, he can’t help but sigh, this time with contentment as Abby rambles on about a new imaginary (hopefully) friend, your own grin wide as you ask questions, making sure she feels heard. “I love you guys, love doing things with you guys,” Mike mumbles out, reaching his hand over to your thigh as he glances back at Abby too. And it was true, he’d do anything with you two. Hell, if all his life consisted of grocery shopping, taxes, and laundry? Yeah, he’d be ok with that too.

[majordemonblockparty]

mary campbell winchester who doesn't necessarily regret her demon deal, because she loves john, she does, in a deep and intense and preternatural way that scares her, sometimes, if she looks at it head-on for too long, but sometimes....

sometimes she just misses what she lost. what she traded in exchange for john. to have his snapped neck put back to rights and the breath put back in his lungs; what has to stay dead because she wanted john alive more.

she misses her parents when she has to clean out the house without him. she calls her cousins, campbell kids semi-settled within a day's driving distance, and four of them descend on lawrence to gut the house of everything hunting related before john gets it in his head to help her. she misses her daddy when she puts her hands on john's chest and looks up at him with real, actual tears trembling on her waterline and tells him she needs to be alone to pack up her parents' things. she misses her mama when john tucks her hair back from her face like she's something delicate and worth protecting, something that wouldn't trade two lives already lost for his.

it all has to go, everything hunting.

they pack it up into cardboard boxes and plastic milk crates -- the books, the journals; the cb radio set in the den and the armory behind the false wall in the bedroom; thousands of rounds packed in ammo cans labeled with her daddy's neat draftsman's hand printed on strips of masking tape: CONSECRATED IRON. SILVER -- PURE. SILVER -- ALLOY. COPPER -- STANDARD. her mom's correspondence book of every hunter they've ever known, the names and numbers and home addresses of people who sat at the campbell's dining room table and bled with them and died for them all throughout mary's entire childhood.

most of the clothes in the closet get donated, but mary keeps the box of baby clothes her mama had kept tucked up high on a shelf in their bedroom closet, in case she someday has a little girl with john's dark hair and the winchester name. she keeps the memory box with her first lock of hair and the jar of her baby teeth and the tattered scrap of her crib blankie. she keeps her dad's letterman sweater and her mama's canvas jacket with the padded shoulder where a rifle's meant to rest. she wants her daddy's wristwatch, but it goes into the pyre with the rest of his effects. their wedding rings, her mother's engagement band, all of it; mary watches it all burn down to smoldering cinders with her parents' shrouded corpses.

mary keeps what she has to -- her knives (one for every birthday since she turned ten), and a few handguns. john knows she and her parents were big into "target shooting", so it's not implausible she'd keep a couple. but most of it goes to her family downstate, redistributed amongst the campbell clan. she keeps the slim leather-bound volume printed in 1932 with detailed runic symbols and protective sigils, the sort her mama used to draw with magic marker on the underside of the insoles every time mary got a new pair of shoes. (she misses her mama when she does the same thing to the tiny shoes she puts on the baby boy mary named after her.)

she misses her daddy, who never gets to walk her down the aisle. he's not there to give her grief about "that goddamn nightgown of a hippie wedding dress; jesus, mare, you gettin' hitched today or you just roll outta bed?" or do his best to scare john shitless "as is a father in law's prerogative, damnit!" but then make sure his tie's on straight, 'cause john hasn't got a dad to do it for him.

she misses her mama worst when she's pregnant -- the first time with her little angel, her baby boy with ten perfect fingers and ten perfect toes and two-thirds of his grandmama's name on his birth cert. and almost worse with sam -- john stayin' nights on a cot in the back room of that damned garage and herself to blame for it (he shouldn't'a said that, but she shouldn't've drawn her pistol on him like that, either; not with dean in the next room, sprawled out on his belly on the rug in front of the tv), eight months pregnant and huge as hell, dragging the garbage cans to the curb at five o'clock in the morning with dean on her hip 'cause he'll scream if he's set down even for a minute, and her housecoat coming open at the front and mary wants to sit down in the new-mown grass and weep, she's so goddamned tired, she wants her mama, she wants her daddy, she wants to go back and change her mind and have them flanking her on either side at john winchester's funeral. she wants her mama to brush back her hair and give her a kiss on the forehead and tell her everything's gonna be alright, and she wants her daddy to admit that john was a decent boy even if he was a civilian, and she wants to trade all of them -- her husband and her son and the baby rolling like a hoopsnake inside her -- for her family back.

(she'll feel different in a few hours. after she and dean have gotten a little more shut-eye, and she's made breakfast that caters to the demands of a bacon-obsessed toddler but doesn't also make her wanna hurl, maybe they'll go see john. see if she can't win john's forgiveness with the guileless screams of delight her sweet boy will no doubt give his daddy, and a few kicks from baby to the hand john will inevitably rest on her belly. but for the moment she thinks, oh, god; I should've let him die.)

[skzsauce01]

What Was I Made For

Synopsis: College is hard, but it's even worse when you're a pre-med student and it's even, even worse when you don't want to go into medicine. Fortunately, the ghost that haunts your apartment is more kind, more annoying, and more helpful than you ever thought possible. College AU, ghost AU.

Warning: alcohol, bad parental relationship, mentions of death

Word Count: 6.2k

Pairing: f!reader x ghost!Kim Seungmin

A/N: Good luck with exams and classes!

“Honey, I’m home,” you call. The handles of the reusable grocery bag you picked up from a club booth at the beginning of the semester are already starting to fall apart, so you’re forced to flip on the light switch with your shoulder blades. You glare at Seungmin, who is lounging on the couch, staring at the ceiling. “Could you at least pretend to help?”

“What’s the point? I can’t even eat whatever you bought.”

You sigh and set down your haul onto the tiny kitchen island that doubles as a dining table. When you make a big production of taking out your groceries, Seungmin still doesn’t look up. Despite his inability to eat food, he usually shows some interest, if only to judge your snack choices.

On the counter, bananas in a plastic produce bag to prevent fruit flies, and a new roll of paper towels. On the top shelf of the fridge, a tub of Greek yogurt that Seungmin makes fun of you for liking. Assorted salad mixes in the crisper. A whole rotisserie chicken and a carton of eggs on the middle shelf. In the cabinet goes a party-sized bag of barbeque chips, a pack of chocolate chip cookies you don’t want to discuss how much you paid for, and a box of protein bars. 

You take the last item out of the bag and hide it behind your back. You hover over Seungmin. “Guess what I got?”

“A bag of potatoes that will grow spuds because you can’t finish them all.”

“That was one time! Try again.”

He guesses wrong again and again, so after the fifth attempt, you hold your prize in front of his eyes. “A better vegetable peeler, just like you told me to. Are you proud of me?”

For a moment, his sullen eyes brighten at the memory of you struggling with your old peeler. He watched with great amusement as the flimsy blade repeatedly got caught on carrot skin and you grew more infuriated with each catch. In the end, you gave up and ate the skin, fuming with each bite of your meal. Seungmin laughed so hard, you thought he would lose control of his physical form and slip through the floor. 

He sighs, all of the joy escaping through his lips. “Yeah, sure. Sorry, it’s just one of those days.”

“We all have them. Hey, why don’t we do something tonight? I’m done studying, so we can watch a movie or play Mario Kart or something.” You plaster a smile on your face. “Fun, right?”

“You’re never gonna get into med school if this is how you work.”

Despite his admonishments, he sits up and swings his legs off the couch to make room for you. He didn’t choose an activity so Mario Kart it is. You leave your peeler on the coffee table and grab your joycons. When you flop beside him, tossing the blue one in his lap, he grumbles as he’s jostled around.

“I don’t even wanna go to med school,” you remind him. He already knows since it’s all you complain about these days as the MCAT draws closer, but that’s never stopped you from repeating yourself.

“Wow, what a problem. I’d die to go to med school.” 

Without thinking, you snort. “Too late for that.”

Seungmin has been dead for nearly two years. The old apartment complex burned down in an electrical fire, and due to the housing demand in the area, the university quickly built a new one in its place. Sure, you suspected it was probably haunted, but rent was on the cheaper side, especially for a single room, so you moved in and learned about your unofficial roommate during your first night. You thought you were going to faint when you saw a stranger leaning over your stack of practice books, and you thought you were going to be killed when he simply said, “I was also pre-med.”

“Sorry,” you meekly say. Why is the Mario Kart music so cheerful? It would be worse if it was sad, but the upbeat tune just makes your mistake more poignant. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he interjects. “Doesn’t matter. You better not pick Birdo this time.”

While you normally would have fought him six ways from Sunday for Birdo, you choose Yoshi instead and pick his favorite circuit to start off the night. He makes no comment about your sudden generosity, but you both know the reason. There’s no such thing as pity in this household, but apologies are aplenty.

When you come back from your anatomy lab the following day, whatever guilt you felt is gone when Seungmin holds up your pack of cookies with a disapproving look. You must have forgotten to put it back in the cabinet before you left. Either that or Seungmin rummaged around your belongings when the roommate contract stated that he could not and would not.

“You seriously paid for these?” he says. 

“They’re good! And artisan,” you huff as you snatch the package from his hands. You hope you didn’t crush any cookies in the process. “I support small businesses.”

“They haven’t been a small business or artisan in, like, twenty years. How did the cat dissection go?” 

You reach for an overpriced cookie and snap off a piece with more force than necessary. “Fine. A little gross, but I guess I’m used to that by now. You wanna see the pictures I took?”

He tries to feign nonchalance, but his body seems more substantial, less ghost-like as you scroll through your camera roll. Even though he oohs and aahs at the most inappropriate images—you really don’t think the digestive structures of a cat deserve that much admiration—you can’t help but smile. He hasn’t looked or sounded this lively in weeks. You thought it might have been your snark rubbing off of him, but he always has a biting remark at the ready, remedied only with his good-natured demeanor. Of course, that demeanor has been slowly crumbling, so to see him be his usual self again feels good.

Satisfied, he lets you take your phone back. “Sometimes I miss lab. I hated doing the lab reports though; have fun with that.”

And just like that, your happiness goes out. “That’s tomorrow’s problem. I should study before work. You wanna help me out? I hate physics.”

Look, if your roommate were a pre-med student, had unlimited time, and no other obligations, you would force them to help you study, too. Plus, Seungmin loves MCAT practice, so it’s a win-win.

To your surprise, he doesn’t jump at the opportunity like he typically does. Under normal circumstances, he would be scouring the living room for where he last left his flashcards. Instead, he says, “Why don’t you take a break?”

“A break? You, of all people, suggest that I take a break when you were just telling me about my bad study habits? Who are you, and what have you done with Seungmin?”

He rolls his eyes. “I didn’t realize you wanted to do physics that badly.”

“I don’t. This is weird from you though.” However, after a moment of contemplation: “Whatever. Pick a show to watch. I’m gonna draw.”

He selects House because he’s still Seungmin after all. This is the show that inspired him to go into medicine, and is, as he’s mentioned many times before, “the greatest show on the planet.” It’s entertaining, you admit, and you do like seeing all of the obscure medical cases Dr. Gregory House solves, but it’s a grim reminder of your parents’ dreams for you. With the dialogue of the characters echoing in your head, you sketch a frog sitting on top of a stack of pancakes. You initially bought your tablet for note taking, but it really is much better as a tool for art. 

“It’s always animals, plants, or dessert now,” Seungmin remarks, craning his head to get a better view while you continually pull your screen away. “What happened to your big fantasy pieces?”

“Rule one: no looking until I say so. Rule two: no questions unless I say so. Remember?”

He ignores you. “You used to do a lot of those things when you first moved in. With the crazy landscapes, guys with abs in crop tops, cat-ear ladies with fancy dresses, villains who you definitely wanted to—”

“I get it!” Your face is blazing. He makes your artistic—purely artistic—interests sound so much worse than they are. “I’ve just been busy with life, so I don’t have time to work on them anymore. Anyway, animals, plants, and desserts are cute.” In a smaller voice, you add, “And they make me happy.”

Just like pictures of a flayed cat makes him happy.

He goes quiet and lets Dr. House fill the air. While he pretends to be engrossed in the show, you turn back to your sketch to fix your frog’s eyes to be less downcast. No sad frogs allowed.

You don’t remember exactly when the dread began, but you do distinctly remember glancing over the syllabus for your genetics course and wanting to collapse. Each item was manageable by itself, but the totality of the class, of your future classes, of your future hurtled at you at full force. For so long, you convinced yourself you could do it. You would complain the whole time, but at the end, you would be addressed as ‘Doctor’ and you would be happy. Your parents would be happy, so you would be happy and realize that it was all worth it.

Even if you cried every night, it would be worth it. 

You took a deep breath, looked at the list of assigned textbooks, and pulled out your credit card. You went through more dire situations than this stupid course. This would be easy enough.

Two weeks after the art fiasco, you finally test out your new vegetable peeler on potatoes. Your friend gave you five for free since she was having trouble finishing the large amount she bought. While you stand over the sink, humming a song your neighbor has been practicing for the past week, Seungmin is hunched over the coffee table, doing something secretive with flashcards. He’s been working on a new set of them since the art fiasco, which makes no sense since you have a perfect set of a thousand that you bought online. But no, he has been toiling day and night to create handmade ones. You don’t even want to know where he got the supplies.

Well, you already know where and how, but if your neighbors come knocking, you know nothing.

In fear that you’ll “ruin the surprise,” you have been forbidden from even stepping foot onto the living room carpet. Really, there’s no point because you can get a glimpse if you lean across the island. Nevertheless, you keep your eyes on the growing pile of potato skins. You have five potatoes worth of fries to make.

Ten minutes later, when you have moved onto slicing, Seungmin declares that he’s done. He places the baking sheet you left on the island onto a chair and triumphantly sets down his masterpiece.

When you pick up the topmost one, you can’t help but smile. Alongside the words “absolute threshold” is a cartoon rabbit with alert ears. Tiny music notes are dotted on the top edge of the card. 

“To make your studies less stressful,” he says. 

You don’t have the heart to tell him that you’re always some degree of stressed but nevertheless thank him. The flashcards are adorable, even if Seungmin’s drawing skills aren’t the best. “Newton’s first law” has an indistinguishable creature kicking a ball, and “law of independent assortment” features some of the strangest plants you have ever seen.

“I love them.”

“What do you think of my art skills? Better than you, right?”

You laugh and turn back to your cutting board. “You should’ve considered art school instead of med school. Professional artist Seungmin,” you muse. “I can see you in galleries and museums.”

“Don’t forget the history textbooks. Why didn’t you consider art school? You would be perfect for video games or something.”

For some time, you did consider art school. You spent the first two years of high school daydreaming about sitting behind an easel, translating a model’s likeness onto paper. Perennial paint splatters on your jeans, permanent charcoal stains on your fingers—that was the only way you wanted to study human anatomy. 

“My parents. You know how it is. Can you season the fries in the bowl?”

While Seungmin dumps copious amounts of salt, pepper, and whatever random spices he picked from the cabinet, you reflect on your teenage self. A part of you knew that drawing would only be a hobby, but another part kept hoping your parents would come around. When Hyunjin’s parents announced he was going to study chemistry, your mom wondered why he didn’t choose art when he was such a good artist. In fact, half the neighborhood, whose children went into STEM fields one way or another, were shocked he chose chemistry. Of course, if their own kids had opted for non-STEM majors, they would have been livid. Just like your parents had been.

“Did you ever think about not going into medicine?” you ask as you add more potato slices into the bowl.

He adds a swirl of oil to the mix. “No. It’s all I ever wanted to do. I volunteered at the hospital in high school, got an internship at a clinic here. I was studying for the MCAT and then…”

And then the university’s outdated housing killed him. It sounds horrific when phrased like that, but it’s more truthful than “Promising Young Pre-med Student Kim Seungmin Dead After Apartment Fire,” as the city newspaper headlined. His student ID photo smiled earnestly at readers, and a recent picture showed him posing in a lab coat.

It hits you then. Seungmin is dead. You knew this logically; you saw the articles, passed by the vigil, and signed the student letter demanding better accommodations. Then you forgot his existence until you applied to live in this building and when he appeared in your bedroom, you forgot about his death. Despite witnessing him walk through walls and tiptoeing around his deceased status, Seungmin has never really been dead to you. He’s your roommate who sleeps in the living room, your study partner who loves all things related to biology, or your friend. He’s too alive to be anything else.

“Did you preheat the oven?” he asks, breaking you out of your spiraling thoughts. Your body went on autopilot, and now the baking sheet is covered in pale potato sticks.

You glance at the dark oven and head over to do what you should’ve done twenty minutes ago. “My bad.”

“You’re the one eating these. Can you even finish all this?”

It’s far too much, but what else were you going to do with five potatoes on the verge of going bad? You suppose you could have not accepted them from your friend. “I can try?” you say, more to convince yourself than him. “I’m no coward.”

“Really? Then why do you hide when we watch horror movies?”

“That’s different. Mario Kart while we wait?”

“I call Birdo.”

Despite his declaration, you’re the one playing Birdo while he settles for Waluigi. Seungmin gloats when he hits you with a red shell, laughs when you fall off the track, and celebrates when he gets first place. He’s practically corporeal, alight with hopes and dreams you wish were your own, but he’s only the echo of the past. Meanwhile, blood flows through your veins and oxygen into your lungs, yet you’re stuck in a potential future you don’t even want.

At the end of fall, between your human biology midterm and that stupid philosophy paper, you break. It’s during one of your MCAT practice exams, so you at least can cry at your desk. You can’t even cry without guilt; your mind immediately starts trying to reread the problem you’re stuck on through your tears, as if trigonometry will solve your crisis. 

It feels like an elephant is sitting on your chest. Every time you think you’ve calmed down enough to begin again, another wave of sobs overcomes you. Just holding your pencil makes your throat tighten.

“Are you okay?” Seungmin’s voice is slightly muffled by your bedroom door, but you doubt that a thin piece of wood concealed your cries.

You choke out, “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“... No.”

You swing open your door with sardonic fanfare, spreading your arms like a ringmaster. Seungmin makes no comment about your swollen eyes or your sniffles. You almost wish he had.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks. He takes a tentative step into your room, and when you nod, he lets himself fully in. It’s been several months since he’s last been inside. Unmade bed, cluttered nightstand, paper-strewn desk—nothing much has changed. He sits on your chair, resting an arm on top of the throw blanket you’ve thrown over the back.

“I don’t know what there is to talk about,” you say after a moment of silence. “I hate class, I hate work, I hate my life. A breakdown has been long overdue.”

You stare at the floor, afraid to meet his gaze now that he’s seen you like this. Ever since you discovered Seungmin, you’ve crafted the perfect blasé attitude to accommodate your new living circumstances. He leaves you alone sometimes and stays cordoned off in the shared spaces to give you privacy, but you don’t break apart in your apartment for good reason. You’re open and raw like a bloody wound. Will he want to patch you up with bandaids, or will he pick and prod?

Pick and prod, you pray. Make some flippant remark about how easy you have it, how he wishes he could be in your position instead. Because if he does, then the situation must not be that bad.

Softly, Seungmin says, “What can I do to help?”

Your heart drops to your stomach. “I don’t know… I should probably get back to studying anyway.”

“Really? Are you serious?”

“What else am I supposed to do?” you snap. Seungmin at least has the decency to look sheepish. “The MCAT’s in July, and I don’t even understand half the things I’m supposed to know. I’m barely getting C’s in philosophy and art history because of it. That’s so humiliating.”

“Have you thought about, you know, not going to med school?”

A harsh laugh rips out of your throat. “Every single day. But it’s too late. I’ve already wasted four years, so what’s another four?” That doesn’t even include residency.

“You’d hate it.”

“Story of my life.”

The room goes quiet. Maybe you were too severe with your words, but how else do you explain it? 

“What if you became a medical illustrator?” he abruptly suggests. “You’d know exactly how to draw everything. It’s perfect for you. And it’s still STEM-related.”

It doesn’t matter if it’s in STEM. Your parents laid out your options very clearly: doctor or disappointment. Some career choices were less disappointing than others, but they would still be disappointments.

“I need to study,” you say.

He stands up from your rightful seat at your desk. Softly, so very softly, he says, “I’ll let you get back to it then.”

“Thank you.”

He shuts the door behind him and leaves you with your despair. True to your word, you return to your practice exam, this time without crying. Your mouth is dry the entire session, but you don’t dare drink any water in fear that rehydration will trigger your tears. It’s stupid but keeps you holding on. 

When you check your answers and review terminology, you refer to the set of flashcards Seungmin made for you. He didn’t expect you to use them, but his drawings have helped you better memorize the definitions. You shuffle through them, occasionally trying to figure out the relationship between whatever Seungmin drew and the word written. Other times—but not enough for your liking—you know exactly what they mean.

The rabbit from “absolute threshold” stares at you with lopsided eyes, and Mendel’s warped pea plants grow beneath your fingers. The whole world blurs.

A month after move-in, after too many beers and barbeque chips, you asked Seungmin, “Why do you haunt only me? You can travel through the whole building, but you’re only ever here.”

He gestures at the room with a sweeping flourish. “This used to be my apartment. Sort of. They changed the floor plan, but this is the approximate location of where I lived, so when you moved in, it felt like fate.”

“Ah, a med school sufferer to keep you company.”

He laughs, but it sounds insincere. “How drunk are you right now?”

You glance at the row of empty cans you lined up on the counter. One, two, three, four, five. Five and a half, if you count the one in your hand. “Pretty drunk, I think.”

“So you won’t remember what I tell you, right?”

“Probably not,” you lie. “What is it?”

With a sad smile on his face, he says, “I haunt you because it’s like seeing someone live the life I could’ve had. Would’ve had.”

Your outburst doesn’t go forgotten, but you and Seungmin dance around the topic with the grace of a seasoned ballerina. You show him your grocery hauls, he scolds you for buying expensive cookies. The two of you play Overcooked instead of Mario Kart and pretend that Overcooked will strengthen your friendship instead destroy it even further. Seungmin is really bad, embarrassingly so. 

“Are you going to the party this weekend?” he asks as he drops onions all over the floor. There’s no health department in the game.

“I would ask you to be more specific,” you say, “but we both know I’m not going to any parties. Go chop the onions.”

“You need friends.”

“I have friends. Who do you think keeps us giving us potatoes?”

He scoffs. “That’s not a friend. That’s an enemy. We need more dishes.”

While you wash a stack of dirty dishes, Seungmin dashes between prepping ingredients and watching the timer on the soups. As expected, he doesn’t take the pot off the stovetop quick enough, and soon enough the whole kitchen is in flames. You scream at him to get the fire extinguisher, he wades through the sea of onions, and the level ends with a single gold star.

You set your joycon down and lean your head back. “Three stars or nothing” is your motto when playing Overcooked, but perhaps you can make an exception for Seungmin.

“Why’d you ask me about a party?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Seems like a college student thing to ask. And a college student thing to do. Go to parties, I mean.”

“Not for us.” You stretch your arms and legs out, knocking your socked feet against the coffee table. “When have you ever seen me willingly leave the apartment?”

“Never,” he admits, “but you should enjoy your youth.”

Whatever mutual agreement you thought you and Seungmin had does not exist. You have long known that you would have to sacrifice your twenties for your future. There would be good moments among your struggles, but so many of your memories would be of test prep and studying. As your parents so eloquently put it, “You can draw after you retire.” 

“That’s funny coming from you,” you say. You wave a hand in front of his face and observe the way his eyebrows scrunch together. “Are you really Seungmin?”

“Do you know any other ghosts?”

“Do you actually regret dedicating so much time to studying?”

“No. I mean, I went out when I could, but you…” He mindlessly thumbs the buttons of the controller as he tries to find his words. “Well, maybe I do a little bit, but it was fulfilling. Or was going to be anyway. You’re miserable. I’ve never seen you without dark circles or eye bags.”

How needlessly observant of him. “Thanks. It’s the quintessential college look.”

“Take care of yourself.” He raises his joycon and nods at the TV. “Let’s go again. Three stars only.”

And just like that, you and Seungmin go back to pretending as if everything is fine, like the last few minutes were idle chatter about the weather. You yell instructions at him, and he retorts back with something snarky; all is well.

You suppose you should have realized why Seungmin asked you such out-of-character questions two weeks ago. Death anniversaries don’t typically go onto your calendar, but you could have made an exception for Seungmin. How did you forget? As you walk down the stairs, a wave of guilt washes over you.

The annual university-held vigil occurs on campus, but the apartment complex has their own small affair in the courtyard. Framed photos of the victims huddle together at the base of a half-wall. Already, there are several flowers and notes strewn about, and you add your own carnation to the pile. You have a note as well, and it burns your hand as you debate whether to leave it or not.

Twelve people died that night. “Only” twelve, as some papers reiterated. Twelve out of three hundred doesn’t seem too horrific given the state of the fire, but that’s still twelve people dead. Plenty more got injured trying to escape, and they aren’t honored at this memorial. The living don’t get commemorated—they live with the memories of the day, and that’s remembrance enough for the public.

“Hey.”

No one else is around, so you say, “Hey,” back to Seungmin. He disappeared for a few hours, and you assumed he would be gone until sunrise. In the days leading up to his death anniversary, he has grown increasingly depressed, looking vacantly out the window and mouthing words to himself. You idiotically thought he was just having one of those days.

“How are you holding up?” you ask.

“Fine, I guess. Good turn out this year,” he remarks as he kneels down to pick through the gifts. “The construction workers didn’t even show up to work because of superstition or something.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know, it’s just…” You wave the folded notebook paper in your hand. Maybe you should’ve bought some stationery after all. “Read this later. I’ll see you whenever.”

You gently place it beside your carnation, return back to your apartment, and lock yourself inside your room. It’s too quiet, and you’re too restless. Your head tells you to do practice problems to burn off your energy, but all you’ve been doing as of late is listen to your head.

As you sketch an anatomical heart—underneath a completely necessary and painstakingly accurate rendering of a male torso—your bones say that this is right. 

To Kim Seungmin, a star that went out too soon—

You deserved so much more than this. I don’t even know what else to say because nothing feels more appropriate. 

I’m living in your old apartment—where it used to be, at least—and I can’t help but feel that I’m living the life you should have had. Sometimes I can feel your presence when I’m studying. I can hear you reciting definitions and shuffling flashcards. When I’m really losing my mind, I can see you sitting on the couch watching House episodes with me. It’s comforting and terrifying.

You already know this, but I don’t want to go to med school. I hate it and I hate being a disappointment to my parents, but I hate being a disappointment to you the most. You should be in my place, so I thought I should try and complete your dream for you at the very least. I’m already miserable, so I should make the most of it. For a while, I thought this would make you happy, but it’s been making you sad and worried recently. I thought if I could make you happy, then it would be worth it, but I’m realizing it’s not, but I’m too scared to leave this path. Sometimes I don’t know who I am without med school looming over me, and it 

I wish we would’ve met earlier. You’re an amazing person, full of light and kindness. The world is darker without you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done and for everything that I didn’t do because you deserve so much better than whatever you’ve been given.

“Do you want to talk?”

Seungmin’s upside down face appears between you and the iPad you have been holding up with both arms. Philosophy review is simultaneously boring and maddening, but you have a final to be studying for. You should’ve started much earlier, but twenty-four hours of cramming has not failed you when it comes to general education elective courses yet.

“Not really,” you say as you push his face out of view. He’s corporeal at the moment, so your hand meets resistance rather than going right through. “I’m busy.”

“Did you apply for a ‘biomedical visualization’ program? That’s a medical illustrator thing, right?”

You don’t need to look at him to know he’s thrilled. Since the memorial, you began looking into medical illustrators as a backup plan. You only meant to learn about the basic requirements, but curiosity got the better of you, and you attended an online informational session. Seungmin overheard bits and pieces because of how thin the walls are, you got cagey when he asked, and he put his endless hours of free time into detective work. 

“I didn’t apply. I’m just looking around. Now go away.”

“The living room is a communal space. So you’re considering it then?”

You don’t respond and bring your iPad closer to your eyes. To read the tiny notes on the margins of your classmate’s notes, of course.

Seungmin cackles and claps his hands. “You are! This is good! Why are you so morose?”

“Because you interrupted my studying? I have less than ten hours to cover three months of content.”

“You’re deflecting. Are you worried about your parents?”

“Morose and deflecting,” you murmur. “Two gold stars for your vocabulary usage.”

“Are you?”

You shut your eyes, envisioning the stern faces of your parents when you announce over dinner your plans to spend your life not being a doctor. Their expressions morph from confusion to anger to grim when they realize how serious you are. 

Are you serious about this? You’re not even sure yourself. It feels like you’re in high school again, holding onto a shred of hope for a future you aren’t allowed to have.

“What if I lie to them?” you say. “I tell them I got into a school that’s super far away, go there, and return when I’ve firmly established myself as an illustrator or whatever I end up doing. It’ll be too late for them to do anything.”

“That’s one way to do it. But wouldn’t it be better if you were upfront?”

You groan and turn back to your classmate’s notes. What is it like, you wonder, to not be crushed by the weight of approval? What is it like to know you won’t be scorned for your choices? No matter what you do, someone—your parents or Seungmin—will be upset.

“Upset” is a very mild way to describe your parents’ reactions. After six cans of celebratory beer—you passed all of your classes this semester!—you called your parents to tell them good news. Somewhere between the silent congratulations and questions of your home arrival, you blurted out, “I think I’m gonna do biomedical visualization. Medical illustration. Art. It’s still medical-related, but not a doctor.”

And after a lengthy discussion filled with shouting, you’re not allowed to come home this year or ever again. CALL ENDED flashes on your screen, but you grip your phone so tightly you can feel your heartbeat in your fingertips. Your whole body is tense, flushed with indignation and shame. No tears come. You expected something like this but nothing to this extreme. Their words echo in your ears.

Ungrateful. Selfish. Disgrace. 

Logically, you know you’re none of those things, but you can’t help but feel they’re at least a little bit right. You sink into your desk chair and wait for the inevitable knock on your door. To step out of your own accord would be mortifying. 

“Are you okay?” asks Seungmin.

“I’ve been disowned in every way except legally,” you answer as you let him inside your room. “What do you think?”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s…”

It’s not fine, but your mouth started saying so by default. You perch on the edge of your bed and stare at the stack of practice books that have been untouched for two days on your dresser. They would belong better under your bed where they’ll be out of sight.

Suddenly insecure, you ask, “You’re not gonna leave me, right? You’ll still help me peel potatoes and let me know when my artisan cookies are on sale?”

He chuckles. “The only way you can get away from me is by moving or by graduating. I’ll be here. Instead of nagging you to study, I’ll critique your anatomy.”

“That’s against the rules.” Nevertheless, you smile at the thought of Seungmin hyperfixed at your artistic renderings and comparing them against pictures from a textbook. “Thanks.”

Seungmin smiles back, and he radiates so much warmth that you forget it’s winter.

EPILOGUE

“Honey, I’m home,” you call. 

You nearly trip over the door sill in your heels but catch yourself in time. Wearing heels to commencement is a bad idea for more reasons than one. Clutching your friend’s graduation bouquet, you flip on the light switch with the back of your hand and glance over your apartment. Other than the dozens of boxes scattered across the living room and kitchen, nothing else belongs to you; goodbye coffee table you stubbed your toes against too many times; goodbye peeling school-issued couch. You half-expected to see Seungmin lying on it, staring at the ceiling like he used to. 

“Seungmin, where are you?” When he doesn’t answer, you try again. “Anyone home?”

You wander around the small apartment, checking behind doors and furniture like you’re playing hide-and-seek. He’s nowhere to be found, and you go through the apartment again in a frenzy. He could be in a different part of the building, but he always knows when you’re looking for him.

“Where are you? Seungmin, this isn’t funny! I know you can hear me.”

It takes twenty minutes, but you eventually realize he’s gone for good. No goodbyes, no hugs, no teasing—he just waved you off to your ceremony and shut the front door. You knew he wouldn’t be able to help you move out, but you thought he would still be here when you returned. He researched additional art classes for you, suggested works for your portfolio, and consoled you whenever you were overwhelmed. It’s a knife to your heart that he’s not here.

In between tears that you don’t allow to fall from your eyes, you carry your boxes of belongings to your car. You have a new place to call home, but two perfectly nice housemates and a dog aren’t good replacements for a ghost who annoyed you from sunrise to sundown.

I hope you find this note eventually. I know we have the rule where I’m not supposed to go through your belongings, but since we’re not going to be roommates any longer, I hope you’re not too mad. Completely unrelated but you’re really good at Mario Kart. So good. Birdo was designed specifically for you.

Congratulations on graduating. You’ve worked hard this year. Could have worked harder sometimes but you did it! Relax a bit during your gap year and enjoy your youth. Those art classes will be easy for you. Biomed visualization will be easy after pre-med studies.

Stop rolling your eyes and sighing. You know I’m right.

I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. I know you wanted it, but I don’t think I could have handled it. The truth is that I was ready to go a couple months ago when you started compiling your portfolio. For two years, I didn’t know why I was still here. At first, I thought my unfinished business was about the circumstances of my death. (Stop wincing. I’m dead. It’s a fact.) Then the administration stepped up. They did the bare minimum, to be honest, but at least changes were made. When you turned up, I thought I was supposed to fulfill my dream of going to med school. Turns out, I still have no idea what exactly why I was here, but seeing you live the life you want and choose the future you want makes me feel like business is finished.

To L/N Y/N, a star that will keep shining for decades to come—

I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve done so far. There are so many opportunities waiting out there for you, so don’t be afraid to take any chances. I’ll be with you always.

[rainylana]

Wayne and Eddie headcanons

warnings: mentions of puberty and masturbation.

a/n: i’m obsessed with these!

• as a kid, eddie used to play endless pranks on wayne almost everyday. it got to a point where he was walking on eggshells in his own home, afraid of getting himself into another trap of eddie’s. saran wrap on the toilet seat, salt in the sugar jar, tacks in the driver’s seat.

• when he was between the age eight and nine, he wanted to grow up and be an adult like wayne, so he’d want to wake up early in the mornings to have coffee with him and read the newspaper. he usually always fell asleep, being carried back to bed by his uncle.

• eddie calls wayne’s music his old man music.

• they watch wheel of fortune together everytime it’s on.

• wayne makes him pick up sticks in the yard when he gets too hyper. kid definitely has adhd.

• wayne is amazed with how heavy his nephew can sleep. he’s tried being noisy to wake him up but he will not budge. he also sleeps in super later. wayne once got home from work and he was STILL asleep.

• wayne taught him how to shave when he was 15. it ended in a bunch of cheap bandaids and a plastic razor.

• okay but puberty was rough lmao. i can just imagine eddie asking poor wayne what it meant when his dick got hard LMAO. gave that old man grey hair.

• i’m sure wayne was PETRIFIED of him getting some girl knocked up, so he bought him his first box of condoms.

• eddie brings home a lot of girls, so wayne has earplugs he wears while he sleeps.

• wayne definitely accidentally walked in on him jerking off at least once.

• wayne knows all of his anxious habits and knows when he’s having a bad day. he helps him through his panic attacks in the middle of the night when he can’t sleep, pacing about the trailer kitchen.

• wayne would read the hobbit to him as a boy when he couldn’t sleep. the book had been a gift from his mom before she left.

• wayne had to help get gum out of eddie’s hair when the bullies at school got bad.

• i think wayne would be momma bear mode when his nephew would come home as a young boy, eyes teary eyed and nose snotty. he’d call the principal and threaten him, heated and hurt that someone would hurt his boy. as eddie got older, he didn’t want wayne involved in it anymore and made him promise he wouldn’t interfere.

• eddie doesn’t ever throw away his trash in his room so once a week wayne goes in their with a trash bag and cleans. it’s filled with dr pepper and beer cans, little debbie wrappers and chip bags.

[moriwood]

Pornographs — p.js

park jongseong x male reader heavy angst 1.4k words

Two freelance pornstars have gotten awfully close with each other over the past year, masked to their audiences but almost unveiled to each other. Jay, who you suddenly realize to be less familiar than you originally thought, gives you a symbolic gift and a promise you wish he truly keeps.

includes: crying and cringy lines (again oops), people getting reallyyyyyyy personal warning: n/a i think :]]

Your body may not be molded from Ancient Greek statues like your contemporaries in the industry but you know well enough how to manipulate your camera. You know how to position yourself, so that your masked face gently cradles the sunlight and your soft gaze glosses smooth as the silk blanket covering your body.

You assess each of the photos you took and smirk proudly. “Who won’t be salivating over pics like this?” you boast, already seeing the comments flood your mind. 

Another photoshoot session has been finished thanks to your friend Jay, who you have been collaborating with for the past year. Your account was only a few months old, with barely a hundred followers watching you strip anonymously. You don’t even know what went into your mind when you decided to meet up with a blank profile but it seems like you hit the jackpot when it turned out to be Jay. It’s not like you were even in the position to be picky about which men you met with back then.

“You good?” you ask Jay as he folds over the hotel’s bedspread that you accidentally stripped off while taking photos a while ago.

He nods, sighing as he lies on the king size bed you share. “Don’t your fans get mad I’m the only other guy in your posts for the past few months?” he curiously asks.

“I mean, they already think we’re dating,” you pause in indignation, “why have you been meeting me exclusively then? For sure, you’ve been receiving offers too left and right.”

“Sorry for them but I have already signed an exclusivity contract with this world-renowned photographer. With his impeccable tastes, I fear nobody can compare,” Jay teases.

You cackle. You would have long forgotten this life of being a social media pornstar had it not been for him. In between the men who only saw you as some toy being passed around, here is Jay who stays, sharing these chaste moments with you, no matter how short it lasts.

Jay grabs the camera from your lap and murmurs to himself, tracing his fingers along the scratches on its plastic body. He meets your eyes with an indiscernible emotion.  “You’ve had this camera for so long, don’t you want to replace it?” 

“I don’t think I’ve earned enough with this career yet,” you lament, “you don’t know how many meals I skipped to buy this.”

“Isn’t it a great investment though? Like you’re really great with the camera,” Jay explains, “and you can definitely do more than just artistic nudes, like legit filmmaking. Imagine the two of us, co-directing, that type of shit.”

“If I had the money, I wouldn’t be posting nudes of myself online, Jay,” you deadpan. “Why are you even asking? You're gonna sell me a secondhand camera?”

“Nah, just asking. We should be going to college but we’re here… filming porn.”

Jay carefully places your camera on the bedside table and reaches for his carelessly placed backpack on the floor. From it he pulls out a large red box, your gaze immediately drifting towards it.

“Okay, don’t be surprised. I may or may not have something to give you,” Jay smiles.

Your eyes widen as you realize that Jay has bought a new camera, the receipt taped to it rubbing its expensive price to your face. 

You howl. “What the fuck? Aren’t we earning the same… You're way richer than I am! You even booked this hotel-”

“Just take this,” he calmly says, placing the bright red box on top of your lap. He then sits beside you, caressing your thigh.

“Why are you even giving me this? What do you need from me? Do I owe you something?” you shyly ask, mesmerized by the details of the new camera Jay just bought. Newly released, might actually be the most expensive model in the market right now. You can’t think of a reason to own something of this kind when all that you’ve taken are these tasteless nude photos.

“Think of it as a birthday gift or something,” Jay hesitantly replies.

“It’s not even my birthday yet,” you whisper, attempting to stop yourself from bursting into tears. You just didn’t expect this generosity from the only person who you’ve let into this taboo life of yours. 

“This might be the best gift I’ve ever gotten,” you smile in between your teary eyes. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“I’m not asking for anything in return, just…”

Jay is at a loss for words. There’s something wrong, you notice, a lilt in his voice.

“It’s not a birthday gift, is it?” you worriedly ask, your hand over Jay’s.

Jay looks away. “I don’t think… This might be the last time we’re seeing each other.”

Now you’re at a loss for words. Whatever feeling was boiling within the depths of your heart, you never really knew who Jay was. Both of you were about to enter college, both with a fondness for film and photography… and it ends there. You mask yourselves for your audience and even in this inviting bed, there are a lot of things the both of you are unaware of. Seems like this chapter is closing for Jay.

“But we can still see each other-”

Jay closes his eyes, in fear of the pain he cannot avoid. “Just… don’t forget me. Use this camera while I’m gone. Then we’ll meet again, and I’ll be looking at everything. We’ll cross paths, I promise.”

You don’t understand why you’re so confused. You don’t understand why you want to curse the world for not giving you the chance to know Jay in a different context. Your other hand starts to grip on the bedspread, wrinkling it again. You want to know where Jay’s coming from, why he’s even doing this. Had you met him under another circumstance, you wouldn’t be facing this farewell now. You wouldn’t be mulling over where the line is drawn, until where can you walk with him, and until when can the both of you ignore the lines that are slowly being erased.

“But you don’t have to-”

Jay pulls you in as you sob, embracing you tightly. And if his lips meet yours for the first time you’ve been together, nobody says anything about it. Light and sweet, but you taste the bitterness in the salt in your tears. Jay is the first man you’ve kissed. Regret shames you that you only got the chance to reveal each other’s hearts in your final meeting.

“Jay,” you beg, “please.”

You caress his thigh, attempting to touch beneath his shorts. He pulls it back and holds it tightly.

“Let’s not do things we’ll regret,” he whispers, cradling your face with his hand, attempting to wipe away the tears running down your cheeks. “I’ll come back, I’ll make sure of that. And I’ll take you out on a date like you always said you wanted to do.”

This is no longer a simple film of them, a scandal for others to lust over, something to make profit of. No scripts and no acting at play. You know that there is a man who flirts better, kisses better, fucks better, but you don’t want to let him go. You know Jay in an unfamiliar manner, and your relationship grew with him in a way more unknown way. In a different world, you would have loved to love a man like Jay.

You can only whisper, “I hope you’re happy wherever you are, Jay.”

He weakly grins as he kisses you again. “Jongseong. My name’s Jongseong.”

The sun has set, hunger and thirst long forgotten. The both of you soon fall asleep in tears, and you weren’t surprised to find the spot next to you cold the morning after. His traces are nowhere to be found, the only remnants being the photos and videos of a masked man in your camera. His phone number cannot be reached, only his messages of pleasantries remaining. And on top of the bedside table is the new camera gifted by Jay… by Jongseong.

author’s note: here's ur jay fic @ldrei 🤗 i actually got a reason ready for why jay did what he did, just gotta handle my own college shit rn before i flesh it out i apologize ✨

— moriwood.

[yeeterthek33per]

New Beginnings and Interesting Reads

Mary Fowler x Reader

Requested by Anon

Honestly, she'd thought she could get away with not stopping to check on the little red light on her dash. It was just blinking so incessantly that she wanted desperately to have it just go away.

Who would have thought the great Mary Fowler, Australian Matildas Footballer, was one to ignore her car screaming at her until it forced her to pull over.

So now, she was stuck on foot, walking around a tiny ass town on the outskirts of Manchester after having it towed to the local mechanic. It wasn't tiny tiny, after all, there was, in fact, a mechanic.

There were a few dotted shops here and there, and there was a main street with a couple of grocery stores and various goods and services fronts. One that, for some reason, stood out to her was a rustic little two storey building. Standing out from the modernised concreting of the other stores surrounding it.

As she walked up to the door, she could see it was a bookstore. Books were lining the windows of varying conditions and colours.

The Rugged Pages.

Huh. Seems like something from a fantasy universe. Perfect way to kill time.

A little bell chimes when she steps in the store with a little push of the door. It's only a few seconds before a smiling employee greets her from behind one the many book laden wooden shelves.

She greets the employee back but doesn't really get a good look at them because she's too preoccupied looking around at the interior of the place.

It's a much bigger interior than she expected. Instead of a full second floor, there's a balcony that wraps around the outer walls and a set of what looks like mahogany stairs leading up from the far left. The centre of it opens up to peer into the upper ceiling and the walls of bookshelves that line the balcony.

There's dozens of shelves downstairs, with varying genres of books and age grouped stories. Starting with the kids' section towards the front and the more adult esque reads towards the far wall.

The oak counter is sat towards the far right of the back wall, a doorway just set in behind it leading in to what Mary assumes is a back/storage room.

"Is there anything I can help you with, miss?"

The accent is shockingly familiar to the aussie. A smile creeps onto her face as she gets a full look of the person behind the australian accent.

Shoulder-length hair pulled up into a high bun with a midlength undercut that looks like it hasnt been shaved down in a few weeks. A pair of plastic framed country road glasses sit on your face, and you're wearing a loose-fitting red flannel shirt tied at the waist with a browny looking red shirt underneath. It's paired together with some black jeans and a pin tacked to the outer pocket on your flanno. The pin has your name on it surrounded by intricate metal flows and vines.

It reads "Hi! My name is Y/n."

"Hey, no, I'm all good, just browsing."

You nod softly with a small smile. You tilt your head back towards where you're loading a big box of books onto some of the smaller shelves designed for kids towards the front of the store.

"Let me know if you need anything."

Mary nods softly before moving to peruse one of the shelves in with it marked 'LGBTQIA+'.

The shelf is lined with varying titles and fronts. There's markers every few books. 'MLM' 'WLW' 'Bisexual Romance' 'Chaotic Ace' (That one makes her snicker a little) 'WLW Mystery' and many other categories. She picks out a title that sticks out to her. 'The Shattered Lands' by Brenda Nation. Perfect, that will do.

She peruses a bit longer in other sections but eventually makes her way to the counter where you pop out from your spot, loading books up.

"Ah, the Shattered Lands, that's a good read. From tiktok?" A little confused, Mary shakes her head.

"No, I.. I just thought it might be interesting." You raise your brow slightly. A smile pulls at your lips.

"I'm glad then. The only time anyone buys this one is if they're fans of the author from tiktok. It's nice to see someone pick it up for the genuine interest. It was a good one to read. If you have the time, there's a little reading corner just by the window if you like."

Mary glances over. It's a comfy little nook with couches and multiple cushions, both on the floor and on the seating. She is killing time at the moment, and she mentions as such, agreeing to stay for a bit to read the book. It was gonna be a few hours before she had to go get her car again. The mechanic said she'd call Mary when the car was fixed. She's lucky. She's got a few days yet before she has anything she needs to do urgently.

"Actually, I might take you up on that offer, I'm stuck here til my car gets fixed, so I've got plenty of time to kill."

You nod in understanding, "Make yourself comfy." As you gesture to the lounge area.

She manages to bury herself into the book for about an hour, various people coming and going, some regulars that she hears you greet with a warm smile and playful tone, most new customers travelling through looking for some quick picks to read on their travels, which you greet with a bright smile and help guide them to what they're looking for.

Eventually, though, she's left feeling a little stiff and eventually gets up to wander the shelves. She finds you reading a book yourself at the counter, having completed stacking any new deliveries for the day. You look up at her as she does so, eyes following her over the top of the pages.

"So what's got you coming through here? Travelling from home? Doesn't sound too much like you're from around this area."

Her eyes crinkle with a laugh as she approaches and sits on one of the stools placed underneath the countertop.

"No, I'm just in from Manchester, I live and work there for eight months out of the year, I am from Australia though, just moved for the job, I take it you were too?"

You nod, "Little podunk set of towns in NSW. Moved up north for the opportunity with a business partner of mine. Ended up owning this place instead. Plus, the women's soccer is nice to have available to watch."

Mary blushes a little at that. Did you know?

You chuckle a little, blushing a bit yourself, oops. "Yeah, sorry, I didn't wanna call you out like that. I knew who you were, just didn't wanna bring it up on you, keep work at work, that kind of thing."

She laughs at that, shaking her head.

"Honestly, thank you for that. It's nice to have a little time to myself without any professionalism. Don't worry, though. You had me fooled for a good bit."

Your eyes sparkle with a little playfulness. "Happy to be of service, m'lady." Before continuing. "How're you liking the book so far?"

Mary, to her credit, actually had been enjoying the book, but she couldn't sit still long enough to read anymore.

"It's been pretty good, I got up to the bit about Sapphire going to find the red-haired witch in the forest to ask about what she might know about her origins."

"Ah, you're in for a treat then. The book keeps you on your toes, though."

"Right? There are so many twists already."

"But I'm guessing you're getting a little fidgety there?"

Her nose scrunches up a little, and she sheepishly nods. "Not much of a sitter I've come to discover."

You nod, biting your lip a little. "Would you wanna take a walk around town for a bit? I've got a lunch break for an hour or so. I figured, since you've time and all."

You pause to wait for a bit before backtracking again, a little flustered. "Not that you have to, I just thought you might wanna get out of here for a bit. Come look at some of the cafes with me."

Mary smiles and nods a little more enthusiasticly than she likes. "Absolutely, of course, but I wouldn't want to take up your time."

"Absolutely not, I'm offering. I kinda wanna learn more about you."

She smiles back, nodding, and you begin grabbing your stuff before leading her out of the store and locking the place up temporarily with an "on break" sign posed in the window.

You walk beside her for a few blocks, chatting idly about the town and its aspects. "There's a few places I go to when I forget to buy food for work, which today happens to be one of those days."

You lead her to a cozy little coffee shop. Inside, it's a bit warmer, and the smell of brewing liquid life permeates the air. You nod at the barista working the register. "That's Em, my most likely future best man."

Emily looks up at you as you enter. "Look who it is, ratbag. In for the morning usual?"

You shake your head amused, "Yeah, Em, and another one for the new girl."

"Hi, how are you? I'm Emily."

"Hey, nice to meet you, I'm doing pretty good, keeping this one busy, it seems."

"I'm showing her the good places to hit up in town, just getting coffee first. How do you want your coffee?"

Mary gives her order to Em, who starts working on the two beveridges right away. As you wait, she asks about the reason in particular for this town.

"Cause she can't get enough of this!" Emily yells out from behind the machine.

You roll your eyes at the barista. "Nah, you're a pain in the ass."

"You love this ass."

"Too much sometimes, honestly, why are we friends again?"

She gives you a mock offended look, clutching at invisible pearls.

You chuckle and turn back to the striker beside you. "The opportunity was there. The place was cheap, and a quick fix. Plus, the people here are okay."

Emily interjects, waving you both over.

"Actually, the people here are really nice. This one's just an asshole." She winks at Mary as she says it.

"Don't listen to her. She's just jealous cause she can't get a date in a town with a population of two hundred."

Mary raises a brow at that.

"A date?"

You flush quickly realising what you said. "I mean, it was more of a-"

"Nice going sweetheart'."

You whip your head around at the girl behind the counter. "Shut up."

Mary's head tilts back in a laugh. "If you wanted this to be a date, all you had to do was ask."

Your mouth drops open at that, and Emily laughs at your expression. Mary smirks as she picks up her drink and walks to the door, gesturing for you both to keep moving.

"I like this one, keep her around for me!"

Em calls after you, and you turn to glare at the blonde.

This woman certainly has you on your toes.

Your cheeks are basically pinker than they've ever been but you follow regardless, a little sheepish if anything.

You rub at your neck as you both slowly stroll around the corner, away from view. "Sorry about that, I just kind of assumed and I-"

"Ask me."

You look up at her confused.

"Ask me, you want it to be a date, ask me."

Your bite your lower lip trying to hold back from a massive grin.

"Will you join me in this fine, fine hour and go on a date with me?"

"Nah."

Your head does a double take before the girl chuckles and shakes her head.

"I'm kidding, of course I will."

You sigh in relief. You didn't wanna miss this opportunity. She's gorgeous, she plays your favourite sport for a living, she likes to read and she lives relatively close to you. It's nice not to have to be stuck in a one sided long distance relationship. Woah, hold your horses, hasn't gotten that far yet.

"Great, then I've got a great place we can go to, just give me a few minutes while I go lock up for the day, a half hour isn't long enough to be honest."

You're gone for about ten minutes, and you come back to Mary back inside the cafe, chatting with your friend.

"Hey, sorry about that, ready to go?"

Mary nods, and Emily waves you both goodbye.

She slips her arm around yours. You're slightly shorter than her, so it's a little weird at first, but you eventually settle into the hold.

You both walk to another section of town. There, you bring her to a place that looks like a little sandwich shop with a massive arcade attached to it. You tell her about your first encounter here. The place looked decent and turned out to be pretty good. Good enough that you were back on the regular.

"Hey, Y/n, usual today?"

Georgie greets you from behind the register.

"Not today, I'm with someone for a few hours."

"Ah, gotcha. What would you like love?"

Mary hums for a second, browsing over the menu. You watch as she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth for a second, and you realise you're staring when she looks back at the cashier. "I'll have a number 12 and a water, please." "Coming right up, hon, and for you L/n?"

"I'll take a number 5 today, please."

"No mayo, extra pickles with a sunkist?"

"You got it."

"16 pound 50 today love."

You're quick to jump in and tap your card before Mary pulls her phone out. She pouts at you, and you chuckle. "I asked you out."

"Only because I told you to." You stick your tongue out at that cheekily. "I wanted to."

Your food comes quickly, and you find a table in the corner, away from the door and any large windows.

The food is amazing as per usual, and the look on Mary's face agrees with that from her first bite. The food is always good here.

"Good, right?"

She groans, "You're kidding, right? How do they make sandwiches taste so good?"

You chuckle and shrug, "No idea, must be that southern English love."

"I swear my nutritionist is gonna kill me, that and my bank account."

"Yeah, I tend to avoid this part of town most days because if I even get close to this place, I can't resist a good teriyaki chicken club."

You finish your food and drinks, and you pull her up with a giddy grin as you lead her into the arcade and grab a loaded up card from your pocket.

"The food is amazing, but the games are pretty close. Come on, I wanna see what we can win today."

You spend the better part of two hours in there, ranging from a basketball hoop shooter to the Mario Kart racer. Turns out, Mary is really good at arcade games. And it turns competitive quite a few times.

In the end, you come away with a combined 2000 tickets.

Which is honestly pretty good for two people in that amount of time. With that, you both pick out a few lollies and a stuffed bear in a soccer uniform, which you all too happily hand over to her. (*It may have cost a few thousand more than you actually earned, but she doesn't need to know that you dipped into your saved tickets for it*)

In the end, the date slows down to a slow stroll around town in the late afternoon. And it's only when she finally gets a call from the mechanic that it has to come to an end.

You walk her back to just outside the mechanics while she picks up her car and pays for the repairs. She's parked it just on the street outside the bookshop while you two talk for a bit.

"Guess this is it for the night, then?" You ask tentatively, shuffling a little.

Mary smiles softly and nods a little.

"Yeah, I have to get back to Manchester with this stuff. And I've got teammates waiting for me to get back as well."

You nod in understanding. You're a little upset about the date ending, but you don't show it.

"Thank you for agreeing to come out with me today."

"Hey, pretty girl asks me out, I'm not gonna say no. Besides, I'm definitely gonna be back. I wouldn't wanna miss out on a second date. And a chance to pay you back for the bear as well." There's a twinkle in her eye that says she damn well knows how much you spent on her earlier, and you blush a little.

"So there's a second date?" You ask with raised brow.

"If you'll have me."

"Without a doubt." You answer without hesitation. Mary grins and grabs your hands in hers. She pulls you into her, and you grin, leaning up. She meets you halfway with a soft kiss to your lips.

It sends tingles down your spine, and her hands running up and down your arms leave goosebumps in their wake, making you shiver a little.

It deepens for a second before you take a step back, stopping yourself from holding her hostage here any longer and going any further than you should.

"You're amazing, you know that?"

It has her grinning, and she scrunches her nose adorably. Her hand finds yours to squeeze it a few times before she presses one last kiss to your lips and bids you farewell.

"I'll message you soon, pretty girl, I want that second date I was promised."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, drive safe, cutie."

She waves goodbye and drives off, heading in the direction of the highway, going back to Machester.

You can still feel the tingle of lips against yours, the feel of her fingertips on your skin, and it leaves you keening for more, despite her being long gone. You'd have to keep an eye out on your phone now.

As Mary's cruising along the highway, all she can think about is how your lips felt against hers. How you'd grinned at her when she'd pulled you in to meet her against the side of her car. How easy the two of you just settled into easy banter and how open you seemed to be with her. You were definitely someone she didn't want to let go of just yet.

[thesunhatesme]

Cooking together

Phantom/Swiss Wc: 1.1k Summary: Just Swiss helping Phantom overcome his fear of trying new things

“Okay, what should we try today?” Swiss asked while getting the aprons out. He and Phantom had been cooking a meal together every week for a while now to help him overcome his fear of trying new things, and it seemed to help.

“Can we do this one?” phantom asked, holding up the recipe book and trying to point at the recipe he wanted.

Swiss turned around and leaned his head to the side, “Are you sure you want to try a fish soup with saffron in it?” He was met with silence and a confused look, “You don't like fish very much and saffron has a very strong taste”

Phantom looked at what he was pointing at and quickly moved his finger to point at the other page, “Oh, I meant to point at this” he said as he pointed at the mac`N cheese recipe.

“We cooked that last week, don't you want to try something different?” Swiss pointed out

“And I liked it, I want it again” Phantom replied, with a slight pout.

“How about this, we make the pasta ourselves this time and try it with another sauce?” he suggested while tying an apron around Phantom's waist.

“You can make your own pasta?” Phantom gasped, did it not just come in a box from the supermarket?

“Yeah, it's quite easy actually” Swiss chuckled, “Lets try it”

They started getting all the ingredients out for the pasta and measuring them up in bowls. Swiss instructed Phantom on what to do and why, and Phantom listened closely and did his absolute best to follow. Swiss took over after a bit since Phantom thought it was too tough and continued kneading the dough till it was done. Phantom wrapped it in plastic wrap and then put it in the fridge.

“Now we're going to boil the tomatoes so that we can peel off the skin,” Swiss explained, while putting them in the pot with boiling water. Phantom made sure to put on a timer, so that they wouldn't forget about them, since none of them were very good at keeping track of time. Phantom started peeling the onions and Swiss helped him cut them up. When the timer rang, they put the tomatoes in some ice cold water and Phantom started peeling and cutting up the tomatoes while Swiss started frying the onions.

“Okay, let's see what the next step is…” Swiss muttered to himself while reading the recipe, leaning against the counter, “Time to start mixing everything together” Phantom read over Swiss shoulder, dangling his feet from the counter.

“Yes, good job Bug” Swiss praised as he helped Phantom down from the counter. They measured up all the ingredients and herbs and put the tomatoes in the pot.

“Do we have to add all those spices?” Phantom asked. Swiss wasn't surprised at that, he knew Phantom was quite hesitant towards spices and anything that had a lot of flavor in general.

“We don't have to, but it tastes better with them” Phantom still wasn't convinced, they had a very strong smell, and he'd learnt that if something had a strong smell, the taste was probably quite strong too, at least that was the case with spices.

“How about… we only add half the amount, and if you don't like it, we'll remember that next time.” Swiss suggested.

He stayed quiet for a moment, thinking about it, but then hesitantly agreed with Swiss.

“Look at you trying all this new stuff, making me so proud, Lovebug,” Mountain said from the doorway. He'd been on his way to take a shower after being in the greenhouse for a while, but couldn't resist the smell and had to check it out. 

“Hey Mount, we're making pasta and tomato sauce!” Phantom told him excitedly and almost poured the spices besides the pot. “You can try it when it's done if you want”

“Well I can't say no to that can I, it smells wonderful”, “Let me go take a shower and freshen up a bit and I'll taste when you're done” Mountain said as he started making his way to the shower. If this was just a couple of months ago, Phantom would never have agreed to adding those spices he thought to himself, it made him happy to see phantom overcome his fear.

Swiss pulled out the pasta machine and explained how it worked to Phantom while they unwrapped the dough. Phantom started turning the handle while Swiss held the dough and soon enough they had a bunch of spaghetti.

They started cooking the spaghetti and mixed the sauce in a mixer because Phantom refused to even taste anything with lumps in it. They set the table and started cleaning up a bit.

Mountain knocked on the doorframe to make his presence known and everyone sat down while Swiss served the food. 

“Would you like to try just the pasta first or both pasta and sauce?”

“Pasta and with the sauce on the side not touching each other”

He tried the pasta and it was actually better than the pasta you buy at the store.

“Do you want to try the sauce too?” Swiss asked, putting his hand on his shoulder.

"I'm not sure, the herbs had a strong smell” Phantom said, looking down in his lap, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeves.

“If you don't like it, that's okay, we're not gonna make you eat it” Swiss encouraged him, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly.

“If you don't want it, I'll happily eat it for you, this is the best sauce I've ever tasted” Mountain chimed in, taking a mouthful of pasta and sauce.

“You really think so?” Phantom asked as he looked up at mountain

“Mhm, this is amazing” He said with his mouth full of food.

He brought the spoon up to his mouth, hesitating a bit but the other two ghouls kept on encouraging him, so he put it in his mouth and tried it. He thought about it for a while but decided that it was actually quite okay, he could eat this, still not better than mac`n cheese but still okay. “It wasn't that bad actually”. He stated and Swiss hugged him from the side, telling him how proud he was. 

They finished their meal and started cleaning up. There was a little food left so Phantom decided to put it in a container and bring it to Copia, who of course, loved it. The three ghouls ended up staying for tea in Copias office for a while, but then eventually going back to the den to crash in front of the TV and start watching a movie, that they all would end up falling asleep to.

[missluthorwillseeyounow]

Ooh I'd love to hear 27 for Lena 😂

27. What’s the worst gift they ever received? How did they respond?

For Lena, the worst gift was no gift at all.

Her first birthday at the Luthors, and the little girl woke up with the first tiny bit of hope and happiness in her little heart.

Her birthdays, as far as she could remember in her young life, were always happy days. Not grand, in any sense. But the tiny cottage by the cliffs would be filled with a warm, rich scent of the sponge cake baking in the oven, and her mother would always let her sneak a small piece before the cake was even decorated. The sponge would be buttery and soft in Lena’s mouth, and when she exclaimed at the taste, her mother would get a soft look in her eyes and cup her cheek gently, wiping crumbs from her mouth.

No matter how lean the year had been, there would always be a present waiting for Lena at the table, lovingly wrapped by her mother's hand in shiny paper. Most times it would be a cheap pair of shoes or a plastic toy or an old book from a thrift shop - all her mother could afford - but Lena would treasure each as if it were gold.

But where were they now? Discarded by the Luthors as cheap trinkets the minute she moved into their household.

But today, she has a little bit of hope. After all, her mother always showed her that birthdays are special days.

Lena waits at the breakfast table. Lex is at boarding school, she misses him dearly. Lionel is already at LuthorCorp. Lillian has spared a rare moment to sip her morning coffee before heading out the door, and Lena's spirits lift in anticipation.

But nothing comes. No acknowledgment as the maid approaches with her lunch box and book bag. It's not even Lillian who bids her farewell, but rather the housekeeper who tells her to hurry along or she'll be late for school.

Breakfast comes and goes, and Lena is ushered into the family limo without acknowledgment.

She keeps her expectations low throughout the school day, but a little part of her looks up each time the door opens. She knows better than to expect any of the Luthors to come in with cupcakes and balloons or anything like that. But a small message, any sort of acknowledgment would be welcome.

Nothing comes.

School is dismissed and Lena is too. She is sent to her room to do her homework and brush up on her reading. Her Latin teacher comes and goes. Her organic chemistry tutor stays for an hour and talks about chirality and stereoisomers, but mentions nothing about birthdays.

Her last hope clings to life at dinner.

She's too scared to bring it up to Lionel. The man who had picked her up and flown her to the States is more interested in the portfolio he's reviewing at the table. Lillian is similarly distracted by some documents at her side. The entire dinner is silent and distracted, work taken to the table just to avoid talking to the people they share a house with. It certainly can't be called a family.

Lionel retires early and the only two people left are Lillian and Lena. The little girl waits as the maid clears the plates and disappears around the corner.

She summons her courage and musters a small smile for her new mother, who doesn't even look up to see it. "It's my birthday today."

Lillian’s annoyed gaze flicks up at her, her grey eyes almost bored. "Is it? And did you expect some sort of congratulations for that?"

Lena's mouth snaps shut, and her eyes lower to her lap.

"Do you suggest we reward something as trivial as being born? Should you get some award for merely existing?" Lillian arches a fine eyebrow. "Accolades are for achievements, Lena. Birthdays are not achievements, and hardly worth any sort of offering. If you're looking for some sort of distinction or praise for merely existing, you're looking in the wrong place. Let me know when you've achieved something worth commemorating."

But you gave Lex his own lab for his last birthday. Lena bites the thought back, knowing better than to say anything. Instead, she turns back to her plate.

The rest of the meal passes in silence.

[wolfpants]

Tucked between a greasy spoon caf and an empty retail space with boarded-up windows, Chariot Books makes absolutely no secret of the fact it’s a gay bookshop. It’s small, but mighty; Sirius and his business partner Fabian have only had it for a couple of years, and before then, their business had run out of both their flats, a mail order service that kept Sirius’s home stuffed full of boxes and paperwork. A clandestine but well-oiled machine, Harry always thought. Sirius took great pride in it too, always seemed to be working, always seemed to be taking delivery of a new title or import from San Francisco or somewhere else Harry has never been to.

Harry still remembers the day they opened, this tiny shop with its floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, wire rotating stands full of paperbacks, posters and notices tacked to the walls wherever there’s space, advertising everything from poetry readings to weekly interest group meetings to helpline and crisis information.

A riot of colour. A riot of community.

Back then, Harry had been fresh out of secondary school in the suburbs, wandering aimlessly toward UCL and a psychology degree he’s still not entirely sure he wants, two years down the line.

He’d gotten the train to London with his dad. A multipurpose visit: to catch up with his godfather, his dad’s oldest friend, and to visit the halls of residence for university because his dad wanted to sus them out before committing.

Nothing like my place at Cambridge, he’d said with an approving, delighted laugh as they looked around the common room together with its vending machines full of pop and crisps and sweets, and the groups of casually dressed kids listening to American pop music on a portable record player set up on one of the plastic dining tables. And later that night, before they went back home to Surrey, the launch party for the shop: Harry staring up at the pink triangle on the sign above the door and feeling a huge sense of pride and admiration for his favourite relative in the world, who had finally made it all happen, after all those years.

--

Today I got to visit one of my favourite bookshops in the world - Gay's The Word - the shop Chariot Books in Pages of You is based. It's a gem of a place, rich with history, with an amazing stock of LGBTQ literature, erotica, and nonfiction. I spent an enormous amount of time researching its history for this fic, my first ever Drarry fic. I haven't been back since before I even conceived that fic, so getting to browse the shelves today was amazing for me! So joyous to see places like this stand the test of time and display their legacy so proudly.

[zvdvdlvr]

hi!! plz plz plz write something for jameson hawthorne while him and f!r are doing the deed and jameson has a chain on. reader wants him closer so she pulls him down by the chain (with her teeth if that's not weird to you) kinda like in red white and royal blue. ty!! ❤️

— Midday Musings

— 🩷. Synopsis. Jameson puts the moves on you.

— 🩷. Warnings. Protected sex. Silly sex. Joking. Female reader. Possible out of character Jameson but I tried 😶‍🌫️. Dirty talk. Pet names.

“Hey you,” you greeted. The man of riddles himself sighed and slithered into your arms in complete disregard of the book in your hands. “What’s up?”

“Just missed you, pretty girl,” he mumbled, one hand coming up to settle right on your boob.

You didn’t raise an eyebrow at Jameson’s actions. He always had a thing for physical touch even before you started dating. Him clinging to any and every part of you brought you as much comfort at it brought J. “Missed you too, angel,” you replied, one of your hands finding purchase in Jameson’s hair as the other skillfully slid a bookmark between the pages and closed the book.

Jameson slowly slid a hand up your shirt. “How much did you miss me?” He asks coyly, looking up at you with his infamous shit-eating grin. You laughed in response, feeling Jameson start to unclasp your bra.

“Why don’t you find out?” You shot back, pushing Jameson aside and straddling his lap. You pulled your shirt off, giggling at Jameson’s open mouthed expression as he lays his eyes on your tits. “J,” you say, breaking his concentration. “Strip, already. Don’t keep your girl waiting,” you joke, hands feeling for hem of his shirt as he moves to unbuckle his pants.

“Bossy,” Jameson chides, already feeling the air leaving his lungs as your hips grind down on his bulge through your underwear and his boxers. “Jesus, baby.”

“Not quite,” you muse. With a smile, you latch your lips onto Jameson’s, treasuring the little groans that slipped out of Jameson’s and your mouths. A big talker, but a sucker for his girl.

Jameson’s hands gripped your waist, guiding your movements. “Baby please,” he whispered into your lips, feeling you shove your tongue into his awaiting mouth. He swallowed your groans as you did his, growing harder and harder under your core.

“Where are they, pretty boy?” You asked breathlessly. Jameson had a habit of taking his trusty box of condoms wherever he went, hoping to entice you with offers that grew increasingly risky. So basically you had no idea where the condoms were.

The moaning mess of a man under you groaned in relief. “Nightstand, se-second drawer.”

You smiled at his stutter, glad to be able to to knock him speechless for once. As you moved to grab the box, Jameson busied himself with pulling off your underwear and his. You sat back and tore open the plastic covering. With no warning you slid the condom over Jameson’s hard cock, treasuring the catch in his breath at the touch.

When you had finally finished torturing Jameson you climbed back into his lap, capturing his lips in a kiss as you teased the head of his cock, teasingly circling your cunt over his length. “Fuck,” you breathed as Jameson’s hand crept up to- yet again- take hold of your hips and urge you down oh so slowly.

“Fuck,” Jameson breathed. He was fully sheathed in your cunt, gauging your reaction and the arch of your back carefully. “Y’look so good, baby, so good,” Jameson rasped. His eyes darted around your form- hands wrapped around Jameson’s neck, back arching in a way that looked like it could have been sculpted in marble, your thick thighs pressed close to his own. Your open mouth sucked hickies on the soft skin of Jameson’s neck while occasionally nipping his skin when you felt like it.

“You alright, pretty girl?” Jameson asked lowly, slowly rocking his hips up into you as your barely audible whimpers floated up and into his eardrums. “Want me be to fuck you now? You already falling apart before the fun even starts? Poor girl,” Jameson teased, thrusting up harshly when you didn’t reply. “Now she doesn’t have anything to say.”

You groaned at Jameson’s muses, clenching around him. “Fuck me already, you horndog,” you finally breathed.

Jameson chuckled at your demand, knowing that he too was just as desperate as you.

In one swift movement, Jameson flipped you over so that your back now rested on the sheets and Jameson could fuck you a little deeper. You squeezed tightly around him at the sudden moment, pulling a loud groan out of his throat.

“Fuck J,” you whispered, “didn’t know an old dog like you could move that fast.”

Jameson audibly gasped, pausing mid thrust to stare at you. “Old dog like me? Sweetheart-“

You giggled as Jameson racked his brain for words, dick still halfway inside of your dripping cunt. “So sensitive,” you mused, pulling his lips down to meet yours by the thin golden chain you’d gifted him on your one year anniversary while wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him down to fill you up again.

[taybatwo2]

G3 Hissfits Review Part 1

Guess what came in today??? My Hissfits three pack!

The box is large, 22”x12” and was 75 bucks…which is a lot (25 for each doll) and Entertainment Earth wanted another 20 for shipping (so I might have preordered a cute little 3.75” Clone Trooper Rex figure to get free shipping).

These dolls had their stock photos dropped a bit over a year ago and I guess were just sitting in a warehouse while Mattel figured out what to do with them????? I dunno why they took so long to come out, but I’m glad they were not all canceled and disposed of.

It has some little Skullettes detailed around the outside of the box.

Here is the corner illustration done by Darko.

The back of the box. That’s a huge illustration and looks really cool. It has some of their accessories hidden about and Amped Up Frankie’s accessories in the far left-hand book shelf. Perhaps they’re all playing for the Monster Ball?

Here is the UPC for anyone who needs it. These are supposed to be available on misc. sellers/shops: like Entertainment Earth and Big Lots and NOT Amazon, Walmart, Target or even Mattel Creations. Which seems like an odd choice (I wonder what their reasoning was behind it?).

Here is a close up of their blurb on the back of the box. I do find it funny that Toralei was known to be REALLY bad at singing in G1 and G3 just RAN the other way with that.

Here are the ghoul’s with the plastic removed. There was A TON of rubber bands holding them all in. They look good in the package, but there is so much plastic waste.

more under the cut

Close-up of G3 Meowlody’s face while still strapped down. Meowlody has white hair (I remember who is who by: turning her name’s first letter “m” upside down and it looks like a “w” for “white hair”).

Mine has her eyes slightly printed up too high, some white paint dropped across her right eye, and her left cheek stripes have some paint missing (you can’t tell from his photo).

She has the biggest grin out of the werecat twins and Toralei. Her heterochromia is opposite of her twin and she has purple leopard print eyeshadow. Her hair feels like saran.

My Toralei looks pretty good, but has a small lip smudge on her upper lip. I love her eyeshadow!!! Even her bright pink lips have grown on me. Her leopard rosettes are a mix of purple (Meowlody) and pink (Purrsephone).

She has almost-neon orange hair (with black, baby pink, and purple streaks). I’m pretty sure it is all saran.

And my FAVORITE, Purrsephone (turn her name’s first letter “p” upside down and it looks like a “b” for “black hair” and that’s how I remember this is Purrsephone). I like her sculpted eyelids, her full upper lips, her hair color blend *mwah!* Mine does have a spot of red paint on the bottom of her cat nose. She has pink leopard spots on the opposite side of her face as her sister.

I’m also certain she has saran hair.

They come with a ton of little accessories “to help them get ready for the show.” Even merch to sell after the show too!!

After spending about 30 minutes freeing everything from their prison and running a metal comb through their hair (they will need to be washed with water, Dawn dish soap, and some conditioner…maybe (carefully) straight iron their hair later).

I forgot to take a full body photo of Toralei before I started removing pieces. Whoops!

Here is her crown piece. It wraps around both ears and should still hold its place fairly well even after I removed the plastic stays and rubberband (it was really wrapped around it) holding it in.

Here she is without her golden crown. I might like it better off.

Her eye make-up is her two cousins’ mixed together. Oh, by the way G3 Purrsephone and Meowlody are G3 Toralei’s cousins, not just her beasties.

The leopard print reminds me of SDCC DC Super Hero Girl’s Cheetah.

Her tail tambourine (I love how clever they were in its paw-like design) also stays on her tail pretty well.

Here are her plastic dress pieces. They have some nice details to them (lots of studs, chains, and the Hissfits cat head logo) and as always, could look even more elevated with some paint. Be warned that the gold chest piece instantly wants to keep detaching itself from the skirt and shoulder pieces after you remove the rubber bands.

I LOVE her gloves (look at the little printed seams and how they make it look like there are seperate holes for her fingers). My Core G3 Toralei will be stealing them. Mine even come off by sliding over the hands (you do not necessarily need to remove the whole hand to get them off).

Here are her MASSIVE boots. They are slit all the way down the back and have some colored in details. I’m not sure if I like purple AND pink AND red being Toralei’s new colors, but these shoes look great.

Here are the bottoms (chains on the ball of the feet and a cat scratching post making the heel).

A better look at her saran hair blend. It’s really growing on me. I was just going to clean her up, steal her stock and resell the base doll. But I am heavily rethinking it.

Here she is in her outfit sans all the plastic bits. It is all attached. The main shirt/shorts have a sparkly foil look to them and her skirt has a lovely gold to magenta foil print.

And the back. Now let’s jump ahead to look at some differences between the werecat’s bodies.

Toralei has the exact same body mold as G3 Clawdeen, and the werecat twins have the same body as G3 Cleo (sans the bandages).

They didn’t give the werecat twins sharp toe claws like Toralei and Clawdeen. :( Booo!

Their ears look a bit different too (Toralei has notches in the bottom of her ears and Purrsephone/Meowlody don’t).

And for funsies. Here are all the G3 werecats’ body types for comparison (I’m still in the middle of micro-braiding my Catty’s hair, so ignore her bad hair day).

In part 2 I’ll delve more into the werecat twins.