#i did not reread any of this so if there are typos. there are typos.

[kingslionheart]

whats the weirdest thing you’ve ever normalised

i wanted to try to find something a bit lighter to say but there's genuinely nothing light in anything weird that i have normalised, SO.

i guess the weirdest thing i have normalised is exclusion, like actively excluding people and being very open about it. i wasn't the one doing that, it was done to me in middle school and that was part of the bullying i was subjected to, tho the adults (especially the teachers) were the ones who made me normalise it and bullying in general, because they constantly repeated to me like on a daily basis that bullying didn't exist and neither did exclusion, and therefore of course A 12 YEARS OLD IS GOING TO NORMALISE THAT

[ceeceetumbles]

that freaking stupid summer festival episode of charisma house makes me cry every. time. every time. it squeezes my heart in one fist until the juices run between its fingers.

so like. i have ocd.

ive had ocd for a really, really long time. my parents didnt know what it was. i didnt know what it was. even as i got older and learned more about mental illnesses, i didn't think "oh... that might be me." and part of the reason for that is, um, u know how ocd usually gets portrayed in media? obsessive hand washing, organizing, etc etc etc. i dont have that ocd.

i have scrupulosity.

i have be good. i have be. good. i have down on my knees for hours at a time praying for forgiveness. i have oh mom i dont think i can wear this shirt. it goes down too low. it is immodest. (it sat just below my collarbone). i have i do genuinely believe that it is genuinely morally wrong to throw away anything that is recyclable because that is hurting the planet and i still do it sometimes but like if i think about it im like oh yeah that was a morally bad thing for me to throw away that recyclable plastic cup and it makes me uncomfortable. i have BE. GOOD. BE GOOD. BE GOOD.

that is my ocd. that is my brain.

i have, as one might say, an obsessive need for perfect, law-abiding order.

i am, as one might say, kusanagi rikai.

but im not. not really. i dont yell at other people to follow my brains own rules. i am not as loud as he is. i am not as pushy. i am more of a quiet, anxious, desperate, so burnt-out from so many years of intense moral perfection in my mind that i barely care anymore, type of scrupulosity.

and rikai is loud.

but god. that one episode. number seventy-two.

i pulled it up to reference the dialogue and im already feeling it.

this episode expresses an aspect of my ocd my brain my scrupulosity the thing that has ruined my entire life and stolen my childhood from me it expresses such a deep and gutting aspect of it that i barely knew how to articulate. i dont know how they did this. i dont know if rikai is supposed to actually have ocd like mine. i dont know if they just imagined what it would be like to live as rikai and i do or if someone in that writing room has personal experience with this. i dont know. all i know is rikai in this episode is

me.

because he is looking around at the festival. stunned. how are people doing these things and enjoying it? how are they eating unsanitary food? how are they letting themselves get ripped off at raffles?

and then, quietly, he says,

"this is... normal, huh. yes, this is normal...

i do realize that i'm the crazy one here. right?"

and i start crying.

its so simple. "i do realize that im the crazy one here." his voice soft and resigned.

because my entire life i have been staring around myself with wild eyes. "why is everyone so bad? why are they doing these things? why dont they see what i see? why do i understand what they dont? why dont they understand? why is everyone leaving things half-done and dirty and taking shortcuts and being unsanitary and devious and why am i the only one who understands how to be good? why does no one else see?"

and now i realize oh. i see.

im just crazy. i just have a malfunctioning brain.

everything i see as good, and common sense, and necessary, is actually unusual and uncomfortable and unwelcome levels of. order.

everything i see around me is normal. theyre not the ones who are doing things wrong.

im just crazy.

and its so. so. isolating. and its so. so. frustrating. why is everyone else... normal?

i do realize im the crazy one here.

and its such a simple scene. and its such a simple line.

but when i watched that drama track for the first time i had to set my phone down. i felt so seen. so heard. so understood. i cried. its such a deep, isolating feeling. to look around yourself and see nothing but unlawful chaos and then to know that you are the broken one. that this all is normal. youre just wrong. youre right, objectively - that food is unhygienic, and people would be better off spending their money on things that are not rigged raffles - but no matter how right you are in theory, in practice, that means absolutely nothing.

youre just crazy.

the odd man out forever. you can never be normal.

its okay, rikai. try your best to eat something with unwashed hands.

hopefully it wont make you sick.

hopefully. its worth it, right? to act normal.

[sysig]

My printer hates me :) (with many thanks and credit to @niennanir as before)

Gosh aren’t they gorgeous tho ♥ Especially the latest and largest, though I have to give all the credit to the paper on that one haha, it’s stunning IRL, I could almost stare at the gold lattice forever rather than read, but I’m so happy with how it turned out between the pages as well!

Quick showcase of the new additions! :D

My Drinking Game as another test run, I got the spacing how I wanted it! Yay! It’s so much handsomer and less cramped! Also I gotta say, if it wasn’t such a large usage of paper, this would be my ideal way of checking for typos - I found a couple after setting it down to ink lol, they’ve been fixed now at least ♪ Paired here with the emerge, transformed three-parter, one of my all-time-favourites <3 I reread it the night I finished it and cried again, a little bit of tender mercy always wrecks me hhhh ♥ There are so many beautiful evocative lines! I’m so happy to hold it ♪ And as you can see above, that was the one that got the cute little ghost dust jacket :D

Another test run of what I’m calling volume 1 of my Vargas Drabbles lol, so not including Have you lost your mind? since that one’s currently unfinished. I do fully intend to print it once it’s done tho :3c Hopefully that one will cause me fewer problems! I hate measuring, so I may have flubbed two covers before finally getting this one into good enough shape XP And my red yarn is still in storage so >.> Did I go purchase another ball of red yarn? I’ll never tell. You can’t tell me it doesn’t look great as a bookmark tho <3

And my current happiest! Ah!! It turned out fantastic on all counts! The cover paper obviously, as I couldn’t Not lead with that, but also the size of the spine and the way the pages settled against each other while glueing - I used a different type of paper for this one and I think I’m completely converted over, it feels amazing to work with. Whatever I was using before had to have been like 15lbs lol, I’m literally just using normal 20lb printer paper but it feels and looks and behaves so much nicer <3 The size of Helix also allowed for a slightly larger bookmark, which was perfect because we had this soft gold ribbon that was all of a couple millimeters wider than the other ribbons/yarn I’d been using, and it looks so so so pretty with the gold detailing!! I’ve put it between Ch. 1 and 2 and getting to see the actual physical size differences of the chapters is so fun ♥

[clockwayswrites]

Bitty birb in the nest is worth...? Part 19

Masterpost This is going to have many typos and spelling issues, but it currently feels like I've got an ice pick in my temple and my skin hurts so there's no rereading happening atm. Sorry!

-

Danny looked up as Tim Drake-Wayne strode into the lab and closed the door quietly behind himself.

“Tim?”

“Mm-hum?” Tim hummed as he sat down his thermos before he shed his messenger bag, coat, and school jacket onto an open part of desk.

Danny watched on with bemusement. The kid looked half asleep. “Not that it isn’t great to see you again, but what are you doing here, honey?”

“Bruce is on a call running Luthor in circles and then has to talk to legal about some stuff because Luthor is always an ass. We’re supposed to go run an errand and then to dinner together, so I’m stuck here until he’s ready to leave for the day.”

“I’m sorry,” Danny said honestly.

“It’s okay, at least Bruce won’t forget, not like—” Tim shut his mouth with a snap, seemingly suddenly thinking about what he was saying.

“It’s okay, I get it,” Danny said, because he did. “You need somewhere to hide out then?”

“Yeah, it’s… calm here.”

“Okay. Sit wherever you want that’s clear. If you need to move something, let me know first, okay?”

“Thanks,” Tim said, shoulders finally losing some of their tension.

“Of course, whenever you need.”

Not wanting to push Tim in any way, Danny kept a subtle eye on the boy as Tim absently wandered around Danny’s office. To Tim’s credit, he did try to touch anything or move things around, even as he obviously grew increasingly tired.

It would be a lot, Danny supposed, to be a teen ager trying to live up to the legacy of two important families in the area, learn the business, go to school, and (hopefully) also spend time with friends. Danny knew how hard it had been only having Phantom as an obligation.

While, sure, Danny wished Tim had made chosen a less neck cramping spot, he was happy to see Tim finally settle down and seemingly fall asleep… under one of Danny’s work benches. Danny couldn’t fuss too much, he’d done that plenty in grad school himself. Once Tim seemed properly asleep, Danny got up to fetch his cardigan from the hook by the door and took it to drape over the sleeping kid. Tim let a little huffed breath of air before he snuggled further into the cardigan and settled back into sleep.

It made Danny’s heart melt in a way that he didn’t want to think too hard about.

It really was no surprise when about forty-five minutes later one Bruce Wayne poked his head into Danny’s office. The door was hardly open when Danny had his finger up and over his mouth in the universal sign of ‘shush’.

Bruce titled his head curiously. Danny gave a little nod of his head towards the workbench that Tim was sleeping under. Silently, Bruce moved to the work bench and crouched down next to it. There was a soft, amused sound before Bruce reached out to brush his hand over Tim’s forehead, as if habitually checking for a fever.

When Bruce returned to where Danny was working, he asked softly, “How long has he been asleep?”

“A little over a half hour. It took him about ten minutes to settle in,” Danny answered, voice equally quiet.

“Then do you mind if I let him keep resting for another fifteen minutes or so? He’s likely to wake up on his own then.”

Danny shook his head. “Nope, let the kid rest. He seems like he needs it.”

Bruce glanced at Tim, his expression that soft sort of worried only parents seemed to get. “He does. He works too hard at… everything. He’s always trying to prove himself even when he doesn’t need to anymore.”

Danny made a little questioning noise as he got back to fiddling with the annoyingly tiny screws.

“His parents were… demanding. They had very exacting ideas of what proper high society behavior was,” Bruce explained. “I’m sadly not the best suited at dismantling those ideas either.”

“Ah… well, what do you do that encourages him to be a kid?” Danny asked.

“He skateboards, actually. And he enjoys photography, but even that became a goal what with art competitions at school.”

“Maybe take him and Damian on a mini art vacation? Somewhere pretty. Somewhere where it’s not about judges,” Danny suggested. He finally got the last screw seated so he glanced up at Bruce’s thoughtful face.

“That’s a good idea,” Bruce said. “I’ll start looking at what might work. Thank you.”

“Sure, ideas are kinda what I do,” Danny said and motioned to the office around him with the screwdriver.

Bruce’s answering chuckle was low and warm. “I suppose it is. I hope you’re also not overworking yourself.”

“I’m doing much better,” Danny assured Bruce. “I just needed some rest.”

“Which my children made sure you got. I’m still sorry that they kept you so long on Friday.”

It was Danny’s turn to laugh. “Honestly, I don’t think you really have much control over what they do.”

“No, I really don’t,” Bruce admitted. “But I wouldn’t have them any other way.”

“That’s good; they’re a pretty amazing family,” Danny said with a soft smile. “And if I don’t get to be sorry about falling asleep, you don’t get to be sorry about making me rest.”

“You drive a hard bargain, but deal.”

“I am a master business man,” Danny teased and ducked his head to hide his smile.

“I’ll have to watch for corporate take overs. Keep an eye on the stocks and papers.”

“Maybe. Oh, speaking of… Well, not speaking of but sort of related? You know, I was joking about us making the papers.”

Bruce hummed curiously so Danny set aside his tools to pull up the story that several coworkers had sent him on his table. He spun it to face Bruce. The picture of them in the box was big on the screen. They were pressed almost chest to chest with Bruce’s arms around Danny. It certainly looked incriminating.

“Well shit,” Bruce said with a sigh. He picked up the tablet to scan through the article. There wasn’t anything in it, of course, just wild speculation. “I hope you haven’t been harassed about this by anyone.”

“I don’t think anyone knows who I am to harass me,” Danny said honestly. “Some coworkers have sent me it, but apparently it’s just my luck to have both randomly run into a Wayne and be invited to an event and have one of my ‘spells’ when I’m around them.”

Bruce looked at him with one well manicured brow raised. “You have interesting luck.”

“Yep. It’s been quite a life so far. I was pretty much born into interesting luck and life has really lived up to that luck and died by it,” Danny said with a little chuckle as he took his tablet back.

“I feel concerned by that last part.”

Danny hummed in question, distracted by pulling his notes back up.

“The having died by the luck part.”

“Oh.” Danny smiled, but he knew that expression was less than a happy one. “I think I mentioned that there was an accident when I was a kid?”

Bruce nodded and lean his elbows on the work bench and crosses his arms. “You did. One that is apparently still affecting your pulse to this day.”

“Yes, well,” Danny glanced away from Bruce. Why was it still so hard to talk about. “When I was fourteen, I was electrocuted at at an… industrial level of voltage. Unsurprisingly it killed me. And hey, obviously I came back! But that sort of thing sticks around.”

“I’m sorry.”

Danny looked back at Bruce, honestly startled. In all this time, Danny wasn’t sure if he’d ever heard a ‘I’m sorry’ about his accident, not without strings attached. His lips quirked into a smile again. This one felt more pleasant. “Thanks. Trust me though, I’m grateful that life has, had been calmer.”

Whatever Bruce was going to say to that was cut off by a loud yawn, the sound of someone shifting around, and then the unmistakable bang of a limb against the metal legs of one of the workbenches.

Quiet cussing followed a moment later.

“You okay there, Tim?” Danny asked.

“Fine,” Tim hissed back.

“I’m sure I have an instant icepack in my office. We can grab one before we leave,” Bruce said.

“B?” Tim asked, voice noticeably brighter. A moment later he appeared out from under the desk.

“Hi, sweetheart, sorry that I had to take that call,” Bruce said as he stepped over to Tim. He reached out to brush the teen’s hair a little straighter.

“It’s fine, it’s Lex, I get it.”

“I know you get it, but that doesn’t mean it has to be fine.”

Tim just shrugged. The action made him notice the the cardigan draped over his shoulders. A little blush rose on his cheeks as he took it off and handed it back to Danny. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for Tim, you weren’t any problem,” Danny assured him. “You’re welcome in my office whenever.”

“You’re going to regret that,” Tim said.

Danny just shrugged with a smile.

“Come on, chum, let’s go find that icepack. We’ll still get to your store before it closes,” Bruce said and started to guide Tim out by the shoulder.

Bruce glanced behind him and Danny gave a little wave to the retreating Waynes.

His luck indeed.

-

“What happened in Danny’s office that’s bothering you?” Tim asked. He had the icepack pressed against his elbow and was sitting almost sideways so that he could take in all of Bruce’s expression.

Bruce was doing that thing where he was feeling big, complicated emotions and wishing he wasn’t. Tim could read it in the way that Bruce’s shoulders were set, that little bit of tightening under his eyes, and the way he was very purposefully not frowning.

“B,” Tim pressed.

Bruce sighed, the sound all of his air. “I think we should leave Danny alone, both as Waynes and as Bats.”

Tim jolted and scrambled to sit up further. “Wait, what? Bruce, what happened?”

“Nothing bad,” Bruce assured Tim. “Nothing bad happened. Vicky got a picture of Danny and I at the ballet. We spoke some about it and Danny talked about how he had interesting luck. He said he was grateful that life has been calmer; he had to change that to had.”

“…oh.”

“It’s just that—”

“No, you’re right. I’ll try to talk to the others about it because you know they won’t listen to you about it.”

“I’m sorry, Tim.”

“It’s fine, I get it.”

[wordsmeetwbb]

Every National Champion Deserves a Reward

Word count: 3.9k

Content: little bit of fluff, smut (sub!Paige, mommy!Azzi, choking)

Pairing: Pazzi

Notes: Here's some post-natty celebratory smut for y'all! Tbh the ending is kinda rushed and I've done absolutely no editing or rereading, so please lmk if there's any mistakes or typos or anything. Hope you enjoy!

________

It’s well past midnight by the time Paige and Azzi stumble into Paige’s hotel room. They’d spent hours in Geno’s suite celebrating with the team, dancing, drinking, shedding a few overjoyed tears, and sneaking drinks to the freshmen that all the coaches pretended not to see.

Paige and Azzi had been glued to each other throughout it all. Whether it was the light presence of Paige’s hand on Azzi’s lower back, Azzi brushing Paige’s ponytail over her shoulder, or their fingers brushing as they shared a drink, their bodies were in constant contact. Their teammates were mostly too drunk to notice, not that it would have been surprising to them anyway.

Now, though, Geno had kicked everybody out, complaining that even winning a national championship couldn’t push his bedtime back that much. The team had dispersed, going back to their own shared hotel rooms. Paige hadn’t even had to ask Jana to switch with Azzi. The taller girl had just handed her room key to Azzi with a smirk and a pat on her shoulder, holding her hand out for Azzi’s room key.

Azzi almost expects Paige to pounce as soon as the door shuts behind them. To her surprise, the blonde just stops directly inside the entrance to the room, hands falling loosely at her sides.

“Paige?” Azzi asks softly, fingers brushing at one of Paige’s arms to get her to turn around and meet her eyes. When Paige finally lets herself get tugged around, Azzi is met with shiny blue eyes. “Oh honey…” she whispers, holding her arms out. Paige falls into her embrace.

Paige’s body shakes with sobs, her arms wrapped tightly around Azzi’s waist to stabilize herself. Her head is tucked tightly into Azzi’s neck. A few tears drip from Paige’s face down Azzi’s collarbones. Her hands run up and down Paige’s back, soothing her with grounding touches. When Paige gets her breathing under control, she lifts her head from Azzi’s shoulder. Azzi smiles softly at her.

“It just hit you, huh?” Paige nods, one more tear tracing a path down her cheek. Azzi’s eyes track the movement until the droplet slides off Paige’s chin and onto the floor. Azzi’s hands move up to cup the blonde’s face gently. “You did it, baby,” she murmurs. Paige swallows hard.

“Doesn’t feel real,” she mumbles. Azzi leans up to press a soft kiss to Paige’s lips.

“Aren’t you so glad you never have to take another college class?” Azzi teases. That gets a laugh out of Paige, lifting the mood in the room to something lighter. A tension eases in Azzi’s chest. One that’s there every time Paige is upset and doesn’t leave until the blonde girl is feeling better. In the interest of raising Paige’s mood further, Azzi drags one of her hands along Paige’s bicep, batting her eyelashes teasingly.

“You know… the drinks might all be back in Coach’s room but I know another way we can celebrate,” she purrs. Paige’s muscles jump where Azzi’s fingernails scratch over her skin lightly.

“Yeah, I mean, we wouldn’t want to make Jana switch rooms for nothing, y’know?” Paige smirks, quickly falling back into the easy, confident banter that Azzi was so used to from her. Azzi doesn’t bother mentioning that it had been Jana’s idea to switch rooms.

“Exactly,” Azzi agrees, guiding Paige towards one of the beds until the backs of her knees run into the mattress. She falls, props herself on her elbows, and stares up at Azzi.

“Hi gorgeous girl,” Paige flirts. Azzi rolls her eyes.

“You’re shameless when you want to get into my pants.”

“I’m shameless all the time. You just only point it out when I want to get into your pants,” Paige argues.

“You can’t prove that.” Paige smirks.

“Maybe I can,” she shoots back, waggling her eyebrows. It pulls a laugh from Azzi’s chest, the sound bright and happy in the hotel room. Paige’s face melts into something like an awed smile. “Come here,” she whispers.

Azzi goes willingly, following the hands on the backs of her thighs guiding her into Paige’s lap. Paige just stares up at her for a moment, eyes tracing every feature of her face with such visible love and appreciation that Azzi has to look away. Paige’s hand on her jaw brings her gaze back, though.

“My pretty girl,” Paige murmurs, pulling Azzi down to meet her in a kiss. It’s slow and gentle, full of love. “Played so good today” –Paige presses a kiss to Azzi’s jaw– “swear I’ve never seen anything so hot. Fuck, those steals baby, got me thinkin’ stuff I can’t think during a game.” Paige’s lips return to Azzi’s, her tongue brushing against plump lips, asking for Azzi to let her in.

It’s not even a conscious choice for the younger girl. Her mouth opens and Paige’s tongue sweeps in, claiming, tasting, exploring every inch. A ragged breath escapes Azzi before her brain gets online enough to reciprocate.

She bites gently at Paige’s bottom lip, pulling it lightly in that way she knows drives her girlfriend crazy. Sure enough, it drags a moan from Paige’s throat. That gives Azzi the opening she needs to lick into Paige’s mouth, claiming just as Paige had done to her only seconds ago. Not breaking the kiss, Azzi pushes Paige all the way back onto the mattress, her hips pinning Paige’s in place, hands running up and down the pale skin of her arms.

“Shit Azzi. Lemme make you feel good first,” Paige protests, trying to sit up. Azzi’s having none of it. She grabs Paige’s wrists, gathering them in one hand, and presses them into the bed above her head. Paige fucking whimpers. Azzi smirks. It’s not often that she can get Paige to give up control, but that reaction shows her that she’s already won.

“Nuh-uh”, Azzi clicks her tongue disapprovingly. “You said I played good today, right baby?” She asks, voice sweet and innocent and utterly disarming. Paige doesn’t even feel the trap.

“Of course, Az. So good, honey. Fuck, almost had me on my knees right there on the court, you were so hot,” Paige babbles. Azzi leans down, her face hovering right over Paige’s.

“So don’t you think I should get something for playing so good?” She prompts. It’s all Paige can do to nod enthusiastically before she quickly remembers what the conversation is really about.

“But baby, you deserve to feel good. I wanna make you feel good,” she whines. Azzi leans just a little bit closer, her breath ghosting over her skin. She licks over the shell of Paige’s ear.

“You’re being a brat, baby,” she says. There’s an edge of warning in her tone that sparks a fire in Paige’s stomach. Her hips shift where they’re pinned beneath Azzi’s.

“Shit,” Paige whispers, a blush rising on her cheeks. Azzi brushes the thumb of her free hand, the one not pinning Paige’s wrists to the bed, across the color blooming on pale skin.

“My pretty girl’s all shy, huh? Blushing for me already and I haven’t even done anything yet,” Azzi coos. Her fingers drag down from Paige’s cheek to her throat, just resting there. Paige’s eyes flutter shut. Her pulse flutters erratically under Azzi’s fingertips. Azzi squeezes.

“Oh fuck,” Paige gasps, blue eyes standing out starkly against her reddening skin. Azzi nips at Paige’s lips again, feeling her breath come in short, desperate inhales.

“You gonna be good for me?” Azzi’s gentle voice is a drastic contrast to the pressure of her hand on Paige’s neck restricting her airflow. Paige nods quickly. “Use your words,” she demands.

“Yes!” Paige pants. “I’ll be good, promise!” Azzi eases her hand away from Paige’s throat, letting the older girl take gasping, desperate breaths as spots swim in her vision.

“Good. You’re gonna let me make you feel good tonight, because you played so well this season. You’ve given the team everything you have for five years, and now you’re a national champion, and you deserve a reward. So as a reward, you’re not gonna think so much. You’re gonna let me think for you, and tell you what to do, and control how much pleasure you feel and when. Can you do that, baby?” Paige, whose breathing has finally evened out, nods quickly before Azzi shoots her a disapproving look.

“Yes, yes I can do that,” she says quickly. Azzi smiles, content with the answer.

“Good girl, baby,” she praises. Paige’s body melts into the comforter, limbs going loose and her cheeks turning pink again. Azzi presses a solid kiss to her lips before moving to her jaw.

She mouths across Paige’s skin, the journey wet and messy. She nibbles at the spot below Paige’s ear that always makes her moan, sucks a mark into the base of her throat, and presses open-mouthed kisses to every inch of exposed skin. When she reaches the collar of Paige’s hoodie, her hands reach for the hem, looking to Paige for permission to remove it.

“Please,” Paige urges, remembering Azzi’s earlier demands about using her words. Azzi smiles, kisses her lips to reward her, and pulls the hoodie off.

“Get undressed for me, Paige,” Azzi orders. Paige is scrambling to remove her pants and sports bra before the sentence is completely out of her mouth. She pauses once she’s left in just her underwear, unsure if Azzi wanted her completely naked or if she wanted to do that part herself.

“Just like that, baby, good job,” Azzi assures her. Paige relaxes back onto the bed, her head settling onto one of the pillows. Azzi, still fully clothed, slides down to settle herself in the space between Paige’s legs. Her breath fans over Paige’s clothed cunt as she takes in the wet spot prominently visible on Paige’s underwear.

“Oh, poor baby. So wet for mommy, aren’t you?” Something that might be a whine escapes Paige. “I know, honey. You just can’t help it, I know. Don’t worry, I’m gonna take care of you,” Azzi soothes.

Paige’s eyes are trained on Azzi, watching as she lowers her head and licks a stripe right over the wet patch on her panties. Her hips buck. Azzi pulls back immediately.

“No. Stay still,” she demands. Paige freezes immediately, guilt filling her chest.

“Sorry mommy. Didn’t mean to. Sorry,” she babbles. Azzi pets her thigh, grounding the older girl.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re all worked up and you just got too excited. Just gotta stay still now.” Paige nods in agreement immediately, her legs opening wider in an attempt to encourage Azzi to resume her actions. Azzi chuckles and obliges.

She licks over Paige’s underwear again, but this time her fingers also come down to drag slow little circles around her clit through the fabric. Paige chokes on a moan in her effort to hold her hips in place.

Azzi doesn’t tease her for long, quickly pulling off Paige’s panties and tossing them somewhere to the side. “You want me to touch you, baby?” She teases, rubbing circles over Paige’s hip bones with her thumbs.

“Please, please mommy, touch me,” Paige begs. Azzi doesn’t acknowledge the words, just finally brings her mouth to Paige’s slit. She licks upward, dragging the slick that’s already dripping from Paige’s folds up to her clit and swirling it around. Paige moans quietly and reminds herself not to press her hips into Azzi’s mouth.

Luckily, Azzi finds a rhythm quickly, licking and swirling and sucking gently on Paige’s clit, steadily building her up. It doesn’t take long for Paige’s moans to grow louder, her hands fisting in the sheets as the ball in her stomach tightens.

“So close mommy, please, gonna cum, please, please,” Paige pleads. And then the sensation is ripped away from her. Paige whines loudly, losing the battle to keep her hips still as she tries to chase Azzi’s mouth.

“Please!” She cries. “I was so good, mommy, why?” Azzi’s hands settle on Paige’s hips, just resting there to ground her as she tries to come to terms with her pleasure being ripped away from her.

“Shh… it’s okay baby. Just take a breath,” she urges. Paige inhales shakily, but her exhale is more like a whine, the tone just petulant enough that it makes Azzi raise her eyebrows. “What did I say earlier, Paige?” Paige pauses, trying her best to come up with whatever Azzi might be referring to. Azzi takes pity on her after a few moments of confused silence.

“I get to control how much pleasure you feel. I’m in charge of when you get to be touched, and when you get to feel good, and when you get to cum. And you agreed to that, didn’t you Paige?”

“Yes,” Paige whispers.

“I didn’t want you to cum yet, so I stopped. And what are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing.”

“Good girl,” Azzi praises. Paige tosses her head back. Her clit throbs. “Do you think you deserve to be touched again after being whiny this time?” Azzi asks. Paige hesitates, trying to discern if there’s a correct answer.

“Only if you think I deserve it,” she decides. It must be an acceptable answer, because suddenly Azzi is sliding one finger into Paige’s soaked folds, meeting no resistance just from how wet the blonde is. She cries out, her hands flying to Azzi’s head and gripping her hair tightly.

“Please, can I hold onto your hair mommy?” Paige begs.

“Because you asked so nicely baby, of course you can,” Azzi answers. Paige’s fingers tighten around the curls as Azzi drags her finger all the way out, then thrusts them back in gently. She does this a few more times, feeling Paige clench around her finger every time she thrusts back in, before she adds her middle finger.

The stretch is a little more this time, dragging a groan from Paige, but as soon as Azzi picks up her rhythm again, all Paige feels is pleasure. The warmth in her belly is growing again, tightening as Azzi continues her slow, measured thrusts with her fingers.

“Az?” Paige asks softly. Azzi’s eyes raise from where they had been trained on Paige’s cunt sucking up her fingers, meeting the older girl’s gaze.

“Yeah, honey? You okay?” She checks. Paige nods quickly, wanting to reassure her girlfriend.

“Yeah, yeah, I just… Can you go harder?” Her voice is small, face flushing in embarrassment when she asks, but it’s worth it for the smirk that spreads across Azzi’s face.

“My sweet girl wants it rough?” Paige licks her lips. “Okay, baby. You can have it rough if you want.” And just as she promised, Azzi’s next thrust isn’t slow or gentle. It’s hard, slamming her fingers into Paige’s cunt with enough force that it punches a whimper out of the blonde.

“Fuck,” is all Paige can manage before she’s swept away by Azzi’s fingers, ramming into her mercilessly.

Just when she thinks she can’t take anymore, Azzi’s mouth returns to her clit, licking and slurping and sucking. It’s when her lips wrap around the puffy pink bud, sucking hard, that Paige screams.

“So close, so close, mommy please can I cum this time? Oh god, gonna cum, mommy!” Paige is trying to hold it, Azzi can tell. Her stomach is clenched, her hips stuttering away from Azzi’s hands and mouth. Wanting to make her suffer just a little bit, Azzi stays silent. “Oh fuck, please mommy, I can’t– fuck– god.” Paige can’t even get a full sentence out, too focused on not cumming until she’s given permission. Feeling as though she’s drawn it out enough, Azzi finally speaks.

“You can cum for me baby, been such a good girl, let yourself feel good now.” The words are barely out of her mouth before Paige’s cunt is clenching hard around her fingers, her hips are bucking wildly, and loud moans and cries are spilling from her mouth. Azzi works her through it, still fucking her fingers in and out, licking gently at her clit.

Paige is twitching hard as she comes down, legs spasming as she tries her best not to clamp them around Azzi’s head.

“Too much Az, fuck, too much,” she whines. Azzi pulls away, pressing a messy kiss to the inside of her girlfriend’s thigh as she does so. She crawls back up Paige’s body and kisses her hard. Paige groans at the taste of herself on Azzi’s lips.

“Fuck,” she whines, little aftershocks still going through her body.

“You got one more for me, baby?” Azzi asks, already slipping her own clothes off. Paige whimpers, genuinely unsure if she can handle more after how hard she just came.

“Az– I don’t know if…” she trails off, eyes following the curve of Azzi’s chest down to the dip of her waist, over her hips, all the way to the space between her thighs. Her clit throbs.

“Do you need a minute?” Azzi asks gently, her hands sliding over Paige’s shoulders soothingly. Paige shakes her head. She’s still not sure she’s come all the way down from her first orgasm, but she wants Azzi so bad she doesn’t even care about how overwhelming the overstimulation will feel. “Words, Paige,” Azzi prompts.

“I’m good. Don’t need a minute. Just need you mommy,” Paige whispers. Azzi smiles.

“So good for me. My perfect girl,” she murmurs. Then she’s slotting one of her legs between Paige’s and tucking the other one under her left leg, tugging the blonde closer for better leverage as she slides their centers together.

“Oh fuck,” Paige moans. She can feel herself clenching around nothing and her swollen clit bumps against Azzi’s. Azzi doesn’t seem to be doing much better. They’ve barely started moving and her eyes have already fluttered shut, head tilted back as she basks in the feeling.

The stillness doesn’t last long, though. Within seconds, Azzi’s moving, sliding herself forward and back over Paige’s dripping cunt. They’re both soaked with their own slick and now each other’s, the wetness making the movement easy. Azzi’s clit catches against Paige’s on one particularly rough rock of her hips, making her stutter over a moan.

“Fuck, baby. Pussy’s so wet, fucking dripping for me. Who did that to you?” Azzi asks, voice low and dark. Paige still hasn’t stopped twitching, the friction against her clit too much for her body to handle after not getting to fully recover from her first orgasm.

“You, mommy! You did that, it’s for you, this wet for you,” Paige cries. She feels entirely incoherent, completely out of control of her words. A whine slips out of Azzi’s mouth, joining the wet sounds of their cunts sliding together.

It doesn’t take long at all for Paige to feel the tension in her stomach ready to break again. Her eyes are rolled back in her head, fingers digging bruises into Azzi’s hips, and spit is sliding down her face from her open mouth. She doesn’t even have time to ask permission, only to announce to Azzi what’s happening.

“Cumming, oh god, I’m cumming,” she whimpers. Her clit is throbbing, cunt clenching repeatedly as she moans desperately. The feeling doesn’t stop, though. Just when she thinks she should be riding her orgasm out, focusing on getting Azzi to the same peak, that band in her stomach snaps again.

Paige doesn’t even realize what’s happening until Azzi is moaning, needy cries flying from her mouth as she bucks her hips wildly, the slide between them suddenly much smoother and wetter. Then she feels the wetness covering her thighs, Azzi’s thighs, Azzi’s stomach. Her assessment of every sensation she’s feeling doesn’t get any further than that, though, because Azzi is still rocking her hips over Paige’s, mouth open, a blissed out expression on her face.

The friction is too much. Paige’s hands scramble to push Azzi away, breaking the connection between their hips and slamming her thighs closed with a drawn out whine. Azzi’s eyes fly open.

“What’s wrong, baby?” She asks immediately. Paige shakes her head, incapable of words. Azzi recognizes this and tries again. “Can you tap twice if you’re okay?” She asks, tone more gentle this time. Paige’s hands grab at one of Azzi’s, tapping twice on her palm. She sees Azzi let out a deep breath. Paige’s thighs twitch.

“Too much?” Azzi tries. Paige taps twice again. “Do you need anything, baby?” Paige taps once, her body completely boneless on the hotel bed. Azzi grins. “Guess I finally found a way to shut you up, huh? All I have to do is make you squirt and suddenly you don’t say a single word,” she muses. Paige’s face turns red.

“Sorry,” she rasps, voice rough from moans and screams.

“Oh baby, don’t apologize. That was quite literally one of the hottest things you’ve ever done. I’ve never made you squirt before,” Azzi says proudly. Paige tugs weakly at Azzi’s hands, pulling her down to lay on top of her. The weight of the younger girl’s body is soothing, as if she’s pressing Paige’s body back together.

“Now I gotta figure out how to make you squirt. Can let you just hold this over me forever,” Paige complains. Azzi laughs.

“I mean, I’m not gonna argue with that goal,” she replies, settling herself more comfortably over Paige. Paige winces.

“I’m in the wet spot,” she grumbles. Azzi buries her head into Paige’s neck, her response muffled.

“And whose fault is that?” She retorts. Paige groans.

“Bro, just get off me so we can go sleep on the other bed.” Azzi picks her head up.

“We have got to take a shower first. I’m not letting either of us get into that clean bed like this, because then both beds will be dirty. Shower,” she orders, rolling herself off of Paige and heading into the bathroom to turn on the water.

Paige drags herself into a sitting position, already feeling sore and achy. When she goes to stand up, her legs shake, making her wobble like a baby deer as she starts to walk to the bathroom. She barely makes it three steps before she turns back around and flops right back onto the bed.

“Az,” she calls, voice muted from the way her head is buried into the comforter.

“Yeah?”

“Come carry me.” Paige’s voice is quieter this time. It’s not loud enough for Azzi to hear over the running water in the bathroom.

“Baby, what?” She asks as she reappears in the doorway. Paige lifts her head defeatedly.

“Can’t walk,” she mumbles. Azzi bursts out laughing. “Don’t laugh! You did this to me!” Paige defends. Azzi just keeps giggling, her bare stomach shaking with the force of her laughter.

“I am never letting you live this down,” she promises.

“Promise?” Paige asks. Azzi crosses the room, kneeling down next to the bed to press a kiss to Paige’s forehead.

“Yes, dummy. I promise.” Paige hopes she really doesn’t ever let her live it down. As long as Azzi can brag about taking away her ability to walk, it means Paige will have her. And that’s better than winning any national championship.

[joelsmochi]

Dirty Lies

SUMMARY: Joel realized how much you matured since he last saw you 4 years ago and can’t resist you. WARNINGS: age gap [reader is 22, joel is 35], smut minors dni, no descriptions of reader aside from having shoulder length hair & having a girly sense of fashion, pervy!joel, shy-ish!joel, needy!joel, reader seduces joel. 18+ WARNINGS: infidelity if you squint (technicalities people), brief objectification, masturbation (f), oral (f receiving), dirty talk, reader was a lying little shit in high school but it paid off WC: 7.3k [please read author's note]

A/N: this was originally going to be a 15k word long smut as part of my LDR series, but........ I figured the more parts I can make out of it the more content I can produce, so here is part one of Us Against The World. Enjoy :) Edit: I’m rereading this and noticing a few typos, I apologize about those! Grammarly isn’t so helpful sometimes…

series masterlist | main masterlist

There you were in your blue tank top and yoga pants laying with your father’s dog in the middle of the front yard. You had just returned from New York a few days earlier from college, which your father amicably told Joel about over a few beers the week before.

Joel was expecting to see your 18-year-old self: long hair, sparkly eyeshadow, dressed in your late mother’s hand-me-downs from the 80s. But that was no longer you.

You dressed more modern and age-appropriate. Your hair was shorter, looked curlier, and you had highlights. Your eyebrows were thinner and your face was free from the loud makeup your teenage self was accustomed to. Joel would make jokes from time to time about how he believed you were just born with glitter all over your eyes.

Joel felt a little silly thinking you wouldn’t have changed. Who doesn’t make a drastic change when they leave high school? He hadn’t found the time to stop by and say hello but he wasn’t necessarily rushing it.

He’d met your father when you guys moved in next door in 1993 and he remembered you introduced yourself the second you saw him and Sarah playing outside despite your father’s protests.

You told Joel about how your dad was only being grumpy because he’d just turned thirty-six. Something about getting old. You didn’t bother to retain that information.

But here you were: all grown up. It reminded Joel of the day he overheard you and your best friend talking about how handsome you thought he was. He wondered if you still felt that way.

You sat up, feeling the sense that someone was watching you; your eyes scanned around until instinct made you look to the same window Joel was standing in.

For some reason, he didn’t feel embarrassed about being caught staring. He offered you an energetic smile and you took in his appearance.

He hadn’t changed much — his hair was a little longer and he had a few more fine lines across his face, but he was still the handsome man you remembered and admired.

You stand up and walk over to the window prompting him to open it.

“Hey, creep,” you teased with a big grin, “how ya been?”

Even your voice sounded different with its blend of Texas and New York. It was sultry with a hint of confidence. He tried not to let his weaknesses show.

“I’m doing all right… Sorry for starin’. Could hardly tell that was you,” he responded.

You just barely saw his eyes glance down to your chest, and it made you smirk.

Had this been any other man you’d have your fist meeting their jaw, but it wasn’t any other man. It was Joel. You hadn’t forgotten that he was attractive, but you did forget just how attractive. Or maybe his sexiness came with his age.

Not like it mattered anyways. It wasn’t like you could make a move.

“I been gettin’ that a lot… Dad tells me you’re a contractor now with Tommy.”

Joel nodded and said, “Yep, hated workin’ for other people, so…”

You were unsure if you were being awkward or if it was just… Awkward.

“Cool. Yeah, no, I get that. How is Tommy, by the way? Is he still really cute?” You giggled.

This made Joel roll his eyes. “Not cuter than me,” he answered begrudgingly. You watched how his eyes faltered again, trailing from your lips to your belly ring. “Your dad let you get that?”

You scoffed and waved your hand lazily as if you were swatting his condescending tone away. “One, Dad can’t tell me what to do with my body. And two, Tommy was always the cuter one.”

“S’that so?” Joel grunted as if he were tempted to laugh.

You gave him a cunning look and nodded. “Yeah. But you were always more handsome.”

Joel found himself blushing at the compliment, trying to wipe the redness away with his calloused palm to no avail.

You let out a quiet teetering laugh and looked back to make sure your dog was okay for a moment. “He get that dog after I left?”

Joel focused on you again and confirmed it once he noticed the dog again. “Yeah. I think your dad likes having something to take care of.”

You looked back into Joel’s eyes and bathed in them for a moment. He seemed more like himself, more certain of who he was. It made you a little sad to know how much time has passed, but maybe it was better this way.

“He was always like that. I think it started after… Well, you know.” You took a deep breath and tried to change the subject. “How’s Sarah? She still my little rockstar?”

“She’s more of a pop star, now,” he said. “She still wears that bracelet you let her have, the… The silver one.”

Your chest swelled with joy and you couldn’t contain your excitement. “Really?! Aw, man, that’s so cool. I remember I would throw a fit if I didn’t have that damn thing on.” The dog barking grabbed your attention once again. He was just barking at the mailman but settled once the worker started petting him. “Sorry!” You shouted before returning your focus to Joel. “Well, Joel it was nice seeing you. We should… Catch up. I could use some… Life advice.”

“I’m free tomorrow night if that works?” He tried to contain his excitement.

You slowly backed away, giving him one more nod and smile. “Perfect. Just come over whenever like old times.”

Joel decided to be respectful enough to not ogle over your ass as you walked away. He turned away from the window wondering how the hell he was going to get over this… Crush?

Is that what this was? A crush?

He decided to not torture himself with his intrusive thoughts.

“Hey, kid,” Joel greeted. You rolled your eyes at the nickname but greeted him back. He entered the backyard slowly trying to get a feel for the mood. He sat next to you in the extra papasan chair and snatched your beer out of your hands. You glared at him, unable to hold it for long when he shot you that infamous smile. “Everything all right?”

He tasted your strawberry chapstick around the rim of the glass and let the taste linger on his tongue. His eyes fell to your lips as he thought about how the chapstick would taste coming straight from you. Raw and unfiltered.

You held your breath, wishing you had enough courage to ask your father these questions. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust your father, you just wanted an opinion from an outside perspective. You were hoping Joel wasn’t as inclined to protect or embarrass you as much as your dad.

“There’s this guy I’ve been dating for a few months now… I…” You sigh frustratedly with the tension surrounding the question meanwhile Joel grew tense and jealous? He asked himself why that was the way he felt about you having a boyfriend.

You apprehensively said, “We had sex a few times before I left and it wasn’t…good.”

“Okay?” Joel asked as a way to tell you to keep going.

“How should I go about telling a guy that?”

He cleared his throat uncertain of how to answer your question. He didn’t want his newly discovered feelings to cloud his judgment as the chances of you two becoming a thing were slim to none. He wouldn’t want to sabotage you or your relationships. Especially when you trusted him enough to ask such a burdening question.

Joel accepted the awkwardness of the topic and put it aside. He didn’t want you to feel embarrassed. “Well, have you tried suggesting things that he can do to make you—it feel good?” He asked.

“Yeah, but I’m starting to wonder if it’s me,” you admitted.

“Does he do the things you ask him to?”

“Kinda?” Your cheeks flushed and your eyebrows furrowed tightly.

He gave you a look that said come on now.

“He like… Does half of it?” You could just die of embarrassment right now.

“Wh—? How does he do half of it?”

You groaned obnoxiously and chugged some more beer. “I don’t know?! He does what I ask for like five minutes and then just does what he’s used to I guess.” He watched you poke your bottom lip out to pout as you stared into the glass bottle. “I really like him, Joel.”

“Does he like you?”

“Well, yeah,” you said as if it were obvious. “Fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He inhaled sharply through his teeth and stole your beer bottle again. “All I will say is that a man that truly likes you would try harder, especially during sex, and especially if you’ve told him how he could make you feel good.”

“So… What do I do?”

“Do you think he likes you?” He asked again. “Think about it for a second. What does he do for you?”

“Well, he…” Your voice trailed off into silence as your mind went blank. Surely this guy did something for you to make you like him, right? But anything that did happen to come to mind was the bare minimum. You didn’t want to give Joel the satisfaction, so you said, “I think it could work.”

“Who’re trying to convince? Me or yourself?” He saw the frustration on your face and propped a finger below your chin to make you look at him. “If a guy really likes you, sweetheart, you wouldn’t have to ask more than once,” was all he said after he took a sip of your beer.

“What do you mean?”

Joel’s sigh almost sounded irritated. “I mean… A guy that truly likes you and deserves you won’t make you suffer through sex. A real man’ll take care a’you.”

“A real man, huh?” You bantered.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Like you?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“Do you like me?”

Why the fuck did I ask him that?! You thought as soon as the words left your mouth.

Joel didn’t couldn’t answer right away. His voice just stumbled over his tongue and out of his mouth.

“I think you’re a sweet girl,” he finally said, “and you’re smart enough to know who’s worthy of your time and attention. Doesn’t sound like it’s him.”

You couldn’t defeat the growing smirk on your face as he fought the urge to look over your body. He wasn’t so good at hiding it.

You turned your body in the chair slightly and dauntingly lifted your leg to touch your bare toes against his calf. You watched his breath get caught in his throat and your mouth fell open in awe at how easy it was to get him riled up.

He looked at the ground, not moving a single inch of his body. He was overwhelmed by your confidence.

The amount of attention Joel’s given you in the last ten minutes already seemed to surpass the attention your “boyfriend” (can you even call him that?) had given you.

Your foot trailed up Joel’s leg before you rested it upon his knee; Joel’s eyes screwed shut as if he were praying to not get caught like this, but your voice brought his gaze back to you.

“You didn’t answer my question, Joel,” you whispered seductively. Your foot left his leg and you got on your knees in the chair, then you leaned forward, hands around the rim of his own seat, and leaned in devilishly close to his face. “Do you like me?”

He swallowed hard, his fingertips turning white as they pressed into the bottle.

His lack of an answer caused an impatience to grow inside you. You leaned in even closer and strengthened your eye contact with him. Your fingers absentmindedly trailed over his knee to the midpoint of his clad thigh.

His spine shivered and his arms grew goosebumps. “Why don’t you have this attitude with your boyfriend?” He asked lowly in a poor attempt to further evade answering you.

You snickered and looked over his beer-covered lips, craving to taste them. “If I’m being honest he’s technically not my boyfriend… You’re tellin’ me things about men and how they should act. It’s making me feel like… He just can’t handle me.”

He smirked at you, fighting the way his body pleaded to touch yours. “If that’s the case then, sweetheart, I don’t think he’s the one for you.”

“Oh?” You got even closer, your nose touched his and you heard him choke on his breath. “Do you think you could handle me?”

He chuckled rashly and straightened his posture, now sensing you tense up. “I could,” he confidently confessed. “But this ain’t right, sweetheart.”

“Please,” you scoff, “you can’t keep your eyes off of me.”

“If you keep actin’ like a spoiled brat you won’t be able to keep my hands off of you.”

“Maybe that’s what I want,” you retorted, a cocky essence in your eyes.

“That so?”

“Maybe you can show me how a real man should be taking care of me.”

Joel had to stop himself from speaking as it would have potentially led to consequences. His flustered cheeks and wide lustful eyes created a hunger you’d never felt before.

However, you wanted Joel to earn it. Push him to the point of begging for just a taste of you. You needed to know if he craved you. Something you longed for from other men that just could not deliver.

You hovered your agape lips over his so dangerously it tickled his nerves. You gave him a soft kiss on the cheek then sat back in your original position.

Joel was both relieved and disappointed with the kiss. Relieved it didn’t end up with his head buried between your thighs, and at the same time disappointed that it didn’t.

For the next few days, you settled into your room as best as you could and got everything how you wanted it to be. Well, almost. You wanted a shelf to go over your closet so that you could display your most prized possessions.

When the idea sparked in your head you remembered that your dad said he was going to be gone for most of the day. You figured you could hold off for one more day. That was until you heard some power tools and heavy grunting from beyond your window.

Joel.

Joel had followed your lead as best as he could and you had to admit that the lack of physical contact was making it harder to resist him.

You felt a bit strange, however. After all, this is Joel. Sweet, caring, next-door neighbor Joel. You and your friends had a crush on him and his brother, Tommy, sure, but this wasn’t that. And you surely weren’t a child anymore. But still, you couldn’t help but think of how strange the dynamic is.

It wasn’t enough to stop you from taking your sweatpants off and changing out of your t-shirt into a stretchy tank top. You poked your head out of your window and shouted Joel’s name a few times until you successfully got his attention.

“Hey!” You said with a proud smile.

“Hey, kid!” He shouted back.

“Can you build a shelf for me? I wanted to get my room done today, but my old man’s gone!”

“Right now?” He tried to seem indifferent.

You just smiled harder and motioned for him to come over. “Please?!”

He huffed and looked at his half-done project, ultimately deciding to help you instead. The sooner he helps you the sooner he could create distance, he figured. Though deep down he knew that wasn’t the real reason.

You patter downstairs to unlock the door for him. He could see from the corners of his eyes that you were half naked, only in white panties and your top.

“Couldn’t a’put pants on?” He asked grumpily as he walked past you, not giving you the satisfaction of staring. You shut and lock the door before guiding him upstairs.

“Yeah, but I figured since you were doing the job for free I could at least give you something to look at,” you flirted. He didn’t even bother trying to stop you.

“What d’ya need done exactly?” He asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“I want those shelves to hang over my closet right… Here. I have a power drill here already, I just couldn’t figure out how to get it.”

He was doing a decent job at keeping his eyes anywhere but on your body, but in his mind he had already taken your clothes off and fucked you against the wall.

“S’alright, I can get it for ya,” he said while giving you an earnest look.

“What?” You asked after a moment of silence.

“Nothing,” he answered with a shrug and a smirk. You lightly smack his arm and plop down on your bed.

You lay on your stomach and flipped through a fashion magazine, occasionally smelling some of the perfume samples. You snuck glances at Joel’s broad back as he made sure everything could be lined up, smiling to yourself at how efficiently he worked.

“How’s your boyfriend?” Joel randomly asked after about ten minutes. You looked at him through your eyelashes as he peaked over his shoulder. 

You stifled your laugh and began looking at the magazine again before answering him. “He actually ended things with me two days ago. But like I said, he technically wasn’t my boyfriend. He never asked.”

“Oh… You doing okay? Seemed like you really liked him.”

“I like someone else more,” was all you said. Joel took a second, then just nodded even though you weren’t looking at him anymore.

“This someone have a name?” He asked after a few more moments of silence.

Joel’s internal conflict was teetering between giving in and giving up. He wasn’t sure why he was so drawn to you, but that’s what fueled his filthy thoughts even more.

“Yep, he sure does.”

Your tone was the exact opposite of what you were feeling. You felt hot and desperate, but you (almost) fooled him by sounding bored. He didn’t want to give into your childish game of beating around the bush, so he kept his mouth shut and began hammering a nail into the wall.

Suddenly you had an idea. An awfully sinister one.

You tossed the magazine on your nightstand and sat up in the bed, leaning into a few pillows and angling yourself so that Joel could get the perfect view if he dared to look.

Your hands traced uneven lines and patterns over your clad breasts and you gasped softly at your nipples perking up quickly. He couldn’t hear you over his hammering.

You rid yourself of your wet panties, kicking them to the edge of the bed. You spread your legs and began working big and slow circles over your sensitive clit. You used your free hand to pinch your nipple over your shirt, the combination of stimuli making you give a more audible moan.

Joel didn’t think much of it at first — he figured you were moving around on the bed to get more comfortable. So when the next moan came and he stopped his work to look at you he was taken aback, to say the least.

He said your name, but you shook your head in protest. “Is this okay?” You asked, innocence spreading across your face.

He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe.

“Joel?” You snapped him out of his daze. “S’this okay?”

He nodded and watched your trembling hands dip down into your glistening slit, collecting your wetness and coating it over your clit. Your body was stiff with anticipation, watching him watch you.

He took in all of your beauty like the way your eyes fluttered halfway shut and how you bit your plump lip to quiet your mewls. One hand cupped your breast so gently and the other rubbing steady, taunting circles over your sensitive bud. He watched the way you pleased yourself and let this picture of you engrave itself into his memory.

One day, Joel thought, I’d be able to make her feel as good as she makes herself feel.

He ignored the hardening of his cock pressing against his jeans, not caring enough to touch himself if it meant he didn’t get to feel you. He found the situation quite sexy and the lack of physical contact made him feel good.

You were showing him that he didn’t need to touch you or talk to you. He didn’t need to do a damn thing. All he needed to do was stand there and let you look at him.

Your moans were quiet and soft, barely heard by him. You squeezed your nipple harshly and jolted at the shock of electricity it sent throughout your body, your eyes screwing shut and your legs curling up into an almost fetal position at the feeling.

He saw you swallow the lump in your throat as you looked into his eyes again, soon scanning over his body and imagining how he would feel on top of you. The imagination was more than enough to get you going.

You imagined he felt strong and heavy above you, trapping you with his burly arms and using his lean thighs to keep your legs open for him as he rolled his hips to meet yours.

You absentmindedly curled your middle and ring finger into your creamy pussy, chasing after the feeling of being stretched out by Joel. Your pussy effortlessly squelched as your discharge poured out of you like a waterfall, coating your plump ass cheeks in your juices.

You got a bit louder but remained mindful of the open windows just a few feet away. You watched the movement in his jeans from his cock that twitched, longing for just some fucking relief. But he didn’t move, he didn’t even adjust his pants. He wanted you to know that you were the one in charge and that he was willing to suffer just for you.

“Joel,” you breathed out in between helpless murmurs.

He almost caved at how sweetly you said his name like you were asking for help. You reached even further into your sex, pressing into your sweet spot carefully. You pretended it was him.

Allowing your eyes to shut and your mouth to open, your mind dove deeper into the fantasies of Joel. You imagined him fucking you slowly, steady enough to not make your bed squeak too loud. Your fingers followed your mind, bumping against your g-spot the same way you wanted him to: carefully, yet forceful.

Joel felt awkward just standing there watching you, but you looked so beautiful. Sprawled out just for him with your fingers dipping into your sopping cunt as if you were made just for him. He saw your shoulders twitch and a hiss escaped your lips.

A ripple of ecstasy shocked your nerves, your walls tighten around your fingers, and your clit tensed up with a tickling sensation.

Your face twisted from the overwhelming feeling that began to encapsulate you from your core to your mind. Your moans became shallow and louder. Your clit throbbing beneath your palm motivated your to work your fingers faster. You fucked yourself with more desire than you had before, still twisting your perky nipple between your other fingers.

You were a lot more gentle with yourself than Joel would have expected. You took your time, didn’t overwhelm yourself.

He knew he loved it when the ever-growing pressure inside of you burst into a million flames throughout your trembling body. He saw that the slower you were with yourself the more intense the orgasm was.

He accidentally groaned at the sight of you: clinging to your bedsheet with the very hand that toyed with your breast, eyes refusing to open from the immense pleasure soaring through your veins, curling up into a ball because your body couldn’t comprehend just how good you were feeling.

He noticed how your cum gushed around and below your fingers creating a wet spot on your blanket. He carefully watched as you opened your eyes, still slowly fingering yourself. You continued to feel your orgasm, exploring how much of it you could endure.

You moved your free hand to your clit and rubbed tiny and fast circles around it. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you refused to moan anything but his name.

You shoved your fingers deep inside of you to press against your g-spot relentlessly. Your toes curled at the mix of pleasure.

You knew your orgasm was coming back more powerful than before already, and you braced yourself when your walls flexed against your fingers basically forcing them out; you chewed hard on your lip and laid your stiff fingers flat against your clit to rub from side to side at the arrival of your squirt. You squealed behind your swollen lip and let your squirt splash everywhere.

Joel palmed his rock-hard cock for some relief as he watched in awe at how you came for him. You looked so fucking delicious soaking yourself in your juices. His heart punched against his chest and his mind nearly blank, only filled with you.

Your lips formed an ‘o’ shape as you eased up on your clit. You let out sweet hums of bliss and you opened your eyes again, carefully analyzing his body language.

He practically reeked of inferiority. He was your marionette, your toy, whatever you wanted him to be. He didn’t recognize you in the best way possible. You were an unwrapped present that he couldn’t wait to open and play with. Your confidence grew at his puppy eyes that were low and dark, filled with a need to serve you.

Your fingers collected some of the creamy nectar between your folds before you brought it to your mouth and darted your wet tongue out to taste it.

You never broke eye contact once, observing how his body shuddered at the filthy action. His breath was heavy, his chest heaved in anticipation. You stuck your fingers inside of your mouth moaning at the salty goodness coating every single taste bud.

It wasn’t until your fingers dropped back down to your side and you gave him a shit-eating grin that he finally looked away, sighing loudly.

He felt ashamed of himself.

He’d known you since you were a child.

How could he ever look you in the eye again?

How could he ever look your father in the eye again?

You slipped your panties on again while he wasn’t looking and just grabbed your magazine, flipping through the pages again like nothing ever happened though the wet spot on your bed clearly said otherwise.

When Joel saw you had returned to your previous activities he did the same. Drilling and hammering your shelves onto the wall like nothing fucking happened.

“Here you go sir, you have a lovely day,” you chirped at the customer as you handed him his food waiting until he left. You turned around to straighten up the counter behind you when the bell on the door jingled. “Hello, give me just one moment and I’ll be with you!”

You gave the counter a lazy wipe with the wet washcloth before tossing it into the sink nearby and turning around, being met with a smirking Joel.

“My, my, you working at a burger joint? Never thought I’d see the day,” he teased.

You made a face and told him to shut up. You tried not to notice the sheer layer of sweat that coated his partially exposed chest. “What can I get you, sir?”

His face contorted with arrogance and he placed a hand over his chest. “Sir? You callin’ me sir now? Oh, you are just too cute.”

With a roll of your eyes, you huffed out a stream of air, waiting for him to stop fucking with you.

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, dropping the act. “Can I get a burger and some fries?”

“You don’t want a drink?” You asked before writing his order down quickly and sliding it through the kitchen window.

“Are you tryin’a make me tip you more?”

You shrugged. “Nah, it’s just that the cola here is really good.”

“Mmm,” he hummed as if he didn’t believe you.

“If you want a cola I’ll make it extra cold for you,” you whispered as if you were telling him a dirty secret.

“Mhm, okay. Fine, I’ll take your word for it. Gon’ and get it f’me then.”

“You can ask that a little nicer,” you scoffed. You walked off, breathing in a gust of smoke on your way to the soda machine. “F’here or to-go?!” You shouted.

“Mm, I was gonna get it to go, but I think I’ll stay and keep you company.”

You could just hear the smile in his voice.

“Awe, how thoughtful of you,” you bantered before rinsing out a clean cup and filling it with ice. The cook called out the order was ready and you thanked him before finishing up with Joel’s drink. You grabbed the tray and walked over to the end of the counter where the stools sat, setting the food in front of Joel with a weak smile.

He watched you closely as you leaned onto your elbows waiting for him to try his food.

“What r’ya doing workin’ in a restaurant? Didn’t you graduate for like… Fashion or some shit?” Joel asked, unable to keep his smile down at how pretty you looked in your uniform: a teal skirt and a mustard yellow shirt, but so, so tacky. You hated the fucking outfit, it was everything you would never wear, but Joel thought you made it look good.

“I did,” you confirmed, “but I wanted a humbling job before I truly entered the world of fashion.”

Joel’s thick and somewhat dirty fingers unraveled his greasy burger after he dumped the fries out chaotically. He took an unnecessarily big bite, not seeing how your eyes watched the trail of juice trickle down the corner of his mouth to his chin before he swept it set with his thumb.

“Humbling, hmm?” He questioned before swallowing his barely chewed bite. “You’re a wise girl, you know?”

“So I’ve been told,” you smugly replied. You stole a fry off of his tray and smiled at his frowning face while eating it before washing it down with his fizzling soda. “Best drink that ‘fore it goes flat.”

You walked away momentarily to help a customer that just walked in; she only wanted a dollar milkshake so you told her not to worry about paying. You took a dollar and some change from your tip pocket and put it in the register before grabbing a styrofoam cup and packing her cup.

Joel noticed halfway through you making the shake that whenever you tapped the bottom of the cup against the counter your breast jiggled against your arm. He felt the lady nearby staring at him so he turned his head just enough to see the mix of disgust and concern on her face.

If only she knew how filthy you were for him just last week…

He didn’t care enough to stop though, he just went back to looking at how your clothes hugged your body.

You finished up her shake and popped a lid on it before grabbing a straw and walking back to give it to her.

Joel heard the lady ask if you were okay, and he promptly rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and tried his best to not laugh. You were confused by her question, simply nodding your head and saying, “Yeah?”

She looked at Joel once more, choosing not to say another word before leaving.

“Fuck was that about?” You asked, watching her walk away.

“She saw me starin’ at your tits,” he said between obnoxious bites. “If only she saw—“

Your eyes widened. “Do not finish that sentence.”

“Whatever you say, doll,” he teased before taking another bite.

You pretended to be grossed out by seeing the chewed-up food in his mouth as he spoke, swatting his hand gently. “You’re so gross.”

“You love me,” he quipped with a simper. He took a sip of his drink, humming at how refreshing it felt. “This is good,” he told you.

“Told ya.”

“What time are you out?”

You looked at the door when your manager came in, apologizing for taking longer than she expected.

“You’re fine, it’s a slow day,” you told her as she walked to her office. You looked at Joel and slammed your book and pen on the counter near the register. “I’m out now. Why?”

“Your dad asked me to pick you up.”

You felt a rush of worry. “Why? Is he okay?”

“Yeah, honey, everything’s fine. He forgot about pickin’ you up today and got drunk with his buddies and called me—well, he called Tommy. Said he wouldn’t be back home ‘til tomorrow.”

You raised an eyebrow at the mention of his brother’s name. “Oh? Well, why isn’t Tommy here?” You strutted around the counter and stood next to Joel as he inhaled the last of his food.

“Think you know why,” he grunted.

Anxiety pang inside of your chest, but you convinced yourself it was excitement. You were hoping that he wanted to get you alone somewhere and fuck you into the next week.

But you didn’t want to seem desperate. You kept a straight face, waiting for your boss to come back out before getting your things and punching out.

You followed Joel to his Chevy and thanked him when he opened the door for you. He huffed when by the time he got inside the car himself you were already flipping through his book of CDs.

“I got a good one in already—“

“Is it The Writing’s On the Wall by Destiny’s Child?” You interrupted after you found said CD.

“No, b—“

“Then it’s not what I want to listen to.”

Joel endured your (arguably bad) singing for the ten-minute ride back to your house. He thought about a few things in that ten minutes:

-Sarah wasn’t home, so he didn’t need to worry about food (or getting caught), so this time was optimal to make a move on you.

-If he were to make a move on you, then you two wouldn’t get caught.

-If he were to make a move on you, how exactly would he do it?

Once he arrived in his driveway, you both stepped out of the car and he walked over to your side.

“You not working tonight?” You asked.

“No, we finished early.”

You looked at him with lush eyes and bit the inside of your mouth, a flirty smile coaxing your lips. He looked hopeful for something, anything.

“I was just gonna watch TV all night,” you started, “and maybe make some dinner. I know you just ate, but you and Sarah are welcome to come over.”

“Sarah’s at a friend’s tonight, doing some studying,” he answered. His voice trailed off as if he weren’t finished speaking his thought aloud, but you picked up where he reluctantly left off.

“Do you want to come over, then? Just you?”

He looked around the quiet neighborhood as if he had to think about what he wanted. “Uh, yeah, sure.”

You lead him to your house, kicking your shoes off at the door and he followed. He felt unsure of his decision. He wondered if this night would play out platonically and just be filled with conversation and dinner, or if this was truly the beginning of a secret he’d have to keep forever.

“Spaghetti okay?” You asked him once you both entered the kitchen, decorated with oranges and reds, and yellows, reminiscent of your late mother. You tossed your half apron on the island before making your way to the refrigerator.

You heard his feet patter on the linoleum quickly but before you could turn around on your own Joel did it, pinning your back against the refrigerator and knocking down some of the bottles inside of it.

You gasped when his fingers peacock over the outsides of your thighs, gripping at the hem as a means to pace himself.

His eyes were bright yet lustful as his proximity alone sucked the air out of your lungs. Your chests heaving against each other’s created the only other physical contact you had with him.

He then dropped to his knees before you got the chance to speak; his calloused hands rose beneath your skirt, hiking it up enough for him to pull your wet panties down to your ankles. You stepped out of them for him and he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder before meeting his mouth to your clit tongue first.

You moaned at how he just dove into it, not bothering with kissing or easing you into it. Your digits laced through his messy curls while his tongue coated itself in your juices.

His tongue did crazy laps around your clit and he smacked a couple of firm kisses in between his licks. You tried to watch his work but your stupid fucking skirt was in the way. You settled, however when his eyes opened, the only visible part of him from your view.

You tasted so good to him, he tasted your day of work mixed in with your salty precum and he couldn’t get enough of it. He moaned when you tugged at his hair, burying his face as deep as he could and closing his eyes.

You let out a stream of obscenities while using your calf to push into his back, afraid that if you didn’t hold on tight enough he’d vanish.

He wrote out his full name over your clit like he was casting a spell that anything you or someone else touched you there you would only think about him.

You were amazed at how good he was eating you out — you didn’t think he’d be bad. You just didn’t know it could feel this good. It was like you felt him touching and kissing and licking all over your body, swimming in an endless pool of dissolution.

His touch was decadent through remembering how careful you were with yourself. He wanted to cater to you and to make you feel as good as you made yourself. And on top of that, he just really wanted to eat your pussy.

Savor it.

Taste it.

Drink you until you fucking ran dry and begged him to stop.

Nothing could have torn his lips away from your pussy. Hell, someone could have walked in and he’d still keep going.

“Joel,” you gasped, throwing your head back and grinding on his face.

He loudly moaned, tightening his grip around your thighs and wagging his head furiously from side to side to provide more stimulation.

Your hips bucked into his face roughly and you screeched, pulling even tighter on his hair.

“Joel, oh—fu-fuck!”

He smirked and pulled at the skirt to unveil his eyes again. His dick angered in his jeans, but he ignored it. He’d much rather focus on the way you writhed from his touch. Your panting growing heavier fueled his already intense movements. He began to suck while still shaking his head earning another screech from you.

You never felt out of control with how loud you were before. Every motion sent a million shockwaves throughout your body. You always did a good job at keeping quiet enough so that the neighbors wouldn’t hear, but fucking hell was Joel the one to break that evergreen streak.

You felt his hot breath collide with the fluids coating your sex and his nails leave indents on your flesh.

His tongue darted out to collect a stream of your cum, but his nose butted against your clit as he continued shaking his head making your hips buck once more. Then he realized… He got to stimulate your sensitive bud and lick between your folds.

He loved it.

Your moans became more distressed and uneven; he felt you chasing that high. He wanted you to cum so fucking badly. To let all of your pent-up cum pour over him.

You held the back of his head gently and he angled it just right enough for you to ride his face.

“Use my fucking face,” he moaned loud enough between your legs for you to hear. “Use my fucking face to cum.”

Your body gave in finally at his hoarse voice; your hops sped up, still using his nose and lips to overstimulate yourself. The orgasm was forceful, your moans strident.

Joel felt a pool of your cum leak out and drip down his chin onto his neck. He watched you crumble and curl into him and he was attentive enough to hold you steady while your balance dissipated.

Your head was dizzy and your vision blurred. You slowly halted your movements and just stood there being held by him while he placed light, but loving kisses along your dripping cunt.

He finally pulled his face out from underneath your skirt and carefully put your leg down before standing. He tucked some loose hairs back or behind your ears, then caressed your cheek and gave you a peck.

You wiped some of your cum off of his wet chin with your thumb and held it up to his mouth which he gladly sucked on. He grinned at you afterward and fixed your skirt for you.

The silence was soothing because frankly, neither of you knew what to say. It left you speechless, but that could just be the aftereffect of your climax.

The night was beginning to close in sooner than either of you wanted it to. You two just talked, truly catching up on the past four years. He was a lot funnier than you remembered, your cheeks were aching from how much he was making you laugh.

"You are a real gentleman, Joel Miller. What can I say? Dinner and an orgasm?!"

He lifted you up from your spot on the couch and pulled you into his lap so that you were straddling him. "I don't have to be," he murmured against your lips. His fingers flexed into your feverish skin, holding you upright and close by. He chased you with his lips until you finally let him kiss you. "Be honest with me... Did you really think I was handsome in high school?"

Your face grew warm and you hid behind your hands in embarrassment. "Oh, my God."

"Why are you actin' all shy now?"

"Because you weren’t supposed to know about that."

"Know about what exactly?"

You crossed your arms, deciding to let him win this time. "You want details?"

He smirked and leaned back to get more comfortable.

"Well... I used to lie and tell my friends that we fucked," you admitted.

"Really?" Despite his surprise the smirk never left his face. If anything it grew wider.

You sheepishly nodded. "I used to tell them how good you were. Everything you would do to me."

"What would I do to you?" His cock was already throbbing against his jeans, and just like every other time, he ignored it.

"You would fuck me up against the wall," you explained. "Sometimes, you would bend me over the edge of the bed and spank me for being naughty. Or just 'cause you felt like it. I'd even tell them about how you played with my ass so gently because you didn't want to hurt me."

Every word went straight to his dick, making it jerk and prod your thigh.

"Maybe I do need to bend you over and spank you for all that lyin' you were doin'. Your friends probably think I'm some creep now," he said; his tone wasn’t scolding or cold. He sounded thirsty for more of you. Like his throat had already run dry despite how much of you he drank earlier.

"I'd tell them the truth, but if I were to do that now then I'd be lying again," you whispered against his lips.

"We certainly cannot have you spreadin' no more dirty lies, now. Can we?"

-

Read Part 2 here.

[aayakashii]

Can I please request the late night headcanons you did with Zenji but for Alan instead?!🙏🏾🙏🏾

BANQNWNAJDBNA I actually wrote that in such a rush (idk why!!!!) so I went to reread it, and there were SO MANY TYPOS AUUGHH I am so sorry... but I'm glad you requested something similar!!

Anyways without further ado, let's talk about

Late nights with Alan headcanons

Again, caution: NSFW!!! MINORS DNI!!!

Unlike Zenji, Alan is quiet and introspective, but don't get him wrong – he is desperate and needy for you and your touch.

Alan is a man who is afraid of his own strength, and that translates to his encounters with you.

He is afraid of touching you, afraid of hurting you, so you're gentle and reassure him of your trust – you tell him you know he would never hurt you.

And so, being mindful of his fears and insecurities, you take the initiative and touch him first.

You run your hands over his body and watch the goosebumps on his skin while you kiss his neck, his jaw, the corner of his lips.

He is so desperate to be touched by you, his face is flushed and hot just by having you plant feather kisses on his chest.

His hands tremble slightly while he takes off your clothes, mouth dry as he pants at the sight of you only with your underwear.

He licks his dry lips, looking at you through half-lidded eyes – silently pleading to let him eat you up.

He is eager to make you feel good, clenching his hands beside your thighs as he sucks the life out of you.

Your moans go straight to his dick – he humps the air slightly while humming against your most sensitive parts, the vibrations of his low voice sending you over the edge.

The tent in his pants is already wet and his face glistens with your cum.

His chest swallows with pride, seeing how you look so messy after he made you cum on this tongue.

He is so desperate to fuck you senseless and you are so desperate to be fucked as well.

Alan is still careful though, doing his best not to hold you too tight, nor grab you as he enters your hole.

He fists the sheets, almost tearing the fabric apart as he starts moving, the tightness of you making him roll his eyes and gasp with all these sensations in his body.

All he wants is to grab your hips and drill himself into you like a mad man.

But he can't, so he doesn't.

You, however, can hold him as much as you want, and this brings him even more pleasure.

You wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, bringing yourself closer to him, letting him reach deeper and deeper inside you.

Alan rests his forehead against yours, and you capture his lips in a sloppy kiss that doesn't last long.

Soon, your moans are too hard to control when his thrusts begin to feel erratic – both of you are close to the edge.

The wet sounds of your bodies connected and the smell of sex fill his room, obscuring anything else besides you two and how you make each other feel.

Alan grunts low, forehead still resting against yours and face scrunched while he cums deep into you and you milk him dry.

You keep holding him tight long after you two have orgasmed, your bodies still connected, while your hands make circles against his back and caress his soft hair.

His hands tentatively snake under you, keeping you locked in his embrace, but not at all tight enough to constrict you or hurt you in any capacity.

He still feels unworthy of you, of your attention, and of your soft hands. He doesn't feel like someone violent like him deserves this much gentleness.

Regardless, he considers himself blessed to have you touch him so lovingly and will work his hardest to keep you safe.

[charliehoennam]

forever home

a/n: i rewatched the office and it was that episode where jim buys pam a house 🥰

pairing: william miller x f!reader

warnings: none (i think. i suck with tags, sorry), just fluff, not proofread so sorry for any typos

It's almost 11 p.m.

You're sat on the couch, trying to keep your tired eyes open as you watch a rerun of Hell's Kitchen.

With Gordon Ramsey's yelling and cursing in the background, you lift your phone once more to check for any new messages but there aren't any. You open up the chat with Will on the messaging app and reread his last text.

"Having one for the road. Be home in 20. Love you 💚"

You don't want to be one of those nagging fianceés, but the urge to text or call him is just bubbling inside. That was almost an hour ago and you're starting to get worried.

What if something happened to him on the drive home? What if he got into a fight at the bar?

It would be a surprise, but it wouldn't be the first time. Despite the progress he's had through therapy, you know how he can be impatient at times and a little hot-headed too. And maybe a little cocky too, although he would only let that side shine through at Benny's matches.

The trust you have in each other is the one of the main foundations that you've built your relationship on. Opportunities like these are essential to remind, not only you, but also himself of how far he's come.

You remind yourself of that when you hear a car pulling into the condo's parking lot downstairs. It takes all of your willpower to refrain from racing to the window to make sure it's really him. Truthfully, you just want to know if he's alright.

Will's tired legs slowly his heavy body up the single flight of stairs that led up to your small and shared condo apartment. His arms are so sore that he can barely hold the keys in his hand as he unlocks the door. He's never felt so tired, even on his deployments.

For the past 3 months, Will and his team have been working on a new house. He'd gotten into the business of buying and flipping houses which has been working out really well for him.

He loved being able to work with his hands and there is something just so gratifying to him about seeing something come together so beautifully after lots of sweat, work and a little bit of blood whenever he's accidently hurt himself. Will was usually very cautious, but accidents can happen to anyone.

You always supported him and his career since he'd expressed his desire to get into the business. You're thankful he did. Will's really good at what he does and he genuinely loves being so handy.

One of the other perks is getting to watch him in action. There's something so attractive about watching your fiancé slam a sledgehammer to a wall. Will knows you like watching him too, so he'll flaunt his muscles off whenever you come around to bring him some materials or sweet treats for the team.

However, this specific project has really been taking up most of his time and you just cannot wait until it's done and sold.

As usual, Will and the guys get together every Friday night to catch up, watch a game and shoot the shit. It's their own way of making sure everyone - particularly Tom ever since the divorce - are still hanging in there.

Opening the front door to the apartment, he steps inside and locks the door with a tired sigh before near the open plan kitchen to set his wallet and keys on the breakfast counter.

"Hey, baby. Sorry I'm late. Tom got a little carried away with the beers and I had to give him a ride."

"It's alright, honey," you yawn. "Did the guys get home alright?"

You look over the back of the couch and watch him kick off his dusty work boots at the door. His work jeans are tattered, splattered with dried old paint and wood varnish. The faded tan jacket is peeled off his body and hung up on a hook.

A mental note is made in your mind to convince him to buy new clothes when you go out the next time, although you know that'd be a bit of hassle since he's too stubborn to waste money on himself. It's nothing a batting of eyelashes can't handle.

"Yeah, sweetheart. The other guys just had a couple beers, but you know Tom," he struts over as he shares with you, bending down to kiss you hello and plops himself on the couch beside you, manspreading his legs as a arm drapes of your lap, hand stroking your thigh. "He's really going through it."

"I can imagine. You been talking to him?"

"I have, yeah. Invited him to the support group, but you know how he can be."

You nod adjusting to lean closer and thread your fingers through his hair. His blonde eyelashes flutter as he closes his eyes, instantly melting under your touch.

"Yeah, I know, baby. But don't give up. You never know. He might just show up one day."

"I know, sweetheart," he smiles before opening his eyes as his head turns to face you with a gentle squeeze to your thigh. "How was your day, beautiful?"

"Just the same ol'. Made your favorite for dinner though" you smile watching the exhaustion in his eyes slowly fade.

"Pesto chicken alfredo pasta?"

His blue gleam with hope. His pretty pink lips stretch into a wide smile behind the golden whiskers of his beard. You chuckle at how happy he gets when it comes to food.

You know it stems from the lack of indulgence during his deployments. Will's no fussy eater, but when he's home, he indulges when he can to make up for the barely edible chow he and the guys had to eat. Although tasteless and sometimes expired, Will never had any problems with it because he knew the purpose wasn't to be good, but to keep him alive.

That's why he quickly back up on his feet and striding towards the kitchen to heat a plate up for himself, leaving you to snicker at his excitement. If there's one thing that the Miller brothers share, it's their appetite for food.

"How's the house coming along?"

"We finally fucking finished, babe," he grins plating the cold food. "It looks so good though. I cannot wait for you to see it. You are going to love it." Of course. He built it with you and your tastes in mind. "Tomorrow, I'm taking you to see it."

"Really?" you grin.

Your opinion is very important to Will and he always comes to you when he's got doubts and is in need of a feminine point of view, so it's not exactly uncommon for him to bring you to his projects for a look-around.

The next morning, you find yourself in his car listening to No Excuses by Alice In Chains.

With nothing else to do, you sing along to the song as Will drives steadily

“Can I please take this thing off?” you ask adjusting the blindfold he’s got on you. “I don’t want cops pulling us over thinking you’re kidnapping me.”

“Baby, no one’s gonna pull us over” he chuckles at the thought. “We’re almost there.”

You try to focus on the sounds beyond the car in an attempt to locate where you are, but the catchy tune playing from the stereo makes it impossible. The only thing you know for certain is that you’re not in the city. The familiar salty scent strikes you as clear as day.

“Are we at the beach?” your voice fills with excitement.

“You’ll see soon enough. We’re here. I’m gonna help you out of the car, hold on.”

You can hear the smile he’s got plastered on his face. Will finds it cleverly adorable how you figured part of his surprise out already. it's not enough to ruin it though.

Just as promised, he opens the car door and takes your hand to carefully help you out of the car with kind instructions. You hold onto his hand as you settle on the stony driveway. Although from a distance, you can still hear the ocean waves quietly splashing on the shore.

"Take a look," he grins anxiously untying your blindfold.

Your eyes take a moment to adjust to the bright light of the blue sky but, once it does, you freeze in awe of the house before you.

The mediterranean-style house is simple but large and elegant. Red Italian tiles and cream-colored paint exude a rustic and mysteriously familiar feeling that makes you feel at home.

Colorful flowers strategically planted grow in the grassy front lawn. Behind it, potted flowers sit on the low wall that encloses the small garden along the gated pathway to the door.

You and Will had talked about buying a house for a long time. Little did you know, Will had made a list in his precise mind of every little detail that you desired in your forever home.

"Will, this house is beautiful. You might have finally outdone yourself!"

He chuckles filled with relief and joy as he listens to you swoon over every small and carefully thought out detail of the exterior.

"C'mon, let's take a look."

He takes your hand and leads you up the pathwalk to unlock the door. You step inside the empty home and marvel at the space.

"Wow... It looks small from outside, but it's pretty big huh?"

"I thought so too. I kinda liked that about it."

"I love it! It's like a little illusion and then, you come in and it's just so much space," you grin roaming around each room slowly to take everything in.

"Do you like the windows?"

"Yeah, they're lovely. They really add to the mediterranean/contemporary vibe you got going on here. Can we see the kitchen? You know how much I love kitchens," you giggle excitedly.

"Of course. It's right over here."

"The floorplan is really nice and open too, huh? Oh, the sink! You installed the farmhouse sink! Undermount, too! The owners will love that."

Will smiles as he gazes at you, watching your reaction lovingly as you wander around the house and notice every tiny detail that Will spent countless hours pondering over to ensure you would have the house of your dreams.

The project cost him a pretty penny, but every single cent and drop of sweat he had spent investing into this home was certainly worth to see your eyes light up with every nook and cranny.

He led you to the backyard compete with a pool and beautiful stones and bright green plants that made it feel like your own little personal lagoon, with a wooden pathway that leads to a private gateway to the beach behind the house.

In truth, you feel like you're in paradise. You could spend every day in this house without the urge to leave it.

"So? What do you think?" he smiles holding your hips.

"I think this is your masterpiece, babe" you grin holding his strong biceps. "Do you have any buyers yet? I bet this will be the most expensive house you've sold yet."

"Actually, someone's already bought the place... This is ours."

You stare up at him in shock.

"A-Are you serious? You bought this place for us?"

"Mhm," he nods with a shit-eating grin. "The farmhouse sink, the red italian rooftop tiles, the little garden... It's everything that was on your list."

As tears fill your eyes, you hug him tightly and sniffle as your arms tighten around him. You want to thank him, but you're too speechless to say anything although your reaction says everything he needs to know.

You think back to all the long pillow talks you've had, where he'd casually asked you about little bits and pieces he should add to the project. You would have never guessed the project he'd been working on was your new home together.

The mere fact that Will had gone through so much trouble to make this house perfect to every desire makes your swell. Being designed by the love of your life is the finaal cherry on top.

"Thank you, Will," you mumble still stunned as you stare at your new backyard.

"Welcome home, babe."

[katerina-marie]

The Uncertainty of Domesticity

Toji Fushiguro x Female Reader

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 of 3

Toji Fushiguro wasn’t afraid of much, though he definitely felt so when he became a widower in the same moment he became a father. Years later, he felt it again when you came along with the same hopes and dreams for a future he never thought he would experience again.

Content: JJK universe but no canon events / strangers & neighbors to lovers / medium burn idk / female reader and referred to as such but left descriptively vague / no y/n / out of character and soft Toji / single-father Toji / A little NSFW - brief mention/implication of vaginal sex so please avoid accordingly - but I can't write smut to save my life so it's not very explicit / Megumi-Mama/Mamaguro dies in childbirth and its mentioned once or twice / cutie pie child Megumi / fluff / slice of life / light angst from Toji's inner turmoil / discussions about having children / pregnancy and childbirth for reader / more notes below

WC: 9.2k (*nervous laughter*)

Notes:

Y'all....this thing is 9.2k words. It probably should've been split into another part, but I didn't and I'm just leaving it be. I'm sorry if it feels a bit "choppy?" I could've happily kept writing about all the little moments in between the parts shown, but I'm not sure if it ever would've ended at that point.

Also, I'm posting this at nearly 2:00 am my time because my end of week/upcoming weekend just got very busy and it's now or never, so please forgive any typos. I reread this chapter until I went crosseyed.

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Toji Fushiguro liked to consider himself capable of many things. 

He, as a single father, had raised his son from infancy into a fine six and a half year old.

He was a teacher, no matter how unwilling, and had successfully kept all his students alive thus far.

He was your partner, doting and caring of your every whim and utterly wrapped around your finger. 

So, when he and Megumi woke up from a late afternoon nap in the middle of the summer only to step into a puddle of water in front of their kitchen sink, Toji was adamant he was capable of repairing the situation, regardless of his lack of experience in such an area. He mopped up the water, gathered tools, and squeezed himself under the sink the best he could considering his size. At some point, Megumi must have run across the street to fetch you because your legs appeared in his limited field of vision followed by your smug grin as you bent down to check on him. 

Your eyes glittered in a way that was betelling of your mischievousness, and Toji grimaced. “Having fun?”

“Just hand me a wrench from the counter, please.” 

You did as Toji asked without comment, and began to fill the silence (and test Toji’s concentration) with chatter about plans for the weekend in between his intermittent string of curses when something went amiss. As an hour went by with little progress to show for it, you made yourself comfortable on the floor next to Toji’s feet while Megumi had since found something outside to occupy himself with. When you felt water begin to tickle your toes, you reached out your foot to nudge it against Toji’s calf. 

“I mean this in the kindest, least offensive way,” you told him, “but don’t you think it’s about time we call a plumber?” Somewhere under the sink, metal clanged and Toji barked out an expletive followed by a groan of pain. 

“No,” he insisted grouchily, and you watched as he used his legs to wedge himself further under the sink. “I think I almost got it.” 

Your answering hum was full of disbelief, but Toji paid it no mind, even if he could start to feel the coolness of water seeping into the cuff of his pants. If only he could reach one more inch…

His concentration was interrupted when Megumi’s scream of pain filtered in through the open windows. Toji lurched upwards out of sheer instinct and hit his head hard enough against the metal piping that he saw stars. Through the haze of pain and spots across his vision, he saw you dash out the door, and primal parental instinct forced Toji out of the cramped space so he could tend to his child’s cries. When he finally managed to stagger out the front door, you were on your knees on the concrete cradling a sobbing Megumi to your chest. His bike lay on its side just a step away, and from how his son’s left arm was sitting limply over his lap and already changing colors, Toji suspected a hospital trip was in order for what was clearly a broken bone. He approached and you looked up at him with eyes that were glassy with your own tears, your heart breaking for how badly the little boy was in pain. Toji brushed a quick hand over your cheek before crouching down to meet Megumi’s eyes. 

“Alright, Megs,” he coaxed, and the sight of his son’s face clenched in distress and wet with tears was a sight Toji would never get over, “we’ll get you up and to the doctor to start feeling better, okay?” Megumi didn’t react to his words, but when Toji reached out to scoop him into his arms, he wailed harder and tightened the good arm he had wrapped around your neck, burying his face deeper into your chest. Surprise fluttered over your face and then it turned apologetic towards Toji, but he shook his head, the shock of his son’s preference for you in this moment not nearly as important. Instead, Toji carefully helped you up while you held onto Megumi and led the two of you to the car with a protective arm wrapped around your shoulders. 

The evening at the hospital passed in a similar manner. You reclined in a bed with Megumi against your chest while a doctor looked at his arm and Toji filled out paperwork. You murmured in the boy’s ear and brushed his hair back in soothing movements to try and distract him from the pain. When a nurse came in with an IV kit in hand, you let Megumi cry into your neck while Toji helped hold his right arm still. Eventually, after he drifted off to sleep, you took a seat next to Toji on the right side of Megumi’s bed while the doctor set his arm and fixed a cast onto it. The entire time, the worried father remained ramrod straight with eyes fixed on every move the doctor made, and he had your hand clenched between the two of his on his lap. You leaned to the side to rest your head against his shoulder, and adoration tightened your chest when Toji let out an anxious huff before turning his head to press his lips to your forehead.

When the whole thing was said and done and the three of you were discharged once Megumi was awake enough, you rubbed a comforting hand over Toji’s back as he carried his son to the car. Once home, the two of you worked to get Megumi changed and ready for bed, a delicate task when having to take caution with the state of his arm. Thankfully, the edge was taken off by painkillers, and he dazedly chatted about the cool blue cast on his arm and how he couldn’t wait to show it off to Yuji. Toji promised to get him markers for him to draw on it with while you persuaded him to get under the blankets after assuring him you’d bake a giant batch of cookies tomorrow in reward for his bravery. 

Toji took the time to place Megumi’s favorite stuffed animals around him and tucked him further into the blankets. You read him a bedtime story while Toji lay stretched out next to the two of you, and by the end of it, Megumi’s eyes were drooping heavily and his mouth had fallen open just the slightest. You gently lifted Megumi’s broken arm up so that Toji could settle a pillow under it, and after bidding the boy goodnight, he got up so you could slide in next to him. He watched with a thudding heart as you scanned his son up and down with fretful eyes and let your hands flutter nervously about him. You pushed some of the hair away from Megumi’s forehead and leaned down carefully to place a gentle kiss between his brows. When you looked back at Toji with a sad, wobbly smile on your lips but a determined gleam in your eyes in order to be brave for the little boy in front of you, Toji realized in that moment that he had fallen in love with you, and in the same breath decided that he was going to marry you, nearly a year to the day he met you in the middle of a grocery store. 

And later, when the two of you lay exhausted under the blankets of his bed, Toji rolled over onto his side to mold every inch of himself against your back and nestled his chin into the crook of your shoulder so his lips could brush against your ear. 

“Marry me,” he whispered, not so much asking as he was pleading. You were already half asleep, but he felt the shake of your shoulders as quiet laughter blew out from your nose, and you threaded your fingers up through his from where they were draped over your hip. 

“Of course,” you breathed, and Toji tightened his arms around you. He left a kiss on the back of your neck and let his eyes slide shut as he basked in the warmth of your body and smell of your lotion and the incandescent joy in realizing that he’d never have to go another night without it—without you. 

“But ask me again later so I can see you properly down on one knee.” 

A week later, because Toji Fushiguro was powerless to anything you demanded of him, he did as you asked in the middle of his kitchen while you, him, and Megumi still lounged in your pajamas and were only halfway done making breakfast. His son clapped excitedly when you squealed out a ‘yes’ and Toji grinned with pride as you admired the simple gold band that adorned your finger. Satisfaction made his heart full and your smile soothed his soul, but eagerness had him marrying you in a government building just a couple days later.

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It wasn’t until Megumi’s seventh birthday that Toji realized stalling wasn’t going to work much longer. 

The months following your marriage had been busy with moving him and Megumi into your house across the street since it was bigger and didn’t hold the memories of a tragic past Toji was ready to move on from. The end of the summer had brought school for him and Megumi back into full swing, and two weeks into it Toji was ready to quit when all his students could focus on was the new ring on his left hand. Most of them were congratulatory in their teasing, but a few made jests about their disbelief that someone could bother marrying their grouch of a teacher, and while Toji had half a mind to bring you by just to shut them up, he decided it was kinder to not subject you to a particular white-haired menace. 

By the time the three of you got settled into the normalcy of being a new family, the year was already coming to a close and Megumi was turning seven. As requested, you had baked his son a double chocolate cake and covered the top in rainbow sprinkles. Toji had taken the time to pipe little swirls of frosting around the edges, though some were lopsided and varied in size (such small, precise tasks were simply too big of an ask for the size of his hands), but Megumi didn’t seem to care when the two of you placed it in front of him on the table, candles lit orange and reflecting off the wideness of his eyes. 

After singing and clapping, right as Megumi filled his cheeks with as much air as he could manage to blow his candles out in a single breath, you threw your hands out over them in an attempt to keep them aflame for just a moment longer.

“Wait, Megumi,” you gasped, yanking your hands back when the heat of the candles scorched a bit too close to your skin. Toji immediately gathered them into his to inspect your palms, but you shook them away, not minding his grumble as the brief sting faded. “You have to make a wish!” 

Megumi’s mouth dropped open into a perfect ‘o’ as he nodded vigorously. “Oh, yeah,” he chirped. “I forgot.” 

He immediately squeezed his eyes closed, and you and Toji watched in amusement as he scrunched up his nose and squirmed in his seat. You took the opportunity to snap a couple of pictures, and when he was done, Megumi’s eyes popped back open and he took in a great inhale before blowing out his candles all at once. You cheered while Toji ruffled his son’s hair, and Megumi looked quite proud of himself as you slid the cake towards you to cut him a piece worthy of being eaten on his birthday. Both of you chastised Toji when he kept insisting you make his piece bigger and bigger, almost so that he nearly had half the cake on his plate alone by the time it was all said and done. 

“Hey, Kid,” Toji said around a mouthful of cake while you pointedly took a polite bite of your own, “what did you wish for?” Megumi begrudgingly tore his attention from his cake, and you swatted at Toji’s arm from across the table. 

“You’re not supposed to ask!” you exclaimed, but he simply rolled his eyes and shook his head good naturedly before returning his focus back onto his plate. At the head of the table, Megumi stared at you with an all too knowing look for a fresh six year old and then set his sights on his father with an unimpressed quirk to his brow. 

“I wished for a baby brother or sister.” 

Toji promptly choked on the large bite of cake he had shoved into his mouth moments prior to Megumi’s unexpected declaration, and your lips parted in shock. Meanwhile, Megumi eyed the two of you expectedly as Toji hacked and coughed. You jumped from your chair to grab him a glass of water, then set it down next to him while rubbing a soothing hand between his shoulder blades. 

“Now, Megumi,” you began, not so much stern but intentionally practical, and he looked up at you with wide, attentive eyes, “babies, uhm, take their time getting here…” you trailed off and turned your head to your husband with an alarmed look on your face, but Toji was still working on regaining his breath and chugging his water and could only offer a shrug of his shoulders while he pursed his lips in defeat. 

You sighed and faced Megumi again with a weary smile. “Babies take their time getting here and that’s after their parents decide to have one. Any baby brother or sister will have to spend nine whole months growing in my belly before they arrive, so you’ll have to try and be real patient for us, okay?”

Megumi’s face fell dejectedly, and if Toji looked hard enough, there was a hint of disappointment on your features too. He watched as you playfully pinched at the boy’s cheeks and tempted him back into a happy mood with the hint of birthday gifts waiting for him in the living room. The whole exchange had guilt weighing heavy on Toji’s shoulders, and he had the bitter realization that it was his own fear—the one that lied solely in the scant possibility that you could meet the same fate as the only other woman he had ever loved—that caused the frown on yours and Megumi’s faces. 

In spite of that fear, Toji had promised you something, and in the six months since the two of you had been married, you hadn’t chastised him or given him grief when he pulled out at the last moment to spend himself across your stomach or back. You didn’t question him when he had a hard time meeting your eyes as he tore open a foil packet to remove the condom from inside. He knew your trust in him far surpassed whatever insecurities he wrestled with, but it didn’t make him feel less like a failure every time. 

So later that night, when Toji found himself above you and nestled in the warmth between your legs, he leaned into the security of your arms and sought reassurance in the taste of your lips as he came to his own end after ensuring yours. You ran your fingers down his back and whispered sweet nothings into his ear when the racing of his heart and trembling of his muscles could no longer be blamed on the energy he expended while pleasuring his wife.

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You suspected something was amiss a couple months later. Toji had brought home your favorite take-out for dinner, and while the first bite was as pleasant as usual, every one after tasted more and more like cardboard and settled uncomfortably in your stomach until your appetite was thoroughly gone. You questioned whether it was something more and that maybe your period wouldn’t appear in just a couple of days, but when Megumi began to complain of an upset stomach toward the end of the meal, you banished the thought out of your head. 

However, two days after while you were cooking that evening’s dinner, one whiff of the package of raw chicken you had just cut open had you violently gagging and running for the nearest bathroom while ignoring Megumi’s call of alarm when you passed him in the living room. Your knees hit tile as you retched into the bowl of the toilet, and you weren’t sure how much time had passed when you were finally able to lift your head. You trembled on your spot on the floor and felt more tired than you had been in weeks. Nausea made your head spin, and you wondered if you’d ever be able to look at chicken again the same way. Just the sheer thought of it had your mouth souring, and your repulsiveness for it went deep into your bones. 

When you finally caught your breath and were mostly confident you had emptied everything in your stomach, you pushed yourself off the floor and rinsed your mouth before exiting the bathroom. Megumi stood on the other side of the door with his lips turned down in concern and your phone in his hand. When he raised it up to you, Toji’s name was displayed at the top of an ongoing call. 

“Hey,” is all you said when you brought the phone to your ear. 

“Megumi called and said something was wrong with you. Are you okay?” Toji’s voice wasn’t panicked, but you sensed the worry in it, and you could imagine his face looked much like his son’s had moments ago. 

“I was making dinner a few minutes ago, and the smell of the raw chicken…” you had to trail off when just telling him what happened made you gag a little. You hadn’t yet stepped away from the doorway of the bathroom, but you weren’t in a hurry to have to go back in, so you took a few deep breaths until the feeling passed. Megumi hugged your leg as he gazed up at you in concern and you patted the top of his head in reassurance. 

“Ah,” Toji remarked.

“Yup.” 

Toji cleared his throat after a moment of quiet and then asked a question that sent nerves skittering down your spine. “Want me to pick up a test on the way home?” 

“Please.” 

Later that night, after Megumi was tucked in bed, the two of you waited anxiously as the timer on your phone counted down from three minutes. Two pregnancy tests lay face down on the counter. You nibbled on the skin of your cuticle while Toji bounced his knee from where he sat on the closed toilet lid. 

“I mean, it’s not as if we weren’t expecting this to happen,” you pointed out, shaking your hands in front of you in an attempt to dislodge the nervousness from your body, and Toji snorted. 

“Yeah, certainly not.” He wiggled his eyebrows flirtatiously, and the smirk that tugged at the scar on his lip made your cheeks flush hot, and you rolled your eyes at him. As the two of you continued to wait as the seconds on your phone seemed to crawl by, a thought popped into your head. 

“Is it as nerve-wracking the second time around? Or is it easier?” you asked him gently, and you saw Toji’s features soften as his eyes went nostalgic. He worked his mouth in contemplation—perhaps in recollection—and then shook his head. 

“No, it’s uh, just as shocking I’d say—at least for me.” He pushed off his knees and came to stand next to you. “I think it’ll be this way no matter how many times we do it.” The thought of one day doing this a second time had the breath rushing out of you, but you filed the image away for a future discussion. It wasn’t something you had the capacity to consider now, not while you were currently waiting to see if you were about to become a mother. 

The shrill noise from your phone that indicated the timer had run down made the two of you jump a foot in the air, and you looked to Toji with wide eyes. 

“Take that one?” you offered, pointing with a trembling finger to the test that would answer with words versus a combination of lines, and Toji was suddenly very grateful he grabbed two different kinds at the store. While he knew he could squint at a test and convince himself that an extra line may or may not be visible, he was almost a hundred percent positive he wouldn’t suddenly become illiterate and unable to distinguish between “pregnant” and “not pregnant.” 

He nodded, and at the same time, the two of you reached for each test on the counter and flipped them over close to your faces only for your jaws to drop simultaneously. You turned to each other, wide eyed and bewildered (as if you didn’t know what the two of you had been doing these last couple months) because “pregnant” and two dark lines could not be misunderstood. 

You brought your free hand up to your mouth to cover it as unabashed laughter poured from your lips, and Toji wrapped his arms around your shoulders to yank you into his chest. Joy spurred him into kissing you deeply, and the pure love and elation in your eyes when you pulled back was enough for Toji to feel the first stirrings of excitement at the prospect of having a child with you. 

It wasn’t until later in the night, in the dark of your shared bedroom with nothing but the evenness of your breathing to interrupt the noise in his head that Toji could admit to himself that the entirety of it terrified him.  

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“That’s a baby?” Megumi’s voice was full of skepticism, and he eyed the ultrasound photo with disgruntled disbelief as you pointed at the grey and white blob in a sea of black. 

“Yes, Megumi,” you giggled, smiling at Toji over the little boy’s shoulder as the three of you sat cuddled in your bed, “that’s your sibling. They are very small right now, but next time they’ll look bigger and more like a baby.” 

He wasn’t appeased by your answer, and he crossed his arms with a little huff of disappointment that had Toji struggling to muffle his laughter. The two of you had just returned from your first doctor’s appointment and had decided to break the news to Megumi now that you had a picture to confirm it, and while he had taken it well, he clearly was expecting more. 

“How long till it gets here?” he asked, glancing up at you, but Toji replied first.

“Doctor said January. You’re gonna have to be patient, Megs.” Toji grinned at his son, but Megumi looked even more unenthused than before and glowered at his father. 

“Why’d you have to take so long to have a baby?” he muttered, and the words wiped the smile clean off Toji’s face as you shook with laughter. With a pained look on his face, Toji simply shoved a pillow playfully over Megumi’s head and tickled him in the ribs to distract him from the question at hand. 

You used the opportunity to burrow under the blankets as your eyes began to grow heavy. Nausea, fatigue, and a general feeling of being unwell had plagued you from the moment the pregnancy test had turned positive, and you hoped an afternoon in bed and watching movies would offer a reprieve. You had just begun to drift off when you heard Megumi ask for Toji’s attention. 

“Dad, where do babies come from?” 

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“I don’t think there’s much in that book you have to worry about,” Toji told you on a night that found the two of you lounging in your room after Megumi went to sleep. He was lazily folding laundry from his perch at the foot of the bed. You were reclined back against the headboard with said book in your lap. One hand rested against the curve of your belly that had just started to protrude against the fabric of your clothes in the last week, and the other dog-eared every other page laden with information about pregnancy, childbirth, and newborns.

“Perhaps,” you said, setting the book down on your thighs, and the pointed look you gave him made it clear you didn’t feel the same, “but that’s easy for you to say—you’ve done this before.” 

A harsh laugh fell from Toji’s mouth before he had a chance to stop it, and he tossed a bundle of socks in his hand at the tower he had made of his folded boxers. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t doing a very good job of it. We were barely surviving.” 

He watched as the pile of fabric warbled upon impact, and just as it began to tilt, you shot your foot out to brace it in place. When Toji looked up at you, frustration didn’t furrow your brow or pinch your nose. Instead, your smile was gentle and understanding.

“I know,” you said, voice soft, and it carried an undercurrent of reassurance. 

Toji released a deep breath and tilted up the scarred corner of his mouth in a way that he hoped looked contrite. He reached for the stack of his boxers and righted them so you could lower your leg back down. “I’m probably not the best person to get advice from anyway.” 

You tilted your head to the right, perplexed by his unusual self-deprecation. “I wouldn’t say so.” 

Toji just shrugged and continued fiddling with the last bits of laundry. 

“Sure, you’re a little rough around the edges.” 

“Can’t deny that,” he grumbled. 

“You can be a bit grumpy sometimes, and you have a history of giving in to questionable decisions and habits.” 

Toji shot you a withering look. “You really know how to kick a guy while he’s down.” 

“And,” you emphasized, holding up your hand to indicate that you weren’t finished, “you have a really tragic backstory that just makes the whole thing sad.” 

For once, Toji seemed to be struck speechless, stupefied by the bluntness of your words, and the bundle of socks he had been playing with rolled from his hand. 

“But,” you said, “there’s no one else I’d rather be doing this with than you, Toji.” Your husband, who had clearly been a bit rankled by the conversation, melted. The tension released from his shoulders and the puckered set of his lips smoothed out into a dopey grin as his countenance perked up.

“I love you too,” he teased, his tone light and easy, “even if you are something else.” 

You beamed at him as he got up to gather the laundry in his arms and set it in on the dresser in front of your bed, intending to deal with it tomorrow. He then flopped onto his stomach on the bed next to you, shaking the whole thing under his weight, and if the two of you hadn’t already thoroughly tested its limits, you’d worry about its ability to handle the size of him. The thought had your blood suddenly running hot and you rolled onto your side to nip at his ear when a different sensation in your lower half made you pause. 

For the last two weeks you had been feeling the tiny bubbles in your stomach and knew that your baby had gotten big enough for you to begin to take notice of its movement. However, this was the first time it felt significant enough to be noticed from the outside. You returned to your position on your back and pressed your hand lightly into the skin under your belly button. Nothing happened for a minute, and just as you were ready to give up, you felt the faintest hiccup against your palm. 

“Toji!” you blurted, and you urged yourself to stay still despite your excitement lest your little one move again and hide away. 

“You going to insult me again?” Toji’s voice was muffled from where his face was mushed into his pillow. 

“No,” you scoffed, wiggling your fingers at him even though he couldn’t see, “come here.” He groaned in protest but propped himself up on his elbows to shift onto his side nonetheless, and you snapped your hand out to grab his.

“What are you—,” 

“Shh!” You didn’t bother explaining as you covered his hand with yours and settled it onto your belly where yours had just been. His jaw shut with an audible click. You watched Toji’s expression carefully as you waited for another burst of movement, and even though you knew this wasn’t a foreign experience to him like it was to you, overwhelming joy filled you to your depths when his eyes glossed over with wonder as his child wiggled against his palm. He was quick to gather you to his chest with the arm that wasn’t draped over your hip and you tucked your head under his chin in an attempt to snuggle as close to him as you could manage. 

“Megumi’s going to get a kick out of that tomorrow—literally.” Toji’s voice was thick with emotion, as well as amusement at his own cleverness, and you swatted at his chest. But your laughter deceived you and Toji placed kisses all along the top of your head. 

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Toji wondered if all the blood on the floor was retribution for the amount of it he had spilled in the years before. It pooled slowly, eating up the white of the tile and creeping closer until it stained the tip of his shoes. He was empty, void of anything really, and maybe this was the curse doomed to follow him. Loneliness, robbed of anyone precious to him, and instead of incandescent joy that should have taken over him at the sight of his newly born child, nothing except for seething rage and despair filled his mind. There was hatred for a family name that he had already tried to escape, a desire to soothe himself in all the previous vices that had once kept him occupied, and bewilderment that he was somehow in the same situation again.

It was all eerily similar, from the sudden rush of panicked movement in the room to the way he fell back into a cushioned chair, just barely conscious of the baby in his arms. The face of his late wife and yours flashed back and forth, superimposed onto each other as the two of you laid still with eyes closed and arms slackened at your sides. A shrill whine, a solid ringing filled his ears and silenced all other noise. 

Not again. Not again, not again, not ag—,

Years of discipline kept Toji from jolting into wakefulness, but he did suck in a mouthful of air when his eyes opened and took in the darkness of your bedroom. He wasn’t trapped in the sterile four walls of a hospital room, nor was he struck numb by the darkness of your blood. Instead, sweat stuck the sheets to the skin of his back, and above him the fan you always insisted be on spun quickly. The thought of you had his hand clambering across to your side of the bed, but when all that met his fingers was the unusual coolness of your pillow, he lurched upwards, flipped on his bedside lamp, and searched the room.

Rationality told Toji that you were probably fine, that you were in the bathroom or the living room and would be back any second. Rationality would tell him that there wasn’t any need for him to seek you out and confirm you were alive with his own eyes. But adrenaline, a tragic memory, and the nausea simmering in his gut drove him from bed and onto his feet, clad only in his boxers.

Toji was still a bit disoriented from his nightmare, and he tried to be extra mindful of his heavy footfalls as he passed the door of Megumi’s room. As he neared the end of the hallway, he heard the faintest plink of metal against glass and the racing of his heart slowed at the sound before ultimately returning to normal when saw you in the kitchen. 

Despite it being well into the middle of the night, you leaned back onto the kitchen counter with a bowl of cereal in your hands and a happy hum in the back of your throat. Your belly sat low between your hips, pulling taut the fabric of his shirt that served as your outfit of choice as of late, and the sight of it was a reminder that you were nearing the end of nine months now. Nervousness was a constant state Toji was in as your due date rapidly approached, and if he thought too hard about it, panic would shorten his breath and tunnel his vision, such as it was beginning to do in that moment. Thus, Toji wasn’t sure if he made a noise or if you just happened to notice him out of your peripheral vision when you turned your head to him, curiosity taking over your face. 

“Did I wake you?” you whispered, spooning one last bite of cereal into your mouth before setting it into the sink behind you. Toji shook his head and padded over to your side. He dropped his head to rest his cheek on your hair and trailed a hand down your stomach to spread his palm over the front of it. Satisfaction coursed through his veins when you let out a happy, weary sigh and leaned into his chest to rest your weight against him. 

Toji knew you were struggling. He knew your hips ached and it made walking a chore. He knew that your back only stopped hurting after he rubbed the muscles loose for half an hour and that everything including breathing had become difficult for you. The baby kicked you awake during the night, and if you weren’t tossing and turning in an attempt to get comfortable, you were up and going to the bathroom for the nth time. Toji did his best to dote on you in between his job, taking care of Megumi, and doing all the chores around the house. He certainly did want this to be all over for you so you could bask in the enjoyment of motherhood, but each day closer to your child’s birth spiked his anxiety exponentially higher, and he ashamedly wished he could ignore what was to come. 

“Would you like to go back to bed?” he asked, taking a step backwards. 

You nodded your head unwillingly. “I’m too uncomfortable to sleep right now. If I stay up and watch TV in bed will that bother you?” 

“No,” he replied immediately, and Toji was secretly glad he wouldn’t have to stare up at a dark ceiling, too afraid to close his eyes when all he wanted to do was bask in the warmth of your body and the steady rise and fall of your chest. 

The two of you made a slow walk back to your room, and Toji helped you into bed and shifted the pillows behind your back until you were as comfortable as can be in your given state. He scrubbed his hands over his face to rid his eyes of the tiredness that lingered behind them and then slid in next to you as you focused on flipping through channels on the TV. Toji snaked his right arm under the small of your back and wound his left across your lap so his hand could cup the side of your belly and then set the side of his face on the top of it. Your fingers came to scratch through his hair absentmindedly, and the relief that Toji felt from your touch and the quiet thump of your heart was nearly instantaneous. 

As minutes ticked by and most of the lingering tension from his nightmare had subsided, Toji still found himself tapping against the side of your stomach and pushing his fingers against it in an effort to get his child to respond to him. 

You reached an arm over his head to prod at the center of your belly yourself. “He’s been wiggling around a bunch throughout the day, but he might be right about here…” you trailed off just in time for Toji to feel a quick bump under his cheek. 

“I think you meant ‘she,’ isn’t that right?” he said with a smile. Only one of you was to be right about who your child was destined to be, but neither would know until they came out to meet you. 

“No, ‘he’ was correct, thank you very much.” Affection warmed his body and Toji pressed his fingers back into your skin so he could feel the movement again. The baby reciprocated his touch each time until Toji finally relented and figured you’d appreciate the break from being repeatedly poked and prodded. Your palm drifted down to cup his jaw and the swiping of your thumb over it was enough to lull him into the beginnings of sleep. He snuggled a bit closer into your side and let out a great exhale, recalling how you had once made a comment likening him to a large, lounging dog. Toji supposed he could understand what you meant. Really, at the end of the day, all he wanted to do was cling close to you and bask in the pleasure of your touch. 

While Toji knew that no amount of time he spent listening to your heartbeat or prompting his child into movement would prevent a cruel fate from bestowing you both should it be decided, he would let himself pretend if it meant keeping himself together enough to see it through. 

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

As a surprise to no one at all, childbirth was just as nerve wracking for Toji the second time around as it was the first. 

It didn’t help that he had been on pins and needles since your due date had come and gone, so when you stumbled out of bed and into the living room on the morning of the third day passed, your hand clutching your stomach and a harrowed expression on your face, Toji was coiled tight enough that he sprung into movement. He flung Megumi over his shoulder and was across the room at the same moment to grab the bags you kept at the ready by the front door. By the time you walked out, teetering between amusement at how your husband scurried about and uneasiness at the thought of what was about to happen to your body, Toji already had the car loaded and turned on. A few minutes later, you almost felt bad for Megumi when Toji stopped outside the Itadori’s house to practically throw him at Yuji’s dad—followed by his overnight bag—had the boy not already been hollering to his best friend about how he was about to get a new baby sibling. 

At the hospital, the terrible familiarity of the beige walls and speckled tile had Toji desperate to pace the room at how trapped he felt, but the desire to stay put next to your bedside and keep your hand in his won out. Labor could take hours, that he knew, and Toji spent every moment of it cycling his eyes between the baby’s heart monitor, your face, and the clock on the wall. Each time your expression would twist into a pained grimace, your hand would crush his and a potent cocktail of adrenaline, fear, and anticipation would send his heart racing. 

When the day turned into evening, just an hour before midnight, a doctor placed Toji Fushiguro’s second son onto your bare chest, much to his shock and delight. The noise in the room threatened to overwhelm him—the excited exclamations of the nurses, your panted gasps, the shrill crying of a newborn baby--but Toji wouldn’t let anything tear his focus from you. He stared at how wisps of your hair stuck to your temples in sweat, the red of your cheeks, how your eyes were full of tears and wonder and flicked back and forth between him and your child. Toji knew (how he wished he didn’t) that you could be fine in one instant and dead in the next, but for every minute that passed where you still breathed and your heart kept beating, he could feel the fear slowly trickle from his body. 

Once he was an hour old, Toji held his son for the first time as he sat next to you on your hospital bed. The baby had your nose and tufts of hair the same color as yours, and Toji realized with a sudden pain in his chest that he didn’t remember Megumi in his first couple hours. He couldn’t recall what it felt like to hold him for the first time, nor did he know how much he weighed just after birth. All the tiny details he assumed every parent would remember until the end of their days was overshadowed by a curtain of devastation, the death of his wife wiping it clean from his memory. 

So this time, when the room was quiet and he had you leaning against him, he studied every part of his newborn with rapt attention, determined to commit every detail to perfect recollection. And unlike before, in a moment he’ll always mourn, Toji felt peace and quiet and something indescribably blissful. 

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

It wasn’t so much that Toji forgot what it was like to have a newborn so much as he had completely blocked what could be considered some of the worst days of his life from his memory. He had been too sleep deprived to even properly grieve his wife and utterly shell shocked at the prospect of now being a widower and single dad. There had been no one to help, no one to encourage him when Megumi cried for two hours straight in the dead of night for a reason Toji couldn’t begin to figure out, no one to help him plan for a couple months down the line when his savings inevitably ran out and he’d have to figure out a safe, legal plan for employment or consider the risk of something illegal since it paid better. 

Yet two weeks into it, when Toji was just starting to discern the difference between Megumi’s wails of hunger and those of exhaustion, someone knocked on his door. He grumbled the whole way down the hall in fear that the sound would wake the baby he had just spent the last hour putting down, and also because he couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten or let alone brushed his teeth. So, Toji figured he looked worse for wear when he swung the door open and glared at the man on the other side of it. He was middle aged and wore dark clothing and an even darker pair of sunglasses. He claimed he was an instructor at a school in the city and came to find him out when he heard that rumors began to swirl of Toji Zenin having a son. Toji had spat at him, snarling and enraged and cursing his old last name with vehemence, and he was all too ready to come to physical blows had his son not been sleeping just a few yards away. In the end, the man had just smiled and extended his hand with the promise of a job and to call him the next day. Toji had been wary, but he knew that pickiness wasn’t a luxury he could afford, and appeared at the gates of the school a week later with Megumi strapped to his chest. 

Things were a bit different now, that at least Toji could acknowledge, and the heavy exhaustion that threatened to wrench his eyes shut and made his hands clumsy as he refilled your water bottle didn’t feel so catastrophic this time around. He squinted at the clock on the wall and sighed wearily when he realized the night wasn’t yet halfway over and the two of you were already up for the sixth time. Five day old newborns apparently would wake up and eat more frequently than he could remember, and each and every time he insisted on getting up with you to tend to any needs you had while ensuring his son got the meal he demanded. With an extra snack in hand and a full bottle of water, Toji shuffled back to your shared bedroom and quietly closed the door behind him. 

“You fall asleep standing up at the counter again?” Your voice broke the silence and got a chuckle out of him as he fell onto the bed in a heap by your side. 

“Something like that,” he muttered, but thankfully you didn’t pry and instead gave him a grateful smile when he unwrapped your granola bar and held it up to your mouth since your hands were preoccupied with holding the infant to your chest. You munched on it slowly, and in between bites you would settle  your head back against the pillows and let your eyes flutter shut, trusting your husband to keep a dutiful watch on the two of you. Toji moved closer to you so he could gently rest his head against your shoulder and peered down at his son as he got his fill of milk. He rubbed a tiny foot in between his thumb and forefinger and grinned at the soft suckling noises he made, amazed at how differently things felt this time. Toji was stunned at how having a new child felt so much like the first time since he could actually slow down to process it all now. Maybe this time, when history didn’t repeat himself and he was at home with the people he loved, contentment would allow the memories to stay. 

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

It happened for the first time three weeks after your son was born. 

That particular Saturday was dreary and wet, but it made for a cozy atmosphere as the four of you lounged about after a late morning breakfast. Toji was putting away the last remaining dishes. The TV played a vintage cartoon on low volume and Megumi sat on the floor in front of your feet as he colored quietly in his notebook. You sat curled up in the corner of the sofa with your newborn nestled in the crook of your arm, and you watched him, utterly transfixed. As he slept, his nose would twitch and his bottom lip would jut forward. Every once and a while, a dainty grunt would escape his mouth and he would squirm and stretch and whimper just a little before going still again as he drifted back into deeper sleep. He let out a yawn that seemed to take over his entire little body, and in the next moment he was blinking up at you with unfocused eyes as his lips smacked together once or twice. The sight of it made your heart feel as though it could burst, and you wiggled your finger into his clenched hand just to feel him hold onto it. 

“Oh, hey, his eyes are open.” Toji’s voice caught you unaware, and you jolted a little at the suddenness of it. You glanced up at your husband from where he leaned against the arm of the couch to your right, and there was a soft smile on his face as he traced a finger gently down the apple of the baby’s cheek. The newborn’s eyes couldn’t hardly focus on his father’s face from how far it was, but it certainly seemed like he looked for Toji in the moment before his lashes fluttered and his eyes slid shut. 

Toji drank in the sight of you two. There was a blissful glow to your features that couldn’t be missed, even through the signs of exhaustion that still lingered from another night of caring for a new baby. You barely paid him any mind as you smoothed your palm over the wispy hairs on your son’s head, and Toji decided that he would give you another couple minutes before gently urging you to take some time away to shower and do your morning routine should you feel like it. He pushed himself off the arm of the couch and made a move to step around it and sit down when Megumi spoke up from the floor. 

“Mama?” 

Megumi’s voice was barely above a whisper, and it was heartbreakingly timid. The single word punched all the air from Toji’s lungs and he stumbled mid-stride, just barely steading himself lest he land in a heap on top of his eldest son. Megumi didn’t move from where he was hunched over his notebook, still coloring carefully onto the paper, but Toji could see the burning red of his ears and how his eyes flicked back to take stock of your reactions before they went back to what was in front of him.

When Toji whipped his head towards you, you were already looking up at him with a wide, helpless expression. You had never once pushed passed a boundary Toji had yet to lift when it came to how you handled your roll as Megumi’s stepmother, and he could see from the way your eyes searched his that you were waiting for his guidance, his acquiescence before you dared to respond back to the little boy who had just referred to you as his mother despite you technically not being such. 

To Toji’s endless gratitude, you had always treated his late wife with the utmost respect. While you almost always fielded Megumi’s questions about her to Toji, you didn’t hesitate to pull out photos of her when he asked, nor had you ever tried to erase her significance as Megumi’s mother over the time in which you had become a part of their family. 

However, as Toji had come to acknowledge, there was no denying that Megumi had come to see you in that way. Not so much as the woman who had birthed him (Toji had explained that to him in child-friendly terms) but in every other way a mother would be seen. Megumi had no tangible connection to his late wife, no emotional attachment to the idea of her that Toji hoped one day would blossom as understanding matured in his mind, but to hold that expectation to him now wasn’t fair. Toji knew, as you looked at his son with tears of adoration and love in your eyes, that you had been making space for Megumi in your heart for a very long time in preparation for this possible moment, and he figured that having the love of a mother in the land of the living didn’t take away from the one now gone. 

If nothing else, he supposed that Megumi would catch onto your shared habit eventually. Frequently did you and Toji refer to yourself as such when tending to the new little one. 

“Shhh, Mama’s here,” you’d murmur when he wailed out his discomfort while the four of you watched TV in the early afternoon. 

“Mama’s comin’, kid, I promise,” Toji would say when the baby would nuzzle into his chest in a search for milk when he and Megumi sat together on your bed while you showered at the end of the day.

So Toji swept a hand along your shoulder, capturing your attention, and his quivering smile paired well with the tear that trickled down your cheek when he nodded at you. Your hand swiped away the moisture from your skin and you cleared your throat.

“Yes, Megumi?” Your voice sounded a little thick and wet, but the boy spun around in astonished elation nonetheless, and his smile was so wide that Toji wondered if it stung the skin at all. Megumi jumped up to his feet but very cautiously approached you until he could rest his hands on your knees and stand on his tiptoes to try and look up at his baby brother. 

“Mama, can I hold him?” You giggled and nodded as you reached out your hand to caress Megumi’s chin, and he squirmed where he stood as excitement made him antsy. 

“Of course,” you told him. “Come sit next to me and your dad will sit on the other side to help you.” Toji felt his heart expand further than he thought possible when the two of you turned towards him with loving, expectant looks that spurred him into movement.

“Up you go, Megs,” he said, lifting his son up from under his arms so he could plop him down on the cushion next to you before taking a seat himself. He threw an arm along the back of the sofa so he could scootch in closer to you three. Once Megumi situated himself, you slowly transferred the sleeping infant to lay him in his brother’s lap, and Toji was there waiting with an open hand to help cup his head and neck. 

“He’s still so small,” Megumi said quietly—wondrously—but you and Toji laughed at how the baby was still too big for Megumi to fully cradle in his arms. 

“Don’t worry,” you said, “he’ll grow big before you know it, and then he’ll be ready to play all day with you.” Megumi offered you a small smile in response before he settled back to watching his little brother snooze in his arms. You propped your elbow on the back of the sofa so you could lean your head into your hand, and Toji stretched his fingers to swirl them against your arm. Your eyes met, still glimmering with the last remnants of joyful tears, and Toji was nearly overwhelmed by a surge of emotion as he took in the little family that the four of you made.

Fear had once hung like a heavy shadow over his hope for an idyllic future and his ability to experience it. Your smile and the small hands of his children were there to whisk it away. 

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

A little bonus:

Three years after the birth of your son, a daughter made her appearance nearly two weeks early, thrilling her eagerly awaiting older brothers. For all the work you did, she came out a near exact copy of her father, and Toji had no problem letting you know how proud he was about it as you laid propped up next to him in your hospital bed. 

“I’m telling you, there was a hint of green in them!” 

You rolled your eyes playfully as you watched Toji recline your daughter against his knees with her head cradled in his palms so you could both gaze at her, and she looked positively tiny in the breadth of his hands. 

“You know a baby’s eye color might shift from what it was at birth once they get a bit older. We can’t know for certain yet.” 

The words seemed to have no effect on your husband, and he simply dropped a kiss to your temple and murmured a soft “we’ll see,” into your ear. 

(To your surprise—and secret delight—Toji was right.)

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

Again, thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this<3 I really just love giving tortured characters soft, happy endings, so I hope you enjoyed this endless rambling of fluffy fluff.

[jonas-ct]

I, once again, made art for a naruto au that I'll never explain

OH YEAH, sorry to the people who started to follow me cuz of the Gem fanart, im very much still narutobrained... oopsiee

It doesn't make much sense if we're not in my brain (and even then, I often confuse myself) so don't worry about that too much, im just sharing cuz i thought it looked kinda cool

I can't stop putting moons i just idk it's such an important thing to me but anyway whatever

No lineart or full sketch this time cuz i messed up and didnt export either

Also it's kinda rushed cuz i had thoughts, created the au, got left alone with a french pop playlist for half an hour, had an illustration idea, and did it in the next 2 to 3 hours

Idk how cropping pics works on tumblr

Actually i think i do have the sketch of the non au version cuz sometimes i do that

Just a kakashi casually hanging out at the bottom what was i thinking, actually what am i thinking rn i told myself i should never write a post at 1am, and what am i doing? Exactly that

Why did I whatever

I'm not even gonna reread this before posting I know myself too well, please forgive any typo, i didn't eat my dinner chocolate and I'm very sad about it

Cant wait for tomorrow when I'll be like "man actually this is ass, did i post this on tumblr, holy shit i did why tf did i do that do i hate myself?" I don't hate myself cuz my bf wouldn't like that

[paarksunghoon]

do you have any practical writing tips?

I sure do!

1. refrain from making your first paragraph describing the weather and season if you’re not going to do anything with it. it’s overdone and tells me nothing about your story. the goal is to hook your reader and make them care about your body of work at the start of your story. instead of talking about the sun shining, introduce your character and start with dialogue or what they’re up to. try talking about what’s happening in the events of the story. if you really want to talk about how the sun is shining, tell me why I should care that it is.

example: “Today is Tuesday, October 29, and the sun is shining. Although, that puts a damper on my mood because I do not feel particularly happy.”

2. write your dialogue the way you would talk. sometimes you don’t need to go the whole nine yards and think about why people talk the way they do unless that’s important for your fic. when I write enha, it’s challenging to write dialogue for 7+ people in the same conversation but you have to imagine you’re the person they’re talking to. how would you react if X said Y?

3. ask yourself “so what?” and “why does this matter?” when you feel stuck. why should character X care that character Y said what they did? why should your reader care that character Y is acting the way they are? if they do something—so what? why are they doing it? what are they thinking? when you have your answer, write it down.

4. do not skip editing. if you want to be satisfied by your work, you will need to read over your story at least once to catch typos, plot holes, and sentence structures so you don’t lose your mind when you inevitably reread it on your dash. saves you a lot of embarrassment in the long run.

5. you cannot edit a blank page. the first draft is the rough draft. write to your heart’s content and make a decision about it after you have words on a page.

6. when you inevitably hit writer’s block (it will happen, don’t fight it), sometimes the best way to get over it is to abandon that wip for the time being and start a new one. sometimes you need to experience Life and explore your other literary ideas before you get an ‘aha’ moment and know where you want to take your story.

lastly, and most importantly: do not write because you want notes. don’t write and publish because you want people to praise you. it will leave you unsatisfied. write because you have something to say.

[tojiscrack]

on my weekly re-read of liar liar, and i was GOING TO pull an all nighter and finish it all, but i feel asleep before i could 😞😞

ANYWAYS!! i find it so funny that throughout the first chapter (and even later chapters, but not as much) its mentioned (and made very obvious) that y/n is a little devil child, that can be too much to handle, but never w megumi. like, idk how to explain it, but hes never thought shes “too much”, and lets her do what she wants, just puts his input in (like when she switched classes, he didnt feel overly annoyed by it, just told her that she was gonna get in trouble) (i might be wrong about this LMAO) youve written them in a way that they balance each other PERFECTLY, like they are genuinely soulmates.

the end scene of the first chapter is oddly one of my favourite parts of the fic, because we get other characters (albeit, minor characters, but wtv) opinions on them, and youve written them exactly like how they describe it. they keep each other in line, and thats why they work so well together.

anyways!!! i love this fanfic so sosososooos much!!! i dont understand how this isnt more popular because???? ITS SO GOOD???? literally how arent people falling in love with your writing within the first 1k words??

(also i meant to include this in a previous ask, but i forgot lol, BUT ONE OF MY FAV DUOS IN THE FIC (and in canon lfmao) is megumi and nobara?? everytime they’re together i genuinely laugh, you nailed their characters and character dynamic)

liar, liar masterlist here:

INCOMING YAP SESSION CUZ THIS ASK GOT ME SUPER DUPER EXCITED KSJSJDIWJ

WEEKLY reread? girl, stop, you’re gonna notice all the typos i cba to get rid of 🫣

HAHAHA, NO STOP, I HAVEN’T HAD ANYONE MENTION THE WHOLE ‘DEVIL CHILD’ THING SINCE THE FIRST TWO CHAPTERS WERE RELEASED 😭 and that, my friend, was months ago 🌝

so i’m so excited to just talk about this omggg!!! 😫💘

yes indeed 😤 megumi would most likely say she’s sm to handle, but really, he lowkey enjoys it. it’s the only time he can be an accomplice witness to such foolish behaviour, and not be reprimanded for it as much ‘cause he just has her to fall back on and blame. he won’t ever stop her, per se, but he’ll tell her once or twice ‘whatever you’re doing, it’s not gonna work’ or ‘don’t be dumb’, and think he’s done his part before being influenced by her 💀

‘i might be wro-’ stfu you’re right and you know it 🙄❤️

and you’re also right in it not being mentioned as much when they’re older. no, i did not forget to add it, that was done intentionally for two reasons:

they’re older now, so as much as she does what she wants with him, she’s a lot more tame than she was as a child. that doesn’t mean she ever regrets the stupid things she’s done (except for the whole mermaid thing, that is a lifelong regret she’ll always have 😭)

the idea that she’s such a menace has been established enough over the years to the point where no one feels the need to voice it. new characters probably would — someone like miss b who was introduced in the middle school chapter — but even then, she was exposed to the more tame versions of the chaotic duo. so everyone kinda silently acknowledges it, and only during crazy moments (like the tragic helicopter incident of 2016, rip satoru/suguru’s will to live 😔) will it actually be voiced (like ogi mistakenly believing that y/n didn’t start any of the nonsense that occurred during the incident, and that was mentioned cuz of the fact that she’s famously known to be so incredibly out of control).

the bonus scene for the first chapter was my fav to write as wellll (tho arguably, i say that about so many scenes, so the value of this statement is probably worth nothing 💀). bonus scenes were initially meant to be ONLY from other people’s pov, but i noticed how so many things from y/n and megumi’s childhood tgth are littered around the story, and that the only way you could ever get any insight of them is through the bonus scene since the chapters are too long to add flashbacks AND bonus scenes. i could always do a separate set of oneshots for them, but i don’t have the time for that (yk this through my horrid updating schedule) 😟

but i am so glad you’re telling me what you enjoyed — and more importantly, being specific about it. it lets me put into perspective how the later chapters (tho already planned) should be set out. your feedback means the world to me, and you deserve a million set of kisses every night for them <3333

‘i love this fanfic sosososo much!!! i don’t understand how this isn’t more popular because??? IT’S SO GOOD???’

okay brb, gonna go and find my right to exist and have the perfect life when cutie pies like you grace this earth 😖💞💓💗💞

maybe one day it’ll get bigger 😊 if that day ever comes, i’ll remember my og readers. i’ll remember the support i was given from them. i’ll remember people like you, who continuously flood my inbox with enough love to pull yank me out of writer’s block and squeeze out another chapter, how because of your long and juicy asks/messages/dms, the cycle of writing i have going on here continues, and i feel more and more proud that i even developed such a fic to begin with ❤️

‘literally how aren’t people falling in love with your writing after the first 1k words’ — errr probably ‘cause the first 1k words were just y/n trying (and failing) to explain what happens in her horror stories without stuttering 💀 LMFAO, SORRY 😭 i’d fall asleep on that carpet if i were the kids surrounding her, and they went to listen willingly.

but ugh, that’s so nice of you, i’m gonna siwjosnwidjwjd

AND OMG YOU’RE SO RIGHT

like everyone talks about yuji/nobara, or yuji/megumi, bUT WHAT ABOUT MY BEANS NOBARA/MEGUMI? they have a level of deep understanding with each other in canon (and in my fic, which will be addressed CHAPTERSSSS later) that i’d love to yap about, but i’ve already yapped enough, like you’re probably cringing rn i’m sorry 😭 another time, maybe 😔

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

omg bond would be an incredible choice for a knight/queen au,, I would go so crazy if you ever wrote that

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Minors interacting with this work will be blocked.

Notes: Not beta-read. Reread several times and will probably spot 87 typos once I hit post.

Sometimes you write a regular fic and other times you find yourself googling whether or not people performed oral sex in the medieval era. it's all a crap shoot.

anyway.

Length: 7.9K

Warnings: Slow burn; explicit sexual content - oral sex; vaginal sex

From the moment that he kneels before you—as the light sets a halo about his blond hair, and as he tips his chin up to meet your eye and murmur his oath of fealty—you know that he’ll be trouble. It’s in the flash of his eye. 

His crisp blue gaze flickers to yours, and he shoots you a wink with such speed that your husband hardly has the chase to catch it. It makes your stomach flip with an allure and vehemence that nearly unseats your stern concentration.The feeling that rises in you isn’t love. It’s not even interest. 

It’s fear. 

-- 

He trails you like a shadow. 

You can’t blame him; you know that he acts on your husband’s orders. Blofeld worries for your youth, and fears the possibility that you may stray. You have a guard set on you every day and night. On the evenings that you don’t spend with Blofeld, you sleep with Bond posted just inside your door on your husband’s insistence, ensuring that your bed remains empty, and cold.

On those nights that he occupies the stool beside your door, you sleep very little. He stays awake out of a sense of duty; you stay awake with the lingering, heavy knowledge of the man just a few feet away. You know that he’s popular with the ladies of court. He can’t stride or ride by without inspiring the twittering of giggles and whispers by the ladies gazing from behind their fans, or over the tops of their books. You hear of his bawdy teasing, his warm smiles, his winks. You’ve never been privy to them, save for the single flash of a wink as he swore his oath to you, and to Blofeld. When your protector’s name and nighttime companion are brought up in conversation among your ladies, you force a straight face regardless of their speculations and teasing. For all of your interest and fascination, you have no right, no daring to look toward a knight with interest. 

Even if you did—even if you had any sort of designs on Bond, any interest in the way his gazes hold to yours, and the way his careful grasp lingers as he helps you from a horse or carriage—your affair would be nigh on impossible. 

It’s no matter. 

Your husband has spies in the court, so many that you have no trust in Bond’s exclusion among their number. You hardly trust your ladies maids. For all of their own secrets that they share, and their encouragement to trust them with the matters that occupy your head and heart, you shield yourself from them. 

Well, from most of them. 

Lady Eve is the only one of your ladies maids that came to Blofeld’s court with you when you were sent to wed him. She’s your only true confidant, quick with a smile and a joke if needed, and skilled at unsheathing her sharp tongue to guide the other ladies back into line if they begin to speak or act out of turn. She manages several duties that you wouldn’t trust others with: running messages, communicating with cooks and servants. Between Blofeld’s controlling insistences and Eve’s obliging care, you slowly build a wall around yourself, separating you from the court, and the people that look to your husband for guidance. 

--  

“You ought to try smiling one of these days.” 

It’s not an unexpected criticism, but it’s certainly an unwanted one. You’d be happy to spend the afternoon in the garden in a companionable quiet, but it seems that she has other plans. You cast Eve a surly glance, but her smile remains bright and unwavering. Her hands work just as steadily, knitting needles clicking softly as she casts off. 

“I mean it,” She insists, finally lowering her gaze to her work. “If you’re not careful, you’ll forget how.” 

You sigh softly, shoulder slouching slightly as you look around the expanse of grass, and the vines creeping up the sides of the castle walls. 

“I’ve no reason to smile.” 

“You’re alive. Is that not reason enough?” 

“No. It is not.”

“...You know what you ought to do.”

Your stomach churns with the conspiratorial edge to Eve’s voice. You glance toward her again to find her pointedly fixated on her craft. 

“It would never work,” You insist. 

“It could.”

“He would have my head.” 

“Only if you were caught.” 

Eve’s conspiratorial gaze flickers to you again, her smile widening. You can’t bring yourself to feel the same sense of mirth, of excitement. 

“Your Majesty.” 

You whirl around, spotting one of your husband’s advisors. Bond lingers not too far behind, his hand poised on his sword as if the man is a stranger—as if you’re about to ask him to take the advisor’s head off. 

“The King insists on your presence in the throne room.” 

You nod, stony-faced. “I will join him presently.” 

The advisor gives a low bow before he turns, striding away without you. You shift up onto your knees, wobbling as the fabric of your dress catches beneath your shoe. Before you can tumble backward, a firm hand rests against your lower back, and another hand catches hold of your own flailing one. You freeze at the steady contact, your eyes widening as you look up at Bond. He draws you up gently. Your legs feel unsteady, even when you’re drawn to your full height, with your feet planted firmly on the ground. Bond’s arm skims against your side, his fingers flexing in the fabric of your desk as his thumb sweeps tenderly across the side of your hand. It sends heat skittering through your body, and sets your heart fluttering in your chest. Bond’s eyes search yours in silence, his brow scrunching slightly. Your gaze drops to his lips, and damnably lingers as his pink tongue sweeps across his lip. 

You’re jolted by the clacking of Eve’s knitting needles, and the sound of her pointedly clearing her throat. You step out of Bond’s grasp, yanking your hand from his as you avert your nervous eyes. 

“...Thank you, Sir James.” 

“At your service, Your Majesty.” 

You stalk around him with Eve hot at your heels. You feel him tracking you as you leave him standing alone in the garden. 

--  

He would have your head. 

Blofeld is not known for a tendency toward kindness. He has a reputation for his traps, for tricking opponents into showing their hands for the purpose of identifying their weak spots. He makes no attempt to shield you from his bloodlust and cruelty. You take each instance of outward barbarism as a warning, each smiling goad and teasing admonition as a silent threat: 

This could be you.

--  

The festivities to celebrate the day of Blofeld’s birth are a mighty affair. The events are to last a week. Lords, ladies, vassals, and knights arrive from all over the kingdom. There are dances, plays, poetry readings—and most importantly, a tournament. Of all of these events, you know that it’s crucial that you’re present for the tournament. With all of his barbarity, Blofeld adores the play of war. He takes inordinate pleasure in watching his knights fight for his attention, and finds amusement in the spilling of their blood. 

You have little interest in watching men beat one another senselessly, but you know that you must make a public showing, not only for your husband, but for the court, and his people. 

For all of your impatience and disinterest, you can’t help but keep your eyes trained on Sir James. His form and composure are a fascinating sight. You see the man nearly every day, but hardly ever in this way. It bolsters your belief that should you be attacked in the night, the man hunkering by your door will protect you with his life—and come out cleanly on the other side. 

When he approaches the stands on horseback before the joust, you’re certain that he’ll ask your husband to look on him with approval. But after he dips his head in deference toward your husband, he turns his attention to you. 

“Your Majesty,” He speaks up loudly enough for others in the stands to hear him, “Would you do me the honor of allowing me to wear your favors today?”

You can see Blofeld turn to you expectantly out of the corner of your eye, and hear the murmur of others around you. In the two years you’ve been married to Blofeld, you’ve never given your favors to any knight—every knight has been too afraid of your husband to ask. And since the very first moment you saw Sir James, since he gave you that quick wink as he swore his fealty, he has avoided untoward outward displays of interest. This is hardly untoward, but you know that it’ll set tongues wagging among the court. Now, you rise from your seat, fingers twining in the rich purple fabric. Sir James raises his lance, resting it on the railing for the stand. You look down, fighting to steady your shaking fingers as you carefully tie and knot the favor around the lance’s blunted tip before you step back again. The two of you trade a genial nod before you lower yourself to sit on your cushioned seat again. With nothing else to hold to, you rest your hands on the arms of your seat. 

It’s no great surprise that with his skill, Bond rises through the standings throughout the tournament. You watch time and again as he lowers his visor, tilts his lance, and sends his opponents off-kilter, or crashing through the ground. But his form, while near-perfect, is not invincible. Perhaps it’s just as well that the one man that matches him equally is the one that he’s closest to in court. In the rare moments that you’ve seen Bond relaxed, he’s been with Sir Felix. They were squires with the same knight, became warriors in the same war—and, if rumor is to be believed, became men with the same woman. They are as near to brothers as any two unrelated men could be. 

Perhaps it’s this familiarity that drives them both to tilt with such ferocity—a ferocity that nearly knocks Bond from his horse during the second round. A gasp catches in your throat as James’ body is bounced, nearly prone in his saddle. It’s another moment before he straightens. As he removes his helmet, you can just make out his expression twisting with discomfort, his startled, dazed blinking as blood runs from his forehead, nearly obscuring one of his bright eyes. Your stomach flips, and you tighten your grip on the arms of the chair to keep from rising to your feet. You have a damnable urge to run to him, to use your sleeves to wipe the blood from his face, and insist that he leave the tournament to see a physician.

Bond just impatiently pushes his squire’s hand away as the young boy tries to clean the blood from his master’s head. Bond crams his helmet back onto his head and grasps his previously fallen lance. Your gaze darts between him and Sir Felix as each man takes up their positions. Blofeld leans in to you, mistaking your panic for rapt interest. 

“Now all Felix has to do to finish him off is land a blow to James’ arm,” He says, “And he’ll win the championship.” 

“Has he ever won before?” You ask. 

“No. There’s yet to be a tournament that Bond hasn’t won. But that is all about to change.

Turning to look at your husband, you find his smile split wide into a bloodcurdling giddy grin. When he turns it toward you, you push a smile onto your lips, and murmur, 

“If his defeat pleases you, then it shall please me.” 

Blofeld’s grin manages to widen, and he claps his hand over yours with stinging force. You break your attention from one another as the thundering of hooves fills the air. Your gut tightens, your heart sinks—and then soars as a solid blow sends Felix tumbling from his horse and onto the ground. The crowd roars as James hoists his lance high in victory with your favor blowing in the wind, and you have to bite back your own sound of excitement. You feel Blofeld’s grip go slack, then drop away to grudgingly applaud Bond’s efforts. 

Bond’s face is as victorious as he tosses off his helmet, despite the river of red obscuring part of his face. He turns finally to the stand again and slides from his horse, kneeling to Blofeld. 

You know that Bond will be crowned champion. You’re certain that your husband is displeased. 

-- 

For all of his cruelty, Blofeld hardly exerts that power over you in your bed chamber. You spend most nights alone, and it’s rare that he orders for you to join him. His birthday is always one such occasion. You resign yourself to a dispassionate evening—a handful of thrusts, an encouraging pat on your cheek, and a mumble of producing an heir before he rolls away from you. You’re certain that he spends most nights with other women. 

You are at once grateful and pitying of their place in your husband’s affections.

Tonight, there is no knight in your chamber. It’s simply you, your husband, and the shock of Bond’s bright gaze and shining halo of hair in your mind’s eye. 

--  

You’re told of Bond’s carousing. Eve recounts how the evening unfolded to you as you breakfast together in your chambers. She tells you that Sir James and Sir Felix’s antics continued through the evening, starting with an arm wrestle, and ending with a drinking contest. She teases that Sir James was seen leaving the hall, following Lady Vesper into the night. The news unsettles you so much that you lower the last of your bread, unable to stomach it. For all of Eve’s teasing, she quiets when she notes your discomfort. 

“...You would have enjoyed yourself,” She finally offers. 

“I did enjoy myself.” 

It’s a hollow insistence, and one that she knows as well as you is a lie. 

-- 

Despite his victory and the whispers of his evening with Lady Vesper, Bond is as attentive and consistent with his attention toward you the following day. He has a bandage on his head, and you recognize a smear of salve that the physician uses on wounds. You go about your day as usual, fighting the urge to ask Bond if he needs rest, or if he’s in any pain, if he feels that your favors brought him any luck. 

The question sits on your lips all day. In the evening, alone with him, you can’t bring yourself to quiet it anymore:

“Are you quite well?” 

He hasn’t settled on his stool yet. He stands firm by the door, his hands clasped in front of himself. Surprise flits across his expression so quickly that you nearly don’t catch it, but he smooths it away again. 

“Well, ma’am?” 

You swallow thickly, tightening your robe around yourself and gesturing toward the bandage on his forehead. 

“You took a hard hit at the tournament yesterday.” 

His hand raises to it, but he stops and lowers his hand before he can touch it. 

“I have taken worse.

“I’m sure.” 

Perhaps that was a wrong thing to say; Bond’s gaze seems to narrow just a touch. 

“I am well, ma’am.” 

You give a short nod, mumbling, “Good,” Before you shuffle over to your bed. You blow out the remaining candles, plunging the room into darkness before you shrug your robe off and toss it aside. You curl up under the covers, curling your arms under your pillow and peering toward the window as you hear Bond lower himself to the stool. Tonight, you can’t abide by the quiet. Tonight, you find yourself fearing that you may have offended James when you simply meant to ask after his help.

“Goodnight, Sir James,” You murmur. You hear nothing for a few long moments, and you resign yourself to a cold loneliness. And then, so softly that you nearly miss it— 

“Goodnight, ma’am.”   

--  

The trip is a mandatory one, and something that you’ve undertaken twice before. It’s customary for Blofeld to make the journey, as he has every year since he was a young boy. The trip is long and arduous, tracked over the same path time and time again. You school your focus and try to embroider or read, despite the lingering headache that it inspires. You’ve learned the hard way that Blofeld doesn't care for idle hands, even if the efforts are to your detriment. 

Still, you squint narrowly, fighting to hold the book steady as the carriage rocks and jostles along the forest path. You push off the lingering fatigue that you feel, certain that if you nod off, Blofeld will level some whack or shove to bring you to again. It’s no use. Your eyelids begin to droop, and your head begins to hang over your book as your focus grows…dim…

You’re awakened at a thwack on the side of the carriage. Your eyes snap open, and you startle, shrieking when you spot an arrowhead buried beside your head in the wall of the carriage. You realize that the carriage has come to a standstill, and the air is filled with shouting voices and the hammering of hooves. The carriage door is flung open, and you cower as best you can as you hear Blofeld demanding, “Take her!” 

You think that you may be greeted with the concern of one of your loyal knights, but shock and fear twine in your belly as an unfamiliar bandit shoves his face through the door. He gives you a sinister grin, showcasing his scant, yellow teeth before he grasps your wrist and yanks you roughly from the carriage. You scream as you’re dragged out into the cold, your face pelted with torrential rain. You try in vain to dig your heels in, struggling and tugged through the mud. You can hear a fight around you, the yowling of Blofeld’s commands in his thin, screeching voice. For all of your efforts, you’re pulled nearer and nearer to the tree line. You wobble, losing your footing as your toe catches on the root of a tree. You stumble, and are shoved to the ground as your attacker lets go of you. You shriek as he catches hold of your collar, yanking you along like a disloyal dog. 

You draw in tight breaths, hands scrabbling with your clothing. You hear the thudding of boots running through mud before you’re abruptly dropped to the ground. Looking up, you hear the singing of steel, and the clash of it makes you wince, the sound grating to your ears. You recognize one of the knights as one of Blofeld’s men, but you can’t make out which. It’ll win. You scramble to stand, hands suctioning to the mud as you push yourself up before hurrying away from the road, deeper into the woods too dark to see which one—and for as much trust as you have in their skill, you have no certainty that they’s. 

You pant as you run, looking back every few moments to ensure that there’s no one following you. When you see a shadow falling into step with you, your heart pounds impossibly harder, and you face forward, pushing your legs to pump harder than your screaming muscles ought to allow. Someone catches hold of your hand, and you scream as you’re yanked to turn. A gloved hand claps over your mouth, and familiar blue eyes catch on yours. 

Sir James hushes you, snapping, “It’s me!” 

You push his hand away from your mouth, heaving in greedy breaths. You glance around as you hear the clashing of steel, the shouts of men that must still be by the road. Sapped of speech by your panic, you allow him to pull you along through the woods, winding a path that you’ve never known and will never be able to remember. Night is falling as quickly as the rain tumbles from the sky, and it becomes harder and harder to keep up with Bond. You finally manage to yank your hand loose from his, leaning back against a tree. You’re weak with fatigue, and your lungs and legs are pained. Sir James turns to face you, glancing around the tree that you’ve leaned against. 

“We cannot stop, ma’am.” 

“I need—I need a moment,” You insist between pants, bracing your trembling body against the tree. Bond glances around you again, taking a couple more steps toward you cautiously. 

“We need to get to safety before these woods grow too dark to travel.” He shifts his saddlebag on his shoulder, glancing over you as well as he can. 

“Are you hurt?” He asks. 

“No.” 

“You’re shaking.” 

“I’m cold.” 

Sir James reaches out, gently sweeping a few drops of rain from your cheek. Heat pulses through you despite the chill, your lip wobbling a touch. 

“Your Majesty,” He urges, “I know that you are tired, but we must go. There is an inn not far from here. We will room there for the night, and then we will find a way back to the castle, or to the king.” 

The king. You hadn’t thought of Blofeld, had time enough to well up your righteous anger. It surges up so harshly and suddenly that it pushes your breath from your body in a harsh pant. You swallow thickly as the sound seems to rouse Bond’s concern. 

“Alright,” You concede softly, “Alright. But…Must we run so fast?” 

Bond’s lips twitch slightly, and you know that he’s fighting off amusement. 

“Perhaps not quite so fast, Majesty.” 

--  

The inn is a ramshackle little thing compared to the castle that you’ve become accustomed to. You can’t help your embarrassment as passersby cast you curious and pitying looks, taking in your mud-soaked garments and chilled body. Your confusion is jolted when you hear Bond’s barked argument, the slamming of his first on the table. You turn toward him and find him staring the innkeeper down. 

“I told you,” You hear Bond growl, “I will pay you in four days time.” 

“You pay me now, or you sleep outside, in the mud.” 

You start forward before you can stop yourself, yanking your wedding ring off of your finger and joining Bond at the table. 

“This will cover it,” You insist primly, pressing it into the inn keeper’s hand, “Along with firewood, and meals. We will need hot water as well.” 

The innkeeper seems stunned by the sight of the thick gold band encrusted with rubies. Shock radiates from Bond beside him. You keep your gaze on the innkeeper before you clear your throat firmly. The innkeeper snaps to, stumbling over himself to round the table. His words fumble, offering to take Bond’s saddlebag in the same breath that he urges you to follow him. 

-- 

The room is nicer than you expected, but only slightly. There’s a large bed across from a fireplace, with a wool rug in the middle. There’s a shallow washbin in the corner with a pile of linen beside it, and a bar of soap sitting atop the fabric. Bond waves the servants carting the water deeper inside, and nods innkeeper away as he tries to further offer services. Bond simply insists that food and wine is brought as quickly as possible. Once he’s gone, Bond lowers his saddle bag. He looks around, catching sight of a solid partition divider. He takes hold of it, moving it around to the basin and setting it in front. You watch him stride back to his saddlebag then, drawing off his gloves and tossing them aside before he begins to look through his things. After a few moments, he draws out a long tunic, and rises. 

“It…” His gaze drifts over your muddied clothing. “I’m sorry that it isn’t what you’re used to.”

You shake your head a touch. 

“It is clean,” You insist, “And at this moment, that is all that matters.” You pluck it gently from his hands, muttering your thanks before you round behind the partition. You remove your soiled garments one by one, wincing at the dried mud crackling and dirtying the floor. 

“If you give me your garments,” Bond’s voice rings out on the other side, “We’ll have them washed.” 

Embarrassment churns your stomach, but you force it back and away in favor of throwing them over the divider. You wince as it rocks, then puff out a breath of relief as it settles without falling. After a moment, the cloth slips over the other side of the partition. You wash yourself as thoroughly as you can, scrubbing away the muck and the sweat and the panic. You feel yourself relaxing incrementally. It doesn’t disappear fully; it can’t, with you fully bare on one side of the partition, and your protector fully clothed and waiting just on the other side. Your heart flutters in your chest when you hear him move, or sigh, or clear his throat. Once you’re clean, you pull the light grey tunic on. The fabric is a little itchy, but it’s a far cry from the fabric you’re used to—lighter, and…Shorter. It hardly brushes your knees. You go warm with nerves as you gaze at the expanse of your bare legs that will be revealed to him. You’ve really no other choice, and you try to make peace with that. 

You’re about to step from behind the partition when you hear the door open, and freeze. The murmur of Bond and the innkeeper’s voices exchanging food and soiled clothing drops away quickly enough, and is chased by the door behind closed again. You wait a few moments in testy silence before speaking up:

“May I come out now?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

You step out from around the partition, pointedly avoiding Bond’s eye as you walk to where plates laden with food have been set down on the wool rug. 

“Smells good,” You mumble, lowering yourself to the floor. When Bond makes no response, you glance warily uup at him. You thrill when you find his gaze sweeping your bare skin with covetous fascination. When his eye catches on yours, it lingers. You’re a touch stunned by his boldness, though perhaps you ought not to be. This man sees you every day—but not like this. He finally turns from you, mumbling that he ought to freshen up. You sigh softly once he’s moved behind the partition, scooching closer to the fire and letting your legs stick out straight, warming your feet with the heat coming from the hearth. You wiggle your numbed and chilled toes, resting back on your hands as you listen to Bond disrobe, then the babbling sound of cloth being pressed into water, wrung out, and, presumably, scrubbed across his body. 

What must he look like? You can only imagine—and you have imagined before. Seeing him at the tournament had only bolstered what you thought his body must look like, the expanse of muscle. Would there be a scar, or two? All accumulated before his squireship? Some during his knighthood, surely. 

When Bond rounds the partition, pink-cheeked from his vigorous washing, he seems surprised. 

“...Have you not eaten?”

You shake your head a little, pushing yourself to sit up straight. 

“I was waiting for you.” 

He seems even more stunned by the prospect, but he lowers himself to sit on the other side of the plates, and the pitcher of ale that had been brought up with the food. The taste is far sharper than the wine that you’re used to, and you just manage to stave off a wince. It warms you right through as well as the fire, and you take two deep swigs. You hear a soft huff, a warning of, 

“Perhaps you ought to slow, ma’am. You’ve had nothing to eat.” 

You grunt softly, setting the glass aside and using the long sleeve of the tunic to swipe at your messy mouth. The food isn’t much, but it is delicious. It’s nearly enough to fill you—and would be if there was only one of you there. Bond eats with less ravenous hunger than you do. Perhaps he’s less hungry; perhaps he’s doing his best to oblige you for the sake of how trying your day has been. Regardless, when you’ve finished, you lean back against the wall behind you. You point your toes again, wiggling and watching them as fatigue begins to creep up in the place of hunger. 

“...I will get you home safely.” 

Sir James offers it without provocation, and you wonder if your face has belied some concern, some confusion. You glance up toward him and find you watching him closely. 

“I am sure of it,” You nod. 

“And I am certain the king is well.” 

You laugh bitterly, then. You can’t help the way it falls from your mouth, or force it away again in the twist of his confusion. 

“I am sure,” You agree dryly. “I am sure he is well. God save him. God save the noble king.” 

If Blofeld were there, he would order your head struck from your shoulders. If Bond relayed your words, you were certain you would face the gallows. But now, with your belly fool and your head swimming slightly from panic and ale, you can’t bring yourself to care. You take your tankard up again, wincing at the scent that rises from it, the low slosh of liquid. 

“You shouldn’t have given that man your wedding ring,” Bond chides. 

“He told them to take me,” You tell him. “When those…Men,” You spit it, “Came to the carriage, the King told them to—” Your breath hitches in your throat, hand tightening around the tankard further. You raise it and swallow roughly as tears prickle your eyes. You set it aside once it’s empty, sniffling as the tears rise further. For all of his cruelty, Blofeld’s blatant disregard for your life was a step too far. How were you to know whether or not he’d set the attack himself? You’d always feared that he’d grown tired of you, your charms. 

You hardly registered the shift of Bond’s shadow until he’s standing over you.

“Are you still cold?” He asks softly. You nod, and Bond holds his hand out to you. You take it, allowing him to tug you to stand. You wobble a little, stilling only when his other hand rests on your hip to steady you. He tows you to the bed, and you let him push the covers back and nod you in. You scooch down against the mattress, pouting at the feeling of the odd piece of straw poking through. You watch as Bond turns his back, settling down on the wool rug again. You push yourself up onto your elbows, frowning. 

“Where will you sleep?”

He turns to look at you, brows furrowing a touch. 

“Here.” He gestures to the rug. 

“But,” You shake your head, “You’ll freeze.” 

“We’ve a fire.” 

“We’ll take turns.” 

“Ma’am.” 

“We will.” You use your most imperious tone, but he doesn’t so much as blink. 

“You need rest,” He insists. 

“As do you. If you fall ill…” You consider for a moment. You know this man, a little. You think you know what may spur him to action. You force a slight pout, urging: 

“What will I do without my protector?” 

Darkness flashes across Bond’s gaze. It’s another moment before he pushes himself up again, walking around to the other side of the bed. He pushes the covers back, carefully lowering himself to the other side of the bed and tugging the sheets up around the two of you. You glance over toward him and find him stalwartly watching the ceiling. You hesitate before you finally scooch a little closer. His gaze skates sharply toward you, and you bite your lip to silence your panic. 

“I’m still cold,” You mumble. Bond is quiet for a moment before he rolls onto his side, shifting closer. 

“Give me your hands,” He urges softly. You roll onto your side as well, holding your hands up from beneath the covers. Bond cups them, drawing them close and puffing his hot breath against them. Your fingers twitch in his gentle grasp, and you shiver softly as his lips brush against your fingertips. You well up your courage, your want, your sorrow, and turn an index finger toward his lips, pressing it gently there. It’s a moment before he presses a tender kiss to it. You gently draw it back as if moving too fast will startle him, turning your finger toward yourself and pressing a kiss to it in turn. Bond’s gaze drops covetously to your lips, his own parted as his grip tightens on your other hand. You shift a touch closer, brushing the tip of your nose to his. His eyes hold steady on your lips, even with you this close. 

“Your majesty,” He warns softly. 

“Sir James—” 

“We ought not to—” 

“Please.” 

Your plea seems to shock him. Perhaps he’s never heard a queen beg. Perhaps he can’t imagine her needing to. Perhaps what spurs him is his oath of fealty, to serve at your pleasure. Before you have any further time to question his motives, he dives in, pressing his mouth to yours. 

There’s far more heat to the embrace than you’ve ever felt with Blofeld, and it’s hardly more than a kiss. But James’ jaw grasps warmly at your cheek, holding you steady as he spears his tongue between your lips. You whimper softly, raising your free hand to slip into his hair and keep him close. He draws away with a slick sound, and before you can whimper or whine, he pushes you onto his back, covering your body with his own. You splay your thighs for him, whimpering as his warm, solid body settles over you. Your fingers grapple with the fabric of his tunic, nails catching in the odd snag. James kisses you with an almost ravenous force, as if there’s some great fire in him that only your lips can quench. 

James’ hips rock down against yours, and you quiver at the feeling of him hardening against your thigh. It’s not a sensation that you’re unfamiliar with, but you’ve never thrilled in the sensation in quite this way before. You tip your hips up toward him, letting out a pleading moan as your cunt throbs. 

You expect it to be perfunctory, and you’re resigned to it. For all of Bond’s passionate kisses, you’re content with a handful of quick thrusts before settling into sleep and silence. But Bond pushes the fabric of your tunic up, drawing it over your head and off. You lick your lips as his kisses skim over your neck, brushing along your clavicle, then drifting over the swell of your breast. You suck in a soft, stunned breath as his tongue swipes out, swirling around one of your pebbling nipples before toying it tenderly between his lips. You bite your lip, desperate to stifle your moan as his thigh presses against your core. You don't know what possesses you, but your hips seem to roll on instinct, chasing the tantalizing pressure. Some part of you brushes against the muscle of his thigh, and your hips give a jolt of their own volition. 

The sensation that ripples through you knocks loose an embarrassing moan. Bond’s smile goes rakish and wide, his hands and lips tenderly smoothing their way down your body. You’re dismayed as he draws his knee away, certain that your time together is nearing an end. But rather than spear into you as you expect, he pushes your thighs wide. You bite your lip as his finger trails gently over your slick, aching skin before you feel the tender brush of wet heat. You jump in shock, but Bond’s arm keeps your hips pinned to the bed as he gives your cunt another tender lick. Your body goes hot as you catch sight of his darkening eyes peering up at you in the dim light of the room. You push out a shaky breath, your hips giving an exploratory tip toward him. His eyelids flutter as he laves his tongue along your plumping lips. You slide your hands down over his head, chasing your stunned pleasure. Your mouth parts as you pant, as Bond laps and licks and teases you with his fingers and tongue. 

For every tumble into your marriage bed, you’ve never felt yourself come alive like this before. You’d been a virgin when you met Blofeld, and have only ever been with him. For the scant whispers that have made their way back to you in court, you’ve never heard that Blofeld has any additional vigor or passion with the other ladies at court. You’ve just assumed that that is what the act of lovemaking was: quick, simple, and unenjoyable. 

You’ve never been so happy to be so wrong. 

When James hikes your leg up around his hip and eases into you, your mouth drops open in a wail. He claps his hand down over your mouth, shushing you softly. His already-bright eyes are brighter still with mirth; his lips and chin are slick from his lapping and teasing; color is rising in his cheeks. 

“You don’t want them to know what we’re doing in here, do you?” He murmurs. “If they should learn whose ring that is, who you are…” He rolls his hips, “It’ll be both our heads.” 

You nod slightly in agreement, cunt throbbing as his hips begin to drive more roughly. Your mouth drops, and you pant hotly against the broad stretch of his palm. The odd whimper and whine still slip from your lips as James fucks you with an almost leisurely pace. You’re used to a shove, a harsh pounding, a spill—but James lowers his hands and strokes reverently over your body, loving you with an unhurried pace, as if he has all the time in the world. 

– 

Waking is slow going. You immediately feel that something is…wrong. Your bed isn’t nearly as soft as it normally is; you can hear the calls of voices below, bellows for breakfast, and hot water, and for someone’s horse to be brought. You draw in a deep breath, shifting and wincing as a piece of hay jabs at your back. You still as you feel someone’s foot brush yours, then draw in a quiet breath as you feel James’ lips brush your shoulder. You turn your head to find him still blinking the sleep from his eyes. You raise your hand, gently stroking over his cheek. He smiles softly, tipping his head toward you and pressing another kiss to your skin. You let your hand slide down from his cheek before you roll onto your side. James’ smile drops away for a moment as you nudge his shoulder, urging him on to his back. It blooms again as you slide your leg over him, straddling his thighs. You let your gaze drift openly down his chest, trailing your fingers over fading scars and raised scratches from yesterday’s fight. You bow over him, nuzzling into his neck as his hands smooth over your back. 

“How did you sleep?” He murmurs. You have to fight away a shiver at the sound of his voice, so much deeper than you’re used to hearing. 

“Well enough.” You brush your cheek against his, drawing in the still-lingering scent of the soap that he’d used the night before. 

“We’ll need to leave soon,” He warns. You don’t let him see you pout; you just hum your agreement as you tenderly draw his earlobe between your teeth, giving it a tug. You feel James’ hips twitch beneath you, and a little thrill curls in your stomach as James’ hands smooth over your thighs. Your body is a touch sore, but you know well enough that it’s a result from your stumbling through the woods as quickly as you could the day prior, and not from your night with your knight. You smile as James tips your head to the side, his nose nudging gently against yours before he catches your lips with his. You let out a happy little sigh, shifting atop him. Your cunt throbs as the apex of your thighs brushes against his muscled stomach. James’ hands raise to cup your cheeks, loosing a soft, encouraging hum as you begin to roll your hips down against him. 

Your night of tender care has brought out a boldness in you that you’ve tempered for a long time. James urges you on, his hands closing around your hips and guiding your aimless grinding. He eases you back after a few moment, your plumping cunt catching against your opening. 

You don’t need convincing, and he doesn’t need urging.

--  

You’d clung to him as long as you were able, but your grip had grown slack as the castle had come into view. Sir James had lowered his hand, resting it gently atop yours. 

“What do you say if he should ask where your wedding ring went?” 

“I lost it in the woods,” You mumble obediently. 

“And where we were?” 

“It was dark, and I can’t remember.” 

“Good girl.” 

You press your face into his neck, grip tightening around him again. 

“And if he should ask if you took care of me?” You murmur. James gives your hand a soft squeeze. 

“That answer is at your discretion.” 

--  

He isn’t happy that you’re alive. 

Blofeld manages to feign relief for a few seconds, but it quickly drops away, leaving behind an apparent disdain, one that you wouldn’t know if you hadn’t known him for so long. But you throw yourself at his feet, and sob, and swear that your only thought for days has been for his safety. 

Blofeld insists on staying with you on your first night back, but he hardly touches you. It’s not for a lack of trying. You force yourself to curl up to him, to rest your forehead against his shoulder and grasp his hand, dropping kisses to his skin and pressing as close as you dare. It’s a relief that he doesn’t take as he likes, knowing that Sir James is just on the other side of the door. 

--  

He’s been your shadow for so long, but he sticks even closer now. James is hardly a step or two away from you these days, close enough that you can feel the heat of him bleeding through his armor as he lingers behind you. 

Your bed is no longer cold in the evening, and James’ stool sits unattended. His body covers yours, his cock sheathed in your loving cunt as you bite your tongue and dig your fingernails into your muscles, silencing your moans and whimpers. 

You’ve never known what it was to be cuddled and held through the night, to wake up day after day with the press of lips to your forehead, a murmur of, “I must go,” and, “I shall see you soon.” He’s always at your side, in your bed, in your arms. Sir James gives you the constancy that you were meant to expect from your husband. It occurs to you that you are breaking your marriage covenant, that your actions may lead to trouble, to Hell. 

But as you peer up into James’ eyes, and tenderly swipe the beads of sweat from his forehead as his cock softens inside you, you realize that you’ll take your steps into the underworld happily. 

He begins to openly slight other women. Lady Vesper makes her advances. She flirts in the dining hall, and makes eyes as she sits with you and your other ladies maids. You can’t help but glance toward Sir James as she does, as she bats her eyelashes and pushes out her chest. They’re valiant attempts for a valiant man, but Sir James keeps his gaze focused ahead of himself, hardly flinching, not even bothering to give her a wink. It makes your smile widen villainously as you lean back in your seat, raising your book to cover your grinning face. 

--  

“They want you, you know,” You murmur. James shifts his head questioningly on the pillows, tipping his head to the side as you ghost your lips over his strong chest. 

“My ladies,” You clarify, waggling your brows. He smiles a touch, raising a hand to stroke your cheek. 

“I haven’t noticed.” 

“Oh, no? It’s been difficult for me not to notice,” You argue. 

“I’ve no interest.” 

“None?” 

James grasps your jaw gently, tipping your chin up to meet his gaze. His eyes bore warmly into yours, mischief and affection sparkling in his gaze. 

“Whose bed am I in now?” 

Your skin heats at the reminder. 

“Mine,” You murmur. 

“And you think I care for anyone else’s affection?” 

“Your king’s?” 

James gives you a shove that catches you off-guard. You land on your back, sucking in a gasp as he grasps your thigh and tugs you closer. You lay flat and open beneath him, heart pounding in your chest. 

“I have no king,” He swears. “Only you.” 

-- 

It’s Eve to notice it first, and it’s no great shock. You don’t think of it at first—you have other things on your mind. Your body is constantly aching; you’re so satisfied that you simply don’t think of it. 

But after two weeks—after she grasps your arm upon your waking and asks if your courses have stopped—your heart plummets. 

You don’t call for a doctor. You think that perhaps you’re merely late. But you know, deep down, that that simply can’t be it. You haven’t been with your husband in months, not since your birthday—not since you tried and failed to entice him on your return. There’s no doubt of whose it is. 

--  

James groans, shoving your hips more harshly against the castle wall as his hips push more insistently against you. You’ve taken your leave early from a banquet, pleaded your shadow to follow you into an alcove so that you might have a chance to talk, unable to wait until you reach your bed chamber. 

A child. 

His hands had grasped and tugged at your skirts, spreading you wide in the darkness and pressing into you as if he can give you another just now. You press your face into his neck, muffling your moans. 

“I have nothing but you,” He growls, sliding his hand down to smooth over your belly, “We have nothing but this.” 

-- 

“It isn’t safe for us here.” 

He murmurs it against your hair as he smooths his hand up your bare back. You consider for a moment, fingers trailing over his shoulder as sunlight begins to creep into the room. 

“Where could we go?” 

“France.” 

You frown, tipping your chin up to get a better look at him. His gaze is fixed on the ceiling as he adds, “Blofeld only has enemies there. We are to become traitors to the crown.” 

“We are already traitors to the crown.” 

James hums in soft concession, and you let your eyes slide closed. 

“When would we leave?” You mumble. 

“As soon as we possibly can ” 

“And how?” 

“You leave it to me.” 

“But James—” 

He looks down, running his thumb over your lower lip and silencing you. 

“Do you trust me?” 

You turn your head, pressing a kiss to his thumb. 

“Of course I do.” 

His smile widens as he ducks in for a gentle kiss. 

“Then you leave it to me.” 

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight; @amneris21 ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage​​​ ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa​ ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices​ ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ;

[baruque-ya]

That's good, it doesn't hurt

Simon was never the type to like physical contact, and you knew that, and for Simon's slight happiness, you totally respected it.

You never touched him without asking, even to compliment him you asked if you could, when you see it like this it seems like an abusive relationship but no.

Simon has traumas from childhood, adolescence and also in adult life, when you discovered just a little of what he suffered, you felt horrible and sad for him.

Brainwashing, physical and verbal harassment, psychological abuse and severe torture, Simon was such a warrior to have endured all that in silence...but the truth is, he had no one to vent to, until you arrived.

It took Simon a long time to trust you, it took almost three and a half years just for him to finally feel comfortable kissing you, and it was still with the mask raised to his nose and he didn't show his face, and after another two years of relationship, he finally managed to show you his own scarred face

Simon felt so happy and moved when you said that his face was beautiful, and the scars represented how strong he was and that he was a great warrior to go through all that and still have the courage to move forward and not let go. the heart will be filled with hatred and revenge.

If you want to advance the relationship a little further, so does Simon, but as always, it was difficult for him to do anything like that movement so intimate, so he would leave it up to you....and in case you didn't notice, he would give you slight signs like looking at you intensely when he wants to spend time with you, or how he says your name softly in the early hours of the morning when he wants to vent, these small signs that for many would be futile, have become special for you and also a key to opening more doors for your relationship to evolve.

It was a normal night at the base, as always, you escaped from your room and went to Ghost's room, when you got there you found him sitting and without the usual skull balaclava, he was looking at some files, until his eyes slightly clear lights rose towards him.

You smiled shyly and locked the door so that no one would accidentally open it in the morning and see the man's face, you slowly walked over to him and sat on the bed a little away from him while taking a sweatshirt that you left there and putting it on due to the cold.

"Good evening, Simon" You said his name, but in a loving voice, that's how it always worked, since he wasn't used to cute nicknames, you called his name in a cute way... that way he understood that you were being loving and not thick.

"Good evening, y/n" He spoke with his usual deep voice but with a softer tone, which he rarely used with others, it was the least he did but meant a lot to you"

"Files that Price delivered?" You asked and he quickly agreed.

"Yes, I reviewed them during the afternoon, I was just rereading to see if there were any typos to mark" He said and put the papers in the brown folder and placed them on the desk, Simon looked at you and turned off the lamp, leaving only the moonlight illuminating the room, you smiled at him again and crawled onto the bed and lay down next to him. , in this case the side that was in the corner of the wall.

Simon liked you to sleep there, so he would be protecting you...in some way? for him, you would be safe, between him and the wall.

You lay down and Simon lay down next to you, but this time not on his back but face to face with you, he looked at you with sleepy and soft eyes.

Without holding back much, you reached out and brushed his hair with your fingers lightly, but you stopped abruptly when you saw Simon widen his eyes and move away slightly, as if he was automatically self-defense.

You slowly withdrew your hand and whispered, smiling.

"I'm sorry, ok? I just-"

Before you finished speaking, Simon's cold hand takes yours and squeezes lightly.

"No, I...can you do it again...?" Simon asked, his voice barely coming out and with such a confused tone, his eyebrows were furrowed as if he had remembered something. You then brought your hands back to his hair and lightly ran it through his blonde hair in a loving caress.

Simon closed his eyes as he held her wrist, but he didn't putting no force.

"That's good, it doesn't hurt...." He said and a thin tear fell from his eye onto the mattress.

And he continued breathing lightly.

"Yes dear, it doesn't hurt...." You whispered holding back the tears.

Help 😭 I hope it’s okay, it’s my first time writing here!

@baruque-ya

[damnfandomproblems]

Posting a compilation of responses to Fandom Problem #5234

Anon:

PLEASE watch the Contrapoints video on Twilight. It is by a trans person named Natalie Wynn.

(anon includes a link to a YouTube video titled "Twilight | ContraPoints")

This video has changed the minds of tons of people who initially thought Twilight was "rape and stalking abuse", by explaining the history of where all this panic comes from and why people are drawn to dark fantasies. It changed my mind and I'm hoping it'll change your mind too.

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Anon:

going through every point bc this personally ticked me off for literally no reason but i have nothing better to do. so. sorry if this seems overly pissy /genuine. (also typed this in my notes app so sorry for the lack of italics/caps in place of italitcs) 1. not wanting to see incest/whatever isnt purity culture. blocking tags/accounts that make you uncomfortable is something that is HEAVILY ENCOURAGED. the only people i have ever seen discouraging this are antishippers. what IS purity culture, however, is saying that EVERYONE ELSE should not make something because it makes you personally uncomfortable. as someone who was literally raised within purity culture, that is exactly the kind of shit they say. 2. fiction DOES affect reality! but not in the way you think it does. yes, propaganda works! but that is because it is specifically constructed to convince people of a certain view. representation is important because people who arent cishet white men exist and deserve to see themselves in fiction. but i think the best way i can explain it is this; if you were to watch Hannibal, would you automatically assume that cannibalism is okay? what if you watched a John Wick movie or Deadpool? Is mass murder okay? the answer is obviously an astounding no, because you are able to think about the media you consume. this is expected of any media that isnt literally a show aimed at children. There's at least one media btw. i'm not entirely sure about Hannibal because i've never seen it. 3. that is literally a coping mechanism therapists recommend. those are all UNHEALTHY and SELFDESTRUCTIVE coping mechanisms. you cannot compare the two. 4. if you are getting mad about porn then that is an entirely Puritan viewpoint. 6. "make the story frown upon it." if you cannot gauge for yourself that these things are bad then you should not be engaging with those stories. 7. last point isnt a proship issue, its a jerkwad issue. people who dont tag things are dicks, at least we can agree on that. however if someone doesnt tag something it is on you to block them. YOU need to curate YOUR online experience. (it may also be worth it to KINDLY send an ask about it. its the same as tagging flashing. sometimes people just dont think about it and sometimes people are doing it on purpose to be a douche. you need to block the latter as they are not worth your time or energy.) Last point was something you did not mention so im not including it in the list itself; if you were to ask a proshipper if they supported pedophilic/incestual/abuse relationships irl, they would most likely say no. If they say yes then they are just a pedo/someone who is okay with incest/an abuser. those people are not bad people because of the fiction they consume/create. they are bad people because they want to hurt people and do not see anything wrong with it/are not willing to see why they are in the wrong. apologies for any typos, ive reread through it but i tend to miss things.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Anon:

Op really just compared writing fictional scenarios with fictional dollies, a method of processing trauma that is recommended by psychologists and actually -is- effective at helping people process stuff, to alcoholism, street drugs, and socon which can and do kill people. You ever seen someone withdraw from alcohol abuse? I have. You actually spoken to a psychologist about friends who write things to cope after being raped at a party? I have. Are you still a clueless child? Yes. So take your moral panic and shove it. You're a kid but if you want to get involved in serious adult conversations, you need to be prepared to accept discussing serious, real things. You can't even look at a rapefic without getting triggered (I use this word in the proper sense, not hyperbolic sense) and ascribing blown-out-of-proportion, emotional judgments on people who, if you passed them on the street, wouldn't stand out to you at all. Because these are normal people. This to me is a huge sign you're just not ready for this kind of conversation.

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

Anon:

"...really ticks me off how someone can say "It's really fucking gross how you wanna see a minor and an adult make out" and proshippers can be like "UGH PURITY CULTURE" Like, how is not wanting to see pedophilia and incest purity culture. Especially when you're a minor. dumbass I was a minor when I wanted to se OCs modeled after myself hooking up with the hot adult leads from my shows. I wasn't stupid enough to think it was OK to happen in real life but if Dream of the Endless was in an arranged marriage with my OC for reasons I wanted to see it. Like. "Minors" have sex. A lot. And yeah, age gaps can be problematic in real life but on paper? Who cares? It's fake. It's not real. It's a story. Acting like minors are sexless little angels until the day they turn 18 is crazy. Minors want to see boning and they want to see people their own age boning, and sometimes they want to see people their own age boning That Old Man or Milfs or 1000 year old vampires or whatever. Not even gonna bother with the rest. Others can get that.

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

Anon:

Where to even start here? I guess I should start by saying that proshipper doesn't mean what you think that it means OP! It doesn't mean that we support incest or pedophilia, it simply means that we're anti harassment. I don't like incest or pedophilia. It's weird to me, and yet one of the most popular series, Game of Thrones, features both incest and pedophilia. Romanticizing villainy? Can I ask what your definition of romanticizing is? What if the story revolves around the villain? Like Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes? Are stories like that not supposed to exist? What about the anime and manga called Overlord? What About Hannibal Lecter? What about the Joker movie? Do none of these have any value? Do you expect the villain to deadpan into the camera every 10 minutes confessing that he knows his actions are wrong but he's doing it anyways? And if the writers don't make their characters do this, are you going to accuse them of condoning their characters actions? Because I think it would be pretty dumb to make a villain out of character for the sake of, "I know this is wrong, but I'm doing it anyways!" Do you want no villains in stories? Is that what you prefer? For everything to be sunshine and rainbows all of the time? Because that would be really boring. Are there any true heroes without a villain. A bad coping mechanism? Really? So now you're a psychologist who knows everyone on the planet that knows exactly what everyone needs to get better? Coping mechanism looks different from person to person. What is important is that the coping mechanism helps you process your emotions and what happened to you and sometimes it is helpful to write your emotions out in the form of writing and sometimes that can be fanfiction. I am someone who had been diagnosed with trauma and depression and I'm currently doing therapy for this and taking medicine. You know what's helped me all of these years before I started going to therapy on a regular basis? Characters with a lot of baggage like me. They can be hero or villains. I don't care which it is. If they have a tragic back story and I'm all over that. Fiction doesn't effect reality? It can and sometimes does. You're right. But you know who's problem that is? Your parents, the school system, and whoever else never taught you that fiction is fiction. That characters aren't real. If your parents let the TV or Internet babysit you growing up instead of being a parent and teaching you right from wrong, or being able to tell fiction from reality, well then that is the fault of your parents. Do you know who's not at fault? Stranger on the Internet. We're not here to hold your hand, you are not entitled to that. It is up to you to curate your own experience and mind your own business. If you don't like something, blacklist the tag, block the person posting it or log off of that site and find something else to look at. You think you've debunked everything, but really you're just naive and living in a fantasy world. The world is not an idealistic place, nor will it ever be and that is why these stories exists to begin with. Covering up everything that is bad in the world won't ever make it go away and that is reality. Period. Let people cope the way they need to, and unless you have degrees in psychology, you have no right to tell people what they can and cannot enjoy. Again, I myself would never write or read about some of the things that you've posted about OP, but will I continue writing about my trauma? I sure will, because it is something that I am still dealing with many years after it happened and I'm sure others will do the same with the things that they've had experience with, too.

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

Anon:

OP, one of your top posts is an AO3 reference and contains a link to an AO3 fic. In case you didn't know, AO3 was directly created to be a host for fanworks that got censored by other sites. Functionally, it is an archive, like a library. And like libraries, it hosts anything that is legal to host under US law. One major driving factor behind AO3's creation was the "Livejournal Strikethrough Boldthrough", an incident where "concerned parties" successfully lobbied to get Livejournal, a site that hosted writing, to remove its "yucky fics". Guess what? Gay fiction got removed in the process because, surprise, certain parties found that yucky too. (I'm talking about conservative groups who are obviously very anti-gay and anti-LGBT.) Here's one post about it: https://pretentioussongtitle.tumblr.com/post/624690560646676480/like-wathever-antis-delete-your-blogs-pls-thx So... You can't say you're okay with calling to censor things, without looking at the full picture and where it ultimately leads. You're asking for a lot of collateral damage. And like someone else said, engaging in discussions about heavy, adult topics with strange adults on the internet (and most of us are adults, OP) is very dangerous. There have been a lot of cases where someone has cried foul about certain kinds of fictional writing, only for an "anti proship" person to walk up to them and groom them, and it worked because the kid was under the pretense that the person was a "safe, good person". Please do not put yourself in danger and get out of the spaces you frequent.

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

Anon:

It's interesting you use Lolita as an example of what to do "right" when it comes to depicting things. You believe tons of media must be censored or kept away from the light of day, yet Lolita is an example of what to emulate to prevent that from happening? You would be very shocked to discover Lolita is among, if not the, most notorious piece of fiction for censorship groups to attack. So I really don't know if you fully understand what it is you're arguing for, here. You're just a kid, so I'm assuming you haven't actually read Lolita. That's the first thing. The second thing is, given the fact virtually all people who are invested in censoring and banning media actually hate Lolita, but you seem to have a totally opposite, 180-degree opinion about it, I have to wonder if you've happened to find a lot of random stuff from around the internet, but have yet to actually put it all together and cross-check everything to see if it actually makes sense. There's a lot of stuff in your post that is either plain out wrong, poorly strung together, or contradictory.

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

Anon:

I'm going to look real tinfoil-hatty in two seconds, but I swear some of y'all antis in the notes are following tags like "pedophilia" and "incest" and that's the only reason you found this confession. Cause I haven't seen half of you here before. And if so, that's kind of weird. I hope I'm wrong. To be fair there's no way to confirm either way but I just thought it was funny because I can see it happening if not for the antis here, than for others. Gotta get that daily dose of outrage.

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

Anon:

""Fiction doesn't affect reality" So why is representation so important? Why has propaganda worked so well?" you're taking this statement too literally. fiction obviously affects reality. if you cry over your favourite character's death, well there ya go. fiction has just changed reality. it made you feel sad things. representation is important because it makes those represented feel acknowleged and because it makes their existence more known to the world. propaganda is designed SPECIFICALLY to heavily affect reality. a doujin artist does not sit down and think "hmm. today i will draw a loli hentai to turn people into paedophiles". ""Well I'm not gonna become a murderer just because I've seen people murder in pieces of media" Name one piece of media where murder was portrayed as unironically, fully okay." as someone not well-versed in shooters, fortnite. murder is encouraged in fortnite. the point of the game is to kill people. i'd also like you to name one piece of media where rape is portrayed as perfectly fine and dandy. ""I'm coping with trauma" Well that's an awful coping mechanism. If you have been traumatized by incest, abuse, or pedophilia, why are you creating/consuming content where those are all romanticized?" because the fact that they're not alone in their suffering is comforting to them? as an abuse victim, i like characters with abusive parents. it gives me a character to sympathise with and characters to absolutely loathe with all my being. now that i think about it, i like that i'm not suffering alone. other people acknowledge the things i, and other victims, have to deal with. there are other reasons, but that's one i thought up ""You're ableist for criticizing our coping mechanism!" ... You know what else is a coping mechanism? Self-harm. Alcoholism. Excessive drug use. Those are frowned upon EVERYWHERE, because they're self-destructive. So why is thinking adults and minors should be cute together (sometimes real life adults and minors, but I'm not gonna get into the whole RPF discourse because RPF is even more fucking disgusting) suddenly okay?" there is a difference between doing things that being actual harm and because the latter is harmless. besides... isn't this circular logic? this argument is based on the conclusion you draw from it. "proshipping as a coping mechanism is bad because proshipping is bad". ""Rule 34 and gross ships is always gonna exist!" In our current world, bigotry is always gonna exist. Doesn't mean we should stop getting mad about it." bigotry excludes a specific group of often-innocent people for no reason. rule 34 is just porn of fictional characters. completely incomparable ""I'm exploring unhealthy relationships in fiction!" Okay then! That's great! Don't romanticize it. Tag it accordingly. Make the story frown upon it. Lolita, the book, frowned upon the pedophilia and thought it was disgusting. Do that." nobody romanticises anything. most loli hentai just... depict a loli having sex. it doesn't depict it as this amazing thing that you should dp. most lolicons that talk nabout wanting to fuck... idk, klee from the funny gacha game don't actually wanna have sex with kids. it's omly romanticised in-universeww, if you will. it doesn't say anything about it being good to do irl. and on nhentai, we use tags. we have a lot of 'em, including the recent 'kodomo doushi'. you jujst have to take a look at the tags section of a doujin and search for any tag you may not want you can also filter them in the search bar. we tag our shit, it's just your fault for being an irresponsible fuck. "But you're not gonna do that, are you." we will. the importance of tagging can NOT be stressed enough anon, i am gonna be blunt here. you are not smart. you did not debunk shit. god will slam the pearly gates of heaven on you for this post

[clevercatchphrase]

2024 Year in Review~

Getting a head start and typing this on December 26th at 3pm, though I don't think I'll get it done on this same day. I'll probably get it up exactly on January 1st, though.

This is the sixth time I've made one of these retrospectives of my year. these are mostly just for me, talking to myself so I can look back at it later in the year. These recap posts always end up extremely long, and never get a lot of notes, but that's fine~ You're welcome to take a peak into my thoughts and read along if you'd like. I'll mostly be talking about the goals I set for myself, what I achieved, what I failed, and thoughts and feelings I had throughout the year.

Let's begin...

As always, I'll start with my New Year's Resolutions for 2024. this year I had 9 serious goals and 4 casual goals. The serious goals being;

Read twelve new books (one book a month)

Reach 312 pages of Ghost Switch by June 18th (the 6th birthday)

Build (and maintain!) a comic buffer of 8 pages

Go walking on 3 new greenways around my neighborhood

Go camping by myself

Make at least one new song comic

Finish 4 video games to as close to 100% as I can

Finish the first rewrite of my 2023 nanoproject, and

Write 4 one-shots for BSapT

The 4 causal goals were;

10. Get reacquainted with Neocities and make a personal website

11. Learn to code to improve said website/learn to make games

12.Listen to the entire royalty free youtube library for reasons

13. Research every d.o.n.g. ever featured on VSauce, for neocities reasons.

13 goals in total. Let's dive into them one at a time in the order of appearance.

Read twelve new books a month. I did this! I actually did double and read 27(OR, you could argue I did QUADRUPLE because I bought and reread the entire 27 volume set of Fullmetal Alchemist this year in October). I am mostly going to copy and paste the discord entry I made for the notes on each book, so please pardon typos. It was mostly stream of consciousness. The books I read this year were; 1) Whitefoot the woodmouse. Cute, average. Very similar to the johnny chuck book with the main character starting a family. I think this is the first t.w.b. book where a character used the word "idiot". I liked the short section with the rabbit, snowy owl and ermine the best.

2)The adventures of Benny Badger. Fine~ feels like an older book with the inclusion of a Mr. Fox character, no poems at the beginning of each chapter, and no hint of the next book at the end of the story. Almost thought the mouse at the end of this one would be eaten, but Thornton continues to stay pg for this series.

3)Dire: Feathers and Flame Fine. Needs more world building. Quite a few grammar mistakes. Griffin society doesn't make sense, and it feels like the characters are set up to fail. Bad names. Eural sounds like 'urinal' in my head.

4)Griffin QuestWritten by a 16 year old and it shows. Very short and very rushed. No grammar or spelling mistakes, but characters have little to no development/form relationships to quickly without any true connection shown.

5)The FifthOkay! Solid for a debut. Too many characters honestly, and some don't get enough development because of it. This world is too trusting. Polara was never challenged enough. Confusing that "dragon" is used as a catch-all term for people, and actual dragons are called drakes/wingless drakes. I don’t like the phrase “wingless drakes,” honestly. It makes them feel… lesser? Othered? Compared to the drakes with wings. It’s as if saying “having wings is the default, therefore, they are “normal” drakes, and we have to specify that you’re different.” If it was Winged Drakes AND Wingless Drakes, (both having the descriptor), this wouldn’t be a problem. Think of it like… the humans and the black humans. Why you gotta specify, right? Makes it sound like they don’t belong.

6)The adventures of Unc'a Billy Possum Pretty good! I like the different speech patterns used for billy possum. Gives billy possum a very distinct character compared to all the other animals.

7)The adventures of bob WhiteEasy going~ I feel all Thornton books are actually about 2 characters instead of just The one mentioned in the title. Peter rabbit showed up a good amount in this book, and then, like, the last 3 chapters switched to one of bob white's sons instead. Still a good book over all~

8)The adventures of Old Man CoyoteAn… Interesting one of Thornton's to be sure. Younger me would have spent days sorting out my feelings on this one without being sure why, but older me knows the true heart of the problem. I was not sure if this was an immigrant's story or a colonizer's. Thornton does a great job of balancing both ideas. Coyote is a predator and unashamed of it. He's crafty and sly. All the current residents of the green forest are wary and afraid of him and rightfully so because he will eat them with no hesitation. The other predators (granny and teddy fox) do not want him their because he competes for their resources. Their worries are justified. At the same time, he is just one coyote. He is an animal filling an unoccupied niche. He must eat to live and hunt to eat. That is not his fault he was made that way. Are the foxes merely being greedy and xenophobic? In the end, coyote stays and the status quo changes, but the current residents aren't subjugated. They dimply must learn to live with this new predator. A shaky kind of peace is formed between some of the forest people and coyote, like that between the porcupine and peter rabbit, but I know from Thornton's previous books that that peace only lasts as long as stomachs are full.

9)The Adventures of Prickly PorkyRather short? This book would have bothered me for accuracy reasons if I had read it as a kid. On the whole, Thornton's books to not anthropomorphize to a wild degree. But there were two instances in this book that stuck out to me. One was when prickly porky was choking and un'ca billy possum reached in his mouth and pulled the stick out of his throat. The other was insinuating that porcupines curl up and roll down hills as a method of travel. The latter became the focus of a good half of the book, too, and it kind of annoyed me by the end because nothing else creative was happening in the story.Just remembered a third thing that bothered me about prickly porky's book! There's a continuity contradiction! In old man coyote's book, he was a new comer meeting all the other characters for the first time, including prickly porky, who was written to sound like an established resident. But In porky's book, HE was the newcomer from the north meeting all the characters for the first time, including coyote, who was written to sound like an established resident. Which came first?? They cant both be the new guy while other has lived there their whole life. (According to Wikipedia, porky came first and coyote literally second as that's the order the books were published, back to back, but I think I like the idea of porky being there before coyote.

10)Griffin Quest 2Shallow and simple as the first. The reveal that both sora and draven are related to Helios and selene felt contrived. The whole concept of a city surrounded in flames didn't feel thought out. At least in the first book they mentioned the struggle the gryphons were going through just to get water and sleep in eternal day, but after helios takes over, are those not problems anymore? How is everyone not starving or dying of thirst? How is everyone BREATHING? doesn't fire burn oxygen? Or is it a magic fire that's just hot and doesn't actually produce smoke? Does ariana have ice powers too since she's also related to selene? Mel's character was dumb. Was he a gryph from another kingdom or just highborn? If the first one, then how the hell did he and draven go to school together? What was up with the blind spirit gryph in this book? She was never mentioned before, just showed up with some deus ex Machina, then fucked off. This book has no depth, no meaningful message and no compelling themes. Everything is so rushed and surface level. It's actually kind of fascinating how bad it was.

11)The Adventures of Danny Meadow MouseActually kinda forgettable? Not bad, but ive read better. Cant really remember much of it, even though I finished it less than a month ago. The use of fully voiced cast for each of the characters was actually more distracting than immersive.

12) Old Mother West WindFun! A short story collection. Very gentle and kind. Predators were even friends with the prey in this book, which was a nice change of pace.

13) Griffin in Light First 1/3rd was good, 2 third was a slog, final third felt like a retread of The Silver Griffin. I will read the second book when it comes out, though. I love all the fantasy races that lackey comes up with.

14) Hunters UnluckyFound this book by typing "xenofiction" into the Amazon search bar then looked it up on a book pirate website. It was pretty good! I'll probably buy the ebook to support the author. It's very long. Over 200k words, I believe. The first 10 or so chapters of the first "book" were very short and exposition-y and I did not like it at all, but it got better and less info-dumpy as it went along. Interesting creature creations, though an omnivorous ungulate that can climb trees feels a liiitle too improbable sometimes, and the cresea just felt like lions/pumas. The world building was fun if not a little too socio-political at times. Got a little confusing since these creative's social structures were so different from our own. Books 2 ad 3 were the best. Book 4 was probably the worst. Book 5 dragged with its sudden new pop up villain of treace, and then with the lishtees. But I'd like to read more stories from this world. Apparently has a small, active fandom on tumblr to this day!

15) Mother West Wind's Animal Friends StoriesBehold! The first Thornton w Burgess book I didn't like! I really did not care for the first 2/3rds of this book. It feels like a collection of his earliest stories where all the characters are way more human than normal. They talk about the animals wearing clothes in a very literal way, the characters used tools like baskets, which just pulled me out. The last couple of stories were fine, but I cant recommend this one as highly as the others.

16-26) Arc's 2 and 3 of Wings of Firereread the second and third arcs of wings of fire again (this time in audio book form) the second arc is just so slow?? I forgot how much time was spent in the school in moon rising (aka the whole book). I forgot how annoying winter was. Escaping peril still remains my fave of this arc. Turtle’s book was also growing on me this reread, but qibli's book was just so unnecessarily long that it hurts. The third arc (which I'm still in the process of listening to, but will def finish before the year ends) still holds up in books 1 and 2. I remember liking 2 the most for all the imagery (and 1 as well. Fun new places, even if I don't care all that much for push over blue) but the 3rd book is pretty sluggish. Sundew has so much pent up anger with no real outlet for it, and its starting to get annoying. Bumblebee is not cute. She is annoying, too, and while I'm all for gay relationships, I just do not like willow as a character. She does not support sundew enough or take her side as much as she should. She's too passive and complacent.Book 14- better than I remember! I think I even like it more than sundew's book. Book 15- just as bad as I remember. Pointlessly long like book 10, and the whole mindspace location is still just as confusing and nonsensical as I remember. I do not like freedom. She's not tragic, she's annoying, but at least less annoying than bumblebee.

27) Dragonfall I bought this book at the Barnes and noble grand opening. Interesting narrative style with first person direct, first person (regular) and third person. Sometimes I felt emotional or logical transitions were missing. Like, "I thought this character felt one way, but now we're doing something that contradicts it." Like…. Everen was excited to chase a prophecy and willingly jumps into a magic storm, but once he's in the human world he's mad that he was pulled through?? Like?? He knew the storm would take him there and he went on purpose, so why is he upset?? I like that arcady is a genderfluid protagonist (though the only reason I think Everen used 'you' pronouns for them was so the author didn't have to say "they") didn't realize this was a heist + enemies to lovers book. Didn't really care for the romance. Probably will not buy book 2. 3 stars from me.

28) Impossible creatures.Saw this one at the b&n grand opening as well, and glad I didn't get it. Too fast paced. Definitely for younger readers. Character personalities were a bit thin and shallow. Kinda just an over all sad book. 2 major characters die. A little too rushed. Not very deep or thought provoking. Nothing ever felt "dangerous". But the illustrations in the book? Fucking beautiful. 10 outa 10 for the artist.

Overall, a good year for reading! Griffin Ranger 4 came out this year, and I bought it as soon as I could, but I am still waiting patiently for 2025 to come around so I can read both books 3 and 4 of that series and have it count for next year’s reading list. Shadow Sun, the sequel to Rise of the Dragon Star, also came out in the second half of this year, and I will definitely be looking into that one as well! I think The sequel to The Fifth also came out this year? I have to double check. Great year for griffin book publications that will really help me hit my goal for 2025.

Goal Number 2! Reach 312 pages of Ghost Switch by June 18th! (Ghost Switch's 6th birthday) I did this one with relative ease! Great year for Ghost Switch over all, imo. We hit the half way point, we're chuggin' along through waterfall, and I got the majority of the comic mirrored to Pillowfort.social, as a back up in case tumblr goes down in flames. In fact, because I want pillowfort to succeed, I'm going to try and have pages be one week ahead over there to help drive traffic to the site. (patreon will thus be 2 weeks ahead). I'm also looking into comicfury to host Ghost Switch, but I may hold off on that until the comic is almost done. Having it update on 4 sites (patreon, tumblr, pillowfort and DA) is a lot to maintain already. I know I also thought about crossposting to webtoons as well, but I heard a lot of shitty things about webtoons this year, and I don't think I want to any more. (not like they'd make this comic an original anyway since it's not my IP, but I don't want to give them any more traffic if they don't start treating their creators fairly) So yeah! Go check out pillowfort if you aren't there already! It's free! It's small and a little quiet, but I believe it has the potential to grow and be like tumblr of old~

Goal 3; Build and maintain a comic buffer of 8 pages. Nope. Didn't do this. I got waaay too burnt out by september and could barely manage one page a week. whenever I make a buffer, it always ends up running out. The only way I could keep up a buffer at this point is if I make the comic in its entirety before I even post it.

Goal 4; go walking on 3 new greenways around my neighborhood. I didn't go walking once this year, aside from when I camped. I don't even know why I put this one on the list. As if I thought I would actually go outside on my own accord.

Goal 5; go camping by myself. I did this for the eclipse in april and it was wonderful. I should do this every year. you can read more thoughts I had about my camping trip further below.

6) Make one new song comic. I had planned to do this. I honestly thought I WOULD do this one, since I have a good track record of making one song comic at least every two years. I had even had this one planned for at least 4. It was going to be be a chara-centric comic to the song "It's Only" by Odesza, for Undertale's ninth birthday. I was going to try something new for this comic by using a limited color palette of 4 colors, those being solid black, pure white, determination yellow, and soul red. I thought it would have looked cool. I scripted the whole thing, but then... as the deadline got closer and closer, I just... didn't have the heart to do it anymore. I don't know why. When I opened up SAI t start drawing, I just... suddenly had no more drive. I'm kinda glad I didn't do it in the end. It was going to be a bit more of an edgy/dark lyrictale focusing on the no mercy route, but after we got some asriel/chara lore on the ninth birthday, I'm glad I didn't make it. if anybody else wants to make a limited color palette, chara focused lyrictale to the song "It's Only" by odesza, be my guest. I would love to see how it comes out~

7) Finish 4 video games (as close to 100% as I can.) I did this~ The games I played and completed this year were; Horizon Forbidden West, The Talos Principle 2, Original Pokemon Silver, and Carto. I had a lot of fun with all of them, even if I never 100% any of them, I did play them to completion. (I never fully got the hand of Carto's controls, though. Adorable game, terrible control scheme.)

8) Finish the rewrite of Featherlight's Sequel. I did not do this. I mostly focused on Featherlight instead. Made a lot of progress and even got half of it posted on line! (on pillowfort, where you need to log in to read it, but again, Pillowfort is free! Come check out my story if you like xenofiction and gryphons!) After working on Featherlight for most of november, I think I just need to do a major overhaul of the sequel, Greyscale, from the ground up. Even though I had forced out 50k words for it in 2023, it just wasn't working, honestly.

my last serious goal for 2024 was to write 4 oneshots for Blankets, Socks, and Pillow Talk, over on ao3. I didn't do this this year because I just didn't feel inspired. I don't feel "done" with writing Undertale fanficion, not by a long shot, but I don't want to force it out if I don't feel inspired. Writing is hard, I know that from experience, but trying to write when I'm just not in the mood is even worse. I still have ideas and prompts for BSaPT that I've had for years, but I just don't know how to go about executing. (I can promise you, though, once I know how to get the story started, the rest comes easily, so it's just the problem of getting over the initial hump)

So! 4 out of 9 of my serious goals were met this year! That's!!! not a good ratio. I had 4 additional casual goals, and just re-reading them I know I only did 2 of those four, those being "learn to code" and research every D.O.N.G. collected by Vsauce in the past. The reason I did both of these things WAS to work on my Neocities website that I made in 2023, and haven't touched since. I've been doing coding lessons on Sololearn and Mimo coding, (though I had to stop the latter after a couple months when I ran out of free lessons to do). It's been fun brushing up on my old html skills, and learning python for gaming reasons as well. I've made a couple of my goals for next year related to my neocities website, so let's see if I actually put those coding lessons to work!

So! in total, over all, 13 goals were made and six were met! That's about 50 percent, but that's usually what my record tracks to compared to past years! Now on to next year!

My Goals for 2025 are;

Read 12 new books (one a month)

Work on neocities website. (add at least 4 new pages; my song comics, my fan fics, my original writing, fun links)

Get to 400 pages on gs before Dec. 31st (CASUAL GOAL)

Write one fan fiction for one fandom that isn't undertale (Wandersong, fma, wof, the crackfic)

Watch 4 new anime (dungeon mesh, mha, hunter x hunter, mob psycho)

Start and stick to an abs and back exercise routine (CASUAL GOAL)

Get all of Featherlight up online (royal road?)

Do something for undertale's 10th anniversary

Play at least 4 video games in my steam library that I haven't touched before.

Start experimenting with Ren'Py and Godot (CASUAL GOAL)

Post one chapter of clemency

Don't really have any casual ones this year. I guess 3, 6, and 10 can be considered casual. I just hope I find the time to actually do most of these. I feel if I didn't have to work in order to maintain my right to exist, I would be reaching my goals much easier. But that's capitalism for ya, baby.

Now onto my thoughts that I had over the last year! I am mostly going to copy/paste these from discord as well, minus the ones that are waaaay too personal, so please pardon any spelling errors. Most of these are stream of conscious writings.

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January 7th. New schedule at work has everyone on reduced hours as we enter the off season. I got to leave at 1pm. After going home and changing, I went back out to academy to buy new work and house shoes. It was CROWDED at the store. I saw these obnoxious purple nike shoes, and wanted to buy them so bad, but they didnt have them in my size. Bought some stupid bright ass white and blue shoes instead. I tried wishing Allyson happy birthday on the 1st, but my text sidnt go through. I wonder if she blocked my number. I wonder if she's doing okay..

January 10th. 1/3rd of the month is over already. On January 8th, I had to do a closing shift. It is so weird staying until 7pm and driving home in the dark. Why did it feel like people were more likely to tailgate me on the highway after 7pm? Should have worked on my comic or novel while at work, but was a little to anxious with the time change. I need to build a big buffer of comic pages in order to get to 312 by June 18th. I want to do so much creative stuff, like write fan fiction and animate and crochet, and I actually have the time now to I, but I'm getting paralyzed by choice.

I watched "undertale under event" late last year and I'm kind of curious if I can join for this year 👉👈 wish I knew about this showcasing project sooner. It's finally getting cold! The weather is below freezing most mornings, then warms up during the day. I hope it doesnt rain ice or snow or I will be screwed because my car cant handle that weather. (Fun Fact, I completely forgot to apply for Undertale Event 2024, and absolutely missed it this year)

Been playing horizon forbidden west some more. Still just grinding for weapon and outfit upgrades. I looked it up, and there are 2 "comic days" each year, 24- hour comic day on the first Saturday in October, and comics day on February 1st. Ive always wanted to participate, but never knew the right date. Feb 1st is a Thursday this year, so I will likely be at work, but I want to do an all-day art stream on weds the 31st instead, and make it public for everyone just because I can.

January 19th, Been having a blast looking into old d.o.n.g. sites. A good half of them are defunct or broken due to the discontinuation of flash, but for the ones that still work- it is the old weird internet that I missed having as a kid. I need to learn to code so I can build a neocities website. Ive been doing Mimo daily for a month now. A lot of the lessons are locked behind a paywall, though. Might try to switch to sololearn once I finish all the free stuff I can access. Ive also been doing a free ASL app daily too. The app needs more work, but for what I can access for free, its pretty decent.

January 30th, I cant believe January isnt even over yet. One more day and then we're finally on to a new month. The one week of texas winter has passed. I highly doubt it will get below freezing again. Most days lately have been pretty nice. Low 40s in the morning, high 60s by the afternoon. I had another/first anxiety attack of the year! Work related like the last two. I was worried I'd be forced to go to a pet cpr class that I was signed up for without being asked. Been reeeeaaaally into learning ren'py and godot tutorials lately. It's exciting to learn code and how to program. I'm still chipping away at all the free lessons on mimo, but have started doing sololearn along side it. (Might just zero in on python because of ren'py and for it, and maybe c#). Still slowly going through dongs. Successfully clicked through 200 out of 1500. Been REALLY back into neopets as well because unconverted pet art was re-introduced to neopets. I am ashamed to say I spent over 150 actual real life dollars on the websites in order to buy slots and style kits. I'm finally transferring all my old pets onto 2 or 3 accounts instead of the 10 I rotated on as a child across my two emails(dont tell neo, I’m abiding by the rules now). Having fun pound surfing on lost and pound for old pets and cool names. Might get rid of some poorly named pets ive had for years, like the bori adopted back in... 2006? It's been so long and he was never a favorite because of his name. (I plan to straight-up "redo" him, by making a better-named pet his identical match, lol.) I lost my old pet stories on their pet pages when I transferred them over.

I plan to do an all-day comic stream tomorrow, so I need to go to bed early. I also need to sketch/scan some more pages.. Hope a few people stop by. I also want to make an April fool's post this year, but dont know if I'll have the time (or if it will line up with the comic's pacing for what I want to do.) I went to walmart and bought more seeds and dirt again. I started planting my seeds last week, extra early this year because im scared the extreme heat of the later months will kill them all again. But the temperature is perfect right now. I'm growing peas, carrots, asparagus, and even watermelon. Im also growing cat grass and a few different types of flowers. I hope my flowers have better luck this year than last.

March 7th, Been trying to be more conscientious of how happy i am. If things bother or upset me, i try to change them. If I'm bored or anxious I find activities to do to cheer me up. One of the things ive been doing this year was looking through old vsauce dongs. I found a website that does multiplayer puzzles and I've become hooked. The reason I started looking at dongs was to build a list for a personal website that harkened back to the early 90s internet days. I miss how weird the internet was back then. A lot of the old dongs are defunct, but a good handful still work. Sadly, a lot of them are not that interesting. Speaking of my personal website, i need to get back to it. I haven't touched it in a year, but I have been trying to teach myself code in order to improve it. Ive been using mimo and sololearn to practice coding, but only the free stuff they offer. I'm almost out of mimo courses, and the sololearn classes dont really have you practicing the code you're actually learning, so the lessons dont really stick. Ive also been looking into games that teach you how to code as you play. At work on my work phone ive been watching a lot of youtube videos that talk about video game development. I want to learn and do so much but all at once. It's almost paralyzing.

I started packing my suitcase for my camping trip next month. My trunk is already full of sleeping bags, the tent and a chair. I need to finalize my menu and shop for food. I'm excited and nervous, mostly about driving up there on my own. Pulling my suitcase out made me realize I really need to clean out my closet and organize my room in general. I have so many papers just strewn in my desk and so many knick-knacks crammed in my closet. I kinda want to itemize everything. Random memory- I got real obsessed with an old Wendy's ad campaign called "it's good to be square". Those commercials were so funny to me. Never made me want to eat at Wendy's though. I voted on super Tuesday. I wish voting wad mandatory and punishable by fine. I'm scared for this November, but I will vote for sure. Been slightly re-obsessed with neopets ever since they rereleased unconverteds. Bought neocash to buy extra pet slots and moved all my side pets over. Now I'm training them up just because I can. I gotta look into neocash item trading. There's a couple of things I want that are retired now..

In a fit of motivation, I edited the second chapter of featherlight yesterday. It took me hours, and im still not done, but it flows better than it's first draft. Hope I can stay motivated to edit the rest. I keep daydreaming of putting copies of my book in little free libraries that they have around neighborhood parks and such. Still debating if I want to publish my book to be free or to be bought and sold.. It should be nice to make a living off of my writing, but I doubt I ever will.

March 13, I went to half price books for the first time in a couple of years. The building hasn't changed at all, but I think they did away with plastic bags. I found the 3 gryphon books by Mercedes lackey and bought them, as well as joust, the dragon book she wrote, and two CDs, one being a Jesse cook CD. I recently bought a CD/dvd player to hook up to my laptop, but I wonder if I can find just my basic CD player that you use with headphones. I hate how many things are "wireless" and use usb and have rechargeable batteries. I want good ol' devices that need double As. Any way, it was healing to be in a h.p.b. I also went to 3 thrift stores to look for work pants. Goodwill and the salvation army sucked, but thrift city is always there for me. I found 5 pairs of men's shorts that fit me great and all of them have nice deep pockets! Hopefully I wont have to go shopping for work clothes again for a while.

March 21, Nani's gotcha day was on the 18th! Ive had her for a full 4years now~ I watched two movies on Netflix yesterday; puss in boots and the last wish, and the Mitchell's vs the machines. The puss movie was very fast pace, but had very tight writing. It was great, despite me being spoiled on it for well over a year and knowing every beat that was going to happen. (I do NOT like the new dreamworks opening though) the mitchells vs the machine movie was surprisingly funny! But also so. Damn. LONG. It was also a good soul cleanse, being so sincere and genuine despite the irony poisoned world we live in right now. I want more movies with this kind of heart. For the first time since January, ive noticed I haven't been as happy or content as I want to be. Boredom sneaks up on me and periods of anxiety are sneaking into my thoughts. For example- I've been a lot more strict with my "watch later" list on YouTube. It used to be so long. I'm slowly cutting it down, but ive noticed that not many of the videos make me happy, nor do I remember much of what I watched. I find that I mostly just watch/play youtube videos for background noise. Im not really multitasking like I thought. Now, as soon as I realize I'm not retaining what im watching or the moment I lose interest, I click a way. I don't want to waste my time on things I don't care about anymore. Been really interested in going back to my fox game. Maybe I will this year.

March 31, Watched nimona finally. Very good story! Sometimes the lighting of the animation was distractingly flat, but the narrative was so strong you hardly pay attention to it. (Unlike in Wish, where the story was so unengaging that you DO notice all the tiny flaws.) Nimona's character actually kinda bothered me at first. I get that she's headstrong and boisterous, but even I think she'd want to keep a low profile and STOP TRYING TO MAKE BALLISTER LOOK BAD. If she KNOWS people are likely to jump to conclusions, why validate those fears around her to begin with? WHY would she especially do this to blackheart when she knows he's trying to prove his innocence? I wish this aspect of prejudice had been explored more in the movie. Oh, and also, am I really supposed to believe that in A THOUSAND YEARS ABSOLUTELY NO ONE ELSE HAS QUESTIONED WHAT IS OUTSIDE THE WALL OR WHY ONLY THE UPPERCLASS GET TO BE KNIGHTS?? I could suspend my disbelief juuust enough to enjoy the movie, but these thoughts WERE on the back of my mind. Maybe I'm too aware of social inequality today to not have these ideas in mind when watching a queer coded film like this. I read the nimona comic in full the day after I watched the movie. It's.... Different. Not bad, but different. You can clearly see where the movie got inspiration and direct homages. I do think the movie is more coherent, and the action and gesture... Readability? Intensity? Is sorely lacking in the comic. All poses are rather flat and generic. Not a lot of interesting angles or poses. (Granted, the comic was updated twice a week for 3 years straight so I understand the artist had to streamline the process as much as possible to keep up such a pace.)

Watched another movie on Netflix called latte and the waterstone. Its... Passable. Okay story, bad character design (especially for the squirrel) weak dialogue, nice music. I reeeeaaallllly hated how tjum the squirrel would hiccup whenever he was nervous. The tick is never addressed, but his hiccuping is a minor plot point so you'd think they'd at least put a little light on it? Based of a book of the same name, I think this film was originally German? The lip sync seemed weak near the end.

April 1st dream; got fucking pranked by my own subconscious. I dreamed my neopets account got terminated right after I managed to get all my pets unconverted again. Not because I broke any rules, but because someone didnt like the original stories I wrote for my pet's backstories when I was 13. They said the stories were all too problematic, and so TNT just deleted my account. Not even froze it. Just erased it from existence.

April 7 Been trying to be more mindful of myself and my emotions. For the most part, ive been happy and content, but last night I suddenly got very anxious for frivolous reasons. Found out that kique N, creator of a webcomic I hate called asmundr and home, is sooo insecure and creepy, that he would watch videos critiquing him, then investigate everyone in who talked about his work in the COMMENTS of those videos and block them on as many sites as he could find. My fan art deviant art account is blocked by him (but not my personal because he doesnt know it, lol) and I'm even blocked by him on PATREON. How delusional can he be? I learned his longtime girlfriend broke up with him because she finally caught wise to how insane he is. Im not too torn up about it because I just know I'm one of COUNTLESS people he's blocked, so it's nothing personal, but it is kinda unnerving how far he'll dig to find you on the internet.

April 8th. Took 4 days off from work to see the eclipse and go camping. It was cloudy today, and I couldn't see a goddamn thing. Caught glimpses of the sun becoming a crescent through the clouds but saw nothing when we went into totality. I could hear all the kids at the nearby elementary school screaming when it went dark. I took Nani outside for her to experience, but she did not care at all. It didnt get as dark as I thought it would. Probably as dark as thunderstorm weather.

April 9th. I cleaned up my room, packed the ice chest, and drove 100 miles out to Fredericksburg to go camping. The drive there was nice and uneventful. I mostly followed behind a FedEx truck for all of i10. Fedex ground double length truck #56132... You were my friend on that open road and I will miss you... Got to enchanted rock pretty much bang at 2. Quite the line for camping check ins at that time! I was the first in my camping area to arrive. I parked next to a truck whose license plate said freeedom with 3 'e's. I also saw a license plate that said chiken with no second 'c'. I set up my tent (incorrectly, I later learned) and unloaded all my stuff. There were 3 other families in the same camping area as me. By the time I finished setting up, it was already 4pm. It was hot and I didnt want to climb the rock that day, so instead I hiked some of the short trails around the front of the rock. I was already drained by, like, 6;30 and turned in early for the night. That night I had a ham and cheese sandwich for dinner. It thunderstormed at 7pm and the wind was SO. BAD. That night, I thought the rain cover was going to be ripped away. I kept waking up every hour or so because of the wind. Around 12, it stopped long enough for me to run to the bathroom to pee. I heard coyotes howling around 2-3am.

April10th. I woke up early, but I didnt want to get up too early compared to everyone else. I told myself to rest, relax and take my time. Other early hikers were already headed to the rock. I should have gone too to see the sunrise. It was windy in the morning. All I ate for breakfast was a banana and some oranges (and a chewy bar, I think. Cant remember now). I did leave my campsite by 7:30 and started hiking the rock by 7:40, because I distinctly remember getting a text message at 7:50 from my mom. I learned then that the only way I could get cell service at enchanted rock was if I was at 1000ft or higher above sea level for my phone's internet/Wi-Fi to function. I then quickly took the opportunity to check all my websites, duolingo, neopets, tumblr, etc, to keep any streaks I had going. My sign language app worked regardless of if I had Wi-Fi or not, which leads me to believe it's not as frequently updated/maintained as I would have believed. I made it to the top of the mountain by 8:20 and it was fookin' WIMDY up there. I couldn't hear anything by wind. When though the sun was blazing, the wind made it like 20 degrees colder. It felt like I was being fucking scratched! I wanted to climb little rock next, but I was too cold, so I went back down to get a wind breaker and ear muffs.

I rested for an hour before going back out around 10. This time I blazed my own trail, climbing up the fallen uneven boulders like an idiot. I made it to the top of little rock, which is much prettier than enchanted rock, I must say, and wondered around for an hour. There was a third rock to the west of little rock I wanted to climb, but it was getting close to lunch, so I scrambled down little rock, again striking my own path, and stumbled out through someone else's camping site before getting back to my own. The wind was so violent I couldn't start a fire. I ate a lunch of a peanut butter and banana sandwich with Pringles on the side. I tried to read and write, but the wind was too distracting And shaking my tent. I tried to sunbathe and tan in my tent, but it was too cloudy. I tried to nap, but it was too noisy. Instead, I went on an interpretive trail, found a spot of Wi-Fi, downloaded a book to read off line and checked the weather. The wind was supposed to stop by 7pm. The longest hiking trail at enchanted rock took 3 hours to complete. I rested in my tent until 3, then went out on the loop trail to kill time away from the noise of my own tent. The loop trail was gorgeous! Prettiest sights and landscapes by far. I climbed some weird rocks and ripped my pants sliding down one. Thankfully I still had my windbreaker, so I did the tried and true middle school trick of tying your sweater/jacket around your waist, and thus my ass was covered and noone could see my underwear!

The trail was so quiet and lonely, I only encountered 2 other groups going the other direction. At one point I heard a family catching up to me from behind, so whenever the trail sloped down hill, I jogged to keep distance, despite aching feet. Once I passed the buzzards roost camping site, I lost track of the trail and walked in the river bed. I managed to spot two other hikers on a cliff a bit above me and scrambled out of the river bed and found the path again. It was so narrow and rocky. The last third of loop trail isn't worth it imo. If you take loop trail in a clock-wise path like I did, turn and follow the baseline trail at the 2/3rds mark. Far prettier and easier to keep track of. Anyway, it was about 5:30 and still broad daylight when I heard a pack of coyotes howling from around turkey peak. I do not know if turkey peak or buzzards roost are off limits to climbing, since it has no dedicated paths. I was curious about climbing them, but if coyotes live there, then I think I won't. I made it back to mt campsite by 6, the wind had died down enough for me to light my propane stove. I grilled 2 hotdogs and they were the best thing I'd eaten all day. I took a full dose of sleep aid that night and was out by 9 thanks to physical exhaustion. I did take a shower around 730, but it was just a glorified whore bath with a scrubby because I forgot to bring soap. I read the offline book i'd downloaded for about an hour before passing out. If there was any wind or coyotes that night, i didnt hear them. (Oh, I did try to stargaze Wednesday night, but it was too cloudy. I saw a couple Tuesday night, but was too tried to hike out to a good spot, plus it rained.)

April 11th. I woke up early again today, but forced myself to stay in my tent until I could hear other campers waking up. I finally had to get up around 6:30 because I really needed to pee. I ate a quick breakfast of grilled sausage patties and the rest of my oranges (mostly for the juice) then began to roll up my sleeping bags and pack my suitcase and car. It seemed that 2 of the 3 other families also only planned a camp trip of 2.5 days and 2 nights, because they began packing up too. The sight of them packing kind of... Upset me? And it makes me wonder if I have abandonment issues that I don't know about. I don't like the idea of people leaving before me. Leaving me behind. I got all my belongings fully packed away by 8am, and my campsite was cleared before anyone else, but I decided to hike one more trail before I left (mostly to kill time so I could then by some souvenirs from the gift shop that opened at 8:30).

I hiked the turkey pass/baseline/echo canyon trails. When I got up high enough (around 9:30) I told my mom I was heading out soon, letting her know I'd be home by 1pm. I got lost on the trail change from pass to base, and ended up hiking an extra .6 miles. I saw some rock climbers/repellers on the back of enchanted rock. The saddle area between enchanted rock and little rock was like out of a fantasy (and the only place I saw any graffiti my entire time there). I got back by 11:30, bought some art by ira Kennedy that really inspired me to try a dot style like his, bought some enamel pins and an eclipse magnet to commemorate the trip, even though I didn't get to see the eclipse there myself. (Apparently they didn't have much better luck that day either. It was mostly cloudy during the critical 2 minutes totality happened). It was fun camping by myself, and I think 2 half days, 1 full day and 2 nights was the perfect length. I'd like to go again, with friends to show them the trails, or by myself to climb the more dangerous peaks and that third flat one I skipped. Id also like to go again to really try star gazing.

Just being at enchanted rock was really... Mentally cleansing. I didn't talk to anyone, not even out loud to myself. I didn't think once about work (though I did think about Nani because I missed her). I saw a lot of cool plants, reptiles and birds, but no mammals. I did hear the coyotes howl the morning I left, though. I got sunburned on my face. Most of the other camper's cars were gone by the time I finished my last hike, which still made me feel weird because they left before me, but after I got my prizes from the gift shop, I went straight to my car and left too. (I was really nervous about the drive home because my gps didnt work inside of enchanted rock, and I had to drive about 7 miles off of memory before I got a signal).

Camping at enchanted rock felt surreally long and surprisingly short at the same time. I had no schedule or itinerary. All I did was wonder and explore for roughly 48 hours while there. By the time I left, the eclipse felt like it had been a month ago. The drive back felt shorter than the drive there. Once I got to 1604, I knew my way home. Arriving home in the mid afternoon was weird too. I unloaded my car as fast as I could because I knew I'd be too tired to do it later, but p much as soon as I stepped inside I turned on my computer, snuggled my cat for an hour, and took a full shower to get truly clean before bringing most of my luggage in from the porch. I watched 2 nature documentaries on pbs to relive the wilderness I just returned from. I caught up on 2 days worth of tumblr posts I'd missed and learned oj Simpson died. I slept great last night though my body is still sore from all the exercise I did in 2 days. (I also slept like a rock Wednesday night, but I think that was mostly in part to the sleep aid)

April 14, Youtube is being a shithead and "updated" their UI. I must've been a "lucky" random beta tester, because when I did a Google search on an extension to undo it, nothing came up. (That, or YouTube's parent company, which IS Google, is suppressing results). I remembered the next day that I have tampermonkey, and when I did a script search on greasyfork, I found quite a few userscripts that could undo the change (and several had spikes in "recent downloads" over the last w days, lol).Also discovered a completely random deviantart user who has me blocked for some reason. Probably because they're overtly Christian and I dared to portray their religion in a negative light in my undertale comic. Doesn’t bother me none. Lord knows I’ve blocked completely nice people just because I didn’t want to see their art pop up in the groups we both submit to. Speaking of deviantart, they recently "updated" all the groups on da, and now submitting stuff to them is waaay more complicated than it was before with so many extra steps and clicking. I think once I'm done putting my undertale comic up there, I'll stop using tje site for good. Too bad there arent very many other good art community websites out there. I should really get back into making my own neocities site…

April 20, It's not even been a week since I last wrote in my monthly journal but I feel as if so much has happened. Amber, one of our new hires, silently quit only after being here a week. I hope she found something better.. Ive been wanting to get back into writing my gryphon book, especially after finishing the extremely underwhelming "griffin quest" duology. I could write something so much better. I HAVE written better than torro's has. I'm getting close to the half way mark of my fan comic. I wish I had endless energy to work on that too, so I could build a buffer (or just make so many pages that I'd be done already). It takes up so much of my free time, Idk if I ever want to tell stories in comic format ever again this way. (I half wanted to translate Featherlight into comic, but the story just may be too damn long if this is how long it takes me to make a fan comic. I still may do it for other short story projects like dragonfruit or dogs cant see color) Steadily still working my way through dongs. I found so many good ones, but at least a good half are dead. Im still doing sololearn everyday, but I may quit that soon. I still want to learn coding for my neocities site, but sololearn isnt helping me as much as I thought it would.

Aurgh! I want to write! I want to code! I want to draw! I want to create!

Deviantart is still getting worse and worse. Ive seriously been considering looking into art community alternatives like Sheezy art, inkblot, and artfol. I wont completely jump ship yet, but after my fan comic is done, I don't think I'll post to da anymore..

May 8th, 2024. I beat horizon forbidden west today! The ending was shorter than I thought it would be. Easier, too. I think I had a harder time with zero dawn's final battle, honestly. Maybe this felt easier because I spent well over 100 hours just grinding upgrade items for better gear. I was already maxed out on level and most abilities by the end, but honestly I could have finished this game 2 months ago if I wanted. I feel like tilda's heel turn was kinda forced. I wish she'd stayed a good guy. Alva is my favorite, but I do love ketallo and erand as well. Sad (pissed) that varl had to die. And while I'm curious about horizon 3, idk if I'll ever play it. It sure isnt coming to ps4, I know that. (I honestly thought we were gonna fight nemesis at the end of this game. I was shocked when it was a to-be-continued)

Yesterday I finished 6 comic pages. I was up till almost 1am. I want to hit 312 by june 18th. I still need to make 8 more. (9, if i want patreon to stay ahead). I am exhausted already just thinking about it. I want to write and read more.

Scared for the world, this year's election, war over seas in countries I dont live in. Why do I feel like we are progressing backwards. I dont watch the news and I hate it when mom turns it on every day. It's too sad and stressful.

I stopped doing my daily sign language app after I forgot a day sooo close to a 100 day streak. I was just doing basic lessons over and over anyway. Might look for a new asl app. Might not.

So tired of the repetitiveness of work. We've got a lot of new hires. I wish we could all have 4 day work weeks. I need a break, though. The general air of unease is slowly coming back to me, like something is wrong or something bad will happen to me. I try to do my best, but I'm scared I messed something up without knowing, and no one will tell me because they want to use it against me in the future in order to fire me. All the more reason to get back into writing, create a well-selling novel and have no fear of losing my job because I will live off my book sales instead. Daydreaming is fun, but not the best coping mechanism..

Made banana cookies today! Came out great! They're more like mini banana bread bites if I'm being honest, but I just wanted to use up this one over ripe banana we had before it rotted.

Been rewatching a lot of old caleb joseph videos recently. I feel like I had stopped doing that for a while. He hasnt been active on patreon or any social media for almost 3 months now. His twitter was hacked, but recovered. Hope he's doing alright.

May 21st. I am sick with a fever. My body aches all over and I cannot get comfortable to sleep no matter what position I try. I'm hot and sweaty. My throat is scratched raw. A bug has been going around at work, and I caught it. I went to target for the first time in... I think since January? I remember going to buy flower seeds. They completely reorganized the interior. I went to target to find a nightlight because the one in my bathroom finally died. None of the night lights they sold were cute or fun, though. I ordered one from Amazon instead.

My fever brain has been obsessed with chillchuck and senshi from dungeon meshi, when though I have not watched a single episode or read the manga. I don't know why, but that's all I could think about last night as I tossed and turned with my body on fire.

June 16, Has it really only been 10 days since I last put in a journal entry? It feels so much longer than that. It dawned on me this morning that I haven't been playing a lot of my steam games recently. Granted I just spent months grinding and completing horizon forbidden west, but I haven't touched carto in months. I still need to catch back up on snakebird. I still want to play the talos principle 2, but still havent bought it. I have so many steam games I own but never played... I should fix that, but i feel I dedicate so much of my free time to my comic/fan project instead. Dont get me wrong, its fun to create stuff, but I wonder if I'm ever gonna have enough time to do everything I want, recreational or creational. I slept really hard last night, which is good because the night before I only slept, like, 4 hours. Ive been going to bed early, which is good because I get more sleep and feel more rested, but it feels like I'm losing what little free time I have. I dont want to wait until my weekend to do everything I want to do. I want to be able to do things I like/want to do even on days I work. I dont mind if I have to do them before or after, but I just need the time and energy. (Aka, work days are too long. 8 hour days should be made illegal in favor of 4 hour shifts to allow me to have time and energy for my own hobbies and needs) I hope one day my creative projects are profitable/sustainable enough so I dont have to work full time.. I daydream about it often, but doubt ill ever get there..

Also just realized I havent looked at any d.o.n.g.s in a few weeks as well. Need to get back to that, and website coding, and game dev education, and learning how to do every hobby under the sun. Maggie recently pit up a short story on her writing website. I think it was supposed to be a horror story, but I gotta be honest. Nothing maggie has ever written has ever scared me. (Maggie, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad) It's made me laugh with how ridiculous it is, but never ever creeped me out or unnerved me. Its probably a "me" thing. I remember not finding hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy funny out side of one suicide joke which got a snort out of me, nor did I find Guards! Guards! Funny either, and have never had the urdge to pick up another terry pratchet book because of it. I think it has something to do with the way I read and my internal voice I have in my head. I have a feeling if a snarky British person read guards guards to me with the correct inflection on all the right words, the humor would have hit better. I think I'm just too serious a reader. Then again, I remember reading Marley and me when I was younger and absolutely laughing out loud at that book. I think that author's writing style was more my taste and allowed the humor to resonate with me more. Ive been on a real kick editing Featherlight. So much so that I almost dont want to draw a comic page this week. I suck at multitasking. Its hard for me to put one project down and start another if I'm really into it. I just wanna keep going and see how much I can accomplish and finish. Ghost switch's 6th birthday is on Tuesday. Im about half way done with the story. I'm already trying to plan what I will do next after it's completed, especially patreon-wise. I think ill take a break, work on some fan fics, then do some short story comics, like dogs cant see color, or dragon fruit. I kinda had half an idea to make a comic version of Featherlight, but just seeing how long ghost switch is going to take? (12 years of my life!) I dont think I will.. Or, at least not all of it. Maybe ill illustrate a chapter or two to entice people to read the book instead?

I remember at the beginning of the year I told myself to monitor my happiness. I think I've been slipping a but since may. Ive been more neutral, but no anxiety/panic attacks yet this year. I think work is really just what's been bringing me down. All these new changes and new routines that is NOT making our jobs more streamlined or efficient. They keep piling on new expectations without realizing were already maxed out. I wish my managers would work beside us just to see how much they are asking of us. At least the rest of the staff are pretty strong coworkers. That is at least one thing for me to be grateful for during these fucking hot summer days. I miss my friends. I need more friends. But it's too hot to go anywhere or do anything. I want to go swimming. Maybe I will this summer. I think the school district's natatorium is open to the public in summer. Today is father's day. I dont think I'll call my dad. I have nothing to say. It's also been almost 1 year since my grandfather died. Two nights ago, Milton, my neighbor and Alice's husband, passed away from Alzheimers. I dont know how to feel about this. I dont like alice, but Milton was always pretty nice.

Yesterday I saw a humming bird! Sometimes I fear they'll go extinct in texas due to their high need for nectar, but all the flowers dying from the stupid heat.

June 18, Had a dream last night related to work and prepping food bowls. One bowl was custom made, and called "the piñata pancake" that was as follows; 4 waffles heated up in the toaster. Use a cookie cutter to cut a whole in the center of three of the waffles. 'Glue' the three waffles together with syrup and cool whip. Fill the hole in the three waffles with a candy of your choice (in my dream it was m&ms) glue the last waffle on top with more syrup and cool whip. Add sprinkles if desired and serve.

This recipe was for a dog breakfast.

June 30, Made a financially unwise decision yesterday and spent 50$ on 7 video games from steam. Don't know when ill have the time, energy or desire to play them, though. Curse the steam summer sale.

Raven, one of our newer hires at work, got fired yesterday for falling asleep and lying about it. Honestly, she will not be missed.

It's been a while since I listened to an audio book. I did listen to 12 this year, and I want to save more for next year, but I enjoy listening to stories on my commute to and from work. (Better than drama videos anyway.) Listening to overly negative videos is kinda starting to make me feel... Sick in a way? I'm constantly asking myself now "do you REALLY want to listen to this even though you know it will make you upset?" Sometimes it's hard to say no, but I'm getting better.

Played flightrising for the first time in over 2ish years for the light flight holiday event. (I honestly just wanted the familiar. They're doing gryphons this year~)

I always have so many little things I need to do on my weekends, but then I just don't do them when the time comes. Like cleaning my book shelves or buying new socks. I don't want to go anywhere. I don't want to do anything. All these small chores are starting to pile up. I have Thursday the 11th off, but, like, I think I need a whole week's vacation to stay sane now.

Been thinking a lot of writing/drawing more short stories/comics. Ever since ghost switch turned 6 and we hit the halfway mark. It's still gonna take me another half decade to finish gs at least, but I'm already trying to plan for what I'll do after, if I'll do anything after. I always premeditate this stuff for years in advance, it seems. I think for the first time since I started drawing the comic 6 years ago, I'm finally getting tired of it and really want to do something else. (This inst entirely true. I just have to draw action/fighting poses next week which I'm not looking forward to. I usually feel better once I draw them and get it over with. I also miss having a buffer. Getting out 3 pages a week felt great and rewarding with all the constant feedback, but now back to a page a week feels very slow) I keep wanting to try to make another buffer, or at least plan/block out a couple pages in advance, but when ever I sit down to draw, I just want to nap instead.

July 16, Has it only been two weeks since I last updated this? I feel like so much has happened since then. I kept meaning to update sooner, but kept forgetting. The 4th of July came and went. It got a bit busy at work, but nothing unmanageable. Bri got appendicitis and had to have surgery. She was out for a week, but is back now. Ashton quit, but I feel like it was under duress, Austin was "on leave", but ally crossed her name off the contact list as well as her position, do I dont think she's coming back, and Alex wad fired for reasons I dont know and dont care about. All of our current staff is really on top of things and pretty good at communicating. I really like our core group of people at work right now~ I took the 11th off, and boy did I need it. I slept, like, 14 hours on Wednesday the tenth. I also got five comic pages done that week! It's a tiny buffer, but a needed one. I wanted to make more pages and get even further ahead, but I am going to see my friends tomorrow for the first time in about 9 months, do more comic pages will have to wait until next week. I want to buy a new mattress. I think I might have a uti. Not sure if that's causing me back pain or if it's bad bed springs. Caleb Joseph uploaded a patron video for the first time since... March? He sadly broke the news that his dog wally had unexpectedly passed in mid april. He wasn't even 6 years old yet. I no doubt blame the Amish breeders wally came from. (I gave my condolences, but did not say anything about bad breeders) now I've been researching all he old videos with wally in them since I now now we won't see him again. The last time he showed up in a video was the shaggy d.a., and he was barely over 2.that was 4 years ago.

August 2, Joe Biden dropped out of the presidential race and it is likely that kamila harris will be the next democratic nominee. I was really worried at first that people's hatred for women and poc would hurt her chances, but the republican party has been shooting itself in the feet a lot recently, so I'm feeling more hopeful. Oh yeah, there was an assassination attempt on donald trump about 2 weeks back. The shooter was a white republican registered man. He missed, but good try. It's been raining a lot this July. It's certainly helped keep the heat down. I want to do more puzzles before this summer ends. So far we only did one. I learned how to download an emulator, and ive been playing a looooot of pokemon silver. Its been so nostalgic~

Mom told me she's been dating a guy for about a year now. I kinda figured since she's been constantly leaving the house to spend time with "a friend". I don't like that she's been hiding it, but this is her house and she's an adult so it's not really my business. It does make me want to move out faster, though. When will the housing market crash... I want to buy a house with no hoa so I can paint it purple. That is my current life goal.

July went on foreveeerrrrr. Artfight is over. I cant believe it's august. I need to start working on a song comic for undertale's ninth birthday. Ive been slowly editing my griffin book again, but I need to do some major overhauls for some sections and massive rewrites. I bult a small buffer of comic pages for ghost switch, but that's almost used up, so I gotta draw more of that too.

The Olympics are happening. Funny I forget that that's going on. I dont think we had one in 2020.

August 11, Two Saturdays ago it rained in the early morning and I saw a rainbow at work. I couldn't remember the last time I saw a rainbow irl and that made me kind of sad. The rising sun through the falling rain was quite beautiful. Liquid falling gold. I wish I could use the phrase golden showers but I cant because of kink reasons. Not to yuck someone's yum, but the piss kink community really stole such a nice descriptive phrase from us writers with that one.

August 17, Today I learned that the version of Mad World who I thought was written by Gary Jules was actually a cover of a tears for fears song. I do not know how to feel about this. It was disorienting and upsetting a bit. I wanted to deny it so hard. The original song is more "new wave" and waaay too up beat for my liking. I like Jule's version better.

I looked at pictures of lemurs today and was filled with joy.

August 25, Ordered a new mattress for myself on Friday. I felt that I had to for weird mental reasons. I told my mom and she gave me a disappointed look, saying "paqui says those mattresses aren't good".

Well, paqui isn't my friend. And even if she thinks its a bad idea, why can't she just try to be happy for whatever decisions I make? Speaking of mom, she's been spending so much time with her new boyfriend al. It makes me upset. I feel like she's rarely ever home anymore. It's really fucking up how we cook/eat dinner. I hope she doesn't plan to move in with him, or him to here. Makes me want to move out more and not tell her I'm doing it. She spent a lot of nights at his house.

September 3rd, 2024. Super busy day today. The helix mattress I ordered arrived on Sunday, but no one was home when FedEx put it on my porch. I got the alert at 11:51pm. I told my manager I had an expensive package waiting at home for me, so on my lunch break I sped home (avoiding no less than 2 cop cars) hauled the box in my house as soon as I pulled up, kissed Nani on the head, then immediately turned around and drove right back to work. 80 minute round trip. 4 gallons of gas burned that day. Today I was finally able to set up my mattress. I woke up at 7, pulled my old mattress off, then put my new mattress on and let it expand for 2 hours while I then went to the dentist. It has been POURING all day. As soon as I got on the road, all through out my dentist visit. After the dentist I went to the vet to buy more cat food for Nani. Visibility was so low even for those 5ish miles. After the vet I went to petsmart. The drive down down one street took nearly 30 minutes because the roads were so flooded. I wanted to get a heated cat bed for Nani since my heat pad broke, but they didnt sell any. Neither did target or Wal-Mart. I went to the chiropractor but the guy who adjusted me wasnt very good at it :\ my neck didnt crack at all. The rain lessened a bit on my way home. My mattress was pretty much fully expanded by now. I washed my bed sheets and made my new bed. It's noticeably taller than my old mattress, but the old mattress is also over 10 years old. I did my laundry and ironed some patches on some warn down parts of my work pants. I still need to sew them down, too. I listened to wings of fire audio book 15. Almost done with the 3rd arc.

September 18, Been a couple weeks since I last wrote a diary entry. Let me see if I can recap the last half month. My new mattress is amazing. For the first time in months I woke up without back pain. In fact, I can actually sleep on my back now without it cramping up! Its wonderful! It is extremely firm, which some people may not like. Heck, even I found it a little weird at first, but knowing how much better my back feels in the morning, you grow to like it really quick. I should start exercising more. Work has been fine. Same old grind. Still pretty slow. I have a 3 day weekend this week just because. I have to work my least favorite area on Friday, though, which sucks. Been having a lot of spiraling negative thoughts lately. Not sure if I should specify which things I keep remembering, or dont list them to help me forget them. Old middle school memories and family conflicts that never properly got resolved. I can't help but fall back to them when I'm doing mindless cleaning at work, usually in the morning. I need to try and think of better things. Maybe try distracting myself with story ideas I need to work on. That might help. I know at the beginning of the year I said I wanted to monitor my happiness. I think ive forgotten about it in these past 2 months, which is why I keep returning to the past. Never got around to making a song comic for undertale’s birthday this year, but it honestly wasn’t a huge loss. We got some nice asriel/chara lore, and if I had gone through with my comic idea, it would have come across as tone deaf (it was a no mercy comic when the chara lore we got heavily implied they Went Through It ™ on the surface)

For the first time in my life, I went to a grand opening. It was for the new barnes and nobles. I went with my friends. It was exquisite! There was actually A LINE wrapping around the building when we got there right before opening! We were afraid there might be a capacity limit inside. The inside of the Barnes and noble was completely redone. It was not like any I'd ever been in before. Taller book shelves, more intimate lighting, a nice flowing floor plan that felt well connected with no one section walled off from another. Sadly, it did feel a little smaller than other BNs ive been in in the past, with smaller selections per genre, and an absolutely pitiful digital media section that was poorly organized. Still, I spent almost 200$ on new books, mostly hard covers that were reference books on animals and one fantasy book about dragons. There were a couple author signings and we saw the Arthur Reed in the fursuit. I'd like to go back soon to get more books I left behind this time. I never got a chance to ask the authors there if they were local. This new bn used to be an office max, which I think sadly went out of business and doesnt have any physical stores anymore?

We explored the bn for 3 hours before leaving, and then we went to a daiso right across the strip. I bought some Japanese snacks. Then we had a late lunch at kneaders, which I have driven past many times but never eaten at. It was really good! Then we went back to my house where maggie did palm readings for us, Bee did tarot readings for us and Nani as well. Nani was being super affectionate and attention-needy. It was so nice to see my friends after, like, 2 months. I hope we can get together again. And who knew grand openings were so much fun? I want to go to more, now~.

October 4, 'S been about 3 weeks. What's happened in that time? I finished reading 2 books I saw at barnes and noble (one I bought, the other I read online) I finished my first play through of the talos principle 2 and have started a second play through for achievement hunting. My back's been acting up again. Im waking up a little sore, but it goes away quick. I don't blame my bed. We're getting a new hire at work. Her name is kaitlyn. She has a service dog. Been prepping for nanowrimo. (Honestly im just excited to not be doing comic pages for a month). I think I'll either re-write greyscale, or do some charisk one shots. Maybe both. I feel like mom's out of the house a lot more these days with her boyfriend. I dont want to cook an entire meal if she's not going to be there to eat it fresh. On the 24th, I got a note on da from a user called fancomics-official asking me to check out their website, which was to be a hub for fan comics. It didnt impress me, so I ignored it, but then 4 days later they messaged me again asking for feedback, so I gave them a scathing review of their website and how sketchy I found it. I knew they'd delete my comment, so I took screen shots for the internet archive, and would you believe that they completely deleted their da account yesterday? Big red flag and I feel like I dodged a bullet. I'm gonna expose them more in my year end review~ I can't wait~

I finally met my mom's boyfriend today. I got to leave work 30 minutes early and found him fixing our sink. He's nice enough but I wish he was weirder. Polite but a little awkward. He drank 2 cans of beer at dinner then drove home with my mom (separate cars) but that makes me uneasy.

October 20, Another 2 weeks. I meant to update sooner, but got busy, as is always the excuse. Went to pep boys for a routine oil change and tire rotation. What originally would have been a 45 minute procedure turned into a 6 hour ordeal because they alerted to me that my shocks were bad and the ball bearings in one of my rear tires was worn down to nothing, which isnt good. I agreed to have them both replaced but none of the replacement shocks would fit my car because it's such an "old" model. Thankfully the 4th set of shocks they tried did work, but if it hadnt, they would have had to call the car manufacturers. I love obsoleetism.🙃 I did read about half of the book "illborn" while waiting. It's an interesting indie fantasy, very character driven. My favorite character is corin, followed by allana (because she's a hot mess) then the priestess, then the soldier, who I forgot the names of. I dont like reading about religious abuse and the political games go over my head, so those story lines lose me a little. While drawing page 331 of ghost switch, I remembered the song "ready steady go" by larc en ciel which was used as an fma opening. Out of nostalgia, I rewatched brotherhood and binged it in a week. I then ordered the entire dvd set, manga collection, 2 art books and 3 enamel pins. I forgot how good this show was. I'm currently trying to rewatch 2003, but it is painful in comparison. Good thing I'm not lactose intolerant, because 2003 is FULL of cheese.

November 3, I forgor today was daylight savings time. Im sitting in tje parkinglot at work an hour early. Fml.

Halloween came and went. I voted. Hopeful about the future but terrified for the worst outcome. Doing my own thing for nanowrimo. Finally gonna share the story ive been working on for the past 2 years. Hoping for feedback.

November 6. Well this is the shittiest birthday of my life to date.

November 23, Jeez, it's almost been 3 weeks since I wrote a diary entry? November has been.... Going. Not too hopeful for the next 4 years, but im going to keep living out of spite. This country just really fucking hates women, huh. Worried for online privacy and the destruction of communities both irl and online. There's a bill trying to be made into law that would tax nonprofits which is horrible in its own right, but would also target ao3. You want to donate to charity? Fuck you, they have to fork over some of your donation as taxes so we can continue to fund genocide over seas.

Not doing comics for a month has really recharged me mentally. So much so that I went ahead and made December's first comic page already, so I dont have to worry about it next week, lol. Been slowly editing my xenofiction novel. Stuck on chapter 9. Wanted to get at least to chapter 10 (50%) before the month is done. I have been able to write some new stuff, this month. My rewatch/reread of fmab really inspired me. Now I'm planning a song comic for it, which I hope to do by 2026, which would be the 25th anniversary of the manga's first printing. I'm going so far as to do some armature music editing to extend the song I want to use. Might get fancy and make it a song comic/video hybrid and add some flashy effects to the video (if I can figure out how. I need to learn how to use shot cut) Been listening to English covers of all the fma openings and endings almost every day on my drive to and from work for the past two weeks now. Kinda want to ranks them for fun. It's so nice not to worry about comic pages for a while. I kinda want to start taking 2 months off out of the year, maybe 6 months apart or something? But I know if I do that, it will take me a whole extra year to finish this comic. I really just gotta get better at making/maintaining buffers, honestly. Work has been fine. Very slow, which is unusual Right before thanksgiving. We'll probably fill up literally the day before.

My cat has been extra clingy and vocal before feeding time. Sometimes I wonder if she threw up somewhere I cant find. She's not under fed by any means. (In fact, the vet might even say she's overweight at 10 pounds) Still trying to stay happy. This month has made it more difficult though. Can't say it's entirely my own fault though

December 5, I made creamed corn on thanksgiving and it came out FANTASTIC. Tasted just like bill Miller's recipe. I might stick to making this every year instead of a new desert. Saturday was the first day I had to wear long pants to work because it finally got cold... On the last day of November. I was back to shorts on Monday, but today was wet and rainy so I'm wearing pants again.

November flew by in the blink of an eye! I can't believe the year is almost over. I lazed around on Tuesday and did errands, and I spent a lot of time online ordering gifts for myself. I'm buying 4 shirts from redbubble. Two are fma related, one is stitch from lilo and stitch, and one is a "redo" of a kingdom hearts shirt I own, but the sleeves were too tight. I'm trying to get all "essential" style shirts instead of "classic", because I find their shirts are rather.... Thin? And the sleeves too short. Hopefully essential is the style that I like. I have one other kh shirt from them that I love, and it fits just fine. I cant remember what "type" of shirt it was, but it feels great and fits great. I also ordered them all in xl because I dont think I'm ever getting skinnier.

Yesterday, wed, Dec 4, maggie came over and spent the day with me. I drew one comic page and read entries from my middle/high school journals. I laughed until I cried, it was so funny. I also finished looking through all of the vsauce d.o.n.g.s, which was a new year's resolution of mine. It's about that time I start thinking of new ones for 2025. I think I'll brainstorm some here before making an official list.

As of today, december 5th, 2024, I have successfully maintained a streak on duolingo for 10 years. (And I only practice 2 languages (and am still not fluent in either)

December 15, It's only been ten days since I last wrote here, but it feels like a month. Work is unnervingly slow right now, but will ramp up this Friday. Can't believe christmas is in 10 days. I watched all of frieren; beyond journey's end. It's... Alright. Pretty middle of the road as far as story goes. Animation is nice, but that's a given nowadays. The story doesnt do anything groundbreaking or innovative so far. Maybe the manga is better? Overall, I just dont understand why it's currently number 1 on myanimelist (as if this site is the end all, say all on anime) I might watch season 2 when it comes out next year, but I'll probably explore other anime first.

I wrote 1.5k words of smut in 4 hours last night since I was drugged up on caffine and couldn't sleep. Ive been writing a bit more since rewatching fmab. Hope this motivation carries over with me into the new year. (I hope it just stays with me through Christmas, tbh) I saw wicked in theatres with my mom and her boyfriend. It was right before thanksgiving. It was good! Amazing choreography, beautiful sets and fantastic acting. Some of the songs went on for just a little too long (like dancing through life and defying gravity) but overall enjoyable experience. There's one line that sounds kinds low-key racist (the milk flowers one) and bok is way too tall to be a munchkinlander, but I'll probably go see part 2 next year.

Been spending a lot of money recently. Mostly on stuff for myself. Im trying to order a book from Japan. The seller is trusted, but shipping times are long and slow. I hope I didnt just throw away 33$ for nothing. (Im trying to order the book; fma chronicle. It is only printed in Japanese and French, and I am going to attempt to scan and translate the book myself since I can't find any translations online. I might end up buying the French version too in order to cross-reference translation accuracies. Wish me luck.) Caleb Joseph unlaunched his patreon again. Hope everything is alright with him. His dog died earlier this year and he's been struggling with finding work from the last I heard. Watched illumination's migration movie. It was really good! Fun colors and character design, simple story. I think I liked it better than orion and the dark. I liked all the characters, even uncle dan. Kinda weird how all the ducks had one syllable names. Totally clocked akwafina as the pigeon. Story is nothing remarkable, but done well. The music was astounding, then I learned it was by john powell, which tracks.

December 25, It's hell week at work! I actually got christmas day off, which is a first. Still hectic and not as organized as it could be. My back has been weirdly hurting a lot recently, but like, not in my neck or hips. It's smack dab in the middle of my ribs. Ive been trying to watch more anime. It's a new year's resolution for me. I finished frieren, and now am looking into neon genesis and hunter x hunter. Im liking the slower pacing of evangelion so far. Hunter x hunter is a little too cliche for me right now, but it's also an older anime so I know it's tropes and mannerisms weren't cliche at the time it was released. Still, I'm glad it's not dripping with irony poisoning. It's sincerity in it's tropes helps save it.

Nani had a medical emergency on the 16th, where it looked like her back legs suddenly gave out. I rushed her to an emergency vet almost half an hour from home, paid 1400 dollars for them to do every test they could, and came to the conclusion that she has early onset arthritis in her hips and knees. She's been on bed rest for the past week, being forced to stay in my room so she wont run around or jump off of things. I have to medicate her with gabapentin and prednisone. She's gotten a lot better in just one week, but may have a permanent limp now, and cant jump like she used to (she doesnt know that yet). I just hope she's not in pain.

Still been really obsessed with fma. I ordered two books to manually translate. One is in the og Japanese, the other is in French. They should both arrive in January.

December 31, Last day of the year. I get new year's eve and new year's day off this year. Kinda surreal. Nani is doing better, but I need to start looking into pain meds because she might have a permanent limp now. God! there's still so much I want to do! I can't believe 2025 starts tomorrow! Work STILL has been busy, even though christmas is over. My book from japan arrived! It was delivered on friday, but I was at work, so I had to drive out to the post office and manually pick it up. new experience for me, but not a very fun one. Gonna try and do a stream tonight and get next week's page done. I couldn't do one this week because of work. Still waiting on the french one to arrive. I don't have tracking information for that one, sadly, so who knows when it will get here. I don't like having my weekend days split up. It disorients me. Been watching a lot of netflix. I hope to do that more next year as I explore more anime (at least until I run out of choices on netflix and have to watch it illegally somewhere else)

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Aaaand that’s pretty much all my biggest thoughts I had throughout the year. I definitely wrote more this year than last (and cut out a lot of personal stuff too). It’s always interesting to see what I focused on, or what concerned me the most over the course of the year through this look back. If you made it this far, thanks for reading! I just remembered myself that I wanted to make a post on this very sketchy site called fanon.co. Basically, it’s a new website to host your fandom webcomics, but I am concerned about AI scraping, the lack of transparency on where the owners of this site are hosted, the fact that you can’t read any of the comics there without making an account, the fact that you cannot DELETE your account after it was made, and I am very curious as to how this website makes money because it doesn’t look obvious to me, which makes me think they are using our fan creations for ulterior purposes. Maybe I’ll work on that later this week.