#i know spring might not fix me but at least it will be a big help not having these cold temperatures (which arent really cold anyways)

[parasitic-saint]

wasting a whole week by sleeping is making me want to cry

[alexaloraetheris]

Oh boy, I feel like it's time for a post nobody will like.

We all know clothes are getting worse. Recently I found some jeans I bought in high school, and since I lost weight recently I tried them on and they fit, so I'll be wearing them once we get out of the Hell season.

But I took them and compared them to the most recent pair of jeans I bought, and... Honestly the difference in quality is so fucking stark it made me want to give up on life. The jeans I wore in high school have gone through everything. I'm talking half of Europe here, because one of our teachers was pretty big on school trips everywhere she could get the money for. They've been washed, tumbled, survived an actual car crash and they're still good.

The most recent pair I machine-washed ONCE, everything else was hand-wash only. I babied them to the max because they made my ass look like was on Instagram. Do you know what they look like now?

They're full of fixes like these. They lasted less than a year on their own. I got another decent year out of them SOLELY because I kept fixing them. And fixing them again. The crotch alone I had to fix SEVEN TIMES. I COUNTED.

And these weren't cheap jeans! C&A jeans tend to be around 40$ these days, and I got these for about 30 with a discount. I expected them to last me AT LEAST a few years, because those high school jeans? THEY'RE THE SAME FUCKING BRAND.

Considering this was the quality I was getting for nearly 40$ I figured I might as well get the same quality for 15$ and downloaded SHEIN. I didn't get jeans from them but I got some light, fluttery summer pants in the style that, honestly, I fucking love. I got three pairs for the price of one C&A jeans, and I am aware I will have to baby them even more, because out of the five pairs of pants in total I have bought on SHEIN only ONE is made of the fabric that I might be brave enough to machine wash. And with SHEIN continually getting sued for using sweatshops I probably won't be getting those pants again.

So what to do with that shitfuck situation?

I am insanely lucky my grandma knew how to sew really well and didn't mind me looking over her shoulder as long as I was quiet. I am aware that's not a skill everyone has, but quite frankly? When nobody has any money and even paying big bucks for clothes does not guarantee any kind of quality, and even fucking THRIFT STORES are full of just junk now, I think it's time to face the facts.

You need to learn how to sew.

I'm not talking about sewing your own clothes, though if you can and you have the time and patience, it's probably the best option (good luck finding decent fabric, because we can't even find THAT anymore unless you're ordering from fucking Belgium). I'm talking about fixing up seams and sewing on a patch, little repairs that make your clothes last. It might be junk, but with sewing you can make it last twice as long for the price of a spool of thread.

Now that I've pissed off everyone who is, for some reason, morally opposed to learning how to sew because it's a 'girly hobby' or 'supporting the patriarchy' (a take that left me baffled like nothing else) I'm going to piss off everyone who already knows how to sew.

I recommend getting this little guy.

It's called a stapler sewing machine, for obvious reasons. If I recall correctly, it was invented to fix clothes on the go for fashion shows and/or cosplay. It does only a chain stitch and needs to be pushed manually, but if you need to, like, hem your trousers and you don't want to spend half an hour on doing it manually (and don't already have an actual sewing machine) this is a lifesaver.

Here's a tutorial how it operates:

Now, why am I recommending this? Because it will only set you back six bucks. I got two right off the bat because I was banking on one not working (and I was right) and so I could use it for spare parts. The one in the video (Spring Come) is the one I have as well, and it's the one that actually works. I can't vouch for any unmarked ones, but the blue one works. It IS a little temperamental, but with a bit of practice it makes things so much easier.

The reason I'm not recommending an electric machine of any kind, even the one that costs 18$, is because, if you're a beginner, then an automatic sewing machine becomes a machine that exponentially speeds up the rate at which you make mistakes, and if it breaks down, good luck fixing it unless you have a dad/uncle/friend who knows his electronics. This thing can be fixed with a screwdriver, and takes the same needles as an ordinary sewing machine.

You can buy a bundle of needles just about anywhere for any price and they'll be decent as long as they're steel, but I would recommend looking for some actual better quality thread. Everywhere else, you can pinch pennies, but the thread itself is what's holding your clothes together, so this should be the part where you're looking for quality instead of price.

Alright, those of you who didn't scroll past with a derisive scoff at my take, I hope I've been helpful.

[solarmorrigan]

Balm to a Burn

For the @steddie-spooktober day 8 prompt: Bonfire Rated: T | Words: 716 | CW: mentions of PTSD | Tags: established relationship, Steve Harrington has PTSD, Eddie Munson loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington loves Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington needs a hug, and he gets one! Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

“Hey.” Eddie reaches out and catches Steve’s hand as he moves by on his way to check what the marshmallow situation is like. “You wanna sit down for a minute? You’re making me antsy.”

Steve would love to, really, but the thing is, he isn’t sure he can. He’d tried taking up a chair in front of the fire at first, but that had made him antsy. He just isn’t sure how to explain it to Eddie.

He isn’t sure how to explain that the heat of the bonfire on his face, the flickering flash of the flames in his eyes, had taken him back to a different place entirely. How it had reminded him of ash and burning vines and the yips of demodogs echoing off of rotting tunnel walls. He isn’t sure how to explain that he’d tried going to a bonfire in the spring after the second coming of Upside Down Bullshit, a big to-do at the lake that had been attended by at least half the school, and he’d damn near had a panic attack the first (and only) time he’d gotten close to the fire.

He especially isn’t sure how to explain it when Dustin, Mike, Max, and Lucas all seem to be perfectly fine with the bonfire. They had, in fact, been among the voices begging Steve to help set it up.

He isn’t sure why he’s the only one with the problem, but he’s decided he doesn’t really want to examine it and had figured he’d just limit his time near the blaze, so he’s been up and about the whole night.

Stuff for s’mores, hot dogs, extra skewers, more drinks, more firewood, Dustin nearly flinging a burning marshmallow at Mike in his haste to make a point – there’s always something for Steve to do, something for him to attend to, so he doesn’t have to sit and face the flames.

Except now Eddie wants Steve to sit down, and Steve always wants to give Eddie what he wants; it’s a weakness he has no inclination to fix, even when what Eddie wants might be to Steve’s detriment. Eddie wants Steve to sit, so – Steve sits.

“Just for a minute,” Steve says. “I want to check if we have more marshmallows.”

“Baby, if you stuff anymore marshmallows into these kids, they’re gonna pop,” Eddie tells him. “Seriously, take a load off. Everyone is capable of getting their own drinks, I promise.”

Then he tugs on Steve’s hand until Steve is close enough to grab around the waist, and he pulls Steve right down into his lap. The camp chair squeaks alarmingly beneath them, but it holds up, and Steve tries to settle.

The thing about Eddie is that he’s fucking perceptive when he wants to be; he might not know why Steve has been anxiously pinballing between tasks all night, but the way he’s holding him says that he has noticed. He’s got his arms wrapped firmly around Steve’s waist, just heavy enough to be grounding, comforting, rather than binding. He slides his hands under Steve’s jacket and rubs a thumb gently against his ribs through his t-shirt. He presses a kiss to the side of Steve’s neck, soft and reassuring – letting Steve know that he’s here, and that he wants Steve to be, too.

Steve always wants to give Eddie what he wants.

So, Steve tries. He lets himself sink into the feeling of Eddie wrapped around him. He listens to the sounds of the kids bickering over the crackle of the fire, comfortable and having fun. He can feel the heat of the flames on his face, but he can also feel the kiss of cool, fresh air, rather than the fetid, ash-filled humidity of the tunnels below the town. He can smell clean woodsmoke, not the muted miasma of burning vines that had permeated the meagre barrier of the bandana across his face.

He lets himself sink into this moment, instead of being consumed by another, takes a deep breath, and sags back against Eddie.

“Doing okay?” Eddie asks softly, lips brushing Steve’s ear.

“Yeah.” Steve is surprised to realize that he’s telling the truth. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

Eddie presses another kiss in behind Steve’s ear and hugs him closer, sighing out his pleased contentment. “Good.”

[dramadramallama]

random things i noticed in Love for Love's Sake and couldn't fit in my other posts

yeo-woon's name in korean is 여운 which is oddly fitting for a character who mirrors and echoes myung-ha at every turn:

myung-ha and yeo-woon's new story begins in spring, which is arguably the universal symbol of rebirth, youth, and hope. they're on the cusp of summer, where flowers go into full bloom (what better season for a second chance story where self-love/self-realization is the core theme?)

myung-ha wears the same (?) bracelet as his grandma's, during the bar scenes, and in at least one "real life" scene (the one where he gets broken up with). I guess he started wearing it after grandma dies (and I like to think it worked like a little talisman for him and brought him good luck!)

i don't know what to make of it, but the café location where he always meets up with Si-a and friends is the same place he gets dumped. (also, in the break-up scene, he's outside ((actually, he might be inside, after all. the plants threw me off, but they're also inside decor lol)) drinking a hot beverage. in the "game", he's inside the café, and he's drinking iced ones lol)

i find it very sweet that he tries to fix every hurt with ice cream: again, i like to think he got the habit from his grandma (and in turn, got yeo-woon into the same habit lol). the flavor (red beans) and brand (비비빅/Bi-bi-big) he picks is a very classic, almost "old people" flavor, just as the first text he receives points out "why on earth do you eat this? it's on par with a ba-bam bar" (바밤바 chestnut flavored - also not very trendy for kids/youths)

the first big "glitch" myung-ha experiences is when he finally tries calling the number that keeps sending him the texts (which are possibly from his past life/another reality/[insert your theory]) and accidentally creates some sort of paradox.

i had to zoom in so much but one of the texts was left untranslated in both the iQiyi and GagaOolala versions and it reads something like: "do you get along well with your friends? if you fight with them, santa won't bring you any presents"

[aaizawashouta]

one of those nights again

pairing: midoriya izuku x fem!reader

word count: 3.9k

summary: when the past haunts you, your future helps you forget

warnings: angst, brief mention of torture, reader has a quirk, smoking, smut ( minors, dni) oral (f receiving), p in v, cream pie

a/n: i did not edit this, so forgive me. might follow up on this with a part 2. who knows

When something is being pulled from you, taken against your will, it hurts. It’s unnatural and unnecessary. Your screams echo off the concrete walls, reminding you that there’s no one coming to save you. Not this time. No one has for the last eight months. You only know this because they taunt you by keeping count. But you try, and you keep on trying. Black tar rolls from the corner of your eyes, black inky veins run up your arms. The signs of an overused quirk. You’re on the verge of passing out. Your body shakes where it’s held down on a metal exam table, fitting for a morgue. This is where you’ll die, and nobody will know.

Just one more time, you try, you plead. You’re not sure if it’s a delusion, a false hope, but you hear it; something. It’s big, and it’s loud, and it’s bullying its way into the building. You never did figure out if it was relief or exhaustion that pulled you under when you saw his face.

His name is on the tip of your tongue. It echoes through you, a phantom pain that will always bring tears to your eyes. Sitting up in a cold sweat, strands of hair stick to your face. It hurts to breathe, like you’re inhaling water. It’s late, you didn’t have to look at the clock to know that. This happens so often your body just knows. Sleep would not be coming back anytime soon. Sighing, you sit up and shove your feet in your slippers. Feeling clammy and slightly nauseous, you hated that this was your new normal. That’s the life of a pro-hero, or at least that’s what they told you anyway. You took what was handed to you – you fought to protect, to survive.

Moving sluggishly even though your mind was wide awake, you slid open the glass door and stepped out into the brisk night air. Faint sounds from the busy streets below made their way to you. One of the reasons you loved the city. There is no silence. It’s never quite quiet enough for you to feel alone. There’s always someone out there. Taking a deep breath, you relax at the familiar cold nip in your lungs. This has always been your favorite time of year. When winter slowly turns into spring. It’s something small that has always brought you peace.

Fingers find the pack of cigarettes left on the patio table, most likely Sero’s. Eyes up to the beautiful night sky, cigarette in one hand and lighter in the other. The sky was dark and decorated with faint, twinkling lights. You're doing your best to ground yourself. With a quick flick of your thumb, the cigarette tips glows orange in the night, dangling loosely from your fingertips. Bringing it up to your lips you inhale and finally feel yourself start to relax. Dropping your head back you watch the smoke slither out between thinly parted lips.

This is only a temporary fix. You're hopeful the shaking in your hands stills. The pounding in your chest slows from a full gallop to a steady rhythm. You hated nights like these. You couldn't sleep, thoughts and distant memories danced behind your eyelids every time you tried to rest. It was going on night four, you weren't sure how much longer you could go without cracking. Chuckling, a sour note to the otherwise pleasant sound. How long could you go without cracking? You were sure you already were. It was just a matter of when the whole dam would break. Especially after the dream you had. Right, yeah. Dream. A nightmare. A memory. Your grip tightens on the railing, eyes cast up to the sky. You’d give anything not to spiral.

A two-toned whistle catches your attention. Out of the dark he appears, as if he heard you calling out for him. Leaning over the rail you look down, breath catching in your throat at the sight of him. Midoriya stands in the alleyway, watching you with a knowing grin. Trailing your eyes over him you note that he’s still in his gear, more than likely just got off patrol. He never made it home, his first stop is you, always you. Chapped lips pull into a tired smile. You pull one last drag from the cigarette before letting it drop to the ground below. Midoriya finally moves, stepping forward to stomp out the bud.

“I thought you were quitting?” He questions before jumping up and landing on your patio.

His bright eyes lit by the dim moonlight. Light was something you always noticed. It’s one of the reasons you took to him so quickly. Izuku Midoriya, you noticed, didn't have darkness in him. Not the way you do. Your eyes fall to your hands, fingers flexing—the dark, inky color spreading from your fingertips. Your hands grip into a tight fist.

“When did I say that?”

“Two nights ago.”

Dammit. You forgot about that. You’d been talking, finishing up paperwork before leaving the agency. He’d asked if there was anything you’d change about yourself, what would it be. Rolling your eyes, looking at him as if he had just asked the stupidest question – which he had – you decided to say something simple.

I’d quit smoking. Heard it’s bad for your lungs.

You snort, shaking your head a little. It’d take a lot more than a damn cigarette to take you down.

Midoriya rocks on his heels in front of you, green eyes taking you in before a smirk appears.

“Nice shirt.”

“Thank you.”

“It looks good on you.”

“Does it?” You ask with a raised brow.

“It does,” he chuckles, taking a few steps closer. “But it’d look better on my bedroom floor.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Why? Because that’s where I found it?”

Choosing to ignore the look he gives you, you move to wrap yourself around him. Why smoke when you have pro hero Deku? He’s so much better for your health and gives you the same effect. Your fingers dig into the material of his suit, securing yourself to him. More than capable of taking care of yourself, but no one makes you feel as safe as Izuku Midoriya.

“You really do look comfy. When’d you snag that one?”

Shrugging, peeking up at him when he kisses the top of your head. Midoriya keeps a tight grip on you as he leads you inside. A worn sigh leaving him when he falls into his spot on the couch. It’s been a long day, and has no signs of ending soon if he plans on doing this with you tonight. You see as the hero melts away from him. The pride in his shoulders, the courage in his spine. Even now, you still can pinpoint the little pieces of All Might that he carries.

It hasn’t been that way for you in almost a year now. Darkness was all you knew. From the time you were seven, darkness followed you around hanging off your shoulder. A shadow that only you could see. Others could see it if you wanted them to. Never in your wildest dreams did you think that someone would want your shadow—your darkness, a plague you could barely control. But that was good that you couldn’t control it, couldn’t control yourself. Because it meant that others could.

Lost in your own thoughts, you hadn’t noticed him watching you too. There’s something on his mind, something he wants to say. Scarred fingertips trail up and down your arm. A soothing gesture, but not one you can tell is for you or for him.

“What is it?”

You could laugh from how relieved and slightly panicked he looks.

“Maybe you can talk to Kacchan–”

“Izuku,”

Falling back into the couch your gaze lands at your feet. It’s no surprise it's come to this. He’s your best friend, of course he knows you're struggling. That you’ve been struggling for a while now. He’s tried to let you figure it out on your own. Callused fingers grab your chin, lifting your eyes to meet his. Midoriya is no longer on the couch beside you, but kneeling on the floor, warm body pressed up against your knees.

“It’s not the same thing. Your experiences are drastically different. But baby, you are crumbling, falling apart at the seams and I cannot sit here and just watch. It’s killing me, fuck, it’s killing you.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to remember. If I could close my eyes and sleep without ever going back there…it’d be a miracle. I don’t want to relive it, Izuku, I want to forget.”

He nods slowly, taking you in. He never let go of your face, his grasp slowly getting tighter. Grabbing his wrist, your fingers dig into skin. He’s showing you he’s not afraid, but you are.

“I can help you forget.”

“Izuku,”

His head tilts. “Lets not pretend this isn't bound to happen.” You squeak when he lifts you up and tosses you over his shoulder. “You know I love you. Now let me help you.”

He takes a few steps before you smack him on the ass. “You’re dirty! You are not getting in your bed like this.”

“I can fuck you in the shower.”

You scoff at his remark. It still surprises you, what you pull out of him. The casualness in the way he bites back. The cocksure and smartass attitude he doesn’t really show for anyone else. It makes your pulse race and your toes curl. He doesn’t put you down until the shower is on and steaming up the bathroom. Your grip is tight on his arms when he finally sets you on your feet. The blood rushing from your head makes you slightly lightheaded.

Midoriya’s hands are warm on your cheeks, fingers tracing over your features. His grip tightening when your lips part, tongue sneaking out to taste his skin. His kiss is urgent, needy, searching, and it sends a shock of warmth through your body, straight down your spine to the heat slowly building between your thighs. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he leads you back until you’re flush against the wall next to the shower. You don't even realize your body is shivering until his hands find the bare skin on your rib cage, pulling his shirt up off your body.

He breaks away from the kiss long enough to search your face before he tugs open the shower curtain, and your stomach flutters as he reaches for the zip of his uniform.

"Wait," you say quickly.

His eyes dart up to yours, and he freezes.

"I want to do this part," you admit, watching as your shaking fingers trace over his own until he drops his hands. You feel his eyes on you as you slowly trail his zipper down, and when you look back up at him, his eyes are darker.

You tug his pants down until they fall to his ankles, where he steps out of them, leaving him in his black boxer briefs, which strain against the outline in the front. He moves quickly, and the shocked laugh that slips through your lips echoes through the bathroom as he reaches down and lifts you by the thighs. Wrapping your legs around his waist with a smile as he steps into the shower, closing the curtain behind you.

The water is a decadent warmth against your skin, but all you can focus on is how his lips are connected to the spot right under your ear that sends electric shocks through your body. your head rolls back the second his teeth graze your nipple, and your arms tighten around his shoulders as you bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep quiet. You’re hypersensitive to his every movement, and when he wraps his lips around your nipple and flicks his tongue in a slow, teasing rhythm, your hips rock involuntarily, grinding against him as a desperate gasp falls from your lips.

Midoriya takes his time exploring your chest with his mouth, nipping, sucking, and when he knots his hands in your hair, he tugs gently to pull your head back as he trails his lips up your neck to the sensitive spot just below your ear. When he bites down and sucks harder than before, your eyes widen and then flutter closed in pure ecstasy.

His grip tightens on your thighs as he grinds against you, and when he adds pressure to the suction on your neck, the pressure building in your stomach flares white-hot. Every gasp turns into a moan. He bites down onto your neck roughly one final time before dragging his tongue against your feverish skin and pulling back. When his eyes find the spot his lips were just connected to, a flash of satisfaction spikes in the emerald there before they meet yours, considering you with a hazy stare.

He steps back from the wall, placing you back onto your feet, and when Midoriya kneels in front of you, the air in your lungs freezes as his thumbs wrap around your underwear. His gaze flicks back up, and you nod instantly, watching as he pulls them down your legs.

He positions your leg over his shoulder, and you try to steady your breathing as you lean your head against the wall. He's slow and teasing as he bites and licks the skin on your inner thigh, wrapping his arms around your thighs to steady your weakening legs.

A breathy, impatient moan slips through your lips when he licks the inside of your thigh in one long, torturous motion. The shocks it sends directly to the swollen bud between your legs is enough to make you dig your fingers in his curls and bring him where you want him most. He chuckles at your impatience, and the sound makes your stomach tighten as you bite down on the inside of your cheek, wanting nothing more than for him to connect his lips to you.

He tightens his arms around your thighs and pulls you closer and your vision goes black when his tongue drags across you. Your breathing turns shallow as you focus on his tongue against your clit, and when he adds more pressure, your hips grind against him desperately.

You’re on the edge, reveling in the intense flood of pleasure, and when he slips a finger into you and hits the electrifying sweet spot deep inside, every muscle in your body tightens at once before releasing in a mind-numbing rush of sensation. The first tidal wave of sweet bliss racks through your body, and you can't seem to quiet the loud, breathy moans that echo through the bathroom. You’ve never been more thankful for the fact that you live alone. Of course, no one has ever made you this loud before. His rough tongue softens into gentle strokes as the aftershocks pulse through you, and the soft caresses slowly bring you down.

When you look down at him, his lips are glossy, and he grins up at you as his tongue slides across his bottom lip. The sight alone nearly makes your legs give out, and when he stands, he reaches behind you to turn off the water as he reconnects your lips. His mouth doesn't leave yours as he pulls open the curtain and hooks his arms under your legs again, and you’re barely aware of anything other than the fact that his tongue is caressing yours in the most delicious way as he carries you out of the bathroom.

When Midoriya leans over, and your back connects with the soft cotton of his sheets, you suck in a much needed breath. He watches as he hovers, eyes dark and wet curls dripping water down his neck to his shoulders and down his chest. The sight alone is enough to make your hips rock up to him, and he reaches down to cup your cheek in his hand as he connects your lips again.

He kisses you long enough for you to lose your breath before finally pulling away and standing up from the bed. When he opens the drawer on his nightstand, the heat pulsing between your legs flares as you watch him slip his drenched boxers down his legs. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you stare. You’re not sure how it’s going to fit, but you know damn well that you’re going to make it. Leaning back into the comforter when he looks back at you, you grab his face and bring his lips to yours, desperate for the feel of his tongue on yours again. He gives you exactly what you want, and a shiver races down your spine as he leans on his elbow, freeing his hand to explore your body again.

You’re nervous, excited, and impatient, and you can tell by the slow pace of his fingers on your skin that he's taking this slower than he usually would. As if he can tell that your heart is nearly racing out of your chest.

Rough fingers start on your cheek and trail down your neck, tracing your collarbones, before dipping around your breast where the pad of his thumb skims over the smooth skin to your ribs. The feel of his calloused hands makes your hips rock against him, and his erection presses heavily against your stomach as he continues his slow descent. His lips never leave yours, and he brushes his tongue against yours slowly, teasingly as he grabs onto your hip tightly. A throaty groan sounds in the back of his throat, and when his fingers finally delve lower to find the pulsing heat between your legs, you push up into his hand, desperate for relief. His thumb grazes over your clit, brushing torturously slow circles that send a flood of pleasure through your veins as he moves his hips, lining you up perfectly.

He's pushed up against you softly but pauses, like he knows that you might need a minute to catch up, his lips leave yours and trail down your neck to your shoulders, peppering soft kisses as he goes. When he pulls back to look at you, you reach up and brush his curls out of his eyes, and he captures your hand with his own, bringing your fingers to his lips to press a soft kiss onto the tip of each one. When his teeth graze roughly across your palm, a shocked gasp slips from between your lips, and the white-hot heat pulsing between your legs flares.

"Izuku, don’t tease." You’re practically panting, and the sound pulls a smug smile onto his lips, enough to gently dent the dimple in his cheek.

When he brings his lips down to yours again, they're searing and searching and claiming, and the gasp that slips from your lips is lost between you when his hands grip your hips tightly, and he pushes into you. It's the most intoxicating sensation, and your body ignites in a flood of heat when he pulls out and thrusts again, hard enough to elicit a shocked gasp as you try to catch your breath.

When he grabs you harder, you can barely focus on anything other than the overwhelming sensation of him. He's everywhere, all around you, inside of you, gripping your hips, breathing the most intoxicating groans into your ear, brushing soft kisses across your throat, sending a shiver down your spine at the feel of his stubble grazing your neck.

The sounds slipping from your lips aren't even your own anymore as the rhythmic rocking of your bodies pulls you somewhere else entirely. You’ve never felt anything like this before. It's as if every experience you’ve ever had leading up to this point has been erased. Every touch, every clumsy kiss, every single moment shared in dark rooms with anyone else—it's all gone because it doesn't even fall into the same stratosphere as this.

"You feel—fuck, baby girl, you’re fucking amazing."

You thread your fingers through the soft curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him down to press your lips to his. His tongue slides into your mouth, and you taste the spearmint on his breath mixed with the flavor of the last cigarette on your breath from earlier. It coats your tongue until it's all you can think about, and when he groans into the kiss, the now-familiar pressure between your thighs builds dangerously, tightening every muscle in your body until your back is arched and you're clinging to him desperately. Nails leaving little crescent moons in his back.

His tongue brushes yours softly, tenderly, and it's an intoxicating contrast to the rough thrust of his hips. He lifts your leg higher, pulling them away from his waist, and when he hits the spot deep inside of you, your moan catches in your throat as everything outside of the man you’re clinging to falls away and your veins flood with the kind of mind-numbing pleasure that you’ve only known right here with him.

His fingers dig into your thighs as the orgasm rocks through you. His movements become quicker and more desperate, you know he's on the edge, too. He gives one final thrust of his hips, and when his breathy groan echoes between you, you reach up and run your fingers through his still-damp curls, grazing your lips across the feverish skin on his neck.

He sinks onto you, hands unclenching from his hold on you, and you know without a doubt there will be bruises. Holding his weight on his elbows to keep from crushing you, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. He finally pulls back after a minute, and the sated warmth in his eyes is possibly the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Grinning down at you, he sweeps a wayward strand of hair away from your face before brushing his thumb across your cheek, giving you a sweet, chaste kiss.

It’s silent as your breathing evens out. You’re not freaking out, which is a good sign. There’s no doubt that it all has to do with Izuku. You wouldn’t have made it very far with anyone else. Hell, he’s the only one you let touch you after you were rescued. No wonder he thinks there’s something wrong with you. It doesn’t matter that he’s right.

“You’re thinking very loudly.”

“We can’t do this every time. It’s not healthy.”

Midoriya snorts, pulling you into him as he lays on his back to stare at the ceiling. “No, we can’t, but it is fun.”

You’re quiet for a moment. “I’ll go see Kat on Monday.”

“That’ll make him happy. I’m not the only one who’s been worried about you.”

Being captured and tortured hasn’t messed with the way you do your job. But it's a known fact that you aren’t the same anymore. They held you for almost a year, trying to extract your quirk from you. They wanted to bottle it up and sell it to anyone that would pay for it. You can’t even remember how many times you begged for death to take you.

“I’m not – I’m not. It’s – I’m –”

“Shh. Easy, babe, I know. It’s alright. One step at a time. THis is the biggest one you can take.”

There is no judgment, no pity. Just love, adoration and a warmth that is all Izuku. You’re not sure you’ve done anything good enough in your life to deserve him, but he wants you anyway. You relax, wrapping yourself around him, clinging to his heat. Your eyes flutter as he trails his fingers lazily up and down your arm. He knows he can’t fix you, but he’ll do anything to help.

Part 2

[srasdoesthings]

＊✿❀Day 6: Fantasy AU❀✿＊

･ﾟﾟ･:.｡..｡.:ﾟ::✼✿

Rei and Eichi being in false dichotomies rattles in my head so so mach. Might be the wrong term but I just legit blank out whenever I see them sfjds. So for this AU and piece, I based it on Slay the Princess!! The whole change and stasis, how two seemingly opposing concepts are in essence bound together for all eternity, large ethereal beings embodying the make up of reality dancing around each other and mad in love-

Anyways :33 another blurb thingy under the cut! I find deities and myths in videogames very interesting so might as well spit it all into something for the girls🔥🔥🔥 This was beta-ed and heavily proofread by another fello femstars discord member: Cordelia!! (@kanameows) Big big thanks to her, he's really helped me straighten this out and fix up the wording to make it sound less modern nsdkjff

Sorry for rambling dhsnfkmas enjoy the short read^^

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･*

From the beginning of time, two great entities watched over the earth. The Greatest of the greats, the highest of the high. They were gods, deities. They ruled over concepts, embodies them. Eichi and Rei.

Despite all the worship, reverence, and adoration of the people, though, no one truly knew what dominion these gods ruled over. Years, centuries, and milleniums of myths and legends passed down from generation to generation, tainted by the interpretations of those spreading their story. Small details mutate and are discarded over time.

These different spins on their myths go as follows:

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Eichi was the God of Good and Rei was the Demon to be defeated. Eichi was born of light and she drove away the darkness that followed Rei like a shroud.

Eichi brought wonderful things such as the spring and summer, warm and bright; cheery.

Rei is followed by Autumn and Winter, windy and cold --biting at the senses, numbing everything.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Eichi was the God of Life. All living things are her subjects, each and every one blessed by her power.

Rei was the God of Death, who brings rest to the weary, comfort to the tormented, and punishment to the sinners.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Eichi was a God who strived to keep the world perfect. A tyrant creator who destroys all that mar her perfect vision.

Rei was a kind god that accepted the strange and unwanted into her arms, soothing their broken souls.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Eichi was an evil god. An evil god surrounded by wonderful things. An evil god who makes sure she's surrounded by wonderful things. She creates new flowers to hide those that wither in her hands; brought forth life to erase the dying.

Rei was a pitiful god framed by her as evil. She mourned, cried for those she has hurt; unable to protect, only able to take them under her large black wings, singing melodies of solace.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

At least, those were what the myths say...

.

.

.

.

.

But myths are products of human culture, unable to comprehend those above them. In truth:

Eichi is the God of Change; of growth and decay; of revolution and corruption. She is the passing of seasons. She is improvement and she is the loss of progress. All encompassing and always there.

Rei is the God of Stasis. The moment, an ending, and the time spend lingering in it. She is of long nights with loved ones where time holds no meaning and she is minutes stretched to hours in agony. All encompassing and always there.

There is no winner or loser, no right or wrong, and know good or bad. They are merely forces of nature, the absolute truth of the world, and the gears that turn reality. They are simply change and stasis. Simply Eichi and Rei.

･ﾟﾟ･:.｡..｡.:ﾟ::✼✿

[moonlightspencie]

lost in it

Description: The aftermath of falling down a rabbit hole!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!Reader

Warnings: angst, some fluffies

Word Count: 1.9k

spotify playlist link!

A/N: gender neutral reader! (no use of pronouns or ‘y/n’)

SPENCER POV

‘Love,

What’s wrong with me? I think something terribly wrong has happened to my brain, and I don’t know how to fix it. I think you might be the only person who could begin to understand how to, but for obvious reasons, I can’t ask you to do that. I thought time would change things and that I’d start feeling normal again, but every morning I wake up and it feels like my only excuse for getting out of bed is that if I don’t, you’re all I’d dream about.

I still don’t understand how something so perfect could have gone so terribly wrong. Maybe there was too much fire, and because didn’t get a handle on it, we let it burn down everything instead of letting it keep us warm. I don’t know. I hate not knowing. I’m supposed to understand things. But then, you’ve always been an enigma of sorts. Like a beautiful puzzle that I loved to try and piece together, even though I could never get it quite right.

Though, while you still occupy my mind endlessly, I can at least feel like I can breathe again. I found someone new, and she’s great. Not you, but still great. She tells me I look healthier now than when we first met, and she takes the credit for it. I don’t think I believe that she’s the culprit, but I’ll let her believe it. It makes me laugh, at least, and she does, too. I like when she laughs. She reminds me a little bit of you when she does. It’s curious, I think, that she can make me so happy on her own, but that I still cling to every time she acts like you. I feel guilty about it most days. She probably doesn’t deserve it.

But, I can’t help that I still think of you and try to find you in everything. You’re like a ghost haunting me. I’ve always been a skeptic of the supernatural, but you seem to have made me a believer. I wonder if you ever feel the same about me. That somehow you’re searching for that same rainbow of colors I saw when we were together, or that mayb’

“Spencer?”

I dropped my pen, my hand coming down to rest on the piece of paper on my desk as if she could see what I was writing from her vantage point. I looked up at the girl on my couch as she had just woken from a nap. She stared back a me curiously.

“Everything okay?” she inquired.

I nodded quickly. “Fine. Why?”

“You just looked really… In your head.”

“I usually am,” I offered with a tight-lipped smile.

She snorted a laugh, nodding along as she sat up fully. She rested her head on her arms as she looked over the back of the couch at me.

“Well, we have dinner reservations soon. You could probably use a shower.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I nodded, standing from my desk.

She followed suit, standing and disappearing into my bedroom to get ready. I looked down at the letter on my desk, picking it up and observing my own writing for a few moments. My handwriting was a little messy. I let out a deep sigh, crumpling the letter into a ball and tossing it into the fireplace.

I thought back frequently on how it all ended.

We were sitting on my couch one afternoon. I still remember light in my eyes from the afternoon sun. At my love’s suggestion, we kept the curtains open all day, and the windows open every time the weather allowed it. It was nice. The fresh air coming in always made everything feel good somehow. The smell of the wind coming in was always welcomed. Especially on days like that one, in mid-spring as temperatures rose and the air was crisp and the sun always seemed to peak through the clouds. I always felt that way when we were together. It’s how I knew something was wrong that morning.

Our biggest argument started not long after breakfast. I didn’t want to talk about it when tensions started rising, but I should have known that that was a big part of the problem. I never wanted to talk about the hard things. Why would I? Things felt so good when we were together. Why bring up anything negative when we could bask in the sunshine together? It seemed silly.

Though, to be fair, everyone is a fool in love. I thought I’d be immune to it. I wasn’t usually stupid. But those eyes looking at me, and those hands touching me… It was no surprise I couldn’t think straight. I could have been the dullest man on earth, and I wouldn’t have cared.

So, we sat on my couch. Basking in the afterglow of an argument. Our fire had grown out of control, and there I was without any water. Foolish.

I turned when I heard a sigh next to me, and part of my heart broke when I saw tears glistening in that afternoon sunlight. But I didn’t offer comfort. I didn’t even find myself speaking for once in my life. Foolish.

I didn’t move from the couch until it got dark. I didn’t get up when I heard the rustling of clothes getting tossed into a bag. I didn’t even turn around when I heard footsteps going towards the door. I didn’t know what to do, so I did nothing. Foolish.

I guess part of me thought we just needed a little bit of space. I was certain we’d find our way back together within a week. Surely, we couldn’t stay apart for long. That was a ridiculous notion. Everyone knew we would end up growing old together. One fight couldn’t possibly be the reason for our downfall. But it wasn’t one fight that did it.

It was every time I refused to talk. It was every time one of us was too stubborn to back down from an argument. It was everything that led up to that fight that did us in for good.

The last time we spoke was to make sure I wasn’t holding onto anything in the apartment that wasn’t mine. I wished I could have. Pretending I wasn’t alone was easier when the apartment was still full of memories that weren’t just mine.

But weeks of not talking after that turned into months. The only updates I got came from mutual friends, and they didn’t exactly want to talk to me about my ex every time we got together. I can’t say that I would have minded it, though. I wished endlessly I could still remember the smell on my pillow that disappeared long ago, but my memory faded.

And, eventually, someone else’s head laid there instead.

READER POV

I thought back frequently on how it all started.

I didn’t usually agree to blind dates. I thought they were bizarre. Why agree to meet a perfect stranger when I was more than content on my own? Sometimes part of me wishes I’d never agreed in the first place. But, then, I don’t know who I’d be now if I hadn’t met Spencer. He had shifted the entire world on its axis with nothing but a shy smile and shaggy hair falling in his face as he greeted me the first time.

He expressed quickly that also wasn’t usually one for blind dates, but that a coworker of his practically made him go for it. At the time I thought it sounded pushy, but shortly after meeting Derek it all started to make sense.

“So we finally meet,” he said, flashing me a million dollar smile.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” I mentioned with a smile as I reached to shake his hand.

He took my hand, chuckling slightly as he gave Spencer a glance and a look I couldn’t quite decipher.

“I’m sure I’ve heard just as much about you. I’ve never seen pretty boy so infatuated.”

Spencer blushed hard. I merely reached for his hand, interlocking our fingers with a smile.

Though, as much as Derek made sense, a lot of other things didn’t. Our relationship didn’t quite seem like a good fit, for example. I didn’t think we’d last. He was seemingly so mild-mannered at first, but together it was like a whirlwind that would sweep us off our feet. I couldn’t envision it going well for more than a week, but he convinced me easily with that same sweet smile. He was always easy to give into.

“I just don’t know—”

“Please,” he said, cutting me off.

I looked into those big, pretty eyes of his. How could I deny him?

“Are you sure about this?”

He nodded. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

That was the spark, and soon we were tumbling down into something magical at breakneck speeds. Wondrous and stupid and beautiful and thrilling and irresponsible. Expiration dates be damned.

The touch of his hand alone could give me a buzz that no other substance could manage, and I know that my influence was the same on him. It showed every time he looked at me as if I hung the stars while my fingertips traced patterns against his chest. Every time he gave me a soft smile after a particularly passionate kiss when he got home from a case. Every time I brushed the hair out of his face as he rested his head against my chest.

We were utterly in love and too wrapped up in each other to see that it was doomed from the start.

‘Spencer,

It’s been a while, I know. I’m sorry to do this to you out of the blue, but I’ve been thinking a lot lately. Mostly about you. It’s ridiculous, really.

I know you found someone else, and I’m happy for you. Really. I’ve got to admit, though, that it sucks to see you doing so well with another girl. I’ve worked through a lot of those feelings, but some of them still linger. I hate thinking about anyone else having you. Lucky for me, Penelope has stuck around after the breakup, and she’s a wonderful listener. Gosh, I say that like you don’t already know. Anyway, I don’t want to cause problems, so if you don’t reply to this I wont take any offense. I know you have different priorities now. It sucks things had to end how they did. And that’s putting it really lightly.

I still dream about you sometimes. I thought it would end at some point, but it just isn’t right now. It’s weird. I’ve never had someone effect me like this before, and I’m not sure what to do about it. It feels like phantom limb syndrome. Part of me is missing, and I know it’s gone, but it still feels like it’s there somehow. I don’t know. I guess I’m just reaching out because’

I stopped typing at that. Because…?

Because what? Why am I doing this? Really?

I swallowed, looking at all I’d written so far. It was all truthful, that’s for certain. But why send it to him? What would that accomplish?

I hovered my thumb over the button for a moment, then pressed down. I didn’t let up until the whole text was erased. I looked at the empty text box, and the last messages that were sent months ago. Plans for when I was going to retrieve my things from his apartment.

I closed out of the app a moment later, tossing the device on my coffee table. I closed my eyes and let myself drift off to a world where he was still around.

[redrosyrose]

Prompt:Regulus' Patronus Matching James' - Jegulus - September 2 - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count:709

PART 2

It's been several months since they had their first practice together and it's definitely not as bad as Regulus thought before.Their ability to cast Patronus charms have been well enhanced,even though he's still doubting about James' teaching skills,but Regulus have to admit that practice with him is especially comforting.And somehow his ridiculous crush on James not just fade away,they grow bigger.At some point, he feels that it just on the verge of popping out from Regulus' heart.

Of course, how could all those feelings just fade away when James look that good whenever he appear in their practices. His hair just look like a birdnest as usual, but Regulus also notices that James might been attempted to make it look neater ?But whatever condition James' hair are in, they always fit perfectly with his sculpted jaws, dark skin tone. AND they never fail to make Regulus' heart flustered and beating maddeningly like a teenager.

Regulus also couldn't forget nights when he is exhausted and just want a break, James would bring him some chocolate frog,wrap his arms all around him,while murmuring gossips to distract Regulus, until he bursts in tears and then croaks them out.

His relationship with Sirius has been better since then,thanks to James.Although there were lots of insulting and shouting with tears but at least they have learned how to reconcile.

But tonight, this is his moment. Regulus already saw James successfully casted a whole stag ,which just disappeared after leaping around him, so he's sure that he'd get to know his Patronus in a few secs later.

Take a deep breath, many of potential creatures floated in Regulus' mind, as he predicted which are going to be his. It might be a black cat because well Regulus thought his personality would suit them, a quiet observant from dark corners or a fox ,smart and sly.

"Expecto Patronum"He shouts firmly with certainty fills in his voice, while memories flood back in his mind, about when he snuggled in James arms, a few moments he let his walls down, nights he cried shamelessly in Sirius' arms and admitted that he love his brother so much. Nights James show Regulus his weakness and some flashed images of their brushed lips.

A few flecks of lights first wandering aimlessly in the air, then they slightly extended into a long, big abdomen with four legs .So it's a fox, Regulus thought while it's forming into a whole animal with two antlers and a tail in the end. Wait, ANTLERS ?!?!, he quickly darts his gaze to a clear stag is running around James, whose jaws is in the floor.

"Regulus"James slowly whispers as his steps trudged to where he's standing."If you have the same Patronus with someone,it means that you are eternally,deeply in love with them-

All-all I thought about when I cast my Patronus was... you - and Sirius." ,Regulus gathered all of his brave and bold when he spitted it out, the truth he has been trying to hide in the corner of his heart.

His hand somehow finds its way to Regulus' face, James gently cupping his cheeks, where blush is clearly spreading, he can feel the warmth he's been imagined and the tenderness fill in James's touches. It's descending to his chin, as its lifted up.

"So,you're...in love with me?

Well,it's undeniable-"Before he could continue,James's lips already merged with Regulus'.Their kiss are slow but also full of passionate ,it's like a chill electricity slithers under his skin,send warmth all over his body. His hands slipping to Regulus' waist reverently,as if his whole body are made up from glasses. When they finally break apart ,all he could think right now is jamesjamesjames ,his name repeated endlessly like an incantation with chapped memories.

"So...I guess my feelings are mutual." ,James said quietly while his gaze is still fixed on Regulus's lips. "Yeah, they're mutual." He replied as smells of fresh morning spring from James' ruffled hair fill his nostrils.

It's ok when his Patronus isn't what he thought, it's alright ,and they're going to be alright ,he thought with his legs match its pace with James' when they decided to take a night walk in the Forbidden Forest.

[crgasmpuppet]

penn badgley (circa 2015) x female!reader.

warnings: smut. lmao.

hi i don't know if people even read penn badgley/joe goldberg fics at this point but i am obsessed with this man and wanting to swallow his kidz so. lmk how u like it lol.

-wulf hailey

————

laying on my floor and listening to music louder than most humans should physically be able to withstand is probably one of my favorite past times.

especially with my eyes closed, which might not really be a good idea. there could be a murderer waiting in the shadows at any given moment.

yeah, oka-

"holy shit!"

something knocks at my window and i scramble up and backwards looking for a weapon and end up with a shoe. i mean, at least my reflexes are fast. ish.

i hear a deep laugh come from the window and realize who and what scared the absolute shit out of me. my best friend in the whole world, penn. not to mention my crush for the past 11 years since him and his family moved in next door. another boy-next-door cliche, huh?

i turn down the music to a normal volume and walk to the window, shoe still in hand.

"penn dayton badgley, you scared me half to death!" i scream, smacking him in the arms with every word. he giggles maniacally.

"you should've seen your face! holy shit that was the best thing i've ever seen!"

“you aren't funny." i say, my cheeks burning . i roll my eyes and pull him inside. he falls through the window and lands on his ass, springing to his feet in the blink of an eye.

he's wearing my old, triple sized, brooklyn nets sweater (we have jointly never watched one basketball game in our lives) and a pair of grey sweats. classic.

"cat like reflexes. unlike you." he laughs, grabbing the shoe from my hand. "really?"

"you cant blame me! what weapons would a teenage girl have in her bedroom?"

he gives me a blank stare.

"hey, i wasn't near any of them!"

i sit back on the floor, while penn flicks through my records. he picks a few out and shows them to me. childish gambino, chance the rapper, and the cure.

"what a spread." i say sarcastically.

"whatever, you big bully. pick one."

"definitely the cure. you already knew before you asked."

"i know i just wanted to be cute." he fake pouts as he puts the record on and sits down by my side. plainsong starts to play, and i nod my head to the melody.

"yeah, it's too bad you suck too hard to be cute." i reach up to push his head of scruffy brown hair and he fake dies with his hand over chest.

“how could you say that? now i’m doomed to an eternity aloooooone…”

"get up, hamlet. this isn't theatre." i laugh. "you're so dramatic, it's almost cute."

"you think i'm cuuute." he snickers and pushes me over slightly.

i bob back up. "i said almost."

"yeah, whatever." he says, getting up to turn up the music. i get up to go and sit on my bed, "the grounds really hurting my ass.".

he turns to me and turns back to the record player. "boohoo, how do you want me to fix it for you?"

i cross my arms and pout. "maybe i wanted you to kiss it for me."

"ew, gross. you have cooties." he chuckles as he sits down on my bed, pushing me over to get more room.

"it's not my fault you're so long." i laugh. "maybe you should lose a few inches."

"you know what? you're right. i think some parts of me are too big. i think people might get jealous." he says, cockily.

lovesong starts, and it makes me forget whatever he's talking about. "shut up and let me listen to my music, you fucking nerd. you know this is my favorite!"

he realizes and closes his mouth in the middle of his "hey!". i close my eyes and he does the same.

whenever i'm alone with you

you make me feel like i am home again

whenever i'm alone with you

you make me feel like i am whole again

i feel a thumb brush my cheek, and i open my eyes slowly to see penn's deep brown eyes staring down at me. they almost look black.

"what are you doing?" i choke out, wishing i had never said them in the first place. my cheeks are red hot, and i wish his hand wasn't on it so he couldn't physically feel my embarrassment.

"are you nervous?" he asks, his big brown eyes searching for an answer in the cast expanse of mine.

whenever i'm alone with you

you make me feel like i am young again

i loosen my shoulders, that i didn't even know were tense, and look up at him fully.

"no."

whenever i'm alone with you

you make me feel like i am fun again

as soon as the last ounce of word comes out of my mouth, his mouth has replaced it. his full lips press into mine and i see fireworks going off behind my closed eyes. i squeeze them shut and push into him harder, taking his bottom lip into my teeth and biting it, maybe a little bit hard.

his big eyes open and look at me. i can feel them and i look at him, too. i let go of his lip softly, seeing it pull back to his teeth. it feels like a fucking eternity until he nods and pulls my leg over his till i'm on his lap.

he presses his raw lips into mine, his hands on my hips, squeezing them and leading them slowly onto the bulge in his sweatpants. i can't help but let out a breathy moan, immediately clapping a hand over my mouth.

penn looks up at me with those gorgeous puppy eyes and i forget my fucking middle name. he takes my hand down from my mouth and puts it to his, putting my thumb into it and letting it rest on his bottom teeth. the sight makes me melt into a puddle, and i fall back into his kiss again.

however far away

i will always love you

we both let out little pants, both of our mouths constantly open like we were scared that if we closed them, we would never be able to open them again.

however long i stay

i will always love you

i felt his hand slip down the back of my pants, stopping for a second to grip my ass in the nicest way possible, before his two middle fingers reached my clit. he twirled his fingers around and then slid them up.

"you're so fucking wet." he moans, barely getting the words out. "are you always like this?"

i nod slowly. "it's kind of embarrassing."

he grabs me by the bottom of my chin, pulling me back to his mouth. he slowly circles and teases me, while putting a hand up my shirt to play with my nipple.

he pauses, and pulls back. he puts his thumb up to my mouth, and slides it in. he looks at me with those deep brown eyes, and my mouth closes around his thumb, sucking on it.

he takes it out and rubs the cold wetness on my nipple, making me yelp a little before clapping a hand to my mouth once again.

penn takes my hand down again, looking at me.

"don't cover your mouth. i want to hear all the little things you say when i'm not here."

"penn- holy fuuuck." i squeak out, before he flips me back over to my back and climbs on top of me. he grinds on top of me, his hard dick sliding up to my clit perfectly.

"oh my fucking god, i need to be inside you." he almost whines, his teeth gritted and eyes closed in euphoria.

“please, penn. i need you so bad..” i trail off into sweet nonsense.

he looks at me with a sweet smile. "i've always seen the way you look at me. those pretty eyes. i've always wanted to see them like this."

"like what?" i hesitantly ask.

"hungry for me."

i'm genuinely speechless, and i guess he can tell, so he kisses me with so much animality that i can barely breathe. his lips lead down to my jaw, down my neck until i finally sit up and take my shirt off.

"wow, how smooth." he snickers, planting kisses down and around my chest.

"shut up, penn." i say, breathily. my mind is going a million miles an hour, yet i cant point out a single thought.

in a swift second, my pants are off, with no help to penn, of course. i cant believe this boy can tie his own shoes sometimes.

"what did you say?" he asks, his voice calm and collected.

"i said shut up, penn." i laugh. "you don't scare me."

"i don't wanna scare you." penn whispers, his hand slipping down into my panties. i automatically feel his fingers at my clit, and i feel another hand at my throat.

"i just wanna touch you." he smiles, going down my stomach again and littering it with kisses.

"i wanna feel you." he says kissing my thighs, softly. i buck my hips up with every kiss, a white hot fire between my legs. well, actually 2.

"i wanna love you." he says, looking up at me. his eyelashes tickle my thighs, and i look down at him, my eyes wide.

"and i wanna fucking ravage you."

"p-please." is the only word i can get out before he pushes a long, slender finger inside me.

"oh my fucking god." he moans, his head falling onto my thigh while he pushes his finger in again. "i cant believe you can get this wet."

"it's all f-for you. goddd, it's all for you."

he smiles up at me. "i know. do you know how long i've been waiting for this? god, you're so fucking perfect." he says, sliding his tongue from his fingers up to to my clit and i shudder.

"holy fuck, penn." i moan, running my hands through his long brown hair, gripping onto it and bucking my hips up.

he moans against my pussy, the vibrations shooting up my body, making explosions go off in my mind. he pushes his fingers in and out, sucking on my clit with ease.

he comes back up to kiss me, adding another finger inside me.

"are you ready, baby?" he asks me, sweetly. i nod, a little too aggressively and he chuckles, unbuckling his belt and shucking his pants off and throwing them somewhere to the floor.

he kisses me, his tongue sliding inside my mouth. i suck on it, making him moan into my mouth. he grabs his dick, teasing me with it by sliding it up and down, looking me in the eyes.

he slides it in, slowly, gritting his teeth and breathing out a moan. "you are so fucking beautiful. god, you're so beautiful." he chokes out.

"mmmph, penn. fuck, you're so good- "

"a-ah, fuck baby. you feel so fucking good. i don't ever want to fucking l-leave, fuck, babe." he brings my leg up above my head, going as deep as he can. the headboard is smacking the wall so hard it's nearly chipping at the drywall.

“p-penn, im gonna c-"

"it's okay, baby, i've got you. i-im going to, too, fuck-"

penn's eyes damn near roll back into his head, as he groans out the most guttural and gorgeous moan ever known to man as we both cum at the same time.

"holy fuck, baby, you're gripping me s-so fucking h-hard." he says, his eyes squeezed shut, leaning on top of me and biting my shoulder.

i take a sharp inhale, the pain subsiding to pleasure as i buck my hips up, making penn shudder and moan before he pulls out and lays next to me.

i take time to catch my breath before i feel a pair of arms wrap around me. i look over to see penn looking at me with those big brown doe eyes, and i look away, embarrassed.

he turns my face towards him, closing his eyes and pressing his lips onto mine. i smile into his mouth, our tongues fitting together perfectly.

we pull away at the same time, and he's already smiling at me. he's almost laughing.

"what are you laughing about?" i start laughing because he's laughing.

"nothing, nothing. i just-" he hesitates. "i've been waiting for that for so fucking long." he kisses the top of my head.

"me, too. that was perfect." i respond. i literally cant stop smiling.

it's silent for a little bit. it's a beautiful, comfortable silence.

"would you want to be my girlfriend?" he finally asks.

my eyes widen, and i look back up at him.

“are you serious?" i ask. "i cant tell if you're joking."

he looks at me, his eyebrows furrowed. "are you crazy? i've wanted you since i've moved here. it's definitely fate."

"you're such a fucking nerd." i say, giggling. i kiss him on the forehead.

he gets up to pull on his pants, and walks over to the records he picked out.

"because the internet. of course." i roll my eyes at him.

"you don't get it. donald glover is a musical fucking genius, baby."

he comes back and lays down, pulling me into his arms and resting his head on mine.

no matter what you say or what you do

when i'm alone i'd rather be with you

fuck these other niggas, i'll be right by your side

till 3005

hold up.

[penig]

So we're having a rough summer and I haven't been talking about it because why brood but it's different when you talk about people being nice. So, thumbnail sketch:

We finally (as I've been wanting to do for years) got an estimate on getting the house rewired (pretty sure some of the original wiring installed in 1910 is in use) and partially replumbed (can't use the shower tub because the iron pipes are too clogged), and the paperwork for the loan took forever, and then a high wind came along (on my birthday) and dropped a dead redbud tree on our porch and a large branch on our car, which was totaled, and we had to buy a new (used) car and get a tree service to come out and take care of the fallen wood and trim the trees so no more wood falls, but the cost to take care of the big branch and woodpecker damaged tree in the back yard was more than we could afford with the car business, but that could wait a few months assuming no more high winds come along; and the loan comes through and we get the car squared away and the tree service is scheduled to come and we're starting to breathe again -

And I spy somebody putting what I recognize as a code violation notice on the front gate so I open the door and come out to tell her that if this is about the redbud tree on the porch we've already scheduled the work and she says: "It's everything on the lot. Cut it down to 12 inches. You have ten days" So I point out that most of the tall stuff is legal garden plants that should not be pruned in August, that it's two years since I've been physically capable of doing yardwork of any kind, that the work she's demanding is impossible in that time frame and oh yes, it's August, in Texas, with triple digit temperatures predicted for the foreseeable future and it could very well kill me to try. She thought there might be a local program to help me (No; they're all for structural work) and wouldn't budge. So that was like being shoved back underwater when we'd almost crawled out on shore.

But we put out a call to our friends, and people came over Saturday and did miracles, and almost every day this week somebody has come over (in addition to the people putting holes in our walls and ceilings and arguing over how to run the wires and occasionally turning pale at what they find) to help me in the mornings before the third digit kicked in. We did not, of course prune any of the poor heat stressed legal plants, but great inroads were made on the rest of it, and one friend even cut up the big branch in the back yard and the tree service people hauled it off, along with a collapsed picnic table which they told me, when they quoted the price for this small secondary job, that they would not take.

This morning I could barely move. I'm getting a lot of pain in the good leg as well as the bad leg, and in my back, plus I was just weak with heat and tiredness, and for the first time in almost a year I decided I'd better break out the cane again, at least to take the stairs and walk in the yard to discuss with the friend who came today, the last day before the inspection, where best to put his effort (because it was plain to both of us that I wasn't lifting a finger) in order to convince the inspector that we really had done the best we could and to let the stuff we couldn't get to slide until fall and spring.

And I guess one of the workmen noticed the cane, and noticed that the handrail on the upper staircase had pulled out of the wall on one end (it had been anchored to the sheetrock, not the wall proper; the other end was anchored in paneling and was fine; this happened a couple of months ago and we had bigger worries), and just - fixed it. Because it's certainly fixed now. As is typical in Texas most of the workmen are people I can't even talk to because my Spanish is as bad as their English, so it's not as if we've made friends with them. And I didn't see it done, nor did the foreman know who did it when I brought it up and asked him to thank whoever it was, so it wasn't somebody looking to make points. They just saw a chance to do a small simple thing to benefit a total stranger, and did it.

The point here being that two people - whoever called in the code complaint (seriously, that should be illegal in August, at least for yard code with no clear and present danger) and the city employee who wouldn't listen to reason - went out of their way to force me to focus on the least pressing problem facing us right now at the expense of my own well-being. But they are far, far outnumbered by the people who have gone out of their way to help us, just because we needed help.

So, suck it, cynicism!

[1rsoldiersince2012]

Bound by Law (Matt Murdock x Reader)

Words: 2758 (chapter 50)

*whispers * "we are so back baby"

50. of first dates and men

"I almost thought I wasn't gonna make it." You admit, placing your arm on Matt's, an action that has become a habit of yours when you two were by yourselves. "Mahoney opened an active investigation, and blah blah blah."

"I feel like you're leaving all the juicy details out." Matt turns his head to your side, smiling. There's an easiness in his step, maybe he feels lighter, maybe it's because you're finally here with him after a long, lonely day in the office; maybe it's because he's so in love that it all seems silly to him.

"Don't be so greedy, Murdock." You slightly nudge his side, spotting the diner that you chose for your date. Far away from the office and Karen, and Foggy, far away from the people you might know. The street you're both walking appears rather noisy, kids kicking around a ball, music playing loudly in someone's house, an old man with a questionable taste in hats is selling tacos, and two girls are arguing at someone's doorstep.

"It's hard to not be when I'm with you." He replies, tuning out the surrounding noise.

You bite away a smile, squeezing his forearm affectionately; upon entering the diner, you're amazed by all the decorations, light bulbs in different colored jars hanging from one wall to another, the big lights dimmed to create a pleasant and cozy atmosphere for the evening, and pleasant soft music playing from the speakers. "Well, we're here."

Matt takes a deep breath, "Smells nice."

You choose the table in the farthest corner, hanging your coat on the chair, and finally sit down. Your feet were already sore from walking on the job in heels the whole day, running from one office to another in the station, but you refused to wear something more comfortable this evening; your dark red silk dress was made to be paired with the black stiletto heels.

**  "Ever played truth or dare?" You ask, cutting your steak. Matt's knife stops and he turns his head to the side, thinking. It was cute how he always tilted his head like a confused dog, as if the action somehow cleared his confusion.

"Uhh, no, I don't think so. Why?" He asks softly. You two have been chatting this and that while waiting for food, so now you wanted to keep the conversation going.

"You... Wanna play?" You bite your lip anxiously, waiting for him to turn down your suggestion and call it childish. "If you don't want, that's okay... I'm just suggesting."

"Yeah, alright, why not?" He chews his salad, thinking for a moment. "When's the last time you played this?"

"Uh... Probably during the last spring break in high school." You chuckle. "Someone dared me to steal handcuffs from my dad."

"Did you?"

"Obviously... Just haven't yet told him that it was me."

Matt smiles, biting the inside of his cheek, and you can't help but look at the way he pokes his tongue out to lick his lips. "Now, I'm not that surprised you agreed to break into Melissa's house."

"Oh, are you throwing shade on me, Murdock?" You exaggerate your fake gasp and grab your chest. The way your fingers slide on your silk dress, makes Matt suck in a sharp breath.

"I'm just, making an assumption... A very late one, too." He nervously fixes his glasses again. "Okay, so, truth or dare?" He leans forward, catching a whiff of your perfume, and picks up the fork once more.

"Let's begin with truth."

"Oh, safe choice, alright. When was your last serious relationship?"

"Checking your chances or...?" You laugh with Matt, but then get a bit more serious. "Well, I only had two of those. One was obviously Robert. Then there was another guy. And after him, I briefly got back with Robert again, but it wasn't serious that second time with him. I wasn't the same person he knew." You take a sip of your wine, continuing, "so yeah, that was at least nine years ago."

"Wow." Matt's eyebrows briefly shoot up above his glasses, lips curling downwards.

"Yeah... So, truth or dare?" You poke a salad with the fork, looking at Matt making a decision.

"I'll go with truth as well." He replies after a long minute, fingers tapping around for the knife.

"What about your past relationships?" You ask, clearing your throat. You had a rough idea of his previous flings, so you weren't surprised when he told you that he's more of a 'one-night stand guy'. It felt weird, on one hand you knew that what you had right now was serious, compared to Matt's relationship record, but it made you somewhat unease, thoughts of you being just one big distraction began creeping into your mind while he was talking. Well, you weren't any different, God knows, you two were made from the same fucked up clay; but it was what it was, and you couldn't change your past. Or Matt's for that matter.

"There was this girl while I was still in college. I think she was the only one I confessed my love to..." Matt quickly clears his throat, cheeks reddening from embarrassment. "Until I met you, of course."

"We're more similar than I thought." You say, averting your eyes from his crouched figure. It was a hard pill to swallow, but it was the truth, hard truth.

He smiles, almost guiltily. The game continues until you're both two glasses of wine in, leaning close to each other, giggling about nothing, daring to kiss each other or ask the waiter to change the radio station. The people around you change quicker than you can get used to the new faces, but you're still there, still lost in each other's perfumes, still holding hands under the table, still very much in love.

*** 

"So, don't you think that there's something between Matt and y/n?" Karen asks out of the blue, and the question knocks all the thoughts out of Foggy's head.

He blinks slowly, "what?", then laughs shortly, "it's a joke, right?"

They're the only one's left in the office before closing time, with you gone to the station since morning, and Matt leaving a bit earlier than usual. Karen presses the START button on the printer and it begins buzzing. "Yeah. No. I mean, I don't know." She shakes her head, blonde hair falling on her face. "Maybe I'm just imagining it, but it seemed strange, the look she gave me yesterday. When we were in the bar." Karen falls silent, realizing that she said too much already.

"What look? Karen, what happened yesterday? I thought we all had a great time together." Foggy stops packing his briefcase and looks at Karen's back, waiting for her to turn around, but she doesn't, still shielding her pink cheeks with her long hair.

"We did, yeah."

"Then what look are you talking about?" Foggy starts catching the train of Karen's thoughts and his eyes slightly widen, "Wait. You're jealous, aren't you?"

"Jealous? Foggy, don't be ridiculous." Karen blows a raspberry, but it's too late, too obvious.

"Karen..." A heavy sigh leaves Foggy's lips, and he comes to the printer, "three things. First, Matt's not the man of serious relationships, trust me, as his long time friend, I know that. Second, we all were pretty drunk last night, so you might've mistaken that 'look' you're talking about with something else, y/n said she was pretty tired, so." He puts a comforting hand on Karen's shoulder, "I just don't think that those two could be a thing. I mean, a couple of months ago they almost fought each other in court, so, don't burden yourself with these things. Or do. But it's my advice to let it go."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." She smiles, still not convinced. Foggy had no reason to lie, but something was telling her that she was right, there was something between you and Matt.

"Wanna go grab a drink?" He tries, expecting a negative answer, so that he could go visit Marci without an ache in his heart.

"Um, no, I still have a few more copies to make." Karen's tone is dismissive as she tries to hide bitterness behind her shy smile.

"Hey, don't stay up late, you know we can't pay for overtime." Foggy leaves with a huge beam on his face, while Karen's face drops as soon as the door closes.

*** 

Your smile. It's so beautiful. So kind and genuine. You laugh at something he says, hiding your lips with your palms, until his hands reach to pull them away from your face, and he kisses your knuckles. You were so beautiful, glowing like an angel in the dark; and so... In love? Dex couldn't tell, simply because he has never had anyone looking at him like that. It was pathetic, what he was feeling right now. Yet he couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to be in that guy's place, to have you look at him with such adoration and affection.

"Is everything alright, sir?" The waitress asks, smiling at Dex warmly. He has barely touched his food, as he was so busy with watching you. But now she was blocking his most precious view.

"Yes, it's good." He lies so terribly that the poor girl has no choice but to leave him alone.

It was a total accident, Dex didn't plan on going out tonight, or any other night for that matter, but Ray was the one to blame. He kept blabbering about this place for a week, so finally Dex decided to check what was so special about it. And when he sat down to look at the menu, he noticed you sitting with a guy in the farthest corner of the diner. At first, Dex thought that he was imagining it, but then he was positive that it was you. Your shoulders and more than half of your back were exposed, your dress was hanging on two slim straps, falling up to your ankles. He couldn't take his eyes off. Dex has only seen you in formal attires, usually a blouse, jacket and a skirt, hair almost always out of your eyes, tied up in a bun, but now, your hair was free from any ties, shining in the dim light.

Dex finally takes a bite of his food, grimacing at the coldness. Maybe he was lost in his head for too long. He notices the movement in the corner of his eye and sees the guy with red tinted glasses stand up and walk behind you, he pushes your hair to the side and puts something around your neck. The guy leans and kisses your cheek, then slowly returns back to his seat. You smile again, and bring him in for a quick kiss, touching the thing on your neck. Dex clenches his jaw, angrily poking the potato with the fork and turns his head away from the sight.

***  "I know that it's way too late now, but I just wanted to give you this." Matt says, pulling a small red box out of his jacket.

At first glance you think that it's a ring box and almost panic, but then he opens it and you notice a silver chain with a cross. An exhale, mixed with surprise leaves your lips; you touch the necklace, slightly confused, "For what?" 

"Well, happy belated birthday," Matt smiles, taking the necklace from its box, "I know that it's... Not really your... Thing... I mean I overheard what you talked about God and all that in church..." Matt quickly gets flustered, and starts stuttering, while you look at him with rising  interest and amusement, "It would mean a lot to me if you decide to wear it. Not that I'm pushing this... Uh... Religion thing or anything."

"Okay. I'll wear it. For you." You answer rapidly, much to his surprise. 

"Thank you for ending my misery here." Matt laughs, and rises from his seat.

"It was pretty terrible." You tease, extending your arm to guide him towards you.

"Ouch."

"I mean... You're losing your attorney skills, Murdock."

"And I still convinced you in a record time." Matt's quick fingers clasp the chain, and he leans to kiss your cheek, returning to his seat like the wind. 

"It's beautiful, thank you, Matt." Your hand touches his, and involuntary you notice freshly bruised knuckles, but keep your mouth shut, at least tonight. 

However, you can't keep it shut entirely and begin the same old conversation about the guy you wish didn't exist in your life. As the waiter brings a tiramisu to share, you look around the diner, failing to notice Dex just by an accident of people walking to get their drinks; poking the corner of the dessert with a teaspoon, you say, "I didn't wanna talk about work tonight, but Paxton told me an interesting thing."

Matt licks the inside of the spoon and raises his eyebrows in question. He already knows what you're about to say, but still pretends to be interested. "Yeah?"

You pull your glance away from his lips, scratching your head, "He said that Daredevil saved him last night. From his friends. That's why I had to spend the whole day in the station, trust me, Mahoney will not be delighted to see me there any time soon, but that's not the point." 

"So, what did he say?" He's itching to know how much did Paxton actually reveal, and to his dismay, the boy didn't hold back.

"I didn't think about until the lunch, but it's been bothering me ever since. He told me that Daredevil not only saved him, but made him promise to call me in the morning." You make a long pause to finally eat a spoon of tiramisu, while Matt feels tiny beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "It wouldn't be as weird in my books if he just saved Paxton, but I keep thinking about it and just can't figure out how he knew about Paxton having a lawyer. He's just a highschooler after all." You shrug slightly, picking up your spoon again. 

"Maybe he has superhearing or something." Matt tries to joke, but your face remains serious.

"Yeah, if this guy has superhearing, then he's supposed to be called a superhero, and if he's a superhero, then I'm Queen of England." You scoff.

"How are you so sceptical? I mean, we live in a world with the Avengers as our next door neighbours." 

"Yes, but we know who they are, don't we? And this guy is hiding behind a mask, so of course, he is nothing more than a criminal doing illegal activities." You notice how sour Matt's face has turned and try to save the sinking ship, "Don't tell me that you're the same as Karen."

"Karen? What's she has to do with Daredevil?" It felt weird, to finally say his other name out loud, weird, yet somewhat satisfying.

"Please, she's always defending him as if somebody's holding her at gunpoint; it was weird at first, but now it's just... Fucking creepy at this point." You take a big sip of wine and add something Matt didn't expect you to say, at least not right now. "While I'm on the Karen topic, then I might as well say this. I think she's terribly in love with you."

A laugh, mixed with a surprised "What" leaves Matt's lips.

"I mean, come on, haven't you noticed the signs? 'Matt, do you want me to read this out loud' and 'Matt, do you want me to walk you home', and let's not forget the 'Matt, where do you want to get lunch', honorable mention being last night at Josie's. I thought she was going to pull you into that dirty bathroom." You finish, amazed at your own bluntness, while Matt meets you with a sly grin and raised eyebrows.

"Are you... Jealous, y/n?" He can't help but ask, biting his lower lip seductively.

"I have a reason to be!" You lean in, and whisper-shout, "you're and your magical charm are attracting everyone in the room."

"You're so attractive when you're jealous." He blurts out unexpectedly, and you both burst out loud laughing, turning a couple of heads around you. Dex swallows his salad like a bitter pill, wishing you and this douchebag date of yours left quicker. 

***  

While one man was enjoying the company of a woman he was deeply in love with, in the presence of a man whose jealousy and insanity were rising with every passing minute, there also was a third man, currenly more thirsty and angry than the previously mentioned two. A man who has lost everything he loved and held close to his heart. A man thirsty for blood and revenge, a man with an impeccable aim and a never-ending arsenal of bullets. The Punisher.

[scratchandplaster]

For the Ask game please!

Sam, have you seen Shepherd use his hypnotic powers?

[Masterlist] | Ask game

Sam technically learned about it here, here and here. But I think you'd like them to have a more personal experience...

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

How, Sam asked themself as they had so often in the last week, did I end up here?

And what was even more pressing: Why did Birdie talk them into it? Each second spent next to Shepard was every bit as nerve-racking as they recalled: since he came back from his weekend trip, eerie impatience followed behind him with every step.

A little of this meditation, or consultation, or whatever voodoo session they invited themself into, might even help to fix the already wonky relationship to the camping ground sovereign.

Awkwardly upholding distance to him while waiting in the community tent, thick canvas fabric kept the summer sun from assaulting their eyes. Somewhere behind them, Shepard lit a candle that spread a mild floral scent through the air.

In contrast to Sam, this man knew exactly what would ensue.

"I don't know what to tell you," he murmured and cleared his throat, like a middle schooler preparing their big rendition of Oklahoma!, "it's nothing too exciting. But I'm glad you try to get more involved in our day-to-day life instead of just teasing poor Ben about it."

Before they had the chance for a snide counter, Shawn's aunt stepped into the tent and directly into Shepard's arms. The hug held her upright, as if nothing else did: "Leigh, good morning. How are you doing?"

"Hello Shepard! It's good, I'm good," she breathed nervously.

For someone doing good, she looked like a hot mess. Damp eyes scrunched up and glazed with a red puffiness gave away that she didn't sleep all night. Not that Sam did, sharing a mat next to Birdie left them wide awake for more hours than decent, and even now, a tad excited in the best way.

"Our Sam wants to sit in over there if that's fine with you. I suppose you two have already met?"

"Yes, sure," her laugh trembled, and she gave a little wave, then turned back to Shepard to place her hands in his. He didn't leave her out of his sight for a second, yet Leigh couldn't return the eye contact apart from quick flustered glances.

"What brings you by today? I have the feeling it's something quite important."

She was near tears, and Sam was the last person to blame her: getting touchy-feely with Shepard made the last place of things they were thrilled to undergo. Leigh didn't seem to mind. She leaned closer, voice less than a whisper: "I want to catch up with you about everything going on lately. It's been so long since we had a chat just between us."

Sympathetically, Shepard pointed back at Sam: "Are you sure you don't want them to-"

"No! No, it's alright, honestly," Leigh squeaked with an excitement only someone seconds away from a nervous breakdown could muster. He hoped for the message to reach its target, and so it did, yet Sam continued to skillfully play dumb. They wouldn't leave, not now as Shepard finally got down to business.

"Alright, then." Gently taking her by the hands and leading her down to sit with him on the floor, Shepard inhaled deeply - so did she: "Any questions before we begin?"

"No! No, I'm ready," the tired woman sputtered and laid down on the already prepared blankets, Shepard casually scooting over next to her. Behind his turned back, Sam heaved a sigh of relief. At least they were spared from his stupid face.

"That's great, Leigh, then we can get started nice and simple. Take a few deep breaths for me, in and out… Just like that." 

His tone, growing so very low and reassuring, surprised Sam with how easy it was to listen in this state. Today was by far not the first time the odd couple had shared this dance, seeing how comfortable Leigh was being handled like a delicate show horse.

"Can you remember what our last session felt like? Really focus on the memory that springs into your mind's eye. You can let go again, letting go is as easy as breathing. In and out, that's right."

He cradled her hand carefully and stroked down her forearm with every handpicked sentence, as if to mold her to his aspirations.

"Feel how the cells of your body fill with relaxation; down from your heavy legs up to your chest, how this gentle pressure helps to expel every ounce of tension from them. Exhale…and feel yourself sink into comfort."

His words acted similar to a bedtime story, just as Ben claimed. Meaning it was boring, so fucking boring. Sam had half hoped for Shepard to whip out a pocket watch, but any sliver of strangeness stayed buried under layers upon layers of hummed compliments. 

"Follow my words and notice the weight they carry. In. Out."

Leigh's strained eyes fluttered shut on their own, melting into the softness below, knowing Shepard held her whole being safe in his palms. So she breathed and Sam stayed quiet. 

"You're doing great as always. Falling, sinking, floating down into relaxation until it fully embraces you." Minutes of easy silence passed until a gentle murmur allowed Shepard to proceed: "Now, what do you want to share with me, Leigh?"

Unexpectably, her body tensed up: a twitch in her fingers, an unconscious wrinkle on her nose. 

"Take your time, I'm listening."

"I- I'm always trying to keep myself busy w- with my chores and-" Leigh swallowed, "and Shawn's also doing really well, even with math and… And everything is great. I'm so happy to be here."

Despite her loose mimic, she looked uneasy as ever, like she regretted stepping foot into this tent in the first place. A woman silently crying for help but too scared to ask for it. Sam wondered if Shepard noticed her struggle as well when he hummed to himself - patient; disappointed.

"I'm happy you're here, too. I do get the feeling there's something in particular that's bothering you." 

A flash of stone gray peeked through her lashes, and she shook her head: "That's all."

"Alright, then."

Shepard knew Leigh well, too well to simply go along with her denial and ignore how only a few threats still held her together. One could only fantasize about how much worse she would feel tomorrow if not for an intervention.

Anticlimactic as this sit-in had turned out to be, Sam decided to only listen with one ear. Just because Shepard loved to hear himself talk didn't mean they had to join in too. One of their hands lazily traced circles onto the ground below, the other propped up their head.

"Now, I want you to focus on that memory of relaxation again - going back to this state of mind and body…"

Any busy hustle outside fell into the background, nothing more than white noise, unable to disturb them while listening to the stream of words flowing through the air. In the dark of the tent, it made no difference at all if Sam closed their eyes for just a second, even if it meant engaging in this man's sweet talk. It helped them slip into-

"… gentle comfort…"

Oh, right. A small grin crept onto Sam's face. They recognized the scent settling onto their skin like velvet: fresh lemon balm. They knew it as tea back in kindergarten. Plucked by hand, its refreshing citrus notes prickled at the tip of their nose. Kinda nice. 

"… doing so well and listening to everything I say."

The sleep lost at night finally caught up to them and weighted down their body like a heavy blanket. Warmth filled their lungs with every breath, in sync with Sam's tent pals.

"Focusing inwards-"

He mentioned a safe place, some sort of isle for Leigh to step onto, but Sam stayed less than interested. They let thoughts wander and muscles loosen, endlessly weightless in waves of quiet and bliss and-

A warm drop of drool trickled down their wrist; forcing them to leap up from their slump in a startled heartbeat.

Holy fuck. They blinked, desperate to shake the fuzzy pressure from their limbs, but it barely made an impact. What's happening? No, no, no, this is not real! Not a real thing, they screamed silently, only a concept for esoteric bitches and sci-fi movies.

Shepard hadn't stopped his stream of suggestions, hadn't even cared to look at Sam as they struggled to sit on their feet, the tingling ache of their strained nerves redirecting their focus back to reality. Not much was missing to pop the gash on their calf back open, pain overwhelmed by scorching embarrassment. I need to stay awake.

"-until you fall into a light, comfortable sleep."

Though his soft tone tugged at their eyelids once again, Sam forced their body to show vigilance. Nails scratched into their palms, tongue pressed between clenched teeth until they tasted salt and copper.

Shepard and the woman at his feet continued to mumble at each other about banalities Sam suddenly judged as too private to eavesdrop on. The personal struggles of a clearly overstressed girl Friday who'd rather risk a stroke than take a day off was none of their business, to be exact. How does one get burned out frolicking in the woods; didn't Shepard know to keep his flock together?

Anxiety was followed by anger, more directed at Leigh than the reason of their tailspin. Of course she did nothing but dote on Shepard and his little ego project; god, that woman would gladly spread her legs if it made him descend from his high horse and give her a second of attention. 

"Open your eyes," Shepard demanded, only to be met by a glassy stare, "That's it. How are you feeling?"

"Better."

"Better," he approved, his smile brightening when her woozy head mouthed this truth to herself, "In this case, please tell me how I can help you. Nothing you will say can upset me, I need you to understand this."

"I try…to show you how much I appreciate you." Leigh slurred her words, even as Shepard's lead kept her secure. "I really do."

"And we see it, dear. You earn your place and so much more. You don't owe us blind compliance, especially if it is at the expense of your joy of living."

"But I have to-" A sob broke through her whisper. Her hand clutched Shepard's, desperate, and at the end of her rope.

Just ask for a vacation, bitch. Get on with it. The sooner Sam got out of this awkward situation, the quicker familiar terrain would give them back the control they foolishly had let slip. Sweat pearled on their forehead, the heat only playing a minor role in their exertion.

"Let me ask differently: Why did you come to us?"

Memories swept over Leigh's face and cleared up a storm of doubt and fear: "To start over. To get support for Shawn."

"And for yourself, exactly. So, let me help you two. Laundry is your current task if I'm not mistaken. Is the workload too much? We have a lot more residents now during the holiday season, and I can imagine the backpackers are not making it easier for you to get everything sorted out. I chose a repetitive task to be predictable and assuring to you, but it looks like I underestimated the sheer volume. That's on me, not on you."

"It's all...manageable," she claimed meekly. Instantly, he stroked down her arm and her eyes slammed shut. Leigh obeyed without a sound of his.

"Are your chores too exhausting?" he asked one final time, soft as a hug, "No shame, no judgement."

A single nod let the cat out of the bag. Her tears flowed freely: "Sorry."

"Not for that, Leigh. I am sorry you felt insecure and couldn't address it sooner."

"I need… Shepard, I just need a bit of help, it's-"

"Alright, Leigh, it's alright. I hear you and I'll figure it out. That is my job, and I'm pretty good at it."

A few more words helped her drift into that calmness Sam ripped away from again, still remaining limp in the blankets, still clinging onto her body when Shepard brought her back up. Minutes passed until she had a stable hold on reality again.

"Thank you," she blinked through the daze, "Should I get back to-"

"Leigh," Shepard sighed and gently wiped the tears off his lost cause, "you should rest for today, okay?"

He nodded, so she joined in. 

"I'm going to get you some water, dear. I'll be right back."

The person of Sam's interest rose from comfy seating and stepped closer, nearly towering above them. Eyebrow raised expectantly, he never made them feel so small in their time together, as if the whole fundament of this valley had shifted in the last twenty minutes: "You look a bit lost, Sam."

"Heartburn," they mumbled and swallowed a thick lump of confusion. Was it over? A free therapy session because dirty towels got on Leigh's nerves - was this story worth the drop of Sam's guard? The worst anybody could claim was for Shepard to be unqualified as this sort of makeshift counselor. Hot air worth nothing. 

At best, Sam wrote about the vague sense that something was off, about a second-hand meditation catching them by surprise. Then again, they would rather die than admit to being…being what exactly? Sam didn't know either.

Numb and dizzy from the sudden flash of sunlight, they followed Shepard onto the meadow and looked around for anyone to guide their next steps. But who would, in this busy settlement, without mocking them?

"Heartburn, huh?" Shepard wondered, casual as ever and carrying a look on his face Sam couldn't place, "Well, you should better consult Birdie about that."

Yes. Yes, maybe they should.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

[come-on-shitty-boys]

// A Kid In An Ink Shop. inked 02 //

*The nature of this series may be not be appropriate for all readers. Content warnings include: vulgarity, heavy swearing, and implications of adult relations.  Due to these themes, this series may not be suitable for readers under the age of 16.  Reader discretion is advised.*

prev << 02 >> next

“And who the fuck are you?”

“Y/N.  I’m your new apprentice.”

Kuroo snorts, turning away from you so he can return to his sketchbook.  “That’s a good one, kid.  I don’t-”

“I know you don’t take apprentices, but I don’t care.  I have looked up to you for years and I want to learn from you.  I could easily walk down the street and get an apprenticeship with the artist at Seven D-”

“We don’t talk about that snake in here,” he grumbles, tapping his pen against his chin as he stared down at the modified concepts, contemplating between a few designs before shaking his head and turning to a new page and drafting up more ideas to fix the current disaster of Tsukishima’s tattoo.  “You said it yourself.  I don’t take apprentices so I don’t know why you decided to waste your time coming down here.  You might as well just go.”

He was fully expecting you to turn on your heels and walk out, accept your defeat, but you stood rooted in your place, that same challenging expression painted across your features as if he were some final boss in a video game.  “I’m not leaving until you look at my portfolio.”

“Kid, there are at least five other shops within a mile radius of here.  Why don’t you take this stupid act of yours somewhere else?  You’re really starting to get on my last nerve,” Kuroo says, weaving his free hand through his hair, amber eyes never even glancing in your direction.  

“I want to learn from the best and-”

“Kiss ass.”

“Are you going to look at my portfolio or not?  I’m not going to run circles with you all day.”

Kuroo couldn’t keep the laugh from bubbling in his chest as he finally turned back to face you.  “Run circles with me?  Kid, I have made it perfectly clear that I have no interest in you.  I don’t need an apprentice.  I don’t want an apprentice and, on the off chance that I did, I sure as hell would not be picking the person who waltzed into my shop, blatantly ignored the front desk clerk who told you multiple times that I was busy, and then proceeded to fuck up my work station with their lousy portfolio!  I don’t know how you want me to put it so that you’ll finally get it through your damn head.”  Kuroo’s height and stature already commanded the presence of any room, but the tilt to his head and the absolute boredom swimming in narrow eyes as he got to his feet, sauntering towards you, well, you had never felt so small.  He was only two years older, but he was more intimidating than any man that you had ever met as he stared down at you, the black book of your portfolio, nestled between his hands.  But, he pushed it against your chest as he walked past you.  “Get the hell out of my shop, kid.  Take it to somebody who gives a shit.”

The tattoo shop goes silent, only the sound of Kuroo’s sneakers against the tile floor as he moves to the front of the shop to busy himself at the desk with Akaashi.  It feels like a weight has settled into your chest, slowly sinking its way down to your stomach and it’s only a matter of times before that feeling of defeat really soaks in and lets those hot tears spring to your eyes.  You can only swallow your pride and try your best to hold your head high as you walk back in the direction you came, past the big man who had tried his best to block your path, past the soft-spoken desk clerk with sleepy eyes and handsome features, past the one man that you looked up to more than anyone else in the world.  The bell above the door jingles on your way out.    

“You were rude.”  Kuroo’s movements come to a pause as he looks up to meet Akaashi’s eyes.  He didn’t know that Akaashi could look more stern than usual, but the knit to his brows and the frown that settled on his lips proved Kuroo wrong.  “Couldn’t you have just humored them?  At least open their portfolio.  Maybe they were good, but you’ll never know because you chased them away.”

“Yeah, man.  What’s so bad about having an apprentice anyway?” Bokuto asks, leaning against the counter next to the others.  

Kuroo just shrugged, letting a heavy sigh leave his lips.  “I don’t know.  They’re a lot of work and I don’t really know that I’m qualified to teach someone how to tattoo another person, you know?  I mean, I’m still starting.  Sure, I’ve done well for myself, but I’ve only been doing this for four- five- years now?  They didn’t have a damn thing to say about actually making art.  It was all how I inspired them or whatever.   If I’m going to get an apprentice, they should at least be interested in the art of it, not just because they think I’m cool.”

“You didn’t even give them the chance to talk about it.  You were shoo-ing them out the minute they muttered, ‘apprentice,’” Akaashi says.  

“Are you trying to guilt me into something?”

“It would be pretty nice to have someone else around the shop from time to time,” Bokuto sighs.  “It gets a little boring, just the three of us.”

“We’re just saying that maybe you could’ve taken the time to look at their portfolio.  If it was shit, then it’s not a big deal and we all just continue on with our lives.  But, what if they were really good?  You might’ve just let someone really special just walk out of that door and for what?  Just because they’re ‘too much work’?  You’re going to have to figure it out eventually, because they aren’t going to be the last person in here asking for an apprenticeship.”

Kuroo could only huff and move his gaze back towards his phone screen.  “Well, it’s too late now.  Even if I wanted to look over their portfolio, I can’t.  They’re long gone and so is all of their work.”  Bokuto opened his mouth, his finger raised as if to interject.  “I’m not going to go chase them down the street.  I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about who they apprentice for.  It’s not going to be me and that’s that.  They were fine, okay?  They had a fire that we don’t see in here very often, but I said what I said.  I don’t take apprentices and I especially don’t take apprentices who destroy my work station by slamming their portfolio against my desk.  I don’t care how good your work is or how good you think it is.  If you’re going to pull that shit, I’m not putting up with it and you can kiss your chances at working with me goodbye.”

“Dude, you can’t just keep turning people away like this.  You’re good.  It can’t be easy to find someone with your talent that doesn’t already have an apprentice. You can’t blame them for being a little aggressive about their strategy, you know?”  Bokuto says, nudging his friend’s shoulder.  

“There’s plenty of other artists in the area and they’re all fine at what they do.  They don’t need me to be the one to teach them how to tattoo.  They just want me to be the one.  At the end of the day, it’s your dedication that’s going to push you to the top.  I had a shit mentor who worked out of the back of a take-out restaurant.  The man couldn’t draw to save his life and had no eye for composition, but here I am, doing just fine for myself despite all of that, because this is what I wanted for myself.  I worked my ass off to get here.  Having me as a mentor isn’t going to make you a good tattoo artist.”  Kuroo pushed himself away from the counter.  It was almost like he could hear his body groaning in disappointment at the thought of having to go back to work, but Tsukishima would be back sooner than later expecting to get a tattoo finished and that couldn’t happen without concept art and that couldn’t be done if he kept standing at the front desk, scrolling endlessly through his Twitter feed.  

He wasn’t sure if he should laugh at his own naivety or if he should scream at the top of his lungs at your stubbornness.  When Kuroo had left his work station, colorful pens were scattered all over the floor- under tables, under his chair, all the way across the room.  But, yet, there they all were, placed neatly back in his cup next to his sketchbook, the pages open right where he had left them.  An absolute fucking kiss ass. 

It wasn’t that, though, that had his head thrown back in a hearty laugh that brought the others to his side to see what was so funny.  It was the black binder sitting on the edge of his desk, a sticky note on the front cover.  “They really are giving me no choice, huh?”  Kuroo sighed, taking his seat and pulling the binder towards him.  “Alright, let’s see what we’re wo- woah . . .”

There were probably close to hundred concept sketches and finished illustrations, each one dated and titled, some pages had tiny notes in the margin written in a sparkly blue ink pen, talking about the process, the inspiration, and where improvements could be made.  But, there was no mistaking it, this portfolio that he held in his hands was one to rival his own.  Unique demonstrations of line work and saturation, understanding color theory and knowing just how much is too much when it comes to working on your piece.  There was still plenty of room to improve.  Your technical skills were sloppy with uneven and downright shaky lines and blends that didn’t seamlessly combine like they were supposed to.  

He flipped back to the front cover where a yellow sticky note had been stuck and in a sparkly blue gel pen, you had written:

I meant it.  I want to learn from the best and I won’t give up until I do.  

Signed, Y/N

Here’s my number so you can shove my portfolio back at me. (xxx) xxx - xxxx

“Akaashi?” Kuroo asked, not letting his eyes move from the note.

The man didn’t answer, eyes still wide in wonder as Kuroo thumbed through some of the pages all over again.  

“Akaashi.  Bring me the phone.”

{Taglist: @boosyboo9206 @universal-s1ut // never miss an update! send an ask or a dm to be added to the inked taglist!}

[theresnoturningback]

Year 1 - Summer - Breakfast

THIS IS PART OF A SDV FIC SERIES I'M WRITING, FEEL FREE TO ASK ABOUT IT, NOTHING WOULD MAKE ME HAPPIER

A/N: So I wanted to explore Marnie being a protective tutor, she has a special place in my heart and she deserves so much better than Lewis oh god.

Anyways, as always I hope you enjoy reading, and if you do please please please consider reblogging.

This is not proof read by anyone else besides me, because I really wanted it out today.

Little warning: contains lots of angst, depression struggles, some violence and alcoholism derived issues.

Mornings at the Ranch are usually calm. Everyday Marnie gets up and helps Jas get ready. She wakes Shane up, oftentimes with some difficulty.

She understands the current state of his world is practically ruins. He hasn't been able to recover from the accident that left Jas orphaned years ago. Despite being evident, it's hard for him to admit that some days he needs a little push, so Marnie does her best to make his nephew understand he's not alone.

One day, trying to think of ways to help him get a healthy daily routine, she decided that at least once a week, she's going to wake up extra early to cook something special for her family.

Jas was especially happy about it when her aunt made her plum pudding or served her a slice of pink cake. Cake for breakfast was her idea of a perfect morning. Other days, she wasn't so stoked about the food on the table, particularly if it was scrambled eggs with a touch of spring onion or fruit salad, but those days she focused on enjoying the company of her family. Seeing his uncle Shane smile at her still half asleep made her entire morning.

Shane, on the other hand, could see Marnie's intentions behind those weekly morning feasts.

Every Saturday morning, he'd wake up to Marnie's knock on his bedroom door. Most of the time it'd take him a couple of minutes to open his eyes, sit on his bed and stretch. He'd put on some clothes and walk to the kitchen. There, he'd find the little family he still had left.

"Morning uncle Shane" Jas would usually greet him in a cheery voice "do you want some eggs? You can have them all if you want"

"Thanks, kiddo" he'd answer offering her a smile to let her know she was one of the few things that have kept him alive so far.

"How did you sleep last night?" Marnie would ask, already knowing his usual uninterested

"Same old, same old" He'd answer

They'd continue to eat their breakfast, enjoying each other's company in comfortable silence.

There were darker days, though. One particularly difficult morning was a specially hot Saturday. The summer sun woke Shane up with its rays shining from his window and directly into his face. He tossed and turned on his bed, trying to find an angle comfortable enough to keep sleeping but he ended sitting up, groaning in frustration.

If that wasn't enough, three knocks on his door startled him.

"Shane! Breakfast!"

He scratched his face, looking around his room; one big mess he tried to fix countless times. Eventually, he deemed this task pointless because sooner than later chaos always found him.

He reached down to a half empty can of beer and took a swig to ease the dryness in his mouth. He remembered Harvey telling him that his problem was just a consequence of heavy alcohol consumption during his annual check up. He chuckled bitterly at the irony before taking another sip. It didn't bother him it had gone completely flat overnight. A disappointing drink to celebrate a disappointing life, he thought.

Three more knocks on his door made him roll his eyes, fall on his back and push a pillow against his face.

"Shane" Marnie insisted "Jas is already eating and your coffee is getting cold"

"That's OK, I'm not hungry" he answered

Marnie sighed

"Please, you need to eat"

"I'll eat later, Marnie, go away"

Marnie looked at Jas, worried she might have heard it. Her niece looked back at her, smiling.

"Jas, darling, Miss Penny will be waiting for you. Go. Don't forget your pencils this time"

"Yes, aunt Marnie" the little girl ran to her room to get her supplies and left the ranch waving goodbye.

Once Jas left, Marnie tried a completely different approach.

"Shane, open this door. We need to talk" she said in that stern voice she hardly ever used "Now"

Seconds later, the door opened and the heavy air hit her in the face.

"I swear... Would it kill you to open a widow?" She asked looking around the cluttered space.

"I would have tried that long ago" he mumbled, turning his head away.

"I heard that, young man"

"I'm almost thirty, Marnie, I'm not a young man"

"Then why do you insist in behaving like a dumb teen?" She opened the windows to let the fresh air in.

Shane huffed and sat on his armchair with his beer can on his hand. She started taking out the bed sheets and putting them away along with a small pile of Shane's dirty clothes.

"Marnie, no-what are you doing? I was going to-" he hurriedly tried to stop her, afraid she might find something embarrassing.

"Then do it, I have a whole ranch to manage and I'm wasting time doing things that are entirely your responsibility"

Her words stopped him in his tracks. Did she really just say that?

"Nobody asked you to waste your time on me! Why are you always like this?" he yelled.

"Because I worry about you, Shane!" she answered, matching the volume of his voice. She took away the beer from his hands and held it to his face "THIS. This makes me worried" Shane was too ashamed too even look at her but she still searched for his eyes "you didn't think I haven't noticed all these around your room, or well hidden in the trashcan? How long do you think before Jas finds out?"

The sole mention of her goddaughter made him lash out.

"GET OFF MY DICK, MARNIE, YOU'RE NOT MY MOTHER"

She interrupted his yelling with a slap across the face so hard, it made him lose balance. She stiffened up while Shane pursed his lips, trying his best not to cry.

"If that is the language you want to speak to me, that's fine. Let me put it into words you can understand: If you don't get your shit together soon, you will hurt Jas and I will not allow you to do that. She's already lost her parents and I will not just stand here seeing how she loses her godfather, too" She made him look at her and spoke in a softer voice "I might not be your mother but she gave me the responsibility of taking care of you and you have the same responsibility to Jas. I love you like you're my own son. You both are so young and gone through so much that I can't stand the idea of seeing any of you in pain, so please-" she sighed to hide the little break in her voice" please, promise me you'll get better.

Shane fell silent since she hit him. All her words made sense, of course, but he was too ashamed to say anything in return.

He nodded and finally looked at her, with tears in his eyes "I'm trying..." he whispered before she held him to help him cry "I'm really trying, but it's so hard, I can't...I can't" he sobbed onto her shoulder

"Oh, little one... of course you can. You're capable of so much"

She walked him to the kitchen. Shane sat down in his usual place and Marnie poured some fresh black coffee in his cup as he started eating his scrambled eggs

"I know you came to this town unwillingly at first, but during all this time you have met so many people that care about you. I've seen you with Emily and Sam. They're kind and fun and you seem happier when they're around , but you never really hang out much with them. Even Lewis asks about you sometimes... Imagine how much they can help if you'd let them in"

"What did you put in the eggs?"

Shane's question caught her off guard.

"Uh, just the usual, eggs, salt, a little bit of butter, oh! And some chili peppers to give it a little more flavor"

"I didn't know we had chili peppers..." he managed to say with his mouth full

"That new girl Dahlia from the old farm brought them. She's been around the valley giving samples of her first harvest"

"I've never seen her" he shrugged, washing down his meal with coffee "she's got good produce, though"

"She came here yesterday, right after I closed. You were at the Saloon, thats why you didn't see her, but I think you'd be good friends, she came here to ask about our chickens, but she's afraid she won't be able to take care of them. Maybe you could teach her?" she elbowed him with a giggle before she began to clear the table.

"Marnie, please" he sighed half amused, half annoyed.

"That's aunt Marnie for you" she kissed the top of his head while she passed behind him "don't you forget again"

"I won't" he mumbled into his cup, smiling to himself.

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Pinned Fanfiction Post! Updated 9/25/24.

Psst… there's a way to support my writing now (and thank you Kraiva, Som, Charlie, Flamia, Bree, and more who encouraged me to do it).

Fandoms:

The Magnus Archives

Malevolent (Podcast)

Deviser (Podcast)

I'm bad at updating this, my apologies! It's all on AO3, folks.

Latest:

Malevolent

BIG BANG: BUT IT BEATS THE DARKNESS AO3 || Tumblr

The Magnus Archives

"T" IS FOR TOMB - a bittersweet sad post-TMA one-shot AO3 || Tumblr

The Magnus Archives x Malevolent

CORRUPTED, chapter 24: Fogged. A Tim Stoker x The King in Yellow weird romance because I am strange. AO3 || Tumblr

Loads of Surrogate updates, as per usual. :) The last few:

Like Father - Faroe makes a dangerous decision

Message Received - Kayne bitching because we were too busy to write

Strained - the beginning of fallout from Faroe's choices.

Nightingale - Something with Arthur is very, very wrong.

FINISHED FICS:

(This needs some serious revision! For now, be sure to check my AO3 profile until I get this part cleaned up.)

THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES

AND EAT IT, TOO

The voice gets under his skin. Is it pleasing or terrifying? Inside his head or out? Is it even real, or is his still-human brain just cobbling monster-sounds into something he can comprehend? It’s impossible to get out of his head, whether literal or not. Doesn’t matter, though, because the answer Michael gives is a terrible one, and ends the same way: Gertrude could protect herself, Jon can’t, and he’s going to die for her sins.

Playlist available here.

AO3 | Tumblr

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A THOUSAND WORDS

It’s coming, Jon. You know something is; something that itches, that nags, that hides just out of view. Our glorious future is coming.

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QUIT

It’s a stupid-drafty manor—huge, never properly lit, all its frippery fraying at the edges. It has literal skeletons in the walls. It has a foyer right out of Crimson Peak, an empty cement hole with crumbling cherubs in the back yard that might have once been someone’s idea of a pond, and a library with more cursed books than Gerry could shake a match at. The part of Gerry that once used Sharpies to blacken his eyebrows loves this place with a truly unholy passion. If only it didn’t belong to the reason the world was going to end.

Playlist available here.

AO3 | Tumblr

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TULIPS IN SPRING

Martin crawled back into bed like he’d crawled through the burned-flesh hole in his heart, and knew he still loved Jon. Martin knew Jon loved him, too. Jon had thrown away godhood for him, like it hadn’t mattered. Maybe it hadn’t.Jon loved him, and that meant they could fix this.All Jon had to do was wake up.

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CRUCIBLE

Martin's been having dreams.He doesn't understand them. Surely, if Jon had ever looked like that, with unreal wings and a crown of spinning eyes, he would have remembered. But his memory isn't working as well as it should right now, and Jon never blinks. Martin is afraid.

Inspired by The Watcher’s Crown by @raynecreates

Note: this is angst. Somewhere Else goes very, very wrong.

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INSTANT NOODLES (crack fic)

At least his new hobby kept him occupied in the evenings, when too much time to think turned to wretchedness. It just so happened that much of his life was public. On the internet. As part of some gods-damned podcast. There were no words for how fascinated he was. This was his story—and yet it wasn’t. It was focused on Jon, for some bloody reason, which made no damn sense, since Jon showed up at the very end. Well. There was no accounting for taste.

Note: This is nonsense. Full apologies to Jonny and Alex, who are 100% the creators of my favorite podcast, The Magnus Archives. This is a work of fiction, etc. and so forth. Take it as the joke it's meant to be. Written because I wanted Jonah to suffer.

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SHORT STORIES FOR TMA APPRECIATION WEEK, 2023

Just what it says on the tin. Silliness, angst, and crossovers incoming.

AO3

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THIS DARK THING THAT SLEEPS IN ME - Rusty Quill Big Bang 2023

This is a DARK AU; it is not a kid-fic, though Jon is young. Bittersweet ending ahead. Spoilers for the whole show, though this is very much an alternate universe. In a world where the End won and Jonah Magnus is its Heart, the cycle of death and rebirth is a given: no one lives past thirty, the Other Fears scramble for scraps, and any infant without an Alignment—called Uncertain—has until the age of ten to be claimed, or they are sacrificed. Jon, an Uncertain child, knows things he shouldn’t, has memories he shouldn’t, and also has a purpose: apparently, he’s been called to do what no Aligned person can do and stop Jonah. Sometimes, there is no happy ending, only the right one. Jonah broke the promises he made to take over the world, and Jon is here to make it right. “I am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in me; all day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity. Clouds pass and disperse. Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables? Is it for such I agitate my heart?” ― Sylvia Plath

AO3

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MAGNUS ARCHIVES x MALEVOLENT CROSSOVER

I PREFER MY HEART TO BE BROKEN

Jon feels seen in a way he has not since the Panopticon, examined from cell to soul, from ankles to ego. Does that feel good or horrible? He doesn’t know. He tries to see into this thing, just a little, but just that glimpse is enough. Fear shortens Jon’s breath, shivers up and down his form, because this thing is a god.

Playlist available here

AO3 | Tumblr

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MALEVOLENT (PODCAST)

BUT IT BEATS THE DARKNESS - Malevolent Big Bang 2024

Serial killer Wallace Larson has been murdering children for his ritual, and the cops won't stop him. Private investigators Parker Yang and Arthur Lester choose to get involved... and everything goes wrong. Interrupting the ritual leaves Parker missing, Arthur in chains, and a piece of the King in Yellow in Arthur's head. But this piece knows who he is, and knows what he wants: to complete his ritual and rule Earth. Unfortunately, Arthur is incredibly stubborn, maudlin over his missing partner (stupid Parker Yang), and John, it turns out, is not the only piece of the King seeking power right now. It's a race against time, and John has a heavy handicap. With Larson in pursuit, a trail of murdered victims in their wake, and a host whose body is failing, John is determined to win at any cost... even if the cost includes Arthur Lester.

"It may not be much light but it beats the darkness" ~ Charles Bukowski, The Laughing Heart NOTE BEFORE READING This is part one of a Darkthur fic. There is violence and bodily harm. This fic was written in tandem with Kraiva's IT MAY NOT BE MUCH LIGHT, and is intended to be read together, though both are standalone. For the fullest experience, read the corresponding chapter from each fic. We'll be linking the connected chapters in the end notes of each. The incredible art in chapters two and eleven are by @wurmeon. The breathtaking 3D models in chapter six are from @iconiccookie.

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WRONG - spoilers for part 43

There is a thread where it all went wrong. Where Arthur, lost, has lost his hope. Where John makes a choice to teach Arthur what it means to be human.

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HERETIC- an Oscar one-shot:

What road remains for a man whose purpose abandoned him?

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Blood and Sand:

When John Luke was nine, Parker stopped writing back. It took a while before John Luke was sure, before he allowed the worry to slither into his bones, and take flavor and color away, and leave only trembling cold behind. Parker had never been quiet this long. Something had happened. John Luke Yang wants his brother back. When he learns about a wish—offered by a god, in exchange for winning some kind of game—he's willing to leave everything behind in pursuit of it. But the Dreamlands are not safe, and the King in Yellow has gone mad. The Games are not designed to be survived. Luke has fallen into deep and dangerous waters. Fortunately, he won't be swimming alone.

AO3 || Tumblr

They Both Just Gotta Be Dicks (Intermezzo spoilers):

Not much surprises Kayne anymore. A melting Arthur manages.

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All that Glitters (crack-fic one-shot):

John and Arthur, Lester and Doe, going mano a mano against their greatest foe: 1970s Arkham bureaucracy.

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Fragile (Intermezzo spoilers):

Arthur got low in Larson’s house. He hit bedrock; he admitted, brokenly, that they won. John didn’t let him drown. Which is ironic, because John was already drowning.

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Double the Popcorn (Intermezzo spoilers):

You think there’s anyone I haven’t seen? Fucked around with? Followed? You think there isn’t a version of you I haven’t tweaked to be the very d-d-darkest you could be, with flesh in your fingernails and blood in your cheeks like a really fucked-up squirrel? I. Have tried. Them all. And pal… they don’t fucking work.

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God of Cowboys and Fools:

Well. No time like the present. “I am the King in Yellow, and you are now my slave,” I tell him, because that is the truth and we might as well get it done. He is a god, awakened in the crater of his birth. Somewhere out there is the Wizard he needs to ensure his misplaced immortality. Now, if only the Wizard would just do as he was told instead of fighting back, they could get on with the business of living forever.

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SACRAMENT - an Oscar one-shot

Arthur and John are long gone from Oscar's life, and whatever they did has left more than one wound in the world. Oscar's is obvious. Scratch's is not. Oscar certainly hadn't planned on encountering the malevolent spirit ever again, but now that he has, he faces a choice.

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BOYO

Warning: this is a dark fic. I liked me boyo’s anger, and he was just scuttered enough to make this work. To join me hitting the prop, and hitting too much. To not know when it was time to stop, and to follow my lead as we went far beyond. Wasn’t quite perfect. Didn’t have the rhythm yet. But I knew he’d get it; musical lad, or I’m a whaler, and I’d get him singing my tune. The fool died, and my boyo stood there, panting, blood everywhere, and hit the body again just because. Fuckin’ beautiful, that was to see.

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THE INCIDENT - a one-shot for the @malevolent-fanzine

Arthur and John are in Arkham, getting their burgeoning P.I. business off the ground. And then Kayne asks for a favor, and everything goes to hell.

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TRY, TRY AGAIN - a one-shot for the @malevolent-fanzine

The King in Yellow worked for a month to get Arthur to spill the information he wanted. Eventually, he got what he wanted through a made-up Bostonian, Adam Fry. What happened in the month before Arthur woke?

AO3 || Tumblr

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CONFESSION

There’s a trick to confession, if you want to keep another from hearing what you said. But not hearing it don’t make it not true, don’t make it go away.

I fear Arthur’s truth, so big and bright. I fear ours together may strike like flint and leap into devouring flame.

An Oscar one-shot

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PEDANTIC

Arthur Lester is the best IT architect in the world, and the reason Carcosa, Inc. has its fingers in every pie. Government, medical, everyone in the world uses its systems. Arthur is also going blind, with a rare genetic condition that can’t be fixed. The looming depression is bad. He can’t imagine a life where he can’t create anymore. Arthur nearly gives up… until a deeply annoying cybersecurity programmer prods him into trying something new. Great, right? Now, if only this John Doe weren’t clearly hiding something so wild that not even PI Parker Yang can dig it out….

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PET

Arthur loses John. Hastur loses Arthur. Yellow does not deserve what happens here.

AO3

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PUSH

They survived. John got his promised body. They're free. But Arthur is still blind, and now, he no longer has someone in his head, helping him around. He's not all right. It's all coming out of him in anger. Today, John needed a break... and, left alone, Arthur tries a four-legged substitute. It goes about as well as can be expected.

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NOTHING GOLD CAN STAY

Angst warning Things happen when we age. Unavoidable things. Until death do we part.

AO3

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CLOUD CITY - MALEVOLENT BIG BANG 2023

The sun never rises in Cloud City. Owned by distant gods, the world creaks along in techno-magical paralysis, making Contracts with spirits, and limping along in isolated enclaves while monsters run wild in the Wastes. Five years ago, Arthur Lester, a private investigator, made a Contract with a Summon called Hastur. The deal? His soul in exchange for the identity of his daughter's murderer. Until the time Arthur's soul is ripe for harvesting, Hastur will give him power, and eventually must find Faroe's killer. If he doesn't, they both die, so failure is not an option. Hastur, however, is not a normal Summon... and it turns out he's come here and chosen Arthur in order to stop a threat that will destroy the entire universe if it succeeds. Unfortunately, humans aren't meant to channel power like Hastur's, and Arthur's body is beginning to break down. It's a race against time to solve Faroe's murder and stop the incoming threat before he simply drops dead.

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YELLOW CITY - A CONTINUATION OF CLOUD CITY

Arthur Lester has been taken by the King into the Dreamlands. Arthur Lester has gone quite mad. As promised, Arthur will suffer… but his presence will have a bigger effect on the future of Earth than anyone planned.

AO3

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PUSH

They survived. John got his promised body. They're free. But Arthur is still blind, and now, he no longer has someone in his head, helping him around. He's not all right. It's all coming out of him in anger. Today, John needed a break... and, left alone, Arthur tries a four-legged substitute. It goes about as well as can be expected.

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THE BIRTHDAY SONG

Very much post-canon. Very much fluff. John has a body. Arthur has his sight. They've figured it out, working in Arkham, making their way through life, and John, at last, has chosen his birthday. It's all fluff from here, folks.

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WORTH THE PRICE OF A BOTTLE OF POP

So, anybody want a crack-fic with Kayne, Arthur, and too much sugar even for an Outer God?

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FIVE TIMES JOHN WANTED TO SEE A MOVIE, AND ONE TIME KAYNE MADE IT SUCK

In which Arthur struggles with right and wrong, bemoans the Hays Code, tries (and fails) to define love, and gets a second chance.

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SURROGATE

The beginning of the series, Surrogate: The Director's cut.

The King in Yellow has a plan. The first part works, and Arthur Lester is broken. The second half blows up in his face. John has gone mad, and Hastur’s adopted daughter is upset, but that’s not all. It turns out a certain Outer God wasn’t done watching that show, and when he arrives with director’s notes, not even the King in Yellow can refuse him.

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DEVISER (PODCAST)

DEVIL

Dad knew he'd failed with humans. Dad did not know he'd succeeded somewhere else.

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RED

Son likes painting. Son likes red.It makes him feel some odd things. Things he doesn’t really have a word for. He really likes the way it looks splattered on his hands.

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[leebrontide]

June's Shed Letters Newsletter - Let Me Promise You Some Feelings

The best marketing advice I ever got was not to try to sell people the thing itself. Instead, you promise people a specific emotional experience they’ll get from the thing. I don’t know if that’s actually good advice, but I understand feelings better than I understand most things, so I’ve clung to it for at least 10 years now.

But it’s not a brand name beer I’m trying to convince you will fill you with swagger, or a cookie I want you to believe will deliver warm chocolate chip nostalgia. it’s a big damn brick of a novel, with a lot of different feelings inside it.

I keep reaching for food metaphors here. I think that’s because one of the things I like about stories is that as you take them in you change them. When I read a book all in one rush I say I’ve eaten it whole. Or sometimes I’ve taken it in, bite after bite. I chew on the ideas, and then, if the story is good enough to stay with me, I digest it and it becomes a part of me.

If I’m very lucky and if I’ve done my job right, the book I’m offering you won’t just be the thing I made anymore, it’ll become a little part of other people, out walking around in the world.

Please forgive me if that sounds arrogant. I guess since changing people, at their request, is the career I’ve trained for, that puts bread on the table and mediates my every interaction, I can get away with making a declaration like that without cringing. People change all the time. That’s my day job and it’s what I write.

All right, I’m navel-gazing. This moment has been a long time coming and I want to savor it.

Let me promise you some feelings.

The book is about all the feelings tangled up in reunions, Faustian bargains, family, gender, several horror and mystery tropes, disability, being brand new to a career. It’s bursting with insecurity, fear, love, rage, betrayal, shame, repulsion, and ambition.

I wrote the feelings big and lingering in the hopes of offering catharsis and the sense of being seen to the people who read it, knowing every person who reads it will take in those feelings in a different way.

So.

If you’ve wondered if you really know anything about yourself when people who see you seem to be seeing someone else, then Yael’s experience with xyr family’s history with that genetic engineering cult, and xyr worries about xyr gender, are likely to strike a chord. If you’ve ever felt too far behind your peers to ever catch up or too far outside of the communities you need to ever belong, then you’ll have Opal’s experience trying to actually make it as a pro hero. If you’ve ever worried that your envy or bitterness would lead to people you love but envy leaving you all alone, then Jamie’s willingness to take risks that scare the people who love her will make intimate sense to you. If you’ve ever been brave enough to reach past what seem like obvious signs of rejection to try to heal, even when you suspected that that bravery might be stupidity, then Issac’s attempts to fix what’s been broken may ache.

If you’ve ever worried that you are simply not enough, then all my efforts to attach my words to those memories and show you how four fictional, deeply imperfect characters lived through it are for you.

So it’s a book about superheroes, and missing people, and the US’s only full service hospital for genetically altered people. And it’s a coming of age story and a family drama and a deeply Midwestern period piece for a period that hasn’t happened yet.

But mostly it’s feelings. I’ve dredged them up, sifted through them, prepared them, and laid them out for your consumption.

I hope you enjoy it.

After a spring they barely survived, the superhero team/family the Sentinels, head to rural Minnesota for long awaited reunions and a chance to finally start to heal at the countries only full hospital for genetically altered people. But, when they realize that alterds have been going missing from the area it’s clear that someone’s kept the Sentinels from being sent in. They need to decide who they can trust- and fast, or thousands of people could die.

For sale now in ebook or paperback formats- more purchase options to come!

And of course, book 1, Secondhand Origin Stories, is also available as an ebook here, here, or here, in paperback on Amazon on your preferred independent shop, and audiobook available on Audible.

With all my thanks for joining me this far,

Lee Brontide