#i really wanted it to be us in the end. i really believed we could do it

[power-handmaiden]

Chuck Tingle interview

OK, here is the FINAL 2024 Tingles My Butt post, which I've been pretty hyped for. I still kind of can't believe this. While I was figuring out how I'd move on from 2024, @drchucktingle generously offered to answer some questions of mine to commemorate the end of my tingler project! Here they are!

-Considering that your process for tinglers is just to write it out and not stress about proofreading and editing, was it weird for you to see someone decide to go back, examine, and contemplate every single tingler published in the past decade?

the whole dang project was really wonderful for me, for exactly the reason you have just said. tinglers are very STREAM OF CONSCIOUS and only edited with one quick pass so while i think this adds to their honesty and rawness it also means that my time with them is limited. really watching someone go back through them at this depth was like reading a diary that i have not opened for many years, and it jumps around through time in a very beautiful way. it was very moving

-I love tingler character names. I personally admire how many great ones you come up with. (I never know what to name my ttrpg characters.) You just come up with all these great names that seemingly spring from nowhere, how do you do it?

DANG great question cant believe i have not been asked this before but yes there is a type of name that shows up in the tingleverse that is unusual and has a certain feeling and cadence that is very specific. if i am trotting along with sweet barbara and there is a name of a product or a place or something that has this tone we will say ‘oh thats a tingleverse name.’ the reason i wanted to do this in the books was as a very subtle way of saying these stories exist on a timeline that is RIGHT next to ours, so in some ways it is exactly the same as our world but there are these little cultural differences with things like chocolate milk and spaghetti and then with the names. you will have buckaroos like justin and sarah trotting along next to buckaroos named corb torbins-quill or borto lart.

-So, as a reader, reading from 2014 to now, old tinglers and new tinglers feel different to me. I believe you when you say tinglers have always been sincere, but they feel MORE sincere than they used to be. Like, I feel like there was some self-consciousness and irony in some of the early tinglers that you've since let go of and embraced the Chuck Tingle voice more. I don't know, am I imagining this, or does this square with your tingler writing journey? If it does, what has that process been like for you?

i think you are absolutely correct. the intention with tinglers was always to be a place for me to express myself with complete sincerity, but the practical way of HOW to trot like this took a bit of an evolution to arrive at. in other words i knew the basics, but actually refining the best way to express yourself and perform your art takes time. maybe in the same way goin back and watching season one of a tv show can feel very different from season three, even though they are part of the same expression. 

similar thing happened with in my chuck PRESENTATION as well, where my main focus was to stay anonymous so the metaphors i used to talk about my life were still true but laid on much thicker. even my attire was a large gi so that you would not even be able to see my shape, which has obviously changed now because i wear suits these days. all of this was a process of starting in a place i knew was important to me and then peeling off the parts that were not helping the message or expression over time

-Is there anything you could tell us about the significance of Borson Reems? I feel like he's more than just another Buck Trungle/Chuck Tangle/etc but I'm not sure what exactly...

yes borson reems is god. not that i believe in GOD in the way that most buckaroos talk about god (i am agnostic) but within the tingleverse, borson reems is an avatar for the creator of that world. technically i am borson reems, because i am writing the books. the question is: are we all the gods of our own little worlds that we create? i do not know, but when i look around at my buds and the joy and love they bring to various timelines they sure seem like gods to me

-A lot of no-sex tinglers (especially ones that aren't romance-focused) vary in terms of plot and structure a lot more than erotic tinglers. Is your writing process for these stories any different?

same process actually, but the sex scenes in tinglers are about 1500 to 2000 words long, and total tingler length is 4000 words which means if you are not including that portion you are going to have to come up with some creative way to fill that space in the story and a new axis for story to turn on. so the variety comes from me getting creative and trying out different axis points

-In "Not Pounded By My Book "Pounded In The Butt By My Non-Fungible Tingler That Is Literally This NFT" Because Of The Current Catastrophic Environmental And Ethical Impact" there are references to an earlier draft of the story that was never released because you ended up disagreeing with the message. Are there any other tinglers that never got finished and/or published, if you'd be willing to talk about any of them?

oh this is a VERY good question. the story of the NFT tingler is that when buckaroos were first talkin on nfts online and nobody really knew what they were, my first thoughts were just ‘oh this is interesting what the heck is this?’ this is my way with most CURRENT EVENTS. and i thought ‘this would be an interesting tingler, i suppose maybe i should make the tingler an ACTUAL nft’. this was in VERY early days so i did not really even understand what an nft was (neither did 99 percent of buckaroos yet honestly). so i looked into it just enough to actually MAKE a nft tingler that was a real nft and put it out. lasted for about thirty seconds before buckaroos were messaging saying ‘oh this is bad chuck you should look into what this is’ and i DID look into it and thought’ oh yeah this is terrible nevermind’. i took down the original and thought ‘well THIS is what art is all about. this is where i thrive in a world of moving living art that is in communication with itself’. so i dove into the research and actually started to understand NFTS and then i repurposed the story into a strongly anti-nft tingler and put that on out instead.

as far as OTHER tinglers that kind of move and breathe and live like this, in communication with the audience, GAY T-REX LAW FIRM is another very good example. that one i wrote early on and i think it was kind of in the model of something like fifty shade of grey, where issues of kink and consent and communication are not really handled well. i think at the time it came out the story was okay, but as time went on it always kind of bothered me and finally i thought ‘i love art that exists in the REAL WORLD and changes and evolves, so lets rewrite that story and fix some of these mistakes.’ honestly it is something i wish more artists would be open to. its okay to let something hold strong against a changing timeline, but it is also okay to explore what its like to take the notes that time gives us

-This one is about Chuck Tingle that exists in deeper layers of the Tingleverse that operate on tingler logic: what does the location inside his/your butt look like?

probably a nice mid-century modern home up in laurel canyon neighborhood of los angeles. kind of quiet and small like a cabin but also very cozy, like the kind of place where you would put on a crosby stills nash and young record on vinyl and gaze out into the woods for a while then walk down the hill for dinner at a little cafe where you spot some actor from a 60s tv show also having dinner in the corner booth. this basically sounds like the start of a tingler and in that tingler i will say the actor would be a bigfoot.

-OK this one is very self-indulgent but if you could help settle this frequent point of discussion I have with my wife- where do the following fit in the Tingleverse bigfoot/dinosaur/unicorn/living object(/human/does not apply?) taxonomy?

-a ghost of a regular human

-a regular human vampire

-a human/fish mermaid

-a sentient winged horse

-a sentient centipede large enough to wrap around a mountain several times (she is handsome)

alright lets trot through these. a GHOST is not one of the four tingle types so you can have a ghost racecar or a ghost unicorn or a ghost bigfoot. ghosts are outside of the four types and do not have a classification

a VAMPIRE is also outside of the four types. so you can have a vampire bigfoot or, of course, a vampire night bus. does not strictly fall into any of the four main categories

MERMAIDS are technically a long lost species of unicorn I DONT MAKE THE RULES I JUST EXPLAIN THEM. this makes the MERMOPED tingler a little confusing but i had to pick a category and that one went into living object. now that i mention it possibly the only tingler that is technically a double category of unicorn/living object.

WINGED HORSE is easy, thats a pegasus which is a species of unicorn just like a mermaid

a SENTIENT CENTIPEDE LARGE ENOUGH TO WRAP AROUND A MOUNTAIN is an ancient creature, therefore dinosaur tingler

-My other self-indulgent question: do you have a favorite bug? (Or second-favorite if you count Mothman as a bug)

i love finding spiders in the house and giving them a pet because they are doing a good job livin their lives doin their thing. close second would be a pretty ladybug

-Any thoughts on what tinglers will be like in 2025? Do you expect to be writing a lot of political tinglers again, like post-2016?

honestly i really do not like writing specifically political tinglers anymore, and the amount that i write has gradually dropped over time (i think ALL tinglers are political but in a different way). so honestly i think i will write a few political tinglers but not many. my hypothesis on this is that my HORROR NOVELS are very very political and so maybe i get a lot of these ideas out of my system that way now. when it comes to tinglers i just wanna explore my OWN mind and heart and butt more

THANK YOU for these wonderful questions and thank you for your tingler-a-day project it was so moving and powerful. what a treat it was an honor to be a part of something so beautiful. THIS PROVES LOVE IS REAL

[gifsbysimplysonia]

Hola otra vez! For anyone not familiar with my annoying rambly feedback, ahead there be

This is the end of the first paragraph of the story and it's just so fcking ... like it works SO well for me, it makes me wanna spike a football

it's hard to find places where he's thought of as a stranger. no familiar faces, no conversation, no fuss. just logan, a bottle of whisky and time.

logan had no reason to keep count. until he saw you.

Well, if there's any indication a man is smitten, I'd say it's when he decides to keep counting after 200 years on Earth cuz of YOU *ded*

the bar was busy, as it normally was. he didn't mind it this way, less attention on him, less chances of someone trying to pick a fight with a specific stranger. not that they'd win, but logan had grown too tired for petty fights these days.

It's super interesting to think about Logan in relation to time and age. We just went from him deciding he's got a reason to keep counting the years to him being so tired that he doesn't want to get into petty fights. And as someone who grew up with Logan on the XMen cartoon lol, I know Logan to BE petty. So whilst we can't always think of Logan in terms of age, cuz looking at his appearance can make us forget, to hear that he's so TIRED that he doesn't even wanna squabble up on occasion? Well, that's impactful. The author makes it hit home in this other way and I really like it.

And here's another example of the author getting across to us where Logan is at when we meet him in life:

you're easy on the eyes, especially to these tired old hues that have grown accustomed to staring at the same old walls.

Straight up now we have the word tired, but also old. And not in relation to himself, but what he's got eyes on. It's such a clever thing the author has done here, and I really am appreciative of it.

logan can't let himself look too much, he isn't allowed nice things, especially not pretty little things such as yourself. he's poison, tainting everything he touches, spoiling it. he's experienced enough heartbreak, enough losses for a lifetime and more.

Sad face. This is very in line with the Logan I think most of us know (and adore). Gotta take all the blame, gotta punish yourself, gotta try to protect others from you by denying yourself connections. Wanna hug him.

he wonders if you know most of the tips you receive by the end of the night are from him. you're diligent, you work hard, and you deserve more than the minimum wage you're probably getting.

Also very on brand for Logan. Sees a need, fills the need, but doesn't want credit for it. He's also seeing someone he believes is worthy (and perhaps not in a way he feels he could ever be?) of more so he tries to be the provider.

it's not even lust on his mind either, he just finds himself captivated by your presence. he wonders about your life, your interests, your dreams. . .

And again, we are seeing how smitten he is because the man who has been painted as weary and bored suddenly has questions and wonderings again. That is, in the context of Logan's long a$$ existence, quite magical. But that magic is immediately followed by

though he'd be lying if he said he'd never pictured bending you over against the bar and fucking you senseless. he is an animal, after all.

and it's like

relying on others was a weakness. besides, what would you be to him but just another person he'd lose someday? it wasn't worth it. you weren't worth it. fuck.

"Relying on others was a weakness" is just hella relatable to me, so I key in on that. And then that ire being followed by showing vulnerability by thinking of her as another person he'd lose; Logan's heart has always been huge and you just know he remembers the faces and details of each person he has had to lose and she has that status already. Logan trying to lie to himself with the "not worth it" talk only to have to curse himself cuz he KNOW he's lying is also peak Logan behavior, and once again on a personal level, hiiiiiiiiiiiiiighly relatable lol. I'm always lying to myself about my own feelings.

you were strangers, this was stupid, it was all fucking stupid. but the mind of a lonely old man is a desperate one, and what logan really craves isn't just eye candy.

"Lonely and desperate" self descriptions and Logan referring to himself as "stupid." I'm sure we all wanna shake this old man, right? LOL because when he let's himself think about the truth:

he craves a touch, that first touch that sparks electricity throughout your every nerve ending, causes goosebumps to ripple along the skins surface. he craves something, anything. he was so fucking hungry. always so fucking hungry. a rumbling hunger that starts at the pit of his stomach and gnaws through him like a rabid animal frantically trying to escape a suffocating metal cage. it's a hunger he can't satisfy, he knows he can't satisfy. but he'd been alone so long.

It's connection, and it's gnawing at him. Loneliness is a helluva thing, and I think a lot of us know this. But this author is shining in the way she is describing it for us, outside of the usual age/years gone by methods. Tired, lonely, and now ravenous. And while we are in the space of a more spiritual hunger, here, it so easily slides right back to physical as well because he's thinking about a woman and wonders

surely one bite couldn't hurt?

Me literally screaming into my pumpkin pillow cuz I'm like NO IT COULDN'T LOGAN, GO GET HERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR cuz I know what's gonna follow is gonna be liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.

switching bars wasn't particularly appealing to him, but it was better than having to look at you and feel that familiar ache.

The self loathing and denial is top tier Logan. He will inconvenience and punish himself just as long as it's in line with denying himself cuz he just "doesn't deserve it." Siiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.

Logan then proceeds to go drain the snake before he beings his newest self inflicted penance, but she comes in to clean the bathrooms thinking they were empty.

Gurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrl lol

your eyes lock on one another for just a split second before you quickly busy yourself with the mop again. but that split second was enough. it was enough to notice how you were looking at him.

HOW WAS SHE LOOKING AT YOU, LOGAN?!?! It's funny how if it was almost any other man, I'd snort and be like, sure buddy. But it's Logan so I have ZERO issue believing whatever he saw in her eyes let her know she DOES indeed know him and want ... well, something.

you lean back against the bathroom stall divider, eyes drifting across logan's figure. he was tall, big. this is the first time you're really able to look at him, to study the features of his face. this time he's not hiding behind a glass or a bottle.

How interesting to see the contrast of her view of Logan because while he's always looking at her and sworn that he never caught her looking his way, she's letting us know she has definitely looked his way enough to notice he was a man in hiding. And she actually acted respectfully to respect that and not ogle him, which bummed Logan out lol.

the hunger in his gaze is obvious, but it's dulled, like he's just barely holding back. you think he looks lonely, there's a distinct air about him that practically screams that he needs to be touched.

Oof, she's intuitive! So she SEES what he needs and seems to be quite willing to, ahem, deliver for him but WILL HE LET HER is the big question.

logan pushes himself from the sink and approaches you slowly. was he really doing this? after a month of pining and longing for you, a stranger in a bar, was he really going to give in to his desires? would you let him? the lust was clear in your eyes and he knew he was reflecting it right back tenfold.

you eye the stranger who's been watching you, tipping you. of course you've noticed, you'd have to be pretty stupid or oblivious not to. you've come to expect him at each shift, but his presence intrigued you more than the other regulars. not just because he was more handsome, considerably more handsome. no, it was those sad eyes that seemed to say a million words while his mouth remained firmly shut that had you curious. even now as he stands before you so silent you could hear a pin drop, when you look into his eyes you can feel a sea of words brewing.

I do so love the fact that she's intuitive, curious and sees beyond the big burly handsome cover. He never speaks but look at his eyes and boy, are there a thousand stories waiting to be told. And it's the SAME WAY in the present with her. Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiike, it's about to go off.

oh how you wanted to open him up, to peer inside behind that rough exterior, to take a peek behind the facade. you're sure you're easier to read than he is.

Again, I love that this goes beyond physical with her and that she's genuinely intrigued by him and by what probably most others don't see in Logan.

"i've seen you, you know," you mumble bravely, "looking at me." logan doesn't seem surprised, he brings a hand up to hold your chin, turning your face from side to side to get a proper look at you now that he has you up close. "yeah?" "yeah," you reply shakily, "thought i was imagining it at first. but by the second night it was obvious." he smirks, so he's not as subtle as he thinks.

No because how is he the King of Self Denial but somehow automatically is giving Dom the first time he approaches a woman he means to get to know? Not even embarrassing at being caught at his blatant perusal of her. SIR.

logan grips your wrists, not the suit. he wasn't talking about that now, he had to shut you up.

When I tell you this BROKE me. King of Self Inflicted Penance. I stg. And it's quite the conundrum to be going through an emotional gut punch when it's immediately followed up with

he leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as his strong hands keep a firm grip on your wrists. you submit, leaning back against the cubicle divider as you let him slip his tongue into your mouth.

and we know it is OFF TO THE RACES!!!

"taste so fuckin' sweet," he mumbles against your lips, kissing you between words, "you do this often? let men kiss you in the bathroom?" you mumble a 'no' under your breath, ". . . just the ones who tip good," you grin.

OH SH!T, WE HAVE HAN AND LEIA BANTER! They are my OTP so I'm always gonna call a combative in love couple that, but this dynamic is MY JAM and I love that what we seem to have here is a clearly dominant male with a bratty female. I am in Heaven lol

logan feels himself chuckling, biting your lower lip. oh, he liked you.

WE DO TOO, LOGAN!

his hand travels upwards, finding purchase around your neck. you gasp in response, moaning. he eagerly swallows your moan with his mouth, drowning out any sound that threatens to escape.

Always a trip when I am personally attacked by a fic lmaoooooooooo

he kisses you like a man starved, like he'd devour you if you let him. and you would, you think, if it felt this good.

"shhh, shhh," he whispers against your lips, "feel good? i know it feels good, but you gotta stay nice and quiet."

I want to diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie at the giving of instructions and reminder that, HEY WE ARE IN PUBLIC but we are absolutely NOT stopping.

"you wanted this just as much as i did, huh?" he growls into your ear, "need it, need me to fuck you."

Excellent dirty taaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalk

he nods against the side of your cheek, his stubble scratching against your soft skin, "there we go, attagirl. . ."

And he praises? *dies again*

"yeah i am," logan smirks, he knows he's big, and he knows exactly how to use it. you just have time to gasp before you feel one of his hands connect harshly with your skin, the sound ringing out in the small bathroom of the bar.

"you've been thinkin' about this since you started your shift," logan says confidently, his words confirmed by how you drip around him, "thought about me fillin' you up, nice and full?"

I once again must mention top tier dirty talk!

and fuck does it make him harder to know that you've thought about this just as much as he has.

Once again, Logan's vulnerability is illustrated here because it's very human and natural to WANT TO BE WANTED so that it's exciting for him makes all the sense.

he knows if he lets you look at him, look up at him for too long, he'll lose it. he can't have your soft eyes on him while he fucks you, he doesn't deserve it.

*shakes him* He's still so Logan. Trying to convince himself again he is just not worthy. But I also do this to myself which is no doubt why I key on it, mention it, react to it. That just means the author is striking a chord with me and isn't that what we want? To feel resonance and know we are not alone in our experiences?

because he can't describe the shame that swirls in his stomach, that this is how he relieves himself, a quick fuck in a bar. this dirty older man who's seen so much sin, perpetuated sin with his own hands, who longed for the young pretty little thing in the bar. logan doesn't deserve nice things, this he knows.

It's a jarring feeling to be really into some hot smut and then have there be an intermission of this caliber. Cuz again, we are seeing into Logan's heart and his internal self who just screams and screams about not being worthy. And it's so painful and wretched for us as an audience cuz we KNOW it's not true and we just wish HE WOULD SEE IT.

you can't help but smirk, mouth stuck open as you moan softly, he likes it when you talk to him during, huh?

Even in her blissful state, she is noticing what he likes and trying to provide that for him and I love her for considering him and being thoughtful with him. HE doesn't think he deserves it, but we readers know that he absolutely does so it's sweetness in this midst of lust and shows us that she cares beyond whatever is happening now in this bathroom.

Y'all NEED to go read this cuz the smut is rough but because of the well established connection the author built between these two, it's very intimate despite the circumstances which don't necessarily lend themselves to anything other than a "quickie." Because of what's going on between these two and how well laid out that is for us, we know that the reason this is so rough and intimate is BECAUSE it's not meant for just here and now. But will Logan allow anything more?

standing on trembling legs, you lean up, giving him a surprisingly soft kiss. your hands take over his, helping him back into his jeans, zipping them up, clasping the buttons together and buckling his belt. all the while your lips are on his, slowly, passionately intertwining together.

And again, I love her for her thoughtfulness. She's being soft and tender with him. I'm not sure if it's a conscious effort to keep him from screwing things up (by trying to now brush her off) or if it's just naturally who she is and giving into her instinct to want to be gentle with him and keep him close. Either way, I love love love this moment.

". . . does that count as your tip for the night?" you joke with a smirk, hoping to see a flash of his smile again, hoping to alleviate some of that shame he's carrying.

Adore her for infusing humor into the situation and wanting to bring light back into his eyes. Whoever is going to be with Logan needs to have a sense of humor and give him as good as he gives.

the shame seems to settle, begins to dissipate. it feels less like satisfying an urge and more like. . . exploring something new. his eyes drift back to you.

Is Logan ACTUALLY going to give this thing a chance, and more importantly, HIMSELF a chance?!?!

I hate to quote too much in a story, especially an ending becuase I WANT PEOPLE TO GO READ FOR THEMSELVES but I need @silverskyeline to know that the last 3 paragraphs of this piece are SO FCKING GOOD.

The breakthrough and revelation he has, the tentative willingness to let himself release a burden and not self flagellate? OMGGGGGGGGGGG. Literally all the applause and bravo on this amazing piece. I really really fcking enjoyed it and am so grateful to you for creating and sharing.

It's really a wonderful character analysis or look at who Logan is, the person he think he has to be, with some hot smut that actually isn't a pause in the narrative but continues the throughline of exploring who he is and what he thinks he deserves and how he's giving himself permission to be a man again. I just ... I love this so so much. Thank you again.

'hunger' 18+

worst!wolverine x f!reader (3.9k words) summary: logan can't tear his mind away from the new barmaid at his usual haunt. he tries to resist you, he really does. but when you're both alone in the bathroom, he finds he's not the only one plagued with filthy thoughts. tags: for the 'longing' prompt for logan promptober, set in the bar from the movie, kind of angsty, filthy, pent up logan, alcohol consumption, doggy style, creampie, biting, light choking, pinning wrists, hair pulling, spanking, rough sex, implied age gap, sweet ending.

his usual haunts offer comfort, safe nests tucked away down isolated roads, usually requiring quite the drive to find - it's hard to find places where he's thought of as a stranger. no familiar faces, no conversation, no fuss. just logan, a bottle of whisky and time.

time spent staring into the grain of the old wood on the bar wondering how the fuck he ended up here. he'd stopped keeping count a long time ago, how long he'd been around, been alive. things get kind of hazy after two hundred years. logan had no reason to keep count.

until he saw you.

the bar was busy, as it normally was. he didn't mind it this way, less attention on him, less chances of someone trying to pick a fight with a specific stranger. not that they'd win, but logan had grown too tired for petty fights these days.

he's sat at the bar when the bartender clocks off, switching with someone new, someone he'd never seen before. you walk in and his eyes immediately scan your face, your build, your outfit. it's a habit of his, one he hoped he'd grow out of - but logan has learned that he'll never stop assessing for new threats. it's just in his dna.

but what he finds isn't a threat.

you're easy on the eyes, especially to these tired old hues that have grown accustomed to staring at the same old walls. he drags his eyes back down to his glass like he's forcing himself to look down the barrel of a gun rather than looking at you, before settling on you once more.

logan can't let himself look too much, he isn't allowed nice things, especially not pretty little things such as yourself. he's poison, tainting everything he touches, spoiling it. he's experienced enough heartbreak, enough losses for a lifetime and more.

. . . but what harm can looking do?

a few weeks pass, logan notices you're in every few nights from now on, must have been put on the regular rota. he wonders if you know most of the tips you receive by the end of the night are from him. you're diligent, you work hard, and you deserve more than the minimum wage you're probably getting.

you've never noticed him, or at least, he's never caught you looking in his direction. but he finds himself craving it, willing your eyes to meet his even for a second. the extent of your interactions have been sliding a glass or a bottle in his direction before continuing with your other duties.

it's not even lust on his mind either, he just finds himself captivated by your presence. he wonders about your life, your interests, your dreams. . . though he'd be lying if he said he'd never pictured bending you over against the bar and fucking you senseless.

he is an animal, after all.

he wonders if he should switch bars just to distance himself. he couldn't let himself become comfortable with the idea of you. relying on others was a weakness. besides, what would you be to him but just another person he'd lose someday? it wasn't worth it. you weren't worth it.

fuck.

logan curses himself under his breath for even having this internal debate. you were strangers, this was stupid, it was all fucking stupid. but the mind of a lonely old man is a desperate one, and what logan really craves isn't just eye candy. he craves a touch, that first touch that sparks electricity throughout your every nerve ending, causes goosebumps to ripple along the skins surface. he craves something, anything.

he was so fucking hungry. always so fucking hungry. a rumbling hunger that starts at the pit of his stomach and gnaws through him like a rabid animal frantically trying to escape a suffocating metal cage. it's a hunger he can't satisfy, he knows he can't satisfy. but he'd been alone so long.

surely one bite couldn't hurt?

no, he finds himself shaking his head as he stands from the bar. he'd take a leak, and leave early. it'd only been a month since he first saw you, he could get over this. switching bars wasn't particularly appealing to him, but it was better than having to look at you and feel that familiar ache.

the bathroom door swings open and he walks inside, situating himself at one of the urinals. a few moments later, the door swings open again, logan doesn't bother to look over.

"oh, thought these were empty, sorry."

his head turns quickly. it's you, mop in hand. there's an uncomfortable silence that follows.

speak, fucking speak. "it's fine."

you pause, then nod a little and begin mopping the floor.

his eyes are back on the urinal, swallowing hard. was this really going to be your first conversation? with his eyes glaring into old porcelain, dick in his hand? he tries not to picture you stealing glances at him, but he can't help it. is that what he wants?

maybe.

finishing up, he quickly makes his way over to the sinks, pushing his hands under the cool water and rubbing with soap. his eyes flit up to the mirror. and he catches you.

your eyes lock on one another for just a split second before you quickly busy yourself with the mop again.

but that split second was enough. it was enough to notice how you were looking at him.

"all done," you say with a sigh after a few moments, standing straight and gripping the mop but making no effort to leave just yet.

logan eyes you in the mirror, watches how your eyes dance across the room before inevitably landing on him again. he turns to face you, noting the distance between you both in the room.

you lean back against the bathroom stall divider, eyes drifting across logan's figure. he was tall, big. this is the first time you're really able to look at him, to study the features of his face. this time he's not hiding behind a glass or a bottle.

the hunger in his gaze is obvious, but it's dulled, like he's just barely holding back. you think he looks lonely, there's a distinct air about him that practically screams that he needs to be touched.

you rest your mop against the wall, "you're in here often." you state, it's not a question.

"guess i'm a regular," he replies curtly.

swallowing hard, you continue, "i noticed. i always have to restock the whisky when you come by."

logan pushes himself from the sink and approaches you slowly. was he really doing this? after a month of pining and longing for you, a stranger in a bar, was he really going to give in to his desires? would you let him? the lust was clear in your eyes and he knew he was reflecting it right back tenfold.

"i like a drink." he says with a subtle shrug, just a step away now, eyes never leaving yours.

a small smile tugs at your lips, "i know."

you're not sure what you're really doing. you're supposed to be on shift, designated five minutes to clean the bathrooms. five minutes you'd much rather spend doing someone something else.

you eye the stranger who's been watching you, tipping you. of course you've noticed, you'd have to be pretty stupid or oblivious not to. you've come to expect him at each shift, but his presence intrigued you more than the other regulars. not just because he was more handsome, considerably more handsome.

no, it was those sad eyes that seemed to say a million words while his mouth remained firmly shut that had you curious. even now as he stands before you so silent you could hear a pin drop, when you look into his eyes you can feel a sea of words brewing.

oh how you wanted to open him up, to peer inside behind that rough exterior, to take a peek behind the facade. you're sure you're easier to read than he is.

you're not sure when or how it happened, but he's right in front of you now, his body almost touching yours. you look up at him with a feigned innocent look.

"i've seen you, you know," you mumble bravely, "looking at me."

logan doesn't seem surprised, he brings a hand up to hold your chin, turning your face from side to side to get a proper look at you now that he has you up close. "yeah?"

"yeah," you reply shakily, "thought i was imagining it at first. but by the second night it was obvious."

he smirks, so he's not as subtle as he thinks.

your hands snake down, finding his belt buckle and brazingly begin to unbuckle it. he watches you, eyes fixated on the way your fingers move. he swears he's about to start drooling. but then you move, hands winding up to the buttons on his shirt. you splay your hands across the fabric, eyes widening when you feel what's underneath.

"are you. . . is that-"

logan grips your wrists, not the suit. he wasn't talking about that now, he had to shut you up. he leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as his strong hands keep a firm grip on your wrists. you submit, leaning back against the cubicle divider as you let him slip his tongue into your mouth.

he moans, relishing the taste of you, the taste he's thought about for so fucking long. he brings your hands up, pinning them above your head, shifting his grip so one hand easily pins your wrists, leaving his other hand free.

his free hand plants firmly across your upper chest, the rough pads of his fingers brushing against your collarbone as he explores your mouth with his tongue. you're lost in the sensation, knees going weak as you allow the older man to have his way with you. he needs this, you know it.

"taste so fuckin' sweet," he mumbles against your lips, kissing you between words, "you do this often? let men kiss you in the bathroom?"

you mumble a 'no' under your breath, ". . . just the ones who tip good," you grin.

logan feels himself chuckling, biting your lower lip. oh, he liked you. his hand travels upwards, finding purchase around your neck. you gasp in response, moaning. he eagerly swallows your moan with his mouth, drowning out any sound that threatens to escape.

the kiss grows in intensity, you wonder how long it's been since he's kissed someone. he kisses you like a man starved, like he'd devour you if you let him. and you would, you think, if it felt this good.

his hand on your neck gives a gentle squeeze before running down your torso, palming at your jeans suddenly. you try to whimper in pleasure, but he's silencing you with his lips again.

"shhh, shhh," he whispers against your lips, "feel good? i know it feels good, but you gotta stay nice and quiet." logan can feel the material of your jeans begin to damp and he resists the urge to growl, feeling the way the fabric beneath gives way.

you nod, whispering small affirmatives as he touches you through the material. "just give me more," you whine.

and that spurs him on. in a flash he's pushing you into the stall, stealing a few more kisses where he can before he turns you, pushing your back against his chest. his lips find your neck, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses along the skin he finds there.

you're like putty in his hands, melting back against him as his hand returns to your crotch, rough hands massaging circles against your clothed core. you resist a moan, exhaling shakily instead as you let him use you.

"you wanted this just as much as i did, huh?" he growls into your ear, "need it, need me to fuck you."

you nod quickly as you feel his lips curve into a smirk against your skin.

"yeah, thought so," he nibbles on your earlobe, breathing deeply through his nose as he tries to steady himself, preserve the moment. but how can he when you feel this good beneath his fingers, taste this good on his tongue? "tell me you want it."

"want you to fuck me," you whimper almost immediately, suddenly feeling so very needy. there's a hot ache growing between your legs, one you're desperate for him to fill.

logan laughs, "you can do better than that, honey, know you can."

"please," your voice cracks and you swallow back moans as you squirm beneath his touch, "please fuck me-" it becomes apparent to you at that moment that you don't even know his name. your cheeks flush at the thought of letting this stranger, this older man fuck you in the bar bathroom, but actually, you kind of like it that way.

he nods against the side of your cheek, his stubble scratching against your soft skin, "there we go, attagirl. . ."

with that, he pushes you forward, forcing your hands onto the tank of the toilet to support yourself as he bends you over. his hands find your waist, his hips connecting with yours and slowly grinding his very apparent, large bulge against you.

you let out a whimper, arching your back a little at the sudden contact.

"feel that?" he mumbles, guiding your hips to grind back against him, "feel what you do to me?"

a gasp, "fuck, you're big." you can already tell, the way his bulge is pressing against you, demanding to be felt. you swear you can almost feel it throb through the material.

"yeah i am," logan smirks, he knows he's big, and he knows exactly how to use it.

pulling back slightly, he roughly pulls your jeans down, practically manhandling you, your underwear disappearing with it. he grabs handfuls of your ass before kneading the skin. "look at that, pretty little ass, all for me."

you just have time to gasp before you feel one of his hands connect harshly with your skin, the sound ringing out in the small bathroom of the bar. "f-fuck!" you whine, feeling the sharp sting, knowing there's a bright red imprint in the shape of his large palm on your ass.

there's some jingling, the sound of his belt being moved out of the way, a zipper. you prepare yourself, or at least you try to, but his cock is already slapping against your backside before you have time to steady your hazy mind.

"you gonna take all of me?" he asks, biting his lip as his aching length slaps against your skin, "think you can?"

you nod quickly, looking over your shoulder at him, "mhm!"

"if you say so. . ." he smirks and positions himself, one hand on your hip and one aiming his cock at your tight little hole.

then, all at once he's sinking in. you gasp, he gasps. and fuck, he is big. you feel that sweet stretch, his cock throbbing against your tight walls as it slowly glides inside. you're whining as it slowly fills you, eyes rolling back at the sensation. but he pulls out a little, only to push back in again.

he's working you up just right, mesmerised by the way you take his cock. his eyes are fixed on your tight hole begging him to enter, loving the slick sound as it pushes inside.

"you've been thinkin' about this since you started your shift," logan says confidently, his words confirmed by how you drip around him, "thought about me fillin' you up, nice and full?"

despite the way your cheeks flush bright red, you can't deny it. you've thought about it more than once, fantasised about it in bed, hoping that one day that stranger from the bar would fuck you so good you forget your own name.

you don't need to reply either, because he knows. he knows from the way your wet hole flutters around him, and fuck does it make him harder to know that you've thought about this just as much as he has. he begins to pump into you at a leisurely pace, firm hands on your hips.

"holy fuck, so fuckin' tight," logan grumbles, his deep slow strokes hitting you deep as he bottoms out inside of you.

you try to turn your head, to look up at him, but he grasps the back of your hair, pushing your head down. "nu-uh, keep that head down."

he knows if he lets you look at him, look up at him for too long, he'll lose it. he can't have your soft eyes on him while he fucks you, he doesn't deserve it. he'll take you, just like this, with your head down and your ass up and his cock buried deep inside you.

because he can't describe the shame that swirls in his stomach, that this is how he relieves himself, a quick fuck in a bar. this dirty older man who's seen so much sin, perpetuated sin with his own hands, who longed for the young pretty little thing in the bar. logan doesn't deserve nice things, this he knows.

you feel his thrusts grow rougher, your legs slipping apart as you attempt to hold yourself up, hands planted firmly on the tank of the toilet. you're squeaking softly with each pump, feeling him use you to release his pent-up frustrations. and it felt so fucking good.

with his firm grip on your hair tightening by the second and his other large hand digging into your hip, you begin to bounce back against his motions, sending him even deeper. you both moan in sync with the feeling and you pant softly, cheeks flushing further at the soft 'plap plap plap' of his hips connecting with you, the sound reverberating around the small cubicle.

"that feels so fucking good," you sing, closing your eyes. logan gives a particularly hard thrust, speed picking up. you can't help but smirk, mouth stuck open as you moan softly, he likes it when you talk to him during, huh? "keep fuckin' me, just like that, so good. . ."

he groans, wrapping your hair around his fist as he relentlessly pounds into you. harder and harder, deeper and deeper, you're sure you'll have bruises littered over your body before the day is through.

"harder!" you cry, feeling your legs tremble. you're not gonna last long like this, and by the way his cock is twitching inside of you, he isn't either. "i'm gonna cum, you're gonna make me fuckin' cum!"

another groan slips from his lips, gritting his teeth as he uses you, watching you take his throbbing cock beneath him. "look so pretty like this, bent over, takin' what i fuckin- shit. . . takin' what i give you."

your body grows hotter, sweat forming on your forehead, each impact pushing you forward roughly. you're really not gonna last long.

he begins to hunch over, his chest flush with your back as he huffs against your neck, fucking you like a rabid animal. you're squealing now, the pleasure swirling in your lower stomach, threatening to send you crashing into bliss. at this point, you don't fucking care if someone walks in and finds you like this, sees his feet planted behind yours underneath the stall. in fact, the thought of the risk sends a bolt straight to your gut.

"yes yes yes," you mutter, feeling your orgasm approaching steadily. you swear you can feel him in your guts. you begin to flutter around him, begging for release, knowing it's going to completely destroy you.

logan can't even form words, just grunts slipping from his lips against the side of your neck. and then he feels it, his cock twitches, his mind reeling with the imminent release. he needs this, oh he fucking needs this.

he bites down on your neck, teeth sinking in slightly as he feels himself release deep inside you, his cum spilling out in strong waves. you feel your knees buckle, but a strong hand planted on your tummy helps keep you upright as he fucks his release deeper into you.

the animalistic nature of his thrusts combined with the sensation of his hot cum painting your insides sends you flying over the edge, your orgasm milking him as you clamp around his aching cock. he slams his hand against the stall wall with a loud metallic bang, splaying his fingers across the metal as if to ground himself as his thrusts falter.

his tongue lazily licks the indents of his bite mark against your neck, groans easing their way from the back of his throat. you can hardly catch your breath, legs still shaking from such an intense release. it's hard to think straight with his dick still buried deep inside, feeling it twitch with every aftershock.

you both stay like that for a solid minute, panting, coming down together. he's planting soft kisses along your neck as your breath slowly comes back to you.

he pulls out, stepping back as he stuffs himself into his jeans. you collapse onto the toilet seat, shakily pulling your jeans and underwear back up as you look up at him. it's clear he's looking to leave, a distant look in his eye, maybe a little shame creeping into his features.

standing on trembling legs, you lean up, giving him a surprisingly soft kiss. your hands take over his, helping him back into his jeans, zipping them up, clasping the buttons together and buckling his belt. all the while your lips are on his, slowly, passionately intertwining together.

you pull back, buttoning your own jeans as you continue to look up at him. ". . . does that count as your tip for the night?" you joke with a smirk, hoping to see a flash of his smile again, hoping to alleviate some of that shame he's carrying.

and there it is, a small smirk on his lips as he glances away. "maybe."

the shame seems to settle, begins to dissipate. it feels less like satisfying an urge and more like. . . exploring something new. his eyes drift back to you.

"i'll see you tomorrow?" you ask, tilting your head.

he blinks, suddenly remembering time exists outside this small space seemingly crafted just for the two of you. "yeah," he says, quietly.

"good," you pat his chest before moving past him, leaving the stall. you stand, looking back at him. a beat, "or, you can meet me after my shift ends?"

his eyes widen, taken aback. fuck, had he forgotten how to do this? his eyes flit to the side, before making up his mind. he gives a firm nod.

you smile before leaving him in the bathroom, returning to the bar through the door.

logan stands there for a few moments, running his fingers through his hair. he smooths down his shirt, feeling the suit beneath, a stark reminder always of his past.

but maybe he could begin to take a few steps forward. maybe he deserves more than to suffer forever, forced to keep everyone at arm's length. maybe he could allow himself this small happiness, a date, or whatever this was.

maybe it was time to satisfy his hunger, his loneliness, for good.

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Drabble List #12

75 prompts to write drabbles or longer stories.

"Everyone should be delighted to know me."

"Tick tock, the clock is ticking."

"What a fantastic idea!"

"Not going to destroy the world or anything."

"You're awful at solving riddles."

"That was a poor decision."

"Do you really think you can handle the truth?"

"I never thought I'd see you again."

"Why did you lie to me?"

"This isn't the end, it's just the beginning."

"You promised you'd never leave."

"There's more to this story than you know."

"I'm not the hero you think I am."

"Sometimes, doing the right thing means making tough choices."

"If you walk away now, don't bother coming back."

"I've kept this secret for far too long."

"Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"They'll never believe us, but we have to try."

"I can't believe you just said that."

"No one else knows, and it has to stay that way."

"Do you trust me?"

"We can't let them win."

"You have no idea what you're getting into."

"This changes everything."

"I thought I knew you."

"I've waited my whole life for this moment."

"You were the last person I expected to see."

"Why does it always have to be you?"

"We're running out of time."

"Do you think they suspect anything?"

"I've made up my mind."

"This isn't what I signed up for."

"How can you be so sure?"

"We can't afford any mistakes."

"You can't keep running away from your past."

"What are we supposed to do now?"

"Sometimes, the hardest thing is to let go."

"You know this isn't right."

"What are you hiding from me?"

"We have to stick together."

"I'm not giving up on you."

"There's no turning back now."

"I never wanted any of this."

"What if we don't have a choice?"

"It's time to face the music."

"You have to trust your instincts."

"Everything we've worked for is at stake."

"I didn't expect you to understand."

"This is our only shot."

"I'm not interested anymore."

"You owe me an explanation."

"We can't do this alone."

"I thought you were on my side."

"This is bigger than both of us."

"What do you have to lose?"

"I can't pretend anymore."

"You're not as invisible as you think."

"What's the worst that could happen?"

"You're the only one who can help."

"We need to be careful."

"Are you with me?"

"No, this is enough."

"I don't think I can do this."

"Ok, so sue me."

"What a fine young man."

"This isn't about you."

"I know what I have to do."

"We need to find a way out."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's not as simple as it seems."

"I can't believe it's come to this."

"This isn't over yet."

"What's the plan?"

"Take me to court."

"There's no easy answer."

Drabble Masterlist

Have fun creating and writing!

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[becauseimswagman1]

Temporary

Roman Reigns x reader

Warnings: THAT NASTY 18+ SO MDNI, spanking, usage of "good girl". dirty talk, mild masturbation, daddy kink, unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT!), cum swallowing, pussy eating

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

“Listen, that woman at the gym doesn’t mean anything! She’s just a trainer.” he pleaded with you as you tried to escape his arms.

“Joe, we’re done!”, you pushed out of his hold and walked towards the bedroom you two shared. Every time you put clothes in your suitcase, he took them right back out. He doesn’t want you to leave.

The woman at the gym really is just a trainer, she just overstepped her boundaries even after he told her he had a girlfriend. You’re one of the best things that ever happened to him ever since he got seriously hurt two years ago. 

“How can we be done? You’re not even hearing me out!” he grabbed you by your hands and kissed both of them, “I love you, and only you. You’re the woman I want to marry and the woman I want to be the mother of my children. Baby, please. Don’t leave. We can work this out.”

“Joe…” You wanted to believe his words so badly and you did, but there was something in the back of your mind that wouldn’t let you lean into it fully, “I need a break. You let that bitch into your space, close enough to put her lips on you.”

Joe couldn’t hold back the scowl on his face as he dropped your hands, “A break.” he scoffed, “Okay. Take your break, take all the time you need actually. Just promise me that this isn’t the end of us.” Cupping your face in his large hands and staring into your eyes, “Promise me.”

You made the mistake of letting a tear fall, he wiped it away just as quickly though. He was always there to wipe your tears, but this time you needed to dry them on your own. 

“This isn’t the end. I can’t tell you when I’ll be back, but I will.” you finished packing some of your things, and then you left. 

This was something you two could work through. You saw the entire thing with miss girl at the gym, pushing up on your man. You weren’t gonna break things off with him. The problem was with the reaction Joe had. You don’t know if he was in shock and couldn’t believe she did it or what, but him not immediately pushing her off and giving her the cursing of a lifetime pissed you off. He didn’t kiss her back, but seeing with your own eyes that he just let it happen made you wanna fight something. She had been lucky you were feeling classy. So, you needed space. Just enough to figure yourself out. 

----------TWO WEEKS LATER -------

The break had gone on longer than either of you expected. Thankfully the media hadn’t caught onto the way the two of you were never seen together. 

The first week of the break was full of Joe texting you nonstop, ensuring you were safe. The second week, you started worrying as you got a call from Josh telling you that he had started to miss sessions at the gym and snap at him and the other wrestlers for trying to talk to him. You knew Joe wouldn’t miss a session and even snap at them out of actual anger, so you decided to check in on him. 

When you got to the house you shared, Joe’s car wasn’t there so you let yourself in. There were empty bottles thrown everywhere and the picture frame of y’all’s first anniversary was broken. You felt that he would be sad, but not like this. And you knew this sadness would turn into anger soon enough because you knew he felt like he couldn’t talk to you or anyone about this.

You had thought over the situation and it truly wasn’t enough to ruin an amazing relationship. You were ready to come back and really talk things out and get back to how things were and be better. 

As you were attempting to pick up the bottles while avoiding the small amounts of glass, you got an alert on your phone. It was one of Joe’s friends posting about how “The Tribal Chief” would be in the club tonight. If that’s how he wanted to play then you’d do it too, but of course, better. 

Later that night, you called up your girls and told them what happened. They agreed with your plan to show up at the club and get your man back. It was nine-thirty when you showed up and nine-thirty-one when he noticed you in one of his favorite dresses. The short strapless one that practically left nothing to imagination if you leaned over slightly. It looked like you weren’t checking for him, but you clocked him, and the bitches he had flocking on him like some birds. 

You and your friends got a booth and ordered bottles. The night was honestly going great, you kept your eyes on Joe and vice versa. You were getting ready to walk over to him so you two could leave together until one of them chickenheads started dancing on him and he wasn’t trying to push her away. 

“Two could play that game, Joe.” you thought as you went over to a group of guys and asked the cutest one to dance. Short-haired guys weren’t your type, but it’s not like you were trying to take him home.

Joe saw y’all but he wasn’t worried. You know where home is and so does he, but he’s petty so he was letting the girls dance on him. He knew you were putting on a facade when dancing on this random dude. He also knew once the guy overstepped your boundaries, you’d go off on him. He learned that the hard way, sometimes his jaw still hurt with how hard you punched him the first night y’all met. 

The song that played was coming to an end, he knew you never danced to more than one song at a time. Something about you always wearing heels that looked cute but not cute enough to wear for a prolonged period of time. He saw you turn away from the guy and bid him goodbye, but the guy held your arm. The guy wasn’t getting the hint. Joe wasn’t going to step in, he knew you could handle yourself so he let it play out a little. 

This guy wasn’t letting up, he was gripping your arm and pulling you close to him despite your protest. You were getting upset and ready to put him on his ass until he pulled you so close that he kissed your neck. Joe was over there in an instant.

“Yo, let go of my woman!” he quickly got between you and him, standing up straight to make himself appear bigger, “I know she asked you to let her go, so why didn’t you? Thinking you was gone dance your way into not just some pussy but her pussy. Bruh, back up. That shit belongs to me.”

The guy sucked his teeth, “She ain’t even worth it. Just some random bitch to me. And her pussy belong to you? Seems like it belongs to everybody that wants some. Look at how she dressed. How you let your “woman” walk out the house dressed like a h-” the guy was cut off by Joe knocking his ass out. 

“Let’s go.” was all he spoke before walking towards the exit. You quickly followed behind him after grabbing your purse from the table where your friends watched everything go down.

The car ride home was silent. This was the anger you knew was coming after the sadness. You just didn’t know it would’ve been brought on like this. Joe wasn’t the violent type outside the ring, so to see him put his hands on someone really shocked you. As soon as you two entered the house, you were pushed against the door and kissed like somebody’s life depended on it. To Joe, it was his. 

He pulled away and said words you weren’t expecting, “I’m sorry.” 

You were expecting him to completely fix this with sex since that’s how you two fixed problems in the past, but this was a different type of problem.

You put a hand on his cheek, “It’s okay baby.” It was okay, you had sort of moved on. Sure, you still wished he had reacted differently but he was your baby. You missed him. 

“No, I’m sorry. I should’ve pushed her off. I was surprised that she got the idea that she could do that, especially after I told her about you. That doesn’t excuse what happened, though. If it makes you feel any better, the guy that owns the place fired that girl for unprofessionalism.”

That did make you feel better and you tried to hold it in, but damn did it feel good, “Oh hell yeah! I know that’s right.”

Joe moved his hands from your face down to your waist, “Now hold on, I’m the one that asked him to fire her.”

“Yeahhh,” you put your hands around his neck and leaned up to his face, “but he took action when you should’ve.”

“So that’s how you’re gonna play it?”, he picked you up and put you over his shoulder, “Now I’m gonna fuck you up for two things.”

“Wha– Joe? What the hell?!” 

“Fucking you up for letting that guy at the club get that close to you. You put me on my ass upon first meet so why was it so hard to do that with him? And I’m fucking you up for discrediting me on getting that girl fired.”

Was the second one petty? Hell yeah, but this is Joe you’re dealing with. The petty king.

He carries you to the bedroom, smacking your ass whenever you pinched his, and tossed you on the bed. 

“Get in position.” 

You knew what that meant, so you quickly got on your hands and knees. He pulled your dress up and saw the thong you had on. He bit his lip, “Damn baby, you must’ve known you was gonna get some tonight huh?”

“No, it’s just the only panties I could wear with this dress.”

He smirked, “Liar. Now count like the good girl I know you are.”

A loud smack echoed in the room, “One.” you had whispered it and that wasn’t good enough for him. 

“Louder or I fuck you until I get off and I leave you here begging.”

“One!” 

“That’s better. Now keep that up. Ten more should do just fine right?”

“Yes.”

He slaps your ass again, coming down on your right cheek, harder than the first.

‘Two!” 

Only two smacks in and he could see a wet spot form on the small fabric covering your pussy, “My baby getting wet already? From two smacks at that. I’ve seen and felt you get wetter for less so this isn’t that much of a shock.”

Nine painfully arousing smacks later, your ass was deep red and you were soaking through your panties. He ripped your panties off and rubbed through your wetness, “So wet for me.”

You nodded your head and arched your back just as you knew he liked it. 

“Play with it. Get it creamy for me.”

You did as told, truly playing with yourself. Slapping your clit, dipping your fingers inside your hole then sucking the juices off, really giving him a show. He let you do what you wished until he saw the signs that you were going to come. 

He slapped your ass once more to stop you, “Take your fingers out.” Once you did, he sucked the juices off. “Mm, you taste so good, baby.”

“Are you gonna fuck me now?”

“In a bit. Be patient.” He bent down to taste you right from the source, drowning himself in how wet you were. Flicking your clit with his tongue, drawing the lewdest sounds from you. He started to fuck you with his tongue while rubbing your clit with his thumb, “Come for me, baby. Be a good girl and come. Daddy wants to taste you even more.”

Your thighs started shaking and it was getting tougher to hold yourself up, “Ooh fuck! Joe! I’m coming!” and just like the feeling was gone, he had edged you because of a careless mistake. 

“What’s my name? Say it again for me?” he said while rubbing your clit with a little more pressure. 

“D-Daddy!” 

“Mhm, that’s right.” He pinched your clit a little and went back to rubbing it, applying the same pressure he was before. “Baby girl wants to be good right? Be good and let it all out.”

You started to grind against his fingers like it almost wasn’t enough. Joe knew what you needed, you just needed to come first so he could give it to you how you deserved. 

“Fuckkkk,” you dragged out your words, “Don’t stop. Pleaseee, don’t stop.” 

He rubbed you a little faster and you came with “Daddy” never ceasing from your lips. 

“That’s a good girl,” he rubbed you softly until your thighs stopped shaking, “You ready for daddy now?”

“Mhm.” 

He sat up behind you and undressed, then pulled you back to the edge of the bed still on your hands and knees so you wouldn’t have anywhere to run.

Rubbing a hand in between your legs and rubbing the wetness he collected from your against his dick. “So fucking wet baby.” he pushed his tip in and you were already running from it. “Nah baby, I ain’t even all the way in yet. Stop all that running.”

He gripped your hips and pushed himself in fully. “Damn, you tight. I love this pussy baby. Don’t ever second guess that.” 

He started to move, slowly at first, but soon enough he was pounding into you. Showing you that you belonged to him and only him. 

“Oh, fuckkkk yes. Right there, Daddy!”

“Right there?” he started angling his hips to hit that spot, “I’m hitting that spot huh?”

“Mhmmm, yes. Harder please.”

He listened to you and went harder, but you reached back and tried to push him away. His strokes almost became too much. 

“Nah, baby don’t run from it. Take it like I know you can.” he rubbed the middle of your back, “Put that arch back. Take this dick.”

You started clenching around him, feeling your orgasm approach you suddenly, “Daddy... fuckk I’m gonna come!”

“Daddy’s right behind you. Come for me, baby.”

He didn’t stop fucking into you when you came, he just slowed down enough to give it to you deep.

“Fuck, keep squeezing me like that,” he pulled out and stroked himself at a fast pace, “come catch your prize.” He helped you flip over and he stood up on the bed to come on your face.

“Shit, open that mouth, wide baby.” He kept stroking until he came, most of it landing in your mouth. When you swallowed, you licked the remaining substance off his dick. 

He pulled you off by your hair, “Lemme see.”

You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue, showing him that you swallowed and there was nothing left. 

“That’s a good girl,” he leaned down to kiss you, tongue and all, “Now let’s get cleaned up.” 

A relaxing bath later, you and Joe were lying in towels on the bed. You were ready to fall asleep, worn out after what felt like the fuck of your life. Joe had so much energy left. 

Sleepily, you moved into his arms, “How are you not dead tired right now?”

“It’ll pass. Just need to calm down a little. Still keyed up after tonight.”

“Okay. Well, I’m tired.” you yawned right after the words left your mouth. 

Joe chuckled, “I can tell. Go to sleep, I’ll be in dreamland with you shortly.”

All you could do was a little “mhm” before you fell asleep, surely going to dream about all the dirty things that’s gonna happen in the morning. Whenever Joe has this much energy when he falls asleep it’s gonna lead to a very good morning. 

“I love you, baby,” he whispered into your hair then kissed your forehead, “And I know you love me too.” 

He cuddled up to you and fell asleep.

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

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Taglist: @sharmelasworld @itsbackwoodsbby @papithetia @ayeeeitsmiracle @femdisa @luvrsluxe @megamindsecretlair

[avelera]

(Arcane Meta) Zaun Died with Silco

I want to open this by saying I understand people who are upset that there isn't more Piltover/Zaun conflict and resolution in S2 of Arcane. However, I'm going to argue here that the reason it's not in S2 after 2.03 is because the conflict is over. Piltover won. There is no more Zaun anymore as a potential political player and, ultimately, this comes back to haunt Piltover in their hour of need.

Overall, while I am invested in the Piltover/Zaun conflict, especially in S1, I'm less focused on Caitlyn and Vi's story which is our main lens for the conflict, or rather the end of the conflict, in S2. Still, I hope to offer my more Arcane worldbuilding-focused perspective. And just to get it out of the way, here are a few things I had trouble with:

I too was puzzled that anyone from the Undercity would join Piltover in the defense of the city.

I also thought it was strange to have Jayce focus on the threat that Viktor posed with his robots while soliciting help from the undercity, instead of on Ambessa, the more clear and understandable threat that would have made a better rallying point and allowed for a final discussion about the Noxian occupation of the undercity and how Noxus turning on Piltover was just them reaping what they sowed.

I was certainly taken aback when everyone was given Enforcer uniforms for the final fight.

That said, I believe there are answers to all three of these. From there, I want to dive into what exactly happened in S2 with Piltover vs. Zaun, to my eyes. Short version: there is no more "Zaun" as a potential nation or political player by 2.03 when the Chem Barons are taken out by Cait's forces, but it really died before that with Silco, who was already in a precarious negotiating situation himself and he knew it.

Very few people from the Undercity joined Piltover's defense of the city. Maybe a half dozen. I felt that was our moment of "you reap what you sow" for Piltover. A few passionate idealists who could see the bigger picture that saving Piltover does mean saving the undercity joined, but there were no hordes of volunteers. Piltover had lost the right to them and was substantially weakened for it.

Jayce choosing to focus on Viktor as the threat makes sense for him, but it was a poor political move and probably lost him volunteers he would have otherwise gained. The robot army threat is too esoteric and fantastical. "The Noxians turned on us and plan to conquer the city," is a threat that would have been better for rallying the troops, Jayce is just too single-minded to think of it. He's a bad politician.

The Enforcer uniforms are an odd sour note, but they do make sense as protective gear. Piltover doesn't have an army. There are no uniforms to give people. All they have is Enforcer uniforms. It is an odd note symbolically, but practically speaking it shows how little time Piltover had to prepare. Piltover is a civilian city going up against a military force like Noxus. They are woefully underprepared and really only have their status as defender in urban fighting to give them a prayer of even stalling the Noxian forces. Ironically, Piltover's only hope against Noxus mirrors Zaun's only hope against Piltover if they had gone to war: the difficult nature of urban fighting against an entrenched, motivated opponent on their home turf.

Now, to get into, "What happened to the overall Piltover vs. Zaun fight?" I get why people think it's lacking in S2, and I get why people find it horrifying that there is no independent Zaun at the end, all we've got is Sevika with one seat on the Council, as far as we can tell but I would point out:

Zaun is dead at this point. It's been dead since 2.03. Arguably, it really died with Silco.

As Jinx said, she didn't just destroy her own family, she cursed an entire society when she launched that rocket into the Council Chamber.

Here's the thing, Jayce was actually right when he said Zaun wouldn't stand a chance in an outright war with Piltover.

Yes, Zaun has a lot of brawlers. They have Shimmer and the Shimmer berserkers.

But Zaun doesn't have any sort of organized fighting force beyond the guards of individual Chem Barons and their factories.

What Zaun has is the fissures. It has ugly, difficult urban fighting in dangerous spaces. But as a counter to that, we have the fact that their ventilation is controlled from Piltover. In a true all-out war, Piltover could in theory just flush out the entire undercity using the Gray. Having your infrastructure entirely dependent on an enemy oppressor is what I would call a "fatal flaw" in any defensive military strategy, particularly when what they can cut off is the air you breathe. That's easily game over right there unless Silco has a way to circumvent that.

In a guerilla war, Zaun could probably hold out for a long, grinding, ugly civil war made up of mostly guerrilla attacks, in which a great number of innocent civilians will die, even in an all-out conflict with Piltover. But it would suffer catastrophic losses and probably still lose in the end.

Now, Jayce is I think somewhat naive in his claim Zaun doesn't stand a chance. Maybe Zaun wouldn't stand a chance in the long run, but they'd make Piltover pay for every inch with blood. They'd grind Piltover down into a shadow of its former self, force them to sacrifice all of their principles. To some extent, I think Jayce gets that, he gets that he doesn't want more kids to die, but I think even he underestimates just how ugly that war would be and how long it would go and how unrecognizable his Piltover would be by then.

The moment that gives Silco pause in Jayce's assessment of how easily Zaun would be crushed isn't the fighting. Silco is pretty confident that they could make Piltover pay and he's arguably looking forward to the chance on some level.

What gives him pause is when Jayce says the Council doesn't care.

To some extent, Silco like any revolutionary against an oppressive "civilized" society (heavy, heavy emphasis on the air quotes there) is that a certain point, Piltover is so soft-hearted they will get tired of the bloodshed.

What Jayce just told Silco is that the Council is more barbaric than even Silco maybe appreciated, for all their vaunted principles. There isn't necessarily a limit to how many Zaunite children will die before Piltover decides to cease hostilities. Knowing what Silco knows of Piltover's brutality, I think that is a sobering moment for Silco. That's when he decides this really is the best time to negotiate.

(Aside, this is by the way where Vi is wrong about Silco, driven by her emotions. Silco is willing to set aside the feud to get his nation of Zaun, he can be negotiated with. He's just not willing to give up his daughter (something Vi can't possibly understand at this point).)

Here's why it's the best time for Silco to negotiate and it ties into everything else:

Without Shimmer, which has been severely hampered by the raid on the factory, Zaun doesn't have anything to counter Hextech.

Jinx's wild attacks against Piltover has helped put the pressure on them that Silco capitalizes on. But it is a paper-thin threat. She is a lone albeit devastating terrorist. She makes Zaun appear more dangerous than it is but that can't last forever. Silco has leveraged her attacks into a pressure campaign against Piltover, but a serious response from Piltover (as seen in 2.03 with the strike team corners and very nearly captures her) could reveal just how fragile that threat is.

Basically, Zaun has some champions, arguably a league of legends lol, but it doesn't have an army. It doesn't even have Enforcers of its own. It doesn't have a concerted force of any kind.

The money is running out. As "Sucker" shows us in 2.02, each Chem Baron that gets taken out means less money on the table, and we're down 2 by the beginning of S2 with Silco and Finn, who arguably both fell to internal fighting.

As the Chem Barons say in 2.02, even if they got total unity in Zaun, they're outnumbered.

However, they don't have total unity in Zaun. They can't even get the Chem Barons to agree on what to do on one topic, with Jinx.

Silco basically has to accept the deal with Jayce when he does, while Zaun appears to be at its strongest. Because if he had waited any longer, the fact that they don't have the strength or money to back it up would have become apparent.

Furthermore, once Jayce resigns from the Council, which he was planning to do anyway regardless of Jinx's attack, would mean Zaun would lose its one champion with the political capital to give them independence. The window for Zaun independence is actually extremely narrow.

With Silco's death and Jinx's attack on the Council, then the subsequent eradication of the other Chem Barons, their resources, their money, including Shimmer which was the only thing Zaun really had to match them against Hextech in that arms race, there really isn't a Zaun anymore.

There's no one to negotiate with. No one to hand power to. No force that can govern itself. Zaun is completely fractured with the eradication of the Chem Barons. By taking them out, Cait removed the need for Piltover to negotiate with Zaun. And the reason Piltover chose not to was because of Jinx's rocket and then the attack on the memorial, which was orchestrated by Ambessa.

This is all according to Ambessa's design, by the way. She divides Piltover/Zaun against themselves by capitalizing on Jinx's attack. She leaves both severely weakened to make it easier for her to take over, and Piltover walks right into the trap. They would have fallen to Noxus if not for Mel's love of the city, even if you remove Viktor and Jayce's plotline entirely.

TL;DR Zaun is gone, guys. It's a distant dream. Sevika is the only person with an interest in making it happen anymore and she can't even get the Jinxers to listen to her. All the factions are easily arrested at the rally. Piltover has no reason to negotiate with any of these people. As the lone torchbearer for that cause, it makes sense for Sevika to be on the Council but beyond her, there is literally no one else to give a voice to (since Ekko doesn't appear to have an interest).

At least, until the Noxians turn on them, and then there's an interest in Piltover and the undercity joining forces, but as I referenced at the beginning of this, Piltover has now lost the right to the undercity's help AND lacks the undercity's resources too. Now Noxus has Shimmer instead of Piltover or Zaun, in addition to their sophisticated and expertly trained military force. As Jayce said, they were meant to lose this fight. Arguably, they never had a chance of winning if not for Mel claiming the loyalty of the Noxians in the wake of her mother's death and everything Jayce did to stop Viktor and the Hexcore.

[treefey]

I like this! But! I wish they had just made it explicitly Eowyn narrating rather than Miranda Otto doing her best Galadriel. I didn't really like the narration except for the prologue and epilogue parts (sorry). I also hate that they open with the Rings theme-- we'll get to my imaginary better alternative later

If they were gonna reference LOTR, I think a frame story where explicitly Eowyn is telling the WOTR story would be perf. She's telling the story to her kids, maybe they're sick à la Princess Bride. Which would also be perfect because she's a healer. We don't even need visuals; honestly it would probably be great without it because the audience could feel like we're the kids. And who doesn't want to feel like you're in a boring post-war Gondor with the best parents tucking you in and telling you a very bloody bedtime story? Also it would shut up the conspiracy theorists who think media is pushing women to not want kids, not that we need to bend to those people

I love the opening over the map, so open over a map of Gondor with the Gondor theme. And then have Eowyn talk about how she is gonna tell a story of her people, maybe that she knows we want to hear about the war of the ring, or Merry & Pippin's homeland, or one of their dad's ranger adventures, but instead she's gonna tell us a little known tale of the Rohirrim, a tale of adventure and loss and the human spirit. A time when the shieldmaidens' banner hung proudly in Meduseld. Then pan over to Rohan and say the story takes place during the first line of Rohan, x years before Theoden reigned. Idk, maybe it's cheesy, but the right lines could make it soo cozy and focus the story a little bit more.

Maybe there's kids in the voiceover, maybe not. Depends on just how much cheese we want. And how much you think the audience would believe that we could have a very maternal storyteller who is also so unfazed by blood she'd tell her kids this story. (I mean, she probably has had her hands up to her elbows inside people when there's a farm injury or a breech baby, so I'm not surprised we get a bit more gore than LOTR)

There's other things I would do to focus the story around the war more, give it more a three-act structure. But specifically in regards to doing a frame story rather than regular narration, I wouldn't do any more Eowyn voiceovers until the end. Or if we did wanna do the whole Princess Bride version, have a kid ask why Gondor didn't help out and have her or Faramir answer what was going on in Gondor at that time (would be funny if Faramir started answering and Eowyn interrupts and says it's time for a Rohan story right now, and the two kingdoms weren't always as close as close as they are now, let's get back to the story). But back to the end, I like the "that's how the first line ended and second line started." We could add more, like the throne passed from uncle to nephew as it did later. And remember whenever you feel alone or scared, that not only does the blood of Helm Hammerhand flow in your veins, but also the blood of his daughter who protected her people by wit and by sword. And even though most accounts have forgotten her name, we're all still here because of Hera's bravery.

I'm obsessed, actually, like parts of the story that reflect Eowyn's (and Eomer's but mostly Eowyn's) story from LotR sort of in an "each stanza rhymes" kind of way until it occurs to you that Miranda Otto is narrating with this sort of implication that it's Eowyn herself telling the story and reading it through her own experiences plus the fact that it's mostly a behind the scenes sort of story and all the great deeds were attributed to other people (Hera isn't even named in the appendices) alongside the explicit statement that Hera isn't remembered in any of the songs, making this something Eowyn either heard passed down in a non-traditional way, reconstructed from historical evidence she found herself, or possibly learned about from Gandalf, which loops back around into Eowyn's own complex with regards of all the great deeds being done by the men and not remembered for great deeds in songs -- and like okay maybe I'm reading too much into it but I'm obsessed okay

[bekkathyst]

I'm gonna say this and I'm gonna mean it in all sincerity from a longtime follower: I'm really glad you're so open with how things have been since you moved to Austria. On one hand, I do feel like I'm not only supporting a business I have for ages and feel good about that and I'm also supporting folks I care about online into being able to have a good life. And on the other I'm glad, because if you didn't mention the bad stuff I would probably 100% believe you guys moved into the middle of Europe and immediately escaped all the evils of capitalism and integrated into a gorgeous place with lots of history and folklore and ability to forage (!!!!!!!) and I would be so jealous I would possibly die. So either way I'm happy to keep buying your crystals, and also while I am very jealous but I probably won't die of it. Please give your daughter a hug from me, and your husband a high five. :D

Ah 😭 this is really sweet and I’m going to try not to ramble too long but I feel like this is a good thing to discuss, especially right now.

The first couple months of moving here were an insane contrast of like the happiest I’ve ever been in my life and the most stressed out knowing that one wrong move meant we’d have to give it all up and move somewhere else or lose the ability to be together. The immigration process I’ve had to go through to be with my husband anywhere is difficult but it was harder here than what we dealt with in the US only because this is the place we REALLY wanted to be and it was terrifying thinking the chance to be here could just be ripped away. But of course at the same time I was seeing family I hadn’t seen in a decade or longer, I was getting to really connect with my ancestors, be immersed in the culture, forage in the way I’d been longing to do for my entire life, and all the rest. I feel like because of this I just blinked and now somehow it’s been two years.

The nature here is my favorite, and I honestly wouldn’t trade it for anything. But Austria is far from perfect. There’s racism, xenophobia, the bureaucracy has made me question my sanity, some of the social culture really sucks, my business is deeply struggling and I wonder if we can make it due to how high fees and other taxes are, and I will ALWAYS have criticisms for any government I live under lol. Living somewhere very different from where I spent most of my life is really isolating and I feel lonely a lot. And I’m sure however I feel, it’s even harder for Antonio.

But like I said in my post, in the end, this is worth it for us. It’s so hard BUT we get to watch our daughter grow up somewhere where she can have healthcare and a good education and swim in lakes and hike mountains and make so many friends!! Omg she has so many friends. 🥹 and I now have healthcare too for the first time in my life which is really just in time for me to get diagnosed with a bunch of chronic illnesses that I’d never be able to get any help for in the US. And now my husband also has the chance for the first time in his life to pretty much travel anywhere he wants to which is amazing for him.

It must be quite obvious that these are all feelings I’ve been holding in for some time lol. But I can’t believe what lovely human beings follow me on here and support us especially after so long! It’s been almost 12 years since I started all of this and somehow I’m still doing it. Wow. Incredible.

I love you 😭❤️

And here’s evidence of the passed on high five 😆

[asarigg]

Inside the Character's Mind: Part 6

CHILDHOOD. SLY AND KOUJAKU. THE AVOIDANT BEHAVIOR: part 3

As if all that wasn’t already enough, at the end of the Re:connect, this happens. Aoba thinks to himself that this is not what Koujaku wanted, as much as Sly wants to think that it is, that he’s in the right. As if what he has done has helped the Koujaku inside, the one who’s like him, the true Koujaku, to come out. As if they could be free inside that cell.

Koujaku reacts to Aoba’s thoughts. Sly thinks for a moment that it’s his imagination, but when Aoba repeats his thoughts, Koujaku says his name. Koujaku, who despite not having articulated a single word all this time, weeks, months, says his name as soon as Aoba “speaks”, that’s what I’m talking about when I mention their spiritual connection, that’s how strong it is. It happening after such a different sex scene, where neither of them can say no, nor show any kind of rejection, is just a reminder that they are both locked away, suffering, and that they will stay there watching this happen day after day until the day they die, not being able to see, or touch, or call each other’s names, or say “I love you” or anything they once wanted to say. They can only just watch each other wither away.

These thoughts of “This isn’t what Koujaku wanted” are very interesting because just like Sly thought, Koujaku really wanted Aoba to accept and love him. But the last thing he wants is having Aoba reciprocate him just because that’s what Koujaku wants. He’d rather be rejected, and even die in the extreme case of the situation hurting Aoba, than having him living something he doesn’t really want, that he doesn’t feel in his heart. Giving himself to Koujaku letting him do whatever he wants without thinking twice, without thinking about his own wishes. A life that doesn’t respect Aoba’s wishes is a nightmare for him. Just like he says in the confession scene “All I can remember is that I didn’t want to touch you like that”.

I mentioned that they don’t treat the tattoo as something that changed Koujaku, but as someone else inside his mind. When Sly appears before him, Koujaku immediately knows that he’s not Aoba, but has a hard time believing it, because physically he’s the same but white. He doesn’t know what’s going on, he can’t process it, but he knows. And the thoughts that tell him that the man in front of him is not Aoba are in red, like someone else’s, with some lowercase and some uppercase, growing more intense as the madness and anger of his tattoo reflects through. Doesn’t it remind you of how Sly’s thoughts appeared in the middle of the screen when Aoba was in charge?

Sometimes I wonder what Sly’s real intention was here. In theory he wants to break Koujaku and bring out the beast because that’s the part of Koujaku that he sees himself reflected in, that destructive entity, his darkest, true side, his pure animal instinct. Exactly what Sly is.

But he still tells the sane Koujaku that he loves him and wants to convince him that he’s Aoba. If that had worked then what would he do next? Because he truly believes that’s what he wanted to hear, and when the narration returns to his point of view he tells us that his love for Koujaku is true. Obviously locked in a cell it would be difficult for anyone to believe him, and Sly wouldn’t get him out of there anyway when he wants to keep Koujaku for himself. But then why does he keep trying to convince him, over and over again, even when Koujaku still doesn’t recognize him as Aoba any time he wakes up? Would he have been satisfied with a sane Koujaku, with those restrictions he hates, just because he accepted his words? It’s only when he sees that Koujaku won’t buy it, no matter what he tells him, that he changes his strategy.

And it’s in this scene that we see Koujaku in control for the last time, and again the last thing he says before losing his mind is Aoba’s name. This ending makes us see how Koujaku once again enters a cycle of abuse. He has gone from being his father’s slave, to Ryuuhou’s, and now Sly’s, and he will probably never get out of that cell alive. He no longer has prayer beads protecting him, only chains imprisoning him.

Sly is aware of what he has done, and he believes that since he has destroyed Koujaku’s consciousness/spirit, it’s only fair that he is the one to destroy his body, not only fair but it even seems like an attractive idea, to die at his hands (Sly try not to be Ryuuhou challenge). I really like this dialogue where Sly tells Koujaku that he can tear off his flesh if he wants, on the condition that he stays. Staying with him, a reflection of his desire to feel loved, accepted, after so many years of abandonment. After hearing Koujaku speak back to Aoba, it must feel like a punch to the stomach to think for a moment that he’s wrong with what he’s chosen for the two of them, to think that Koujaku doesn’t really love him.

Having him locked in a cage somehow is perfect to prevent the slightest chance of Koujaku walking away, as well as keeping him in this state, unable to speak, unable to think, unable to reject him. It’s because of these things that I usually think that at least at the beginning the relationship with Koujaku in a good ending would be quite turbulent. He would like to flirt with Koujaku, but when he realizes that he really feels love for him, he feels vulnerable, weak, and needs to protect himself because the people who were supposed to always be with him and protect him, abandoned him. And Koujaku somehow “abandoned” him once too. So before exposing himself to that, he would rather push Koujaku away. Sly would always come back to him, because as much as he wants to walk away he can’t, he needs Koujaku to stay by his side. It doesn’t matter if it’s love or hate, Sly will take it because it’s intense, real and raw.

Fun fact: Sly and Beast Koujaku both have golden eyes, when they “transform”. Everyone has those three sides of their conscience but Aoba’s just have a distinct personality and identity each, which I think might lead to thinking that beast Koujaku might have a personality of his own. I think he’s somewhere in between, he’s obviously not like them, but he’s definitely his own entity. Like some kind of natural force, like rain, wind, the energy of the cosmos, possessing him, something more abstract than a spirit or god, which we usually see as human or animal-like appearance wise.

The first thing that strikes us when we see Aoba is that his design radically changes. When Sly takes control of his body it’s not like he suffers any physical changes, besides the shine of his eyes, however here he turns completely white. The only time we see something like that happen is when we see the true forms of Sei and Aoba, but those black marks don’t appear. This is what makes me wonder if the white color has something to do with those forms, as if it were some kind of symbolism of Sly “breaking free” and being himself, without restrictions, without Reason, but they don’t add the black marks to not spoil it, or because it looks like shit with the design, or because it simply has nothing to do with that.

The white color is the color of death, mourning, the color with which the deceased are dressed. A sterile color, without impurities, highly related to the spiritual world. Many white flowers are commonly used in funerals, usually Buddhist, such as the white chrysanthemum, used for its meaning of truth and sincerity. Aoba wears a white kimono and also gives one to Koujaku. These traditional elements could be there just to remember Koujaku but nothing in this document could ever be simple of course.

The hair of a dead person is considered to turn white after a certain period of time, meaning that the hair is no longer a source of impurities, it can't be possessed by an evil spirit, and can be transported beyond the border that marks the separation between the sacred realm of the dead and the ordinary world of the living.

His skin, his characteristic blue hair, his eyes and his clothes turn completely white because at this point Aoba is no longer there. Not in a literal sense, of course, but in a figurative sense, Aoba is dead. And this is basically the same thing that happens with Koujaku. They are both reborn, destroyed, spiritually dying so that something else can be created, the ID, the instinct of destruction, the two beasts freed from the bodies that held them prisoners.

His clothes in general resemble those of a Miko, with a more “fantastical” and sexualized appearance. This post talks about it as well. Again it’s a reference to the spiritual realm, their religious side and how Aoba/Sly is an object of devotion, of how Aoba is somewhat a channeler for Koujaku. Just like there are rituals that call the gods to our world, like I’ve said in the section about hair, which serves as a connection with gods, Aoba is the only thing that connects Koujaku with this world, the only reason why he’s still alive.

[out-there-tmblr]

Young zaundads wip (22)

The second section is NSFW. Sexy times where they're both still figuring it out.

***

It's surprising how quickly word of their new market spreads. The alcohol sells – the bottles of wine that the mess hall never stocks, the clear spirits that smell like paint remover to Vander – and the gas masks sell so well that Silco's keeping a waiting list for their next two orders.

Clothing is harder. It's too hard to know what size of clothing will sell, what style or colours. The uncut fabric still takes up a lot of space and requires someone able to sew.

"And we'd need somewhere to store it," Silco complains as they look through the captain's stock. He keeps running his fingers over the fabrics, fingertips grazing over anything smooth or shiny.

"Our place?"

"Somewhere I'm happy for other people to come and see the goods," Silco replies. He firmly believes the safest approach is to make sure no one knows where they sleep.

"We should ask Babette." Silco gives him a doubtful look, so Vander explains, "Her workers are probably the only ones who are going to pay just to look good. If we asked what they want, maybe we could get a selection and take it to them?"

"The captain's docked here overnight. We'll go now, check with Babette and come back."

Babette's working on the riverside this week, in a small fisherman's cottage with the tents set up behind it. They end up sitting in the front room, surrounded by scantily dressed women, waiting for Babette to be free. Vander's trying not to stare at cleavage and high cut skirts, but Silco's actually chatting away to a couple of girls in the corner, nodding and taking down notes.

He's relieved when Babette returns and leads them to a tiny kitchen out the back, with a small but serviceable table. Babette uses a small step to climb onto the chair.

"Vander," Babette says warmly, "and who's your friend?"

"Silco," Vander says, ten futures to face Silco's unimpressed expression. "I grew up on the riverside. Babette's been here as long as the bridge has."

"Longer, dear." Babette ashes her cigarette into a glass bowl. "I came here when they were building that. I remember you running wild in the streets, ten years old and trying to pretend you were grown, pouting when Callie wouldn't let you in the front door."

Honestly, Vander didn't think anyone would remember that but him.

Leaning an elbow on the table, Silco looks at him. Silco doesn't smile but there's amusement in his voice. "You tried to sneak into a brothel at ten?"

"Only to pickpocket my clients. Really, if you're not good enough to lift a wallet on the street, you shouldn't be dabbling in petty theft." Thankfully, she doesn't go into any further details. Vander has no desire to let Silco know about the time he had to run from a potential mark and hide in a barrel of chum for twenty minutes. He stank of fish for days. "Now, how can I help you boys? You didn't seem too interested in another companion."

Now, Silco smiles. "We have a business opportunity for you."

They make a list and go back to the ship. They find what they can and pay for it, and then return with their pile to Babette's back door. There are lots of flimsy fabrics, things that shine and sparkle in the candlelight. Lots of strong, bold colours.

They spread the rolls of fabric over the table and haggle good-naturedly over the price.

***

Vander's grown used to sleeping in beds that are only just wide enough for his shoulders. He's used to turning in bed very carefully, so he doesn't roll out of it by accident. The new bed that Silco buys them is double the width of the company bunks. With a thick wooden baseboard and headboard, with curves etched into the wood. It reminds Vander of the Piltover bridge, the combination of square lines and curves, a mix of practicality and beauty.

"Are you going to keep running your hands over that or are you going to get into bed?"

Vander looks over his shoulder. Despite the sharp words, Silco doesn't look annoyed. He's been sharper than usual tonight, but Vander mostly put that down to the frustration of taking the bed apart to fit it through the fissure entrance and then getting it to fit back together.

It's good and sturdy now. Vander gives the frame a little shake and it doesn't budge. "Nothing wrong with admiring a job well done."

Silco rolls his eyes and starts unbuckling his jacket. They've made the bed with a piece of cotton as a sheet and a few blankets. One pillow each, purchased from the company store. Vander wants to jump straight into it but it's probably better to strip his clothes off first. It'll be smudged with coal dust soon enough.

"You said," Silco says calmly, hanging up his clothes for tomorrow, "you wanted to fuck me when we got a bed."

Vander jerks in surprise, and then hears his shirt seam tear.

"Damn it. Remind me to fix that in the morning," he says reflexively. "And, yeah, I remember saying that. Why?"

"We now have a bed." Silco sounds fine about it but his knuckles are white as he unbuttons his pants. He slides them down and then shakes them out, hooking them on a loose nail in the wall. "So we might as well."

Vander grins to himself. It's such a practical way to approach sex – he doesn't know what else he expected from Silco.

Vander leaves his own clothes folded messily in the corner. "Have you done this before?"

"Have you?" Silco counters.

"There were a couple of girls on riverside. More fumbling than anything else." Vander shrugs. "But I haven't done… exactly this."

Silco fetches a small glass bottle from his jacket pocket. It's orange in a tall pyramid shape. "Babette suggested oil."

"You talked to Babette about this?"

Silco folds his arms across His scrawny chest. "She seemed the most reliable source of information."

Vander wants to tease him but Silco might take it personally and call the whole thing off. "Okay. Did she suggest anything else?"

"That it might be easier to relax lying on my stomach. Remember to use the oil. That the first time was bound to be uncomfortable," Silco admits, watching the bottle in his hand rather than meeting Vander's eyes, "but it would feel good by the end."

Silco presses a perfunctory kiss to Vander's mouth and pushes the bottle into his hands. Then he walks over to the bed, pulls back the blankets and then lies face down. He pulls a pillow under his cheek, and then sides his knees apart. "Are you going to stand there watching?"

"It's a very pretty sight," Vander says earnestly and Silco snorts. Vander isn't any kind of artist, he couldn't explain it if he tried. But there is something breathtaking about The warm lantern light on Silco's white skin, the shadows caused by the curve of his spine. It's something about the vulnerable backs of his knees, the long stretch of thigh, the curve of his ass. Silco likes to sleep with his hair pulled into a messy bun, but there are dark strands escaping, curling around the nape of his neck.

"You really are beautiful," Vanser says, crawling onto the bed and kneeling between Silco's legs.

Silco glares over his shoulder. "Hurry up, Vander."

The stopper is a little tricky to get free. It takes Vander an extra moment to work it out of the bottle and he has to ignore Silco's very judgemental, "Do you need assistance?"

It doesn't smell like engine oil, like diesel and machinery. It's thin and pale, and barely has a smell at all. Out of curiosity, Vander licks his finger but it doesn't taste like much either. Silco is still watching him over his shoulder, but at least he doesn't say anything.

Vander slicks up his cock first, a stroke or two to take the edge off, and then he smoothes the oil over Silco's hole, feeling it tense and relax under his fingers. He pushes two fingers inside to spread the oil, Surprised at the resistance, and Silco hisses into the pillow.

"Okay?" Vander asks, and Silco makes a muffled uh-huh noise, face still pressed into the pillow. Vander adds some more oil, hypnotised by Silco's hole stretched around his fingers. He pushes deeper and his knuckles disappear inside Silco.

Silco gasps, shoulder blades tensing as he holds tight to the pillow. Vander pushes in deeper, and he feels Silco clench around him, how hot and smooth Silco feels around his fingers.

Vander pulls his fingers out and lines up his cock. Silco is hot and smooth around him and tight. So tight. It's like fucking into a vise. "Relax, will you?"

"I'm trying," Silco snarls back at him. "Give me a minute."

Vander tries to stay still, to stop his hips from hitching forward. He presses his palms against the mattress, to either side of Silco's waist and tries to think of anything but how hot and tight Silco is around him. How he can feel Silco clench around him and then relax. How desperately he wants to bury his cock in deep.

"Silco," and it's a whine because Vander's going out of his mind. "Can I–"

"Yes," Silco says and Vander thrusts the rest of the way in. He takes a breath, tries to give Silco a moment to adjust and then he has his hands on Silco's hips, holding him steady as Vander pulls back.

He thrusts back in, fireworks skating up his spine and Silco's moan ringing in his ears. When he pulls back, Silco whines into the pillow. It's obscenely loud, the slap of skin against skin, the grunts that Vander can't stop making, the gasping whines ripped out of Silco. It drives Vander on, makes him thrust harder and hold on tighter, fingers digging into Silco's hips.

It catches him by surprise how close he is, has Vander scrambling to reach under Silco and get a hand around his cock, to jerk him off as Vander chases ecstasy with every thrust. He's desperate and clumsy but Silco is sobbing for breath, dragging in deep, wet gasps.

Then Silco freezes, clenching beneath him and around him. He comes with one last, low groan and Vander's only a few thrusts behind him. He comes deep inside Silco and then collapses onto his elbows, breathing open mouthed against Silco's back.

He can feel Silco's shuddering breaths. Can feel Silco's shoulders hitching as he forces his breathing under control again.

Vander pulls out and rolls off him, and Silco is out of bed, straight over to the flask of water and rag they use for cleaning up. He keeps his back to Vander as he washes his face first. He wipes himself down, front and back, but the whole time he's silent and keeps his back to Vander.

Silco dislikes going to sleep dirty – for any reason – but he usually has no modesty when washing and spends the time complaining that they don't have hot water.

"You okay?" Vander asks, sitting up. He stays in bed because he knows Silco doesn't react well to being cornered.

"Fine," Silco says quietly, facing the wall. He wipes down his chest again, and then fiddles with the rag, wringing it out and then laying it over the flask. "It's fine."

Silco turns the lantern down to a low glow and then comes back to bed.

Vander frowns, worried he might have got carried away. He's usually careful around people, has always had to be, but he forget around Silco. Silco would laugh at him for holding himself back and it's easy to forget the reasons Vander should. "You'd tell me if I hurt you, right?"

"It's not that," Silco says quickly, which proves it is something.

"Did you not like it?" That doesn't feel true, not with the noises Silco was making, but he's to ask.

"It's not–" Silco gives a frustrated sigh. "It was fine. It was good, it just…"

Vander rolls to his side, curves a arm around Silco's waist. He can make out Silco's familiar profile in the almost dark. "Tell me."

"I don't like the way it made me feel. Flayed open. Overwhelmed." In the dark, Silco takes a deep breath. "I don't want to do that again."

"Okay."

"Don't placate me! This was something that you wanted and now I'm saying no. You should at least be honest with me if–"

Shutting Silco up with a kiss feels like a good solution, especially when he kisses back. "I want you. However I get to have you."

"You mean, you like me on my knees sucking you off," Silco clarifies, confident enough to tease.

"I really do."

***

[simplegeneral]

Oasis, second of her name, daughter of Burn and granddaughter of Oasis, princess of the sandwings, sole heir of Burn...

Oasis had a difficult dragonethood, her mother's shadow was immense. Burn became an overprotective and controlling mother, so often, in a mirror of her mother herself, though, she also had Sandstorm, a stern and happy fatherly figure, just like Char.

She was a warrior, barely a princess. And her only enjoyment was the war games she had with her parents, growing ever ambitious, of course, at her 10 years old, she saught to end the rebellion conducted by Vulture and Blister, who bombed the palace at the year of her hatching in a terror campaign.

The young princess was, of course, followed by Burn, who learned the hardest way that an impulsive mind led to her mother's demise, she would not let happen ever again, not to her own daughter.

As soon as Oasis and her forces breached Vulture's stronghold, she found Blister, who tried to smooth talk her niece to no avail. Quickly running out of options, Blister threw a box with a dragonbite viper at Oasis, who was bitten.

Burn arrived immediately and terrified of what she saw, axed and ripped off her own daughter's limb to prevent the venom from further spreading to her body, carrying her back home as Oasis fainted from blood loss.

Later she would receive a prosthesis of a leg to restore her life to nomalcy the best they could, a sight not uncommon in the post-war sand queendom, where Burn had opened a manufactory to build those for all the war veterans in need.

Oasis fell into silence for a long time afterwards, refusing to even look or listen to her mother, but Burn's character made obviously such thing would not work, as she snarled louder and so she listened.

In her 12th hatchingday, Burn had passed away only a few months before due to an untreatable infection, leaving all but one letter to the new queen of the sandwings:

"Daughter of mine and future queen of the sandwings. Oasis. If you opened this letter, I have passed away, back towards the sands of time, time for Onyx to judge me for who I was and what I did.

Hard as it may have been, I do not depart this world a bloodthirst and bitter dragon, but one ever more hopeful than I ever was. You were the shining beacon of hope I had since you came out of the egg, and in my heart's deepest wishes, I wanted you to know that.

We have not talked much with each other in those last two years, me being sick in bed and you angry at me for what I did to you, but know that I do not regret in the slightest, we had no time for you to seek a healer, I either did that or I would have lost you, and believe me my daughter, your life is far more precious than mine will ever be.

I did so many horrible things, my daughter, that only my death will bring any closure to many souls. But you, you have hatched pure and as a new beginning for all of us, really, if you do not follow my steps, than I am glad, my daughter, I beg you not to, war games are fun, but war is not, it will take everything from you, and when I was there, there was nowhere else left to go but begin anew.

Even if I may be gone, your father still there, old and bulky as ever, he is the most kind and friendly dragon I ever met, a good soul and I know you like him more than me, and I am fine with that, listen to him, please.

And Sunny, please listen to her. I have assigned she was your adviser, she may be annoying at times, but she will brighten your day and guide you towards a more hopeful future, for all of us.

Thank you, my daughter. I know your heart is dark and bitter towards me, that night haunts me as much as it does to you, but if I could tell you one thing face to face, there's healing for it, not of your leg, but of your soul and mind, you can fight it, I know it and you know it too, if I could rise again from the lowest point of my life, you can too.

You can never be free of it, but you can remain yourself despite of it. Would you really tell me this would stop you? Did you stopped participating in our war game events because of it? No, the last two years you were there and we both were happy despite of that.

I hope you see what I mean. We had two delightful years together that would have not happened if you weren't there, with me. You didn't need to talk to me for me to be happy for the simple fact that you were here, alive and recovering.

Rise up and be stronger than I ever was, but also, be wiser than I never could be.

Goodbye, my daughter,

Ex-queen Burn."

[artielovesfilm]

Nosferatu Review

Nosferatu is a film that explores Victorian ideas concerning purity through one of its victims; a woman who suffered from manipulation from a monster from a young age, whose sexuality is irreparably linked to him, and who controls her own opinion of herself from a world away. The monster, the ‘Nosferatu’, is the villainy of man, one that would convince a child that her desire for closeness and affection warranted her abuse. Ellen is convinced that her sexual desire is the work of sin when, in actuality, it is normal and natural, yet due to the influence of the church’s values and a patriarchal society that seeks to keep women hidden and stagnant until a man decides he wants her. That is the real tragedy of Ellen’s character, beyond the circumstances of her death and a life lived in fear; a child was convinced that having desires made her wrong, and, therefore, warranted her suffering. Nosferatu is the vampiric nature of men, personified in a gothic monster.

Nosferatu’s murder of two young girls stuck out to me. Personally, I believe it completed Ellen’s characterisation by offering a hard truth; she would not be believed or sympathised with until she was killed. Those children spent the entire film lamenting their fear, just as Ellen did, but it wasn’t until Orlok had killed them that the audience thought twice about it. Ellen’s fear, her visions, her fits, were never taken seriously until a male character (Thomas) encountered Orlok. The scene in which we see Thomas’ blood being drunk was intentionally sexual, and his expression of fear as he was approached made it feel violating to even watch. Then, he experiences Ellen’s reality, for a short while; unable to convince others around him of what he encountered, such as Friedrich, though his experience differs due to the fact that he is able to act against the monster that violated him. Ellen never escapes it, and ends up dead and half undressed in the arms of the man that tortured her for her entire life. This serves as a message about sexual abuse, one with no happy conclusion.

This was the first film where I truly felt anything about Nicholas Hoult’s acting, and I thought he was phenomenal. He truly set the tone for this movie with his initial meeting with the count. As we don’t see Count Orlok clearly throughout the scene, we rely on Hoult’s expression, through which he delivers such visceral terror that it shook me. Thomas Hutter’s devotion to his wife and all he felt for her was clear throughout the film; he feared for her, sought to heal her, and would have given his life to free her of Nosferatu, no matter how fearful he was. I thought his performance stood out, and it was my personal favourite.

Lily-Rose Depp’s dedication to this role was phenomenal. Her fits were frightening to watch, and the melancholy nature of her character was visible in her every emotion. Her desperation to be understood was tragic beyond belief, and her fruitless search for a happy ending left such an impression upon me. Other performances I really enjoyed were Bill Skarsgård, who I didn’t even realise played Count Orlok until the credits due to how incredibly he embodied him, Willem Dafoe and Aaron Taylor-Johnson.

I love the sound design within this film. Even through the breaths of the characters, you could read the film’s message; sexual or pained or terrified, all utilised to give the scene the tension it required. The audio was what made this film a horror, beyond anything we saw. It was used to perfectly capture the feelings of the characters, and in a manner that left me breathless. Additionally, the use of black and white throughout added to the gothic vibe of the film, outside of the setting and costuming. I loved that Ellen’s nightmares and her scenes with Orlok were so often in black and white; it gave her melancholy, her trauma, a physicality, and in a way validated it.

Overall, I loved Nosferatu. It explored childhood trauma, sexual abuse and the villainy of purity culture through a fictional monster, and through his victim, who found no respite from his torture. Personally, one of my biggest pet peeves is the fact that this film is reduced to a ‘monsterfucker’ movie; there is intent in Orlok’s repulsiveness, and Ellen was not attracted to him. He dominated her desire for pleasure by linking it to her trauma, which she was then deemed blasphemous for, and ruined her self opinion and made her feel hopeless until she gave in. It undermines the film’s death for the audience’s own desire, which I can’t stand when its intent is for you to feel uncomfortable at every sexually charged scene. I wouldn’t have though it would be so impossible for people to understand that, but oh well.

Also, I’m a sucker for a gothic horror – no pun intended.

[greenleaf4stuff]

Of Convenience

(Adar x Celebrimbor, some hinted Annatar/Celebrimbor in the background. Celebrimbor is in Adar's camp but the uruk have not started attacking Eregion yet - he discovered Anntar's deception early and got out of the city. And straight into Adar's arms, er, camp.)

Welp, got inspired by my own "marriage of convenience/political marriage" idea and silverscars edit and wrote a short snippet. Enjoy everyone!

“Give me your city,” Adar proposed – or rather, demanded. Celebrimbor felt himself freeze up at the other’s intent gaze. “Surrender it. Put your city into my hands, and I will spare your subjects.”

Celebrimbor swallowed. He felt as if he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Every minute he hesitated, the orcs were readying their weapons and advancing on his beloved Ost-In-Edhil, bringing with them the promise of death and destruction.

And on the other hand, there was he, and the danger he posed to everything the smith loved and held dear.

But he couldn’t just lay the keys to the city at Adar’s feet, could he?

“What guarantee do I have?” Celebrimbor replied, refusing to be cowed. “That you will not just take my surrender and do with it as you please?”

Adar stepped closer towards him – the smith tried to hold himself up straight, shoulders squared back, the very picture of the lord of Eregion, but he knew his own worry and desperation must show on his face clear as day.

He swallowed as Adar came to a stop directly in front of him.

“I have a proposition,” the orc stated, as if that were an answer to Celebrimbor’s question. The smith was about to ask what one had to do with the other, but Adar continued to speak and almost made Celebrimbor choke on his own spit. “A marriage.”

The smith blinked in disbelief. He must have misheard that. “What?”

“I propose a marriage – purely political, of course,” the orc stated, and began to round Celebrimbor, like a hunter circling its prey. “It’s an unconventional but sound solution – it would guarantee both our safety, and that of our people. A foundation for a peace, if we are lucky enough.”

Celebrimbor felt blood rush in his ears and he desperately wanted to grab something to steady himself. His day had gotten progressively more strange and distressing, and the marriage proposal he’d just heard was just the cherry on top of everything; of having discovered the enemy he’d invited into his own city, fleeing it, and then landing himself in the midst of an approaching army that was set on a path of destruction.

Destruction of a mutual enemy, but at the expense of all that Celebrimbor had ever built and worked towards.

“You cannot be serious,” Celebrimbor tried to declare. To his own ears, it came out as a question instead.

“Is the thought really so absurd?” Adar asked. He had now circled behind Celebrimbor’s back, which caused the smith to shiver and look over his shoulder cautiously. The orc soon stepped into his line of sight again. He seemed more curious than intimidating, despite how he stalked around the smith. “Think it through to the end. You will find there is nothing better I can offer as reassurance. Nothing that you would believe to be true, anyways.”

The smith sucked in a breath and just about kept himself from wringing his hands. He really just wanted to be petulant, to scream and angrily throw Adar’s offer back in his face, but-

But he had to think of his people. Who were in danger from not one, but two threats at the moment. If he could take care of one for certain, and use that chance to eliminate the other as well…

There was a long sigh, and the smith visibly deflated. He hated to admit it, but the other was right. They had few options, especially since there was scarcely any trust between them.

Sure, Adar had been treating him rather well as of now, all things considered – he’d told the orcs to handle the elf with care, had given him food and water, had not even chained the smith (though that could be because he didn’t consider Celebrimbor a serious threat, the smith thought bitterly).

The...foundation was there. And the reasoning.

As if he’d heard his thoughts, Adar stepped closer to Celebrimbor. This time, his look was not one of a hunter, but one of sincerity. “I promise you, I’d not make any demands of you safe for upholding the marriage and the peace. I would not separate you from your people, I will not demand rulership over your city, and-” and he paused for additional emphasis at that point. “I will not ever force you into anything but civil, honest conversation with me.”

It was clear what he meant. It was a...strange thought. Celebrimbor had not even considered it but- well. He had to admit that aside from the company he kept, Adar was...almost beautiful. Despite the pale skin and the scars and the darkness he lived in, he cut a striking figure.

Where before, the thought had not even crossed his mind, he now found his belly quivering with it. Not in a fearful way, but instead with...intrigue?

He mentally shook himself. Gil-Galad was right, he did have terrible taste in what – who – he found desirable. (He did not think of the fiend that was hiding in his forge. He would not. He’d been tricked, deliberately tempted. It was hard to remind himself of that, but it was true.)

The smith exhaled a shaky breath. He should probably demand more time to think on this, but time was something he did not have – ironic that as an elf, he was running out of time now, he thought sardonically.

Instead, he rose up to his full height again, and faced Adar with a steady gaze. With a small start, he realized he was actually taller than the orc. (‚Uruk‘, the other had called himself, hadn’t he?)

“Promise me you will do everything in your power to protect my people. I do not care what happens to me, it is my fault this-” he stopped himself and felt his face pull into a grimace, but he pushed on. “As the lord of Eregion, I will take responsibility. Promise me you will help me fulfill my responsibility to my people, and I will...I will give myself to you. And my city into your hands, until it is freed.”

The look in Adar’s eyes was intense, as if he was trying to find any hidden loophole, any flaw, any lie in Celebrimbor’s words. After a moment that felt near suffocating, the other nodded.

“Very well. I will find someone to officiate,” he said, and made to turn to the entrance of his tent, undoubtably to give his men orders. He paused, however, and looked back at Celebrimbor.

The look in his eyes was softer than the smith had expected. “And I accept your demands. The city will be yours again, once I have rid it of our foe.”

A pause. “And while you would give yourself and your life away with no regards to your own safety, I will not demand you to do so. I will not touch you or mistreat you – you have my word.” And with that, the orc went outside as he gave orders while leaving Celebrimbor alone, his head spinning.

Why was this so important for the other?

Why did it put Celebrimbor at such ease?

And though Celebrimbor barely dared to even acknowledge it – why did the thought of Adar touching him not fill him with fear, but curiosity, instead?

[frightenedcricket]

Package deal

Noah x oc x Nicky

Summary: Noah, Nicholas and Sam had been friends for so long. They were so close that sometimes it was difficult to tell when one ended and the other started.

Warnings: +18. Smut. PinV sex, masturbation (m/f receiving) mmf, male on male (little kisses only). If I miss something, tell me. Written on my phone and not edited.

Disclaimer: this is a piece of fiction written about real life fiction.

Her head on Noah's lap, Noah resting on Nicky's chest, her legs on Nicky's lap.

Sam, Noah and Nicholas were a mess. A tangled mess. So tight. Almost a knot. They were flesh and bone.

"I'll make it. And I'll write songs about you two" She said with dreamy eyes.

There was a dream. There was a thing the three of them loved. It was music.

"You will write them with me" Noah let his long fingers over her hair and she smiled. "Us"

Nicholas chuckled.

"Not possible"

Her poster claded walls were a sign of the direction she would take. Björk was ver inspiration. Then others came. Mitski was her next obsession. Fever ray.

By then, they were just teens. Three friends that met at young age but with so much on their backs to carry alone. Noah kept moving between places, sometimes he was at Nicky's, sometimes he wasn't.

Sam didn't move out until she was 18, but her safe place was also the Ruffilo's. Nicholas mum was always ready to jump into the car and drive to hers. She - as Nicholas said - was a menace, ready to fight Sammy's parents. They weren't bad parents - or that's what Sammy wanted to believe - but they wanted their daughter to have a 'good life'. Her mum was an odontologist and her dad a lawyer. How could she be a musician? An eccentricity one!

Nicholas was the glue and shoulder to cry, but also the oldest and most experienced one. Unknowingly, he dragged Noah and Sam to situations they were maybe to young to live. But he was there with them. He was there when they got drunk the first time and even stop drinking himself to take care of them.

"But we can make a collab"

"Okay, I'm in"

Nicky was Sam's first time and Sam was Noah's. That's when it started. Their mess wasn't complicated.

Sam had other friends with easy lives. Their rich parents just gave them anything they asked for. A horse, a new car, the new and trending shade palette, a new boyfriend, the prestigious college, a house by the beach... They moved fast, they went trend after trend and then they reached the age when you have to have sex. But Sam didn't have a boyfriend like they did. She didn't like the rich boys in her school. She didn't feel attracted to any single one and the last thing she wanted was to have her first time with one of them. So... Who did she have? Noah was a stupid kid. She loved him. But fuck... He was in that age in which a single millimeter of skin made him hard. He was a horny kid who hadn't had sex either. Then? Nicholas. He was more grown up. He had pierced his nose and was stretching his ears. He was a cool kid - not really - and had dated a girl for a year or so. And Sammy knew he had sex. Nicholas was their source of information but also a guy, so they usually talked about sex and both - Noah and him - were well informed of what girls - Sammy - liked or fantasized with.

Nicholas was gentle. So gentle. Fuck, she almost cried. Just as Noah and Nicky, she was a really introverted and shy girl. The sole thought of being bare in front of him was overwhelming. But he did it so good. He was a good kisser - he was only the second guy she kissed and he was definitely not 13 and inexperienced like her first some years ago. He was also slow. Sam felt like he was fully making love to her. Even if it hurt a bit. Nicholas came first but she didn't expect much either. What surprised her was how he sat back on his heels after recovering a bit and asked her to show him.

"Show you what?"

"You told me how to finger a girl, Sammy. Show me, tell me how to finger you"

She almost combust.

Sammy was proud of her first time. She didn't have a horrible experience like other girls. She had a good first time - could be better, honestly - with her best friend Nicky who was casually really handsome too - if she knew then how much better he would get to look...

With Noah it was a bit different. He wanted to fit, to be cool. He had surrounded himself by older people and wanted to keep up.

Sammy had changed. Having her first time with Nicky wasn't the breaking point, it was only a coincidence. She was 17, she wanted to do her own things. She wanted to study music and produce her own. Her parents were against it, pushing and talking to people so she could get in any boring degree they wanted her too. Their already rebellious daughter, was finally over that shit. She said no, she stopped hiding and lying. Where are you going? To a party. To a gig. Noah plays tonight. Out. None of your business. She stopped changing into the more appropriate clothes her parents wanted to wear right before walking in the house. She finally stopped showing herself how she wanted to and started doing whatever the fuck she pleased. She had to spend a few nights at the Ruffilo's, to be honest. But she was happier. Angrier and happier. She was wilder now. People came and go, she didn't have a single relationship, but suddenly she wasn't the inexperienced girl Nicky slept with.

"Nah..."

"Why?" She groaned.

"She is older than me"

"And into you"

"She is not"

"She wants to fuck you. And you want to fuck her"

Noah blushed and tried to hide behind his hair - luckily he was going through his emo phase.

"Noah, you are a handsome guy. What is the problem?"

"She dated Rob"

Sammy sighed. Rob was even older than Mary.

"And I'm a fucking virgin"

"Virginity is a social construct"

"You begged Nicky to take yours"

"He didn't take anything from me. And I didn't beg. I wanted to have my first time and he fucked me" She simply explained.

Noah groaned. "I'm gonna be 40 and a virgin"

Sammy sighed exasperated. "No, you won't"

"C'mon... Look at how it is going"

Sammy cupped his cheeks and pecked his lips. "Tomorrow night I'll pick you from your shift and we can go somewhere quiet. And I'll. Be your first"

Noah almost fainted.

"Okay"

"Where is the but, you look like there is a but"

"Can you teach me something?"

"Maybe?"

"Boobs"

"Do you want to see my boobs?"

"No, idiot. I want you to teach me how to... You now"

"What?"

"I'mreallyintoboobsandIwanttoknowhowtosuckthem"

Sammy laughed loudly, but he definitely learnt how to do that. Noah was clumsy, awkward and nervous. But he wanted to take the lead. What was the use if he sat on the backseat and let her do anything? With everything Nicholas had told them and everything Sammy asked for, Noah created a mental list. He finished almost too quickly. She looked so beautiful and he swore he could spend hours worshiping her chest. But he did good. Sammy had fun.

It didn't stopped there. Noah dated his girl for a while. And in the meanwhile, Nicky and Sammy were single and bored without the third dork. Movie nights sometimes ended with them sweaty and naked. And they were fine with it.

"It's nice, right?"

"It is"

Nicholas hair was growing back after he buzzed his whole head and he didn't have to hid it under his beanies all the time. Sammy loved to play with it so much and Nicholas loved the post-sex scratches.

"Do you think he ever gets jealous?" She muttered.

"We are the same, Sammy. It's you and me and Noah. He has his girlfriend and the band"

"Yeah, but I don't think they are so nice to him"

Nicholas bit his lip and looked up at her. She had a tattoo on her shoulder he had made. One of his first. He was still an apprentice. She had grown so much and was so beautiful.

"Do you miss him?"

Sam sighed. "I like when it's the three of us" She muttered.

Nicky moved the hair out of her face.

"It will always be the three of us. But we won't always be together, Sammy"

She closed her eyes and cuddled into him. How could she not be with them? Where else could she be?

That day Noah came back crying. She had broken un with him - for the second time this month - right before the rehearsal and he had fucked up almost every song. He hand an anxiety attack and both of his best friend had to collaborate to calm him down. Now he laid on her chest, right on the same place Nicky did not long ago. Nicholas sat on his other side with one arm comfortably laying around him.

"I'm fucked up" Noah cried and cried on her chest while Nicholas hugged him tighter.

It wasn't the first time they slept there. Nicholas bed was so damn small for only the two of them, but they could always make space por her.

The next morning, Nicholas left for work and Sam and Noah made love really slowly. They were almost fully clothed but his hands knew exactly were to go. It was different from any Noah had ever have. But it was just like the sex Nicky and Sammy had all the time.

The tangle got messier that day. Noah turned his whole life upside down. After a big fight with his ex girlfriend, he cut it off completely. Then it was the band. Those fuckers were messing with him and his head real bad. When he told Nicky he would start his own, Nicky smiled so big. Then the question came and Nicky hugged him so tight. It was the beginning of Bad Omens. Sam was there looking and never missed the way they touched eachother.

Sammy took the opportunity and started to make her own music. Finally, she felt complete. Those songs written and hidden in drawers, and then boxes once she left, finally saw the light with her friends help.

And in the meanwhile...

"Does he feel this good? He does, right? "

"Does he treat you nicely? I'm sure he does"

"You like when he eats you out like this, right? He told me"

"Oh fuck, do you get this wet with him too? I bet you do"

"Do you like when I fuck you like this? Nicholas says you do..."

"Are you always this needy for Noah too?"

It was... It drove her insane... When she was with Nicholas, he talked about Noah. When she was with Noah, he talked about Nicholas. And her fantasies never stopped growing. She was hungry. Sammy loved her boys. She needed them. Her songs were misterious and so well written. But they had owners. Her heart was full, they both had a place on it.

They never talked about it. Like a proper conversation, but everything was surprisingmy smooth. No jealousy, no strange feelings. Partners came and left. Sometimes it all came to halt when started dating someone. Sometimes it was just Nicky and her. Or Noah and her. But they always found eachother.

The others came and never said anything. It was obvious that something happened, and that the trio were impossibly close. But it was all really strange from outside.

"Are they like... All dating?" Nick Folio asked when he had only been around for a month or so.

Vince laughed and looked briefly. Sammy was sitting on Noah's lap while braiding Nicholas hair. It had an awkward length and looked funny, he always had it hidden.

"No, they are not"

"Really?"

Folio frowned. "Aren't they like having sex all the time?"

"Yeah, but it's not like the three of them are involved"

"They are weird"

Vince shrugged his shoulders. "They have been friends for so long and gone through a lot. They are that close"

But then came the call. Just when Bad Omens were having their first good gigs, Sammy received a call.

"R-really?"

"Yes, Sam. We listened to the demos and they are really good"

Nicholas and Noah shared a look.

"We want to sign you. Two albums"

Once she ended the call, the two boys looked at her expectating.

"They want me. I'm going to sign for two albums."

But the hardest thing was the goodbye. She moved to Nashville and never felt more alone. Just when her best friends were starting their first real tour, one they always promised her, she stepped for the first time on a real studio.

And then the madness came. For years, they barely saw eachother. It was hard, but they were always connected. She toured with some of her idiols and could see the guys when she opened for Spiritbox. As Sam got bigger in her world, Bad Omens did too in their own and suddenly they were fucking big. And one night, when Noah was writing alone in his bedroom, he remembered that afternoon. He was 15 and Sammy was laying on his lap while he rested against Nicky.

"Hey, I know it's late in there... But... I have some ideas and mind and... We can make a collab"

I'm in.

The collab came, the music video came, she was invited and some shows... But life was different. Sammy was dating a producer. Noah was starting to see some girl and Nicholas had a girlfriend too. Still, whenever they were around, there was no one else.

"Is he okay?"

"Sleeping now" Nicholas muttered. "Do you remember that day... I think it was right after he dropped from school. When that aunt of his called"

"Yes"

"Well, it was more of less like that"

Sammy sighed at that memory. "And what is he gonna do? It has happened too often, Nicky"

"We are dropping the tour"

"What?"

She could feel the change in Nicky's voice.

"He is exhausted, we can't play like this. He is going to end up insane or damaging his voice..."

"Fuck..."

"Yeah, and he broke up with Annie too..."

"He didn't say anything"

"It was yesterday. I guess I understand her. Noah is not on his best, right now. And he was dragging the relationship with him"

Sammy sighed and pulled the covers over her head. "It's so hard, isn't it?"

"Yeah... Sometimes I wished I has 13 again and..."

"No, no. I was a kid. Wish you were 18 or so"

"Okay, okay... I wish we were teens again messing with a guitar"

"We were so messed up"

"But it's easier when it was the three of us"

"And no one else"

Nicholas turned to check Noah. He was still asleep.

"He is wearing the hoodie"

"Still?" A soft giggle scaped her lips. "We bought that in 2012

"And he loves it"

Silence fell between them. Life felt so different. She wanted to take her car and drive for fifteen minutes to Nicholas and hide under his covers, with both men laying there with her and watching whatever new anime they couldn't stop talking about. But she was in Toronto for a videoclip and they were in some hotel.

"He misses you"

"And you?" Her heart was on her throat.

"Of course, I do"

"How is Sarah?" Sarah didn't like their closeness and had been causing a lot of arguments.

"I'm tired"

"I know"

"Should I break up with her?"

"Nick..."

"I'm lost... This whole thing with Noah too... It's taking a toll in me too" He murmured.

"You should do what you feel it's the best, Nicholas"

Sammy clutched the necklace they had gifted her for her 17th birthday and looked back at the door. Her own boyfriend was showering.

"You should call Noah" He changed the subject. "He'd like to hear you"

"I know. I will. I'll try to visit you once you are home, okay?"

"They are going to L.A. and I'm going back to Richmond"

Sammy bit her lip.

"Could we... I don't know... Can we agree on something? I need to spend some time with you. Miss my guys"

"Yeah, of course." Nicholas smiled at the phone. "We'll figure it out"

Her boyfriend broke up with her after that call, but she didn't tell them it was their 'fault'.

She visited Noah as soon as she could, but didn't see Nicholas. He couldn't make it to L.A..

It was so refreshing to have her again. Noah had started to spiral into some thoughts that made him uneasy. It couldn't be. They weren't like that. They were only friends. His heart told him otherwise and the kisses started to feel different. They had a different taste now.

"How is it when you are with him?"

"Nicky?"

"Yeah"

"Uh... Slow. You see how Nicholas do anything else. It's the same with sex. He is so calm" She chuckled. "He gets freaky some times though"

Sammy rolled so she was now laying on her belly. Noah looked at her and leaned his head on his hand. What a handsome man he had become.

"And me?"

Sam was conscious about Noah's recent mental health problems. So she did her best to reassure him after a long and slow kiss.

"You are freaky but fuck me nice and slow some times"

Noah smiled and Sammy felt her heart quickening.

"Opposites"

"Yeah. But the same in the end" Sammy kissed his shoulder and Noah ran his fingers over he hair, undoing some knots from laying around in bed.

"Nicky is going to break up with her"

Sam stopped her kisses and looked up. There was something in his voice she didn't like.

"He told me something" After a pause, she caressed his face. "What's wrong?"

Noah didn't want to tell her that for the first time he felt jealous. Once Nicholas was single, he would go back to her and Noah would have to wait. Sammy wasn't his, he could ban Nicholas from fucking her. And he didn't want either. Because Nicholas confused him just as much as Sam did.

"Who do you prefer?"

"Me? Between you two?"

"Yes"

"You are different, Noah"

When she saw Nicholas again, he was single. It had been so long since they lips touched and she had missed his kisses. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to start there. Anyone could come in. But they had found themselves in the basement sofa at Noah's and after talking for a long time, it had happened.

"Noah asked me once who I prefer"

Nicholas lifted his head and licked his lips. A curious moment to talk about this. But the frown and her quietness told him that maybe she was to worried to even enjoy his mouth. So he moved higher and pulled her legs around his waist.

"Who do you prefer?"

Having her bare in front of him felt like a gift. He agreed with Noah that no matter who they were with, Sammy was always the most beautiful one.

"I can't choose..." She whispered.

Nicholas moved his hands up her waist to her chest.

Her fingers slowly moved up his chest to his tattooed arm.

"How could I?"

Nicholas kissed her forehead and easily slid in her. She let the softest moan out and closed her eyes. He was finally back.

"You don't need to"

"But Noah"

"Noah knows too" He dragged her lips over her cheek.

Nicholas moved deep and slow and she cried with every thrust of his hips. They had missed eachother and it showed. But naked bodies craved to be touched. They were so enchanted that they didn't hear steps. And then the basement door opened.

Noah froze. He literally felt the blood draining from his face. After so many years of messing together, it was the first time this happened. Not even when Noah lived at Nicholas's they had walked into eachother like this.

"Fuck, Noah"

Nicholas halted his movements but didn't pull away, he looked at him with fiery eyes, . And Sammy... Oh fuck, sweet Sammy was looking at him as if he just hung the moon for her. Noah didn't know what to do.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you... Fuck, sorry. I'll..." He tried to turn around and then...

"Please Noah" She moaned. He almost melt. He remembered that night in the back of her car, when she just laid there for him so beautiful and warm... She turned his life upside down.

"Come down here, Noah" Nicholas muttered.

While Noah walked down every step, Nicholas continued his movements. The sounds he pulled out of her... Fuck, Noah was burning under his clothes.

Then Sammy reached his hand to him and he grabbed it. She was warm and soft and when she pulled him closer, Noah forgot about any hint of jealousy he ever felt. His heart beat madly.

She pulled him closer and kissed his lips. Nicholas smiled. Inevitably, he tangled his fingers in Noah's hair and he growled. It was something animalistic, as if something had awakened on him. With Sammy's tongue playing with his and Nicholas fingers on his hair, Noah felt complete. He was hard but didn't hurry. He laid there next to her with a hand on her belly and kissed her ass she pleased.

"You can do more, Noah... I know you do..." Nicky spoke low between pants. "C'mon..." With his own tattooed hand, he guided Noah's to her chest, making her smile and Noah blush.

This was how it had always been. From Nicky to Sammy and then Noah... In the end, it all started with Nicholas. But at the same time, everything had been conditioned by Sammy. And finally, Noah's freakier side had pushed them further. They were tangled. Whatever Noah did, affected Nicholas, then Sammy. And what Nicholas did, affected Sammy and then Noah. Whatever Sammy asked for, always came back from the other side. Their friendship had morphed into this deep connection and love that was simply imposible to break. That's why nothing else worked. How could it when they worked so well together? How could Sammy think of anyone else when Nicky and Noah were this nice?

The realisation was slowly hitting each one of them. Sammy had now Nicky between her legs and Noah doing his favourite thing in the word, sucking her nips. She was in a state of pure bliss and adoration, with her guys all over her for the first time ever. And it was so natural. As if it had always happened.

The skin to skin contact was driving them insane. When Noah had gotten rid of his clothes and his leg had found a place right next to Sammy's over Nicky's, Nicholas had gripped his tattooed thigh hard. Then Noah, while his mouth was on good use on her chest, had moved his fingers to her clit and inevitably with every thrust he touched Nicholas and it drove them both strange. Why wasn't it weird? Why did they feel like they had been waiting for this?

"Did she really ask you?" Noah asked after a while. Nicholas was trying to sleep next to him.

"Mhm"

"Did you do it?"

"Yes"

Noah looked at the ceiling.

"Where you good?"

Nicholas turned to him. "I suppose. But I finished faster that I wanted"

Noah chuckled and Nicholas punched his shoulder. "You wouldn't last a second in her"

Noah's mouth ran dry. "Is she good?"

"She was shy and nervous" Nicholas blushed at the memories. "But she was good"

Noah was blushing hard. "I think about is sometimes, you know?"

"About Sammy? Do you like her?"

"Not that way"

"Does it bother you that I slept with her?"

"Mmm. Not really. I mean... I think about her but... It's probably her fault. She always tells us stuff and all" Noah turned to look at Nicholas. "And she is hot as fuck"

"Oh man, she is... You should see her... The way she looked at me..."

"How was it?"

"Slow... Really slow. I didn't want to hurt her. But she liked it."

"Slow?"

"Yeah"

That was 10 or 11 years ago and it all made sense now... The way Nicholas explained everything and how enchanted he was by his lips had made Noah so hard - and Nicky too. He believed at first that it was just because of Sammy. But then he got to taste her too and they fell into this dinamic. And every time they slept with Sammy it was inevitable to not think of the other also with her. Anyone ever said anything until now that they were all tied together in that old basement sofa.

"T-touch me... Please" Noah begged Sammy barely parting from her chest. She gave him what he wanted.

"I'm almost there..." Nicholas said.

The sofa was uncomfortable. Nicholas was kneeling so awkwardly, Noah was too big to be laying there and Sam's back started to hurt from her posture. But anyone cared for a second.

Nicholas's moans and thrusts became unsteady and soon his nails sunk in Noah's thigh. He came with a soft moan. Noah looked up and his eyes connected to Nicky's. They smiled and Sammy felt like crying... How much has she waited for this?

Nicholas was a beautiful man, and with his head thrown back like that and his hair falling over his shoulders... Fuck, Noah wanted to... But Sam was faster. When their lips touched, Noah felt that jealousy back. But this time he was jealous of Sam, not of Nicky. In a selfish - not really - act, he let his finger go down and slowly enter Sam. Soon, he was moving them right how she liked to without being able to stop watching them kissing. Right as he expected - and exactly what he wanted - Sam broke the kiss with a low moan. Her hand moved faster on him and Noah groaned. But his eyes moved to Nicholas who was already looking at him.

Sam, through her bliss and building orgasm, she looked at them, how they e hanged glances with heavy breaths. With her soft hand, she cupped Nicholas face and Noah almost frowns. Then, the unexpected happened. She cupped Noah's neck. Any of them resisted. They both wanted it. They just didn't know how to start it. Their lips touched and both of them melted into the kiss. It was as if every piece had fallen into place. Noah and Nicholas and Sam as it had always been, but now complete. Sam's chest felt full of love and pride, and with her boys slowly kissing right in front of her, she finally came.

They pulled back. Noah wanted to see her, he wanted to see for how long he could pull that moans from her. But Nicky gave himself a pleasure he had longed for ages. Since he got that ink, Nicholas hadn't been able to not think of it. He dragged his lips over Noah's neck. Noah felt dizzy.

When Sam finally couldn't stand the overstimulation, she pulled his fingers away. Then, Noah collapsed by her side. She craddled him closer and moved her hand faster. Nicholas was a good help. He found Noah's sweet spot by memory - from what Sam had told him.

"Sam... Oh fuck..." He hid his face on her neck and his hand pulled Nicholas closer. He almost had to climb over him. "I'm... Nicky... Fuck..."

"Let go... Please Noah... Let go for us."

He did, with chocked moans, he finished on her hand and his body shook with the afterwaves.

Nicholas smiled over his skin and after kissing his cheek, he looked at Sammy.

"He really sounds as pretty as you said" Noah felt goosebumps all over him and side eyed his best friend, who caressed his cheeks so lovingly.

Sammy giggled.

"Pretty vocal boy"

"Not the prettiest here, though" He mumbled and nuzzled his face on her neck.

Noah was dominant, more than Nicky. But he was that kind of Dom who needed so much aftercare. Sammy was always pleased to give anything to him.

Nicholas watched them cuddle with a soft smile.

"We could argue about that for hours, actually" She answered him.

Both of them laughed.

"But we could do that in our pyjamas and clean in bed, my knees are killing me"

Noah rolled his eyes at Nicholas and he received a smack on the leg in response.

Then, silence fell over them for a few seconds. Glances were exchanged and feelings started to set.

"Guys" She started. It was now or never. The swift was obvious. Nothing would ever be the same. "I love you. Both of you"

Nicholas and Noah looked at eachother. The youngest spoke first.

"Yeah... I think me too"

Nicholas nodded. "Same"

Sammy smiled and grabbed both of their hands. She pressed a kiss on both. The guys leaned and kissed her her, hitting theirs in the way too and ending laughing hard.

They picked their clothes and dressed decently, not without Nicholas complaining about how his knees hurt and Noah and Sammy teasing him. They saw Jolly in their way to Noah's room, but he didn't say anything more than "I'll wait for you for dinner"

They washed themselves and Sammy quietly asked for a shower. When she finished, she found the guys bundled in the bed with something on the TV.

"Hey..."

They had shared a bed so many times but also so long ago. Now, everything was different even if it still felt the same.

Nicholas moved a bit and patted the space between them.

"Oh no, I'll take the side... It's fine"

"Shut up and come here" Noah mumbled.

Sammy dragged her feet and before climbing in bed she took of her pants. "I have been waiting for years" She giggled.

"I wouldn't have complained, I had already seen it all"

"Same"

"Yeah but..." She stopped to think. "Yeah, it makes no sense.

She sat there and as always, leaned her head on Nicholas chest. Noah then turned his body and cuddled her from behind. He leaned his head on Nicholas shoulder and the oldest smiled.

"This bed is bigger"

"Yeah, how did we manage to sleep in your teen bed?"

Nicholas laughed and gave himself permission to run his fingers over Noah's hair. "You always clung into me"

"Did he really?"

"I woke up once with him all pressed to me"

"Yeah, why don't you shut up?" Noah was blushing.

"Shh. It's cute..." She giggled.

After some time in silence, Noah spoke again.

"I wish we had done this sooner"

Nicholas looked down at him and Noah leaned to kiss his lips. That had been the missing piece of their mess.

Sammy looked up and kissed Noah's cheek. Then, when they pulled back, Nicholas's nose.

"I missed you so bad"

"We missed you too" They spoke at the same time.

There wouldn't be more of that. There wouldn't be any more longing, meaningless partners and hook ups. That was all now a part of the past. They would still need to deal with distance and fame, but not alone any more. They were and had always been a package deal.

[k9emote]

The endos just keep swarming oh lort… It’s actually refreshing to see though ; ; Our early system days were flooded with endos because we didn’t know any better and as a result followed their “advice” to lock up persecutors for “safety” and never let them front, or kept getting told “Hehe you should get into this media so you can split the characters I want because you said you have a reaaally low split tolerance :3”

The talk of syshopping was also *so* prevalent. It was actually kind of funny, we tried to play along and say we didn’t understand and asked how it works, and they just brushed us off and went “It’s actually really hard to explain” while they talked about the group they “taught” how to do it

And then they told one of our protectors/former persecutor that traumagenics were soooo mean and ruthless and that they don’t let systems have fun being systems and it’s all about sadness and misery with them, then implied aforementioned protector was going to perpetuate the abuse cycle because he was disagreeing with them? When he got mad about that, a mod (heavy endo supporter and narc abuse believer, go figure) came in and got on HIM for it? 😭

Tl;dr It’s really nice to see the stance against endos :,3 Sorry I got carried away… Feel free to ignore, have a good dayy!!

THIS IS ALL CRAZY BUT FUCKING NARC ABUSE BELIEVER? OH LAWD

The amount of ableism and misinformation riddled in the endo community is insane 💀 Obviously they'll tell actual system things that will harm them because they are faking something they could never possibly understand. At the end of the day I'd rather be hated by endos than loved by them. That's why their ignorance and hate only brightens my day 🫶 one more person to block

I have nothing against actual (traumagenic obviously) systems who stay out of endo discourse for safety and peace, as long as they aren't neutral to endo's abuse. but we personally can't shut the fuck up if there's something we believe in being attacked. Probably a strength and a weakness tbh lmao

[autisticfaun420]

More on HSN autism and poop I guess

My most popular post by far is my one about my struggle with fecal smearing not sure why. I guess I’ll give you guys a follow up cause I want to talk more about incontinence and how it has affected my life. Sorry new to tumblr and I don’t remember what tags to use so OCD people can filter so I hope this intro is enough of a trigger warning.

I’m gonna be blunt about it, what’s worse then smearing though is just being in public stuck in a shitty diaper really for a couple reasons. I can’t stop myself from having bowel accidents in public, and when I’m having them too I *look* like I’m having one, I can’t stop my legs from squatting like a little kid and there’s often an accompanying sound to go with it. I wish I could say this in a nicer way but I basically go from the tolerable quirky R word to the ew so disgusting R word real fast. People go from smiling at me at least to going to openly degrading me and making comments like I’m not in the room. People get bothered real fast, I can’t blame them it smells bad but it doesn’t change the fact on how I feel inside once I became old enough to realize this was going on. It’s hard for my parents and caregivers to find a place in public to change me and it’s often impossible. The restaurants I eat at, the places so visit, are all dependent on me having a single room bathroom because a proper adult changing station is a pipe dream.

God forbid I have a diaper blowout (where poop goes up the back and out the diaper), then whatever small amount empathy people have goes quickly out the window. I used to like taking the bus with my dad, I can’t do it anymore. I had one blowout on the bus and people acted like their life was in danger “ew ew ew oh my god the r word shit everywhere ew” from someone not even close to where I was sitting, people telling my dad how my mom should of handled her pregnancy, I learned what an abortion was that day. People become blunt when they are mildly inconvenienced with a bad smell and they think it gives them a right to dehumanize someone. I know it’s disgusting but maybe there’s something wrong with me but I don’t think the reaction warrants it. Not when I’ve been at people’s houses and the dog shits everywhere and people go aww he’s just a little guy to the dog. I wish I got that kind of reaction as an autistic child, infantilization is at least better then telling me I should have never been born.

I wanted to write more but sorry I’m crying now. I guess I’ll end it on a positive note. I mentioned in a previous post how one of my high school friends, who grew up with little brothers and cousins, had no problems changing me so we could hang out. I’m not saying that’s an accommodation I expect anyone at all to make for me who’s not a parent or a caregiver getting paid for it, but the fact that he never acted grossed out when cleaning me healed something in me. I would be so embarrassed shitting myself in front of my “cool” neurotypical friends, I would be tearing up and I opened up about it and how embarrassing it is and he basically told me fuck the haters and it’s not something I can control. I didn’t ask for it. A part of me believed I was doing on purpose and carried guilt and guilt leads to meltdowns and smearing incidents. “What do you mean all the cool kids poop their pants” he would say sometimes to make me laugh. During our hangout sessions I would whisper to him “cool pants” or text him that so he could discreetly take me to the bathroom. He’d do it wether he was drunk, stoned, or sober. And like I said in the other post, he was the only reason I was able to have the freedom to hang out without a caretaker or parent in high school and we could all smoke weed together without my parents knowing. I think they did know what I was doing and just let me have my teenage fun, I think my parents thought the weed chilled me out too, which is true, so they let me do it but my cannabis use is a topic for another day.

[christophersturnn]

to thank people.

The people that I can actually talk to and trust here are @kenzieeluby @madifilipowiczz @m4ttthemunch @jakewebberr9 @chasekeithh @almondmilkhunniii @chrislilcumslvt @jazzyss-blog @sturniolowhore @nick-stuxniolos-hg (and the one and only Nate)the people I will always trust and talk to.

I’m not saying I’m not friends with any other people and that I’m breaking off my friendships with them. but the people tagged have been nothing but there for me, nice, supportive, I’ve actually been able to be myself around, to actually be able to talk about stuff, to do shit I really want, to come to them crying without having any judgement. these are the people I can really rely on in my hardest. And I will always believe that, no matter if we fight or argue, we’ve never had a bad patch to actually break us.

I want to thank those people. thank you you guys. I will always always appreciate you and your help you’ve given me.

To start off @kenzieeluby

You have done nothing but been there for me, let me cry in your arms, always have listened, comforted me, been the one to stand up for me, to never give a fuck about what someone says because you know the truth, you know every little thing about me. You have never judged me, never been the one to say something rude, always have taken care of me. NO MATTER WHAT you have stayed. Been there, stayed here. I feel like my inner child comes out when I’m with you, you always put a smile on my face and never fail to. And look where we are, a ring on your finger, and nothing has brought us to an end. Words can’t explain how much I love you and how much I’m thankful for you.

Secondly, @madifilipowiczz

I can’t express the way you have changed my life. You’ve been there, supported me, talked to me, gave me advice, every time we have argued, you’d never hold a grudge. Always said goodnight no matter what. Every “ily” was meant (platonically for the fucking mad anons.) no matter if I fucked up you would listen. You know about things others don’t. And you were always the one to first respond.

Third. @m4ttthemunch

We’ve had lows, that’s for sure. But you’re always gonna be my brother. You have listened, talked to me, always known how to calm me down, always reminded me to take deep breath’s. You have really helped me out in life. I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done, your my brother, a bond no one else can have with me. You know every single little thing about me. I love you Matt, I love you so much.

fourth. @jakewebberr9

I know we don’t talk a lot anymore, but when we did, we could talk about anything and everything, it was never ever awkward, we could get into tmi shit and we would hype each other up, my early rp days started with you and you were the one to instantly click. Thank you for being there for me and always talking to me, I miss our hour long conversations but I will continue to be thankful for you no matter what.

Fifth. The one and only @chasekeithh

I don’t think anyone can replace what we have. You’re my best friend, always have been, you have been there, listened and always agreed. Doesn’t matter how much shit we’re both buried in. We still find a way to laugh with each other. You have no idea how much shit you have carried me through, we’ve never argued, never fought, nothing. You’re a bond I can’t explain. You can make jokes with me every time you manage to make me laugh. I will always always be here for you, and I know I can count the same from you. Thank you so so much for what you have done for me Chase. Your personality always matches mine, you will match my energy, and I feel like I can be myself with you. I will always and forever love you. Thank you Chase. I can’t thank you enough.

Sixth. @almondmilkhunniii

Yes I know we aren’t the best of friends, but I feel like I can trust you and talk to you. You make me laugh and cheer me up, you always offer to listen, and you can tell when I’m down, your one of the nicest, most genuine loving person I have ever met.

Seventh. @chrislilcumslvt

I know I bug you and shit, but your replies to my annoying asks or how I always talk about kisses and shit make me smile. I can’t describe how supportive, funny, caring, person you are. You always listen, never judge, and you put up with my shit. I love you for that. Thank you marls.

eighth. @jazzyss-blog

You make me smile, make me laugh, make me happy. Your funny ass photos and replies you always have on hand make me laugh my fucking ass off. I love you so so so much. Thank you jazzy.

ninth. @nick-stuxniolos-hg

You have no idea how thankful I am for you, you’re always there for me, been there for me, and will continue to be. If I need a hug, your there, if I need someone to talk to, your there. You’re always there. Your someone that makes me smile, and your someone that can make life worth it, your nothing but thankful for everything. Your such a caring person and I can’t be more thankful for you to be in my life.

Thank you guys for everything you have done for me. I can’t express it enough.