#i think it's the half-repetition that trips me up

[gffa]

I am 60% of the way through Shadow of the Sith and I’m sorry but I still cannot read or hear “Miramir” and not have a split second of wincing at what an awkward sounding name that is.  I’m in the Therm Scissorpunch and Elan Sleazebaggano fandom and “Miramir” is my breaking point?  Apparently!!!

[unnamed-atlas]

Finally finished sweet tooth s3. Having incredibly mixed feelings

[wintersera]

"so are you ovulating?" || ningning x succubus!reader

notes: i actually wrote this fairly quick, but finding the right pics for the moodbaoard actually pissed me off erm.. but first of all FIRST NINGNING FIC WE CHEERED (a/n i forgot to say this was a part two of the succubus!reader thing soooo here’s the link!)

cw: tail sex (kinda), succubus!reader, top!ning, bottom!reader, mentions of a singular man

wc: 4k

after the ‘feeding on your unnie’ incident that had happened a few months ago, your performance was phenomenal. with all that energy you gained from that one night, plus some extra other nights following from then with jimin unnie, it was as if your every move, every note and every emotion was amplified by tenfold. you were on fire and the audience could feel your passion for performance burning brightly with every stage you did.

your mentors and managers commented on how energetic you had been for the past couple of months, how your performances were absolutely phenomenal, the knetz weren’t on your ass - which was surprising since almost half of them were all the time. the western fans said that you were, quote on quote,“serving cunt” in the recent solo weverse live you did… whatever that meant. even your own members were surprised at how active you were throughought day and night. 

but like everything in life, things weren’t bound to stay all too well.

a few days ago you tripped on stage, and to make matters worse, it was in front of your fans. the audience heard a small little thud and spotted you on the ground looking at the ceiling for a few seconds before you stood up embarrassingly. luckily this was the first take, you had other opportunities to do your very best with the smidge of energy you had left. 

knowing your fans, particularly your stans - either they’d make a meme out of you spacing out on the floor, or, they’d spam hashtags all over twitter saying “SM PROTECT YOUR ARTIST” or something around those lines.

not only did that happen, but whilst you were preparing to record your lines in the studio, that familiar pain you would get whenever you were starved from energy came back ten times worse; it felt like you were being pierced in the stomach.

jimin noticed your pained expression and squeezed your shoulder in reassurance as she entered the recording room, but it kind of translated wrong in your head, causing you to moan out loud into the mic in front of your directors - not to mention you could hear yourself through the headphones echo. jimin chuckled lightly “what’s up with you?” then left the room a moment afterwords.

fast forward to the present day. a mundane and repetitive one. you had a photoshoot early in morning and a small meeting sometime in the afternoon and then you were free to do whatever you wanted afterwards. you thought that maybe some vocal lessons later in the evening would distract you, but you were pretty sure your vocal teacher was out with his husband drinking today. good on him, it buys you more alone time, and alone time makes you think about what to do about your situation. 

on to more pressing matters, aka your raging desire for sex. 

it randomly hit you hard while walking back from the company to your local seven eleven. you thought to distract yourself with buying a sweet treat for everyone, but instead you began to feel dizzy “ouh.. this isn’t good” there wasn’t a bunch of groupies following you around the block to your own misfortune, and it was still bright outside.so what was there to do about that urge?

it’s not like you could message jimin unnie out of the blue and ask to fuck. where was the decorum? plus you’re in the middle of promotions, what if you drain too much energy that she’s unable to perform the next day.

and it also didn’t help that your internal monologue was fucking you up.

“shit, do i just ask the manager to… NO- ew what the hell am i thinking? he’s way older than me. nevermind. why did i think about that jesus christ.” 

your options were slim. it was either wait for night, go to the practice rooms and prey on a cute trainee, with consent of course - or go ask jimin unnie again and risk exhausting her even though you just started promotions… 

you wondered who was at home right now.

you recalled ning going straight back home as soon as the meeting had finished. you could always ask? i mean she is your unnie after all, it wouldn’t hurt to ask to her. 

ah, but it would be awkward though. it’s not like when jimin unnie walked in on you tweaking out and then you had to shamefully ask her to “help you out”. either way you had to go home and do something about it. being out in the open wouldn’t be good for you anyway. anymore stress and you could lose your mind, probably going out of your way to do something that would be highly illegal, and you wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

–

on the way home you couldn’t suppress your excitement. you had already made up your mind to ask ning if you could, you know, do something nasty. multiple scenes were made up in your head. she could bend you over the table, press you against the wall and limit your restrictions with her pretty hands, or maybe she could shove your head into the pillow and pound into your desperate pussy.

as opposed to jimin, you never caught ning wound up in her own thoughts, nor staring at you in a sexual manner. whether it was pracitce, a stage, any event with the members, or an upcoming show, you had never caught her once. maybe she did look at you while you were dancing promiscuously as a joke. even so, her expressions were so nonchalant that even if she was, you would never be able to tell… though that thought alone excited you even more. who knows what her pretty little head was thinking about.

although jimin said to tell the other members about who you actually were to prevent you from being too awkward to ask your members for help, you refrained from doing so because well… you’re just like that, what else. how were you gonna do it anyway- hold a meeting in your apartment around the dining table and say that you need sex to stay active and alive? then what, they’ll eagerly accept the fact that you literally need to be inside of them, or vice versa, so you can get up on stage and preform as if it was a regular ass day.

those five minutes you spent daydreaming and thinking about telling your members were stopped abruptly by the door in front of you. when did the walk home become so quick.

then you started to think once again. 

would ning be the type of person to go out of their way to help you? yes she’s that type of person, however, does that mean she would willingly want to have sex with you… god, you don’t know her ‘that’ well. you’re close, close as how close a lifetime friend could ever be, but still, things would be weird if she ultimately says no to your request.

“you’ve been staring at the door for an awfully long time y/n. are you coming inside or do you want to stare at the door a little longer?”

fresh out of the shower, yizhuo greets you with a friendly smile followed by a giggle. her towel sticking against her body showing off the curves of her hips. 

oh fuck, why does she have to be wearing that now. 

“did you just finish showering? also, girl… get back inside. what if someone sees you with just a towel on” the aroma of your shampoo wafted through the air “you smell good…” you all were tight on money this month, so you all shared things like perfumes, shampoos, pretty much all products you and the other members owned. each time either one of your members had applied your shampoo, god, you had such perverse thought about them, wanting to ravage them until they couldn’t walk or even stand

“yeah i ran out of mine- and yours was newly opened so you know” she had been looking way too good recently, not saying that she never did look good, but there was something about her that made you feel extra desperate and needy. the wetness between your thighs spoke for themselves

“let’s go in. i need to talk to you quickly before my brain explodes” yizhuo cocked her head in confusion, reluctantly following your lead, closing the door behind her as you walked into your guys’ apartment. 

you followed behind her as she led you to your shared bedroom, looking up because you didn’t want to turn yourself on even more by staring at her ass “wow, the ceiling looked nice. a pretty beige colour… what the hell am i doing” you thought to yourself with a heavy sigh, looking back down and regretting it immediately. you noticed that yizhuo turned around as you locked eyes with the front of her cream coloured bath towel.

as perceptive as yizhuo was, she noticed a little black swish behind your back. she just played it off, too tired from all the practice, so she thought she was hallucinating a tail or something of the sorts.

now, being both the youngest and the least serious members of the group, you rarely ever had a heart to heart. to talk one to one with each other with the tone you had used, yizhuo must’ve thought that there was some topic you couldn’t bring up with the eldest “hey what’s up? it’s been a while since we last talked seriously” her damp hair against her soft looking skin, the fresh scent of soap and the way she looked at you with worry in her eyes. it almost drove you off the edge. she was so tantalising that you almost missed your cue to speak.

“uh- um, you know how we’ve been besties since i came to korea right?”

“yes”

“and you know we said that we’d always tell each other anything right?” you glanced around the room, avoiding her gaze while your fingers unconsciously played with the fabric of her bedsheets.

“yes…?” ning pondered for a while “…are you going to confess your undying love for me, is that what this is?” she cackled.

“WHAT? no, no- i think that might be less shocking than what i’m about to say” you take a deep breath in hopes to stifle the sound emitting from your booming heartbeat “okay so like, hypothetically speaking, would you have sex with any of the four of us?” for a god awful few seconds you sat tensely, waiting for yizhuo to say something. 

“are you trying to redirect my attention from a more important question girl?” her eyes rested on your face, heartily laughing until she released you were being totally serious. 

scratching your arm, you let out a sigh. it would be better to ask her directly wouldn’t it “you don’t need to analyse me like that. i was just saying-”

you could charm her into agreeing, but in the long run you’d feel like a horrible person. charming a person came with moral problems, and you strictly told yourself that you would never do that to a person. ever.  

“yizhuo… can we- can you do me a favour?” your stuttering caught her attention. you simply couldn’t bring yourself to ask, it’s strange out of the blue. 

“mhm mhm, what do you need”

“you”

“me?”

“yes.” with every fibre of your being you held back a variety of different ways to scream out ‘JUST FUCK ME’ biting your lip to help fight back a blush. it’s odd to blurt out ‘im a succubus. let’s have crazy passionate intimate gay sex right here right now’ 

hold on- does she even know you’re a succubus? “listen, it’s going to sound absurd and you probably think i’m not sober, but can you hear me out” it was still weird to outwardly say that you were in fact this demon thing that sucks people dry, literally. saying it to jimin was no easy feat, but you were obviously losing your damn mind that day. and then you have the other two members too? now was not the time to think about what you’d do in the near future, you were hungry and yizhuo was right in front of you, practically naked “are you, by any chance, okay with maybe” your gaze darted around the room before you locked eyes with her “maybe having… sex? maybe?”

“ohhh, okay i see how it is. you’re ovulating” she spoke with a dead serious tone.

you were losing your mind. you couldn’t tell if she was fucking with you or not. but in all honesty, yizhuo did think you looked like you were ovulating with the way your thighs pressed together. yup, ovulating.

your heart began to race as you increasingly became desperate within seconds. you felt feverish, hot to the touch while your head throbbed. almost a whole two months without tending to your needs ended up with you succumbing to the symptoms “please yizhuo. i need you to do something, anything- i feel like i’m gonna die actually” 

“woah woaah, let’s calm down. you’re not gonna die silly. is it just-“ yizhuo paused for a while, coughed and maybe even hesitated to say the word “sex. is that all? it can’t be too bad. plus if it’s with you, i don’t mind…” yizhuo’s words were genuine. it put your mind at ease. 

“you don’t understand though. it’s like… it- i don’t know” you pout at her with the remaining energy left in your body “it’s alright- i’ll ask other people, it’ll be okay” sluggishly pushing yourself off yizhuo’s bed.

“no no, i get it. you wanna relieve stress, i get it” from what you could understand, yizhuo was trying her absolute best, trying to relate with your problem “we’ve all been there. the company doesn’t allow us to go out and meet other idols like that so it was eventually gonna happen. i mea-“

“it’s not about that, yizhuo” your eyes darken, a desperate sigh emitting from your lips “ah, whatever…” with trembling hands, you held yizhuo’s in yours, momentarily silencing her as you sit back down on top of the smooth sheets of her bed “if you’re not okay with doing ‘this’, then will a kiss be okay?” there was a hint of softness to your voice, the rest shrouded with seriousness “it won’t be enough for me, but it’ll keep me… sort of stable” you shut your eyes as you press your forehead against hers, sharing the warmth “please, that’s all i ask for” 

she whispered “a kiss? i can do that. it seems fun.”ning, inches away from kissing you, smiled sheepishly. her gaze drifted briefly towards your lips before finally shutting her eyes  “and if it’s with you i think i’ll be okay”  

you took this as your opportunity to kiss her softly on the lips. a quick peck really. a surge of energy coursed through your veins for half a second before coming to a stop.

that’s all the energy you’ll take from her, and the most you’ll take for the next couple of days “mmm… thank you yizhuo” though it was a sweet couple of seconds before it broke off, the sweetness of her lips left a longing impression on you.

yizhuo asked for “one more kiss?” growing in confidence, she leaned into another, her eyes fluttering shut as she melted into your embrace. though you were unsure, you gave into the moment, savouring her delicate lips. her fingers tentatively reached for your shirt, grabbing you and pulling you in closer. as the kiss intensified, yizhuo’s hands journeyed down your back, directly pushing down so your chests were pressed together “do whatever you want…” her breath hitched as you trailed down kisses from her jaw down to her neck, taking the time and effort to not accidentally leave a huge hickey there. you replied by pushing her back onto the bed, the loose towel that wrapped around body fell apart easily, exposing yizhuo’s pretty tits. she paid no mind, letting you do whatever you pleased. 

“god, you’re so pretty” you climbed onto the bed, straddling yizhuo’s waist as you carefully removed your t-shirt. 

she burned holes through your face, why was she staring so hard all of a sudden? “how are your eyes are pink, y/n” taken aback, she sits up and examines your face. she raised her hand and waved it in front of you “is this thing real?” tilting her head in confusion. 

“it is real- mmh?” a jolt shoots right up through your spine and then down to your core out of nowhere. ning held your sleek black tail, rubbing her fingers against the weird leathery texture, caressing and prodding at your poor flimsy, slightly erect(?) tail, as you let out a soft sigh. “yizhuo…” you mewl pathetically “that- that feels weird”

“does it now?” her tongue darted out, licking the centre of your heart shaped tail with the ever so subtle tug at the corner of her lips “sensitive much” a couple more licks and kisses to your tail and you were pretty much done for. 

time to time you forget that you have some sort of libido increasing, aphrodisiac power. the kiss you two shared may have affected her. well it definitely did. the increase of confidence radiating from the older girl was way different in comparison to her usual self. cause by now you’d expect her to be a little more gentle with you.

flipping positions, yizhuo held you down with her two hands with a devilish look on her face “if it’s sex you want, then i’ll make sure to fuck you till your begging for me to stop” her hand travelled down your tail, stroking it as if she was stroking your dick. never before had someone do something like that to your tail, but my god did it feel so fucking good.

she toyed with it, prodded and poked the tip of it and sucked it with her pretty pink and plump lips. the other hand cupped your chest, fondling over your boobs to get a feel for her own satisfaction “i could get used to this…” being on top of you, she had the advantage to do whatever she desired, and also because you were too weak to move at all “what do you want y/n? want me to fuck you with my tongue or my fingers. you choose”

you chose the latter.

throwing your head back onto the fluffed up pillows, yizhuo waisted no time and went to her destination. not one, but two fingers pushed deep inside of your pussy, stretching you out so good. her lustfully hooded eyes looked down at you, absorbing in the expressions of your pleasure contorted face “how’s it feel? want me to add another for you baby?” 

unable to answer her question with words, you nod eagerly, wanting nothing but her fingers to fill you up. so she did, adding in a third finger since you asked to cutely with that nod of yours. now knuckles deep inside, that same devilish grin spread across her face. you unconsciously buck your hips up, smiling wearily at yizhuo “so.. so deep” your moans urged her to immediately start moving. she started out nice and slow, curling her fingers at different intervals to squeeze out those lovely moans of yours. every thrust, she explored your spongy walls, testing out the waters to see which place hit the best for you. then as time went by, she gradually built up her pace until she came to her desired speed.

three fingered merciselessly pounded hard into your tight cunt, your juices leaking and dripping onto yizhuo’s bedsheets, and the sounds of your wetness leaving the chinese girl in awe. noticing the way your hips began to meet with her speed, her hand that played with your tail slowly slided towards them, holding you down by the stomach “let me do all the work” driven by your moans, she leans down to press a hungry kiss on your lips, then leaving a hot trail of kisses down from your neck and onto your perky nipples.

swirling around the hardened bud on your chest, a guttural moan catches her attention “you like it when i suck on your tits, huh?” her thumb pressed against your swollen clit as she muttered those words, all the while still paying attention to your sensitive tits. she enjoyed the way you tried to wriggle your hips in attempts to move them, and how your hands clutched the sheets with pure desperation. she felt hazy, maybe a little bit tipsy somehow, but all she wanted to do was fuck you until you were screaming her name.

as her fingers continued to slide against your walls, hitting the right spots at an intense speed, you felt a knot form in your stomach. you were so desperate for relief, needing to buck your hips into her palm to get that sweet friction you felt on your clit, but she didn’t allow you to do that; her hand still resting on your stomach to stop you from squirming “yi-yizhuo~” you whined, teary eyes staring at her with a pitiful look “please yizhuo.. r-rub my clit please~”

and who was she to deny you.

though she didn’t do exactly what you wanted, she did something way more better. moving away from your nipples, she lowered herself down onto the bottom of her bed to shove her face right between your thighs. tongue darting out her mouth, she gives a few kitten licks on your clit, savouring the sweet essence of your pussy for a starter. those tiny kitten licks turned into something much more. the tip of her tongue circled against your heat, occasionally wrapping her lips around to give you a quick suck before continuing to lap your soaked folds up to your sensitive clit. 

the stimulation drove your crazy. you never knew that yizhuo was so skilled at this. still thrusting those three fingers inside of your now pulsating cunt, at the hot and wet kisses and licks she left on your clit, she knew - and you knew, that you were on the verge of toppling over the edge. but it wasn’t enough for her “is that good, hm? does my needy baby want me to fuck her harder?” yizhuo somehow had the strength to speed up, fucking your hole as she moans at how well you’re taking her. 

those words vibrated from your core and sent shivers across your spine, leaving goosebumps all over your skin - in which also made you clench around her fingers. 

fuck, it was way too damn good. you felt your legs shaking, jaw opening wide, stomach tightening and that course of hot pleasure travelling through your entire nervous system “close- close yizhuo.. don’t stop” your words came out slurred, a few unintelligible praises and swears being ripped out of the back of your throat as you felt yourself on the edge. 

with one final deep and hard thrust, your jaw slacked open as your orgasm was pulled out from your body, legs twitching and spasming as you repetitively screamed out yizhuo’s name alongside even more praises. for a minute your body fell limp against the bed, exhausted from the mind blowing orgasm yizhuo gave you, and also from the built up stress you had from promotions.

now full of the sexual energy you gained from yizhuo, you spring upwards, patting yizhuo’s head gently “t-thank you… i feel refreshed…” 

the older girl finally sat up after she cleaned you up. wiping her face and chin from the juices that dripped all the way down, she flashed you a smile “with that tail of yours, and those pink eyes, you’ve got to be a succubus… right? to answer her question, you nodded, cheeks red from her straightforwardness. 

“y-yeah. you’re right… wanna go again?”

“only if i bottom next”

[pargolettasworld]

So, because I am incurably, morbidly curious, I watched Jessie Gender's four-hour-and-seventeen-minute-long video on . . . well, the title suggests "Zionism, Antisemitism, and the Left." To her credit, Gender does touch on all three of these topics, though not with the same degree of skill, graciousness, or understanding of the topics at hand. I've just had a very nice dinner, and I'm feeling generous, so let's see how this video stacks up. Strap in. This is going to get long.

I should admit right off the bat that I'm only a casual, occasional watcher of Jessie Gender. I'm not a deep fan, and I'm sure there is Jessie Gender Lore™ out there that I'm not aware of, but I think I've seen enough of her videos to get a general sense of her house style. This video hits a lot of the hallmarks of her style. She speaks very fast and very passionately, occasionally trips over her own words (something that I've done many a time, so I really do feel that), and is inordinately fond of nominalizations. She's especially fond of the word "ostracization," for some reason, which drives me nuts because "ostracism" is right there. So, in style, it appears to hew to the Jessie Gender House Style pretty well.

On to the video itself. The first thing I will observe about it is that it is in every possible way a meeting that could have been an email. There was no need for this to be the same length as the Extended Edition of The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (2003). There's a lot of padding, significant digressions, and a certain degree of repetition. It's easy to forget the beginning of the video by the time you're an hour into the thing.

The major question that hangs over this opus is: Why, and for whom, was it made? I'm honestly not sure who the intended audience for this thing is, nor why Gender felt that she had to make it. She alludes in the first half hour to feeling like she's lost the trust and support of some of her Jewish fans/friends/acquaintances/Patreon patrons, and she chalks it up to a previous video that she made (which I have not seen, and which I am not inclined to seek out). But neither the structure nor the thesis nor the conclusion of the video seem like they would win back any of these folks.

I don't think that Jewish viewers are her intended audience -- certainly not with the way she talks about Jews throughout the video. I'm also having a hard time believing that really committed leftists are her audience, either, since I don't think she's really saying much that leftists haven't already heard, or offering new perspectives on her topic(s). And anyone who has made it this far into the year of 5784 and is still undecided about the contemporary iteration of The Jewish Question is probably not going to be interested in sitting through nearly four and a half hours of relentless lecture. So I'm still left wondering why, and for whom, did Jessie Gender make this video?

Gender assures us, her viewers, of several things that are meant to be reassuring. She's done lots and lots of research, for one thing. And she's asked some-of-her-best-friends-who-are-Jewish to be sensitivity readers. We're given to understand that we are hearing the nitpicked, edited, and polished version of the script. I'd hate to see what the first draft looked like . . .

She also tells us that there are going to be lots of Foreign Words And Names, and that she and her mouth-hole have A Hard Time pronouncing Foreign Words And Names. Her loyal staff have made her a pronunciation guide -- which appears to have been used perhaps as a drinks coaster, since there are some howlers here. The Jews originating from the MENA regions are the "Misrai" (Mizrahi) Jews, the first Prime Minister of Israel was "David Ben-Gron" (David Ben-Gurion), the Revisionist Zionist leader was "Zeeeeeeeeev Zarbinsky" (Ze'ev Jabotinsky), and the Palestinian uprisings of 1987 - 1993 and 2000 - 2005 go by the name "Infitada" (Intifada).

You know that phrase "If white people can learn to say Tchaikovsky and Schwarzenegger, they can learn to say [your name from an African or Asian language]?" I agree completely with the conclusion, but I question the premise. Jessie Gender makes me question the premise harder. If she had any real interest in the topic, she would have practiced those names, but I don't think she does, so she didn't.

Moving on to the actual content of the video. It's . . . weird. Jessie Gender begins the video believing that Zionism is an evil force for colonialism, White supremacy, oppression, and genocide. She ends the video believing that Zionism is an evil force for colonialism, White supremacy, oppression, and genocide. But along the way, she's confronted with quite a lot of inconvenient facts that threaten to complicate this perspective.

Gender devotes roughly two hours and fifteen minutes of her video, a smidge over half of the runtime, on three segments that offer a history of Zionism, the iterations of Zionism as a political ideology, and what she calls "Zionism as emotion," which is a condescending way to refer to the importance of Zionism to Jews. I'd guess that her research for these segments might have surprised her. It turns out, per Jessie Gender, that there is both a reason behind and a context for nineteenth-century Zionism, quite a lot of logic behind why the Jews wanted to go to Israel, and ample evidence that a majority of Jews have some kind of stake in both Israel and some variation of Zionism.

The reason I think that this research might have surprised her is that she ends each of these segments with a small diatribe about the evil colonialist, capitalist, oppressive, genocidal force that is Zionism, even as the segments suggest nuance, logic, and reason behind the philosophy. We can't have that on a good lefty video, though, can we? The more Gender confronts evidence that there is more to Zionism than meets her eyes, the more she doubles down, digs in her heels, and refuses to accept even the barest shreds of non-negativity about Zionism. Every now and then, she comes up with a lovely sentence or two that shows some understanding of a Jewish perspective on the world, but then furiously backpedals -- we mustn't forget that this Jewish perspective of oppression, mass murder, and international blame has only led to the Evil Of Zionism, after all.

What's really fascinating is how hard she works to avoid blaming actual Jews for all of this evil. I think she's doing this with the best of intentions. A for effort. C for effect. She wants to make a distinction between "Zionism" and "Judaism," in the sense of "Zionism does not equate to Judaism, so being antisemitic to Judaism because you hate Zionism is bad." She tries so hard that she loses sight of the actual people involved. There are a lot of places where she talks about "Judaism" where what she actually means is "the Jews." Or, as she calls us, "Jewish people." Which isn't bad, and it isn't really wrong, but it doesn't quite communicate the sense of Am Yisrael that is at the heart of Zionism.

In fact, she's so desperate to separate Zionism from Jewish people that she starts to talk about it almost as an individual character in the story, with agency, desires, wishes, and goals of its own, totally disconnected from the people who created it. Zionism demands the genocide of Palestinians, Zionism needs colonialism, Zionism has a nice lunch date with neoliberalism and spends the afternoon browsing department stores with capitalism. In effect, Zionism becomes the dragon, and Gender really wishes that the passive, easily-led Jewish people would unite behind some White Knight and slay the dragon so everyone could be happy and free and leftist. Despite the two hours she spent on her deep dive into the history and meaning of Zionism, she cannot fathom why the Jewish people don't just do this.

I said earlier that quite a lot of this video consists of padding. Gender identifies herself as a lefty anarchist, opposed to nation-states, capitalism, neoliberalism, the United States, the British Empire, Israel, Joe Biden, "Ka-MAH-la" Harris, transphobia in Western societies . . . the usual suspects. Frequently, especially in the back half of the video, she'll wander off into long fantasias about the crimes against liberty perpetrated by the West at large, as well as their character Capitalism, and then remember that this is supposed to be a video about Zionism, and then finish with the equivalent of "Peter Rabbit did sort of that kind of thing, too."

One of the alleged purposes of this video is to discuss Antisemitism On The Left, but Gender . . . pretty much elides doing that. She gets close a couple of times, and she does grudgingly admit that some leftists coming from some branches of leftism might sometimes say things that might be antisemitic, and that's Bad, and it makes Jewish people feel Unsafe and Not Inclined To Agree With Leftists that The Dragon Known As Zionism Must Be Slain Heroically. But don't stress about it. The important thing is that Israel Must Stop Its Genocide and Palestinians Should Have Self-Determination (which is only withheld from them by Israel -- excuse me, by Zionism -- and certainly not by those eminently-justified-if-a-little-uncouth plucky fighters, Hamas.

There are quite a lot of lengthy quotes from Sources, read by guest stars, which is a nice touch to break up the video. The vast majority of these Sources -- especially the ones in the "history of Zionism" segment -- are not actually written by Zionists. You get a lot of academic pontificating about the failures, shortcomings, and nefarious activities of Zionism, but you hear almost nothing from actual Zionists, especially contemporary Zionists. This does not look nearly as good or as well-researched as it's meant to look.

So what do we get in the end, after four hours and seventeen minutes of watching this? Honestly . . . not much. Gender gives enough background on the history of Zionism, antisemitism, and Jewish attitudes toward Israel that hardcore leftists watching will be more annoyed than convinced. She condescends to both Jews and Arabs, mentioning repeatedly that she, as a White Gentile, really doesn't have any business butting in on these complex questions -- but that's not going to stop her from butting in like the lefty shiksa she is! She's too mealy-mouthed to come right out and say anything blatantly antisemitic, but disdain for Jewish concepts of homeland, belonging, origin, and self-determination pervade the whole thing.

I don't think that Jessie Gender is an idiot -- she seems to be pretty smart, and has both a firm sense of her own political philosophy and the stick-to-it-ive-ness to do far more research into things like the development of Zionism and the history of antisemitism than one might expect. But the video really is, to bring up a playwright from the hated West, "full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."

[mysicklove]

𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐘

DAY 31: MASTURBATION

With: Izuku Midoriya

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: subish! Izuku, fem/afab reader, izuku masturbates to your voicemail and pretends to fuck you, reader calls him baby, and he calls u hun, needy izuku

A/N: masturbation fics are so fun to write for no reason. anyways, my last kinktober fic. crazy. it doesnt feel this way cause i wrote it halfway through lol.

Izuku was left alone for too long. On the verge of three weeks to be exact.

He wasn't left completely alone, of course. He was just overseas, on an important mission. He was separated from you, but that to his love-sick brain, meant he was left alone. His sleep schedule is all messed up from the times he stayed up late at night to wish you goodmorning, or the times where he woke up super early to catch you before you ate dinner. 

He missed you, an ungodly amount. When he comes home to his luxury hotel, and flops onto the bed, the only thing he can think about is you. What it would feel like to wraps his arms around you, and melt in your warmth. The way your fingers would run through his hair, and comfort him from all he did that day.

Of course he had those innocent, romantic thoughts most of the time, but somehow one way or another those fantasies began to change. The touches reach lower, your words begin to drip with honey, and your lips seem to be more passionate, desperate even. Until five out of the seven days, he daydreams about fucking you. 

He lays against the bed frame, shirtless, and dick pulled out of his boxers. The trip back to the hotel was long, and he's been thinking about doing this for the past hour now. He prepared everything ahead of time, because if he was doing something as pathetic as this, at least do it right.

The lights were dimmed, and his eyelids are drooping, exhausted from the day. He slowly reaches toward the nightstand and grabs a couple of tissues, setting them down next to him. Then with a sigh, he puts his phone up to his ear, and brings his hand to his cock. 

He gulps when he hears your voice, wishing desperately that you weren't asleep. Its got to be around 5 am by that time, and of course he wished he was patient enough to wait a couple hours for you to talk to him. But, he was desperate, and the voicemail you left him a couple hours earlier did the job.

“Hey baby,” Your voice broadcast, and immediately he seems to melt. His eyes fall shut and his hands begins to move up and down his half hard cock. He hums in reply, not caring if you cant hear him. “I miss you. Saw a kid walk by me with your merch on, made me smile,” You say, your voice slightly muffled from a task you must be doing. 

He huffs a laugh, head falling to the side. “Yeah?” He breathes, thumb rubbing at the tip, and then falling back down to his shaft in a repetitive motion. You continue on about your day, mentioning nothing too important, just how you went grocery shopping and a nice walk after work. “You shouldnt be working. Can take care of you,” Izuku mumbles, eyes peering open just slightly to watch his movements.

His cock was on full display now, the tip a pretty shade of pink, and beginning to leak. You always called it pretty. A strange thing to say about a penis, but he soaked up the praise, taking pride in his cock now. 

The thought made his mind wander. Would you praise him for what he was doing now? He wasnt supposed to touch himself without you, but its been three weeks, you have got to understand. Were you touching yourself thinking about him? The thought sends a thrilling shiver down his spine.

Your voice was now a background noise, just listening to the tone, the sound of it, but nothing of what you were saying. Maybe you were cooing at him. Telling him how good he is doing. Or maybe you were calling him a pervert for doing something so gross without you knowing. He lets out a shaky moan, mewling out and picking up the pace of his hand. 

“I miss you,” He warbles into the phone, on top of your speech. What were you talking about now? A dog you saw? Nothing important. Why weren't you touching yourself to his voice? He would die for an audio of that. Or even an audio of where you give him directions of how to do touch himself correctly.

No Izuku, slow down. Don't hurt yourself, baby. Your voice clouds his mind, and he nods, peering back to his cock and slowing his hand down. Thats it. Tighten your hand, and focus on the tip. He obeys, moving his hand up to the head, and making small pumps there. “S-Sensitive there,” He groans to the empty hotelroom, shaking his head from side to side when his heartbeat begins to pick up.

“Went into Victoria's Secret today,” You hum, and his eyes widen, attention snapping back to your voicemail. He quickly turns up the volume and pressing the phone closer to his ear. “Bought something you’ll love. Red is your favorite, yeah?”

Lewd images flash through his head of dark red lingerie sets and he nods. “Fuck. Please,” He moans, wishing he was there to pick it out with you. His dick twitches, and a glob of precum leaks out. Green eyes flicker to it, and he uses his thumb to swirl it around the head, flinger glazing over the slit. “Wanna see,” Izuku pants, growing hot.

You seem to have heard his reply and it makes him whine. “You don't get to see till you get home. A nice reward for doing so good all this time you are away,” You purr, making a short kissing noise into the mic and laughing.

His eyebrows furrow at the possibilities and his mind drifts off from your voice again. Suddenly he is there with you, his rough hands trailing up and down your body. The dark lingerie looks perfect against your skin tone, and his mouth waters at the sight. Well, look how needy you are Deku. Do you want to fuck me that bad?

He nods his head frantically, hand unconsciously picking up the pace. “Please. Please, beggin’ you,” he chants under his breath, his back slightly arching off the frame. He dully notices that the voicemail has ended, but doesnt pay attention to it, too immersed in the movie playing in his head.

His mind cuts the scene forward, growing too impatient and desperate as his orgasm begins to approach. You are under him, sending scratch marks down his back while moaning out. His thrusts are frantic, and he tries to pretend that his hand is you. Its not the same, but it will do. 

“Am I doing good?” He mumbles, dropping his phone onto the bed and resting the other hand on his thigh. You nod at him, kissing his cheek with redden cheeks, and lazy grin. A view he has seen so many times that he has a perfect mental image of it. 

So good, Izuku. You wanna cum inside?

He moans, louder than he should, considering the thin walls, but he doesnt care at the moment. He never gets to cum inside – this was something he was waiting to hear. “Fuck. Pleaseeee,” He whimpers, eyebrows furrowing and hand frantically moving up and down. His cock is lubed up with pre, and its easier for his hand to move now. 

He climbs closer and closer to his high and now hes hunched slightly over on himself. Suddenly, he hears his phone ringing, cutting him out of his perfect daydream. Just a couple of seconds, he just needs a couple seconds more of fucking you, and then he can take this call. He whines slightly, and peers over at it, not stopping his movements.

When he sees your name his eyes light up, and he grabs the phone and brings it to his ear immediately. His hands makes a lewd squelching noise, but he too fucked out to care if you hear.

A couple of seconds go by, and he breathes into the mic, waiting. And then he hears a groggy, “Hey baby,” and he cums on the spot. Groaning into the phone without a care as cum spills out on his hands and his whole body shakes. 

Another second goes by, as you wait silently on your side, confused on what was happening, but too sleepy to put two and two together. Izuku's chest rises and falls with every breath, and he stares at his cum covered hand, trying not to let out a sound of complaint when he realized he forgot to cum into the tissue.

He blinks a couple times, exhausted but glowing. “Hey hun. Was just thinkin’ bout you,” He hums, grinning at his sticky hand and closing his eyes when he hears your girlish giggle.

PREV POST | MASTERLIST | NEXT POST

[ladybirdswritings]

Bound - Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Summary: Miguel O’Hara was never known to be a man wanting. He was beyond content with the power surging through him upon his multiversal throne. That is until he lays his hungry eyes upon you. Now, he will do whatever it takes just for the taste of you… dark!miguel x reader fic. very steamy as always <3

Notes: I couldn’t stop myself from this hades and persephone-esque fic so I hope you enjoy!! SW&P is far lighter if you desire that <3

next chap

one

Morning is a sweet greeting to you, warm and incandescent to shine it’s rays upon soft skin. As it always is. Though you find it to be dreary on days like this, as it is the same as the day prior, and the day prior to that day. As if it is not sparkling gold but shadowing gray.

All the same repetitive waltz for you.

Yet to your unknowing mind, much would change within the quick hour. Change not in the way of little things but rather in the way that would make your toes curl and your eager hands grab your tresses so you might not trip upon them on your dash toward the tallest hills.

You would have run had you known what was to come.

Yet you didn’t; and so? Your morning was quite a bore.

Similar to a zombie are your sunken cheeks and coffee kissed eyes decorated with awful bags. Your toothbrush is made of oak as is your boar-bristled comb. You tend to your prettying before slipping away from the hustle and bustle of a lively home. Four sisters and two brothers you sport, and an overbearing woman you dare to call your mother.

You made routine of this. Sneaking away with the latest print picked up from the small shop next to the apothecary in town. Out the oak wood door and past the burnt toast and meat to cuddle yourself comfortably against your favored weeping willow by the bend.

Your only company is the ducklings these days, though you don’t mind them much. They are mostly quiet beyond the occasional quack.

Serenity became you as you lay there in the remnants of springtime’s shadow, willfully sprouted in peonies and lilac blossoms.

Your print is a work of Austen, an old and worn thing but one you’d found comfort in recently. It would be your fourth time revisiting.

Would… however.

“Oh heavens sakes! You must enjoy making your mother walk upon tousled soil, girl! Have you got half a mind!? I don’t presume so otherwise you’d avoid any possibility of me losing a leg!”

A whine like that of a carnaged cat rings out from behind the bend. In the grassy plains your mother struggles her way toward you. You stand to your feet in swift motion, but your wandering eye finds curiosity in an unfamiliar bloom. Its colors an odd pairing of red and blue unfurled toward the sun.

What an odd thing, you think.

The huffing and puffing snaps your attention center, and you nearly grumble in complaint as you hurry toward your mother.

“Mama I was just—”

“Oh save it. I see you slip out each morning, I know full well your disdain for the company of your own family… but I didn’t come here to admonish you, sweet girl. Quite the opposite in fact. I am here to ask a favor of you. It seems the cold air has made our chickens most unwilling to provide us with eggs. Won’t you go in town and gather some?”

Like the rainfall’s mist caught by breath of wind, your hopes and plans of reading in the bend till dawn have dissipated. Pursing your lips, you nod— not wanting to administer a guaranteed headache at wake of your protest.

In to town you’ll venture.

✧*̥˚ … *̥˚✧

The cobblestone is cracked underneath your boot, as it is dampened by springtime’s departured mist. You like the clicking sound, though it is most lonesome at this ungodly hour.

The house cannot be run well with lack of your aid. Father left long ago and mother is just a dreadful housewife. The doctor blames her dissonance on the ailments within her mind’s confines though— she swears herself always to be whole and well.

Regardless, for the sake of your sisters— you help. Besides this, you owe it to her.

Your basket is made of weaved wicker and adorned with crimson cloth, at the end of the cobble is where life shines proud. A more lively gathering of townsfolk in search of early morning eggs to enjoy with their breakfast.

A single carriage, outdated as the things are, surges forward in an unstable command by a young man. He cannot be past twenty three, and his face is speckled with pale freckles. His hair is a burnt orange rasp.

The stallions are dark as midnight, sweat being huffed like chimney smoke from their nostrils. Dear god, the way he commands them is certain to ensure an accident.

You tuck the thought away in to the back of your mind to be focused upon your task. You’ll need no more than a dozen or perhaps three what with the vacuum cleaner your eldest brother refers to as his mouth.

Babblebrooke, it is where you’ve lived most your orphaned life. Surely some places have technology of picture books and magazines you skim through when you are awarded the rare chance but— you find yourself content with a place so simple.

You cannot imagine a life of loudness, no quiet space to tuck away and read. It’s a frightening thought.

The stand is nearby, only a few more passing steps and you’ll reach it. Your eyes are locked on the fresh berries, but you know full well you won’t have enough for them.

A bark startles you out of your trance, one excited and pointed. You jump at the sound and turn your head to find a cocker spaniel hound circling round and round to chase its own tail. You giggle at the sight, and its chestnut ears raise in alarm at the vibration.

Oh, it’s noticed you.

The little thing hobbles over excitedly, and you cannot help but bend on your knee to brush back its silken locks.

Beyond a canvas collar of pale pink lays a heart, engraved in molten silver the title: “Lyla.”

So she belongs to someone. Such a kind thing, they are to be a lucky companion indeed.

You smooth back the hair from her excited eyes before lifting to your feet again and continuing forward. She begins to follow you, but a movement in the alleyway shadows is a matter she finds far more pressing for her attention.

“Lyla…” you test in a whisper as you make your way behind a man hunched and gray— awaiting his eggs for breakfast.

Time seems agonizing and the line moves awfully slow, you peek behind the elder man to find annoyance laced in the eyes of the townsfolk. Blaire has taken a liking to the farm boy— it seems she’s busying herself with conversing nonsense with his mother rather than picking her fresh fruits for tart pastries.

You sigh, checking the time on your cracked, golden watch with impatience brewing at the soles of your boots. You sway on them, shifting your weight forward and back. No use just staring ahead.

Though it is quite loud, it doesn’t stop you from reaching in to your tote for “Jane Eyre.”

You find your favorite part, their first midnight meeting in the hallway. How romantic it is, you only wish that to be a possibility for you one day. You forbid yourself from joining the season of course but somewhere tucked away inside— you wonder how marvelous it would be for a broody and handsome thing to appear upon your doorstep with a bouquet the size of France.

You grin at the thought. Though it is swiftly interrupted by the quick patter of familiar paws.

“Woah! Easy!”

Your head snaps up at the gasps of those around you, and you are most horrified to see that the horses have reached the steep bend mere steps away. The ginger fool, they halt in warning and he kicks at them— slapping them with a russet pole. They comply, and the carriage loses control.

It creaks, hurling forward and disconnecting from its rusted shell. Tumbling at godspeed down the cobble and straight for little Lyla who lays mindlessly and happily on her back now.

Panic surges, and your eyes find worry in everyone’s features and yet no motive to act alongside it. Such cowardly men, allowing the poor thing to succumb to the bite of freak nature and cruel fate.

You won’t allow it. Though you feel frozen, the sharp and desperate shout of “Lyla!” from a phantom voice is enough to snap you back into the most horrible moment present.

“Christ!” You breathe, tossing Jane Eyre to the sapphire sky before surging forward. The carriage stalls on a pebble for a quick moment and it’s enough time for you to beat it by a mere step. You scoop the silly thing into your arms and as the wheel just grazes your skin— it is you now that is saved from immediate death.

A warm hand tugs at your wrist and you’re certain the brick wall has grown awfully large palms and fingers; for what you slam up against is hard and unpleasant.

You grunt, Lyla yelping in surprise where she is tucked up tightly against your chest.

Whistles and claps overtake the coward crowd and you sway upon your own boots as the wind itself makes you unsteady with its light graze. Firm palms steel you, grasping your shoulders tight to keep you together and well.

Your eyes venture on an upward path to find two crimson pupils imploring your features as if they are etched in stone and stored away in a beloved museum somewhere in Rome.

Brows pinched and quite bushy, eyes cold but curious, his reddened orbs search your face for what feels like a millennium. Fascinated.

Awed.

You blink, and the cry of the sweet creature in your arms breaks the trance you were entangled in. Lyla leaps from your arms and onto the cobble path— and you only huff and reach a weak arm toward her before the exhaustion of a skipped meal and your adrenaline fueled actions bring you to sit on the cobble ground.

He kneels beside you, the stranger. Yet you cannot find yourself mustering enough energy to truly examine his face. Just his eyes, rare things they are.

“She’ll be alright.” He whispers, hands still pleasantly upon your shoulders as if he fears you’ll topple over and shatter once he parts.

When you do lift your gaze however, stricken curious by the sickly silken sound of his voice, he’s gone.

“Thank y-”

The word croaks in your throat, and you can only wonder how it was possible… how quickly the phantom left you upon the cobble. The farm boy rushes over soon, much to the demise of poor Blaire. She stares on at the carriage and ginger man as if she wishes it was her nearly trampled.

He hands you fresh water and berries, and you wave his concern away and the crowd’s curiosity with a weak hand.

Your mind is only glued upon one thing.

The phantom.

🏷️’s: @reirain @needybitez @migueloharastruelove @laysmt @maomaimao @daisy-artfield @poutysprouty @chorizobeets @tabalittlelong @iitangerine @queenb27sblog-blog @dprmooni @neptunieesworld @cyd2301 @amelialysm @justanothers-things @heartfeltlonging @coralreefses @knightowl019 @cybersry

[stillnotyourmusebitch]

AAAGH I loved your sinner!Adam fic about him and Reader watching TV together 🥺

I heard you take sinner!Adam requests so is it okay to have a sort-of part 2? Maybe watching movies became a regular thing between them and one time they end up kissing during one? If you find it repetitive and don't want to it's totally okay, I understand! I hope you have a nice day and keep up with the good work 🥹

Oh I loved writing this. The fic below is a sequel to this ficlet

I do hope that you liked it. I'm always worried I've made him too ooc but Sinner!Adam is fanon based atm and if he is wanting redemption he would change his ways.

So Urm yeah enjoy. . . .

What we watching?? Sinner!Adam x GN!reader

Fluffy af

That night watching trashy romcoms with Adam could have just been a one off thing and you would’ve been fine with it. But when he approached you in the communal kitchens the next morning with a proposition to make ‘Thursday film night’ a regular thing between the two of you. You had asked him why. He said that hanging out with you yesterday was one of the most fun things he had done in a long time. You smiled fondly at him before agreeing.

-

As Thursday night rolled around again. You were looking forward to sharing some more of your favourite films with Adam. He’d said he would be there by 6ish. You glance at the time on your phone. It was only 6.05pm. He’s probably just running late after the one on one session with Charlie.

An easy way to keep your mind busy was dragging out all your blankets and making a sort of nest type thing on the floor by the couch. You used to do this with your family when you were alive. It just made the movie marathons all that more special. After seeing how far Adam had come since arriving at the hotel. You had really wanted to show him how much he meant to you.

‘Wait, as a friend.’ You stopped mid cushion grab. You liked him as only a friend right? Right?

Your door burst open and slammed shut very quickly Adam was only 45 minutes late, you looked up seeing him breathing hard, carting an armload of snacks, drinks and a few bowls of things.

“There you . . .” he shushes you looking frantically at the closed door. “What did you do?” You whisper as you crawl onto the couch.

A far off loud shouting could be heard in the silence. He waited a minute more before letting out a breath.

“It wasn’t my fault honest.” He looked extremely guilty. You quirked a brow wanting an explanation. “I was trying to make my super awesome dip for our movie night but I maaaaaay have made a really big mess but I didn’t mean to, I just tripped over that cleaner chick who was chasing more of them roaches. This hotel must have an infestation or she is breeding them just to kill. Oh wait, I’m getting off point, the thing is I might have made too much of the dip than I intended and I kinda launched half of it onto another patron. But it wasn’t my fault. This time at least.” He frantically spoke as he juggled the drinks and snacks about in his arms before depositing them carefully on the coffee table. Standing back up he turned and looked down at what you were making. “What’s that?” He points to the accumulated amount of cushions, blankets and other soft furnishings piled on the floor.

“Well, the thing is.” You hopped off the couch into the nest trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal. How were you supposed to explain the reason behind it without him laughing at you? “You know what it’s stupid let me just . . .” You felt shame rush to your cheeks as you tried to dismantle the obviously stupid idea.

“Hey, I didn’t say it was a bad thing. Looks comfy as fuck. Budge up would ya.” You hopped out as he set himself down in the dead center of the nest, keeping his legs open slightly to give you a place to sit. Last week he really liked having you snuggled up close to him, why did you think this week would be any different.

You chose the first movie and plopped yourself down in the space he left for you, his arms wrapping around your middle pulling you flush against his chest.

“So what we watching?”

-----

“I have a question do all of these movie have the same premise?” Adam asked after about 15 minutes into the third film.

“Whatdya mean?” You say through a mouthful of chips.

“Like . . hang on pause the film a sec.” He fumbles for the remote to stop the movie. You shuffle a bit to see him better. “Like don’t get me wrong they’re good films, a bit cliché but surely the lead woman knows that the ‘Oh I’m a famous something or other I have no time for a man’” his fake high pitched womanly voice had you laughing. “Hey shush let me finish my thought.”

“But you make such a good woman.” You poke at his chest playfully.

“Ah ha ha ha.” He grabs your hand in his. “But seriously shush. My point is are there any original ideas in these films?”

“You saying I got trash taste in cinema?” You try pulling your hand away from his grasp. Adam doesn’t let go but pulls you closer to him.

“What I’m saying is watching all these oblivious people who clearly have strong feelings for the other person, got me thinking.” He looks down at your hand in his. “Ya know what never mind let’s keep watching the movie.” He lets go of your hand and grabs for the remote, setting the film going again.

The whiplash from that conversation was enough to make your head spin. You stayed a second more simply looking into the face of a man who had something he wanted to say but couldn’t bring himself to do so. As you turned back in his arms to watch the movie, you could hear a small sigh of relief.

You tried to go back to watching the movie but you couldn’t. Adam only held you loosely now, choosing to focus more on grabbing snacks and sipping his soda. Your mind went into overdrive.

‘What did you do wrong?’

‘Was he mad at you?’

‘Did he . . . wait did he like you?’

You almost choked on a piece of popcorn at the realisation. Adam liked you.

Daring to flick your eyes to look at him. He was focused on the film but the soft look of longing he bore was almost too much.

“Adam?” Your voice was gentle so as not to spook him.

“Mmmyeah?” He was still watching the screen.

You grabbed the remote and paused the TV again.

“Hey, it was getting to a good part.” He looked down at you annoyed. “What. Is there something on my face?” He touches his face trying to feel for any irregularity. “Hey, say something you’re freaking me. mmmf” You pulled him down by his shirt and kissed him. He froze against your lips.

‘Shit was I wrong?’

You move to pull away. But his hands cup your face pulling you back into a tender kiss that makes you melt into his touch. The kiss lasted no longer than 5 seconds but you didn’t care you felt like your entire body was floating.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” He spoke softly as he broke the kiss. “Can I kiss you again?” he asked hopefully.

“Yes.” Your words were barely a whisper but it was all he needed to pull you back against him, he kissed you in such a tender way that made your heart flutter in your chest. You didn’t realise he was capable of such gentility but you craved more of it. Your hands carded into his hair, being careful of his horns, as one of his hands went to cradle the back of your head, effectively tilting your head to allow him to deepen the kiss. His other hand moved to your lower back, fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt. The kiss had an undertone of heat laced in the movements of your joined lips.

You broke the kiss panting slightly, you noted his pupils were dilated slightly as you were sure yours mirrored back.

You had to slow this down now before you regretted anything.

“Adam.” Your voice low in warning. “As much as I enjoy kissing you. Can we take whatever this is a little slower?”

You expected him to whine or pout about being told no. but he just smiles goofily at you. Swiping a thumb over your lower lip.

“Sure thing.” He kisses your forehead before helping you settle back against him the way your were before. He picked up the remote “Ready to continue?”

You weaved your fingers with his other hand and nodded “Ready.”

--------

I hope this is what you wanted.

My ask box is still open if anyone else got requests

[auuwmk]

Re: your tags on that orv post. I was a big ol solo leveling hater before I got into orv. I had rants about what I thought didn't work for the story, I had beef with the characters, I was adamant that I only enjoyed the manhwa for the art, so on and so on. a friend recommended orv to me Because I'd read SL so I went in bracing myself and not only did I love it, it also made me start thinking differently about SL and a lot of other stories I'd panned up until then as cliche or repetitive or boring or whatever else. orv legitimately changed the way I engage with fiction to something WAY more positive and it has been a trip and a half to experience

Anon is referring to this post

I've never actually read solo levelling and only watched the anime but i can see why people enjoy it even if it isn't my cup of tea🥺🥺 There's no harm in letting people like what they like!! Seriously, i also think orv makes me engage in media differently cause if it was me from before reading orv i would've ragged about it too. And let's be honest, kdj would've loved sl too!!

I'm so glad orv changed both of our ways, anon. All stories are worth telling and i think that's beautiful 🥹🥹

[aplaceforyourhearttorest]

Counterproductive Tendencies ✩ James Hetfield

⭒ introductory, part one, part two, part four ⭒ (wordcount: 7.5k)

Part three of multiple: Lakeside Views and Imminent Goodbyes (Part One) (18+)

Mentions/Warnings: explicit sexual content, finger sucking, oral fixation, lars' morning drinking

Loose noted and crumpled papers wrangle themselves even more astray beneath you as you push your upper half up and twist your head to the side, laid down on tendrils of hair preoccupying your line of vision as a seemingly endless pitter of knocks continue to disturb you from your already uncomfortable position on your too-small bed. You blearily squint your eyes and untangle your partially bare legs from the sifted sheet haphazardly thrown on top of you, your eyebrows raising as you realize that the sound is not coming from your bedroom door- but rather, from behind your curtain covered window.

You hold back a shiver as your thinly covered feet make contact with the cold hardwood of your bedroom floor, the bottom hem of your sleep shirt rising and tickling the bruised skin of your upper thighs as you raise your arms over your head in a stretch while you sleepily make your way over to the sound. Your lips curl upward as a familiar and comforting voice lets out an aborted curse behind the slightly tinged fabric, your grin turning into a wide smile as you push the material back and James fully comes into view.

Tussled blonde locks parade and cascade themselves over his half-covered shoulder blades as he impatiently waits for you on the other side of the glass, his annoyed expression bleeding into a softened look of fondness as he takes in your rumpled and slept in state. A light huff of laughter petals itself from in between his plush lips, as sunlight endeavors its beams over your features and makes the indentation from one of your embroidered pillowcases on your right cheekbone more apparent, one of his hands raising in surrender from the top of your windowsill as you send him a halfhearted glare from inside and pause midway through unlatching the window's lock.

"I could just leave you out there, you know." You quietly tease, making sure to keep your tone down as your dormmate's continue to rest, the house still eerily quiet as the sun unhurriedly makes its way back up to the precipice of the cloudless sky. You wholly unlatch the lock and push the aged wood upward before James can playfully rebut back, stepping aside as he lifts his lower half and kicks his feet into the now opened space. You both wince as his heavily booted feet make loud and rough contact with the hardwood floor underneath them, before letting out muted sounds of matched amusement.

Large and warm palms curl themselves around your upper arms and gently guide you into an embrace, a sound of contentment escaping you as James' scent permeates and thickens the chilled air currently residing in your bedroom. You force your eyes to remain open as your left temple makes contact with the soft and worn cotton of his sleeveless and self-cut t-shirt, calloused fingertips etching and weaving small shapes into your clothed, goosebump ridden flesh while you tiredly blink and encircle your arms around his middle.

"You think you can put the books down for a little while, and go on a trip with me and the guys for a few days?" James asks you quietly, the timbre of his voice reverberating in his chest and lightly thrumming itself against the sensitive shell of your ear. You lift your head to peer over at your disarrayed and messy bed, your mood going from lighthearted and joyful, to pensive. James looks down at you and raises a hand to cup your chin once he catches on to your hesitation, his smile lowering into a worried frown once he sees your downtrodden expression.

"It's not that I don't want to, it's just that," you trail off, disentangling an arm from around him to rest a hand against his raised forearm, delicately thumbing at his exposed skin with a comforting and repetitive motion. "The spring semester hasn't even finished yet, and I've got essays due in less than two weeks and finals the beginning of next month." James nods, disheartened, before silently bending down to place a placating kiss on the crown of your head.

You rest your lids at the gentle sensation and lean into his touch, as his grip loosens on your chin and his palm trails down and back to rest against the nape of your neck. A sigh of relief pillows out of you as his fingers run their way up past your baby hairs to lightly tug the rest of your hair free, the elastic sliding down to wrap and knot itself around one of his thick and long digits.

"The last thing I want to do is get in between you and your studies, I know this opportunity means the world to you." He murmurs, his tone filled with understanding and warmth, regardless of the dissatisfaction weighing heavy in his gut. You reopen your eyes and trail them up to meet his, the blue in his irises light as the sun fully welcomes itself through the new clearing. You tangle your fingers in the material of the back of his shirt and contemplate, not feeling right about bailing on him and the guys, especially with how little time you two have left together.

"How far are you all venturing out for your trip, anyway?" You ask him curiously, lifting your hand from his forearm to reach up and brush the stray hairs from his bangs away from in front of his eyes. James turns his head to place a kiss against the side of your palm before it can fall, and smiles against your touch as one of your fingertips straighten out to lightly caress the indentation of the dimple in his cheek.

"Forty minutes south of here. It's a lake I found during one of my drives. Wanted to take you on my own, but Kirk got excited when I brought it up, and the rest of them just got dragged into it," Your lips quirk up at the absurdity of anyone from the band doing anything they didn't feel like doing on their own accord, and you shake your head to yourself mirthfully. James' expression soon matches your own, your elation and amusement contagious to him. "What is it?" He questions, his tone laced with barely concealed and held back merriment.

"I don't even think you could force Jason to take out the trash, and he seems like the most easy going," you joke, your stomach pleasantly tightening as James lets out a genuine and full laugh. You hum at the feeling of the back of your head being beckoned forward, and you readily mount your lips on his as he bends down to meet you halfway. You lap at his smile and swallow the soft sounds he exhales into your mouth, your body naturally molding against his as your arms encapsulate themselves around his wide and broad shoulders. Your tongues meet and embrace each other in a slick and wet reunion, the tip of his exploring appendage tracing the top of your mouth and lightly ripping a soft mewl from the back of your panting throat. You tug at his mane and begrudgingly pull away as he stutters out an unfulfilled groan, the palm he has splayed on the back of your neck gently trying to keep you in place. You lick your spit clad lips clean and force yourself to not dive right back in for another taste, your swollen pair already partially open so you can easily and hurriedly finish what you have to say. "You should have told me the trip was only forty minutes away in the beginning, babe."

James lets out a disoriented and noncommittal sound, his pupils blown wide and his lips a bright and flushed red. You bite back the pleased feeling of satisfaction emanating directly from your middle due to the blissful look on his face, and instead repeat the remainder of your earlier sentence once again. You tighten your hold around him as his eyes reignite and the content smile returns back to his face. James brings you in impossibly closer, your shuttering inhalation intertwining with his and irreparably becoming one in the small, shared space between the two of you. "And why is that?" He inquires, his voice barely audible enough to be considered a whisper.

"Because forty minutes sounds like it's close enough for me to be able to get back here and have enough time to finish up my assignment, before it's due Tuesday morning." You push the back of your hand against his grinning mouth as he lets out a resounding sound of exhilaration, the both of you freezing in place as you hear a door noisily open, and movement come from the hallway just outside of your bedroom. You hold your breath as footsteps falter and pause by your closed entrance, as if the person they belonged to was going to knock and enter, before they shift and tiredly continue down the corridor and into the nearest bathroom. You puff out a sigh of relief and lean forward to rap your head against James' vibrating chest, removing your hand from the source of his muffled laughter to lightly smack it against his lifting shoulder.

"You're trying to get me grounded before I can even make it to the lake." You playfully accuse, tilting your head back to place a kiss on his jawline, before ducking out of his hold. The hair on the nape of your neck stands as you feel him follow after you, as you make your way over to your makeshift closet to grab a small bag for your clothes and essentials. Exploring and mischievous, silver clad ringed fingers glide their way down the backs of your upper arms, dragging the loose fabric of your sleep shirt down with the intentional touch.

Stretched cotton slides down past your lowered wrists and pillows around your ankles and socked feet, and you let out a gasp as James' fingertips tease the curvature of your now bare waist. "I'm trying to get my girlfriend to come along with me on a trip with the rest of my best friends for the weekend, is what I'm trying to do," Your breath stutters in your chest at the new term, your eyes widening and lips opening in a small gape as you hear him hum from behind you and press his front against your back. You can see the muscles contract in his forearms through the small mirror you have perched on the bedside table in your room, his fingers bending inward to tug you back flush against him. "That's what gets you going, huh? Me insinuating you're mine?"

The tone is his voice is teasing, yet lustful, as if the idea and thought of you being his affects him as much as it's affecting you. You can't do anything but unsteadily nod, your tongue peeking out to lick at your bottom lip as his fingers travel down to tease the hem of your underwear, the rough skin of his wide palms leaving you to suck in a shallow breath as his fingertips dip down underneath the fabric to tease the skin surrounding your quivering groin. Warm and kiss bitten lips trail their way down your neck and rest upon your left collarbone as his hands flatten themselves on either side of your pubic area.

You force your hips to not buck up and stay in place as his index and middle fingers graze the folds of your slick sex, centimeters away from your already pulsating and beading clit. "Answer me, baby."

"Yes, I want to be yours." You nearly whine, eyelids fluttering shut as he teasingly taps his fingertip on the source of your sensitive and overwhelming arousal. You can feel his lips spread in a smile against your heated up skin, your heartbeat faltering in your chest as one of his hands abandons your lower half to slide up and cup your breasts through the flimsy material of your wire-free bra. James coos out a condescending sound of faux sympathy, before maneuvering his fingers to flick at one of your already erect nipples. You feel your whole body shudder and attempt to curl into itself as a thick finger circles your soaked entrance, but you reach up to grasp onto his wrists to keep yourself upright instead, desperate for his touch and for what might come next. Your eyes snap back open as you feel something firm press along the side of your back.

"Oh, sweetheart," he murmurs in the now thick and electrified air surrounding you two, his gentle tone taking a rougher and more guttural side as he presses the hard length of his dick along the top of your backside and lower spine. The hand teasing your entrance comes up to press itself flat on your stomach, to help accentuate the hard pulsations thrumming from his own desperation, his cockhead painfully rubbing against the rough fabric of the inside of his jeans and dribbling a mess down his taut and tense midsection. "You've been mine since the second I saw you."

His weighted words do nothing but overwhelm and stimulate you even more, the confirmation of you already being his makes you instinctually squeeze your legs closer together and silently hope that you aren't already making a mess down your thighs and on the floor beneath you. You give in and allow your head to fall back and pillow on his chest, before arching your back and applying pressure to exactly where he seems to need it the most. Your lips twitch upward as you feel his moan before you hear it, it being stuttered out and heady as your body's natural warmth envelops his painful erection in the closest way it can through the few layers of clothing in between the two of you. James' lips part and spread hot heat down your clavicle as he deserts your breasts and stomach to grip at your waist and lift your feet off the ground. You let out a shocked gasp and tighten your hold around his wrists, a blush traveling its way down to your groped chest once you realize that he now has you two positioned directly in front of the small mirror on your table.

Sun beams nearly take away all visibility, yet you can still see his large hands cultivating themselves in the curved skin of your waist, and you can see the developed arch in his back as he purposefully places his groin against your ass. Your socked feet are returned back on the ground, and you watch, enraptured, as his hands begin to travel all around your middle and down to the hem of your underwear once again. "Tell me what's mine again?" He requests, although it sounds more like a gentle demand. His left hand repositions and massages gentle circles in your side, while his right stays on the edge of your low risen, cotton material. "Whose stomach is this?" He asks, the chill from the rings on his fingers reigniting and bringing back your earlier goosebumps full force as they're pressed into your skin. You open your mouth and obediently answer him, embarrassment flooding through you as you hear the uncharacteristic and needy tone in your voice.

"Yours," you answer, the only word you're able to verbalize sounding like a plea. James takes his time with you, his right hand only moving a few inches up and down your bare skin, each time skimming over your soaked and almost close to dripping pussy. Your hips attempt to rise and grind against his wrist as he bends down to run his calloused palm down the expanse of your right thigh, and you jolt back in place as his fingertips on your waist lightly pinch at your skin in a silent warning.

"Yours," you repeat, your voice sounding hoarse and painfully dry as his hand slides into the mess sticking to your thighs. James' fingers collect some of your slick, and he hungrily raises his hand up to his mouth, one of your hands encircled around his wrists getting disconnected during his hasty movement. You wait with a tethered breath for his reaction, frustrated and pent-up emotions of tears sting your eyes and lie on your waterline while you're unable to see. "Please." You beg, finally letting go of his other wrist to turn yourself around in his grip, only to freeze when you see his reaction. James' eyes are fully shut, and his arm falls limply to his side after you release yourself from his hold. His slicked fingers are almost completely inside of his mouth, his tongue audibly sliding in between his own digits to lap up every single drop of your natural essence, as if he was starving and craving the substance for years.

His pupils are entirely enlarged, and his irises are nearly black, when he eventually reopens his eyes to look down at you. Your own ardently track every movement of his own, from the way his trail down your neck and the swell of your breasts, down to your trembling thighs, and finally, back up to your wanting expression. You reach up to cover his hand with your own, before guiding his recently soaking fingertips into your salivating and awaiting mouth. Your lips stop and enclose themselves around his index and middle finger's second knuckles, only to open up wider and lave the rest of your slick off of his silvered jewelry. You feel the shiver wrack through his body as he watches you chase after the remaining taste of yourself on his spit-covered fingers, flattening your tongue and relaxing your throat as he tentatively presses down on your appendage and places the rest of the length of his fingers in your mouth. You swallow around them and moan at the weight of his digits on your tongue and the lightly faded taste of your own arousal coating your taste buds, the mess on your once clenching together thighs, now slowly traveling its way down to your knees in a multitude of translucent pearls.

You nearly choke as footsteps reappear near your doorway and slowly make their way back to their original location, your suctioned lips raising up in a smile and a laugh reverberating around James' fingers once you catch on to the hilarity of the situation. James can't help but smile himself, and his spent cockhead jumps in the now dampened confines of his jeans at the carnal sound your mouth makes as he slides his digits out of your warm heat.

"I think my place might be a better spot for us to fool around at." James chuckles out, his cleaner hand coming up to lightly wipe at the mess on your chin and the beginning of your neck. You grin up at him and shakily bend down to grab at your sleep shirt, only to pause after you hear a rustle and soft fabric is being pressed into your curved palms. You glance down at the self-cut t-shirt in your hands and stand back up to your full height, before ushering James down to press a thankful kiss to his still damp and kiss chapped lips.

"Always the gentleman and romantic." You muse while lifting the fabric up to open it and place it over your head, a wide smile hoisting your sore lips even higher as he lets out a sarcastic huff. "You count me dry hump fucking you in public and nearly fingering you in your strict dormitory, gentlemanlike and romantic?" James asks you humorously, collecting your hair to free it from the inside of his shirt once you successfully get it over your head, straightening the long fabric after you get your arms through the wide, self-made sleeve holes. He can't help but chortle at the sight of you nearly drowning in the already too-large shirt for him on you, the overworn cotton looking like an uneven, draped sheet.

You carefully scoop and roll the fabric up until it's around the same height of your hips, before reusing the forgotten about elastic to tie it in place on your side. You send him a look, biting back a grin as his expression becomes borderline sheepish. "I count you taking me to one of your favorite quiet places, so we could fully be alone and spend some quality time together romantic, yes. I also count you taking time out of your day to come over and climb through my window to ask me to go on a trip with you, gentlemanlike too. You only came over here to ask me a simple question, not to fuck around. Don't be too hard on yourself, babe. Everything we did, I wanted it to happen. I wanted to do more, to be honest."

The sheepish expression on his face turns smug, and you feign disgust before turning around to walk back over to your closet, letting out a bout of laughter once you feel the added weight of James' arms weigh down your shoulders and purposefully slow you down. You pretend to stumble, only to counteract and duck out of his hold once again, your laughter turning uncontrollable at the look of shock on his face. You toss your head back and lean against the large, wooden compartment for stability as you try to catch your breath.

"How does it feel to get got, huh?" You tease, the large and happy smile on your face nearly splitting it in half. James pauses and takes his time to answer, his eyes darting over your relaxed and delighted posture, his own feeling the lightest its felt in months, if not years. You furrow your eyebrows and go to take a step forward to check on him, only to stop in your tracks at his next words.

"It would be so easy to love you."

An insurmountable amount of different responses flit through your mind as you two continue to stand only a few feet apart and look at each other. You could laugh it off, play it off as a joke. You could reject the notion and his words entirely, cut things off before they get too serious. You could simply just walk away and forget about it all. But as you look at his earnest and open expression, you instead simply let the words that seem the most natural flow out through your still lifted and parted lips.

"As if it'd be so hard to love you."

You watch as his expression filters and stumbles through disbelief and pure vulnerability, pocketing his hands so he doesn't reach out for you, but you make your way back over to him anyway. The heels of your feet lift as you send him a comforting smile, before enfolding your arms around him. You leave an amount of leeway space in case he decides to reject the physical intimacy, and you immediately relax in his stable and secure hold as he tangles his hands in the back of his shirt on you.

"When are we supposed to be leaving for this trip?" You eventually ask, trusting the feeling that he would appreciate the change of topic, and you smile against his bare chest as he relaxes even more in your embrace.

"In like, thirty minutes, tops." You nod absentmindedly, before freezing in place and shoving yourself off of him and breaking the hold, panic rushing through you as you dart towards your closet and yank open one of the two doors. "Why didn't you say anything?" You ask incredulously, tossing a halfhearted glare over your shoulder as James guffaws and rests against the frame of the open window. You blindly grab onto anything that looks like it might match and throw it into the nearly and almost overflowing bag, only momentarily pausing to put on a random pair of jeans.

"I was a little preoccupied, and so were you." You lightly blush at the implication behind his words, a curse slipping out of you as you only remember the mess you made in between your legs as the slick sticks and slowly begins to bleed through the fabric of the dark denim. You hastily pull them down and clumsily yank them off from around your ankles, before tossing them in the direction of your laundry basket.

James clicks his tongue as he watches you fret and stress, before fully standing back up and grabbing ahold of a hand towel from the side of your makeshift closet. "Come here," he softly instructs, gently stopping you in your tracks to squat down beside you and lightly rub at the substance covering your skin. "We're going to a lake, don't have to be completely spotless for a location like that." You grin despite your worry and take in a deep breath, helpfully spreading your legs and finishing up the job on the backs of your knees.

"What about you?" You ask, a short laugh beaming out of you as your eyes travel down and zone in on the obvious wet spot near the zipper of his jeans. James pretends he doesn't see a thing, his smile coming back to at the sound of your unabashed laughter, the sound uncaring if it woke up the other oversleeping dormmates. You fold up the hand towel and walk it over to the container near your bedroom door, picking up the missed throw of denim on the way over. You lift the hair beginning to stick on the back of your neck as the sun begins to heat up the room and fully comes barreling in. "Do you have everything packet yet?"

"What could you need other than cold beer, metal music and your best friends?" He asks you, his expression deadpan and serious, before breaking out in a wide grin. "I'm just fucking with you; I've got my things in the back of one of the cars already, and I've got plenty of time to head back and get changed." You shake your head in gaiety and manage to successfully zip up your overfilled bag, barely remembering to slip on a pair of shorts and a pair of dark brown cowboy boots as you pace around and get all of your things together.

"I'll meet you outside in twenty? We're going to be riding with Cliff, said he wanted to talk to you. Jase might be coming with," You nod and try to keep your facial features relaxed, but James sees right through you. "I know you and him and Lars haven't had time to speak to each other since you walked in on our conversation a few days ago, but Cliff likes you and he wants to make things right. Lars does too, but I think he's too hungover to speak in full sentences right now." Your lips upturn at the imagined imagery of the Dane stumbling around with his hands in front of him, blindly trying to pack his things and failing, and you can't help but let out a giggle.

"It is exactly like how you're picturing it, but so much worse," he adds on through his own wide and amused grin, before holding out a hand for you to latch onto. You wordlessly make your way over and allow yourself to be tugged into a short and temporary embrace. Morning stubble nicks at your left cheekbone and leaves a pleasant sensation in its wake as James kisses each side of your temples. "I'll see you in a little while." He promises, only letting go of you once you agree and lean forward to meet him in the middle for another everlasting kiss, both of your lips stinging and surely beginning to bruise afterward.

You grab ahold of your bag and place it on the edge of your bed as you hurriedly try to reorganize your study sheets and nearly finished assigned papers, your eyes only darting up from your task to make sure James made it back outside and downstairs safely. You let out a sigh of relief once your bed is made and everything is placed back in their original folders, before heading to the bathroom to grab your essentials and quietly attempting to make your way downstairs without waking or interrupting anyone.

The small walkway to the kitchen is still unlit as you descend off of the last stair, and relief floods through you as you peer into the small living room and see that the tv is off and the front door is still closed and bolted. Your booted feet echo on the tiles of the kitchen floor as you hurriedly make your way over and crouch down to level yourself with the cabinet nearest to the bottom of the sink. You carefully place your unbagged items on the floor next to you and lie your overfilled bag down in front of them, in hopes to help stabilize your essentials and stop them from toppling over on the slightly uneven, tiled floor.

You quietly wince as you hear the crumpled plastic bags loudly shift inside of the cabinet, as you curve your fingers around the small handle and hesitantly tug it open. A small smile lifts your lips upward once you successfully manage to open it wide enough for you to be able to stick your hand inside and grab onto a small handful of the reusable shopping bags. A chill ripples throughout your upper half as your bare knees make contact with the cool floor underneath you, as you hastily kneel and quickly place your necessities in the flimsy carriers. Lightly weighed footsteps creak over your head from upstairs, and you pause in place, before using the heels of your booted feet to help stabilize you as you rock yourself back upright to stand, your hands preoccupied with your now fully bagged items.

You left shoulder runs against the discolored stretch of the wall as you try your best to avoid being seen or making noise while you walk your way past the steps, squinting your eyes to try and make sense of the outlay of the mostly dark living room. You nearly miss your footing as the side of one of your boots roughly connects with the front of the vintage ottoman near the end of the small hallway, and you force yourself not to let out a cheer as a sunbeam coming through the window nearest to you graces you with a thin patch of light for the rest of your short travel to the front door.

You wiggle your forearm until one of the plastic bags slide past your wrist bone to give you enough hand space to messily scrawl your initials on the attendance sheet thumbtacked on the wall near the main entrance and exit of the house, before glancing back down the hall to the right of you. Silence stampedes itself across the entirety of the home, and your hand is already reaching out to unlock the door before your mind can even catch up with the movement, your subconscious already acknowledging your wanting to be gone.

Warmth envelops you in a hug as you step out on the front porch and quietly close the door behind you, the deadbolt sliding back into place sounding like an audible finalization of your choice to cross the street and not look back for the next few days. And as you drop your arm back down to grasp onto the plastic handle of one of the many bags again, you do just so, walking past the large tree you had held onto for balance only a week ago.

⭒

The initial anxiety and trepidation you had felt on your first trip over to the band's house was now long gone, fully replaced by excitement for what's to come, and worried amusement as you watch Lars be haltingly dragged out the front door by Kirk, who's waving a cotton pad in front of his bandmate's face. "Just breathe it in, man." He exclaims, sending you a wide eyed look as you continue to make your way up to the top of the long driveway. You situate your bags on the uneven pavement once you do, and pace yourself over to the stressed out looking duo, the curly haired brunette immediately placing the alcohol soaked cotton in your awaiting palm as soon as you get within arms reach.

You let out a quiet hiss of sympathy as the Dane sluggishly raises his head to look up at you, before letting out a groan and stumbling forward to rest his forehead against your shoulder. "I'm sorry for being an asshole, or whatever." He slurs out, his words being half assed and nearly inaudible, but his tone laced with true sincerity and remorse. You raise an arm to lightly rub circles in his sweat clad back, sending a helpless look over to Kirk as he steps away to head back inside.

"It's alright, I know you were only trying to help," you try to console, blowing out a relieved puff of breath as Kirk reappears with multiple bags of snacks and gear, the yellow six pack of Coors being held upright underneath his chin standing out the most, as he stumbles back out and waddles to the car closest to the street. You gently brush Lars back until he's facing you, and you send him an apologetic look as you lift your hands up to hold his bobbing head in place. "Are you sure you're okay enough to come with us?" You ask, starting to feel unsettled and concerned as he lets out a hiccup instead of verbally answering you.

"He'll be fine," a rasped and humored voice speaks up from a few feet away, nearly causing you to jump and let go of Lars's face in shock. Cliff drops a heavy looking cooler near the boot of the other car, sending you a hesitant, yet comfortable smile when you glance over to find the source of the slightly familiar tone. Cliff shrugs on his blue and black checkered plaid shirt, before reaching into the cold box to grab a nearly frozen glass bottle of alcohol. "That's what he gets for day drinking, anyway." You hold back a laugh as he makes his way over to the two of you and places the frosting drink against his best friends flushed forehead, his smile turning into a dopey grin as Lars lets out a blissful sigh and leans into the frigid temperature.

Kirk steps back onto the porch to wrap an arm around his shoulders and raises a hand to hold the cold drink in place, before sending you and Cliff a grateful beam. Silence encases the two of you as he tackles his original task of guiding Lars to the car, the only sounds within ear range being the distant chirps of traveling birds and footsteps coming from within the house in front of you, as Kirk and Lars slowly walk away. You lean back against the black railing and hyper fixate on the patchy grass covering the lawn as an easy means for distraction, languidly watching as small, windblown pieces of sedimented dirt cake themselves on the sharp looking blades of bright green, as the quietness continues on.

"I'm sorry," you look back up as Cliff begins to apologize, following his lead to sit down on the warm step attached to the side of the home, his hands readily reaching down to retrieve a cigarette box from his side pocket as you settle down next to him. "Didn't mean to start anything between the two of you." He murmurs around a beige filter, your eyes tracking the repetitive movement of his palm smacking against the bottom of the opened package to settle the tobacco as he speaks.

"I understand why you said what you did," you admit, bending your knees to flatten the bottom of your boots on the dirt ground past the end of the stair. "James explained to me what happened with his ex. I would be protective of him if I were you too." Cliff shakes his head and removes the filter from in between his lips, reaching his left hand out to flick the ashes off the opposite end of the stick.

"Being protective of someone doesn't give anyone the right to sit back and talk shit, especially when the two people they're talking about and comparing are polar opposites," you let out an understanding hum and twist yourself around to face him and rest your back against the solid foundation of the wall, bringing your knees halfway up to your chest. "I know he seems fine now, but he was really fucked up about it for a while. Got into some trouble and did some things he shouldn't have done. But he's gotten a lot better, and I guess, seeing him open up to you so quickly had me worried on his behalf."

"It's hard to see the people you care for lose it after a bad situation, isn't it?" You ask, your tone turning soft as you watch Cliff's expression turn inquisitive as he looks over to you. "I had a friend from my hometown go through a similar experience, being used and then dropped when they were no longer beneficial to the other person or their lifestyle," you twist your fingers in James' t-shirt's loose material for comfort before you continue. "I've never been through that kind of situation myself, but I've seen the damage it can do to people, felt the hurt it spreads to their loved ones when they feel like they can't do anything to help."

You shake your head as Cliff opens his mouth to speak, his facial features looking apologetic and sorry. "I didn't tell you that to make this about myself or to have you feel sorry for me. I just wanted to let you know that I understand, and I would never put him in any situation or scenario that would make him doubt himself or question that I care for him." You avert your eyes and let out a shaky exhalation as you see Cliff inhale a deep one of his own through your peripheral, the momentary silence between you two feeling lighter, more at ease.

"I think you're good for him," he announces, a small smile quirking up the side of his face as he presses the stump of his earlier smoke into the concrete near his feet. You let a wide smile grace your face at his words and slowly feel your shoulders lower and relax, the earlier apprehension you had for the upcoming conversation dissipating into thin air as you take in his wholehearted blessing. "I think he's good for you too, makes it a lot easier for you to get away from those fucking squares you're forced to call roommates." A loud laugh escapes and echoes from you before you can help it, and Cliff follows it up with a chuckle of his own.

"Dormmates, actually," You playfully correct, another spell of hilarity belting itself out of you as he dramatically raises his eyebrows and fakes shock. You go to mimic his expression, but instead turn around as you hear fast approaching feet. Jason filters out of the door with impressive speed, his hair landing on his back as he lets out a groan and places his hands on his knees. You suck in a breath to hold back a laugh at the look of annoyance on his face once he spots Kirk and Lars in his car. "Are you alright?" You finally ask, using your hands for leverage as you stand up from the shallow step.

Jason lets out a groan and drops his bag on the ground next to his socked feet, before turning to the side to greet you. "Hey, good to see you, and no," his lips involuntarily quirk up as he sees you grin at his offbeat and dead sounding tone. "If Lars gets sick in my car, I'm gonna kill him."

"I don't think he's going to," you pause midsentence, pursing your lips as you follow the sound of a miserable groan, only for Lars to peek his head out of the window and suck in a greedily amount of fresh air. "Maybe you should just drive down with us." You offer instead, looking back at Cliff for confirmation, before turning around to send Jason a nervous smile.

"The more the merrier. Plus, I've got the cold beer." Jason perks up at that and nods his head towards the open door. "You had me at beer, I'll be right back," he pauses and glances over at you. "Your boyfriend's upstairs struggling to pick a swimsuit. Figured you should be the one to go and check on him, since you've probably already seen his bits." He lets out a cackle and makes his way back inside, you turning around to send a sharp look to Cliff, who's hysterically laughing and holding onto his side.

You shake your head in disbelief, the laughter building in your throat being counterproductive to the look on your face. "I thought he was the normal one." You breathe out. Cliff claps you on the shoulder, before beginning to walk his way back over to the last remaining car. "And that was your first mistake," he tosses over his shoulder, his grin still visible as he bends down to pick the cooler back up and unlock the trunk. "Go get your man and his bits, will you?" He asks you cheekily, nearly toppling over in laughter as your jaw drops in playful disbelief.

"You're all the worst." You jokingly state, before walking inside and following after Jason's echoing footsteps leading upstairs. Excitement thrums through you, even though you already saw James only a half an hour ago. You lift your hand to drape it across the polished wood of the railing as you make your way up the long distance of the staircase, and you allow it to drop back down to your side once you make it to the top.

You pause only a few feet away from James' room, your feet skidding to a halt as you're able to see enough within the small gap of his door to have your mind reeling. James paces back and forth, his mane haphazard and tangling behind him as both of his hands grip onto a small, red velvet box. You hear him let out a soft curse, before sliding it into the small compartment on the side of his bag. You take a deep breath and begin to step forward, making your footsteps purposefully loud and audible enough for him to be able to hear them through his mostly closed door.

James straightens up and greets you with a wide smile as you place a hand on his heavy wooden door and slowly push it open, forcing your own to look relaxed as you fully come into view. "You ready to go?" You ask, grateful for your voice to not be shaking. "Jason said I should be the one to come up and check on you. Something about you not knowing which swimsuit to choose, and about your bits." You exponentially calm down as he laughs and tugs you in for a short kiss, the soft feeling of his smile against your lips enough to allow you to push the thought of what might be in the box to the back of your mind.

"My bits and I are just fine, and I'm ready to go." He muses after he pulls away, wrapping an arm around your waist and using his free hand to reach down and grab onto his large bag. You look straight forward and refuse to look in the direction of it, and nearly stumble forward as James gently tugs you forward and towards the stairs.

"Are you alright?" He asks you, unwrapping his arm from around you to cup your chin instead, tilting your head up to have you look at him as he peers down at you, worried. "Your talk with Cliff didn't go bad, did it?" You vehemently shake your head and watch as he lets out a sigh of relief. Guilt churns in your gut at the fact that you saw something you shouldn't have, and before you can admit to what you did see, Jason shuts his bedroom door and makes his way over to you two, shoes now on his feet and his messy curls now controlled in a loose ponytail.

"I don't care what either one of you has to say, I'm calling shotgun." He grins out, his expression renewed and energetic as he passes by and bounds his way down the staircase with ease. You feel James lightly squeeze your delicate skin, before letting go and reaching down to grab ahold of your hand.

"You ready, baby?" He asks you, his smile stupidly wide as his calloused thumb gently caresses itself over your own. You inhale in a slow and steady breath, before side stepping and pressing your arm against his, your fingers easily finding space in between his own, the intimate touch grounding enough for you to surely and adamantly agree.

"I'm ready."

I was ready to say yes to him at any point, and to every opportunity he brought me. Whether it was spontaneous, or well thought out. Whether it was accidental, or on purpose. I would always agree. I would always say yes. And that's how we got to where we are now.

[luxheroica]

I wrote Wyll/Karlach, inspired by this art. I have been shipping them hard for months and knew I needed to contribute to the ship in some way. Also on AO3.

Tonight the camp is drunk on success and copious amounts of wine. There is still hardship and danger on the road ahead, not least for those who still bear the tadpoles in their heads. For tonight the goblins are gone and the druids ritual halted, the wine is sweet and the fire bright and that is enough to banish thoughts of darkness ahead. 

The bard Alfira has struck up a string of country dances on her lute, the kind of songs played at festivals and weddings for all to join. Wyll, in good humor and more than incidentally tipsy, joins the first one– a circle dance that has him linking arms with Lia on his left and Zorru on his right as they careen faster and faster around the roaring bonfire. 

There is something liberatory about dancing among the tieflings. None of them stare at his horns (still heavy on his head) or his strange eyes, instead taking them in stride. 

Wyll is the only one among the group that he has privately begun to think of as ‘companions’ to join the dance. Tav snuck off some time ago to find a private tent with Gale. Astarion is skulking around somewhere with a bottle of wine. Lae’zel scorned the idea of any revelry and has gone to bed, and Shadowheart in rare sympatico with the gith has also retired early. 

He is surprised not to see Karlach among the party– until he turns and sees her at the edge of the firelight, drinking out of a flask and watching the dancing, her feet tapping along with the music. 

The song comes to an end with a repetition that is so fast it nearly has all of them tripping over their own feet. Wyll has to catch his breath when at last the lute sings out its last note, and the gathered tieflings break out in applause. 

He excuses himself from the fireside and finds Karlach, who tips her drink at him and nods when he approaches. 

“You don’t wish to join the dancing?”

“Oh, ah,” Karlach shifts on her feet. She’s always in motion, he’s noticed, whether she’s fidgeting or pacing around the camp. “I don’t really feel like setting anybody on fire tonight. Plus I don’t know any of the dances.” As if sensing she’s brought the mood down she grins at Wyll. “You looked like you were having fun though.” 

“It was quite fun,” Wyll says, eyeing Karlach, who is watching the firelight circle with half an eye. “Most of these dances don’t have complicated steps– they’re easy to learn, if you follow what everyone else is doing you’re more than halfway there.” 

“Doesn’t solve the problem of me turning that whole line dance into kindling.” 

She’s keeping her tone light, joking and grinning, like she doesn’t really care that she can’t ever touch anyone without harming them. 

Wyll follows her lead in this. “I’ve got a nice sturdy pair of leather gloves,” he cajoles, pushing her just a little. “And Mizora’s present should make me at least a little resistant to infernal fire.” 

Karlach grins again, softening a little this time. “Don’t worry about me, soldier– I’m all left feet, you get me out there I’ll just careen into everything. Get out there and enjoy yourself.” 

Wyll doesn’t believe that– well, he does believe the part about her careening, she seems like the type to careen– but he doesn’t believe that she truly wants him to leave her to go enjoy dancing. Karlach puts up a good front, but were he in her shoes he would want nothing more than the simple things that had been so long denied him. 

He fishes in his pouch and draws out his pair of sturdy leather gloves which he slides over his hands, like a courtier drawing on his silk gloves so that he might offer a hand to a lady, then bends at the waist in his very best courtly bow. That it is a little out of practice he thinks she will forgive, especially when an irrepressible laugh burbles up out of her. 

Wyll winks, and Karlach laughs again. 

“Well, my lady?” Wyll asks. “May I have this dance.” 

She’s grinning truthfully now, as she takes his hand. There’s a bit of heat, like he might feel pulling a pan from the oven, but it’s shielded by the leather. “You may,” Karlach says, a laugh still at the back of her throat. 

Wyll pulls her towards the firelight. Careful to give her enough space that any careening won’t be a danger, but still within the flickering orange glow of it. A few of the tieflings look at them and grin when they join. There’s a new tune starting up– he knows this one, a sprightly hop meant to be danced with a single partner. 

“This one isn’t complicated, just follow my steps,” Wyll murmurs to Karlach as he begins twirling her around the fire. At first she is clumsy, all left feet as she said, but after a few turns she starts to anticipate the little skip-hop on the third beat. Wyll smiles. “There, you’re getting it.” 

Karlach shakes her head, still grinning. “You’re playing with fire, you know that right?” 

Wyll meets her eyes. Grins right back. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” He sends her out in a spin, and her laugh echoes all the way to the sky above. 

They whirl around the bonfire, until the flames become embers and the music slows and they all at last stumble off drunk and sleepy to bed. Wyll’s thick leather gloves are covered in scorch marks, but he considers it worth the sacrifice to see Karlach’s soft smile when at last the dancing finishes for the night. 

There will be danger on the morrow, but for tonight his heart is warm. 

[pebblysand]

Hi can you do me a prompt? Cause I LOVE your writing! 💗

Ginny comes home from the 2014 quidditch world cup-reporting after a long long time away from harry and kids!

did it take me two and a half years to fill this prompt? yes. as evidence that no one should ever lose hope.

.

spring rolls, pizzas and curries

.

Tonight, after she gets home - after a smiling kiss hoisted up to the corner of his mouth, tippy toes and tight hugs to the kids - after a warm shower and a change of clothes, they'll order in.

It's the end of summer, that year. Leaves wilting in the trees; the wireless runs repetitive adverts for Hallowe'en decorations and this morning, when he headed into work, Harry noticed an irreversible sort of chill in the air; when Ginny comes down later, her hair wet over her shoulders, she'll be wearing a jumper. Lily and Al will soon hound her with questions, about the World Cup and about Namibia or about something else, and James will hurry into the kitchen too, just as she will pour herself a large glass of wine. He will be loud and lanky and almost-teenage. 'Where's food?' he'll ask, then.

And: 'Well, hello, Ronald,' she will laugh. Say.

Chinese, Indian or Italian - the kids will have their pick. It's a long-standing tradition in the Potter household since the dreadful winter of '09, when James had the flu and Lily was sniffling and Harry spent five days battling family germs on his own until Ginny came back from a work trip to save them all. He tiredly sunk into the couch next to her and: 'You should have stayed there,' he observed. Sighed like a headache. 'You're gonna catch it too.'

She shrugged. Smiled. Laid her head on his shoulder. He didn't have the heart to push her away. 'Let's order in, yeah?'

Harry will phone in. Everybody's favourites memorised like the faded lines at the back of his hand. There will be noise - James arguing with Al over the TV remote, Lily talking to herself, playing with her animal figurines and toy soldiers. She's built a whole ranch with Playmobils in her bedroom: fake horses and fake cowboys and fake fences - her magic makes it all move of its own accord - it's a bit of a nightmare.

The kind of nightmare Harry doesn't mind having.

They'll eat pizza on the couch or nems from clear plastic boxes scattered across the kitchen table, and the kids will fill Ginny in on everything she missed. Lily won't stop chatting and 'Mum' this and 'Mum' that, and James will say: 'Oh, will you shut up for once?' One of them - or both of them - will automatically throw back: 'James, don't talk to your sister like that.'

There will be second servings, thirds. Harry will smile and laugh, and feel like a weight lifted off his chest the moment she opened the front door just as easily as he will later clear the plates, with a simple wave of his wand. Ginny will go up to unpack, and he'll try to convince the kids to go to bed - with moderate success. James will try to convince him he needs a new broom, with no chance of success. Al will wandlessly tie his brother's shoelaces together before quietly retreating to his bedroom, a loud tumble ensuing with his victim falling flat on his face at the top of the staircase. He will deny having done any magic the next morning.

'Prove it,' he'll say.

Harry will want to smile (like a headache, too).

And, you know, he wonders - sure - but he's not jealous. Being jealous of his own kids would be fucking weird and, anyway, he's over it, now. He's even stopped being bitter. Ginny hasn't stopped being angry but there's something almost comforting about it, about her anger and her capacity for unrelenting outrage when they sent Petunia a card last Christmas and she wrote back: Please, take me off your mailing list.

'Cunt,' she said.

He winced or cringed, he's not sure. 'Yup.'

He's not jealous - not bitter - but he does wonder. He wonders and thinks of James. So, so tiny, in Ginny's belly. The first time he felt a kick against the tips of his fingers and held his breath - like, forever. And Ginny, who asked why he couldn't sleep, that night, watched him puff cigarette smoke out the window. 'I'm nervous,' he said.

'I'm the one giving birth,' she laughed.

'What kind of father do you think I'll be?'

He thinks of James and he thinks of Tom, sometimes. His palm against the skin of her stomach was sweaty - like warm, summer nights.

And, he looks at the kids and he wonders. What it would have been like. Growing up like that.

With them, you know?

He thinks of James again. Of James and of Albus and of Lily. He wonders if they know. That he's happy. That they're happy. That he's not jealous or bitter or angry. And, that love tastes like food. Like strawberries on Ginny's lips, and spring rolls, and pizzas and curries.

[actualbampot]

Anxiety

For all you neurospicy folk that are struggling this Christmas. Have my anxiety baby, because I needed to write anything to distract me from panic-vomiting all over the train I was on.

TW: Anxious Disorder, Panic Attack

Pairing: Ruby Rose/Cinder Fall

-

“What is the matter with you?”

“Nothing.” Ruby said too quickly. Cinder looked even more unconvinced, watching her carefully. Ruby felt herself heating up and not in any way nice, a sickly flush of color from her cheeks making everything feel stifling and clammy.

“I'm fine,” she breathed a little hard, and whatever else Cinder noticed had the woman on her feet immediately. It wasn't until Cinder had taken one of her hands did Ruby realize how much it was trembling. 

Much to her surprise, Cinder guided her to the seat she'd just occupied, still warm with the heat of her body.

“Far from it, I think.” Cinder touched her face, thumb sliding over clammy skin. The repetition of the movement was oddly grounding, distracting Ruby away from the dread and dizziness making her feel nauseous, if only for a moment. “You're quite pale.”

“Yea,” Ruby gasped the word like she'd been holding it in her chest, but it was all she could manage when the tremble in her hands didn't let up, referring up over her shoulders, into her chest. All she could think about.

“Look at me, darling.” She managed to, only with the caress of Cinder's hand guiding her. She wasn't annoyed, or impatient, the creases on her brow of concern. “Don't think, just breathe.”

“I'm trying,” Ruby hiccuped, but it was getting so hard, until she couldn't stop thinking about how she *couldn't* breathe right and it was making her panic-

Cinder took one of her hands, guiding it to rest on her own chest, fingertips touching her clavicle and sweaty palm resting right over her heartbeat. It was true and steady, and Ruby could swear she felt heat swell on each of Cinders deep inhales.

Her hand was held there, cheek still cradled and before long Ruby was following the rise and fall of Cinder's breast, breathing together with her. She screwed her eyes tight, shutting out any distractions and focusing on that simple binary.

“You're alright, dear. Nǐ hěn ānquán.”

“Could- Can you-” Ruby started, but it was hard to sort her thoughts, to figure out how to ask with any eloquence. In the end she could only manage to blurt the request: “Could you keep talking like that to me? In Mistralian?”

The repetition, the constant of unchanging movement between Cinder's chest and stroking thumb kept Ruby balanced on a thin wire, where any deviation might tip her. She needed to hear the soft, cooing drawl of Cinder's voice, even though Ruby couldn't focus on the words. 

Watching how much Ruby struggled, the older woman did not wish to burden her any further. 

“Zhè shì zhànshí de,” Phrases melding together in sound, the highs and lows of Cinder's voice never broke a warm whisper, “Huì guòqù de.”

They remained like that long enough for Cinder to shift out of a kneel, onto both of her knees in front of Ruby. For her, the nausea and hot flushes were incessant, as was the effort to swallow down each one until she was quietly begging for reprieve. 

There was no magic cure, no pill Ruby could take that would ease the vicious dread and churning nausea making her convulse.

Minutes dragged into hours, moments of progress upsurged by the panicked need to dry wretch in Cinder's bathroom. After half a dozen trips of guiding a Ruby too exhausted and fragile to navigate there herself, the older woman allowed them to slip to the bathroom floor, sparing the younger woman from the sting of cold tile and pulling her weight into her lap. In doing so, her caress never left Ruby's face, just as Ruby's hand clung to Cinder's chest all-the-more desperate. 

“It won't go away.” Ruby whimpered as she tipped bonelessly into Cinder's body, burying her face into the side of the woman's neck. “Just want it to stop.”

“Wǒ zhīdào, but it will,” came Cinder's soft, lilted whisper, cooing quietly, "I’ve got you.”

[zeebreezin]

32 for the sequencer throuple 👀

MWAH! That’s me kissing you for letting me write my favorite bastards :)

#32 - A Kiss while someone watches

There was a hand running through his hair. It was the first thing Laurence was aware of as reality swam back, all too slowly. Long, gloved fingers carding through slicked back curls as he lay there, resting on something soft. Somewhere that felt miles away, a gentle voice hummed a hymn he didn’t recognize. It was a battle to try and keep his eyes open, one Laurence lost almost immediately. His head felt like it was filled with cotton and lead. Every muscle ached, far too sore to even consider moving. Something burned at the crook of his neck. It was tempting to drift back into sleep, lulled by the soothing, repetitive motion. And yet, Laurence did his best to fight off the urge as he tried to put the pieces together.

He remembered the ship, at least. Vincent’s ship, loaded up with a handful of people he’d hired. They’d nearly arrived, apparently, when Laurence had been invited to dinner, just the two of them. Vincent had talked about- something. Something important, something that mattered to him. He’d asked Laurence if he trusted him, that cocksure smile falling away into a soft and sweet thing. Of course he did. He trusted the man more than he trusted himself, enough to follow him out here and still keep going. Things got hazy from there, a jumble of sensations - but there was something bright. Impossibly bright.

“…There you are. Can you hear me?” The voice above him cut through his jumbled thoughts.

It took Laurence a moment to realize he’d begun to hum along to her song. It took him another moment to realize that his head was currently laying across her lap. He tried to shift, to mumble an apology, but all he managed was a soft noise of pain.

She hushed him, brushing a now-loose curl from his face. “Shhh, it’s alright. You’re in no danger here. Breathe. You’re safe, Doctor, but now you need to rest.” Her voice was gentle, but assured. She began her little song again soon after speaking, that same hymn Laurence did not know but felt himself hum. It was far easier to follow the melody than it was to speak. He could feel her smile from above him as consciousness began to slip in and out.

Time passed strangely. Eventually, Laurence heard a door open on the far edge of his awareness.

“Are you enjoying your gift, radiance?” He knew that voice, didn’t he? It didn’t sound like Vincent, though. Placid and oddly emotional, in a way Laurence could only think of as sounding lost.

The woman - Vincent’s Radiance - spoke soon after, never pausing her gentle touch. “He’s coming back to us, I think. There’s no need to worry, Vincent. You’ve done well.”

Laurence faded back in and out of the not-quite-dark of sleep, listening to snatches of conversation. A good trip. Complications, the roses. Half in, half out. A procedure, when his strength came back. The roses. Isobel. Eventually, the overwhelming exhaustion started to fade, leaving an aching pain in its wake.

He’d just managed to crack his eyes open when the two leaned in. Isobel - that was her name, wasn’t it? - pressed her lips against Vincent’s with that almost ethereal grace of hers. It was barely contact, little more than a brush. But the look of overwhelming affection on Vincent’s face made it clear that it was more than enough.

“I’ll be back soon, I swear. Don’t wait for me, my love.” Vincent’s voice was little more than a whisper. It was only then that Laurence considered that he might be the gift Vincent had brought home.

[angeleyeswide]

White Trash Christmas

Going over to my mother's is simply dreadful. It smells distinctly of Lysol... Masking the horrible amalgamated scent of rot, cats, apathy, shit, delusion, and piss, inherent to the very being of her trailer now. The scent will never come out of the softened particle board cabinets and floors under peeling vinyl squares - it looks like a wet, warped cardboard box inside. I have to shower as soon as I get home and immediately wash my clothes.

Now that I've been out in the world, interacting with other humans and slowly becoming acclimated to them, the entire experience is incredibly alien and overstimulating.

I remember when I would unknowingly sleep over black mold growing from the wall under my bed... And when I found it, I was amazed that it was protruding so far- at least two centimeters from the old paint.

Now the place that used to be my normal is so disgusting to me. I can't fucking stand it. It makes me so sick that I grew up in that.

And what's worse is the constant negativity. I developed severe hyper-vigilance. I always memorize footsteps now, so I know who's coming. I would wake up to my mother screaming or yelling for us to get up, ready to have another tirade of some kind.

I had a phone she didn't know about, too. So I could try to have some contact with the outside world. And unfortunately, that came with its own set of consequences... Like being sexually exploited online as a teenager.

All of these painful memories... They flood back into me when I visit as an adult and steel my body. The tension coils up inside me - a stifled breath, a held in scream, a trip outside for fresh air, a bare minimum reply to another one of my mother's repetitive rants.

This is how I feel every single holiday. I go to her house and it's always a shit show. Something small goes wrong and it's the end of the world - a screaming match ensues.

And the impending doom of the impossible burden sets in... ready to crush me like a piano, splattering me across the pavement - I will have to clean up this mess once day. I'm the only one of my siblings able to work or live a semi-normal life. I will have to care for them as well. All three. When I can barely take care of myself.

That's not even half of the shit, but... Well, that's what I think about during the holidays. I get pretty depressed this time of year. All this to say... I don't really like Christmas. I really wish I could. But I can't. Just like a food I've tried to like because everyone else swears it's so good, that's what Christmas is to me.

I look at my mother's dilapidated trailer, trash piled and strewn about the yard and I sometimes think to myself, "I guess it doesn't get anymore Southern Gothic than this, huh?" Dysfunctional family. Cyclical destruction. Unspoken secrets. Festering decay.

Anyway, I hope your Christmas/holiday is going a lot better than mine. Cheers.

[aleielle-of-roshar]

For the cute ship asks: 💌 🎸 🎨 (Ships of your choice!)

Gonna do Zz and Vakka because I love the sillays!! <3

💌 (‘love letter’ from Zz- takes place half a year before the Nerevarine ends up on the boat- and yes, its written weirdly for a reason, and the poem being so badly written has little to do with it. But! It is there for a reason only they know. Hmmm how odd why is number one Dunmer hater talking about the dunmer in a positive light… and the guy whose love language is actions and touch not compliments hmmm):

To Sun’s Egg, 

    The beauty of the world pales in comparison to you. Messenger birds have brought me news of your well being, and I can’t even begin to describe the relief in my heart. Can’t you feel my love for you, even from so far away? Be assured, I am always with you in heart and soul. 

    Trusted guides have led me ‘cross the jungles of Elsweyr, and the shimmering rivers of Cyrodiil, and kaoc- I’ve seen things that’d make even the most seasoned of adventurers speechless! Don’t worry my love, despite the dangers I’ve stayed safe and sound- well, minus a few scrapes but that’s to be expected. Ask me anything when I return, and I’ll tell you tales of strange creatures, forgotten ruins, and a rather annoying raven I’d met- and oh... Him, we’d met along the way, some khajiit storyteller- one of his stories reminded me of you, remind me to tell you when I get back?

    To see the world is a gift- yes I’m being repetitive but it's true- without you beside me it seems so empty. Take my heart with you wherever you go, for it belongs to you alone. You are my guiding star, the reason I keep moving forward despite everything. To return home of course is my greatest wish, and I’ve been counting down the days until that day very soon! Me- the real me is who’ve you made me and I greatly appreciate it.

    The sunsets on Vvardenfell are surprisingly beautiful for a land so desolate and well, ashy and well... Dunmer- some of them I’ve met here- have been surprisingly helpful despite our past histories- and funnily enough we have some things in common but well… House Imyoren was mentioned once in passing- luckily nothing to do with you but I couldn’t help but feel angered- but eventually paid it little mind. Imyoren will never be able to hurt you again, and it's obvious. Specifically however, I’ve enjoyed the local dishes- did you know the dunmer use a lot of rice as well? 

    Have I mentioned how much I love you? Taken is how I feel, by your love- breath taken perhaps? Me, right you hate when I keep talking about you I’m sorry I’ll return to talking about me- even if I’m… Captive only to my love of you!

    They’re thinking of showing me some shrine up north in the coming weeks, and I can't help but feel worried- why should I visit something sacred to their gods? Want to step on the soil of those who never even cared for us? Revenge is far from my mind however, I’m a guest and should probably refrain from perpetuating their well…

    Stay safe Vakkahuth-thtithil. Safe from those men who wish you harm. Stay strong too please, even though I doubt you won’t! Hidden layers within you, even if they can’t see it.

    And so I end this, long overdue, letter to you! Whatever comes from this trip, I promise you I am coming back once I’m done. You have my word. Do not doubt I’ll find any way to do so. Stay patient and trust in my devotion. Away and near.

From the one who loves you most of all,

Zz’eishadei

P.S Everything recently has reminded me of that poem you liked, in fact, I actually was able to get to an etching of original copy. See below!

Beneath Red Mountain’s ever-watchful eye,

Moss clings to jagged stones,

Whispering secrets to restless winds.

Roots thrive in shallow pools,

Warmed and fed by dying embers,

Wherein Guars Graze.

Sulphur springs bubble relentlessly!

Its cauldron testiment to our anger!

Our anger at our shackles mirrored in its scent!

Emporer parasols sway lazily overhead,

Casting shadows over lava-crossed plains,

And even in its heat saltrice grows defiant.

But only because of our hands.

This land hums not with joyful song,

No cradle of green, no roots running deep.

Simply, ash falls, unhearing of prayers,

Spoken by people whose blood long since spilled.

A place like this remembers,

But never forgives.

Unlike the marsh those here won’t move on,

In Vvardenfell we cannot forget.

P.S.S- I still don’t understand why you like it, even I could write better / more coherent poetry than it’s author- if you could even call it poetry-. No wonder imperials think we’re illiterate-.

🎸:

(Starts with Zz’s pov- yeah considering that every woman he loves ends up getting murdered because of him wellll- and Ash keeps getting hurt anytime she makes any sort of positive relationship. Don’t worry they aren’t unhealthy or something, its all because of the damn dunmer)

And (Vakka’s POV)

🎨:

The two of them love picking up bounties (mostly dungeon delves, clearing bandits, and the like) together and competing for who can kill the most undead or whatnot- but fishing is another favourite activity of their’s. Very competitive in a friendly way lol. Alongside this, Zz’s a very cuddly / actions guy and Ash is very much a gift giver / actions gal.

[gatheredfates]

01. the stratagem | shining crow.

Do you want to read all of my FFXIVWrite prompts? You can do that here!

ENVOY a messenger or representative, especially one on a diplomatic mission.

“What do you mean you can’t take me?”

A smirk wedged itself plainly on the fleet captain’s face; her lips upturned, eyes alight and an easy roll of her shoulders causing the man’s confused blinking (Or was it winking, given a lack of a second eye?) to shift to suspicion. From the pocket of her tailored jacket she withdrew a pretty silver lighter, engraved with a phoenix, and brought the flame of it to a cigarette hanging loosely from the side of her mouth.

“I knew you were half-blind. I did not take you for being deaf as well.” The welcomed inhale of nicotine hit her lungs and smoldered there and, on the exhale, Shining Crow waved her hand in a lazy circle. “You are no envoy and, to be frank, Rexonus is shrewd with me most of all. I do not get nearly as much gil as he spends on you, or yours, or anyone in his employ. Until he ups his prices, you can consider this an embargo.”

A stratagem, more like. Not that she would tell him.

“You’re joking?”

“I do not believe I have ever had the pleasure.” Though it was rather funny watching him look at her like she had grown a second head. “No, indubitably so. I have pawned off your contract to another. She has agreed to take you for one trip and, if you prove yourself useful, she will consider a repetition.”

Crow gestured to a rolled up piece of paper on her desk that the man took without comment. He unfurled it and began to read, mouthing the words loosely as he did. Her smirk only widened.

“In drawing upon this favour, you agree to accommodate Mr. Vamperious Grey from Limsa Lominsa to Ul’dah, where he will disembark with your escort to Firelight Trading Company. Please sign your name above the line, Captain Koret —”

It dawned on him. Vamp looked up at her with two parts outrage and one part concern, choking the life out of the contract as it furled back into the palm of his hand. “That’s —”

“Dimitri’s daughter, yes.” She was devious now, punctuated by the roll of honey-coloured eyes. “Do not look at me like that; I know what you are thinking. I need to use a favour. I like spiteing your boss. It is nothing personal.”

"By using me?”

Crow shrugged again. “Best not be late.”