#i was thinking about tattoo traditions for a story and this came out

[somestorythoughts]

Immortal Ink

Thinking about immortal characters getting tattoos over and over again.

Sometime it's new tattoos. People who resurect getting the same tattoo in every body, clinging to something permanent and long gone. Getting completely new tattoos in every body, seeking out the most talented artists each time.

People who heal, and they can take the ink but after enough healings it'll disappear. Reminding themselves that there are parts of their body they can control, inking fresh designs each century to remind themselves they're more than pain.

People who's tattoos are signs of their achivements and maybe it's been two hundred years, maybe they're been resurrected five times since then, but like hell are they not keeping that record. If it ever looks like that style of tattooing will die out they'll learn it before they let time take those marks from them.

People whose tattoos don't get lost with resurrection or healing, but they will fade after a time. Getting them touched up every 50 or 60 years, another cycle complete, one of many rituals to mark the passing years. Or letting them fade to nothing then getting a new set.

[ghostlychief]

tattooed heart

the one where you ask Ghost about his tattoos

---

You’re lying in bed with your head on Ghost’s chest, able to feel the rise and fall of his breathing as you examine his tattooed arm. Your hands hold up his (surprisingly) heavy arm in order to study the designs more effectively. You’ve been asking him the story behind each tattoo for the past half hour, intrigued by what inspired them. And Ghost has answered you thus far, quelling your wonder in the history behind his now full sleeve. Some have more in-depth stories than others, or are more meaningful to him, but he never fails to answer you earnestly, always giving you a good story behind each one.

You can’t exactly explain what prompted you to sit down (rather lay down) with Ghost to get the details and pick his brain about his sleeve. Maybe you secretly just wanted to run your hand up and down his arm, tracing his tattoos while also being able to feel his solid muscles underneath them, and so therefore you needed an excuse. Maybe you just wanted to feel closer to him somehow, anyway you could, and this is what you came up with that night. Whatever the true reason, you will always look back at this memory fondly, as you spend the night together, learning more about each other.

“Mm what about this one?” You’re pointing at the American traditional skull and snake tattoo on his upper bicep. Ghost chuckles lightly at your pondering, finding it cute that you were so invested in the story behind each and every one of the tattoos on his arm.

“What’s the story behind it?” you ask again. Your fingertip runs gently over the design, tracing the pattern, the action making goosebumps arise on Ghost’s skin. Your soft eyes glance up at him, catching his gaze as well which makes him smile at you. His other arm, that’s not being investigated at the moment, tightens it hold around your shoulders and he lets out a nostalgic sigh before answering you.

“Well to be honest, it was as cover up for another tattoo I got many years ago.”

You let out a hum of understanding before asking, “What was the other tattoo? How bad could it have been for you to get it covered up?”

You and your questions.

Letting out another sigh and with regret coating his voice, he finally answers you. “I lost a dare with my friends and had to get the cliche, heart with ‘mom’ written in it. And obviously that doesn’t really fit the vibe of what I was going for, for my sleeve, so I eventually just got it covered up.” He nonchalantly shrugs after finishing his explanation, subsequently making you shift on his chest.

You prop yourself up a little so you can see him better. “Aww is Simon a mama’s boy?” You have a knowing smile on your lips as you look up at him, and see his eyes roll to heaven and back at your teasing.

“Alright, that’s it. You’re done asking me about my tattoos.” He pulls his arm out of your grasp, although not too roughly, and gently pushes you back onto the bed and rolls on top of you. His arms are on either side of your head propping him up and caging you under him.

“Are you done?” he asks while lowering himself slightly so he can nudge your nose with his, your lips just a hair’s breadth apart.

You close your eyes at his gesture, already forgetting about your questions, your thoughts quickly consumed by Simon being on top of you, being this close to you. You nudge his nose back and hum, “I think I could be, if you can take my mind off of things.”

You open your eyes then and see Simon smirking down at you. “Say no more.”

---

[karlachismylife]

Me: scrambling to finish homework before my linear algebra class

My brain: can you imagine fem!ghoap tho?

I can't, I'm my biggest fucking enemy. BUT CAN YOU IMAGINE FEM!GHOAP THO?

Fem!Soap has absolutely Harley Quinn vibes, batshit crazy with a sprinkle of pyromania and several decades of unmedicated ADHD. If Soap got his haircut inspiration from some local punk band in his hometown, fem!Soap was the leader of said band, adding to Mam's grey hair every time she returned with new tattoos. Was playing football, when a new kid tried outcasting her cuz she's a girl, went on to beat the shit out of him.

That story about a higher ranking officer Soap punched? Sleazy motherfucker was harassing other women on the base and was unfortunate enough to choose fem!Soap as a target.

Walks around in tank tops and sport bras, all muscle no boobs, probably has a couple fake teeth, always is the one fellow female soldiers turn to when they need to get rid of assholes in the pubs they go for drinks to. Absolutely relishes in being called a "fucking butch" and whatever else those pathetic men try to throw at her, quickly fizzling out when they realize her biceps is the size of their thighs. She worked hard to be better than them, no matter how much some of her family wanted her to be a bit more... traditional. Not her Maw, though, Maw always said if her little Jenny wanted to be a soldier, she could be a damn good one.

Regularly participates in armrestling matches (banned in several pubs where she got carried away and broke someone's wrist) and pays for the round whenever she wins.

All those girls (and some guys) hanging off her elbows, and everyone assumes she's going home with one (or several) of them every time.

And fem!Ghost? She might have a horrible reputation, people spreading disgusting rumors about her past and what's under that mask (doesn't bother her, truth is so much more gruesome). Keeps to herself, grim sense of humour doing nothing to make her seem more approachable. A looming shadow, the personification of horrors they tell about what war and captivity do to women - and that's for those who actually know she's a woman. Most people just assume she's a big fucking guy, loose hoodies helping pass, deep, hoarse voice - never came back as it was from the time with Roba, broken by her screams with an ugly scar on her throat on top - only adding to confusion.

Too much baggage to unpack, all those things done to her easier to cut off with the dirty blond hair she buzzes to avoid the fuss. Every chance of having a family robbed of her in horrific ways, loneliness feels safer. Easier. Everyone's better off without needing to bear all those tons of crap she hoards on her broad shoulders.

Sits apart from the main company on those outings, nursing her bourbon and freaking people out - if she gets hit on, she sends everyone off with a few words. Even Soap, the blasting (sometimes too bloody brightly) sunshine, seems to fail with illuminating that shadow, all her attempts to get closer shut down. Maybe not as harsh as the others, but Ghost thinks - everything she touches is destroyed in torturous ways.

Soap shouldn't suffer because of her.

Until one day the chair in front of her lone table gets dragged back with a disgusting screeching sound, a heavy thump signaling of a huge (drunk) body plopping down across. Ghost doesn't need to look up - she can detect Soap by the stupid mutt's loud breathing, for fuck's sake. How many did she have?

Too many, thinks Ghost when a tanned arm lands on the table, resting on the elbow in a ready to wrestle stand. Must've been some kind of bet, no one else brave enough to challange big Scottish butch - so bored Soap, naturally, comes to one person she probably deems a worthy opponent.

"Not gonna let me back out, are ya?" Ghost shakes her head with a chuckle and finishes her bourbon, putting the glass down lazily and forgetting to pull the mask back down.

Soap's arm hits the table so hard it nearly cracks the wood - mere seconds.

Disarmed by a crooked, scarred smirk her big blue eyes are so obviously glued to.

"What now? Buy me a drink?" Ghost tilts her head. There's a shocked crowd around them, someone collecting a hefty win.

"Buy ye two and ye owe me a rematch."

Stupid mutt with blue eyes. Ghost wonders if she'll whine like a puppy riding her burly thigh.

i have somewhat a part two here

[fadingdaggerr]

Hii!! I hope you've had a great day!!

So, I had this idea and I can't stop thinking about it, it's like rotating in my brain like a Rotisserie Chicken. IDK if you're still taking requests but I just had to send this.

Anyway, Melissa and reader are in someone else's house (R parents or idk some kind of sleepover with the teachers) and for some reason they can't sleep together in the same bed/room, like they're used to, which is concerning R because Melissa doesn't really sleep well alone.

But Mel tries to ease R saying she'll be just fine for one night, and very reluctantly R agrees.

Well, it turns out she can't. R and obviously a few others in the house wake up to Melissa's screaming in the middle of the night and R runs to her, shes is sobbing, shaking and clutching R for dearlife, just absolutely terrified and not even letting R move. R calm her down and take care of her, like with a lot of fluff and comfort.

I'm just obsessed with R taking care of Mel and being really sweet.

Yeah that's it. I love your stories, they are really really good. And I could only think of you when this thing came out of my brain.

+ I absolutely loved what you did in "Know I'm Alive", I was kicking my feet and internally screaming. (I sent that anon 👉👈) So thanks, I enjoyed it a lot, like a lot a lot, like, if I could I would eat that it.

You're really talented!! <3

by the sun, by the moon

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above! | 4.8k

includes: no pronoun use for r, fluff, hurt/comfort, family play fights/sibling banter, r’s family adores mel, probably ooc!mel oops

warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamic (short), attempted violence (short), mentions/insinuations of sex, one outdated traditional value, sleep difficulties/nightmares, anxiety/panic attack

note: please feel free to skip the section that discusses the unhealthy relationship dynamic/violence. it begins after the first section divide with the line “for her entire childhood…” those topics are only explicitly stated there and only referenced one other time. please do not feel as tho you need to read triggering material to understand the story, i tried to make it understandable without having to read potentially distressing content :)

Melissa’s head tips back when she hears you coming back downstairs, having been waiting for you since your mom called during The Real Housewives time. The way you’re watching your feet with furrowed brows makes her fully turn until she’s kneeling on the couch, leaning over the back to get closer to you.

“Something wrong?” Melissa asks, reaching to grab your hand to pull you closer.

You shake your head, “no, no.” Warm hands rise to cradle the redhead’s face, “how would you feel about spending the night at my parents place Saturday? They’re hosting Jonah’s birthday, wanted our help to set up the night before.”

Her eyes widen, “just Saturday night?”

“Just Saturday,” you reaffirm, tucking a loose hair behind her ear. She cautiously nods, barely moving. “We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable with it, I’m not going to make you.”

“I know, I know,” she says through her breath, “we’ll stay the night.” The kiss you press to her forehead feels heavier than just a silent thank you.

—☽—

For her entire childhood and through her marriage, Melissa slept like a rock. She slept through Kristen Marie’s and Joe’s snoring, her college girlfriend’s sleep talking, her parents having a screaming match so loud the cops got called. Before starting teaching, she even had to train herself to wake up at the sound of her alarm, knowing that being late to the school was ten times worse than being late to JC Penney.

Two years after she finally left Joe, Melissa met Eric.

Tall, charming, nice-smelling Eric with his salt-and-pepper beard always tidy, a covered up Marine tattoo on his forearm. He’d bought her drink after his friend accidentally knocked hers off the counter of the bar, and two hookups later, she was agreeing to a real date. Three months later, she was his girlfriend and allowed him into her apartment. He got to know where the spare key was hidden after a year.

Eric was everything Joe was not. During arguments, Joe would shut down and leave, only returning when he smells like cheap liquor and some other woman’s perfume. Eric always stayed, told her his point of view, listened to hers, calmly told her when she was overreacting. He was smooth, never raised a hand towards her or threw things at the walls. Melissa always knew when she was in the wrong, but he never made her feel bad about it.

Eric was particular. He liked his shirts folded a certain way, beer only from a glass, and silence when he worked. If she was excited about anything, he only ever allowed her to speak about it until he’d lost interest, almost always by the time she paused to take a breath. When he properly introduced her to his friends, his hand on her knee would tighten when she spoke. Quickly, she learned that the tighter the grip, the less she should speak. Four hours at some sports bar and Melissa had only been able to say a total of six sentences. Eric liked Melissa quiet. Melissa became quiet.

He started to prod about meeting her family, and she shut him down. Again and again. The fourth time, he banged his fist against the table, the end of his fork creating a small dent. Green eyes fixated on the dent as he began to calmly explain that he had introduced her to his family, it was her turn. Mumbling those were your buddies got her stuck on her own couch that night, clutching the blanket Nana made her before she started college.

Two months later, she began to slowly bring back Eric’s clothing to his apartment on the off-chance they went there for a night. Grading her student’s assignments began to take longer and she triple-checked the scores to waste more time, suddenly too tired to have sex or even talk before going to sleep. Otherwise, she listened to his rules, spoke when spoken to, cooked when asked.

The morning he narrowly avoided calling her a moron to her face when she made the eggs over-medium instead over-easy, she officially made her choice. That night, at the Italian restaurant he brought her to, she called it off.

“Why?” Eric asked, eyes stone, unwavering from hers.

She took a deep breath, “you treat me like a pet. Speak when spoken to, move when told, I’m sick of it.” Her grip on the table cloth tightened, “tomorrow, I will put your stuff outside. You’ll pick it up when I tell you to, and then you will leave.”

He sits back in his chair, tongue poking at his bottom lip, “and if I don’t want to break up?”

“Too bad,” she shrugs. Standing from the table, Melissa leaves him with the check and the sad excuse of Italian cuisine on the table.

At work the next day, it takes all morning, lunch, and prep to fully debrief Barbara on everything that had been going on. It made sense to the kindergarten teacher why she had yet to meet this Eric fella, but after hearing this, she knew Melissa wasn’t proud of getting herself in this situation. A promise of a wine weekend and greasy food makes Melissa truly smile. Barbara hadn’t realized how fake every little grin had been until now, she missed her best friend.

That afternoon, Melissa came home to the loose brick that hid her spare key ajar. The blood in her veins runs cold. Opening the unlocked door, glass scratches across the wooden floor, crunching under her heels. Every picture frame, the television, the radio, the coffee table, the stovetop, the tea set from her grandfather, all smashed to pieces. Holes were in nearly every wall, the stair railing broken. The entire first floor was destroyed, only upstairs was left pristine, as if nothing had happened at all. Bat in hand, she checks every closet, under her bed, in the bathtub, everywhere. He was gone.

Leaning against the wall, she slides down and sobs. Melissa is forced to make a choice she didn’t want to make. Opening her phone, she calls Joe.

Joe, despite everything he had done, was at Melissa’s house within the hour. In one hand he held a bag from the hardware store, containing new locks and keys, the other hand had his very own bat, nails pounded through the wood. Like he said when they signed the papers, just because he wasn’t in love with her, doesn’t mean he didn’t care.

Three weeks later, after things had settled and locks were changed, Melissa felt more secure. Still every night, she woke at every sound, wind and the smoke detector quickly became her mortal enemies. Bundled in her soft pajamas and thick comforter one night, she finally fell into a hard, deep sleep forced from pure exhaustion.

Paperclips, a screwdriver, and a small sheet of flexible metal are all someone needs to pick a lock and shift the deadbolt. Eric surely knew that, always the smart man, yet never the brightest. Slowly, he moved up the stairs, bourbon fueling his motions as well as his heavy steps.

A particularly loud thunk wakes Melissa, hand flying under her pillow to the bat Joe had made her promise to keep there. Another thump made her jump out of bed and to the side of her dresser with an iron grip around Edith Houghton. When her door opened, she stayed pressed into the corner, hoping she stayed hidden just long enough for him to leave so she could grab her phone.

Liquor breeds stupidity, worsens it when it is already present, and Eric had left to check the bathroom. Quickly, Melissa called the police, shakily texting Joe as she whispered to the operator. At that point, she didn’t care who got there first. She just wanted to be free of him.

She moved to a new apartment before the month even ended. Barbara insisted on cameras, which Gerald installed. Joe insisted on a nailed up bat, which he made himself. Not a night has gone by since then where she didn’t have it within arms reach of the bed.

It took six years for her to sleep again.

—☽—

The light tracing of nonsensical patterns on her abdomen is what wakes Melissa, eyes cracking open to the bright sun peeking through the curtains. She wishes now, more than ever, that she had agreed to the blackout curtains, groaning into her pillow. With the knowledge she’s now awake, several soft kisses press against her shoulder, traveling to her neck. With a sleepy grin on her face, Melissa turns to face you.

“Morning,'' you mumble against her lips, hand traveling up to her hair to separate the knots that you created. “Sleep good?”

The only response you get is a little huff that almost sounds like yeah, her face burying in your neck to hide from the light. You lay there with her, finishing your detangling mission as Melissa’s nails trace up and down your arm. A final, sound kiss lands on the crown of her head before you shuffle out from underneath her, reaching for your previous discarded university shirt and sweatpants. The redhead watches through droopy eyes, scanning over you before your pajamas cover everything she adores.

“Gotta get up, beautiful,” you say through a yawn as you walk out the room, “we need to be leaving for one.” A tiny groan escapes her lips as she rises from the bed, though a small smile crosses her lips when she sees your sweatshirt thrown over the chair in the corner, just waiting for her.

Not even halfway down the stairs, there’s a clatter from the kitchen and a quiet exclamation of fuck. “You’re not even awake and you want me up,” Melissa says as she walks to the coffee maker. She’s met with a small slap on her ass in return, not even caring to be embarrassed of the girlish giggle she lets out.

Whose fault it is that you’re late leaving, who could tell? Between the forgoing packing and wrapping your cousin’s present last night for a taste of Melissa and her lack of pants this morning, it’s hard to say. Nothing that going a gentle twenty over on the highway can’t mend.

Driving up the dirt road, the dense trees thinned and your parent’s yellow house came into view. Your father’s questionably functional truck sits in the front of the garage, your mom and brother’s cars parked close together on the lawn. Seeing the way your hands tighten on the steering wheel, Melissa slides her hand from your elbow to the free hand on your thigh, playing with your rings to calm you. Being at your parents house was always overwhelming, fun, but overwhelming.

Narrowly avoiding scraping the side, you pull in next to your brother’s car. Looking at each other, you and Melissa give each other a nod of we got this. She’d been over here before, she’d been to three family reunions and almost every birthday party, but never had you two stayed the night, always being some of first to leave to sleep in your own bed.

With a little grunt, you hop out of the car and jog to Melissa’s side to open her door. She gives you a half glare when you tap her hand away from helping carry the bags in, you never let her lift a finger, if you can help it.

“Well, look who decided to show up!”

Both you and Melissa jump at your mother’s yell from the porch, bangles clanking together as she widely waves to the both of you. Gravel crunches under her feet as she rushes over to the two of you, immediately pulling Melissa into a hug. Before you were banned from saying it, you used to joke that your parents preferred your girlfriend to their own child. The giant smile on Melissa’s face when she interacts with your family makes it worth it.

Tumbling upstairs, you bring your bags into your childhood bedroom with Melissa close behind. Even with every time she had been here, she loved being in your room. It was a time capsule of your life before college, all the posters of bands and movies still hanging on the walls, trinkets covering every space. She particularly loved the little collection of rocks on your bookshelf, clearly in order from favorite to least favorite.

The bed bobs as you both drop onto the mattress, groaning at the comfort after three hours in the car. You turn your face towards her, leaning to press a kiss to her shoulder, “I love you.”

Melissa leans in closer, “I love you, too.” She watches your eyes flick to her lips, beating you to the chase and pressing her lips to yours softly. It takes every ounce of effort to not moan at your tongue tracing her lip, her hand coming up to grip your shirt and keep you close. Stomping up the stairs makes you both jump apart, feeling like teenagers getting caught, not that the room was helping.

The door opens to show your dad, boots trekking in dirt that will inevitably get him in trouble with your mom. The hand not on the doorknob is over his eyes, “you two better be decent. Ma has lunch ready downstairs and clothing is probably mandatory.”

“Knock it off,” you mumble as you shuffle towards him so he can give your head a gentle noogie. Neither of you were big on hugs, only really being physically affectionate with your partners, but the love is always clear in every fistbump and hand on your shoulder.

You and Melissa trail behind your father as he goes to the kitchen, both fighting laughs after nearly getting caught by your dad. However, the second your mom peers over at the two of you, you both act like you had been silent the whole time, eyes flicking around in feigned innocence.

Lunch is a mismatch of all the foods your mom made for the birthday party the next day, making you all be her taste testers, even if she only really wants Melissa’s opinion as the other cook in the family. Pasta salad, potato salad, mac and cheese, shortcake, even some chicken with her new lemon pepper recipe. You and your brother fight over who gets first dibs on the pasta salad, ending with his wife taking the serving spoon from your hands and grabbing some for herself.

“Act your age,” Kennedy says to her husband, making you laugh, before she gives you a sharp glance, “that goes for you, too.” Melissa turns away to unsuccessfully hide her own laugh from you.

Lunch ends with your mom and your brother arguing over another serving of macaroni, “we need food for tomorrow! Fuck’s sake, Marcus.”

—☽—

Your father divides everyone into groups to set up the backyard. Your mother takes Melissa and Kennedy to help set up the tables and lights, forcing you and Marcus to help your father with the tent, bonfire pit, and yardgames.

Getting all the yardgames for the little cousins was the easy part, even if it took a while because the three of you had to play a game of cornhole before you could do anything else. None of you got a single one in after two turns, making you all set into defeat, the game was agreed between the three of you to be stupid now. With your father taking a break now, getting the tent together was a doomed venture with you and Marcus.

“If you don’t let me hold it up, it’s gonna keep falling.”

“Fuck off! No, it won’t,” Marcus says with confidence, trying to stand the tent all at once before securing it. Four had already fallen, and a job that should only take twenty minutes was taking nearly an hour.

“How is it gonna stay up if nothing’s holding it, huh? Thought you knew everything?” He flips you off and doesn’t answer, continuing putting the spike in the ground, though without the other end being held up, the weight pulls it down again. Giving up, you walk away and attempt to find your dad for something else to do. You stop in your tracks, just step from the patio.

Watching Melissa with your family always makes butterflies erupt in your chest. She used to be so nervous around them, uncharacteristically quiet and meek, but now she’s almost as carefree with them as she is with her own. The sunlight makes her hair shine, and it’s damn near impossible to look away. It seems you’re of similar mind, her head turning towards you, fighting a grin when she sees the dopey grin on your face.

You almost start to walk towards her, but a strong hand pulls you back. Your dad pushes the hatchet into your hands, “you’re on firewood duty.”

“Bu-”

“Nope, you’re not slinking off to your girl. Go chop the wood, Casanova,” he says as he walks back to help Marcus with the tent.

It’s hours before you even get a chance to see Melissa again, as if your parents were keeping you apart. Which they were, knowing that you’d ignore everything you had to do if it meant you got to just look at Melissa. By the time you got back inside, the button up you’d been wearing was abandoned on a lawn chair and you were out of breath. How much firewood does one bonfire even need?

Walking in the backdoor into the kitchen, Melissa is leaning against the counter, her eye on the mixer filled with what will be cheesecake going to your tanktop clad form as she chats with Kennedy. Creeping up beside her, you wrap an arm around her waist and press a lingering kiss to her cheek, mumbling a greeting into her skin before trudging upstairs to shower the sweat and dirt off.

—☽—

By the end of the night, everyone is half-awake and struggling to keep their eyes open as a TV movie drones on. Neither you or Melissa are paying attention, too wrapped up in one another in the arm chair. Legs dangling over the arm, Melissa is seated on your lap, head tucked into your shoulder as you mindlessly play with her hair. The hand on the back of your neck stops its soft ministrations, her breathing slowing as she fights falling asleep.

You speak quietly for only her to hear, “you ready for bed?” She just nods against you, and you tap her legs to prompt her to move. Her hands hold onto your arm to steady herself, wavering where she stands.

“Alright, we’re calling it. Night guys, we’ll see you in the morning,” you announce into the room as Melissa starts going towards the stairs, not trusting her ability to speak when she’s this tired. You get a quiet chorus of night before you walk to the stairs, but your mother’s voice stops your movements.

“Jellybean, could you do me a favor and take the trash out before you head upstairs?” she asks without taking her eyes off the TV.

You internally groan before nodding, turning to Melissa, “go up, baby. I’ll be right there.”

This catches your mother’s attention, immediately moving to face you, “you mean to say ‘goodnight,’ right?”

“What?”

Her eyebrows rise, “you’re saying goodnight, then going to your room. Right?” Melissa’s blood immediately runs cold, color draining from her face. If she was tired two minutes ago, she was wide awake now.

“No...” you say slowly, confused, “why would Mel not also be in there?” You peak over your shoulder to Melissa, giving her a look before your attention is back on your mother.

“So, you’re staying in the guest room? Or is Melissa?”

Your face screws up, “Neither of us? My room’s got a full, that’s fine for us.”

“No.”

“Hell you mean ‘no,’ Ma? Marcus and Kennedy are sharing a full, it’s not a huge deal,” you hear Melissa step down from the stairs, her shaky hand holding your elbow.

“Marcus and Kennedy are married, unlike you two. I know you live together, but my roof, my rules. You know that,” she says matter-of-factly. The other three people in the room pointedly avoid looking at you, not wanting to get on your mom’s bad side.

You argue back, “that’s fucking ridiculous, Ma. We are grown adults, in a relationship.” The arched brow on your mother’s face tells you that you shouldn’t be arguing, but she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know about the panic that is starting to eat away at Melissa’s veins at the sudden thought of sleeping without you, something she hasn’t done once in over three years now.

“No rings, two beds. Don’t think I won’t be checking.”

Not wanting to make more of a scene, Melissa tugs on your arm to gain your attention. Turning to her, you can see the silent plea in her eyes for you to give it up. Shoulders sagging, you let out a grumbled fine. Breaking away from her, you go to the kitchen and roughly pull the trash from the bin. It takes a great deal of effort to not slam the door as you stomp to the garage. When you come back in, you don’t bother saying anything to anyone, just wrapping an arm around Melissa to guide her upstairs.

When you get into your room, you shut the door and lean against it with a huff. The two of you silently change into your pajamas, moving slowly from exhaustion and an attempt to prolong your time together. Melissa turns away to fold her clothes on the bed, and you move to wrap your arms around her waist, propping your chin on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I’ll stay in here tonight. Not like she can’t ground me anymore.”

Melissa turns in your arms, loosely wrapping her own around your shoulders, “it’s alright, I’ll be fine. I don’t want her mad at you for my sake.”

“Baby-”

“Don’t do that,” she says, though the sigh in her voice gives away her uncertainty, “I’ll be okay, amore.”

Your eyes scan over her face before you nod. Her arms pull you closer, noses brushing before she presses a sound kiss to your lips. Melissa’s arms shift and her hands cup your face, moving your head to press kisses to your cheeks, forehead, and chin, until the sour look on your face disappears.

Tugging her into you, you bury your head into her neck, pressing a long kiss there. From her neck you mumble, “I’ll be in the room right next door.”

“I’ll survive in the guest room, this is your bedroom,” she says, though she doesn’t fully mean it.

“What’s mine is yours. Plus, this one’s more comfortable, you’ll thank me later,” you hug her tighter, “so... I will be next door.”

“I told you, I’ll be fine,” she says. It’s more for her than you this time. Three years. Three years of falling asleep with you still awake beside her and waking up with you already looking at her.

You walk her back towards the bed, getting in with her, though not under the covers. With everyone, especially your mother, you don’t think it’ll hurt to stay until Melissa falls asleep. Her back presses to your front, hand holding yours to her chest, fast beating heart beneath. In a hushed voice, you speak about little things that don’t matter in hopes that it will calm her enough. Slowly her breath evens out, face burying into the pillow as it always does when you hold her like this.

Carefully, you detangle yourself from her and press a kiss to her hair, “I love you.” Stepping out of the room slowly, you leave the door cracked just a little and eye Melissa before turning. At the top of the stairs is your mother, brows raised.

“You better be going to your own bed,” she says quietly, though her tone is hard.

Rolling your eyes, you respond, “I am. Just had to make sure Melissa was asleep first.” You try to go into the room next door, but your mom’s face is silently asking for context, “she doesn’t sleep well. Different place, different sleeping arrangement, it’s difficult.”

You don’t particularly appreciate the dismissive way your mom just nods before walking towards the master bedroom, clearly thinking it was just an excuse, but it’s too late to fight about it. The sooner you sleep, the sooner you can wake up and crawl into bed with Melissa before she wakes. You watch the crack in the door and listen for Melissa until sleep comes over you.

—☽—

Something wakes you just past three in the morning, an ear splitting scream coming from next door. At first, you think it’s just your own anxiety, closing your eyes slowly. A second scream, this time of your name, and you’re springing out of bed, throwing the door open hard enough to bounce off the wall and slam shut. Four steps bring you to your childhood bedroom, rapidly swinging the door open to run in, not noticing the others joining you in the hall.

When you get into the room, moonlight illuminates Melissa where she’s sitting up with a hand gripping her shirt as she breathes in quick, panicked pants, eyes flying around the room until they land on you. Before she can even reach for you, you’re practically pouncing on the bed to get in front of her. Your hands go to her shoulders, her own gripping your forearms, her watery eyes darting around your face. Taking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly, you motion for Melissa to mimic you, trying to slow her rapid breath and heart.

Short gasps become slow, shaky breaths as panic begins to fade and tears form. A whimper of your name makes you pull her into you, her arms gripping your shirt and she cries into your neck. Between broken sobs, only the words window, knife, and everywhere and mention of a him come through, but you understood. This wasn’t the first time Eric’s actions haunted her at night, though it had been nearly two years since she’d woken up in a sweat.

Peeking over your shoulder, you see your parents and brother in the doorway. The look you give your mother is filled with anger and a raised brow that says I told you to listen. The clear fury makes your father pull her back towards their own room, pushing your brother to his. Some level of courtesy hits your mom, closing the door fully before she gets tugged away.

Attention back on Melissa, you alternate between playing with the ends of her hair and lightly dragging your nails over her back under her shirt. You tuck her hair behind her ear, tacky from tears, “you’re safe, Mel. Nothing and no one’s going to hurt you, I promise. I wouldn’t let them.”

Rocking side to side gently, you feel her breathing return to normal, body no longer shaking from tears. Trying not to jostle her, you turn your body to lay down with her, keeping her tucked into your neck with your arms around her. Pressing a kiss to her head, you slide an arm down to grab her hand, lacing your fingers together.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, just below your ear.

You squeeze her hand, “you never have to apologize for this. If anything, I’m the one that should be sorry. I should have stayed.”

She sniffled, “I’m a grown woman, I should be able to sleep alone.”

“And I should be able to stand up to my mother about sleeping in the same bed as my girlfriend, yet here we are,” you say jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.

Thankfully, she chuckles, the vibration on your skin making you smile, “so it’s all your fault.”

“I’ll gladly take the blame,” you mumble as you settle into the bed more, relaxing as you feel the redhead relax against you.

In a sudden move, Melissa props herself up over you, hair dangling in your face. Leaning down, she kisses your forehead, then each cheek, and finally your lips, long and loving. It’s a quiet thanks that she will never owe you.

“I love you,” she whispers.

“I love you more,” you whisper back.

It takes half an hour for sleep to creep back in, Melissa’s breathing growing slow where she rests on your chest, your heart beating under her ear. When she eventually falls back asleep against your chest, you stay awake and trace lines on her back. You’ll gladly stand guard if it means she sleeps peacefully, stay awake if it means she’s safe.

note: solaris write a fic under 3k like u planned challenge good lord man. also thank you thank you for the compliment, it’s an honor to be the first person u thought of to write this. i hope i did ur vision justice <3

as always, feedback appreciated <3

[burningcheese-merchant]

You have fully covered me into a burningcheese fan. I absolutely love how you write these ships with them!

But one question if burningcheese ever decided to have a wedding, what do you think it looked like and play out?

*inhales deeply* MY FRIEND! MY GUY! I'M FOUR PARALLEL UNIVERSES AHEAD OF YOU! (also, welcome to the cult and thank you so much for your support! I'm happy to bring people joy with my stories!)

I'll just give a few bullet points, because a) I have a lot of thoughts, and b) I haven't finished planning their wedding in full lol

Biggest. Wedding. Ever. Not exaggerating at all. It would be the biggest, most grand and beautiful wedding in the history of the world. Eclair will be there and he won't even be fully enjoying himself; he'll be too busy taking notes on EVERYTHING he sees, because it's such a fascinating culture mix/clash, there are so many guests (many of which are important figures), there are so many unique traditions and rituals and artifacts on display and and and... This isn't even his field of study, but he would absolutely be remiss to NOT document the wedding extensively, if only to pass it along to colleagues that actually specialize in cultural history (and help author some textbooks lol)

As said above, a big, fun culture clash. Members from both of their kingdoms worked together and went above and beyond to blend Egyptian Golden Cheese Kingdom aesthetics and with Indian Wild Spice aesthetics to create something traditional, yet brand new and exciting. Who would've thought they would work so well together? (You can say the same thing about the bride and groom tbh lol)

Our lovely couple's outfits would have bits and pieces from each other's cultures as a respectful homage to one another (and to show that they will be unifying their peoples through their marriage). Golden Cheese will dress mostly in her own traditional style, but with a good handful of pretty, tasteful Wild Spice accessories to accentuate her look. Same with Burning Spice; traditional Wild Spice wedding clothes, but with a touch of GCK to honor his wife

Also, they would both have matching henna (or mehndi, as they're actually called in India) tattoos. Very elaborate and beautiful, done by Wild Spice artists. (Henna/mehndi are mostly for women/brides, but from what I understand, men/grooms can get them too. I want to do this because I LOVE the idea of GC and BS having matching tattoos/makeup)

Everyone is invited. Literally everyone. They don't even have to know you. Just show up and have a good time (and be in awe of their love and devotion lol). It's very common for Indian weddings to be big ragers with many, many, MANY guests, and I thought that would suit a BurningCheese wedding too (especially for GC, she honestly probably would want EVERYONE to show up, both to show off and because she genuinely wants to share her joy with others)

Wedding party(ies) is their closest homies. The other Ancients plus the Cheese Gang (Smoked Cheese, Burnt Cheese and Mozzarella) for GC, a handful of his best subordinates for BS (Nutmeg Tiger, Saffron Buffalo, Pepper Pangolin, maybe Cilantro Cobra too).

Burning Spice thought of having Pitaya Dragon as a best man equivalent of some sort because they're Crime Besties (in my headcanon lol) but Hollyberry walked him through why that's a terrible idea and just left Pitaya as a regular guest

Wedding lasts a whole week, the main ceremony plus other rituals and a whole lot of dancing and drinking and laughing and having a blast together and with their loved ones

A+++ food, both GCK dishes and Wild Spice dishes, plus an assortment of delicacies from other lands (there's food from the Dark Cacao Kingdom, Faeriewood, the Creme Republic, etc). Hollyberry came in clutch and provided most of the booze (her kingdom has the god-tier alcohol, it was a welcome choice)

You can rest assured that they enjoyed their wedding night very, very much lol. Especially because there were technically seven of them. (One of Mozzarella's wedding gifts to them was soundproofing GC's bedroom no strings attached. She Knew™️. She's a girl's girl lol)

I'll stop there for everyone's sake, but TL;DR: it's a enormous, gorgeous event that perfectly encapsulates and celebrates their love. (And I envision this as part of Burning Spice's redemption arc, so it's like the reward at the end of a long, arduous journey. The breathtaking sunrise waiting at the mountain summit.) And they live happily ever after and have a family in the future, but I'm not spoiling that for any of you just yet :)

[blue-slxt]

Truth or Dare

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

A/N: Okay so I've had this idea for a while, but I just had no idea how to really execute it. So huge thanks to the anon that suggested the truth or dare premise. I love you! I hope you guys enjoy this one. This is also my first time really writing Ao'nung where he's involved in the story so go easy on me lol. All characters are aged up.

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Metkayina!Reader x Lo'ak x Ao'nung

Warnings: EXPLICIT SMUT, P in V, Oral (F receiving), Train, Squirting, Intense Orgasms, Creampie, Alcohol, (kinda) Manipulation, I think that's it

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: A game of truth or dare takes a turn when Ao'nung confronts you about a rumor he heard.

When the Sully family first arrived on your shores, everybody was weary of them and their presence. While Jake was basically a living legend with his status as toruk makto, everybody knew that him being here meant that the sky people wouldn’t be far behind. Nevertheless, Tonowari granted them uturu. Ao’nung and Tsireya were in charge of teaching the kids everything they needed to know to live here and you would tag along since Tsireya was your best friend.

The early days were rocky to put it lightly. The Sully boys and Ao’nung had a hard time getting along, which was entirely Ao’nung’s fault with his constant and unprompted teasing. You hated that part of him.

Even though Tsireya was like a sister to you, your feelings for Ao’nung were…more complicated. You had a crush on him for years, but you couldn’t deny that he had some irritating qualities about him. Usually, he only acted like that when he was with his friends. It was like he felt the need to show off for them. It was exhausting. And right around that time was when you started to actually take notice of the Sully brothers. They were so different from everything that you had grown up with. Their skin was a darker shade of blue, their frames were much more slim to help them maneuver through the forest more efficiently, thin tails, amber eyes, completely braided hair instead of any loose curls, and no tattoos to be seen.

Your curiosity had been piqued already by just their physical appearance. But as you got to know them, your interest grew. Neteyam was charming and traditional. He took training very seriously and you would often try to get him to loosen up and have a little fun. Lo’ak on the other hand was full of surprises. He was funny and adventurous. You enjoyed spending time with them.

Over the last couple of years that they’ve lived here, you’ve all grown close, even with Ao’nung. The Sully kids adapted to your ways quickly and they’ve become upstanding, respected members of the clan.

Tonight, you are all sitting around a fire on the beach drinking like you would do often when you all had some free time. You all laugh and joke and talk for hours under the night sky. Eventually Kiri announces that she’s ready to turn in for the night and Tsireya follows suit behind her leaving you alone with Ao’nung, Neteyam, and Lo’ak. The precarious position you’re in right now is lost on you, but not Ao’nung. He sees this as the perfect opportunity to have a little fun with you.

“How about we play a game?” he suggests with a sly grin.

You raise an eyebrow at him since suggesting games wasn’t usually his thing, but you were curious to see where this was going. “What game?” “Truth or Dare.”

“Alright, who wants to go first?” you ask.

You all shift your gazes around at each other for a second before Lo’ak decides to raise his hand and volunteer.

“Okay, Lo’ak, truth or dare?”

“Truth, hit me with your best shot.” He turns his nose up showing off his confidence in his choice.

You try to think of a good question to ask him, “Are you a virgin?” You’re not sure why that was the question that came to mind, but you put it out there now so you have to stand by it.

“Nope.” He winks at you when he answers and Neteyam swats his arm to tell him to behave.

“No real surprise there, I guess” you say about to take another sip of your drink.

“Guess you would know, huh?” you hear Ao’nung mumble next to you.

You turn to look at him with a questioning look, “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I mean, guys talk. And I’ve heard a thing or two about you is all.” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly while Neteyam and Lo’ak watch on.

“Alright, my turn to ask. Truth or dare?” Lo’ak asks you.

“Truth.” “So is it true? What all the guys say about you?” Neteyam hits Lo’ak again. He can’t believe that Lo’ak would actually ask you such a thing.

You don’t take any offence to the question, though. “Wouldn’t you like to find out?” you laugh a little to yourself taking another swig of your drink.

“I would, actually.” Ao’nung speaks up. “See, I think you’re all talk. And the stories I’ve heard? I think they’re just that, stories. There’s no way you’d be able to handle a real pounding.” Ao’nung knew exactly what he was doing. He was challenging you. Testing you to see how far you’d go to prove him wrong. He’s always known how to manipulate you into doing what he wanted. And you weren’t stupid. You could recognize the manipulation from a mile away. But you could never stop yourself from playing right into his schemes. And this time would be no different.

“Please, I could take all 3 of you if I wanted.” You scoff. You’re mostly bluffing, but you’re feeling emboldened by the alcohol. Your words make Neteyam choke a little on his drink across from you.

Ao’nung leans closer to your face with a devilish look, “Prove it, then. I dare you.”

Your jaw clenches while you mentally wrestle with yourself. Were you really about to do this? Just to prove a point? What point were you even trying to actually prove? But you didn’t want to back out now. Fuck it.

“Fine. Who wants to go first?” You look between the three of them and each of them have a different expression on their faces. Neteyam looks borderline horrified at the suggestion. Lo’ak is in disbelief. And Ao’nung looks smug as hell. “I’ll do it. Doubt you’ll actually see it through though” he taunts. He stands to undo his loincloth while you do the same.

Neteyam and Lo’ak are wide-eyed at the scene unfolding front of them. “Bro, is this for real?” Neteyam leans over and asks Lo’ak not fully believing what he’s witnessing. “Bro, I sure hope it is.”

You lie on your back and let your knees fall open to expose your glistening cunt. Ao’nung has a quick flash of amazement run across his face before he replaces it with his signature sly grin. “So wet already. Is that all for me?” he teases while rubbing his tip through your slick.

“You wish. This is for our audience.” You retort and shoot a wink to the two brothers watching in disbelief. Both of their faces are flushed, but Lo’ak’s eyes are already staring at you full of lust. Your eyes snap back to Ao’nung when he starts to sink into you.

Your mouth falls open feeling the way he stretches you. Truth was, you had only had sex once before. It was stupid and didn’t last that long and you both agreed to not tell anybody about it. Clearly, you were the only one that held up your end of the agreement and that’s part of the reason you’re even in this situation right now.

Ao’nung was much bigger than the other guy and the fullness makes tears start to prick at the corners of your eyes, but you fight to hold them back. By the time he bottoms out inside of you, your fingers are digging into the sand beneath you trying to steady yourself while you adjust to his intruding size.

“Damn, so fucking tight. You sure you’re not a virgin?” he’s trying to tease you, but you can see how his breathing starts to stagger. He sets a slow pace steadily thrusting into your heat. Your eyes close feeling his hips roll into yours. The pain quickly subsided and left only pleasure in its wake. Soft moans leave your lips feeling how he grazes your sweet spot. You lock your legs around his waist pulling him impossibly closer to you. “Oh fuck, right there.”

Ao’nung can’t take the sound of your voice. It’s driving him crazy to watch the way his cock sinks into you over and over again. He had secretly wanted this for so long. To have you right now, hair splayed out, eyes rolling back, and sweet moans leaving your mouth, it’s more than he can bear. He buries his face in your neck breathing in your scent and letting it cloud his senses.

You look over at Neteyam and Lo’ak relishing in the feeling of being watched. Neteyam has a hard time holding his eyes on you, but Lo’ak is completely tuned in and stroking himself through his loincloth. His eyes don’t leave you for a second. Something about knowing that he’s watching you be used and knowing that he’s touching himself just dying to be inside of you turns you on even more. It makes the growing knot in your stomach tighten even more, just seconds away from snapping. “Oh shit…I’m gonna cum.”

Ao’nung sits up on his knees and throws your legs on his shoulders to angle your hips up and drill directly into your sweet spot. “Ah!..Ao’nung ha-ah….I’m cumming!” your head falls back and your hands desperately search for something to grab onto while your first orgasm washes over you. Ao’nung grunts above you feeling how your walls clench him even tighter and now he’s nearing his own high.

Once you ride out your high, he pulls out of you and strokes himself over you until he cums on your stomach. It’s hot and thick, but the feeling grounds you back into reality. Both of your chests are heaving trying to catch your breath.

You look up at him while he’s composing himself, “Told you.”

He chuckles lowly, “Don’t start talking shit just yet. You still have 2 more to go.” He grabs his loincloth and starts to redo it.

Lo’ak practically jumps from his place in the sand. He’s been eager to get his turn since you first agreed. It was almost painful how hard he was. He unties his loincloth and even you can notice how big your eyes get. His cock springs to life already rock hard and oozing precum. The length and girth are completely different from Metkayina men. Suddenly one of your friends’ words make sense to you now. ‘It’s always the skinny ones that surprise you.’ Guess she wasn’t joking.

He watches your face in amusement. He knew he was blessed and he had no intention of being humble about it.

“Alright, how do you want m—”

Before you can finish your thought, Lo’ak had already flipped you over and hoisted your hips up into the air. “Just like that.” His hands slide up and down your thick thighs and his calloused fingers grip the plush of your ass. He grips and spreads and smacks just relishing in the view of your arousal dripping down your legs. He feels like his head is spinning.

You prepare yourself for him to enter you, but instead, he uses his tongue and licks one long stripe from your clit up to your dripping hole and tongue fucks you. Now, this was a completely new sensation. It was like nothing you’d ever felt before and it was like heaven. “Fuck, you taste even better than I imagined.”

Little squeals and mewls fall from your mouth while his tongue pokes and prods inside of you. His hands continue exploring your ass and spreading you open even more for easier access.

Once he’s had his fill, he sits up on his knees and aligns himself with your hole. You feel the tip poke at your entrance and suddenly there’s lightning shooting through you as he rams his entire length into you at once.

He gives you no real time to adjust as he starts pounding into you. “Shit, man you weren’t kidding. She is fucking tight.” He’s pulled into a trance watching the way your ass bounces back against his hips. Your moans are loud and shameless. He reaches a new depth that feels like he’s poking into your stomach. It’s almost too much, but when you look over at Ao’nung and Neteyam, the way Neteyam starts to bite his lip listening to you and Ao’nung is casually stroking himself watching you, you can’t even be bothered to think about anything else but how much you want them to watch you more.

“Haah…more! More Lo’ak!” you breathlessly plead. Your body starts to move on its own throwing your hips back into him to meet his thrusts. You’re trying to push him even deeper into you which would normally hurt, but in the fog of your desire, it gives you nothing but satisfaction.

Lo’ak leans forward and reaches around to start rubbing messy circles on your clit. “Ah! Fuck!” The stimulation makes your whole lower body feel like electricity.

“Yeah, cum on that dick. Just like that.” His breath is hot against the shell of your ear and your body starts to shake under the force of your second orgasm. It’s too much to contain and you can feel an even more intense feeling taking over you right at the very peak. “Shit shit shit!” You have no time to get any more words out before you squirt all over Lo’ak’s lower body and hand. His fingers on your clit rub back and forth spraying your juices everywhere while he still pounds into you chasing his own high. “Ah! Lo-ak! Fuck!” Hearing how your voice calls out his name pushes him over the edge. He quickly pulls out of you at the last second and pumps his fist up and down his shaft until his hot cum spills onto your back.

Your legs finally give way and you fall into the sand. Lo’ak stands and pulls his loincloth back on. A dull ache starts to settle in your core from all the abuse it’s taken, but you harden your resolve knowing that there was still one more. You all turn to look at Neteyam and his face flushes feeling put on the spot. If you were being totally transparent, Neteyam was the one you were most curious about. Unlike most men his age, he didn’t go around bragging about his size or his sexual conquests. He has always been more reserved when it came to that kind of stuff. He was a wild card. You didn’t really know what to expect from him.

“Come on, bro. You’ve got to. Swear you won’t regret it.” Lo’ak says lightly slapping his shoulder.

He hesitates and stumbles over his words trying to pick whatever he feels like is the right answer. While he speaks, you notice the huge bulge under his loincloth. You muster all the strength you can find in your body and crawl over to him slow and sensually. His eyes lock on you and he watches as you get right between his legs and play with the knot on the waistband of his cloth. “Come on ‘Teyam. Come play with me.”

He swallows hard while you untie his loincloth and free his throbbing cock. His size may be the most impressive. It’s similar to Lo’ak, but slightly skinnier and about an inch longer. Your subconscious panics a little thinking about how it was going to fit inside of you. Lo’ak was already crowding your cervix when he was inside of you, but your conscious mind has already decided that you’re just going to have to make it fit.

Your hand strokes his dick experimentally watching his expression intently. He holds your gaze while his breathing gets quicker. The two of you don’t say a word, but your eyes say everything. You silently ask him if he’s okay with this and tell him it’s fine if he’s not. But he gives you the go ahead to continue finally giving in.

You carefully straddle his lap and grind your cunt against him and coat him in your slick and the remnants of your last orgasm. His hands rest on your hips while you grind on him. “We’ll just take it easy, okay?” you say gently to him and he nods.

You lift your hips and catch his tip right on your entrance. You lower yourself down on him slowly to help ease him into it, but also because your hole is so worn out from the previous beatings and you need to take his size slowly. Inch by inch he reaches deeper and deeper into you until you could swear he’s knocking on the bottom of your lungs. It’s almost hard to even breathe by the time you make it all the way down. He watches your face trying to make sure that you’re okay and he’s not hurting you. You have to bite your lip to hold back the soft sobs that want to escape from the twinge of pain. You just have to push past this discomfort and then it’ll be fine. That’s how it goes. Slowly, you start to rock your hips back and forth on top of him. From the way Neteyam’s eyebrows knit together, you can tell he feels good and that helps you to relax and start to feel good too. You guide his hands to grip your ass, “It’s okay” you whisper to him. You let his hands grip you and lead your hips to where it feels best for him. Soon, he starts to let his hips buck up into you and it’s overwhelming. “Haah…oh fuck Neteyam…” your head feels dizzy while he strokes up into you. He’s much more gentle than Ao’nung or Lo’ak and, for now, you thank Eywa for that. Your hands grip his braids and hold his head close to your chest where Neteyam kisses and licks and sucks on every single inch of skin he can see. His big arms completely wrap around your waist to hold you in place while he ruts into you faster and harder.

“Shit, just look at how good she takes it. Maybe those rumors are true.” Lo’ak says to Ao’nung somewhere behind you. You almost forgot you had an audience and the thought of them watching as your ass bounces up and down on Neteyam’s dick sends you into a frenzy. Moans and curses weave together as they leave your mouth losing yourself on top of Neteyam. He lets out low, guttural groans feeling your heat hugging around him perfectly. Even in his best dreams, he hasn’t imagined you feeling this good. And he dreamed about it a lot. 

That knot is growing in your stomach again and it’s back with a vengeance. “’Teyam, I-I’m gonna cum!”

“Shit, me too.”

You cling onto him for dear life trying to chase that high. You don’t bother to get off of him when he says he’s going to cum. All that matters is reaching that euphoria. When the knot snaps, it breaks with the force of a typhoon. Your mind goes completely blank and your vision spots with white dots, but your body moves on autopilot still rising and sinking on his cock. “Hng..shit..” Neteyam can’t hold off his own release anymore with the way your walls are squeezing him and he spills everything he has inside of you.

The fire in your core damn near sends you over the edge again, but you finally feel yourself fall back into your body as you come down.

Both of you are sweaty and clinging onto one another while your minds clear the lustful stupor you both got caught up in.

Neteyam helps lift your hips up just high enough so that he can pull out of you. The emptiness makes you wince, but you’re relieved. You fall back into the sand and stare up at the sky while the night’s events race through your head.

Ao’nung slow claps off to the side of you. “I have to admit, I didn’t think you’d be able to do it, but I’ll concede. You proved me wrong.”

Bullshit. He never cared about being proven wrong or right. And you knew that, but you couldn’t find it in you to give a damn.

A wide smile split your face and you turn your head to look at him.

“We should play this again some time.”

[onyourstageleft]

a love letter to my favorite YA lit:

I'm relistening to the Beka Cooper audio books again (a yearly tradition at this point) and every time I hear the opening line of Mastiff, "We buried Holborn today," it takes me back to opening the e-book on my Nook the day it was released in my freshman year of high school and reading that line while sitting on the bleachers waiting for PE to start. I remember flipping back to the previous page to make sure this was the first chapter, thinking I'd never even heard of Holborn. I opened the Bloodhound e-book to compare the dates of her entries and realized the time skip was nearly two years, and got so excited to see what happened to Beka while we weren't with her. We walked the track that overcast day of PE in 2011 and I barely looked up from my Nook, so engrossed was I in Beka's story

that was the first Tamora Pierce book release I waited on; I found her books in probably 2009 and had read most of them by the summer of 2011. I pre-ordered Mastiff so it would be on my Nook as soon as it came out, but I was a freshman in high school and wasn't supposed to stay up till midnight, so I had to wait until the day to read it. it was nearly 13 years (and half my life ago) but here I am, still re-reading and re-listening to the Tamora Pierce books that got me through being a teenager. I remember sitting in my high school's library rereading their copy of Wild Magic over my lunch break to pass the time; drunk crying on the floor of my friend's dorm at a character's death in Terrier my freshman year of college (even though I'd read it 3 or 4 times at that point I always forgot); waiting in the lobby of the technology building of my college campus for my class to start with Spy's Guide on my lap after its release; sitting in my advisor's office in grad school flipping through Mastiff and Page and Lioness Rampant for quotes to include in my thesis; rereading Briar's book at the height of the pandemic. I have a tattoo of Lighting on my arm and a (very rough and needs to be redone) tattoo of Pounce/Faithful on my calf and I genuinely don't think a day has gone by in over a decade where I haven't thought about Tamora Pierce books

the world of Tortall (and Emelan, to a lesser extent) has shaped me, and although this is an attempt to pin it down, I will never be able to explain how much these books mean to me. I know that I may love other series and worlds (I'm currently reading some Terry Pratchett, for example), but they will never make an impact on me in the same way that Tortall and all its various characters has, and that's fine by me

and yet, through all of it, I will never, ever be ready for The Thing We Don't Talk About in Mastiff, not now at a dozen rereads and not in another 13 years

[kitchenisking]

Sterek Fic Rec

Forth Night of Chunnuka

Tis the Season for Some Red Underwear! by Lunabell_Marauder_Knyte - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 3,937, sterek)

((I want to get better and become more comfortable writing smut, so I'm practicing.))

It's Derek's and Stiles' first Christmas as a couple and while everyone seems to know what to get Stiles, Derek doesn't. He feels like a horrible boyfriend. He asks Scott for help, which he does, but Erica has ideas for him to 'spice up' his gift. At first Derek isn't budging, but after a Santa themed Abercrombie model hit on HIS boyfriend and smelling Stiles slightly aroused...well, he drew the line at letting Erica set up a camera but promised her he'd tell her some of the details about how his gift for Stiles went.

It Could Have Been a Cold, Cold Christmas by hazelNuts - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 2,774, sterek)

anonymous asked, "Hey i have a prompt for you. I was wondering if you could please write a Sterek story where Derek's relations are visiting and he panics thinking they won't approve of his mate being a human so he panics and tells Stiles that he wants him to stay away while they are visiting and asks one of the pack to pretend to be his mate. Hurt Stiles tells him he'll stay away alright for good then Stiles agrees to go on a date with who ever. Bring a jealous and possessive Derek to his senses." 

He doesn’t understand why Derek needs his family’s approval so badly. They’re happy, or they were. They’ve been together for almost a year and mates for nearly as long. He thought he was important to Derek, but apparently not important enough that Derek would tell his family about him.

You're Mine by theabominable_snowman - (Rating: Mature, Words: 409, sterek)

Prompt: "Derek's wolf is all STILES STILES STILES STILES STILES STILES STILES STILES STILES STILES STILES .."

Tell Me No Lies by adult_disneyprincess (orphan_account) - (Rating: Mature, Words: 3,932, sterek)

Stiles purposely makes Derek angry to get what he wants.

Grasp All, Lose All by alphablues - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 1,845, sterek)

The first one is for his mother. He doesn't tell the pack because it's really none of their business. It his skin, his tattoo, not theirs. The second one is for protection, and the third one-well, that one's for Derek.

I Think I'll Keep You by darkchild - (Rating: Mature, Words: 1,980, sterek)

Derek put his finger over the said hickey and pushes, causing Stiles’ knees to go weak. Derek’s right at his ear, then. Nipping at it for the second time that night before Stiles even realizes what's happening. “I’ll let you come, Stiles. I’ll give you what you came for.”

And just like that, Stiles's world had made a complete 180 because what the actual fuck was Derek Hale, sex god of all sex gods, doing to Stiles?

Tell Me What You Want Until It Hurts by redeyedwrath - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 2,275, sterek)

"They don't do this a lot; when they fuck it's mostly quick and rough. Punishing. Kisses tasting like blood, nails scratching down sides, marking each other, a silent, ‘we're both alive, we're here.’

Sometimes though, on special occasions, Derek lets Stiles take him apart. Lets Stiles pin him against the bed, fit his fingers inside until Derek's crying."

Or, a ficlet where Stiles makes Derek fall apart using his fingers.

I Found A Love by thedevilyousay - (Rating: G, Words: 1,992, sterek)

It was a tradition they’d started not long after they’d begun dating, when Derek had first found out that Stiles spoke Polish fluently. They would play it like a game, usually over dinner, Stiles mostly but sometimes Derek asking questions or making statements in Polish that the other would then repeat back in English, a considerably more fun and immersive way to learn than flashcards or text. But Stiles has never had any trouble keeping Derek on his toes and this particular night comes as no exception.

Work Song by DefNotForWork - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 5,078, sterek)

Derek and Stiles adjust to life with a new baby, their first. She's beautiful and amazing. No wonder Stiles spends all his time spoiling her now. Still, Derek has a hard time sharing the attention.

Through Time and Space by To_fill_the_sea - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 7,545, sterek)

A witch casts a relocation spell that sends Derek back in time 6 years. Stiles and the rest of the pack have to get him back, but how will everyone from 6 years prior handle the situation? And will Derek be able to handle keeping clear of his mate?

[sparksqfly]

⭒❝Speak Now❞ ࿓

there's the silence, there's my last chance, i stand up with shaky hands, all eyes on me

synopsis: modern au - you're about to get married; you should be happy, but on your big day, all you can think about is that redhead you were in love with your whole life, who is now determined to disrupt everything just to win you back.

author's note: this is a short story to celebrate the release of "speak now (taylor's version)," which I am very happy and excited about! this story is literally inspired by the song "speak now," and it's a multiverse full of references to taylor swift and her lyrics bc i have her songs tattoed in my head hehehe, this references won't ruin your reading experience if you're not a fan. english is not my first language, so i apologize for any mistakes i may have made. ty for readig <3

warnings!/about the story: the image is not intended to represent the reader; it's just there for aesthetic purposes. mentions of the reader wearing dresses. the reader is kinda forced to marry an idiot and be in a heterosexual relationship, and that mf is an idiot. joel is referred to as ellie's father, and both ellie and the reader are between 21 and 25 years old.

wc: 3,3k

what the fuck am I doing? you asked yourself looking at yourself in the mirror, you had possibly been doing it for two hours, or three. you came out of your trance when you saw your friend, dina came into the room where you were getting ready. you had asked the girls who had come to help you with your appearance to leave for a while because you wanted to have "your rituals before your big day" which so far had consisted of looking in the mirror, feeling like throwing up and being about to cry.

"hey sweetie," dina said closing the door behind herself. she was holding something white in her hands, you'd had enough of that color. she put it down on one of the couches that was somewhere in the room and dragged a chair over so she could sit in front of you. she gently caressed your cheek and grabbed your hands and looked at you. "you always look beautiful, but today you look stunning." you smiled at her, not wanting to reject her compliments, but you really didn't feel beautiful today, you felt even disgusted with yourself.

dina took your hands in hers and smiled at you, "i have some gifts for you," you sighed. "you don't have to give me anything, dee. there are already too many gifts, too many," you sighed. "ok but listen to me. I already know you got something new, the dress," you looked in the mirror again. when you went to buy the dress you were with dina and your sister, you were already not liking the idea of the wedding and you already felt uncomfortable surrounded by so much white. she had already shown up and you tried to make up for how wrong it felt to do what you were doing with the greatest traditions possible, buying the longest and most "princess-like" dress you could find, a dress that perfectly covered your tattoos, buying pink flowers and golden decorations because that's how it was supposed to be.

"not that tradition again," you joked. you were too sick of tradition. "i know, i know but you know how i am. look, i'll help you" dina without waiting a second longer, knelt in front of you and started trying to lift your dress. obviously, it was difficult for her because of the number of layers it had "fuck..." she cursed, and you couldn't help but laugh listening to her. she gently grabbed your ankle and showed you a small blue ribbon, you smiled at her, and she gently tied it to your ankle, just above your shoe. "something blue," she said with a little girlish smile. she sat back down, sat back down across from you and pulled a necklace out of her pocket, a delicate chain with a small paper airplane charm on it. she put it on and tucked it inside your dress "something borrowed?" you asked raising an eyebrow and dina denied, "something used". you nodded, finally dina pulled something out of her pocket. you froze in place and felt dizzy. "something borrowed" she said and showed you a bracelet. a bracelet you had seen a thousand times, a brown bracelet with three leather straps. two hands pointing to a turkish eye in the middle. her bracelet. the bracelet that ellie always wore on her tattooed arm and that you sometimes played with when she ran a hand across your shoulders, hugging you.

taking advantage of your trance, dina fastened ellie's bracelet on your wrist and smiled at you as you stood up "i know you will make the right decision and i will always be there to support you," she said and bent down to kiss your forehead. as quickly as she came she was gone. you looked in the mirror again, touching the bracelet as you did with ellie and as if you had called out to her she appeared through the door and closed it behind her. you saw her in the mirror and immediately turned around in disbelief. the last thing you expected was to see her, much less the way she was now, dressed in a suit and all dolled up. the last time you had seen her was two weeks ago, you had met for the last time, you had touched each other for the last time, you had memorized each other entirely and finally you had said goodbye with a last kiss. you hadn't had the courage to cross her name out of the wedding list, it pained you to even see her name.

"you don't know what I had to go through to get in here, it looks like your lovely future husband uninvited me" said ellie playing with her hands, "you look beautiful". really? was that really all she had to say? "ellie, what are you doing here?" you got up from your chair to stand in front of her. you watched as ellie admired your dress, as she carefully analyzed your face and after what seemed like an eternity she took courage to grab you by the waist and bring you to her. "don't do it" said ellie gluing her forehead to yours. "meet me behind the church, we can go wherever you want, we'll do whatever you want. but don't say yes" you sighed, ellie williams was begging you to stay with her, to run away with her.

"els, i can't be this kind of person," you didn't know if you were trying to convince yourself or her. "no, you're not the kind of girl who should be marrying an idiot." "els, please. i can't do this, i can't let him down like this. i can't let everyone down like this" ellie sighed heavily and cup your face in her hands "don't do this to yourself, don't do this to me. neither of us deserve it." you were about to burst into tears, your thoughts were starting to run through your head too fast. "ellie" you sighed but she shook her head "you need to hear me out. i'm sorry, i'm really sorry for not telling you when we were little, i was 14 and I knew absolutely nothing, i didn't want to lose the friendship we had because i was afraid i was confused. i'm sorry I didn't tell you in high school when we were both teenagers and I'm sorry I didn't tell you when we started getting closer. i was so scared but i really love you, i have loved you since you walked into my house that day with a book about dinosaurs for my birthday. and i still love you, i was too scared to tell you and I don't want to lose you."

in that moment you saw the weight that ellie seemed to be carrying disappear from her back. ellie, the 14 year old girl you gave a book about dinosaurs to when she turned fourteen because your parents wanted you to meet her since they were friends with her father. the girl you became inseparable with when you both entered high school and when you started to like her. the best memories of your life were with ellie by your side, you could always be yourself with her and you never had the arguments you had with john, your fiancé. ellie had always listened to you and had always made you a priority. "can you say something?" ellie brought you back to reality with her voice. "ellie..." you were about to speak when you heard footsteps approaching the room they were in and you opened your eyes in complete alarm when you heard your mother-in-law speak. "ellie, you have to go" you said grabbing her by the wrists and pulling her to the back door "y/n, what the fuck? " she asked unfocused "please, john's family is coming, they can't see you here" you followed her leading her to the back door and when you opened it you pulled her inside being careful not to make her fall "what-" ellie asked again and before she went on you gave her a quick peck, that made her calm down immediately "keep going up those stairs, you're going straight out to where the ceremony is being held. don't let anyone see you els, please" she seemed to understand immediately and you closed the door. what had you just done?

you turned around just to see your fiancé's family walk in. all dressed in pastel and with smiles which now made you uneasy. they were talking about how beautiful you looked, how happy they were with your union and fantasizing about how many children you would have. yeah, sure. as those hellish minutes passed all you could think about was ellie, she had confessed to you how long she had been in love with you and now you were thinking how obvious it was. you realized that you had spent half your life loving her without telling her and you were about to spend the rest of your life regretting not telling her. when john's family finally left you sighed and sat back in your chair stroking ellie's bracelet and at that moment you saw your fiancé walk in. you didn't feel anything when you saw him, you weren't even angry that he broke the tradition of not seeing you before the ceremony, it was just like him not to pay attention to you. you thought about how you had felt when you saw ellie walk in and how empty you felt now.

"you look beautiful" he said. "thank you" you sighed looking at him "what do you want?" "is that how you talk to your fiancé? you're not mad because i broke this stupid tradition of not seeing you, are you?" you sighed. you hated it when he was like that. "is that your little friend’s bracelet?" that comment made you put your hand on the bracelet defensively and you turned around "maybe, what if it is?" "that trinket doesn't go with the expensive dress my mom bought you" you didn't know if it was a joke but you felt too annoyed. "leave me alone, it's tradition and ellie gave it to me, it's something important for both of us" john just rolled his eyes and grabbed the door to leave "see you in a little while, wifey".

you were left alone in the room; the silence was deafening, and you began to rethink absolutely everything. you liked Ellie since you were little, she was the person you loved the most after your family and you had hurt her with thousands of cuts just because of your eagerness to please people with what you were supposed to do. but on the other hand if you decided to be selfish you would disappoint your fiancé's whole family. those people you really loved as well as they loved you and had paid for that whole wedding. tour family too, they were so happy for your engagement and on top of that they didn't even know you liked women. how could you call off your wedding being only a few minutes away to run away and tell them that yes, you liked women and you had been in love with your best friend for more than seven years.

there you were, with a bouquet of roses and several decorative plants adorning your bridal bouquet. as you looked at it you laughed to yourself thinking that one of the plants sticking out of the bouquet looked just like the plant ellie had tattooed on her forearm. "lover" by taylor swift was playing on the speakers, she was singing about always wanting to go where your person goes, about always being close and that was all you wanted with ellie. "you look beautiful" your father's voice made you turn around. he intertwined his arm with your free arm and you smiled at him, the guilt was eating you alive. "pa'" you called out to him and he turned around "yes honey?" "if anything happens today, i just wanted to say i'm sorry" he frowned but couldn't say anything as the song ended and that meant there were only seconds left before you had to walk down the aisle.

the doors opened and the organ began to play what now sounded like a death march. the doors you were standing in front of opened. the light blinded you for a brief moment and then you saw eyes. what felt like thousands of eyes on you watching for any movement and surely noticing your disgruntled expression. you started walking on the red carpet towards the altar where there was a priest, john and some friends. were you really going to humiliate him like that in front of so many people?

as you continued walking you started to look for some eyes. ellie's green eyes, which you couldn't find anywhere, made you want to cry again. it was possible that she had really gotten tired of the back and forth and you didn't blame her. she deserved to be happy with someone who always put her first. maybe it was for the best.

as you walked down the aisle the only glances that caught your attention were from dina and Jesse, your best friends. who were possibly the only ones who knew and that was what their eyes reflected. concern and sadness. dina even tried to force a smile but jesse couldn't. they knew you even better than you knew yourself.

your father let go of your arm and you handed one of your bridesmaids your bouquet of flowers. then, your father-in-law helped you up the aisle and you stood in front of john. he said something with his lips that you didn't even bother to understand. the wedding music stopped and the priest began to talk and talk about love and various things that you didn't pay attention to. you could only think about her because you didn't even want to look at the audience. you were terrified of what might happen in the next few minutes. had you really dodged a bullet or you just lost the love of your life?

john's expression changed and you quickly got back in tune with the priest's speech. did the vows already need to be said? when you heard what followed you felt like you were about to vomit. "if anyone wants to interrupt this union speak now or forever hold your peace". you looked at the audience completely scared even though you didn't know why. did you want her to show up? you heard the priest take a breath to speak again but another noise came even louder.

you heard footsteps and the wooden benches where the guests were sitting creak under someone's weight and finally behind jesse and dina's bench ellie came out and stood in the middle of the red carpet. her hands were shaking and everyone turned to look at her in complete silence. ellie was only looking at you and you at her. the horrified looks from everyone in the room increased when she uttered the single word "y/n" obviously the expectations of the guests had led them to believe that ellie was there for ojhn and not for you.

john grabbed one of your hands, the one with ellie's bracelet in it, and you looked at him for a second. what reaffirmed what you were about to do was that he didn't look sad, he looked angry. he was losing you and he wasn't even worried. you shook your head at him and he opened his eyes wide when he realized it, although only he did it. you saw your father-in-law signal to security to possibly get ellie out and with that signal you grabbed your dress and went down the small stairs. ellie's relieved face made you gasp but there was no time. you ran out and pushed the door with your body. you felt ellie's footsteps running hurriedly behind you. you turned to look at her for a second and saw her closing the door. you kept running towards the room where you were getting ready and ellie came in behind you closing the door.

"ellie" you called her and she ran to hug you burying her face between your neck and shoulder. you brought a hand to her hair and stroked it. "thank you" she said in an incredibly low tone of voice. you pulled away from her "so now what?" "we're leaving" ellie said looking all around and you nodded, you turned around showing her your back "take it off" you said decisively "what?" "fuck els, take off my dress. it's the only thing I bought it for and i can't go out like this" you quickly felt his hands on your back and how he unbuttoned it. you stepped out of the dress without bothering to grab it and obviating that you had no bra but it was ellie, she had seen you a thousand times. you grabbed the short satin dress you had for the party after the ceremony and put it on without thinking. you went to the door where you had dismissed your ellie a few minutes ago and motioned for her to come downstairs with you. ellie nodded and before you started downstairs she gave you her suit jacket so you wouldn't be so cold. she grabbed your hand and the two of you started down the stairs at a brisk pace.

once you two came out, turned into the street and you saw her car parked nearby. she squeezed your hand and they ran to the car. there were some guests on the street watching the show but ellie didn't even pay attention to them, she put a hand on your back and opened the passenger door of her car for you. you looked at her and got in, without wasting time she closed your door carefully and got into the driver's seat, she started the car and when you realized it, they had already turned the block and started on their way. "are you okay?" ellie asked you, putting a hand on your knee and caressing it. "what did i just do?" you wondered aloud to yourself. ellie looked concerned "you regretted it?" you turned to look at her. Her gaze shifted between your face and the road "no, I've never been more sure of anything in my life, it's just that this wasn't the way I would have liked things to go, neither for us nor for him" ellie nodded and continued stroking your leg "where do you want to go?" she asked and you smiled at her, she knew what that meant.

finally you arrived at ellie's house, where she lived with her father. you smiled as you walked through the door and ellie hugged your waist. many of your happiest memories were in that house, you had lost a lot of time but they were willing to make up for it. "ellie? is that you?" Joel's voice echoed from the kitchen. "yeah” ellie screamed in response. joel came out of the kitchen with a rag in his hands and his eyes widened as he saw you dressed in white and completely ready to get married. "well congratulations, he was an idiot." He said and as he came he left, heading to his room like a ghost.

you looked at Ellie and both burst out laughing. she carried you with her arms and took you to the living room sofa and laid you down on it and she got on top of you. you hugged her as she showered you with kisses "remember you asked me what you had just done? when we went out?" you nodded. "you had just run away from your wedding to your future wife" she joked and you hugged her again joining her lips and she hugged you too. that was the first thing you felt confident about all day. you had made the right choice.

[imustbenuts]

more disorganized yakuza culture bordering on religion thoughts

(finished order 7, 8, 0, k1, k2. currently at 3 ch 3)

it feels like the writer went deep into reading about buddhism and religion at one point

im not japanese but a SEAsian uh chinese/hokkien diaspora who happens to be a weab so take this with some grain of salt bc we arent a monolith here

Surface level understanding of buddhism

when it comes to gang and tattoos or in yakuza's case irezumi, theres a general consensus of tats = cool and rebellious in a culture thats largely very collectivist. so getting one is like pointing the middle finger to society

the problem is sometimes tattoos are gotten more for the aesthetics than truly understanding the deeper meaning behind it. an easy example is the dragon itself: its powerful, its strong, it comes and goes, and does good things whenever it wants to. it might get associated with buddhism but like... if you think about it for 3 seconds, it fucking falls apart for 1 reason

gods in buddhism are the maintenance crew for the world's function (rain, nature, etc), and at the same time are supposed to be as part of the cycle and pain as everyone else. meaning, gods arent inherently special, they just happen to be higher beings doing their best to escape the cycle of samsara.

so by that lens, borrowing godhood from god to elevate yourself is... uh. kinda weird. (imo at least).

yet what goes on in 2? ryuji borrows the dragon iconography and tries to achieve dragonhood. kiryu is thematically the dragon but thats kind of all that he is. hes more theme than human at this point.

in yakuza 1 and 2 theres some hint of this surface crap. the story never really goes deep enough exploring the aspects of this cycle of suffering thing. the general message seems to be, suffering happens and builds character. which fucking sucks.

but thats not the real point of the buddhist message. its more suffering is unavoidable, so do your best to reduce it for yourself and others, and roll with it.

The gap and the growth between 1, 2 and 7, 8

looking at 7 and 8 in contrast to 1 and 2 and i think its clearly buddhist as fuck: kasuga ichiban is framed as jesus, but in some buddhist interpretations, jesus qualifies as a boddhisattva, ie someone who clears the condition of escaping samsara but chooses to stay behind to help. and thats what ichiban does. he doesnt judge, he refuses to play into classism bullshit, and forces people to look past it.

buddhism was originally a breakaway from hinduism. where hinduism had a whole caste system forcing people into tiers, buddhism tried breaking it. (and then medieval japan's government turned it into shinto buddhism and shoved everyone into a caste system themself... yeesh.)

meanwhile, in gaiden, kiryu has this bit where he meditates as a monk for enlightenment.

makes me wonder if the writer tried to do something similar and exactly how much buddhist stuff did they read at one point....

oh btw

Kiryu and Kasuga's theme. Dragon and Not-Dragon

ok i fucking caught this:

kiryu is the rain dragon isnt he? hes always associated with rain in yakuza 1 and 2, in an era where rendering rain for cinematic purposes is a ROYAL PAIN IN THE ASS.

theres a few types of dragons out there but the uhhh oldest? traditional-est? one is the association with rain and storms. originally bc ppl in the past thought lightning strikes and flashes looks a lot like mythical creatures, and eventually the whole eastern dragon came about with that association.

meanwhile kasuga's kanji name reads as spring day. i am looking directly into the camera at this theming. hes the sunny spring day that comes after the storm. the story will be far kinder to him than kiryu.

so even though dragons are supposed to be strong and good fortune to be seen, and are benevolent and etc, they are again more theme than person.

theres even a real trend where everyone wants to borrow the dragon aesthetic to look cool, big, strong, fortuitous and lucky, be it in tattoos, irezumi, ritual, traditions or propaganda (chinese nationalism stuff). what i mean is people will have babies on the year of the dragon on purpose, wear the dragon and give more preferential treatment to their child/grandchild born on the year of the dragon.

everyone worships the dragon and takes its scales to wear, but no one thinks of the dragon as a creature. as a living thing.

meanwhile ichiban's irezumi cant even be called a dragon. maybe a mermaid. but not a dragon. and in that regard i feel like he's escaped from a fucking curse.

Carrying the cross

some other bits i picked up also. kazuki and daigo, and their crosses

shinto buddhism is the default in japan. but more SHINTO than buddhism, mind, bc buddhism is something people seek out these days rather than be taught bc its too super fucking esoteric. meanwhile, christianity is the minor religion. while some people do think of it negatively (due to instances of cults), it is by no means a mystery or exotic or even so minor that its rare.

anyway thing is. in these specific characters' cases, im 99% sure they signify a desire to walk away from their old self and past. bc of the baptism thing.

in buddhism, theres nothing to absolve one of their past. theres a strong emphasis on change instead, so its more of acceptance rather than discard.

which is. hm. idk what daigo's major deal is but from 2 -> 8 he seems like he ate a lot of shit along the way, guessing from his acala irezumi and name. and that the cross isnt a big thing in his character design anymore: it reads a little like he stopped running away from his family history.

(incidentally shinto is very responsible for the conservative classism in japan historically speaking, which is why its not a very strong thing in rgg setting. basically, strong Cleanliness and Dirtiness ideas, and guess which side of our night life, criminal and ex yakuza mcs falls under :') )

anyway im nuts bye

[aritany]

sorry to be nosy, but do u have any insights as someone who went through a divorce at a young age?

don't be sorry - what a fascinating question! it's STORYTIME. i don't know if this is so much my 'insights' as it is ruminations, but i digress.

i guess my number one tip would be: don't marry a bigot,,,

i'm kidding. mostly.

i'm very transparent about why i got divorced (if you know me in real life, you know how true this is), but that's what it boiled down to. i got married VERY young, 95% due to deeply religious family on both sides, 5% because i truly believed i had found the person i was going to be with forever. if you're going to be together forever, why not just bite the bullet and get married young, right?

i came out to my ex-husband as bisexual super early on in our relationship (i think 2 months into dating) because i obviously needed him to a) know i was queer and b) be cool about it, and he was. if i recall, he said, "oh. ok, good for you."

(later, he told me that that moment was almost a dealbreaker for him. i NEVER would have known, based on how he reacted in the moment.)

as a married couple, we were awesome roommates and very good friends and overall a wonderful team. then i started properly deconstructing christianity around the same time i started thinking about gender, and covid hit immediately after. i didn't come out to anyone as nonbinary until march 2021, and when i did, he was the first person i talked to. he was... significantly less cool about it than he was with bisexuality.

here's the thing. he LOVED having a wife. in hindsight, it's really easy to see that i could have been anyone, and he was really ready to settle down. i have to give myself some credit, because i think i'm excellent, but i do think that to some extent i was in the right place at the right time and checked off a lot of his boxes. if that sounds a little cold to you -- a SHOCKING amount of cishet men do this. it's weird.

anyway, i was His Wife™, and while i was by no means a traditional christian wife, i was still a very she/her slay queen girly.

then i started committing sins. (got some tattoos. started writing about The Gays. started speaking out against the church. Cut My Hair Short [cue gasps]. started dressing more androgynously.)

he couldn't get his head around using gender neutral language for me. to his students (he was in education at the time) i was His Wife. to his family, i was His Wife, even after i came out to them too. classic wifeguy stuff.

my current partner (who is SO wonderful) was in the process of becoming that best friend you have really confusing gay feelings about, and had to deal with me talking about this and how i was just going to have to settle for being with this guy who wouldn't respect my gender, even when that disrespect started actually making my skin crawl when he'd get close. because hey, marriage is for life. it didn't even occur to me that we might get divorced until about 4 days before The Conversation. i was genuinely ready to stick it out with this guy who refused to really See me, because i thought that was what i had to do.

then came The Conversation. i'd been invited to be a bridesmaid in his sister's wedding and had agreed to wear a dress, because hey, it's her wedding. if she wants bridesmaids in dresses, sure. (i was still very much reeling from my own wedding, but that's another story i'll tell if anyone's curious.)

anyway. dresses. i go to a fitting. i stand there numbly while wearing the most godawful dress i'd ever seen, feeling like Garbage. i go home. i step in the door, i burst into tears. sobbing, on the couch, i tell him that something's not right. i can't wear a dress to this wedding.

i think that was when he realized i wasn't going to grow out of being nonbinary. we had a really long, brutal conversation, mostly about how i was probably going to want top surgery one day, that ultimately resulted in him ending our marriage.

"i can't make you be somebody you're not," he told me. "but you can't make me attracted to you."

that's right, folks! the thing that ended my marriage was my tits.

we'd sat through and endured many conversations in which i shared my feelings about the church, about christianity, about the patriarchy, about gender as a whole, but in the end, the thing he could not get his head around was a version of me that didn't have a chest.

i won't lie, that shit stung. the constant rejection of my gender expression had sort of eroded any romantic love i felt for him at that point, but he'd been my closest confidant for so long by that point that i really had to work through some shit about worthiness in the weeks after. it was just surreal to me that me With tits was good and worth being married to, but a hypothetical version of me with a flat chest was so repulsive that he'd rather end a marriage than endure it.

and like, i get being a boob guy (trust me), but damn.

p.s. some really interesting notes: he waited to have this conversation with me until literally the week after i received the first 5-figure portion of my book deal advance, which meant when we were settling affairs, it counted as "marital income" and he got half, and then he hired lawyers behind my back after we said we wouldn't do that.

in hindsight? maybe it was never about the tits at all. ;)

[void-imp]

Here's my Jeremy ramble, buckle up it's gonna be a long one

I was thinking about jeremy and how I feel like I haven't given him enough flaws, and I think I've figured out what to do. In the traditional, academical sense, Jeremy is not "smart". He's not dumb, far from it, but he was never the stereotypical booksmart kid who excelled in school. Math and physics are his biggest struggles, to the point he'd skip class as a teen. It was something so unlike him, someone who had been praised for being a good, dutiful kid who always did he right thing his whole life, but the fear of feeling stupid was greater than the fear of dissapointing his mom. Both, however, were ever-present. Languages were less of a hurdle, and those subjects that allowed or encouraged conversation, like social studies. Apart from having to memorize a bunch of dates, he enjoyed history too. Where he excels is when he gets to work with his hands. He's a great cook, an incredible artist, athletic, has a green thumb. These are his strengths but he's always felt like it pales in comparison to his mother's achievements. His mother, who came to the states and fought to make a life for herself here, who's incredibly clever, who went to college and became a doctor. Who raised him on her own while being a med student. He wants to live up to the expectations she has for him, to make her proud, and continously finds himself falling short. Some of this is partially resolved before Jeremy as we know him shows up in the story. On his last year of High School, he and his mother got in a fight. He'd finally gathered the courage to tell her his dreams of becoming a tattoo artist and she did not like the idea. Wanted him to go to college. Jeremy loves his mom more than anything, and defying her expectations was the scariest thing he's ever had to do. And in the same way, Alma loves her son most of everything in this world, and wanted what she thought was best for him but also wanted him to be happy. In Alma's mind Jeremy was still her baby, and the realization that he was almost fully grown up was like having a bucket of cold water emptied over her head. The little kid proudly showing off how he learned to tie his shoes was almost an adult, and was already becoming his own person. So she brokered a deal: if he tended to his studies, passed his finals and got an A in math, she would fully support him in becoming a tattoo artist. He studied hard, got help from his friends, and felt confident. When the day came, the culmination of all his hard work, the moment his hopes for the future rested on… he got a B. To say he was dissapointed would be an understatement. He was crushed. The feeling of being an utter failure was greater now than at any other point in his life. Pure dread pooled in his stomach at the thought of having to tell his mom, having to see the disappointment in her eyes. When he came home, his mom wasn't disappointed at all. She wrapped him in a hug and told him how proud she was of him, and he cried for what felt like hours. She made them a cup of tea, put on a movie, and they had a talk. She had seen his hard work and was still willing to support him, even if she would rather see him continue his education. He admitted he didn't feel fully ready, that he kinda wanted to go to community college first, and that's what he ended up doing. Now that he lives on the other side of the country, working as an apprentice at a tattoo studio, he's happy that he decided to wait those two years. He still sucks at math but he's more mature now, more grounded, and feel better suited to take on the challenges that await him now he's on his own.

[casualhedonists]

what are you top 5 movies of all time and why? im too curious now :) love ur work btw ur wonderfully skilled, always love to revisit your page ❤️

AMAZING QUESTION 🤍🤍 and thank you so much!! <3

i’m suchhh an insane movie buff and i also love scores, like an insane insane amount so all these have fabulous scores rest assured. in no particular order:

meet joe black (1999)

Claire Forlani and Brad Pitt what can i say. the score is insanlely beautiful, i cry each time but it’s also funny and makes u think about life, also just

do you see the vision

la la land (2016)

like i was lucky enough to see this in cinemas a few days after it came out, and to this day it holds up. amazing incredible im so not normal about it and i never will be. the music the acting the talent the visuals the cinematography the story im. i need a minute

rent (2005)

amazing amazing adaptation of my all time favorite musical by jonathan larson. i weep. i laugh. i sing along. i have a rent tattoo on my arm so that this musical stays with me forever.

about time (2013)

are we sending a theme here perhaps?? read: emotional movies with a deep moral meaning?? but also funny and heart wrenching and perfectly cast w perfect scores? perhaps. it’s got time travel in a way i personally don’t think has ever been done before, or will ever be done again. it’s also a romcom i guess? it’s everything is what it is. here’s a gif for good measure

call me by your name (2017)

it’s just magic, perfection, everything and more. also gut wrenchingly sad and bittersweet. i used to watch it every single summer. the book is also amazing

notable mentions! bc i struggled to narrow it down lmao: music and lyrics (2007) is my fave like. i guess you could say traditional romcom. i know every single line by heart it’s actually concerning, a song from that movie is actually the first song i learned on piano/the reason i learned piano; the holiday (2005) also amazing and beautiful and holidayish and hans zimmer i love you; finally: sabrina (1954) i had a major audrey hepburn phase growing up and this movie remains an all time fave (you gotta watch the 1954 version though, the remake is good but not remotely as good as the original)

[aethermimic]

This is going to be a fun one, because a lot of this stuff is still up in the air with Oyuun. Let's explore together!!

~ B A S I C S ~

Name: Oyuun Kha

Nicknames: Looking for a catchy title other than "Warrior of Light," one Eorzean publication dubbed her the "Aethermimic," a title she's come to take pride in.

Age: Early to mid 20s

Nameday: 22nd Sun of the First Astral Moon

Race: Au Ra, Xaela

Gender: Female 

Orientation: Demisexual

Profession: Scion of the Seventh Dawn, adventurer

~ P H Y S I C A L ~ A S P E C T S ~

Hair: Light brown with a spot of blonde on her right. She likes to braid her blonde patch, and let the rest of her hair fall freely.

Eyes: A piercing amber

Skin: A pale peach tone. Her skin is a little rough from many years living a nomadic life in the Steppe. She's taken better care of it since she's come to Eorzea, but saving the world isn't exactly light on labor.

Tattoos/scars: She has quite a few scars, again from enduring the hardships of the Steppe. She probably also has scars from events in XIV's story proper, but I haven't figured that part out yet.

~ F A M I L Y ~

Oyuun tends to be rather tight-lipped about her family, and efforts to get her to open up about the topic have fared poorly. (screenie credit: @/tsunael)

Parents: She was close with her mother, though doesn't speak of her much. She changes the topic when her father is mentioned.

Siblings: She's indicated that she's not an only child, but she hasn't volunteered any more than that.

Grandparents: She recalls fond memories of her grandmother, but she's clearly conflicted when the subject is brought up. They may have had a falling out for some reason...

 In-laws and Other:  She has an adventuring companion, Valtyra Eruyt. They originally met when Val found Oyuun recklessly braving things alone that she really shouldn't, and now Val sticks around because she's learned that following Oyuun gives a steady source of income.

Pets: Oyuun doesn't like the responsibility of owning a pet, so she doesn't have one. She'll happily feed/play with anyone else's pets though!

~ S K I L L S ~

Abilities: As her nickname suggests, Oyuun has a particular knack for identifying aetheric phenomena, and replicating it using arcanima -- that is, she's very good at mimicking spells. She tends to have difficulty learning via traditional methods, but once she knows a spell, she knows it.

Hobbies: She enjoys sketching in her journal, whether it's the flora around her, or a vista in the distance. She has quite a few flowers pressed in her journal, too.

~ T R A I T S ~

Most Positive Trait: Her curiosity. Oyuun has a ravenous mind, and wants to learn as much as she can about spellcraft, and most other things besides. She also enjoys teaching others when she can, though she has too little patience to ever pursue it as a profession.

Most Negative Trait: Her naivete and recklessness. Oyuun often doesn't think her plans through, preferring to take situations as they come. She's also far too trusting of people, though after the events of A Realm Reborn, that's changing...

~ L I K E S ~

Colors: Earth tones; especially golden yellow and many shades of green

Smells: Pine, wood scents, the nostalgic smell of fresh buuz

Textures: Leaves, parchment, the feedback of a quill as it writes, leather

Drinks: Fruity drinks (lemonade, juice, etc), cold water

~ O T H E R ~ D E T A I L S ~

Smokes: She's never tried. I don't think she'd like it, though.

Drinks: She'll have a drink every now and again, but she's not a fan of being too drunk. Perhaps she had a particularly drunken night she regrets?

Drugs: She's not interested. She might be okay with something that's the equivalent of IRL marijuana, but she wouldn't partake regularly.

Mount Issuance:  Her Grand Company chocobo, Khaliun!

Been Arrested: Technically yes -- by the Brass Blades at the Bloody Banquet. Charges were later dropped as the truth came to light, of course.

I was tagged on my main account (@/siesharp) by @iona-xiv and @tripl3cast, thank you for the tag and sorry it's so late!!! I'm not tagging anyone this time because I'm so late to the party but if you're reading this and want to do it, please do so and tag me if you want!

[bouncingkadachi]

A few notes on my first read of the artbook:

Monstie babies are very cute. I wish to pet the Zinogre babies in particular.

Ratha: There's several sketches of Ratha stealing fish, no matter if he's tiny or grown. Also, one of his early designs had black scales on his wings and tail that are cut with scales that are edged in light blue. This pattern makes it look like his wings and tail were chained. His egg pouch looks to be macramé, and then when he's still tiny he got around by chilling in a basket strapped to the Player Character's saddle on another Monstie.

Oltura: Absolutely gutted that they weren't able to put in their proposed Oltura Final Attack. It's basically a spinning dive bomb that plays on the glowing wings trope, ending in a very cool (and very menacing) facial closeup of Oltura that I'm sure would be traumatizing. It could have been a super cool parallel to Ratha's glowing wings attack at story end.

Kyle: he thinks the gap in ability between his father, brothers, and him is too big, so he doesn't have much self-confidence in his own abilities. His mother fell ill and shortly thereafter passed away when Kyle was still very young. She was a kind and gentle/mild individual (someone's gotta be in that family, I guess).

Mahana Village: all adults are tattooed (perhaps as part of coming of age rituals). Traditional Mahanan clothing is characterized as being a large cloth that is wrapped around the body. Decorative patterns feature natural motifs such as waves, fish, shellfish, and southern plants, and are always designed geometrically.

Rutoh Village: Riders' saddles are made of metal and leather. The cantles are in the shape of a Kushala Daora head, with the eyes being set with stone. Rutoh donuts have a sugar coating on top so I imagine that they're very crunchy. They come in little hemp bags.

Kuan Village: Kuan Riders apparently all wear some variation of a cape/heavy cloak and have their Kinship Stones set in their breastplates. This is not a trait unique to Avinia, though cloak styles vary from Rider to Rider.

Lulucion: The girls in the marketplace wear dresses with patterns that are inspired by Royal Ludroth armor! I guess that's trendy at the moment.

Hunter Group: They were put in Alloy armor to show that, while they're a serious group, they're also obstinate (hard-headed) and can be inflexible.

Guardian Ratha and Red: Guardian Ratha is quite literally known as the Island's God, though it isn't said when this habit came about. Even without his moss covering, his red scales have turned more or less gray with age. An early design for Red also included a scar on his face that his facial guard only managed to partially stop.

Ena and Alwin: the pendant that Ena wears (and is specifically passed down in her family) appears to be a pretty universal symbol in Rutoh. Alwin also carries similar items on him (his earrings and amulet), with the only difference being in that Ena's are slightly rounder in shape. Alwin's also been wearing some form of circlet ever since he was young--it appears that the stone was always the same, just the way it was set was different. He's also apparently been hauling Ena out of Situations ever since they were young (PC's age, so ~12-15)

[mrseeker]

looking for help

 I hope this message finds you all very well. I have been thinking about a unique way to express my identity, and I believe that a painting or a tattoo would be the perfect medium to tell my story. As someone who is biracial well mixed between Indigenous/scottish, I feel that my experiences and perspective deserve to be represented in an art form that is both personal and meaningful to me. As I pondered about a way to express my innermost self, a vision of a breathtaking forest came to mind. The sun radiated brightly upon the vibrant green trees, creating a serene atmosphere that instilled an indescribable sense of peace within me. I then envisioned two of my favorite birds: a raven and an owl - two fearless creatures seemingly opposite in nature yet each possessing their own distinct beauty. As I continued to mull over this image, I couldn't help but visualize myself standing, back-to-back with another version of myself. In my mind's eye, I appeared as an older native, clad in traditional garb, gazing out into the vast wilderness before me. While some may view this idea as seemingly foolish or juvenile, I am determined to make this become a reality. I yearn for advice that would allow me to bring this unique and captivating concept to life. Perhaps with the help of the right tools and techniques, I can successfully transform my vivid imagination into a tangible work of art. Unless you had suggestions. l'm open to art trades or if someone can just draw it for me