#i’ve dug myself into another hole

[beneathashadytree]

DOWNTOWN - XAVIER SHEN X READER

Warnings : explicit descriptions of messy oral sex, biting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, hair pulling, implied masochism from Xavier, thigh worshipping, underwear is pushed to the side, male masturbation, cumming untouched, powerful orgasm, cum eating, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : smut (but they’re lovesick I promise🫶🏽)

Word count : 1.2K words

Additional notes : I’ve yet to spoil myself Xavier’s full date because I still intend to pull for him, but from what I’ve already watched this is basically what happened, trust 🙏🏽

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How long had they been lying there, limbs feeling like jelly and their mouth filled with cotton wool, unable to discern the fantasy from reality, and unable to tell the time of day it was? How long had Xavier lied there, nestled comfortably between their thighs like it was his favorite place in the world? How many times had they already been brought to the edge by the work of his tongue?

They didn’t know. All they knew they could focus on was the sheer intensity of the blazing lust in his eyes, trained on theirs and rendering them unable to look away, not even for one second. They could feel his firm grip on them, fingers digging into their plush thighs as he pinned them down to the mattress with more than just his gaze.

As they trembled after yet another impossible high he’d brought them to, he soothed the gentle ache inside them with his lips. Soft, feather-light kisses, trailing up the insides of their thighs…. suckling against them and tenderly licking the beads of perspiration that dotted their skin.

And if he happened to lap at the slick that trickled down their legs from their countless orgasms, groaning at the back of his throat at their taste, then who were they to refuse the unholy sight of him enraptured by them?

“You… mmm, how…?” they tried to gasp out, only to have him shake his head, the soft strands of his hair tickling them and causing them to jump a little at their hypersensitivity.

“No need to talk, honey,” he cooed at them, his voice like a soothing balm to their frayed nerves. One of his hands reached up to guide their own, unclenching them from the mattress to the back of his head. Almost on autopilot, their fingers dug into his blonde locks, tangling them and tugging in the way he absolutely adored. “That’s it. Show me where you want me, my love.”

As they faltered for a few moments, his teeth sank a little into their thighs, earning a sharp hiss that he couldn’t help but smile into their skin at. Almost rhythmically, Xavier’s mouth worshipped every exposed inch, adorning their perfect skin with gorgeous blooming marks in the prettiest shades of red.

Like clockwork, their hands tugged tighter at the soft curling hairs at the nape of his neck, pulling him even closer to their core. Xavier wasted no time in pushing aside their ruined panties with deft fingers, letting them snap wetly against their skin. He latched onto their most sensitive spot, tongue lapping up the drops of arousal that escaped them the instant his mouth was on them.

It was devilishly heavenly and yet purely sinful; the sight of him servicing them in all the ways he knew with slicked fingers and a practiced tongue was one that they could never tear their gaze from. A turbulent night sky of unspoken desires burned in his eyes, blue nearly fading to ebony as his longing for their taste overpowered all other senses.

“Too much, ‘m sensitive,” they cried out, head whipping back on the pillow. “Can’t think… Xavier!��� He hummed in understanding and half-pity, but didn’t let up. How could he, when their fingers dug deeper into his hair, forcing him in place right where he wanted to be?

And Gods above, did he know how to drag the unholiest moans from them; the most pitiful whines of his name as he kissed his way down to their dripping hole, sore in the best way possible. “I’ve got you, sweet thing,” he murmured, all the gentleness in the world laced in his words, though his grip almost became bruising on their thighs, and his tongue slipped inside of them with ease.

Every experimental lick, every harsh thrust, and every sloppy kiss against their warmth was a new kind of torture that Xavier reveled in. It burned in only the warmest of ways, like an inferno only he could kindle inside them, and only he could douse with dizzying pleasure. It was too much and yet not enough.

He devoured them whole, ate them out with an unparalleled fervor; like they were his last meal on earth and he’d die if he wasn’t buried between their legs for every night he stayed alive. His muffled, wet moans and his hips canting against the mattress as he sought out some friction made it clear that he found this just as arousing—if not more—as they did. “Love you, love you so much,” Xavier breathed out, drunk on all of them.

Spread out underneath him like that, it was an assault on all the senses: the smell of his vanilla shampoo and the distinct scent of sex, the feeling of his fingers caressing their marked up thighs, the sounds of him filthily lapping at them and sloppily making out with their cum-slicked entrance, and the unadulterated desire coursing through their veins at him so quickly chasing yet another high of theirs.

“Shit, mmm… love you more, inside, need more,” they whispered, trying to string together a sentence that wasn’t half-babbled nonsense in this haze.

They hadn’t even noticed the way their nails had dug into his scalp, pulling a dragged out moan from the back of his throat as he enjoyed that familiar twinge of pain, mixing with the taste of them on his tongue. It was instinctual to keep him close, to pin him in place; every strangled groan of his vibrating onto them and sending them crashing.

With a desperate cry of his name, a white-hot flash of mind-numbing pleasure burned them alive, their hips bucking up into his awaiting mouth, taking in every flutter of their walls around his tongue and every quiver of their thighs against his head. Dots swam in their vision in their post-orgasmic bliss, their whole body feeling like it was floating on a cloud miles away, unable to notice how he’d sighed their name out before shamelessly spilling into his own underwear.

Only when the weight of him was removed as he got up did they blink back to awareness. Mortification washed over them as they saw his face emerging, their release having made a mess of him. Xavier, however, seemed to feel no embarrassment whatsoever as his thumb swiped at the corner of his mouth, then licked it clean with an appreciative hum.

“Always so sweet for me,” he huffed out a half-laugh, adoration tinged in his every word and the tilt of his head as he climbed back up the length of their body.

Between pants of heavy breathing, they managed to say, “You’re insatiable.” There was no admonition in their voice, though, and he knew that it wasn’t a complaint.

With a shake of his head, he slowly pulled them into his side, their pliant body perfectly slotting against his. It felt too good. Maybe cleaning themselves up from the stickiness and drenched underwear could be postponed for a bit, as long as they could lie together like this. “And you like it.”

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[writingquestionsanswered]

Stuck in Planning Stage of Writing

Anonymous asked: Do you have any advice on how to get out of the planning stage and more into the doing stage of writing? I’m up to my ears in notes for scenes and fragments of dialogue between characters. I know where I want to go with the story, I’ve even written a handful of scenes when the ideas come to me, but now that I have this lump of thoughts I need to start organizing and placing them all in their rightful spaces. The one thing I truly know is how much I’d love to see this through. Do you have any advice for a girl who’s unwittingly made herself stuck with a puzzle?

[Ask edited for length]

Planning a novel can sometimes be like digging a really deep hole for a specific purpose, then suddenly realizing you've stranded yourself at the bottom of the hole without a ladder. You've spent so much time digging the hole, you'd like nothing more than to get out of the hole and move forward with whatever project required you to dig the hole in the first place. There's just one problem: you can't teleport yourself out of the hole. You have to climb... or, ideally, build yourself a ladder to climb out with whatever materials are available to you.

That's probably where you are right now with your story. The hole you've dug was necessary, and it's good that you dug it, but as much as you'd like to just magically leap out and write your story, you can't do that. You have to build yourself a ladder to climb out of the hole first. So...

My go-to emergency "get out of the planning hole I've dug myself into" ladders are timelines, scene lists, and outlines.

Timelines: Your story may take place over a single day or several centuries, but either way, time flows in your story. All of those notes and fragments of dialogue and partial scenes are moments or events that happen within the time frame of your story. So, plotting those moments and scenes out on a timeline--according to when they need to happen--is about the easiest way to break your story down into its existing pieces and to see what's missing/where.

There are lots of ways you can format a timeline, such as a table, a list, a horizontal timeline, calendar, or a roadmap timeline. My go-to is a basic two-column document where the left column is date/time and the right column is the moment/event. There are also apps and online tools that will help you build a timeline in various formats.

Horizontal Timeline:

Calendar Timeline:

Table Timeline:

More info: Making a Timeline for Your Story Scene Lists: Stories are made up of scenes, so a list of those scenes is another great way to organize the events of your story. You may even find that creating a scene list is easier after making a timeline, because a timeline may help you see where certain moments or events need to be their own scenes and which can be combined together into a single scene. Just like timelines, scene lists can be as simple or complex as you want to make them. Once again, my go-to is a simple two-column document with the left column for the scene number and the right column for the scene summary, preferably just a sentence or two. Ultimately, once I have my rough timeline and scene list done, I usually combine them into one multi-column document along with my story structure beats.

Table Scene List with Beats:

Complex Scene List/Timeline/Beat Sheet:

More info: Scene Lists

Outlines: Outlines can be really any format you want them to be, and some people count timelines and scene lists as their outlines. My go-to outline is just an exhaustive beginning to end summary of everything that needs to happen. Sometimes, just working through your story from beginning to end can be the best way to make sense of all those disparate pieces you've been piling up.

More info: Guide: How to Outline a Plot Story Structure: Finally, I want to talk a bit about story structure templates like Save the Cat Writes a Novel!, Larry Brooks story structure, seven point story structure, etc. Story structure templates can be a really great way to make sure you're hitting all the right story beats--almost like a road map through your story. It's just important to know you do not by any means have to stick to any particular story structure exactly. Use it as a guide, take what works, leave what doesn't, and don't panic if your beats don't fall exactly where it says they should. As long as your story is working, that's what matters. Some writers even like to frankenplan their stories using a variety of different structure templates.

More info: Creating a Detailed Story Outline (story structure)

Once you finally have a roadmap for moving forward, whether that's a timeline, scene list, outline, or all of the above, you know you're ready to start writing!

Final note: I just want to add that planning isn't for everyone. Some people are discovery writers who let their stories work themselves out as they go. The above is just meant for people who are planners, who have done a lot of planning, but need to pull that planning together into a cohesive, organized document. And... if you have all of the above and still find yourself unable to start, you might find help in the links below. Happy writing! More help:

Beginning a New Story Figuring Out Where to Start a Story Deciding How to Open Your Book How to Move a Story Forward Trouble Getting Started Have Plot, Can’t Write

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[veras1ne]

♟️ 🍒 WITH ANI PLZZ

“Insubordinate.”

Hi angel! Sorry I took so long on this request, took a short mental break hiatus because I’ve had a lot on my schedule and it’s caused me to force a break on myself but I’m back and I’m here with your request :)<3🦢

Special thank you to @anisbaby for giving me silly little notes on this and basically being my beta reader LOL

Find my prompt lists here! They are divided into smutfic prompts and fluffy prompts!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Summary 🕊️: Dealing with jealousy was not a strong suit of Anakin’s, and seeing you with another man very close to him was certainly a recipe for a hot disaster, but in the end I think you’ll find it was more of a beautiful disaster.

: ̗̀➛ WARNINGS🪷: Your media consumption is NOT my responsibility, these are your warnings for the following: Jealous sex, semi-public, forbidden relationships, squirting, cum eating, PIV, cunnalingus/eating pussy.

🫧Pairing: Anakin Skywalker/AFAB!Reader

Your laughter pierced through the garden of the Jedi temple. While working there, you became familiar with many of the masters and padawans alike, enough to even form a relationship with their most prized knight, General Skywalker. He often visited your quarters, and you would spend long hours in his company chatting about anything and everything, sharing stories of the war as it unfolded.

What blossomed as a small friendship bloomed into watching the sunrise and taking warm showers holding one another. It was love at first sight. You just couldn’t get enough of him, and he couldn’t get enough of you.Your thoughts were constantly clouded by the feeling of his lips on yours and the heat in your chest when your eyes would meet.

One thing you knew about Anakin was how he felt about competition, and more specifically, jealousy.

Although he knew that there was no other person or creature in the system that could compare to the love that you felt for him, his heart twinged whenever he saw you with another, smiling and laughing in the way that only he made you feel happy. In his mind, he should be the only one to make you feel the butterflies he puts in your stomach and the way your lips fit so perfectly like puzzle pieces.

Even with others he knew very well, like Master Kenobi, his mind couldn’t help but wander as he caught the two of you conversing in the gardens as you were working on planting a new flowerbed.

Your giggles took him back to reality as you looked at Obi-Wan, smiling as he was telling you about something Master Yoda had said earlier that day. "Master Yoda always finds a way to amuse me, but enough about him. I hope the Sun has not been too harsh on you today, yes? I take it you and my padawan have quite the relationship; I always catch the pair of you chatting about,” He playfully suggested it, giving you a sly smile. You turned your head, setting down the shovel, and smiled. "Master Kenobi, you know Anakin and I are just friends. I’ve been working at this temple so long that he’s practically a brother to me." You dusted your hands on your apron, wiping the dirt and clay off and onto your clothes, and moved to the next spot you had dug out before Master Kenobi got your attention.

Anakin’s face fell slightly when you said that, ignoring that Jedi were not supposed to have romantic feelings for others in the first place. "Ah, of course. Well, I must attend my class in order to train the younglings. Hopefully they haven’t been causing any havoc in the gardens recently." He waved his hand dismissively at the following conversation, quickly moving on. "Of course not; have a good session, Master." You smiled and waved goodbye, turning your attention to the abandoned flowers, not realizing the footsteps coming from behind you.

You turned to greet the presence and froze. Anakin’s face was flushed with jealousy and, ultimately, rage. Normally he would put situations like these behind him, but there it was, his deep blue eyes burning holes into you. “Oh, please, don’t let me disturb you. I wouldn’t want my friendly presence to cause you trouble." His words spat like heat from a fire, scorching your skin and causing you to scoff. “Ani, you know it isn’t like that at all; I just didn’t know what to tell him. I don’t want to mess anything up for you." Your voice lowered to barely above a whisper, knowing he couldn’t hear you despite being right beside you. “Please, Anakin, let’s just leave it alone; you know I would never do that to you." You pleaded softly, trying your hardest to keep yourself together.

Anakin shook his head and smiled. "You can call me your friend all you want, but I didn’t think that being just friends meant that I fuck the shit out of you every night and make you scream my name." His hand drifted to your waist, pulling you in to whisper in your ear, "You know that Master Kenobi couldn’t fuck your pussy as good as I can." The words sent chills down your spine as he ran his teeth along your neck and bit the lobe gently.

Your mouth hung open as if you were shocked by his boldness. A low growl rumbled from deep within his chest, sending goosebumps down your arms and causing your entire body to heat up and send fireworks through your fingertips. His grip tightened ever so slightly on the flesh below as he trailed kisses across your cheek.

His breath ghosted against your lips, sending shivers up and down your spine. "Anyone could catch us here, and yet you still want me so bad, don’t you?" You whined as he kissed you, needing to feel his naked skin on yours. Anakin, please. Don’t play these games with me." His hand slipped beneath your apron, caressing over your hips, fingers grazing against your pants, teasing your sensitive nerves.

Your knees nearly buckled under you, and you whimpered against his mouth. His tongue danced around yours and teased you with light strokes.

All you could feel was his hot body, his touch, his scent, and his taste. He lifted your body to rest on his hips, capturing your lips in a kiss and backing into a door, jiggling the doorknob, and walking into the nearest empty room. "You look so divine when you’re out working. Even if you’re all sweaty and dirty, a little grime never hurts anyone." You jeered at his comment, making a face of disgust: "Maker, Anakin, you’re gross." He smiled at you as he set you on the table in front of you, saying, "I don’t think you’ll be saying that after I eat out this pussy. I want to see you cream all on my face, baby." Your breathing grew heavy as lust filled his gaze as he stripped you from your heavy apron and made short work of your dark pants and underwear.

His hands gripped your hips possessively as his thumb traced your folds while his mouth worked to suckle you, earning a loud moan.

The need for his touch had taken control, driving you crazy, and you pushed his head closer to your chest. The feel of his warm tongue swirling over your clit caused you to arch back and thrust your hips forward involuntarily.

Your hands gripped the sides of his head, pushing further towards the center as you moaned louder and louder each time he licked harder, the slurping of your juices causing you to be taken aback in pleasure as he arched you towards your release. Your nose scrunched as you tugged on his hair, eliciting a moan out of his mouth as he pinned down your thighs, causing you to stop squirming as they shook. He was relentless in his attack, and you could feel your orgasm rippling through.

His teeth lightly grazed your entrance as he slowly sank his tongue back inside you, licking away your cum and juices as you gasped in pure ecstasy. He continued for a few minutes, sucking and playing with your clit until he stopped, kissing the inside of your thighs and coming up from your pussy, his chin glistening from your cum and liquids.

After his tongue had left you and you were able to catch your breath, you reached your arms up to cup his jaw as you gazed into his eyes. "Thank you, baby." Anakin smirked before removing his robes and belt, "You know nobody else could ever fuck you like I can." His voice was snarky and vile, his dark blue eyes staring at you almost as if he had something to prove as he pulled out his cock and positioned himself at your entrance, sliding into you slowly with a soft groan. Shortly, you were moaning underneath his thrusts and begging for more of his touches.

Once again, he placed his lips on yours as he picked up the pace and moved his hips faster, creating sparks between your bodies that made you squirm on the table. "Thank you so fucking much—thank you, Ani." You moaned out in a whine as he tweaked with your nipple, eliciting a shock through your body, which translated to pleasure. You clutched onto his shoulders as he continued to move faster, your legs shaking beneath him. You came in a rush as his thrusts hit your sweet spot, as well as a few spasms in his cock as he chased his own high.

You cried out once more as he continued to move his hips rapidly into yours, the overstimulation bringing you to another orgasm, this time your liquids spraying on your partner, soaking your bodies in your release as he came inside of you, the both of your cum dripping from your pussy as he wiped it with his fingers and stuffed his cream back into your wet hole. "Put your pants and apron on. We’re going to take a little stroll back to your quarters," he commanded, handing your garments to you as you obeyed him.

Taking your hand, he helped you get back to your feet as he wrapped his robe around you, leaving him in his undershirt and pants.

The light of the sun made you squint as you looked outside, your attention being redirected as Obi-Wan coughed next to you, his face filled with disgust and recognition, but no words were exchanged.

“Hello Master!" Anakin smiled at him cheerfully and waved as Master Kenobi walked past, trying to avoid the mess between you and Anakin. “Anakin." He dismissed Ani with a nod, walking off and trying not to laugh as he sensed your embarrassment once you slapped Anakin’s arm. "Anakin! What happened to being inconspicuous?" He smiled at you, holding your waist, and said, "Just a reminder that I’m the only one you should be touching yourself to at night." His pride struck a chord with you as you scoffed.

"You really are gross."

[thaywrites]

ᯓ★ PALAYE ROYALE PROMPTS, a collection of prompts / lyrics taken from palaye royale’s songs from their album, the bastards.

( mentions of possibly triggering subjects such as violence, self-harm, death and more. ) 

✦ LITTLE BASTARDS

i can’t take this. i’ve been a little patient.

i’ve got to get away a little faster.

run, you little bastards.

fake friends all around, they watch while i drown. no one is there to help me.

sometimes i’ve been losing my mind, running out of faith.

i’ve been feeling lonely, put me in my place.

so, fuck you — i don’t even like you.

no sleep, got another nosebleed. i can’t feel my face.

✦ ANXIETY

indecisions have been breaking my sanity.

retaliation when i’m full of anxiety.

a band-aid on a bullet hole that’s still bleeding.

numb you up until you can’t feel a goddamn thing.

a generation full of anti-sobriety. a generation that is full of anxiety.

all the voices in your head that keep talking.

all the blood on your skin that keeps crawling.

i was born to be anything i wanted to be, raised to be fucking mean.

i’m a masterpiece.

blasphemy meet again in a world so vicious.

mothers scream, fathers drink and all you bastards scream.

✦ TONIGHT IS THE NIGHT I DIE

lonely, another day. drowning, please save me.

i am struggling in my own daydream.

i know i can’t live much longer, hear the angels sing.

could I be a prisoner to the voices in my brain.

my mind is gone to waste, can’t stand to look at my face.

all these thoughts inside my head will be silenced by the bang.

believe me when i say tonight is the night i die.

as i walk through the valley of the shadow of death, i look at you as i take my last breath.

as i die and fall to the floor, my pain and suffering is no more.

✦ LONELY

my life don’t mean that much to me so i’m living for you.

and you can’t stand the sight of me so what’s the point of this fucked up catastrophe?

i pop these pills to waste some time as i’m fading.

too lazy for a suicide, i just watch the days pass hoping to die.

daydreaming of my funeral — like who would show, bet no one would go.

hey dad, would you show up for me now? just to bury your little boy in the ground.

you broke my heart when you left me.

so sick and tired of being alone. so long, farewell — i’m on my own.

i dug this grave i call my home.

✦ NERVOUS BREAKDOWN

twist the knife just a bit further.

don’t look at me — i think about murder.

i think i’m about to explode. i think i’m goin’ to have a nervous breakdown.

start to feel myself panic again and all the blood rushes to my head.

you say you love me but you still left me — i guess that’s why i hate myself.

you say it’s over but you’re still calling — i guess that’s why i live in hell.

my brain has been fucked enough. please, stop wasting all my thoughts.

cut my throat and please let me go.

✦ MASOCHIST

’cause i’ve been craving your sweet haven.

so i keep turning while your body burns to the ground.

don’t try to tell me that i should go softly.

just look me in my eyes and feed me your sweet lies.

i’ll cut through your alibis.

hang a cross upside down. your church is burning down.

just take me for the night.

✦ BLACK SHEEP

do you see what i’ve become? why are you still holding on?

something lingers in my veins, that’s telling me i’m not the same.

i am sinking now. the water’s over my ears and i can’t hear no sounds.

scream out or drown — can you hear the voice say now?

go home and back to sleep, and count the black sheep. 

go on away from me, i am the black sheep.

you said it’s all in my head, you said it’s all in my brain.

there’s nothing left that you can say to me.

i am everything you hate.

i am unwanted, i’m not the answer. you were hoping that i’d change.

you push me down once again because i seem different.

✦ STAY

i see you for what you are

it’s something in your eyes that look past my scars.

where do you go when you leave in the night? ‘cause i see those teary eyes.

i am the only hope for you and you are the only hope for me, too.

i just wanted you.

so stay this time. don’t go away.

the end is near, i really don’t want to know.

it’s haunting me to watch you go.

✦ REDEEMER

can’t you see that everyone is dying?

the animals are crying, religions are dividing as my family keeps on fighting.

now i’m caught in something — my eternal suffering.

looking for the meaning of it all but i got nothing.

don’t know where i’ll go when i die, must be better than this.

ain’t it sad when you got nowhere to go? got no place to call your home. burden to everyone you know.

i try just not to think about my life so i do another line. it keeps me numb just for the night.

and i’m here just waiting for you to come home.

and i’m screaming all on my own with the revolver and a note.

will you please pick up the phone? will you please come back home?

[anticidic]

Ahhhhh~ Belladonna! 🌹So we meet again.

I’ve come to sing your praises and gift you a rose as sweet as your name penned into prose. 😏

You move hearts, your art of words building visions beyond our wildest dreams; you could make anyone recite poems to.

But alas, my time here is borrowed (I can only sit in your inbox for so long 💀) and I’ve come with a challenge for you. Beyond the ocean and far away from fairytales, dare to inspire yourself and us too.

“❛ I would destroy myself to fix you. ❜”

#prompt heroxvillain sentence starter

(Everytime I see Dazai in your PFP I have to be dramatic 💀 sorry, not sorry)

THE DAZAI GIF JUMPSCARE WHEN I OPENED THISSSS 😭✋ This was so cute though, omg.

Also me: challenge accepted (gonna hide some of this under the cut because wtf I wrote like 900 words)

GRAVE FLOWERS

He would destroy himself the same way the flowers would come winter. Seasons changed. Leaves upon trees turned from pink to green to yellow to dead. They fell in piles where children jumped, and even now, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, the sound remained a little jingle in his mind's attic. The sound of the beginning. But his end would come. Only so much could be destroyed before nothing remained. Chuuya thought his heart concrete and impenetrable, but the cracks were there. The cracks were all there ever was. What mattered was how long it would be before it crumbled to dust and a wonder of how much more he could withstand.

A gray rain fell on Yokohama. The city soaked in it, cold and dripping. Waves hit concrete breakers, homeless huddled by the fires behind the fences—the cinders he tapped away from the end of his cigarette the last dash of color on the world. And there was Dazai standing before him with the same boyish grin he had the day they met many springs ago on the highest mountain peak, all alone. He looked a little more human than usual, and it could’ve fooled Chuuya.

No, it did. Chuuya smiled back. He couldn’t help himself even as he took a drag.

Mist clouded his vision, and he wiped away the droplets that struck his cheek. Once he smelled the earth and felt the dirt beneath his fingernails as he chased Dazai through the fields, trampling flowers and kicking up puddles that scared nesting birds away. He did it with a laugh so breathless his lungs were on fire then, and each time he reached out to grab a handful of Dazai’s sleeve with a ‘gotcha!’, Dazai disappeared.

And left him all alone in the meadow.

The laughter withered up and died and it hurt. Something stung his eyes, the damn salt of the sea, as he flicked away a stray tear. Wildlife returned to the forest: a doe and a fawn, their heads held low to the wet grass, disinterested. Sad, even. An owl hooted from afar. He felt the eyes of a family of birds staring back at him, all ten eyes in silence.

Chuuya sighed then and crushed the flowers he still had in one fist. He tossed them to the ground and watched how petals drifted away in the breeze, into holes dug by chipmunks.

Now, Dazai stood proud and tall before him. Unbothered. He had his hands hidden in his sleeves, whether by habit or hiding the ugly truth. Chuuya used to yearn for that burning truth, but now that it was his, he ached to turn back time to that one spring many months ago when they only knew each other by name and knew not the rift that would separate them from now until the end.

Dazai’s story would continue, ceaselessly, and Chuuya’s would end someday. He took solace in knowing that it was not this fine, rainy day, and smiled through that. Along with that smile, another tired exhale releasing smoke into the air.

Maybe if he sickened himself on high-tar content until it made his throat raw and he became dizzy, he’d see the most beautiful sight he longed for since they last saw one another: nine tails white as snow, dipped in blue. But for now, Dazai was but a man no older than Chuuya. An ancient and sunken ruin of a man where history went to die, and much as Chuuya tried to pry it from Dazai’s lips, words never followed. Chuuya wouldn’t like what the past used to be like, with war-torn buildings and roaring fires razing nature to the ground. But his mind swam, drowning in colorful visuals of carnage and men dying and horses shrieking, black soil. Dazai was once part of that forgotten past, and Chuuya helped bring him back to life. Though he lived for centuries, it had not been kind to him. The weariness in Dazai’s eyes came and went in flickers the same way his tails did. All part of the grand illusion.

The wind picked up. Fine sea foam lashed Chuuya’s face. And it felt like needles.

Today the makeshift consolations: the shared cigarette, the jokes cast out to sea as they huddled under an umbrella for safety. Today the embrace before hurting.

He knew this; he accepted this when their fates became entwined and now, they were a spiderweb of glass that was painful to look at—just two twin stars burning out in the darkness.

Wood hit cobblestone, one-two step, and he looked up to see Dazai extending a hand out to him, whispering against the downpour, “Gotcha.”

Dazai was not human, but he was human enough. Together, there were many more chapters for them to fill in. It began with Dazai bastardized as a thing of nightmares and today, it blossomed like the sweetest rose. He was a living memory, and Chuuya was glad to be a part of that.

[bluesunflowers21]

I have no posts and no followers so this probably won’t see the light of day, but it’s 1:53 am and I’m up reading yumihisu fanfics from 2014 and I just had this thought I needed to share.

Does anyone ever read these older fics and just think about their age? It’s almost like time travel, right? You’re looking into a time in fandom where so many things hadn’t happened yet, secrets not yet revealed, ship wars that have yet to exist. To see a ship you hold close because even if it’s painful in canon it was the first you ever saw that matched who you were in some small way, and it’s young again. It’s all new, and the angst hasn’t hit, and the tragedy isn’t tragic yet.

And then I look at the comments. 2013, 2014, 2017, 2018. All are people, who at one time or another, have read the exact same work I have, and have enjoyed it enough to make a comment. And it’s not just fanfic either, it’s YouTube comments, it’s old vine compilations, it’s late 90s and early 2000s music. It goes beyond nostalgia, it is for just a moment, seeing peaks into peoples lives in a more in-depth way than any history book I have ever read. It is a diary of humanity when things were easier, when we were all young and bright eyed and full of hope.

I feel that since Covid, even before it, the world has been so dull. Colors are faded, and sounds are muted, and smiles aren’t as wide anymore. But tonight, even if for one moment, I caught a glimpse of what once was. I saw the beginning of a world I had just discovered over 10 years ago. I saw a hole in history, and I remembered myself. I remembered humanity. I remember when I cared about people beyond a surface level, when I had empathy and sympathy carved so deep into my heart that I bled comfort and love. I remembered the little things, the fallen log in the woods behind my papas house, just past the field that was decided by and electric pole, and the hill covered in cherry blossoms that I dug arrow heads up from, I remembered my wooden easel that I painted when I ran out of paper, and my bed frame that was once white and ended in an array of pastel colors. I remember when I liked pink and purple like the walls of my bedroom before first grade. I remembered when I started to hate pink and purple. I remembered the bullies from elementary school. I remember my fourth grade teacher convincing me to read The Stone Child, and how it was the first time I had finished a proper book. I remember looking for any horror book I could find after. I remember starting middle school and being so scared of what would come. I remember making a huge card for my seventh grade math teacher because he was retiring, and him hugging me and the other student who helped, because I don’t think he expected that from any of us. I remember starting highschool and trying to figure out who I was. I remember my mom getting cancer. I remember theatre being an escape. I remember friends I haven’t spoken to in years, and some I still speak to today. I remember the little kid who would think “future me, please tell me it will be okay” and I now think of the adult me who says, “yeah, it will be”.

Maybe this is all nonsensical rambling, but now I can’t help but think of a game I played for the first time after watching YouTubers play it online. There’s a specific quote that I don’t think I really understood until this moment, one that I saw make others cry in…I’m not sure, relief? Sadness? Happiness?

“Despite everything, it’s still you”

Despite everything, reading those comments on a random ballerina AU fic written over 10 years ago reminded me that yes, after everything that has happened, things I’ve caused and things I’ve never had control over, the little kid who believed in people still exists. She is a part of me that has never and always existed. Everything she was, and everything she ever will be, is who I am. Everything any child was and will ever be is who they are. Everything a child could have been and will be, is who humanity is.

We are angry, and selfish, and cruel.

But

We are kind, and we are hopeful, and we are love.

Not that we are loved, or that we do love

We are the embodiment of the concept.

And this is all the sleep deprived ramblings of a 21 year old who has no idea if I am actually writing this or if I am just dreaming it. Who knows, either way I won’t remember it in the morning. Tbh I barely remember it now.

[memphisnovels]

Evermore

Chapter 30. Ready for it

Previous chapter

Masterlist

She's backkk

Whatever is bothering dear Pietro??

pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OFC

warnings: Pietro and Nadia being Pietro and Nadia, flirty flirty bants, mentions of PTSD, canon-typical violence.

Lagos, Nigeria

I tightened my ponytail, adjusting my position atop the motorcycle.

“Eyes on target folks,” Steve spoke over the comms before telling Sam to tag a garbage truck. I narrowed my eyes, spotting his strange bird-like robot shooting through the sky.

“That truck is loaded for max weight and the driver’s armed,” Sam said.

I started the bike as my mind ticked over, revving the engine. “It’s a battering ram,” I murmured over the comms.

“Go now,” Cap said. I released the break, speeding toward the café where Nat stood from her table abruptly. “He’s not hitting the police station.”

I grabbed Natasha’s arm, dragging my foot on the ground to slow down marginally before pulling her onto the bike behind me. I heard the crashing and saw the explosion of dust in the air as the truck rammed through the gate of the Centre for Infectious Diseases. A blur of silver and blue zipped by me, following the others into the wreckage, my lips tugged upward slightly. “I’ve got eyes on Rumlow,” I spoke spotting the black zipline from the south of the building, extending to a truck.

“He has a biological weapon,” Steve informed.

“We’re on it,” Nat responded as we closed in on the men surrounding the truck. “I’ll take the left side you take the right?”

 I nodded, turning the bike sharply to allow her to leap off before I sped up and dropped the bike to the ground, rolling off of it as it pummelled toward one of the guards. Another turned to me after hearing the commotion and ran forward, cocking his gun and aiming it for my head, the shot never made it through the barrel as I sent a widows byte shock into the center of his chest. I grabbed him and used his as a pole to vault and kick the next guard in the chest, when the first was down I blocked the punch that was thrown my way and grabbed a hold of his wrist, in a single maneuver I ducked beneath his arm and pulled it to the left causing the bullet he fired to hit his colleague who had been running at me from behind.

“How many of these fuckers are there?” I muttered to myself.

I could hear Natasha fighting someone beside the truck but spotted another of the guards on the roof, readjusting his gun to aim it at her. I jumped onto the bonnet, yanking his ankles to make him fall onto his back, disarming him was easy but he certainly put up a fight until I slammed his head against the windscreen, cracking it and rendering him unconscious. I glanced to the side to check Natasha’s position when a sharp pain shot through my scalp. Rumlow’s dark, fury-filled eyes met mine as he yanked me to my feet by my hair. I pulled the knife from my leg strap, jamming it into his thigh and twisting, prompting him to let go of my hair. When I was freed from his grip, I turned to strike him in the neck, the only exposed flesh I could see. He blocked my attack grabbing a hold of my arm, I twisted to kick him in the side, but he held tight, so I punched him in his bleeding wound, he groaned; part frustration, part pain. He threw another punch which I dodged easily, punching him in the ribs when he was turned. His elbow came back hard into me, but I landed two more punches before he managed to get a hold of the back of my neck. I slammed my fist into his arm again and again, but he didn’t even flinch, yanking my head back. His rough gloved fingers dug into my nerves, sending pain shooting down my neck. In retaliation I jammed the base of my palm beneath his chin, sending a shocker into his neck. His grip only tightened, making my eyes narrow. He laughed dryly.

“I don’t work like that no more, Pimenova.” He shouted yanking me downward by my neck and forcing me to fall through the hole atop the truck. Two men were sat by my feet but I paid them no mind, glancing up to see Rumlow peering down at me with a look of maniacal glee in his eyes as he pulled the pin from a grenade. “Bye-bye, Nadia.” The metal clinked as it hit the ground by my feet. Rumlow slammed the entrance closed, ticking filling my ears. A split second passed before I was on my feet, grabbing the first guard who stood by the barrel of his gun and slamming it back into his head. I heard shouts of my name over the comms as I twisted the second man’s arms and pushed him in front of me to block the brunt of the explosion that followed shortly after.

My body slammed into the metal doors at the back of the truck before being launched outward onto the hard ground, a ringing in my ears blocking out the chatter on the comms. Grass tickled my cheeks as I lay there coughing my guts up, eyes fluttering as the light blinded me. I let out a cut-off grunt of pain as I moved, struggling to lift my head into my hands. I heard another call of my name, garbled like I was underwater. A hand grabbed my shoulder and I blinked hard to force my eyes to adjust to the light. Blurry red hair filled my line of site.

I pushed off of the ground to sit up more. “Nat, Nads, come in.” Steve addressed over the comms, worry evident in his tone. I gave Natasha a thumbs up before rubbing my hand over my face, the ringing sound finally clearing.

“We’re here, Nads is okay.”

“Rumlow’s in an AFV heading north,” Steve responded.

I accepted Natasha’s hand, letting her help me up. “I’m really beginning to not like that guy,” I muttered. A streak shot by me before my face was enveloped within warm hands. Pietro’s bright gaze tinged with concern as he scanned my face.

“What the hell happened, are you okay?”

I held onto his elbow nodding fervently. “I’m fine, I promise, you need to go after Rumlow.” He seemed unconvinced but nodded at my words eventually, after a final nod from me he shot off after the truck. I ran toward the discarded motorbike, pulling it up. “Come on, I’ll drive,” I called to Nat who shook her head playfully at me as she hopped onto the back of the bike.

“They’re splitting up.” Sam’s voice filled my ears. I sped up, navigating through the entrance of the market.

“We’ve got the two on the left,” I responded bringing the bike to an abrupt stop and launching onto the bonnet of a car before running over it. I could hear Natasha’s footsteps close behind me as I ducked and weaved through the stalls, vaulting over a cart that got pushed into the way. I had the two men we were tailing in my sites, but they diverted down a side pathway.

“He doesn’t have it. I’m empty.” Sam said only making me run faster. I dodged civilians as I moved to run parallel to one of the men, curving and jumping onto a table to tackle him to the ground, we both rolled through the dirt after the collision. He pulled a gun from his belt but I grabbed his hands before he could aim, pulling his arm up and forward to punch him in the stomach. With a swift turn, I slammed his hand onto the table hard making him drop the gun. He managed to kick me in the stomach, making me stumble slightly but I caught myself quickly, running at him and stepping onto his bent leg to jump up and lock my legs around his upper warm, swinging myself down, causing him to be thrown back into the dirt. I landed on my feet again, pulling the gun from the belt, but the cocking of a different gun stopped me in my tracks. I turned to see the other guard holding Natasha around the neck, gun aimed at her head. I turned to aim my gun at the man behind her.

“Put it down.” I narrowed my eyes at him, pulling the slide back, a metallic click sounding between us. “Put it down. Before I put her down.” He pressed the gun further to her head. I calculated the time it would take me to pull the trigger allowing for his reaction time.

The previous guard cleared his throat, causing my eyes to flicker toward him. “Drop the gun or I’ll drop this.” Between the tips of his fingers was a vial of red and yellow liquid; the specimen they’d stolen from the disease center. I swallowed heavily, eyes flickering between the two men before I met Natasha’s gaze, the slightest twitch of my expression was all it took for her to nod, Sam’s strange bird robot descended a moment before I shot the man behind Nat in the head. The robot shot the other man causing him to drop the vial but before I could react Pietro shot by me, the wind tousling my hair. In mere seconds he was standing before me with the object in hand.

 “Fucking hell.” I breathed out. “Payload secure. Thanks, Sam.” I added glancing toward his robot.

“Don’t thank me…”

I rolled my eyes moving to help Nat up. “I’m not thanking that thing.” I nodded toward the metal bird that was still hovering by my head.

“His name is Redwing.”

“Good for him. I’m still not thanking it.”

Sam tsked. “He’s cute, go ahead, pet him.”

I ignored his teasing approaching Pietro who smirked at me before nodding toward the vial between his fingers. “Pretty hot, huh?” I raised an eyebrow at him opening my mouth to respond but a load explosion sounded nearby, windows shattering and flames filling a wing of the large building beside the market. The force of the wreckage threw Pietro and I backward, the vial flying out of his hands, I launched forward, dropping and rolling across the gravel to land beneath it. My heart was thudding against my chest, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding when it was safe in my grasp. When I moved back to my feet Pietro was more focused on the building that was in flames than the fact that whatever was in the bottle could’ve just spread. When I looked upward, I realized why. There were people screaming and running around from within the fire.

I heard Steve ask for fire and rescue, but I felt rooted to my spot.

Wanda was devastated. That much was evident even in her silence that stretched the whole trip back to the compound.

We’d stayed after the mission was complete, assisting search and rescue to evacuate as many people as possible. No one made it out unscathed, those that survived were barely holding on.

She was just trying to help. Rumlow had a bomb vest, a lot more people would have died if she did nothing. That is what we’d all told her, though it was obvious she didn’t believe us.

Pietro wasn’t unaffected by what had happened either. He’d looked almost haunted as he watched the flames emerge from the windows, heard the screams and pleas for help. I kept a close eye on him on the way back, attempting to decipher what he was feeling. When we arrived at the compound barely a word was exchanged between any of us, there was an air of exhaustion and defeat hanging around that no one wished to linger in. I strayed from Pietro then, opting to head to the bathroom after I’d watched him wander down the hall to his room. I scrubbed the dirt and defeat of the day from my face, deciding to shower after, eager to check on Pietro before I worried about ensuring my hair no longer smelt of smoke. When I could no longer feel the grime clinging to my cheeks, I made my way down to the kitchen to find Steve leaning over the bench, wringing his fingers together whilst staring off into space. I paused in the doorway surveying him for a long moment, he was so out of it that when I spoke, he jumped slightly, evidently startled by the sudden presence.

“If you think any harder your head will explode.”

He pressed his lips together in a sort of tired smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “I’m guessing everyone else has retired for the night.”

I nodded slowly. Noting the look in his eyes, guilt and… maybe sorrow. “It was a shitty day,” I spoke. Moving to grab a plate from the cupboard and select an assortment of foods; some berries from the fridge, a bread roll, some cheese, and a bottle of water. He didn’t speak as he watched me assemble the items. The only acknowledgment was a quiet hum from him.  I walked toward the doorway, glancing back at him. “I know that you’re the leader of this strange motley crew… but not every loss is yours to bear alone.” I looked down for a second before meeting his eyes. “You should know that, Steve.”

He swallowed heavily, nodding once, twice. “Yeah, I know. It’s just… a shitty day.” He nodded again.

“Feed yourself and go to bed. Tomorrow might not be so bad.” I told him, gesturing toward the second plate I’d left out on the bench filled with food.

Steve smiled at me again, but this time it seemed more genuine. “Thanks, Nads. You know-” he paused momentarily, as if searching for the words. “I’m glad you gave us a chance that day.” I raised an eyebrow at him. “Even if you weren’t convinced we had much of a team back then.”

I shrugged gently. “Well, I guess I didn’t have anything better to do.” His chuckle followed me down the hallway and despite my nonchalant exterior that he seemed to be able to see through in that moment, I smiled to myself when I was out of the room.

A dim glow could be seen under Pietro’s door, letting me know he’d yet to go to sleep, though I had suspected as much. I knocked gently waiting for him to invite me in before I opened the door. He didn’t look up from his lap as I entered. “We talked about this. You don’t need to knock, just come in.”

“Well, I’d hate to walk in on you when you’re indecent.” I teased, hoping to lighten the mood a little. He didn’t respond to my words, continuing to look down. That was when I knew something was really wrong, I’d given him the perfect foundation for a dirty joke, and he hadn’t so much as given me a suggestive look in response. I swallowed heavily, glancing at the door for just a moment, considering giving him some time alone. Maybe he wanted space to think. However, I knew that my instinct to leave was more out of a hesitancy to be vulnerable than anything else and I wasn’t doing that, not to him, not anymore. I took a step forward, if I left now, he’d make himself sick with the thoughts occupying his mind. He’d fought for me to open up before to save me from drowning in my sorrow, I could do the same for him.

I sat down on the bed across from him, placing the plate between us. His hair was dry, debris still clinging to it, indicating that he’d also yet to shower. “What are you thinking about.” He opened and closed his mouth a few times, still looking down at his lap. I reached out for him, placing the palm of my hand against the side of his face. Thumb caressing his cheekbone gently. “Pietro,” I whispered. When he finally met my eyes, his were brimming with tears. I sat the plate on the side table, moving closer to him. Both of my hands fell to his then, grasping them as I attempted to decipher the look on his face. “Please tell me what’s going on in your mind.” He attempted to blink the tears away, but they did not go so easily. “The way they were screaming, the crying, the crumbling building… I-it was just like Sokovia.” I tightened my grip on his hands, nodding at his words. “She only wanted to help; I know that. But that’s also what we thought we were doing when we were working with Ultron.”

I said his name quietly, hoping that if I began to speak the right words would come to me.

When he looked up at me then the emotion in his eyes devastated me. His eyes were shining with the tears that sat along his waterline, soon joining those that had begun to stream down his cheeks. “How do you do this?” I furrowed my eyebrows slightly, unsure what he meant. “How do you know the right thing to do? We keep trying to help but it seems like we only make everything worse.”

I let go of his hands to wipe the tears from his face, with one I pushed the hair back from his head. Letting the other linger on his cheek. “We don’t. None of us know what the right thing is, all we can do is try, just like you.”

“But how are any of us supposed to know? It’s not right, having the power to just decide what should be done. Maybe we shouldn’t have so much power…” He hung his head.

“I don’t know, Piet. I’m sorry, I don’t know the answer.” He squeezed my hand before pulling me forward until I fell into his body. His arms enveloped me, holding me tightly to him. The pungent smell of smoke filled my nostrils, engulfing me even more strongly now that it was not just me who smelt it. I ignored it, running my hand through his hair. “Please don’t torture yourself,” I murmured against his neck. He buried his face further into my hair.

At some point we separated, agreeing that we both needed to shower, I hoped that the hot water could wash away some of the tension in him. The warmth of his hand filled mine when I turned toward his bedroom door, planning to make my way toward the shower nearest my own room. He tugged me back toward him slightly and he didn’t need to speak, I could see it all over his face. Even for me, someone not always the most adept at understanding others, it was evident that he couldn’t stand the thought of being alone right now. Despite myself, I went easily, with only some hesitation and then I followed him into the bathroom and began to peel off my clothes as he fiddled with the tap in the shower. He pulled his shirt over his head, not meeting my eyes as he began to undo his pants. I stepped into the hot shower whilst he removed his underwear. A moment passed and then I heard the door glass door close and felt him move closer to my back. I opened my mouth to say something, but the words died on my tongue when I felt his finger graze over the scar that traveled from the top of my shoulder blade to the middle of my spine. It had faded over the years now white and barely visible unless someone stood as close as he did.

 When he spoke his voice was quiet, it didn’t sound like he was crying anymore but he certainly did not sound like himself. “I’ve never seen this one before.”

“It’s old.” I matched his volume, barely audible over the spray of water hitting us.

“The Red Room?”

I nodded. “I was little.” I wasn’t sure why I said it, as if it were explanatory; contextual.

He asked me how it happened.

I told him it didn’t matter. Because it didn’t feel important to me now, not when his eyes had looked so very devastated while we’d sat on his bed. The Red Room and its various inflictions were the furthest thing from my mind.

“It does.” He was absolute, there was a seriousness in his voice that confounded me. I wasn’t sure why he seemed so prepared to die on this hill, but I wondered if maybe it was merely the easiest distraction for him right now. A momentary respite from the thoughts and sorrows plaguing his mind.

I swallowed, tilting my neck from side to side to relieve the pressure. “I was on assignment and back then hydra agents had a penchant for killing widows and taking the credit for our assassinations. I was young, inexperienced, too slow to realize he was behind me. The agent was a shit shot but the bullet shattered a glass door, and I went rolling through it when we were fighting.” Soap-suds covered my shoulder blades as he ran his hands over my tender muscles, cleaning the dirt from my flesh as I spoke. “They had me back in training the following day and some of my stitches popped, they refused to redo them because they wanted the scar to be a reminder of my weakness.” I heard Dreykov’s voice saying those words to me as I spoke to Pietro.

“How old were you?”

“11.” He stiffened, hand stilling on my shoulder. I looked down at my feet “I couldn’t complete the assignment… there was another girl with me, an older Widow. She killed him… because I couldn’t.”

I felt Pietro step closer to me. “You shouldn’t have had to.” His voice was thick with something I couldn’t understand. “They gave you scars because you were a child who did not want to kill.”

“They had to break me so that they could mold me into the person they wanted me to be.” I turned to face him, taking in the pensive look on his face. My hand fell over his bicep, thumb rubbing back and forth as I scanned his face for signs of how he was feeling. “It was a long time ago. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed heavily. “Pietro,” I murmured.

It was a long while before he spoke. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you ever again.” His arms wrapped around me tightly, pulling my chest flush to his and burying his face into the crook of my neck.

“Well, that’s a bit of a tall order, considering our line of work.” I rubbed my hand over his back, gabbing the shampoo from the shelf and massaging it into his silver hair. When I was done, I directed him under the water spray to wash the soap from him, running my hand through his hair to help it along. He gazed down at me the whole time.

“You know you’re very distracting, hm?”

I asked him what he meant.

“It is very hard to be sad when you are naked in front of me.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. I rolled my eyes playfully at him. “You’re an idiot.” His smile grew slightly. “But I don’t want you to be sad so maybe that’s a good thing.”

That night as I lay beside him, stroking his hair because he’d asked me to, and if this brought him even a semblance of comfort, I’d do it, I remained awake for a long while. For a time, I gazed upon his face, studying each of his features from the tip of his nose, along the bridge, and then across his dark eyebrows. He grasped the back of my shirt tightly in his hand even after he’d fallen asleep, his arms wrapped around my middle, head a comforting weight against my stomach. He’d slept like this nearly every night since I’d returned from Brazil. I wondered if it was his way of ensuring I couldn’t slip out whilst he slept again. He’d told me he forgave me for my sudden disappearing act, and I believed him. He truly didn’t seem to hold it against me; however, it was evident that our abrupt separation had not left him unaffected.  I thought about what he’d said earlier, how do we know what the right action is? It certainly felt like a lot of our actions lately had been the wrong ones.

In the morning, I took my time wandering down to the office Dr. Norris had been meeting me in.

“How have you been feeling since we last spoke? Still no sudden episodes?”

I shook my head, fiddling with my fingers. “No…”

“You seem unsure?”

“There haven’t been any episodes, but I have been remembering things. It’s not as overwhelming as it was before but things are coming back to me.”

Norris made a note in his booklet. “That’s good, Nadia, it’s what we’re trying to accomplish, we want to deconstruct Hydra’s conditioning to free your mind.”

I nodded slowly. It was bizarre to me, having things come into focus the way they were, without all the pain and loss of reality. The calmness with which these things returned to me almost made me disbelieve that they were really mine. Truthfully the images that I saw in my mind disturbed me, partially because it was incomprehensible that I could have merely lost so many years of my life from Hydra’s conditioning and also because I wasn’t sure how to piece them together. How did any of it fit into who I am now? There is a whole life with these recurring characters whose faces I can never quite make out with complete clarity, and it is so foreign to me, but my mind urges me to open myself to it. There is a part of me that begs to be connected to this unfamiliar past.

I still couldn’t bear to listen to that song, dream a little dream of me. It didn’t bring on an episode anymore but whenever I heard those notes, the soft humming of the woman’s voice would always follow, the remnants of who I had once been.  Letting go of it seemed the only logical answer to me, it was in the past. I am not that child anymore and I will never be her again. Holding onto it would only make everything worse. That was what I should do, let go, let the memories pass through my mind, and then release them. It was for the best.

However, when I lay in the quiet of the night, with nothing but my mind and Pietro’s gentle breaths to keep me company, I could not help but fade into it. Let the humming fill my ears, let it warm my chest like warm milk and honey. F.R.I.D.A.Y. hadn’t been playing the city sounds lately, I hadn’t asked her to. Pietro was enough of a reminder of where I was, and the dark walls of the Red Room were not the ones I lived in when I lay warm beneath my blankets.

“If Hydra were trying to recruit you, why would they try to kill you?”

The question took me by surprise, pulling me swiftly from my thoughts. I met Pietro’s eyes from across the table, furrowing my eyebrows as I thought for a moment about his words. “I suppose when I was a widow, I was just a faceless soldier, we did not have individual identities we were just assassins. Or perhaps it was their inability to kill me that sparked an interest.” I shrugged slightly before raising an eyebrow at him. “Why do you ask?”

He shook his head, looking down at his hand. “It was just on my mind.” I gnawed on my lip.

“I don’t pretend to understand how Hydra thinks and it doesn’t really matter now.” I reached across the table to touch his hand for a second before pulling back. “Put it out of your mind.” There was something in the look he gave me that stuck with me. I furrowed my eyebrows ever so slightly, mentally checking each corner of his face for a tell. It wasn’t clear to me what it was, why I felt the need to do a double-take. I shook off the strange feeling, doing as I’d told him to and putting it out of my mind. It’s just my perpetual paranoia, echoes of the life I’d lead.

Pietro nodded, not meeting my eyes for a long moment but when he did the small smile, he gave me made me forget all the strangeness and the air of exhaustion that lay thick over the compound. His hand slid across the table to chase my own, fingertips grazing over the smooth flesh. I watched intently as he pulled my hand to his lips to press a whisper of a kiss against my knuckles. Even when I was shaking my head at his sappy antics my lips still curved upward. My inability to bite my smile had his own growing. “You’re really very beautiful. You know that?”

“You’re just realizing?” I taunted, biting my lip to contain my amusement.

He shook his head, a breathy laugh falling from his lips. “No. No, I’ve known that since the moment I laid eyes on you, it’s very irritating.” I snorted, rolling my eyes playfully. He tugged my wrist suddenly, pulling me to stand between his legs. My forearms rested over his shoulders as he held my hips, fingers pressing gently into the flesh. “Every time I look at you, I feel like I’m going crazy.”

I opened and closed my mouth a few times, smile fading as I became aware of my heart thudding in my chest. “Sorry,” I murmured.

He laughed a little. “No, you’re not.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel crazy.”

“You don’t have to try.” Pietro pulled me closer to him, his chin grazing my ribcage as he looked up at me. I swallowed heavily as his hand slid down my leg to rest over my thigh which was revealed by the soft shorts I wore. His fingers flexed over my flesh, fingertips pressing into the back of my leg teasingly, just as he’d done to my hip. “You still haven’t told me how hot it was when I caught the vial.”

I shook my head yet again, taking a step back, he let me go, hands drifting from my body leaving it cold. “You are astoundingly sure of yourself.” His eyes mapped the path of my arms as they crossed over my chest. “It’s very irritating.” I mirrored his earlier words. He smirked at me.

Before I could even comprehend it, he was up and our chests were flush, he held my hip in one hand, the other tucking a lose strand of hair behind my ear so he could whisper in it. “I think you like it.”

I clenched my jaw, willing the smile to subside before narrowing my eyes at him. “I don’t.”

His grin only grew. “Oh, this again? You know how much I love it when you're mean.”

“You’re sick in the head,” I spoke turning and beginning toward the doorway, I barely made it a step before he’d spun me, pressing my back against the wall and claiming my lips with his. The moment we made contact my façade dropped, the previous game seeming much less fun in comparison to this. My hand slid into his soft hair, tugging slightly causing him to hum, my other hand pulled him closer by his shoulder. My back flattened against the wall with the force of his body, knocking the air from my lungs but that was the last thing I was focused on.  He pressed kisses all over my face causing me to laugh and attempt to dodge his incessant pecks, it was no use as he held me tightly and kissed me again and again. “Pietro!” I attempted to speak between his onslaught and my laughter, but it was very difficult. When he found my lips again, I squeezed his arm slightly. “Not here.”

In the blink of an eye, my back was hitting the soft, cushioned surface of his bed. I maneuvered my way on top of him, pinning him down to allow myself some respite. He smiled up at me adoringly. I let his arms go but remained straddling his middle, hands planted against the duvet as I hovered above him, wiggling my eyebrows teasingly at him. His smile grew. Out of my peripheral, I saw one of his arms raise and I expected him to attempt to flip us or offer a suggestive touch, yet his palm planted itself firmly against my spine, smoothing up and down the arch of my back. His other hand wrapped around one of my forearms that lay by his head, not a tight grip but a comforting presence that left a warm spot in its wake. After a long moment of adjustment, I let my head drift down toward his, pressing a tender kiss to his lips before resting my forehead atop his. It was intimate, exceedingly so, and perhaps at one time it would have frightened me, sickened me, but it was Pietro. That thought alone soothed any doubt that crept into my mind. My eyes fell closed.

“You were wrong, you know?” He hummed questioningly in response to my words, prompting me to continue. “Yesterday you said that you keep making things worse, but you’ve never made things worse for me.” There was a long silence between us and when I opened my eyes again his content expression had faltered, a break in his moment of serenity.  I studied his expression for a long while. “Did I say something wrong?”

He shook his head immediately. “No, no of course not.” His hand came to cradle my cheek. The words were frantic as though he really needed me to hear them, but he still seemed withdrawn. “I just- it’s been a long few months and my head is all over the place. I’m sorry, everything’s fine. You didn’t say anything wrong.”

I narrowed my eyes, unconvinced by his words. That niggling feeling from before returned. I sat up, letting his hand drop from my cheek. He chased me, sitting upright as well, hands now resting on my thighs once more.

“Pietro…” I swallowed heavily before placing my hands on either side of his face, thumb caressing his cheekbone. “Didn’t we agree that we would tell each other the truth, I’m sorry that I haven’t always done that but I’m trying now. Really, I am, please don’t start keeping things from me.”

The way his face fell further into something distraught had me re-evaluating my words. Was it what I’d said or was there something deeper eating at him? He glanced between each of my eyes before swallowing heavily. Finally, he opened his mouth to respond but the familiar voice of F.R.I.D.A.Y. filled the room before he could speak.

“Captain Rogers wishes to speak with Pietro in the conference room at his earliest convenience.”

I sighed softly, moving to my feet and offering him my hand to help him up. He looked to the door and then back at me, eyebrows furrowed. “We can talk later.” I crossed my arms over my chest, nodding once at him, forcing a tight-lipped smile onto my lips. He shot me one final glance before leaving the room.

[miquellah]

Apologies for the unsolicited Elden Ring lore question, but I've been having a lot of Thoughts; namely, why was it that Ranni chose Godwyn to kill on the Night of Black Knives? I mean, I can speculate why she didn't choose some of the others - love for her full-siblings, and respect for the threat presented by Miquella and Malenia if she killed one of them but not the other (if not love for them too, honestly) - but it's always seemed to me a very personal thing to do to him. It can't just be that she loved him least. Especially as the Omen twins exist, and by most accounts Mohg at least was pretty roundly disliked in general (if he was even let out of the sewers). (Justice for my man, by the way - deserved better than he got.)

My personal speculation is that Godwyn the Golden - the Golden Order's Golden Boy - was either transphobic, if we're going with the trans Ranni headcanon, or allegorically transphobic, if not. You've mentioned before on here that Ranni is a pretty one-for-one trans allegory; her journey is all about shedding a destiny and a body that was inflicted upon her against her will. We know very little about Godwyn as a person, save for a couple of things; he earned the loyalty of the ancient dragons through fierce battle, and he was beloved by those within the Golden Order. This, to me, suggests a character very much his mother/father's son; devoted to the primacy of the Order, and kind to those who fall within it or are willing to submit to it. Ranni, however, is not willing to submit to this fate - devoutly desires to be anybody other than the Empyrean she was born as.

I think that Godwyn disapproved of who Ranni was, who she wanted to be; I think that he consistently advised her to submit to the dictates of fate and of the Fingers. And I think that, above all, is why she turned the blade upon him over any of their other siblings.

No problem for the impromptu drop-in! And a Ranni one now no less, woah!

I think it’s always been a pretty prominent question, albeit one i haven’t yet dug in much for myself. He was the very first to die, so even past all of the other candidates we DO know, there was surely even more. That said…

My personal ideas, and one that i’ve honestly tossed around most, is that maybe ranni didn’t actually have full command of the black knives. It’s definitely her fault, but while it’s possible she hired them directly, she also just could’ve tipped them off anonymously and presented herself as a potential victim— with godwyn as the random collateral. Of course, there’s still a lot of holes and speculation any which way there, BUT…

On the other end, like you say, ranni could’ve just disliked him from the start. There’s a possibility he wasn’t as kind in full as we take him for— that sort of duality is notoriously a very big theme across many characters. I’ve also seen it posited that godwyn could’ve been ranni’s own assigned consort, an arranged marriage of sorts, an idea which she despised.

BUT!!! having just come out of my sniffing around the themes of Berserk, another idea comes to mind: the idea that sacrifice only means its most when you DO love something, and then give it up. Still speculation on my own end, and we don’t know the full mechanics, but “equivalent exchange” as a idea not only present in berserk itself (often a huge inspiration for many souls ideas, as we know), but alchemy and related magical theories as well (something that elden ring’s lore is largely built off of)

So. It could be that she hated him, or that he was the most convenient, or even that godwyn was someone she loved dearly, and was ultimately the most fitting sacrifice she was willing to make. We may never know! But ultimately, ranni’s will itself was enough to pull through in any which way.

[backyard-homesteader]

Plum Harvest

I harvested the plums from the tree in the backyard this weekend. It wasn’t exactly the project I’d planned on spending my weekend on, but when the fruit is ripe, it’s ripe. So I armed myself with my homemade fruit picker, my eight-foot ladder, and bin for the plums. Then, with far too many animals underfoot, I got to work.

This must be a mast year for the tree, because I’ve never seen so many on there in the years I’ve been living in this place. For those who are new to the term, a mast year is when a tree produces a significantly larger than usual amount of fruits or nuts. They generally happen every five to ten years. Scientists still don’t know when exactly trees will decide on a mast year, but they suspect weather might play a role. Although producing such excessive amounts of seeds does stunt the trees growth that year, they produce far more than can be eaten by the local bird and rodent population, which increase the trees chances of creating new saplings! Some trees will even coordinate mast years for better chances of success. For anyone who wants a more detailed explanation, I’ll add some links at the bottom of the post. I hadn’t heard of mast years until this fall either, and it was a truly fascinating research hole to go down.

Even after weeks of carting away buckets of fruit that fell from the tree too small and unripe to eat, the branches were still sagging. Some of the lower ones were nearly bowed to the ground under the weight of all that fruit. Almost within reach of my younger puppy, and definitely within the means of the older one.

The ducks quacked at me in a somewhat annoyed fashion as I turned on an audiobook and set myself up to work. I find having something to listen to always makes the time go faster. After a few years of this, I’ve developed a bit of a method. I start low, working my way up the tree in stages, and moving the ladder as few times as I can safely get away with. I leave the top of the tree for very last, as it takes the longest to pick and generally has the least fruit.

My first bin was full within minutes. I could quite literally see the branches lifting as I worked. It’s honestly amazing none of them broke under the weight.

I ate a few off the tree as I worked, rinsing them off in the hose I’d left on to refill the duck pond. They were warm from the sun, sweet, and just on the right side of juicy. A few that had more direct sunlight were already too ripe, the skin splitting open under my fingers. Those ones I pulled the pits out and tossed to the dogs.

There was a brief sidetrack when I got caught on the blackberry vine that had climbed up through the branches. I dug out the shears and cut it down, Unfortunately, I didn’t manage to pull out the root, so I’m sure it will be back again next year. Then, while I had the shears out, I decided to do a bit of pruning and cut out some of the dead branches.

With that out of the way, I jumped back into picking. Fruit trees are deceptive creatures. You’ll think you’ve stripped a branch only to climb off the ladder, look up, and see twenty plums you missed hiding under the leaves.

There was another slowdown when I got to the top of the tree, the area that I need the fruit picker to reach. I made it a few years ago, from some old wire coat hangers, a straightish branch, and some duct tape. Despite its cobbled together look, it has served me well. Unfortunately, maybe due to previous use, or the tape getting old, several of the hooks decided to come out on me. I stuck them back in and wrapped some more tape on, but they didn’t want to stick back on quite they way they were. I might just take the whole thing apart and start from scratch later, when I have more time.

Despite the setbacks, I managed to get the tree stripped over the course of the day. Taking all the extra fruit into account, I managed to pick twice as quickly as I did last year. I’m getting better, and I’m pretty proud of myself for that.

The dogs were a lot less underfoot this year as well. I remember last year, when I’d just gotten my first puppy. She’d been constantly getting tangled around the tree and stealing my fruit picker. I probably spent as much time playing with her as I did picking. This year, with two, they mostly kept each other entertained and out of the way. There was only one time I had to wrangle them, when they kept digging holes under the deck. After telling them to knock it off a few times, I went over to fill in the holes, only to find out they’d been digging up potatoes. I have no idea how so many potatoes ended up buried under the deck. The dogs stashing them away for later maybe?

I’m really excited about my plum harvest this year though. By the time I was done picking, I had six full bins of fruit. Between my snacking and a couple of friends coming by to pick some up, three of them never even made it into the house. But that still leaves three bins with me, even more than I had last year.

I tend to go a little over the top eating fresh plums this time of year. And when I get sick of that, there’s plum pinwheels and plum compote. Most of them will end up getting canned, as fresh plums don’t keep for very long.

I have a lot of canning in my immediate future.

https://www.woodlandtrust.org.uk/blog/2020/10/what-is-a-mast-year/

https://www.bbg.org/article/the_mysteries_of_masting_in_trees

https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/this-fall-is-full-of-acorns-thanks-to-a-mast-year/

[ahedderick]

Planting season

   Planting season for (dormant) trees in our area is March 15 through April 15th, more or less. I have several trees in pots, maples and chestnuts, and I am determined to get them planted this year.

   I grabbed the first of the maples this morning, but its roots had grown down through the bottom of the pot and into the soil beneath. I was tugging, prying, and cussing myself out for not having done this last spring, when I initially intended to. Then I stopped cold, realizing

that this time last year I was dealing with my father’s end-of-life; I spent ten days at the hospital with him, then had an enormous burden of house-cleaning and clerical work after he passed in late March. So. Yeah. I DIDNT get the tree-planting done. But I will not be beating myself up about that anymore. If I can save the maples I will; if they die they’re just free seedlings that sprouted around the edge of the yard anyway. The chestnuts are much smaller and probably not so rootbound. We’ll see. Deep breath. Self-compassion. Grab a shovel.

   Silver maple are comfortable in riverbank areas, so I took one of them down to the creek bottom where I’ve been clearing brush. Maples and walnuts are excellent for suppressing undergrowth; maples because they are so shady and walnuts because they poison other plants growing too near them!

   It wasn’t too hard digging a hole in the loose, sandy soil. I planted the maple in a spot where another tree blew over during the winter. If I’m lucky, it will grow swiftly (maples do!) and shade that area at least a little within ten years.

   I also dug some shallow trenches close to the water and laid Streamco willow cuttings in them. Five sections of those, and multiple cuttings in each trench - fingers crossed there will be multitudes of willow sprouts poking up in a month or two.

[primusfortuna]

Rouge ⟡ Love Wrapped in Ribbons of Gratitude (Moon 03)

[Normal Route] [01] [02] [XX] [Sun Route]

“I Want You By My Side Forever”

Emma: Rouge-san, I’m so sorry!

Rouge: ......!

Rouge: ...EHH!?

After I slip out from the shade of the tree, Rouge-san gapes at me as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

Rouge: Emma-chan? Why are you here...?

Emma: I happened to catch you leaving the castle, and I started feeling bad...

Emma: Since it’s so late, I got worried and followed you.

Rouge: Huh? You’re joking, right? Actually, before that...

Rouge: ......Did you hear my entire sentimental, cringy monologue?

Emma: ...Yes. I’m sorry.

Rouge: ...Emma-chan. You saw nothing. And heard nothing. Right?

Emma: I-I can’t pretend―

Rouge: I guess not... Hahh...

Kitten: Meow!

Suddenly, the kitten jumps off Rouge-san’s lap and dashes into a bush.

There, a cat that’s presumably its mother comes to greet it.

Rouge: ...Haha. Looks like that little guy found the one it wanted to see, too.

Rouge: I’d give anything to see her smile right now. Rouge: I really want to see you, Emma-chan. Emma: ......! Rouge: Ahh... I guess I’m really sad right now.

Remembering Rouge-san’s words, and the look on his face, my heart feels full.

Although I feel guilty, I’m overjoyed we experienced the same “heartache.”

Rouge: Uh, well... I’m embarrassed you heard all that.

Rouge: But since I have the chance, let me ask you directly.

Emma: Huh?

Rouge: Why were you avoiding me? You even got everyone to work with you.

Emma: ......! You noticed that?

Rouge: I might not seem like it, but I’m sensitive to how people act around me.

Rouge: But I always tried to stay humble when it came to you.

Rouge: Ahaha, maybe it’s that I’m too much of a bum. Did you finally run out of patience with me?

Emma: Actually... it was the opposite.

Rouge: What?

Emma: The truth is―

Rouge: Hahhhh, man.... I got it. So this was some huge plan to “make me experience heartache,” huh?

Rouge: I mean, it was a whopping success. And I guess I dug that hole for myself, in a way~... Nahaha.

Emma: I’m really, really sorry. But...

Emma: I genuinely would be sad if you disappeared, Rouge-san.

Emma: And I’m sure the Moon Wanderers would all feel the same.

Rouge: Emma-chan... Mhm.

Rouge: You’re right. I was... sad too.

Hearing that wistful tone of voice, coupled with his earnest gaze on me, my heart beats anxiously.

Emma: Are you mad...?

Rouge: Of course not.

Emma: But... You’re acting kind of different.

Rouge-san moves to close the gap between us, and I instinctively step back. He lets a chuckle slip.

Rouge: ...Hey, Emma-chan. Can I tell you something?

Emma: Rouge-san...?

Taking my hand, he presses his soft lips against my fingers.

Rouge: I might be acting a little strange right now. I’m just not sure how to process these feelings.

Rouge: Up until now, I’ve never cared about anyone hating me or leaving me.

Rouge: The way I was before, I would’ve just laughed it off when you avoided me.

Emma: That... sounds lonely.

Rouge: That’s just how I was back then.

Rouge: But now, when I hold your hand like this... when I feel your warmth... I find peace from the bottom of my heart.

Rouge: The Moon Wanderers, and you... have all changed me.

Emma: ......!

Rouge: I’m still figuring out how to react to this change of mine, but―

Rouge: I’d be heartbroken without you. I mean that.

Rouge-san’s beautiful voice threads together the words I’ve been dreaming of.

My heart is so touched, I can’t muster a response... but then, he gazes deeply into my eyes.

Rouge: ...So please, don’t leave me any more today.

He places another kiss against my fingers, then gently slips his hand back into mine.

Even I’m taken aback by the sweetness in his gaze. Still, I tighten my grasp on his hand.

← Prev ❖ Sun Route →

[zephfair]

I think this one would be good! 76 for the kink prompts 🥺🥺 please and thank you! 🥰🥰

Thank you so much for the prompt! I'm sorry this one got away from me and is more silly than sexy! 😭 But I hope it makes you smile! Thank you for everything! 😘💖💖💖

76. Laughter During Sex

This is Adam/Ronan, Rated E

Although Ronan trusted Adam implicitly, he was still skeptical. “You want to put what where?”

Adam burst out laughing.

While Ronan usually loved making his Adam laugh, he didn’t particularly appreciate it at such important, memorable times.

“Come on, Parrish, help me out here if you don’t think I’m doing it right.”

Adam wiped the tears of laughter from his eye. “I’m just saying, it’s not rocket science. It doesn’t take a genius to figure this out.”

“How did you even learn all this shit?” Ronan had to admit, Adam’s competence really did it for him. There was something about Adam being confident bordering on arrogant when he just took over and did whatever that made Ronan feel very hot.

“Oh you know. I’ve read about it, watched shit on the Internet. Worked it out for myself. Had a little experience.”

Adam put his hand on top of Ronan’s and guided him, and Ronan was forced to admit, that did work better.

“See, I knew you could do it. Eventually.”

“Shithead,” Ronan said just loud enough that he knew Adam would pick it up.

From Adam’s shit-eating grin, he heard loud and clear.

It was a hazy day in June and they were trying to dig a pond in one of the fields at the Barns.

As soon as Adam’s tinkering had resurrected one of the old Lynch backhoes, Ronan had immediately wanted to run it. But Adam, much to his credit, insisted on driving it to the part of the pasture they’d chosen. Then Ronan had insisted at getting behind the controls once Adam broke the ground.

Unfortunately, Ronan didn’t think he’d have much of a future career in running heavy equipment. But after he slid off the seat and let Adam take over with strong, sure hands, he didn’t mind ‘hoeing as long as it could be with Adam.

That made him laugh out loud which made Adam look down at him questioningly. Ronan just laughed again and shrugged.

After Adam had dug out as much as he wanted for the day, Ronan climbed up the tire and squeezed onto the seat despite Adam’s protestations.

“You’re really hot when you’re digging out big holes,” Ronan said against his lips then kissed him.

Adam couldn’t kiss back for a moment because he started laughing. “That’s really some pickup line.”

“It wasn’t a line, it’s the truth,” Ronan protested.

“You think I’m hot when I’m digging big holes.” Adam couldn’t even say it without a chuckle.

“I think you’re hot all the time,” Ronan said, kissing at his jaw, biting at the hinge under his ear.

“But watching me run a backhoe really gets you going,” Adam hmmed in pleasure when Ronan flicked his tongue against his earlobe and ran it up and around the whorl of his ear.

“Yeah, I think it does.”

“You’re incorrigible,” Adam said, finally turning to kiss him properly.

Ronan got his arm around Adam and didn’t care that both of them were sticky with sweat and wet from the heat.

Adam apparently didn’t care either because when Ronan came up for air, Adam sucked down the tender skin of his throat.

“Ah, fuck,” Ronan breathed out, trying to lean back and pull Adam with him but there was no room on the seat.

“You wanna?” Adam pulled away long enough to meet his eyes with a little grin.

“Always, yeah.”

“Then let’s go in the house.”

“But we’re here now.”

Adam flicked his nose and stood up. “But the house will be much more comfortable.”

“Barn?” Ronan tried to bargain but Adam shook his head and laughed again.

“You can wait another couple minutes.”

“What if I can’t though?”

Adam glanced down at his lap where Ronan was already getting visibly excited from just the kissing and proximity to Adam. “Do you need help walking with that?”

Ronan barked out a laugh and Adam jumped down from the cab of the backhoe.

“Come on, the faster we get back—”

“The faster we can fuck.”

Adam grinned and shook his head in amusement. “This is you warning me that it’s going to be fast?”

Ronan scowled and jumped down just as Adam conveniently stepped out of the way. “You know what the hell I mean. Now come on,” and he took off jogging across the field.

Adam caught him easily and bumped his hip. “Did you really think I was making fun of your sexual stamina?”

Ronan missed a step and swore. “Please don’t ever say that again. It sounds so weird, talking about ‘sexual matters,’” Ronan said in a mocking affected accent.

“Why can’t I talk about your sexual prowess? You don’t have faith in your sexual performance?” Adam teased.

“It sounds so bad,” Ronan insisted and they both burst out laughing, Ronan jostling into Adam. Adam wrapped his arm around Ronan’s waist so they made it to the front porch at the same time.

“Shower first?” Ronan asked as he opened the screendoor for them.

“We’re just going to get dirty again.”

“Ah Parrish, now you’re talking,” and Ronan swept him into his arms and kissed him.

Adam let out a breathy noise that Ronan interpreted as a little laugh, but he didn’t stop kissing him. When Ronan’s hands roamed down and grabbed Adam’s ass, Adam made the noise again.

Ronan pulled back from his mouth. He was afraid to ask because it might spoil everything, but he just had to know.

“Why are you in such a good mood today?”

Adam shrugged but a smile tugged at his lips. “I don’t know. It’s just a good day. Can’t I enjoy it?”

“Just wanted to make sure you’re not secretly taking drugs or something without sharing. You’re all giggly.”

“I am not nor have I ever been giggly,” Adam insisted.

Ronan nosed at his ear. “You’re giggling like a school girl.”

“You take that back.”

“Make me.”

“OK I will,” and with more strength and agility than Ronan knew he possessed, Adam tackled him to the big couch. He trapped Ronan’s wrists up at his head and straddled his waist proudly.

“Wow, you sure showed me,” Ronan drawled.

“That’s right.” Adam’s smirk was fast and tight.

“Yep, you got me right where I wanted you.”

“No, I got you right where...damn it Lynch.” At Adam’s frustration, it was Ronan’s turn to burst out laughing. He strained himself up to peck a kiss to Adam’s nose and make it scrunch.

“Now that I’m at your mercy, whatever are you going to do to me?” Ronan’s attempt at batting his eyelashes must have been hilarious because Adam joined him laughing.

It was one of the warmest, happiest moments of Ronan’s life and he thought that he’d remember it forever—the two of them entwined, happy, laughing, not burdened by the past or worried about the future, just being together right then in the moment.

Ronan broke the easy hold Adam had on his wrists so he could bring his arms up around Adam and pull him down. Adam followed easily, mouth still open, eyes bright, and he smiled at Ronan as they kissed.

God, what I wouldn’t give to freeze this moment in time, Ronan prayed, but it got even better as Adam shifted around to get more comfortable and ended up sprawled mostly on top of Ronan.

Ronan concentrated on the warmth of Adam’s tongue in his mouth, the thrill of a touch still so intimate. He ran his hands down and back up Adam’s wiry back, feeling where the T-shirt was stuck to his sweaty skin.

When Adam dipped down to attack his neck again with kisses and tiny bites, Ronan couldn’t help but moan.

“Yeah, you like that,” Adam’s voice was muffled against his throat.

“Yeah,” Ronan agreed amiably. He managed to get his fingers under Adam’s shirt and began to pull it up. Adam was down to licking at the dip between his collarbones when he got the message that Ronan was trying to undress him.

He was only too eager to sit up, and start to take off his shirt, but Ronan tried to sit up at the same time and somehow between his shimmy to take off his own shirt and Adam’s motion, Adam started to tip.

“Oh shit,” was all Ronan could say before Adam’s eyes got big and he fell off the couch.

“Oh my God,” Ronan started laughing as soon as he heard Adam clearly say “Shit.”

Ronan rolled on his side and looked down from his lofty perch on the couch. Adam lay flat on his back rubbing at his shoulder. “You get lost?” Ronan asked in his most innocent voice.

He couldn’t help but laugh again at Adam’s expression. “I can’t believe you pushed me off the couch.”

“I didn’t push you,” Ronan said, trying to catch his breath. “Your clumsy ass fell right off.”

Then Adam was trying to scramble up but Ronan had already decided what he’d do and so Adam ended up flat on his back again on the floor with Ronan on top of him.

“I missed you,” Ronan explained and Adam cracked another smile.

“Asshole.”

“Now Parrish, I know you didn’t just objectify me down to one body part, although I know you do like it.”

“You are such an ass,” Adam manhandled his smirking face down and kissed him.

They made out lazily for a while, their former intensity slowed down by the couch interlude. But this time when Adam rolled Ronan onto his back and incidentally right under the coffee table, they both had to take a breath to laugh.

“How are we so bad at this?” Ronan gasped between laughs.

“It’s you.”

“How is it my fault?!”

“You’re distracting. If you’d just let me be in charge...”

Ronan felt his stomach tighten in anticipation. “You think you can handle being in charge?”

“Yeah, I do.” Adam smiled down at him and Ronan smiled back.

“Impress me then,” he said.

“First we go upstairs to your bed,” Adam whispered hotly in his ear.

Ronan shivered even as the heat pooled in his groin. “And then?”

“And then I’m going to undress you. And get you ready. And then I’m going to fuck you.”

“Fuuuck,” Ronan agreed, shivering again when Adam sucked his earlobe quickly.

“Let’s go.”

Adam stood up and offered him a hand. Ronan just stared up at him, too turned on to even move. Adam grinned at him when he realized.

“Fuck,” Ronan said again and finally let Adam help him up.

“That’s the plan,” Adam poked him in the back to get him moving. Between Ronan’s shaky legs and Adam’s steady prodding, they made it to his room, shut the door and collapsed among the sheets and pillows still in disarray from their morning.

Adam stripped off his T-shirt and started working at his cargo shorts. He glanced over where Ronan lay watching him. “Why aren’t you getting naked?”

“You said you were going to undress me.”

Adam sighed in fake frustration. Ronan just put his arms behind his head and watched the quick but efficient strip show.

Once Adam had peeled off his socks at the edge of the bed, he crawled over Ronan. “How do I get to do this?”

“You’re the one in charge,” Ronan reminded him sweetly.

Adam rolled up Ronan’s T-shirt but it got caught on his arms. “OK Lynch, get your shirt off.”

Ronan tutted. “But that wouldn’t be keeping your promise to undress me.”

“You’re such a shithead.”

“I know,” Ronan smiled with all his teeth. Adam huffed a laugh then put his forehead down on Ronan’s chest and laughed out loud. Ronan held the back of his head and joined him.

Adam took a deep breath and attacked Ronan’s belt and fly instead. Ronan barely lifted his hips, waited until Adam was frustrated and then lifted a little, just enough to make them both laugh again.

“I can’t believe you’re being so shitty about this,” Adam informed him, dramatically tossing Ronan’s jeans behind himself.

“OK, fine, I’ll help you this once.” Ronan was more than ready to give in so he finished whipping off his clothes while Adam rummaged in the nightstand drawer.

“You really okay with this,” Adam said, holding up the lube.

“Definitely.” Ronan leaned over and kissed him. Adam turned so he had a better angle and held Ronan’s shoulder and neck. Ronan wrapped his arms around Adam’s back and pulled him closer.

After a thoroughly satisfying kiss, Ronan lay back as Adam gently pushed him down.

“I said I’d get you ready too.”

“Yeah you did.”

Adam nodded as Ronan grabbed a pillow and propped his pelvis up. “Come on, Parrish. Don’t mess this up now.”

Adam shook his head and chuckled. He kissed Ronan’s belly, right beside his happy trail and nuzzled his way downward. Then his lips drifted to the other side with featherlight kisses and a soft finger trailing down toward Ronan’s hardening cock.

Ronan shut his eyes, tried to hold it in, tried even harder then exploded with a “HA!” just as Adam’s lips whispered over the join of his hip and groin.

“What the hell Lynch?”

Ronan let out a noise he didn’t even know he could make.

And Adam laughed at him.

“You fucker, that tickles,” Ronan grumbled. “Touch me harder.”

Adam laughed again, but he obliged, cupping Ronan’s hip in his hand while he sucked a mouthful of soft skin on the opposite groin.

Ronan whimpered.

“Better?”

“Much.” Ronan looked down his body to see the bright blue eyes looking back at him. “You may proceed.”

Adam shook his head and they both laughed. “You’re such a dick.”

Ronan gestured. “I’m not but I have one and it’s right there.”

“You think you’re funny.”

“You’re the one laughing.”

“I guess I have a bad sense of humor too.”

“Good thing we don’t have to inflict it on anyone other than each other.”

“Probably safer that way,” Adam agreed.

“All right, Parrish. No more tickling. Just more fucking.”

“Got it.” Adam’s grin was still big as he leaned down to suck the tip of Ronan’s cock into his mouth.

All humor went right out of Ronan’s head as Adam got down to business. Ronan thought muzzily that Adam always had to be an overachiever because he was too damn good at sucking cock while his nimble fingers slicked into Ronan in ways that were all too incredible.

Ronan let the pleasure wash him along and it was too soon before he had to concentrate on holding back his orgasm. He reached down to Adam, carded his fingers through his hair, and said, “Let’s get this show on the road, boss.”

Adam pulled off his cock and looked up at him. “What did you just say?”

Ronan was so captivated by the redness of Adam’s lips, the spit shining on his chin that he actually forgot what he said. Then he remembered what he wanted next. “I’m ready.”

But Adam was already cackling softly. “Did you just call me boss?”

“Noo, I just meant, come on and fuck me before I lose it.”

Adam didn’t remove his fingers, but as he rubbed right over Ronan’s prostate, Ronan had to grind his teeth to hold back. Adam noticed it and smiled.

“Got it. Let’s go.”

Ronan let Adam maneuver him, not for teasing this time, but because he felt wound so tight, so heavy with anticipation of even more pleasure until Adam slid between his thighs and pushed into him.

“Is this show on the road enough for you, employee?” Adam asked softly.

“What the... What the actual fuck?” Ronan stared up at him in absolute confusion.

Adam smirked and Ronan realized what he’d said and then he couldn’t help it. He held onto Adam and started laughing, Adam’s back shaking from restraining his own laughter.

Even as Ronan couldn’t believe they were laughing at something so stupid during sex, the motion did something, somehow pushed Adam into him differently and Ronan felt him deep, his own body twitching to accept him.

“God, you feel good,” Ronan finally groaned.

“Can I move now?” Adam asked, leaning forward even more.

“Yesss. Just don’t fall off the bed.”

“Fucker,” Adam whispered and pulled back out to thrust.

It may have driven Ronan out of his mind because all he could do was wrap his arms and legs around every piece of Adam he could and take it. He knew he babbled something and Adam’s mouth brushed over his in a breathless attempt at kissing, but Ronan just clung tighter.

He could feel Adam’s thrusts come slower and Ronan tilted up to meet him until Adam shook apart and came. Ronan couldn’t get his breath back and was thankful a moment later when Adam slid his hand between them and started pumping his cock.

It didn’t take long. Ronan came with a shout, his entire body tensing and then falling suddenly into total relaxation, every muscle suddenly intensely loose. He didn’t even flinch when Adam pulled out of him and slid off the bed.

He felt like his brain was finally coming back online when Adam gingerly wiped his cum off his stomach with a wet washcloth and then gently probed between his legs.

“Thanks,” he mumbled as he lifted one heavy arm to ruffle Adam’s hair.

“You’re welcome.”

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Ronan was just aware enough to ask.

“I’m just realizing that I fucked you so hard that politeness came out.”

It was a long beat until Ronan caught on. He spluttered “The fuck, Parrish?”

Adam joined his laughter and lay down beside and partly on him. Ronan brought his arm up and around him to hold him always closer.

“You’re the shithead.”

Adam hmmed happily. “As long as we’re shitty together.”

“Always, Parrish.”

Here is the Prompts List that got my blog a Mature label.

[mondothebombo]

mondo i have a question for you. i know that your skybound fic follows a principle of plus (add details and depth etc) and (relatively) never subtract (dont redact or change details from canon and avoid divergence). but. is there anything from skybound as a season that you would Like to change? beyond making jays torture worse. i think that one goes without saying. is there anything in the plot that you wish hadnt happened or happened differently. ive been curious about this for a while admittedly

WHOOO BOY IS THERE!!!

this is such a great ask and i’m so happy to talk abt it so hold on cuz this might be long.

you’re right, the whole goal of my fic is to add to the canon story, rather than fix or take out parts. the only parts i actually nixed were unnecessary to the plot and just put in bc 1) it’s a kids show and 2) just for (imo) poorly timed comedic relief. like the whole recruiting of the ninja replacements montage. i absolutely hate that part lmao bc it’s so somber when jay leaves his parents and then boom. funny montage. so i didn’t write that in lmao.

it’s no secret skybound is pretty objectively bad, like even those who love the szn (including myself) can see it has some pretty big flaws. in terms of what i would change?? the fucking time reversal. i legitimately hate that jay and nya went through all that, just for the others to forget, it’s awful. it just feels like the writers dug themselves so deep into a hole, the only way out was to turn back time. no hate to the trope, i just think it’s lazy writing for a big piece of media like ninjago. i don’t think it’s fair for jay to have gone through all that character development and have no one but nya know.

i also don’t like the forced marriage thg tbh. it’s weird and creepy and leaves a bad taste in my mouth, especially since this is a kids show. i’ve seen several interpretations of ppl rewriting skybound where nadakhan is after nya bc she destroyed the cursed realm, which is a take i personally love. idk it’s just w nya’s whole thg about wanting to have her own agency and be able to make decisions for herself, it doesn’t rlly make sense to me that she still ends up being the “damsel in distress.” but ig if i squint i can work w it as her letting herself be saved?

there’s a couple other minor things like dareth being a misogynist, jay taking a chill pill, but that stems from the love triangle which is a WHOLE other issue, ronin arresting them, more detail abt what happened to jay on the ship, jay getting proper medical attention, and echo zane getting a resolution, or at least not forgetting abt him.

skybound is by no means perfect, but i still love it, despite the flaws. i actually have plans to write an alternate ending either where time doesn’t reset or it does but everyone remembers instead of just jay and nya. it’ll be set in the “when you think you’re all alone” universe of sorts so everything i put in the story is addressed, but i actually wanna finish this fic first before i start another. thank you so much for the question though!!! i’ve actually been thinking a lot abt it

[rianafying]

it’s 4am i have the worst migraine of all time. i’ve had it for four days now. it was okay yesterday so i thought ut was over but it’s back again, and i have to go to work cause i’ve got a huge makeup gig today. i have to do hair and makeup for 10 models, and im just, exhausted emotionally. i was supposed to do some drawings and attach them to the file, and i told my client i would do it many days ago, but i didn’t do it. partly because of my headache and partly because ive been forgetful.

update: it’s 8am, i haven’t slept, took some painkillers, been getting spontaneous bursts of anxiety since yesterday afternoon. i always feel a little anxious before a job, but it’s only part of the reason. i feel terrible rn. i feel bloated and crusty, and my hair looks terrible. a huge part of how i feel is based on how i look, and until im happy w the way i look (hair styled, outfit pressed, makeup done, accessorised) i don’t feel okay. and i just hate the way i look and i hate everything rn. i’m having one of those moments where nothing is okay. it is entirely in my head because on other days everything could go wrong and i’d still feel okay. i hate being at the mercy of my emotions. i need more time to gather myself than i have. work is in two hours, at least it’s only a 10 minute walk from my place so if i forget something or whatever, i can come back and get it. but i feel really anxious. i can physically feel it. and i’ve misplaced everything, and suddenly my room is all messy again. and all i want to do is sleep and complain. i wish i didn’t feel so crusty 99% of the time. and i felt so lonely yesterday, not the kind of loneliness that makes me wanna talk to people. it’s the kind that just is there. i don’t wanna talk to anyone. i hate everyone. and i just wanna be by myself. but that also feels bad. i have a social life, and i love my friends but it’s different. i could even see people if i wanted to but i don’t want to. why do i feel this way. i don’t wanna be with people i don’t wanna be by myself either. at least i don’t feel suicidal lately. i just feel annoyed. frustrated. especially with the migraine i just wanna throw things and break things. i never have and i never will actually throw or break things. but that’s how i feel. just super. irritated. i need time i hate being in a time crunch. none of my thoughts make sense and im simultaneously over and under stimulated. how is it too hot and too cold at the same time??? it’s too hot in my blanket but too cold if i take it off. and i can physically feel my skin, like i can feel a separate layer on my body. and im itchy and im so annoyed. its too loud and too bright. and i hate that the sun is up again, and i hate the sound of my alarm. i hate it. and u hate every terrible thing that has happened to me or to anyone. and my heart breaks for those who are going through so so so much worse. and nothing is right. this is not how it’s supposed to be. and i need my therapist. i’m gonna have a mental breakdown. i am having a mental breakdown. i can’t even cry lately. i don’t even drink water. i suck. of course im gonna feel this way. i dug myself into this hole.

another update: it’s almost 8pm, finally got home from work. it was just the most draining day ever. i’m exhausted but also strangely anxious. extremely anxious. the shoot went well, i think?? i hope!

[medpulse]

Seasonal Depression

Everyone has a favorite season. To some, it might signify joy. To others, a season is tied to dreadful affairs such as school or lunchtime with a patronizing family. Personally, I've never taken notice of the weather until it irked me. I didn’t take action to greet it whatsoever. Winter flunked by, and people took great notice of it. As soon as October rolls in, you will see absurd festivities such as discounted hot chocolate and tweed jackets. “It is colder than last year.” they’d say. Or was last year more brutal? All I cared for was keeping warm.

I always needed to learn how to keep warm properly. Sometimes, I would wake up in the middle of the night and throw another blanket on top of me. Only then am I reminded of the season. Waking up early is a task in itself, and the scenery is uninviting enough on its own. So, why would I get out of bed? The leaves fell off the trees making them look like lanky monsters at 5 PM sharp. Are you witnessing the true colors of winter? They seem to be gray, washed out, wherever I see them. Green is washed out. Red is washed out, and so is brown. I haven’t seen the sun in days, have you? The winter skies seemed to have forgotten to arrive, and they send in clouds on their behalf as an apology to me, every night.

Winter might not be fun, but what do I care for? I put on a wool scarf and leave. I wear double as many layers as everyone else, because I cannot deal with the stimulus, whether that's hot or cold. It feels as though I am insulating my skin from the world, whatever it blows my way. Did winter arrive early, or late? I am the wrong person to ask. I am a walking anticipation of it. I guard myself way before it arrives and long after it has passed.

I was told it was cold today, and so naturally I do what is expected of me, and that is shiver. I am terrified of it reaching me. Has it clashed with you? Has anyone encountered this blizzard? Anyhow, I will be lying on my bed until I hear the chirp of a bird. Until the flowers infuse their perfume back into the air. Until I walk by a tree and it is breathing, and only then, so will I.

Have you ever been near a cold beach? I thought it would put me at ease. But the shells were withered and old, and the air felt damp, and I couldn’t feel my toes in my socked shoes, and I needed to leave. I told my mother, “It was a bad idea.” and spent the rest of the day sleeping, because today, I was a hero.

My mother’s embrace seemed to be the only thing that kept me warm. She would buy me fuzzy socks and Ugg boots, and cook us a thick soup. I find myself standing in the kitchen today, making this soup, it sparked something within me I only find during Spring. Then, it’s back to bed.

It is hard to pick myself back up. My bones feel thick, my throat feels sore, but I am not sick in the slightest. Working out feels like clawing at the floor until I find myself again. I do not feel like myself.

I get through winter (I’ve been guarding myself since the fall) by focusing on one thing. Something inspiring enough to help me take my three blankets off of me, face the cold with unrelenting courage, and say, “I am grateful for plenty.” “I am going to be okay.”

“I would like to see people and succeed at this living. If my hands are cold, I will wear gloves to hold yours. Pull me out of my self-dug holes, lest I see the day (and it is close) where jasmine blooms again, and feel the sun on my lips.”

But until then, I may bundle myself up with a book. Surely, it must be fun if all the romantics are doing it? My heart seems to be dull during this time. It wishes to join family around the crackling of a fireplace, and partake in silly antics, like lighting candles and telling tales. Will they accept me if I indulge them with my gray face? With my sedated demeanor? With the lethargic wash out of myself? I’m afraid I might be no fun amongst the bunch. The one they tell to “better get some rest” and pitifully walk to their room with a blanket over them, “Poor her…”

But the cheering must resume! Santa is just outside the door, and we mustn’t let him wait. I bet he is confused with me. Doesn’t know which list to put me on. Perhaps I am missing from all lists, the unmentionable.

I found out that he had gotten me a gift. The leisure of Lemon Strepsils, and I don’t know what’s more bizarre, that, or the fact that it meant the world.

-M.K.

[adaine-party-wizard]

oooooh i’m having some well if it ain’t the consequences of my own actions right now and im so anxious i wanna vomit

(cw for below, gonna mention self harm briefly)

so my family likes do some totally legal things to shift income around cause they don’t wanna pay in a higher tax bracket, so i had a bank account my grandma was paying money from her salary into before she retired that i was Not Supposed To Touch.

i did touch it. why? i have a spending problem. i’ve had a lot of unhealthy coping mechanisms and i’ve kicked most of them! but looking through the transactions (to figure out how much was supposed to be in the account) there’s a notable uptick in my withdrawals from 2020-2022 when the world was Shit and i think i started just taking money from it to spend around 2019 when i stopped self harming so i just like traded one problem for another.

and the past couple years we’ve been using the money in the account for investment things to help lower my taxes or whatever so it’s been like okay! so i’ve fucked myself over by emptying the account but as long as i can keep having money in here for these investments and keep feeding into the account i’ll be fine! i can fix this!

but i was in a car accident in march and i need a new car and it’s gonna be here Soon so now my family needs to know how much money is in the account and there’s only $400 not the like $15000 there should be because i dug myself a hole i thought id be fine but i wasn’t i’ve fucked myself over i did this to myself and now i have to deal with the consequences of my actions and everyone’s gonna be so fucking mad idk what to do