#if it made you reflect a little bit harder then the job is done

[scorpioriesling]

Hello! Do you think you're going to continue writing part 5 of " invisible strings" with eris? I really loved this series! Thank you

Invisible String - Part 5

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Pairing(s): Eris x reader

Warning(s): Please be advised; this part might not be suitable for all audiences. Proceed with caution.

Summary: You'd taken the nanny position for the royal family over a year ago, not expecting what would come of it or how close you'd grow to the child you cared for. Things became tough for Eris when his wife left him and his daughter, and he found it increasingly harder to raise Riley himself. He soon realizes, you've provided a lot more than the typical job description duties for his daughter... and maybe for him, too.

SR’s Note: My apologies, this took forever for me to finish writing for you all (I've had so much on my plate lately). This part IS SHORT, HOWEVER I'm literally already working on the next part and wanted to give you guys at least what I had done so you knew I was indeed working on it! Lol. I added in the advisory so that younger / uncomfortable readers won't read the series without knowing or expecting potential risks in content to come. For those who enjoy or look forward to content as such -- I hope you are excited! Nonetheless, I hope readers will enjoy this series that came to me in a dream one night. (; Much love to all.

Tags: @mellowmusings @talesofadragon @rcarbo1 @mandziaaa @lilah-asteria @a-frog-with-a-laptop @kitsunetori @dannul @velarisdusk @lamarmotta @paintedbyshadows @i-know-i-can @adventure-awaits13 @acourtofbatboydreams (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

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The Autumn Court experienced the changing seasons like any other in Prythian. Spring was still spring, there was still snow in the winter -- but, the current state of dreary, grayness that took over the sky and stretched beyond the court's borders was quite the contrast to a usual week in July.

Perhaps, it was a reflection of the inner turmoil seeded in those residing in the Forrest House.

"Y/N," Riley whines. "When will the sun come back?"

You sigh, wondering the same.

"I don't know Riles. I truly don't."

She huffs, her fingers reaching for her the mason jar sitting in the middle of the table. The wilting flower inside has lost the vibrant orange coloring on its petals from last week, now replaced with wilting brown ones.

"My flower is yucky with no sun on it." She frowns. You pat her head as she inspects the plant, your shoulders stiffening when you hear the front door open and close quietly.

"Daddyyyyy," Riley groans. "When is the sun coming out?" She trills, hopping off the dining room chair and making way for the front door. It seems she heard him come in too, as she makes her way toward the foyer.

The two of you had gone the entire week with as little communication as possible -- a whole lot of "yep"s and "mhm"s and nods and short debriefings. Since the whole closet incident from the week prior, you hadn't gotten the courage to talk with him again anyways; he'd been so cross with you, so irritated. Your cheeks heated at the thought, how embarassed you'd felt that night. The shame.

Honestly, the whole thing made you a bit angry.

You take a deep breath as footsteps approach, their hushed, mindless conversation drowned out by your own thoughts clouding your headspace. It's not until Eris is standing right in front of you that you come back to reality.

"Play tea party?"

You glance down, taking in the little one's innocent expression from down below. You give her a soft smile, looking to Eris quickly before returning her gaze.

"I'd be honored, dear -- would you go set it up? I'll come join you in a few minutes. Let me talk to your dad first." Riley nods, skipping down the hallway toward her bedroom. Eris looses a sigh, passing toward the kitchen island and leaning against it before looking to you again.

"So..." He says, folding his arms across his chest. You suck in a breath, prepared to hand it to him -- ask him what the Hell all that disrespect was for, what the deal is with the gowns, what was going on between the two of you, all of it.

But, your eyes catch on the wilting stem in the glass jar still sat on the table. You stall a moment, every angry thought in your head receeding like the tides when you consider what could be a more imortant topic of conversation in this very moment.

"So..." You begin, taking a step toward him. He watches you, his face expressionless, as you continue. "I... I've been thinking. Riley is, almost five, and... well, it is the last week of July..."

He simply nods, as though saying go on without saying it. You can't help but roll your eyes, stepping to stand right across from him in the space between the island and the kitchen counter.

"I think she should be enrolled in school."

His brow twitches at this, the most you've gotten from him all week. It's silent for longer than necessary, almost uncomfortable, so you start again.

"She's asking me things, Eris, that she needs a proper teacher for-"

"No."

You startle, blinking as his face returns to that look of emotionless stone.

"W-what?"

"I said no." He shrugs, staring you straight in the eye like it isn't negotiable.

"...Okay, well, I want you to hear me out." You say, trying to remain calm. "She wants to learn. She's inquisitive, and smart, and she-"

"I know she's smart." He cuts in. You huff, your brow furrowing.

"Eris, you're not even listening to me." You can't help the way your voice pitches, but his brows flatten into a straight line.

"I don't need to hear it, Y/N -- she has you. We can hire a teacher to come here if you want. But no, she isn't going to a public school where Gods know what could happen to her." He says, his low tone rising with each sentence.

You push off the counter, folding your arms across your chest. "She needs the social interaction with other kids her age, Eris. You can't keep her locked up in here-"

"I'm her father," he says angrily, leaning toward you. "I think I know, what she needs."

Once the words leave his mouth, his face softens as though he realizes what he's said and how he has acted. You stand still, your eyes wide as you stare up at him. Never has he acted so defensive, not even with the damned dresses -- but this, this was on a whole different level.

You watch as his expression changes from rage to pure worry, his concerned eyes searching yours in desperation. You can't help but look away, only glancing back when his fingers hesitantly reach for your arm.

"Y/N, I didn't mean-"

"Don't." You yank your shoulder back, sneering up at him. He drops his hand slowly, shaking his head as he fumbles for his words.

"I'm sorry Y/N. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that, I-"

"You're damned right, you shouldn't have." You said, glaring up at him through your brows. The lump in your throat only grew as you began to feel bad, practically kicking him while he was indeed apologizing.

Maybe he deserved it... a little.

You turned on your heel, making way for Riley's room. He could make dinner tonight. After all -- maybe some pretend tea would do you good.

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"I need to leave at first light for another trip with the guard."

It'd been a few days since you'd had it out with Eris, and maybe it was good you did; he'd been much more present, insisting on cooking, proving more when he was home, and being more involved with not just his daughter but you as well when he was home in the evenings... well, as much as you'd let him be. You hadn't entirely forgiven him yet, all things considered, and the incident from a few weeks ago hadn't even been mentioned, so the relationship was, awkward. To say the least.

"How long this time." You said it as plainly as you could, trying to ignore the burn of the firepoker upon your heart at the thought of him leaving again. You wished it didn't hurt so bad, wished it didn't effect you so much each time.

"Only three days. A quick trip to Spring and back." He nods assuringly, setting his pack on the dining table and looking to you. Nodding, you awkwardly run your hand along your arm, feeling a bit exposed under his intense gaze. This late in the evening, you knew he didn't tell Riley he'd be leaving (per usual) -- so she'd wake up tomorrow with that lovely realization.

"Ok." You chew on your bottom lip, and Eris sighs, stepping toward you. He reaches for your hand, but sensing your hesitation, he retracts. A look of sadness crosses his face before his eyes meet yours.

"Those dresses... in the closet." He murmurs. "They were Selene's." His jaw tightens at the name, and you swear you stop breathing. This was not the conversation you planned to have tonight.

"She... her family, they pass them down for tradition." He continues. "On her way out, she didn't really care to take them; I mean, she took just about everything else, but." He huffs a humorless laugh, but continues when you don't say anything.

"Anyway... I kept them because." He sighs, his head dropping before looking to you again. "You're right, Y/N. Riley is a very smart girl. One day, she is going to ask about her birth mother, and, well."

He shrugs. "I'm not going to have anything to show or give her that was hers." His gaze drops.

"The only thing I had left was those silly dresses from her side of the family."

Your heart clenches as though you can feel every ounce of sorrow he is feeling in that moment. You reach out, your hand caressing his cheek softly before you can think.

"Eris, I... I had no idea, really, I'm sorry-"

"Please, Gods don't apologize." His hand covers yours, his fingers wrapping around yours as he holds it against his cheek. "I know how it looks, and how it must have looked when you happened upon it." He sighs, his other hand reaching for your waist.

"It didn't help that I handled the situation poorly, either." He admits, sorrowfully looking into your eyes. You gaze up at him, your mouth twisting to the side. "I can't take it back, but I truly hope you can understand how sorry I am Y/N."

You step closer, closing the gap between the two of you as he pulls you into a firm embrace. His hand runs through the strands of your hair, a gentle reminder that everything might, just might, be okay.

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"Y/N! Another!"

Riley holds out an identical bloom to the one previously in the mason jar to you th efollowing day, her earlier sadness at her father's departure replaced with temporary glee.

"Oh wow! Look -- this one is very vibrant." You wink at her, continuing on the path back to the Forest House.

"Vi...bran...t." She sounds out, examining the stem in her hand. She dumped out the dead flower pre-garden walk, and surely will now want to replace it.

As the two of you approach the front door, you stoop down to grab the few pieces of mail collated there. One envelope of deep mohogany with gold embossing catches your eye -- but, you follow the little girl inside nonetheless and push the door closed.

"We put this in the cup?" She asks, already making way for the sink to gather more water for her jar. You set down the paper pile, giving her all your undivided attention.

"Of course dear," you say, helping her to sit on the counter and fill her jar from the sink. She places the new flower in the glass, beaming at its brilliancy.

"Yay!" She squeals, her little feet kicking with delight. You help her off the edge, carefully transporting the jar to the table where it sat prior.

"We make sure this one has sun," she insists. "So it won't be ugly."

You chuckle, returning to the mail pile and plucking the envelope from the top. Your intrigue only grows when you see it is adressed to Eris, Riley and you.

You don't waste another moment in tearing it open.

Scanning the page, you feel a new kind of excitement -- a flutter of hope in your heart, a surge of excitement through your veins. Every nerve ending is electric within you as your true joy grows, the passionate feeling inside deeper than what you thought you could explain before. You felt, like truly, what you said meant something. Someone cared what you said, and you'd been heard.

"Riley?" You called. Her little footsteps bounded into the room, a look of interest on her face as she took you in and the paper between your fingers.

"Uh huh?"

You grinned, telling her the wonderful knews.

"Your daddy signed you up for school next month, sweetie."

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[mybraindumps]

I have not felt so unsettled as I have in the past few days, weeks, months (?) in a long time.

Infact I would go as far to say that the last year or so has been the best year of my life so far, not just in comparison whatever my life was before, but it was objectively a great year that anyone would be lucky to have lived.

I was wondering if all the high of a new life was draining out and the best parts of living by myself are fading the serious adulting things start to put me down but I don't think that's true.

I think what it is, is this sense of lack of control over my own life. Like too many external factors deciding what sort of day or week it's gonna be for me, emotionally or otherwise. I could have a really great day but there's no sense of control because I am contantly dreading when things will turn bad? And similarly I could have a really shitty day randomly and I feel completely stuck and powerless about doing anything about it.

A big big part of this is my fucked up client. Everyone's saying I have done such a good job, and maybe I have but people who are overly sweet generally, but turn into absolute monsters when things go even a little wrong or not according to them are I think worse than monsters who are always monsters.

Like, this bitch, would make our lives hell if she's upset about something, but all the other time she sounds so composed and logical and like you try to be mad but she just keeps flipping back and forth. And I am not fucking okay with this.

Why should my day depend on how she's feeling? And I didn't even fucking realise it but this has been going on for months. Easily 6 months or over. And it's not like we never make mistakes, we totally do. So in the beginning, I just thought, oh it was my fault, it's okay for her to react like that. But then you wonder how many faults were real and how may faults were cooked up out of nothing.

How many faults were their lack of understanding and miscommunication and scapegoating cause they do not even fucking know what they want and will flip whenever and think they are smarter cause she has an MBA or her title reads Marketing lead?

Answer me this. Why is the marketing lead fuming over oe single social media post being delayed? You take care of the entire marketing and this is your biggest fucking concern you entitled prick?

There are other things too, and I originally thought I feel lost cause too much is happening but I didn't even realise how done I was with the work shit.

I was just proud of myself for dealing with everything they threw at us, and yes, that's definitely something to be proud of, why did you forget it'd still affect you?

That even though you know your job is perfectly safe, being called out in front of everyone wouldn't affect you. That too when you did nothing wrong. You, who remembers what your nursery best friend wanted to be when she grows up, that you, thought that this wouldn't affect you cause you have a supportive team and you just wouldn't think about it?

They have to go, or you need to be taken off the brand. I don't care how many ideas you have about what all they can do, they can find someone else to deal with her if they can't findone else to deal with. Either way, not your problem.

Just becuae you can do everything, doesn't mean you have to. She's just like Kuber. No wonder their initials match. I have never ever taken the name of someone from my actual life here. Seems like I am gonna hate these two for the rest of my life.

But also, I don't really think that's true. You'll never have any positive things to say about them, but the second you are off, and never have to deal with her again, you'll forget. Like you forgot every other client who has been an ass to you. I guess Kuber will hold a special hate in your heart cause he wasn't a client, he was your boss, and you weren't used to asshole bosses. And you kind of walked into it knowing (or atleast sensing something off) he was an asshole.

Anyway, the point of this, your environment and the people you interact with on a regular basis will always affect you. Which is why you need to contantly watch your company. Getting out of shit once doesn't mean you can never fall right back into it. And mental health is kinda the same.

I am really fucking proud of you for doing everything you did, and got where you are but its also okay to realise that things haven't been great lately. And you can always prioritise getting better again and again, as many times as you need to.

I mean you did once, and you did it so well. This one's gonna be a breeze. Okay, maybe not, but its okay.

3:00 pm 11.10.24

[herarcadewasteland]

Trouble

A/N: This the small piece for the Wooyoung Bullet Point thing i made a little while back! I finally got it done and now you get it~

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Pairing: Wooyoung x Reader ft. San

Warnings: meandom!wooyoung, slapping (thigh and face), degradation, unprotected sex (wrap it up), creampie technically, protected sex (good job), big dick!woosan, restraints, slightly sub!sannie, exhibitionism.

The goal, for once, was not to piss off Wooyoung. Quite the opposite. All you wanted was a little bit of attention from him instead of having it all focused on the damn soccer game that Jongho had put on. It had started off slow that he had no idea it was even happening. Seeing you a little more slung over San than usual, your close relationship was nothing new to him because he was around the man so much himself. A few deliberate hand placements on the muscles of his arm when he made a dumb joke. It was harmless. At least to you. 

As soon as Wooyoung picked up on it, he was on his own plan. You wanted to be a brat and pretend to be more interested in his best friend than him? Your boyfriend? He could play at that game too. He ignored your attempts for his attention, your attitude growing bolder as you noticed Wooyoung not even sparing you a glance, a haughty smirk on his lips as he laughed with Jongho and Yeosang. Your actions towards San got more blatant, a blush covering the boys cheeks as you leaned against him, pressing your tits into his arm. Laughing louder at his jokes, swiping a drop of mayo from his lips when it spills out of the slider. Wooyoung was glancing your way more now, your eyes meeting a few times as his progressively held more danger. 

You knew you were in for it now but you were so far into your plan, you couldn't just back out of it and admit defeat. So you went in harder. Bumping your arm a little too hard into San to spill your drink all over his white shirt, your eyes going wide as you gasped and grabbed for napkins to dab at his shirt while you ran your hands across his broad chest. San muttered something under his breath and shook you off with a sheepish smile, telling you he could borrow a shirt from one of the boys as he scurried away. 

You huffed lightly, calling out another apology and turning to look at your boyfriend. His eyebrow was raised, hands folded neatly on his knee as he watched you. The look in his eye was past danger now. You were royally fucked. That didn’t stop you from continuing your antics the next week when you and your boyfriend invited San out to the mall for a day of shopping.

It had started slowly as it had the previous week. Small brushes of your hand against San’s ass, brushing your tits against him blatantly when Wooyoung was looking into a window display. Little did you know, Wooyoung knew what you were doing. He saw you in that same window display reflection brushing against his best friend. He saw it all and took note of it all, a smirk resting on his pretty lips while you flirted with San to get under his skin. 

He couldn’t say it wasn’t working, but it wasn’t working as well as you had hoped. You picked up on that fact slowly, building your tactics to make San flustered and your boyfriend mad. Your opportunity came in two forms. One of ketchup clinging desperately to San’s lower lip. You peeked a glance at Wooyoung, seeing him focused on his own hamburger, you took the chance.

“Ahh Sannie you made a mess!”, you cooed, seeing Wooyoung snap his head to you just as you reached across the table to swipe the offending condiment from his plush lip. 

Sitting back casually, you made eye contact with Wooyoung, his eyes holding a promise. You giggled at him and watched his eyes narrow, your finger quickly raising to your lips to suck the ketchup off of it. A throat clearing interrupted you, your eyes trailing over to the man across from you. Scanning the blush on Sans cheeks, you smiled happily, Wooyoung's hand finding a place on your thigh to squeeze it harshly. Your smile dropped enough for it to be casual, the hand on your thigh relaxing but staying in place as conversation picked up about one store or another. 

Your next opportunity came when you saw someone with the coolest jacket you had ever seen, your eyes lingering on them as they walked long enough for Wooyoung to take notice and follow your line of sight. He scoffed silently, tugging at your jacket to point at a window display with the shiniest dresses you had seen to date. With your attention successfully diverted, Wooyoungs’ hand on your lower back leads you into a separate store. Your thoughts were running wild with how to rile up your boyfriend even further when you realized, scanning through cute cardigans, that your tactics weren’t working properly. You would have to think harder.

You came up blank, your day at the mall going by peacefully until you tripped over your own feet while you were distracted by a window display. Your little trip up sent you face first into Sans solid chest, Wooyoung staring you down darkly as your hands pressed to Sans biceps to push yourself away. 

“I am so sorry Sannie! I don’t know how that happened!”, you sounded panicked, Wooyoungs’ eyes narrowing further.

San waved off your concerns easily, his hands patting your shoulders to console you as Wooyoung stared quietly. You turned to him shortly after, shaking your head, eyes holding a promise it wasn’t purposeful. Wooyoung wasn’t having it, his hand wrapping around yours as he pulls you closer to him.

“Let’s head home. We don’t need to be tripping over anything else.”, he chuckled, patting your head with his free hand.

You and San agreed, weaving through the people to get back out into the parking lot. Finding the car was slightly difficult, the distant beeping of the lock guiding the three of you in different directions until you found it, shouting for the boys as they found each other on the other side of the lot. You laughed at them while they jogged to the car, your face red as they huffed at you. Piling into the car, you started the drive back to the apartment, music blasting through the speakers as you all sang along, San’s dance movements small and precise in the small space. It sent you into a whole new round of laughter when he tried to do a kick jump in his seat. His head smacking the roof of the car with a thunk followed by the combined laughter of Wooyoung and yourself. The pout that graced Sans' pretty lips made you both coo, a blush coating his cheeks as he crossed his arms and stared out the window. 

The drive finished smoothly with some more karaoke after San was done his playful sulking, Wooyoung’s pokes to his side drawing him from it with giggles. Any giggles left you when you met your boyfriends eyes through the rear view mirror, the danger hiding in them setting your body on edge as you huffed a half laugh at something that San said, climbing out of the car with the two bags Wooyoung let you carry. You unlocked the front door quickly, Wooyoung urging you to go faster. Laughing, you opened the door and stepped aside, ushering the boys in. You closed the door behind you once they made it in in one piece. 

“Bags in the kitchen!”, you called after them, their footsteps fading slightly as they made their way to the kitchen.

Following them into the room, you landed a smack on Wooyoung’s ass as he bent over to look for a drink for San. His startled shout made you laugh with San, high-fiving him as you passed him to open a cupboard for a bag of chips to share. San stood awkwardly as you both moved around him, Wooyoung handing you a bowl for the chips after he pulled out the last case of beer he kept for when San was over at your place. 

“What did we decide on again?”, you turned to the boys once you were done emptying the bag into the bowl.

“Uhhh-“, San turned to Wooyoung who was opening three beers.

“Uh…”, he paused, tilting his head as he looked back at you and San, “I think it was The Avengers?”

You and San mirrored an “Ohhhh!” as you remembered the movie choice. Migrating to the living room, you observed the spots left on the couch until Wooyoung was tugging you down onto his lap. You scoffed lightly at his possessive action, San eyeing up the two of you slightly before he shrugged and focused on the screen. The movie went by without fault, snacks being passed around, cuddling into Wooyoung as he rested his chin on your shoulder… it was going so well… until you declared a bathroom break was needed and stood up from Wooyoung’s lap. You stretched with your arms above your head, a large yawn escaping you before you could stop, the boys focused on the exposed skin of your stomach.

One set of eyes leaving to watch the other’s unmoving gaze until he stood, Wooyoung placing a kiss on your head as he ushered you to the kitchen. San followed along blindly, clutching the empty bowl in his hands to drop it in the sink. Silence took over the room until you cleared your throat to interrupt your boyfriends one-sided staring contest with his best friend, slipping past them both when you were suddenly falling into San’s chest for the second time that day, your eyes widening as you pushed away from him quickly, his concern going unnoticed as you faced your boyfriend.

The smirk on his slightly chapped lips and the tsk that left them told you all you needed to know. You shook your head at him slightly and finished your journey to the washroom, doing your business quickly before nearly sprinting out of the door into a solid object. Staring up at Wooyoung, you shook your head again, hands on his chest as he watched you.

“I can’t believe you pushed me into him! It was an accident earlier! I promise-”

“Don’t think I don’t know your little games, pretty girl. I know exactly what you’re trying to get from me.”, he paused to whisper in your ear, sending chills down your spine, “All you had to do was ask.”

You don’t even get the chance to respond before he’s grasping your wrist and dragging you to your shared bedroom, a shout to San to come up in a few minutes following your stumbling steps. An affirmative, though hesitant, response from the boy hit your ears just as Wooyoung shoved you through the door. 

“Wooyo-”

“Wrong.”

“Woo-”

“Try again.”

“Wooyoung I swear to god-”

“Not bad but that was your last chance.”, his hands pushed between your shoulders til you tumbled onto the bed, his hands around your hips flipping you onto your back, “Address me properly or so help me…”

He leaned over you, eyes dark and piercing your soul as you whimpered under his gaze, “You’ll regret ever calling me anything other than Sir.”

You nodded quickly, small apologies tumbling from your lips as he disappeared into the closet, coming out with a locked box that was no longer locked. You realized at this moment you shouldn’t have even tried pleading your case. He wasn’t going to believe you anyways, and trying to bargain worsened your punishment. Seconds later, your hands cuffed to the headboard, Wooyoung back in the closet, San walked through the door. 

“What did you-”, he paused in the doorway, his eyes scanning your prone form and then the room for your boyfriend. 

Not finding him, the man looks at you in confusion, “Y/N? What-?”

You shushed him and beckoned him forwards, eyes desperate until Wooyoung appeared again with a happy look at seeing San. 

“Oh good! You made it just in time!”, the sound of fabric tearing made you wince as San gasped, turning away from your suddenly naked body, “Now now, Sannie. You were just looking at her skin so intently!”

He took measured steps to his best friend, grasping his chin and turning him in your direction as you squirmed against the sheets, “Now take. a. good. look.”

You whimpered at the heat of their gazes on your exposed skin, eyes begging with San until a stern look from Wooyoung had you intently focused on the blankets beneath you. 

“No, no. None of that. You don’t get to look at him. You did that enough today don’t you think? All over him just for my attention.”, he left San’s side to reach into his pocket, pulling out a handful of condoms that sealed your fate for the night, “That didn’t work like you wanted though, huh? Poor dumb little slut doesn’t get what she wants. How disappointing…”

He took a moment to set the condoms beside you mockingly, unbuckling his belt with precise motions that built tension in your core as you watched him, “For you.”

Everything happened in a blur after that. Wooyoungs’ belt being tied around your head, San being positioned in the desk chair at the end of the bed, Wooyoung stripping completely with a smirk on his face as he watches San squirm with his legs crossed. You whimpered around the belt as Wooyoung hovered above you, running his cock along your folds until you moaned with each brush of the head against your sensitive clit. You soon forgot about San with the pleasure clouding your mind, Wooyoung’s breathy groans in your ear ruining any thought of brattiness you had for the moment. Your mind cleared completely as he thrusted into you with one motion, each vein on his cock leaving you whining as you felt them drag against the wet walls of your cunt. Your moans only grew in volume as Wooyoung thrusted into you faster, deeper, reaching depths of you that you felt like only he could. His moans spurred you on to meet his thrusts until his hands slammed down on your hips to keep you still with a low grunt in your ear.

“I would suggest not moving, baby.”

You whined but nodded, drool dripping from around his belt between your teeth, soaking the material and leaving a trail on your skin that Wooyoung gathered with his fingers to bring down to your clit, rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves in fast circles. Your pussy clenching around him sending him to new heights with his best friend watching. You whined even louder, moans cutting off your breaths until you pleaded with Wooyoung through the belt, his raised eyebrow shooting a spark of arousal straight to your clit. The moan you let slip at that point was pornographic, San’s small grunts just reaching your ears as you tugged on the restraints keeping you from touching your boyfriend in the way you wanted. 

“What’s that, pet? You wanna say something?”

You nodded quickly, moving your hips slightly to get him to move faster as he tugged the belt from between your lips.

“Please!”, you panted for breath now that you could take proper ones, “Sannie! Untie-”

The sound registered before the feeling, the stinging of your cheek coinciding with the sound that echoed through the room. 

“What did you just say?”, Wooyoung stopped his thrusts abruptly, “Did my cocksleeve just call out for another man as I was fucking it? Nooo no, I must be mistaken.”

You inhaled sharply as you realized what you said, your lips parting as you started to stutter over your apology. Another slap cut you off, your head facing the wall with the force of it as you clenched around him. 

“I would suggest you repeat yourself right now, love. I don’t want to have to ask twice.”

“I-...I’m-... Sannie-”, you cut yourself off when Wooyoung raised his eyebrow, “I mean… I wasn’t-”

“Spit. It. Out.”, he accentuated each word with a thrust that had you grasping at the restraints around your wrists.

“Sannie! Untie me!”, you gasped out.

The silence in the room was suffocating as Wooyoung pulled out of you quickly, not giving you time to savor the sensations of him in your for the last moments.You whimpered at the emptiness in your core, clenching around nothing as you watched Wooyoung stand, his expression blank. 

“San. Come here.”

San moved quickly, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to follow his best friend's orders. 

“Do you think my little slut deserves to be untied? Just so she can touch me?”, Wooyoung ran his hand along San’s broad chest as he stuttered for an answer, “She called for you, didn’t you hear? She wants your help.”

He pushes him towards the bed, “So help her.”

You share a slightly confused glance with San, watching Wooyoung stare the two of you down until he snapped his finger, making you jump slightly.

“Move faster. She clearly wants your help, Sannie~”

San nodded slowly and reached up to undo your restraints until Wooyoung's hands covered his, “No. Not like that.”

You and San shared properly confused glances now, eyes darting between each other and your boyfriend as he laughed mockingly, “Two dumb little pets. How fun!”

Wooyoung nearly dragged San onto the bed, ripping his clothes as he had yours, making you both gasp as he pushed him down onto you. The only indication of something happening was the slight brush of Wooyoung’s hand across your clit after the crinkling of the condom wrapper ceased. You and San whined in unison as suddenly he was pushing into you, your boyfriend's pretty hand on his hip telling you San wasn’t even in control of the situation. 

“You do know how to fuck, right?”, Wooyoung laughed as San frowned at the jab, his hips suddenly moving into yours much faster and with much more force behind them, “There we go. I knew you could fuck her right~”

You moaned at each thrust, hands grasping at air as Wooyoung laughed at you, landing a slap on your thigh as San fucked you with everything in him. His cock stretched you more than Wooyoungs’ did but you didn’t dare say anything to compliment the man in that moment, instead moaning loudly as you held eye contact with your lover. The smirk on his face and the hand stroking over his cock as he watched you be pounded into the mattress made you whimper, eyes rolling back as you felt San twitch inside you just enough to brush over that special spot. 

“Aweeee.”, Wooyoung cooed at your reaction, “Keep doing that Sannie. She loves it, look at her! Can barely even keep her whore mouth shut.”

“Maybe you should fill it then.”, San spoke up for the first time, shocking both of you until you nodded happily and opened your mouth for Wooyoung to slide into, moans escaping you still. 

“Good boy, Sannie. I knew you would have some great ideas somewhere in there!”, Wooyoung crawled up to kneel by your open mouth, giving you a small moment to savor his taste until he was thrusting into your mouth like he was fucking your pussy. 

San moaned out a small thank you that made Wooyoung laugh until he saw your expression change, San’s moans turning to a higher pitch as you tightened around him with your impending orgasm. 

“Is the poor baby gonna cum around my friends cock? Hm?”, he pulled out from your mouth, leaving your tongue chasing it pathetically as he laughed and leaned down to brush some hair behind your ear, “You don’t get to cum.”

San stopped at those words, pulling his own cock from you with a strangled moan. You whined at the loss of attention, Wooyoung’s look turning dark once more as he sat beside San between your spread legs. 

“You really thought you were going to cum after those little stunts you pulled today? Think again.”, he turned to San, pulling him into a kiss as he pulled the condom from his twitching cock.

You watched silently with pleading eyes as Wooyoung wrapped his hands around himself and San, tugging on their cocks quickly with just enough pressure that made San whine. His eyes met yours, both of you looking fucked out, and he tumbled over the edge, his cum landing in thick ropes over your abused pussy and Wooyoungs’ hand. Your boyfriend moaned at the sight, pushing his cock back into you just as he came, the warmth spreading through your body as you closed your eyes. 

“Gooood fucking girl. Taking my cum like a champ.”, you huffed out a playful breath at his choice of words, your pussy aching for release you knew would never come. 

The feeling of Wooyoung’s lips brushing over your ear startled you, your eyes snapping open to make eye contact with San as the boy flushed prettily at your attention, “Maybe next time, throw yourself on Hongjoong.”

[smehur]

Drarry Fic Recs #3

Storm in a Teacup by @faith2wood

For reasons he'd rather not think about, Draco is obsessed with Potter's hair. This cannot end well.

It seems I can't put together a rec list without at least one story by Faith Wood. This one's soft in all the delightful ways I came to expect from the pen of my favorite author, with a sharp little pang of uncertainty that made it all the sweeter, and possibly the best-executed piece of dialog across all my reading. A beautiful fic that I'll be going back to over and over again.

Two Houses by @tackytigerfic

Two households, both alike in... meddling Floo connections, apparently? Draco Malfoy is a highly professional and well-respected Ministry official, with a demanding schedule, a loving son, and—through no fault of his own—a faulty Floo connection that keeps regurgitating the Minister for Magic through his fireplace.

I already gushed about this story on here, but I'm going to do it again. It'd be impossible to overstate how much I loved it. From the world-building surrounding the two magical estates, sprinkled with a wealth of delectable little details, to the delightfully mature and tender romance. Slow burn in 11k? I didn't think it could be done either, but here we are. There was this beautiful scene where Harry said that being around Draco is restful. What a perfect word! It captures everything I enjoyed about this fic: the warmth and the contentment and the unwavering certainty that everything would work out. What a joy to read!

everything you could ever want by @eleadore

Coming back to Hogwarts has given Harry more time to reflect than he really wanted, and he's learned he never quite stopped being the envious little boy in the closet. Wanting and wanting, never to have. If what Harry wants is pain, who better than Draco Malfoy to provide?

Oh, man. Where do I even start? Talking about this fic feels a bit like talking about a a close friend: no matter what I say, I know I won't do justice to just how much it affected me. It charmed me, and tugged on my heartstrings, and it still has a grip on my imagination. Reading it was like falling in love: first, with the reticent, stopped-up Harry bursting with passion he's unable to express or act upon; and then, even harder, with the portrayal of Draco, whose thoughts and feelings we can only guess at till the very end. And even then, he doesn't speak: his answer is in the sweep of his lashes. Ahhh. Such beautiful prose and stunning characterization. Bewitched, bothered and bewildered, I stay.

crawlin' helpless on the floor by @stationintern

It doesn't take much to torment a man when he's three broken contracts away from being out of a job and down a newspaper.

What a lovely little gem of a fic! Astonishing, how much atmosphere and feeling it delivers in less than 2k. A unique idea too (at least in my reading so far), that Harry and Draco as adults (and friends) might start a business together - and that it might not work out. Incredibly vivid, captivating, and rewarding. 10/10 will read again.

Like This and Like This (Dreams of Lace) by @primavera-cerezos

Harry gets an accidental peek. He can’t think of anything else.

Soft and sweet, and sizzling hot. I'm not sure I entirely buy a Harry who gets confused and clumsy to the point of losing his language when confronted with Draco's charms, but it's so much fun to read and this fic pulls it off perfectly. Draco wearing lace underwear is canon for me now.

That Old Black Magic by @bixgirl1

Centuries ago, marriage contracts were the norm — ready-made alliances between families, expected and complied with, without complaint. But norms have a way of changing, and when a long-dormant contract flares to life, Harry has to navigate an unexpected splintering of the path he'd thought would be easy after the war... with Draco Malfoy.

I'll be honest - I picked this up to see if a much-recommended author of some of this fandom's classics could sell me a trope I dislike (in this case, arranged marriage). And the answer is a loud, enthusiastic YES. Lol. I was sold on it within the first half of the first chapter. The premise is incredibly contrived, but the story built on it is so strong and compelling that I just didn't care. The pacing is phenomenal and the sex scenes are to die for. This is a whole new level of erotic prose for me; an amazing achievement, to have so little repetition, to infuse every encounter with so much energy and passion, even though it's a long story with many an encounter. It's just ridiculously good. I couldn't put it down and I'm already tempted to pick it right back up again.

I love this fandom. ❤️

[icarusredwings]

It's quiet uptown.

(Wrote this at like 2 in the morning. Had to spell check the hell out of it to even understand what my incoherent ass was trying to say. Give a hand to my 2 am. self because this is beautiful.)

Thinking about Logan doing small side jobs to make extra money for the house like mowing lawns and helping old ladies move their antique furniture to or from the attic, etc.

You heard me right. The Wolverine has started mowing grandma's yards for extra dough. Kinda weird right? Well. Wade didn't think so. Infact Wade joined along for the extra money, yeahhh… extra money.. That's right.

Definitely not to see Logan all hot, toned and sweaty, wiping his brow and grumbling when the mower wouldn't start, cursing when fixing it and then almost content while pushing it, simply making lines as he watched.

That loud agonizing roar of the mower having nothing on the grunts that Logan was making in his head. Day dreaming of what those strong shoulders could do to him. It was hard work really.

The restraint alone took him quite a bit of mental gymnastics as he “Helped” by trimming the bushes only to end up somehow slicing it clean off. Lets just say Miss Jackson was pissed that her rose bush was just destroyed but it was worth it.

After gathering up enough for whatever he seemed to be saving for, Logan says they're going out of town for a day or two. Blind al says not to be long or else she might be dead before they get back.

“We won't Miss Anderson.”

“Who the fuck is Miss Anderson?”

“...She is..?”

“You have a last name?”

“She didn't tell you?”

“Why didn't you tell me?!”

“Because you're annoying”

“But you told him!?”

“Logan is a gentleman. I don't know how he hasn't tried to kill you by now.”

“I have.”

“Try harder.”

“Hey!! I'm right here!”

“I know”

(For those who didn't know, Blind Al's real name is Althea Winifred Anderson. And she's a savage and her main job is to humble him.)

Also thinking about Wade reading X-men comics in his suit kicking his feet on his bed. The suit makes him feel safe. Outside of it felt scary. People make fun of his skin. He didn't like when people made fun of him. No one really did.

If Logan defends him, Wade would get down on his knee right then and there. Right in the middle of new york city like the Proposal style. Heels and all.

Meanwhile, for Logan it's the opposite. Being inside his suit felt scary. Too much pressure. Too loud. Outside? In the country? With horses and fences to be fixed? Wind and trees and fields for miles? That? That felt like home. He's content in the country and because of that he takes them upstate for the weekend.

Showing him the old mansion (which was a massive mistake but Wade wouldn't stop begging, turns out that was a bad idea because the people from this timeline started sobbing and accused him of being an imposter- which he sort of was- in a sense)

Took him to stay at a little crappy inn upstate with trees and grass, fields, and just sat on the porch for hours. Staring at the clear sky, deep in thought. Wades never saw him this relaxed before, this… at home in a place before. “Whatcha thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on, really?”

“No. I'm serious.. For once in my life I'm thinking about nothing.”

“And?”

“It's great..”

“Oh..can I?”

“It's a free country, bub.”

Then they sit on the porch together, just sitting for a while until Wade gets bored and starts pointing out clouds and asks if they can pet the horses. “Sure if you want kicked in the skull.”

On the last day of their trip, he takes him to Niagara Falls for their last stop on their tiny little get away.

“There she is. Niagara River.”

He wanted to say ‘Wolvie she's beautiful! That's gonna be me tonight after my left hand is done with me.’ Or some nonsense like that. But.. that didn't feel right. Instead, he only smiled, looking at him while the glitters from the rushing falls reflected in his eyes.

“Oh, Logan.. it's beautiful.”

At that moment something in Logan's stomach felt… funny.. oh god not this again. Really? Now? His chest was warm and he could feel his ears following. “Uhm… Yeah. This is. Isn't it?”

And for a while.. The two just stand here in silence. Watching Millions of pounds of water gush over the side of a cliff. Just themselves.

In a way… it was poetic really. Like the wave of relief that both of them felt when standing so close to each other. Just them. Just Logan James Howlett and Wade Winston Wilson. No costumes, no super hero shit, just them.

(And a shitty novelty hat that said “I 🍁 Niagara Falls” except the heart was replaced with a canadian maple leaf.)

But that's besides the point. It felt right to be just them. Two guys. Content in each other's company. Well.. and their ugly dog staring at the two of them as if she knew something that they didn't..

This has to be the gayest shit i've ever written and i've written this- (NSFW warning)

“Turn around.”

“Pft what are you gonna do, peanut? Suction Cup a plunger to my hea-” he gasps, both in surprise, delighted by the bit of pain, seeing as without warning, he was mounted and there now were, quite literally, claws in his hips.

“Oooh fun! But you don’t have to tell me to hold still tw- Aah good fucking gravy, queen marys head on a stick!!” He more of moaned rather than whined, a large chunk of his neck taken between his teeth, and hard. If he bit any harder he'd start bleeding. Whatever science was behind this must have worked because he went still and stiff yet limp and relaxed all at the same time- well- not all of him was limp. No, some of him was the exact opposite. Hm... perhaps it didn't get the memo?

(AYO 2 am me is a freak Ig)

[august-anon]

Preening

For Tickletober Day 27 - Non-Human Parts

Okay so i barely edited this but i wanted to get it out on time so here it is lol. I finished this one way back in the beginning of September before I finished the first DCAU Justice League cartoon, and i have not yet started Justice League Unlimited, so please forgive my characterization if it seems Off lol

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

Fandom: Justice League (2001) (aka DCAU verse)

Ship(s): Gen!!! Platonic besties Flash and Hawkgirl (their friendship is so important to me)

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Shayera (Hawkgirl) & Ler!Wally (Flash)

Word Count: 1381 words

Summary: Shayera's wings got a bit messed up in their most recent mission. Flash offers to help her preen.

[ao3 link]

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

The Watchtower was always busiest after a mission, between all the lengthy debriefs and medical attention, but that only made the silence after all the more haunting. The rest of her teammates had made their way back to Earth, licking at their wounds, while the ones who hadn’t been on the mission stopped arguing about who was on monitor duty ages ago. Now it was only Shayera and the cold metal walls of the infirmary.

She’d taken more than her fair share of hits on the mission, being tossed around by the supervillain of the week like she was nothing more than a ragdoll. Her pride could take the hit, but her body didn’t quite agree. By the time J’onn was done patching her up. Shayera had one ankle in a brace, one arm in a sling, a couple dozen stitches, and she was absolutely covered in bandages. Maybe it was time to look into updating her costume, perhaps something a bit more protective.

The worst of it, though, had to be her wings. They were in absolute disarray, scraggly and itchy and uncomfortable. A few feathers had even snapped from the impact of her getting tossed around, though thankfully they were mainly older feathers that were preparing to molt anyway. Still it was hard enough to preen by herself on a good day. With the exhaustion of battle tugging at her bones and one arm trapped in a sling, this was going to take her hours.

Shayera settled into one of the medbay cots, creating a little nest of sheets from the handful of cots to help fight off the ever-present chill of space. She brought one wing around in front of her, starting to tug out broken feathers and readjust any that she could. After twenty minutes her patience had started running thin and she had hardly even made a dent in her primaries.

She startled when the infirmary door slid open, almost tearing out a feather she had merely been trying to straighten. She shot a glare over her shoulder, catching a flash of bright red and only scowling harder.

“Yo, Hawkgirl! You okay? You didn’t head home with the others, thought I might check up on you. Brought you a cappuccino.”

Shayera sighed, turning back to the wing in front of her. “I’m really not in the mood, Flash. What are you even still doing here?”

Flash groaned and leaned against the wall. “I got saddled with monitor duty, since Superman has a crisis in Metropolis and I’m the only other one who wasn’t on the mission.”

“How unfortunate,” Shayera said flatly.

“I know, right? It’s the most boring job there is– hey, are you alright?”

Shayera quickly dropped the grimace that had risen to her face. Tugging out old feathers was never comfortable, but it was best to get it done quickly so new ones could take their place.

“I’m fine. Don’t you have somewhere you should be?”

The room went quiet for a moment, and if it wasn’t for the faint reflection of Flash in the giant window across from her, she would’ve thought he’d finally left her alone. She went back to combing through her feathers with her free hand, doing her best to straighten the barbs and hoping the hooklets would catch again without too much attention from her.

“That’s a lot of wingspan you got there for just one hand.”

She shot another glare over her shoulder. “Do you even know how to preen?” 

Flash frowned and opened his mouth, as if to argue, but quickly shut it again.

“No? Then leave me alone.”

“I’m just saying, I might not know how feathers work, but that looks pretty painful from here. I can help if you want, it’s really no problem.”

Shayera sighed and looked over the pitiful progress she had made. It probably wouldn’t hurt to have an extra pair of hands, especially since she was down one. At this rate, it’d take her hours to finish just one wing.

“Fine– but just this once!”

There was a rush of wind and suddenly, Flash was hovering over her shoulder, staring down at her hands where they combed through the feathers. “How do I help?”

“Any broken ones, grab firmly at the base of the quill and tug–”

“Doesn’t that hurt?”

“A little, but it’ll hurt more if they stay in and I try to fly around. Just pull them out as best as you can. The rest, just try to smooth and straighten them out.”

Flash saluted her, then settled down behind her at the edge of her nest. She stretched out her opposite wing for him to work on, before refocusing on her own task. For once, Flash didn’t seem to feel the need to fill the silence between them, focused on his task as he was. She couldn’t help but wince every time he pulled a feather out, and she could hear him hiss in sympathy each time, but it was better than the discomfort of them being left alone.

The problems didn’t arise until several minutes later, when Flash buried his fingers into her feathers and ruffled them about, trying to smooth them out and shake any old feathers loose. Shayera gasped and straightened, her wing flinching out of his hands. Flash gaped for a moment, his hands still hovering in midair, before his expression crumpled.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you–”

“It’s fine.”

“But–”

“Flash, it’s fine. It didn’t hurt.” She moved her wing back into range. “Wings are just a bit sensitive, is all.”

He gave her a salacious grin. “You mean–”

“No. You think you’d be allowed anywhere near them if they were?”

Flash pouted. “Yeah, I guess.” He titled his head. “Sensitive how though?”

“Just– sensitive. Drop it, Flash.” She turned back to her own wing, trying to signal that the conversation was over.

Flash, of course, was never one to take a hint. His hands were ruffling through her feathers again almost immediately, sending tingly-tickling vibrations through the quills and under her skin. She shivered and tried to squirm away, forcing down the smile that tried to sneak onto her face. For a brief moment, she wished her headpiece covered her whole face instead of just the top half.

“Come on, if it doesn’t hurt and it’s not like that, then what’s it feel like?” He leaned forward over her shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of her face. “Hawkgirl?”

“Cut– cut it out, Flash!” 

Shayera never should’ve opened her mouth. It was just an invitation for a chuckle to sneak out at the end of her sentence, and Flash’s face lit up like he’d won the lottery.

“No way – Hawkgirl’s ticklish?”

“Flash, come on!”

Unfortunately, now that Flash had spotted a chink in her armor, he was in no hurry to let it go. He reached out toward her other wing, stroking through both at once, burying his hands in the feathers at the tops of her wings to scratch at the skin hidden underneath. She doubled over her own legs, bringing her nest of sheets up to her face to bury her laugh into. Her wings flapped as the tickling feeling got worse, and she tried her best to muffle a squeal into the thin fabric.

“Superspeed is cheating!” She shouted at him.

He laughed at her. “I like to think of it as ‘using my resources.’”

Fortunately, Flash didn’t torment her for long. She’d had a long day and a hard battle, and she didn’t have her usual stamina for his particular brand of shenanigans at the moment. She caught her breath while Flash went back to preening, straightening out the feathers he’d twisted up himself and continuing to tug out the damaged ones. Eventually, Shayera sat up again, shot him yet another glare, and went back to preening as well.

“Just wait until G.L. hears about this.”

“If you tell John – or anyone else, for that matter – anything about this, I will make sure you regret it for the rest of your life.”

“Uh huh, sure.”

Something told her that Flash wasn’t going to take her threats seriously. No matter, she had her own ways of keeping him quiet. Perhaps a taste of his own medicine.

[catohphm]

HPHM Ship Weekend - Day 3 - Sunset

A Moment by the Lakeside

Morning everyone! This is my third and last addition for @hphm-ship-week featuring my MC x Canon ship Cato x Penny, or Reesewood! Here they have some time for themselves by the Black Lake at Hogwarts during their seventh year early on, reveling in their deep feelings for each other. Once again special thanks goes to @autisticarachnid and @eternalchaoschocolaterain! I hope you all enjoy, feedback is greatly appreciated!

One weekend during September 1990, the young Cato and Penny were taking some time for themselves on the grounds beside the Black Lake. The sun cast a huge rippling sheen on the water, calm as ever. They were sitting together on the grass. Penny was slowly running her hands through his hair back and forth. 

“I’ve been doing the best I can looking out for everyone against R and those vaults. I get tired of talking about them though. They’ve caused too much grief for us.” he reflected in a semi-exhausted voice.

“I know. I’m just glad everyone is okay. You and Bea are among the first two people I think about. R is still out there but we still sleep better with Rakepick facing justice.”

Cato smiled at this, even if his facial expressions gave off a hint of reluctance. “I don’t feel afraid as much going after them, or even taking my NEWTs. I still told myself that I’d want to have as much of a normal seventh year as possible.”

Penny smiled and answered back with an assured voice “I think we’ll all be able to have that, thanks to your efforts.” while resting her hand on his shoulder.

He looked toward her and went for her hand resting on her shoulder. Their hands grasped each other and relaxed on the grass.

“I’d want our years at Hogwarts to never end but having you is going to make even the harder times better.”

Cato shared the sentiment. “With you I don’t have to think what if not?” he laughed.

“Not at all! We’ve already done so much. I never thought in the beginning that we’d be breaking curses at Hogwarts. I’m still glad to have done it with you, Cato-bear.”

They went into a short-lasting yet slow and passionate kiss. Cato and Penny’s romance had only grown over the years as they came of age, defying any kind of obstacle from school drama, Cursed Vaults, and the incursions of R. It would only keep going as it would help them get through the stresses of their final Hogwarts term together. They also intended to dedicate the year to enjoying their bond before their lives would inevitably change after they left school.

The young couple exited their kiss and looked at the sight of the sun over the Black Lake for a moment to relax in silence, still holding each other’s hands while resting them on the grass.  

Cato and Penny broke out of their silence when he reached inside of his school robe for something. “I got something special for you.”

She gasped a little in excitement. “What could it be, Cato-bear?”

He pulled out a small tan box from the robe and gave it to her. Penny took off its cover and laid it underneath its bottom half, revealing a necklace with a yellow-orange translucent stone that had flat faces and round edges. It had a brass ring going around the circumference of the circle where the two edges met. The small chain meant to be worn around the neck was made of the same material as the ring.

“Cato, this is an amber pendant. You picked something so beautiful!” she exclaimed with glee. “I’m curious where you were able to find this great gift?”

“Just before the year started, me and my friends stopped at this bargain store in the town we were staying at while on holiday at the beach. You said you were attending a function for potioneering at the time. There was nothing much interesting in the store to me, except for the pendant that caught my eye.”

Penny blushed a bit “Go on!”

“I thought of you when I saw it. I spent some time gazing at it, and realized I had to pick it up. It didn’t cost me much, but whoever made it did a great job because of how cleanly cut the amber looked. Nobody asked as we were all way too hungry by that point to think about anything else. I’ve been looking forward to giving it to you since then. This felt like the right time to do it.”

She grinned and put on the amber pendant. “Thank you so much for the sweet surprise, Cato-bear.” Penny pecked him on the cheek.

“You’re quite welcome. It looks really nice on you! The amber matches the color of the sky.”

“And it matches the bronze on your Ravenclaw tie, Cato.” pointed out Penny, with a playful giggle. “This is perfect!”

He blushed some and was joyful with a sighful smile. “I’m so flattered you like it that much. The pendant was just something little I found while I was-”

“Don’t worry about it at all! I’ve seen you have so much heart in you.”

“I’ve seen the same in you, Penny! It's the reason why I think about you a lot and are important to me. Do you want to go back inside the castle? It’s getting a little colder out here.”

Laughing a bit, she responded “I was meaning to ask that too, good call Cato!”

They rose up and took a minute to admire the spectacle of twilight in the evening sky, Penny huddled together with him.

She then took the lead and they departed, holding hands together.

[acti-veg]

Vegetarianism is actually how I found you and your blog and had my first major exposure to veganism and the truths of the animal ag industry!

If you're an empathetic person, it's quite easy to reject the meat industry. There's no real way around the death involved. It's easy to think "I don't want those animals to die" despite the social and cultural pressure to just go along with it as the way things are done.

The propaganda for the other industries is a little more insidious, I think. A lot of it appeals to the same sort of empathy that lead me to vegetarianism in the first place, while simultaneously preying on that desire to minimize the social backlash of rejecting meat.

It's okay to eat dairy, because those cows NEED to be milked and will suffer if they're not. (Nevermind who caused that need in the first place) It's okay to use wool because those sheep NEED to be sheared and will suffer if they're not. (Nevermind what we've done to make them need that) It's okay to eat eggs because those chickens are just laying eggs all day ANYWAY, something has to be done with them or they'll rot! (Nevermind why they overproduce so much or what happens when they decline) And on and on and on. The death involved is less overt and obvious at a glance. You don't have to kill them to harvest those products from them, after all. It's easy to think you're helping them and not dig too deep into what happens after.

Your blog and others like it was a wakeup call for me! You made me think about and dig into things I'd never been bothered to inspect too closely. You made me look into what I was really paying for. Once my eyes were open it was impossible to shut them again.

All this to say, I can understand quite well why so many people think vegetarianism is enough and veganism is "extreme"... and I thank you for the work you do!!

I’m glad my blog helped you see the issue a bit more clearly! I totally agree that animal products as opposed to animal flesh is much harder to connect with the exploitation involved, partly because there really is just this web of shared mythology surrounding happy eggs and cruelty free dairy that we all sort of agree not to think about too much or look at too closely.

It is only when we are confronted with the reality of it that we have to decide either to ignore it, to try to justify it to ourselves, or to really reflect on whether it aligns with our existing values. That is unfortunately the much harder option, and it’s also the option that involves reckoning with your own guilt and complicity. It’s our job as activists really to make sure that people are confronted with that reality and help them navigate their own response.

[triplesilverstar]

A little social anxiety never hurt anyone

Rating: Explicit 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Vash X Wolfwood, Vash X F!Reader, Wolfwood X F!Reader,  Vash X F!Reader X Wolfwood

CW: Anal sex, voyeurism, penis in vaginal sex, fingering, belly bulge, mentions of abusive relationships, threesomes, Awkward flirting, double blow jobs, sloppy blow jobs, awkward pinning, cum eating

Word count: 2483

A/N: Chapter 5 of my roommates series, another round of fluff which you might need after the events of the grocery store.

A week after the run-in with your old friend Sara, and even though Nicholas and Vash had been sweethearts that night, parts of you still felt raw. Even after cuddling with them most of the day, you hadn’t accepted any of their offers to join them for any intimate moments. 

Just that every time you felt one of them near you, even the smallest touch made you flinch. From Vash’s hand beside yours in the morning grabbing a coffee, the warmth from his fingers seeping into your skin, or Nicholas bumping your leg in the kitchen by accident as he made his midnight meal before work. 

When you saw their eyes after you flinched away from their touch? That hurt the most. The way Vash’s eyes seemed to reflect a growing sadness, a film of fluid in those bright blue orbs. Nicholas’s cheek would sink in the slightest biting the inside of his mouth instead of saying anything, just watched the flinch of your shoulders or the freezing of your muscles before you’d utter an excuse and slip away. 

It wasn’t their fault. 

Not in the slightest. 

Just you and your issues. Sara’s words were getting the best of you and your self-esteem, you weren’t a part of Nicholas and Vash’s relationship. Not by a long shot. You don’t regret leaving Henry, not after everything and you’d been avoiding social media. At least until the day after, and you were floored by what you saw. No wonder your name has been drug through the mud, everyone that had been in your shared friend group and some of the people that were in the same circles had all jumped on the same bandwagon. 

You had left him.

For someone else. No mention of his cheating, of the lease-breaking because it had been in both of your names and you had a reason to leave without him. 

One thing you were glad of was the fact you had your own bank account, your own credit card that he had no access to otherwise you think you would have been even more screwed. 

It also made sense why you weren’t getting past any of the initial interview stages at any of the jobs you were applying for. Any searches of your name we’re bringing people right to this slaughter, which gave you another bout of sadness. At this rate, you were never going to get a new job in the same field as your current one. Sure human resources had lots of people but in the local area? It was going to be a hell of a lot harder. 

Sitting in your room you run a hand through your hair, laptop on your folded knees, and going through social media deleting posts and friends, locking down your profile so no one can find you. Fingers crossed the next round of applications you sent out went a bit farther along the hiring process. Nearly done you switched to notifications.  

You were about to fully purge your inbox until a friend request from one name grabbed your attention. ‘WoolyWooder34’ is listed as the handle attached to the ID and it has a meme for the photo but when you click the ID you see the profile is locked down to friends only. Clicking to accept you smile immediately, the first photo is one of Nicholas and Vash for a walk in a park, it has to be Nicholas’s profile. Going through the rest of your friend requests, curious if you’d see one from Vash before you clear the rest of your inbox. 

Being a little creepy you go through the profile, smiling at some of the photos of your two favorite goofballs. Surprised when closer to the current timeline you see a photo of yourself, sitting with Vash on the couch. Both of you with a controller in hand, still in your pajamas and hair a mess in the early morning and laughing playing a video game. The caption at the bottom warms your heart. ‘Morning races with the new roommate. Think she’s a keeper?’  

The comments were just as warming, with a few saying how you and Vash were having fun and how you looked cute. You save a copy of the image for yourself, it is cute and you see a notification for a new post from him. This time it’s a photo of him and you, asleep on the couch and you remember it from the thunderstorm and waking up the next morning asleep between Nicholas and Vash. Vash must have taken the photo. 

A few likes rolling in already, and the comment brings a tear to your eye. ‘She’s still around and growing on us, but we might have F’d up.’ Wiping at your eye, you might be hurting but they’re hurting more, and respecting your space. Shutting down your laptop and leaving your room for more than a few scant minutes if you weren’t heading for work since it happened. A few steps and you see Vash lounging on the couch, his legs draped across Nicholas’s waist who's playing on his phone. You have an idea what he’s doing.

“Hey.” Voice low as you watch the two of them leaning back and forth on the balls of your feet. A quick bite to your lips when two sets of eyes land on you. “You guys know what happened isn’t your fault right? You aren’t responsible for me freaking out.” 

“Yea, but we’re being shitty boyfriends by letting you deal with it alone.” Vash is frowning at you, making you shake your head feeling some of your hair fall out of the messy tie it's in. 

“You’re not my boyfriends. We’re roommates, you guys don’t owe me anything other than my shelf in the fridge.” Hands now in your pockets and letting out a long sigh “I’ll be ok in a few days. I’m just, realizing I lost a lot.” 

“What if we wanna be?” Nicholas’s tone is almost whimsical as he says it, placing his phone on the side table and tapping Vash’s legs to get him to sit up. “I’ve been trying to talk to you about it for a few weeks now, if you don’t wanna join us we won’t force you. We like having you join us for fun, but we want you to know it’s not just an invite for sex.” Something on your face must be showing because Nicholas is rubbing his hands through his hair and looking down at the floor grumbling. “This isn’t coming out right at all.” 

Vash, pushing himself to his feet and walking towards you with a broad smile on his face. “Come sit with us, you might be feeling shitty over the asshole but we’re here for you. You’re allowed to break and feel small, as long as you can pick up the pieces. Or you can let us help you pick up the pieces when you’re ready.” Letting Vash wrap an arm around you and guide you to the couch feeling the dampness run down your cheeks, one of his long-fingered hands reaching out and brushing it away. Making you sit between both men on the center cushion, Vash close enough for his knees to bump against yours but far enough that he’s not crowding you. 

“Why are you two like this?” Sniffling as you wipe at the dampness under your eyes. “People aren’t this nice, and both of you are so kind.” Sitting upright almost as if you’re afraid you’ll be thrown off the couch, a paranoia you know isn’t real, yet you still flinch when a thicker warm arm that can only belong to Nicholas settles around your side.

“I don’t think anyone's gonna say we’re kind, we just know what it’s like to be at rock bottom.” It’s a little unexpected to feel Nicholas pull you closer to him, you’re far more used to Vash being the touchy-feely one of the pair. Letting your head drop into the crook of his neck while his voice seems to wash over you. “Trust me Little Bear, we’ve been where you are. The least we can do is be here so you don’t have to go it alone like we did.” 

Almost as if to not be outdone, Vash moves closer as well, his chest pressed up against your side and some of his blond locks falling across the top of your shoulder from where he’s leaning his forehead against part of your arm. “Do you think Nico and I found each other when he first started dating?” Vash’s voice is soft, almost mournful like it’s a bitter truth he’d rather not share even in the confines of the apartment. “Living is learning from your mistakes, so learn from ours too.” A final punctuation to his words as he trails his lips along the line of skin just visible from your sleeve. 

Another adjustment from Nicholas and find yourself pulled more into his embrace with Vash pressing right behind you. “We can make the offer again, or however long it takes for you to realize we’re serious.” Even if you can’t see it, you can hear as Nicholas licks his lips. Nervous. “We want you to at least think about joining us in this relationship, you get just as equal a say in what we do and to make noises.” A light chuckle you can feel from the shaking of his chest. “Trust me, I like hearing your noises. Even more so when I know you make them because of us.” 

The three of you just sit like that for a while, sharing the same space and you find yourself feeling a little strange between them both. “You know, the main reason I’ve been feeling so stressed is trying to find a new job. I realized it might be harder than I thought, and I realized that I found a certain little social media profile.” Feeling Nicholas stiffen a little you laugh. “Thanks for looking out for me even when I shut you out, Nick.” 

“Nico.” Pressing chapped lips to your forehead. “The people I care most about in the world call me Nico.” 

Laughing, you can feel Vash joining you as his warm breath washes over your skin, pecking your shoulder as well. “Alright, Nico.” Trailing your hand along his upper arm and turning your body in his hold so you can watch Vash pressed against you. Licking your lips and looking into his blue eyes, his sunglasses perched atop his forehead. “Did you guys need an answer now or?”

“Take your time.” Closing the distance to trail his lips over yours even at the awkward angle, before settling against both of your bodies. “Make the decision that’s right for you, we’ll wait however long it takes for you to decide.” It’s a nice thought, to think you have more than a few hours to make a decision and you need to stop comparing them to the asshole you used to date. 

As you sit in their hold you snicker a little watching the confusion at least on Vash’s face since all you can see of Nico is his stubble-crusted chin. “Can we adjust? My butt is falling asleep?” This time both men join you in their laughter, and you’re no longer sitting in either of their laps but Nico isn’t going to just let you slip away. 

Tilting your face upwards and ghosting his lips along yours before deepening the kiss, letting you taste the coffee he must have been drinking a little while ago. Humming as four hands start dancing along the skin of your sides working in tandem to press along your body. You always find it easy to tell their hands apart even with your eyes closed, Nico’s hands are wide palms with just as wide fingers covered in callouses. Whereas Vash’s are just slightly smaller, more like silk running along your skin with those long digits that remind you of a piano player's hands. One thing you know for certain, your hand fits in both of theirs with ease. 

As Nico breaks away, one of Vash’s long-fingered hands is reaching upwards cupping your jaw with a tender touch to tilt your face towards him. Moaning as he licks your bottom lip wanting to leave you breathless between them, and in the moment you’re happy to let him because he takes as well as gives.

You aren’t an idiot, you know they’re trying to distract you from the turmoil still eating at the edge of your mind. Also long as it doesn’t escalate past this tonight you’re content to let them do what they want and lose yourself in their tender care, long lingering kisses, and sliding hands. 

Later that night, when you and Nico are asleep Vash slips from the master bedroom but not without a quick press of his dried lips to both of your foreheads. Closing the door carefully, cell phone in hand before wandering into the kitchen the farthest point from his sleeping lovers, and checking the time.

It’s late, but not too late hitting a contact and placing the receiver near his ear flinching at the sharp tone from the other end. “Good evening to you too Nai.” Letting his brother lecture him tends to put him into a better mood, and when the opening for the reason for the call comes through he doesn’t waste his chance. “I’ve got a friend. She’s going through a rough patch and I’m pretty sure she applied or will apply to work for your company. I don’t want you to give her a job, I want you or for you to tell Legato or whoever does the hiring to skip that social check you do.” Another few words of annoyance from his twin and Vash pinches the bridge of his nose feeling a headache already forming. It’s why he lets Nai run their company and he runs around doing his own thing. 

“Do it for me Nai. Please. I don’t ask you for this sort of thing and it means a lot.” Interrupting his twin after a tirad that left Vash feeling smaller than he normally would after talking to him. Hearing one final question makes Vash exhale loud enough that he knows his brother could hear it across the phone. “Yes, I do care. I want her to get in on her own because I know you want the best, not because she’s sort of dating me. And before you can ask no I haven’t broken up with Nico, we’re trying something new.” 

A few more words and when his brother ends the call Vash just sighs leaning his forehead against the apartment wall. Sooner or later you’d figure out who he was, but for now, he just wanted you to laugh like you did after that first week of living with Nico.

Chapter 4 Chapter 6

Dividers

[demi-shoggoth]

2023 Reading Log pt 12

56. Life Between the Tides by Adam Nicholson. This book really, really wants to be High Literary Art. The author writes about tide pools and coastal organisms, but is much more interested in dissecting what these have represented in art, culture and a Jungian sense of shared humanity more than he is in the actual animals, algae and other things he encounters. Throughout the book, he builds three artificial tide pools, each time devising ways to carve rock and set up filters to catch water but exclude some organisms, and I couldn’t help but think, why? Why not find natural tide pools and observe them? Why must you put your stamp on a coastline? His whole thesis seems to be something about the beauty of how the shore is a liminal place, between land and water, where ecosystems and humans alike exist in an unstable equilibrium, and yet he feels the need to attempt to control it, and does not reflect much on the contradiction. I did not care for this book, as either a work of natural history or philosophy.

57. Spirit Beings in European Folklore 1 by Benjamin Adamah. A birthday gift from my girlfriend, @abominationimperatrix. This is one of a four part encyclopedia of European monsters—this volume focuses on Scandinavia and the British Islands. The decision to edit it into multiple volumes was made relatively late in the book’s development, and it shows—there are cross references to entries that do not appear in this book, but are in other volumes. The author is an occultist, and so plays somewhat coy with whether or not he believes in the literal existence of supernatural entities; near as I can tell from this volume, he’s a believer in the idea that they have material reality as thoughtforms created by human imagination. Putting aside that quirk (which is fairly easy to do), this is a pretty good compendium of monsters, especially but not limited to the sorts of things that would be called “fey” and “undead” in RPG terms. I do have the whole set, and am looking forward to reading the rest of them.

58. If It Sounds Like a Quack… by Matthew Hongolz-Hetling. This book is a look into “alternative medicine” grifts and cranks, following the stories of six quacks from their origins to the modern day. This modern day is the COVID era, where even the most reasonable-sounding of them goes off the deep end into conspiracy theories and anti-immigrant hysteria. The author does an excellent job of using alternative medicine as a lens to look at how consensus reality has been damaged in the United States, and there are a surprising amount of connections, both direct and indirect, between these frauds and perhaps the most successful con artist of the modern era, Donald Trump (who the book refers to exclusively as “the game show host”). The book has a light touch and is very funny throughout, which makes the ending, where he discusses how people are committing real murders in the belief that COVID vaccines are turning people into zombies, hit all the harder.

59. Remnants of Ancient Life by Dale E. Greenwalt. This is a book about biomolecules found in fossils, from the famous (like pigments found in dinosaur feathers) to the rather more obscure (using trace elements to pinpoint the affinities of conodonts and Tullimonstrum). The author is an entomologist by trade, and so is a little bit unclear about the appropriate taxonomy for other groups—an editing pass over the chapters about dinosaurs would have been useful. Perhaps the most interesting chapter is on the supposed discovery of dinosaur proteins, such as collagen and even intact blood vessels, which have been almost entirely done by the lab of Mary Schwietzer, and thus are the subject of a lot of debate and skepticism.

60. Strange Bedfellows by Ina Park. This is a book about sexually transmitted infections. It can be divided roughly in half—the first half is chapter long looks at particular topics, like the stigmatization of herpes and the possible health risks of vigorous pubic hair removal. The second half is a historical survey of the history of government investigation of sexual health, including both unethical human experiments such as at Tuskegee and Guatemala, as well as the history of contract tracing in public health offices. The author’s voice comes through strongly—she’s funny and opinionated and not at all ashamed at working in a sex related field. Mary Roach wrote one of the blurbs on the back of the book, and that seems like a pretty apt comparison.

[midnight-els]

For @tiltedsyllogism 🥰

Inherited Sins is a Lenara POV one shot about her and Sergei's relationship. I put it aside in the run up to S4 but with the Star City news I am so excited to revisit it soon! Sergei is living openly in the US and Lenara is tasked with telling him Margo is alive for Mind Game Reasons. Cue angst about their different relationships to the state, their own relationship, and Lenara's feelings about her role at Roscosmos/as a senior official in the Soviet regime.

Pool Table Case Fic - basic premise is that Phryne investigates a murder with another detective who's Jack's academy best friend. The victim was found on a pool table. Standard post s3/established Phrack shenanigans happen.

I was reflecting recently that I have never published any of my many proper MFMM case fics because I run out of steam on the case bits. This is by far the most developed of those but it's probably only 60-70% done, with the interesting personal bits being finished and the tricky case bits outstanding. It was a really developmental fic for me, taking a lot of the brunt of practice at getting back into fic writing after a few years away, and I do like a lot of the bits in it so I'd love to revisit it when I have time. This time last year I was literally in the middle of doing a big clean up and trimming the case bits back so it could be published when I decided to take a quick break and check out this show called 'For All Mankind' on AppleTV which could surely have no effect on me 🙃

Extracts under the cut

Inherited Sins

“Why, Lenara?” he called from behind her. She stopped, forcing herself back around to face him. “Why what?” “Why this?” “It’s my job.” For the first time in years, Lenara saw Sergei smile. It was barely perceptible, sad and pitying, but she instantly recognised the seeds of that same look he’d always given her when she was being particularly impetuous.  She wanted to smack it from his face. “Do not think I don’t understand,” he said gently. She couldn’t tell whether it was her training or her warring exhaustion and disbelief that stop the instinctive scoff breaking through the surface. Eyes boring into his face, she swallowed harder than she intended to. “On the contrary, you’ve made it quite clear that you don’t.”

Pool Table Case Fic

Snatching her drink back up, Phryne darted in the direction of the back of the house, sensing more than hearing Jack’s sigh as he followed. “No, no Dottie it’s really fine, really. Please don’t -” Hugh was fretting, trying to calm his agitated wife, Mr Butler watching unconvinced, when they entered the room. His left eye was mostly hidden by a rather impressive bruise, with not a little swelling and a cut on his cheekbone to accent it. Poor man, Phryne thought: even as a Senior Constable he still seemed to be suffering the under whims of Melbourne’s crims. “Inspector!” Dot rounded on Jack instantly. Phryne suppressed a smile at his fleeting passing resemblance to a rabbit caught in a headlight. Jack schooled his features into a professional mask and, using an equally official voice, tried to mollify her. “I do apologise for the condition of your husband this evening, Mrs Collins. I’m afraid there was a disturbance at the station, it really couldn’t be helped. I assure you, the situation is in hand now.” “It couldn’t be helped?! Hugh said you had Jenkins arresting a bunch of good-for-nothings. The only thing that boy is capable of arresting is a couple of children who’ve escaped from Catechism!” Phryne again pressed her lips into a thin line, struggling to hold her amusement in. Really, Dot could cow their constabulary counterparts so well they might both as well have been as green as the unfortunate Jenkins.

[nothwell]

Thanks to Wanderer for this thoughtful review of Fiorenzo!

~

** spoiler alert ** If novels had tags: period romance, steady burn, lust at first sight, past trauma, whump, healing, class differences, copius amounts of plague doctor, bodily insecurity, scars are sexy actually.

Long books, for me, often grow tiresome and difficult to get through. I find myself skimming scenes or jumping ahead to see if I can keep reading without losing much info on the story. It’s hard for me to stay engaged the entire time, and even harder still for me to sit and binge read for hours at a time.

Fiorenzo is none of that. At a hefty nearly 700 pages, this novel kept me entranced all the way through. It’s story is best described as meandering, a bit like a river with the occasional rapids or waterfalls along the way, but no less delightful to be swept away by.

Fiore is a courtesan with a plan, who wishes to find himself a wealthy, elderly patron so that he can live out his days in comfort when said patron passes away (goals, my guy. Goals). At a festival, he meets Enzo; a masked stranger who is as secretive as he is wealthy. Together, they learn to navigate a world of class difference, societal expectation, unconditional love, and healing.

THE YEAHS

Enzo: This gentle giant. He is the most loyal and beautiful character I think I’ve read in some time. If I could have a man with just about a half of all the good traits that Enzo possesses, I think I’d be a happy woman. The way he cares for Fiore, the way he cherishes him and pays not a single mind to Fiore’s history and class, or the expectations of his own place in life, it’s all done so incredibly well. I kept expecting there to be some ounce of jealousy from Enzo when Fiore took other clients, which, ugh, he’s a courtesan, what do you expect man, you can’t just possess him because you like him! But not once. It was pure bliss getting to know him.

Fiore: Sweet little firecracker. He’s been through so much. Fiore works as a courtesan, and carries himself proudly and unashamed of it. But underneath the surface, there is deep loneliness and isolation, and a shame that he seems almost unconscious of. He often jumps to the conclusion of of course, why would a courtesan be worthy of x? when he and Enzo are navigating some societal expectation, when all Enzo is trying to do is figure out what Fiore’s shoe size is or some such thing. It’s sometimes a little funny, but a lot of the time will pull the heartstrings taut. Fiore deserves the world, and Enzo is the right person to give it to him. Together, they’re just picture perfect.

The whump: I love a good angsty story. And this is cheerfully tagged on the authors instagram as whump. It’s done well. Oh, man there is one particular moment in this story where I was tied up knots, so if you love a character who has to work for his happiness, then you will find it here.

The narrative style: the novel is set in a land inspired by what I guesstimate to be around the equivalent of 1700’s La Serenissima, and the writing style reflects this. There’s an old world air to the way that it’s written, and I found absolute delight in the familiar, archaic medical terminology that dots the story. The choice in narrative style makes the setting so much easier to become absorbed in—it really does feel like I’m reading a story from that era, by someone who lived and experienced such things every day.

The creative anatomy: this is a bit of a plot point, so at risk of spoiling, I will keep it brief. I loved this plot device. It made the spice even spicier. Delightful.

The spice: Speaking of spice. This has the absolute most perfect amount for me. I’ve been finding some novels a bit too saturated of late (not sure why that’s changed), and was a bit nervous that Fiore’s job would mean smut every second scene. While sex and sexuality is a central theme of the novel, it’s not so -heavyhanded as to become repetitive. Also, can we take a moment to appreciate the love of the gentle giant bottom and feisty tiny top dynamic? Chefs kiss.

THE NAH’S

Orazio: This is only here for the sake of me writing something in this section. What a dick. Oh, and that other guy too. You’ll know him when you see him.

I can’t say that I skimmed through this novel even once. Every single theme, scene and plot device is meticulously placed for a reason. Even a drawn out scene about fencing is placed to set up the scenes following it, and to skim or skip it would risk losing the full impact of the following chapters. Fiorenzo is masterfully written, and seeing as this is the first novel of Sebastian Nothwell’s I’ve read, I will be immediately going through his back catalogue and getting every single one.

~

FIORENZO is a queer fantasy-of-manners romance featuring secret identities, hurt/comfort, and a happily-ever-after. Out now wherever fine books are found!

Amazon • Apple Books • Barnes & Noble • Kobo • Smashwords

[chomperblue]

Good morning! 🌻do you have a favourite memory of your best friend?

@leafylilpokemon

Oh, yes! I love talking about Helena hehe

At the edge of town there’s a trail to a shrine honoring Rayquaza. Helena and I had been on a night out in Mauville. We were giddy, a little drunk, and energized by the midnight air. We decided to go to the shrine. I don’t remember why, really, but Helena must have suggested it. We had our Pokémon with us, so we were perfectly safe, but I wouldn’t have made agreed to the trip that night if it were with anyone else.

It was dark out but Helena told me jokes the whole walk there. We stuck close to Dusty to keep warm. At some point Dusty got tired and shook us off, so she held me close and tried to warm me herself. It worked but…I don’t think it was just from her jacket.

We did make it to the shrine eventually, the walk took an hour more than usual. Hiking is definitely harder when it’s too dark to see and you can’t walk in a straight line.

We went to the cliffside and watched the moon on the waves, talked about the people in town, our Pokémon, each other. That’s when she offered to watch my Pokémon for me during my next job. I didn’t want to talk about work then, the night was too perfect, so I waved her off. But she still does it today. It’s very sweet of her.

Eventually I got tired, we were huddled on a blanket, and I must have fallen asleep on her shoulder. I woke up to the sunrise, my head in Helena’s lap. I don’t know if she slept at all.

The ocean was pink, reflecting the sky’s gentle colors. Helena’s hair caught the sun and she looked like Moltres spreading its wings. It was beautiful. She was - is - beautiful.

I think she noticed my breath catch because she looked down and saw me, her hands still in my hair, and we kind of just…looked at each other for a bit. It felt…different. Not in a bad way though. She smiled, her energy was so bright and infectious even after a late night out. How could I resist her? She makes me so happy.

I don’t remember much after that, but I do know she ended up staying over the next night as well.

There’s lots of other, more interesting things we’ve done together of course. But this one feels kind of special. Helena is a treasure, I can’t wait for her to get back to town. <3

[thephilosopheroffeelings]

I was invited to the University of Oxford for an interview. I could not believe it when they called me. I was sitting in front of one of the most influential professors in the world and she made me a cup of tea. I was shaking like a leaf and my hands were cold. Under her glasses she looked at me and said: 'This is just the first step. Please relax, I just would like to see whether we can work together. Tell me about yourself.' I left her room with a big warmth inside and a smile on my face.

I sat by the river and reflected. She said: 'You have got a lot to give.' This statement really stayed with me. If you were never really appreciated when you were little, these kinds of statements hit you differently. Was she just being nice? Why would she need to be nice with me? First, you do not believe how good it feels. Then it sinks in.

I never created trouble when I was little. Was a very good student, did not do drugs, did not have under age sex, did not do anything troubling basically. As my mum always says proudly: 'We never had trouble with Oz.' I wonder why. They never wondered as they were pleased.

I have never felt enough. Got A, my dad asked why I did not get A*. Got A*, my dad asked how many people got A*. Never heard him saying well done. Went to state school for free. Out of millions of people, I entered one of the best universities in Turkey with a full tuition waiver. I did not know a word of English and went to study at a university where the instruction language was English. Learned a new language from scratch after 18. Graduated and then started working at one of the most prestigious universities in Turkey. My dad got upset with my decision to take the professional route as I was accepted for masters at Humboldt University of Berlin. I was not ready then and I decided to decline their offer. Sometimes I regret it as well but oh well. I knew that I would do masters but only when I was ready. In 2018 I came to the UK to do it. He was for the first time a bit happy. And then when I told him that I found a job and would do my PhD a bit later, he got upset again as I was accepted to a program already and declined their offer again. Regardless, I did not hear something like: 'You found yourself a job at a multinational company on your own miles away, I am proud of you.' Nope. He was disappointed that I was 'lazy' with not doing a PhD immediately after my masters.

Whenever he got upset and or I felt like I had disappointed him, I tried harder. But living in the UK alone, therapies, earning my own money and having my own place and getting different feedback about myself from different people have changed me. My adult self has finally taken control. When I find myself in a relationship in which I feel like 'not enough' - be it physical like my weight and my race or cultural like my background - or a person is trying to compete with me, I find myself not responding but reacting. My therapist is so happy that I am 'reacting' instead of trying to play along as those reactions are boundaries to protect myself. I do not know whether it is that but I know that my inner child cannot handle it and my adult self cannot take it anymore.

My dad is an amazing guy and I truly love him. But, a big but, it does not change the fact that he is a narcissist. I told this to him so I am comfortable if he reads this. I sat down in front of him and said: 'You are a narcissist. Your image is way more important than your actual self. I get that why you would like to kill yourself if I am being honest. If I struggled this much with showing appreciation or getting pleasure from small things or feeling like nothing is enough, I would want to kill myself, too.' He kept quiet for a while and said: 'I thought I was doing the right thing. Obviously I did not. I am sorry.'

I did not respond. A sorry 35 years late. I kept my feelings about him so long inside with the fear that what if he killed himself when I confronted him. I had a similar story with my ex. Years worth of trying and now he cannot believe that it is over and I feel literally nothing like a gray rock. When your inner adult takes the lead, you learn not to give fear and hope a driver seat but lead with the reality. If they do not want you, accept it. Accept reality first before trying to move on. Remind yourself that you know that you can handle ‘whatever’ as no feeling is final. You just need to stop trying and let it be.

Regardless of my gender and what is expected from me (being a mum, being married, whatever it is), I know that I would like to have fun, learn & experience new things and improve myself. I am not here to live according to anyone's norms and expectations. And I feel like I have no room in me who would like to undermine this with their unsolicited advice. I left a whole country behind and I faced my dad just because of that. And honestly, even though I struggle from time to time, mostly I feel okay and keep pushing as it did not hurt as I thought it would. Magical thinking and trying to wait for someone to change hurts more than the reality itself, believe me.

During this journey, I learnt a lot from Patrick Teahan and would like to share a part of an interview that was done with him that helped me a lot:

+What is considered a definitive symptom of childhood trauma?

-A definitive symptom of childhood trauma is about trying to get a difficult person to be good to us.

+Why are we trying to get a difficult person to be good to us?

-One is that it is familiar. We spend a lifetime in patterns of relationships. A wounded inner child will refuse to give up on a bad relationship's potential. When we grow up in childhood trauma, we get through it via magical thinking, hope, and not thinking about perpetrator's behaviour. This crucial survival strategy keeps a child going through the impossible, such as having a narcissistic parent (or any kind of abuse). That strategy was a dream that the abusive person would change and see us, and thinking that things getting safer was just around the corner. As adults, we are often still stuck in similar hopeful thinking, which was a setup from childhood. It takes a lot of re-parenting work for our inner adult to take over and make decisions on behalf of the inner child; who survived by thinking of the potential versus the reality. So it's a battle. There is a lack of sense of self in these relationships and missing ingredients are our own goodness and our own power. But when we wake up and do our inner work, the turning point is realising our patterns and saying fuck this. It is very healing for our inner child to see the inner adult take a big risk and get out of something for their benefit.

On a train from Guildford to London and listening to a history program about the Battle of Megiddo. It is weirdly satisfying to listen to a ‘real’ battle that stayed in the past rather than the ongoing one that you have with yourself.

[onyxsnake23]

Oh I don’t think I could actually tell you the exact moment that I realised we were done. It wasn’t made up of a single moment any more than a person is made up of a single interest, it felt more like a thousand thousand tiny things that cascaded into an avalanche under which the relationship got buried. No headstone, just a casualty of the climb. Maybe one day somewhere in the future what remains of us together will be dug up and discovered by some impartial observer and they’ll realise that we were never going to work out “long term”. Whatever that means.

I imagine that at some point in the cold future I’ll reflect on what happened, much as I am doing as I sit here now and wonder why I didn’t try harder to save us. Instead I’ll ache for the cold, detached feeling I was once so willing and able to hide behind, nothing is quite as easy as it used to be it seems.

I sit here, 20 something years old and think back on the last few years, wondering to myself in my loneliest moments “how will I ever survive a lifetime of this? of remembering people for far longer than I have ever known them? And in these moments I feel like I’m shattering into shards of longing and regret and lust and rage. Forever waiting, I suspect, for someone to pick up my pieces and tell me that I am worthy of living, that I am worthy of love and to know in that moment that they meant every word. Much as you once did. But it does no good to dwell on such things, there are people to fuck and music to listen to in the meantime.

I remember when we each bought a bible and told each other that we would read them and that we’d annotate the bits we found hilarious and send them to each other. We never did of course it was just another promise made, another for the pile of things that slowly became our relationship and I think of you every time I see that bible on my shelf. Even though I don’t believe a word of what it preaches it doesn’t seem to matter when it connects me to you through time like that. The barrier of passing time dissolves and I’m sat in my bedroom in 2020 texting you that the bible arrived with butterflies in my stomach waiting on your response.

I read a little while ago that the face you have in your current life is the face of the person you loved most in your previous life. When I look at myself in the mirror I often wonder what kind of person could love someone like me, with all my failures of character and my blatant self loathing that seems to seep into every facet of my life and slowly degrade each aspect of it like the rot that eats away at the house. But then I eat something and drink some water and go outside in the sun and am reminded that I am young and learning to live. Maybe I am not an irredeemable monster with an evil heart, maybe I just haven’t learned to love myself yet, to see my positive aspects, perhaps one day I’ll see myself in a mirror and say to myself “hey, you did great, everything will be okay”. I desperately hope that one day I will be that person and my hope extends to you too.

What’s really crazy about that particular stretch of my life is that most of the time I am convinced I was in love with myself and the moment I was in and not the girl. I was doing well at my first job, finally getting attention from girls, had money, discovering new music all the time, things were great. Kind of a clash with the supposed “national spirit” at the time, Covid 19 was fucking England hard at this point. I didn’t care, I was in a bubble of drinking and sex and music and thinking I might be falling in love with a girl while I was in the middle of sex with a girl I had just met at a party I was invited to last minute by a girl I worked with who also had a thing for me. I felt incredible.

Tell me you love me and watch it break me. Tell me anyway and build me anew from the broken pieces of me that are left behind, with any luck you’ll leave the worst parts of me shattered on the floor.

What’s really maddening about being alive so far is that for all the methods of communication mankind has devised over the last however many decades and centuries, there is no way to communicate all of yourself to another person.

You can’t just open yourself up and say this is what I am, take your time and learn me so that one day you might appreciate the full picture.

You just share bits and pieces of yourself with countless people over your life but in the end I don’t think you can ever truly know a person.

In fact I don’t even think it will be possible to truly know yourself by the end of your life let alone in time to actually make use of this knowledge.

Inside you are infinite, endlessly complicated and flawed, ruined in so many moments by so many things and yet still moving forward, running headlong toward whatever it is you think will finally let you say “ I understand myself now”.

I don’t know anything for certain. My brain just tries to convince me every day that understanding isn’t worth striving for.

The true battle, my true battle, is to continue onward and carry the weight of my infinite self into a future that might just be better than what has come before. To be a true warrior, to fight a battle that’s worthwhile, win or lose.

What do I do with all this leftover knowledge I have of you? When I see something I know would make you laugh, or make you excited for the future? Do I just hold onto it? Let it rest in my head with all the other things I’ve learned but no longer have use for? I wonder if I’ll forget eventually. Part of me hopes I will, but the braver part of me hopes that I am strong enough to carry it with me, to remember you even though you aren’t mine anymore. I hope you’re doing well in your new life but I hope that I never hear a word about it.

Diane said that there are people in your life that help you become the person you end up being and that you can be grateful for them, even if they were never meant to be in your life forever. I like that sentiment, it’s comforting.

That show has saved me a few times now.

I miss people when they leave. I often wonder what they’re up to, hopefully they aren’t as confused as I am about things, it’d be nice to if someone in this world had some clear idea of what they are doing. Even if I doubt it’ll ever be me.

No love, of anything, however brief is a waste.

Do anything that makes life a little more bearable, so long as you aren’t harming someone else in the process.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad for you to have forgotten something and left it in my life so that when you remember and come back to claim it, you look around and realise that this might not be so bad a place to live after all, maybe we were just twenty back then.

I don’t know, maybe it would just be nice to be remembered fondly by someone, a warm thought instead of a bitter memory.

You know sometimes when I feel shitty about myself I pretend i’m someone else, someone confident and bold and unashamed of being themselves. It helps a lot, makes things way fucking easier to deal with sometimes.

What I hate most about myself is my ability to convince myself of anything. It has led me to some of the best decisions I have ever made, it’s made me more confident than I have ever been. It is the sole reason that I can talk myself out of being sad and more often than not it is what makes me sad in the first place. My mind is an unreliable narrator and a perfectly objective judge of every situation, discerning when it is doing which thing is where my trouble usually begins.

There is very little left of me that I recognise.

I get the feeling that everything in life is a celebration of living.

[justmoreocs-writing]

Outfits are all part of the lie. A good disguise needs the right clothes to make it that little bit easier to inhabit for the liar, and then for the mark too. It’s all well and good an actor being able to sell the lie, but if someone claims to be a king but looks like a peasant, it’s far harder to get the mark on board with the little show. Clothes being a part of the misdirection, of the trick, was one of the first lessons Pat ever taught me, one my father had actually assisted with in the hopes that it wouldn’t go too far south in his eyes. Now, it felt more important than ever. This time, the lie could get someone killed; could cause more damage than if a simple trick didn’t work out the way it should have done.

‘Lilia?’ asked Bozer, drawing my attention away from the empty space of idle thought and to the present with a thump.

I made a sound of assent as I looked to him. He was pinning up the hem of my dress, making it that little bit more practical as a precaution.

‘Maybe stand still while I’ve got pins near you,’ he suggested, a vaguely teasing smirk dancing on his lips.

‘Where’s the danger in that?’ I countered, trying to clear my mind of memories.

‘This isn’t a dress for danger,’ he said, getting back to work.

I scoffed. ‘Not intentionally,’ I agreed. ‘But when isn’t this job dangerous?’

‘With you and Mac at the helm of it?’ he mused, adding another pin. ‘Never.’

‘Exactly,’ I said, smirking as I glanced up to meet my own reflection’s gaze. Whatever happened we needed to be prepared for danger, and Bozer knew that as well as the rest of us. He may have stumbled into this work – most of us had, in retrospect – but he’d learnt the lessons quickly enough. No matter our best intentions, danger was something that could creep up on you in an instant. There was no shying away from the threat of it, and I certainly wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.