#it's late and I am so tired I can barely read what I've said

[camellcat]

I wonder if Scott's alpha teeth made him nervous even after he got used to them just Being A Thing Now. If, when he would catch the glint of red eyes staring back at him, he had to still an instinctive flinch and try not to think of all the people who have threatened to or almost ended his life with that same vibrant hue. If the feeling of blood under his claws, on his skin, in his hair and soaked into his clothes ever became normal, if it was ever something truly able to be numbed and ignored. If seeing his shadow with pointed ears and elongated claws and shredded shirts gave him day terrors like the Nogitsune never went away; a paranoia that everyone could see how fucking messed up (how scary) he was. If Scott ever truly moved on from feeling afraid of being a monster, of becoming a Monster. Not all monsters do monstrous things, but all Scott has ever seen is monsters who choose to act like their namesake.

If he continues to be cautious and aware of his teeth, of his eyes, of how blood is overwhelming and what it's like to be afraid --- because if he looses his humanity, his tie to slow healing and faulty lungs and what it feels like to be prey to somebody else, how will he be any different from the monsters that plague him?

Scott is the outlier, and he does not let his monstrous features define how he chooses to behave and who is chooses to be.

[captainamericasmotercycle]

Hiiii. I hope you are well. I would like to request a Cregan Stark x reader where they’re newlyweds and Cregan is doing everything he can to get reader to like him as she barely talks to him and keeps to herself because her mother basically told her to not expect him to be a kind gentle husband like the ones she’s read in books. The two slowly grow close once reader sees the effort Cregan has been putting in. Thank you!

i've never written for cregan before so i hope i did him justice <3

warnings: uncomfortable talk of women? (from your mother and sisters), you are his first wife (rickon doesn't exist yet), canon divergent, reader's family is not specified

a/n: this could possibly have a second part... all feedback is welcomed!!

When the news broke that Lord Cregan Stark was looking to take a new wife, your father was not hesitant to offer up your hand.

Your family resided close to the North, and your father needed Lord Stark as an ally in case any conflict arose suddenly. Within only a single moon, Lord Stark agreed to take you to wed.

It was not in your plans to be forced into a marriage, but rather find someone to love and live a long and prosperous life with.

"You know he is not going to be kind, not like the silly tales you read of," your mother, of course, prepared you for your impending doom of a marriage, as she implied.

You wanted to die. If only you were not a high-born lady, you could choose your fate.

"You cannot expect him to tend to you every moment of the day, at all even," you remember your older sisters joining the two of you, helping you to know what will become of you.

"He will take you as he wishes, and you will comply."

"You will lay with him until he finds pleasure and discards of you."

"But.. will I find pleasure?"

They laughed at you, both of your sisters and your mother. You did not wish to be trapped in a loveless marriage.

"No, if anything, he will find some cheap whore to busy himself with, until it is time for you to give him heirs."

"You mustn't talk to him unless spoken to first-"

"And you mustn't speak your mind, ever."

They filled your head with their advice until the day of your wedding. It was a small gathering just within the walls of Winterfell. Your family attended, as well as Cregan's uncle, a couple members of his council, and his half siblings.

During the post-ceremony celebration, you stayed timid, smiling gently whenever Cregan looked at you, or when your mother sent a pointed expressed to you.

You watched your brother, brothers-in-law, and father, eager to drink, but Cregan refrained.

Cregan tried to hold your hand, or lay his hand over your knee, succeeding in doing so, but you shied away from his touch, your body freezing up.

At the end of the night, the celebration winded down and you retreated to your new chambers, apart from Cregan's. You knew that he would be in to consummate the marriage soon, so you prepared yourself, trying to find a place in your head you could go to escape.

As your maidens dressed you for the night, a soft knock was heard on the door, one of your maids scurried to see who would come at such a late hour.

"My Lady Stark, it is your lord husband."

Lady Stark. Quite the title.

"Let him in, and leave us."

She and the other maids left the newlyweds as requested. He stood at the door, quite the ways away from you.

"Did you enjoy the celebration?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Please, call me Cregan, I am your husband now."

"Yes, my- Cregan," he moved slightly towards you.

"Have I done something to offend you?"

"No, my lord."

"Cregan. And are you sure?"

"Yes, Cregan. I apologize, husband if I have not been attentive enough. I can be better, I promise. I can be a good wife," you begged him.

He said your name softly, seeing the utter fear in your eyes, "You have been perfect; there is no need for you to upset yourself."

"Have you come to consumate the marriage?"

"I figured you were too tired. Do you want to?"

You were taken aback by his question, you hadn't expected him to ask about you.

"I- I think I would prefer to rest," you bowed your head at him.

"As you wish, wife. I will see you in the morn," he walked to you and gently kissed the top of your head, then retreated to his own quarters.

-

The morn came and you were still not talking to him. Maybe you were just nervous to be away from your home is all and you just wanted some time to adjust to your new life.

Weeks passed and he tried to talk to you, but you only answered him with short responses. This worried him, what had he done to hurt you?

He decided to send you a new pelt, incase you wished to explore the gardens or the outside walls of Winterfell. He hoped to hear from you about the gift, but no word came back except for a thank you from your maid.

He did not understand why you would not talk to him. He began sending flowers almost every morn with your meal, he gifted you a horse, (which you had not even attempted to see since the first time he showed you), and he even went as far as obtaining you a direwolf pup as a wedding gift. The pup became as reclused as you.

He became frustrated with his failed attempts to connect with you, sulking around Winterfell, and it was very apparent in his commands.

He hadn't taken a trip to the wall in weeks, and he commanded his men to finish outrageous requests; lashing out at anyone who questioned him or seemed to breathe the wrong way.

You had not been eager to seek him out or talk to him, not even trying to leave the walls of Winterfell to explore the nearing city; just staying in the comfort of the castle's library and your chambers.

He wanted to see you, to build a bond with his new wife, but most of the time he was unable to find you; it seemed that you were hiding from him.

After almost a moon of short interactions and dodging his every move, he was ready to beg, luckily he finally cornered you in your chambers.

Instead of a maid coming to fetch you for supper, Cregan insisted that he go instead. He pushed open your doors, finding you sitting with a book near the window, your much larger direwolf pup at your feet

Your head shot up at the sudden noise, louder than you were used to at this hour. You set down your book, ready to stand at his presence, but he stalked over to you rather quickly.

He dropped to his knees at your feet, startling you, he stated your name, "Please tell me what I have done, I wish to see you, to speak to you."

"You have done nothing, husband. I will speak if you wish it."

"No! I want you to speak freely, what has made you shy away from me? I am trying to know you, to love you. Please, just tell me!"

Your gaze softened, "You want to love me?"

His face changed to confusion, "Of course. Have I dont something to make you assume otherwise?"

"Not you..."

"Who. Tell me. I will have their tongues."

"My mother... and my sisters. They spoke that you would not be kind, that I should not speak freely near you... that you would be too busy with cheap whores to notice me until you wanted an heir."

He set his large hands on your knees, "Every word of that is so untrue. I married you because I want to love you. Let me."

You looked at his eyes, yearning in them, "I want you to love me."

He pulled you to stand with him. He tugged you by the waist into him, peppering you with kisses, one near your eyebrow, one on your cheek, one on the tip of your nose, and finally one at the corner of your mouth. You smiled at him and his actions.

"There's that smile I so desperately have been wanting to see for over a moon."

You set your hands on either side of his face, kissing his lips softly, "I'm sorry that I have been so distant, I should have seen your efforts."

"I hold no grudge against you wife, I am just happy you are giving me another chance," he kissed you again.

"Shall we go to supper?" You nodded as he took your hand.

"Good. I think my men will be pleased to hear of our reconcile. I fear I have been more than unpleasant," you kissed his jaw.

"Well, we owe them an apology don't we?"

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 16 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You're convinced you and Bradley could go on the same date a million times over, and you would find something new to love about it each time. You don't want the weekend to come to an end, but at least you get to enjoy time with a favorite visitor on Sunday evening. 

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, smut, pregnancy discussion

Length: 5000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

Bradley was dressed and lounging back on the pillows with his arms tucked behind his head. You were getting ready to go out, and he was thoroughly enjoying watching you put on your red lingerie. His favorite set.

"We could just stay in," he murmured as you clasped your bra and rolled your eyes. Your face was made up and you were standing at the foot of the bed wearing barely anything at all. "We should just stay in."

You scoffed and said, "You should let Tramp out so we can leave in twenty minutes. I want to eat hot sauce with my sexy husband."

"Fine," Bradley sighed with a smile, pausing in the doorway to watch you slip your red dress over your head. The same one you wore on your first date together. The one Bradley loved you in every time you wore it. And then he walked through the kitchen to let Tramp outside. Your new French press was on the counter along with the half unpacked Amazon box that neither of you had time to get to all week. But he reached inside and pulled out one of his new notebooks and took a pen out of the drawer.

Bradley had been working late all week for various reasons. He'd missed a lot while he was deployed. Plus the Slayer and Dean court-martial was moving ahead. And also, Maverick had offered him the chance to meet some pilots fresh out of flight school with the promise that Bradley could help with some training exercises in the coming months. He was tired. Next month was his thirty-seventh birthday. He was feeling his age.

He clicked the pen in his hand and opened the notebook to the first page.

My wife does this thing, and it drives me absolutely wild. When I tell her I'm tired or point out a gray hair in my mustache or mention that I've been feeling my age, she just laughs at me. Sure, I can still run ten miles and lift weights for hours on end, but she can wear me out in an instant. Emotionally, mentally, or physically. She can say one sentence to me like, "I want to go eat hot sauce with my sexy husband," and I am emotionally tanked for the rest of the day. Because I fucking believe her. She actually does want to eat her favorite food with me. And she actually does think I'm sexy. And she's too smart, so trying to keep up with her mentally drains me every single time. And physically... Well. That's where she manages to

"You ready to go, Roo?" you asked, walking into the kitchen looking exactly like you had more than a year and a half ago when you and he were just starting to fall in love. Well, he was already half in love with you by the time that first date rolled around. And by the end of the night, he was a goner.

"What's wrong?" you asked, reaching out for his hand with a little crease between your eyebrows.

"Nothing," he rasped as his eyes dipped down to your cleavage. "Just thinking about how I don't even have to try to play it cool tonight, unlike on our first date." He leaned down and kissed your lips softly and then added, "You look fucking incredible."

"I don't care what you say, we're not staying in for the night," you whispered, running your fingers along his tattoo and pulling him in for a kiss that was clearly at odds with your words.

"Whatever you say, Sweetheart," Bradley replied. He let Tramp back inside and then walked out to the Bronco with your hand in his. And then he got to do one of his favorite things. He opened the door for you, helped you climb in, and buckled your seatbelt. But as he started to pull his right hand away from your body, you caught it and held him close.

"Hey," you whispered. "I don't have to try to play it cool tonight either."

"No?" he asked, his eyes fluttering closed as your lips met his.

"No. I love you so much," you replied. "And I would go on the same date with you a million times, because each time would be a little different, and I know I would remember them all."

Bradley could feel goosebumps on your arm, and your eyes looked a little vulnerable. Last time you and he had visited the hot sauce restaurant and the pier from your first date, it had been on your birthday. And you cried that night. A lot. Because you wanted to be pregnant, but you weren't. He briefly wondered how many other times you'd cried for that reason that he didn't even know about.

He wanted a baby. He still did. But it wasn't his top priority. He understood now how much you'd let it hurt you month after month. And it wasn't the same for him. He knew that now. And he didn't want you to feel like you were failing yourself, your relationship or him ever again. Because you weren't. You were more than enough.

"I remember every minute I've ever spent with you, Sweetheart. And I dream about it when I'm deployed. And I want to have decades of stuff to remember."

"Just keep feeding me hot sauce."

"I fucking plan on it."

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

The ride up to Del Mar was beautiful. The sky faded from orange to purple as Bradley drove and sang along to his Motown playlist with his hand on your thigh. You thought about how you had a panic attack on your birthday after the negative pregnancy tests, but the memory of it didn't hurt as much now.

"What are you thinking about, Baby Girl?"

You glanced at your husband out of the corner of your eye as he parallel parked the Bronco in front of the restaurant. "Honestly?"

He met your eyes briefly as he straightened out the tires. "Yeah, honestly."

"I still want to have a baby, Roo," you said easily, this time without your heart aching. "I still think about it. But it doesn't make me upset like it used to."

He killed the engine, and coaxed you over to his lap. "Come here." When you were settled on him with your hands on his shoulders, he kissed you. "I still think about it, too. I still want it. But not at the expense of this," he added, gesturing between his body and yours before he let his big hand settle on your hip. "I don't want anything at the expense of this."

You took a deep breath and nodded. "Neither do I. And I know we agreed we can talk about this at length in a few more months, but I don't want to stop trying. And if there's still something wrong after a year, maybe we can talk to some doctors?"

"There's nothing wrong with us, okay? There's never going to be anything wrong. But if we still don't get pregnant, there are other options," he told you gently. "Like... fertility treatment or adoption agencies. But whatever we do, it's 50/50. We do it together. And I promise I'll take care of you better than I did before."

You were silent for a beat, because these were things you'd already thought about. "Yeah?"

He nodded. "I'm just saying, if we want a baby, there are other ways to make it happen. But I'm never going to stop wanting to fuck you, so don't think for a second that we're taking that off the table."

You shook with silent laughter before your giggles bubbled over. "Okay, we won't take that off the table, Roo."

He kissed your cheek and said, "Keep your pussy on the table." But he was laughing too, and you felt really good inside. His hands were heavy on your hips, and his lips were nipping at your neck. "Just let me feed you hot sauce and love you, and then we'll figure the rest out later if we even need to. I wanna give it a little more time, okay? Some more time with you off birth control. Some more time with us just being us. Like this."

"Yes," you agreed. "This is perfect. This feels good."

Now he was rubbing his mustache along your cleavage, and you knew you needed to get him inside the restaurant while you still could. "I'm hungry," you whispered.

"Me too," he agreed with a smirk.

"For dinner," you clarified with a laugh.

When you finally got him inside the restaurant, you could hear his stomach growling, so you didn't feel too bad. "Order two meals you want to try, Baby Girl," he said casually once you were seated.

You loved it when he let you do that, which was most of the time. And he always let you finish whichever one you liked better. And he never complained. You could feel his eyes on your body when you walked around to look at all the hot sauces on the shelves. Every time you glanced at him across the restaurant, he gave you a little nod or a wink. And there was no doubt in your mind that you were just as attracted to him now as you were the first time you were here.

When you brought some that you wanted to try back to your table, a brand new bottle of your favorite green sauce was sitting next to your favorite beer. "How am I supposed to deal with you, Bradley?"

"It's your favorite. And it's a tradition."

You laughed. "You bought me a whole case of 12 bottles online."

"You go through a bottler per week."

"That's actually fair."

Then your meals were delivered to the table, and you doused both of them in a rainbow of sauces and started eating. The two of you ended up sharing both meals, because you couldn't decide which one you liked better. And that one beer made you feel calm, and now Bradley's cheeks were rosy. After your conversation in the Bronco and the past week with him, you felt like all of the weight and pressure you put on yourself was easing up.

After dinner, you were laughing as he led you down the sidewalk with his arm wrapped around your waist. And you couldn't keep your hands off him either. "Why are we passing the Bronco? We should go home."

"Not yet," he whispered in your ear.

You gasped. "Are we going back to the silent disco?"

"Well," he rasped, looking at you with a wince. "Not exactly. I've been trying to get you back there for one, but they always seem to be when I'm deployed. But I had another idea. Let's walk down the pier."

You snorted. "You just want a handjob."

"Please," he replied, leading you across the street and down the pier. "Give me a little credit. I don't just want a handjob."

"Well that's good, because there are a lot of people out tonight," you whispered as he spun you around so your back was pressed against the railing and you were looking up at his face. "You're really handsome."

His cheeks were still rosy, but you thought perhaps your words had deepened the color. You ran your fingers along his scarred neck and across his cheek and into his hair. His eyes closed as he enjoyed your touch, and you studied him closely. He looked a little older than when you met him, with a few gray hairs here and there and maybe another wrinkle or two on his face. He'd been through a lot since then. He had the scars on his arm to prove it. But you didn't want to add emotional scars; he had plenty of those already. You just let him melt into your right hand as your left rested on his chest, and you looked at your diamond ring.

It was yours now, but sometimes you still thought of it as Carole Bradshaw's ring. Not in a bad way. Just as a form of recognition. It felt like an honor that you were wearing something so special. Maybe that was thanks in part to the words Bradley had read to you from his notebook. His recent thoughts and musings. But it was clear that some things were more important than others.

"I love you," he murmured, eyes still closed. "Are you ready for your newest playlist?"

"What is it?" you asked, his question pulling you back to the pier and the grin on his face.

"Just a little something I've been thinking about and finally put together." He pulled his earbuds out of his pocket and held one up for you to take. Then he tucked the other one in his own ear and kissed your nose. "It's all the songs I can remember from the silent disco. Plus what we listened to in the car that night. Oh, and a surprise track. Because I know you'll think it's funny."

Your heart swelled as you slid the earbud into place, and a few seconds later, the Cher song that played at the silent disco was on. And your heart was beating a little faster. And you couldn't stop smiling. "You really remembered all the songs we heard that night?"

Bradley shrugged. "I may have missed some. We'll add them if you remember more, okay?"

"I love this," you gasped, throwing your arms around his neck. "I love you."

He kissed your jaw and whispered, "I told you... I remember every minute I've spent with you. Or at least the way you've made me feel at any given time. Maybe the memories of some of the songs are a little hazy for me, but I remember how fucking good you made me feel that night. And how I was proud to be there with you. I still feel that way."

"Fuck, Bradley. You can't make me cry while Britney Spears is playing."

He laughed. "Okay. Let's dance then."

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

It was dark out. The other people who had been enjoying the view of the ocean from the pier had dissipated. An orange glow from the scattered lampposts softly lit your face like a dream. Bradley had taken to singing all the songs to you, just to hear you laugh and sing along yourself. The random mix of pop songs and '80s ballads and romantic Motown tunes kept a smile on your face. You laughed when Hey Soul Sister played, and you threatened to text Nat. And the whole time, Bradley held you close with his hands at your hips and waist.

"Oh," he said when the music went silent. "That's the end of the playlist."

"It's over?" you asked, leaning back against the railing and looking up at him longingly. You removed your earbud and handed it back to him.

"Baby Girl, it was almost three hours long," he informed you with a laugh.

You tipped your head back and groaned. "It was perfect." Then you gasped softly as his lips found the pretty expanse of your neck and chest which were on display for him. He was sucking gently on your collarbone as you said, "I knew I was in trouble after the first time you brought me here. You were so sincere that night."

Bradley hummed against your warm skin. "I was already thinking about spending the rest of my life with you."

"No! Stop it. We had just met." Your voice sounded breathy as he drew little shapes along your dress with his thumbs, your head still tipped back.

"Didn't matter. Already knew."

Your hands slid up from his shoulders into his hair, and he nibbled along the tops of your breasts as you made the sweetest little sounds. Your nipples were tight peaks against the fabric of your dress, and when Bradley ran his lips lower to feel you, he groaned. The texture of your lace bra filled his imagination with possibilities.

You tilted your head up, and when he met your eyes, you had the audacity to look surprised. "You're hard, Roo."

He raised one eyebrow at you, just short of rolling his eyes. "Listen... when two people love each other very, very much..."

Your laughter filled him. "Oh, is that how this works? You know, that sentence can be interpreted a lot of ways."

He had to close his eyes as you gently squeezed his length through his jeans. "It's how it works with you." He huffed out a breath when you licked his ear and added, "You make me greedy. I want everything."

You hummed softly as you unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. Bradley glanced around to make sure you and he were truly alone as you whispered, "Then let's have everything. Even if it takes some time."

"I love that," he groaned as your cool hand dipped inside his boxer briefs and closed around him. One stroke and he was putty in your hands.

"And we'll start with the handjob that I was seriously contemplating giving you on our first date."

"Oh fuck, Sweetheart. You're too much." Bradley bucked against your belly as you ran your thumb along his balls. He'd let you go a little further with this, but then he was taking you home for the night. Just a little more. Each stroke was incredible as he kissed your lips.

But when you started asking him questions, he should have known he was in trouble. Because you always got unbridled information out of him when you put him in situations like this. "What do you want for your birthday, Roo?"

He was watching your hand pass over his tip as he grunted, "Another sexy calendar."

"That can be arranged," you said sweetly. "And how do you feel about me starting to save up some money for a first anniversary trip?"

"Do it," he growled as you rubbed at his precum with your thumb. But then he wrenched his hips away, and your eyes were transfixed on his cock as it leapt for you.

"You don't want to finish here?" you asked, your eyes moving up his body to his face as you licked him from your thumb.

After he zipped himself carefully back in his jeans, he said, "I don't want to ruin your dress, and I don't want to get arrested. Let's go home." He didn't even wait for you to respond. He just turned and picked you up for a piggy back ride back to the Bronco.

The drive home was similar to that very first date. After you kissed him while he fumbled with your seat belt trying buckle you in, he turned on another playlist before he started the engine. But this time he was driving to the house that you shared, not the apartment you used to live in with Maria. And he didn't have to leave you for the night to prove to himself that he could, and that maybe he was good enough. He was your husband now, and you had deemed him good enough for you.

Bradley's hand was gripping your thigh as he saw the craftsman down the block. As soon as he was pulling into the driveway, you were crawling toward him, and he barely had the Bronco in park before you were straddling his thighs.

"I want you in every way." That sentence was the best example of how you wore him out emotionally. It was fucking beautiful, and he could spend all night just thinking about it. But you were kissing him now, and he was already aroused again as he finally turned the key in the ignition.

"You own me." You really seemed to love that response as your lips stayed gentle on his and your hand drifted down his body to his zipper again. It was so dark outside, even in the neighborhood, but Bradley could see the question in your eyes as you pulled back a little bit. Maybe you wanted to make sure he wanted this, too. Maybe you wanted him inside you instead of anything else. He just wanted to be with you. "Anything you want, Sweetheart."

"Okay."

He shimmied his jeans and underwear down his hips, lifting you up as well with a soft laugh. Then you took his hands in yours and guided them slowly up under your dress. He was treated to the sight of you unzipping your dress and unclasping your bra and pulling them down so he could see your pretty tits and peaked nipples. But then his hands froze under your dress.

"You changed your underwear. Earlier tonight. After I left the bedroom."

Your laughter had your tits bouncing just enough to distract Bradley and lure his lips to them.

"Oh!" you gasped as he sucked on you. "I did. I know you like the red ones, but I wanted these instead. Do you know which ones they are?"

That was a ridiculous question, and you knew it. He ran his thumb up your slit and could feel the satin fabric and the fancy embroidered letters as you bucked. He sucked harder until you called out his name and braced your hands on his shoulders. You were wearing the underwear you had specially made for the honeymoon.

"Of course I know, Mrs. Bradshaw."

"You passed the test!"

Bradley tugged your panties to the side and thrust up into you in one fluid motion until he bottomed out. "That's a test I will always pass."

Your hands were scrambling around his neck as you leaned in closer and kissed him. He led your hips in a slow roll with his hands on your ass and whispered, "Just. Like. That."

You kept the pace going, already panting softly as he brought one hand back up to your tits. His other fingers trailed around your hip, and he tucked them inside the front of your panties. As soon as he brushed your clit with his knuckle, you whined for him. "Daddy."

It had been a while since he heard you call him that. And fuck if he didn't love it. But you looked almost surprised that you'd said it out loud, eyes wide as you rode him.

"I fucking love it when you call me that," he crooned as he pinched your nipple. Your pussy was already fluttering around him as you kept that perfect tempo. Bradley pressed his mouth to yours as you babbled incoherently, and it was just a lost cause as you raked your fingers through his hair. He came inside you as he kept pressing his knuckle to your clit.

"Come on, Sweetheart," he coaxed as your movements sped up and then slowed as your cries echoed inside the Bronco. Then your lips were all over his before you abruptly broke away.

Your voice was a sweet little gasp as you said, "Don't make a mess on the upholstery."

With a laugh rumbling deep in his chest, Bradley opened the door and lifted you down from the driver's seat. "Just one of the many reasons we're married."

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

You and Bradley were lounging in bed on Sunday morning, and he was doing a really poor job of making you want to leave to meet Cam and Maria for brunch.

"Aren't you supposed to be golfing today?" you asked with a laugh as he pinned your wrists over your head on the pillow.

"Yep," he replied softly. "Supposed to meet Jake, Javy and Bob in less than an hour."

You sighed as his lips met the underside of your breast. "Shouldn't you be getting dressed then?"

"I'd rather go for round three and then drink champagne in the bathtub with you."

Now that did sound nice. The weekend had been so much fun. Going up to the hot sauce restaurant had been perfect. You were exhausted all over from having sex and taking Tramp on long beach walks and staying up too late watching movies last night. And Bradley finished reading his notebook to you and promised he'd start from the beginning all over again. Frankly, you could use a nap already, so you weren't really sure how Bradley was doing so well at the moment.

"I'm supposed to go to brunch," you whispered, and Bradley rolled off of you with a groan.

"I'll get side eye for a month from Maria and Cam if you don't go," he said. "So I guess I'll just go play golf."

"We can do round three later," you promised, kissing his ear as you climbed out of bed and started to get ready. "You want me to bring you back some avocado toast?" you asked with a smile.

He made a disgusted face. "You know I hate that stuff. I'll just day drink and eat protein bars like a normal person until you feed me dinner."

"If I decide to feed you dinner later."

Bradley's face looked panicked. "You have to. Please? Sweetheart," he called, springing out of bed and following you to the bathroom. "Please?"

"You're ridiculous, Bradley. Go get a pack of chicken out of the freezer, and I'll make you some Marry Me Rooster tonight."

"Thank you." He kissed you so long and so passionately, you actually felt a little dizzy when he walked out of the room. "He's ridiculous," you muttered as you pressed your fingertips to your lips.

When you finally made it to brunch fifteen minutes late, Cam was glaring at you. "Maria wouldn't let me order anything until you got here. And I'll just bet you're late because Lieutenant Commander Mustache was doing something nasty to you."

You burst into laughter as you slid into the booth next to him. "I mean... I was just helping him with his golf clubs."

"The two of you are fucking filthy," he replied, flagging down the waitress while you and Maria laughed.

Brunch with the two of them was always fun, and you were on your second mimosa when Bradley texted you.

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: Jake wants to know if we can watch Jeremiah tonight if he can manage to get Cat to agree to go to a movie. I told him I had to check with the boss. He laughed and said he should have just texted you instead of asking me... oh wait, I think he's texting you now. Why did I even bother? And then you got a text from Jake asking very nicely if he and Cat could drop Jeremiah off later on their way to a movie. You told them both yes, and when you got home from brunch, you started to clean up the living room. You found your underwear from last night on the coffee table, and your bra was draped over the arm of the couch.

"Don't look at me like that," you told Tramp. "We were just having a good time, okay?" Then you smiled, because you knew that your pup was going to love licking crumbs off of the one year old visitor and following him around the room. "Your friend is coming over. I expect you to be well behaved."

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

"He's just so fucking cute."

"Roo! Stop swearing in front of the child!"

Bradley looked up at you from all fours on the living room floor. "Isn't he too young for it to matter?" he asked in all seriousness.

You were gaping at him like he was an idiot, and he started laughing. "The last thing I need is Cat mad at me because his first word is the f-word."

Bradley rolled his eyes. "If he doesn't learn it from me, then I'm sure he'll learn it from Jake."

"Yeah, well that's Jake's problem," you muttered, ducking back into the kitchen to check on dinner.

Bradley scooped Jeremiah up and said, "You're so freaking cute. Is that better?" The little bubble of laughter he got in response was most likely a yes, so he just went with it. "Let's see here. It's almost dinner time. And then I'll bet my hot wife will read us that book about trucks that you liked so much."

"I'll read it now," you said as you walked back into the room. "Dinner is not quite ready yet."

"Hell yes, she's going to read it to us now," Bradley said as he and Jeremiah crawled across the floor to the diaper bag where the book was stashed. He unzipped it and watched the kid reach in and pull everything out including the book. "Nice work. But my knees can't take much more."

With a groan, Bradley scooped him and the book up and carried them to the couch where you were sitting with Tramp. And you looked calm and relaxed as you held the child on your lap and opened the book. Your voice was so sweet, and you were so beautiful, Bradley noticed that Jeremiah seemed more interested in you than the story at times. And it made him smile, because that was pretty much the same way he always looked at you, too.

But he was done stressing about all of it. Bradley was in love with you, and the weekend was everything he wanted. Having a kid like Jeremiah all to yourselves would be a cherry on top of an already perfect life. And if you and he were both still keen on the idea next year, there were options to be discussed at length.

Bradley let himself hope, just the tiniest bit, that maybe you and he would get lucky before then. But he wouldn't drown in that hope like he had before. And he wouldn't let that hope overshadow how great things were right now. But he wouldn't abandon it either. He laughed as he thought about how insightful his notebook entry was going to be later tonight after Jeremiah got picked up.

"Should I read it again?" you asked, looking up at Bradley.

He kissed your cheek. "At least one more time, Sweetheart. We can't get enough of your voice."

You smiled as he and Jeremiah settled in to hear the favorite story again.

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

The perfect date to do over and over. Little Jeremiah is too sweet, I'm just hoping Cat and Jake are enjoying themselves, too. Just hang in there guys... Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 17

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@throwinsauce

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@whosyourgnomie4

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

@backinwonderl4nd

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@teddyluvs2sing

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@bradshawsbitch

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

[theminecraftbee]

hermit horror week day 4: season 7 or taken over

Xisuma slowly blinks at the console logs for the server again. He's very tired; he's been collecting blackstone again, and it's very tiring, collecting blackstone. He's been building a lot of pretty houses, and stocking a lot of shops, and he hasn't had time to look at the console much recently. He probably shouldn't be now, because he's tired, and tired people make mistakes.

He makes a lot of mistakes; he's silly like that. A big derp. It's why he has to be careful, since he's been tired so much lately. He definitely shouldn't have the console open.

It's just, earlier Impulse had a question, since his moss farm kept lagging, and Xisuma thought it would be easy enough to try to find the root cause of. And he did find the root cause of it--Impulse's farm is too fast and his storage simply doesn't keep up with the amount of moss--but there's... some other things...

He blinks again at the dates on the server files. The last edited dates. Slowly, he clicks again on his own player data, and tries to make sense of what he's reading. Files like this, they aren't really meant to be that human-readable. It's--well, it is mostly json, so it's mostly human-readable, actually, but a lot of it is still encrypted, for player safety, which would. Maybe explain what he's looking at? He thinks? He's--well, he does have root access, is the thing, because he's the admin, but he still shouldn't be able to look at any player willy-nilly.

He's a little too much of a derp to be trusted with that. He probably shouldn't even be looking at his data! It's just. That last edited date. Xisuma doesn't edit his own player data. That way lies madness. He's, uh, pretty sure he knows some people who went a little mad doing that. So the fact of the matter is--well, it's not the only file that's been edited recently, he tells himself. Just because it's a lot of memory files that seem to have been edited, as well as access permissions--that's... normal enough for a new season, right?

He's...

He doesn't notice his other self walk up behind him.

"Oh, hey Xisuma. You finished gathering materials for our next build, then?" Evil Xisuma says. All of Xisuma's hairs stand on end.

"I mean, I've gathered enough to get started," Xisuma says.

"Pity. I was really hoping you'd manage to get everything. I thought maybe we'd finish today, but I guess we can't now."

"I--you're right. I'm really sorry."

"No, no, don't worry, don't worry, my friend," Evil Xisuma says. "We probably couldn't have finished today anyway, even if you said you'd try for it."

Xisuma's heart is in his throat. "Sorry, my head's just been. You know how I am. Silly me, forgetting things."

Evil Xisuma shakes his head. "It's awfully lucky I came back this season. Think of all the important things you'd be forgetting without reminders!"

Xisuma looks down and away.

"Gosh, and now you're... playing around in the admin console?"

"Oh!" Xisuma says. "It's, er, nothing really big..."

"Can I see it?"

He barely resists the urge to close out of his player data and hide that's what he'd been looking at. He doesn't know why he wants to hide it. It's not like--well, if Evil Xisuma got mad about it, it would be... right, wouldn't it? Because, well, Xisuma knows full well he shouldn't be looking at or editing his own player data. Editing your own data is the way to madness, and Xisuma, well, he's been so tired lately. He could easily accidentally hit a button. He could easily accidentally hit delete. He has root access, after all.

His heart is in his throat again. He shuffles his feet. "Sure," he says, finally. "I, er, I promise, I wasn't doing anything. I just noticed the last edited date on, uh, files that aren't automatically created by the system? And I thought, gosh, that's weird. I'd only been in there to check on Impulse, really, after he'd had some lag issues. I was just finishing up. It's nothing--the date's weird, though, right? That's all I was noticing."

He watches Evil Xisuma's fingers scroll through all of Xisuma's data. It's not quite fast enough that Xisuma isn't sure he's reading it, and suddenly, Xisuma feels very small.

Finally, Evil Xisuma hands Xisuma's tablet with the admin console open back to him. Xisuma looks down, and Evil Xisuma has closed out of the player data again.

"You just forgot the last maintenance date," Evil Xisuma says.

"Really?" Xisuma says.

"Oh, yeah, for sure. You're so tired lately. You silly derp. You've just been forgetting things easily. You should really get more rest!"

"Oh, but then we won't finish our projects," Xisuma says.

"I guess we wouldn't," Evil Xisuma says back.

"It's just--it's. Most of the time, access permission for player memories isn't edited during maintenance, and I just--I don't remember putting your name down?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

Xisuma tries to think.

"I don't know," he says finally, small, unable to meaningfully articulate anything about what's wrong with it. "I guess it only makes sense, if I'm forgetting things so easily."

"Exactly! Gosh, we make a good team," Evil Xisuma says, and he smiles at Xisuma. Xisuma crookedly smiles back.

"Yeah, we do," Xisuma agrees.

"Don't pull that out again unless I say so, okay?"

"Okay," Xisuma agrees automatically, and then he knows he will not. It makes sense. If he was upsetting himself over nothing like this, why, imagine what he'd do if he could open it whenever? He'd just constantly be upsetting himself!

"Now, my friend, let's return to building the Evil Empire."

"Let's!" agrees Xisuma, and just like that, the entire encounter slips from his mind.

[sebastianstanisahotmf]

Can't sleep

Bucky Barnes x reader

A/N this is day one of my 100 followers celebration series. If you have sent an ask I am working on it. I'm sorry this one is short and so late but I didn't know I would have so much to do today. Also, all mistakes are my own so if you see any feel free to comment them and comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated.

THIS IS NOT AN 18+ FIC BUT I STILL FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE WITH MINORS READING MY FICS SO PLEASE DNI IF YOU ARE A MINOR

Summary you can't sleep (I wrote this based on my own issues with sleep and I hope it comforts anyone with the same struggles)

DO NOT REPOST ON ANY OTHER APPS/WEBSITES. THE ONLY PLACE THIS FIC IS ON IS TUMBLR.

Warnings fluff, slight angst (kinda)

You don’t know how long it's been since you first got into bed, but at the moment it feels like forever. You have been tossing and turning, unable to get comfy. You look over to Bucky who is fast asleep. 

He looks so peaceful. 

You huff before getting out of bed in hopes of tiring yourself out. You trudge into the living room where you grab your laptop and the blanket that has been left there from your movie night with Bucky.

You sit on the couch and put the blanket on your lap. Then, you open your laptop and begin to get on with some work that you need to do. 

After a while, you look at the time in the corner of your laptop and sigh. Its 4:01 am which means you’re not going to get to sleep any time soon. 

Then, you are startled when you feel a cold hand on your shoulder. You look up to see Bucky, his eyes barely open and his hair a perfect mess. 

“Why aren’t you in bed doll?” he asks.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you reply.

“You should’ve woken me up. I would have come in here with you so you aren’t alone,” Bucky said, walking around the couch to lift you and put you on his lap.

He wraps his arms around your stomach and pulls you flush against his chest, his chin resting in the crook of your neck.

“I didn’t wake you because you looked so peaceful and I didn’t want to disturb your sleep if you’re not having a nightmare,” you look down at your hands as you pick the skin around your nails. 

“Doll, I've told you a million times now, I don’t care if you wake me up, even if it's for something small, but I especially want you to wake me up if you can’t sleep. You know I can’t sleep properly if you’re not in bed with me anyways,” he kisses your cheek.

“Sorry,” you turn just enough so you can kiss Bucky on the lips.

“No need to be sorry doll, I just don’t like the idea of you being awake alone if I can help it,” Bucky responds and kisses the back of your neck.

You both stay in a comfortable silence until it is broken by the alarm on your phone going off. You reach over and grab your phone to turn the alarm off.

“I guess it's time to start the day,” you say to Bucky, getting up off his lap and going into the kitchen to make s drink for the both of you. 

A few minutes later, you feel two arms make their way around your waist. 

“I love you so much doll,” 

“I love you too baby,”

If you want to join my taglist to know when I post these fics or any others please click on the link.

Also, if you want to see what I reblog, my other acount is @sebastianstanisahotmf-reblogs

Taglist: @buckys-wintersoldier, @nicoline1998enilocin-library

[hunnitastic]

Can you write Wally tending to a GN reader SH scars after noticing them, if u don't want that's chill but oml I love how you write him 👌

Sure can do!

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

|| Wally Darling x GN!Reader ||

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

⚠️CW // this story contains self-harm, talk about depression, talk about feeling worthless. Please read at your own caution⚠️

Art done by: @/partycoffin

◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽

You haven't been the same these past few weeks. You stopped hanging around your friends. Stopped accepting their invites to go out a play.

Julie asked if you wanted to come over and play business woman and play the role of her assistant like you always did....You declined.

Frank asked if you wanted to go and look at some butterflies with him at the park because they were your favorite bugs. You told him another time.

Eddie asked if you wanted to help him deliver some mail because you always enjoyed walking around in your little mailman uniform. You said you were too busy.

Wally...Wally darling had invited you to come over to his house so you could do your casual afternoon finger painting. You had always loved painting with wally. And sharing your silly little artworks after they dried. You enjoyed it so very much. Sitting on the ground, painting in silence and exchanging glances.

It was nice.

"Oh...I'm really sorry wally but- I think I might just stay home today. Maybe we can paint next week. I'll...talk to you later. Goodbye." You hung up the phone before wally could even respond. It was at that moment he knew something was wrong. You sounded very weak and tired. Almost as if you'd been crying before he called you. He took notice that you barely even stepped out of your house anymore. And if you did it was only for a little bit so you could get some fresh air. And you always wore a long sleeved sweater while outside. Which strange to the curious fellow. It was warm out so what was the need to wear a sweater?

Wally put down his phone and walked over to the window staring outside. Straight to your house. He caught you at the right moment. There you were. Wearing that same sweater as you stepped out the door and let out a small stretch and yawn. That was when wally caught a glimpse of your exposed wrist. It looked like some repeatedly scratched at your skin till it was red and bleeding. Something was most definitely wrong.

"Hmm...I think (y/n) is hiding something...don't you think home?" Wally asked, his chin resting at the palm of his hand as he continued to stare at you getting some fresh air before quickly walking back inside your house again. Home creaked in response. "It seems she doesn't us to know about something...I'll go over and ask." Wally mumbled to himself as he stepped outside and headed over.

Just as he was making his way to your house Julie spotted her neighbor and skipped over towards him. "Hey wally! Are you heading over to (y/n)'s house?" She asked in a curious tone. "Yes I am Julie. I would like to ask why (y/n) hasn't come out to play with us these past few days." Julie reached down and grabbed the others hands. "Will you please let (y/n) know that we all miss playing with them? I've been playing business women with frank but he just makes it boring!" Julie cried. "Hey! I heard that julie!" Frank shouted as he stomped over to the 2 other neighbors. "If you didn't start destroying things everytime we set up our office maybe I'd be more into it." Frank scolded before letting out a sigh. "Wally I assume you're heading to (y/n)'s house?" Frank asked. Wally hummed and nodded. "Kindly let us know if there's anything we can do for them. I've been getting awfully worried lately." Wally nodded again, growing eager to get to your house already. "I'll let them know you're all wo-"

"HEY GUYS! ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT (Y/N)?"

Eddie called out a couple feet away as he waved his arms in the air. "Eddie! Keep it down! We don't want (y/n) to know!" Frank huffed placing his hands on his hips. Eddie let out a small chuckle. "Whoops, sorry bout that. Oh! Wally you're heading over to (y/n)'s house now right?" Eddie asked. "Yes I am." Wally simply responded. Eddie stuffed his hand into his bag and pulled out a stack of mail handing it over to the smaller puppet. "Could ya give these to (y/n)? Last time I tried handing them their mail they didn't answer the door so I just kept them for safety." Wally nodded and grabbed the mail. It was quite a thick stack too.

"OH- and also could you-" "OK THAT'S ENOUGH! We're keeping wally here far too long now he's probably waiting for us to stop yapping! Go on and go over to (y/n)'s house already Wally and, let us know how it goes." Frank quickly spoke before h dragged Julie and Eddie by their hands before they could open their mouths once more. 

Wally softly chuckled to himself before have continued to make his way towards your house. He softly knocked on the door 3 times and waited for you to answer. "Hello? (Y/n) it's me wally. Are you home?" He asked in his soft voice. Just before he thought you wouldn't answer the sound of the door know jiggle caught his attention. You slowly opened the door looking up at the dopey eyed puppet. "Oh, uh...hi wally. Is there...something you needed?" You asked only peeking your head out. "Eddie wanted me to give you these." Wally handed you the mail. Your eyes slightly widened at the amount there was. You kept yourself from pouting. "Oh geez. Thank you for giving these to me wally." You spoke in that unusual weak tone. "You're very welcome neighbor."

The 2 of you stood in silence before wally spoke up again. "May I come inside?" He asked in his usual soft polite voice. You didn't want any company at the moment but you couldn't say no to his face after telling you didn't want to hang out over the phone. You nodded and opened the door some more allowing your friend to walk inside.

Wally hummed as a thank you as he stepped inside. His eyes scanned the entirety of the house. There was tons of crumbled paper laying on the floor. All the lights where off too. That was something you'd usually never do. "Boy...it's pretty dark in here. I can hardly see you." Wally mentioned staring at your dim colored figure. Before you could respond wally reached over and flipped the light switch on. Your pupils dialed at the sudden brightness as you rushed to cover your eyes, blocking out the light. "There thats much better. Now I can see you more." Wally hummed turning to stare at you. 

"Uh...yeah...was there anything you needed?" You asked not moving your hands away from your face. Wally nodded and stepped forward. "Yes there is. I came over here to ask you a question." You slowly removed your hands from your face, looking up at your neighbor with tired eyes. "What's the question?" You asked nervously.

Wally stepped more closer, staring deep into your eyes. "Well you see. The others and I have been very worried about you (y/n)-" he started. "We haven't been able to play with you like we used to. So I wanted to ask if you're doing okay." Waves a guilt flooded your mind. You didn't mean to cause your friends to worry about you so much. "Is there something wrong?" Wally asked waiting for you to respond.  You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat. "Y-yeah! Everything is fine! I've just been really really tired!" You spoke in your best enthusiastic voice you could. Wally stared...he didn't seem to believe you.

"Are you sure?" He asked. You nodded your head. "Absolutely positively sure!" You sung faking a smile.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"You're lying."

Your entire body tensed up. Your breath caught in your chest. Your mouth hanging open. You couldn't find the right words to speak. Your hands lay limp at your sides.

"Wh-what do you m-"

"I can tell when somethings wrong (y/n). It's as plain as those cuts on your wrists." Wally spoke, his eyes traveling down to your clothed arms. You let out a shaky breath watching as he reached out and softly grabbed hold of your arm, slowly pulling the sleeve up. You couldn't read the look on his face. His usual smile didn't leave his lips.

You just watched as he stared at your skin. Scars old and new covered up and down your arms. Thin and and think. Deep and light. Different shades of red painted across your pale colored skin. Your arm thin and frail. You winced as wally lightly grazed his fingers over your cuts. "What are these?" He asked. You refused to respond. "Is this what you've been doing these past few days while staying locked up in your house?" He asked another question. Again, you refused to answer. "Hmm...this isn't good at all. Not. At. All." You panicked feeling his grip on your arm behind to tighten for a moment.

Wally let out a sigh and loosened his grip. He looked back at you. Same expression painted on his face. "Will you let me help clean you up?" He asked with a hint of worry in his tone. You stayed silent but nodded your head. Wally let go of your arm and held your hand, intertwining your fingers as he walked you over to your bedroom. "I'm assuming gou have a first aid kit somewhere right?" He asked sitting you down on your bed. "Yes. In my nightstand in the 3rd drawer." You pointed beside the bed.

After grabbing the kit and taking out the materials wally looked up at your face as he kneeled down infront of you. "...what?" You asked. "May you take off your sweater so it can be easier to clean up your arms?" He politely asked pulling at the hem of your sweater. You let out a slightly annoyed whine but did as he asked. "Very good. Thank you (y/n)." He hummed. 

You stayed silent watching as wally grabbed a cottonball and lightly dosed it in cleaning solution. "Would you mind telling me...what made you do this to yourself?" He asked as he lightly pressed the damp ball against the first cut watching your flinch from the stinging sensation. You stayed quiet for a minute before you decided to talk.

"I'm...I'm an awful friend" you whispered in a shakey voice. Wally stay silent letting you continue while he concentrated on cleaning up your cuts. "I ruin everything. I can't do anything right to help my friends." You sobbed. " 2 weeks ago I was playing office with julie and I ended up knocking over desk and breaking her favorite lamp that was on top of it. And when I was with frank watching some butterflies, he found one he had never seen before and was so excited about it. But I accidently scared it away. And when I helped Eddie with the mail I stupidly mixed up everyone's mail together. Eddie had to work extra hard that day because of me!" You let the tears spill from your eyes like waterfalls while you choked on your words. "And when we painted together I spilt an entire bucket of paint all over your picture ruining it! I'm so stupid! I keep messing everything up- I can't do anything right for my friends!"

Wally continued to stay silent while focusing on your arms. After he finished cleaning up all the dry and fresh blood he started placing band-aids on every single cut. "I didn't mean to make everyone worry about me. I just thought that after that you guys wouldn't wanna see me anymore. Why would YOU even want to hang out with me. I just make things worse. Staying home was the only thing I could do." You spoke between sobs. Tasting your salty tears that slid down your read flushed cheeks.

After wally was done blanketing your arms in band-aids he held your hands in his. His thumbs softly circling the top of your hands for comfort. "Do you know why we like to play with you (y/n)?" He asked staring into your eyes, watching you shake your head. "It's because we like to play with you. No one is mad at you for your small mistakes hun. Nobody's perfect after all."

"But...you are" you mumbled.

Wally tilted his head to the side. His eyes not leaving yours. "Why can't I be more like you? Calm, good at drawing...I'm nothing like you." You softly complained. "And that's a good thing" wally sung as he continued to massage your hands with his thumbs. "It wouldn't be twice as fun if you were like me. I like you as you (y/n). And so does everyone else." He spoke softly grabbing your hands and lifting them up having you lightly cup his cheeks in the palms of your hands. "You're such a funny person. Julie, frank, eddie and the other enjoy playing with you. I like playing with you too... you're so much fun to be around~." wally hummed pressing soft kisses against your wrist. Your heart started to race.

"You're really fun to be around. And it makes me so sad knowing you felt that way. I'm your best friend after all. I should have known you were so upset" wally softly spoke, nuzzling his face against your hand. "I'm really sorry you've been so upset (y/n). Could you ever forgive me?" He asked. His voice almost cracking. You stared at wally as tears continued to well up in the corners of your eyes. "Oh wally...please don't apologize. It's not your fault at all. I'm sorry I never said anything sooner. I was just...too scared to say anything." You mumbled, stroking the pad of your thumb against his cheek.

Wally closed his eyes, going limp in your touch. "Will you promise me the next time you're feeling sad you'll come talk to me about it?" You softly smiled and nodded your head. "I cross my heart and promise I will." You leaned over wrapping your arms around his neck bringing him in for a hug. Wally buried his face in the crook of his neck.

"Thank you for being such a good friend Wally."

"Anything for you (y/n) after all... What are friends for?"

THE END.

♡~||AH I've never written a story like this so I hope I did a good job! Thank you very much for the ask. If you'd like to request a story feel free to send me on in my answer box||~♡

[castieldelamancha]

His ninety years of age are heavy on his bones, heavy on his mind, heavy on his tired shoulders.

But they aren't as heavy as the deep sadness he feels every time he looks at the empty side of the bed next to the one he has occupied for years. The deep sadness he feels when, every morning and every night, those beloved green eyes aren't there anymore to greet him or wish him good dreams.

Any dream he has now is good if it means he can lost himself in their depths once more.

Castiel sighs tiredly, trying to find a comfortable position on the bed, pointedly avoiding sparing a look at where Dean used to sleep.

One last separation, this time around it wasn't Castiel who left Dean behind, like he used to all those years ago.

He comforts himself with the knowledge that, after Dean rescued him from the empty, now a human once more; he gave Dean his heart, his everything, that he tried his best to make him happy and that he had the privilege to grow old and gray by his side.

He comforts himself with the knowledge that sooner rather than later they will meet again and never part again.

He closes his eyes, letting sleep wash over him, he can feel deep in his bones, it will be soon.

"Good night, beloved."

That's his last thought, as every night. Come morning he will greet it as if he was talking with Dean too.

.

Castiel opens his eyes, blinking and squinting at the sudden burst of light that surronds him. He groans, annoyed, at being woken up so abruptly. He closed the curtains, didn't he? And the blinders too.

Or maybe he forgot, he does forget things sometimes.

He closes his eyes, putting his forearm over them for a moment. As his brain slowly wakes up and catches up with his body he realises he feels lighter than ever before, the weight and hurt in his heart now gone, his usually heavy and aching limbs light again, as they used to be many years ago.

He must be dreaming, for a few moments he will get to have all he is missing and then he will wake up for sure, and all will be gone again.

He shakes his head, he refuses to let those thoughts ruin this moment.

The sound of muted footsteps somewhere near him makes him move his arm away, he opens his eyes once more, a hand has appeared in front of him, it's familiar, he knows every line on it, just like he knows his own. He knows its touch, its weight, that one scar that goes from the thumb all the way to the wrist.

"Dean." He sighs, a little out of breath, a smile on his lips.

"I've been waiting for you." Dean smiles back, he looks younger than he did when he died a year ago, back on his late thirties, a youthful glint in his green eyes, one that he never really lost despite the passing decades.

He holds the offered hand in a strong grip, letting Dean help him up. It isn't until that moment, when he is face to face with Dean, that his words sink in.

There is a hint of sadness in the green eyes looking at him, barely there, but still Castiel can see it, clear as day. He might not have been that well-versed on human customs, cues and relations. But he was when it came to Dean. He patiently learned how to read him, how to listen to what he said and to what was left unsaid too.

"I am not dreaming, aren't I?" Dean shakes his head, Castiel's smile doesn't falter, "I am not sad, and you shouldn't be either." He puts his hand on Dean's left shoulder, squeezing lightly.

"I know that, mixed emotions and all that," Dean shrugs before gingerly lifting a hand to cradle the side of Castiel's face, "I'm glad you are here, I've missed you so fucking much," he finally leans closer and lets his lips touch Castiel's briefly, "but I still feel bad you had to go through this alone, that I left you on your own."

Castiel shakes his head, "you are with me now, I don't have to be alone anymore."

"I love you."

And Castiel could laugh and cry with joy. The joy of hearing Dean say those three words again. The joy of being together once more.

His smile widens, a tear escaping his eye, "I love you."

He goes willingly when Dean pulls him closer so they can share a warm embrace and a longer, more passionate, kiss.

"Welcome to Heaven."

"Home," Castiel corrects softly, not because he was once an angel, "doesn't matter where we are, you are right here, it's home to me."

[gemharvest]

Hiii local pico fanboy here to request him for the character thing :))

YES!!! PICO BRAINWORM, ACTIVATE !!!!!!!!!

favorite thing about them: TBHHHH idk. I like his silly maybe. His whimsy. I angst his ass so much but he's such a goober in canon. I want to put him in a hamster ball and watch him run around and I genuinely think he'd enjoy it.

least favorite thing about them: I feel like every time I mention him I run the risk of someone making a weird assumption about me. Pico toxoplasmosis curse: will someone yell at me because my fave, my little scrunkly, my blorbo, originates from the Newgrounds school shooting satire game. The answer is to tell myself not to worry about it and I go "Okay💗 Yay💗" and continue brainrotting.

favorite line: What does this guy even say fuuuuufhfhuhhkkckkk. Guy who mostly thinks about FNF and has barely touched Pico's School stuff. Unfortunately might have to pass on this for now sorry. You can give me a bad grade on being a Pico fan LMAO. /j

brOTP: I'm going to be so fr I am obsessed with the dynamic you can get between him and Nene. I am studying them like bugs. Tho of course Pico & Darnell's friendship is so good. Newgrounds trio you are so fucked up I love you guys.

OTP: Hey guys do any of you know about this niche little thing called the RGB polyshioGFOKMKFGMLKM>. Very obvious answer but yeah. OT3. As of late I've been having so much fun with romantic PicoGF. PicoBF gets a lot of focus and it has from me too, but there's such a fun dynamic you can get from GF and Pico. They can have something fun even if you take a platonic/ QPR angle, tho I said already that I like exploring a romantic dynamic between them.

nOTP: I don't knowwwwwwwww. I don't think I have a nOTP for him. Yes, even considering Cass (huge-ass disclaimer that I do not ship them, but I can't see myself caring if others do). Sorry LOL.

random headcanon: I think if you asked him if he'd jump off a cliff he'd say no, of course not wtf, but then if you asked him if he'd jump off a cliff because Boyfriend did he'd take a suspicious amount of time to answer. Like that one Dan Vs. bit. Idk I'm trying to think of something I haven't mentioned before. Secondary answer that's more of a headcanon is that I really do think this guy would be a non-traditional pet owner. Like snakes/ tarantulas that kinda thing. I think he'd like rats/ other rodents too but the idea of him handling a snake makes me bounce off the walls.

unpopular opinion: The curse I bare is that I barely go to wider fandom spaces I don't know what a popular opinion for him right now would be. Idk I think people sometimes write him to be way tougher than he'd be. Like, OK I'm tired idk how to fully explain it but in my head this guy's a softie once he lets you past his exterior. He's kind at heart even if he has his whole Thing going on and I've seen takes that ignore that/ aren't aware of it, and I feel like that's the surface-level read people might get off of him. Might be able to put this better when I have a rested mind LMAO.

song i associate with them: *cracks my knuckles and opens my playlist for him* Oh I was built for this. Two because I an never content picking just one, my playlist for him would be massive if I remembered to add songs regularly LMAO.

favorite picture of them:

I feel like this is a very funny choice for "favorite image" but it's specifically this bit in his character sheet. "Kind like how cats stretch out look longer" you don't say... Guy who isn't even beating the kitty allegations in his fucking character sheet. My non-funny answer would probably be his game-over sprite for when you lose to one of the spray paint cans:

>> original ask game here; feel free to send more, I don't bite <<

[trashingfish]

Thoughts Part 2 (afad version)

Warning/contents: Afad reader/rough sex/light degradation/dry humping/sloppy makeouts

Let me know what you think! As well as any errors!

For once The Great Lodge wasn't bursting with aesirs, einherjar, or gods. Well expect Odin of course, but he was down in his library and had asked not to be disturbed. Yes, it seems that everyone was much too busy to come relax and drink some mead. Almost everyone. You and Heimdall had been set out on a mission to get another artifact that Odin so desperately needed. But, you two finished faster than expected and in return got the rest of the day off.

As of right now, Heimdall is sitting on one of the benches to the tables with a book in his hands trying to read its contents. Key word "trying" as you were sitting next to him, with those thoughts. You sat there eating and pretending like you're not currently thinking about how Heimdall should reward you for helping with the mission. How you were so good and didn't start a petty fight in the middle of retrieving the artifact. How you listened to every command he gave to you. After all Odin did spend you with him to protect and watch over him. Not that Heimdall even needed to be protected, but Odin was very insistent that you went with him. So you went and stayed out of his way, only stepping in when asked to. So why hasn't Heimdall thanked you by holding you down and fucking your cunt until you felt like you couldn't take anymore of his ruthless pounding?

With a sigh, Heimdall harshly closed his book -obvious that he wouldn't get any reading done with you beside him-. This action caused you to look over to him, confused by his sudden out burst. Oh how that innocent look on your face really pissed him off, but made his cock twitch and harden slightly.

Standing up Heimdall said, "I would ask if you always think about me in such a perverted way but I already know the answer." Heimdall loved how your eyes widen in surprise, your face immediately turning the brightest shade of red he's ever seen.

"I umm...I-I didn't think you were listening..." You somehow stammered out, your voice the smallest and weakest Heimdall has ever heard. Your eyes avoiding his wondering ones. Oh how he's never seen you look so weak before.

"You didn't think I was listening? What a pathetic excuse. My job is to know what everyone's intentions are, but you didn't think I was listening?" He had started pacing back and forth, but stopped in front of you. He lifted your face up with the simplest touch of his index finger. This shy and embarrassed expression of yours was going to be the death of him.

Shaking his head, he continued with, "And now you want to act all innocent and shy. Too late now sunshine, I've already heard your pathetic thoughts," Heimdall got closer to you, stopping when his mouth was right beside your ear. "How you wish I would just ravish you like a madman. How you wish I would stuff your mouth with my cock to finally shut you up. I've heard how you just oh so need me to touch your body because your hands can't satisfy you anymore. I can hear your dirty thoughts right now even." Heimdall moved his hand to your throat, squeezing down so you could barely breathe anymore. His other hand coming down right beside your neck, on the table, along with his right leg coming up and meeting your heat. Your voice caught in your throat, but you let out the sweet whimper. He had successfully caged you in, and you couldn't be more excited.

He chuckled before saying, "Oh? Just my leg would do? Of course such a filthy body such as yours would be satisfied with just my leg on your pussy. Tsk tsk tsk, what am I going to do with you?" His lips touched your ear, slowly making his way down. He made sure to leave the faintest kisses, ones that would leave you begging for more. He stopped at your lips and lifted his head, staring into your blow out eyes.

"Use your voice sunshine, I'm tired of reading your thoughts." Of course he could have just read your mind to know what you wanted, but he wanted to hear you try and say them. He really doesn't think you'll be able to just a simple word out.

"N-No it's embarrassing. You know what I want so just...please just do it...please." You tried to plead with him, tried to move your hips slightly so you could get some friction.

Heimdall looked in your eyes and sighed, "I'm very disappointed (Y/N), I thought you really wanted this. I guess I was wrong for once." Heimdalls face turned into one of false disappointment, but in your heated state you couldn't tell. He removed his hand and leg from your body, and started to walk away. Your panicked look almost made him stay and drop his act.

"W-Wait! I'll say it please don't leave! Please!" Tears started to prick the corners of your eyes, worry and panic filled your body. You're finally about to get what you want and you're not about to let it go. Surprisingly, Heimdall stopped in his tracks. He looked at your body over his shoulders, your hands clinging onto to him as if it that would stop his movement.

"Well? I'm waiting." He pushed your hands off of him and turned to look at you. You wished he hadn't because his piercing eyes on your body had your throat dry up and voice rendered useless. His disappointing face was turned into his usual annoyed looking one, his arms crossed on his chest.

"Umm...I want, no need you to umm...," you swallowed, and looked down. You heard Heimdall sigh, but then immediately felt his hand on your chin. Forcing you once again to look into his eyes. You felt so dazed, like he put a spell on you. Your mind didn't even register that your mouth was moving.

"I need you to make me cum. I don't care how, just do it please..." Heimdall smiled his signature cocky, arrogant smile.

"As you wish, sunshine." Without even having a second to process his words, Heimdall had you bend over the end of one of The Great Lodges tables. He had put your arms behind your back, keeping his hand on your wrist to keep them in place. His hips flushed against your ass, you could feel his clothed cock pressing against your clothed cunt. He could feel your wetness and heat seeping through your leather pants. Oh how he was going to absolutely destroy you and leave you thoughtless. You swore you heard him let out groan.

What really got you though, was his left hand on your hip. His grip was squeezing you so roughly but just how you wanted. You could only think about how that hand would feel as he plunged his cock deep inside of you.

"Tsk, you're so pathetic. I have barely done anything and your already this wet. I think if I even make the slightest movement, you're going to cumming in your pants. So fucking needy uh?" He pulled on your wrists, lifting you up just a little bit.

"Answer me, sunshine." Heimdall demanded, his mouth next to your ear once again. His body adding extra weight onto your back. If you could move before, you surely can't now

"Y-yes." You meekly answered, you heard him scoff at this. Acting like he didn't already know the answer.

Heimdall stood up, making you miss his body heat on your back. You wanted to move your hips to try to convince him to move, but didn't in fear that he would take ever longer to make you cum.

"You're so impatient." Heimdall said with a roll of his hips, making sure you felt how hard he is. He wanted to tease you more, threaten that he's going to make you wait longer so you can learn some patience. But truth be told, he couldn't wait anymore either. He had waited to finally execute this moment for too long. He was as impatient as you.

He rolled his hips again, using the hand on your hip to help push you back further. Just these movements had you sighing and panting with pleasure. Didn't help either how the movement also made you breast rub against the table, rolling your nipples against your shirt.

After the third thrust, Heimdall sighed in annoyance. His long, white shirt and leather armor was two layers too many for him. He couldn't get enough friction on his dick, he felt like he couldn't feel you enough.

"Stay right there, don't even think about moving a muscle or I'll leave you here." He warned before letting go of your body. As quickly as possible, he tore off his white shirt and piece of leather armor. With how loud the rustling was, you wanted to turn around and watch him take it off. But your determination to be obedient out won your curiosity. It wasn't long before you heard a sigh of relief behind you, letting you know Heimdall was finished.

Finally his hands returned to your body, right back in their same spots. However, what you didn't expect was to feel his harden, naked cock on your backside. You could feel the heat of his cock pouring onto your skin, making you feel impossibly hotter. You felt a moan bubbling in the back of your throat. But you did have one question, why are your pants still on?

"You're still clothed because for the first time I make you cum will be in your pants." Heimdall told you sternly. God damn his pride, couldn't even let it go when you two are fucking. You felt a harsh smack met your ass. It was warning, you can feel his eyes glare daggers into your skull. It only turned you on more.

Sighing, Heimdall finally continued rolling his hips. Your pleasure intensified now that he had his cock out. You swore you could feel is twitch and throb with every thrust, you swore you could hear Heimdall let out the tiniest moans. Of course he was trying to hide them with grunts and sighing. You thought it was cute how sensitive his body also seems to be. Another spank found its way on your ass, this time though on the other side. You responded in a moan, smushing your face further into the table. In turn, also pushing your ass out further as well.

You could hear Heimdall scoff and chuckle at your reaction. You could practically see him shaking his head. His thrust started to get harsher and faster, you swear if didn't have pants or underwear on his cock would catch on your clit every time without fail. God oh how you wish he would just stop the teasing and rip your bottoms off. How you wish he would grow tired of this and just start fucking into your cunt. His moved his hand off your wrists and pulled your head up by your hair. Roughly digging his fingernails into your scalp, while tugging on your hair.

"What did I say, sunshine?" He asked behind gritted teeth, giving your ass another smack.

"Y-you want me to first c-cum in m-my pants..." You managed to get out between moans. You knew if you didn't answer he would leave you just like this.

"Exactly, so stop complaining and appreciate what I'm giving your worthless self." He finished with another smack to your ass-cheek, his words stinging in all the right ways. You were close, you just needed something a little more. Having hearing this thought, Heimdall stopped. He repositioned himself behind you, having the hand in you hair move in order to have his arm wrap around your waist. His hand was directly on where your clit was, applying pressure and rubbing the spot in quick circles. You lost your balance and your head hit the table, not enough to seriously hurt though. You tried to use your arms to help push you up and push more onto Heimdalls cock. If someone was behind the entrance to The Great Lodge, you are sure that they would hear your moans and Heimdalls groans. With how you both were rolling your hips, the pressure added to your clit, and the feeling of his cock, you truly felt as if he was actually fucking your pussy with no layers between you two.

"H-Heimdall I'm gonna-"

"I'm not stopping you." Heimdall said into your ear, angling his face so he kiss you. With one more push of his hips, you finally came. Moaning into his mouth while his tongue explored your mouth and swallowed your noises. Your body tensed up, your legs started to shake and your arms gave out. Making you break the kiss. His thrust didn't let up and his hand was still circling your clit, you quickly became overstimulated. Your voice reduced to pants and broken moans.

"S-slow down..." You slurred out, reaching your weak arms behind to try to grab him. Surprisingly Heimdall stopped his movement, and stood up. You could still feel how hard his cock was, begging for release. So why did he stop? Why didn't he let himself cum?

Finally tearing your leather pants off, Heimdall told you, "I want to cum inside you so you'll remember who made you such a pathetic mess. Not that I think you even need to be reminded, I'm sure you'll still be having those dirty thoughts again right after this. Never satisfied, how truly greedy of you, sunshine. Tsk tsk tsk." The cold air hit your cunt and Heimdall let out a small gasp. He knew your pussy would be soaked but not this soaked. Your wetness was dripping out of your cunt, going all the way down to your thighs. Your cunt was still throbbing and clenching from your orgasm. He couldn't help himself, he just had to get a sense of what your pussy is going feel like.

One of his hands held your hip, and the other he used to put his index finger on your pussy.

You gasped and stammered out, "H-heimdall stop I'm s-sensitive!" You don't even know if he could understand what you were saying, your voice being mostly moans. Oh but he understood what you said, but he didn't care. He's finally getting to touch your pussy after having to hear your thoughts about him, there was nothing that could stop him right now. He pushed his finger inside of your cunt, trying to get a feel of just how tight you're going to be. God how he wanted to stop getting a feeling and just ram his cock inside you, but he was being nice for once. Instead he put another finger insider, now making a scissoring motion. The small stretch felt so good, you swore you were going to actually lose your mind. He didn't hesitate to put a third and final finger in. You didn't know his long and slender could make you feel so full. It only got better when he started to move them, moving them around and stretching them out.

"R-right there!" You moaned out. It felt so good for him to finally hit your g-spot, having your question answered on how it would feel if he hit it. It was so much better and different from how you do it. Every movement of his fingers hit that spot, reaching places your fingers never could. It wasn't long before you felt that bubbling feeling.

"Fuccck...I-im gonna c-cum again..." You were torn between wanting him to stop or wanting him to make you cum again. You didn't know how much orgasms you had in you. However, Heimdall chose for you. He stopped his movements and slowly pulled his fingers out, hoping you were prep enough. He turned you on your side, putting one of your legs on his shoulder. You both finally saw what each other looked like.

Heimdall saw that your face was still flushed with a bright red. Your eyes even more blown out, your pupils extremely dilated. Your chest was heaving up and down, as you struggled to feel like you had enough air. Your hair was no longer neat, now strands were going in different directions.

Heimdalls was no different. Eyes so dilated that you could see into them. Chest rapidly going up and down, having the same problem you are. His braids were still put together but looked messy for once. You don't know how he managed to get them like that. The only difference was that his face wasn't flushed. He still looked so composed and put together, even though you both know he's not.

He looked at your lips, he needed to have another taste. So he did. He bent down and stole another kiss from you. It felt passionate and loving, while being rough and harsh. The kiss was filled with teeth clashing and you both trying to pull one other close as if one of you would disappear. It was sloppy and messy, with tongues battling each other making spit go down both of your chins. It was perfect. It said everything that needed to be said.

You felt the tip of his cock probe your entrance. You had forgotten what you two were doing, so consumed by the kisses. Heimdall chuckled when he felt your surprise moan, finally breaking away from the kiss. A line of spit still connected you two. Wasting no more time, he finally started to sink his cock slowly into. You could feel every ridge and vein with his pace. God you were beginning to go thoughtless. Wasn't helping that Heimdall couldn't hold back his moan anymore. They were so addictive, you needed to hear them till the end of time.

When he was fully in, he moved to put his head on your shoulder. He seemingly was already out of breath. Meanwhile you felt too hot, too sticky. You needed to at least take your chest armor off. You began to try to take it off, fumbling with the straps and buckles. Sensing your growing frustration, Heimdall moved your hands out of the way. unbuckling the armor, he pushed the leather piece off of you. The cold air colding your sweat-filled shirt. You sighed with relief.

"You can move now." You let Heimdall know, finally adjusted to his size. Also your first almost clear sentence during this whole situation.

Heimdall started with a small and slow roll of his hips. He sucked in a breath, having to adjust to your warmth. He wanted to go ahead and pound into your pussy. But he knew if he did, he would cum too soon. He wanted this moment to last for a little while. He was also trying to not overwhelm you. Little sweetheart didn't want to render you thoughtless just yet.

Heimdall had started moving his left hand towards your shirt, wanting to feel your tits. The tits he could never keep his eyes off of, the ones he wanted to lay his hands on and never have to take them off. God he needed to finally feel them in his palms. His hips kept the same slow pace as his hand slipped under your shirt. Your skin was so hot, so sticky with sweat. He could get addicted to touching you like this. Your skin felt so good, it felt so right against his fingers. Letting out a groan, he grasped your breast. Squeezing and rolling it between his fingers. Giving quick swipes to your hard nipple. He started hitting deeper inside you, as if touching your boobs had given him motivation to change pace. Your mouth is right near his ear, so not only can he hear your thoughts. Now he can hear every sound that comes out of your mouth. He can hear the little gasps, the pathetic whimpers, and the moans mixed with curses. He's going to have your sounds stuck in his head forever, not that he mind.

He pushed your shirt up, exposing your chest to the chilling air. It made your nipples even harder somehow. To Heimdall, they looked like a little treat just for him. When he thought he couldn't love your tits even more, he was proven wrong quickly. With his slow and deep thrusts, your chest was bouncing in such a hypnotic way. His thrusts got faster, needing to see your tits bounce more. With one of your legs still on his shoulder, he bent his head down to take one of your nipples in his mouth. God is he good with his mouth. As to expected, all that talking has to be for something right? His tongue licked your nipple in just the way you liked it. His teeth would graze it, giving it that slight rough treatment it needed. The pleasure from sucking your boobs went straight to your clit. Pushing his head a little to catch his attention, you looked into his annoyed eyes -why did you have to interpret his boob sucking?- but one look into your eyes and he heard what you needed.

His pace fastened and he made his hips came down harsher. He removed the hand on your torso and put it to your clit. Once again rubbing it fast little circles, but this time it was different. This time you can actually feel his fingers on it and not just the pressure. This time you can feel just how precise and nimble his fingers are. If it wasn't for his body between your legs, they would have snapped shut. It was too much pleasure for you at once, only used to your smaller fingers and needy movements. You needed more though.

You wrapped your other leg around his waist, holding him in place.

"M-More..." Your broken voice moaned out. Surprisingly he complied to your demand. His hips went faster, along with his fingers. He made sure he bottomed out at the end of every thrust, wanting you to feel all of him. His tip always hitting your spot as it went by, making you see stars. He doubled over, the pleasure being too strong for as well. Heimdall doesn't remember the last time he has felt this good. Being face to face once more, you grew shy. You felt so exposed with him looking at you while he's fucking your brains out. His gaze was too intense.

You moved your hand to your mouth, attempting to hide behind it.

"Oh now you're shy? Where was your shyness when you thought about me taking you wherever, not caring who saw or heard just as long as you got your fill? Where was your shyness when you thought about my cock inside every time you looked at my face? Uh? Why was your embarrassment and morals then, sunshine?" He didn't remove your hand, but he didn't need to. His eyes were still piercing into yours. His talk also made it seem like your hand was completely useless, like he could still see all of you.

Defeated, you put your hand back down. You wanted to respond and try to come up with an excuse but you couldn't. Not with how he changed his angle to continuously hit your g-spot, it was like he was trying to bruise it. You think he might bruise it actually. Satisfied at your defeat, Heimdall went to kiss you again. It felt exactly like how it did before. Passionate but also rough. Loving but also messy. Teeth clashing but no tongues battling. Heimdall easily overtook your mouth, claiming every inch as his.

That bursting feeling finally came back. You tried to pull away to warn Heimdall, but he kept your lips on his. You repeated in your head that you were coming to cum, hoping that Heimdall was still listening. Fortunately he was.

He pulled away, "Go ahead, sunshine." He kept his same bruising pace but circled your clit just a little bit faster. His eyes on you, his ears listening to your whines. He would be listening to your thoughts but you were just repeating the same thing: "I'm gonna cum".

He felt your cunt clench down and throb around his cock. He felt how your whole body tensed and shook. He saw how your eyes went into the back of your head, he sure you saw nothing but white. Your moans surrounded him, along with the little curses that followed.

"There you go, sunshine." Heimdall encouraged, loving how you felt around him. He wasn't far behind you. He doesn't know how he is going to last much longer with how your cunt is creaming around him right now.

With just a few more sloppy thrusts, Heimdall came with a moan. He couldn't stop his hips from doing quick thrusts. This time you could see how his eyes shot into the back of his head. You see how his whole body tensed up and was shaking when he finally relaxed. Although you could hear his moans and groans better. Your vision was a little blurry from your mind breaking orgasm.

As you both try to relax your bodies, calm your breathing, and steady your minds, Heimdall had this to say.

"We're not done yet, so rest up while you still can." He picked your limp body off the wooden table, and took you to his room.

[yellowlikelemons]

The clock on your dashboard reads 02:58. Shit, I've been out for that long?

"English? Sorry, I don't speak..." Staring back at you trough the crack in the window, I'm silent for a moment, registering what you'd just said. "Oh!" I light up a little. You'd looked tired as soon as I opened my mouth, so I'd assumed you simply weren't in the mood to deal with a stranger. No - you just hadn't understood what I'd said.

"Tourist?" Comes reflexibly, but I figure you probably don't want to sit around and be interviewed. Why would anyone tourist here anyway? "I, uh, I missed the bus in from town, next one's not until tomorrow. Would you maybe help drive me home?" The headlights hit a crooked sign barely visible beyond the bend. "I live right down that dirt road. It parts further... south, and you turn left at this big grey building, old factory." My ego takes a hit at how much I stumble over the words. I'd rehearsed what I wanted to say in case I could wave down a car, but here I'd had to quickly shove it trough the mental translation filter. You don't seem to care, however, and nod torwards the back seat. "Sure. Get in."

Gravel crunches as we turn off the asphalt and drive in between pines. We're slow. It's not populated enough to warrant streetlights, and the first thing I do once I'm seated is warn you about wildife on the dirt road. "We almost hit an elk here once, those are terrifying up close. You american? Heard they're not as common there. Unless you're like, way up north?"

We catch eyes in the mirror. I expect everyone I meet out here to be at least in their fifties, and you're much younger, probably around my age. If it wasn't clear you weren't local I would've asked for your number, then planned to come by with cake as thanks. I'm starved for interaction with non-retirees, but I'd be lying if I denied that you're also just kind of my type. I feel shallow for thinking that right away. Then guilty. You're not very talkative, and you're doing me a kindness, the least I can do is be quiet and refrain from mentally commenting about your looks. You remain silent. Insecurity washes over and I pop my beanie off, suddenly hyperaware of what an annoying clicking the badge along the hem makes.

I've taken to looking out the window when you finally speak up. The trees outside rise in jagged black walls on either side of the car, so there's not much to see. "...Why were you out on the highway so late?" You've angled the mirror away. "Oh, uh," There's crinkling and rattling from where I start digging around in my hoodie. As if you didn't have your eyes on the road, I pull out a tiny cardboard box and a few plastic packets. Sweets. "Now, it was, it was kinda stupid, got just like a strong sugar craving. Needed the grocery store. I missed the last bus at midnight - usually I have someone to drive me, but he's not home right now," It bothers me that I feel the need to explain myself to you. I've turned up the same "everything-is-fine-i-am-so-responsible-really" cadence I use when I speak to real adults, and can't quite tell why. Usually I'd be much more at ease with someone my age.

"So I ate at this local pub for an hour, and then just kinda started walking back, a-" I think you're about to comment, but the car replies first with a defeated buzz. The rumbling of the road stops. We're still. Shit.

My hands go back down into my pockets, trying to remember where I put my phone. "Hey, we-should I call somewhere? It's close enough to my house to walk there if we need to." I'm only watching you from behind, but see you shake your head. "Not needed. Stay." The doors unlock with a click, and you pull on your handle. "Do you need help?" I ask, reaching for mine. "Holding the light or something?" I don't know shit about cars. "No. Stay," you insist, more forcefully this time. I briefly hear crickets outside as you open the door, then am left in silence again as it shuts.

-

-

He doesn't wake back up when the car starts. Not strange. That sugar craving had to come from somewhere, and you're pretty sure you saw him put something out against his boot as you first pulled up. A few minutes into your abscense there'd been screenglow from the backseat, by ten it'd dissapered. You reach down and pick the phone up from where it's slid off his lap. Something's still playing behind the case, so you check the notifications before sliding it into your pocket. Nothing important, hours old texts in his language. Seems lighthearted in tone from the pictures attached.

The boy in the back doesn't stir while you glide further between the pines. You push the mirror into place to check every now and again. There are headphones wedged in his hair now, they're still faintly playing that video. His clothes pool around him, and that beanie's about to slide off his lap just like the phone did. What was it he said about somebody not being home?

The trees give way. A long, grey, industrial building sits in what's essentially a large clearing. You stop. The car huffs, and instantly you have to check so the boy wasn't shook awake. No. No worries. The road forks, and further to the left there are lights on somewhere in a window. He forgot them on before he left home. Cute. If somebody was inside, and you're pretty sure they're not, they would've turned them off by now. That means you've got at least until dawn, probably longer, until he's missed. You start sliding up the road. Now you've got his address, at least - should you decide to return him sometime.

[scribe-of-stories]

Get to Know Your Moots Writeblr Interview

Was poked by the wonderful co-writers of Sunset @sunset-a-story and @touloserlautrec. Go read their posts here and here!

On the Tumblr Writing Community

How long have you had your writing Tumblr/Writeblr? A short eternity (first post is mid 2022)

What led you to create it? Was very bored at work and wanted to share some recent stories. Also I had never tried social media before, it this looked like the most interesting place to try it.

What’s your favorite thing about the Writeblr community? Getting to see other people's imagination unfiltered. I've read plenty of great works before, but it was definitely an entertaining first to see the author later publicly say "this is my favorite little guy, can't wait till the next time he suffers."

What’s one thing you’d like your mutuals to know about you? I constantly feel like I'm bothering people and or feel self conscious when talking about me/my stuff, so bare with me hah.

Is there anything you’d like to see more of on your dash? Just some really unhinged stuff about y'alls stories. I want to open my phone and see someone discussing the seven major heresies dictated by some cabal of priests only to later realize "oh, this is someone's fever dream, not a history lesson".

What tips/advice do you have for someone who made a Writeblr today? Interact more, take up the offer of "open tags" on other people's posts. Also throw your ideas onto the table for other's to look at, we all seem to love just watching someone go off about something they love.

WIP it Good

Which Works-in-Progress (WIPs) or writing projects are you noodling about, lately? Been in a bit of a writing drought. Lexical is always getting worked on, more so the TTRPG stuff than any story right now though. I've had a few projects pop into my mind and leave over the past while. Have a cluster of characters I can't get out of my head, but no narrative or setting to properly put them into. A god of violence and the man that cut her out of himself, a cultish vampire philosopher and his favorite little guy (little guy has a knife). Surely something will come of this, or they'll continue to just exist in one-off stories in my own head. Amber Hill, specifically The Lawman, is still somewhere in here but it's been struggling to come out for a while. Been trying to find Lars' voice as a POV character.

How long have you been working on them? I've been working on something based in Lexical since mid 2022 (huh, exactly around I first posted here); the other guys are new and only a few months old at most.

Do you remember what inspired them/what got you started? Lexical is a can of worms. The short answer is that my irl DnD group wanted to play something more free form and creative leaning than what our 5e campaign was allowing, so I said fuck it and started homebrewing a system based in a world I have vague ideas about. The long answer is that Lexical is a sequel to a Pathfinder campaign titled "Demis", which was about fantasy super heroes. It was heavily inspired by My Hero, Worm, and inescapably Homestuck. So when it came time to make a whole new system for these same players I took some concepts that worked in Demis, applied some occult-adjacent philosophy I was/am into, and ended up with my years long passion project. Atem and Sadaf were born out of my growing need to explore violence as a concept, philosophy, and inescapable existential crisis. The Vampire and his thrall Ish spawned out of a desire to have a toxic romance to think about. And AmberHill was inspired by a desire to create something cozy and occulty. Ended up being SCP adjacent but maintained the idea of a small community that cares about itself.

How much time, in your best estimation, do you spend thinking about them? Lexical- not enough, I'm lucky I have at least some productive thoughts throughout the day. Atem- too much, his tired ass sat down in my head and I've been too polite to ask him to leave.

When someone asks the dreaded, “What do you write about,” question, what do you usually say? "Urban Fantasy with science fiction elements"

What do you want to say (if it’s different from what you do say)? "My dissertation on the semi-real building blocks of both physical and social reality, also wizards punching people."

Let’s Rotate Blorbos

Name any characters you created. We've got the original Lexical boy Samuel Smith, Atem and Sadaf who you've already heard of, Lars DuPont from Amberhill.

Who’s the most unhinged? Sadaf.

Who comes the most naturally for you to write? For whatever reason Samuel's self-loathing PI perspective just comes very natural and is maybe someone I should write more about.

Do you ever cringe at them? Nah

How much control do you feel you have over your characters? Depends, my mind does not wonder so much that I don't feel like I am ever not in control. But who I am able to focus on tends to be a matter of debate.

Do you enjoy people asking questions about your characters? Yes absolutely. Characters, worlds, magic systems; I'll rant about any of them given the chance.

On Writeblr Engagement

What makes you want to follow another Writeblr account? A combination of preferred genre (urban fantasy), shared interest (books/games/table top). Also if they have Scribe as part of their name it's just an auto follow.

Do your mutuals’ characters occupy space in your noodle? There's a few. The telepaths from Sunset and their many ways of being terrifying are the first that come to mind. Since I already mentioned the scribes I'll go ahead and tag @scribe-cas , @covenscribe and leave the rest of the tag open. Here is an empty template

[xelasrecords]

The Great Anguish of Our Separation Means Nothing to Me

Harry Choi x MC

Harry and MC meet again five weeks after breaking up. They never imagined the reunion will be like this.

Took the portion of Harry saying "You might have felt less tired if you cared less. Sorry." when MC was worried because he disappeared and ran with that self-blaming guilt here.

Words: 2.8k

Masterlist Read on AO3

They had finally run into each other.

It took them approximately five weeks to arrive at the empty bus stop on the same day at the same time, but here they were, late into the afternoon with the rain falling around them. She thought it would be a quick hello, how are you, are you happy, good, good, good. To Harry it was more of an oh, there she is, time for me to go. Who knows what nonsense I would say if I talked to her.

He wanted to run, but she was already approaching him. She was less of a coward than he was.

"You still come here," she said. "I thought you had forgotten about me."

Harry blurted, "Not everything is about you." Then hated himself for the spite he had unleashed. Then multiplied the hatred when she only nodded like she understood. "My room is colder now," he tried again. "My bed is cold."

"Oh?" She raised her brows. "Try turning up the heat or use the blanket I got you."

"Sure, I'll do that."

"Or just stop sleeping naked. That might help."

"It might, yes." Harry made a mental note to cut off the habit of parroting her. Not that he would ever meet her again. That seemed unlikely.

She shrugged. "Happy to help." Why he was still hurting her after they had ended she couldn't guess. She pushed aside the image of his bare body sleeping beside her. Rather than turning her on, it pinched her with a sour feeling in her gut. She had lost the privilege to watch him vulnerable, unguarded. Voyeuristic, he would jokingly call her. The old him would have. She didn't know who this person before her was.

Harry once heard that when one came across an ex, one had to prolong the conversation while subtly digging up truths about their well-being after the great separation. Preferably that they were doing well, but not too well that there was no evidence of their heart having been shattered. Sometimes joy could be reaped from someone else's despair.

"Have you been sleeping well?" he asked.

"Enough to keep me going."

"I see." He didn't. What he saw was the dark shadows under her eyes, but lack of sleep didn't mean she was depressed. She liked to knock herself out when she was. Harry understood that to some degree.

She gave him a wry smile. "How about you? Are you working these days?"

"Yeah, I'm doing great. I'm happy." He pulled at the fabric of his black turtleneck.

"Then I'm glad. I wanted that for you."

Her expression gave nothing away, none of the guilt Harry fantasised she would feel for ending their relationship. "What do you think I should eat for dinner?" he tested, trying to retain her attention. He had already lost forever; this finite time was all he had.

"Whatever you like." She dimly recalled it was how Harry used to show that he cared about her views and felt silly reenacting it.

"Can't you treat me as usual? Don't be so bland. You don't have to act differently just because we're over."

"Do I?"

Harry grunted. "I hate it when you answer a question with another question."

That was her point.

"You might not know this, but everything has changed. You are different. I am different. This is like, the inertia of life. Nothing can be forced to stay the same. Get on with it." She sighed. It was odd; she thought she had processed her hidden resentments about Harry, but now faced with the person himself, her old fury had resurfaced.

Harry shifted on his feet before closing their distance. The copper-red of his eyes was dull. She couldn't recall the last time they had been this close. "I'm sorry," he said after a moment. "I've been thinking about the things I did that drove you away. They weren't good. You went through so much just to hold on to me and I…" He shook his head. "Sorry you had to be there. You wouldn't be hurting as much had you loved me less."

She thought she would be relieved to receive an apology, but it irked her that he seemed sincere, that he could only understand how his mess had messed them up after she pulled the plug. "Who said I'm hurting?"

"We dated for a while. I can tell. You mask your pain with indifference."

She turned away. "I don't like you seeing me in pain."

"Consider it even. You've also seen me in my worst moments, and I didn't like that."

"Don't I know it." She glanced at Harry. He was studying the busy road stormed by the rain, mimicking her. There was a time when one of those couples in cars linking fingers and pressing the back of their hands to their lips was them. "What makes you think I didn't want that pain?" she asked. "If I had cared less about you, my life wouldn't be as meaningful. You saw me the way I wanted to be seen. That meant something to me."

"And look what good it did."

"You must think you know what's right for me."

"No, that's not what I mean." Harry rubbed the back of his head and sighed. "Do you regret it?"

"Regret what? You?" She tilted her head at him. "Never. I wouldn't be in that much pain if I didn't love you as much. Love spent on you was not love wasted." If she had to be honest—which she just was—this vulnerability made her want to regurgitate her lunch.

Harry's jaw tightened. "Not for me."

Instantly she regretted telling the truth. She had to clear her throat before asking: "You regret me?"

It humiliated her to be caught pining alone. On a subconscious level, she had hoped he would share her sentiment. However distant he was, the pain was bearable if she knew they were bearing it together. The separation would only feel final if she was left grieving alone. Hopeless, helpless, hating having to learn how.

"I didn't know you could still make a joke," Harry remarked. The wind was blowing the rain in, stamping the locks of his overgrown blond fringe onto his forehead. He didn't push them away. "When you were with me, I never gave you the best that you deserved. I regret that. I should've done more when I could."

"You tried." She was perversely relieved to hear his response. "Would you like a star sticker as a token of appreciation?"

"No." He gave her a look. "And trying isn't the same."

She agreed.

Out of nowhere, a car rushed by a puddle in front of them and Harry's arm shot out before her, retreating them deeper into the safety of the bus stop. There was a muddy splash on his shoes. She was fine. Her stomach was warm from the press of his arm.

"I don't know what I deserve actually," she conceded. "I wanted it to be you, but I was a lot sadder than I was happy. Maybe it was a me thing. Maybe if I don't know what I deserve, I can't be happy with anything given to me."

Harry shoved his hand into his pocket. "Or maybe you weren't happy because of me. You used to get angry a lot and I was annoyed by that. I blamed it on your unpredictable moods, but it was actually me. I set you off. I was the problem."

She let out a flat, humourless laugh. "I tried to be patient until you crossed the line. I thought I could put up with your rudeness, but I couldn't take it anymore. I can't be with someone who's only nice to me but mean to everyone else, Harry."

His gaze on her was hard. "Good, you shouldn't have."

"But that doesn't mean I didn't love you." She braved herself to face him and put a hand on his shoulder. He tensed. "All my happiest moments were with you, however scarce they were. You tried so hard to make me feel loved, and it isn't that I loved you because you loved me, but because you were willing to try for my sake." Her hold clawed into a grip, but Harry didn't flinch. "You should know that you are the best person I've ever dated. There isn't, and won't be, anyone like you."

His head tilted forwards almost imperceptibly. "I know," he muttered. "I know you loved me. I was there too."

Silence settled over them. It wasn't a silence that filled in the blanks, the comfortable kind lovers loved to fawn over. This silence was agonising, brimming with words they couldn't confess. They could have, if they wanted to risk showing their hands, but hands and cards and everything that required vulnerability were never on the table. They never stood a chance.

She listened to the harsh patter against the bus stop roof. The conversation was dwindling. Every time she wanted to leave, the illusion of the past pulled her back. Like how one graduating from school would mourn the ending of that life phase despite the hardship they had faced, she was bowed under the loss of something that was already over. Letting go was a whole different thing than breaking up. She had to do it over and over until it slipped free from her clutch. She did not want to let go of her misery. Who would she be without him? But who would she be if she continued to be with him?

"Was it the same for you?" she croaked. She felt her eyes wet with tears, but it was a faraway feeling like she was performing the mechanism of crying, yet she couldn't really feel it.

"Don't cry," Harry gritted out. "I hate it when you cry."

"I'm not. It's the rain."

"Do you think I'm stupid? Stop lying. Just stop it."

Did he think she didn't know him? That he feared he wouldn't be able to hold back if he saw her cry? His rudeness was not all bad when it served as his mask. If she could save him from her pain, she would. It was her last gift for him after the havoc she had wreaked. It was the only thing she could do after leaving him.

She blinked the tears away. "All right, I'm sorry."

"Don't—" Harry's voice cracked. "Don't be so polite to me. You're supposed to fight back, do the opposite of what I asked. That's how you were. You were always straightforward with me and yourself, not like this."

"I'm still honest."

"Now you lie with a straight face."

"Something you do naturally." She smiled and fought to keep her voice from wavering.

Harry put her hand away from his shoulder with a deep, shuddering breath as if it physically pained him to separate her from him. "Not to you. I've always been frank with you."

She looked down at his hand covering hers for a second longer than needed. His hands were always cold. Time would make her forget how they felt in hers, she thought with aching sorrow. "Then tell me. Did I mean anything to you?"

"No point in answering that now." Harry could hear the thrum of the bus engine and feel the heat emanating from it beside him. His bus had arrived, but he couldn't move.

"I don't understand you. One second you look like you still want me, then you swat me away like a fly in the next. I'm not a fly. Why are you doing this?" she demanded. "You've questioned me and I've answered. Now it's your turn."

"Does it matter what I want if we can't—" Harry pressed his lips into a tight line. "Never mind."

"It does."

"And then what?" he challenged. "We get back together? That's impossible."

"No, I don't want that," she said. She felt a responsibility to set him free from his looming guilt. Perhaps he could not be good enough for her, but he could be for someone else. There had to be somebody who could appreciate him as who he was. She wished for his happiness above all else.

Harry huffed out a derisive laugh. "Me neither."

When he presented it as an impossibility, it had been an attempt to lower his expectations in case she didn't want him anymore. And she didn't. And it hurt just the same. Harry didn't know there was no limit to heartbreak.

She took a step towards him. "If you hate me, curse at me. Yell at me. I give you permission. Only don't do it halfway through. Commit to what you actually want for once."

"Why should I? You only want me to hurt you to feel better about yourself," he spat. "If I'm suffering, you have to suffer along with me. Except I'm not, so I guess you'll just have to suffer alone. Good luck with that."

Harry looked away before he could catch her expression and noticed that the bus had left. He didn't understand why he always resorted to scathing words as his defence. He thought he was capable of change, but how did one become kinder and retain the goodness inside? Harry didn't feel worthy of being kind. He owed it to himself to hurt. Times like this made his living inside his skin unendurable.

If she didn't know Harry better, she would have believed him. Beneath his callous words was his calloused heart that she failed to care for. If this was the last time he could use grief as a weapon, then she would let him. Eventually, his feelings for her would fade and she would be just another person he loved. While her love for him would live on, he was not the kind to linger in the past.

She wouldn't be any different to him, she had to believe that.

Harry started when he felt her palms closing around his clenched fists. She slowly pried them open, revealing crescent marks on their surface. He didn't realise he had been doing it. "All these months we have been suffering alone, have we not?" she asked, voice surprisingly gentle. "Just as you cannot love me forever, your hatred won't last either. We're only this sad because we were so in love. Those feelings had to balance out somehow. You'll be free soon enough."

Harry felt ashamed in the face of her blunt forgiveness. She looked at him like she knew of the war inside his mind and understood it. There was a transparent understanding in her eyes that he couldn't stand, reflecting himself to him. The emptiness was too much to handle. "I don't hate you," he finally said. "I never did."

"I left you. It's fine if you do."

"But I don't."

They stared at each other. A ghost of a smile on her face and palpable guilt on Harry's. None of them were happy.

"I should get going," she said.

Harry hesitated, then pulled her into a hug. His body remembered hers, how her curves felt against the hard planes of his, and how comforting her arms that embraced him back were. No more would there be someone he could go and hide with when the world closed in on him. How did he ever let go of someone like her? Where had the strength come from? But he had done it once, he could do it again.

Harry let his arms fall. Looking at her, he was reminded of things too late to speak of. The compliments he hadn't found the chance to tell her before their breakup, the promises he wished he could still keep, the trivial matters of his life that he wanted to share with her. How his conviction had stuttered when he saw her earlier. It didn't matter now.

Harry fetched his black umbrella that was leaning against the bench and handed it to her. "Take it."

"What about you?"

"I'll wait for the bus."

She seemed amused. "You know how to take the bus?"

"I don't forget the things you've taught me," Harry said. It was the one honesty he could offer her.

"Well, then." She took the umbrella and clicked it open. "Have fun waiting."

"Be careful on your way home."

"You too. Don't walk in the rain. Don't get sick."

"I won't," he said.

At her retreating footsteps, Harry tipped his head against the glass wall behind him. He would always regret her. He swore it. How else would he keep the memory of her alive? Some happiness was not to be learned. He would not ever forget her.

If she turned around, she would see him watching her diminishing figure, harbouring a pointless, rabid hope that she would look back. Hadn't they shared the same habits at one point?

But she walked on.

-

Footnotes:

Bus leaving before Harry could get on mirrors his inability to move on.

To me, this story is that feeling of when you meet your ex and feel like you don't know them anymore because they look different now, but after a few exchanges, you can see that they're still the one you fell for, then came the dawning realisation that you were right to break up.

Does regret mean anything in an expired relationship? Can forgiveness from your loved one free you from the guilt of hurting them? I like to toy with the idea of forgiveness and whether an action could objectively be forgiven or understood, and how far you can forgive someone when those wrongs come in the form of the person you love.

If you noticed, they never actually say "I love you" in the present tense and avoid strong emotional words. They can't admit it because that requires being vulnerable. They think the reason they broke up was only because of Harry's rudeness, but it was also their fear of vulnerability and tendency to assume things instead of communicating. These things had piled up as resentment and exploded.

I wanted to explore another type of post-breakup meeting where Harry isn't as bitter and MC isn't the one to blame as in the original bad ending. I also wanted to do something different after seeing a lot of breakup fics where the pair is super angry and hates one another.

[nerdinsandals]

Hi I just need to vent a lil bit because I'm kinda frustrated with my health at the moment shdkfj

I'm not like, sick or anything, or at least I don't think I am. I'm just feeling physically and mentally exhausted to the point that I can barely keep my eyes open sometimes, or maybe I manage to do one (1) task and that's enough to knock me out for the day and maybe even the next day sometimes if I do more than one thing that requires the smallest amount of effort. It's not like I was full of energy before because my battery is always at like 60%, but I don't think I've felt this weak in a long time, and this has been going on for months already. Some days are better than others, but I never feel like I'm at my normal.

At first I thought it was just the result of all the accumulated exhaustion I wasn't allowing myself to feel while preparing for my librarian exam (which took place in late January), but like I said it's been months already and I feel like the exhaustion should've been gone by now? But then I remembered that I was sick with a high fever a couple weeks before said exam, because a relative thought it was a great idea to come to visit with clear flu-like symptoms and no mask (and they didn't cover their mouth when coughing, either), so of course I caught whatever they had. I rarely catch viruses, but I still get vaccinated and take as many precautions as I can because, when I do, I usually have to deal with the nastier side-effects, unlike other people who recover just fine.

Since I was isolating anyway because I was in full hermit mode studying for my exam, I didn't think about taking a COVID test, but now I'm starting to think that maybe what that relative had was in fact COVID and what I'm experiencing is post-viral fatigue? It's the only thing that makes sense with the information I have, since iirc it can last for months… I'm not sure if there's anything that can be done to make it better so idk if I should bother my doctor again (healthcare is currently very overworked and understaffed here, and especially in the summer), but if I keep feeling this way after the summer I guess an appointment won't hurt. 😅

My librarian exam fortunately went well despite already feeling the exhaustion (which at that point I chalked up to the stress of preparing for the exam for like a year), and I don't know the final results just yet because they're taking an embarrassingly long time to publish them, but I have to wonder if I would've done better had I not fallen sick. I needed to do exceptionally well to secure the position and unfortunately, while like I said, I did well (like an 80 out of 100), I didn't do "secure the position by getting in the top 10 out of thousands" well. ;; There's always next time I guess. But right now I just want to be able to draw and do things I enjoy without getting tired!

So yeah, I thought I'd be able to get at least a couple pieces done for Conway Day this year, but with only a bit over a couple weeks left I haven't been able to even finish *one* because I don't want to push myself and make it worse. I hope I can at least finish one of them, since I should be able to make a couple posts out of it! And of course I know this should be the least of my worries, but I just really like celebrating Conway Day and it frustrates me that I can't have my usual stash of new art to provide haha

Anyway, thanks for reading and take care of yourselves! And tell your relatives to wear a mask if they want to visit you and they know they're sick (or maybe don't visit at all?) 😑

[serickswrites]

Now that I've read the part 2 of It's Over... Maybe I wanna read a part 3? I just love it so much, I can't help but want to know what happens next-

With Seokmin seeing Wonwoo's scars and confronting him about it. He's just worried and horrified when he discovers what happened to him. He decides to seek revenge but when he finds Jeonghan, the latter is much stronger than him and he captures him and tortures him. Wonwoo goes looking for his friend, but when he finds him, he's basically half-dead?

Hello, Anon. I'm so glad you are enjoying it. I can definitely write this for you. Please enjoy.

Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: referenced captivity, referenced torture, referenced restraints, revenge, recapture, cuts, blood, unconsciousness, unclear character status, fade to black

Seokmin realized his mistake two seconds too late. He had been so hell bent on making Jeonghan pay for what he did to Wonwoo that he didn't notice anything about his surroundings. Had been so horrified by what Wonwoo had told him after Seokmin had seen his shirt collar slip that he didn't realize how strong Jeonghan was. And he had been so absorbed in making sure Jeonghan hurt the way he had hurt Wonwoo that he didn't realize he was in too deep.

But now as he lay strapped to a table once again, he realized his folly. He regretted pressuring Wonwoo into telling him what happened. Not because he was now going to suffer the consequences, but because he had hurt his friend. And that he likely wasn't going to be able to make amends.

"Oh, I am going to enjoy hurting you. Poor little Wonwoo is going to be finding pieces of you until kingdom come." Jeonghan said with a sick smile. "Anything to make my little Wonwoo regret what he did to me."

"Please," Seokmin tried quietly, "you don't have to do this."

Jeonghan laughed. "I don't have to. But I want to. Wonwoo chose you over me. And I will make him pay."

Seokmin had thought he had been in pain before. But this did not compare. Jeonghan was not gentle. He did not take his time. He just cut over and over. Seokmin's head swam as he felt his skin split and blood pour from the wounds.

"Pl-Pl-Please," he whispered. He could barely keep his eyes open. He didn't want Wonwoo to find him like this. To find his corpse like this.

"None of that," Jeonghan sneered, drawing the knife down the center of Seokmin's chest, "or I'll end this way sooner than I planned. It's your choice. I get enjoyment either way."

Seokmin clamped his mouth shut. He was too tired, too weak to fight. He could barely keep himself from closing his eyes. But he was so tired. Perhaps he could rest his eyes for just a moment.

He blinked.

"Seokmin, you have to stay awake," Wonwoo's voice was in his ear. How was that possible?

He blinked again.

"Please, Seokmin, please! Keep your eyes open." Wonwoo urged more loudly.

Seokmin could barely feel his body. Could barely focus. Why was Wonwoo talking to him? He wasn't even here.

He blinked once more.

Somebody slapped his cheek. "Please, Seokmin. I need you to stay with me!" Wonwoo's face loomed over Seokmin.

Wonwoo was here. Seokmin was too exhausted to feel relieved. And he was too exhausted to regret the state that Wonwoo had to find him in. It just took everything out of him to keep his eyes open.

"There you go, Seokmin. I need you to hold on a bit longer," Wonwoo said, his voice strange and distant.

Seokmin felt the urge to blink. "No, no! None of that, Seokmin, please!" Tears glistened in Wonwoo's eyes.

Seokmin felt a shadow of sadness and guilt. It was all too much. He couldn't muster the energy to speak. He could barely muster the energy to breathe. And as he slipped into the awaiting dark, he hoped that Wonwoo would forgive him.

@celestialsoyeon

[frickfatphobes]

Any advice for how to accept your body and it's needs for someone who's gained a significant amount weight over the past decade and a half? I wasn't always as big as I am now, when I was 20 I was around 130-150lbs but around then I started taking a medication which has lead me to steadily gaining weight to the point I am now in my mid 30s at around 410lbs last time I went to the doctor. I've read up on fat liberation and it seems pretty clear to me that losing weight is unrealistic but sometimes it's just hard to accept that this is how big I am now. I look back at pictures from back in the day and remember how easy it was getting around, how I could spend all night out and never get tired. These days I can barely go grocery shopping without becoming exhausted. I've debated getting a mobility scooter but it just sounds so defeating but deep down I have a feeling it's what my body needs. I've tried light exercise and though it's improved my mobility some I still have some trouble getting around and still need to take breaks to sit down when walking longer distances.

Sorry if this is a lot I've just been thinking about this lately my bodies just gone through much change compared to when I was younger that I'm looking for some outside input.

No need to apologize. I love receiving asks like this and I'm happy to share my thoughts! Of course I'm no expert, but I'll do my best to provide good advice based on the information you provided here.

There are many challenges that come with accepting one's body, especially when it's more than just aesthetics that are affected by a person's size or weight. Fat liberation, as fantastic as it can be at healing someone emotionally or mentally, cannot change physical or mobility-related difficulties.

I've had an experience lately that reminded me that there are many fun things I used to love doing that I can't anymore, because the world refuses to become more inclusive to accommodate people like me. And you may think that your case isn't about inclusivity, but it might be somewhat related. Maybe you could still be able to spend a whole night out if you didn't have to waste your energy looking through a million places to find one that will accommodate you, or have large or comfortable enough seats, or don't force you to park super far away from the bar or club you want to visit.

And more importantly, you never should have been taught by media or parental figures or friends that using a mobility device means you're giving in to defeat. That is internalized ableism. Regardless of a person's weight, they should never feel weak or guilty for being accommodated for, even if they "don't really need it." (If it's preventing pain or exhaustion, it actually IS a necessity.)

Now, all that being said, I'm going to do my best to give you some advice based on what I've read here. Please remember that in the end, you know yourself and your body better than anyone else does, and if any of the advice feels wrong to you, then please take it with a grain of salt.

First, I think you should absolutely consider getting a mobility aid. You don't have to use it all the time, but if it will help prevent pain or exhaustion, it's worth looking into. You don't deserve to be tired or hurting all the time.

Second, if exercise helps you, keep finding ways to move that you enjoy and that feel good to you. The benefits of exercise cap out at around twenty minutes a day, and it doesn't even have to be consecutive. Don't ever push yourself past your limits or continue if you're in pain. Despite popular belief, exercise shouldn't hurt.

Third, keep looking into fat liberation. It has helped my mental health a ton. The best way to be happy with your body is realizing that there's nothing wrong with it as it is now, even if it often feels that way because of the constant bigotry around you. It sucks to get tired more quickly than you used to, but you can absolutely still live an amazingly fulfilling life without your body being the way it was.

Whatever you do, don't let anyone tell you that you aren't allowed to use a mobility aid or live happily in your body as it is. You deserve to feel joy without having to lose weight first.

I hope this helped at least a little bit, and I hope things get better for you.

[phoebe-delia]

"Fast Car" WIP Snip

I don't think I've had (a public) one at all this year so far!! This is a fic I started literally just now but I told yall I was gonna do one to "Fast Car" by Tracy Chapman and I am pleased to say that I have the first scene!! And you can read it right here!! Yay!!

“You’re not serious.”

Harry shrugged, staring straight ahead and walking past where Draco had dramatically paused in the middle of the sidewalk. Harry slowed his pace, though, and nonchalantly sipped from his to-go cup of coffee. “I think it makes sense.”

Draco moved to catch up, their steps aligning once more. He scoffed, and his breath fogged in the frigid late autumn air. “How on earth—“

“We both want to—“ he briefly interrupted himself, glancing around to make sure no one in the open park was staring or listening in on their conversation. He was certain the Glamour was still holding up, but he could never be too careful in public. “We both want to leave,” he said, keeping his voice low. “It might as well be together. At least that way, we’ll know someone.”

“But we’re barely even friends,“ Draco nearly whispered. “How do you expect us to like each other for that long—let alone live together?”

Harry stopped walking, and Draco did too, letting Harry turn and face him directly. Draco’s eyes were wide and uncertain; he was shivering slightly, his body no longer warmed by their brisk walk. His cheeks had flushed in the cold, the color spreading to the tip of his nose, and Harry suppressed the sudden, potent urge to pull him into his arms and press his lips along the pinked skin. To warm him from the inside out.

“Well,” Harry said instead. “I think ‘barely friends’ is a little unfair. We’ve hung out.”

“Having a drunken heart-to-heart at Luna’s birthday party doesn’t really count, Potter.”

“That wasn’t the only time we’ve hung out just us two.”

“Since when?”

“Since now, arguably,” Harry said with a quick half smile.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Yes, I suppose you sending me an Owl to meet up and proposing this ridiculous idea does count as us ‘hanging out.’ But what about your friends? Your life? Your job?”

Harry waved a hand. “I’ll see them. It’s Muggle America, not Siberia. Besides, I’m tired of the Ministry. It’s…”he trailed off and sighed. “I need a change, and so do you.”

“Me?!”

“Yes, you. Your mother fucked off to Paris with a man half her age. Your father is rotting in Azkaban where he belongs. You’ve got to be getting lonely in that obnoxious Manor of yours.”

Draco scoffed. “You don’t know me—“

“Don’t I?”

Draco studied him in silence, a bit stunned, before shaking himself. “It’ll never work,” he said, finally.

Harry shrugged. He took another sip of his coffee and grimaced at the drink, now gone cold. He looked back at Draco, who was staring at him with a frown.

“Only one way to find out,” Harry said, tossing his cup in a nearby trash can. “Besides, I’ve got nothing better to do, do you?”

Draco stared for another long moment, and then he huffed a laugh and looked away, shaking his head, the beginning of a smile tugging at his lips.