#logs writing log

[eternalgirlscout]

earlier today i told an acquaintance in passing that i'll often be in the middle of a novel and think "man i wish this shit were more ambiguous" and had to reiterate twice that i wasn't being sarcastic before they believed me, so this post is to say: i love when writers don't bother to explain everything, i love when stories end uncertain and unsettling, i love being required to think as a reader, i love when stuff makes no damn sense, no i'm not kidding

[secretagentspydetectiveninja]

posting this with absolutely no context

[loganseternity]

make all the metalheads cry - a cameron barlow AU

Saturday nights never failed to be piled full with events to go to and California was no exception. You couldn’t cross a bulletin board from Los Angeles all the way to Oakland that wasn’t plastered with varying posters for parties, open mic nights, and free shows trying to lure you in. Neon paper, bold print and free entry in capital letters were made to make them even more appealing but Cameron couldn’t be bothered to glance in their direction. He already had plans tonight; plans that had been circled on his calendar for almost a month now. Plans that he would be lying if he said he hadn’t been counting down the days for. Local’s favorite club had the major punk band Do It Right performing a highly anticipated sold out show as their tour passed through the west coast. 

It had been five years since his band performed for their senior year talent show, making a semi memorable effect on the audience that showed up in their school auditorium. The performance had heart and clear talent but hours of practice still couldn’t buffer the nerves that caused him and his fellow bandmates to fumble a bit. Under the alias of Stalemate at the time, the band took their first live performance as room for improvement for the last five years and now they were finally making strides. Plenty of basement shows had been played so much so that the distance of them lugging equipment couldn’t even be counted any longer but the resilience and the effort the three of them had put behind their passion for his band was finally paying off. 

Feeling Phantom, their recently reimagined alias had brought in a favorable crowd at the last couple shows they had played which also resulted in a boost on social media. While it was still humbling numbers in the mid hundreds their following seemed to be increasing and more people started liking what they were making. It was not an overnight success but they were determined it was growing into something bigger and they must not have been the only ones to feel that way as Do It Right asked them to be their first opening act due to a last minute drop out by the previous band. With a show this massive even if they were playing at six thirty when doors opened they were still playing for what would without a doubt be their biggest crowd yet. 

Anticipation buzzed through a crammed venue that was holding every body count of its mandated capacity. Incoherent chatter buzzed around and the bar was backed up with requests so far that made the calm appearance of the bartenders seem concerning. They were either going to crack or they were made for this. Outside, Cameron was standing with a beer can resting idly in his hand. He hoped a small preshow buzz would prevent the hype turning into nerves inside his brain. He pushed the nerves down and found his attention back at the conversation his other two band mates were having with him. Isaac, their lead singer, was going on a seemingly inspirational train of thought about them just having fun tonight when their guitarist Chris interrupted the speech that was going to just keep going. “Don’t we always?” He asked with a nudge to Cameron that caused him to smile in reaction. No matter what happened up there at the end of the night they always had fun just doing what they loved. Isaac ran a hand through his buzzcut knowing that he couldn’t keep rambling forever, eventually they were going to have to do the damn thing.

Eventually turned out to be fifteen  minutes away from that moment. Quickly the trio had to gather their gear and assemble on stage to perform. As their overhead music cut off Cameron held onto his guitar prepared to open with something that could only hopefully grab the attention of this audience. Isaac looked over at him with a huge grin and nodded back toward Chris who was positioned at the drums with a matching beam of joy across his face. They could do this and they were going to kill it. The warming of Chris' drums led them into their first song of the night and it drew the attention of several people in the crowd to watch what they were doing. No matter the outcome of the night they knew in that moment that if they had captured the attention of that audience that they were doing it right.

[jvlianbashir]

"the creator said in a reddit thread -" "the official twitter account posted that -" "the actors confirmed in a livestream that -"

i don't care and that's not real to me. put it in the text.

[scissorcraft]

art for the first chapter of my fic!!! link [here]... -pokes my fingers together-

[shorthaltsjester]

i truly am baffled by some of the cr fandom when it comes to the topic of the gods and c1 and death in general because. the raven queen didn’t kill vax. in fact she gave him more time. she Does get the blame from keyleth and some from vex but even those two by the end were more so just holding grudges wrapped up in their own issues that were exacerbated by vax’s choices. but it was always vax’s choice. which, y’know, i’m aware of a portion of the cr fandom’s propensity for dismantling every interesting choice a character makes into something forced upon them, but the role of fate in exandria has never been like bad faith you must adhere to the path chosen for you, it’s much more like what brennan has spoken about wrt specificity: as one makes more choices they become more particular to a given outcome. but that’s not some curse by the gods that dooms characters that’s literally just. what living is.

and of course death is a complicated thing that everyone approaches differently but. god the amount of people who view vax’s dynamic with the raven queen as an injustice or his death as some unforgivable thing the raven queen caused some how? in the words of laura bailey, Were We Watching The Same Orb? it isn’t an injustice that vax, completely willing to pay whatever it cost him to save his sister, was bound to the Deal He Agreed To. his role as the champion was one he found meaning and purpose in. further, it was the raven queen that allowed him to be resurrected later in the campaign. like, it isn’t fair that vax had so little time but it is time he chose and time he was given, but vox machina tends to fall on the reaping the benefits side of unfairness of power in exandria. if what makes the gods — particularly the matron of ravens — irredeemable is that they have the power to make choices that mortals can’t like denying someone’s resurrection, how irredeemable must the group of heroes called vox machina (whose members drop like flies to be revived moments later) be to the everyday person who just has to watch the people they love die and make peace with it?

of course it sucks that vax could not have a happy ending or epilogue like the rest of vm, except of course, vex has a family and is happy and loved, and keyleth is strong and alive and protected, and i think that looks a lot like what vax wanted most.

[lorelune]

regency au jing yuan how you are haunting me.

(continued here!)

a retired general who at the ripe age of thirty five has never taken a wife. never showed any interest in procuring a spouse nor does he entertain any attempts by the mamas of the ton to throw their eligible children at him. he is a polite scoundrel, kind-hearted in a way that makes those with half a mind question how someone with his demeanor could ever be the famed general who's strategies downed Shuhu during the Abundance Upheaval. he doesn't seem to care for his legacy, as much as he has cultivated one. he doesn't mind gossip, but doesn't entertain it much either.

you only meet him due to fortunate circumstances.

lord Luocha, a successful travelling merchant, pledged patronage to you sometime ago. he keeps you in a little cottage on the grounds of his manor where you're allowed to mostly do as you please as long as there's a new painting hung on the lord's wall every few months or so. the lord likes when you play too. he brings back new instruments for you to try, though he never expects mastery. he has an air of mystery to him that, despite all of the time you spend near him, keeps you from understanding him fully. you aren't one to pry about it either.

lord luocha invites jing yuan over to partake in fancy spirits from a country and city you can't ever hope to visit, let alone find on a map. you bring lord luocha your newest work-- (a meticulously completed oil painting. something more abstract, suited to the odd lonely and isolation you feel in your little, cozy cottage, despite all of the comforts you are afforded)-- and happen upon the pair.

lord luocha examines your newest work with pride, and shortly after introduces you. 'his patron' he calls you, but offers jing yuan no title. you--

(do not have one. it was stripped from you a long time ago. you think being an artist suits you better, anyways.)

jing yuan offers you his name, though you already know it. you recognize him based on the prattling of the girls and boys at the market. they swoon over his stature, fawn over his good deeds, and make note of his identifiable red hair ribbon. he has the same soft, sun-colored eyes that you had heard the eligible young of the ton giggle about.

you bow to him politely.

you have no reason to linger, but luocha calls you to anyways. perhaps he is lonely. perhaps you want him to be lonely, so it gives you a reason to stick closer to his side in the rare moments he is home for more than a day or two. the proximity is shared with jing yuan, who regards you with keen eyes and a lazy smile. the attention upon you feels weighted, important, like you're something special.

you savor it, however fleeting.

perhaps, however, you misunderstood jing yuan. or lord luocha's intentions.

because as jing yuan rises to take his leave and you bow once more, he catches your hand, brings it to his lips, and presses a kiss into the soft skin. you're sure you smell of linseed and yarrow oil. he lingers there for a moment before meeting your gaze. there's a light of mischief in them that sends your heart fluttering. your breath catches.

when jing yuan is out of the manor, lord luocha pats your shoulder gently, "quite the man, isn't he?"

"i suppose... he is."

"you may speak freely."

"i am," you mince, and shake your head. you must be careful, entertaining such fanciful thoughts. "he is... kind."

"and handsome."

"lord luocha," you barely keep yourself from whining. "please, do not tease me. or the poor man. from what i hear, he has enough to deal with."

"the mamas do chase after him like foxes to a hen," lord luocha chuckles and studies your painting once more with a curious tilt of his head. "he'll ask to see you again, i'm certain."

"and why do you say that?"

"general jing yuan has never taken the hand of a potential suitor."

your heart feels heavy and warm in your chest, burning. "my lord, you cannot possibly think that this single action indicates that the general will... call upon me? that is highly unorthodox and i don't believe that's... quite allowed."

"jing yuan has never cared for the dances of decorum." lord luocha guides you into your gardens. the peonies are in bloom, full and lush in the humidity of late spring. "and, for the record, i don't believe he'll simply call upon you. court, properly, certainly."

"you're bluffing."

"what reason do i have to lie?"

"to tease me, as you so enjoy doing," you huff.

lord luocha simply hums and pauses near a bush of lilacs. they're fragrant, at the peak of their season. the scent rolls over you.

"if i truly intended to tease you, i simply would abstain from telling you of jing yuan's interest and allow you to be terribly surprised when he arrives and formally asks for you and your time. consider this a warning. i'll walk you to the modiste tomorrow, hm?"

you want to squawk at him. your linen dresses and tunics are fine (albeit smeared and stained with paints and oils over the years. you rarely bother replacing them.)

you want to protest and pry more, but lord luocha strikes you silent when he breaks off a cluster of lilac and tucks it behind your ear. he leaves you with your thoughts, however tortuous. and, perhaps horribly, you find yourself believing him. perhaps the warm-eyed general really was charmed. perhaps, your dresses needed replacing and you should contact your perfumer friend for a fresh vial or two.

perhaps perhaps perhaps, you can still feel where his lips lingered on your skin, like a brand. you never thought you could ache for burning, but in the gardens, you find yourself clutching your hand to your chest, craving the lick of the his sun's heat once more.

[kleinv01]

OKAY i will give al content. !!!!!

here you go al enjoyers please stop busting my inbox now /lh /j

[cheswirls]

short asl thing based on @where-does-the-heart-lie's modern au :) i started this over a year ago but the beginning is all dialogue and felt more like a script to me i suppose??? which deflated my desire to work on it. anyway i checked it over recently and it's completely fine lmfao, self-confidence restored here we go !

-

"Yo. Aren't you usually in the middle of your shift by now?"

"I've been banned from the hospital."

"Like, for life?"

"No. For the next, uh.. Twenty-two hours."

"That's oddly specific."

"It was twenty-four, but I fell asleep after leaving the building."

"That wouldn't have to do with why they kicked you out, at all?"

"Hmmm. I'm too sleep-deprived, apparently."

"Ah. And, um, you called me because...?"

"I pressed a random number in my call log after waking up. Lucky you, I guess."

"Yeah. Right. Lucky me. And your car keys are...?"

"Confiscated."

"Ah, right, of course."

A beat of silence. Two. Three, then "Look, if you're busy, then–"

"No, no.  You called me, so I'll be there. Give me twenty minutes."

"Alright. Thank–"

"Thank someone else. Also, if you fall asleep in my car, I'm taking it as express permission to drive you around wherever I want."

"Ugh, go die. I don't even know why I bothered."

"LUCKY YOU, I guess," sounds off way too loudly in his ear. "No take backs. See you in ten."

"I thought you said–" Sabo breaks off as the call ends, leaving him staring blankly at his phone's too-dim screen. He squints, turns the brightness all the way up, and still squints as the sunlight proves too strong for the display.

Ace shows up in more than ten but decidedly less than twenty minutes. Sabo doesn't waste much brain power on it, only climbing into the passenger seat and yawning into his palm while his other hand fixes the seatbelt into the buckle. Not a second too soon, too, as Ace roars the engine to life and peels away from the curb at record speed.

Ace fiddles with the radio. He turns the music up, then dial it back down to inaudible. They hit the expressway and he leans over the steering wheel, frowning with his eyes fixed on the road far ahead. Sabo yawns again and this appears to be the limit to his patience. 

"Hey, so, I had a thought after you hung up on me."

Sabo grimaces. "You mean you–"

"Today's Wednesday."

He doesn't elaborate. Sabo is too tired to process. "Yes," he follows, after a second. He glances at the sky out the front window. "What time is it?"

"Oh, uh." Ace fumbles with hand placement so he can lift his watch to his face. "Nine forty."

Sabo takes a couple beats to try and process this, moves his eyes away from the skyline, and sighs as he pulls his phone out. 2:47 is what the display reads, which sounds much more believable.

"How did the minute hand get off?" he mutters to himself, chancing a look at Ace's busted wristwatch. Ace raises a brow, taking his gaze off the road to scrutinize Sabo. "No, it doesn't matter," he mutters to himself once more, sliding his phone away back on his person and out of his hands.

"My point is," Ace continues, like he hasn't just been interrupted by a whole thing. "Your timeout will be done midday Thursday. Did they switch your days off?"

"No." Sabo sighs. "They technically gave me the next thirty-six hours. Technically closer to forty. Something like that. I go back in on Friday. Sometime.” He tries to smile and it turns out very lopsided, from that he can make out in the rearview mirror. “Can you tell I’m tired?”

“I don’t think ‘tired’ is an accurate description,” Ace quips. “When did you eat a proper meal last?”

“Uh, yesterday. Maybe.”

“Maybe??”

“A ‘proper meal’ means different things to the two of us,” Sabo huffs. “On my account it was yesterday. I’ve had food since then, of course.”

“Alright, so here’s the plan,” Ace announces before absolutely whipping it around a curve. Sabo is his passenger in the passenger seat and had fully prepared to be so when he got in the vehicle, but he’d been vastly underprepared for this sudden course of action, which is how he ends up halfway out of his seat with his cheek slammed into the cold window. Ace doesn’t quite notice his brother’s terminal velocity until the car is once again on the straight and narrow, and only then it’s because of the audible thunk Sabo’s face makes when it collides with the glass.

“Aw shit. You good bro?”

“Ow,” Sabo mutters. “If I have broken bones I’m suing your ass.”

“Well, if you’re good enough to make jokes, I think you’re better than you’re letting on.” Ace keeps the wheel steady with one knee while he takes both hands away to crack his fingers. When he glances over at Sabo again, he looks even more pathetic – like he’s becoming one with the glass. “Anyway, as I was saying.

“I’m taking your ass home. You’re going straight to sleep and while you crash, I’ll make you something decent to eat and stick it in the fridge for you to heat up later. I’ll even make you two servings to eat two different times, since you clearly can’t be trusted to take care of yourself correctly.”

“Ouch.”

“I want you to conk out for as long as your body allows. We can reset your sleep schedule tomorrow, alright? Put your phone on silent; do not answer any calls. In fact, you know what, just give it to me.

Sabo glances over to see Ace’s hand held out to him, palm up. Fingers wiggling expectantly. His lips pull up into a grimace. “I’m not doing that.”

“Fine.” Ace takes his hand back. “But you will comply with everything else.”

“Wow! It’s so funny, I didn’t realize you turned into my mother overnight! Really tapped into your mom potential, huh? Anything exciting happen in your life that would cause that? I guess I wouldn’t know, since I’ve been a zombie for the past two days.”

“There’s nothing wrong with acting like your older brother, you dipshit, especially if you keep putting yourself through the wringer like this. You go home. You sleep. You wake up and eat. You go back to sleep. Then we do laundry. Does that sound agreeable?”

“That’s negotiable, at the least,” Sabo mumbles. “I will accept good food as a form of bribery.”

“Oh, nice, because I’m flat broke at the moment.”

Sabo makes a mental note of that, and then they’re pulling into the driveway. Ace lets him exit the vehicle by himself and then promptly manhandles him all the way onto the couch where it will be easier to force his body to relax than in a real bed. Ace knows this, so he calls him weird before chucking a loose blanket at his head. Sabo is almost too tired to function at this point, so he lets Ace have the last laugh in favor of finally closing his eyes.

Coming to is a surreal experience, especially since the sun is still out. He must make a noise because Ace is suddenly within view. His limbs are tangled in the blanket and still so heavy that he doesn’t bother moving. “Thought you would be gone,” he half-groans, eyes slipping shut again for a moment.

“I did leave,” Ace confirms. “I had to go pilfer some stuff to make stew with. It’s almost done, so I’ll hang here until then.”

Pilfer. That could mean any number of things. Sabo chooses to believe in the option where Ace is an upstanding citizen, and then remembers Ace saying earlier that he had no money. He frowns and squirms on the cushions enough to where it looks like he’s checking his pockets. “Where’s my wallet, Ace?” he bluffs.

“Somewhere around here,” Ace pipes up. “Your stomach will thank you for your contributions to the Portgas Household’s pantry!”

“Ugh, I got robbed,” he complains. “This sucks. ‘m going back to sleep.” He rolls over so his back is to Ace.

“Yeah, you do you, bro. Stew will still be here later. I’ll see you when you’re back in the world of the living.”

—

Luffy comes in late that night and slams the front door shut as loud as humanly possible. When he appears in the main room, he doesn’t seem to be upset, so Ace writes it off as a Luffyism. Sabo hasn’t stirred at the noise, so it’s all good.

Realizing this, Luffy pads closer to Ace’s side and looks at Sabo’s unmoving body warily. “Why is Sabo passed out like a corpse? Is he sick?”

“No, he’s not sick, he just can’t take care of himself. Which is why we are going to let him sleep for as long as possible.”

Luffy just nods to this, but it’s the uncomprehending Luffy-nod that means he’s just going to end up doing whatever he wants to regardless. Ace sighs, then jerks his head towards the kitchen. “He ate a little earlier, but I want him to eat again when he wakes up. There’s stew in the fridge if you want it – just leave him a little. Got it, Monkey D. Luffy?”

Luffy throws him a salute and then runs off in his socks. “Yippee! Ace made stew!”

“Think of your brother, Luffy, and make good choices!” Ace calls after him. “He’s a pathetic man who needs food to feel better or he’ll end up sleeping through Laundry Day!”

—

Sabo does not sleep through laundry day, but he does sleep for sixteen whole hours, so it’s just around noon when he forces himself up off the couch and into a warm shower.

Ace is around, which is mildly unexpected. But he’s still half-asleep, so everything is at least a little unexpected. He glances up from playing video games with Luffy to see Sabo leaving the steam-filled bathroom with his hair hanging around his shoulders. “You look like a wet cat,” he calls.

“Sabo’s awake!” Luffy cheers. “Ace thought you died at one point.”

Ace elbows Luffy in the gut, making him hunch over. “I did not!”

“He totally checked to see if your heart was still beating!”

“I’m undead, actually,” Sabo says completely seriously.

“Does that mean you don’t need to eat anymore?” Luffy questions. “Because I ate all the stew last night.”

“I saw that coming and made extra.” Ace finger-guns in Sabo’s general direction. “That’s why I bought two sets of ingredients. With your money!”

“With my money,” Sabo echoes, because it’s such a wild statement to have to deal with this early in the day. Well, early for him. “Fuck you.”

“I mean, I can tell Luffy where I hid–”

“Thank you, Ace, for agreeing to share your quarters with both of your brothers so we can all do laundry today on your dime!” Sabo raises his pitch so his voice is mockingly squeaky when he says this. He starts moving down the hall before Ace can start to argue, letting his and Luffy’s voices bleed into the background.

When he comes back out, now dressed, it smells significantly better than before. “I reheated the stew,” Ace announces, gesturing for Sabo to take a seat at the kitchen counter. “Let’s all have lunch before we head out.”

“You have to drink this too,” Luffy tells Sabo, sliding a Gatorade across the counter so it sets in front of him when he finally does take a seat. “Ace’s orders.”

“Gotta get those nutrients back somehow.”

“Aren’t we so considerate, Sabo?”

“Do you even know what ‘considerate’ means?” Sabo asks, lips quirking up into a half-smile. At Luffy’s shrug, it turns into a real smile. “Well, thanks anyway. Both of you.”

“No sweat. And look!” Ace brandishes a five dollar bill for both to see. “I found this baby for us to use on coins! It’s all on me today–”

“Where’s my wallet, Ace?!”

[salemoleander]

(per Joe's stream this morning, in which Quinn exclaimed "That Juppet is DEFINITELY divorced," my friend @the-joju-experience made this meme and requested I share)

[logophilist1982]

Messy Library

[terriblesolomons]

Ok but guys isn't it actually crazy how Eugene Roe's presence is literally defined by the ineffable silence of God....ep 6 has no narrative voice beyond the languageless vision of Roe's literal perspective....he brings with him silence in every episode he's in like the chaos after Jackson blows himself up stills completely when Doc runs in - they all go silent & frozen & breathless - when any man is wounded the very concept of words beyond orders fail...he talks about how Renee is blessed to calm the wounded she treats but it's evident that he brings with him something even graver than calm; it's unutterable, literally, it's a prayer, it's a response to the silence we meet (Roe meets) in his prayers (it's a reflection on the insane power we - they - have over our own - and their own - mortality - that silent and sometimes apparently godlike capacity to return (to the front lines) from the dead (that hell of lost brotherhood in the hospitals)?)

[cyber-phobia]

don't post character ai shit on ao3

[becca-e-barnes]

Cannot stop thinking about making a really submissive Bucky cum until he can't anymore 😵‍💫

I love the thought of working load after load from him and the way that he'd go from being pretty quiet and composed to whimpering and writhing, unsure if he needs more or less of your touch.

Getting him to a stage where he feels empty. He feels like he has nothing left to give you. You've made him watch as you jerk him off with a delightfully lubed hand, squeezing and tugging until his cock is twitching and throbbing and shooting thick, messy stripes of cum against your palm. You don't stop after he's finished though. His release only makes the glide of your hand smoother and the sight of his own pearly cum being worked back over his cock makes him hard again in no time.

"Please." He groans, throwing his head back, exposing his beautiful throat. Your hand tightens around his cock involuntarily and you find yourself almost wishing you had your other hand around his neck. "Please don't make me cum again. I-I can't."

Bless him, his strong thighs are twitching, his muscles tense, trying to force his body to listen to his brain for just a second.

"Sweetheart, I don't think you're empty yet. You gave me so much cum just a few minutes ago." You let yourself give in just a little, leaning over and kissing along the column of his throat, enjoying the light salty perspiration against your lips.

Bucky rolls his hips but it's hard for him to tell if he's trying to lean into your touch or away from it. In truth, he loves feeling like this. He loves having his cum milked from him and having no choice but to enjoy the mind numbing pleasure of your body.

His thighs are streaked with evidence of his own lust and he's almost ashamed that he's still hard. Not just as hard as he was when you started though.

"F-Fuck." The slick sound of your hand pumping him quickly is overwhelming. Your grip is tight on his shaft while you cup his balls, squeezing and teasing them gently, encouraging them to work overtime for you.

"I can't cum again. I can't." Bucky pants, whimpering when he forces his eyes to meet yours again.

"You told me that last time. I'm not sure when you decided it would be a good idea to lie to me but I promise you, it isn't." Your tone would make him tense but he's tense already, trying to hold back an orgasm he truly doesn't need.

"This is the last orgasm I want from you. You can manage it for me, can't you?" You sound so sincere this time, he can't help but agree.

"Good boy. Now cum nice and hard for me. I want to hear how pathetic you sound."

For the next few minutes, there are no sounds except the delightfully wet sound of your hand working lube and cum against his dick and the frantic moans of a man reaching a level of pleasure that verges just nicely on painful.

When he does cum, you let it splash against your palm once more and you notice how little he's able to provide you with. He's entirely empty, legs shaking but babbling how grateful he is for the way you touch him.

Now that he's spent, it feels like your turn to enjoy yourself while he watches and nothing sounds better than touching yourself with the hand that's covered in his cum.

[christronomy]

the angel's wings flutter slightly as shivers go down his spine, and he let's out a shaky breath. "we shouldn't be doing this..." is what he was about to say, but his breath hitches in his throat when you lean in to kiss his neck, the light pressure of your soft lips against his skin making him bite his lip and lean his head back subconsciously, providing some more room for you to kiss. his skin wasn't like a human's, in the sense that it was extremely clear, almost textureless, like porcelain, and soft like silk. it was also extremely warm and radiant, like he had been doused in a pool of light.

you'd always wondered what it would be like to touch him like this for as long as you can remember, and even now that you're finally doing it, it feels completely unreal. it doesn't feel wrong in this moment, but it also doesn't feel like it should even be possible to begin with. how someone like you, ended up with your hands on an angel—a holy entity, of all things... the odds really were in your favor. if this was a dream, you really didn't want to wake up.

he wasn't even trying to stop you as your hands trailed over his clothed body aimlessly, feeling the firmness in the muscles on his arms, on his abdomen, his thighs... even through the thick fabric of his tunic, you could tell his body was very well toned, and it made you ache for him even more.

you let your hands roave his body, pressing soft kisses against his collarbone until you reached his lips, perfectly plump and soft, like a cloud. like he was made of pieces of heaven. his tongue was already prodding at yours, wanting to taste you, and the more you touched and kissed him, the more he wanted. it was extremely dangerous for a being like him to do something like this, but it's you, and he's already so deeply in love... so maybe it's okay just this once, right?

he's so caught up his thoughts that he suddenly flinches, almost pulling away from you completely when he feels your hands trail up his back and touch the base of his wings.

hyunjin's wings are extremely sensitive to human touch, and you'd completely forgotten how much of a huge pet peeve it is for him when people attempted to touch them without his permission. you learned this in one of your earliest encounters, when he snuck into your room in the middle of the night again, the sound of the window opening startling you awake. it was the first night you realized his visits would become more frequent.

"jinnie?" you whine groggily, to which he lets out a soft chuckle as he sits on the edge of your bed, folding his large wings behind his back. your room always seemed a little brighter when he was in it, it's like he has a natural glow to his pretty pale skin. "hey you," he says softly, pinching your cheek affectionately when you scoot up to sit next to him.

"what brings you here at this time?" you ask, and he shrugs, smiling at you, his feathers fluttering a little as he does so. "it's just been a while," he says simply, leaning his head on your shoulder and unfolding one of his wings, wrapping it around you. it was a habit he'd picked up not too long after he met you, which was surprising to him, considering the fact that he never really liked physical touch all too much. being an angel who's job was to interact with humans eventually made you hate being touched, since for some reason humans always got handsy during encounters.

"it has..." you say, yawning a little as you lean into him, absentmindedly moving your hand up to play with his hair. the way it looks like it's made of pure gold has always intrigued you, and he secretly liked it when you ran your fingers through it for the first time, although it kind of annoyed him at first, since you did it without asking. but he understood that it was because you were curious. he'll only allow it if it's you, and you know that now, because he didn't pull away or jolt at your touch this time around.

but his wings were a different story. you'd noticed a stray feather that was clinging onto the wing he had draped over your shoulders, and didn't think about it before you reached out to brush it off, a soft gasp escaping your lips when he suddenly yanked it away from you, grumbling a harsh "don't...!"

you'd apologized and he was okay with it, but he was hesitant to even unfold his wings around you after that night. he recalled how scared you looked at first to even touch him after the way he'd chastised you so harshly for doing so, and he felt horrible for it, but now that this newfound desire between the two of you was rising a little more with every passing moment, the way you were kissing him made him feel things in his body he'd never felt before, and that meant that touching his wings made that feeling ten times harder to manage.

but now, he realized this time he didn't almost pull away because the sensation bothered him, it was because these new things he was feeling made them so sensitive to the touch, he almost let out a soft moan when your hand caressed his feathers. you opted for keeping your hand on the small of his back for now, your other hand trailing down to feel his thighs, tentatively inching upwards, and you let out a soft, shaky breath when you feel the bulge under the thick frabric of his tunic.

the way hyunjin is looking at you now is so full of danger. you're not even sure if this is right or wrong. your mind is too clouded from this intense desire you're experiencing to even think straight, but he hasn't stopped you, and you're too far into this to even want turn back now, but by the way he's looking at you, you can tell that he doesn't want you to either. it's almost as if he can feel the divine essence draining away from his body, being consumed by lust, dimming the light in his eyes but he can't resist you.

before he can even process what's really happening, he's got you pinned to your bed, one hand pressing against your lower abdomen, the other gripping your thigh tightly as his tongue teases you relentlessly, skillfully. it's as though he's done this before, like he already knows your body to a T. your moans are like music to his ears, and he knows what real music sounds like. he's an angel, for fucks sake—he knows what a real choir of angels singing sounds like, and it's nothing like anything in this world. but even then, your moans, the way his name drips off of your lips, sweet as honey, sounds so much better. the way you're tugging at his golden locks, pulling him impossibly closer is so much better than he could have imagined.

now he's inside of you, after having made you come on his tongue twice, and you're so sensitive you can't help the way your walls tremble and clench around him when he finally bottoms out. you feel divine. he's not sure if he'll ever be able to recover from this, although he knows he's too far gone now. his creator is surely not going to be happy when he confesses, although a certain part of him wonders if he'll have at least a little bit of mercy. love is a dangerous thing when there's too much of it, but love is also what makes up the very essense of him. surely the Creator should understand that, right?

you on the other hand, still can't believe this is even real, it's like you're living a dream within a dream. you can't help the way your hands instinctively move to touch the base of his wings when he gives you that first thrust, his cock kissing that gummy spot inside of you immediately. the sensation of your hands caressing the most sensitive part of him paired with your warmth gripping him so tightly have his head swimming in pleasure, and he can't help the sharp hiss that escapes him. he has to come inside you, claim you as his own, even if it costs him his entire existence.

"hey, jinnie... i'm curious. is being in heaven better than being here, on earth?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper as you cuddle closer to him, nuzzling your cheek against his bare chest. he nods, even though you can't really see his face. "i guess i can say it is better, in a way, because we're limitless up there. there's no pain or sickness... but if i had to choose, i'd say that this, being here with you..." he starts, staring up at the ceiling as he trails off, his fingers playing with your hair absentmindedly. some part of him is begging his god, his creator for mercy, forgiveness, and the other part of him could really give less of a fuck. you're the love of his life, but also the very thing that is going to make him lose everything, and probably end up turning him into something ugly. a monster... a demon. the very thing he'd feared his entire life. but he knows now that even if the whole world is against him, even if a god rejects him, you will still love him, regardless of what he becomes.

"this feels so much better. a thousand times better. everything is better with you, my muse."

[mycatismyeditor]

DAY 10… ON EARTH

Lena gets a new project to help keep her occupied.

Art by the incredible @rustingcat

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