#melancholy double up au

[shiguknifeii]

The boys (yes that girl is a boy too/j)

[chiiroptereh]

[Please zoom in, there's a lot of detail! And a massive file size...ouch]

Hi guys, long time no post! Been working on Art Fight and life stuff, but I've got something kinda fun for you.

This is a compilation exploring how a mortal Bill may interact with our world if there were still some kinda Euclidean instincts buried in there. Y'know, before the Book of Bill ruins all my headcanons >:P (EDIT: IT HAS BEEN READ. YAHOOOOOO)

Also quite an experimental piece as you can probably tell. Lots of details on both said headcanons and the art stuff under the cut, but I invite you to study the colorful texture yourself beforehand and think about what it might be representative of, just for fun because I got some really cool answers from my friends when asked :]c

TL;DR: the headcanon is that Euclideans have exceptional eyes for geometry. They find things like symmetry, tessellating patterns, graphs and fractals very aesthetically pleasing. If pushed into our 3D world, they feel comforted by the familiarity flat objects/spaces bring, as well as high-contrast patterns. Shadows especially are a familiar dimensional reduction that may bring them much comfort.

Bill would surely not be happy about these inclinations, constant reminders of a past long gone, but I'm not sure he's even aware of them here :P I think his ego gets in the way to the point where he just views these interests as common sense, which, of course, us lame humans just don't understand because we aren't nearly as cool as him. Of course he likes perfectly symmetrical leaves and staring at the kitchen floor, it's called taste, look it up!

And yet, he can't seem to shake the strange sense of melancholy he gets from viewing his own shadow.

~ End of TL;DR, long version below! ~

🔺 Headcanon Development

So, the catalyst of this idea was in relation to my friend and I's AU ( @love-triangles-au ). TL;DR, Bill's brought back mortal, meets another triangle named Y.V. (it's his hand holding the paper in the piece, actually), at some point they fall in yaois together, you know how it is. And, in writing a pair of triangles (or, more broadly, writing from the perspective of a different species), something I've had to consider was that you really can't get much further removed from a human being than sentient geometry.

The anatomical aspect was mostly figured out (see my piece on Bill's eye-mouth), but I wanted to consider what psychological differences might be at play. I wanted them to be weirder, more alien, double-so for Bill. At first I explored these possibilities through the lens of Bill and Y.V.'s relationship, specifically the question "what might a triangle find appealing about another triangle?"

Well, really the only things that came to mind were straight lines and symmetry, anything related to the geometric form of such a creature. That's more-or-less where that ended until the thought struck me that there's no reason this aesthetic appreciation couldn't extend to the rest of the environment, and then further when I realized, "wait, this is a species that is designed to live in a 2D environment. Like, they should seriously be really weird. I need to push this like 200% more."

So...yeah! I did some thinking and brainstorming with others and came up with a pretty long list of things a Euclidean in our world may be inclined to enjoy or find some level of comfort in. It's worth noting again that in this piece specifically this is a mortal/powerless Bill, so he can't really escape this Earthly environment. IF he's aware of these instincts at all (and that's a big "if"; when have you last been cognizant of your own instincts let alone known where they were stemming from?) I think he'd have snuffed them out in immortality and/or purposefully gone against them; he doesn't take kindly to being told what to do.

In order from left-to-right, top-to-bottom, here's an explanation for each!:

Flat objects such as paper are something he may find particularly engaging. It's basically 2D!

Tessellations are especially fascinating, and our world has them everywhere in the form of tile floors. Symmetry and such a predictable pattern...as the infinity of the starry sky might for us, the infinite potential of tessellations might invoke a similar sense of awe in him. Add on the maximum contrast of black on white kitchen tiles and the forms are only even better defined! A sensitivity to contrast would be very helpful for a 2D being navigating their environment.

Fields are flat and open, much like Euclydia itself. Laying flat may make him feel a little more at home.

More tessellation in the honeycomb of hymenopterans (bees, wasps and friends)! It helps that pain is hilarious.

The city is an absolute treasure trove. Rectangular buildings, precise architecture, square sidewalks and straight lines abound...he may as well be looking at a rainbow or an art gallery! I think a Euclidean's brain is very fine-tuned to mathematics, especially in regards to trigonometry. What may appear to be a straight painting might appear obnoxiously crooked to him.

Zebras are high-contrast :]

Another flat surface, another relaxing space <3

I think graphs are about as high as high art gets to most Euclideans.

I've touched on shadows before, and for good reason; truly they must be something borderline magical to the Euclidean and perhaps bitterly nostalgic.

This one kinda speaks for itself. Dweeb.

🎨 The Artsy Stuff

Lately I've been trying to find ways to fit more color into my work, as color is perhaps one of my favorite things in the world. My wardrobe is rather garish; my dad jokes that you could see me from space. My fursona is obnoxiously bright for a reason -- I feel my soul is a very colorful one!

I also realized recently that I don't actually know the exact style that speaks to me. I could talk about the phenomenon of the "style crisis" that many artists have all day, but in my mind the best cure for this feeling is to go against it entirely and begin stealing as much as possible.

So, I've tried to keep an eye out for more sources of inspiration everywhere I go, physical and digital. I've tried to train my mind into making a habit of considering, "can I do anything with this?" everywhere I go, and it recently paid off!

The glittery rainbowy texture you see plastered all over Billiam is this one, a photo-manipulated set of fruit stickers. I must confess I've been obsessed with this image for the past 72 hours, and this seemed like a good excuse to try it out!

I worried throughout the process if it might be so abstract that it loops back around to being horribly deliberate, if that makes sense -- like each sparkle was not a piece of a whole but rather an object in itself -- but it seems like that hasn't been a problem, so I'm grateful for that :Dc

I hope it can dazzle and delight you as it does me, but as long as you find it fascinating at the very least then I consider it a success! I really enjoyed hearing my friends' interpretations while workshopping it, and got tons of amazing answers from opal to kaleidoscope to fossilized bone marrow! I truly believe that the best art has some room for interpretation and it really excites me to be surrounded by that kind of creative energy that follows said pieces. That definitely adds to my pride in this work. It's weird, it's colorful, it's detailed and yet ambiguous. I'm feeling pretty autistic about it

Alright, I think that's about it. Thanks for listening!

[pparadiselost]

the gentleman and the lure.

akira kurusu x fem reader you thought your relationship with akira ended five years ago, but a chance encounter with him has you rethinking it all. warning(s): nsfw, timeskip au (akira is 23), reader implied to also be 23 minors do not interact.

in all honesty, you initially thought this whole thing was your eyes playing tricks on you.

but some deeper, unconscious part of you knew otherwise. nothing else, nobody else in this world could make you do a double take in the same you just did, your feet hesitating like an out-of-beat step in the larger waltz from the passersby around you. shibuya is wild like that, demanding your adherence to the dance while setting your imagination free.

you blink. it can’t be him. 

that chapter of your life had closed five years ago, and you were now preoccupied with finding your place in the world. it had taken a lot of time, a lot of anger and bargaining, a lot of unspoken grief and nights sobbing into your pillow wondering if there was anything you could have done to change the outcome, but ultimately, time proved to be the most effective medicine. you closed that part of your youth with a bittersweet tinge in your memories, and you tucked it somewhere close to your heart to savor on nights whenever drinking alone wasn’t enough to plunge you fully into the depths of your personal melancholy.

but it is him. 

wavy tufts of midnight black hair, smooth skin like a greek statue come to life, and sleek black glasses frames that only momentarily hide the big innocent doe eyes that make you stop dead in your tracks.

your throat clamps down on itself. the cacophony of the city suddenly mutes itself in your ears, and you can’t hear any of it. none of the footsteps, the voices, the honking of cars and the blasting advertisements, the chirping of pigeons, everything becomes completely obsolete as you struggle to even breathe. you want to say something, to even get a pathetic squeak out, but it’s as if every part of your mind shut down instantly, and you realize you were rendered frozen.

the man standing a few feet away from you also does a double take, and a few annoyed pedestrians storm between the two of you. but he doesn’t move and neither do you.

“is… is that you? is that who i think it is?” he steps closer, and you can make out his soft voice. his lips are a gentle shade of cherry red, and you’re suddenly aware of how much taller he is than from when you last remember. 

your eyes tremble when you finally let yourself take a good look at him, and despite the initial features that caught you like a deer in headlights, you also notice that he’s changed more than you thought. he’s definitely older. his features are sharper. his chest is a bit bigger and shoulders a bit broader, jawline more defined and the once-cherubic roundness in his eyes have honed themselves into something more adult-like.

your heart skips a beat.

“it is you.” there’s nowhere else for you to run now, now that he has you within arm’s reach. you’re still dumbstruck, the million thoughts in your mind unable to string themselves into tangible words, and you’re scared that this chance will slip out of your hands and become something you regret for the rest of your life. but at the same time, there’s too much emotion overwhelming you, almost like the entire passage of time spiel was rapidly unraveling in your head.

your tongue is a deadweight on the inside of your mouth, and yet when he reaches out to grab you, his hand wrapping around your arm and tugging you in his direction, leading you out of the middle of the crosswalk and towards the safety of the sidewalk, all you can conjure up is a surprised gasp. you sound like a wounded animal, but you let the dark-haired man whisk you away, your legs and feet stumbling behind you as if he was a puppeteer and you, the puppet.

it’s only when he takes you to a more secluded area, the mouth of an alley a little tucked away, do you manage to eke out your first words to him.

your voice shakes. you sound like you’re about to cry. you feel like you’re about to cry. “k… kurusu.”

he laughs under his breath, and hearing it makes you want to throw up on your own feet. you’ve craved that sound for so long. it haunts your dreams, your waking moments, the breakdowns you might have had when you stayed up past your bedtimes and let your mental demons claw too long at you. 

“that’s me.”

he pauses for a second, and he glances at you almost sheepishly. he is older, but he’s definitely still very young. probably around 23, most likely fresh out of college, maybe looking for his first job out in the real world, going through the same growing pains as you are right now. he still retains that boyish charm you ascribed to him in your brain, and you see it clearly through his big angelic eyes.

“it’s been a while, hasn’t it? i’m sorry. i should apologize for that,” he starts calmly, “i didn’t mean to lose contact with so many people after i moved back home all that time back… especially with you.”

what were you supposed to say? the path of least resistance would be to lie and say that it was alright that you let him go, that you spent your time alone practically torturing yourself over a love that could no longer be. but it wasn’t like you could suddenly dump all of that, especially within the first few minutes of meeting him again, and it wasn’t like your body was being particularly cooperative either.

you hold your breath. he waits a beat, and then he rummages through his pocket and extends his phone towards you.

“here. i wish i had more time to catch up with you. i’m getting back from my lunch break right now, so i can’t stick around. but put in your information, and if you’re willing, i really want to take some time and talk to you again.” his black eyes are on you again, and you can see your startled reflection staring back from his irises. “would you be okay with that?”

you’re a person haunted. possessed. you wordlessly take his phone from his hands, and you methodically type your information in. you give it back to him without much more fanfare, and only then does he allow himself a smile.

his fingers brush across yours, and the spark that shoots straight to your stomach leaves you reeling. your heart sinks like a rock when you see his happy face. his smile is beautiful and poised, and it’s nothing short of a lethal poison to your consciousness.

“thanks. i have to run now, but i’ll contact you as soon as i can. it… it’s a miracle to see you again. i didn’t think a day like this would come.” he admits. he shifts his weight slightly, and he rechecks his watch before nodding apologetically at you. “i know it’s long overdue to say something like this, but… take care of yourself. i’ll see you soon.”

maybe in another life, you would have reached out and grabbed him by the back of his cardigan to yank him back towards you. maybe in another life, you would have followed him out to the train station that had stolen him out of your life and whisked him home, condemning you to a solitude you couldn’t wish upon anyone. maybe in another life, you were a different person that he might have considered worthwhile to keep a connection going, instead of forcing you to spiral and wonder if this was a love worth fighting for. 

but it all comes crumbling when you see him dash away. you see the lush glimmer of his black hair as it bounces with his steps, long legs striding across the white paint of the crosswalks. if you were doomed to be the tragic side character stuck behind the whims of a cruel writer’s desires and fate, longing for the warmth of recognition, then this man is undoubtedly the protagonist, always just slightly out of the reach of your outstretched fingers.

the rest of shibuya closes in on him like a curtain call, the people of the city drowning out your vision of him like waves crashing down, and you’re left alone as the overwhelming and biting loneliness wraps its arm around you and chokes you from the inside out. 

…

…

…

how could you describe akira kurusu? there was no easy label to slap onto everything that went down five years ago, back when you were both young and in high school and didn’t know any better. all the lovebirds on your social media apps threw around these buzzwords like situationship, delusionalship, this and that, but you hate the thought of defining what you and akira had with something so soulless. so simple.

but at the same time, you couldn't deny the truth that whatever you and akira had wasn’t clearly defined either. there were no labels despite the complexity of the relationship, and it was every bit ambiguous as the same situations everyone else bemoaned about their lackluster love lives.

it was this ambiguity that proved to be the stalker at the foot of your bed each and every night.

you two were schoolmates. you tutored him a few times. went on dates with him a few times. slept with him a few times. you two had a relationship in every sense but the label, and you had learned to foster intense and real feelings for him. you’d listen to his heartbeat while curled up in his little bed in leblanc’s attic, and you’d wake up to him rubbing the sleep out of his eyes while you’d pretend to sleep so you could cuddle him a bit longer.

but just as quickly as it seemed to begin, his probation was done, and he left tokyo before you could find any way to cling to him even across all the distance. you had hoped that he’d reach out to you in some way and let you know that you weren’t entirely delusional in believing that you had something special with him, but the long stretches of silence made you realize harshly that there was nothing for you to cling to anymore.

you’d even turn up to leblanc by yourself a few times, and sojiro would shoot you a few glances. but you never mentioned akira to him, and the old man never mentioned akira to you either. it was a silent understanding between the two of you as sojiro fixed you a cup of coffee the way you liked it, that neither of you had been successful in hearing from akira.

“so,” his calm voice shakes you from your thoughts. you’re no longer in high school and crying on your bedroom floor over your boyfriend-not-boyfriend who moved back home. you don’t feel much more adult than your teenager self, but you’re sitting at a table across from akira, who’s busy scrutinizing the menu in his hands.

you reach for the glass of water to your right and take an impatient sip. your mouth feels dry, and it’s a good tactic for you to fully avoid conversation for a little while. just a few days prior, akira had reached out to you through the newly acquired number he got from you, and he had asked you to get dinner with him like he said he would. 

you should have known that this would open up old wounds, but the “what if” that nagged in your head had you accepting his offer before you could fully think it through. 

could you even call it an offer though? without any real string attached? this was exactly the same way he would unofficially ask you out when the two of you were young. you two would romp all over shibuya, eating yummy snacks and doing all sorts of dumb things, too drunk in each other’s presence to really take in the world around them.

“does anything catch your eye? i heard that this place was pretty good through the grapevine,” he admits. he glances up from his menu and smiles shyly, and you almost choke mid-swallow on your mouthful of water. it’s just so unfair how deceptively pretty he is, despite the fact that the word handsome would be more suitable for a young man he is, but you know better than to think that you could ever resist his sparkling eyes.

you set your glass down. “i’ve never been here before, so… you know this place better than i do. i suppose we can ask the waiting staff here for recommendations.”

he closes the menu. “that sounds like a good idea. do you want something other than water to drink? there’s no need to be polite—this dinner is my treat. oh, don’t make that face. i was the one who invited you out, so it’s only fair that i treat you.”

were you making a face? you bit back the urge to touch your face and hide your expression behind your hands. this really felt too much like a date, and despite the walls you wanted to put back up to fend akira off, his subtle ways of peppering you with the attention you craved so badly deep down through what felt like small talk was a bit too smooth for your liking. did he do this often with other romantic prospects while he was gone? what other people did he take an interest in since the last time you had seen him? god, did he butter others up as he was with you?

you push those negative thoughts out of your head. his five years of silence spoke enough for itself, and you scold yourself internally. you should know better than to swoon over your long lost first love again, and for you, the purpose of this dinner was for you to find closure. you didn’t want to open a door to your heart for him too quickly again, lest he end up slamming it back in your face once more.

the silence between the two of you became uncomfortable. you gather your courage, soothing over the uneasy heartbeat rattling at your ribcage, and you look at him pointedly. “...i wanted to ask this last time, but i didn’t get a chance to. how have you been, kurusu?”

he stares at you as if you’ve grown a second head when his last name leaves your mouth. he leans forward and places his elbows on the table, and he folds his hands, palms down, so he can place his chin on his intertwined fingers. “kurusu? you called me that when i ran into you.”

“what else would i call you?” you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of calling him akira just yet. calling him by his first name was something personal, something intimate. it was a title reserved for people close to each other, and while you might not have hesitated had the two of you retained your relationship from before, right now, he was nothing more than a stranger to you. 

he’s horrendously perceptive, and akira shrugs. “you know what to call me.”

your stomach does a flip, and you don’t want to give him more of an opening to flirt with you. it feels as if he’s stabbing you emotionally and twisting the knife into your heart, making sure you can feel the yearning and the pain in every tendon, muscle, and sinew of your being. “why are you in shibuya again?”

he pushes back against his seat slightly, his long fingers wrapping themselves against the edge of the table. “job hunting. i graduated university fairly recently, and i need to keep myself afloat. i figured a big city would have some good opportunities. and besides…”

he trails off slightly, and as much as you hate it, you’re pretty sure you can predict his next words. this place is like a second home to him. he has history here, connections, something that could serve as the foot-in-the-door for his future. he stretches his neck a little, and his jet black hair catches and twinkles like the remnants of starlight under the dim light of the restaurant.

“i’m a little picky about what i do.” his gaze is on you again. “you of all people should know that i’m not the kind of guy to be a corporate slave. i know having the ability to choose is a luxury in a society like this, but i can try, can’t i?”

you wish he wouldn’t say that. you wish you didn’t know him so well. you wish he would stop assuming that you did. you curl your fist in your lap under the table. big emotions swirl in your chest: regret, desperation, anger, but above all, a sense of foolishness for thinking that maybe, just maybe, your desire for him wasn’t as unfounded as you believed it to be. 

“c’mon,” he urges. he leans in, and his voice quiets itself. “there’s a lot i have to explain to you. i… i know there’s a lot i did you wrong by. but that’s why i’m here, aren’t i? won’t you give me another chance?”

your heart plunges into your stomach when you hear the sweet cadences of his softened words. the same tones as the dulcet “good morning”s he’d whisper to you after a romantic night, the “get home safe”s he’d wish you when he’d drop you off at your train station late at night, the same whispered words from a lifetime past. he can definitely sense you wavering, the fear in your eyes, the misery that he single-handedly caused. 

your lips quiver. the wise thing would be to not answer him, but could you really bear to do that? to sit in silence and close that door. this whole thing could backfire on you and leave you even more broken than he did before, but the gnawing in your gut tells you the very thing you had feared from yourself. 

you were still in love with akira kurusu. you had always been.

“d-don’t make me answer that.” you hang your head. akira hums softly, and he pushes away from you again, lengthening the distance between you and him across the table by just a few more inches so you could breathe. 

“well… you have the rest of the evening to think about it.” he raises his hand, smoothly waving someone from the waiting staff over. he looks to you through the corner of his eye, and when your eyes meet, he resembles less of the boy you once loved and more like a gentleman this time around, still craving to get his paws all over your love and steal it away selfishly for himself, but with more of a dangerous edge to it. like a blade hidden behind a pretty wrapper, you know his aim was to always gun straight for your heart. 

his eyes narrow slightly. his lips part ever so slightly, as beautiful as the day five years ago you had given him your last kiss. 

“but at the very least… why don’t you give ‘us’ another chance?”

…

…

…

“...thank you for dinner. it was very lovely.”

“there’s really no need to thank me. think nothing of it. like i said, it was the least i could do for you.” akira rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. the night air is cool against your face as the night settles down on the busy city. there’s the distant honking of horns, an ever present reminder to you that the inhabitants of shibuya never truly sleep. the world is constantly moving around you, just like time, whether you like it or not.

the sun is long gone, and the bright city lights replace its glamor. they almost remind you of stars if you let your vision unfocus, but right now, the floor is suddenly the most interesting thing you’ve seen in your entire life.

“if that’s all… i should be on my way before it gets much darker.” if you could run away from the entrance of the restaurant, you would do so in a heartbeat. you want to go home and lock yourself in your bedroom and sob your eyes out into your pillows, undoubtedly over all of the reopened wounds and over your own cowardice in regards to how to face akira. it was like whenever you made the resolve to get over him, he’d romp around your mind, and whenever you tried to play into his game, he’d simply turn the tables on you.

he glances at you. disappointment tinges his features, and it’s enough to make your heart squeeze with a bit of a painful pang. “already…? i was going to ask you if you wanted to do this again. i’ll be around the city for a little bit, and i really enjoyed myself.”

you stop dead in your tracks. it’s a bad idea to accept, but you can’t bear to do it when he’s looking at you with those big, wide eyes. it’s his ultimate weapon, paired best with his quick mind. he knows how to get you to crumble, to make your own mind turn against you, and you’re hesitating again. akira has you dancing in the palm of your hand all so effortlessly. 

it’s best for you to be ambiguous. just because he can see all of your cards doesn’t mean that he can predict the way you’ll choose to play them. “i’ll see when i have time in my schedule and get back to you.”

he looks at you as if he’s unconvinced with your lackluster answer, but he’s smart. he chooses not to press you further about it. after all, cornered prey tend to get the most defensive, and he would much rather that you walk willingly into his honeyed traps. 

“y’know… are you busy right now then? i’ve got a bit of a hankering for something after such a nice dinner, and my place isn’t too far off from here.” he moves closer to you, and your heart leaps into your throat at the sudden proximity. he smiles gently at you, almost too innocent for your own good. “i’ve been practicing brewing coffee all this time. i could fix you a nice cup. it’ll be a lot better than all the shitty ones i’d make you drink when we were both in high school. do you still like your coffee the same as you did back then? c’mon, it’s just one cup. i’ll make it worth your while.”

you should be wiser. sharper. stricter. but akira looks like a kicked puppy, and he also looks like he’s about to grab onto your wrist and beg on his knees if you were to give him the cold shoulder and leave. there’s a sticky lump in the back of your throat that won’t go away no matter how much you swallow, and you wonder if giving in to him would make the uneasiness in your stomach go away. would it be worth it?

“...you said your place wasn’t far?” the words coming from your mouth feel like a death sentence. the black-haired man instantly lights up, and he nods enthusiastically. 

“just a couple of minutes. follow me. i promise i won’t make you regret this.” he reaches for your hand, and sparks shoot across your body when his long fingers wrap around yours, tugging you closer to his side. your stomach plummets, and you’re struck with the horrifying revelation that his hands feel so right intertwined with yours. it reminds you too closely of when he was yours, of when you’d walk side-by-side as if you were a real couple. 

you can barely remember the walk to his place. you vaguely recall crossing a few streets, your attention too transfixed on the man guiding you. you stumble up a few apartment steps, your heartbeat hammering in between your ears and stirring up a storm in your temples as he fumbles with his front keys, swinging his door open too eagerly, and practically shoving you into his apartment suite. 

your throat tightens up for the millionth time that night when the first thing you can make out from his doorway is how much his apartment simply smells like him. it hasn’t changed in five years; he still smells exactly like the way he would when you’d nuzzle into the crook of his neck all those years ago.

“it’s not anything special.” he comes up from behind you, kicking his shoes off before straightening them by the entrance. “but it’s perfect for someone living alone. i promise it’s normally a lot cleaner than i have it right now, so ignore anything that… might be a bit messy. y’know how it is with us men and living alone.”

you barely respond to his joke as you slide your own shoes off, stuck in basically a trance-like state. you trace your eyes over every part of his tiny apartment: the pictures hung up on his wall, the coats hanging from the closet with the door slid halfway open, the mismatched bits of furniture he most definitely got second hand. despite his warning, his place is maintained nicely and clean, nothing short of what you’d expect from someone as surprisingly prim and proper as him. he’s a gentleman to his core. 

he leads you to his living room, where you can get a pretty good glimpse of his small kitchen. his place is rather intimate, cozy, the kind of place that feels like it was made to welcome you. you barely keep yourself from curling your hands into fists to keep them from shaking, and you focus your mind on the details you can see as you sink down into his couch.

“stay right there.” akira pads into the kitchen, and he opens his cabinets to rummage for his supplies. “i’m going to break out the really fancy coffee cups, just for you. sojiro never taught me this part specifically, but i’m pretty sure he’d rip my teeth out if i served my coffee to a pretty lady in a regular cup.”

you almost stop breathing when he slips in a compliment so nonchalantly. you want to scold him and tell him to quit doing things like that. it’s bad for your resolve, and you hate to think about how he managed to get this smooth while you were gone. you gnaw on your tongue as akira hums to himself, working his magic with the beans of his choice. soon enough, the mature aroma of coffee stains the air, wafting like a magic spell towards you and intermingling with his scent. you could get drunk off a smell like this, entranced and held captive in place without a single restraint to physically hold you down.

you’re so caught up in savoring this nice atmosphere, irregardless of the weird tension mounting the back of your mind, that you barely catch akira as he brings you a fancy cup filled with freshly made coffee. he has a matching one for himself, a pair finely decorated porcelain cups that feature what looks like a painted couple in old rococo-esque clothes. they’re definitely meant to be used together, probably best for a couple. you don’t really get the chance to overthink it too much, as he hands you one and keeps one for himself. you mumble a shy word of thanks as you warm your hands against the glass.

your reflection stares back at you when you glance over the rim. the color is dark yet refined, like you’re staring into a rippling lake rather than a cup of coffee. it smells even more delicious now that it’s up close, and it feels like a shame to drink it. it makes you wish that you were a coffee connoisseur in the way that akira is, like you’re unfit to be able to appreciate the art that comes with making a beautiful cup of coffee.

“i made it just the way i remember you to like it. but better, of course, now that i have more practice under my belt. i know what i’m doing with my coffee now. go ahead. try it, and let me know what you think.” akira encourages you. his eyes are twinkling in clear excitement. you peek at him and then back at your dumbfounded self staring back in the coffee.

you bring the cup to your lips and take a tentative sip, not wanting to burn yourself. a rich and deep flavor, bitter and yet delectable, coats your tongue and the inside of your cheeks. it slips down your throat easily, warming you up from the inside and out and taking away the tension building up in your body straight away. you let out a small sigh of happiness as you take the cup away from your lips, and you’re pretty sure your contentment is written all over your face.

he grins. “good, isn’t it? i knew you’d like this one. i’ll spare you all the details about the beans i’ve used since you probably don’t want to hear it. but have as much as you’d like. nothing makes a man prouder than knowing that he’s made his girl happy.”

there it is again. you look down at your coffee cup with mixed feelings stirring in your heart. but the atmosphere right now is too good for you to want to ruin it. you want to savor what little sweetness you can steal from him. you’ve willingly walked into the lion’s den, and if you’re staring directly into doom’s maw, the very least you could do was to find some enjoyment in it. 

so instead you simply lift the cup, pretend you’re gulping back any regrets and doubts in your mind, and take another generous mouthful of the coffee akira’s specially brewed for you.

…

…

…

“ohhhh- ah- fuck- wait, d-don’t touch me there like that…!”

your body twists violently against his bed, and akira laughs softly against your ear. his grip on you from behind is tight, and no matter how much you thrash against his chest, he refuses to let go of you. your skin is hot despite the cool fabric of his sheets, and it feels like your body’s going to completely give out on you.

you already knew from the start that his coy invitation for coffee was just bait for him to lure you into his bed. but even with that knowledge, there’s something about being stuck back in a lewd embrace with him again that has your stomach coiling in with both excitement and shame. both of your clothes are strewn against his floor, and his cheap mattress creaks as if annoyed whenever you writhe in his arms.

“you’ve changed so much during the time i took my eyes off of you.” one hand gropes shamelessly at your bare tits, sighing when he feels the plush flesh of your chest fill out his palms. his fingers play with your erect nipples, applying just the slightest bit of pressure all to get you to cry out and throw your head back against his bare chest. “and yet… all of your sensitive parts haven’t changed whatsoever. you’ve missed me, haven’t you?”

you don’t have any words for something like that. your lips are swollen from how much he’s kissed you, the small talk about coffee nothing more than an overture for him to lead you into his bedroom, effortlessly coaxing your clothes off of you and indulging in your body again. you hate how well he meshes with your body, how responsive you are to his physical touches, as if you’ve been waiting for this as much as he was.

“i asked you a question.” his sharp voice cuts through the haze in your thoughts, and you shudder when his other hand snakes down your stomach. one knee expertly separates your legs, and a moan builds up in the back of your throat when he starts playing with your wetness. 

akira is a tease through and through. he slides his fingers up and down your slit, and you let out an embarrassed squeak, wanting to cover your face. your juices cover his digits, and heat throbs in your core and pulses under the skin of your face when you register the slick sounds your folds make. 

fuck—were you really that aroused already? 

“so wet… and all we did was kiss. are you that turned on from just that? you’re rather naughty, aren’t you?” he looks at you with words that are nothing like how sweet his eyes are. your voice dies out in your mouth as his fingers start to circle around your pulsing hole, almost like it’s a silent reminder of how much easy access he has to your body.

it’s not fair how easily he can get you to physically succumb to him. this was definitely your fault; you refused any other romantic prospects ever since akira left you, which meant that it had been five long years where your only sexual release was whatever you had to offer to yourself. and with how badly you’ve been pining after him, it was safe to say that touching yourself came nowhere close to having akira’s hands wandering all over your body again.

you yelp when he bites down slightly at your ear, his sharp incisors nipping carefully at the thin skin.

“i want an answer,” he demands breathlessly. “you’ve always been so shy… that part of you hasn’t changed at all.”

“d-don’t make me answer that…!” you choke out. your voice is high-pitched and strained, nothing like the collected facade you had shown him during dinner. he pinches your swollen clit, and pleasure stabs at your stomach. you arch your back against his chest, another desperate cry escaping you. he’s good at this little back and forth, flickering between torturing your clit to rubbing loving circles into your sticky nub. your pussy convulses, and your inner walls are drooling to be fucked out and stuffed with his cock. your body’s missed his touches almost as much as you have emotionally, and the fact that he’s experienced with your body does nothing in your favor.

he presses his lips into the gentle curve of your face, kissing you over and over again. his kisses are so sweet and chaste, unlike the way he toys with your lower half. your hole flutters and dances around his fingertips, leaking like a broken faucet, your pussy telling him everything you refuse to verbalize. he knows how much you want him to fuck you, but he also knows how stubbornly shy you can get. and he also knows that sex is so much more fun when he can peel back all of your walls to get you right where he wants you.

“you’re going to have to answer me, you know,” he purrs. the vibrations reverberate against his chest and towards your bare back. “a gentleman would never do something his lady doesn’t want to do. you can thank sojiro for that.”

you squeeze your thighs slightly around his wrist, and you shudder. “please… don’t do this to me… it’s embarrassing.”

“it’s only me… you’ve slept with me before. why so shy now?” his tongue laps at the shell of your ear, and another shiver runs down your spine when his warm tongue captures your sensitive skin, licking against the thin skin and making your pussy clamp up unintentionally. “unless…? don’t tell me. is there another guy you’ve been doing this with?”

you shake your head vehemently. you wouldn’t ever dream about fucking someone that isn’t akira kurusu.

“like i said, it’s- it’s embarrassing…!!” you breathe. his hands feel so good, touching you all over from behind. you can feel him grinding his hard-on against your ass, and your throat constricts on itself when you feel how big and thick he is. he was always well-built even when you fucked him during your teenage years, but in your memory, he wasn’t this big… your cunt throbs painfully with anticipation at the thought of being stretched out on such a big cock after such a long dry spell, and the arousal swirling slowly in your stomach pleads with you to set your pride aside just this once.

he sighs against your ear. he’s disgustingly sensual, that stupid akira, and his words are honeyed and sensual. “it’s only me… c’mon, all you need to say is that you want me. ‘please fuck me, akira! please fuck me with your cock! i want it inside my pussy!’ that's all you need to say. not too hard now, hm? i basically told you what you needed to say.”

heat burns at your cheeks, and there’s a lump in the back of your throat. you want it, you want to do everything he just said so badly. you want him to pin you down to his cheap mattress and fuck the daylights out of you, until you can’t feel your legs and you can let go of all the emotional baggage you built up. the shame and the embarrassment grip in between your hips, and you swallow back whatever hesitation swims in your gullet.

“p-please fuck me, akira…,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “i want you inside me… want your cock inside my pussy…”

“hm? what was that? i could barely hear you.” akira presses harshly against your clit. you let out a loud yelp, electric pleasure jolting up in your pussy. “see? i know you’re capable of being much louder with that pretty voice of yours…”

if looks could kill, you would have murdered akira in your bed with the glare you shot him. he blinks innocently at you, a small grin poised on his lips. this is a battle you can’t win, unless you want to leave his house unsatisfied and unable to do anything about the throbbing deep inside your gut.

“please fuck me, akira!” you make sure your words are pointed. “i-i want you to fuck me! please put your cock inside my- my pussy…!”

he laughs under his breath and rewards you with a kiss, even though you’re flushing with heat and wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole. “oh, i’ll gladly do that, sweetheart. that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

you bite back your complaints, heart thumping wildly inside of your chest. his erection prods against your thighs, and you part them wider so he can slot himself from behind. you swallow again when his cock slides up and down your slit, and your vision spins when he grinds up against your pussy. his fingers continue to rub and play with your clit, making sure that you don’t get even a second of rest from him.

his pre-cum stained cockhead prods naughtily at your fluttering hole. you take in a deep breath as he presses his tip against the tight ring of muscle. his dark eyes peer at you. “ready, my pretty girl?”

you nod, and a moan immediately lodges itself inside your mouth when he pushes himself in. he’s slow, painstakingly slow, when he pushes himself in. it’s like he wants you to feel every inch of his length, reminding you of everything you’ve missed, of how good it felt to have his cock penetrating you again after so long. akira hisses through his teeth, pushing his cock into your cunt, fighting past through all of the hot and wet tightness, and it takes all of his self-restraint not to empty his balls into your pussy right there and then.

“shit…,” he says breathlessly, “were you always this tight…? fuck- your pussy’s clenching all over my dick… can’t get enough of me now, can you?”

you focus on your breathing, trying to relax your body. a dull sense of pleasure pricks at your brain, and it spreads and trickles under your skin as if it’s a droplet of blood pooling at your fingertip and dripping down. your stomach curls in on itself, and even when you were bracing yourself for the stretch, feeling it all anew feels like it’s blowing your brains out.

“ah-,” you exhale shakily, trembling in his arms, “s-so big…”

“yeah?” he sounds strained too, his cock twitching dangerously against its tight restraints. “‘ve missed this pretty pussy so much, love. i knew you weren’t someone i could just let go willy-nilly. i’ve got you now, pretty, all in my arms.”

you hum, savoring the sensation of your plush walls stretching out to fit his cock, his balls tensed up at your entrance. he hadn’t started moving yet and you were this starstruck over his dick. how the hell were you going to live through the whole ordeal? it didn’t matter. even this much felt good and had you writhing like a lithe cat against his chest, your curves slotting straight into his wandering hands like two matching pieces of a puzzle.

“y-you feel different,” you mumble as one hand ghosts over your chest and the other makes its place in between your thighs again. a whimper bubbles up inside of you when he goes back to rubbing slow circles into your clit, your pussy clenching up and massaging his dick as arousal shoots through your stomach. 

“mhm? tell me about it.” he draws his hips back carefully, and you can hear him let out a haggard exhale when your walls cling to him, not wanting to let his cock go. the friction has you seeing stars in your mind, your brain threatening to melt into goo. he’s still incredibly slow as he pushes back into you, giving your body a chance to catch up, but even at this pace, his thrusts are deep and full.

you shouldn’t stroke his ego, but you wouldn’t be lying if you said that the five years you spent apart from him did change him. maybe you also had gone too long without him and the withdrawal had changed you too. “i don’t know… you feel bigger- feels good inside me…”

“yeah? keep talking to me then. i missed that sweet voice of yours.” his eyelids flutter when your walls twist around him, your greedy pussy eagerly sucking him in deeper and swallowing him in. “ohhhh, fuck…! shit, you feel so fucking good- so fucking tight… haven’t had your pussy in way too long…”

your chest tightens, and you can feel your breathing growing shaky. his thrusts are slowly getting faster, finding a groove that has your thoughts quivering with each snap of his hips. you’re hypersensitive to how he feels inside of you. you can feel everything, and your pussy remembers again how good it felt to have him fucking you. he remembers too, the angles that you liked and just how deep he needed to fuck into you to get you to squeal. and speak of the devil-

“-!! akira!! n-not there, akira! s-so deep-!” your words start slurring together. pleasure rips through your pussy as he effortlessly locates your sweet spot again and starts bullying your deepest parts with his cockhead. “i-if you keep fucking me like that, you’re gonna make me cum…!”

“you say that like it’s a bad thing,” akira chuckles. his dark curls sweep against his forehead, eyes hiding behind the wisps of midnight black hair. “what if that’s what i want you to do? what kind of man leaves his girl unsatisfied? it’s only fun when you’re feeling good… i want to see if i can still get you to crumble after all these years.”

you hiccup as he keeps fucking into you. you can’t think properly, not when he’s hitting your sweet spot without any issue, each thrust forcing his cockhead to slam into your g-spot right on. he keeps playing with your clit, moving in rhythm with his thrusts so that you don’t get even a moment’s worth of reprise. your chest is tight, and your breathing is ragged, your brain only managing to hang on just to get enough oxygen to your fluttering heart.

“yeah, you like it when i touch you like this, don’t you?” akira sounds so full of himself as he practically purrs at you like a cat. he wasn’t lying when he said he missed your body; his cock keeps drooling inside of you. your juices intermingle and mix, acting as the perfect lubricant for him. each snap of his hips is faster and harder, and your mind keeps lighting up with sparks of pleasure as his cock stretches you out. “that’s my girl. ‘m so glad i got your attention again. life is just too boring without you here… ‘m not gonna leave you again, you hear? i made that mistake once. i’m not gonna make it twice.”

“akira!” you scream out, unable to hold yourself back. so much for that rightful fear of yours. you could never resist him, not when he’s saying the very things you dreamt of for five years straight, consoling yourself with no one at your side, just imagining how things might be different if he had wanted you as much as you wanted him.

and now he does. now he’s gripping onto your body, making you twist and turn with pleasure, completely at his mercy with your legs spread apart and your cunt stretched out his girthy cock. the squelching noises as his cock slides in and out of you are downright obscene, and you can’t remember the last time you had gotten this shamelessly wet. not even masturbating had your pussy this excited; your fingers could never replace what real dick did for your cunt.

“there we go. that’s my name,” he praises you. “scream it all you want for me. i want to hear your pretty voice. it makes me feel really good when i hear you crying out my name… it’s like you know that i’m your man. only me. not anybody else.”

you shudder, his dirty talk making your stomach furl in on itself. you hate that silken tongue of his, how he can say such sweet things to you and yet turn you on so badly. you’re glad that he likes you this much; otherwise, you don’t even want to think about what other embarrassing things he might make you do for his own entertainment. this is his version of playing nice. you’re lucky that he considers himself a gentleman and would do anything for your pleasure. 

the lewd sounds of lovemaking and skin against skin quickly fill the room, and he’s thrusting into you just the way you like it. he wasn’t lying when he said he remembered every detail of your sensitive body. he was so good at playing with your body that it almost felt like you were being attacked at all angles. he was showering your nipples and clit with attention, his lips chasing after your body and pressing sticky kisses all over whatever patches of bare skin he could reach. he’d lean his head to make out with you too, eating up your moans as you cry into his mouth, his tongue swirling against yours and making you almost collapse into a heap of sweaty limbs and lovejuices out of how good it was.

“so tight… yeah, you like it like this, don’t you? my cock is the best, isn’t it? you keep clenching up around me, pretty girl,” he breathes. his words are velvety and dark, and whenever he slips his tongue into your mouth, he tastes so addictively good. “i can feel how much your pussy wants me… even if you’re committed to being this shy, your body tells me everything i need to know.”

“don’t say things like that…!” you somehow force your words out through gritted teeth. “i already told you, it’s embarrassing!”

his lips curl into a cruel smile as he nuzzles his face into the side of your neck, clearly enjoying the way he’s making you squirm. if there’s one thing akira loves, it’s putting you in the hotseat and knowing that he has this kind of effect on you. “is it though? i’m only telling the truth.”

he pinches at your clit at the same time he thrusts up harshly into you, and you let out a breathless shriek as red-hot pleasure rams into your gut. your inner walls clamp down unconsciously onto his dick, gripping onto every inch of his cock. your cervix milks and massages his tip, your pussy pleading desperately to be filled up with both his cock and his cum. 

“just like that.” he sounds so pleased with himself. akira isn’t the kind of guy to get a big head and walk around as if he ruled the place, but he wasn’t one to let any of his victories just slide past. “see? that pretty pussy of yours won’t lie to me.”

your stomach won’t stop lurching with each rough thrust. the heat deep inside of you keeps coiling into painful knots, and you think you’re going to lose your mind. all you can think about is how good it feels to have akira messing up your insides, your walls squelching and molding itself to the shape of his cock. the pleasure is mind-numbing in every sense of the word, and your brain keeps devouring all of the sensations flickering underneath your skin. he knows how to get you aroused too easily, and he makes sure you feel everything he’s doing to you. whether it’s speeding up or slowing down, egging you on with your most sensitive parts, he doesn’t give you an opportunity to really catch up with him. 

“feels good- feels so good-,” your words are starting to melt together incoherently, all of the overwhelming sensations getting the better of you. “if you keep fucking me like that, you’re gonna make me cum…”

“oh, silly girl, we’ve talked about this already.” he kisses your shoulder, and your mouth goes dry when the tip of his sharp teeth ghosts over your exposed skin. “i already told you that that was my goal from the very start. i wanna see my girl cum all over my cock, just like you used to do. you’d make the prettiest noises as you came… are you going to moan for me like that again? or are you going to get shy? do i have to fuck the moans out of you?”

you whimper helplessly, cunt tightening up. you hate how much that turns you on, how much letting him have his way with you has you melting like putty. you must have more of a masochistic side than you’re willing to admit, given how much you get off on having akira manhandle you. 

“don’t be mean to me… you’re so mean…,” you eke out weakly. 

“i’m not being mean. if anything, you’re the mean one… is it too much for a man to want to see how good he’s making his girl feel? i want to see your face twisted in pleasure, your voice all ruined for me, your body all messed up because of me…,” he hums to himself. the lump in the back of your throat is there again, and as if to accentuate his point, he thrusts sharply into you. 

a shockwave of heat shreds you from the inside out, and you arch your back harshly. he keeps torturing you like this. is this his way of edging you? keeping you this close to the edge and telling you about how much he wants to make you cum but not really letting you? akira loves how responsive your pussy is, how you keep milking his cock and fluttering all excitedly around him whenever he whispers about all the lewd things he wants to do to you. your thighs won’t stop shaking, and your juices are dripping everywhere, coating his balls and trickling down your skin and messing up his sheets. 

you’re going to cum soon. your body feels weak and flushed all at once, and heat keeps mounting wildly inside of you. you can’t keep up with everything akira’s doing to you, and no matter how much he’s teasing you and whispering all sorts of dirty things into your ear, all of it is going straight into making your pussy feel good. your cunt won’t quit sucking him in, instantly hooked on the feeling of having your ex-fling’s cock stuffing it again. 

you’re better than this. you know that, and yet you’re not above falling prey to akira’s words and honeyed traps. he’s spun a perfect web to ensnare you in, and you never stood a chance. he has you right where he wants you. 

and you look so, so beautiful to him. he can feel how close you are. your pussy keeps pulsing and squeezing around his length, and your moans are growing more and more desperate. your eyes have lost focus a long time ago, but he knows that if he were to grab your face and force you to look at him, your pupils would still dilate and show him a clear reflection of his triumphant face. sweat beads at your body, and your bare skin is all laid out for him to admire. how could he ever leave you behind like that? you’re everything he’s ever wanted and more. it’s almost too good for him to believe.

“wanna cum-,” you stumble over your own words. “please- ‘m so close, akira… it hurts- don’t edge me…”

he hums, and you let out a pained whine when he slows his pace down, dragging his cock out of you painfully. your hole clings to every inch of his cock, not wanting to let him go, scared that he won’t fuck himself back into you. your brain lights up with pleasure as he slowly fucks himself back in before speeding back up, and the sensation is like whiplash to your overwhelmed senses.

your stomach curls dangerously, and your vision shakes violently as the heat rushes to your gut. you’re so close, so close to cumming, basically almost there. you hold your breath, anticipating the dizzying fall, just needing a little more from him to tip you over the edge. you clench your eyes shut as your insides throw a fit, overstimulated and reeling from how downright good it feels to get dicked down again.

except akira won’t give it to you that easily. 

you let out a drawn out cry when he controls his pace and refuses to give you what you want, and you writhe in his arms, clawing at his bare skin and shaking your head back and forth. it’s awful, you hate it, you hate not being able to cum, feeling like there was a dry spell that refused to be satiated. you feel hollow and empty despite him fucking his cock back into you, trying to build that arousal back up.

“y-you’re edging me!” you protest. “please- i was so close- just wanna cum… it hurts…”

“sorry.” he doesn’t sound sorry at all, but he tries to appease you by pressing another flurry of sweet kisses to your face and neck. “can you blame me though? you sound so pretty, look so pretty… i like knowing that i still have it in me. hm? i’m making you feel good, aren’t i?”

it’s unfair how easily he can mess around with both your physical needs and your emotions. all you care about right now is the burning in between your thighs, the secondary pulse inside of your pussy wanting release. your pussy keeps getting more and more sloppy, juices spilling everywhere. your body isn’t resisting any of his touches anymore, and he’s fucking into you without cracking a sweat.

“c’mon,” he whispers seductively. “let me hear you beg for me some more. this is the only time you’ll ever sweeten up to me. you’re usually the thorny one otherwise. think you’re up for it? or do i need to tell you what to say again?”

your throat tightens, and your mind wavers. your thoughts have hazed over a long time ago, not caring about anything else happening in the world. all that mattered to you right now was the delicious stretch of akira’s cock inside your hole, and all you wanted right now was to cum all over his dick like you didn’t have a shred of pride left in your body. and you bet that was what akira wanted out of you: his guarded and jaded former classmate fucked out into a loving, cum-stained mess right in his bed.

the words are leaving your mouth before you can even fully comprehend them. “want it- want it so bad, akira… please, please, wanna cum on your cock- i’ve wanted it so bad… wanted it all this time, nothing else made me feel good! your cock’s the best, i wanna cum on your cock… please- i can’t think about anything else!”

he laughs breathlessly. you don’t know if it’s because he’s incredulous or if it’s because he’s impressed. maybe both. you couldn’t care less, not when your arousal pounds painfully throughout every corner of your body. you think you’ll actually burst if you don’t get to cum soon.

“yeah? god, can you blame me for getting so greedy with you when this is the kind of shit you reward me with?” he kisses your temples softly, and his lips move against your sweat-beaded skin. “i suppose i’ve tortured you enough, yeah? what a good girl you are, doing everything i ask you to do… it’s okay, i’m not going anywhere. you can cum on my cock as much as you want. it’s my turn to pamper my girl a bit…”

finally. finally…! good god, you swear you’re about to see the pearly gates right there. akira angles his hips just right, and he rams mercilessly into you, savoring the choked out cries and moans of thanks you let out, his name generously mixed into your muddled whimpers the way he likes it best. you’re hanging on by a thread, and akira’s fucking you in a way that’ll have you come undone any moment now.

“c-cumming…! ‘m cumming- akira- oh fuck- fuck, fuck, cumming!” 

your cunt clamps down on his cock like a vice, and you throw your head back, a breathless shriek dying out on your lips as your orgasm crashes into you like a brick wall. something warm and wet gushes out in between your thighs, and heat overtakes you entirely. it feels so good, feeling that tightness in your gut snap and unravel and come completely loose, all of the pleasure coursing through your veins and making your mind go entirely blank. you can barely force a breath through your mouth, shuddering as akira guides you through your high, keeping your quivering walls stretched out to their limit as he pumps his cock in and out you through it all.

your world spins, and it feels like everything is giving out under you. your already foggy vision is fighting to stay as it is, and you cling to whatever part of akira is holding you from behind. fuck, you can’t remember when the last time you came like this was. masturbating and fucking yourself on your fingers all by yourself always felt so dull and lackluster, and actually getting a taste of real dick after having been deprived for so long felt like your entire universe was being flipped upside down. you didn’t even realize how badly you were shaking until akira held firmly onto your form, keeping you locked flush against his bare chest.

“ooh, bet that felt really nice-,” his voice warbles through your hearing. your heartbeat roars against your ears, and it takes everything in you to fully focus on what he’s saying. “fuck- i missed making my girl cum like that… i almost forgot that you make such a pretty face whenever you cum… makes me want to tease you even more. yeah? did it feel that good to cum on my cock? you missed it too, didn’t you?”

your head is heavy as you try to get yourself to nod, fully aware of all the slick covering his cock now. did you really cum that hard? you can’t make heads or tails out of anything right now, the aftermath of your high still possessing you fully. you’re a fucked out mess in that moment, and your head buzzes with the dull thrums of euphoric pleasure. you’re vaguely aware of how much akira’s dick is twitching inside of you, undoubtedly hurtling close to his own high now that he’s seen you turn into this mushy mess all because of him. 

his balls twitch against your lower lips. his cock keeps spasming deep inside of you, and the same desperation that had claimed you whole is egging him on too. he wants to fuck his cum into you, watch your cunt struggle to keep all of it, stare down at you with his lust-stricken eyes as the pearly white ropes start to leak out of you. 

you whine against the friction as he keeps bucking his hips against yours, grinding up just to feel a bit more of you. your head spins at the overstimulation, with him still rutting against you despite the fact that you just came. “t-too much, akira-”

“i’m close, promise-,” he grunts out. “bear with me, okay? so close, gonna fill up your pretty pussy with my cum- you’re being so good for me…”

you nod weakly. you want him to fill you up, want to feel the swell of your stomach as his cum floods your insides. you can bear that much. you keep crying out for him, letting your voice spur him on. you’re sure you’re going to be a sore mess tomorrow, aches already spreading across your lower back and legs, but with how much downright pleasure he can plunge you straight into, it’s a worthwhile trade off.

“god, you’re so fucking perfect…! take it- fuck- take it all… gonna make you mine, gonna make you my girl-,” akira groans. you yelp when he grabs at your hips and keeps you stuck in place, and he buries his cock as deep as he can fuck himself into you. a cold shiver spreads across your spine when he cums hard straight into your cunt, and the warmth bursts across your gut. your walls keen and strain as it stretches out to take his semen while his cock is still stuffed inside, and a sense of otherworldly bliss spreads across your brain when you can feel white hot ropes flood your womb.

“ohhhh- fuck- god-,” akira cries out. he buries his head against your shoulder, panting heavily. your intoxicating scent fills his nose, and he swears that he’s no longer on this earth. just as much as you’ve craved the physical intimacy, akira longed to feel this again, to feel your weight in his arms, to feel the warmth of his cock softening inside of your cunt as your lovejuices mix together. all sorts of hazy pleasures flicker up inside of his mind, and there’s nothing he wants to do more than to keep whispering sweet nothings to you and have you all plugged up with his cum, cement you as his for just a few seconds longer.

but he knows better than to push his luck even more than he has. your mind is swimming even more than his is, and he has to be the responsible one despite having initiated this whole mess to begin with. 

he pulls out with a low groan, and you turn over to lay down on your back finally. your knees part unconsciously, and when akira sits up, he’s immediately entranced at the slow stream of his cum that trickles out of your fluttering hole. his cum slides down the curve of your ass and onto his sheets, a small pool forming underneath you.

did… he really cum that much?

he lets you have a second to pull yourself together, and he helps you. you’re still shaky, but you manage to thank him quietly as he gets up. he grabs the base of his half-hard cock, and he presses the sticky tip to your mouth. you look up at him wordlessly through your eyelashes, but your tongue darts out in between your lips. you obediently start licking the excessive cum off of his length, making sure to swirl your tongue into his slit and let him see you swallowing down whatever he couldn’t fuck into your throbbing cunt.

you missed this salty, heady taste too. you wish you weren’t so fucked out, wish you had something intelligent to say to this. more than anything else though, you wish you could feel something other than a sick sense of delight at everything that went down. you should be mortified at letting him pry his way into your heart so easily, for letting your walls down so quickly despite having spent five years building them up. 

but now that everything was said and done, all you wanted in that moment was for him to lay down again so you could crawl back into his arms and feel his heartbeat against your bare body. that was the kind of man akira kurusu was. you couldn’t bring yourself to stay away from him for too long, no matter what you tried. you two were meant to be, no matter how much that sentiment had hurt you whenever you were young.

akira mumbles something about getting ready to clean you up, and you gingerly let yourself flop back down on his bed. fatigue seeps quickly into you. too much happened all at once that night, and no matter how much you fought through the fog in your head to make sense of everything, you remember very little after a certain point.

…

…

…

the appetizing scent of curry and coffee greets you when you slowly let your eyelids flutter open. you’re still naked, and the blanket covering you is light and cool. a gentle stream of sunlight tiptoes through the bedroom, and you stir, suddenly aware of how sleep-logged and heavy your body feels. still, it feels nice when you stretch your arms and legs, before realization slams into your consciousness like a sack of bricks.

you shoot upright, and your back immediately screams out in pain. 

fuck. you messed up. you messed up big time.

you scramble to the edge of the bed, and in the corner, your clothes are freshly laundered and folded up. uncertainty gnaws at your stomach, and you rush to get dressed, haphazardly dragging your clothes over your head and slithering into whatever you had on last night. there’s no sign of akira anywhere, at least inside the bedroom, but this place is very much not your room nor your bed, so it has to be akira’s.

it was one thing to go out to dinner with akira and go back to his place for a cup of coffee. it was another to somehow end up having sex with him and passing out in his bed as if you two were actually lovers. you want to slap yourself in the face as the mortification fully settles in. you had only wanted closure last night, and now you don’t know what to make of the situation. things just got messy way too fast; you never had intended on sleeping with him, let alone letting him fuck you raw and creampie you.

you have half a mind to make a run straight for his front door, but when you crack his bedroom door open, you can hear humming and the clattering of plates from the kitchen. you shyly pad out into his hallway and towards where the noise is coming from. whatever foolish hopes you had of making a clean getaway were gone the moment you woke up, clearly having slept in from how much sunlight was pouring in through all of the windows. the very least you could do was maybe thank him for taking care of you last night and apologize for staying the night unexpectedly.

“oh!” akira whirls around with a pan in his hand. surprise blooms on his face, but he quickly smiles at you. “you’re up already! was i too loud? here, why don’t you take a seat at the table? i was hoping i could wake you up with breakfast already prepared, but i guess you beat me to it.”

heat pricks at your cheeks. you want to decline his offer, but the scent of food hits far stronger now that you’re close to the source. you’re begrudgingly reminded of how hungry you are when your stomach practically yowls, so you hang your head and shuffle awkwardly over to take a seat at his dining table. at the center is a small box of contraception and a glass of water, clearly meant for you, and you’re rendered shy again at how far ahead akira is compared to you.

he must have woken up early to have run to the store for plan b and to have enough time to basically cook up a whole meal for you. you don’t have to wait long before akira proudly presents you with a plate of hot rice and curry, followed by a mug of coffee prepared the way you like it best.

“eat. you’ll need the energy if you’re going to be taking the pill,” he encourages you. he presses a spoon into your hand, and you say a quick word of thanks before digging into the food. you’re not sure if it’s because he’s a good chef or if it’s because you’re ravenous, but you make quick work of breakfast. akira laughs softly at how you’re wolfing down your food and reminds you to chew, but before either of you know it, both of your plates are empty and a strained silence lingers above your heads.

“um…” you glance nervously at him. “i can do your dishes before i leave. and- um- please let me know how much i owe you for everything. i really should be on my way…”

“do my dishes? owe me anything?” the dark-haired man looks at you as if you’ve grown a second head. “are you in a rush to go somewhere?”

you should lie and tell him you have a prior appointment. if you’re smart, you would have hopped on the closest train that’ll take you far far away from this dangerous man. but clearly you aren’t as smart as you believe yourself to be, given how many times you chose against the “smarter” option to land yourself where you are now. what’s one more indulgent mistake?

“not… necessarily.” you don’t know how to tell him that you’re not sure how to face everything now. it’s impossible to close the gap of five years in just one hookup, no matter how much your hearts might have both yearned for it. there’s a lot of heavy emotional work left to be done if you want something meaningful to come out of it, and you can’t deny the fact that akira has objectively hurt you by disappearing from your life five years ago. 

but when he reaches over the dining table to take your hand and squeeze it encouragingly, your resolve can only hold strong for so long. you peer up from where you’re staring down at your lap. his beautiful doe eyes are looking straight at you, and your heart throbs painfully inside of your chest. 

you want him. you want this. you want all of it to work out, somehow. 

“if there’s no hurry,” he murmurs soothingly, “stay a while. we have so much we have to catch up on.”

you want to believe in the good. in the worthwhile. in the in-betweens and the gray spaces and the happy endings that are still in the making. it might not have been there the last time, but things have changed, regardless of whether or not you’re willing to accept. with his hand intertwined with yours, this newfound tension hanging between the two of you, maybe it’s time for you to close the gap that had been plaguing you for so long.

this time, you won’t be alone.

author's note: wowee two fics from user pparadiselost within a week!!! i know, i know i have the most random posting schedule oopsie,,,, (//ω//) this fic is dedicated to @clubkira and was inspired by her lovely selfship with akira kurusu! i hope you all enjoyed reading, and if you want to show some appreciation, please consider donating to the humanitarian cause in gaza!!

[swhhdr-wthhr]

lots of fun facts about my sanders sides opposite au: (but i clearly have thought of some characters more than others)

logan :

introduced around the time of og accepting anxiety. represents bad decision making and willful ignorance

his first big moment was in can lying be good, which was a game show run by him instead of a play directed by janus. he didn't care whether thomas lied or not. he just wanted to give janus a morality crisis and joke around with virgil

only uses analog technology (ex: if someone asked to borrow his phone, he'd pull out a rotary phone, which works despite not being plugged in)

he's an amateur magician and loves showing off his tricks. virgil is the only one who is impressed by this

pulls things out of seemingly-too-small spaces like mary poppins with her bag, but only from other people's clothes (he will often steal janus's hat and pull something absurdly large out of it)

instead of rising up or appearing out of nowhere in the videos, in every video he walks out from a different random place (ex: from behind the tv like remus, from underneath the couch, down the stairs virgil sits on)

all of his clothes are glow in the dark

he doesn't know he needs glasses. he just assumes everyone has blurry vision

uses vocab cards like original logan but all of the words are made up and have never been said by anyone

regularly puts inflection on all the wrong parts of words and pronounces common words wrong (he doesn't pronounce long, uncommon words wrong, just short, easy to pronounce ones)

always talks just a little too loud and a little too fast

conspiracy theorist but only for theories that no one has ever heard of

wears a suit in every video except the court room one, where he wore the unicorn onesie the whole time

when thomas died his hair purple, his hair was inexplicably a completely different color. it would change every time someone mentioned it and he would never acknowledge that his hair looked different from everyone else's

censors people like og janus, but instead of covering their mouths, he just makes a loud distracting noise like og remus

the only side who doesn't think he's annoying is virgil, who finds him hilarious

virgil:

introduced in episode 1. represents pretty much all of thomas's positive emotions and none of the negative ones. also impulsive thoughts (impulsive not intrusive)

is technically a light side based on his role in the story but he's friends with everyone and "doesn't pick sides" (he sides with whoever is the most useful or interesting to him in the moment)

whenever conversation with the others bores him, he shamelessly ignores them, often scrolling on his phone in the middle of a video

extreme form of a hedonist. he chases dopamine like his life depends on it and is willing to do extremely reckless things if he thinks it will be a little fun

often causally tries to usurp the others and gain unilateral control over thomas's life ("wouldn't it be fun if you just ignored all of them and listened to me?")

is very open to trying new things for the experience, even if he can reasonably guess that he won't enjoy it. roman has no short supply of horrifying, painful ideas that they can try together

very good at insulting people in ways that really hurt. also very good at acting innocent and pretending he wasn't trying to be mean

some parts of the fandom in this universe would think he had a corruption arc when he became friends with the dark sides (there would definitely be fanfics where patton kidnapped and brainwashed him to be evil or smth) but he was just always like this.

always excited to help out the dark sides with their plans, being a bit of a double agent because thomas trusts and listens to him

he's an asshole who just wants to have fun and get what he wants all the time forever

roman:

introduced in this version of dwit, but he represents dark creativity and melancholy more so than intrusive thoughts

claims to hate disney but constantly quotes disney villains

frequently goes on long, depressing, overly dramatic speeches

collects dead things. he's trying to get a corpse of as many different animals, plants, etc. as possible

shameless masochist. (his shoes feel like he's walking on broken glass all the time and he loves it. he was inspired by the original little mermaid)

says all of the same types of things as og remus, but in a more monotone, gloomy way

often very aggressive, especially towards logan. he shows his love through violence and insults. he does the same with patton and virgil but less overtly because he can't get away with it as easily

came up with the name "the dark sides" just like he did in the og series, but this time it's an official term because it was created by one of them

always fights with patton over who's in charge. patton is usually the winner. either way, they don't like listening to each other so whoever wins would just boss around logan (they already both do)

janus:

introduced in episode 1. represents honesty and justice

the most gullible person ever. assumes everyone is always telling the truth and is completely blindsided when he's lied to

a strict kantian. he literally has never lied intentionally

associated with sheep instead of snakes (get it? like the bible?) it's much more subtle than the snake symbolism but gets more obvious as the show goes on and he gets an outfit change. (he wears a white wool turtleneck, has sheep/goat rectangular pupils, and has little horns under his hat, which is why he wears it)

his logo doesn't have a sheep on it, but his christmas sweaters do

tries to be nice to everyone since it's his job to be a good role model, but he would rather be honest than polite, so he can be pretty sassy at times

always feels guilty for something, even if he did nothing wrong

always a target of logan for his gullibility, and how he tries so hard to steer thomas in the right direction. in can lying be good, the game show logan hosted was rigged and completely nonsensical. this drove him crazy because...

he cares very much about things being fair

much more competent in the courtroom scenario than og patton was, too bad patton in this universe is also more strategic than og janus

remus:

introduced in episode 1. represents light creativity, hopes and dreams, and innocence

very squeamish and easily scared

if og remus is r rated creativity and og roman is pg creativity, this remus is g rated. never curses. very averse to violence

he's kind of the straight man of this group of gay men (similar to og logan). he's fed up with everyone, especially the dark sides

really hates the fact that virgil is friends with the dark sides, but he can't really do anything about it so he just sulks

you know in the we take requests video where they say the most out of character thing each character could say? and for remus they say like 'can you guys just chill? i'm trying to sing all of moby dick'? that's this remus's energy

writes poetry in his free time

his ideas can be pretty out there and weird like og remus, but just without the dark stuff

mostly pretty calm and subdued, but can get very hyper and intense when he's exited about an idea or a romantic opportunity for thomas

patton:

introduced around the time of svs

very strategic. plans meticulously before doing anything. (even little unimportant things) he was the mastermind behind pretty much everything logan and roman did before he was even introduced

says that he doesn't care about the other dark sides and that he only works with them out of necessity. he is actually very fond of and protective over them. he'll never admit it

always polite to everyone, even when he's arguing against them (this was very confusing to thomas who expected him to be even scarier than roman). it's just performative though. he's a hater, not a lover

enjoys making puns but always denies that they were intentional (like og logan but if he was lying about it being an accident)

has very dulled emotions. he enjoys spending time with roman, logan, and virgil because they're all so intense in different ways and allow him to feel something

he is especially attached to virgil, since virgil can't just make him feel any emotion, he can make him feel happy

doesn't emote with his eyes. or blink.

starts off as less threatening than roman, but later on, he gets some much scarier moments. roman has more of a constant, steady stream of scariness, while patton holds most of it in until it builds up to an explosion

has a #1 Dad mug, but it's been crossed out and has #2 Boss written under it (logan gave it to him)

roman frequently tries to kill him. he pretends not to notice it to frustrate him (ex: roman will poison his coffee and he'll drink the whole thing with no reaction)

[crepesuzette2023]

Your account is honestly such a blessing. I’ve found so many good Mclennon fics because of you it’s actually insane. Now for my ask, what are some good AU Mclennon fics ?

Thank you for asking! I already listed a few AU stories in my overall faves post, e.g., under J/P without the Beatles—but I didn't really focus on fully realized, different-time-different-place-different-everything-AU stories. Here are a few I loved:

in our house we never get bored (@backbenttulips): The Beatles live in a polyamorous marriage à la sedoretu (Ursula LeGuin). Enchanting and enchanted. Soothing.

a great threat (@pauls1967moustache). Yoko is a woman and an artist, and so is Paul. Theirs is the superior battle for John Lennon's apple. A battle for each other, really. I can't overstate how much this works for me. They compete for fame and artistic collaboration, not for anyone's half-hard dick. This feels like the real Paul/Yoko dynamic in many ways.

@saint-mona: You Gave Me the Word. 1958. John is troubled after his mother's death, and befriends Paul, a bookstore owner who shares a past with Julia. Paul and John become friends—and more? Sensual and tender. Younger John & older Paul are good for each other.

snugglesweaters: You Might As Well Arsk: Hilarious, uplifting, and profound epistolary/email modern AU, with excellent (written) supporting turns by Ivan and George. It does take a fucking village.

@dailyhowl: Sleeping Sand, Morning Moon : On the other end of the tonal spectrum, this is a long, dreamy and wintery novella about grieving London playwright Paul and Scottish village eccentric John, and their long, slow way to each other. Set in 1966. Contains a surprising core of Paul & Brian, and very interesting memories of Paul/Ian.

Only a Northern Song (@stonedlennon): 1963, Liverpool: Paul works in a record store (yes, for Mr. Brian), and John is a dock worker and poet. They find each other. A long, long time after reading this, I can still 'hear' the two of them talking to each other.

Thank you @javelinbk for pointing me to and why the sea is boiling hot (madamboogie)—a reincarnation fic set starting in the late 90's. I'm only a few chapters in, but it's interesting and different!

Speaking of: @javelinbk also wrote many great AU's: John and Paul as the two nice men at the flowershop (Double Fantasy), Paul as wealthy business man, and reluctant #1 son, with John as his hot mess driver (The Life of Riley), John and Paul as stepbrothers after Jim gets married to Mimi (Brother Dearest with the follow-up I love even more, because it's melancholy and romantic and complicated, and it has Mike McCartney: Father and Son)—but a recent favorite is Our Version of Events, in which John Lennon is introduced to Beatles fan fiction by May Pang, and has questions for Paul. Set in '71. I love how this one is both an ode to fan fiction and a damn good story (with a non-tropey ending).

I also enjoyed many AU stories by @unchaineddaisychain. For instance: You've Got to Pick Up Every Stitch (Halloween! Modern AU, Paul is John's boyfriend for the night to stick it to John's ex, very sweet morning after), We are Stardust (Brit Paul and NYer John meet at Woodstock in '69, and it's so fucking romantic), and These Nights (modern AU, slightly jaded rock journalist John unexpectedly spends a night with rising pop star Paul. Cold shower, please!)

[pseudowho]

Hihiii Haitch!

Okay, first of all, I would like to say that I’m absolutely in love with your writing. The way you write Nanami is just✨✨

And I was on the fence about watching jjk because of the numerous spoilers I had encountered. But all your fics and my lil (read major) crush on nanami finally made me come around to watch it, I’m on s1e6 rn (I’ll just blissfully ignore the teensy detail I know about what happens to nanami and my other fav characters while watching it…hehe😭)

So onwards to my questions :

1) How does writing come to you? Does it feel like that urgent spidey senses tingling moment and the next thing you know your fingers are flying across the keyboard like a woman possessed…or does it feel like this distant feeling, that slowly grows and you let it simmer fully before you formulate it into words?

2) what song or word do you think immaculately describes Mr haitch?

3) Do you derive your real feelings while writing? Like the feelings that you feel in that particular moment, does it affect it somehow? Have you ever written something that has made you feel very exposed in an emotional way?

4) lastly I’ll add a fun fact : Did you know that in India, marriages are taken so seriously and especially arranged marriages, that there is a very well developed legit business solely centered around finding perfect matches for you. So your family essentially contracts an agency that finds matches for you , based on your requirements and it has levels to it.

The families of the to be bride and groom, use the agency as a mediator to contact each other. The agency also runs background checks. You have to pay a yearly subscription fee for it. And if you want to marry your child outside your tax bracket (into a wealthier family to put it bluntly) you can join the premium membership, where you pay double, only to get a chance to get meetings with their high profile clients. (Yes I know how shallow this is…)

Hellooooo! I am so sorry for the pain you will soon endure. Please know that if I could hold your hand through it, I would.

I'm so glad they made a TV series about that weird JJK Bad Timeline AU. It was a great way to explore all of the things that could have happened to the characters we love, but didn't. Really creative. 10/10. So glad they got the Good Timeline in reality.

Both of those actually! My drabbles, especially my husband!Nanami and Papamin drabbles are very much the former. My longer fics that I header, gently form in my head over a number of days, maturing slowly.

Melancholy Hill by Gorillaz: Up on Melancholy Hill/ Sits a manatee/ Just looking out for the day/ When you're close to me/ When you're close to meWell you can't get what you want/ But you can get me/ So let's set out to sea, love/ 'Cause you are my medicine/ When you're close to me/ When you're close to me

AND... Absent by Sylosis:

I'm no saint I've no virtue I wish I could feel that you hurt too But it's so dark I can't tell god from the devil I'm just absent More than ever

I surrender I'm incomplete I've had all I can take So take me in pieces

3. I'm very good at making myself feel exactly how I need to feel, for the purpose of writing. I'm also very good at making other people feel how I need them to feel, good and bad. So I find it easy to recreate emotions in fics. It's freaky and I'm sorry. I also separate myself from that very well, sort of hovering above it as I write it. Nothing that makes me feel exposed would ever be written down on my blog, because that's purely for a couple of select people to witness.

4. I did know this! I've cared for lots of Indian couples having babies, and as such I'm rather well-versed in cultural traditions. I'm always fascinated by peoples' love and marriage stories, so listen with great interest when they share things like this. Thank you for also sharing the information. It sounds cut-throat!

Thank you so much for the wonderful Inbox. I really enjoyed answering it!

Love as always,

-- Haitch xxx

[megamindsecretlair]

🎃 🦇 trick or treat! 🧛‍♂️🦇

You've completely rotted my brain with vampirism and I'm having another vampire phase now because of you bestie...

So.... what are your favourite vampires and or vampire books, films, shows etc.?!

Any spooky inspirations for your amazing Tyrone vampire au?

I LOVE YOU! HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Whew, this is a semi long one! Happy Halloween, im sorry I'm late, but I had to think! My recall is ass 💀🤣

Oof, im all over the place. But I'll have to credit Sherrilyn Kenyon on getting me into the sexual side of vamps. The Dark Hunter series remains one of my faves, I've read almost up to ...book 32? Book 33? I lost count. But the author started going through issues with her ex who was coming after her books so she started publishing the same story from different perspectives and i zoned out. Might be time to zone back in 🤔

Of course, have to credit the GOATS - Vampire in Brooklyn and Queen of the Damned. Im now obsessed with the idea of smashing the two together and fuck it, might be my second vamp novel. I'll see what shakes loose 💁🏽‍♀️

First off, Black vamps? Yassss. Black vamps in a position of power that was not "earned" after centures of racism or struggle or Black trauma porn? Double yasss 🙌🏽😩 (I haven't read the Anne Rice books so I could be wrong about my queen but ehh, no one pays me to be right 🤣)

Vamp Tyrone takes some inspo from this. The way the teeth are, the complete devotion to one person and one person only 🤌🏽 the whiff of toxicity 🤣 idk, something about the push and pull between Max and Rita still fn eats 😩🙌🏽 corruption kink for the win 🙌🏽😩 also Dracula fits here too, with Gary Oldman but Ill also take the Luke Evans version 🥵

Can we collectively say fuck Julie Plec? All that aside, this was my shoooowww. This and Originals. The Mikkaelson family 🥵🥵🥵 while I don't bring up the concept of doppelgangers in Vamp Tyrone, I am obsessed with twins, doubles, clones, etc. And obvs that fit with Tyrone.

And lastly, ik ik. Listen, everyone needs trash in their faves and I was, am, and still will be obsessed with this trash ass series. I mean, we can collectively say fuck Stephanie Meyers weird ass, but I love this series and I don't have to defend it 😌

Again, obsessed with the thought of a vamp waiting for their forever partner, the inherent romanticism of vampirism, and the flirt with disaster and death and melancholy that always speaks to me. You can probably guess that Edgar Allen Poe is a fave of mines too 🤣 certified emo over here 😌😌

Theres a lot of things that went into my version of vamps. They can't go out into sunlight, they need blood to survive, they can tolerate normal food but it does nothing for them, they have some decorum now because of technology but Black vamps are on top.

I really dislike going to hunt for a vampire story only to find that white people are vamps and Black people are vampire hunters. Who decided that? Why is it always like that? Why can't I live my best Black vamp life 😩😩😩

And special shoutout to Vampire Academy as well. Is it cheesy? Sure. Am I obsessed? Yes. I'm behind finishing the series chuz the author pissed me tf off in book 3 🤣🤣🤣 she's on a timeout.

Thanks for asking beautiful 😍

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Paws for Applause - Chapter One 'Anatolian'

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> James "Bucky" Barnes x Original Nonbinary Character (Soldierbug)

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> After his time in Wakanda, James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is struggling to adapt back to life in the wider world, hiding out in the Pacific Northwest as he fights to regain some control over his life. Or: Bucky gets a dog, and meets a cute salesperson.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 4546

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (T) Panic attack, trauma references, medical prejudice and medication disdain, general PTSD things, anxiety, vulnerability, implied alcohol abuse.

𝐀/𝐍 -> PSA: Do not get a dog after such a short contemplation period please! This is a work of fiction, and we didn't want to write several months of pro-con weighing. Make informed choices, y'all.

Check it out below, or on AO3 here! Dividers by us!

Chapter Two->

Prompts used;

- 'Anxiety' - Build a Bucky Bingo (July) @buckybarnesevents; - ‘Goats’ – @buckybarnesbingo (B049); - ‘Vibranium’ – Bucky Barnes Bingo (B005); - ‘Leash’ and ‘New to the City AU’ – Bug’s First Bingo; - "I Need Help." – @fandom-free-bingo, Flight Edition;

- 'Puppy or Play Mate' - @julybreakbingo (4x4); - 'Earbuds in Public or Strangers in a Checkout Line' - July Break Bingo (5x5) - 'Emotional' - July Break Bingo (6x6); - ‘Amputee or Paralysed’– July Break Bingo (7x7); - 'Drowning or Drowning Your Sorrows' - July Break Bingo (Summer);

- 'Double Standards' - @multifandom-flash Discrimination; - ‘Adopt a Pet’ – Multifandom-Flash New Year Gen; - ‘Pet Store AU’ – Multifandom-Flash Round 2 (Card 1027); - 'Difficulty Breathing' - Pick Your Poison @hurtcomfort-bingo (C025).

I sighed as I dropped to the bed, forearms resting on my knees as I took in the dimly lit room, accompanied by a melancholy orchestra of squeaking springs.

Steve had found me exactly what I had requested - small, discreet, and unlikely to attract any unwanted attention. The studio certainly fulfilled all criteria, the small windows along one wall looking only into an alley woven with shadows, offering the privacy I craved.

The building seemed largely abandoned, save a few similarly reclusive tenants; most of the bells at the front door were unlabelled, and those that were claimed were faded and yellowing, the curled edges of the tape thick with dust. The entire place seemed stagnant, lost in time amongst the sleek modernity of a continuously evolving city. But I felt at home amongst the 50s sconces and age-worn carpets – far more comfortable than I had in the high-tech metropolis that made up most of Wakanda.

I looked down at the black and gold metal that made up my left arm, fingers reflecting in the weak light as they flexed slowly. The advanced prosthetic was the only reminder of my time in the African nation – that, and the seemingly enduring clarity in my mind.

It had taken a month after Ayo’s test for me to even consider that I may no longer be controlled, ordered to acts of evil by the darkest of minds – and to allow Steve to visit me in my new life as a goatherd.

I wondered for the hundredth time, looking around the dim, sparse room, if I had made a huge mistake.

The query persisted throughout the evening, following me doggedly as I unpacked my meagre possessions from a tatty holdall. My belongings were limited to a few sets of clothes, some basic toiletries – and a handgun that had me lay on my back in the dust beneath the bed, tongue between my teeth as I fitted the holster to the wire frame.

Maybe I was paranoid – but I’d rather be paranoid than dead.

One of my biggest concerns about being back in the ‘wider world’, as Steve called it, was just how wide – and, more importantly, unprotected – it really was. The list of people who would like my head on a pike was far from short, with Steve’s own teammate being one of them.

Things had been complicated since I’d last seen the team; while the divided factions had eventually come back together, there was still tension at times, particularly when the Accords came up. The majority were working to get through it, making their peace with the eventual conclusion that the conditions laid out in the Accords would work in a perfect world – but this world wasn’t perfect. It was messy, and chaotic, and unpredictable. While the Avengers could – and would – make mistakes, they wouldn’t make choices based on politics or power. Their only interest would always be minimising harm.

But Tony was the outlier.

While the others worked to overcome their animosity, seeing the clear need for peace, Tony stayed angry – at both sides of the schism, but particularly with Steve. He’d never forgiven my friend for defending me, and since learning that Steve knew of my whereabouts, his fury had only grown.

In Wakanda, I found comfort in the knowledge that the country’s location was a well-guarded secret, with a barrier surrounding the nation obscuring and protecting it from anyone who may stumble across it by chance. For all his intelligence, even Tony hadn’t known the real nature of Wakanda before they were ready. If there was anywhere in the world I couldn’t be found – by both Tony and others alike – it was Wakanda.

I at beans cold from the tin, leaning against the bedframe, settled with my arms on my knees in my nest on the ground. One of the first things I’d done had been to take Steve’s carefully made sheets from the bed and rearrange them on the floor, an irrational pang of guilt pulling at my gut.

Steve had worked hard to set it all up for me – especially without Tony knowing – and had seemingly thought of everything, from basic furnishings to a few home comforts. But I didn’t have the energy or motivation to cook, despite the food in the fridge, and I hadn’t slept in a bed in longer than I cared to remember; the knowledge that it was a comfort I didn’t deserve was far too ingrained in my mind to allow such behaviour.

It was after I’d set the empty tin on the floor, letting the shifting colours of a kid’s movie lull me, that I dared to acknowledge the other reason that I’d felt safer in Wakanda.

It wasn’t just that I was protected from the outside world in the secluded African nation; perhaps more importantly, the outside world was protected from me. Even after my apparent deprogramming, I fought vehemently with Steve about leaving Wakanda, citing my concerns about being a target – and potentially putting the rest of the team at risk, too. When he came back to me, having secured an apartment and a new identity for me, I’d reluctantly admitted that I feared what I may do without the advanced technology of Wakanda to defend innocent people.

But Steve had simply parroted my activation code, despite my shaking and pleading, and beamed broadly when I remained in control of my facilities.

How can I explain that I’m afraid of myself?

How can we explain that we are many?

That we don’t know what we’re capable of, even without someone else controlling us?

Where do we even begin?

I sighed, grimacing as I settled deeper into my nest. The voices in my head had always been there, in one way or another, but ever since I’d had my deactivation confirmed, they’d become louder and more conversational, their personalities shining through as they chimed in.

“I’m losing my mind,” I murmured to myself, eyes flicking to the screen as I laid my head on a folded-up sweatshirt.

It’s possible, agreed the first voice readily – ever the stoic voice of reason of the two.

But at least you’re not doing it alone, soothed the second, his soft voice and endless optimism wreathing around me comfortably.

“That’s true,” I replied, smiling tenderly.

… Hey, Buck?

“Yeah?”

Thanks for the movie.

My smile spread a little wider, and I pulled the blankets closer with a contented sigh.

“You’re welcome.”

I woke to my cell buzzing insistently, the harsh summer sun streaming through a chink in the curtains directly onto the black metal of my left arm. Drawing it back quickly, I winced as my other hand brushed over the scorching vibranium tentatively.

It was easier when it had no feeling…

True, but it was awful smart of Shuri to be able to do it!

I hummed in agreement as I flexed my uncomfortably hot fingers, grimacing, and reached for my cell, the vibration still sending it shifting across the floor slowly.

“Yeah?”

“Bucky, I’ve been trying to reach you for almost an hour!”

My eyebrow arched of its own volition, drawing back to glance uncertainly at my screen.

Eight missed calls.

And twelve messages…

“What is it? What’s happened?” I snapped, slamming the phone quickly back to my ear as I darted about my space, stuffing only the barest of essentials into my holdall.

Nothing that will weigh us down.

Or draw attention.

“Bucky – calm down,”  Steve interjected, the panic evident in his voice. “I-I’m sorry – everything is fine. I just wanted to remind you about your appointment, and I worried when I couldn’t get through…”

I couldn’t help but wince at his palpable guilt, settling back on the ground with a heavy sigh. “It’s okay. Thanks, Stevie.”

“It’s important you go, Buck.”

“Yeah, I know,” I muttered. We’d already argued – more than once – about me needing to see a doctor. I said I was fine; Steve disagreed, talking about anxiety and depression and trauma, telling me about the therapies he’d done since he came out of the ice. He talked about the men who used to come back different – angry, or unable to get out of bed, or living life at the bottom of a bottle - and how it had a name now. He told me I didn’t have to live with those things.

How was I supposed to tell him that we deserve it?

It’s a poor repentance for our crimes, but it is the only one we have.

It would break his heart, to know the things we’ve done…

So in the end, I’d let him win, and he’d made the appointment, gushing about what my life could look like if I put in the effort. I figured I’d go to this first appointment, just to get it done and get Steve off my back; I didn’t need – or deserve – anyone’s help. I had my apartment and my solitude, and that was enough. With my fake documents, I could get a job and pay my own way in the world; I wouldn’t be reliant on Steve anymore.

I wouldn’t be putting him in danger.

But first…

“I’m heading out in a few, Stevie. I’ll let you know how it goes, okay?” My voice had softened at the distress in his own, and he let out a quiet, relieved exhale.

“Thanks, Buck. I just… I really think that this will help, you know?”

I nodded to myself, looking around my sparse apartment, fingers curling in my blankets unconsciously.

If it were anyone else… We’d think they deserved help, the softer voice pointed out gently, and I let my eyes close with my own sigh of resignation.

“Yeah. I hope so.”

This is why I hate people.

I fought the urge to snort as the doctor took our blood, gawping openly at our left arm, the black and gold shimmering under the florescent lights each time I moved.

He’d deemed us in peak physical condition, and allowed me to shrug my shirt back on, sitting on the opposite side of his desk as I rolled my sleeve down – clearly, the limb was proving too distracting from him.

“So, Mr. Smith,” he started, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes at predictable alias Steve had chosen for me, “now that your first appointment baselines are out of the way, what can I help you with? You don’t strike me as someone who particularly struggles with his health,” he added, offering me a broad – and somewhat unnerving – smile.

“My friend thinks I need help,” I offered uncertainly. The aging, grizzled physician simply watched me curiously, head cocked to one side.

“You seem to have a good life,” he noted, eyes flicking once more to my arm. “That’s a high-quality piece of kit if ever I saw one. You’re in great physical health. I’d say you’re pretty lucky. What could you possibly need help with?”

I blinked in surprise, dumbfounded into silence.

Fucking hell.

I was born over a hundred years ago, and even I know better than that.

That was pretty ignorant…

Clearing my throat, I raised a finger to tap at my vibranium shoulder pointedly. “D’you wanna know how I got this?” I offered quietly. When he simply nodded, I rolled my jaw, leaning forward. “I was in the war. A sergeant. There was a… Train accident. Most of my arm was ripped from my body, and the part that wasn’t was later cut away – without anaesthetic,” I added, my gaze locked on his. “I’m in constant pain. I was held captive for a long time, and forced to do horrible, awful things. I barely sleep for nightmares. Every time I leave the house I’m on high alert, waiting for something bad to happen. I never want to get out of bed.”

He watched me for a second longer, his jaw hanging half an inch before snapping shut with the distinct click of ceramic on bone. “I-I- I had no idea. I’m sorry- Sergeant Smith, Sir. My mistake. Of course.”

It shouldn’t take pointing out our service to make this man flounder and treat us with respect.

No, but… I’m quite glad that Steve made us those papers saying we fought in Afghanistan.

It’s not really stolen valour, is it? I mean, we are veterans, and it’s not like we can be honest about which war we fought in – not without drawing a lot of attention and probably putting ourselves in danger… We didn’t even specify, it’s only on the paperwork…

Seems little Stevie knew what he was doing.

“The local VA has excellent facilities for-”

I interrupted him with a quick shake of my head, hand raising. “I’d rather go mainstream, if that’s okay.”

Knowing my luck, I’d end up bumping into someone who really was in the unit I’m supposed to have been stationed with…

He nodded again, head ducking graciously. “Of course, Sergeant.” Hesitating, his eyes flicked away, a minute grimace pulling at his lips. “But… The VA would see you in a matter of weeks. The wait for our own referrals is currently up to a year.”

The bottom dropped out of my stomach, and I felt nauseous. While I’d little intention of working with the resources offered to me, the idea that the support was there, should I want it, was more comforting than I’d realised; now, however, my breathing came a little too hard, vision darkening around the edges, my palm tingling. “And in the meantime?” I pressed, the steadily increasing panic making the blood in my ears roar, my own voice sounding faded and far away.

The doctor simply gazed at me sadly, offering me a weak shrug. “It’s an underfunded and undersupported system. That’s why I would recommend contacting the VA, and-”

“I’m not going to do that,” I snapped, eyes narrowing in annoyance before I let out a sigh, pushing away my irritation stubbornly. “Look, being around other veterans – it’s not good for me. I don’t want to be treated like a soldier; I just want to be a regular guy.” The excuse was thought up on the fly, but he nodded sympathetically, turning to his computer and tapping at the keys slowly.

“Our trauma team is currently fulfilling referrals from eight months ago. That’s the most accurate time frame I can give you, I’m afraid; it entirely depends on how many they’ve had in the meantime. It could be less, or it could be more.” He looked to me again, his smile strained. “I think that’s the best we can offer, if you’re reluctant to-”

“What about pills?”

I blinked in surprise, more startled by the words that left my lips than he was. It happened, from time to time – I spoke without intending to, with no plan or consideration, to the extent that the words often didn’t even feel like mine.

He cleared his throat, humming under his breath, considering me for a moment. “Well, I mean… I suppose I could offer you something to ease your anxiety, though I don’t particularly like prescribing medication…”

I couldn’t help myself – I arched an eyebrow, eyeing him curiously. “… Interesting approach…”

He shrugged minutely, turning back to his screen and tapping a few keys passively. “The younger generation are being mollycoddled. We didn’t have all this ‘anxiety’ and ‘depression’ when I was a boy. It existed, of course – but it was a serious condition, not these children who feel a little blue sometimes.”

My mouth moved wordlessly, utterly dumbfounded, annoyance boiling under my skin.

We can’t. The medication…

Fuck that. Screw this guy. Break the callous bastard’s goddamn nose.

I paused for a moment, then nodded once, closing my mouth with a soft click and a terse smile, humming non-committedly. “So… The medication?” I prompted, earning a quiet sigh – which I ignored – as he offered me the script.

“This should only be an interim stop gap,” he warned, finger extending to point at me when his hand was free. “Just until your referral has been actioned, okay? And I really think you should reconsider getting in touch with the VA. The sooner you’re off the pills, the better, in my opinion.”  

I don’t give a fuck about your opinion.

I simply nodded once more as I pushed myself to my feet, reaching down to grab my bag as he extended a hand to me, pretending I hadn’t seen the motion.

What the hell are you doing? The fiercer of the two voices had a snarl in their voice as they snapped at me, but I continued to exit the room. He can’t get away with that!

He won’t, I soothed, following the short corridor absently. He won’t, I promise.

He continued to object quietly – but when my steps turned away from the exit, he immediately fell quiet, watching curiously as I approached the reception desk.

“Hi! Can I help you?” The man behind the counter offered me a reassuring smile, and I felt my muscles unclench infinitesimally as I offered a tentative grin back.

“Hey – I, uh… I’d like to register a formal complaint, and request a change in GP.”

I spun the card thoughtfully between my fingers, staring up at the store sign uncertainly.

‘Paws for Applause’.

Oh God. Puns. Why puns…

It’s cute!

It is quite charming, I admitted with a chuckle, humming as I considered my next step.

The receptionist had been endlessly helpful; he led me away from the main room, carefully noting every detail of my complaint with a sympathetic grimace, admitting there’d been some issues with that GP in particular as of late. He’d arranged another appointment with a different doctor he was sure I’d get on far better with – a young woman with significantly more progressive views. When I’d lamented the wait time, he’d pursed his lips in thought, offering me the card I now held.

“The thing that made the biggest difference to my husband – he’s a veteran, too… It wasn’t the VA, or therapy, or medication. We actually got a dog. She gets him out of the house and out of his own head, and helps him feel safer when he’s in public.”

That was how I’d found myself here, chewing on my lip nervously.

I’ve never looked after anything alive before…

We’re going to be terrible at this. Our whole life has been about killing.

No. We’re going to be awesome at this. We can ask for help if we need it. We can do this!

I inhaled deeply, metal fingers forming an anxious concealed fist in the pocket of my sweatshirt as the other hand tugged my headphones out – the sound of songs from my own era was one of the few things that kept me from being entirely overwhelmed when I went out in public.

There was no bell as I opened the door – instead, I was met with a distant but multi-layered series of tweets and chirps, punctuated by one intimidating scream as something loud and green swooped over my head.

I nearly turned right back around and left again.

“Denzel! Shit, sorry about him; he can be a right arsehole sometimes. Dezzie, come here, you gremlin!”

I turned toward the voice, startled – and charmed, despite myself, by the presence of an English accent in the Pacific Northwest – as a thirty-something person appeared from behind a box on the counter, the green parrot-looking thing flapping down to settle on their shoulder with another abominable shriek, earning a wince from his owner. “Jesus, Denzel – put a sock in it, would you? How can I help, other than providing free earplugs?” they added, looking to me once more.

“I- I, uh…” My voice failed me as I looked around, panic rising as I took in the endless pet supplies in infinite materials, breath hitching unsteadily.

Their head cocked minutely, and they glanced at the bird once more. “Denzel, go home,” they murmured. To my distant surprise, he obliged immediately, flapping off through a narrow hole in the door behind them, which they slid shut in his wake, cutting off the quieter series of tweets and whistles before rounding the counter, palms raised imploringly. “Hey. You’re okay. It’s a lot, huh? But you don’t have to do that right now. Just look at me, okay?”

My eyes found theirs desperately, focusing on the chocolate depths, flecked with mahogany and sand. Their hand reached for mine, and I baulked instinctively, jerking ack, wincing guiltily at the brief look of hurt that flickered across their face. “Just take a few deep breaths, okay? You’re safe here. I promise.” The anxious, rejected expression had passed already, leaving only a soft worry, and I forced myself to breathe more evenly – even if it did hitch a little in the process.

But they simply stood with their eyes on mine, smiling gently, murmuring encouragement and reassurances as I fought to control my spasming lungs.

By the time I was calm, red-faced and sniffing intermittently, they were humming quietly – a song I didn’t know, but the gentle, lilting melody smoothed the raged edges of my mind. “Thanks,” I murmured, my cheeks flaming, and I looked away in shame.

God, we’re pathetic.

Fucking disaster.

We shouldn’t have come here…

“Sorry,” I muttered, rubbing my hand roughly over my face. “W- I shouldn’t have come here. It was a stupid idea.”

They frowned, head cocked slightly, hand extending as I took a stumbling step backwards. “Hey- it’s okay! You’re doing really well. Look, I’ll flip the sign and we can take it easy – we’ll take a seat and just talk, okay?”

I swallowed again, nauseated by the pounding of my heart in my chest, coupled with the undeniable urge to bolt. But eventually, I  offered them an uncertain nod, watching nervously as they stepped away to flip he sign in the window and turn the catch with an apologetic grimace. “People don’t always bother to check the sign,” they offered with a guilty shrug, and I nodded stiffly, clammy hand rubbing against my thigh in a display of anxiety. They turned over a couple of crates and settled on one, a foot tucked beneath them, and indicated to the other. “Join me?”

I settled nervously, fidgeting and shifting as they watched me with a gentle gaze. “I’m- this isn’t necessary, really. I’m okay.”

They smiled weakly, shrugging a shoulder and gesturing around themselves. “Hey- it’s a hectic job. Maybe I just wanted ten minutes break, hm? I mean, you’ve met Denzel, right?” I chuckled quietly, and they grinned. “There you go! It’s not so bad, huh? So – how about we try this again?”

I watched them for a moment, unable to shake the last of my suspicion and anxiety, but eventually let out a soft sigh. “I… My name is B- … James. I… There was a guy at the doctor’s office, I guess, and he…”

They listened politely the entire time I spoke, grimacing sympathetically as I briefly mentioned the intensity of my nightmares. I found myself divulging details I’d never shared with anyone before – the way being in public made my skin crawl and heart pound, the way I was movement and faces in shadows, and the way I lay awake at night, eyes open and ears pricked for every minute sound.

Through it all, they never looked away – not even when the metal of my arm flashed between glove and sleeve, simply keeping their eyes on mine, gentle and warm.

“You can call me Mars,” they began, leaning forward to rest their forearms on their knees. “And it sounds like you’ve had a really tough time of it, huh?” I shrugged and nodded, and they gestured around the space once more. “I moved here from the UK a few years ago. I did all the therapy and stuff, but…” They offered me a shrug of their own, eyes flicking away. “Sometimes there needs to be some distance, y’know?” Humming, I nodded sympathetically, and they looked back to me with a soft smile. “But yeah – I get it, and I’d be honoured to help. I know a shelter about ten minutes outside of town – how about you meet me here tomorrow morning, and we can head over, see what’s what?”

I hesitated only briefly, their dark eyes locked on mine drawing me in despite myself, and I nodded.

“I’ll be here.”

Mars sat with me for over an hour, discussing training methods, common problems, and where to find help, should I need it.

I slowly found myself relaxing in the unusual company – they were certainly an odd one, from their flickering gaze unable to hold mine unless they put in conscious effort, to the unique way they settled with one leg curled beneath them with a youthful flexibility.

They were… Quirky.

Genuine.

Even as I left the store, heading back out into the mid-afternoon crowds, I couldn’t help but feel elated and optimistic, weighed down with a bag full of goods to welcome my new housemate. The occasional glance rolled off me, my mind occupied with thinking through the training exercises Mars had given me, committing them to memory.

As soon as I got home, I emptied out the contents of my heaving bad on the floor, settling on my nest to sort through my supplied. Absently, I wondered if they’d been taking advantage of my naïveté, pushing products on me, as I weighed three different leashes thoughtfully.

 But they didn’t push anything; they just explained the different options.

Yeah. We’re the ones who decided to buy, uh… Well, everything. And they did give us a pretty generous discount.

I hummed in agreement as I set up the bowl stand – to stop an overeager pup from catapulting them across the floor - settling the matching bowls inside with a soft smile. “Yeah – they were pretty open about how useful this stuff was really likely to be,” I agreed. They’d steered me away from a lot of the things with premium price tags, pointing out that the cheaper versions were often exactly the same.

I set up the bed next to mine, then stopped, gazing at my nest thoughtfully. It had been drilled into me that the dog deserved their own space, and I’d opted against the crate because of my limited space – perhaps the pup would appreciate having the floor to himself…

I fell asleep curled around a bottle of whiskey – my first, rather than third. I never slept well, and the soft cradling of the bed around me felt foreign and unearned, but I managed to force myself between the sheets, even as my muscles clenched in anticipation of a  pain that wouldn’t come. I knew I was safe here, but that didn’t stop me from reliving the fear of punishment, every inch of my body aching at the memory of the abuse.

But sleep I did, clinging needily to the hope of a better future moving forward. Distantly, I marvelled at the knowledge that I’d been certain this morning that the appointment was purely practical – a way to get Steve off my back, with no real consequences. And yet here I was, planning to start the next stage of my life with significant long-term effects.

Maybe everything really would be okay.

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon (Modern Au) - Error 404 Brain Not Found: Bonus Scene - Part 19

Yennefer knew she probably should have shoved Jaskier away when she saw him coming. He looked a little hesitant, and was that melancholy she could feel through their mental link?

Yennefer's brain insisted that she should be cautious, because, come on, it was Jaskier! He'd been f***ing with her all morning.

He's up to something! Remember how he smashed your face in your cereal at breakfast, threw that beetle at you, stole your snack cake out of your hand, licked your toothbrush, and gave you a Wet Willie!

Yennefer wanted to be suspicious, but Jaskier was hovering at the other end of the couch, looking at her with those f***ing soulful eyes.

H*e, don't do it!

Jaskier moved closer, fidgeted, then looked at Yennefer with those sad eyes and asked in a soft , hesitant voice, "Yen...can I have a hug?"

Geralt, sitting in the recliner, knew something was up, but said nothing. Maybe Jaskier really did just need a hug. He looked a little tense. Perhaps he was still feeling a little dejected after having that one conversation with Madeleine a few weeks ago.

Yennefer looked for a moment as if she was going to brush him off, but then she looked into his eyes and crumbled.

Godsd*mnit! Why did he have to be so f***ing pretty?

She held her arms out to him, and Jaskier sat himself across her lap, pulling his arms in close, and tucking his head under her chin. Yennefer pulled him in a little closer and felt him snuggle down.

He was quiet for a few moments, and then...

*Loud sound of a balloon deflating*

Geralt started laughing along with Jaskier as Yennefer squawked in disgust and shoved him off her lap.

"You're so gross!"

"Ugh, I think I just go pink eye from that!"

"Hheeuurrgkh! F**--huwarrgh! -- that reeks!"

"What the h*ll is it with you guys and farting?"

"Farts are funny!" Jaskier replied, getting up off the floor.

"If you're 5!"

"No, he's right, farts are funny." Geralt interjected, "Listen," he took a breath, pressed his palms to his cheeks, heels of his hands touching, and blew. There was a short, dry flapping sound.

Jaskier and Geralt immediately devolved into giggles.

"Listen to this one!" Jaskier laughed, then raised his hands to his face and made a rolling bubbling noise.

Yennefer sat on the couch, bewildered, as two grown-a** men went back and forth, making fart noises with their hands.

*tight cheeked snapper*

*rolling thunder*

*a** blaster*

*cheeky warbler*

*loose a**hole whistle*

*tiny squeaker*

*intermittent popper*

*gusty windstorm*

*intestine shaker*

Yennefer found herself laughing at some of the noises, in spite of her best efforts to remain the sole adult in the room. It was hard when a huge, hulking Witcher made a fart noise that was a delicate FffwEEEEp!

The demonstration turned into a competition to see who could make the loudest, longest, grossest sounding fart.

It was an hour or so of simulated intestinal noises.

Jaskier was winning Longest Fart due to his years of training for breath control and lung capacity.

Geralt was better at Grossest Fart, because he had larger hands with more surface area. And he wasn't afraid to add a little spit to his hands for more range of sound.

Jaskier, not about to be out done, switched tactics, pressing his mouth to the inside of his elbow. The effect was a loud, long, undulating thbbbbbbppppttttttt! He tried to hold it as long as he could but broke off with a snort, doubling over with laughter.

Geralt was determined to win, and jammed his hands tightly into position, took a deep breath, then blew. Hard. His face turned red from the effort as he forced the air out of his mouth and into his hands.

There was a very loud, very wet burbling sound.

Jaskier fell backwards onto the couch next to Yennefer, where he clung to her as they both howled and and cackled.

"That sounded f***ing juicy!" Yennefer cackled.

Jaskier was wiping tears out of his eyes when he noticed that Geralt wasn't laughing. In fact, he was standing there frozen, a look of horror flashing across his face.

There was stunned silence. Jaskier looked at Yennefer, then at Geralt, his eyes wide.

Yennefer: "Did you just?"

Geralt: *vague 'hmm'*

Yennefer: "You just sh*t yourself, didn't you."

Geralt: *awkward silence*

Yennefer: "You should probably-!"

Geralt: "I need to go change my pants..." *shuffles quickly upstairs*

As Geralt made his escape, Jaskier called after him from the foot of the stairs, "You're way over 40, Geralt! You should know better than to trust a fart!"

[shiguknifeii]

My dumb A didn't even post this on Tumblr on his birthday, did I?

HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY KURO!!!

[basilepesso]

REM, Murmur and Carnival of Sorts, Live 1 983 (USA)

Absolument (le son du live 1 est moins bon que celui du 2).

Ca fait toujours bizarre de voir Stipe avec ses superbes cheveux...

Murmur est très particulier dans la discographie du groupe, production extrêmement nette et sans fioritures, avec une basse qui sonne magnifiquement et est très audible, quasiment comme dans Violent Femmes.

Mike Mills est probablement un des meilleurs bassistes des 80's, sinon plus. Son jeu au médiator est ce qui donne ce son, en plus de la marque de sa basse.

Comme le dit ce remarquable texte anglais de Decade 7787, l'histoire de la production du disque est intéressante puisque le groupe a cessé la collaboration avec le 1er producteur, jugé trop perfectionniste.

Basile Pesso, 13 avril 2 024 avec le double live (Fb)

---

"On this date in 1983, R.E.M. released their debut studio album MURMUR, (April 12, 1983).

NOTE: The video here features RADIO FREE EUROPE from MURMUR and CARNIVAL OF SORTS (the third song on the band's 1982 debut EP Chronic Town)

40 years after its original release, MURMUR is still fascinating in its eerie sense of musical space.

Back in 1983, REM were most often compared to the Byrds, and thanks to Peter Buck's ringing guitar on songs like ‘Talk About The Passion’, ‘Catapult’, or ‘Sitting Still’, along with Michael Stipes' lead vocals over soaring harmonies, it was easy to see why.

But that was merely one influence, and a misleading one at that, because with no one source dominating, R.E.M. faintly recalled a host of mid-'60s L.A. bands from The Leaves to "underground” faves like Kaleidoscope, David Lindley's first band. R.E.M. might have thoroughly transformed their influences but the result sounded both familiar and wholly original.

Murmur's oddness was affecting because it wove itself around structures and riffs that sounded familiar – a strange system hum, for instance, winds itself up into the catchiest opener, RADIO FREE EUROPE.

In these efforts, Buck's guitar solos were capable of breaking through the mix and soaring, and any band that could come up with melodies this rich knew a thing or two about pop music.

The lyrics, however, were a flight of ideas from the mind of a meditative 23-year-old. Trying to unravel them, it still feels as though you're divining the deepest of riddles for meaning.

“Early sessions for the album with Stephen Hague, the synth-pop producer who later worked on New Order's True Faith, were quickly rejected, and American producers Mitch Easter and Don Dixon were brought in instead,” wrote Jude Rogers for Word in 2009.

“They seemed to understand that although REM had the rhythms of rock, the jangle of the Byrds and the raw grit of Gang Of Four in their belly, they also needed to create a sound-world of their own. Easter and Dixon brought in strange noises – bangs and bells — and recorded instruments at varying distances from the microphone, so you couldn't place where the ghostly figures were coming from.”

“At the album's centre point, like a pearl in an oyster, is a song that tells us as much about REM today as the REM that existed a quarter of a century ago. This is 'Perfect Circle', a masterpiece of simple melody and melancholy, and one of the few REM songs to be attributed mainly to the band's former drummer, Bill Berry, who also wrote most of 'Everybody Hurts'.”

[jeannefostergoriot]

Healthy reminder that thinking about your fics at 1am is damaging.

My brain decided to make Nathalie melancholy-sick for the current fanfic.

So above having a completely messed up health situation which makes her body double damaged due to the AU it’s in.

She will have a broken brain longing to be in the grave for no reason.

I hate the 1am ideas and I hate that I generally am unable to throw them away.

[lysandreslovelygirllore]

Time to info dump about my au: banbash!

This au includes characters from the fandoms listed: Undertale, bendy and the ink machine, poppy playtime, sans aus, creepypasta, MLP, baldi's basics, garten of banban, rainbow friends, Garfield, famous/well known lps videos and characters (ex; lps popular or lps addicted), and scp foundation background shinangins, along with some more animal jam background shenanigans, plus Cuphead.

yes this is serious. I am seriously making an entire au with tons of fandoms. I am seriously doing this. I am honest. I'm deadass. These fuckers will all interact. (As a noteee! Main characters are going to be from only garten of banban and rainbow friends. All the other fandoms will be in the background or will only pop up randomly, as most of them don't live chose to the sillays.)

some notes about garten of banban characters I never touch on or fandom characters!

bendy + huggy wuggy.

bendy is a recovering alcoholic. Huggy is his old friend who always tries to assure he doesn't get back into old habits. They don't live together anymore, but they used to when money was tight. This is when bendy got into rehab via huggy's request. Bendy is always in his taller, lankyer ink form. His ink sticks to his body hard, rarely does it come off, allowing him to wear clothing.

Banbalena + nabnab and nabnabalena

Banbalena is the main person who keeps banban and the spiders in check, as she lives with them. Banbalena is NOT related to or in a relationship with banban, they are an adjacent species, as banbalena is not a demon. Banbalena and banban are very very close and old friends. Nabnab is usually not that active, nabnabalena is slightly more active than him, often chatting with banbalena. The spiders are also very good friends with banban and banbalena, using their rare times of activity to cook and clean. (Nabnabalena is the better cook, as she hoards cooking books constantly.)

Baldi + principal (pretty sure that's his name, if not, I'm just gonna call him that. Nicknamed prince.)

Both are retired teachers. Long time friends who met at college. strictly background characters, they will almost never have a prominent role in the story. Sorry baldi fuckers.

(sanses) dream + nightmare

Dream and co have stopped fighting with the evil gaggle nightmare formed long, long ago. they now chill with one another in a frienemy way, often poking fun at one another. Again, side characters, but these guys will have some major roles here and there.

Garfield + odie

Garfield is now a snow leopard and odie is an artic wolf-dog. Both anthro, both pretty large. Yes, Garfield still loves lasagna and still hates odie. Odie is a classic optimistic puppy-dog type, not fitting at all with Garfield's more melancholy ways of life. They live together and have annoying roommate dynamics. Side characters.

Green + cyan

Green and cyan often train together doing gymnastics. green has scarred, foggy eyes and a short, fluffy coat of green fur. Cyan is more wyvern-like, having wings that double as arms, though their bones are too thick to fly. part of the main cast.

Stinger Flynn + red

Red used to do experiments on himself, earning him sharp claws that he hides constantly behind gloves specialty made for his odd little hands. he has fangs and a long, snake-like tongue, but his mouth is not visible, ever. He and stinger Flynn met and bonded through being nerds about scientific shit. Stinger Flynn is kept to his usual design, except for scars all round his eye. He has a humanoid form that follows the same logic as Squidward, tentacles acting as legs + hands. He has long, flowing hair in this form with one eye to boot. He is rarely in this form, though. Him and red are both retired scientists, whom do not live together. Stinger Flynn and red are the main two who decide if the respective groups go anywhere all together. red lives with all the rainbow friends, though they often leave to do their own thing, but almost always come back.

slow salene + opila bird

Slow salene is a pretty shy one, but does often see the gang when their all met up. She usually visits banbalena in her free time. opila lives with her children and husband, also coming over often to meet with banbalena.

purple + orange

Purple and orange are quite good friends, bonding over how SMALL and STUPID they are. Voices of reason for the rainbow cast right next to red. Purple resembles a hairless cat without ears, a nub tail, and clawed hands in the place of paws. They usually crawl around on all fours, slinking into vents and any other small space they can find. Orange is alligator gar based, having most of the features of a alligator, with the fishy genes of an alligator gar. They have their own pool they are most often seen in. they are the least ticklish out of the rainbow friends. Adores sunbathing.

Theirs tons more characters. Why are they not listed? Here's why: their extremely unimportant background characters, their just not all that interesting as they don't bounce off of any specific characters, they are so important to the story that mentioning them would spoil what I have planned, or I was just too lazy to write it.

Don't judge me for this I swear I'm normal.

RAAAH this took me like 2 hours to make raaaah

[leothil]

I got tagged by the wonderful @like-the-rest-of-la 💖💖

🎶✨️When you get this you have to put 5 songs you actually listen to, publish, then send this ask to 10 of your favourite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool) ✨️🎶

1. Dancer by Flo Rida My dance instructors played this during one of our lessons and I immediately fell head over heels. The beat is perfect for west coast swing and it's super fun to sing along to! For a bonus, imagine Buck and Eddie dancing to this à la @rewritetheending's dirty dancing au or @hetrez's dance instructor Eddie fic.

2. America by First Aid Kit This is a cover of Simon & Garfunkel's song, but I adore this version. A half-formed SSAA arrangement based on it is swirling around in my brain, and I wish I'll find the energy and motivation to actually put it together some day!

3. We Built This City by Starship I downloaded a custom map for this to Beat Saber, and it might be one of my favourite tracks to play now. It's impossible to sit still and/or not sing along while listening to this!

4. On the Way Down by Ryan Cabrera I thought making a photoset of it would make it stop playing in my head, but no such luck! It's so vibey, and, yes, the buddie vibes are there. The brainrot is terminal.

5. Mä Elän Vieläkin by Pate Mustajärvi feat. Harri Marstio, Jorma Kaariainen and Topi Sorsakoski This is a beautiful cover of Jimmy Webb's Highwayman (made famous by Johnny Cash with the Highwaymen quartet) that never fails to reduce me to tears. The longing, melancholy harmonies stab me right through the heart. It's unusual for me to imprint on a Finnish song, but this one did it. (The lyrics are completely rewritten for the Finnish version - I encourage you to look them up, if you listen to this, even if google translate can be a bit iffy)

Tagging the aforementioned @rewritetheending and @hetrez as well as @onward--upward @dearestdiaz @alyxmastershipper @elvensorceress @annansmith @toboldlynerd @thatsveryood @oneawkwardcookie (sorry if anyone is double tagged, I did not check anything lmao)

[spockandthings]

Double WIP Word Search Game

I've been double tagged by the ever lovelies @mentallyinvernation (gun, glass, raven, nose, red, and cat) and @dramaoftheendless (Sob, blood, tea, couch, embrace, knife) so I'll do both lists hehe

I have way less wips than what people may think, so bear with me

Gun

Glass - Corinthienne WIP

Lucienne stayed silent as she looked at the nightmare’s slightly crooked smile, dark glasses ever framing his face, hiding the teething eyes Lucienne knew hid behind but hadn’t seen since the nightmare’s infancy - the Corinthian had always worn them during his frequent visits

Raven

Nose - Conrinthienne WIP

To be touched in such a way should have revolted her, but she couldn’t help but stay frozen as the Corinthian brought his nose up to her temple.

Red

Cat & Tea - Pavlovian Reflexes (Morpheus nsfw VA!AU)

It was how, entre autre, Hob had discovered that Morpheus had a cat (a sweet black and white fluff ball with the name of Jessamy), that he had an aversion to coffee (preferring tea), or that he was a morning grump and a night owl.

Sob

Blood - Pavlovian Reflexes (Morpheus nsfw VA!AU)

The man then lightly tapped three times the tinted window separating the back from the driver - of course the guy had a bloody driver, Hob thought - which apparently was a signal to start driving off to their mysterious destination

Couch

Embrace - Corinthienne WIP

Neither of them truly needed to breathe and, thus, their constitution allowed their embrace to linger for far longer than any mortal kiss could ever be.

Knife

Not much new stuff, am afraid (I haven't written anything in a hot sec), but this was still very entertaining to do :3

I tag the air (jk, jk), @seiya-starsniper @honeyteacakes @arialerendeair @serenailith (and whomever wants to do it)

Your words are : bare, melancholy, buzz, lick, heart, magic & softness

[werewolfcandy]

Kamen Rider Pokemon AU thoughts under the read more bc i love both of these things and i need to combine them in my head

W cast:

Shotaro: A Honchkrow, given to him when it was just a baby Murkrow by the Boss. Shoutaro’s Honchkrow enjoys puffing up its own feathers, but it seems a little melancholy sometimes, too. Seems like it misses the Boss’ old Honchkrow.

Philip: Philip’s Espeon is often curled in his lap while he’s researching, and it keeps protective watch over his body when Philip becomes Double with Shoutaro.

Akiko: Akiko’s Purugly is quite pampered, and she spends a lot of time brushing its soft fur to perfection. Her Purugly is a bit boastful because of this. When it sees Akiko get her slipper from her back, it will dash behind the legs of her target so they can’t run away from Akiko.

Terui: Terui’s Scizor seems just as cool and collected as he is, but its actually quite shy. It’s an extremely capable fighter, chasing down enemy dopant’s pokemon as relentlessly as its owner. 

OOO Cast:

Eiji: Eiji’s Goodra is incredibly friendly, and enjoys hugs! Eiji never seems to mind when it leaves slime all over his clothes (though certain prickly birds complain every time Goodra tries to hug them too). When Eiji struggles to control the purple medals, his Goodra becomes extremely distraught and fearful, to the point of rampaging alongside him.

Ankh: A Ho-oh! Obviously it had to be a firebird pokemon, and Ho-oh is described as having rainbow feathers, just like Ankh! It was weakened alongside Ankh, so to protect itself, it disguises itself as a Talonflame. (legendary pokemon can disguise themselves as normal pokemon because i say so)

Hina: Her Leavanny is always extremely helpful when she’s designing clothes. Its strong silk and sharp cutters make for an especially strong thread and clean fabric cut. It’s surprisingly strong for such a delicate looking pokemon, and won’t hesitate to fight back if it thinks Hina is being threatened.

Gotou: In his research and study of the medals, Kougami and his scientists managed to create a synthetic pokemon capable of changing its typing with a special device. only one of these creatures managed to survive past incubation, and was given to Gotou when he was promoted to lead a squadron. Gotou isn’t quite sure what to make of Type: Null, but sometimes it looks back at him with intelligent eyes from behind its mask, and Gotou wonders how much is being held back by its control mask.

Date: Despite its rough looks, Date’s Aggron is surprisingly friendly. Years of work in combat zones have left its metal hide a bit scuffed and worn, but Date tries to polish it up a bit when he can. It eats a lot too, and Date often has to pry cell medals out of its mouth after a battle before it eats too many. 

Satonaka: Satonaka will battle, too, if she’s paid enough to do it. Her Tsareena is just as aloof as she is, and an extremely capable fighter. Even Date’s Aggron will flinch away from it. But their battling prowess doesn’t come cheap, and Satonaka insists on extra pay if any of Tsareena’s leaves get scuffed in a fight.

Ex-Aid Cast:

Emu: A Lucario. I couldn’t decide between this or Blaziken (it reminds me of Mighty, a little bit!) But Lucario’s empathetic abilities are a good match for Emu i think. For some reason, it acts really strange around Parad... maybe it senses something about him that Emu doesnt?

Parad: A Porygon, of course! It wouldn’t have any trouble following it’s friend into digital spaces. Kuroto designs the special discs Porygon needs to evolve for Parad. 

Hiiro: A Gallade! There is nothing they cannot cut. Hiiro has a mega stone, but his own personal struggles prevent him and Gallade from mega evolution for much of the show.

Kiriya: Its GOTTA be a Cyclizar! C’mon, of course the bike man would have a bike pokemon. Kiriya’s Cyclizar is just as fun and upbeat as he is!

Taiga: Decidueye. It supports Snipe in combat with it’s sharpshooting quills. While it seems quite cool and aloof, it can often be seen fussing over Taiga when he’s in his office.

Nico: Nico’s Scrafty has as big of a temper as she does, and Emu is often an unfortunate target for it’s violent headbutts or kicks. It’s fiercely protective of Nico, and has a competitive streak from their esports days. Scrafty hates losing more than anything, so it often tries to start fights with Emu’s Lucario.

Poppy: A cute Sylveon! It’s good at helping patients calm down a little bit, and loves to dance with Poppy! Whon Poppy’s feeling a little down, her Sylveon will link it’s ribbons in her hands and try to cheer her up by instigating a dance.

Kuroto: A shiny Gengar. It’s leering smile and horrid laughter echo Kuroto’s. It becomes even more cruel and unnerving once they achieve mega evolution, relentlessly chasing Kiriya’s Cyclizar through the streets when it goes to find help.

Graphite: Graphite and his Charizard both enjoy testing themselves in combat. Graphite’s signature move burns just as hot as his Charizard’s flames! While capable of mega evolution, they prefer not to use it, only mega evolving when their opponent has proven themselves worthy.

Build Cast:

Sento: Isurugi says he found Metagross’ pokeball on Sento when he found him in the rain. It doesn’t seem to remember anything, either, so it navigates its new life with Sento one step at a time. An encounter with a Buneary earned Sento another companion, too! It’s often perched on Sento’s shoulder, and when they both get excited, both of Buneary’s ears stand on end.

Banjou: A Kommo-o! (its fighting and dragon type. it has to be a Kommo-o). They were legends in the ring, but after Banjou’s fall from grace, his Kommo-o refused to listen to him. It’s taken a while, but now that Banjou has found his reason to fight again, he and Kommo-o can finally fight together once more. When Banjou gets fired up, Kommo-o clangs its scales in reply.

Misora: A Spinda (because i think it kind of looks like that weird rabbit plush thing Misora has). Misora usually holds it in her arms, since it can be a little slow when it totters after her with its strange movements. After her collapse as a child, she found that a Shaymin followed her everywhere, too. It’s cute and unassuming, but sometimes the flowers on its back shake, like it’s reacting to some strange power...

Sawa: Sawa’s Chatot received training alongside her during their youth as Namba Children. It’s capable of advanced levels of speech pattern recognition, so Sawa will often leave it in unassuming places so her Chatot can eavesdrop and then repeat back to her everything it heard. 

Kazumin: Mudbray and Tauros are common pokemon for farmers, and Kazumin’s Mudsdale has been his reliable partner since childhood. Years of farm work have build it’s already strong stamina into something almost untouchable. It stands stong, shrugging off powerful attacks like they’re nothing, and one stomp from Mudsdale’s hooves is enough to down almost any opponent. 

Gentoku: Krookodile looks a bit intimidating, until you realize it can be just as silly as Gentoku can be. It shared his horrendous amazing fashion sense. Gentoku has sunglasses that match the dark markings around Krookodile’s eyes.

Evolt: Isurugi’s Dachsbun used to be at his side every second of the day, but for some reason it began to shy away from him. Now it snarls at him from time to time, and spends every moment with Misora instead. 

After everything is revealed, a strange and unsettling pokemon started to accompany Evolt. Deoxys looms behind him, standing almost perfectly still, and it’s ever-shifting forms make it a tough opponent in combat.