#now it’s another day where most of us still have to live out lives but now we can’t get to the doctor or we

[aceing-on-the-cake]

So every time I see posts like this I think about the fact that drowning people can, will, and most often do end up trying to drown their rescuers, and that lifeguards are trained because of this to offer an object and not themselves first, such as a flotation tube, before placing themselves within arms reach.

Then I think about the two times in my life where I had spent months, where I would have days in between even speaking to another human because I was so lacking in contact.

Then I think about when I did gain people again, and they told me they cared about me, and they took an interest in me, and they spent time with me.

And I think about the feeling of desperation that overwhelmed me when they would stop, for even minutes or hours. Because they were sleeping. Because they were busy. Because they are humans with their own lives to live.

I remember having to sit there, and face that gnawing hole inside me that I knew was illogical. Knew was born out of fear, and loss, and how 15 minutes put me right back in that water all alone even if I could see I was on land.

Because drowning people are dangerous.

And I knew I was dangerous, unless I controlled this feeling. Faced it. Looked at it right in the eyes and chose to trust that when I had asked them before "you like me? you don't find me annoying? you want to be in my life?" that they meant it.

And now I'm reading this post and I'm not drowning, and you can leave me in the water alone, comfortably alone, and I don't often flash back to feeling like I am. But I still do, and I think I always will.

Because I almost died. And I don't think I'll ever truly forget that.

But drowning people are dangerous, and most people are not trained lifeguards. So when you drag them down to you, you use them to hold your head above water by placing theirs under, they can either drown with you, or they can let go.

And most people are going to let go. Because nobody wants to drown.

[nostalgebraist]

I feel like I've had the same experience several times now: someone does a new translation of a non-English literary classic, and all the critics praise it to the moon, so I go and try to read it, and it's turns out it's just . . . bad? Like, really bad? And weirdly bad?

A while back, I wrote about the case of Pevear and Volokhonsky. Here's another example, which I encountered while doing background research for my novel Almost Nowhere.

----

One of my novel's major characters is a literary translator, famous for his rendition of the Persian epic poem Shahnameh ("Book of Kings").

To help me write this character, I tried to read the Shahnameh myself. I started out – where else? – with the translation that seemed to be the gold standard, and which was certainly the most critically lauded.

Namely, the 2006 translation by Dick Davis, in prose with occasional shifts into verse.

Here's how the Shahnameh begins, in Davis' translation:

What does the Persian poet say about the first man to seek the crown of world sovereignty? No one has any knowledge of those first days, unless he has heard tales passed down from father to son. This is what those tales tell: The first man to be king, and to establish the ceremonies associated with the crown and throne, was Kayumars. When he became lord of the world, he lived first in the mountains, where he established his throne, and he and his people dressed in leopard skins. It was he who first taught men about the preparation of food and clothing, which were new in the world at that time. Seated on his throne, as splendid as the sun, he reigned for thirty years. He was like a tall cypress tree topped by the full moon, and the royal farr shone from him. All the animals of the world, wild and tame alike, reverently paid homage to him, bowing down before his throne, and their obedience increased his glory and good fortune.

And here is the same opening, in the 1905 translation by Arthur and Edmond Warner (which I only discovered much later in the process of writing Almost Nowhere):

What saith the rustic bard? Who first designed To gain the crown of power among mankind? Who placed the diadem upon his brow? The record of those days hath perished now Unless one, having borne in memory Tales told by sire to son, declare to thee Who was the first to use the royal style And stood the head of all the mighty file. He who compiled the ancient legendary, And tales of paladins, saith Gaiúmart Invented crown and throne, and was a Sháh. This order, Grace, and lustre came to earth When Sol was dominant in Aries And shone so brightly that the world grew young. Its lord was Gaiúmart, who dwelt at first Upon a mountain; thence his throne and fortune Rose. He and all his troop wore leopard-skins, And under him the arts of life began, For food and dress were in their infancy. He reigned o'er all the earth for thirty years, In goodness like a sun upon the throne, And as a full moon o'er a lofty cypress So shone he from the seat of king of kings. The cattle and the divers beasts of prey Grew tame before him; men stood not erect Before his throne but bent, as though in prayer, Awed by the splendour of his high estate, And thence received their Faith.

Now, I can't speak at all about the source text. I have no idea how faithful or unfaithful these two translations are, and in what ways, in which places.

Still, though. I mean like, come on.

This is an epic poem about ancient kings and larger-than-life heroes.

This is a national epic, half myth and half history, narrating the proud folkloric lineage claimed by a real-world empire.

There is a way that such things are supposed to sound, in English. And it sure as hell isn't this:

What does the Persian poet say about the first man to seek the crown of world sovereignty?

Excuse me? That's your opening line? I thought I was reading a poem, here, not taking a fucking AP World Literature exam!

----

Postscript

Some of the critical praise for the Davis translation, quoted on the back cover of my copy (emphasis mine):

"A poet himself, Davis brings to his translation a nuanced awareness of Ferdowsi's subtle rhythms and cadences. His "Shahnameh" is rendered in an exquisite blend of poetry and prose, with none of the antiquated flourishes that so often mar translations of epic poetry." (Reza Aslan, The New York Times Book Review) "Thanks to Davis's magnificent translation, Ferdowsi and the Shahnameh live again in English.” (Michael Dirda, Washington Post) "A magnificent accomplishment . . . [Davis’s translation] is not only the fullest representation of Ferdowsi’s masterpiece in English but the best." (The New York Sun)

[twig-tea]

East Palace, West Palace in ep5 of Blue Canvas of Youthful Days

I have been punched in the solar plexus by Blue Canvas of Youthful Days episode 5. So much happens in that episode that is overwhelming, from Qi Lu setting up a Netflix-and-chill date with the clear intention of making a move, to his putting on the famous film East Palace, West Palace (1996), to Qi Lu hiding Qin Xiao in the closet, to Qi Lu's panic at his father realizing he's been lied to, to the devastatingly practiced way Teacher Liu steps to Qi Lu being abused and handles his father, to the way Qi Lu shuts down, to the way QIn Xiao keeps sending mixed signals and Qi Lu calls him on it directly. And nobody else in this episode let me rest either; Tan Fan trying to ask Teacher Liu to wait for him and Liu brushing him off AGAIN, and Turtle trying to call out

@lurkingshan was already more coherent than I can be right now about what happened in the episode in her post.

So instead I want to focus on some queer cinema history that this episode evoked by using East Palace, West Palace as the film that Qi Lu shows to QIn Xiao.

For those who don't know, EPWP is considered to be the first realistic depiction of a gay man in film by a mainland Chinese production. It is to my knowledge the first time a gay man says "I love you" to another man on screen. It was made before being gay was decriminalized in China (1997), and it was filmed by an independent production company and smuggled out of China to France in order to be finished and distributed. It ended up at the Cannes festival in 1997, but the director's passport was seized and he was placed under house arrest to prevent him from attending. Despite pressure to pull the film, it still aired that year. In 1998, the Film Law was passed to prevent anyone from making films outside of the studio system (and therefore censorship review), effectively preventing anything like EPWP from being made in the future.

The film is about a gay man who cruises in the notorious bathrooms in the parks on either side of Tiananmen Square getting harassed by police officers (a situation extremely familiar to the historical queer experience in Canada [where I'm from] as well) and playing what I'd describe as a psychological game with one of them; A Lan kisses the cop, runs, and then gets caught a second time, and uses the second police confession as an excuse to tell his life's story in the public record, all while pushing the police officer a little further into deviance. As far as I'm aware, this film has been banned in China since being made and never shown (please correct me if I'm wrong about that!).

This is hitting me hard because of the much more recent history of Blue Canvas of Youthful Days itself. As most of you know, but I'll capture here for posterity, episodes 1-4 of this show aired on iQIYI (a China-based app) on August 6, and within 24 hours they were pulled from the app with no information about the future episodes being shown. When I watched episode 5 today, after waiting for it for 3 months, I was immediately hit with a wave of anger that this gorgeous, emotionally moving and powerful episode had been held back from public consumption for months, for the same reasons that the film being shown within the episode had been withheld from viewing in its own country.

Censorship is such an ugly thing, it's hard to articulate but the emotions around it are so strong because we know, when they pull or refuse to show media that depicts our lives, it's because they don't want our lives to be real; they don't want us to exist. It's a very real threat. And to have this episode--which is all about an abused boy who is in very real danger but so bravely insisting that he shoot his shot and take his best chance at love and happiness anyway, using the iconic confession scene from one of the most famous banned films in Chinese queer cinema history to do it--to have this episode be the one that was prevented from airing......I am overwhelmed.

In the scenes they watch in episode 5, A Lan tries to prevent the officer from uncuffing him, and then the officer lets him go, but A Lan doesn't go far and comes back. He declares his love to the officer's face, and demands that his love be acknowledged and not dismissed. And the officer does not know what to do with it and reacts with violence, which is partially what A Lan has been angling at all along. The show really played with this by having all three of the couples in the show stymied by having their overtures dismissed this episode, but we almost didn't get to see it.

I'm so grateful this got distribution now, and on multiple platforms. Blue Canvas of Youthful Days is airing Saturdays and Sundays on GagaOOLala and Youtube (note, as per @thisonelikesaliens's excellent language posts, the subs on Gaga are much better), and on Mondays on Viki. I know there is an avalanche of content right now, but this show is so good and worked so hard to make it to us, please give it some love!

[momolady]

Sirion the Vampire

-Patreon - Ko-Fi - Commissions - Masterlist - 3K words - Trans-Male Reader x Male Monster Forbidden Love - Elopement - Vampire Feeding - True Self

Taking hold of that hand, you held it close, unafraid of the dark and certainly not worried about the cold. You looked into the darkness of his eyes, assured of what he said. 

“Then let’s go.” Your breath came out in thick, curtaining billows. “Take me there, we can’t leave soon enough.”

A smile spread across his face and he leaned in to kiss you. You had vowed long ago you would go anywhere with him, do whatever it took to stand by his side. When he saw you, truly saw you, there was no turning back. Forever you two were locked together.

The night you ran, he made quite the grand spectacle of it. Of course Sirion had to let the whole world know, that was never a question in your mind. He took you from your home, glaring deep into the eyes of your family who had been holding you captive in your own home all this time. He stared at them, wishing them to burst into flames, but instead he let them live, peacefully as you had requested. Even as your father’s old gun rang through the streets, all you wanted was for them to be left alone

The carriage was an ornate one, one harkening back to the old days when the vampires had once ruled this land. There were no windows, so you could not see outside to where you were going. But there were jewels, or at least where jewels had once been. The empty settings seemed to plead for something to hold. The seats were luxurious, silk and down you assumed.

“It will take us a while to get there,” Sirion murmured. 

You looked up from your exploring, catching the somewhat grim look upon his face. He raised his hand, showing the blood on his palm from where you fathers’s bullet grazed him.

Jumping up from your seat, you rushed to his side. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It is nothing to worry about,” he growled as you sat beside him, peeling away his cloak to inspect the wound. “I will heal fast. After all, at the moment, I am still full of you.”

Placing your palm over the wound, you glared into his eyes.

Sirion laughed. “Don’t give me such a look.” He languidly placed his hands over his face, hiding but a slip of his eyes. “Not when we should be celebrating.”

You huffed. “You haven’t rested either.”

Placing his long, heavy arm around you, Sirion pulled you in close. “I was far too excited.” He relaxed his body as yours drew closer. “It will be just us now. No hiding, no secrets, no shadows.” His eyes gazed up to the roof of the carriage where a starry night scene was painted. “A place of moonlight,” he breathed.

You were exhausted as well, and resting your head upon his chest was the most sumptuous pillow you could find.

When you woke, the carriage had stopped. You raised from the seat, rubbing your eyes as you gazed around. Outside you heard voices, Sirion’s was among them. As you opened the door and peered out, you saw a dark, endless scene of pillars and dark. The air was musky and cold, and echoes of water were all around.

“There he is.” Sirion’s voice guided you to his visage, standing in the light of a torch. “Come,” he beckoned to you. “They will be taking care of you.”

“For what?” You frowned, looking at the tall, pale woman before you and her short, somewhat hairy companion.

Sirion held onto your shoulders and chuckled. “To prepare you for your new life, of course. To be my groom.”

Your heart pounded, taking another look at the couple before you.

“I’ll be fixing your hair,” the man said and spit to the side.

The woman smirked, amused by the man’s behavior. “And I have clothes for you, Sirion requested a lavish wardrobe for you, my lord.”

The pulse of your heart was likely noticed by everyone in your presence. “Really?” You looked up at Sirion in awe.

“Really,” he chuckled. He pushed against your back. “They will take care of you, and I will rest.”

You followed the man and woman, taken to a bunker-like building. Inside was lavish in a pauper type of way. Things that had once been grand mixed with others that looked stolen or upgraded. 

The man had you sit in a chair while he took out a glimmering silver razor and scissor set. In a rage, your father had lopped off your hair, leaving it uneven, in hanging chunks, and skin close patches. You were relieved to feel the hairy man’s scissors snip away and the cold of the razor against the back of your neck.

Meanwhile the woman pulled out a trunk, an extra package set aside upon the top which she opened. Inside was a dark red and black suit. The material looked familiar to you, but you couldn’t place it.

“There now,” the man turned you in the chair. “How does that look?”

The mirror was broken, but you still appeared in it just fine, unlike the man and woman. Your hair was masculine, swooped to the side and the flowing front tucked behind your ear and the sides shaved short due to your fathers assault. It was how you always wanted to look. You looked like the man you knew you were.

“That’s amazing,” you whispered, touching your face.

The woman then approached from behind. “And your new wardrobe is even better!” She said excitedly. “Come, come, you must get dressed.”

The man walked off, going to prepare something in the corner while the woman dressed you.  She took note of the bite mark on your thigh, giving you a wink and a smile. She dressed you in the fine suit, making sure the hems set right and everything fit. 

“Perfect! The measurements were precise.” She moved you to the mirror again, showing you yourself. The suit hugged what it needed and hid what you didn’t want. You looked like the vision you saw in your head, the one that never had appeared to you before. Tears came to your eyes.

“I knew it! I did it!” The woman clapped her hands together then turned to the man, taking from him a silver clutch. She opened it, showing you the needle inside. “Sirion will know the rest,” she whispered to you. “He always provides.”

Still in tears, you weren’t sure how to respond.

The man and woman finished your meeting by giving you food, which seemed a bit jumbled, but you were hungry so the meal didn’t matter.

Afterwards, you were presented to Sirion, whose grin could have matched yours. He ran up to you, scooping you up and tossing you about in the air.

“My dashing prince!” he announced loudly and proudly. “Look how you shine!” He hugged you to his chest, his long fingers grasped around your head. “I knew you were meant for the finery of the vampires.” He smoothed his palms down your collar. “I had her make this from the suit I was wearing when we first met.”

That’s where it seemed so familiar! You beamed from ear to ear, even larger than before. “I love it,” you breathed into his chest. “Thank you!”

He stroked your hair, feeling the closely shaved sides with a delicate touch. “From now on, you will be seen. I promise. Where we are going, you will only see your best self.” He then laughed. “We don’t use mirrors much, but I have one just for you.” He bent down, kissing you. His lips were cool, but you had grown to love that feeling.

Once in the carriage again, Sirion had you in his lap, his hand in your pants touching you, feeling your desire from him grow.

“Seeing you like this, it makes me feel alive again,” he chuckled into your ear. His voice was breathy, deep, full of longing. “I cannot wait for us to make love for the first time.”

You moaned, fidgeting a bit in his lap. His fingers curled, eliciting a deep moan from your lips. “But we have.”

“Not like this,” he growled. “Not in freedom.” His fingers were slick, making wetter sounds as he moved. “I doubt I can hold myself until we reach safety.”

“You don’t have to,” you gasped. “We can-” You kept losing your breath from his touch. “We can do it now.”

Sirion breathed something of his old language into your ear. “I would enjoy that very much.”

Enjoy the rest as a free member over on Patreon!

[vaelynx]

This discussion is dearly missing some Uncle Karl, and I say it as someone who isn't even knee deep in theory.

The first thing is alienation. Notice how the discussion above isn't filled with say, car repairmen wishing they could repair hay carts instead, or sailors wishing they lived in the era of rotten rations and scurvy. (Although I fully admit *I* wish to go back to pre-SMD electronics :P)

If you are stuck doing the job of a servant, without even the sliver of prestige and relative prosperity serving the kind of household who could afford servants provided, of course you're not going to be seeing much bad in an era where you'd likely be a subsistence farmer, because work of that nature is inherently more satisfying to a human mind. Notice how people garden in their spare time, but nobody goes to serve rude people as a way of entertainment (except for BDSM enthusiasts)

This brings in a related point that progress as some single sloped line cutting through history is utter bullshit, and for instance, the Industrial Revolution has made most everyone's lives worse for a long while before it made anyone better off. Living in, say, a victorian poorhouse, you could absolutely honestly say that your ancestors say, three hundred years ago were better off than you.

To this also adds a missing element up above and that is freedom as known necessity. Now, I might be misinterpreting this one, so any marxists are free to correct me, but I've always understood it as this: if you run out of your house because it's on fire, that's a free decision, inasmuch as dictated by circumstance - granted, you're not going to be happy at the fire but you don't feel oppressed. Now, if someone aims a gun at you and tells you to get out, I don't think anyone would consider you "free" in this example - you're subject to the will of another. Now, however, if the person aiming their gun at you knew that there's a fire starting *and* that the propane bottles in the basement will blow if we don't get out *now* and so aimed the gun at you... it was as much of a necessity as in case #1 but what changes things is that you didn't know about it. Hence. Known necessity. How does this apply to our topic? The easiest way is that direct comparison between lifestyles with the whole "You live better than kings" is a fiasco for this reason alone. Yeah, a king didn't have a TV set or a flush toilet, but the absence of one wasn't something that entered his mind. (just like I don't spend my days bemoaning the lack of a gizmotator)

Furthermore, this plays an even bigger role for the lower classes. While the situation sucks either way, I'd say it's somewhat more bearable to be hungry because the harvest was shit, than to be hungry because some asshole in corporate decided not to up your wages despite two digit inflation. Now, as per example #3 - it's hypothetically possible that the asshole in corporate is an asshole because he couldn't balance the books otherwise, but you don't know that, and so still feel squeezed. And of course, in things like service industry, most of your misery does indeed come from shitty other people ,either directly or from ways they've actively chosen to make your life more shit (say, cashiers unable to sit in the US)

So yeah, these aspects are quite important, and then there's further issues to go with the previously mentioned positional goods.

Now, not everyone can, indeed, be a general, but the biggest question here isn't so much how many winners does a society have, as much as how many losers. Because there's societies that allow you to be relatively insolvent with dignity intact, and ones who don't, and the second kind will foment discontent and upset. People being rude to service industry workers is a symptom of this - their positional good is that there's someone underneath them yet that they can vent their bile on. But, this goes for general prestige, status etc.

On a complete different end is how some positional goods have gotten grossly devalued, and/or the "market" of them became deformed.

The easiest example here is say, music skill. Easily reproduced music and the breadth of contact networks has, in a lot of ways, killed the positional good of being an "okay" musician. On one side, those with great talent can make it really big, bigger than in a lot of time, on the other, the guy playing a piano at a cafe, or playing a harmonica at the pub has gotten a very shit end of the whole deal, never mind the many many bands whose main claim to fame was that they were local. The same goes for things like writing and relative easy of translation - it's a lot harder to succeed as a "good" (but not great) writer if the works with which you compete are not just from your country, but the whole world (although the niches of the internet have perhaps mitigated this one a little). And so on and so forth, down to how being the most eligible bachelor/bachelorette in your immediate neighbourhood isn't much of an asset in the era of Tinder.

In sum total, while simplistic calls for returning to the past, either from the "left" or the right are stupid, any claim that we're living better than ever is a fig leaf over the fact we aren't even living better than twenty years ago, for most "we"'s probably reading this message, and uncomfortable truths can be discovered by looking into the past.

I think @Earlgraytay has me blocked, though I don't specifically remember having any arguments with them, but I wanted to respond to a post of theirs which asserts that I live better than *anybody* who lived in a pre-industrial society, and I will phrase my skepticism like so:

"If Plato or Alexander the Great or Gengis Khan or William the Conqueror or Leonardo Da Vinci had the opportunity to work at a minimum wage job that they didn't really enjoy until they were too tired to do anything except go back to their apartment to drink and jerk off until they fell into a shallow, stressful sleep before waking up to do it again tomorrow they would definitely do it because that's obviously way better than how they actually lived."

I'm going to go ahead and say that I don't think this is actually obvious.

I'll even say that the more names I add to that list the more facially absurd it sounds.

I don't want to go back to the past and the people who idolize the past are often deeply confused individuals.

But the result of this is a counter-movement which, rather than attempting to figure out what *aspect* of a past society might have appeal, instead simply argues that it doesn't matter because whatever it is could not possibly be more important than Spotify.

And the problem becomes massively bigger if you actually allow people to compare themselves to "Kings" rather than the working class clods of a previous time.

Yes, I live a lot better than a medieval serf. I am really, *really* not convinced that I am living a wholly better life than Gengis Khan or Alexander the Great (Let alone Socrates, Confucious or Leonardo Da Vinci) just because I have a flush toilet.

[wolvietxt]

late night conversation prompts!

confessions & chaos :3

🌀 it's past 2 am, and the two of you are lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. “what’s one thing you’ve never told anyone?” they ask, voice hushed, like the world could hear your secrets if it were any louder.

🌀 you’re both curled up under a blanket, sharing earbuds, listening to a song that means everything to them. “this part,” they whisper, right before the lyrics hit, “makes me think of you.”

🌀 their fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin as the two of you talk about your childhood dreams, the ones that never quite came true. “maybe it’s not too late,” they murmur, sounding more hopeful than they’ve ever been.

🌀 it’s 3 am, and you’re both sprawled on the living room floor, trying to build the tallest tower out of whatever you can find - books, pillows, even a shoe. it’s teetering dangerously when it finally collapses, sending everything crashing down, and you both end up in a fit of uncontrollable laughter, tears streaming down your faces.

🌀 it’s one of those nights where sleep feels impossible. you're sharing the deepest fears that keep you up at night, and they hold your hand tighter with each confession, like they're trying to keep the darkness away.

🌀 somewhere between midnight and dawn, the conversation drifts to a vulnerable place. “do you think we’ll still be this close in ten years?” you ask. there’s a long pause before they finally answer, “i hope so. god, i really hope so.”

🌀 you're both sprawled out on the couch, the tv playing softly in the background. “if you could go back and change one thing, would you?” they ask, eyes heavy with questions they don’t know if they want answers to.

🌀 the rain is pouring outside, and it’s just you two, sitting on the windowsill, knees touching. “do you ever wonder if there’s someone out there thinking about us right now?” they ask, their gaze fixed on the drops racing down the glass.

🌀 the two of you are tucked away in bed, your voices low and quiet as if the darkness could hear. "tell me something about yourself i don’t know,” they say, and for a moment, you’re not sure if you should reveal the truth or make something up.

🌀 there’s a comfort in the silence that stretches between you, broken only by the occasional murmur of words neither of you remember in the morning. it’s like sharing secrets with the night, knowing it won’t tell a soul.

🌀 you’re both lying on the kitchen floor, sharing a pint of ice cream straight from the tub. “okay, serious question,” they say, spoon halfway to their mouth, “if i were a vegetable, which one would i be?” you both burst into laughter when you answer with the most absurd choice imaginable.

🌀 the hours have slipped away, and it’s nearing 4 am. the conversation takes a turn, and you find yourself talking about your biggest regrets. “if i could, i’d take back every mistake i made,” they admit, their voice thick with emotion.

🌀 you’re both staring up at the ceiling, too wired to sleep. suddenly, they turn to you with a mischievous grin, “if you could swap bodies with me for a day, what’s the first thing you’d do?” you’re both cracking up as you come up with increasingly ridiculous answers.

🌀 the moonlight filters in, casting soft shadows across the room. “if we met again in another life,” they say softly, “do you think we’d still find each other?” it feels more like a confession than a question.

🌀 the two of you are lying there, sleep far from your minds. “do you think we’re meant to be here right now, like this?” they ask, like the universe has all the answers and you're just a tiny piece of it trying to make sense of things.

[lucy90712]

Puppy- Pedri

Life has been a lot recently I moved away from my hometown and my parents to move in with my boyfriend after being long distance for nearly two years. Getting to live with him has been amazing I love Pedri so much and now we don't have to miss each other in between being able to visit one another. Moving from Tenerife to Barcelona has also meant I needed to find a new job which luckily didn't take long so I've just started at a new company and moved which is a lot all at once but so far it's been mostly good.

I do feel like I'm kind of just getting through each day I wake up and then I'm at work and then I come back home again. My life doesn't feel like my life anymore I had a whole routine back home but now everything is different and I don't have the little things in my routine that helped each day feel less mundane. The best part of my day is when Pedri gets home and we can cuddle on the sofa and watch a movie which has become a daily routine. Don't get me wrong I love my new life as I get to be with Pedri but it's a lot of change all at once and I feel like it's finally catching up to me and I'm starting to miss home a little. 

It's going to take some time to get used to being here but I'm sure eventually Barcelona will start to feel like home and I'll forget all about this time where I felt out of place. I know this is where I'm supposed to be as otherwise Pedri would've never come into my life and he's definitely the best thing that's ever happened to me. When we get used to living together and I get used to the city I'm sure it will all be perfect right now we are just going through an adjustment period. 

Pedri's POV

Like most days when Y/n got home she seemed stressed until she saw me then she put a fake smile on her face. I can tell she's faking it because the smile didn't reach her eyes like it always does when she's actually smiling. I know the move has been a lot on her we both knew the first few weeks would be hard but I can tell she's still struggling and that just breaks my heart. It's not that she doesn't want to be here as when we go places together she really enjoys herself but whenever I have to leave her or she goes to work the next time I see her she looks stressed and just generally unhappy. 

I should've known that moving so far from home and getting a new job all at the same time would be hard for her but I underestimated how big of a change that would be for her. I remember when I first moved here I didn't know anyone and it was my first time living alone it was scary and I missed home a lot and that must be how y/n feels as I know she is really close to her family so not being close to them distance wise anymore is difficult. I want to do something to make her feel more at home here but I have no idea what the right thing to do is as I can't just magically help her settle in. 

This has been on my mind for a few days and I can't decide the right thing to do so I've decided that I'm going to ask some of the other guys if they have any ideas. I've told Ferran about my dilemma but he was no use and the same goes for Gavi neither of them gave me any serious ideas they just joked around like they always do. Asking them made it clear that I need to talk to one of the older guys who might actually offer some sensible advice. 

"Hey Raphinha can I get your advice on something?" I asked 

"Of course man what's up" he said 

"You know y/n moved in with me a few months ago well I just feel like she hasn't fully settled in and I don't know what to do she just seems stressed and unhappy" I said 

"That's hard she must just miss home I know this isn't the answer your looking for but time is the best thing for that and just talk to her asking her how she feels will help you understand what you can do to take some of the stress away" he advised 

"Thanks man I'll definitely talk to her" I said 

"Wait Pedri did you say y/'s missing home" one of coaches said from across the hallway 

"Yeah she just seems to be lonely I guess she's only got me and anyone I've introduced her to so when we aren't around that's when she seems to be the worst" I said 

"This might not be the solution you're looking for but my brother found a puppy dumped in a bin last night maybe having something in the house would help y/n feel less lonely if you want to meet the puppy I'll give you my brothers number" he said 

"Actually that sounds like a great idea" I said 

Getting a puppy was definitely not something I'd planned on doing for a while as I'm not around as much as I would need to be to look after a dog and I didn't want to put that all on y/n as she's getting used to life here but maybe it would be good for her. Having a little puppy around the house to keep her company while I'm not around sounds like a great idea to me and she can meet new people taking the dog for a walk. 

~~~~~~~~~~

After seeing the puppy my mind was made up he was so sweet and he reminded me a lot of the family dog y/n has back home which seemed like a sign that this was the decision I needed to make. It took a few days to get everything sorted but finally today I picked up the puppy and brought him home to explore a bit before y/n got home from work. So far he's done just that he hasn't stopped running around and playing with the few toys I got him as well as my shoes but we will work on stopping that another day. 

Your POV

Today has been a long day we had a big presentation at work today and I had a few important meetings and now I'm just exhausted. When I pulled into the driveway Pedri's car was already there and that made me feel a little better as seeing him and cuddling with him sounds like it will make all my problems go away at least for tonight. As I entered the door I saw a little plastic ball on the floor which had me confused as I don't know why Pedri would have one of those or why it would just be on the floor. Then it all made sense when a tiny ball of black fluff ran towards me grabbed the ball and ran away again towards Pedri who picked up the puppy and brought it towards me. 

As soon as he placed the puppy in my arms I was in love it looked exactly like my parents dog back home which they got when I was little and we grew up together. Holding the puppy made me feel like I had a bit of home with me and it reminded me of my childhood and all of the photos I have with my parents dog. 

"Whose dog is this?" I asked Pedri 

"He's ours" he said 

"I have so many questions" I said 

"Well one of our coaches at the club overheard me talking to Raphinha about how I think you've been missing home and feeling lonely here and said that his brother found a puppy dumped in a bin so I went and met the puppy and instantly knew he'd be a perfect fit for us and I know we both have busy lives but I thought he'd keep you company while I'm away" Pedri explained 

"Who would dump this little cutie" I cooed to the puppy

"I do have one last question does he have a name yet?" He asked 

"I haven't properly named him yet as I didn't want to do it without you but I was thinking we could call him Nilo" he said 

"I like that welcome to our crazy household Nilo" I said 

Pedri took my bag off me while I took Nilo to the living room so I could sit and play with him to destress from my day. It didn't take long for Pedri to join us and we both threw the little ball across the room and watched little Nilo scamper after it. A puppy would've been the last thing I thought I wanted if you'd have asked me even just yesterday but I actually think Pedri is right Nilo is going to be great at keeping me company when no one else is here and having such a happy little thing here to greet me when I get home is definitely going to brighten my days. It feels like I've got a little bit of my life from back home here now that we have a dog and hopefully that will help make Barcelona feel like home. 

For the rest of the night we didn't take our attention off Nilo but eventually we had to go to bed now we had agreed that Nilo wouldn't sleep in the bed with us but that went out the window within two seconds. As soon as we saw him sitting on the floor in his bed whimpering and wanting our attention Pedri got up and put him on our bed which stopped his crying instantly. Nilo was quick to make himself comfy in my arms as Pedri put his arms around me and we settled down for the night as some sort of weird family.

"Thank you for getting Nilo just having him here has made me feel more at home" I said 

"There's no need to thank me I just want you to be comfortable here and honestly as soon as I saw him there was no way I was leaving without him he was just too cute" Pedri laughed 

"He certainly is cute you have competition now" I joked 

"I don't think I'm going to win that competition" he said 

"No you won't but I still love you" I said 

"More than Nilo?" He asked 

"Of course for now at least" I joked 

Pedri rolled his eyes but I know he feels the exact same way I do. 

[ricky-mortis]

Hatchetfield @femslashfortnight Day 1: Make It Sapphic AU

[johanna-swann]

Adding onto this because of a comment that a) I very much agree with and b) lead me to going through the 911 posts in my archive where I found more.

Comment by @peapodbond :

I’ve noticed in the last few seasons that they’ve also (mostly) stopped talking about characters when they’re not in a scene? No “we went to the movies last week” or “so-and-so is making dinner tonight”. Like damn, what happened to convos in the truck?? hen and athena have been friends for nearly fifteen years and i don’t think they’ve talked to each other in season eight??

What happened to the friendships? This is something I've also noticed before, but didn't think about when making the original post. Here's something I said about the friendships on 911 a couple of months ago:

All the friendships in season 1 were so much more flexible. Nowadays there is a standard way to pair people up (Hen and Chim, Buck and Eddie, Bobby and Athena) and giving other friendships their own time to shine (eg Buck and Hen day-drinking) is an exception to the rule. I miss season 1, out of all the seasons it had the strongest "found family" vibes.

Remember how much Hen and Athena used to hang out together? I loved that friendship. In season 1 Bobby and Chim were also really close friends, Hen and Buck used to be a lot closer. We used to have a lot of scenes like the poker night with Madney, Buck and Josh or Hen having coffee with Athena, Chim and Karen hanging out, Bobby and Michael going on adventures. But now it's like the only people these characters ever really talk to and spend quality time with are their love interests. And even when the characters do visit their friends or talk to them they either bring their love interest along or talk about their love interest. For a show that started with such a strong found family they sure are concentrating heavily on the couples instead of friendships these days.

Another unrelated thing I realised: They keep hinting at plotpoints in interviews and then never follow up on that. Most recently there was the Henren vs Madney conflict (due to Mara's living situation) that got scrapped entirely. (Tim Minear is now even denying that he ever thought of it that way? Sir, you were on record. We have screenshots and links to those interviews.)

Then I found this post from back in June about how Eddie's Abuela was supposed to uncover a family secret or something which was also said in an interview and that idea also got scrapped entirely. (Instead she was on set for the Madney wedding for some reason? Like. That's Eddie's grandmother and she lives in Texas. Has she ever even met the Hans?)

A lot of the promo interviews are also very misleading which isn't as bad as them just dropping plots entirely, but still annoying. Like how the bees ended up being relatively unimportant, the super dramatic fight against Ortiz ended up being resolved in maybe 20 minutes of screentime, Eddie wrangling with his catholic guilt was just him talking to a priest once, stuff like that.

They should really stop doing that in my opinion. If it's not in the can, don't print it on the lid. It's called false advertisement.

I actually have sooo many issues with 911 lately that haven't even got much to do with any ships.

Like. They wrote out almost all of the side characters. Chris is gone, Linda and Sue are gone, Athena's kids are gone (even though Harry just moved in with her and Bobby again? Seriously, where is Harry?), Ravi is gone, Carla is gone. I know the GA maybe don't care that much, casual viewers might not even have noticed that this many characters have just vanished from the show, but in my opinion this is one of the things that give a show running as long as 911 life. Having a big cast is a good thing. Otherwise things are going to get very monotonous very soon.

Actually, that's my second point. They keep repeating storylines! Every season Hen and Karen have to fight a custody battle over one of their kids.

Every season Eddie ends up realising he has a lot of repressed trauma and issues which keep him from leading a healthy happy and free life.

Every season Bathena realise that they have communication issues and they fight about it, but then something traumatic happens and they forgive each other without ever really talking things out.

Every season we are reminded that Maddie's most prominent character trait is "traumatised", the writers just alternatingly bring up Doug again and sometimes the ppd arc.

Every season we see Buck being somewhat restless, looking and searching for something that will bring him true happiness and cycling through love interests that never stick around and each time when you think "oh, there it is, he's getting somewhere now" the writers go "BEEEP! WRONG!" and we start all over again. [This is not just about recent events aka Tommy, the break-up and Buck potentially going back to his 1.0 ways, this also happened in season 6 when he had his "it doesn't matter what other people see in me, I'm enough" revelation only to suddenly be like "omg, Natalia just sees me".]

And Chimney- he had his moment last season with the wedding episode, Kenneth Choi really ate that episode up, but his most prominent character trait is "Maddie's supportive husband". There's really not that much going on with him otherwise.

Another point I briefly touched upon above is consistency. Like Harry moving back in with Athena and Bobby and then just vanishing. Or Gerrard being more like a slightly unfriendly grandpa than an actual antagonist in season 8 when he was still spouting slurs in season 7.

And the timeline! We talked about this before ("last March", Mara's fostering to adoption timeline, Tommy tranferring to harbour "5 years ago"), but the newest "Tommy was actually Abby's Tommy" twist just adds to that. Tommy was with Abby for over 2 years. They were engaged. This was at a time when he was still at the 118. Tommy dated Abby presumably because he was in denial or maybe because he was hiding. In either case, wouldn't his team at least have heard about his fiancée, Abby the dispatcher? Wouldn't that have rung a bell when Buck eventually brought her around only a year or two later? Tommy did talk about his private life at least a little at work, even under Gerrard. It just doesn't make sense. (Not to mention this seems wildly out of character for Tommy who around the same time also said about himself "being single is easier".)

Then there's the pacing. This was a huge issue in season 7. They jumped from one personal soap opera drama to the next without taking any breathers, had almost no procedural in their drama the whole season, still somehow decided to spend one third of the entire season just on the opening disaster and also squeezed in a "Bobby begins for the third time now" episode. But okay, it was a shortened season, there were strikes, they switched networks, they were under a lot of pressure - I'll cut them some slack. At least they set up a bunch of interesting stuff for the following season.

But we're in season 8 now. The renewal was announced very early, they had a lot of time to plan this time. Also they have almost double the episodes they had last season, there's really no need to rush any of the major plots. I am done cutting them slack.

They wanna do a 3 part opening disaster again? Okay fine, you have the time now. I feel like they could've easily done it in 2 episodes (especially 8x02 felt a little "eh"), but okay. Better than the breakneck speed you were going at befo- Oh, what's that? 8x04 flying in with a steel chair. You resolved 70% percent of the plots you set up last season in one single episode with no build up, no emotional pay off and no lasting consequences? And you also squeezed in multiple unrelated calls at the same time? Damn, okay then. Good-bye potentially interesting storylines. Fuck me for being invested I guess. I thought there would at least maybe be some follow up in 8x05, but no.

Now that Halloween episode wasn't bad, it was actually the best episode of this season imo, but instead of following up on previously established conflicts and developments they just hit us with new Wilson family trauma and conflict that was also immediately fixed again. And now 8x06 has speedrun and dumped another storyline that had potential to go to deeper and interesting places. Not gonna talk too much about that though because this post is about the show as a whole, not ships.

And I am not yet convinced that there will be much more to come on the only thing that's left from last season: Eddie's deep dive into his trauma and repression. It's totally possible at this point that being told "you deserve nice things" by a random stranger actually solved all of his problems, it would be very in tone with 911's new style.

What are they even gonna do with the rest of this season? Revisiting the Hotshots set sounds fun, but ultimately inconsequential. You know what's great about a regular old procedural drama with ~20 episodes per season that comes on weekly? You have time. You can let the viewers sit with their emotions and thoughts for a week and keep them engaged by stretching things out a little.

But why should I bother getting emotionally invested in problems the characters are gonna solve within the same episode anyway? Or rather, even if I wanted to, how am I supposed to care if you don't give me the time to develop any feelings about anything that's happening? "Henren lost in court and are now completely forbidden from seeing Mara at all!" Damn, that must be so har- "JUST KIDDING! Ortiz is exposed and everything is perfect again now." Oh. Okay then, I guess.

Bottom line: The characters are all stuck in their own hamster wheels, they keep cutting side characters that could bring a breeze of fresh air (I'm honestly surprised they even kept Josh until now), they rush through all the storylines a such a ridiculous speed that I don't even have time to feel any sort of way about it, they don't even try to keep a consistency or sensible timeline going and they seem to strongly prioritise random funny bits that'll entertain the very casual viewers right now in this moment (tiger call, Billy Boils, Bee-nado, the 'Stache tm, "wait, it's the same Abby?", Gerrard being a fangirl at heart) instead of playing the long game and catering to people who actually pay a little attention to the show.

[On that last remark: I'm not talking about hardcore fans who analyse every single frame here, I mean casual fans who've watched the show on and off again for a while and who may not be involved in fandom but genuinely care about the show.]

I mean. What am I even still doing here? The show is treading water and I end up disappointed more often than not. I'm still holding out a little hope that they actually will do something interesting with Eddie and his sea-monkeys, but I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't.

[funeralshawls]

i still miss when juneteenth was just between black americans ho hummmmm

[theflyingfeeling]

how dare stores not sell the exact kind of products I'm looking for

[orcelito]

Having lost my cat, my uncle, my great grandmother, my grandma's best friend (& one of the people who helped raise me), AND my dad all within the span of 9 months,

I have little sympathy for people who use deaths as an excuse to be an asshole. I get it, it sucks. Get the fuck over it. Your grief is not an excuse to treat others like shit. What the fuck.

[malusokay]

Little things that improved my life 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Accepting my sleep schedule. I'm a night owl; I focus at night, I'm calm at night, I'm motivated at night. For a long time, I tried to fight this since everyone always preaches getting up early, but since I started accepting my natural sleep schedule, I've been feeling a lot better and have become way more productive.

"drink more water". TEA. Tea is the secret here. I will be honest, I hate drinking water; it doesn't matter if I have a cute water bottle or a cute glass, I still hate it. TEA.

Replying quickly. I used to be one of those people who get a text message and think, "Oh, I'll reply to that later", and then just forget about it entirely. Now, I text back as soon as I see the message. This has not only improved my texting anxiety (which I cause on my own by now replying and then feeling bad) but also deepened my connection to my friends. <3

Keeping my circle small and being okay with that. Over the past months, I've had this sudden urge to expand my social circle and get to know more and more people, especially after I moved in August. However, this quickly ended in what I like to call my "social burnout". I was tired, annoyed, and overwhelmed. It took a few weeks for it to settle, but I've come to the conclusion that I would much rather have a smaller circle of people who I trust and love deeply than a huge group of friends, and that's totally okay.

Wearing what I like. Even though I live in a big city, I'd still say that my style can sometimes be a bit more extravagant than what most people wear, another point is that I'm very uncomfortable with pants so I only wear skirts, which is also considered a bit odd where I live. But over the past years, I've come to accept that and have become so sure of myself and found such comfort in my style that I now just wear whatever I like, and it makes every day a little bit nicer.

Reading and writing for pleasure. Reading books outside of my studies and spending time researching topics that simply interest me is such a great way to calm your mind. Same for writing, I always like to say that to write is to think; putting your thoughts on paper in cohesive and well-crafted sentences that you can then reread and think over again is such a liberating thing to do.

Reaching out more. fuck the whole "double texting" and "no contact" thing. If you want to speak to someone because they mean something to you, then just do it. Unless they specifically asked for space, you shouldn't feel bad about wanting to be in touch with them. Many even really appreciate it when you show that you truly care. Let's stop the nonchalant act, and instead, let's face deep emotions and true vulnerability. <3

As always, please feel free to share your own little insights and things that helped you improve comments! <3

my insta: @ malusokay

love ya ･:*₊‧✩

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Career Day

Tags: teeth rotting fluff, crack, jjk men as dads / fem!reader

An: Your child comes home and says tomorrow is career day at their school. They want to bring you and their daddy to school to show off how cool you two are, but.. their dad doesn’t exactly have the most conventional job.

SATORU • SUGURU • TOJI • SUKUNA

SATORU

“My daddy is the strongest!” Your son explains to a room full of his peers. Satoru is proudly beaming next to him. You note how much they look alike. The white hair, the bright blue eyes. Your son looks like he came straight from Satoru and had nothing to do with you.

But your son, Aoi, definitely had your personality.

“Nuh uh. He can’t be the strongest. Superman’s the strongest!” Another kid protested with an unconvinced frown.

“Well, my daddy is like superman!” Aoi retorts, keeping his headstrong personality like his mama. “Actually, he’s even better than superman!”

“He’s not even wearing a suit!” A different child speaks up. You share a nervous glance with Satoru. He’s enjoying this all too much.

“He doesn’t need a suit to be the strongest, dumbass!” Your sweet boy yells, and you promptly cover his mouth. Satoru is laughing his ass off, making the entire situation worse.

Correction, Aoi trying out his dad’s signature hand signal and saying “domain expansion” made the entire situation so much worse.

“You’re grounded, Aoi. You can’t say those things to other people. It’s rude and hurtful.” You say as you and Satoru walk your young boy home. Aoi lets out a small frustrated groan.

“I’m still getting him ice cream.” Satoru interjects with a proud smile. “My boy tried to cast his first domain at just six-years-old. He deserves a sweet treat.” Two wide smiles look up at you, and you realize you’re outnumbered here. Rolling your eyes, you nudge Satoru.

“I want a girl next.”

SUGURU

Mimiko and Nanako begged Suguru to come to their school’s career day. He was of course hesitant to do so, given that Jujutsu sorcery was still a hidden art in Japan. He didn’t exactly know how to explain his career to a bunch of kids.

He had a plan though. He would just tell the children that he was a preacher at a church. It’s not… completely a lie. He was a leader for.. a type of church.

You and Geto walk into the cozy looking classroom and see a load of other parents there. Your husband grimaced at the thought of having to interact with all these… people.

You give Suguru a reassuring squeeze of the hand. “It’ll be okay. Anything for the girls, right?” You whisper into his ear, making him nod. Anything for the girls.

When it’s finally Mimiko and Nanako’s turn to explain what their daddy does for a living, your small family gathers at the front of the classroom. Plenty of small innocent faces and reassuring smiles fill the room.

“Okay girls, tell us what your parents do for a living.” Their teacher prompts with a warm smile.

“My daddy swallows balls for a living!” Nanako says proudly with a beaming smile.

The kids erupted into laughter while their parents gave you two disgusted looks.

To make matters worse, “He also hates filthy mo-“ Mimiko tries to add on, but Geto quickly covers her mouth with his hand.

After explaining what a vivid imagination your twins have, you go on to explain that Geto is a leader at a church, and well, that doesn’t go over too well either.

“Homeschool?” Geto suggests as the four of you walk home.

“Most definitely.” You agree. Mimiko and Nanako are now educated by you at the home, where they can’t out their dad for swallowing balls.

TOJI

“Mama, make papa come to career day.” Your young son, Megumi, demanded. He had a small little pout on his face, and his arms were firmly crossed over his chest. Behind him, Toji stood, shaking his head at his son’s determination.

He often did this: telling you to make Toji do something because you were the only person who could make Toji do anything. After all these years, mans was still wrapped around your finger.

“Baby, Papa’s job is kinda private.” You explain quietly as you pet Megumi’s soft hair.

The small boy’s look of determination shifted to a look of reserve. Even as a young child, he wasn’t great at showing when his feelings were hurt, but you could always tell.

“Gumi.” You say his name softly, bending over to look at the boy’s flat expression.

You were also the only one who could coax Megumi into showing his real emotions.

Tears welled in his eyes, and his bottom lip started quivering. “I don’t wanna be the only one whose parents didn’t come.”

“Oh baby.” You frown as you pull your son into a hug. You glare upwards at Toji, and his eyes widened slightly. He knew what that look meant. “You’re going to career day.” You say to him, leaving no room for argument.

The next day,

“Okay Mr. Fushiguro, what do you do for a living?” The teacher asks Toji as he’s sat next to Megumi. Your son is actually smiling, enjoying the fact that Toji actually came to career day.

“People pay me a large sum of money, and I take care of someone for them.” Toji explains vaguely.

“Oh! Like a doctor?” One of the kids asked with an impressed smile.

“Sure, like a doctor.” Your husband lies, knowing that he does quite the opposite of what a doctor does.

SUKUNA

The look on the kids faces as your tall, muscular, tatted husband walked into the classroom was hilarious. Most of them were completely mortified, giving Sukuna frightened stares.

Your husband was completely unfazed. If anything, he was soaking in the kids’ fear. He sat at the front of the room with a look of arrogance.

Your nephew, Yuji, sat between you two. No, he was technically not your kid, but he didn’t have anyone else to bring to career day. So, Unc Sukuna and Auntie Yn were to the rescue.

“And.. what do you do for work, sir?” The teacher asked in almost a judgmental tone as she eyed Sukuna. You couldn’t tell if she despised him or wanted to fuck him.

“I don’t work. I live off tithe.” Sukuna bluntly answered with a shrug. His lopsided smile never left his face.

“What’s a tithe?” A small child asked quietly.

“It means people pay me out of fear of that I’ll harm them if they don’t.” Your husband gives a child a sharp stare with a challenging smile. He wanted the kids to keep asking questions. The thought of scaring multiple children all at once fueled him.

“Like… beat them up?” Another child asked.

“Like eating their snot-nosed children.” Sukuna answered with a toothy grin. The children all shrieked and cried in terror. Hell, even their parents looked frightened.

“Ryomen.” You chide as you look over towards your husband. He was laughing maniacally, even slapping his knee like the old man he was.

Yuji never invited you two to another career day.

[eufezco]

LIKE THE FIRST TIME

it has been a long time since you and logan had sex. you should show him that despite everything he hated about himself, you still craved him.

logan x afab!reader (smut, angst) + no use of y/n. english isn't my first language (!). gif credit to @/asgardswinter

it was a shitty place where you were living with logan. it was always dirty, no matter how many times you cleaned it, it was noisy, because despite being in the middle of nowhere, the train tracks were very close to it, and it was the least home-like thing in the world. both of you were working your asses off to get out of there as soon as possible.

in your free time, you helped caliban with the housework and took care of old charles xavier while logan spent the whole day out, driving and having to deal with one of the things he hated most in the world, people.

he always came home late, tired, with his whole body aching. some nights you would fall asleep while waiting for him and even though logan asked you to do it, to not to wait up for him, most times you stayed up so just to make sure he arrived safely. you waited for him curled up in bed. when he was a minute late, your heart began to beat faster and you imagined the worst. but then he would come into the room, dragging his feet and with his head bowed down.

—how was your day?

logan grunted as he sat at the foot of your bed, you felt how the mattress sagged with his weight.

—did something happen?

you crawled to him and rested your chin on his shoulder. he let out a sigh of relief when your arms wrapped around his body and you hugged him from the back.

—just a tired fuckin' day, that's all.

you hummed, understanding. —well, now you are home so you can finally relax. would you like something to eat?

logan shook his head as he let it fall back and rest on your shoulder. he just wanted to stay like that a little longer with his body between your legs and his eyes closed. he placed one of his hands over yours resting on his stomach as you hugged him. one of his big hands was enough to cover both of yours.

—i've missed you, lo. i always miss you when you are away.

you placed a kiss on his neck. the first thing he did when he entered the house was to get rid of his shirt, keeping only the white tank top he was wearing underneath. his broad shoulders were at your disposal, his muscular arms and warm skin as well.

logan swallowed when he felt your lips on his neck. you noticed so you placed another kiss there.

—i miss you too. every second i spend away from you, i miss you.

you hummed, your heart gave a small jump of joy. while your love language was words of affirmation and you were always reminding him how much he was loved by you, logan was more of an act of service man. removing makeup from your face when you got home and were too tired to do it yourself, washing your hair and massaging your head when you showered, and leaving your coffee ready when he went to work earlier than you. hearing those words come out of logan's mouth meant the whole world.

your hands traveled down his abdomen until they reached the hem of his tshirt and easily slipped under the fabric. you felt his perfect abs under your fingertips and the hairs growing below his belly button as well. he took a deep breath, it had been so long since the last time he had allowed you to touch him like that.

you took your hands out of his tshirt and moved one of them to his neck to make logan turn his head resting on your shoulder and look at you. you connected your lips with his, his bushy beard pricked your face as you kissed him, but you didn't mind, it had been so long since you and logan had kissed so passionately that you could take it.

your tongue slipped past his lips and logan moaned, allowing his to go inside your mouth as well. you moved on the bed, putting one leg on each side of logan's body and sitting on his lap, all this without stopping kissing for a second. his hands now rested on your lower back, yours were on the back of his head to deepen the kiss.

his cock got rock hard the moment you sat on his thighs and you started to roll your hips timidly against his crotch. you felt his growing bulge rubbing against your clit through the thin fabric of your underwear. god, how bad you needed to feel him.

your hands slid down from his neck, caressing his entire torso, until they reached again the hem of his tshirt. you tried to pull the white tank top over his head, but logan stopped you. his lips parted from yours and he shook his head.

—it's okay. i want you, logan. i promise everything is fine.

you held his cheeks so he would look you in the eyes.

he was getting old, there was nothing left of the young and charming boy you met at charles' academy. his body had changed, his hair and beard were becoming whiter every day, and you were still young and full of light while he was fading away. yet you still loved and desired him, like the first day you craved his body. you found him just as hot, even hotter now, but you didn't want to force him to do something he wasn't going to enjoy.

you kissed him so he could stop worrying. —let me take care of you. i want you, lo, i need to feel you —.you mumbled against his lips. he let out a grunt when he felt you pressing your pussy harder on his bulge.

your hands traveled the same path down his chest one more time until you reached the edge of his tshirt again. you expected him to take your hands off him again but he not only allowed you to keep going but he also lifted his arms so you could pull the white tank top over his head.

—fuck —. you let out in a mix of moan and gasp. his body was breathtaking. your hands were quickly attached to his chest, hairy, hard under your touch, warm, with each of its muscles perfectly defined. abs, pecs, perfect broad and muscular shoulders, and wide strong arms, with veins running from his shoulder down his arms to the back of his hands. you ran your fingers along the thick scars that marked his body. —fuck, you're so hot.

with his hands on your back, logan gently pushed you to keep rubbing yourself against him and you moaned, he was harder if possible and you were so wet that you knew that your panties would be completely soaked. you kissed the crook of his neck while his fists clenched, clutching at the tshirt of his that you were wearing as your pajamas. logan fought against his instinct, against the animalistic way you were making him feel, but his grip became so tight that he ended up ripping the fabric.

—it was one of your favorite tshirts.

—don't care.

and logan kissed your lips as he ended up tearing the fabric completely and threw it on the floor. you grabbed the back of his head when his lips moved down your neck and collarbone. your nipples were already painfully hard when logan cupped one of your tits and wrapped his mouth around your sensitive bud.

all of a sudden you got up from his lap and he had to let your nipple go. he was worried about the way you had moved away from him, had he done something wrong?

now you were standing in the middle of the room, in front of him, only wearing your panties. your body was the most beautiful thing his eyes had ever witnessed, with scars very similar to his, with all those things you hated about yourself. was that how you felt about him? if it had not been for the pain in his whole body he would have fallen off the bed on his knees in front of you.

he huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes once you started swaying your hips from side to side while you slid your underwear down your legs. you laughed too, you felt stupid, but at least you had managed to make him smile. you two weren't the type to do those things, things were always more animalistic, more passionate, rougher. you walked towards him and leaned in to kiss him as your hands worked on the zipper of his jeans.

—you're beautiful —. he whispered.

logan helped you to straddle him again. you held your body over his thanks to your knees on the bed. with one hand you grabbed his hard cock resting impatiently against his stomach. he gasped because of your firm grip and squeezed your hips when you lined it up against your aching entrance.

you lowered yourself just enough for his tip to go in. he let out a deep grunt straight from his chest, you let out all the air you had in your lungs in a moan. you never forgot how big he was, the thickness of his cock, the patch of hair on its base, and the veins running along his shaft, but you did forget about the way it stretched you open, about the sting that his dick going deeper inside you caused.

—careful —. logan mumbled against your lips.

you kept taking him, closing your eyes shut and biting your lower lip, hissing every time you took a centimeter more inside of you. you rested your forehead against his and whined when his cock finally bottomed you. —i need a moment.

logan nodded. one of your hands sneaked in between your bodies and found your clit while his hands lovingly caressed your back. it had been so long since you had sex. logan wouldn't let you touch him, he was disgusted by his own body and he was afraid that you would see him the way he saw himself. that's why that night you decided that you would make him feel so good that he would never doubt the way you felt about him or his body.

you started by slowly rolling your hips as your fingers worked on your clit. his jaw tightened while he felt your body moving with his whole cock inside. his big hands on your hips helped you to move, setting a pace and keeping you from going faster so you wouldn't hurt yourself.

—that's it, take your time —. he said. young logan wouldn't have given you a second to get used to it, he would have fucked you mercilessly and you would have loved every second of it. but now, his eyes were focused on where your bodies became one, enjoying how your pussy adjusted to his size thanks to your fingers rubbing your clit.

he moaned once you lifted your body just a little and then dropped back onto him. you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his lips while you repeated that same move again and again. your cries and his moans mixed in your mouths. all his body jerked every time you lifted yourself a bit more and then sucked his cock completely inside you again.

—you make me feel so good, logan. always have, fuck—. you purred in his ear. his hands, previously resting on your hips, slid all the way to your ass your hands and squeezed it. in those little details you could see how he was gaining confidence, which encouraged you to keep moving without changing your pace. it was slow, passionate, intense and intimate.

between moans and cries, you kept worshiping him, telling him how much you had missed feeling him inside you, how your fingers were no comparison to his cock, how you didn't want to share these moments with anyone other than him. there was no one like him. you didn't care about his scars, his moodiness, the gray of his hair, there would never be another one for you but logan, you did not want another one.

you were close, he could feel it in the way your walls were squeezing his cock and he knew he wouldn't last longer. logan wrapped his arms around your body, pressing you against his hard chest, and your fingers knotted into his hair. he groaned, your little jumps became irregular, your legs began to shake. logan hugged you tighter and sunk his teeth into your shoulder, getting a little choked cry from you.

—cum inside me, lo. fill me up, please, i need it. let me have it, please.

oh god, your words were driving him insane and after how well you had treated him, who was he to deny your wishes?

logan held your body down on his cock as he came, hugging you tighter against him. you buried your head into the crook of his neck, moaning into his skin while your legs shook and your pussy clenched around him. it was too much. as he released himself inside you, his claws came out and trapped you between them and logan's body, you had no escape. he groaned when he felt the pain of the adamantium ripping the skin off his knuckles mixed with all the pleasure of cumming inside you.

—shit —. he immediately put the claws away when he realized. —i haven't hurt you, have i?

you shook your head, still coming down from your high. he exhaled with relief. once you had caught your breath, you straightened your back, still sitting on his lap and feeling his cock getting soft inside you. you brought his hands to the front.

—are you okay? that probably hurt —. you caressed his knuckles.

—felt too good to even think about it.

you smiled proudly and kissed him. when you broke away, he noticed the mark of his teeth on the skin of your shoulder. —'m so sorry, fuck.

—don't be. i wish you had bitten me harder.

he shook his head, keeping himself from laughing. —you're a freak.

[honeypiehotchner]

Juno (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- one shot

Hello again! This goes from zero to 100 in two seconds flat don't @ me!! Sabrina's new album came out and reawakened something in me (everyone say thank you Sabrina) (also this is not beta'd I wrote this in a short n' sweet haze)

Summary: Aaron is working from home but what paperwork he needs to do is the absolute last thing on your mind.

Warnings: smut! 18+ only! this is so filthy! in no particular order: multiple orgasms, cockwarming, choking, brat tendencies, stoplight system, unprotected sex, breeding kink (briefly), face fucking, overstimulation

WC: like 3,400 I lost my damn mind clearly

You’re not sure what’s gotten into you. Blame it on period hormones (probably) or the fact that Aaron looks absolutely delicious right now in his tight black t-shirt (most likely), but you’re going to go insane if either of you have clothes on for another five minutes. 

The problem is, Aaron is trying to focus. It’s one of his days where he works from home, an idea you gave him when you realized how easy it would be for him to do the same paperwork just from the comfort of your living room. It was a brilliant idea at first. You got to see him more, and were able to do your own thing around the house while he did his work. You got to have lunch together, and offer a genuine mental break in between his mountain of paperwork. 

Now, though, you can’t find it in you to give a single fuck about whatever needs to be signed, who needs to clear what, and what phone calls he still needs to make. 

“Honey,” you call sweetly from the kitchen. You watch him from over the island, your thoughts going all sorts of ways -- namely, deep into the gutter. “Want to break for lunch?”

You see Aaron shake his head, still typing furiously on his laptop. “It’s not even noon yet.”

“Brunch?” you try again, walking out of the kitchen. You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms over your chest in the way you know he loves because of the view it gives him of your cleavage. And you’re wearing a v-neck shirt today for that exact reason, too.

Aaron still doesn’t look up. “I’m sorry honey, maybe in an hour?”

You let out a huff that you know he hears because he finally looks up, eyebrows raised just so. It’s a look that you love. Curious, veering toward that playful annoyance that you can’t seem to go a few hours without his undivided attention. 

Which, you can, by the way. You’re more than capable. It’s just that right now, it’s a crime that his eyes have been looking at paperwork when they should be looking at you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and there’s some hesitation in his voice. You know he’s assuming the worst. That you’re not okay mentally, and that’s why you need him to take his lunch break now or maybe for the rest of the day. He’s done it before on your darker days.

But you’re okay. You’re perfectly fine. You’d just be even better if he put the damn laptop away and put his fingers to use somewhere else.

Which is exactly why you come to a stop in front of him and reach forward, tilting his screen down and down until it closes. He lets you.

He lets you take his laptop and put it on the table beside the couch. He watches you, his fiery brown eyes taking in every second. He lets you straddle his hips, your arms circling his neck.

“I see now,” he smirks, his hands finding their rightful place on your waist and squeezing lovingly. “By ‘lunch break’ you mean…”

“Put a baby in me,” you blurt, rocking your hips against his.

He stills, his hands making you stop your movements, too. His eyes are darker now in a way you haven’t seen in a while. “What?”

“Please,” you say, leaning your forehead down onto his, trying to move your hips again. “Need you.”

“Honey, we can’t have--”

“Yes I know the semantics, Aaron,” you mutter, now annoyed and lifting your head to glare at him. He has a vasectomy, you get that. “I mean fuck me like you’re putting a baby in me.”

His hands squeeze again. “I see.”

You frown. “Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not,” he smirks, one hand leaving your waist to stroke your cheek. “You’re adorable when you’re horny.”

You roll your eyes, peeling yourself off his lap. He lets you go, albeit with a curious look. You turn and head for the bedroom.

“Where are you going?” he calls out after you, still with that damn smirk lacing his words.

“To get myself off,” you reply in a deadpan. “Since someone--”

You don’t have a chance to finish your sentence before Aaron is right behind you, hands on your hips, spinning you around to face him. That look full of fire is back again, stern this time.

“Did I say you could do that?” he says in a low tone.

“Did I ask?” you retort, backing out of his grasp and darting into the bedroom. 

Now there’s a smirk on your lips. It’s quickly approaching shit-eating grin territory, which you know will only egg Aaron on further. This little game of cat and mouse happens to be your favorite, and he knows it.

You’re barely two steps into the bedroom when Aaron is attached to your back yet again, this time wrapping his arms around your waist, locking you in.

“Color?” he whispers, his lips right at your ear, sending shivers straight down your spine.

You groan. “Green. Neon green. So green, I need you to--”

He spins you again, this time backing you into the wall and attacking your lips. Finally, you think, though you know you’re in for it now. The thought has a grin crawling up your lips, and you’re unable to stop it.

“What’s so funny, hm?” he scolds, moving his lips to your neck instead, to the exact spot he knows makes you weak in the knees. Like clockwork, he has to wrap an arm around your waist to keep you upright, your knees buckling when he bites down just so.

“Nothing,” you manage through a moan, tipping your head back onto the wall. “Shit.”

“You’re ridiculous sometimes, you know,” he says, but he’s smiling against your skin. “Can’t let me focus on work because you need me to fuck you.”

“In my defense,” you try, your hands scrambling for his shoulders, for something to ground you. “You didn’t fuck me this morning.”

“I fucked you last night,” he reminds you, as if you needed the reminder. It’s the reason you slept so soundly. “Was that not enough?”

You can’t help it; you laugh. 

He lifts his head, raising an eyebrow at you. The same question as before on his lips.

“Sorry, I thought you were joking,” you say. 

“You’re insatiable.” 

“Guilty,” you grin, grabbing his face and pulling him back in for another kiss.

You make out against the wall for too long like two teenagers behind the bleachers at school. You hook one leg around his hips, pulling him in and grinding against his obvious erection. It’s enough to have him groaning into your mouth, pressing you against the wall with renowned vigor. 

You can feel how wet you’re becoming and fuck, neither of you have even taken a single article of clothing off yet.

Aaron notices, one hand traveling south without you paying attention, too busy relishing the way he licks into your mouth, stealing your every breath. The kissing becomes increasingly sloppy when he works his hand into your leggings, under the waistband of your underwear, and into you.

“Oh my god,” your back arches against the wall, pushing his fingers deeper. He doesn’t bother with one, starting right away with two, curling them when you grind harder.

“You’re soaking my hand,” he practically growls into the next kiss, adding a third finger after only a few thrusts. Your body accepts it willingly, always ready for him. “Jesus.”

“More,” you gasp, pushing him deeper. “Aaron, more, I’m serious--” Your words break off as he scissors his fingers, making your eyes roll back instantly.

“I can feel you already,” he smirks against your cheek, pressing a kiss there, an action so sweet and gentle compared to what the rest of him is doing. “Come on, honey. You’re cumming as many times as you want.”

That makes you inch closer to the edge at a frightening speed. He says you can cum as many times as you want, but what he means is he’s going to force as many orgasms out of you as he can. Until you tell him to stop or he decides you need a break. 

The thought of being an overstimulated mess in his embrace later has you climaxing against his fingers, your head falling onto his shoulder as his movements never cease, milking every last wave out of you. 

You lift your head in search of his lips again, which he willingly gives to you, his fingers slowing to soothing strokes as you whimper into his mouth. You’ve only had one orgasm and you already feel ruined. He can tell the way you tremble against him, so he checks in once more.

“Green?” he whispers, kissing your forehead.

You nod. “Green. You?”

He smirks. “Absolutely.”

He picks you up into his arms, inelegantly tossing you onto the bed behind you. You giggle as you bounce on the mattress, tugging your shirt over your head as he does the same to his. His hands move for his belt and you practically jump to the end of the bed, swatting his hands away.

“Since when is that your job?” you frown up at him, unbuckling his belt without looking.

He laughs, petting your head gently. “So sorry, you’re right.”

“What was that?” you tease. “I don’t think I heard you.”

“Don’t push it.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” you smirk, pulling his belt out of the loops and tossing it somewhere. You don’t wait for him to reply before you unbutton his jeans, yanking them down with his boxers.

There’s just something about his dick. You hate that you love it, or maybe you don’t hate it at all. All you know is you need it in your mouth right now.

So, you do that, without any warning. Aaron thrusts forward into your mouth on pure instinct, not expecting you to wrap your lips around him so soon. You slide down the edge of the bed onto your knees, pulling him back to you by his thighs. 

You take your time, pushing his jeans and boxers down further. When you pull back for air, he steps out of them and kicks them elsewhere, returning to you quickly, knowing better than to keep you waiting. 

You swallow him down again, moaning around him in the way you know he loves. It takes all of two seconds before he gently holds the back of your head, asking silently for permission that you were already about to grant. You look up at him, batting your eyelashes as you squeeze his thigh twice. Go ahead.

The thing about Aaron fucking your face is that it took a while for him to do it as hard as you really wanted. He’s always so gentle, a quality that drew you to him initially. You love how gentle he can be. But you love it equally as much when he is rougher with you.

Like now, when he has you pinned against the bed, one hand on the back of your head as he fucks into your throat. It’s blissful, quite frankly, the way he feels, and you thank the universe every time for your lack of a gag reflex. 

He holds you there with a deep groan, and you feel him twitch in your throat once before he pulls you off entirely. You frown up at him, once again not getting what you wanted, but he doesn’t have any time for that.

He picks you up by your armpits, hauling you back onto the bed. Your leggings and underwear are gone in a single second, along with your bra. He’s crawling up your body and crowding your space before you have a second to protest that he wasn’t down your throat for near as long as you wanted him to be. 

All frustrations leave your mind the second he pushes inside of you, immediately sliding home, his hips flush against yours. 

It’s a feeling you’ve grown to love, the way he hits you so deep. Another thing it took him a while to be comfortable doing.

He’s not average sized by any means, and you’re the first to admit it made you salivate the first time you saw. The first time he fed himself into you and worried that he was hurting you, meanwhile you were clawing his back because you wanted more. It hurt for a moment, only an uncomfortable pressure because he was bigger than your vibrator, but as soon as you were used to the size of him, you wanted all of him.

He stays there, deep in you without moving for a moment, grinding against you. His lips attack yours again before he pauses to lean his forehead on yours, trying to catch his breath.

“You drive me crazy,” he says on a shaky exhale.

You wrap your legs around him, thrusting your hips up to take him a little more. His hips stutter, pushing in the way you wanted him to, the way you know you can make him do involuntarily.

“Fuck,” he bites out, turning his attention to your neck again.

You thread your fingers through his hair, tugging. “Exactly. So why aren’t you moving?”

He nips at your neck. “Because if I move, I will cum right away.”

“Who said I only want you to cum inside me once?”

He groans again, fingers digging into your hips as you circle them, though he doesn’t try to stop you. “Greedy” is all he says, but he finally moves.

The thrusts are slow at first, Aaron clearly trying to pace himself. You can’t say you’re doing the same, already chasing your second high as he slams his hips into yours. Your hand reaches down to rub your clit, but is promptly smacked away by Aaron’s hand as he glares at you.

“Since when is that your job?” he echoes you from earlier, only this time, there’s more heat to it. He grabs both of your wrists, pinning them above your head to stop any other temptation. “Not this time.”

His thrusts pick up speed and depth, his body moving against yours in the exact way that makes you fall apart. It’s not often that he doesn’t let you cum from added clit stimulation -- not that you can’t without it; it just makes the high feel that much better -- but sometimes he does. It’s an ego trip for him as much as it is for you.

It also adds an unpredictable nature to it, which is why your second orgasm takes you by such surprise. You seize against him, your hands doing all sorts of squirming to try to break free of his grasp, but he doesn’t let you, and he doesn’t let up. You don’t realize why until you feel the warmth spreading into you as he reaches his own peak. 

You’ve clearly worked him up as much as you worked yourself up because his thrusts barely slow down, and he doesn’t soften inside of you. 

Instead, he pulls out only to flip you on your side, sliding in behind you and pulling your leg up and back over his hips. The action causes some of his cum to spill out of you, but you don’t have any time to focus on that before he fucks back into you. 

You’ve ceased to have any coherent thoughts as Aaron whispers dirty nothings into your ear, one arm wrapped around your body to keep you pinned against him. The pleasure doesn’t stop and at one point, you question if your second orgasm stopped at all or if it has continued this entire time.

Aaron reaches underneath the pillow where he knows he’ll find one of your vibrators because he heard you using it this morning. No, he didn’t fuck you this morning, but you fucked yourself, and truly, at 8am, he should’ve known you’d end up like this by eleven. 

Your mind doesn’t register what the sound means until the vibrator is pressed against your clit. Your body jerks, scrambling for some grounding, your hands finding it in wrapping them around his arm. 

He switches hands on the vibrator, so one hand is free to wrap around your throat. Your eyes roll back as soon as you feel the gentle pressure, your body practically going limp against him. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmurs directly into your ear, his thrusts slowing to deep strokes. “You’ve got a couple more in you.”

“A couple?” is all you manage to say, your hand squeezing his wrist so he knows to squeeze your throat a little more.

“Mhm,” his voice rumbles in your ear, sending goosebumps all over your body. “Is it too much?” His question is laced with just the right amount of pity that makes you shake your head against him. “I thought so,” he replies, switching the vibrator to a higher setting.

It sends you into your third orgasm instantly, squirming violently against him as he pushes into you deeper. He knows how much you love that, and loves how much you squeeze around him as he slides inside, fighting against your muscles that threaten to force him out. You’ve done it before, a mesmerized look on his face and yours when you both realized what happened. Since then, you told him you liked it more when he fought to stay inside. 

He takes the vibrator away as you calm down, his hips also pausing, keeping himself deep inside you. The pressure is soothing, and you take a moment to take a deep breath. His palm falls away from your throat, instead propping underneath your cheek.

It takes a few seconds before you feel yourself spasming around him. He chuckles against your back, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Still?”

You nod dumbly, rocking your hips again. “Yeah. I don’t know, I just-- Need more.”

“I’ve got you,” he soothes, pulling out again to roll you onto your stomach instead, one of your favorite positions.

You’re floating as you settle into the pillows, letting Aaron manhandle you wherever you need to be. You groan in your happy, blissed out state as he slides home again, draping himself over your back.

He is gentler now, knowing that’s exactly what you need at this point. The last orgasm he pulls from you is just as gentle, and he pushes deeper into you, letting you ride it out. 

He pulls your hips up and thrusts once, twice before he’s spilling into you. You didn’t realize he was that close again. The warmth is soothing this time as it spreads through you. 

Aaron leaves you only to settle behind you, spooning you once again. Your hand reaches behind you to find him, and he catches your wrist. 

“You need to rest,” he chides softly.

“I know,” you whimper. “Need you inside me.”

“Okay, okay,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your neck as he slides in again, still half-hard, but it’s enough. You settle down as soon as the weight of him is tucked inside you again. “Better?”

“Mhm,” you sleepily nod, pushing back into him so he holds you tighter. “Do you have to go back to work?”

He chuckles against you, sighing. “No, I’m done for the day, I think,” he says. “I’ll tell them you weren’t feeling well.”

That makes you laugh. “We need a better excuse.”

“Or I need to go back to working in the office.”

You roll your eyes. “Like that’ll make a difference.”

He shakes his head, his mind remembering the same memories that you are. The many lunch hours when you went to eat with him, and ended up with your back pressed into the couch, his tie stuffed in your mouth to keep you quiet.

“Go to sleep,” he says, pulling you impossibly closer. “I’ll make us lunch when we wake up.”

“Perfect,” you smile, nuzzling into him. “Love you.”

“Love you too, honey,” he says, pressing little kisses to your neck and cheeks, wherever he can reach. “Now sleep.”

You’re already halfway there. The combination of him nestled inside of you and the post-orgasm exhaustion is enough to lull you into a restful sleep.