#so i find myself not minding in the end but i like having a work life balance lol

[theother-victoria]

all hearts as one beneath the sun

SYNOPSIS: before kakavasha dissolves into the nihility, there is one hope he has to let go of. may you meet again in a kinder world and under a warm sun.

CHARACTERS: kakavasha, aventurine, dr ratio, aventurine's family,

TAGS: angst, no comfort, established relationship, mentions of suicide, 4k+ wc,

TAGLIST: @mitsvriii, @harque, @hazyue, @gabile18, @khoncore, @moineauz

NOTES: sobbed to "had I not seen the sun" the entire time I was writing this I love making myself cry w my own work

special thanks to @akutasoda, @tragedy-of-commons, and @https-sourlimes for proofreading this! love u all <33

link to the playlist

Aventurine was mildly surprised when he received word that he would be handling the Penacony mission. Why him, of all the Ten Stonehearts? Surely someone more capable such as Opal would be trusted with a mission of this caliber. 

He only realized why when he pried further into the details. 

Penacony was a death trap. With so many powerful and important people gathered in one place, one wrong move on his part would spell his end.

He chuckles sardonically. Figures. They’re sending their most suicidal employee out for a suicide mission.

As if to rub the situation into his face, he finds out they’re pairing him with Dr. Ratio. What purpose is he supposed to serve, suicide prevention? Too little, too late, in his opinion. 

The doctor doesn’t look too thrilled about the fact either. It makes Aventurine feel somewhat better about this whole situation. 

“You’d best get your affairs settled before we leave, gambler. The odds that you make it back alive from this mission aren’t as high as you’d hope they’d be.”

“Ooh, well I do like the sound of that.”

A glare sent his way makes Aventurine roll his eyes, but he shuts up anyway. Plans are made and discussed for what role each of them will be playing before it’s time to leave. 

“Well then, I look forward to working with you in Penacony, Doctor.”

“Just don’t act like a complete idiot and we’ll be fine.”

The two men head their separate ways. Ratio’s advice to settle his affairs lingers in his mind, though. That means there’s a will he has to sign, assets he has to distribute, funeral arrangements to be made, and more. Of course, most, if not all of it, will be going toward you. You’d be set for the rest of your life, never having to work a day again if you so chose. 

He heaves a sigh. Ah, it’s all so tedious. It was all so much easier before you came along. He had no will to worry about. He’d toss caution to the wind every mission and wind up sorely disappointed when he returned, still alive. If he did end up dying, his assets would end up being pawned off and most likely make their way back to the IPC somehow. So what even was the point then?

With all that being said, he didn’t mind putting in all that extra work for your peace of mind and so you’d continue to benefit, even after his death. 

Still, the stakes this time around are higher, and he has you to consider now before placing his bets. One wrong move and you’d be left without someone to welcome home. And then there’s the consideration of whether he’d be willing to die when the moment came. Sure, he’d attempted several times before but they’d all failed. Would he be able to take the plunge this time, should the opportunity present itself? 

“Hey, Doc?”

Ratio is about to leave, but the uncharacteristic hint of hesitation in his voice makes him stop and look over his shoulder.

“... How can you tell if you’ve lived a life worth living?”

Ratio stares at the blonde in silence in disbelief over what he’s hearing. Aventurine chuckles, trying to dispel the awkwardness that’s settled in the air.

“No answer? Never mind-”

“That answer will vary from person to person. However, if you were to ask me personally…”

The doctor’s golden eyes flit over Aventurine’s frame, narrowing in contemplation- and perhaps a hint of resignation. 

“Ask yourself this question: can you die today without any regrets?”

“Can I die today without any regrets?” Doctor, what were you thinking when you posed that rhetorical question on me? Obviously the answer would be no!

Expensive leather shoes click against stone as Aventurine hurriedly makes his way through the Dreamscape. The weight of having mere hours left to live looms above his head like an anvil, leaving him scrambling to figure out how to cheat death- not for the hope of living to see another day, but so he can carry out his mission. 

When confronted with death, even a suicidal man will cling to the urge to live for one reason or another. 

He’s hardly paying attention to where he’s going, muttering out half-hearted apologies to those he bumps into as he stumbles through the Dreamscape before he ends up in a secluded area. The kaleidoscopic iridescence in the corners of his vision makes him stumble and he audibly groans when a searing pain flashes through his temples, the Harmony’s brand on his mind assailing him again. 

Dammit… am I really at the end of the line now? And before I could do anything meaningful either…

He hears the sound of a… child humming some distance away? That’s strange, there’s no one else here. 

“Mister, are you lost too?”

That voice. 

He turns around slowly, as if that would change anything. Aventurine’s eyes dart across the boy standing before him, with rags for clothes and scraped knees. The child in front of him is everything he is not- or rather, what he was, but is no longer. Optimistic, with bright shining eyes. Hope still exists for him. 

Those eyes. Oh, it’s himself. 

Aventurine thinks he’s about to be sick. 

“Woah, you have such pretty eyes! Can I call you Mr. Pretty Eyes?”

Aventurine stiffly nods. 

“Sure. Call me whatever you want, kid. What’s your name?”

“It’s Kakavasha. Nice to meet you!”

And that’s the final nail in the coffin confirming his suspicions. 

Kakavasha looks around nervously.

“I was searching for my family, but I got lost. This place is so much bigger than home… Mister, do you think you could help me find them?”

Aventurine shakily extends a trembling hand out.

“Of course. Lead the way. How about you hold onto my hand so you don’t get lost anymore?

Kakavasha latches onto it and begins wandering around, calling out for his parents and big sister. Every unanswered call feels like a punch to the gut but he has a faint flickering of hope that he’ll be able to see them.

“You really love your family, kid,” remarks Aventurine in an attempt to keep some conversation going. 

“Of course! I do!”

Kakavasha pauses in his steps and thinks for a bit, eyes wandering skyward and free hand resting on his chin.

“… Do you have anyone you love, Mr. Pretty Eyes?”

“Yes, I do. Their name is (Name).”

The boy’s eyes light up, sparkling in curiosity.

“Woah, really? What’re they like?”

A light chuckle escapes Aventurine’s lips as he crouches down to Kakavasha’s eye level and ruffles his hair. 

“They’re the best thing to have ever happened to me.”

“Wow, they must be a really amazing person for you to say that…”

“They are. They're incredible.”

I don’t deserve them.

He chuckles and stands back up again, hand reaching for Kakavasha’s. The little boy continues to lead the way, until he suddenly stops and turns. 

“Would you like to meet my family? They’ve been gone for so long I think they went back home. You can introduce (Name) to them as well!”

Panic wells up inside him. Seeing his family? In this state? After all he’s done? No, he can’t. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t. Not under these circumstances!

“Kid, I don’t think-”

“It’s ok if (Name) shows up late. They’re nice people and they’ll understand.”

“No, I-”

“Come on, let’s go! They’re already waiting for us!”

Aventurine feels himself being forcefully pulled under and he instinctively closes his eyes. A blast of hot, sandy air hits him, making him shield himself. When it settles down, he opens his eyes to a familiar sight. Sand stretches as far as the eye can see. There’s minimal vegetation and he can feel the sun beating down on his back already.

Sigonia-IV. He’s returned home. 

Kakavasha eagerly tugs on his sleeve. 

“This is my home! I know it’s not much, but everyone I know and love is here. I think you’ll like it too.”

Still holding onto Aventurine’s hand, Kakvasha begins running toward the horizon. Aventurine, meanwhile, feels numb all over. 

There’s no way this is happening. Is this some sort of cruel prank? What did that chicken-wing boy do this time? But if this is just a cruel prank…

He looks around at the yellow sand stretching as far as the eye can see and the mountains in the distance.

… Then it’s far too realistic. How is this happening? If I filter out the memories of the massacre, then everything is the same as I remembered it. 

“We’re almost there!” calls out Kakavasha. “Just a little longer now!”

Three familiar figures stand in front of a tent some distance away and Aventurine feels his heart seize up in his chest. He’s long forgotten their faces, but he instinctively recognizes them.

Mom. Dad. Big Sis. 

Kakavasha lets go of his hand and sprints toward his family. He leaps into the arms of his big sister, who spins him around giddily while his mother plants kisses over his face and his father holds his tiny hands. 

As he approaches, he realizes they have no faces. Where there are supposed to be eyes, a nose, and a mouth, there is nothing. A blank canvas with dents and ridges where the features are supposed to be greets him and he feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise up in warning. 

The only exception to this is his sister, with her grinning mouth and her long blonde hair billowing in the wind- the only feature he remembers clearly about her. She takes notice of him and tilts her head curiously to the side. 

“Kakavasha, did you br▇ng a f▇▇▇d of ▇urs?”

Her voice comes out scratchy and distorted with only a few syllables recognizable. There’s a sinking feeling in his stomach when he realizes why.

He can’t remember her voice anymore. Or the voices of his parents, for that matter. He’s forgotten what they look like, and now what they sound like. What’s been forgotten can’t be restored. 

“Yeah!” exclaims Kakavasha nestled safely into his sister’s arms now. “Everybody, meet Mr. Pretty Eyes!”

They greet him with friendly waves and scratchy sounds that he thinks are supposed to be words of greeting. He almost chokes on the guilt and regret building up in his throat

“▇▇ look just like ▇▇ Kakavasha over here! ▇▇ ▇▇ ▇▇ ▇▇ his long-lost b▇▇▇▇r or something?” 

Aventurine forces out a laugh as the others join in. 

If only they knew…  

The sun is going down now, and the solar winds that blanket the planet grow harsher. They quickly usher him into the tent, telling him to make himself at home and inviting him to stay for dinner. There’s no way out as far as he can tell, so he obliges.

 It’s smaller than he remembers, he thinks as he ducks to avoid hitting his head. There’s a rudimentary kitchen setup in the back that Kakavasha’s mother is tending to as she begins preparing dinner. Kakavasha hops into his sister’s lap and shakes the sand out of his hair and gets it everywhere, to which she lightly scolds him with a tug on his cheek. 

He takes a seat on the fraying rug in the center and rubs a brightly-colored teal tassel between his fingers. The sand is already starting to seep into his clothes. He feels grains of it in his shoes and it pools onto his pristine white dress pants. Grains of it are nestled deep into the fur collar of his coat from the harsh solar winds outside that even vigorous shaking won’t dislodge.

Kakavasha’s sister smiles at him. It’s a bit unnerving, just seeing a smiling mouth with no other features.

“So, Mr. ▇▇▇ Eyes, w▇at 's your ▇▇▇ ? At least, I’m a▇▇▇ ming Mr. ▇▇▇ Eyes isn’t yo▇▇ r▇l name.”

“It’s Kaka-”

He swallows hard and kicks himself. He’s not Kakavasha. Not anymore.

“It’s… Aventurine.”

The very act of saying that name makes him feel like he’s betraying his family, stabbing them in the back. 

“A▇▇▇▇▇ , huh? What an in▇▇▇ing and pretty name!” remarks his sister. He feels the air rush out his lungs and almost coughs up a sardonic laugh from the sheer irony of it all. First his family, then his language, then his body, and now even his name? Is there anything left that he can truly call his from his culture? 

Thunder distantly rumbles overhead. Kakavasha and his sister peek their heads out curiously of the tent. She gasps excitedly and points to the darkening clouds overhead. 

“Hear that? ▇▇ sign ▇▇ your birthday is ▇▇▇ ▇!” she exclaims as she holds Kakavasha’s hands in hers.“▇▇▇ ▇▇ excited?”

… His birthday? 

Thunder rumbles overhead again and he hears the pitter-patter of raindrops hitting the tent. 

His birthday. The Kakava Festival. 

His heart sinks into his stomach as his family chatters around him. They talk about birthday celebrations and what they’ll do that day, but it’s a muffled mess in his ears. Is it really almost his birthday already? Sigonia-IV followed many beliefs that were independent from the rest of the universe, namely the Aeon belief system, and that also extended to the calendar system. Truth be told, he wasn’t exactly sure what day his birthday was in the Interastral Standard calendar system. He usually just flipped a coin and that was if he even bothered to celebrate, which he hadn’t done in many years. 

Aventurine does some quick estimating and realizes that yes, it’s almost his birthday. But how would he celebrate his birthday in this world, where all was good and he still remembered their faces and voices? 

Aventurine closes his eyes and thinks. His mother would be overjoyed to know that her beloved son finally has a lover now. She’d make him clean the tent from top to bottom in preparation for your arrival, even though the sand would find its way back inside again within a matter of a few hours. His parents would cook up a feast for your arrival while his sister would pester him to tell more stories about you- as if there were any left that he hadn’t. When the time would come and you’d nervously step through the tent flap with one hand holding his tightly and another clutching some gifts, his mother would rush forward and greet you with a kiss to the cheek, having already accepted you as family. His sister would steal you away from him to dote on you, much to his half-hearted chagrin. His father would tell corny jokes that you’d cringe at, and his mother would teach you recipes that had been passed down for generations, her warm, weathered hands resting atop yours and lovingly guiding your movements in the kitchen. 

The five of you, safe, warm, and alive under the sun. 

Hours after the rest of his family had gone to sleep, you’d lie side by side outside, watching the stars drift on by. Sigonia-IV is nothing like Pier Point. Free from light and industrial pollution, you’d have a stunning view of the cosmos every night. Twinkling stars shine overhead, so close you could practically pluck them out of the sky. Multicolored clouds of gas and stardust bathe the sky in their shifting hues as he tells you stories that have been passed down from generation to generation with the occasional shooting star passing by. You’d stay like that for hours on end, content to just listen and watch, until you were lulled to sleep by his voice. 

It would be cold, as all desert climates are at night, but it was nothing he couldn’t bear with your warmth nestled into his side. 

In the spring, or around now, he’d take you to celebrate the Kakava festival under the stars with a roaring bonfire. The festival itself would be a solemn and silent celebration with people murmuring prayers to the Mother Goddess and tossing sacrificial vessels into the fires, but the celebration of his birthday afterward would be loud and joyful. Bonfire sparks would rise up into the sky, carried by the hot solar winds and the rich sounds of his people’s songs. His mother would drape you in turquoise jewelry and gift you traditional clothes that she would’ve spent hours beforehand making by hand, every stitch a labor of love. He’d teach you to dance to the cheers of his family and the familiar tunes he’d hum under his breath. His movements would be fluid and graceful as he spins and twirls you around, while you stumble and flail along. He’d enjoy every second of it- even if you step on his feet the whole time. 

He would be kinder in this world, he thinks. He’d still be Kakavasha. Aventurine would be an unknown man to him. He’d wear his heart on his sleeve and his eyes would still have life to them. He’d never have to hide his left hand. 

And you’d be happier too. You wouldn’t have to sift through the layers to find the true self underneath the act he puts up. He wouldn’t be so hot and cold- practically love-bombing you one moment and then disappearing without a word for weeks the next. He wouldn’t be a dirty gambler, a two-faced businessman, a disinterested womanizer, cheating scum, an IPC mutt, a corporate bootlicker, a worthless Sigonian slut or who knows what else you’ve heard about him–

In this world, there are no Katicans. The Avigins and his family are still intact. His neck is unmarred and he speaks the Avigin dialect fluently, instead of the halting and choppy cadence that's even worse than that of a child’s. Syrupy, honeyed words spill from his mouth as he teaches you common words and phrases in his mother tongue. Have you eaten yet? How did you sleep? How was your day? I missed you. Mother. Sister. Father. Lover. Goddess. I made you something. I saw this today and thought of you. Be safe. Sweet dreams. Goodnight. I love you. He chuckles when you parrot them back to him haltingly, with your accent mixed in. The notebook you keep with various phrases, their meanings, and their phonetics grows every day. The most worn out page was the one crammed full of declarations of love that sound more akin to poetry as your mastery over the dialect grows. The ink is smeared from how often you’ve run your fingers over them, murmuring them under your breath until you’d committed them to memory. In your arms is the safest I’ll ever be. I’m lucky to call you my lover. I sleep better when I’m with you. I secretly name stars and constellations after you. I’ll kiss the weariness away from your face every night. I pray to Mama Fenge every night for your safety. I imagine her hands and embrace to be as warm as yours, and it reassures me somehow. I’ll miss your warm hands when that day finally comes. Goodnight, I love you.  

We’ll be together even in Kakava’s next aurora. 

Aventurine jolts forward with a start. His eyes search around frantically, instinctively searching for his family and you, only to be greeted with a familiar sight that isn’t his home. Bright flashing lights, the sound of cars honking and speeding by, muffled pop music playing in the distance, and the sugary scent of SoulGlad greet his senses instead of arid hot wind that howls in his ears and endless seas of sand. You and his family are nowhere to be seen either. 

Oh. Right.

The Dreamscape.

His clothes stick to his skin drenched in a cold sweat and his glasses are resting lopsidedly on his face. His whole body is shivering uncontrollably, as if he’s been plunged into ice-cold water without warning. The world is going white before his eyes and all he can hear is the loud thump of his pulse in his ears that suddenly drops. He thinks he’s about to pass out again. This is the end, he thinks. Aventurine leans against the side of a wall again, taking deep, heaving breaths to steady himself and quell the nausea swirling around in his stomach. 

When it subsides and he doesn’t feel like he’s on the verge of death (sadly), he sits back up and forces out a laugh in place of a sob. First forcing a religious consecration onto him, then dangling his family in front of his face? How much crueler could the head of the Oak Family get? 

His heart sinks and an overwhelmingly bitter feeling engulfs him. It was just a dream all along. A dream within a dream, really. Was he really that desperate for something familiar again?

(And just like that, the mask known as Aventurine is back in place.)

(But he couldn’t even say goodbye or apologize to his family one last time, even if it wasn’t them.)

It was a pleasant dream, he’ll admit. How nice it would be to live in that world forever. But he knew it was a dream because it could never happen, as much as it pained him. 

Aventurine hears the voice of Kakavasha drifting along from further up ahead and knows he’s nearing the final leg of his plan. With what little time he has left, he takes pictures with the boy for posterity and buys the child all the treats his eyes rest on for more than a second. Aventurine delights in the way his eyes light up at the first taste before he eagerly digs in for more. 

It’s cathartic, in a way. 

Before stepping on stage, he looks up at the sky. It’s perpetually nighttime in Clock Studios Theme Park, but he knows the sun is shining elsewhere in the Dreamscape. Is the sun shining where you are back at home? He thinks it’s morning for you. You must still be asleep with the cat cakes curled into your sides, blissfully unaware of the news you’ll wake up to. 

Get onstage. Fear not. Never look back. 

One last thing to do.

He sends a final text to you.

Aventurine: I love you.

It stays on delivered when he puts his phone away. It’ll be the first thing you see when you wake up, and that’s more than enough for him. 

It’s time for the curtain call.

The feeling of Kakavasha’s tiny body in his arms won’t be enough to chase away the grief. Nothing ever will be. But this’ll be the closest he can get.

Aventurine hugs the boy close, squeezing as hard as he can without hurting him. He feels how he’s nothing more than skin and bone beneath the oversized rags. No child should have to be this thin, he thinks, and he’s even more glad he treated Kakavasha to his heart’s content earlier. 

This is the end. He gives Kakavasha one last squeeze to imprint this memory into his mind and gets up, waving goodbye over his shoulder all the while. 

He never looks back. 

In a shower of light, Kakavasha dissolves into the Nihility, and with him, Aventurine’s hopes for the ideal future- the one that you deserved. The Horizon of Existence is finally devoid of all color save for himself and the dark sun beckoning him forward toward the event horizon.

He takes a step forward, and then another. The sound of his footsteps against the surface and liquid splashing echo loudly in the empty space. 

The Nihility is beginning to slowly engulf him. He feels it encroaching at the edges of his mind, eating away at his thoughts one by one until nothing remains. A hollow, empty feeling settles into his heart that weighs him down. Aventurine looks down at his hands and realizes the color is beginning to seep from his vision until he, too, would become one with the Nihility. The point of no return beckons to him like a moth to a flame. Nothingness, emptiness, worthlessness. There’s nothing left for him to do. 

“Can you die today without any regrets?”

Aventurine finally has an answer to that question. The past is gone and he’s walking toward no future.

Yes. I finally can.

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@ theother-victoria, do not copy, repost, modify, translate, or feed to ai

[beardysuits]

Bulking Up pt 1

Ian, just the sight of him inspired conflicting emotions ranging from rage, to jealousy, to desire, to lust. Ian was the pretty boy of the office and the boss's favorite. He could literally do no wrong, and yet, I was probably the only one who knew what he was really like. See Ian and I went to college together and even participated in the same internship program. He and I also had to share the same job duties, schedule, and workload. Only Ian decided his time wasn't worth the work and decided it was up to me to do the work for both of us. Obviously initially I told him absolutely no way, but that all changed when he got some dirt on me.

Mr. Galveston was head of the law firm Ian and I worked at and if we were tasked with naming the first three words which came to mind when we though of him, it would be intimidating, big, and daddy. Despite running an entire firm and raising three kids, Mr. Galveston still seemed to have the time to run every morning and lift weights. It helped too that he was graced with the hairline of a 20-year old and the skin I'm sure he had to perform a ritual sacrifice to obtain. As you can imagine, I had spent many late nights fantasizing about him, he was prime spank bank material! Unfortunately those late nights alone were not enough for me and my stupid horny brain.

I may have definitely broken some HR guidelines. One day we had a meeting where Mr. Galveston had praised my latest work and it ended with a "good job son". My cock immediately got hard and I had to adjust myself as discreetly as possible. As soon as the meeting concluded, I had to excuse myself and run to the bathroom to pump one out. What I didn't realize is that Ian had followed me, peaked over the stall door and snapped a photo of me, hand gripping my cock and cumming all over the toilet bowl.

"Say cheese," he said to me. The cheeky bastard. I begged Ian not to tell anybody what I had done and he agreed, for a price. So, that was how I got stuck working later and later hours to get the work done for both of us, while Ian sat on his ass all day flirting with our female colleagues. And the worst part about it? If Ian in some weird twist of character told me to get on my knees and blow him, I would still say yes in a heartbeat. I mean, he was built like a god. 6 pack, veiny arms, pecs like an olympian. He was a fucking model and he knew it. Meanwhile there was me, pudgy, couldn't grow a beard to save my life, and just short enough for him to call me munchkin as he held his hand out for his work. I hated his guts.

It was a typical Tuesday night at the office and I had ordered myself a pizza, which I ate at my desk while wrapping up my work and about to start Ian's. I glanced at the clock. 6 PM. I should have been able to leave an hour ago, but got held up doing some data entry Ian was tasked with at noon. Now I still had a stack of papers for him to get started on. There was a rap of knuckles at front of my desk. I looked up to find Tabitha, the office kook. She was a nice enough woman, but she certainly didn't have too many people speak with her for a reason.

"Marty, what are you doing here so late?" she asked me. I swallowed my latest bite and cleared my throat.

"Just need to finish some things here and I'll be heading out. What about you?" I asked her. She sighed and twirled the medallion she always wore around her neck.

"Catching up from my vacation. Being gone a week lets things pile up. Oh, but what I wouldn't do to return to Europe in a second..." she droned on and on about her trip, which I had heard about three times already. But, she was also one of the few people to be genuinely kind to me, so I let her ramble while I set Ian's work aside.

"Oh and goodness! I almost forgot! How could I?" he said, startling me awake after I had zoned out. She pulled her purse forward and fished around in it before holding her closed hand out to me.

"I found this little beauty while I was out there. There's a small village out in the countryside which is said to be the ancient home of witches. I saw this and just thought of you," she said. She opened up her hand, and in her palm was... a rock.

It was a pretty rock, don't get me wrong. It shone and had shimmers of jade green crackling along it's flat surface. But again, it was a rock.

"Oh wow Tabitha that's... beautiful," I told her. She nodded, took my hand, and placed the rock in my palm.

"It's said to be a wishing stone. You hold it close to your heart, wish your deepest desire to it, and place it under your pillow. It's said those who are truly worth of their wish will have it come true."

I twirled the rock around in my hand before setting it on the desk.

"Thank you Tabitha, that's very sweet of you," I told her. I really was touched she thought so nicely of me.

"Well, make sure you have that wish be a good one. Maybe even get you out of here a little earlier next time," she said with a wink. "I have to go home to the cats though, you find your way out of here soon, okay?"

I waved her off as she went the door. I got back to Ian's paperwork, but found it hard to concentrate. The stone kept catching my attention. It was like it caught the light at every angle and shone its shimmering green gaze back at me. About an hour later, I gave up and left Ian's work half done.

Once I was home, I slumped on the couch and turned on some TV. I couldn't even focus on the most mindless of shows though. Every thought came back to the stone. I fished it out of my pocket and turned it through my fingers. Wish on the stone and it would come true, yeah right....

I could see my reflection in the window next to the couch and sighed. My glasses were askew and somehow I didn't notice. I adjusted them and saw a pudgy little geek, still in his work suit, too tired to even take it off. I pushed at my belly, which for the past few weeks kept pushing harder and hard to get out of this tight button down shirt. Sighing, I looked at the stone. Why not?

I wish... I wish I could have what Ian has.

Of course that's where my mind went. Ian had it all. Looks, charm, and now a little nerd doing all of his work for him. My eyes became incredibly heavy and it was like I got hit with a tranquilizer. No surprise, working late hours had become the norm. My hand slumped behind the couch cushion and not a second later, I slumped off to sleep.

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

The ringing of my phone fluttered my eyes open. I grumbled trying to find it in the depths of the couch cushions. Eventually I found it stuck deep in the back. I held it up and turned off my alarm I had set. 6 am, perfect time to be awake. I tried to open my phone through half closed eyes. It had facial recognition, but the stupid thing couldn't catch on to my face. I retired a few times before it prompted me to put in the passcode. I fumbled with it some before finally getting in, and going over some emails. I stumbled off the couch and shuffled to the bathroom.

I had to find some Tylenol, I had a killer headache. I was just about to reach the bathroom when I felt something catch on my feet and force me down. I crashed to the ground and groaned. Fuck... what the fuck even happened? I turned around and saw my pants around my ankles. Or... wait what? I could see down my legs, which were half the size in girth, but twice the size in length. That's... a trick of the morning grog right?

I turned myself around to sit on the ground and looked my legs up and down. They were hairier than before, and the skin was taut with muscles spreading across the curvature of my calves. Holy shit what the fuck was going on? I panicked standing up, kicking off my pants in the process. Rushing to the bathroom, I threw the lights on and was met with Ian in the reflection!

Holy fuck!

I grabbed at my cheeks and pulled at them, which Ian mirrored perfectly in the reflection. Grabbing at my chest through the now oversized shirt, I patted myself, feeling a rock-hard torso in return. I gripped at the button and ripped it open, sending the buttons flying across the bathroom floor. I was met with Ian's muscles greeting me. Tracing my (Ian's?) fingers over them, I felt a shiver run down my spine. Oh my god, I was Ian! Almost instinctively, my fingers rubbed over his nipples and I could feel the same shiver race down my body.

I looked down and found Ian's cock flopping, not even attempting to be contained my XXL underwear that was at least three sizes too big now. My hand was trembling as I slipped the boxers down and found his veiny cock fly almost wildly.

It had just as many veins as his arms did and was almost as thick as them it felt like. I took my new hands and gripped the shaft, it felt so natural to be holding on to it. Even a couple of strokes in and I found out that Ian was quick to precum. My new cock was instantly lathered up as I slicked it back and forth, each pump making his cock feel even girthier somehow.

I laid one of his hands down on the bathroom counter and looked at myself. Ian was hunched over, stroking his cock and smiling mischievously at me.

"Oh fuck daddy, that feels so good," I said without even thinking. "Ohhhh... FUCK Mr. Galveston, pound my tight hole!" I yelled. I thrusted myself back and forth, fantasizing about my boss bucking my hips as he plowed his thick daddy dick deep into Ian.

"Harder! Faster! That's right sir, breed meeeeee," I begged. I bit my lip and made Ian look back at my pathetically. Oh if I could only get Mr. Galveston to ACTUALLY fuck my new hole, make me his little bitch. I pumped harder and harder, fucking my new hand. I could feel the cum build until eventually climax hit.

I let go of my cock and moaned as loud as I could, feeling Ian's cock spray his delicious cum all over the bathroom. It was like a fire hose was set loose, letting streams spray around the room. Each bit hit harder than the last. Eventually I was left standing in the bathroom, breathing heavily and watching as Ian tried to stand up straight after spraying his essence everywhere.

Once I got control of myself again, I peered into the mirror and saw through the drips of cum, Ian's face elated. I couldn't help but smile at my new face and body, now ready to take on the world. I stuck my tongue out and lapped at the cum which was beginning to run down the mirror's face. It tasted so fucking good, like pure masculinity was captured in a liquid state.

Watching Ian become my little lap dog at my bidding made me horny all over again. This was just me going solo, wait until I use my phone to download Grindr and see what fresh pieces of meat want a slice of Ian! Speaking of my phone, it started to rumble on the counter. I picked it up and my heart sank, it was Ian. I cleared my throat, trying to emulate my old voice before answering.

"Uhh.. he-hello?" I choked out.

"What did you do you son of a bitch?!" Pierced through the other line. I coughed again.

"Ian? What's going on?" I asked.

"Like you don't fucking know! What do you look like right now? Who the fuck are you?!"

I recognized the voice, it was mine! Oh shit, I didn't just become Ian, we swapped!

"Ian, I gotta come clean, I'm you," I told him. What was the point in hiding it?

"What. Did. You. DO!?" He screeched. Damn, was my voice always that high pitched? It was whiny and pathetic.

"First off, I didn't do anything! I just woke up and found myself like this. Secondly, calm down, we'll figure this out. Just... just get dressed and get to the office. We'll figure it out there, we need to act normal," I told him.

"Oh yeah fucking right! What the fuck am I supposed to wear? All I have here are my clothes and your fat fuck of a body sure as shit isn't going to fit in them!"

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," I said. "Listen, the sooner you get there, the sooner we figure this out. Better get dressed munchkin." Calling me by my old nickname felt empowering in some way. Before he could retaliate, I hung up the phone on him. Looking at myself back in the mirror and grinned back.

"Yeah, like I'd ever give this up," I said. But, I should probably get dressed and meet up with him. Looks like it's going to be a fun day. Now, let's see if I can find anything tight enough to show off this body.

[alfascorpiionux]

Venus in Aries:

The knight that slays the dragon

Look at me only, spend time with me, joke with me, be with me but never too much at a time. Never overwhelm me. In fact, I enjoy a good chase. I can make a dashing Prince Charming doesn’t matter if I was born a man or woman, I can sweep you of your feet. But you have to deserve it and be able to maintain my attention long enough. I can like you Monday of this week and on Thursday you’ll become indifferent to me. I am not flacky, it’s just how I work. I have crushes, yes. But a real, true love its hard to find. However, if you manage to capture my heart, I’ll go to war for you. I’ll defeat the dragon and save you from the tower if you become my princess/prince. I’ll bring you back from the underworld. There is only one condition: you must be all in, just like I am. If you are half-hearted, I’ll end up resenting you. I am not for the weak of heart or the indecisive. I am full in and give my all to you and expect the same in return. If you deceive me, well, you better not!

Venus in Gemini

Butterflies and ping pong

I love talking to new people and hearing about new ideas. I flirt sometimes without realising and crave intelectual connections with others. Like a butterfly, I am attracted by the most delicious “smell”, that of the beauty of your mind. We can talk all day and never be done with it. I have only one requirement: don’t be dull and bore me. Many things I can forgive, but if you are uninspiring I’ll just zoom out and find a way to distance myself from you. Also, winning a verbal argument will be very difficult for you because I am the best “ping pong player” there is. So if you don’t want to be obliterated in an our next argument, you better come up with an intelligent response or never provoke me at all.

In love I seek a kindred spirit with whom I can share my ideas, experiences, feelings and journey through life with. I can charm you with my words and manners and surprise you with my insights. You just have to listen.

[dsireland86]

Hii! :)

Can you do imagine request "Nap dates"? I had inspiration when i was listening Angus & Julia Stone's song Nothing Else. Y/n is working for Sumerian Records and is interested tour management. Sumerian sent her with Matt to work with the production so Matt can focus more on audio things. Y/n is first shy and trying to focus 120% only working but Noah is trying to get Y/n in every way. She is almost thirty years old and single, for the first time in a completely foreign environment. She is a native Finnish speaker and still looking for a little communication in English. She's a little shy, slow to ignite, but she's also been eyeing Noah, but scared that everything will go wrong. Her motto has been that you don't eat from the load. She talks a lot about how she misses skin to skin touching, but is too afraid of having relationships or sex with strangers and Noah suggests nap dates. She has a rule: no sex, no kissing, only cuddles and naps. Y/n is gemini ja Noah is Scorpio so they are not compatible and they try their best to fight off their interest in the other, but they still end up trying nap dates. Eventually they become romantically interested in each other and they end up kissing and having sensual, but mind blowing sex.

Nap Dates

Tag list: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @theanarchymuse95 @thisbicc @lma1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @fadingintothegrey @an0mallly @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey@rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12@sister-sebastian

The flight from Finland was almost thirteen hours. I check the time once I land then make a quick call to the record label once I'm out of the terminal, following the signs to ground transpiration. Even though this is my first time on any foreign soil, thanks to the help of the internet and the amount of English I know, I'm able to maneuver my way through the airport well enough to get to where I need to be. Still on the phone, my boss tells me there's an Uber waiting for me outside that will take me to the hotel where I'll be staying. In the morning, one will pick me up and drive me to the studio to meet with the man I was sent here to work with. 

A while back I mentioned to the label that I was interested in learning more about tour management in America, so they set me up with a guy named Matt with a strange last name I couldn’t pronounce, and arranged a meeting with him via video call. I liked him instantly. He was easy to talk to and had a really nice personality. I knew we were going to be a good match Upon exiting the airport, I see the Uber waiting for me. I climb in and we head to the hotel where I check in, find my room, then showering, and finally sleep. The drive to the studio the next morning is a quick one. I'm nothing but a messy bundle of nerves the minute I walk inside, wondering why I ever agreed to take this job. Turning the corner, I see two men standing in the hall and they both smile the moment they see me. My cheeks redden instantly. 

"Hey, can we help you?" a man, wearing a black ball cap asks. He has dirty blond hair down to his shoulders, a pointed nose and a very cute smile. He looks at me as if he recognizes me, and I admit to myself that he, too, looks very familiar. "I, uh, yes. Maybe? I don't know actually."

My English comes out slower than I want it to, but at least they can understand me. The other guy, tall with long brown hair pulled up in a messy bun, smiles at me too and proceeds to speak to me in Swedish. I sigh in perfect joy. We carry on a brief conversation where I explain who I am and why I’m here, learning that his name is Joakim, but his friends call him "Jolly", and that he is part of the band that I'll be working with.

"And this," he says, clamping a hand down on the shoulder of the man with the ball cap, "is Matt, our tour manager." "Oh my gosh, I'm an idiot," I cringe, slapping my forehead with my hand. I look back up at Matt only to see him grinning at me. "You knew who I was the whole time, didn't you?" Matt slowly nods, unable to hide his smile. I nod, too, feeling completely embarrassed. "Hey, don't worry about it," Matt encourages me. "You've had a long couple of days. I'm sure you're beat." "Yeah, just a little. Jet lag is kicking my ass.” "Come," Jolly says, I'll introduce you to the other guys." I nod and follow them down the hall to a room on the right.

Nicholas, Nick who goes by Folio, and Noah; the three remaining band members. I shake each of their hands, smiling shyly at them, but stop and stare hard the moment I get to Noah. He stares at me, his expression is cool and relaxed and his disarming smile penetrates my entire body. Noah seems to be a laid back sort of person and it helps me to relax a bit. Matt takes me over to the sound equipment, asking me questions about what I know and what I'm able to bring to the table as far as tour production, and I'm honest and thorough, telling him what I know and can do. He's impressed and says I'll be a great fit. Glancing over at Noah, I catch the way he's staring at me. His brown almond eyes are deep and entrancing, making it extremely hard to look away. I take a deep breath and exhale it through my nose quickly, trying my best to refocus my attention back to Matt.

It's been three weeks of work and I love my job. Matt is the best. Very easy going and easy to work with. His personality and intelligence match mine when it comes to work and pretty soon, the two of us, along with Noah, have a whole idea planned out for the upcoming tour. Noah is growing on me and I’d like to think I'm growing on him too. Getting to know him more, I learn he’s a little reserved and introverted like me, but very sweet, which is surprising to me considering his stage presence. Everyday I'm around him, my feelings about him change. The fluttery, butterfly feeling that would come and go is permanently there now and it only grows whenever we're together. It's ridiculous, actually. I'm thirty years old, not a teenager. Noah shouldn't have this sort of effect on me; yet he does. And if I'm being honest, I'm beginning to really like the feeling. 

The day I met Y/N face to face was the day my world turned upside down. I was drawn to her for reasons I didn’t know or couldn’t understand. I was never known to be a guy interested in the opposite sex to the point it was all I could think about. But she was; she was all I could think about.  I couldn't concentrate on anything but her and the way she moved so gracefully and the way she spoke, softly and slowly with her moderate Swedish accent that was thicker than Jolly's and much sweeter. Her smile was simple, but so bright. Whenever she used it, my heart would skip a beat and I couldn't help but smile back. Y/N was also very easy on the eyes. She was distracting. Every time she walked into the room, I found myself staring at her a little more than I knew I should, and the fact that she was single was mind blowing.. A woman like her shouldn't be. We became easy friends. The only problem was, Y/N devoted 1000% of her time to her job, never giving herself time to do anything else. Matt tried telling her not too, that he was afraid she might burn herself out, but she refused to listen to him, telling him it was just her nature to stay so busy.

"So, there really is no man for you back home? No one that interests you?" Y/N shakes her head, taking a sip of her hot chocolate. I managed to steal her away from work for the day, taking her out for coffee, which turns out to be hot cocoa instead. We're sitting on a park bench, overlooking the ocean. A soft breeze swings in, blowing the small strands of hair out her face. I look over at her, taking a moment to soak in her delicate features that make her so pretty, and find myself feeling things for her that I probably shouldn't, yet I just can't help myself.

"What about you?" she asks, turning to face me. The soft twinkle I see makes me smile as I huff a small laugh. "Nope. No one. I mean there have been girls that I thought were pretty and nice, but in the end they just turned out to be too shallow or taken. I find it better to just not go looking for something, but instead let that something find me. I'm not in any rush." Y/N chuckles and takes a sip of her hot cocoa. "You mean to tell me all your fame and money doesn't buy you happiness like everyone says it does?" she jokes. I laugh. Laughing with her is so easy. "I'm afraid not. I don't want to be rich anyway. I just want to find my person and grow old with her." Y/N hums in approval. "How did you get to be so wise, Noah," she smiles, playfully. But I sense some seriousness. "Life wasn't always easy for me, you know. I had to learn that falling apart isn't always a bad thing. It taught me how to become someone, that's for sure." Y/N frowned. "We're all someone, are we not?" "No," I shook my head. "I don't think we are. Most people live life in a bubble, locked up in their minds, completely turned off to reality and what's passing in front of them. They spend their whole life looking for the next best thing instead of enjoying the here and now; instead of being present."

"Wow, yeah, I agree with that," she nodded. "You know, you're not like other guys, Noah. You enjoy going slow and sitting still while you come undone and allow life to pick you apart a little. I like that. It's refreshing." Y/N turns and looks at me and I can't help but trail my eyes over her face and wonder what it would be like to kiss her soft, red lips. She's the first girl I've had these sorts of thoughts about in a really long time. "Thank you," I say quietly. "You're welcome," she says, trailing her eyes over my face as well. "Can I ask you a more personal question?" She hesitates at first, but then says okay. "When was the last time you were with a guy?" Her eyes narrow. "Like? Romantically or sexually?" I feel my cheeks redden a little "Both." A small smile creeps over Y/N's lips.

"Um, it's been a while. I'm really backwards and shy and have zero confidence. Having a sexual relationship with strangers is hard for me because of that. And trying to get into a deep, long term relationship never works out because if I'm not willing to sleep with the guy then he loses interest. "Are you serious? Y/N you're beautiful! You should have a lot of confidence." "Yet, I don't," she laughed, turning away from me. “Also, you’re really hot yet you’re single,” she points out with a sly grin and I laugh. “Okay, point taken.” I playfully shove her in the shoulder as we remain quiet for a moment,  processing what we just learned about each other.

"I miss it though," Y/N confesses. "Miss what?" "Skin to skin contact. Not necessarily sexually or anything, but just like hand holding and soft, gentle caresses and touches. Cuddling, gosh I love cuddling," she giggles and it's the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard. "Especially when it's cold or raining. Cozying up together and falling asleep, or watching old movies in the dark. Those are the best."

Y/N's description sounds like this thing I read about in one of my weird, self-help books. It's a thing called nap dates and apparently it works when someone is missing the physical touch of another human being, so I mention it to her. "What about nap dates?" She looks at me completely confused, shaking her head. "What are nap dates?" "They're dates that people who are friends or in a platonic relationship have. You hang out with each other, cuddle, watch tv, sleep, you know, boring stuff." "Boring stuff," Y/N laughs, tossing her empty cup in the trash. "Well boring for those who aren't trying to make their relationship go anywhere."

We stand up, and I stretch, working out the kink's in my neck, grimacing in pain. "Are you alright, Noah," she asks, alarmed. "Yeah. I just have this insane knot in my shoulder blade that won't go away. It's been there for days and hurts like hell." "Oh, well sit. I can rub it out for you." I do as she says, making sure she has enough access to my back. The moment she lays her hands on me I feel the instant spark rip through my body. Her touch is electrifying. I can't help but moan and groan over the feeling of the way she works and messages the knot out. It's invigorating. But it's the way she's touching me that has my body all worked up. It's gentle yet confident. Strong yet sweet. And just the thought of never feeling it again sends my mind into a spiral.

"How's that?" I move my arm around feeling immediate relief. "Oh god that feels a million times better. Thank you." Y/N grins. "You're welcome." I take her hand and hold it for a moment, thankful she doesn't pull away. Her eyes are speaking to me, yet I can't read what they're saying. "Noah," "Yeah?" "The idea of nap dates sounds fun." "It does, doesn't it?" "You really want to try it?" "Only if you do," I assure her. "Okay," she grins at me again. "Let's try it. But there's conditions." "Sure," I agree, fighting hard to control my eagerness. "No sex, no kissing. Only cuddling and sleeping." I chuckle. Her conditions seem pretty fair. "Absolutely," I agree." She grins. "Okay, good."

The rain is pouring down outside as Noah and I lay on the couch together, cuddled up under a warm, thick blanket. My leg is wrapped around his and I’m curled into him, burying my face in the crook of his neck. I'm engulfed by the scent of him and it makes me lightheaded. The abnormal fluttery feeling in my stomach that always comes around whenever Noah and I are together is hitting me hard in my chest, making my heart race. I'm not sure if it's anxiety or nerves, but it makes me snuggle into him deeper and wrap one arm around his torso. I take a deep breath and slowly let it out.

"Are you okay, Y/N," Noah asks softly. I know his eyes are still glued to the tv as his favorite show plays quietly in the background. He has one arm beneath me, holding me so I won't fall off the couch, while his other one is tucked under his head. "Yup I'm fine," I say sleepily, yawning big. "Awe, you tired?" I nod slowly. "Go to sleep. We have nowhere to go or nothing to do," Noah suggests, bringing his hand down on my head and slowly caressing my hair. The warmth of Noah's arms are the very thing I need to help me drift off into a lazy, comfortable nap.

The night belonged to them. Nothing but the stars and the full moon watched them from way up above as they kissed one another. With her on her back, hands wrapped around his tattooed neck and fingers snaking through his newly trimmed brown hair, and him leaning over her, fingers tracing her cheekbones then caressing the side of her face, Y/N and Noah embraced the sensual feelings rushing through their bodies.

Night after night, day after day, their nap dates slowly began to take a different turn; they had developed strong feelings for one another. At first it started with their hands finding each other, fingers intertwining and playfully locking together. Then came the looks and slight smiles whenever they were around each other, the ones they thought they were being so secretive about. Finally, it came boiling over the night a huge storm rolled in with horrible wind, thunder, and lightning, knocking out the power for hours. It scared Y/N, making her cling to Noah as if her life depended upon it. Noah sang to her, held her while she rested her head quietly in his lap as he played with her hair. She fell asleep, only waking when she realized she was being carried to her bed. "Noah, please don't leave. Stay with me.” "Alight, I will," he promised, crawling into the bed next to her. The feeling of her body pressed so tightly against him made resisting the urge to kiss her impossible, but he did it anyway.

At first he thought Y/N would panic, freak out, or get mad at him because of their agreement when they first arranged their nap dates. But Y/N did the opposite. She turned all the way over, facing him and allowed Noah to devour her lips, her mouth, and her body, stopping only when it was about to go too far. "Not yet, not like this," Y/N whispered in the dark. The word "yet" clung to Noah's heart and mind like a magnet. He agreed, kissing her once more.

Now, here they were, tangled up in one another beneath the stars, unable to stop their hungry appetite for the other. "Noah, let's go home," Y/N mumbled against his lips. Noah smiled at her mention of the word "home". "Why? I like kissing you beneath the stars." Y/N giggled. "I know, but I'm not comfortable enough to do this out in the open. I’m sorry. I hate being the way I am sometimes.” Noah stopped kissing her and met her gaze. "I like you just the way you are," he told her, loving the way she smiled at him. He pulled her in and laid a soft kiss on her forehead. "I want to do nothing else but fall into your arms and let you have your way with me. I just can't do it here." Y/N confession had Noah's mind reeling. "You're going to let me have my way with you?" he asked. "If you'll have me," she answered quietly. Noah grabbed her and kissed her, standing up immediately after they parted. "Let's go."

Noah opened the hotel room door for Y/N and she walked in as he flipped the light switch on, locking the door behind him. His tall frame loomed over her small figure that was the picture of perfection against the black backdrop of the room behind her. She stared at him with eyes so intense he thought she could see right through him. And in that moment, Noah wanted nothing more than to just feel her naked body against him.

Leaving just the entry light on, he guided her back into the darkness of the room, thankful that the soft glow of the moonlight and the parking lot lights filled the room with enough light for them to still see one another. Noah ran his hands down her arms, feeling the instant prickle of her skin as he did so, making him shiver, too.

Without a word, he removed his shirt, then his shoes and socks, moving close to help Y/N do the same. Even though he knew she wanted to do this, she still looked alarmed. "When was the last time you were with a guy?" Y/N was quiet for a moment, unsure if she should be truthful or not. But, to do this right, she knew she had to be. "Two years ago." Noah's mouth fell open. "Why? I mean, I don't... " "There was no one worthy enough, that's all. I don't just sleep with anyone for fun, Noah. I have more respect for myself than that," she stated firmly. He closed his mouth quickly "Does this mean I'm worthy enough? Us being here together, alone, about to do the very thing you say you don't give to just anyone?" Y/N smiled up at Noah shyly, raising her arms as he lifted her shirt above her head and tossing it to the floor next to his. "Yes, Noah. You are more than worthy enough. I want to give in to you completely, mind, body, and soul. I just need to be assured that I won't regret it in the end."

He held her face in his hands when he kissed her. Noah didn't ever want her to go away again. It was as if her mouth had suddenly held all the oxygen that kept him alive. Undoing the clip of her bra, Noah gently pulled the straps down and she let it fall, revealing herself to him. He sucked in a slight breath, licking his lips instantly. "I have such a fucking weakness for you, Y/N," Noah confessed, carefully pushing her down on the bed and laying her back. "I have since the moment I saw your face on that video call. I was drawn to you, for reasons I didn't understand." He latched his fingers around the waistband of her leggings and pulled them off, leaving her only in her white cotton panties, which he quickly took off and shoved into the pocket of his joggers. "For safekeeping," he winked at her, making her giggle.

Looking down, Noah stared at the naked body before him on full display. Y/N was beyond beautiful. She was a perfect work of art, something to be worshiped and adored. Lowering his face, Noah trailed slow kisses over her stomach, feeling how it dipped from the way his lips tickled her, making him smile against her skin. Y/N ran her hands through his hair, moaning from the feeling of it running through her fingers as Noah placed kisses all over the front of her body.

From her stomach to her breasts, Noah went slow and steady tasting every single part of her. Wrapping an arm around her waist he arched her back and rolled her hardened nipple with his tongue making the noises coming out of her sound so intoxicatingly sinful. He was obsessed with her, and every touch, every sound made Noah feel more unhinged. He sucked her breast into his mouth as much as he could, nipping at her silky skin while flicking her nipple with his tongue over and over. Pulling back, Y/N cried out in protest of his absence, making him chuckle darkly. Standing to his feet, Noah slipped off his joggers and boxers at the same time, freeing his hard erection. The sight made Y/N shiver with absolute lust, and she couldn't wait to have him between her legs. "Spread your legs for me, Princess, and do as I say, alright," he whispered in her ear. Y/N obeyed, releasing a loud, content sigh over feeling him between her thighs.

"I want you in the worst way, Y/N," Noah confessed, rutting himself lightly against her soaked, throbbing core. She was already a panting mess, ready for whatever happened next. "Your taste, your scent, and I want the feeling of your skin next to mine. I want it all tonight," he whispered, staring her straight in the eye. Y/N swallowed, placing her hand on Noah's cheek. "Then take me, Noah. I'm all yours."

Without another word spoken, he reached down and guided the tip of his hard cock to her entrance and eagerly began taking her at his pleasure. Noah felt like heaven inside her. The sound of her first escaped moan as her body took him in and he spread her open wide was the best music to fuel his passion. He shivered when her nails dug into his back and his head fell into the crook of her neck as he began to pump hard and fast into her tight, wet core. The sheer ecstasy of it all threatened to tear them both apart and shatter them into a thousand pieces.

Noah grabbed Y/N's hips with purpose, aligning himself perfectly so that he could thrust hard and completely down to the very base of all he had to give her. She moaned for him, wrapping her legs tight around him and squeezing with all her might. No longer caring who could hear, Y/N cried out his name, biting his shoulder and pulling him in close to suck the warm, wet skin of his neck, Noah's own breathy moan seemed to accompany her sounds perfectly as his cock filled her entirely and hit the soft spongy spot of her cervix. Nothing could make him weaker than the feeling of her clinging to him and moaning "harder" in his ear as he bottomed out inside her, trying his best to cling to sanity.

"Oh god, you feel so good. Fuck," Noah groaned breathlessly, as he felt her writhe beneath him. "I'm a fucking mess for you, Y/N," he confessed, pounding into her a little harder and clamping his large hand around her thigh, pulling it up higher to get a better angle. She pulled his face into hers, latching her lips to his and feverishly kissing him while tugging on his hair collected between her fingers. "Fuck!" Noah growled," thrusting harder.

"Noah, I'm close," she whimpered. "I know, I can feel you. Goddamn, you're so tight, baby," he groaned. The pad of his middle finger rubbed circles along her clit, pressing down a little harder and making her squirm in delight. The way her back arched off the mattress mixed with her wetness gathering on his fingers, Noah knew she didn't have much longer. His hand took her leg and hiked it up higher against his side so that he could thrust even deeper down within her. The screams of her pleasure, echoing off the walls of the hotel room were pornographic,

"Noah," she cried, running her nails down his back, making him seethe in pain and pleasure. "That's it, cum for me, baby," Noah ordered, moaning as his head fell into her neck once again. Y/N's hands moved up his chest and around his neck and he made a sound deep in his throat that thrilled and frightened her to the point that her trembling walls shattered around his cock and she came as the hot rush of blood pulsed through her veins. Every muscle in her body tightened around Noah as he guided her through her orgasm until he felt himself tightening. He thrusted into her once, twice then pulled out and groaned deeply, spilling his warm release over her stomach

Spent, Noah's head fell against hers, his sweat mixing with her dampness, and he kissed her, long, hard, and still full of so much need. He rolled over and got up, heading for the bathroom Y/N laid there, panting, dazed over what just happened. Never in her life had she experienced sex like that before and now that she had, she only craved it more, but only if it was with Noah. He came back to bed carrying a warm and dry cloth, carefully cleaning up his mess. She watched him through sleepy eyes, sweetly caring for her until she was clean.

Noah tossed the towels to the floor and pulled back the blankets, climbing beneath them, still fully naked. Y/N narrowed her eyes at him as if to question if he was sure and he held up the blanket, motioning for her to come close. She was sleepy so she crawled over to him and snuggled deep under the blanket that Noah tossed over her, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her into him so that her back was pressed tightly against his chest." You have no idea how much I like you," Noah confessed quietly to her in the dark. "How much you make me smile and how much I love talking to you." Y/N smiled to herself, squeezing his arm in approval. "Yes, I do," she replied. Noah was quiet for a moment. "Then you know how much I wish you were mine." She took a breath and sighed, and because she felt so warm and safe, Y/N closed her eyes. "You have me, Noah. Until the very last star in the galaxy dies, I'm yours."

[blueishspace]

Hero Villain God 6

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Chapter 2

*Grian's pov*

It was Mumbo to suggest putting Ariana Griande online, something about the internet having more reach. He even offered to provide you with equipment... you know he's hoping to use your income to fund his villany... you don't really care for money but you find it weird he's investing so much on your "career", did the song you sang to him really entranced him that much?

Technically you know how it works, the internet is ripe for your domain. Phisically though? You are the god of chaos ...not technology and you never really cared to learn too much about it before this moment... You though it would be like making that meme of HotGuy but no... Video and Audio Editing is so extremely tedious.

You also finally build the persona of Ariana Griande, by telling Mumbo you are her you have limited your form to a variation of "Grian" ... Still you have fun with it and Mumbo looks like he's having a great time looking at her too.

Your first video as Ariana is nothing worth talking about, just the cover of soldier poet king that you have already sung to Mumbo a few days ago... It gets 5 views by the end of the day... You could push it along with a bit of divinity but that's not nearly as fun as letting the channel grow organically. You do get one comment: "Oh lord, your voice is divine!" which is very ironic... And amusing.

Your second Ariana Griande video is another cover, at this point an orginal song wouldn't make sense. It doesn't do much better but Mumbo seems to enjoy it... Perhaps you did put too much divinity in it because Mumbo takes a minute to recover after listening in... hopefully the effects will be less intense when viewing the video at a later date.

You distract yourself from the channel for a moment as Mumbo interrupts you. He is as anxious as ever and stumbles on his words but you can understand the gist of what he's trying to say. He's going somewhere and was wondering if you wanted to join in, you don't have much to do right now anyway so you easily accept.

The coffe shop he brings you is pretty small but it surely has a certain cosiness to it... It isn't that which attracts your attention though. There is a familiar presence here, you can feel it. Hotguy is here, what are the chances?

You get up under the excuse of going to the bathroom and walk toward the man that your divinity tells you is Hotguy... without his uniform yes, but it's him nonetheless. You approach and- he turns suddenly and accidentally spills his coffee on you...

...

...

..Calm down, Grian. Do not smite the mortal. Do not smite the mortal. Do not-

"Oh! I'm so so sorry! Are you ok?!"

"I- *breathe in breathe out* yes. Just didn't expect it"

And that is true, you didn't... somehow.

"Do you need something to clean yourself with-"

"No no, calm down, It's fine"

You say it to Hotguy as much as you say it to yourself...

"Are you sure -uh...?"

"It's... Grian" Then you remember about human identity, you are leaning. "... He/Him"

"Oh! Well Uh I'm so sorry about this Grian, uh wait, I should introduce myself too! I'm Scar! Uh- He/Him Nice to meet you... Well not nice since I dropped my coffee on you but-"

Oh you can't stay angry at him if he's going to act like that. You just can't.

"It's not your fault...and It's nice to meet you too"

This too isn't a lie, after all you still don't know how you managed to not notice the coffee was going to fall on you.

You turn to Mumbo, he must have seen what happened because he looks like he doesn't know wether he should get up and help or to stay in place and mind his own buisness...he's just kind of half standing?

You'll have to cut this meeting short but perhaps...

"I have to go now but if you really want to make it up to me you can buy me coffee sometime in the future"

You put your hand in your pocket and generate a piece of paper with your number on it. You then take it out and offer it to him before going back to Mumbo.

"Grian?"

"Yeah?"

"Why did you fllirt with the guy who spilled coffee on you?"

Uh? Did you? You don't think so at least.

"I have no idea what you are talking about mister Mumbo Jumbolio"

"... That isn't my full name??"

"Are you sure?"

"Y-Yeah???"

"If you say so Mimbo Jimbo."

[amethystarachnid]

Hi! Its me again I had another found family troupe in mind if your up for it! I wanted to ask before the Christmas prompts started.

So this time I was thinking Deadpool x Teen!Male!Reader where reader is on top of a building, how he got there is up to you, but he's abt to make a bad decision (if ykw I mean) when dead pool finds him and starts to talk, and basically they end up making a deal, if wade can make the reader see how good life is then he won't do it, but if he fails the reader can go back, and basically its is a bunch of fun stupid shit for the rest and the reader becomes apart of the little odd family created in dead pool 3 (including logan) and decides to stick around. So heavy angst that's solved in a nice fluff, and if your not comfortable with the first part you can change the angst to a different scenario you totally can, and the how and why is up to you.

Readers personality is a sarcastic, cold teen, but he's caring and weird around ppl he's close to, he hides his emotions to keep himself safe

If you can do this I would be so so grateful, if not its totally understandable, I love your work sm its hard not to request things, keep up the amazing writing! Have a good day/night!

OPERATION MAKE YOU NOT HATE THE UNIVERSE

⤷ WADE WILSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Wade Wilson x male!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: platonic!, angst, tiny bit of fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: normal request

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 4k

ᯓ★ Summary: what the ask said

ᯓ★ TW(s): This story deals with sensitive themes, including mental health struggles and suicide

ᯓ★ I'm happy that you like my works and don't worry, you can make as may requests as you want, I'm so happy when people make requests! <3

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The city sprawls below, twinkling and vast, but strangely quiet from this height. You sit on the edge of a skyscraper, your legs dangling into the nothingness, with only the hum of distant cars and neon lights bleeding through the foggy air.

You take a deep breath, the cold biting into your lungs. It makes sense, somehow, for this place to be the last thing you’d see. Who knows how long you’ve been sitting here, trying to drum up the courage or the anger or whatever it’s going to take to finally just let go. But the emptiness is louder than any fear. The world feels like it’s swallowed you whole, and this—you dangling on the edge—feels like the only time you’ve ever been able to look it in the face.

“You know, most people pick roller coasters or a fifth of tequila if they wanna feel a thrill.”

You flinch. Not from surprise—well, okay, a little from surprise—but more from sheer irritation. This is the moment someone decides to intrude? You glance over your shoulder and see him. He’s wearing red and black, looking like a deranged SWAT team dropout, leaning casually against the roof access door, arms crossed like he’s watching a really boring episode of a soap opera.

“And here I thought I had the whole roof to myself,” you say dryly, hiding your unease. “Guess we’re all just having a rooftop party.”

“Lucky for you, kiddo, I’m the life of the party. Deadpool, at your service,” he says with a bow. “But hey, what’s a young guy like you doing up here all alone? Besides reenacting all the worst Lifetime movies?”

You snort, because it’s exactly that bad. “Oh, just figured I’d enjoy the view,” you reply, deadpan. “And maybe gravity. Seems like a good combo.”

“Right, right, makes sense,” he nods, as if he’s in on some cosmic joke only you get. He crouches down, edging a little closer. “Let me guess. Someone pissed you off, the world sucks, you hate your life, blah blah blah, and now you’re about to end it all. Am I close?”

You don’t answer, just roll your eyes and stare back out at the city. But something in the fact that he said it—that he got it so easily—makes you feel strange. Seen.

“Oh, man, nailed it!” Deadpool cheers, like this is some sort of accomplishment. “See, I’m like a therapist, but with 90% more leather and 100% more explosions. And, I make house calls. You’re welcome.”

“Yeah? Where’s the PhD?” You give him a sidelong look, unimpressed. “Bet it’s in the mail.”

He gasps theatrically. “Excuse me, my online course was very thorough, thank you. You’re looking at a fully certified therapist-slash-savior-slash-pizza connoisseur.” He steps even closer, as if he’s trying to get a read on you. “So, what’s it gonna take for you to, I dunno…step back from the edge, champ?”

The question catches you off guard, but you school your expression back into that empty, unreadable mask. “Nothing,” you say. “Don’t need saving.”

“Aw, sure you do. Everybody does,” Deadpool replies, with a smile that’s a little too wide. He’s still in that crouch, head tilted like he’s studying a lab rat. “C’mon, take me up on my deal.”

“I didn’t agree to any deal,” you mutter.

“Well, that’s about to change, Mr. Antisocial.” Deadpool leans in, his voice a dramatic whisper. “I’ll make you a bet. If I can’t show you something worth sticking around for, something that doesn’t totally suck, you win. But if I can—and oh, I will—then you gotta promise not to do anything stupid up here. No ‘jumping’ and no ‘leaping gracefully off into the night’—not on my watch. Deal?”

You look at him, trying to figure out if he’s serious. But then, you’re not sure this guy even knows what serious means. A smirk slips onto your face, mostly from disbelief. “And if you fail, I get to come back here and do what I want.”

Deadpool slaps his hands together, eyes lighting up like he’s just scored a jackpot. “Deal! Signed, sealed, and delivered. What’s your name, by the way? So I know what to call you when I start ‘Operation Make You Not Hate the Universe.’”

“None of your business.”

“Oh, that’s not gonna work,” he replies breezily. “I’ll call you...” He pauses dramatically, finger tapping his chin. “Shadow Kid. Because of your gloomy vibes. Or Edgy McBroodface. Either one works for me.”

You sigh, exasperated. “Fine. It’s Y/n. Happy?”

He claps his hands like a kid on Christmas. “Delighted! Well, Y/n, pack your bags because you’re about to take the Deadpool Tour de Joy. First stop: that little bakery down the street that makes these empanadas that are just to die for—pun very intended.”

As ridiculous as he sounds, something inside you—against all odds—doesn’t completely hate this idea. Maybe he’s right, maybe he’s wrong, but at least he’s distracting you. And it’s better than the silence. So you sigh, push yourself back from the edge, and follow him, if only because he’s made it impossible not to.

“Don’t get too excited,” you warn, hiding a hint of curiosity beneath a mask of sarcasm. “I don’t like pastries.”

“Don’t worry, kid, you will,” he grins, guiding you off the ledge. “Deadpool guarantees it. Or I’ll give you a full refund. You know, after we make sure you don’t end up sidewalk art.”

It’s midnight, and you’re trailing behind a lunatic in red and black spandex as he skips down the street like he’s leading a parade of one. You almost regret stepping away from the edge of that building. Almost. Because, despite everything, Deadpool’s got your attention, even if it’s just so you can see where this trainwreck of a night is headed.

“Now, Y/n,” he says, spinning around to face you while walking backward, “it’s time I introduce you to my squad. My inner circle. The people who either love me or have given up trying to kill me. I figured, what better way to kick off Operation: Don’t Be A Self-Destructive Edgelord than some quality time with family?”

“Your ‘family’?” You raise an eyebrow, skeptical.

“Oh, yes. They’re the most dysfunctional group of weirdos you’ll ever meet, which, in our line of work, is high praise.” He turns back around, leading you down a couple of twisting alleyways until you’re standing in front of a building that looks like it was abandoned about a hundred years ago.

“Home, sweet home!” Wade announces proudly, shoving the door open. “Well, it’s not really mine, but Al’s not much of a decorator anyway.”

You’re about to ask who “Al” is when you spot her: a short, older woman with oversized sunglasses, leaning against a sofa, flipping through a Braille magazine. She doesn’t even look up when she addresses Deadpool.

“You brought home another stray, Wade? You’d think you were trying to start an orphanage for misfits,” she mutters.

“This one’s special, Al. Meet Y/n,” Wade says, guiding you inside. “Y/n, this is the one and only Blind Al. She’s my friend, roommate, therapist, probation officer, and part-time parole board.”

Al snorts. “You think I’d live with Wade if I had any other options?”

You almost smirk. “So you’re telling me he’s like this all the time?”

Al nods, and you catch the tiniest hint of a smile on her face. “Constantly. And unfortunately, you’ll get used to it.”

“Come on, Al, don’t ruin the surprise! I’m a blast to be around,” Wade says, slapping you on the back with a little too much enthusiasm. “Anyway, I promised Y/n the Deadpool Experience™, which includes only the finest influences and biggest badasses on the market.”

“Speaking of badasses…” Wade nudges you, gesturing to the kitchen doorway, where a tall, grizzled man in flannel and jeans leans against the frame, arms crossed. His eyes are hard, the kind that say he’s seen more than his fair share of horror, but he’s giving you a look that’s somewhere between curiosity and caution.

“Logan, meet Y/n,” Wade says, pushing you forward. “Y/n, meet Wolverine, aka Logan Howlett, aka the surliest Canadian this side of the Rockies. Logan, Y/n here’s having a tough time deciding if life’s worth sticking around for, so I figured you could help me convince him otherwise. Since you’re all about that whole ‘living through endless suffering’ thing.”

Logan looks you over, clearly unimpressed with Wade’s choice of words. “You tell this kid what he was getting into by sticking with you?” he grumbles, giving Wade a side-eye.

“Why spoil the fun?” Wade chirps. “Besides, I figured I’d ease him into the nightmare that is my lifestyle by introducing him to you first. It’s all part of my master plan.”

You scoff. “Not exactly a plan so far.”

Logan grunts, shooting Wade a look. “Kid, if you’re here, you better be ready to put up with more crap than you signed up for. And if you don’t, well, don’t expect us to sugarcoat it.”

“Gee, thanks, Logan. Great pep talk,” Wade says, clapping his hands together. “You’re practically the Canadian Dr. Phil.”

“Whatever,” Logan mutters, giving you a short nod of acknowledgment. “Stay out of trouble, kid.”

“Thanks,” you reply dryly. “I’ll make a note of it.”

Wade flashes a grin. “All right, now that we’ve got the somber stuff out of the way, it’s time to meet my real pride and joy. Follow me, Y/n.” He leads you down a narrow hallway, barely glancing back as he goes. “And here, in the third and definitely not cleanest room on the left, is the Mini Wolverine herself, Laura Kinney!”

You peer around the doorframe, and sure enough, there’s a young girl, no older than you, sharpening a knife with an intensity that could probably slice through steel. She looks up, one eyebrow raised as she sizes you up.

“So…another of Wade’s recruits?” she asks, her tone half-sarcastic but half-genuine, like she’s as surprised as anyone to find herself among this crowd.

“Not exactly,” you reply. “Apparently, I’m part of some…life-affirming experiment?”

Laura smirks. “Good luck. Most people just end up scarred. Or worse.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, mini-me,” Wade says, swooping in to ruffle her hair, which she swats at with the speed of a ninja. “Y/n, Laura here is what we call a ‘clone’—same rage issues, same claws, same immunity to hugs as Mr. Broodmaster in the kitchen. Laura, Y/n here is testing out the Wade Wilson School of Life Choices.”

She snorts, shaking her head. “Well, better you than me. Good luck.”

“Look at that, Y/n! She’s already rooting for you,” Wade says, pulling you back out of the room before you can reply.

“Sure,” you mutter. “I feel like I’m one big science project.”

“Nah, science projects are boring,” Wade says cheerfully. “And last, but certainly not least, the crown jewel of this ridiculous ensemble is… Peter!”

You frown, confused, as Wade leads you to the living room, where a man with glasses and a receding hairline is lounging on the couch, a sandwich in one hand and a soda in the other. He looks up and waves at you with a sheepish smile.

“Hey there. I’m Peter,” he says. “No code name, no special abilities, just…Peter.”

You raise an eyebrow at Wade. “How does he fit in?”

“Oh, he doesn’t,” Wade says matter-of-factly. “He’s just a genuinely good guy. The one, non-superpowered person who got tangled up in my dumpster fire of a life and didn’t immediately bail. I figured he’d be a nice balance to all the violent murderers in the room. Plus, he makes a mean ham and cheese sandwich.”

Peter shrugs, giving you a friendly smile. “Sometimes, it’s good to have at least one guy who knows what life’s like for the average person. And I figure, if Wade can make it, maybe there’s hope for all of us, right?”

You nod slowly, unsure what to make of all this but also, maybe for the first time in a long time, feeling something close to warmth. These people are rough around the edges, sure, but there’s an understanding in the way they look at you—like they know what it’s like to have the world chew you up and spit you out.

“Well, Y/n,” Wade says, clapping his hands together, “you’ve met the gang. Now, how about that empanada?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, but there’s a small smile tugging at your lips. “Fine,” you mutter. “One empanada. But if it sucks, this deal’s off.”

Wade grins. “Deal! And hey, if you’re lucky, maybe you’ll even get a side of wisdom and life lessons from our merry band of misfits. Consider this step one on the path to…not hating everything.”

He leads the way, Peter and Al in tow, while Logan and Laura hang back a bit. And as you walk down the dimly lit street, surrounded by this unlikely crew, you realize maybe—just maybe—Wade might actually have a point.

The morning sun drips through the dirty windows of Blind Al’s apartment, casting a pale yellow glow over the chaotic mess of takeout boxes, weapon cases, and torn-up furniture. You’re sprawled on an old, threadbare armchair, an empanada wrapper stuck to your shirt from last night’s “Deadpool Tour de Joy.” You’d made it through an entire night with Wade and his crew of insane, sarcastic maniacs—and, against all odds, it wasn’t completely awful. In fact, you’d felt something almost like…belonging.

But now it’s the next day, and you’ve already told yourself a hundred times that you should probably just slip out, go back to what you were doing, forget all of this ever happened. You’re starting to push yourself up when Wade barges into the room, wearing his costume but missing the mask, eyes bleary, and looking like he hasn’t slept in days.

“Ah! Sleeping beauty rises!” Wade yells, startling you. “Figured you’d skipped out by now, but no! Y/n, my little suicidal protégé, how’s life on the wild side?”

You roll your eyes. “It’s early. Can you not yell?”

“Oh, no-no-no, kid, this is normal volume,” Wade replies with a grin. “Wait ‘til Logan shows up and starts shouting at me. Speaking of which…”

Right on cue, Logan comes around the corner, his expression twisted in irritation. “Wade, it’s nine in the damn morning, why are you already so loud?”

“Why are you such a ray of sunshine?” Wade replies cheerfully, barely dodging Logan’s hand as he tries to grab him.

“Because you’re annoying,” Logan growls, rolling his eyes and making for the coffee pot. But Wade is already blocking him, a mug in one hand, smirking.

“What if I told you there was no coffee left? Would you kill me?”

Logan raises an eyebrow, as if daring him to repeat it. Without a word, he pops out his claws, a metallic snikt slicing through the silence.

“Oh, I’m shaking!” Wade sneers, clearly egging him on.

“Deadpool, just get out of my way.” Logan tries to push past, but Wade laughs, making some obnoxious buzzing noise that apparently does the trick, because Logan grits his teeth and stabs him, right through the side.

You jump, stunned, watching as Logan’s claws slip back out, leaving Wade clutching his side. Blood pours out of the wound, and you’re about to call out when you realize that Wade’s grinning.

“Oh, there it is,” Wade says, inspecting the hole in his side, barely even phased. “You got me good, Wolvie. Was hoping you’d go for the chest, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“What the hell?” You can’t help but gape at him. “You’re bleeding, and you’re laughing?”

Wade winks, dropping his hand and letting you see that the wound is…healing. Muscles and tissue knit themselves back together, as if he hadn’t been stabbed at all. “Oh, yeah! Y/n, I forgot to mention one of my best features: I’m unkillable! Like an annoying houseplant that refuses to die. Cool, right?”

You blink, still trying to process. “So…no matter what happens to you, you just…keep coming back?”

“Yup! Think of it like this,” Wade says, throwing an arm around your shoulders, ignoring the sticky blood on his suit. “I am the miracle of human resilience, cranked up to eleven. Plus, I give Logan a stress outlet every morning. Win-win, really.”

“Wouldn’t call it a win,” Logan mutters, pouring his coffee. “If anything, you’re my worst nightmare.”

Wade smirks, turning to you. “Logan here’s my best friend. Don’t let him fool you.”

Logan takes a long, deliberate sip of his coffee, glaring over the rim. “One more word, Wade, and I’ll make it two stabs.”

“Oh, two stabs?” Wade clutches his chest dramatically. “Why, Mr. Howlett, you really know how to flatter a guy.”

“Honestly,” you mutter, looking at them, “this is the weirdest friendship I’ve ever seen.”

Logan glances over at you, grumbling, “It’s not a friendship. It’s a…complicated arrangement.”

Wade beams, throwing an arm around Logan’s shoulder, which Logan promptly shrugs off. “Call it whatever you want, sweetie.”

As they bicker, Laura enters the room, unfazed by the chaos. She gives you a nod of acknowledgment before grabbing a seat at the table, watching the two men as if this is just another morning.

“Y/n, how’s Wade treating you?” she asks, a smirk forming on her face.

You can’t help the sarcasm in your voice. “Oh, it’s just been fantastic. Nothing like witnessing multiple acts of violence before breakfast.”

She grins. “Get used to it. That’s pretty much every day around here.”

“Hey, I call it ‘combat therapy,’” Wade retorts, tossing her a wink. “You know, bonding time for the soul. Plus, Logan secretly loves it.”

You’re still processing all of this when Peter comes in, looking almost suspiciously normal, like a PTA dad in a nightmare of superheroes and chaos. He gives you a friendly wave, balancing a bag of bagels and a coffee tray.

“Morning, everyone!” Peter says, the only cheerful voice in the room. “Brought bagels for you all. Thought maybe today we could take it easy and just…you know, be normal for a while?”

Wade gasps. “Normal? Peter, buddy, you’re really asking a lot of me.”

“Don’t mind him, Peter,” you mutter, taking a bagel. “I think I’m the only sane one here.”

Peter gives you a sympathetic look. “I figured as much. Good luck with this crew, Y/n. If you ever need a sane friend, I’m your guy.”

Laura scoffs. “He doesn’t want ‘sane’ friends. If he did, he’d have run by now.”

You can’t argue with that. In fact, the thought does cross your mind—why didn’t you leave? But before you can dwell on it too long, Wade claps his hands.

“Today’s adventure awaits!” he announces, eyes alight with his usual chaotic energy. “We’ll start with breakfast and then…well, I’m not sure yet, but it’ll be something awesome.”

The group groans as Wade grabs his mask and heads for the door, beckoning for you to follow. Logan sighs, Laura grabs her knives, and Peter just looks resigned. But they all follow, like it’s a ritual they’re somehow tied to, and after a moment, you find yourself tagging along too.

The day is filled with antics. You lose track of the times Wade gets hurt, only to heal right in front of your eyes. Logan mutters that he’d be better off without Wade, only to punch him in the shoulder five minutes later with a hidden grin. Laura challenges Wade to a knife fight, and Peter just sighs, trying to keep everyone in line. And for the first time in…who knows how long, you’re laughing. Really laughing.

It’s almost night by the time you head back, the sky darkening as the city lights flicker on. You’re about to part ways and make your way home, but somehow, your feet keep taking you back to Al’s apartment. You know you don’t belong here, not really, but when you reach the door, there’s that same warmth—a strange pull you can’t ignore.

Wade notices you hesitate by the door and grins. “Aw, he’s back! See, I told you I’d be your favorite person in no time.”

“Don’t get too cocky,” you mutter, but you don’t turn to leave. Logan, Laura, Peter, and Al all glance at you, each with a look of welcome that they probably wouldn’t admit to feeling. It’s an odd sight, this bunch of misfits, but in some way, you realize that maybe they’re not as much of a mess as they seem. Maybe, just maybe, you’ve found something here that doesn’t completely suck.

“All right, all right, enough with the mushy stuff!” Wade says, breaking the silence. “Y/n, welcome back to Dysfunctional Central. We’re going to make you regret every second.”

You roll your eyes but smirk, stepping back inside and letting the door click shut behind you. Because this time, you don’t mind sticking around.

As night settles in over Blind Al’s apartment, the usual chaos of the group fades. Laura’s busy sharpening a blade on the couch, Logan’s nursing a beer in the corner, Peter is cleaning up the disaster of takeout containers from earlier, and Al is sitting near the window, her face turned toward the cool night breeze drifting in. Wade, in his typical way, is chattering aimlessly about everything and nothing at all, flipping between mocking TV commercials and talking up his latest “brilliant” idea for a reality show. And, as usual, you’re mostly tuning him out, feeling a mix of exhaustion and…something else. Something that’s starting to feel suspiciously like relief.

Wade breaks off suddenly, his head cocked as he glances over at you with a curious look. “So, Y/n,” he begins, his voice dropping a few notches in volume—a rarity. “How’s our little…adventure going? You feelin’ the spark of life yet? The whole, ‘maybe being alive doesn’t completely suck’ kinda thing?”

You shrug, fidgeting with the edge of your jacket. “I mean, it’s…been okay. You guys are insane, obviously, but it’s not the worst.”

Wade grins. “Insane and proud, baby. It’s kind of our brand. But don’t think I haven’t noticed your little act.” He leans in, dropping his voice even lower. “You’re good at the sarcasm, the deadpan thing. But I can see the cracks, kid. What’s under there?”

You freeze, not sure how to answer. Part of you wants to laugh it off, throw a sarcastic line his way, but something about the way Wade’s looking at you, uncharacteristically sincere, throws you off guard.

“Why’re you asking?” you mutter, looking away.

He shrugs, casual but not unkind. “Because, believe it or not, I give a damn. And because if I’m gonna help you out of whatever pit you’ve fallen into, I need to know where to start. So…give me the lowdown. What’s so bad it made you wanna bail on this whole rodeo?”

You swallow, throat tight. The last thing you want is to spill everything, to lay out every messy thought and feeling. But the words are there, just behind your teeth, begging to be let out after you’ve kept them buried for so long.

“It’s…” You hesitate, searching for the right words. “It’s not one thing, okay? It’s like…everything.”

Wade’s eyes don’t leave yours, an unspoken encouragement in his gaze.

You take a breath, still unsure, but the dam is cracking, and suddenly the words are pouring out before you can stop them. “I don’t know, Wade. I just—I feel like I don’t fit. Anywhere. I’ve tried, I really have, but no matter what I do, it’s like I’m some kind of outsider. The kid who’s always…wrong. Like I don’t belong in my own life. And the more I tried to fit in, the harder it got.”

Wade nods, not interrupting, just letting you talk.

“School was a nightmare,” you continue, voice barely above a whisper. “People either ignored me or treated me like I was invisible. Even my own family doesn’t seem to get me. I just…there’s no place for me. No one who actually cares, and it’s been that way for so long that I can’t remember a time it wasn’t. And I know you’re supposed to push through or whatever, but I just got so tired, Wade. Tired of always feeling like I’m on the outside looking in. Tired of being…me.”

You shake your head, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. “Everywhere I look, it’s like people have these lives, friends, family, things that give them a reason to wake up. But me? I don’t have anything, not really. So I started wondering…if I just disappeared, would anyone even notice? Would anyone care?”

Wade is quiet, watching you with an expression you can’t quite place. It’s not pity—thankfully, you don’t think you could stand that—but something softer, gentler.

“That’s why I went up there last night,” you admit, surprised by the honesty in your own voice. “Because I couldn’t stand the emptiness anymore. I thought maybe if I just…ended it, at least it would stop hurting, you know?”

There’s silence in the room now, even the usual background noise faded to nothing. You can feel the weight of your own words, a relief but also a vulnerability that makes you want to crawl out of your own skin.

After a moment, Wade shifts, sitting down next to you. “Hey, kid,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I know that feeling. I know it all too well.”

You glance at him, surprised. “You? You seem like you’ve got everything figured out.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Oh, kid. I may be the king of talking big, but I’ve been where you are. Hell, I’ve been to worse places. You think I’m here just ‘cause life handed me everything I wanted? Nope. I got scars, inside and out, that’d make your head spin. And you know what? That ‘don’t belong’ feeling? I had that too.”

Wade pauses, running a hand over his mask, which he’s bunched up in his hands. “I used to think…if I could just disappear, maybe that would be the best thing for everyone. And that was before I became…this.” He gestures to his scarred skin, his voice low but steady. “When you look like this, people either turn away or look at you like you’re some kind of monster. It was…lonely. Really, really lonely.”

You swallow, something in his words hitting close to home. “So what changed?”

Wade smiles, a bit of his usual spark returning. “Well, I guess I just got stubborn. Figured if the world didn’t want me, then I’d make my own place. Found people—well, like the circus act you met last night. Turns out, sometimes family’s not about blood. It’s about…finding people who see the worst parts of you and stick around anyway.”

“Not everyone has that,” you murmur, glancing at the floor.

“True,” Wade admits, his gaze softening. “But kid, here’s the thing: you’re still here. And now, you’ve got us—like it or not.” He gives you a wry smile. “You don’t have to carry that weight alone anymore. I get it, I really do, but there’s no shame in letting someone else help pick up the pieces. Maybe you just haven’t found your people yet…but you’ve got me, and the squad. We’re not perfect, but we don’t go down without a fight.”

You look at him, a strange warmth spreading through your chest despite the heaviness of the moment. For the first time, you feel like maybe someone actually understands. Maybe, just maybe, you’re not completely alone.

“Thanks,” you say, the word barely loud enough to hear. “For…listening.”

Wade grins, reaching out and patting your shoulder, a bit rough but oddly comforting. “Anytime, kid. I’m annoying, sure, but you won’t find anyone more loyal.” He gives you a wink. “Besides, I told you—I’m not letting you off the hook that easy.”

You chuckle, feeling a little lighter despite everything. “You really don’t give up, do you?”

“Nope. It’s a gift and a curse.” Wade stands, offering a hand to help you up. “Now, you and me? We’re gonna keep going until you see just how much life’s got to offer. I mean, look at me—scarred, hated, stabbed on a daily basis—and somehow, I’m still here.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips. “You’re a walking disaster.”

“Guilty as charged,” Wade says with a laugh. “But hey, you stick around with us long enough, maybe we’ll rub off on you. Logan can teach you how to growl menacingly, and Laura can teach you how to stab with precision. Peter’s got the dad jokes covered. It’s a real all-inclusive experience.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, you feel a spark of hope. It’s small, fragile, but it’s there. Maybe life’s not all bright and shiny, and maybe you’ve got a long way to go, but with Wade and this dysfunctional crew, maybe there’s a chance you can start over. At the very least, you’re not alone.

“Alright,” you say, meeting Wade’s gaze with newfound determination. “I’ll give this a shot.”

Wade’s grin stretches wide, genuine. “That’s the spirit, Y/n! I knew you had it in you.” He throws an arm around your shoulder, squeezing a little too tight. “And hey, if it ever gets too tough, just remember—you’ve got us.”

You nod, letting yourself lean into the odd but reassuring presence of Wade by your side. For the first time in a long time, you feel like maybe there’s a path forward, one you don’t have to walk alone.

And with this crazy group, maybe that path won’t be as empty as the one you were on before.

if you liked the story don't forget to like, reblog and leave a comment if you want!

[beauty-and-passion]

CCCC Vol.1 - Concord: end and beginning (2/2)

Hello and welcome to the final part of this analysis.

Oh boy, what a long ride it has been! But now, it’s time for the last recap, so we can finally wrap the loop - and connect it to the beginning, as Chonny intended.

So, what happened until now?

We know the story is a loop. The starting point of this loop is an event, a calamity, that leads to a split in Chonny’s mind between Heart, Mind and Soul: a failed romance (probably)

At first, the three sides tried to cooperate as one, but then Mind started to point out the flaws in Chonny’s plan to confess to his crush

Scared by Mind’s influence, Heart intervenes, tries to subdue him (the Juno Incident) and pushes Chonny to confess. Chonny doesn’t: he misses his shot and so does Heart

Overwhelmed by apathy, Heart leaves full control to Mind

Mind tries everything to get a reaction out of Heart

When he fails, Soul intervenes and they get reunited again

The joy of being whole again gives Chonny a rush of optimism and enough confidence to revisit his memories of the failed romance.

And now, here we are. Chonny remembered what happened. What will he do now? What did he already do in all of the previous loops?

<- Previous post - First post

_______________________________

Greener: declaration of intent

Right after the end of this failed romance, Chonny does the most human thing ever: he wants to talk about it. And since he’s an artist, what better way to do it, if not by using the artform he knows?

This song is a declaration of intent: Chonny wants to talk about his experience - but not just that. His mind is dark, twisted and chaotic, so why just talk about one experience, when he can let out some of this internal turmoil too? As he said in the Q&A, he wanted to talk about duality and logic vs emotions, so why not add them to the story he wanted to tell? Why just talk about a failed romance, when he can expand it by showing the contrasts in his own mind through Heart, Mind and Soul’s characters?

Chonny starts to think about this. He wants to do it and he states it with these words:

Wherever this goes, whatever ensues These songs are my own, these songs aren't for you But still, I'm so glad you're listening

Chonny reconfirms what he said since Mucka Blucka: he’s not writing these songs for the public but for himself. To better understand himself, his own mind and that duality of logic/emotions he’s (rightfully) fascinated about.

That also confirms he’s a real artist, because artists don’t make art for others: they make it primarily for themselves. Not because they’re heartless, but because making art is a need. When I write, it’s because I’m pushed to do it. It’s because I have a weight on my chest or words in my head or images that keep repeating - and the only way to calm them down (and calm myself) is by putting them on paper. It’s like breathing: you just have to do it, to feel better, more satisfied and more complete.

Even though the public isn’t the primary reason behind art, every artist wants a public and every artist is immensely grateful a public exists. Even if the art is personal, knowing that someone else got something from your work, experienced, lived it… it makes everything even more important. You’re sharing a part of yourself and someone else, no matter if it’s next door or on the other side of the ocean, accept it and react to it.

And I want to focus a bit on the last point, because art is all about human connection. You’re reaching people you will never reach nor meet and with something you created, you touched them. You made them happy, sad, angry, it doesn’t matter: you still influenced them and they reacted to it. You made a connection and I can assure you, 90% of the artists need it to feel less alone.

This is what makes art so precious: it’s not just a way for us to express ourselves, but also to get a connection with another being. To not just be in our place, alone, but find others, talk to them, talk with them.

If Chonny hadn’t made this album, cj-anon would’ve never told me about that. I wouldn’t make these posts. You wouldn’t interact with them. We wouldn’t talk, connect, have fun together. We would be alone. If we’re not, it’s only thanks to art.

_______________________________

Special: inner fears

Chonny has a plan, a story he wants to tell, things he want to talk about. So, what’s the first feeling he get right after this planning?

Asking himself if he’s special or not.

Mood.

Seriously, when has anyone started doing anything, by thinking “Man, I’m so great and this will go as smoothly as I planned it”? Of course Chonny questions himself, of course he’s full of doubts. And it’s even worse in his case, considering he’s full of dark thoughts and recently came out of a failed romance - failed because he didn’t give it a try, because why should his crush stay with him? He’s not special at all.

So, again, very understandable.

But while in the past (and in the future of the loop), Chonny would’ve surrendered to these thoughts, now he thinks he can find a way to cheer, by switching perspective (aka “the key change”).

And it works:

So maybe I'm unique and maybe not But I might as well deliver all I've got

He’s still full of doubts, he still don’t know if he’s special or not. But he’s an artist and making songs is “what I can do” (The Whole World & You). So he will do it.

_______________________________

Taken for a Ride: a perfect conclusion

I have two possible interpretations for this song.

1) This song is meta from the real Chonny

The real Chonny (not the character) takes center stage to talk about his whole album: he explains the thinking process behind the writing of every song, his goals, the problems he faced. He emphasizes how personal this whole album is, because he poured a lot of himself inside it (“my blood, my sweat, my open doors”).

And now, the story is over. He’s aware of the missing parts/explanations, but there wasn’t a beginning either. And why shouldn’t there be a beginning or an ending? He’s still young, he still has a lot of years ahead. Maybe his story hasn’t begun yet. Maybe the real obstacles will come in the future.

For now, all he knows is that he’s whole again. He told the story he wanted to tell, he reached Concord and now his artistic need is satisfied. He doesn’t need to write more, at least for now.

And yet, his public asks for more.

However, Chonny doesn’t give a straight answer. By mentioning his public, he acknowledges people want more. He’s aware of that - and who knows? Maybe this will push him to write more in the future.

For now, he knows people want more from him. Maybe, when the artistic need wakes up again, he will make more songs and tell another story.

2) This song is still part of the storyline

In Special, Chonny said he would “deliver all I’ve got” and so he did. He made an entire album, to talk about his failed romance and all the themes he wanted to explore.

So, he talks/remembers the process behind the writing, his goals, his difficulties. He makes it clear he poured all of himself in it, as he promised (“my blood, my sweat, my open doors”).

Now the album is done, the story is told.

And the public’s reactions is strong. Stronger than he expected. They want more songs, more covers, more of him.

So... what happened? Well, we can guess from the previous hints scattered throughout the album:

Chonny is a man with dark thoughts, anxiety and low self-esteem

In The Heart Acoustic, Heart said “as complacency settles, anxieties will rise/And part this Soul as Jekyll parted Hyde”

Over and over Chonny will point out all he does are covers

And this part of Time Machine:

So, look Oh God, look at what you've done now to me Locked into eternity I'll be back here one day, so they say Rumors have that I will write a different song Trying to get it right all afternoon

I believe Chonny’s mind started to spiral. What if people liked his songs, only because they were covers? What if all they wanted wasn’t him, but to listen to songs made by others? Was he even able to write anything by himself?

His anxiety rose, while his self-esteem sank: he was stuck in a loop, always making the same covers. He wasn’t able to get out, not while his mind kept spiraling down. The “me left on the shelf” (aka Mind) was put aside, while Heart and his chaotic feelings were taking control.

Therefore, this song becomes the starting point of Time Machine: a man with a confused, fractured mind. A man who wasn’t believing in himself. A man who was stuck always doing the same thing. A man closed in a loop, in which he doesn’t feel like he will go out and is forced to relive the failure that started the loop in the first place.

That makes CCCC a loop that keeps repeating over memories of what happened. The first time, Chonny failed his romance, wrote the album, anxiety took over, made him feel he wasn’t able to achieve anything by himself, and started the loop. The loop is a constant reminder of how much of a failure he is, only to cheer himself up, to fall again into a new depressive cycle.

I don’t know if this second interpretation is correct and Chonny said it’s up to us to interpret his album as we want. But from someone this skilled and clever, I like to think he played a lot with metaphors and tragedy, so I prefer this second interpretation too. Also because it connects extremely well to Time Machine and what kind of loop would it be, if the beginning and end don’t coincide?

_______________________________

In conclusion

It took me an eternity to make this analysis of the whole CCCC album - and I was trying to restrain myself. Just imagine the endless pages if I let myself ramble about every little stupid thing XD

But I really, really wanted to talk about this album. It has been a wonderful surprise and I enjoyed it a lot. It was clever, it was interesting, it was funny. And Chonny really has a way with words. Good for you, mate, I wish you a great career.

Also, there were you all. You, with your kind replies, reblogs and your incredible affection. I've been in several fandoms and, despite being small, this is one of the nicest I've ever seen.

So, for you all who stayed with me until the end: thank you. Thank you for all the time you spent here, with me, listening and appreciating my ramblings. I hope those posts have been a good reading and you enjoyed yourself as much as I did by writing them <3

If Chonny makes something else, maybe we will meet again in the future to talk about him and CCCC again. Or maybe, we will meet in some other posts soon. Who knows? If the future can still hold a lot for him, why not for us too? ;)

Thank you for your time and always take care of yourself <3

(How about a coffee? ☕)

_______________________________

📌TAGLIST: @mudpuddlenl @allmycrushesaredead @aquatedia @whatishappeningrightnow @effortiswhatmatters @bella-in-a-bag @doydoune @forever-third-wheeling @payte @hypnossanders @idontreallyknow24   @imcrushedbyarainbowoffical @patton-cake-and-crofters​  @hereissananxiousmess @purplebronzeandblue​ @cynicalandsarcastic​ @lost-in-thought-20 @andtheyreonfire @riseofthewerewolf @rosesandlove44 ​​@arya-skywalker @csi-baker-street-babes @reesiereads @dracayd-universe @starlightnyx​ @stubbornness-and-spite @averykedavra @joyrose-fandomer @mihaela-tbg @igonnatalknothing @thatoneloudowl @grayson-22 @softangryfuckingdepressed @theotherella @nevenastark @coldbookworm @boopypastaissalty @varthandiveturinn @roses-bubbles @cuter-on-the-inside @snixxxsmythe @charmingcritter @analogical-mess @emphasis-on-the-oopsie @selfdestructivecat @yangwalkerao3 @the3rddenialist

[eclectic-sassycoweyes]

Hi Ada! Sorry your mind is in a bleh place - sending you lotsa hugs!!💗💗

1) I FINALLY replaced by gravel bike that was stolen this summer (long story short I bought a replacement that was on a prize offer for the insurance money but couldn’t break on it properly bc even though it was a ‘women’s’ model the grips were too big and the breaks too hard to push for my nimble hands hehe and I had to convince the store to buy it back and sell me another one and it’s generally really difficult to find a good one in my size so I’ve been worried cause it’s a lot of money😩) and the guy who sold it to me was soo nice he like helped me out for an hour at least and was so helpful answering all my questions. And he gave me so much off the prize for the best bet of a bike he had, so that I actually got a BETTER more expensive bike and hardly had to pay extra! And we joked too - so I left yesterday feeling both really excited and like ‘successful human interaction checked!’ (People are nice and random things will sometimes work out!!)

2) this weekend I messaged my professor this weekend bc I’d completely missed the deadline for an assignment that could help me get some feedback on my ideas for my exam project. I’ve never interacted with him outside of class and of course I got all over sharing about why I missed the deadline and why I’ve missed class a few of times and struggled to be on time, telling him about the memorial days for my best friend, my anxiety and ADHD and how it’s been difficult to get back to everyday life after travelling and then when I’d sent it I felt super weird about it. But then he replied sharing that he’s struggled with his anxiety this month and a personal anecdote about how he’d actually been in the process of getting his doctor to prescribe anti-anxiety meds when he held the presentation on mental illness (the course is called ‘normality and deviance’). He ended the mail by sending me a ‘mental hug’ and it really meant a lot to me. The day before, in class I’d been late, but still participated and we had a guest teacher who when he left called my name and said ‘it was interesting to hear from you!’. I’ve been feeling bad about my academic skills and aspirations lately bc I feel like other stuff is holding me back. So these two things reminded me, that so many people struggle even those that you think are successful, and it doesn’t take away from the things you’re good at and love doing!!!🥹

3) I wore my binder out for the first time this weekend, for my friend’s birthday and following night out and felt really affirmed and good about myself and in my body!! (Of course I was still hit on by a straight guy who got a bit gross when I very gently rejected him but oh well).

4) have a few pics of my family dog!!

And one of Moo Dom (thank you for the name suggestion D @carlos-tk ) who is one of your biggest cheers for writing delectable smut and making this fandom kinkier!!!🥳🤩 he reads along over my shoulder from where he’s placed on the couch pillows and he’s a big fan😌

I’ve been in a bleh mood myself - on and off everyday obligations this semester has felt a bit overwhelming, doubting my academic aspirations and the winter depression symptoms hit hard suddenly after my all-nighter to follow the election last week.. but these little things made me feel better and I am coming up from it and the sun is out today!!☀️

I hope you feel better soon too and take care of yourself and can relish in some of the little things along the way<3<3<3

- Life is a rollercoaster and a WIP! <3😌

what's up wednesday

Hey everyone! Thanks for the tags. I've been steadily working away at both kinktober and the rent boy au, but I'm kind of in a bleh mental space right now so I don't really feel like sharing.

That said, because of bleh mental space, I'd love, love, love to hear something positive that's happening with all of you!

Whether that be something that made you smile, something you're proud of, a picture of your pet, I want all the good vibes! Feel free to reply, reblog, send an ask, message me or not reply it all, I won't take it personal!

Tagging those that have tagged me already:

@nisbanisba, @thisbuildinghasfeelings, @heartstringsduet, @paperstorm, @carlossreaders

@strandnreyes

Then I'll tag some of the usual crew:

@reyesstrand, @herefortarlos, @lemonlyman-dotcom, @carlos-in-glasses, @carlos-tk

@theghostofashton, @bonheur-cafe, @basilsunrise, @never-blooms, @literateowl

@lightningboltreader, @honeybee-taskforce, @guardian-angle22, @goldenskykaysani, @eclectic-sassycoweyes

@freneticfloetry, @fifthrideroftheapocalypse, @sanjuwrites, @sheholdsthemoon, @actual-sleeping-beauty

@ironheartwriter, @irispurpurea, @your-catfish-friend, @whatsintheboxmh, @welcometololaland

@rmd-writes, @butchreyes, @emsprovisions, @tellmegoodbye and then here's a tag for anyone who just wants to share some good news <3 <3 <3 <3

[puppyeared]

AND I MET THE CHANGE GOD TOO. OKAY. COOL OKAY

[sysig]

Hi there! As a requestober request could you please draw something cute with Mob? I'm planning on rewatching Mob Psycho 100 and it would be great to see fanart of him in your style! :D

Day 17 - She loves me, she loves me not...

[sskk-manifesto]

Finally got around to watching ep 11 (´；ω；｀)

[jasminedragonart]

Oh okay so I'm actually getting some genuine interest in this post.

I actually did a course on publishing when I was at uni, the process to actually make a book is actually really easy. Doing it alone might seem daunting, especially if you're planning on making more than one copy but it's possible.

I'm going to put the process here which I'm using to make my own book. By that I mean with my atla comic, my goal is, once I reach the end of book 1 I'm going to make myself a physical copy with my own hands.

First, you need an idea. Sounds simple but it's actually the hardest part of the publishing process. My advice: get it down, make it messy, do it fast.

Second, if you're doing this on your own, you're gonna want to take a day or two and not look at it at all. You want to wipe it from your mind and not even think about it until we get to the next step of our journey.

If you aren't doing this on your own youre going to send your draft to your beta. You're going to get that second opinion and listen to every disgusting plot hole and problem until you want to cry. If you are doing this on your own you will also be doing this step but you are the beta. Your fresh eyes will tear that project apart.

Third, redraft. This is where things get good. You have a skeleton of a fic at this stage, what you're going to do now is add meat and blood and skin until you're just as in love with this draft as you were the first.

Fourth, repeat the second step.

Fifth, take a break. Take a long break and then read over your second draft again, you're going to find a lot more wrong with it now than you did before. It shouldn't be as bad as the first purge but you should be able to fine tune your draft.

You're going to do and repeat this until youre happy with your draft and your beta is too.

This is where we go to our next stage.

Sixth, the proofreader and editor. If this is you, print your work out, it's a lot easier to find mistakes when you have a physical copy. You're fine combing it now. You're finding little mistakes, little grammatical errors and words that don't sit right. You're going to send this out into the world so be happy with what you've produced, dont leave anything to chance. Even if you have to get your parents or siblings or friends to read your work just do it. A new pair of eyes spot things you don't even think about.

Seventh, if you're finally happy with your work you're going to start the publishing process. If this is an Amazon book I can't help you since I'm going to be printing and creating at home but there are a lot of sites out there and youtubers that can help you with that.

If you're doing this at home you're going to typeset your work. You're going to adjust the margins, the paragraph space, font and size until they're the typeset you're wanting. Since mine is a comic I will be making sure the margins leave a big white space near the centre so the art isn't lost in the spine. There are pages out there debating the best typeset to use depending on your book so it's entirely up to you really. For example young adult books have larger fonts than adult books.

Eight, after this you need to either, manually, or with a pdf app put your book in printing order. This is where you need to know about how books are actually made. Books are made up of signatures which are three or four pages folded together. This means the pages go 1 on the right, 2 on the opposite side to the left, 3 goes onto page 2 and 4 on the opposite side to the left. It goes on like that and it's not impossible to do it manually but it does require a bit of thinking.

Nine. Once youve put it in printing order you need to print and make those signatures.

Ten, you sew those signatures together. There's a tutorial on YouTube on how to do this and, again, there are variations and it comes down to taste, a lot of stuff after this is taste. You can add a bookmark at this point as well as binding around the top. Make sure you glue your spine.

After that you need cardboard and book cloth and a tutorial on YouTube because, again, it's personal taste but at this point it's not impossible, you've almost done it and books don't have to be expensive to make no matter what some people say. Make it how you want to make it. Research book covers and bookbinders because they will tell you how to make the most amazing book ever.

I'm sorry I don't have a more informative tutorial. I will definitely post my process when I'm making the physical book but that's going to be a while from now. Some people to look into for cool books are Nerdforge and Seallemom. These are the people I watched on YouTube to learn how to make a book. When I was in uni we used Amazon books to make our own. But I hate how those ones came out, physically, not people work since they were great, and the book itself was a collaborative effort so when I make my own I want it to be my own.

With that in mind, so many people on Tumblr know how to bind a book, they love to read and have a keener eye than some professional proofreaders. I literally don't know how a bunch of us haven't got together and made our own publishing company by now.

genuinely wondering how some people on here haven't started their own publishing company. It's not like we don't have the skills. The amount of bookbinders, proofreaders and artists on here could rule the publishing world if they had the right motivation.

[comfortlesshurt]

brutally reminded that somewhere out there is a physical copy of an absolutely terrible detective conan genderbend au i wrote when i was like 12

i am not thriving today so here's a tag rant

[akkivee]

there’s like three months until kuukou’s bday and i’m thinking it might be already time to start chipping away at my kuukou week this year LOL

[st4rstudent]

I think every social media website should have an effective tagging system, just my thoughts

[crimsononiarataki]

His own reaction had been somewhat instinctively, though hearing Yuji's heart beginning to beat a bit faster, and the other male's breath hitching made him wonder if everything was alright. Did he have any idea what his actions were doing to his boyfriend? Not really, since he'd never done anything even remotely similar before. He listened as the other spoke of having read about what just ended between them, he'd also read a similar situation in one of the various books he had, though none of them were overly explicit to any extent.

"I hadn't quite expected us to get to this point here, but I don't regret anythin' we've done so far, and I won't regret anythin' else, either,"

As the other mentioned not minding if he did it more often he'd hum before chuckling softly. He wouldn't mind doing it more often or having it done to him, if Yuji could handle it, at least. He certainly wouldn't mind working with his lover to help him learn, especially if the other man liked to do it, too. He supposed in that regard only time would tell.

"We can see how ya handle it at some point for sure, Yuji, I certainly don't mind that idea myself. We can learn what we both like together."

As he was pulled in for a kiss, he'd hum as he responded in kind, happily kissing the other back. Whenever the kiss was broken he'd simply smile at Yuji, finding the other being flushed rather adorable. Maybe as time passed his boyfriend would grow less shy. It wouldn't be immediate, obviously, but he felt that with time his beloved would grow a bit more bold.

"Hey now, I wanna see your eyes while we're doin' this, ya don't gotta be shy. it's just us here."

He'd shift a bit, using his large hands to adjust Yuji's legs, and maybe his position but leaving the other on his back for the time being.

"If I gotta, I'll figure somethin' out to use as a distraction while we get started."

Reading things in novels and books was all well and good but real life experiences were a bit more intense than they were portrayed in writing.

The grab to the swordsman's hand made Yuji's eyes widens in surprise, watching as Itto licked the liquid from his fingers. The feeling of his warm tongue made his heart beat and his breath hitch from the sight. This little shit...he knows what he's doing to him. Though Yuji didn't mind in the slightest. "Mnh...I read about it too...but..." Yuji paused as he watches as Itto moves up, his violet eyes staring into his sunset ones.

"i-i wouldn't mind if you did it more often...of course i-i would give it back in return~" Yuji adds, his hands cupping Itto's cheek more as soon as the Oni lets his one hand go. Hearing the mention of making love made Yuji shiver in pleasure at the thought already. The swordsman gulps gently as he smiles, bringing the taller male close to him, pressing a sweet kiss to Itto's,

"Mmh~ I can hardly wait...I want you, Itto...I want this..." He huffs as he stares deeply into the other's eyes, blushing still. He would just give a soft, shy nod in response to Itto's question, shutting his eyes slightly,

"Mhm...I-im ready~"