#tbh but faux-space things

[oveliagirlhaditright]

I feel like In Space With Markiplier is probably one of the only space things I like.

And some of you might be like, "But you totally like space things."

But the things I like with space in them barely count. Like Kingdom Hearts, where the other worlds (planets) in that series are Disney movie. Or Tenchi, where the space stuff in that series is barely in it, easy to understand, and not convoluted or anything like that.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

WHERE YOU LEAD ME, I’LL FOLLOW ; SUGURU GETO

synopsis; opening up is hard, even under the comfort of a starry sky, seated next to your childhood friend. fortunately, suguru knows you like the back of his hand.

word count; 10k (dont even look at me i got carried away ok….)

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, mutual pining, childhood friends to lovers (eventually. probably.), hurt/comfort (mostly comfort tbh), fluffy overall!!, reader is silly and suguru is down horrendous, written with a no curses au in mind, i’m madly in love with suguru geto and it shows

a/n; nothing goes harder than sugu w/ the childhood friends trope i fear. the angst potential, the fluff potential….. the slow burn of it all……….. anyways can u tell i miss him :’3

time goes by so very quickly.

as you look up at the starry sky, the thought envelops you like a fuzzy tidal wave; heavy, suffocating, entirely unavoidable. these days, sinking beneath its weight is all you seem to do.

a sigh flows from your parted lips. soft and quiet, somewhat resigned. the midnight air tastes cold and crispy on your tongue, turning into a flurry of vapour as you breathe it out again, watching it dissipate into the summer night. beyond the boundary of your vision, stars burn in tandem. all you can see is the darkness of the cosmos, pupils dilating as you take in the immensity of the world, the little flickers of starlight that glimmer in that all-encompassing veil of black — blooming out across the galaxy. 

the moon is beautiful, tonight. 

a big blob of reflected sunlight, smiling down at you so very tenderly, so gorgeous that it makes your heart ache. shining with a hazy kind of brightness, soothing like the lilt of a mother’s voice. 

and there’s a comfort, in the familiarity of the sight. because the moon is always, always there. always shining down on you, always when you need it most, even when it’s carved into a crescent or hidden by a blur of clouds. a view that never ever seems to change, no matter how many years go by. 

what a lovely thing to be.

another second lost, as you gaze into the nothingness of space. time keeps passing you by, never stopping — seconds turning into minutes, minutes turning into months. that incessant moving of the hands of the clock; tick, tock, tick, tock. over and over again. 

and, really, it’s a little bit scary. you think you might be terrified of time. you’re so afraid, afraid of being left behind, afraid that the world will turn its back on you and then walk away. afraid that everyone and everything will change shape before you know it.

but even in this always-changing, turbulent mess of a life — 

one thing remains the same.

”ah. there you are.”

(that voice.)

honeyed and smooth, but still rough around the edges. just a little husky. deep and familiar, etched into your brain; even if you were to forget everything else, you’re sure you’d still remember it. that familiar, familiar voice. it sounds like moonlit nights, and sunkissed kitchens.

it sounds like coming home.

a turn of your head. it’s a subconscious reaction, as natural as the beating of your own heart, memorized down to the very marrow of your bones — muscle memory, to seek him out after hearing the low timbre of his voice. you do it as if it’s the only thing worth hearing.

and suguru is smiling, when your eyes meet his. that gentle upward tug of his lips, small yet sincere. the one that always puts your mind at ease.

a warmth settles in your chest, at the sight of him. hair down, cascading over his shoulders and back, a little messy; as black as the night sky. a stark contrast to the white of his shirt, old, oversized, with some indie band on the front.

his eyes glimmer like little pockets of stardust in the darkness of the night. cutting through the haze, into your very soul.

”… damn,” you click your tongue, faux pout playing at your lips. ”how’d you know i’d be up here?”

suguru shrugs. ”lucky guess,” he lies.

of course i knew, he thinks. finding you is his specialty. always has been. like that one time he found you hiding under a table at your twelfth birthday party, or the time he found you crying in the woods when you got lost on your school field trip.

finding you comes easy, to suguru. almost like he’s always seeking you out, subconsciously or otherwise, always paying attention to your movements. you go south, and he follows. you go north, and he’s already waiting up ahead.

he’s worried. just a bit, is what he tells himself, but truthfully it’s more than that. because tonight was supposed to be for you. for the both of you, a celebration of your shared graduation — but before he knew it, you had slipped away. seizing the opportunity as soon as people grew too sleepy to notice. 

(sadly for you, no amount of fatigue could ever distract him from the lack of your presence.)

you look small, suguru thinks, curled up with your knees to your chest. sitting all alone up on the roof of his home, a place you’d always go to on nights when you couldn’t sleep. together, sharing whispered secrets and hushed laughter until the sun began to rise again.

back then, it felt like the two of you were the only ones awake in the whole world.

(the safest world he’s ever known.)

the distance between you grows narrower, as suguru makes his way over to you — and it always does, at the end of the day. no matter how much time you spend apart, that uncomfortable distance always, always ends up broached. one of you always moves closer. as if it’s unavoidable, two planets spinning around each other’s orbit.

suguru plops down right next to you, crossing his legs and leaning back. his knee bumps against the side of your shoe, and his shoulder grazes yours. it’s natural, as natural as the glow of the moon, this closeness between you. it reminds you of the gentle lapping of ocean waves at your bare ankles; on mellow summer days, comforting and familiar. a warmth that never goes away.

a brief inhale, and your heartbeat settles into a tender rhythm again. the scent that always lingers on suguru’s skin drifts throughout the air, mingling with your own — it can be hard to distinguish between the two, with how often you end up wearing each other’s clothes, but you could never mistake it for anything else. cedarwood and earl gray, with a hint of coconut-scented shampoo. enveloping every single one of your senses, grounding you in a way nothing else can.

leaning just a little closer to him, subconsciously, you let a fond exhale slip from your lips. barely audible. and suguru mimics it.

”of course i knew,” he whispers, voice gone soft. ”i know you.”

(your chest tightens. it doesn’t go away.)

another tiny breath flows into the air, as you gaze up at the stars in wonder. ”… yeah.”

the silence between you is a comfortable one. always has been. a little fickle, always shattered by one of you before long — usually you, though suguru isn’t much better. 

but this time, he stays silent.

he’s waiting. you know he is, because he always does. he’s waiting, waiting for you to break the silence first. waiting for you to say something, tell him what’s wrong, explain why you’re up here instead of celebrating with the others. waiting for you to explain why your eyes have looked so tired, this past week.

(you’d like to ask him the same thing. he’s an idiot if he thinks a little makeup is enough to hide those dark circles from you.)

suguru is nothing if not patient. so he waits, unbothered by the silence. admiring the stars, and the flicker of their light. a vague worry simmers in his chest, however, and he can’t stop himself from glancing down at you every now and then.

an insatiable yearning to soothe you gnaws at his heart — but he can’t, not unless you let him.

a sigh drops from your lips, suddenly. deep and heavy, like a rock thrown into the depths of a lake. the silence breaks. 

”hey, suguru.”

the man in question doesn’t speak, only emitting an inquisitive hum. he doesn’t look at you, either; a form of respect. knowing you’ll find it easier to get whatever’s bugging you off your chest without him scrutinizing you. 

the pads of your fingers tap at the tiles of the roof. an absentminded habit, as you inhale a bit of the midnight air. it tastes like summer. ”do you remember how we first met?”

suguru glances at you, a surprised glint in his eyes. he can’t help himself — unable to resist the temptation of seeing your face, drinking in your expression.

then he chuckles.

”haha.. are you feeling sentimental?” he teases, a lighthearted sense of amusement in his voice. bubbling up like seafoam. ”did you come out here just to brood?”

the corners of his lips quirk up when he hears you huff, hugging your legs closer to your chest with a furrow of your brow. cheek squished against your kneecap as you meet his gaze.

”c’mon,” you whine, pouting childishly in a way you know will make him give in. ”just indulge me a little…”

suguru smiles. it’s soft around the edges, smoothed over with an unmistakable fondness — and he does indulge you. he always does. ”of course i do,” he assures you.

the silence that settles between your words is tender. a mutual understanding, of sorts.

of course i remember. how could i not?

”you broke into my backyard.”

a sigh. heavy and sharp, as it tumbles from your lips, and suguru has to bite back a grin. his eyes shine with something teasing, in the dark, when you shoot a glare his way.

”okay, first of all —” you begin, ”i didn’t break into anything. i climbed over the fence. peacefully.”

suguru raises a brow. ”that literally doesn’t matter? it’s still trespassing.”

”i was seven years old!”

”some criminals start young.”

another harmless little huff, as you halfheartedly try to sound annoyed. it doesn’t work. in an attempt to hide your growing smile, you tuck your face into your knees. ”whatever.”

then your gaze shifts. towards that expanding starry sky, the vibrant flicker of the moon, like a moth to a flame. helpless to its charms. it looks like a giant sponge cake, the kind you and suguru used to make when that was the only recipe you knew — you’d eat from the batter, and he’d scold you. then he’d do it too, when your back was turned.

a smile settles on your lips. in every star, you find a new memory; and the fuzzy nostalgia that engulfs you makes your heart feel bare. ”i just wanted to pet your cat,” you recall, softly.

suguru nods. gazing down at you, basking in the expression on your face — peaceful and relaxed, a little more yourself. so effortlessly pretty, bathed in moonlight. ”yeah. i remember.”

he allows the memory to sweep him away, for a second or two. recalling the sight of you, all those years ago, an unfamiliar child in his backyard. it was like you had just fallen out of the sky. quiet and meek, but looking at his cat with an excited glimmer in your eyes.

”you just pointed to her and expected me to understand,” he continues. a grin blooms on his face, hopelessly endeared. ”you were shy back then.”

a raise of your eyebrow. ”um? i’m still shy?”

suguru gives you a look. he doesn’t have to say anything — it’s written all over his face. the classic suguru look, the kind where you can tell he’s itching to say oh, really now? the kind where he tries to look judgemental, but never quite manages to hide the amusement in his eyes.

a small giggle leaves your lips, and suguru smiles, once more. so helpless in the face of your joy.

”then we watched movies at my place.”

you hum. ”it was fun.”

”yeah.”

another bout of silence. soft, terribly precious. the air is chilly, but not enough to make you shiver; a mild summer night, pleasant on your skin and light on your heart. a gentle breeze tousles your hair. in the distance, you hear cicadas buzzing — a familiar sound. unchanging.

(if only everything else could stay the same, too.)

”do you remember what movie it was?”

a lazy smile plays at suguru’s lips, when he angles his face to look at you. one eyebrow raised. ”is there a point to this, or —?”

”i just wanna reminisce.”

suguru pauses. your eyes trail across the view that stretches out before you, from the moon to the distant city lights, as you fidget absentmindedly with the strings of your hoodie. he thinks to himself that you look a little lost. gaze forgotten, within the depths of that endless night sky.

no more teasing, he decides, tactfully. instead, he opts to answer your question; softly, as if he could hurt you if he raised even a single octave of his voice. ”whisper of the heart,” is all he says.

a hum, as you nod. decisively. ”the best one.”

suguru turns his head away, and mutters something under his breath. but you can still hear him — and you know he wants you to.

”spirited away is the best one…”

out of the corner of your eye, you shoot him a thoroughly unimpressed look. he bites back a soft bout of laughter, teeth sinking into his lip gently, not enough to sting.

”you’re so basic,” you grin.

”you just want to feel quirky,” suguru shoots back, instantaneous. ”and you only like it because of seiji.”

”you only like spirited away because of haku!”

suguru closes his eyes, and leans back a little, crossing his arms in a childish fashion — and you know he only does it to make you laugh. ”i don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lies.

”oh please,” you scoff. ”you really think i don’t remember your queer awakening?”

”hm? what was that?” feigning confusion, he puts a hand to his ear. but there’s a mirth in his eyes, impossible to miss. ”you’re gonna have to come closer, i can’t hear you from here.”

another unimpressed look. you exhale, something in between a huff and a chuckle. ”if i get any closer i’ll be in your lap, dumbass.”

suguru bites his cheek, softly. gulping down the words that almost slip off his tongue.

(i wouldn’t mind.)

”sorry, say that again?”

a little push meets his shoulder, as you roll your eyes. ”yeah, yeah. whatever.”

the banter dies down, as fast as it appeared. then a smile breaks out across your faces, in tandem, the atmosphere shifting into something more sincere — and doesn’t it always, when you’re watching the starry sky with the one you love most?

when suguru continues, his voice has taken on that softer tone, again. the one he only ever really uses around you. ”i liked thinking of us as them,” he admits. ”me as haku, and you as chihiro.”

a soft blink. then your smile grows, sweet like syrup. ”.. hehe. that’s funny,” you cross your legs. palms flat against the roof, knee leaning comfortably against suguru’s. ”i always thought of us as seiji and shizuku.”

there’s something faraway, in your eyes. something suguru can’t look away from.

tentatively, his fingers dig into the skin of his palms, and he speaks. absentminded, a little uncertain.

”… they get married at the end, don’t they?”

a pause. then your gaze snaps over to suguru’s, suddenly mischievous — and he regrets opening his mouth.

”oh?” you purr, almost beaming. inching closer, like a predator sizing up their prey. ”oh shit? are you about to propose, mister geto?”

”i’m just stating facts,” he quips, hands raised in defense. desperately hoping you won’t notice the red tint crawling up his neck, obscured by the darkness of the night.

”incorrect facts,” you grin. if you notice the blush on his face, you don’t say anything. ”they get engaged. not married. big difference.”

suguru huffs. it’s small, as he tries to keep himself from smiling. the beating of his heart is faint, a tender rhythm, stirred by every move you make. he pushes the words he yearns to say back down his throat.

(i wouldn’t mind that, either.)

again, silence blooms. curling around the space between you. it feels nice, just to be like this; just you, and your very best friend, under the soft lighting of the moon. as if you’re the only ones who exist, in an otherwise empty universe — devoid of space and time. like the night could just stop, and stretch on forever. 

there’s an unspoken question in the air, though. one suguru is still waiting for you to answer. one you refuse to answer properly, until he does the same.

you’ve both noticed, of course. even if no one else has, neither of you could ever miss it. suguru has noticed the turmoil in your eyes, and you’ve noticed the fatigue under his. those little signs of stress, as everything around you keeps spinning on; as the future grows closer, with every passing day.

(it’s overwhelming, you both muse.)

— and finally, you’ve had enough.

”suguru,” you call out, and his gaze finds yours instantly. ”have they been stressing you out, lately?”

suguru blinks, eyelashes fluttering softly. a little sleepy. they.

then he smiles. maybe a bit weak, but still as sincere as always — resigned to the fact that he really can’t hide anything from you, after all.

(of course you’d notice it. he was stupid to think you wouldn’t.)

a hum, as he breathes in the air and then exhales it all. trying to formulate the words inside his head, turn the feelings into syllables. and you’re patient. silent, as you admire the way moonlight caresses his skin.

”i’ll manage.” is what he finally says, and your lips curl down into a frown. ”they’ve just been getting on my case, again. you know how they are.”

suguru closes his eyes, and you inch closer to him. barely, by a hair, just to let him know you’re still listening. that you’re waiting for him to continue.

it’s tough, for him. opening up, being vulnerable.

but he knows you won’t do it unless he does, too. so he takes that leap, despite the insistent voice in his head urging him to just keep it to himself.

”it’s just… all these expectations, you know?” he meets your eyes, a little sheepish. downplaying his troubles so smoothly, as if you wouldn’t notice. ”i’m used to it by now, but sometimes i guess it still gets to me.”

you hum, and he continues.

”i feel like i have to be… solid,” he decides on. ”put-together. responsible, and mature.” a sigh, as he wrings his hands together. ”and that’s fine — but it’s like they have everything planned out. like everyone does. how i should act, where i should go…”

suguru gnaws at the flesh of his bottom lip, so focused on verbalizing his thoughts that he barely notices your fingers curling around his. but he still squeezes them, lightly. as naturally as breathing.

”it’s like my future’s already set in stone. and i’m just expected to follow it,” he looks up at the moon. ”which is also fine. i already know what i want to do. but somehow, all of it just feels so…”

he pauses. unsure of how to put it.

”… suffocating?” you finish for him. 

there’s a second in which suguru can do nothing but breathe. as if frozen, stuck in motion, caught off guard by how deeply your minds are intertwined.

— what a wonderful thing, to have someone pluck the words you’re afraid to say from the back of your throat.

a smile blooms on his face, and a gratitude shines in his eyes. almost overflowing. 

(you’ve always been the only one who ever seems to understand.)

”yeah,” he sighs, relieved. and suddenly his chest feels a lot lighter. odd, how just the tilt of your voice when you say a certain word can chase that discomforting sensation away. 

”don’t listen to them,” you say, assuredly, so softly it’s like you’re coaxing him into believing you. it works. ”they don’t matter.”

suguru chuckles, rueful. ”they’re my parents.”

”so? they aren’t you.” you nudge his side with your elbow. ”they have no say in how you live your life. you don’t need to live up to all those expectations, you know.” 

a soft little breath leaves your lips, and suguru wonders how you seem to always soothe his heart so easily. ”you just need to be suguru,” you mumble, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. ”that’s all.”

a moment passes. suguru parts his lips, closing them again when no sound comes out. and then finally, he speaks.

”… yeah,” he muses. ”maybe.”

”definitely,” you huff. ”trust your best friend. i know best.”

”careful,” he teases, tilting his head lazily to meet your gaze. ”you’re starting to sound like them.” the smile on his face only grows when you gape at him, wholly offended, as if you can’t believe what he just said.

”wha — suguru…” you whine, sleepy, clinging to the sleeve of his shirt. digging your nails into the fabric and tugging on it childishly. ”don’t say that. i’m nothing like them!”

a giggle pushes past his lips. ”sorry, sorry,” he soothes, ruffling your hair with his palm. rough hands, big and warm, that always seem to find their way to your skin. ”i’m just kidding. thank you. really.”

the smile that he gives you glows brighter than the moon. he squeezes your hand, softly — a silent i love you. eyes closed, formed into little crescents, and when he speaks he sounds so painfully sincere. 

”i think i’ll be fine as long as i have you,” he says. it comes out sounding something like a prayer. 

the words make your eyes soften. melting into a mellow hue, so full of affection that you can almost taste it on your tongue. 

”everything will turn out fine,” you murmur, consoling him. still not letting go of his hand. ”you have your whole life ahead of you, you know.”

he chuckles. the sound would be sweet if it didn’t have that teasing tilt to it, the one that tells you his amusement is at your expense. ”now you’re starting to sound like my grandma,” he quips, as if itching for something to bicker about.

but you only pout, and let your fingers slip from his. the warmth that leaves you is so jarring that you’re almost tempted to take his hand into yours again — but you just frown at him. ”i can never win with you, huh?”

suguru shrugs. ”need to keep you humble,” he chirps, pulling at your cheek gently. a lazy grin on his lips. ”we don’t want that ego of yours to grow as big as satoru’s.”

trying to keep yourself from grinning with him, you slap his hand away, playfully. ”that would never happen.”

”uh-huh.”

you give him a look.

”my bad.”

a moment passes. gradually, you feel your heart beginning to melt — just a little, but enough to get your voice hopelessly soft on your tongue. the glimmer of the moon embraces every cell in your body, painting over your features with a certain kind of bleeding tenderness. it’s hard to stop it from seeping out.

”you know that i love you. right?” tumbles from your lips, breathed out into the sky, words too heavy to be held back. ”even if your parents give you trouble, and everyone else, too — i’m still on your side.”

”always,” you promise, devotedly earnest. meeting his gaze. and suguru can’t look away.

something flickers, in the depths of his eyes, like a shooting star. something delightful.

he doesn’t quite know what to say. but he nods; almost meek, in a way, and it makes your chest ache. suguru’s always been the type to keep his troubles to himself, content with never letting anyone see into his heart — even if he’d like them to deep down.

if you can be there for him, even just for a night, then that’s more than enough.

he lets the silence linger for a while longer, soft breathing and the rustling of grass filling the space where your words would be. then he looks at you with newfound determination, suddenly, eyes shining in a way you don’t recognize. 

”— and you know that i love you, too.” 

a moment passes. 

an affirmative hum buzzes in your throat, and you give him the ghost of a nod, shying away from his deep gaze. hoping to escape the intimacy of the question. but he doesn’t let you, stare so heavy that you have no choice but to meet his eyes again, after he nudges your hand with his.

the words that fall from his lips surprise you. something akin to a pout plays on his lips, but it’s more serious than that — he looks dejected.

”… do you, though?” he pushes, a troubled frown on his lips. ”do you know that i love you? just as much as you love me?” 

at your stunned silence, suguru sighs, bringing a hand up to smooth over the crease between his brows. ”sometimes i worry that you don’t,” he admits. ”you always think too much. but i don’t want you to ever have to worry about that.”

his voice is firm, when he continues. ”i don’t want you to ever second-guess my love for you,” he declares, and you cower a little under the intensity of his gaze. playing with your fingers instead of looking at him. ”— so i want your answer.”

when his hand finds its way to your face, you stiffen, just barely. but it’s soft, the way he cups your jaw; the warmth of his palm smoothing over your skin. gentle, as he forces you to meet his eyes, tilting your chin up slightly. a bold move, even though physical contact is no stranger in your dynamic. you feel your heart pick up in speed. 

”do you know that i love you?” he asks, and it sounds almost pleading. you can only find it in you to stare. 

suguru’s eyes are filled with something, something you’d like to call love. and they’re looking deep into yours, almost as if coaxing you into drowning in their hue. mesmerizing. ridiculously pretty. if you stare into them for too long, you fear that you might never be able to look away.

but they’re sweet, and warm. painted over with worried hue, something very kind. familiar. the same eyes that have soothed you for as long as you can remember. 

in your flustered state, you can do nothing but blink dumbly — gaze darting from his eyes, to his forehead, to the sky, to his lips. 

he can tell the eye contact makes you nervous, but some part of him won’t allow you to squirm away. this is important. he needs to know that you know. he doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep at night, otherwise.

finally, you squeak out an affirmative yes. and that’s all it takes for him to relax; in one smooth motion, his hand leaves your skin, a relief having bloomed in his eyes. 

”okay. that’s good,” he exhales. 

swallowing down a gulp, your gaze drifts away from the boy to your left. suguru is terrifying, really — doing stuff like that out of nowhere. you check your pulsepoint, discreetly, just to make sure your heart is still beating. 

”alright, then,” he suddenly proclaims, breaking the fleeting silence. ”your turn.”

a blink. your eyelashes flutter in confusion, as you gaze up at him, a question painted on your features. suguru glances at you out of the corner of his eye.

”you’ve been stressed, lately,” he remarks. stating the obvious so you don’t have to. with a soft gaze, eyes that shimmer with understanding. ”i can tell, you know?”

(yeah. he always can, can’t he?)

”… uh,” you croak. clearing your throat and attempting to gather your thoughts, hoping the words will find their way to your lips. ”well. i dunno, really...”

suguru emits a low, affirmative noise, not looking at you. opening up like this makes you feel so uncomfortable. but it’s suguru. you trust him. and you know he won’t let you get away from this, either; he’ll stay up all night if he has to. just waiting for you to put your faith in him.

a sigh leaves your lips, finally, and it comes out sounding just a tad exhausted. ”i… guess i’ve just been thinking, lately.”

and, really, it’s an understatement. thinking is all you’ve been doing, for these past few weeks. thinking of this, and of that. the past and the future. him and you.

suguru hums. an unspoken encouragement.

”everything is just so…” you move your hands, haphazardly, hoping they’ll make the words easier to say. but nothing comes to you. everything is all jumbled up, inside your mind, and it’s just — 

”overwhelming,” you finish. the word falls off your tongue like a tidal wave. ”everything passes by so quickly, and…” you bite your lip. ”i feel like i can’t catch up. i can’t visualize the future at all, and that’s…”

(it’s scary.)

”— it just makes me feel confused.”

suguru waits. patient, attentive, making sure you get all the words out before he speaks. as grounding as the moon, as warm as the sun. 

when you don’t elaborate further, avoiding his gaze, he opts to finally soothe you.

”that’s understandable,” he chimes, voice buzzing with care. ”you don’t have to think about the future right now. living in the present is enough,” a breeze drifts by, tousling his black hair. ”.. it’s for the best, really.”

a smile. it’s a little sad, as you wring your hands together. ”i know,” is all you can say. because you do. it just doesn’t change anything.

the sensation of your nails scraping against the tiles of the roof is discomforting, but you don’t stop. when you part your lips, your voice comes out tiny. barely above a whisper.

”i’m so afraid of change.”

suguru looks at you. his gaze softens, impeccably.

”everything keeps changing. all the time,” you bite into the flesh of your cheek, harshly. ”i hate it.”

”that’s understandable, too,” suguru soothes. tentative, as his hand goes to rest on your head, smoothing down your hair gently. ”change is unavoidable. but you get better at dealing with it.”

”mm, i know.”

”and some things stay the same, too.” 

you glance up at him, and his eyes crinkle. there’s something unspeakable in them, something that’s always been there. light and heavy, all at once. something a little bit too wonderful for words.

suguru smiles. almost a little shy, as he looks into your eyes. ”like you and me.”

…

a deep love unfurls in your chest, warming you up from the inside out. fuzzy and tingly. but with it comes a deep sadness, bittersweet, that you can’t chase away no matter how hard you try; like a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of your shoe, no matter how many times you try to scrape it off against the concrete.

like you and me.

(he doesn’t know that’s what scares you the most. the thought of that one thing changing, while you just stand there, helpless to stop it.)

”yeah,” you breathe. a wounded little breath.

suguru notices it, despite your vague attempts to act like nothing’s wrong. he notices the fear in your voice, the uncertainty. and once again, he gets the impression that you look a little lost. like you aren’t sure where to plant your feet.

it bothers him. an itch he wants to scratch away. but before he can get to the bottom of it, you begin to speak, once more.

”with you, it’s like…” a breath flows from your lips, as you try to find the words. but this time, they come to you with relative ease. ”if i could do my life over again, and make everything turn out different… then i’d still always keep you.”

silence. you continue, suddenly a little embarrassed at the honesty in your tone. but it’s too late to back out now. 

”and even if everything else changes, if i could pick just one single thing to keep — then it’d be you, too.” the smile on your face is small, a little sheepish. “that’s how it is, so…” 

you trail off. not sure what else to say. suguru isn’t, either; he feels just a little bit stunned, in the face of your sincerity. yet he parts his lips, softly, words making themselves manifest before his mind can even begin to catch up.

”i don’t think i’ve ever told you this,” he begins, not entirely sure where the words will take him. blinking up at the sky, entranced, whilst you look at him quizzically. ”you always call me your guardian angel, right?”

the question makes your lips curl up. it’s a habit of yours, one that’s become almost muscle memory. you don’t remember how it started, but it’s in everything suguru does; from the way he can always tell when you’re feeling overwhelmed, to the way he never fails to bring you a coffee right before your exam starts. 

suguru is always looking out for you, even when you’re apart. like a guardian angel. yours.

you nod. ”because you are.”

suguru smiles, breathing out a fond chuckle, and then shakes his head. ”it’s the opposite.”

you turn to the man beside you, and he’s already looking at you. with his pretty, soothing brown eyes, the barely visible dark circles beneath them. his gaze is warm and fond, grateful in a way that makes your chest squeeze tight. you melt a little, under its weight.

”you’re my guardian angel,” he says, sickeningly sweet. ”always have been. even back then.”

inhaling the mild air, suguru lets his eyes flutter shut. the taste reminds him of the summer vacations you used to have as kids, when you would ride your bikes to the nearest river and play all day. stopping by any ice cream stand you found on the way there; you always took a bite out of his without asking, and he always tried to get angry at you. but he never could. 

on your way back home, the sky was always dark. a soothing blue hue, stars glittering in the distance, while the moon looked close enough to touch. a night just like this one. you’d walk, together, talking about everything and nothing — sometimes he’d carry you on his back. not once did he drop you. 

a breath, deep and drawn out as he exhales, basking in memories you aren’t privy to. a saccharine smile painted on his lips.

”without you…” he muses, voice a little breathless. fond, and somewhat helpless. but he’s smiling. ”i don’t really know what i’d do, to be honest.”

a moment passes.

”it’s the same for me,” you echo, words escaping your throat before you even get the chance to realize their weight. gaze stuck to the stars, as always. ”i can’t imagine life without you.”

suguru doesn’t speak, afraid that his heart may crawl out his throat if he does. the honeyed smile on his face says more than words ever could, anyway. 

a small bout of laughter leaves your lips. sudden, sad, dripping with longing. it surprises you, catches you off guard — like something within you just overflowed. 

“you know what my biggest fantasy was?” you grin, ruefully. maybe just a little manic. ”i used to think about it all the time, when we were kids.”

suguru looks at you in silence, but there’s a confusion in the way he tilts his head.

there seems to be a knot of some kind, stuck in the very bottom of your chest. something that makes it hard to speak. ”i’d get on a train, and just kinda… leave,” you breathe, hoping it’ll unclog your throat. it doesn’t. ”you know? to somewhere far, far away.” 

and suddenly, the world grows just a little blurred. suguru can see it, in your eyes — you’re someplace else now. gaze trained on something he can’t see. there’s an amused touch to your voice, but also something rather pitiful. a childish wish that never came to fruition.

there’s regret, there, suguru thinks; something close to pain.

”maybe, like… a small port town,” you continue, closing your eyes. “with a cute little café close by, or whatever… somewhere you can see the sea.” 

another breath. you pretend it tastes like salt, like an ocean breeze. then you swallow the lump in your throat, and whisper. ”with you.”

when you finally muster up the courage to meet suguru’s eyes, they shine with nothing but pure understanding. he doesn’t say anything, but he understands. he’s always been like that. not a single word is needed for him to ground you, the way a rock always meets the bottom when it’s thrown into the depths of a lake. 

suguru’s comfort is as natural to you as the gravity that keeps the stars up in the sky.

the voice you’ve grown so used to hearing reaches your ears again, and it’s a low sound, a little raspy. but soft. achingly so, enough that you could almost miss it if you weren’t always so aware of every word that falls from his lips.

suguru looks up at the moon, in tandem with you, and lets the ghost of a smile show. ”… you know what my biggest fantasy was?”

his gaze is sincere, a little forlorn; hopelessly softened, as you meet his eyes. they’re painted over with something sweet, and something that looks just a little bit like regret.

a tilt of your head beckons him to continue, and the corners of his lips curl up further. 

”running away with you,” he breathes. ”anywhere at all. wherever you wanted to go, i’d follow.”

for a moment or two, all you can do is stare. 

you feel your lips part, but no sound comes out, nothing at all. suguru’s hair sways with the breeze, softly, and the light of the moon makes him look somewhat ethereal. like he could disappear if you blinked. 

the silence that blooms in the space between your words is fragile. precious, if a little overwhelming, as it stretches out before you — growing heavier with every passing second. so tender that it makes you feel sick to your stomach, as if the sound of the wind whistling could shatter it into pieces. 

(your heart aches, aches, aches.)

a weak laugh bubbles up from within your throat, something raw and tender hidden behind a veil of faux amusement. something vulnerable you're trying to cover up, like the glassiness of your eyes.

like a memory that never got to happen.

”what, so you’re saying we could’ve been by the seaside by now…?” you groan, forehead slumping against your knees with a bonk. ”what the hell, dude…” 

suguru lets out a chuckle, resting his jaw on the heel of his palm and looking down at you with a smile on his face. one that reaches his eyes, glimmering with something akin to starlight.

”we can still go there,” he consoles you, reaching over to tousle your hair with a palpable softness. ”to the seaside, i mean. i’ll take you.”

for a while, you don’t say anything. a pout plays at your lips, as you attempt to get your emotions under control. 

then you lean back, to lie down flat on the roof. the movement is so sudden that it stings a little when the back of your head meets the tiles, and you wince — a soft but exasperated murmur of careful comes from the boy on your left.

your elbows go to cushion your head, as you take in the immenseness of the sky. ”alright, then,” you hum. ”take me there sometime soon.”

suguru blinks. then his lips curl up. ”got it,” he chirps. mentally mapping out a nice spot, trying to remember the timetables at your local train station.

(next week, maybe. a picnic by the sea. he’ll make those sandwiches that you like.)

then he follows your lead, and goes to lie down on his back. right by your side, so close he can smell the fading scent of your shampoo, curled up right next to you. breathing out a sigh as he takes in the night sky in all its glory. 

there’s something tender, in the air. something that doesn’t need words. a kind of comfortable silence that you’ve learned to treasure, whenever suguru is with you.

so you simply stare at the dark veil over the city, in tandem with him — a pitch-black blanket sewn with stardust.

everything expands, before your very eyes; an infinite cosmos, with all the light you could ever want. the stars blink down at you, as if saying hello, mapping out the galaxy. you try to find the constellations you’re familiar with, the ones suguru have taught you about in the past, but nothing really comes to you.

it’s nice, though. just staring at the stars in wonder.

an exhale, as you breathe in, and then out. you part your lips to whisper, breaking the sleepy silence.

”the stars are so pretty….” 

suguru hums, the sound buzzing right by your ear. a soothing summer lullaby, that only you get to hear. ”yeah,” he whispers back.

a moment passes.

then you both part your lips to speak; smoothly, in a fashion that would be embarrassing if you didn’t feel so terribly safe in each other’s company. simultaneous, as the sentence tumbles from your throats.

”and so are you.”

silence. the seconds stretch on, and on. everything goes quiet.

you’re the first one to burst into laughter — deep, the kind that comes from the very bottom of your stomach. almost wheezing, as you try to catch your breath, arms snug around your shaking body. suguru follows close behind, trying to contain his laughter, but you can hear his little chuckles clear as day.

”eww, what the fuck?” you grin, shifting to lie on your side so you can get a good look at his face. ”you’re so corny!”

suguru snorts. ”i heard you say it too, dumbass.”

a little giggle flows from your lips, and you slump against his shoulder, still trying to control your breathing. suguru curls an arms around your midriff, bringing you closer. muscle memory, to make it more comfortable for you.

”haah…..”

the smile on your face shines brighter than the stars, suguru thinks, looking at you with a bleeding kind of fondness. as if you’re the only thing worth looking at.

”i hope things stay like this forever.”

the light of the moon shines down on the roof, bouncing off the white of your teeth. your canines shine in the dark as you grin, youthful — but there’s a sadness in your eyes, now. one that suguru will never fail to notice.

(one he’ll always yearn to smooth away, the same way his thumb always goes to wipe at any stray eyelashes on your skin, or crumbs at the corner of your mouth. muscle memory.)

”they will,” he assures you, reaching over to find your hand. enveloping it in his bigger one, cradling it, linking your fingers together and squeezing them softly. ”i’ll make sure that they do.”

a chuckle leaves your lips, but suguru thinks it sounds a little meek. like you still don’t believe him.

”i mean it,” he reiterates. more serious this time.

”i know,” you grin. ”but, i mean —”

a moment passes, and then your grin falters. ”you can’t promise that, though.” the expression on your face seems sort of pained, now, troubled by something. ”maybe we’ll move away from each other, or just drift apart, or —”

”that would never happen to us —”

”maybe you’ll meet someone.”

…

”a nice guy, or girl…” a sigh, as you run a hand through your hair. ”and then you’ll… i dunno. get married, i guess. and then eventually you’ll have kids, and buy a house, and —” 

a pause. in a smaller voice, you continue. almost childlike. ”you’ll leave me behind.”

suguru bites back a scoff. it takes concentrated effort. he turns to look at you, but you won’t meet his gaze, and a frown finds its way to his lips. ”… do you honestly think that’s what i want?”

another moment passes you by. more seconds lost, never to return. ”… isn’t it?”

suguru sighs, a little exasperated. maybe just a little hurt, too. ”marriage and kids aside…” he mutters, burning holes into your skin with his steadfast gaze. determined, self-assured. the tilt of his voice leaves no room for doubt. ”there’s only one person i love.”

resisting the temptation to keep your eyes away from him becomes nearly impossible — so you let your gaze trail over, and take him in. in all his glory, silky black hair framing his face, a soft look painted over his features. looking at you as if you matter, as if nothing matters except for you.

and again, something breaks out across the scope of his iris, a shooting star you don’t know what to do with. he looks so hopelessly sincere. 

for a second, all you can do is stare.

then you nod, solemnly. ”satoru, right?” you hum. ”you’re gonna break my heart if you keep bringing him up when we’re together, sugu.”

you don’t need to see his face to know that he’s giving you that unimpressed look, again. the suguru look. he rolls his eyes, and you bite your cheek to stop yourself from smiling.

”i love him too, but that’s different,” he huffs.

”how so?” you prod, eyes crinkling. but there’s something a little meek about the question. he notices it, of course, because what doesn’t suguru notice?

something soft curls around his features, and a hum buzzes in his throat. a heavy tenderness bleeds into his voice. ”i wouldn’t die for satoru,” he says, simply.

a moment passes.

”… you totally would.”

”huh?” suguru blinks. ”no, of course not. are you insane?”

”suguru,” you sigh. ”you are literally the most self-sacrificial bitch i’ve ever met —”

”well, obviously i’d take a bullet or two, but —”

”what do you mean obviously —”

”— you’re the only person i’d die for.”

suguru is smiling, now. amused, sincere. almost on the verge of laughter, the sweet and soft kind that always turns your heart into a puddle. his eyes almost seem to glimmer, in the night, and it’s all you can see for a while. as you try to gather your thoughts, get the right words out.

”… always so dramatic,” you murmur, at last, a little gruff. his smile grows. you shift a little more, lying on your side to face him with a serious expression. ”don’t tell satoru that, okay? he already has it out for me. at this rate he’ll kill me and steal you away.”

a chuckle rumbles through his chest, deep and fond. you continue, a frown tugging at your lips. ”… and i wouldn’t want you to die for me, anyway.”

suguru lets a giggle slip, a bit too sleepy to hold it back. ”mm, i know. but if it ever came down to it, then i still would.” he shifts, too, lying on his side to face you properly.

”to me,” he exhales, and he’s so close you can smell the mint off his breath — ”as long as you’re by my side, i can make it through absolutely anything.”

the smile on his face is boyish. all teeth and crow’s feet, blooming in the light of the moon, a flower just for you. it’s perfect, you think. you don’t want a single day to pass without you seeing it. 

”me too,” you mumble, linking your pinkies together. a silent promise. ”so don’t die. ever.”

suguru’s eyes soften. 

then he hums, absentmindedly. ”… well. i mean,” he clicks his tongue. ”eventually i will. that’s not really something i have a say in.”

a roll of your eyes. ”alright, smartass,” you scoff, and suguru’s eyes crinkle with humour. ”just don’t die before i do, then.”

a hand comes to touch your skin. and it’s sudden, warm, but you don’t flinch away. suguru smooths over your cheek with the back of his hand, seemingly unable to stop himself. soothing, as he exhales a soft breath.

”… i think i’d prefer that to the alternative, honestly,” he admits.

you furrow your brows, softly. a part of you wants to protest, to call him a selfish prick — for even thinking the thought of leaving you behind without a best friend.

but something in you knows he won’t budge, on this one.

(it’s childish, in a way. stubborn, for him to take a joking conversation so seriously. but suguru doesn’t think he could even jokingly suggest that he’d survive without you.)

”seriously, though,” his voice takes on a firmer tone. ”i wouldn’t leave you behind like that. it’s us we’re talking about. you and me.” 

he says the words like they’re undeniable — because they are. there is no him without you. that’s always been the case, hasn’t it? 

suguru stops to think. do you not feel the same? there’s still a crease between your brows, a sign of worry that’s impossible to dismiss. he can’t help but wonder just how long you’ve been thinking about this; how many nights have you spent sleepless, thinking of the future? of the possibility that it entails your parting?

(the thought makes him feel a little bit nauseous.)

”are you afraid that we’ll grow apart?” he asks, into the haze of the summer night. it resounds in the air around you, softly spoken, gentle but coaxing. almost pleading you to open up to him.

and it’s a stupid question, really. 

of course you are. it’s the only thought that really scares you.

time moves so, so fast — always leaving you behind. who’s to say that suguru won’t do the same? that he won’t be taken away from you, swept away by that flow? into the future, while you stay glued to the past — stuck on the roof of your childhood, while he moves on to better things?

the night sky is infinite. sometimes, on nights that are a little too long, when your mind has grown a little too muddled, you think of suguru as a star in that sky. blinking down at you, while you can do nothing but watch. hopelessly out of reach.

gaze trailing down to rest on suguru’s collarbone, you swallow the lump in your throat. a little too vulnerable to feel comfortable with looking into his eyes, afraid of what you’ll see in them.

but he’s patient. waiting, always waiting, for you to catch up. for as long as it takes.

”… of course i am,” you mutter, at last. a weak little thing. farther down the street, a car swooshes by, drowning the sound — but suguru still hears it clear as day. ”i mean, it’s just…”

a meek intake of breath. you blink, desperate to chase away the glassiness forming in your eyes. trying to grasp control over your wavering voice. ”even if you say that we won’t… it’s not like there’s any guarantee. you can’t know for sure.”

suguru wants to stop you, right there. wants to ensure you that he does know, that it’s the only thing he’ll ever know for sure. just that one fact; you and him. never one without the other.

wherever you’d go, he’d follow — that’s how it’s always been. that’s all he’ll ever need.

but he knows you. knows you better than he knows himself. and he knows that he needs to let you speak freely, without interruption, until you’ve gotten every last worry off your chest.

so he settles for simply looking at you, curled up and biting his lip to stop himself from speaking. wishing he could smooth away the moisture in your eyes, already — but the tears need to fall first. he knows it’ll make you feel better.

”i love you,” you whisper, and suguru’s heart claws its way up his throat. ”i love you, and i want to be with you forever — but…” a shaky inhale. ”but i can’t get rid of that fear. the idea of losing you… i just can’t deal with it.”

”don’t you think i feel exactly the same?” he cuts in, softly. 

a beat. you glance up at his face, for a split second, and then back down to his collarbone. a little fragile, curling into yourself as if hiding. ”i don’t know,” you sigh.

(suguru’s heart breaks.)

”i know that you love me too, and all. and i trust you. but…” you trail off, swallowing thickly. ”you already have your future planned out, and everything. maybe i just… don’t have a place in it.”

suguru scoffs, unable to bite back the sound any longer. it’s soft, but frustrated. ”there’ll always be a place for you in my future,” he vows. ”i wouldn’t accept anything less.”

you cower a little, under the warmth of his gaze. sweet, but stern. so distinctly suguru that it makes you falter.

”besides,” he clicks his tongue. ”i don’t need to follow the future that’s been planned out for me. i just need to be suguru.” a warm smile. ”right?”

at the sound of your own words, a light flush blooms on your skin. but for once, suguru isn’t teasing you.

”and you just need to be you,” he continues, arm still wrapped around your midriff. trailing up slowly, so that his hand can smooth over the back of your head. ”that’s all.”

”as long as both of us do that — we’ll always be together.” he looks into your eyes, and you think you spot a constellation inside his iris. ”won’t we?”

another moment of silence, the familiar comfort that settles between you. there’s no pressure to continue — but you do so, anyway. muddled mind still spinning, worried about this and that, despite suguru’s soothing words. 

a part of you can’t put your faith in that kind of future. one where the two of you are together, that you could envision so clearly when you were younger — when him and you was all that you knew for certain. it’s not as simple as it was back then.

(but another part of you desperately yearns for him to prove you wrong.)

”… but,” you mumble, shaky. ”what if it’s not that easy?” a chuckle pushes past your lips, humourless. ”i mean, you can’t possibly… always stay by my side, you know?”

there’s something childish, in the way you say it. like you’re still kids, and you’re whining for him not to leave you behind. selfish, in a way.

what right do you have to chain him to you?

suguru emits a hum. his eyelids flutter shut, for a few seconds — and then he opens them again. 

”… alright,” he drawls. ”let’s make a promise, then.”

confused, you glance up at him. he just smiles — responsible, dependable. your very best friend.

”have i ever broken a promise i made to you?” he asks, and you pause.

”… no,” you answer, hesitant. voice still a tad meek, a little helpless.

(and it’s true. not once has he broken one. when suguru makes a promise, he keeps it. you’ve always, always admired that about him.)

”right?” he grins, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. admiring your moon-lit features. ”so let’s do it.”

a frown tugs at your lips. furrowing your brows at him, your voice flows out, uncertain. ”promise… what, exactly?”

the moon glows, big and bright. hanging in the sky, a beacon of light, the same as it’s always been. suguru thinks you look radiant, under its illumination — even though you’re nervous, and a little teary eyed. just a single glance at your expression is enough to make his heartbeat soften.

you look like what home feels like. 

he could never bear to let that go, to let you go. his very best friend; the one thing in his past he has no qualms about. the one thing in his future worth hanging onto, cherishing fully. no matter what.

suguru parts his lips, smiling. he links your hands together. ”keep being you,” he implores, steadfast. ”and stay by my side.”

a moment passes. 

something crumbles, inside your chest. unable to break away from his gaze, all you can do is fall deeper into the hue of his eyes, crinkling softly — in the same way they always have. he squeezes your palm in his, tightly. a silent promise not to let you go.

— and then you realize something. the same realization that always comes to you, at the end of the day.

the man in front of you is just the same as the boy you met, all those years ago. the same boy who saw you climb over his fence, and let you pet his cat, and watched whisper of the heart with you even though he wanted to start with ponyo instead.

the same boy, always the same boy, no matter how much time passes. even though he’s all grown up now, features more defined. voice deeper and huskier. hands larger, with rougher skin.

he’s changed, just like you have — but he’s still just suguru. just that cool, sweet boy. a dorky guy who never, ever lets you fall too far behind.

a tremendous softness seeps through your veins. a kind of love, old and matured, carefully nurtured. the blinks you indulge in are slow, and your eyes shine with tears. it’s overwhelming, seeing him so up close, but you still can’t look away. he’s so beautiful it hurts.

”suguru…” is all you can sniffle, meekly.

your best friend is still smiling, fondly. wrapped up in you, as close as he can be. a familiar warmth, like a big fuzzy blanket draped over your shoulders; smelling of cedarwood and earl gray, and just a hint of coconut-scented shampoo. tailor-made just for you.

suguru never breaks his promises.

”but… you can’t,” you croak out, gasping as if searching for air. ”you don’t know if —”

”i do,” he cuts you off, gently. ”i do know.”

a breathless inhale of air, as you grasp tighter onto his nimble fingers. you feel meek, lost. not sure where to put your hands, or what to believe. ”how?” you ask, terribly fragile.

suguru takes a deep breath. oxygen enters his lungs, exiting as he breathes out. a soft flicker of life. his thumb goes to wipe away the stray tear that trickles down your cheek, his touch delicate. and then comes his response.

”— because i need you the way i need air.”

and, really, it’s a sappy thing to say. a little pretentious. he’d feel embarrassed if it wasn’t for the soft flicker of the moon, the intimacy of the moment. he simply couldn’t bear not to tell you the truth — even if you end up bringing it up tomorrow, just to tease him. he can deal with a little embarrassment, every once in a while. just for you.

fortunately for him, no thoughts of teasing run through your mind. maybe if you were in a better headspace, a little less of a wreck, you could muster the will to make fun of him a little. who do you think you are, shakespeare? i knew i shouldn’t have lent you that copy of romeo and juliet. — something light and amused, just to distract him from the rapid beating of your heart. 

but right now…

all you can do is take a deep breath. and you think you understand what he means, when that breath of life courses through your lungs.

”i’ll never leave you behind,” he continues, words so very self-assured that it leaves you reeling. rubbing comforting circles into the skin of your palm, without thinking. muscle memory. ”can you trust me on that?”

connected to his gaze, you stumble for something to say. anything. 

but then he smiles, again. that familiar, familiar smile. as soothing as a mother’s caress. and only one single word makes it past your lips.

”… okay.”

you do trust him. more than anyone else in the world. so you take that leap, no matter how frightening it is —

and the world narrows down to just the two of you.

just you, and him, in this one single moment. illuminated by the light of the moon, lying side by side and looking into each other’s eyes, on a roof you always find yourselves at one way or another. laughing and sharing secrets until the sun begins to rise; a silent promise that needs no words. 

(the promise of tomorrow. a summer that never quite seems to end.)

suguru cups your cheek. his touch buzzes with warmth, trickling down his wrist and through his veins — and you melt into his palm, eyes fluttering shut instinctively. the sight makes the corners of his lips curl up, hopelessly.

leaning close, he plants a kiss on your cheek. delicate, tender; his lips against your skin, a silent whisper of i love you. fervent, full of devotion. of a love that’s as steady as the sea.

”i’ll always, always be by your side,” suguru repeats, like a mantra. hoping you’ll feel his conviction through the whisper. ”you’ll always have me to fall back on. i promise.”

a little smile breaks out across your lips, meek and teary. as fragile as a sheet of glass, but still persisting in the dead of night. your voice wavers, as you raise your pinkie, right in front of his stupidly pretty face.

”pinkie promise?”

it’s a childish gesture. something to lighten the mood a little, make it all easier to chew. you expect him to roll his eyes, or raise an eyebrow, or tease you a bit. but he doesn’t.

instead, suguru raises his own pinkie, and curls it around yours. then he smiles. sweet and boyish, painted over with a rosy, tender nostalgia.

”— pinkie promise.”

and you believe him.

you believe him, because suguru has a way of making you do so, even when he has no idea what the hell he’s talking about. with that confident tilt of his voice, that makes it sound like he has all the answers in the universe — that flicker of genuine faith, in every word that falls from his lips, that tells you he truly does believe in them.

you believe him, because suguru is the only person in the world who’s never once broken a promise he made to you. not a single time. and some part of you suspects that if he ever did, he really would be okay with you cutting his pinkie off. a little frightening, the depths of his devotion. the pure loyalty that courses through his veins.

so you believe him.

you believe him because he’s suguru. and, just like you can't exist without him, he can't exist without you. never one without the other.

on instinct, you inch a little closer, wrapping your arms around his waist and squeezing him extra tight. face hidden away in the crook of his neck, just like you used to do when you were kids. he’s bigger now, harder to properly embrace — but still so very, very warm. 

and he squeezes you back, just as tight. comforting and grounding, and so, so secure. tugging you closer, like he needs to have you near to properly breathe. like he needs to feel that you’re there to relax, melting into the hug with a soft sigh. relieved, that you’re still with him. relieved at the promise that you always will be. 

wherever you go, he’ll follow. to the roof of his home, to the seaside, to the ends of the earth. the same way every star in the sky orbits around the center of the galaxy, endlessly, before burning out into the night.

the smell of cedarwood and earl gray floods your senses, filling your lungs as you nuzzle into his neck. he’s warm, and soft, and your very best friend. 

you close your eyes. indulging in his body heat, every familiar sensation that’s been etched into your bones for as long as you can remember. and you can tell he’s doing the same — breathing you in, arms resting securely around your back, pressing his cheek against the top of your head.

and maybe it’s true, after all. maybe suguru really does need you, just as much as you need him.

and maybe that’s all you really need to know.

the moon rests in the sky. smiling down at you, unchanging. a living proof that some things really do stay the same. 

— you hug suguru tighter, and decide that his presence is proof enough. 

[bonefall]

the cats of the park is just frostpaw finally getting some therapy

tbh tho I feel like them being separate from clan life would help her immensely. They’re not so wrapped up in this culture of battle so they have a new and refreshing perspective (and also frost doesn’t have to worry about ulterior motives because they are STAYING AWAY from THAT trainwreck that is the clans)

RE: Nothing in BB!ASC is set in stone until the arc is done BUT

One excellent thing ASC has done with the Park cats that is commendable, is that they're treated as legitimate. Not inferior or malicious. They're just another culture that Frostpaw is going to learn from. The bar is UNDERGROUND but we've finally hopped over it.

So I'd want to keep and acknowledge that.

I think I might have an interesting idea for Frostpaw's journey. Also, side note... I'm thinking BB!ASC will rename every book because these titles are actually awful, im sorry. So I'd call this one ASC: The Source of the River

Gonna jot these down;

So, to begin with, Frostpaw calls the human. While being heavily sedated, she has her first vision of Riverstar.

FROSTPAW DOES NOT HAVE A SPECIAL CONNECTION TO STARCLAN.

She NEVER would. Screw that. Instead-- learning to connect to this vision of Riverstar, to her ancestors and their wisdom, is a SKILL she would learn.

Frame the journey less as Riverstar's Side Quest and more as Frostpaw chasing the Revelation she had while anesthetized.

So when she wakes up, she's thinking about how incomprehensibly VAST Riverstar was. She can't even imagine how there's enough space in the world to contain such a being.

Even the Lake itself... the lake is just a droplet, being suckled like a kit on the teat of the Southern Inlet river

For a second, her troubles seemed like a small flea on the nose of a great, cosmic being. But as she reconnects with the mortal plane after her dream, the flea becomes an infestation. She doesn't know where to begin, or how she can save her Clan.

She thinks back to Riverstar. The river that feeds the Lake. Was that what he was trying to tell her? That she has to follow it to the source?

STOP 1: RIVER WARD

The BB!Tribe is massively overhauled. The Tribe of Rushing Water defines themselves as three Wards (Cave, Mountain, River), connected by living on the same stretch of river.

From them, she learns about connections. They are simply able to call upon each other for all they need, there's no need to "appoint" someone to manage everything.

Families and friends hold each other accountable, networking and negotiating constantly. When the group must act as one, it casts stones.

Their Stoneteller is a religious leader, but all cats connect with their ancestors by personally interpreting omens, even without needing to go see him.

(Contrast to BB!Clans, whose Clerics are the KEEPERS of holy knowledge, and it is a sin to interpret StarClan's will on your own)

Yet, there are downsides. She can see ostracised cats who skirt at the edges of the Ward, especially the descendants of a particular group (called Flicks) that she learns once tried to invade the River Ward.

Though they welcome travellers and have a positive view of Clan cats as "family," she learns that they freeze out those who break taboo. Even for smaller offenses-- social faux pas and personal disputes have caused rifts within the Ward.

And the personal omen interpretation means that two cats can try and justify their feelings with religious commands, leveraging any "soothsayer" (particularly religious cats) connections they have like a social pissing match, unless they're both willing to get dragged to Stoneteller.

From all this, Frostpaw learns that she CAN connect to Riverstar and her ancestors, even if she can't speak to them... and that she must LISTEN. Not allow herself to twist her ancestor's words.

And all the Wards are connected, by the source of a river. Suddenly she answers her question.

"How could the world be big enough to contain a being like Riverstar?" Because water isn't all in one place. It's everywhere. It pools where it can and flows where it cannot.

And yet-- a single people is connected by its water. Three wards, one River. Five Clans, one Lake... three siblings, one belly.

Her heart aches thinking about Curlfeather.

She thinks of when quarreling Tribemates are brought to Stoneteller to arbitrate, and be taught the truth. Brought up the river, to its source at the waterfall.

That has to be it! The source, the BEGINNING.

Stop 2 would be WarriorClan as she heads south, but I'm not sure what they'd teach her yet lmao. Monkeystar says "Hi! Do you want to learn how to play a kazoo"

STOP 3... I'd want to rename the Park Cats. Maybe the New Park cats.

(evil brain: "Neopark. Make terrible petsite joke. Be reincarnated as a lotus flower)

There would also be a BIG recap of Ancient Park culture, and the River Kingdom. Frostpaw knows they had KINGS.

And a lot of aspects that modern Clan cats have-- ceremonial sparring, mentors and apprentices, the Law of the Deputy... those came out of the River Kingdom, before its collapse in the Code Era.

But these cats are NOTHING like the glorious tales of a Kingdom warrior. In fact... this is THE park!

THE park that was destroyed, which King Arc-of-Park lead his people away from. How could it have been ruined if it's still here?

(Reality: the Park was shrunk and landscaped. It was destroyed in that time to the perspective of cats. Maybe she'll have some visions of the past through meditation...)

But the survivors, and those who chose not to follow their King... they remained. And they continue to thrive.

Like canon, have them teach her the ability to meditate. Unlike Tribe cats, meditation is about SIGNS, not OMENS. Omens are physical. Signs are psychic.

(Also i like Bee so im probably gonna keep him as Frosty's yoga coach)

She sees Riverstar a few times, has details of Curlfeather's scheme revealed to her in enough chunks to piece together,

but is eventually bowled over when her best, most productive meditation yet... results in a black shadow.

He has a shining pearlstone adorning his head, and deep, wet pools for eyes. Very few other features can be made out, besides his paw, which is shockingly normal compared to his wraith-like body.

Somehow, Frostpaw understands she is looking at a Patron. But she doesn't know who he is until he tells her, he is King Arc-of-Park.

Though remembered, he is not invoked often. The details of his appearance are lost. All that remains of him is his paw-- carried on in a few expressions and the -paw suffix. The one which Frostpaw herself currently bears.

Since Riverstar, his beloved son, so rarely speaks in straightforward terms, he has come to give Frostpaw her answers.

But before she speaks, trembling with desire for finally FINALLY getting the truth, almost frozen by the sheer volume of things she needs to know, he stops and tells her,

"You have earned the truth, Frostpaw. Be not afraid to ask for what you are owed-- but we only have time for three questions, and I shall ask three in turn."

Question 1: "What did you need me to learn?"

"Many things. How to find your own answers. The perspective of the thousand eyes you've met. The wisdom that only a pilgrimage can bestow. I, too, was no leader before I brought my people up the river, and now you too must save RiverClan. Have you learned what we sought to teach?"

She feels unsure... "I don't think I can know if I have, until I go home."

Even though he has no mouth, she can hear his smile, "That is a yes, child."

Question 2: "What am I learning about RiverClan and its history, if these New Park cats are nothing like my Kingdom ancestors?"

He hums, "You have come to the source of the river, and are vexxed to not find the water that is already swirling downstream? No cat stands in the same river twice, for it is not the same river, and they are not the same cat. Are my people gone, Frostpaw, or do they live on?"

Stunned, her jaw hangs open ever so slightly. She thought she knew the answer right away, but his simple question becomes a riddle on her tongue.

He tells her not to worry. She does not need to answer his questions immediately, as they're running out of time. Ask your last.

Question 3: "...did my mom love me?"

IMMEDIATE, "she did. Child of my distant blood, she loved you like a king loves his prince. Ferociously, ambitiously... selfishly."

He cradles her face in his one, massive, silk-soft paw, like he's reaching out of the shadows, across time itself. His last question, "She put you in a terrible position, didn't she?"

A lifetime's worth of love and agony bubbles out of the kid, "SHE DID. She DID and I never did ANYTHING to deserve this, I did everything she told me, and I just wanted to make her happy, and... and i miss my mom."

When she returns from her trance, she's crying.

But her companions are here to help her unpack all of what she just learned.

Will probably end up letting her recruit a little DND party lmao... maybe one cat from each pit stop. Heartstar shouldn't be the only girlie who's allowed to get expansion packs.

Make a little found family here that Frostpaw returns home with.

RE: NOT. CONFIRMED YET. NONE of this is BB canon yet. Just thoughts I need to get down.

[glowingbadger]

Guarantee y'all didn't expect Shane to be my next target lmao but I've started a new sdv game and he's just such a sweet man and I want nice things for him. As the kids say- poor little meow meow

CW for a brief alcoholism mention

And damn Reader-Chan is a lot more forward in this than I usually write them lol but that's kinda necessary with a guy like Shane tbh.

Shane (SDV) x GN/AFAB Reader

A roll in the hay

NSFW 18+

Shane nudges open the door of your chicken coop with a bucket of fresh water in one hand and a hay bale balanced on his shoulder with the other.  You look up from where you’d been securing a new hinge on the smaller rolling door, and smile at the sight of him.  Truth be told, you’ve been looking at him a lot lately.  The healthy flush and subtle sheen of sweat on his skin pair nicely with the worn-in jeans and t-shirt he’s wearing to help you work.  His posture is straighter these days, and it draws your eyes up to strong shoulders that you hadn’t noticed were so broad until recently.  You’ve noticed other things, too- that he shaves more often, though by late afternoon he’s regained that five-o-clock shadow you’d always thought was strangely handsome on him.  That he positively glows and smiles in a way that brings creases to the corners of his eyes when he talks about Jas, or all the progress he and Marnie have made with the animals.  That he spends less time at the Saloon and more visiting you.

“Over here good?” he asks, shaking you from your thoughts.

“Hm?  Oh- yeah, that corner’s perfect, thanks,” you straighten up and brush off the front of your shirt and shorts, with a brief ‘whew!’  Then, you take a look around the newly-immaculate coop with your hands planted proudly on your hips. 

“Man, this place is looking as nice as the day Robin built it.  I really appreciate your help today, Shane.” you smile, catching the way he fidgets with the pocket knife in his hand as he bends to cut the bale of hay loose.

“Nah, it’s no big deal.”

“Well it is to me.  Afterall, I’ve got assistance from the Valley’s foremost chicken husbandry expert.” you’re sure to add a note of grandeur to the title.

“‘Foremost expert?’  C’mon,” he says with a short laugh.  In a practiced motion, he cleanly cuts the ropes around the hay and pulls them free, adding, “You give me way too much credit.” 

“And you give yourself no credit,” you reply, crossing your arms in a faux-pout as he rises and turns to you, “So I have to give you enough for the both of us.” 

He sighs, but he can’t seem to help the way the corner of his mouth curls into a grin.  With his dark brown eyes cast low, he tries to act like he’s focusing really hard on closing up his knife and storing it back in his pocket. 

“Well, y’know,” he mumbles, “I’m… happy to help with anything you need, just ask.  I’d like to be more reliable- at least for Aunt Marnie and Jas, and, uh… for you.”

Your smile softens, and you step closer to him, but before you can speak, he adds,

“Sorry, that must’ve sounded weird.  I- I’m gonna get this hay taken care of.” 

You almost laugh- he’s just too sweet, but you can’t risk making him feel more self-conscious.  So, stealing just a moment longer to watch him grab the nearby rake and start work in the corner, you decide to give him a bit of space and head into the house for some water. 

Shane has just finished arranging the fresh hay in a pile in the corner of the coop by the time you come back with water bottles and towels for you both.  You toss one of each to him with a nod, which he lurches back a step to catch. 

“Thanks,” he says with a heavy exhale.  He sounds exhausted from the day’s work, but pleasantly so, and you smile as you watch him wipe his face and hands clean with the towel.  Truly, it had been a huge help to have him around to help with a few things you’d been putting off, though you suppose he’s used to this kind of work.  The chickens are content to mill around in the fields outside until you finished, and two people had made for surprisingly light work all things told, so you feel you both have earned the chance to catch your breath and relax.  

Shane stretches out his arms, one and then the other, and you note for the third or fourth time that day that he actually has some impressive strength hidden on that physique of his.  You’d only recently started to take note, but it makes sense; carrying around product crates at Joja every day for so long- and now at Pierre's -not to mention the work he does to help Marnie with her own chickens, it follows that he’d have built up some muscle under his soft exterior.  Looking at him once again causes a familiar flutter in your stomach, and you smile to yourself.

He takes a swig of water, then glances over at you.

“Something on my face?”

You shrug.

“No, sorry,” you make your way towards the hay piled up in the corner and plop down onto the floor, then lie back against it, reclining comfortably with your hands behind your head and legs crossed out in front of you.  Shane follows your lead, careful to keep a respectful distance as he settles on straw beside you.  

“I was actually wondering,” you turn on your side towards him, closing half of that distance, “What suddenly inspired you to come help me out today?  Like I said, I appreciate it, you’ve been a huge help- but I figured you’d want to relax on a day off.” 

His eyes scan your face for a moment, then he looks blankly back up at the ceiling.

“Well you know, you’ve done a lot for me.  Been there for me, listened to me ramble about stupid stuff, and, uh… just figured I’d try to do something for you.” 

You smile warmly at him, but he goes on,

“And, well…” he sighs, running a hand through his dark hair, “Truth is, It’s also… been one of those days, actually.  When I start feeling like… hey, a drink or two, what’s the harm?  And I guess- if it were actually one or two, that would be fine, but I know myself.” His expression darkens, and he sighs again, heavier this time. 

“So you needed something to take your mind off of it,” you say.

“Basically, yeah,” he turns back to you wearing a wry smile, “Sorry to make you babysit me.  I guess that’s pretty lame, huh.” 

“Not at all,” you shift closer to him, “I’m really happy that you trust me enough to come to me with this.  Besides, isn’t this a huge step forward?  Reaching out and doing something productive instead of falling back on bad habits?”

“I… I guess so.” he almost looks unsure of whether he can allow himself to smile at this or not, and his eyes shy from yours. 

“Shane,” you’re lying closer to him now, your bodies in that strange space where you can feel one another without touching, “I want you to know that I’m really, really proud of you.” 

His eyes flicker down for a moment, you think towards your mouth, and his face is visibly pink. 

“Man.  How do you always know exactly what to say?  It’s… totally unfair.” 

When you bring a hand gently to his cheek and lean closer, he seems to freeze at first, until he leans towards you at the last moment before your lips meet.  Shane’s are soft, his kiss slow and incredibly tender- though tentative still.  His hand rests over yours, but gently, as though he’s not yet sure whether he should touch you.  When your tongue grazes his lower lip, he gives a breathy moan that you only barely hear, and briefly, you part from the kiss.  You rest your forehead against his, and he whispers your name with audible disbelief.  He’s trembling just a little.  His hand reverently brushes your hair from your face. 

Without a word, you kiss him again, harder this time.  He can’t hold back a low groan, and the sound squeezes around your heart and warms your body.  You only break from him for a moment to sling your leg over his hips, straddling his lap and pressing yourself to him.  At last, he wraps those strong arms around you, holding you close as your tongues tease one another and your nails dig down his chest from atop his clothes.  Your pulse is pounding, and you can feel from his chest that Shane’s is too.  Yet when your hands run down his torso to ease his shirt upward, he halts, breathless.

“Y/N, wait- you… you don’t have to do this.” 

You feel his touch abandon you.  When you look curiously down at him, he’s doing his best to appear stoic. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” his eyes dart away from you, “I appreciate what you’re trying to do and everything, but… it wouldn’t feel right to go this far.  Just to, y’know, cheer me up or whatever.” 

Your heart aches as his words sink in.

“Shane,” your tone is gently admonishing, “Is it really that hard for you to believe that I like you?” 

He takes a breath, his face burning red.

“Well, uh… ki- kinda…” 

Wordlessly, you take his hands in yours and guide them to your waist.  He looks up at you, surprised, confused, and eager despite himself.  Then, you guide his touch along your sides- slowly, so he can feel each inch of your body as it passes under his palms.  When his hands reach your breasts, you encourage him, pressing his touch more firmly to you, squeezing soft flesh until you feel his cock, hot and hard between your thighs, throb conspicuously in response.  

“Shit, sorry, I-”

“Don’t apologize.” 

You grind your hips down onto him, rutting your warmth against his erection and wishing dearly that there wasn’t so much damned fabric between you and him.  He looks gorgeous like this- flush-faced, muscles tensed, watching you with rapt attention as you encourage him to touch you as he likes.  At last, it seems he no longer needs direct guidance; his hands cup and massage your breasts, firm but never rough or forceful.  Now and then, he lets his hips shift against yours, creating that wonderful friction between you.  You lean down and kiss him again, deeply and firmly, willing your feelings to reach him.  You know that words and platitudes would do nothing for a man like Shane.  You’re determined to show him how earnestly you want him. 

Once again, your fingertips play at the bottom hem of his t-shirt, slowly pulling it upward.  When your lips part from his, he’s softly panting, his breath hot and eyes hazy.  You linger near enough that your lips brush his when you speak,

“Please, Shane?” 

He nods, and you give him enough space to tug the shirt over his head.  Clumsily, he shoves the shirt beneath him to avoid scratching his back against the hay.  You think for a moment that maybe you should take this to your bedroom- but damn, he just looks too good laid out on the straw beneath you, hair mussed out of place, flushed skin still dewed with the slightest hint of sweat.

You can’t help yourself- you press your body to his and kiss down the column of his neck, stopping to bite here and there, reveling in every mark you gift him along the way.  He groans out your name, hands running along your hips, gripping the swell of your thighs, even bold enough at last to grab onto your ass and pull you against him.  Only after you’ve kissed and bitten and caressed to your heart’s content, dragged your nails down his chest and felt him arch against you, do you finally pause.  

“Wait just one second,” you whisper in the heated air between you.  Then, you get to your feet to undress.  He watches you in a state of restless arousal and lingering disbelief as you strip for him.  You’re tempted to prolong the process and really savor his adoring eyes on you- but you find you’re too eager for what’s to come.  So you remove shorts and flannel and undergarments, leaving yourself in only your work boots and returning to his lap as quickly as you can.  

“Wow…” Shane’s hands run the contours of your body as he takes you in, and you smile down at him.  

“Do you believe that I want you yet?”  Your tone is playful, but the question is at least partly sincere.  

“I dunno,” he can’t tear his eyes from your body, “Seeing you like this honestly makes it even harder to believe.  You’re just- you’re so… wow.  It feels like a dream.  Or like I’ve lost it and this is all in my head.” 

As he speaks, your hands run down his front to undo the button of his pants.  Then, you hold his gaze as you slowly drag down the zipper.  Your touch firm but gentle, you free his rock-solid cock from his boxers and let out a happy little moan at the sight of it.  On the larger side of average length, extremely thick and pleasantly veined, it’s an incredibly tempting sight.  You stroke it once with your hand, then again and again, less tentatively each time.  You enjoy the heft and shape of it, and the way Shane catches his breath at your touch.  He’s sensitive- each brush and caress of your hand, each teasing motion of your fingers, has him blushing and biting back his voice.  You consider prolonging this too, but the raw lust you can see blazing in his eyes despite himself, the way he stammers out your name when you grip him more firmly and precum slickens the head of his member- it’s far too erotic to resist.

You position yourself carefully over him, the head of his cock nestled between your lower lips- but you don’t let him enter you just yet.  Instead, you sway your hips against him, rubbing his entire length against your needy cunt.  He moans aloud, his fingers gripping tight at your thighs, his member twitching.

“Does this feel like a dream?” you say with a grin.

“No, it- it feels good,” he manages, “So damn good…” 

You continue grinding against him, bulging veins and the ridge of his crown all stroking you sinfully with each pass.  Before long, you’re able to angle yourself so your clit rubs against his cockhead as your hips sway, and you let out a pleasured whine that sends a shiver through him.  By now, he’s coated in your arousal, his length glistening with your release.  

“Can you feel how wet I am for you?”

“Nngh, yeah,” he groans, “Fuck, so hot…”

For a moment, you feel his hands at your hips trying to guide you onto him, his body bucking slightly towards you, seeking you out.  You smile and place a brief kiss to his lips, then say,

“You can stop holding back now, Shane.” 

His arm wraps around your midsection, warm and sturdy, and he turns you onto your back.  A few awkward moments pass in a frenzy as he shifts his discarded shirt under you to ensure your comfort, and you fumble a hand to the side to grab the condom from your shorts’ pocket.  He seems surprised that you’d had it on hand, but opens it and rolls it down onto his length regardless. His brow is handsomely furrowed as he guides the tip to your entrance.  You watch him in a blissful haze, arms wrapped loosely around his broad shoulders, and you gasp as he begins to push into you.  

“Ohh..!” 

Each inch of his thick cock stretches you wonderfully as he thrusts forward, and your head tilts back, your toes curl.  Once inside of you, he hooks an arm under one of your knees, holding your legs spread open as he fills you.

“Fuck, you feel even better than I imagined…” 

Your face warms at the thought that he’d fantasized about this- perhaps even pleasured himself to the thought of you.  You’ll have to pursue that train of thought later- right now, you can’t think of anything but how damn good it feels to finally have him.  To feel his body start to move in tandem with yours, massaging the bulging contours of his cock into you.  To see him looking at you like you’re some unearthly beauty.  

You pull Shane down to you and kiss him, your tongue sliding into his mouth and coaxing him further.  With a groan, he drives his hips forward, stuffing you full of him until you’ve taken him to the base of his throbbing member.  Gasping and whimpering blissfully into his mouth, your nails rake along his strong shoulders and into his hair.  Somewhere in the back of your pleasure-dazed mind, it occurs to you that if anyone happened to stop by the farm today, they’d easily hear your cries through the flimsy walls of the chicken coop.  You quickly decide that you don’t care; in this moment, nothing is more important than showing Shane how you feel about him.  He needs to know that he’s cared for, wanted, desired.  

He pulls away from your kiss, and on instinct, you tug him back down to you with your arms around his neck.  At first, he relents, relaxing back into your embrace and kissing you over and over while he bucks into you at a steady pace.  Eventually, however, he decisively straightens his back to kneel over you, his thrusts slowing but never ceasing- you’re not sure he could bring himself to stop rubbing himself against your clenching inner walls.  Just when you’re about to question him, he brings a hand between your legs, his thumb fumbling a bit clumsily at first until he strokes across your stiffened clit.  

“Ohh… fuck, right there..!” 

“Like this?”

“Yeah- ohh, yes, just like that!”

Shane takes your direction well- a bit unsure at first, the moment he finds the right pressure, the right pace, the right angle, he memorizes your preference.  Your legs wrap around his midsection, pulling him close until he’s sheathed deeply in you while his fingers tease your clit.  His free hand grips at your thigh as he watches you squirming and arching beneath him.  He’s entranced.

“S’that good?”

You nod, biting at your lower lip.

“So good, Shane… c-close- I’m gonna..!  Mmmh!” 

“Fuck-” he exhales, his hips bucking more forcefully into you, “Let me feel it.  Please, Y/N, I- I wanna feel you cum..!” 

Your thighs are trembling, your cunt squeezing tight around him.  Eyes hazy, you manage to meet his adoring gaze as you inch closer and closer to the edge.  Your hands scramble to grab onto anything, and only find the hay and his shirt beneath you.  He’s massaging your tender clit just right, his cock stretching you perfectly.  Shane is determined to satisfy you- his focus is relentless, reverent affection openly shining in his eyes.  Soon, gasping his name, your eyes roll back as you’re swallowed in a wave of mind-numbing pleasure.  And it seems bringing you to this blissful release breaks through to something in him.  

Before you’ve even fully recovered from the aftershocks of your orgasm, he lowers himself to you and wraps an arm around your waist.  His cock draws out from you nearly to the tip, then slams back in, forcing a desperate cry from your lips.  The next thrust is every bit as forceful, and you’re certain he’d be pushing you away from him if he weren’t holding you so close.  Shane maintains this pace, fucking into you with long, powerful strokes of his cock that never become fast enough to numb you to the sensation.  Your limbs feel weak, your head fuzzy and thoughts scrambled.

Shane’s lips find the crook of your neck, spoiling you with deep, erotic kisses.  When he marks you, it’s not the precious, playful little love-bites you left him; his marks are dark bruises, his teeth pressing to you until just before the pain becomes too much and leaving you branded with his lust.  Your nails scrape across his back, and in the moment, neither of you even notice.  Swollen red lines left as souvenirs will be a lasting reminder of your shared passions. 

“So tight… nngh, fuck-” he grunts your name against your skin, “Dunno… how much more of this I can take…”

“It’s okay, Shane,” you say softly between gasping moans, “I- I want it..!  Please-!” 

His kiss presses you down against the bed of hay.  His hands run up your sides, pulling you back against his thrusts, ensuring that the head of his cock hits deep with each push.  Then, panting for breath with his forehead resting on yours, you feel his climax in every part of his body on yours.  You feel the way his cock swells and lurches with each spurt of cum.  The way his hands hold almost painfully tight at your waist.  The way his muscles tense, his frame shivers, his voice stalls between grunting moans.  He’s gorgeous- and you can’t help breathing out his name as your own body feels both boneless and weightless beneath him.  Then at last, you exhale in unison, bodies still tangled together as muscles go slack.

You imagine you look an utter mess.  Stray bits of straw poke through your hair, to say nothing of the sweat shared between your body and Shane’s.  You’re marked up, red in the face and short of breath- and you can’t recall the last time you felt so wonderfully satisfied.  Gazing up at Shane as he regains his bearings- to some measure of success, anyway -he looks about the same as you figure you do.  It’s a cute look on him. 

“Always knew you had that in you somewhere,” you say with a coy, if hazy grin.  

“Did you?” his voice scratches awkwardly in his throat, but he returns your smile, “You’ll have to catch me up, cause apparently you knew where today was going a whole lot better than I did.” 

Perhaps just now remembering that his cock is still inside of you, he carefully pulls out, stifling a groan at that last precious moment of friction.  He removes the filled condom while giving a short, incredulous laugh.

“I mean, you even had this thing on hand.”

“Grabbed it when I went inside for water,” you say with a casual shrug, “Watching you working up a sweat out here got me thinking.” 

Shane repeats that same laugh, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand.

“You’re a weird one, you know that?”

“And you don’t even know how hot you are,” you reply, unshaken. 

“There you go again,” he huffs out as he collapses onto the hay beside you, “Saying stuff that makes me crazy.”

Without a word needed between you, Shane loops an arm around your waist and pulls you on top of him, and you gladly follow.  Evidently, he no longer cares about the scratching of the straw at his back.  You figure it couldn’t compare with the scratches you’d left to linger there, anyway.

“I’ll keep saying it until you believe it,” you lean in, still smiling as you kiss him once more.  At long last, he kisses you back in a way that feels certain and unafraid.  When you draw away, his hand has come to cradle the side of your face, and he looks at you.  Just looks at you.  You can only imagine what he must be thinking, but when he finally breaks the silence, he says,

“Shit, what time is it?” he glances at the door but can’t seem to get his answer from the light peaking through the cracks, “I promised I’d be home for dinner… Not that- I’m not trying to- I- I wish I could stay, honest,” he stammers, and you laugh.

“Shane, it’s fine, I know it’s important.  Why don’t I walk you back?  I can vouch for you.” 

Those dark eyes search your face for a silent moment.  

“You could… stay and help me whip up some dinner for everyone.  If you wanted.  No pressure,” he quickly adds, “I’m not trying to make this more than it is, unless you want to, but this is fine and I won’t push you or anything, it’s just… Jas always likes it when you come over.” He lets the sentence end lamely, his voice flat. 

You can’t help laughing, and you press a brief but tender kiss to his lips.

“That sounds great, Shane.  But we should probably be wearing more clothes and have less hay in our hair, first.”

[variousqueerthings]

tbh the "male-presenting" comment on doctor who isn't such a big surprise, and kinda does highlight a moment in time rn where in more progressive circles we're still struggling with binary and gender-essentialist assumptions around what we perceive to be "masculinity as something bad" whether it be trans men, non-binary people who don't present femme "enough," intersex people with facial hair and/or other so-called "masculine" features, butches and studs, trans women who "don't pass in the right way" or aren't out, questioning people, and any number of people who exist within gender and sex squiggly spaces, and don't feel welcome because of faux-progressive language constantly trying to redefine who we can exclude and what the oppression hierarchy looks like (women+, women and nb, femmes and thems, afab and amab as shorthand replacing woman and man, male- and female- "presenting", etcetc) rather than actually dismantling/liberating these structures

the ick feeling ive seen a lot of people have with it is neat to see, but it's not a moment that exists in an ignorant vacuum, it very much does echo things we need to be unpacking irl within our own communities and it should lead people to really go into "well what is it about it that comes off as so wrong, especially as the rest of the episode is very trans positive, and are those assumptions things that exist within my own perception of trans equality"?

yeah, hope to see more inclusiveness in the show moving forwards, and also irl moving forwards, because that was a reflection

[winemom-culture]

Very happy with housework™️ accomplished this weekend

The goal was to lock in on organizing/decorating my office space slash guest room (like we’ll have a guest here tbh lol but hey we had an extra bed so when in Rome).

Before was basically just my desk, the chair and bed (no pillows)- pictured above minus the cart, that came this weekend. And imagine a lot more shit just recklessly piled on the chair that I sorted through.

This is after, as of tonight:

Lots of good finds to make it possible like:

-The glider chair and ottoman on fb marketplace for $100 (could’ve been even cheaper but we had them deliver bc based on pics and measurements I wasn’t sure if it would fit in my car. In retrospect I think it would’ve, which is kinda tragic, but still a good deal for the 2 pieces that size in pretty great condition imo).

-Those big shelves from marketplace for $25

-The cart thing and organizer which holds all my supplies for the diamond painting I like to do as well as miscellaneous craft and office supplies for like $30 with gift card/discounts at Michael’s

-Lil white shelf (on sale), battery lamp, laptop stand, and some picture frames altogether at IKEA for probably like $100 idk I didn’t keep great track there besides knowing the shelf was on sale.

I can’t wait to be a productive little office girl in there this week.

I need suggestions to make it even more cozy. We have to get cozier.

The chair corner is getting awfully crowded but I think it needs some faux plants. And maybe a floor lamp too. I know for the full look I need to pad up my bookshelves, but I installed the shelves more or less by myself and need to be sure of their capacity to hold up- I have horrific prophetic visions of them ripping out of the wall while I’m in the chair killing me instantly, and worse, totally blowing our chances at our security deposit.

[sburbian-sage]

Hi skepticArbiter!

I don't know how long it's been on your end since you posted that GristTorrent ask, but your offhanded proposal of a Universal Grist Bank has driven my ADHD to heights of hyperfixation that have never been seen before. It has been months. Being a native Smith of Coins that's about what you'd expect, lol. Anyway! I bring it up because the session I'm currently in is serendipitously about the absolute best group I could ask for in making the idea a reality. It really feels like the Shine itself legitimately just manifested itself and forced whatever the infinitesimally small chance of something like this actually happening I swear to dog.

Thirteen of us, all have made it through at least ten sessions (with CERTAIN PEOPLE at significantly more than that-- 32 if she's to be believed and I've seen no evidence to the contrary and lots of proof that it's true) and managed to naturally reroll our native classpects. All of us. Not a lick of vagabouncy. It's insane. Both of our cardinal aspects’ first playthroughs were duet sessions. There's public proof several places on the replayernet going back timestamps that our Bane of Stage, Page of Mist, and Rouge of Sand have been sessionmates before. The Bane of Stage hunts Azurites for Fun and Him Time, 12 confirmed PK kills that I am aware of. Our Waste of Law(aforementioned 32 session legend) is awesometier. Several of us are pre-replayernet loose veterans. Our tactician classes, Flux player, and Mind player have been freaking out like ants when their trail gets stepped on. No major glitches or bugs so far, knock on wood. It feels too good to be true but in discussing it all of us dealt with capital-b-Bullshit scenarios with Light players in our last runs so I'm just trying to enjoy it without ruining it worrying.

I'm sending this message primarily to let you know that this is actually happening, and to thank you for coming up with the UGB in the first place. But also, I have come with some questions. I have never had to deal with the Others before (miraculous in it's own right tbh) and thus have absolutely no idea what to expect. I'm not part of the side that's doing the bartering, but I've known a good chunk of this group over the replayernet for a pretty long time and consider many dear friends(another insane thing to actually happen- us ending up together) and I am. Concerned. Everyone says “oh they do impossible bargins” and “will take parts of your soul” but I've never seen anyone actually SPECIFY what the terms for their deals are. It's not that I don't believe it's really that bad, it's just I'd much rather know than not know, you know? Is it a faux pas I'm not aware of to talk about it? Since you had to do it yourself for your ring journey I figured you'd be as good a place as any to ask and since it's over text it might not be as impactful for you as asking my friends face to face potentially could be for them, I apologize if that's incredibly insensitive of me.

For further context, the group is split so some of us are working on bartering with the others (Rouge of Sand, Guide of Void, Maid of Rage), some of us are actually making the physical server and programming the necessary software (myself, Witch of Time, Sage of Dreams, Heir of Sound), some are doing both (Waste of Law, Ward of Mind, Sylph of Flux), and our Seer of Space, Bane of Stage, and Page of Mist are covering taking care of session stuff where they can for now so the rest of us can focus on getting everything together for the bank.

Thank you again, and in advance for any insight you are willing to share,

snugglySocialist

Holy shit! I'm glad that an offhanded statement I meant mostly as a joke finally led to good things happening, instead of just getting me in trouble. Though that could still happen if I endorse this and it turns into an All Or Nothing situation, so pull through if you can. I said it before and I'll say it again, if you pull this off then not only will you have the eternal of gamebreakers, people who accidentally break their game, and anyone in a Ring Journey, but your handles will be put in the history books right next to the guy who figured out the Alimentator hack.

As for your question, I'm afraid I'm not a good firsthand source of information on this topic. I did not make the bargain for the Ring Journey I'm on, someone else did it. You are right that information is hard to come by, but "it's difficult to talk about" is only one reason out of three. Some people hide the nature of their bargains for protection. Especially if it's a larger operation like a Ring Server, if the presence of the server hinges upon X condition being fulfilled, and some malefactor wants to take down the site, best not to let them know which conditions to break. The third reason is that "not disclosing details of the bargain to other people" may itself be a condition of the bargain. It is, in fact, as annoying as it sounds, and all of these combined (not to mention the fact that writing down anything about the Others is a passive source of corruption) makes this topic a bitch to gain any information about.

For your purposes, the institution of a Ring Server isn't that big of an ask, so I don't think the price will be literally impossible or metaphorically impossible (like "consume the hearts of all of your friends and set yourself on fire", that's basically their catty way of saying "we're not giving you a deal"). However, something like a Universal Grist Bank has significantly more "oomph" behind it than an online archive, social media page, or weirdass elitist bookclub. Standard bargaining practice is to respond to any price they give you with "that is too much", in which case they'll either lower the price, or solidify that the price is set.

As for the actual prices, it varies. The Transamphibian founders can't use their real names anymore. CorpseParty got shut down because someone used the server to try and scry cross-session, which apparently violated the deal. In general though, the prices set seem almost spiteful. "They take bits of your soul" is more metaphorical than literal, like really fond memories, your reputation, relationship with someone important, and in the worst cases your ability to engage in a hobby that you consider fundamental to your sense of being. I think there's at least one case where someone's condition was that they can't use any Replayer Network, which effectively unpersons them (this information was shared secondhand for obvious reasons and thus couldn't be verified). It's impossible to tell what the deal is until you have it, and all of your efforts to establish the UGB are basically bottlenecked into dealing with those guys, who can make or break the entire project. And they know this. And you have no power over them, only than knowing that they will not do anything to you unless you ask them to do it. There's really no further advice I can give you other than...

Lawyer up. Read the fine print, argue for fairness as much as possible, and don't let yourself get worked over any more than is necessary.

Once you accept a deal, stick with it. There are no "grace periods", take-backs, or hiding an infraction. If the terms of the deal are broken, the UGB goes up in flames basically forever (unless you make another deal to "recover it").

Genuinely, genuinely, don't chew off more than you can swallow. If the terms of the contract are unlivable to any of the people undertaking it, don't do it.

There is one other aspect I should mention, which is that if the conditions of the deal only concern one person, the deal will still be upheld once that person dies. So if the condition is "nobody can upload Build Grist" and someone uploads Build Grist, then the website is kill. But if the condition is "none of the founders can alchemize anything anymore, and all of the founders end up dying, then the site will stay up. Though it'll obviously need new administrators. Sorry for the macabre example, but this is a little-known facet of Other bargains that not a lot of people know about, and it's why a lot of the older servers and networks are still up.

[petefromarma]

thank you this is a safe space for communist fall out boy fans. i love em but hate them and thats okay. i do wish they were better. i think one reason why people act like that in the fandom is they spent a lot of time associating with it and spending money and making it part of their identity which i am guilty of and still do, its almost an attack on them. to rethink what they consume. i think a lot of people just dont want to ever think of letting them go. and i get it it can suck. ofc i am not saying people should let go of them entirely or whatever but realize your faves may not be as progressive as you think they are and to acknowledge that flaw. i think one thing that sort of helped me “grow apart” from fall out boy is deadass making ocs. sure they don’t have a whole fandom or actual media but its honestly helped me a lot with just being able to put in my creative energy into something else besides fob. i still like to dabble in the fob fandom but its nice to have something else beyond fall out boy and sort of a “safety net” if things truly go south if fob gets actually “canceled” if they do something that i truly can’t really be all fandomy over if that makes sense hahaha

i think you're probably right tbh re fans feeling guilty abt spending money on them; a fair amount of western activism revolves around consumerism, which makes sense for a capitalistic society but like i really do wish these people would just get real and own up to the fact that their enjoyment of fob has nothing to do with their politics for better or for worse and if they actually believed that it did they would stop spending money on concert tickets and stop spending money on merch, not as a form of boycott or anything like that (imo most forms of western modern day boycott are ineffective in terms of constituting material change bc they focus on conglomerates; we should boycott bc it is the right thing to do to not pay in to companies that are supporting genocide, not bc we are expecting large scale change to come of it) but because it would be in line with the ideological/moral boundaries they have set for themselves

imo engaging with art/celebrity in a capitalistic society is a net neutral, for the most part; simply saying this among the most radical of accelerationist twitter grifters would get my head chopped off for paying attention to a band instead of the glorious revolution that's supposedly forming amongst russian soldiers doing genocide in the donbas or whatever but unless leftists want to actually get serious about global suffrage then idk what to say lol people are going to look to art as a coping mechanism and continue to pay in to these systems bc it helps them survive mentally/emotionally. now that being said that's why i think it's hypocritical and grotesque to participate in faux outrage against a band that you like by doing pretend activism bc none of these people actually give a shit that fob do business with/are friends with zionists, they just want to look good in front of their friends for caring about the right thing at the right time. if their disgust was genuine they would quietly drop them and move on but they're more invested in their own comfort than doing what they perceive as being right. so i guess to clarify i don't think spending money on and paying attention to a band with milquetoast lib politics is inherently materially harmful; what i do believe is actively harmful to the cause you claim to serve is when you put on a performance for a few days because the band you like fucked up in a way that can't be ignored and then never talk about it again and go back to pretending that pw is a radical leftist and not a run of the mill democrat. like if you're just going to stop talking about it eventually don't even bother bringing it up in the first place lol

i support you tho i do think OCs are a good idea esp if you want to pull away from engaging with IP tbh and i think just a good thing for enhancing your writing/creativity in general

[esther-dot]

White savior anon again lol. So I go back and forth on the J/D romance. On one hand, the show going thru with it and Martin's fixation on incest makes me think there will be some type of romance. That being said, it's not going to end well because all their foreshadowing is negative lol and speaks of betrayal. Also, Martin intends to complete the story in two books, which is not realistic since he gardended himself into hundreds of interconnected main characters and plotlines - he needs to set the chess pieces in place for the climax in the last book in Winds but he literally cannot do all that in one book. So, how exactly he intends to write some sweeping, dynamic romance when Dani won't even step foot in Westeros until the last leg of the book is well, lol....good luck with that one. That's why the show romance was ass, it's hard for audiences to buy a romance between two people who met and conversed for approximately 20 minutes across 8 episodes - no development or investment. I just don't see how Martin has the page space or time to do all he needs to do with the other 9768 characters and plotlines while developing this supposed grand love story between J and D. He's a talented writer, but deeply inefficient and made some key mistakes - the ages of the characters, wasting so much time having characters walk around the riverlands, braavos, etc. while internally contemplating their shitty lives for chapter after chapter, like ok you're miserable we get it but this could have taken half the chapters - so now he's screwed himself as a result lol.

IDK about Jonsa, I believe Sansa is the girl in grey, and I do think per the show (I think a lot more big plot points were taken from Martin than readers want to believe tbh) Jon and Sansa will have a significant relationship in Winds, platonic or not, or at least he intended that to be the case, but idk if he is willing to Go There with that pairing. He let way too much time pass between books and social mores have changed quit a bit. The faux sibling almost incest trope was pretty big back in the 90s and early 2000s, but now? Not so much.

Jon and the Targ line ending with him. Sure there are people will targ blood still around like Brienne and the Baratheons. But none of them are the direct descendent/son of Targ prince who plunged the realm into a civil war over said Targ's birth lol. Sure it's not fair, but thematically it makes sense and I do think this is what was intended back in the 90s. Now? IDK lol.

(continuation of this convo)

Oh yes, I've seen a lot of fans criticize how he allows himself to write so much of his favs (*cough* Tyrion *cough*) rather than streamlining. I can't figure out how he can bring all these characters and carry out the plots in two books either. I know he said they're big books, but there are so many things that have to happen and they characters are all still so scattered...I really don't know how he'll manage. Like, Sansa has to go North, reunite with Jon, reclaim Winterfell, be reunited with other Starks/handle succession, they have to deal with the Others and then there is Dany. It's a lot.

I don't think there could be a genuine romance with J/D at all. Jon's experienced the whole Ygritte situation, then he was assassinated, it doesn't make sense to me that he'd fall for an enemy so soon or trust one either, not with the guilt/betrayal he'll be feeling. I do think Dany is vulnerable with her belief that she needs another dragon rider/that will be a person she can trust and her romantic nature, so I think she could convince herself she can trust Jon and then he betrays her. That could be a fairly short-lived interlude though, since she's primed for it. There is also Euron and Aegon too though, and I had assumed that would be before she met up with Jon and if that's the case, Jon is not gonna have kind thoughts (if she kills Aegon), and Dany will be even less trusting (if she's dealt with Euron), so Idk. I don’t want anything to happen between J/D, but imo, there has to be some kind of relationship or trust to make it an awful scene when Jon stabbity stabs. Dany will have burned KL, if anyone else assassinates her, it’s badass, but I think Martin's way too anti war/anti violence to do that. I really think he's gonna want it to be painful.

Also, I’ve recently been wondering if instead of some past events being foreshadowing, they’re meant to work as explanation, justification for the end of the story. As in, I thought the mess of the war in canon and Robert’s Rebellion were meant to convince us that the moral thing would be to avoid war to spare life and that Jon would be KitN and kneel a la the king who knelt. The show’s bizarrely written inclusion of him kneeling seemed to support such an idea. Except, look at what the Targs became as rulers, where that ended for Westeros, and Dany has dragons and will have do her little KL bbq, so the moral thing in this instance isn’t submission, but neither is it all out war. I think that's the grounding for why it has to be faux submission then assassination.

I really don't think Martin would change his endgame now because of fan outrage or social norms, but imo, the foreshadowing isn't conclusive, or, I guess I should say, I see problems with every potential endgame, but particularly with Jon ending up at the Wall because of how it seems to answer problems Martin seemed interested in addressing. So, I think there's room for a nicer ending for him, if Martin wants it.

[dollsonmain]

Photos over the course of the morning:

So, this is the space I have to work with. The only thing I can think of why Rolly would have installed an over-large toilet in the basement bathroom is that he liked to sit there to poop and didn’t want his dangle touching the rim.

It’s very much in the way.

I NEED counter space to work, so moved some stuff around and added a tiny shelving unit that just barely fits into the space between the sink and the wall. The sink leaks so I keep the faux drawer front off of the front of the cabinet...

Wrangled a bench under there for extra storage space. The bench is wider than the table so doesn’t exactly fit.

There’s ONE power outlet. It is a small bathroom. It’s very funny to me that Scott was just shaking his head at his father having run power strips around the bathroom and here I am stuck doing the same thing. Mine’s not zip-tied to the wall, though, and the outlet part isn’t right above the sink. It’s on the back of the too-big toilet. I don’t like having a toilet in my workspace, but no one ever uses it, so it’s just a bowl of blue water. I flush it now and then to keep it fresher and that’s it.

But then I took my small utility carts down there and had to move the table and bench again to make room. I do prefer the table not cutting off half the walkway.

Drying rack is back in the shower. I have to be very careful what I put in the shower because it can and did leak. I also can’t put anything over the back of the toilet because I need to be able to access it if it starts leaking again.

I took out the toilet paper holder and the towel rack because both were in the way. I should take down the shower rod. It’s just tension and installed crooked, but everything I take down reveals lots and lots of holes and missing paint. Rolly didn’t take them down to paint (and apparently doesn’t know how to decide where to drill a hole for a screw swiss cheese walls what the fuck), and I didn’t, either when I repainted.

BUT Pony Cart also needed to go in there, which meant the table and shelf had to come out, and that sucks because that’s all of the counter space. I NEED counter space. I’m used to having an approx 1ft by 1.5ft segment of counter space.

If I hadn’t depressed enough at this point because I’m having to cram myself into a windowless bathroom, I was then. I’m claustrophobic. This was unpleasant.

Right now this is all the workspace I have. If I were able I’d get and install a different sink vanity thing that had some counter space. I can’t do that because money. I was going to put all of my bottles of T.A. on the bottom of this shelf thing but I don’t think it can take the weight, tbh. They’ll go in the shower.

Rearranged a little, again, and that’s better. Dehumidifier will probably be on top of that gold plastic table there, with the hose pointing at the shower drain which is just below it.

I need to take the pony bins down, still, and clean up the kitchen because I’ve made a mess up there dumping things off of workstations to get to the furniture.

I also need to find a place to store the small appliances when they’re not in use. I was keeping the mini crock pot and ozone generator on the table in there, but it’s gone. I’ll need to take my electric kettle down, too. It’s ONLY used for doll and pony hair.

I’m tired. It’s all futile. I comply here, he starts poking his nose elsewhere shrinking and shrinking my space.

Obviously, all work is off until the dehumidifer gets here or else the basement will explode into mold again.

Removing the resin jugs did immediately improve the air quality. Those are out in the garage.

I still need to move the SunBox down, two large and one medium storage unit, all of my dolls, and my computer and things (I’m not sure there even are enough outlets down there to accommodate my computer, not that I really trust Rolly’s electrical work), which I guess will go where the unused sewing machine is.

Act like my stuff is unwelcome in his space, see how he likes having no me near him at all.

[infiniteglitterfall]

straight up the worst of the responses. unsurprising that it's from a TERF.

israel the country isn't selling off these properties, you silly woodchuck.

palestine the country didn't attack israel, you filthy bus seat.

Hamas doesn't govern Palestine. Hamas staged a violent coup to throw the Palestinian government out of the Gaza Strip in 2007, and has run it as a dictatorship ever since.

The Gaza Strip didn't attack Israel, either. The people of Gaza are fucking livid that Hamas staged a brutal massacre in Israel, a very clear act of war - while Hamas leaders were watching and celebrating from a penthouse in Turkey or somewhere - and then told Gazans repeatedly to die. Hamas leader Ismail Haniyeh said, "the blood of the women, children and elderly... we are the ones who need this blood, so it awakens within us the revolutionary spirit, so it awakens with us resolve."

"With regard to Israel’s response to the massacre, which has caused the deaths of many civilians in Gaza, Hamas leader Ghazi Hamad said, 'Will we have to pay a price? Yes, and we are ready to pay it. We are called a nation of martyrs, and we are proud to sacrifice martyrs.'"

framing this from the beginning as if the synagogue was somehow ~complicit~ is pure christonormativity. anyone who knew one thing about Jews or Jewish culture could guarantee you that this synagogue is absolutely getting dragged from within right now just for renting the space to a real estate company selling any of this shit. there is zero possibility that its congregation isn't throwing an absolute fit at whoever agreed to rent the room. (even though it's also bananas to expect them to screen all the real estate listings before an event. like, imagine if we approached any other real estate fair this way. how many american real estate properties right now were foreclosures from predatory real estate practices? how many are from de facto redlining? how many of you are rolling your eyes right now because you think I'm proving your point, while in practice you continue to only protest events at synagogues? the same way so many of you smirkily try to prove your integrity by calling for America's destruction along with Israel's? because you fucking know that you're in zero danger of having to watch your kids and/or pets killed in front of you before you're burned to death and your body is booby-trapped with explosives? because nobody has the numbers to take a massive country like this down in the artisanal hand-crafted way that Hamas uses?)

if the entire faux-Palestinian movement weren't founded on deeply antisemitic astroturfing, y'all would be outraged that this obviously scammy REAL ESTATE COMPANY dared to rent out a SYNAGOGUE, in an extremely obvious attempt to market specifically to Jews, and then BOLD-FACED LIE TO THEM REPEATEDLY. But no. Of course not. Because you absorb the vague sense, from mainstream culture, that Jews are kinda shady, kinda greedy, kinda dishonest, maybe kinda conspire together to get power. From birth. And you'll die before you unpack it. So instead, we have a movement that tells Jews -- like the protestor quoted in that article -- that the entirety of Israel is "stolen land." A position that Palestinians do not take. But that Hamas absolutely does -- and always has, because its goal is to control the entire region, and because Jews Are Evil (And Kinda Gross). A movement that pressures them to "take back their Jewishness from Zionism." Which is a fancy version of "I have no problem with the good Jews, but Not All Jews Are Like That." Which is one of the obvious tells that this is absolutely not a grassroots social justice movement. (Other obvious tells: The complete and utter lack of centering activists in Gaza. The lack of platforming the movement in Gaza, of even mentioning the protests in Gaza. And the centering of Hamas as "the Palestinian resistance," which is what it calls itself. The people of Gaza call it things like "the merchants of blood." which tbh is absolutely fucking badass, the people of Gaza are badass as hell.) A movement that protests every real estate event of any property in Israel. Including the one at a different Montreal synagogue two days before this one, by a completely different company whose policy is that they never sell West Bank property. A movement that held another protest in Montreal that same Tuesday, against an event organized by Hillel and an Israeli student club at Concordia University (which posts on the OP blog claimed was "a Zionist lobbying group") where Israelis were going to talk about the massacre, about how to handle antisemitism, and how to handle rhetoric calling for the elimination of Israel. (Or, as this trash patty of a movement put it, "GENOCIDE ADVOCACY BY BABY-KILLERS.") A protest at which people chanted, "Death to Israel, Death to Jews." (That was the week before people attacked the Hillel room on campus, on their way back from a protest. Don't get confused.)

yeah, yeah, yeah, Israel doesn't need to defend itself against anything. That's why Hamas was able to bust through its defenses and destroy 22 towns in one day. That's why Hamas can kill more people BY HAND, in one day, than Israel with all its bombs. Because Hamas is a bunch of scrappy barefoot nobodies. Hamas hasn't been getting $100M annually for weapons, plus free military training, from Iran, for years. It doesn't have a military academy or naval commandos. It didn't get $350M from Iran this year so it could stage its attack - which, per capita, definitely doesn't rival the military budgets of Iraq and Ukraine. And Iran certainly doesn't have either the motive or the money to massively step it up, now that Hamas has proven that it can wildly exceed even its own fever dreams. Why would it ever do that. This was clearly intended to be a one-off. It was probably someone's birthday. You know, like how you'll do a lot of weird shit just cause your friend picks it to celebrate their birthday. Hamas leaders haven't publicly committed to repeat the attack over and over until Israel is violently destroyed. It's not a part of the Muslim Brotherhood, which was literally founded by Nazis, and it doesn't have Nazi language in its founding documents, and it hasn't repeatedly called for people to rise up and slaughter Jews, and none of its fighters called home during the attack to boast about having killed 10 Jews with their bare hands. Everything is fucking fine! You're totally right!

[soleilnomoon]

Hi hi Kaia! Just wanna say, that soft nsfw Kidd fic you wrote legit just made me want to cry 😭😭 Soft Kidd is something I didn’t know I needed, you wrote him so well tbh! Following that note, if it’s alright could I ask for a nsfw request for Kidd but with a reader smoler than him? In my own headcanon I like he’d def have a size kink and be damn teaser because he’s like 7ft tall👀 lool If not, no worries! Thank you either way!

awww i’m glad you liked it, i had so much fun writing it (who knew i needed soft kid in my life like hello 😭👋🏾). also yes yes yes yes, a billion times yes, i gotchu  ♥️ the way that man lives rent free in my head is unreal 🥵

2.3k words, fem reader, nsfw (it's kid, idk what to tell u), 18+ mdni pls, a little playful banter, some alcohol, other cute stuff includes spitting, size kink (reader is short), clothes ripping (what can i say), kid being a general menace; i tried to keep it short but *washes hands*

you know better than to distract him while he’s in the middle of a project, but you have very little self preservation when it comes to eustass kid. it’s late at night when you find him tinkering away in his workshop; with his music blasting, head bobbing along as he wordlessly mouths the lyrics to the song, you walk in undetected. even as you close the door, he doesn’t turn around — and while, you should make sure to lock it, you don’t bother. everyone for the most part is asleep or far enough away that you’re not worried about being interrupted.

this is your first mistake for the night.

sauntering around like the mischievous cat you are, you loosely hold a bottle of rum in your hand; you picked it up on the last island the ship docked at, someone gifting you the whole thing as thanks for assisting them. you unscrew the cap and take a big swig, the dark liquid flooding your senses as it glides down your throat with ease. one of the smoothest drinks you’ve had in a while, if you do say so yourself. 

the thing is, while you might think you’re being stealthy, kid has been aware of your presence this whole time. he’d be a shit captain, otherwise, right? still, his curiosity rivals yours, and he wants to see what you’re up to. pretending to jam to the music, kid catches you sidling up to him and smirks to himself, but purposely keeps his focus on the wrench in his hand. the smile on your face is evidence enough of your misdeeds — that you truly believe you’ve gotten away with infiltrating kid’s space, but before you can announce yourself, kid bursts your bubble quickly.

“you’re shit at sneaking around, y’know that right?” he turns his head, tilting it a bit, features morphed to denote a faux-bored expression. he leans his elbow on the worktable, and props his head up with his large hand.

mouth open — because, how else are you to react to him saying that? — words jumble around in your mouth, and you start stuttering. before you can make more of a fool of yourself, you jab a finger at him, hitting his chest on your first attempt. amusement blooms onto his face with ease, disrupting the game he wanted to play with you. 

“shut up, you’re the worst,” you say before pouting at him, brows furrowed as a wave of childishness takes over you. “now i don’t even want to share this with you.” he drops his gaze down to the bottle in your hand but grabs it before you can step away.

“rum? really.” he’s a scotch kind of man, with gin and vodka being suitable alternatives. you know that he’s not into rum like that, but you figured you’d ask him to try this brand for fun. now all you feel is residual embarrassment; cheeks burning, you lunge your arm out to grab it, wanting to just go sit somewhere on the deck and drink alone, but kid doesn’t let you. instead, he pops the cap off, tosses it somewhere and drinks from the bottle. 

you blink several times, watching in shock as he drinks for longer than you think he will. “kid!” you yank on the bottle, annoyance building slowly as you struggle to take it back from him. “don’t drink it all,” you whine helplessly, not wanting your big brute of a captain to ruin your night. kid acquiesces, leaning back in his chair, dark orange hair falling messily over his forehead, eyes drifting down your body, drinking in the sight of you. despite the rum being a bit sweeter than he’s used to, the quality of it impresses him, but he won’t say that. not yet.

ignoring the way your body reacts to his heated looks, you pick up where you left off, taking another swig of the rum, swaying to the music that carries around the room — the notes wrapping around you, coasting along your skin as you hum along. he watches you, amusement never dwindling, tongue running along his bottom lip before he decides that enough is enough. 

“c’mere, you’re drinking it wrong,” he says, voice dripping with intent, as he pulls you to him and plucking the bottle away from you again and setting it down. for safekeeping. before you’re even able to protest, before you’re able to fuss at him over pestering you like this, kid’s hand drifts lower and grabs onto your ass playfully. you smack his chest, face burning, thighs pressing closely together, an ache shooting through you faster than you can stop it. 

before you know it, he has you seated on top of the table, whatever he was working on is momentarily forgotten and haphazardly pushed aside. you lean back on your hands, head tilted as kid stands in between your legs, anticipation crawling down your arms, wrapping itself around your chest with familiarity. breathing slowed, long lashes fluttering as you fix your eyes on him, a little tipsy and giggly, but mostly drunk off of him and his presence. “i’m waiting,” you say, voice lilting, words coasting and caressing him softly. he almost asks you what exactly you’re waiting for, the way you inadvertently short-circuited his mind for a brief second made him forget why he took the rum from you in the first place.

he reminds himself to focus, to not lose to you, because losing is absolutely unacceptable, obviously.

“open,” he instructs, and you don’t have to ask him for clarification; on command, your lips part and you leave your mouth open for him. the corners of his lips twitch as he pours more rum into your mouth; some of the tawny liquid spilling down your lips and onto your chin. you don’t mind it though, completely mesmerized by the experience, entirely too giddy over the way he hulks over you like that. his height used to intimidate you, until you wiggled your way into his life and the two of you gradually became closer; now, you can’t get enough of it.

kid places the bottle down again, fully prepared to ignore it as he leans closer and runs his tongue along your skin, lapping up the runaway drops of rum, until your lips meet. when kid kisses you, it’s as if time stops and then speeds up. it starts off short — his lips pecking yours once, twice, tongue swiping against your lips, demanding entrance. on your next exhale, he pushes closer, your breasts pressing against him through your thin shirt, nipples hardening on impact.

if it were up to him, he’d drink the remainder of the rum from your mouth. you taste sweet, forbidden, and hypnotic — plush lips inviting him to nip them needlessly, sparking a small flame deep within your abdomen that slowly spreads to the rest of your body. with shaky hands, you tug on his clothes, wanting to feel his skin on yours sooner rather than later; and kid obliges, also helping you with your own clothes, ripping your shirt accidentally through the haze of lust.

“whoops,” he says, laughing darkly at your annoyed expression. you don’t believe for a second that it was completely accidental, but kid likes pushing your buttons anyway, so did it really matter what the truth was?

sensing a retort building inside of you, he kisses you again, hand roaming along your soft body, liking the way you feel against him; all that softness will be the death of him, he’s sure of it.

likewise, you get lost in his kisses, small hands gliding along the hard planes of his body, the dips, sharp ridges of his muscles, only make your hunger that much more intolerable. you whine against his lips, your pussy wet from the sloppy kisses you exchange, his own cock hardening excitedly, precum spilling down the thick head as it leans against your stomach.

“kid,” you breathe, lips ghosting his, “just fuck me already, damn it.” the need you have for him might actually make you lose your mind at the rate he’s going. normally, you’re the one telling him to slow down — but for some reason, it’s like your body is entirely too eager. maybe it’s the rum, or maybe you’ve just fallen deeper inside whatever trap he’s laid out for you tonight. you’re not sure, and you don’t actually care to know the answer; so you forget about it, focusing on getting kid to move.

it’s laughable, the way you’re begging him, when he knows once he gets started, you’re going to sing an entirely different tune. he runs his finger — thick, rough, impatient — between the folds of your pussy, admiring the way your arousal drips onto his skin, before plunging the finger inside of you without warning. you arch your back, mouth falling open at the intrusion, panting lightly when he inserts another finger shortly after. nails digging into his skin, your hips moving forward, as if his fingers are controlling your movements, a small voice in the back of your head reminding you that you’re playing with a fire that’s much too big for you to handle.

you ignore it; when it comes to eustass kid, your self-preservation goes right out the window.

plunging his fingers in and out of you recklessly, your head spinning from all of the rum, the kissing, and him — you maybe consider that you’ve bitten off more than you can chew. “w-wait, kid slow down,” your voice barely audible, drowning behind your moans and the music that’s still blasting through the room. when he finally does manage to pull his fingers out, you only have a brief moment of reprieve before he’s rubbing the tip of his cock against your pussy, positioning it right in front of your entrance, he winks at your wary expression, making you even more suspicious of his motives. another complaint lodges in the back of your throat, stuck when kid pushes his cock inside of you, his girth ripping a loud moan out of you.

kid, meanwhile, is floating above the clouds, thoroughly enjoying your pussy’s feeble attempts at strangling him — those attempts do work, by the way, he’s just prideful and stubborn. snapping his hips against yours, kid pushes his cock into you deeply; the pain is worth it, though. it’s terribly addicting, the way he pulls back and thrusts into you harder, his balls slapping against your skin from the devastating pace he’s set. 

“kid, fuck, wait, wait,” you breath comes out in small pants, eyelids fluttering from the rough way that kid is fucking you. this is what you wanted, though, isn’t it? to tease him and let him have his way? if kid wasn’t so used to your subtle tricks, he’d actually be concerned. but he knows how much you like how rough he is, he knows how you like him to hold you firmly, so you can feel the full brunt of his thrusts, and he knows that no matter what, you’ll still ask him to fuck you like this again, and again, and again.

and he’s right. you can’t deny it; even if you wanted to you wouldn’t. when his hips meet yours, you wrap your legs around his waist, wanting to completely lose yourself in him, sweat already gliding down your neck, onto your clavicle, breasts bouncing against him.

“that’s it,” he coos, none-to-kindly, his tone dark, sinister, mocking, “see how well you’re taking me?” he shifts and pushes you down onto the table, your back arching off of it as he drives into you repeatedly, his thrusts turning your body into something helpless and pitiful, your words unintelligible, voice hoarse as you call his name out. he pulls out of you suddenly, much to your displeasure, folding your legs against your chest and instructing you to hold onto the backs of your thighs.

your pussy is a pretty sight to see, so naturally he slaps it hard before spitting on it. he’s so romantic, isn’t he?

you can barely think as his cock invades your pussy all over again — your warm, plush walls closing in around his length, as he angles his hips in a way that has your toes curling and a bit of drool creeping out of your mouth. it’s so tragically embarrassing, except you can’t be bothered to feel any bit of shame right now. 

with each brutal thrust, you find yourself teetering on the edge, ecstasy coloring any logic you have left in your mind, and when he kisses you again, tongue caressing yours hotly, an orgasm crashes into you. kid groans against your lips, thrusting fervently, strokes sloppier and shorter, wanting to hold out but finding himself unable to. if there’s one thing he knows, it’s that your pussy is absolutely lethal when provoked. it’s not often that you squirt, but when you do it drives him wild. “oh fuck, look at how much of a mess you’ve made.” his laughter should grate your nerves, but it doesn’t, it only makes you want to cover your face, because you hate how good he makes you feel. although, his laughter is short-lived; he powers into you, his own orgasm finding him much quicker than he anticipates, his cum is thick and hot, dripping out of you when he pulls out, spilling down onto the wooden surface of the table.

both of you sort of stay quiet, trying to catch your breaths; he runs a hand through his hair, feeling properly refreshed, almost as if a bit of weight has been lifted from his shoulders. you drop your legs, struggle to sit up, and look at him accusingly. “you’re such a damn beast,” but there isn’t a hint of venom or malice behind your words. if anything, you almost sound impressed. he chuckles at your act and just kisses you to keep you quiet.

[skzkkun]

txt & their kinks

pairing: ot5 x reader

warnings: smut― just some hard thoughts !! (mentions of shibari & hard kinks for yeonjun's section)

soobin

i'll start by saying that soobin is a sub, you cannot change my mind

with the other boys, they give me switch vibes― but soobin??

<3 subby boy <3

manhandle !! him !!

you can drag him around, push him or pull his hair and this man will be a whimpering and drooling mess for you

ESPECIALLY when you combine this w/ dumbification & degradation (+_+!!)

if he's deep enough in sub-space, you could make him degrade himself !!

he'll say how much he wants to be fucked and ruined like a useless toy <3

soobin absolutely has a size kink

but in the sense that he gets off to someone smaller than him overpowering him so easily :((

he would get so worked up during sex pls

this would be the part where i include something the member would say during sex, but i really believe soobin is all whines and incomprehensible begging sdkjfhsf

(rest of the members below !!)

yeonjun

i hate being predictable, but c'mon... yeonjun is a switch w/ hard dom lean

his softer kinks are dry humping and sensory play (i.e., temperature play, handcuffs, blindfolds etc.)

on the harder side: anything involving control makes yeonjun weak― bondage, corruption, choking / breath play or edging are his favourites <33

he would do that thing were he'd ask (with faux sympathy) if you're ok, while you're all fucked out for him...

...just for yeonjun to chuckle darkly and slap you lightly when you can only babble and whine in response !! :0

tbh it's rare for yeonjun to sub

but when he does, this fucker is such a cocky brat </3

the only way to tame him is w/ shibari !!

i see yeonjun as being a rigger, passionately learning about the different ways to tie you up so you can completely submit to him

but imagine how pretty *he* would look all tied up in pretty rope or silk with intricate knots (@_@; )

his interests sound intense, but he would be incredible at guiding you

+ the aftercare would be amazing omg

"youre such a dumb desperate whore... harder? what do you mean harder? if i hit you any harder i'll bruise your pretty skin. oh, is that what you want, baby? beg for it."

beomgyu

switch w/ sub lean <33

idk tho, you could tell me that beomgyu is anything from a hard dom to a bratty sub and id agree w/ you sdkfhksdhaf

but hear me out !!

that little face he does.. when he goes '🥺'. yeah he's a subby boy. i rest my case.

loves loves loves to be edged !!

kiss his neck and carrass his chest while you pump his pretty cock from behind, teasing him w/ his long awaited release <33

probably the most vocal member, he's just so shamelessly loud and responsive to your every touch

which is incredible because he's such a pervert + pain slut for you <3

PULL HIS HAIR OMG

especially when he's eating you out (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

beomgyu could live between your thighs, occassionally looking up to you for approval with wide doe eyes

"please just grab my throat, doll― your touch just feels so good. i want you to use me... i want to be a perfect toy for you."

taehyun

taehyun is a switch w/ soft dom lean

honestly i see taehyun as being more into foreplay than the sex itself

the drama of the tease; the anticipation of knowing how badly you want each other while making eye contact from across the room...

he lives for the thrill

taehyun could make you cum from his dirty texts and lewd photos alone

HUGELY into phone sex / sexting for this reason

tyunnie 🐿️☕🤎: [3 New Notifications].

"can you tease your dumb little puppy cunt; make it all wet for me."

"beg for me to finger you stupid pup, show me that you’re nothing more than a slutty little mutt."

"spit on it like a dirty fucking puppy. you can’t do much better can you my brainless little pup."

his texts are leathal </3

+ taehyun is a huge experimentalist !!

if he's not into the kink, he'll definitely learn all about it if you're into it ♡

imagine him having a designated space (like a drawer or cabinet) just for sex toys― and then another space for aftercare stuff 🥺🥺

<3 organised boyfie <3

"that's it baby, you did so well for me, i'm so proud of you kitten. come here now and let me hold you. we can watch your favorite movie before i help you clean up and get ready for bed."

kai

oh, kai is 100% a pure switch

either from lack of experience, or him just being happy to do whatever makes you feel good, kai is more than fine being a dom or sub for you <3

size kink pt. 2

but unlike soobin, kai's mind gets fuzzy thinking about dominating someone smaller than him :(( bc you're so cute !! and precious !! and look so good when you're overwhelmed w/ his huge cock !!!

speaking of dom!kai, hyuka is secretly a lowkey sadist !!(•o• )

impact play, thigh riding, and humiliation are his favourite kinks :0

but when he subs??

hes so soft omg... puppysub!hyuka ㅠㅠ

if put him on a leash and praise him, kai will literally cum in his boxers <3

BODY WORSHIP !!

he worships you so earnestly and deeply, it makes his head fuzzy how badly he wants you.

imagine needy, soft sex with sub!kai x sub!y/n :((

messy makeouts, aimless grinding and hands roaming everywhere

*sighs dreamily*

"o-oh fu― does that feel good for you? oh my g-god, you're taking it so well for me... that's it. g-god, your moans are so pretty... you're s-so gorgeous."

© 2022 copyright. all rights reserved skzkkun

[chilly-flame]

I’ve reread so many of your fics, but here’s an attempt to talk about some fave moments with your writing! 6. Something I remember vividly Both the window sex and the almost snowed-out Chicago hotel meetup in “Four Suites and One Room” totally reconfigured my thinking about romance writing TBH! The whole not-talking-about-things and the whole kind-of-talking-about-things and the non-verbal ways of establishing closeness that’s happening almost in direct opposition to the characters’ intellectual positions about what they’re doing together! It’s so good. 8. What I like most about your writing You aren’t afraid to bite off something big and explore it competently and beautifully and confidently? Like “This Must Be the Place” and “Even,” which are both HUGE stories not just in terms of word count but in terms of scope. I’ve always been so impressed by your ability to dive into a different professional direction for a character and fully figure out how they’d inhabit that space. And you do it without sacrificing the small moments of intimacy that give a story texture and beauty! 15. A question I have about one of your fics This isn’t actually a question about your existing fic, but a question about the future! I know life is life-ing at you and you aren’t actively writing at the moment (❤️), but have you watched anything that’s giving you the itch? Your writing is so brilliant and just thinking about your ao3 page is making me realize I need to reread “Cake” and that one with the dildo in the dishwasher (LOLLLLL) and all sorts of other stories of yours that it’s been way too long since I revisited! Cheers to you!

This was a DELIGHT to read, no surprise there. Thank you so much for these comments! Always, always love to hear from you.

That Four Suites window sex scene has come up as a favorite for more than one reader, which is always interesting to me; maybe it's the faux-risk combined with faux-exhibitionism? Four Suites is memorable for me because it was one of the first times I started something that sounded fun and then I ran out of gas after a while, but picked it up and finished it much later. That turned out to be sort of a habit.

Also, often my Andy and Miranda talk A LOT (so much so that some readers have called me out by saying that people don't talk about their feelings so openly and like adults - a valid complaint) so this one was definitely an outlier. The build up is to the feelings, not to the kiss.

And writing Big Things? I am *so absolutely* afraid of writing big things, it's just that the ideas are often so large with a resolution that hasn't exactly coalesced that it takes a really long time to get there. "Even" was easier because the end was only ever going to be one thing, but as you know, "This Must Be the Place" sat on the shelf for YEARS as I tried to figure out where to go. Send Andy back to covering wars? Send her to a foreign country and have her and Miranda do long-distance? Have Miranda retire and follow Andy around the world? I think it was helpful for me to grow older before I finished that story because the ending I gave them, happy but a work in progress, is the one that I like the most.

I haven't watched anything new that has given me the itch to write. I think that's why I tend to go back to Andy and Miranda. For some reason, their fantasy world with its super tiny source material is just so much fun to stretch and reform (and reformat) that it is my happy place. I've enjoyed many shows lately, but none that captured my fic-reading attention. I do have a couple of DWP ideas in my brain; one is pandemic based, but it seems so silly now, two and a half years in, that it might fizzle out into nothing. The other is an idea from a prompt I got from a group but haven't started it. We shall see.

Cake - that one was fun. Geez, I have written like, ALL the AUs! lol

Thank you again, pal!

[wizardlyghost]

“good” might not have been the best word i could have used tbh, fair point. i meant it more in the sense of “as a whole vaguely aligned with/sympathetic to a typical non-evil party”, rather than in an objective moral sense.

like, unless the intention is to deliberately turn preconcieved notions on their heads, elves dwarves halflings etc are generally treated as being at least neutral/complicated as species, if not outright on the side of good/order/civilisation/freedom/etc/etc/etc. morality aside, dnd is in large part built around various forms of conflict, and you’d be hard pressed to find anyone even vaguely familiar with the idea of tolkienesque elves who will go blind into a game/book/whatever with the automatic assumption that the elves are gonna be their enemies.

my point is that if a) the elves are in their space age (as a civilisation - i don’t really go in for the “species as one monolithic civilisation” thing but here the advancement is a direct result of their longevity), b) everyone else is still in their semi-eternal faux-medieval period, c) the two groups aren’t separated to a point that disallows communication and exchange of aid, and d) the shorter-lived people are still having to rely on pointy sticks to fend off the world-rending monsters, well... it doesn’t really paint a picture where the audience/players are likely to be sympathetic to the elves, right? like, if young elves are coming down to larp as adventurers but further aid than that isn’t being given, my knee jerk reaction would be “fuck these hipster pricks, coming down here with their billion-gold-piece bags of holding to ‘find themselves’, what gives them the right to treat everyone else’s struggle as their source of entertainment?”, y’know?

i’m not saying it’s a bad worldbuilding idea - actually, a resistance movement taking down the space elf 1% sounds like an alright idea for a campaign - but part of the fun for me of trying to make all these jumbled shards of lore make sense together lies in keeping the vague outline of established tropes, changing the details but not completely reshaping ideas that the audience/players will have a connection of familiarity to in the process. for instance, i fucking hate the drow on a meta level, the whole “these specific elves are EVIL, they live underground with the monsters (scary!) & are matriarchal (unconventional!) & worship spiders (gross!) & have dark skin (...) & exactly one okay guy has ever come from their backstabbing society (this shows that they’re capable of change but choose not to and we are thus justified in assuming they’re all personally terrible people!)” thing rubs me in entirely the wrong way. however, they are an established part of dnd, players are gonna come into my world expecting to at least know the gist of how they work, so it’d feel a bit grrmartin-ey to set up a situation where i have to explain “well in my version they’re completely different and always have been, everything you think you know is baseless and wrong, you know nothing i know everything fuck your expectations”. so i won’t necessarily change that they exist or how they work, but i might change some of the details - make the followers of lolth come from all elvish backgrounds rather than the only dark skinned one, for instance, and/or include a resistance movement within drow society, making them less of a monolith and acknowledging that they’re trying to change the way their world turns.

kinda got carried away there, that’s a lot more of a spiel than i was planning to post. not sure what the point of the discussion was, i think i lost it somewhere.

dnd sourcebooks: elves don’t sleep, and are immune to magical sleep and effects such as the 5th level spell dream. also, in many worlds, one of the two major elvish deities is the goddess of dreams.

me: well that’s fucking stupid, i’m gonna rule that the no sleep thing was something the elves made up to punk the dwarves.

[silkenstarlight]

wild cherry sweet (part two)

Summary: Reader is distracted as she and Bucky prepare to embark on their mission at the GRC’s private gala. Bucky decides to help ease her tension.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warning/s: smut (18+ only, minors dni!); public sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, kissing, brief mention of sugar daddy

Word count: 3.9k

Find part one here

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Author’s note: i didn’t plan a part two for this, but tbh bucky is not the type to let a woman pleasure him without even trying to reciprocate on her

Do not repost! Likes and reblogs are welcome and encouraged :))

“Glasses? Really?”

You pressed your lips together tightly, scrutinizing Bucky’s lackadaisical efforts at putting together a disguise: wayfarer eyeglasses with a thick tortoiseshell frame that pressed awkwardly against his brow bone. You leaned across the center console of the car, and when you reached up to his face, he smiled dopily at you, expecting some loving, gentle caress. But, when you ripped the tag off of the glasses he had just bought at the pharmacy, his jaw clenched, lips turning downward into a chagrined frown. You settled behind the wheel again. 

He seemed strangely excited about the prospect of donning a costume for the mission, so unlike his usual disgruntled self. Even so, his efforts at disguise were last-minute and low-effort. Earlier, before you had left the apartment to drive to the gala’s discreet venue, he had flattened his hair onto his forehead in an uncharacteristic style, reminiscent of the neatly-combed 60’s mop-tops donned by the likes of Ringo Starr. And, when you were slinging on your heels, ready to walk out of the door, he had asked you to dust some eyeshadow below his eyes. He explained that exaggerated dark circles would help to draw his face down and make him appear slightly older. 

You obliged, trying not to let the breath stall in your throat as you traced a cool taupe shade below his eyes in faint crescents. You couldn’t ignore the fact that his eyes were trained on you the whole time.

The way his eyes followed your every move had made you suddenly shy and docile, even though just minutes before, you had been on your knees in front of him, his cock shoved down your throat. After he came, he had brought you up from your knees to a standing position, and had kissed you with the fervor of a man who was just getting started. 

But, you had a mission. Which you were already late for.

You had fixed your hair and lipstick quickly after he had tucked himself back into his pants, a brush and a damp tissue working wonders to conceal your tryst. And then, you were both out of the door, climbing into your car and plugging the gala’s location into Google maps.

But, first, he had insisted on making a stop. You groaned, clutching the wheel tightly as he directed you through traffic towards a pharmacy a few blocks away from the venue. You parallel parked and he jumped out of the car, jaunting into the store with bouncing, confident steps. You left the engine running, eager to get to the gala. The sooner your mission was over, after all, the sooner you could both return to the apartment and resume where you left off.

The thought made you ache, the wetness pooling in your underwear momentarily making you forget the jittery tapping of your foot and the sweat that slicked the creases of your palms. Your stomach flipped when you remembered the blissed-out expression on Bucky’s face as your mouth had bobbed up and down his length, lips popping with a lewd smack as you pulled back--

The passenger door opened and Bucky climbed in with a plastic bag in hand, interrupting your daydreaming and making you jump.

He noticed, settling in his seat and shutting the car door behind him.“Pre-mission jitters?” He asked knowingly.

“Uh-- yeah.” You blushed, choosing not to elaborate.

He simply gave you a smirk, as if he could read your every thought, and pulled his purchase from the plastic bag. A pair of reading glasses. He slid them on, and you scoffed.

“Glasses? Really?” You lightly whacked his arm, laughing. “Who are you, Clark Kent?”

He shrugged. “Well, it seemed to work for him just fine.”

“Alright, just don’t come complaining to me when the magnification in the lenses starts giving you a headache.”

“Noted.”

You pulled out from your parking spot and rejoined traffic, hoping to find a parking space closer to the venue. You didn’t want to use the valet, just in case things went south and you needed a convenient means of escape. So, when you were two blocks away, you parked.

You both climbed out, stepping up to the sidewalk and locking the car as you began to walk. You smoothed your hands nervously over the skirt of your dress, breath slightly shaky. Missions like these were a part of the job description, but you would never get used to the nerves they gave you.

Or, maybe, the possibility of impending doom wasn’t what was giving you nerves.

Maybe it was the man walking next to you.

You bit your lip at the thought, turning your head to look at him.

“What?” he asked, still facing ahead, surveying the streets around them for possible exit points they could use if the evening went south.

You just shook your head, pushing the thought to the back of your mind. It wasn’t safe to get distracted like this, on a night as potentially dangerous as this one. Instead, you surveyed his body language, noticing that he had adopted a slouch to accompany his floppy hair, gaunt makeup, and glasses.

You snorted. “You look like an old man.”

“I am an old man, thank you very much.” His eyes slid to yours briefly, before facing forwards again.

“Never said it was a bad thing,” you smirked, trying to get a rise out of him before the serious portion of the evening officially began.

He grabbed your wrist suddenly, pulling you flush to his side and wrapping his arm around you.“Oh, I know that you like it,” he whispered, lips brushing against your hair. You felt your throat constrict, and he squeezed your waist before letting you go. “But we’ll have to save that part of the evening for later.”

“If you insist,” you sighed, lacing your voice with faux disappointment, knowing that if there was even a whiff of foul play at tonight’s event, you would both be cool, composed, and on the job, lewd thoughts far from center stage. But, it was fun to tease him, to hope that the gala would be tame, just so that you could go home sooner and do some not-so-tame things with each other.

The venue was a stocky cement building, gray and brutal and unassuming, the windows surprisingly dark. The only indication that it housed a private event was the presence of two guards, their bulky, muscled figures situated on either side of a nondescript metal door. You grabbed Bucky’s hand, fingers intertwining with his, and took a deep breath before you approached the guards.

You cleared your throat. “We’re here for the GRC event.” You clenched your jaw as both guards swept their gazes up and down your’s and Bucky’s bodies.

“Last name?” The one on the right asked gruffly, not bothering to look at your faces, pulling a tablet computer from behind his back to check the guest list.

“Jancovik. Daria Jancovik.” Your voice was steady despite the nerves, the fake name rolling off your tongue.

The guard raised his eyebrows and looked up, stepping to the side and gesturing to the door. “Ah, of course. Miss Jancovik.”

You smiled warmly. Your plan had worked. The real Daria Jancovik, a foreign informer who reported migrants to the GRC, leading to eventual deportation, was on… vacation. You had paid her an earlier visit, advising her to leave the country, to return home and visit her family instead of attending the gala. Bucky had advised you against this approach, claiming that it was too risky, that it would be better to just find a way to sneak in. But, you told him, it was better to enter where the GRC would least expect: the front door. And, it looked like the real Daria Jancovik took your advice-- she obviously wasn’t here.

“Thank you, sir.” You nodded slightly, leading Bucky behind you, hand still clutching his.

“Wait, Miss Jancovik.” The guard barred your entry with an outstretched arm. “The guest list doesn’t say anything about you having a plus one.”

Fuck. You tried not to let your brows furrow, tried to quash the electric feeling of panic that traveled down your spine. You bit your lip and broke into a shy simper, staring up at the guard through fluttering lashes.

“Oh, so sorry, sir,” you drawled slowly, voice dripping with apology. But, your voice shook, a slight tremor belying your confident tone and drawing a suspicious glare from both guards. You hadn’t planned for this. Your palms began sweating again, and your thoughts ran wild, searching for any plausible alibis that would explain your companion. But you couldn’t focus, thoughts erratic and shapeless. Your mouth dropped open, ready to babble some thoughtless, on-the-spot response, when Bucky cleared his throat next to you.

“Sir, I am what you may call a… generous donor.” He enunciated his last words carefully, adopting some strange, implacable and vaguely European accent. His words lilted and swirled lightly in his mouth, further elaborating his mysterious presence.

In spite of this, the guards weren’t convinced. “If you’re not on the list, I can’t let you in.”

Bucky simply stared back at him and squinted, deciding to try a more blunt angle. “I have a previous arrangement with this young woman. I… help her with personal causes. Of a financial nature. And, I was hoping to witness her fine employer in action tonight. I am… willing to spread my generosity to its cause, if I find it to be convincing.” You tried to conceal the awe that threatened to spill on your face at his quick save. And, you wanted to laugh at the insinuation that Bucky was your sugar daddy, some stuffy, lonely old man with heavy pockets brimming with cash. In reality, he struggled to pay rent and didn’t own a bed frame. It was comical, watching him trying to swallow his inner protests at the idea, managing his microexpressions with a steady, slightly uncomfortable stare.

You both paused, letting the guard’s mind wander. 

His eyes flickered to his partner briefly before settling back on you. 

The guard considered for a moment, and then simply nodded, avoiding further elaboration from you about your relationship. He stepped aside again. “Enjoy your night.”

You smiled sweetly at him before stepping past him and opening the door, tugging Bucky behind you.

“Wow,” you muttered as the door creaked shut behind you. A looming, dark passage stretching out before you, the dimly lit, bright red door at the end your final barrier to successfully infiltrating the gala. The thrumming pulse of music seemed to make the walls vibrate. You looked at Bucky, and he dropped your hand, flexing his fingers. “The plan actually worked.”

He laughed, and you both started walking toward the red door. “Only because my old man costume came in handy.”

“Well, like you said earlier,” you hissed. “You are an old man.”

He just shook his head slightly at your recall, and when you were both a foot away from the red door’s threshold, you paused. You did a mental check on your weapons, ticking them off on your mental checklist one by one. Handgun in thigh holster, check. Knife in ankle strap, check. Baggie of poison tablets in bra, check--

“You ready?” Bucky’s voice interrupted your last-minute internal review, and you turned to face him. His concerned expression ignited a whole new kind of nerves in your stomach, warm, fluttery electricity travelling down your limbs like lightning. It was a delicious feeling, and you longed to lean into it, to allow yourself to be cocooned by its enticing, buzzing embrace. To allow your tense muscles to relax, to press your body against his, melting into the muscled, statuesque contours and comforting stability of his body. 

You were most definitely distracted, but that’s because you hadn’t had a proper outlet for your pre-mission jitters. Sucking his cock, watching him devolve into a euphoric, aroused state, had only gotten you more worked up than you usually were before missions. You felt embarrassment bubble in your stomach, a deep red blush travelling up your neck at the thought that you couldn’t control yourself in this moment. Your judgement was clouded, all because you couldn’t fucking function around a man like Bucky Barnes.

Bucky grabbed your chin and tilted your face up to look at him. “What’s wrong?”

You felt bad, noticing the genuine concern behind his eyes, but figured it was best to tell him. You didn’t want to lie and endanger the rest of the mission with your preoccupied thoughts. “Umm-- this doesn’t usually happen, but… I’m a bit… distracted.”

“What’s on your mind?”

You huffed a laugh and bit your lip, trying to gain the courage to tell him the truth. “Uh-- I guess I’m still… still stuck on what happened earlier tonight. Before we left the apartment?” You said it like a question, sentence nervously trailing up in pitch at the end.

His expression was unreadable, the pressing dark of the hallway leaving his face in shadow. But then, his teeth flashed in a broad smile. “I remember what happened,” he said fondly, as if you two were reminiscing on a shared memory before entering battle together. “But what’s holding you up about it right now?”

You took a deep breath. Time to come clean. “I’m just still a bit worked up.”

He raised his brows slightly in surprise, then nodded, face settling into an expression of understanding. “That makes sense. You didn’t get your release.”

“Yeah.” Your voice broke around the single syllable, your blush now flooding your cheeks.

“Well,” he said, dropping his hand from your chin and tracing his fingertips lightly along the curve of your neck, trailing them down your spine until settling at your waist. He squeezed slightly, making you gasp. “How quickly could you cum? If I helped you right now?”

You blinked in disbelief, shocked by his vulgar words, but when he just continued to stare at you expectantly, waiting for a response, you realized that he was serious. You scoffed. “I-- I don’t know. Probably pretty quickly.”

“Good.” He pushed you back, your exposed skin meeting the cool cement of the wall, pounding beats and indistinguishable lyrics pulsing through you to your very core. He stared at you for a moment, drinking in your neediness and saving the image of your blown-out pupils and parted lips for later. And then, he bridged the gap between you, resting his forehead against yours before pressing his mouth lightly against yours.

The kiss was surprisingly soft, despite your admission to a desire so pressing, so consuming, that you couldn’t focus on your job. And then, his teeth grazed against your bottom lip, catching it in a faint, erotic bite. You couldn’t help but moan into his mouth, nipples peaking and wetness pooling in your underwear. You felt his lips curve upwards into a smug smile. You simply pulled him closer, sliding your hands up his chest and wrapping your arms around his neck. He took that as an invitation to push the kiss further, his tongue sliding against your swollen lips, softly prying your mouth open. He was sweet, so gentle and patient, but a sense of urgency drove his actions. He wanted to help you, so that you could release that burning tension coiled inside of you. You had treated him so nicely earlier that evening. He hoped to return the favor. Well, that and he also wanted to watch you cum. 

You shuddered another moan into his mouth and he pulled back a fraction, hands tracing down your sides. He grasped the slinky fabric of your dress, pulling the skirt up until it was bunched around your hips, exposing your thin underwear to the cool air and solid press of cement behind you. He let out a low whistle at the sight, the delicate black lace and your soft skin.

You grabbed his wrist, sudden doubt blaring in your brain. “W-wait. What about the mission?”

He simply met your gaze with his, maintaining eye contact while he slowly sunk to his knees in front of you. He twisted his wrist out from your grip, wrapping his hand around one of your ankles and lifting your leg, bringing it up to rest on his shoulder. Your heart pounded in your chest.

“Yeah? What about the mission?” 

You could feel his hot breath against your clothed pussy as he answered, his voice low and rumbly in his chest. You pressed your head into the wall behind you, trying to fight the urge to twine your hands through his hair and beckon him to where you needed him most. Despite your weak protests, you desperately hoped that he would continue his actions. “Shouldn’t we--”

Your words trailed off into a long, loud moan as he quickly moved your underwear to the side and licked a long, wet stripe up your aching slit. He pulled back slightly to look up at you, and he hummed, pleased at your desperation, your knotted brows rosy cheeks. 

“It’s alright, darling.” He scraped his fingernails teasingly up your other leg, chuckling as it buckled under you at the unexpected stimulation. And then, he settled that hand on your inner thigh, pressing his thumb against the soft skin and circling it lightly in a teasing massage. “We’ll make it quick.”

He waited for you to consent before continuing. You just nodded, not trusting yourself to form words, and he smiled wickedly before dragging his fingers against your wetness and plunging two digits into your center.

You gasped at the sudden intrusion, his thick fingers igniting a pleasant ache as they pushed inside of you, stroking your tight walls slowly until they relaxed around him. When he leaned forward, closing his mouth against your clit and flicking it with his tongue, you sighed. He lapped at your wetness eagerly, lips making an obscene smacking sound. You felt your muscles relax, that enticing, stirring warmth quickly travelling through your body as he teased you into a state of relaxed arousal.

He pulled back yet again to look at you, and you wanted to moan at the loss of his tongue, but he replaced it by circling the pad of his thumb against your sensitive nub. He noticed your hands, balled tightly at your sides, and he laughed. 

“You can grab my hair if you want, baby. I don’t mind if everyone in there sees that I have sex hair.” He jutted his chin towards the door as he increased the pace of his fingers thrusting inside of you.

That permission was all you needed. You reached forward and twined one hand through his hair, bringing his face closer to you and inviting him to continue his earlier ministrations. Your other hand remained rooted against the wall, a necessary point of balance as he made you fall apart at his command. He replaced his mouth at your center, making you shudder.

It was warm, it was rough, and it was everything you needed. You tried not to think about the risk of intrusion, of the guards outside letting in other guests and getting an eyeful of a private moment. Or, if someone opened the red door and wandered in, they would be right on top of you, close enough to smell the musk of your arousal and see the pebbled peaks of your nipples pressing through the satin of your dress. It would be humiliating. Bucky would never let you live it down, forever reminding you on future missions about the time when you were caught with your legs wrapped around his ears. But, if you were being honest with yourself, the thought of someone walking in and witnessing you, drenched and dirty and moaning all because of him, only served to turn you on even more. A loud moan erupted from your lips, wetness squelching as he curled his fingers inside of you and sucked lewdly. You pulled his hair tightly, urging him on as you came closer and closer to completion.

In response to the sharp tugging of your fingers, he moaned, echoing the shameless sounds that were tumbling from your lips. The faint vibrations, the low, gruff sound of him as he lost himself in the endeavor of giving you pleasure, made you clench around him. A glowing pool of warmth began to form in your stomach, tension building and building. You bit your lip. The feeling of his mouth, sliding and sucking against your clit, and the sensation of his fingers spreading you open and coaxing sweet, high-pitched moans from your lips. It was almost too much. You slapped the wall with your free hand, twitching with pleasure as a deep, burning tension began to build.When his curled fingers rubbed against the spongy, sensitive spot inside of you, that was it.

With a high, keening cry, you fell over the edge, your orgasm wracking your body. A copious gush of wetness flooded from your center, likely drenching his face, and your legs trembled, threatening to buckle beneath you. He sensed this, his free hand pressing your hips roughly against the wall, still thrusting his fingers inside of you and suckling your clit. He fucked you through your orgasm, wringing every last ounce of warm, dripping pleasure from your body, not slowing down or stopping until a dull, tired ache bloomed in your center and you had to pull him back by his hair. He grinned up at you, making eye contact with you through his lashes, a slick wetness clinging to his upper lip. He huffed a laugh at the reluctant sucking sound your pussy made when he slipped his fingers out.

You rolled your eyes and he guided your leg off of his shoulder, making sure it was planted firmly on the ground before moving your underwear neatly back into place. He rose from his kneeling position. As he grasped your waist, your skirt fell back down around you in a dramatic curtain, and he pulled you close, kissing you lightly. The taste of you on his lips was intoxicating.

He pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against yours, and stared at you with a half-lidded, deeply satisfied expression. He had liked making you come apart just as much as you had appreciated the release.

“Uh oh,” he whispered, grabbing your chin and examining your face. “Looks like we ruined your lipstick again.”

You laughed, a raspy, tired sound, and smacked his chest lightly, stepping back. “Well,” you sighed, smiling up at him. “I don’t mind. I’ll go straight to the bathroom to fix it. Brought an extra tube of lipstick in my purse for any… potential touch-ups.”

He raised his eyebrows, smoothing a hand over his mussed hair and straightening the cuffs of his sleeves. “Sounds like you planned for this to happen.”

You shook your head. “Only subconsciously.”

He grinned, and you both turned to face the red door. Despite the fact that just moments before, you were writhing around his fingers, wanton moans swallowed by the diffused thump of techno music, you felt serene, ready to jump into action. No more distracting thoughts clouded your mind.

“Ready?” He asked, reaching for the knob, waiting for your confirmation before continuing.

You nodded in affirmation and smiled, eyes crinkling. 

“Ready.”

He turned the knob and swung the door open. You walked through the doorway side by side, partners in crime, ready to meet whatever awaited you beyond its threshold.