#that thought? EXCRUCIATING. MORTIFYING.

[totopopopo]

genuinely not quite sure why i am so deeply uncomfortable when it comes to telling ppl abt my personal/romantic life. like i want them to know but i also don’t like admitting to anyone out loud that i have emotions, feelings, and/or relations resembling anything beyond superficial interest. i mean jesus. how cringe. they should just intuit it all psychically or something so they can know without me ever having to bring it up myself

[pepprs]

life would be so much better if i wasn’t so absolutely fucking depleted and exhausted all the time lol

[wolfiesmoon]

Phone number

Haruka Sakura x fem!reader

hello this is my windbreaker debut 😍😍😍

i've been thinking about babyboy sakura way too much lately, and come on how do you expect me to resist a tsundere who gets flustered easily

speaking of flustering sakura...😈

"Hey. You're a member of Bofurin, right?" you tapped Sakura on the shoulder while he was walking down the street.

Two weeks ago, you happened to see him patrolling the town and beating up some bad guys that were causing trouble. Ever since then you haven't been able to stop thinking about him. Maybe it's the strange yet intriguing appearance or maybe it's the serious, no nonsense expression on his face that you can't get out of your head.

You're still kind of processing it since it came out of nowhere, but you think you might have a crush on him. At the very least, you're interested to the point where you want to meet him again and shoot your shot.

This brings you to where you are right now. You happened to see him again while running errands around town and thought to yourself "now or never".

"Yeah, what do you want?" he sounded like he was slightly bothered by you approaching him, but you happened to notice the slight pink dusting his cheeks which let you know that might not be the case.

"I need help with something." you intertwined your fingers, putting on your best sweet smile and trying not to show that you're nervous as hell right now.

His expression became slightly more serious, somewhat like the cool expression he was wearing during the fight 2 weeks ago. It was a silent way of telling you to go on.

"Something's missing and I need help finding it. It's your number." you screamed internally because that line sounded way cooler in your head and hearing yourself say it now makes you feel like the biggest idiot on Earth.

He stared at you weirdly for a few excruciating seconds like you did in fact just say the stupidest thing ever which made you instantly lose all the confidence you built up.

"So, uh, you know, if you could give your number to me, that would be nice?" it's almost like you enjoy digging your own grave.

He furrowed his brows as if he's thinking hard before turning completely red all of a sudden. You giggled about how he looks like a tomato internally but on the outside you were too mortified to do anything other than wait for his response. He changed colors like those LED lights. It's almost impressive.

"My number? T-To you?" he seemed genuinely surprised to say the least. He looked shocked to a comical degree.

You nodded and he fumbled around his pockets to pull out his phone. He stared at it for a few seconds before awkwardly asking "How do I do that, again?"

He was firmly avoiding eye contact with you now, which is kind of strange compared to the way he was confidently exchanging eye contact with you a few moments before. You aren't sure if he's embarrased because you're asking him for his number or if it's because he has no idea how to exchange contact info. But if he's embarrased about it, that means he's atleast a little interested, right?

"Give it here." you gently held out your hand and he gave you his phone without saying anything. You added him on LINE, probably wearing a stupidly giddy smile on your face while doing that without even noticing.

"There..." you handed his phone back to him. "So, um... see you around?" you smiled at him one last time, turning around to get the hell out of this awkward yet exciting situation and waving back at him. That was the most awkward you've felt in a while and you kind of ended the interaction suddenly because you couldn't take it anymore.

"S... see you." he choked out, barely audible to you.

When you were firmly out of view, he realised that he has a nosebleed. A girl... just gave him her number. A girl... just... He feels like he might just faint from all the blood rushing to his face. Not to mention he's going to have to clean up his nose before anyone notices.

He stared at your contact name with a little heart next to it for far too long when he was all alone that night.

[anon-sect]

Picture source: Instagram account: @mrstinkysocks

Patten had the perfect guy. He had been in many relationships, but his current one was the best. He really loved the guy, but his two step brothers weren't fond of having a gay brother. They had at many times picked on him for being gay, but he would just ignore them and their insults.

One day, their bullying had gone too far. Patten had received a call from his boyfriend wanting to break up with him. He claimed that he was cheating on him and had pictures to prove it. Seeing the pictures that his boyfriend received, he could tell that they were fabricated by his stepbrothers.

Patten confronted his stepbrothers, Ion and Devin. They didn't deny what they did. In fact, they were completely proud of it. This was last stunt was too much. He decided he would need some payback against his homophobic stepbrothers.

While they weren't looking, he had spiked their drinks with a special ingredient. He waited till they soon lost consciousness after finishing their drinks. He watched as both of them began to shrink in size and taking on the form of white socks perfect for his big feet.

He tried both of them on. They were super comfortable on his feet. He made sure that their senses were left intact and heighted to about 1000%. They would feel more intensity than normal.

Ion woke up as though he was run over by a bus. He felt strange. He tried to move but could only do a little squirming. He tried to speak but had no voice to make any sound. He felt something fill up his body as though it was hollowed out. He could hear his stepbrother talking on the phone above him. It sounded like he was trying to make up with his former boyfriend. As much as he tried to move or speak any form of defiance, he only could manage a little squirming motion.

Devin woke up to feeling the wiggling of toes. He was a little confused at first till he figured out that he was a sock on Patten's foot. He could smell the odor coming from it, but it was much in intensity. He could hear him make up with the boyfriend they tried to breakup with him. Once off the phone, the intense pressure of being stepped on and walked on was insane. It felt like every nerve ending was in excruciating pain. He wanted the pain to end but each step brought on pain fresh and new.

Patten walked into the kitchen to get a snack before relaxing in front of the tv. His boyfriend was coming over later for some make up sex after hearing what his stepbrothers tried to do. He walked back to the couch and propped his feet on the table. "You two tried to ruin my relationship because you don't like having a gay brother. Now, you two will serve my feet for about a week. I might turn you back to normal then. For now, enjoy my feet." He laughed as he watched tv, not giving a care about his new socks.

SIX MONTHS LATER....

Patten saw one of his favorite pair of socks had a big hole in it. One of his stepbrothers was too damaged to change back to normal. The other was dirty, but still intact. He didn't see the reason to restore one and not the other. Keeping them both as socks was the better option. His boyfriend loved the fact about what he did to them. In fact, his boyfriend had used them as cum rags on several occasions. He didn't feel bad that they would be his socks forever now, since they were terrible brothers to him. At least in this form, they were more helpful.

Devin's mind was completely gone. There were no more human thoughts. The only thing that he focused on was Patten's foot. The hole was a badge of honor that he was proud of. Patten's foot had worn him out and he loved it. All he was now just a sock loyal to the foot that wore him.

Ion was screaming daily for Patten to forgive them. Six months of the stench of his brother's foot was a nightmare. He wanted out badly. But when he heard that they would stay as socks due to the fact that one of them had a hole in it, was mortifying. Since the hole would prevent that sock from returning to normal, they both had to remain as socks. He figured that Devin's mind was probably gone by now. He would be a dumb mindless sock. The bad part was that Devin having a hole in him meant that they both now share the same fate. Forever tormented by their gay brother on his feet.

[k0yaz]

that was all that mattered.

Pairings: furina x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, angst—but comfort yay :3, hanahaki disease, graphic descriptions of coughing up blood, GIRLS LOVING GIRLS OH MY GOD???? Not proofread.

A/N: FURINA MY POOKIE WOOKIE CUPCAKE RECIPE WITH RAINBOW SPRINKES ON TOP WHY HAVE I NEVER WRITTEN FOR HER I LOVE FURINA SO MUCH AHAHSHSHDGGDGHSHSHSKWOEI 🕯️

She never wanted to see that sight again.

Furina paced back and forth, the quiet snaps of her shoes with each step she took being the only sound echoing through the empty corridor. She only moved in circles before the large door separating her from your room in which you were recovering, her thoughts clouded with unrest and anxiety regarding your current condition. Closing her eyes, Furina’s back pressed against the wall, slumping down slightly with a shaky sigh as her head tilted back to try and regain some sense of clarity.

It was horrifying. The grotesque sight of bloodstained flower petals cornering your lip whenever a series guttural screams were heard from your room was absolutely mortifying to lay eyes upon, the silk white sheets splattered an oozing crimson. Vision all blurred, your upper body would rock from side to side even while sitting down to keep your balance, your hand cupped below your chin to prevent the blood from spilling any further—yet your efforts were futile once you collapsed back onto the mattress in exhaustion.

The sight of you lying there, blood pooled below your outstretched, frail body wrenched Furina’s chest with sorrow. All she could do was sit there in silence, unable to do anything while you suffered. It tormented her day and night, images of your aching frame clasping a hand over your mouth and being racked by fervent coughs. All she would hear was a string of violent coughing fits, and you trying to desperately stop, often by holding your own breath. However, it would be in vain as they rasped through your throat and spattered stains of blood onto the blanket pulled over your lap.

Yet the worst thing of all, was the revelation that the source of your excruciating suffering was Furina herself. She couldn’t help but bite back a sob once she strolled past your door, overhearing you muttering about how you felt about her to Neuvillette, voice pained as you choked out how she wouldn’t feel the same way. Upon hearing that conversation, Furina only froze in place for a couple moments, before lowering her hat to shield her glassy eyes, and getting herself far away from your room. The moment she was alone, the former hydro archon wept quietly to herself at the revelation, believing she was the one who put you through this hellish pain.

However, she decided to atone on one fateful day, when the sunlight poured in through the parted curtains through the window, and livened the sickly hue of your skin. Your eyelids remained shut, yet you still stirred from the light intruding your eyes, feeling like they were burning into your skull. Awoken by a faint knock, you sat up expectantly as your bleary vision shifted to the woman before you. You attempted to swipe your thumb across the corners of your lips, frantically trying to scratch off the dried blood soiling your face as soon as you recognized Furina.

The second she confessed, every fuzzy sense of yours suddenly shone with a sense of clarity, the world seemingly stopping its rotation for the two of you in that moment. The flowering plant embedded in your lungs felt as if it paused its growth as your brain registered the words “I love you” out loud. All of a sudden, your shoulders lowered themselves in relaxation, chest suddenly feeling lighter as you were able to sit upright to embrace Furina in your arms. You weren’t even close to completely healed, yet the simple contentment of your love being requited ceased the searing pain eating away at your body.

“Lady Furina, you can come in now.”

Furina simply nodded, pushing her way into your room slowly as to not disturb your rest. She breathed out a relieved sigh, seeing your head laid onto the soft pillows as the freshly washed blankets enveloped your body. This time when she came to see you, the sight was much more pleasant to gaze upon compared to last time, the blankets remained an untouched clean white rather than painted red. A few raspy coughs still snuck their way through occasionally, yet it was part of the recovery process as the flowering plant began to decay.

“(Name)?” Furina called out, clearing her throat. “How are you feeling? Any better?”

Your eyes lit up upon seeing Furina approach you, halting at the foot of the bed as to not startle you too much.

“Furina! You’re here!” You exclaimed, clearing your own throat as well to answer her question. “And yeah, I’m feeling a lot more light. I still occasionally have some coughs here and there, but no more blood or flower petals.”

She exhaled softly, bringing her white gloved hand to her forehead. “Thank god…” she breathed out reluctantly. You could practically sense the built up worry in her tone, the sight of you nearing death in such a brutal way had still left a scar in her mind.

“I just..I can’t help but wonder- what if I never said it? What if I was too late?” She choked out, tears brimming the corner of her eyes. She shrank in slightly, folding her arms as her hands rubbed over her elbows periodically. You couldn’t bear the sight of her like this. It wasn’t her fault, and she needed to know that. So as a good girlfriend, you extended your arms, gesturing Furina to come lay on you.

Without hesitation, she collapsed onto your chest. The poor woman was probably in just as much pain emotionally as you were physically from the awful thought of the worst possible outcome of you dying. A mellow sigh left your tinted lips as your fingers weaved through Furina’s hair comfortingly, causing her to only lean further into your touch in response.

“Furi. I’m fine now…there’s no need to worry, okay? I’ll only get better from here on out..”

A weak sniffle left her as she just nodded, hands grasping onto the fabric of your shirt.

“I know. It’s just- that sight hurt so bad to see- and knowing I was the reason for-!”

“You weren’t the reason. You didn’t know.” You interrupted, bringing a hand up to rest on her tear stained cheek. “And besides, since you did confess…now I’m recovering. I’m doing a lot better now in fact..”

Reaching over, you picked up a glass of water between your slippery fingertips, bringing it to your lips with wobbly hands as you gulped the water carefully. Your uncoordinated movements concerned Furina, yet your reassuring expression made her push that thought back. You were healing. That was all that mattered. There was a slight pause in your movements before you let out an exasperated sigh at the empty water pitcher. It wasn’t a big deal, yet it did get annoying to constantly ask for refills when you’re constantly downing glasses of water to soothe your parched throat.

Furina sat up, responding with a contented sigh as she walked over to the bedside table. “I’ll go refill it for you now that I’m here anyway.” She replied, her voice seemingly more relaxed now. You gave a soft hum in response, pulling the cloud like blankets over yourself to remedy the sudden shivers and cold feeling washing over your body. Suddenly, Furina’s heterochromic eyes lit up as if a lightbulb had just popped over her head.

“Oh! Right..I forgot something.” She exclaimed, tilting her chin down as she fumbled through her shirt pocket while you looked in confusion. She has a shirt pocket-?

You blinked in surprise as you were met face to face with a fresh bright blue lakelight lily. Furina bent over slightly into a bow as she presented you with the flower, peeking at you with one eye open as if to see your reaction. A warm, fluffy feeling spread through your body as you graciously accepted the flower from her faintly shaky hand, not being able to help the small giggle that left you at her gentlemanly behavior.

Without another moment of doubt, you set the flower down on the bedside table and cupped Furina’s face, palms caressing her cheeks as you pulled her in nose to nose against you. Both of your eyes closed as you basked in the comfort of Furina’s touch and affection, accepting her love gratefully.

“I love you, Furina.”

A/N: fun fact, my take on hanahaki disease is where it only happens if they believe that their love is unrequited, but the other person actually has feelings for them. This not only makes it seem less forced, but also multiples the angst TENFOLD if the afflicted person ends up dying and the other person has to live with the guilt of not confessing :3

[landwriter]

Desperate Measures | Dream/Hob | 1.2K | G v silly and fluffy, literally 90% air, dream attempts a romantic gesture, hob is a sap and forgetful, human au, part text fic

for @domaystic drabbles, Day 6: Under the Same Umbrella

---

Dream woke up to 26 texts from Hob. He put on his glasses and began his morning read. It’d replaced Times for him. The editorial quality, he thought, was far superior.

Hob (7:19 am) heading out, gave you a wee forehead kiss and you didn’t even stir. sleeping bloody beauty. love you disgustingly much x

Hob (7:26 am) couldn’t find my umbrella anywhere can you take a look if it’s not too much of a bother? feel like i’ve gone mad

Hob (7:30 am) christ it’s bucketing down!! standing under the eaves just to tell you how much it’s bucketing down

plants will be happy at least so will my goth boyfriend ;) hope your writing goes well today love. extra atmosphere!!

Hob (8:42 am) nevermind don’t look for it remembered that i left it in my office told johanna she can use it since i’m at the archives all day anyway glad i’m not the only one who’d forget their own head if it wasn’t screwed on :) :) :)

Hob (10:11 am) you should’ve seen the look lisa gave me when i showed up had to dry myself off in the men’s w half a forest of paper towels there goes my carbon offset from walking i said christ you’re probably still in bed asleep warm dry!! lucky bastard

wish i could come back already and drip puddles all over you

Hob (10:37 am) if this keeps up i’m going to look like mr darcy in the rain on your doorstep tonight don’t worry i promise not to propose marriage while insulting you xx although i do love you most ardently

...elizabeth

Dream smiled, read them all again, contemplated, and then sent his reply.

Dream (11:01 am) Sir, I appreciate the struggle you have been through

Hob replied moments later.

?? you sound like a customer service agent wait you’re quoting the film you can’t reject me if i’ve not proposed to you!! yet!!!

Dream snorted. 'and I am very sorry I have caused you pain' went the line. They’d watched it last weekend. Hob had cried, and Dream had privately decided that if Hob proposed, he’d say yes. Even if it was poorly done. It wouldn’t be, though. Not if Hob was doing it. He sent a second text.

...and I am very sorry you were drenched by rain.

Then he got out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen. His phone buzzed anew as he made tea and toast. He smiled at the sound. On their first date, Hob had warned Dream that he had a bad habit of annoying boyfriends over text. Dream, on his first date in six years, had wondered what it might be like to be so effusively charming that you could have enough boyfriends to form habits around them at all. He hadn’t known what to say, and Hob had ducked his head, grimacing a little, and said, “Just tell me to piss off, please, if I do? I know I can be a bit much.”

Dream believed it, because the man was telling him about his habits with boyfriends after one date. Not that he minded. And three months in, Dream had yet to tell him to piss off.

Turns out, a bit much was exactly what he’d wanted. Needed, in truth. Someone to tether him to the real world. His phone had become a modern-day lodestone in his pocket, a comforting pull of Hob-ness that would always point him back to life whenever he’d emerge, blinking and disoriented, out of the mire of his work. Work that he loved - creating worlds out of nothing, writing stories that would change people - but, coming on the age of thirty with nothing to show for it but recurring wrist strain and an upmarket flat that never had any guests, work that had also made him spend so much time apart from the rest of humanity that he was sometimes unsure how to rejoin it.

The tipping point had been when his eldest sister had found out that he hadn’t spoken to anyone else in between two of their regular dinners. Which were monthly. It had been mortifying. She’d smiled sadly, which was excruciating enough, and then gotten the gleam of a plan in her eyes, which had been far worse. “I’m setting you up,” she’d said. “I know just the guy. We go way back. I think you’ll like him.”

He had. Now, when his phone buzzed, he found himself frowning if it wasn’t Hob. (An exceedingly rare occasion.) But this time it was, of course. Four short messages sent one after the other:

hahahaha ok fine that was v good enjoy your day x

Five hours later, not even the curtain of rain awaiting him outside could douse the anticipation in his belly. An idea, he knew, was a powerful thing. Dream didn’t have an umbrella - Hob always shared with him, and would’ve apologetically nicked his if he had - so he would make the first leg of the journey as Hob did. He intended to go and get something nice, but once in the cold downpour, his resolve failed him almost at once, and he ducked into the first shop that had umbrellas in the window.

“Hiya,” said the girl at the counter without looking up from her phone.

Dream ignored her, blinking the rain out of his eyes, belatedly registering all the merchandise had a unifying theme and that he’d made a terrible mistake, borne of sheer desperation.

“Would you happen to have any other umbrellas? In black?” he asked. Hidden behind the counter, perhaps. If only you knew to ask.

The girl looked at him with an air of disbelieving reproval only accessible to teenagers and the very elderly. “You could try Boots, you know. It’s just down the street.”

Dream looked out the window. Rain torrented down. Commuters hurried past with their sensibly coloured umbrellas. From places exactly like Boots.

“Or we’ve got rain ponchos,” she added. It sounded like a threat.

“Nevermind,” said Dream quickly. “I’ll take it.”

“Enjoy your visit in London, sir,” she called out as he left.

He stepped outside and flicked open the umbrella with slightly more force than necessary.

Dream waited a few paces outside the archives, wanting to surprise Hob properly. Two separate pairs of tourists had thought he was their London Ghost Tours guide, and he was beginning to regret not holding out for longer, drenching be damned. Then Hob emerged, striding out and immediately stopping to pull out his phone. He was smiling at it. Dream smiled too, in anticipation.

A moment later his own phone buzzed loudly in his coat pocket, and Hob looked up in surprise.

“Oh my god,” he said. Then he said it again.

“I heard you needed an umbrella,” said Dream. He’d had the line already, since he got the idea. It had been very dashing and romantic in his head. It was somewhat undermined by the dreadful costuming choice that had been forced upon him.

Hob looked between Dream and the umbrella, bafflement melting into a happy laugh. He ducked underneath, pecking Dream on the lips. “I’m not sure I needed one quite this badly. Did you rob some poor tourist?”

“Unhappily, I paid for this.”

“Oh no,” said Hob, pulling away and pretending to inspect him for injury. “My poor darling. Your dignity.”

Dream sniffed. “I will recover.”

“Here,” said Hob. “I’ll carry it for you. You’ll only be guilty by association, then.”

They began walking, a bobbing Union Jack in a sea of blacks and greys. After the chief sin of ugliness, it was also a little small for two grown men, but Dream found he didn’t resent that at all, as Hob tucked him tightly into his side to keep them both dry. People gave them a wide berth. Tourists could never be trusted with umbrellas.

“You’ve rescued me, you know,” said Hob, nuzzling into his cheek.

“It wouldn’t do to have you dripping puddles all over the floors,” said Dream.

“Even if I looked terribly handsome, all wet and ardent?”

Dream bit his lip and smiled a little. “Perhaps you can be wet and ardent in the shower. Instead.”

Hob laughed again. It was Dream’s favourite sound. “Much warmer than the rain anyway. Deal.” Rain drummed down on their private nylon ceiling. “I was thinking chicken tikka masala for dinner?”

And so they made their way home, and although the rain never let up, Dream was so content and warm that he might’ve sworn they were walking in the sun.

[ac3may]

" the wag diaries "

How You Met

~ Leah Williamson ~

~~~~~~~~~~

if being called up to play in England’s 2022 Euros wasn’t rewarding enough

it was also what led you to meet Leah

outside of a rival environment at least

despite playing in the WSL from 16-yrs-old and junior England squads from even younger, the nerves for your first senior call-up were real

having your older sister, Millie, and her vast experience, accompanying you should have been comforting

but the moment she teased you over your stuttered introduction to the skipper you were questioning whether that was true

you’d known each other less than a day before Leah was helping you through a panic attack

and another 48 hours later and you were pulling her out of her own stress spiral 

a moment that happened to lead to a movie playing on her laptop and her head on your chest as she napped

but you accepted that a crush on the England captain was probably not a recommended thing to act on

unfortunately Rachel and Millie (aka your honorary pains in the ass) wouldn’t let it go quite so swiftly

with their encouragement, you found yourself in for some harsh rejection

Leah didn’t feel mid-competition was the right time to begin a relationship 

particularly not with a fellow teammate

despite it being expected, it hurt

as quiet as you tried to keep it the news spread

your camp mums (Lucy, Mary & Jill) finding out particularly fast

the mother hen in them all jumped out, leading Leah to receiving a stern talking to

and maybe some threats

hearing the message loud and clear Leah spent days asking to speak to you

not intending to hurt you, she had just done what she thought was best for both of you

after some incredible, slightly mortifying, begging you finally let her explain

in doing so you realised just how much you’d missed her

enjoying falling into the routine of laughing with and teasing the older blonde

but when Leah let it slip she did feel the same, you have to make a bet

“Oh, so you do like me back, Miss Williamson? Hmmm. That’s not what you said before”

*splutters in response at the cockiness*

“Well in that case how about we make a deal? If we win the Euros you have to take me out. And then we can reconsider this whole girlfriend thing?”

Leah had never found herself so speechless

she was usually the one making bold claims not the other way around 

she liked it

she had to agree

and low and behold you won the euros 

unfortunately the mass introduction of media to both of you following the Euro’s was not healthy for your relationship 

nor was the league rivalry of Arsenal vs. Chelsea when you were both as passionate for your teams as you were

you didn’t even make it to Christmas

but of course that wasn’t the end of your story

as passionate as you were about football you were about each other too

it came down to figuring out a balance 

the realisation came first to Leah when she got injured and the one thing she longed for more than anything was to have you at her side

two weeks later you were playing your dream match-up

a Champions League semi-final, away at Camp Nou

what wasn’t a part of the dream was the part where your sister limped off the pitch, an injury in her knee

and even less dreamlike was the moment where you got barged roughly, mid-save

the shove causing you to land uncomfortably on your shoulder, excruciating pain immediately shooting through your body 

after being rushed to the hospital, you’re told later that evening you had severely torn your rotator cuff

worse than that, you were out of the Champions League

you were out of the game for at least six months according to the doctors

joining the ranks of the England injury gang you spent even more time with Millie

who had happened to be spending a lot more time with Beth Mead

who was of course spending time recovering with Leah

Millie knowing she was likely to be back in time for the World Cup forced you into outings with the Arsenal players

she thought it’d help you process your injury and loss

it only made you hurt more, seeing how distraught Leah was 

and not being able to help

you had more time for these big competitions

even the last one still felt like a fluke to you!

slowly though you returned to the roots of your friendship with Leah

supporting each other when you needed it most

taking it slow this time you worked to build a healthier relationship

you developed good communication and set plans in place for when you were stressed

or competing against each other 

~~~~~~~~~~

If any of you have ever read my Wattled story Amorousness about Leah, this is essentially an amalgamation of all the ideas I had for that. So spoiler alert ig?? But also I don't know if I'll ever finish the full fic so I'm glad it'll exist somewhere!

[lemonsrosesandlavender]

Also more Rolan piss! Thank you

Anon, I’m not sure if you wanted golden showers, omorashi or something else; I’ve gone with the latter but please feel free to ask again if you wanted something more specific! Hope you enjoy.

Below the cut for: piss, aphrodisiacs, brief rimming mention, D/s (sub!rolan, dom!gn!reader), overstimulation, dacryphilia, degradation

Rolan's cock has been hard for hours. All his fault, of course; every wizard has a little too much ambition, and so when you offered him the glass of aphrodisiac he slugged down the whole thing at once, failing to hide his grimace at the bitter taste. You warned him it would make him painfully hard and needy - but he did it anyway. Seven orgasms later, and he's in tears at the faintest brush against his cock head.

'Hmmmm,' you murmur teasingly. 'Does that hurt?'

'You know it hurts,' Rolan gasps. 'You - wretched - nnnhhhh -'

'No more insults, or I might have to punish you.'

'Oh - Gods - I can't come again -'

Fine, you'll go easy on him. He has been very good for you, after all.

'Come here,' you tell him, putting your arms out. He can't object to a cuddle, can he? Even if you're planning to grope his ass a little, once he's caught nice and tight in your arms.

Rolan groans.

'Don't be shy,' you tease, but he doesn't move - so you circle around him and grasp from behind instead. He jerks suddenly, like an animal caught in a snare - but you haven't touched his cock at all. Your arms are innocently, if tightly, wrapped around his stomach.

'Ahhh,' he gasps.

Suddenly, you realise what's causing his reluctance. Kissing his neck, you slowly, deliberately spread your hand over the soft curve you'd been too busy looking at his cock to notice.

'What's the matter? Too much wine?'

'Nnnnnf!'

You press down, just slightly, just enough to make him shudder. 'Go on, Archmage. Tell me what's wrong. Or is your sharp tongue no longer working?'

Panting, he chokes out - 'I need to... piss.'

'Mmm, I thought so. But I thought you went earlier?'

He shakes his head, puts his hand on yours, and you ease off. Cradling his swollen bladder, instead of punishing it.

'I tried,' he groans. 'But I - could not. I am too hard -'

'Poor thing.'

'I am not a - fuck -' He abandons his protest halfway through, too desperate to resist your taunts. 'When will this wear off?'

He knows very well that it's not any time soon. You lean in, lips brushing his ear, to remind him of that.

'Not for another hour or two.'

'Zurgan -'

'You know, it's not impossible to piss when you're hard. Difficult, maybe. A little painful. But maybe with a little help...'

Rolan's breath goes through the roof.

'What?!' he gasps. 'Are you suggesting I - you -'

'Mmhhmmm.'

'Oh - fuck -' He twists around, grasping at you, and you can't help noticing that his cock is leaking afresh. Spilling onto your skin, as he clings to you.

'Does that turn you on?'

'No,' he protests. 'I mean - I - '

'Alright then,' you tell him gently, stroking his scorched-red cheek. If he is truly too embarrassed by the prospect, you don't want to push it. 'We don't have to.'

'No - please. I didn't mean that.' Even his temples are flushed, his face awash with pure, excruciating embarrassment - but he perseveres. 'I want to.'

'Oh,' you groan, and pull him close, your bodies pressed tightly together. Rolan whimpers, but he lets you hold him, one hand in his hair and one on the top of his tail, drawing him into you. 'Let me just make sure you're really desperate.'

'Ah!' He squirms in your grip. 'Please. I am desperate. Oh Gods - I cannot control myself much longer -'

'Kiss me.'

'Mmmmmf!'

Whimpers tremble through his lips, as he lets himself be kissed, hard.

'Now,' you murmur, releasing him. 'Get the chamberpot.'

Rolan winces, mortified again; but he follows your instruction, glancing over hesitantly as he draws it out from under the bed. Your beloved has always been reserved about his body, even as he's begged to drink the piss from your own. Slowly, surely, he has opened up to you; worn more revealing clothes on occasion, despite his blushes; let you spread his lovely, tight asshole and caress it with your tongue until he came in tears from your touch. This, though, is new, and so ferociously thrilling that your body lights on fire at the sight.

Swallowing, Rolan draws himself upright, carrying the pot back with all the dignity of a precious tome - though you can see how much effort it's taking him.

'Here,' he mutters, the act already breaking. 'Where should I -'

'Put it there.'

And then you take your place behind him, running your hands over his chest, his hips, as he aims his swollen cock. You can feel his heartbeat hammering beneath your fingers, the stiff, nervous rise and fall of his chest.

'I am ready,' he says haltingly.

Silently, you slip your hand down, over his stomach. Rubbing in a slow, steady tease over the curve of his full bladder.

He tenses.

'Oh Gods - oh Gods -'

'Relax,' you murmur. 'Or this will be harder than it needs to be.'

Rolan gasps, 'Oh Gods!'

'Oh, do you like that?' you taunt. 'Would you like me to be forceful with you?'

His tail twists tight around your ankle as he gives you a barely-perceptible nod.

'Well then.' You grasp him suddenly, and hard. 'Piss for me. Now.'

'Ahhhh!' Rolan sobs, writhing. 'I can't - it hurts -'

'Don't be pathetic,' you murmur. 'This is your fault.'

'Nnnnfff - '

Being scolded is only making his cock twitch more. You reach down to stroke it, in a manner more threatening than tender, breathing down his neck like a wolf over its felled prey.

'You're going to piss,' you whisper. 'You're going to piss with your cock in my hands, no matter how humiliated you are. Tell me you're going to piss.'

'Ngghhhh - I - am going to piss.' He is stumbling over the words, forcing them out with a hiss of embarrassment. 'You... are going to make me piss.'

'Yes, I am.' His weakness makes your blood course, makes you grind hungrily against his tail. 'Yes, I am. Now - fucking - piss for me.'

And with that you yank tight around his bladder, and Rolan cries out.

'Fuck! Oh Gods -'

It spurts from him, unevenly at first, missing the edge of the pot and hitting the chair it's placed on, splashing on the wood.

'Oh - Gods - I -'

'Don't stop,' you order him, seizing tighter, and though he whimpers out an apology he keeps going, letting you aim his cock for him as it slips out in a stream, and then a gush -

Rolan swallows down a sob, his cheek wet with tears that you kiss away. He trembles, arches - the hiss and splatter surely an agonising reminder of how base this is, how crude and disgusting he is being in front of you, and you love it -

'Yes, Rolan,' you groan, as the flood finally slows to a trickle and he slumps, emptied, in your arms, twisting round to bury his face in your shoulder.

Tears paint your skin, his still-hard cock - gods, that aphrodisiac is strong - pressed tight against your body. He mumbles something incoherent, the side of his horn knocking against your chin.

'Fuck,' you growl. 'You sound so pretty when you're pissing, Archmage. I think I should force you to do it more often.'

'You wouldn't!' he gasps, grinding into you. 'You - wouldn't - nghhhhh - ahhhhhhhh!'

With a sudden buck of his hips, he comes against you, spurting out a thick trail of cum all over your stomach.

'My apologies,' Rolan whimpers, when the last of it ebbs away. 'I was too aroused - I am sorry - aaaah!'

Your fingers wrap tightly around his poor, tortured cock.

'Don't worry,' you murmur. 'I'm going to fuck you stupid anyway. The question is, whether I make you clean up your mess first.'

Rolan's eyes flick to the chair, and the splashes of piss that decorate it.

'Oh, Gods.'

[comic-book-jawns]

Ricochet

“I’m sorry.”

Andrea truly doesn’t want to hurt Lena. She never has.

But this conversation is already nine months overdue. Well, nine months, plus three years. And if she’s doesn’t take advantage of this adrenaline high, she’s not sure when she’ll get the nerve back.

“For how I left.”

The way Lena tenses and crosses her arms tighter around herself tells Andrea she doesn’t have to elaborate.

“It’s fine. It’s not your fault I threw myself at you. And I’m the one who ran first.”

Well, yes, and Andrea obviously does not regret not kissing a 14-year-old back a few days before she left for college.

“I couldn’t give you what you wanted. But I… I could’ve give you closure.”

Lena scoffs.

“I would never have let you.”

Andrea thought so too — it’s how she eventually convinced herself that ghosting her only real friend from boarding school had been for the best.

It’s only occurred to her over the past few months that that was never the point.

“You would’ve known that I’d tried.”

***

Lena had really thought (cringey as it was) that she might actually cry if they won ICCA’s. If she played a part in making Kara’s dream since her freshman year come true.

Only Lena hadn’t really caught on that doing so had become her dream somewhere along the way. And, well, with her track record of dreams coming true…

Unfortunately, turns out that disassociating over placing first in a fucking a cappella competition is far more mortifying than tearing up.

Especially in front of someone like Kara. Not that there is someone else like her.

So she’s supposes she should be rather grateful to her team captain for bringing her back to reality… by bringing up her most mortifying experience of all time.

Of course, crying over your childhood crush saying sorry for not like you back is also quite cringey. But Lena’s dignity has lost sight of the shoreline at this point.

“So, yeah, that - that’s what I wanted to say. In case, being a complete bitch to you since August hasn’t been a sufficient apology.”

On the one hand, Lena is surprised by the genuine laugh that bursts out of her amidst the tears. On the other hand, Andrea is the only person who’s ever rivaled Lena’s dry sense of humor.

“I know it’s not an excuse, but… it was easier than worrying about disappointing you again.”

Already nodding along, ready to wrap this up, Lena freezes when she actually process what Andrea said.

“What?”

At the time, she’d been so blinded by hurt and shame for letting herself dream she ever stood a chance that she’d never even tried to put herself in her ex-best friend’s shoes.

It didn’t occur to her until she was actually getting ready for college herself that she had no idea what she’d do if a 14-year-old girl kissed her out of the blue and said she was in love with her.

Not that that was a remote possibility, Lena having sworn off friendship after convincing herself that Andrea had never given a shit about her.

Trying to convice herself, that is. Because she knew deep down that it was a lie. And that was the most excruciating part.

Still, knowing teenage Andrea had cared about her in some form… Well, Lena hadn’t just run into her at the Activies Fair three years later — very alarmed because it was not school Andrea had left for that summer — and assumed…

“I could never get your face out of my head.”

Humiliating, Lena feels herself blush, full well knowing Andrea didn’t mean it like that, and scratches at her wet cheeks as cover.

“No matter what Lex and your mother did, you - you wouldn’t cry. And I was always relieved.”

Oh? Lena’s not really sure what to say to that. But what really catches her off-guard is the sudden rasp in Andrea’s voice. And when she finally looks at the older girl for the first time since she joined her out here in the parking lot, she finds her swallowing harshly.

“Because I knew how to distract you. I was good at it.”

Andrea meets her gaze with an even more jarring attempt at a smile.

“But in the end, it was me.”

Andrea turns fully away then, her back to Lena, so all she can see is the hand running stiltedly through dark hair still pulled into a bun.

“I made you cry.”

Lena doesn’t need to see her face, though.

***

Precariously carrying five cups of steaming hot tea in her bare hands — every kind available; you’d think a singing competition would have a more robust selection?! — Kara considers it quite an accomplishment that she doesn’t immediately give herself third-degree burns when she finally finds the freshman in the parking lot.

Successfully placing them all down on the pavement doesn’t prove to be much easier, but Kara isn’t willing to tempt fate when she’s so preoccupied with the scene in front of her.

Kara does consider her fellow senior a friend, but more in the way she considers a lot of acquaintances her friends. And, frankly, her treatment of Lena has driven a wedge between them that Kara’s doesn’t know if she’s all that interested in dislodging.

Sure, Kara had eventually convinced her that Lena is the team’s future, literally.

The reason they’d used the same repertoire for years was because no one knew how to arrange new material. Nothing better than what they already had at least.

Andrea had never admitted their severely lacking musicianship, of course. So Kara had done it for her… after not defending Lena when she’d previously had the chance.

The point is Kara’s friendship with Lena “it’s just math” Luthor is her priority. She can live with never speaking to Andrea again after graduation. The thought of anything changing between her and Lena after graduation has been making her nauseous for weeks.

“So… Kara?”

Kara doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, she swears. Honestly, she’d kind of expected them to pick up on her presence whether she dropped the cups or not. But it seems the pair is still in their own little bubble, Andrea demurely wiping her face while pulling back from the embrace. Lena keeps her close, though, loosely holding her elbows.

“Kara?”

“I know, Lena.”

“Know what?”

Kara definitely should’ve turned around by now. She’s hardly in a position to get self-righteous about secrets when she has yet to tell her best friend that she won’t be leaving campus, after all.

Staying on for a Master’s in Journalism hadn’t been her plan even back in the fall. But a lot has happened between now and then, so.

Andrea sighs with none of her characteristic exasperation.

“I knew you had feelings for me before you kissed me.”

Kara is positive the only reason she doesn’t audibly gasp is because she’s too shocked. Well, that and Lena scoffs loudly as she takes a step back.

She’d figured that Lena and Andrea had a history, per se. But her mind had never gone… there.

“No, you didn’t.”

“I did.”

“You didn’t act like it.”

“How was I supposed to act?”

In four years, Kara has never heard Andrea speak so gently, without even a hint of condescension to boot.

Lena’s more choked scoff seems to suggest she’s not used to it either… and that Kara is probably missing something.

“You don’t have to believe me. And if you want to tell me I’m wrong about Kara, go ahead.”

Yeah, she’s definitely missing something.

“But… if you want to tell me I’m right, I certainly wouldn’t discourage that either.”

Lena’s chuckles in that beautifully thick way she does when Kara gushes over one of her mash-ups profusely enough.

“Fuck you.”

“Still too young for this ride, sweetie. Sorry.”

Kara can’t help her eye roll at Andrea gesturing at her own body like it’s a letter on Wheel of Fortune. But then Andrea frowns, which makes slightly more sense when Kara hears Lena’s abruptly dejected tone.

“It’s the same.”

“What is?”

“You - you and me. Me and Kara. It’s the same age gap.”

“Yes, but I’ve known you since you were a baby.”

“Seven.”

Even as her mind races — scrambling for the missing context — Kara can still hear Lena’s scowl clear as day. Andrea waves dismissively.

“Same difference.”

But then she takes a step forward, her arms hovering pretty awkwardly for someone who was just clinging to Lena a minute ago before she settles them on Lena’s shoulders.

“You jump. I jump. Okay?”

Kara recognizes the quote instantly, but it doesn’t clear anything up for her. Other than it means something to Lena, judging by the way she loops her arm through Andrea’s and leisurely leads them further out into the parking lot.

So they’re thankfully well out of earshot by the time Kara accidentally kicks over all the cups.

[feralbutfluffy]

56: Crowley

Chapter 56 of Too Wise to Woo Peaceably

*******

Crowley had opened his mouth and then found himself completely incapable of closing it again. 

Spurred by the stifling silence, he’d unwittingly opened an artery and watched helplessly as every last wounded, heartsore, mortifying thought came pouring out of him. He had committed the sort of emotional seppuku he had been carefully avoiding for literally thousands of years, and he felt like he might be bleeding out right there on the sofa.

He had spent much of the previous five minutes wishing desperately that Muriel might conveniently appear at the door with an obscene amount of wine, or at the very least a couple of bottles of Talisker.

However, just as he’d been wondering if it was possible to discorporate from abject discomfort, Aziraphale had finally said something, and even though he’d had to go and be infuriatingly circumspect about it... Crowley was pretty sure the words he had strung together had meant I love you too.

Which seemed impossible, but he supposed he would just add it to the increasingly lengthy list of impossible things that had happened lately.

Aziraphale was turned towards him. A tear dropped from his jawline as he gave Crowley a wobbly smile that did things to his insides. He suddenly became aware of the fact that he was crushing Aziraphale’s little finger and, with considerable effort, forced himself to relax his hand.

Crowley wanted to look away, because this - whatever this was - was painfully intimate. It was galling, really. Barely touching and he felt as if the angel had zipped him open at the throat, exposing every part of him.

Except, well, he’d been the one to do that to himself, hadn’t he?

Here, he might as well have said. Ruin me.

He watched Aziraphale warily, and in response the angel shuffled closer, banging their knees together clumsily. 

Crowley didn’t so much as blink.

He’d said everything he had wanted to say. He had also said everything he hadn’t wanted to say. He was cracked wide open, head swimming, waiting. Waiting to know what happened next, waiting for Aziraphale to say more, and he was good at waiting, he’d waited for so long, a few more minutes shouldn’t feel so excruciating.

But they did.

Aziraphale looked away and the fingers of his free hand fluttered nervously against the suede of the sofa.

“I have some things to say too, I suppose,” he started, and his voice sounded higher than usual, tight with strain. He coughed lightly, managing to get it back down to its usual register. “I think I’ve rather been getting in my own way when it comes to…” he tilted his head towards Crowley, still avoiding his gaze. “... us .”

Crowley took a deep breath and held it, feeling a bit like he was preparing to be held underwater.

“I think- Well all of those things you said, they're as true for you as they are for me, but I- I think- Ah, I suspect maybe I chose not to think on it, because I wasn’t quite brave enough to face the truth of the matter. Which is…” he trailed off. “Well, you know.”

Crowley’s eyes narrowed. If he thought he was going to get away with-

“That I’m hopelessly in love. With you.” The words sounded torn from his chest, “...Too.”

Crowley bit down on his tongue; the urge to yell ‘No takebacks!’ was almost overwhelming.

“I thought if I could just get you to dance with me-”

Crowley’s eyebrows slammed together. “What?”

“I thought we might do some formal dancing, and then we would realize that we were actually in love...” Aziraphale looked guilty. "... Like in Jane Austen's novels."

Crowley narrowed his eyes.

“I know I’ve said this before, but you read” - grumbled Crowley in an exasperated tone - “entirely too many books. How was I meant to pick up on that? Why couldn’t we have managed it without the formal dancing?”

Aziraphale shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know! But we didn’t, did we? Manage it, I mean.”

“Didn’t even manage it with the formal dancing,” Crowley pointed out, and Aziraphale’s face crumpled a bit. He nudged the angel’s knee with his own and leaned in. “You never know, might have worked without the demons trying to storm the shop.”

Crowley seriously doubted it, but Aziraphale brightened at the thought so he let it go.

“You know,” said Aziraphale, and he lowered his gaze, “I did try to show you.”

“Show me what?”

The angel was tracing a line along the suede, watching the velvety nap alternate between dark and light as he rubbed it one way and then the other.

“That I felt for you. That you were important to me. That I loved you, before I consciously knew that I loved you.”

The way he said it, the way he let it roll almost casually out into the air between them, made Crowley’s ribcage feel like a vice, his heart and lungs squeezed in a punishing grip.

“Ngk?” he said. 

It was an embarrassingly inelegant sound.

“With the tartan,” Aziraphale said, as if it were perfectly obvious.

Crowley blinked and then pointed, bewildered, at the folded blanket on the armrest. 

“The blanket?”

“No, the tartan .” Aziraphale was frowning, as if Crowley was being intentionally dense.

“I don’t follow. You’ve lost me. Are you speaking in code? Are you saying ‘tartan’ and actually meaning something else entirely?”

“No,” said Aziraphale, looking flustered, “I’m saying ‘tartan,’ and meaning ‘tartan’.”

The -you idiot was silent, but Crowley heard it all the same.

“Don’t you know anything about tartan?”

Crowley stared at him for the longest moment. “No,” he said slowly, “No, I do not. Why would I? In over six thousand years, when have you ever known me to willingly wear tartan? And don’t even think of mentioning the tartan collar, that does not count thankyouverymuch, that was you. As me. But still you.”

Aziraphale huffed and sat back a bit, clearly put out. “Never mind then.”

“No, no. No. You’ve somehow - against stacked odds, let me tell you - managed to make tartan sound intriguing,” Crowley said. “So you may as well tell me. Consider me interested. What should I know about tartan other than the fact that you have a disproportionate fondness for it?”

A pink flush was spreading up Aziraphale’s neck. 

It was delightful.

It made Crowley want to kiss it.

“Forget I mentioned it,” the angel muttered, turning more pink by the second.

Crowley grinned. “Oh, I think the chances of my forgetting any part of this enchanting conversation are abysmally low. Go on, torture me with tartan facts.”

Aziraphale blanched at the word ‘torture’ and Crowley grimaced apologetically. “Too soon. Right.” 

He eyed the angel’s bow tie with an entirely new and unfeigned interest. 

“So. Tartan…?” he prompted.

Aziraphale straightened the bow tie unnecessarily, as if his hands needed something to do. 

“This is, ah- That is to say, I had this dress tartan made for me sometime around the mid-1800s. It’s mine. It’s unique.”

“Right.” 

The pink hue was back in Aziraphale’s cheeks.

“Different families - different clans - they each have their own unique tartan.”

“Different people, different tartan. Got it.” Crowley gave him a nod.

“Yes. Well, different clans or families, different tartan, but yes, basically. I couldn’t, for example, wear another clan’s tartan without their express permission, because wearing it is something of a claim; using their tartan would then, er, mark me as belonging to their clan, you see.”

Aziraphale gazed meaningfully at Crowley and waited.

Right. Clearly he was meant to have gleaned something important from that bit of information. 

His eyes moved from Aziraphale’s face to his bow tie, and from his bow tie to the blanket. 

He thought about the tartan collar Aziraphale had added to his jacket when they had swapped forms. He thought of the tartan thermos full of Holy water. He thought of the absolute eyesore of a tyre cover the angel had miracled onto the car after they’d been hit by that woman in Tadfield.

“Your tartan,” Crowley said carefully. “... You let me use it.”

Aziraphale said nothing, but the pink in his cheeks had spread to the tips of his ears.

“You were marking me as belonging to your… clan?” Crowley could feel his cheeks warming. 

A matching flush. How perfectly wretched.

Aziraphale gave him a lopsided smile. “Something like that, I suppose. Our… team. Our group of the two of us.”

“Ah, so you were listening,” Crowley said uncomfortably.

Aziraphale blushed pink all the way up to his hairline.

With considerable effort, Crowley sat up properly. He shifted over, twisting his torso so that their bodies were in alignment, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. 

“Well.”

“Well,” repeated Aziraphale weakly.

“Well I’m sorry to have missed your demonstrations of affection delivered through the medium of tartan,” said Crowley with a wry grin.

The angel looked at him, embarrassed. “Yes, yes. Very funny.”

Crowley bumped him with his shoulder. “Maybe try something a bit more straightforward next time. Or at least work with something I actually understand."

There was a brief pause and then Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, his lips curling up at the corners. "Oh?"

"What, 'oh'? What does that mean?"

"I think I know what you understand," said Aziraphale, and the embarrassment was gone from his face. Crowley pulled back slightly, watching the angel carefully.

"What?"

His heart stuttered and took up an absolutely frenzied pace as Aziraphale leaned forward to take his face in his hands.

He eyed him suspiciously. "Are you about to kiss me?"

Aziraphale laughed and his eyes dropped to Crowley's lips, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Not just yet."

Crowley couldn't take his eyes off him. He felt like his heart might burst. Aziraphale was stroking his thumb softly against his skin.

"Anthony Just-a-J-Really Crowley, I'm in love with you," he said, and kissed his temple so gently Crowley had to swallow down a cry.

"I've loved you for a very long time," Aziraphale whispered against his ear. He kissed his forehead, and turned his thoughts into incoherent nonsense.

"A very, very long time," Aziraphale murmured against his other ear and nipped his earlobe, sending a jolt of undiluted desire straight up his spine. 

"I'm sorry it took me such a long time to be honest with myself," he said, kissing the serpent by the hinge of his jaw. Crowley shuddered. He let out a harsh exhale as his eyes closed of their own volition.

"... And I'm sorry it took me such a long time to be honest with you," he said, kissing the corner of Crowley's mouth. He groaned and turned to kiss the angel, but Aziraphale pulled out of reach. 

Crowley opened his eyes, dazed, to find Aziraphale looking at him with adoring eyes, a coy half-smile on his lips. He struggled to swallow, his throat tight with longing.

"I know you said I go too fast for you, angel," he rasped, "but this is painfully slow. Are you trying to discorporate me?"

Aziraphale frowned slightly, but he was still smiling. "I'm almost certain that's not possible."

"Let's not find out."

Aziraphale's laugh was muffled by Crowley's lips against his.

[temnurus]

More Wangxian Faves: Post-Canon & Canon Divergent

This list was made to honor the request in the notes on my WWX recs post from @100percentserenity for some more fics featuring Wei Ying set in canon or canon divergent fics. Now, not all of these are strictly from his POV, but they all feature him at his quick-witted, charming, & hopelessly oblivious best. Canon divergent can be a pretty wide category, so do keep that in mind if you see a rec & think, "This isn't very canonical.." Haha. There are two repeats from my first Wangxian rec list, but they fit the ask & are both excellent & worth mentioning twice! Now, in no particular order, may I recommend:

Far Away You Are by cqlorphan (E, 17,358)

Thoughts: I absolutely loved the idea of the esteemed Hanguan-jun being this not-so-secret purveyor of comfort hugs & heartache advice. Wei Ying’s shock upon finding this out was so funny I couldn’t help but laugh, & my amusement only intensified when he made the scary Yiling Laozu face while asking who broke Lan Zhan’s heart, only to be told it was him who’d done so. I wanted to hug all the Juniors myself. They’re all so very precious. This was a lovely story where very little hurt in the end, & sometimes that’s just nice after the gut punch that canon gives us.

my age has never made me wise by idrilka (E, 63,439)

Thoughts: I absolutely loved this. It was pretty CQL (The Untamed) compliant & told the post-canon story of Wei Ying wandering alone as a rogue cultivator after the events of the show. Of course he was pining after his zhiji the entire time, so when he heard gossip that the Chief Cultivator might be married by summer's end it nearly undid him. The angst was excruciating, but One Brain Cell WWX Strikes Again fics somehow always manage to be fun at the same time. I've read several post-canon, wandering Wei Ying stories, & this one was particularly good.

Not What We May Be by brooklinegirl (E, 29,222)

Thoughts: I love Wei Ying’s cleverness in this. He’s his usual irreverent, chaotic, charming self, & I never get tired of how wonderfully his mind works. The odd phenomenon occurring in the town he’s staying in was an interesting mystery to solve, & I had to laugh when Lan Zhan arrived with the usual Lan Juniors ensemble in tow. Watching them all work together to figure out how to fix the issue while also dealing with the healthy side helping of oblivious Wei Ying & searing sexual tension between him & Lan Zhan was a fun treat.

All Caught Up by brooklinegirl (E, 36,934)

Thoughts: Wei Ying proposing to Lan Zhan to get him out of an arranged marriage he didn’t want is so something he’d do. There is no character more quintessentially chaotic good than Wei Ying. You can’t change my mind. The practice kissing was a lovely regular feature from this author, & my particular favorite thing in this fic was Nie Huaisang’s cameo as their pseudo wedding planner with his classic meddling while insisting he’s useless shenanigans. This was super cute. I liked it a lot.

love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360,042)

Thoughts: This was an example of a cool MDZS-specific trope I hadn't seen before, & in it Wei Ying, the infamous Yiling Patriarch, was a cultivator who had achieved immortality (aka, he's OP as fuck but in a fun way). The great sects enlisted his help to win the Sunshot Campaign, & what did he demand in return? Lan Zhan's hand in marriage, of course! It was a fantastic slow burn in which poor Lan Zhan suffered the mortifying ordeal of falling in love with his own husband. An amazing & complex plot, chock-full of angsty goodness.

Birthday Party by waffles_4_breakfast (E, 100,123)

Thoughts: I loved the idea that Wei Ying would actually get to attend Jin Ling's one month celebration, but I was, of course, still concerned about the continued danger he'd be in. This fic nicely showcased Wei Ying's sharp wit, charm, & ever-present sass. I also loved his dramatics when it came to his interactions with Lan Zhan (and in general, of course, haha), but their sweetness together was ultimately my favorite thing about them. The continued threat to Wei Ying's life & all the plotting surrounding it was interesting, but the best things about this fic were the characters & their bonds with each other.

Fentao-laoshi's Guide to Cut-Sleeve Pleasures by occultings (E, 31,775)

Thoughts: This was set during the Cloud Recesses Study Arc, & it was so, so good. The sexual tension between them was just simmering the entire time, & the idea of them “practicing for marriage” on each other was fucking hilarious. Their banter was top notch, & I absolutely loved Lan Zhan’s nearly overwhelming desperation for Wei Ying, not to mention Wei Ying’s bullshit getting him in over his head (as usual, but this time in a fun way, haha). The feelings were actually very sweet, too. I enjoyed this a lot.

wide enough and wild by impossibletruths (E, 64,120)

Thoughts: I love the tag “Noping Out Of Society With Your Boyfriend And Your 50 Wen Refugees: The Novel”. It made me laugh before I’d even started the fic. While this was set during the time period in which Wei Ying frees the Wen refugees, they didn’t end up in Yiling this time. I won’t get too specific, but they still ended up rebuilding their own little settlement & farming to survive, basically. Lan Zhan found them & decided to stay. The slow burn was so good, & I loved the pining in particular. I cried a couple of times in this. It really was just that good.

your problem as a mountain. by cupofwater (E, 30,989)

Thoughts: It was so cute to see the difference between Wei Ying’s & Nie Huaisang’s fantasies, & Wei Ying’s turning out to be more vanilla & romantic in nature absolutely cracked me up. I nearly hurt myself laughing when Nie Mingjue sent Lan Zhan some of the letters by mistake, & I was delighted by Lan Zhan’s reaction. I won’t spoil it, but the smut was lovely & despite the misunderstanding our boys definitely both got their happy ending, haha.

The Vermilion Ribbon by Unforth (E, 233,368)

Thoughts: This sat on my Marked For Later list on AO3 for the longest time, & I really did myself a disservice by not reading it sooner. It was absolutely fantastic. The world-building, pacing, & intricate plot were all brilliantly done, & Wei Ying being in the Wen clan was nothing like I imagined it was going to be in this. Instead of his core family being the Jiangs, we get Wen Qing in Jiang Yanli’s role & Wen Ning in Jiang Cheng’s. Now I’ll warn you that this got super heavy in some places, so mind those tags & take care of yourselves. Nothing was graphic enough that I had to stop reading, but it didn’t shy away from the serious subject matter it covered either. The whole fic was a real emotional roller coaster, & I can’t recommend it highly enough.

[lesbiankimdahyun]

Friends with new benefits

2.5K words

CW: hybrids, GP, frotting

[GP!Hybrid!Sana x GP!Hybrid!Dahyun]

Jihyo and Sana came over to Momo’s apartment late on Saturday morning like they’d regularly been doing for the past two months or so. Momo was a first time hybrid owner and caretaker for Dahyun, whom she’d found and couldn’t resist at a local shelter. Since Dahyun was still getting used to living in a home and hadn’t really meshed with any of the other hybrids at the shelter, Momo invited Jihyo and her hybrid puppy Sana to come over and befriend Dahyun.

The two clicked right away. Sana’s warm and bubbly personality brought Dahyun out of her shell in no time, and she grew fond of Jihyo, too. Momo and Jihyo would usually have coffee and catch up while Sana and Dahyun played for a while, and then sometimes they’d go to the park, for a walk, or just explore the city all together. 

This particular Saturday morning, Dahyun was still getting ready in her room when Momo opened the front door to let Sana and her owner in. 

Dahyun’s fingers fumbled with her clothes as she got dressed, feeling uncomfortable between her legs as she hastily slipped into a skirt. She was coming off her first rut, and had thought her body’s needs would have been well sated by now. Instead, she found herself panicking, unable to hide an unexpected hard on. One ear perked up as she heard Sana’s voice asking where Dahyun was. Moments later, she could hear Sana padding down the hall toward her room. The thought of Sana seeing her like this was excruciating, and Dahyun got up to try to close her door in a last ditch attempt to hide from her friend. 

She was too late though, and Sana breezed in before Dahyun could even reach the door. 

“Hi Dahyunnie,” Sana said, her tail wagging excitedly beneath her own skirt. “Do you wanna pl–” her tail stopped abruptly when she saw Dahyun’s face. “Hey, are you okay?”

Dahyun wasn’t exactly sure what sort of expression was on her face, but whatever it was, it must have worried Sana because she quickly guided the younger pup to her bed and sat her down.

Sana’s brow was furrowed in concern as she lightly reached out to touch the younger hybrid’s forearm. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

Dahyun squirmed lightly as she sat down with Sana. Her touch was entirely innocent, but it was distractingly nice. And that, Dahyun realized, was somehow even worse.  

“I’m not sick,” she said, but she couldn’t bring herself to explain what was ailing her. She felt very self conscious, unwilling to name the problem showing clearly beneath her clothing. She knew, of course, that this was something Sana experienced too, but they’d never spoken about it before. 

Dahyun crossed her legs, but the friction was too much to bear and she quickly uncrossed them. 

Sana watched her carefully for a moment before her ears perked up. “Oh,” she said curiously. She looked down at Dahyun’s skirt, where a tent had been steadily forming beneath. “Do you— should I get Momo?” 

Dahyun hesitated, her ears tucking slightly back in embarrassment. Momo had been nothing short of wonderful with helping her through her rut, but Sana seeing her like this was mortifying enough. If Sana went and got Momo, then Momo would know, and then Jihyo would know, and then– 

“No,” Dahyun said quickly. “But I- I don’t want to play right now, either. I’m sorry Sana, I just– I’m uncomfortable, I can’t think—” 

Sana tilted her head as she listened to Dahyun and then nodded. “I know how it feels,” she said. There was a moment of silence between the two of them, and then Sana added, “I…can help if you want.” 

The younger hybrid blinked at Sana in confusion. “Help?” She was about to decline to spare Sana any trouble, but her cock began to throb, demanding to hear Sana out. She blushed deeply before she caved, her voice dropping to a whisper. “How?”

Sana’s tail wagged again. She got up and closed the door to Dahyun’s bedroom. Then she made her way back to Dahyun and climbed onto her bed. 

“C’mere,” she said, taking Dahyun’s hand and positioning her so that the two were facing each other, sitting on their knees. 

Sana’s hand practically burned in Dahyun’s, but when she let go, Dahyun realized she wanted it back in hers again. Or on her. Anywhere. 

“I know we haven’t known each other that long,” Sana was saying, “But…do you trust me?” Her voice was soft and genuine. 

Swallowing nervously, the younger pup nodded. “Yes,” Dahyun said. “Especially if it means Momo and Jihyo won’t…see.” 

A little smile appeared on Sana’s face. “Well, they won’t if you’re quiet,” she said. “Can I touch you?” 

Dahyun realized the older girl hadn’t moved an inch since sitting across from her, and she nodded quickly. “Please,” she breathed, hating how badly she wanted to see what Sana would do to help relieve her. 

Sana took a breath, then reached for Dahyun’s skirt. “Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” Her fingertips ghosted over Dahyun’s bulge at first, and then her hand was gently cupping her, rubbing her lightly over her clothes. Sana kept her eyes on Dahyun the whole time, watching her face carefully. 

Dahyun opened her mouth but said nothing at first, mesmerized by the feeling of Sana’s hand. 

“Can you-” Dahyun let out a little groan, “Do…more?” 

Sana nodded, biting her lip to keep herself from smiling. Truthfully, all of her physical intimacy was with Jihyo. She’d never done anything with another hybrid before, but she knew what felt good to her when she touched herself, and she knew exactly what Dahyun was feeling, so maybe if she touched Dahyun the way she touched herself, she thought, it would help. She felt excited, unaware that she was starting to become mildly aroused herself. 

“How does this feel?”

Her hand was reaching beneath Dahyun’s skirt now, under the fabric and into her underwear to fish out her hardened cock. 

The younger girl started to moan but immediately covered her mouth with her hand. She nearly bucked into Sana’s hand, clearly craving more. All Sana had done was hold her cock in her hand, and already Dahyun was unraveling. She gave Sana a little nod to let her know she could keep going.

Sana took Dahyun’s length in her hand, moving up to gently fist the tip, which was flushed and already wet with precum. 

Both of their breathing became a little heavier. Dahyun’s eyes moved from Sana’s hand up over the rest of her body. Her eyes lingered on Sana’s soft parted lips, the rise and fall of her chest, and then as her gaze traveled downward, she spotted a growing bulge beneath the other hybrid’s skirt. Her eyes widened a little with curiosity.  

Sana stopped for a moment when she saw Dahyun’s eyes go wide and followed her gaze to what made her react. Seeing her own cock stiffening under her clothes, Sana let go and blushed. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “I- maybe I really should just go get Momo–”

“Wait, Sana,” Dahyun said. She put a hand on Sana’s thigh. “I just didn’t know you also–, I mean, I’ve never–” she looked up, trying to find her words but couldn’t. Her mouth was watering a little now, adding to her distraction. “C-can I see?” 

Sana’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. She had fully expected Dahyun to agree and ask for Momo. Quickly getting over her shock, she nodded. Within moments, her own cock was out and Dahyun watched, mesmerized, as Sana began to pump her own length. Sana’s tip was a soft pink color, and as she watched Sana touch herself, Dahyun realized she was just a bit smaller than her friend. It made it all the more exciting. 

Dahyun felt like she couldn’t move, let alone breathe as she watched Sana, despite her own cock twitching for attention. 

Noticing this, Sana moved closer. She expertly positioned herself close to Dahyun so that she could wrap her hand around her dick and Dahyun's, too. 

The younger hybrid let out a small gasp when Sana’s cock rubbed up against her own. She’d never felt anything quite like it. “Th-that feels good,” Dahyun breathed, encouraging the older girl to continue.

Soon the room fell quiet, save for the sounds of soft panting, light whines and the growing sound of slick as Sana repeatedly slid her hand over her and Dahyun’s cocks. Sana wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing– she really was just going off of what made her feel good when she touched herself. 

The gentle squeezing of Sana’s hand, combined with the feeling of Sana’s cock rubbing up against her own made Dahyun’s hips buck involuntarily upward. 

Embarrassed at her own sudden attempts to fuck up into Sana’s hand, Dahyun’s eyes occasionally flicked over to her bedroom door to make sure it was still closed. Not that it really mattered– she was no longer sure she would stop even if Momo or Jihyo were to open the door. She’d never seen another hybrid’s cock before, let alone been able to touch another hybrid like this. It was new for her, and it felt incredible. She didn’t want to stop. 

Sana’s member was perfect, Dahyun thought. Slightly veiny and thick, but not overwhelmingly so. Dahyun felt secretly pleased that despite being a little smaller, her cock had been enough to get the other hybrid hard, too.

Their heads were close enough to touch, and now they sat forehead to forehead. Sana’s precum mixed with Dahyun’s as she continued to stroke their cocks together, each now coated in the other’s slick. It felt unbelievably good, and Dahyun stifled a moan. 

Sana’s cheeks were flushed, focused on the cocks in her hand as she worked to jack them both off. It was such a different sensation than when Jihyo did it for her, or when she did it by herself.

Her eyes were locked on Dahyun’s cock. She’d only ever been inside of Jihyo’s wet, receptive cunt, and she wondered what it would be like to be inside of the other puppy. The thought made her breath hitch. She was much closer to coming than she thought. 

Dahyun was doing her best to keep her vocalizations as quiet as possible, but it was clear she was enjoying everything Sana was doing. During her first rut with Momo, she’d learned she liked to eat her owner out, and now wondered what it would be like to have Sana’s throbbing cock in her mouth. 

“S-Sana,” Dahyun said hoarsely, reaching to grab the older girl’s free wrist. “I- you’re gonna make me–” 

“Yeah,” Sana murmured, “M-me too.” 

The thought of licking Sana’s cock, of tasting her, of having Sana stretch Dahyun’s mouth and throat the way Dahyun's cock stretched Momo's was what sent the younger hybrid over the edge. She couldn’t stifle her moan this time as she came, ropes of cum immediately ruining the older girl’s outfit. 

Sana was in awe as she watched Dahyun: the way her eyes screwed tight as she let her release take her, the deep blush creeping up under her pale cheeks, the way she could feel Dahyun’s cock throb in her hand as she pumped her. 

“Ah!” It was the very feeling of Dahyun’s cock pulsing against her own as she came that made Sana cum shortly after, adding to the load Dahyun had just spilled over both of their clothes. 

They panted heavily. Sana’s hand pumped each of them a few more times before finally releasing both of their softening members.

“Thank you,” Dahyun said, catching her breath. 

Sana smiled, about to respond when there was a knock at the door. 

“Sana? Dahyun?” Momo’s voice on the other side of the door made Dahyun leap a mile into the air. The two quickly scrambled off of Dahyun’s bed, hurriedly tucking themselves away and trying to wipe off their clothes. “We didn’t realize how long we’d been chatting out here!” Momo continued. “We’re so sorry, can we make it up to you with some time at the park? We could even stop for ice cream afterward.” 

Dahyun was frozen. What would they think when they saw Sana’s ruined outfit? What if Jihyo got mad? Or Momo? She’d have to change clothes, too, and-

“YES!” Sana blurted, hoping she sounded excited instead of frantic. “We’ll be right there!”

When she was sure Momo had gone, Dahyun gave Sana a petrified look. “We can’t go like this!” she hissed nervously. “Your skirt– your shirt, too..!” 

“I know, but I have an idea,” Sana said. “Still trust me?” 

Dahyun nodded. 

***

“Let me do the talking when we go out there, okay?” Sana said. After sneaking down the hall to wash her hands, Sana came back to Dahyun’s room and raided her closet. She dressed the younger hybrid in a pink cropped shirt, white shorts and a pink belt. For herself, she chose one of Dahyun’s pink shirts and paired it with a white skirt, stealing one of Dahyun’s pink headbands to go with it. 

When they finally stepped out of her room, Dahyun and Sana were nearly matching in their outfits. Dahyun felt a bit sick as Sana led the way down the hall.

“There you are!” Jihyo and Momo smiled brightly at the two hybrids for a moment before their expressions changed to confusion. 

“Sana honey, what happened to your clothes?” Jihyo’s eyes flitted over her puppy’s new outfit.

“I made Dahyun show me her closet,” Sana said in a confessional manner. She set her old outfit, now flipped inside out, down carefully next to the other items Jihyo had brought with them. “We both have some of the same favorite colors,” she continued. “I just wanted to match her today.” 

Jihyo’s confusion immediately melted into an expression of endearment. 

“How cute,” she cooed, giving Sana’s ears a loving scratch. “Dahyun, I promise we’ll get your clothes back to you next week, okay?” 

Dahyun nodded, suddenly feeling shy in front of everyone. The feeling reminded her of her first playdate with Sana, when everyone was carefully watching her out of the corner of their eye to see how she reacted to Sana. But then Sana gave her a reassuring smile and she felt better, smiling shyly back at her. 

While Jihyo and Sana put their shoes on and got ready to head out the door, Momo and Dahyun did the same. But before Dahyun could join Jihyo and Sana outside, Momo put a hand on her shoulder, signaling for her to hold back for a moment. 

For a second, Dahyun felt panic rise in her chest, but then her owner pressed a puppy-safe breakfast bar into her hands. 

“You must have been really tired this morning, pup,” she said, gently stroking Dahyun under her chin. “You didn’t get any of the breakfast I made for you this morning, did you?” 

It was only then that Dahyun’s stomach growled, and Momo smiled. “Thought not. Eat that on the way, okay? I don’t want ice cream to be your first meal of the day.”

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Two (Part 3)

It is a long climb up the hill that leads us to the south strand, but the street lamps are coming on and the sea looks beautiful from up high. Tonight the rising moon is huge and the clouds are pink, another clear night is ahead. I wish that I was alone on the beach instead, lying in the sand and waiting until everything was dark and silent and completely mine, finding shooting stars and watching the milky way drift across the inky sky. Instead, we have to go to Flavio’s house. Pasta was promised, and I’m starving. I tell myself this is the only reason I’m not staying home tonight. 

Flavio’s holiday home is beautiful. My first thought as we walk through the door is how much the rent must cost. Everything looks new and it is so tastefully decorated that it looks like it could be in a magazine. Large windows look out over a landscaped yard, and beyond that I can see the distant lights of the nearest town glowing on the horizon. The house is filled with pop music that I don’t recognise and the smell of sizzling garlic and onions. My stomach rumbles. 

Flavio greets us, and gives Claire a kiss on the cheek. “Ciao, Bella.” He says to her, and then we are introduced to his friends. There are two of them: Luca and Stefano. Luca is a tall, light haired man with a floppy 90s era fringe and a funny little scarf around his neck. Stefano is shorter, plainer, with a thin mouth and rectangular glasses. I feel a deep disappointment within me, as I know he will be assigned to me. A plain girl for a plain boy. I know I will spend the evening forcing excruciating conversation out of him. I wish I had starved at home.

“Come, sit.” Flavio gestures to a table that has been set already. Two bottles of red wine sit in the middle, but I have already seen that there are four more on the kitchen counter. I feel anxious. I sit across from Claire, flanked by Stefano and Luca. They are both staring at her transfixed. Flavio serves steaming tomato pasta and pours wine in each glass, and as I take my first mouthful I keep an eye on the men on either side of me. 

There’s a thing I never understood about boys, and I think it’s the notion of a hierarchical structure within the dating pool. I’ve only ever known girls closely and can only speak from what I’ve heard, but girls always seem aware of their playing field. I mean, they generally have a rough idea of how high they can punch, and at what point they realise that a certain guy is too attractive for them, and they will no longer pursue him. Guys – and this is something I’ve learned from being around Claire this last year – have no such notions. One will crawl from the gutter, smelling like he’s never been in a shower and still feel that he can ask her out. All around her, every day, men take a chance on her. They stop their cars dead, they sit next to her on empty buses, they stop her in the street to talk, all on the possibility that they might become someone lucky enough to know her. They are old men, married men, ugly men, men of all walks of life, strutting around this world in dirty socks believing they could have a flying chance with Claire O’Gorman. It’s a level of confidence that I will never know. 

The pasta is delicious, and I am so hungry. It seems such a simple recipe; linguine and tomato sauce with a sprig of basil on top, but I swear Flavio put some sort of charm on it. My mouth explodes with flavour as I take bite after bite, it’s like a religious experience. I realise eventually that I have forgotten to engage with the conversation around me, and am mortified to discover that I have eaten most of my dinner already while the rest of the table has barely started. I plant my cutlery on either side of my plate and clasp my hands in my lap, physically restraining myself. 

Flavio is talking about how he’s studying finance at a university in Milan, and looking self congratulatory as he talks about the kind of salary he might expect when he graduates. It strikes me as tone deaf, considering the economy, but nobody seems to care about that except for me. I try to talk to Stefano, mostly because I feel obliged to, but his English isn’t very good and we run out of basic conversation topics very quickly. I give up trying and let myself finish my meal and wine. Flavio is too annoying to bear too, so I give up listening to him as well. 

Around eleven o clock, we all clear the plates from the table and stack them in the dishwasher, and soon after a group of people who say they’re from the holiday apartments down the road show up with a plastic bag full of cans. Luca changes the music to some kind of hideous electronica and within an hour there is a heaving party of strangers in their twenties in the living room. I have never felt younger or more naive or more out of place as I perch on a sofa and pick at my fingernails. I spot Kelly in the kitchen with Luca, she’s laughing and pouring glugs of wine into his glass, filling it all the way to the top and he’s trying to get her to stop before it overflows. I watch the blood red liquid spill out onto the floor. I can’t tell by the back of his head if he’s annoyed at her or enjoying her. She’s so charming, I feel as though she could do and say the most outrageous things you could think of and get away with them. 

I look around for Claire and Flavio but I can’t see them. I worry about her. I get up from the sofa and slip out the living room door into the hallway where the lights are off, only the streetlamps outside are casting a pale glow on the tiles. I peek into the empty bathroom, then make my way quietly upstairs. I feel like I’m way out of line, but I don’t mind being caught out as a rude guest if it means that Claire is safe. 

The first bedroom I check is empty, and so is the second. I open up to another bathroom to find it empty too, lights off. By the time my hand is on the knob of the third bedroom I am sure that Claire is in there. I crack it open and slowly peer inside, fully expecting to walk in on some lewd scene, but she isn’t there either. I sigh. The moon is framed perfectly by the window in the room, and curtains blow gently in the breeze. I step closer and rest my hands on the sill, my ears ringing now in the silence, the floor throbbing beneath my feet, and then I hear her laughing. 

Of course, she’s right under my nose, literally. I look down to the garden below me and see Claire and Flavio on two folding garden chairs drinking wine, and see that there was absolutely nothing salacious happening. I am relieved, but at the same moment I feel sad and a bit jealous of her. And Kelly too. Just like I predicted, they both ended up paired off with boys, and I ended up alone. Sad little Evelyn, all by herself in the corner of the party. I’m annoyed at myself for how pitiful I feel, and I can’t help but recall what Kelly said earlier. Maybe I am too picky, and I just need to choose a boy and go out with him. Maybe after a while the whole ordeal stops feeling so horrible and embarrassing. Although I’d never admit it, the fact that I’m seventeen and have never had a relationship feels so pathetic to me. I wish I could just find a boyfriend and get it over with, at least then everybody would stop prying into my love life, pitying me for my lack of experience. 

I head downstairs and try to weave around the crowd to get to the front door, needing some fresh air, suddenly Stefano comes from nowhere and puts his hands on my waist, wrenching me backwards. He is trying to drunkenly dance with me. His eyes are heavy lidded and his breath smells like beer. I am repulsed, and I wrench his sweaty hands off me. “I’m seventeen.” I spit. “That means I’m legally a child, you rotten pedo.” I run away from him, out the door and over the road to the cliffside, where I stand, my face hot, breathing hard and trying to force myself to cry. 

My vision blurs with tears, and I look down at my feet willing the drops to fall, my shoulders shaking, but the tears never fall. I peer over the cliffs. They aren’t high, but they’re rocky. Big round boulders stack on top of one another like some ancient giant placed them there. I picture what would happen if I were to slip down them, and in detail I imagine the way that I would fall, bouncing from one boulder to the next, a horrible gruesome sequence all the way to the sand below. Sometimes I have intense fantasies about things like this, and it’s not that I want to die, it’s just that I’m terrified by how easily and quickly it can happen. I decide that dying via the rocky cliffside would be the worst, and so I take a step backwards, suddenly wary of heights. 

As I turn away from them, I see the glint of metal in the moonlight. There is a steel railing on the cliff edge not far from me, and as I walk closer to it I see that it’s a stone staircase leading down onto the beach below. There is access to the beach the whole way along the coast via these kinds of steps, and I’m surprised that I hadn’t spotted them earlier. 

I decide to walk down them, and it’s so quiet out here that I can hear only my footsteps on the concrete as I do. When I reach the bottom, I take off my runners and my socks and am pleasantly surprised to find that the soft sand is cold under my hot feet, all of the heat it has absorbed from the day is gone again, drawn out by the cool air, and it’s like it’s resting before another hot day tomorrow. I wonder what time it is. I wonder if my friends have noticed that I’ve gone. 

I’m in tune with myself as I walk the silent beach, my stomach still knotted with frustration and sadness, but I find peace with it, my bare feet grounding me to the earth below. The cliff softens into rolling dunes at the end of the beach, and boulders taper off and give way to soft marram grass that softly ripples in the breeze.

There is a house in the dunes ahead, but I don’t see it until I’m close to it. It’s as though it emerges from nowhere, nestled into the cliffs, warm yellow light spilling from its windows out onto a wooden balcony that faces the water. It is flat roofed and clad in corrugated iron, and I can see there is a smouldering fire pit outside a set of large patio doors. They are wide open, inviting the night time breeze inside, and as I get closer I can hear music and laughter coming from within. I stop walking and I stare up at the house, enthralled by it somehow, not wanting to move any closer while simultaneously sensing warmth, juxtaposed entirely with the hostile house I had just walked out of.

I freeze suddenly as voices draw closer to me and a girl emerges onto the deck. She is about my age, maybe a little older, and her hair is short and dyed a bright red colour. She is mid conversation with somebody who is still inside the house. 

“It’s a bit like… so you’ve seen Lost, obviously, have you?” She’s saying. She speaks like she is from Dublin. “Kind of that vibe, like you think it’s a simplistic kind of run of the mill thing, then all this bonkers shit starts happening and like… oh hang on, c’mere, can you bring me out that lighter in there? Yep, on the table.”

A boy walks out behind her, and she continues her conversation with him, and catches the lighter as he tosses it. I stop listening to what she’s saying then, as I feel suddenly stunned by the boy. He is beautiful. His hair is dark and pushed away from his face, a few strands of it are falling over his forehead, and he stands tall next to her, facing in my direction. I step in behind a patch of marram, but I don’t think either of them can see me anyway. I’m cloaked by the darkness on the beach. He has the prettiest face, I think. Its planes catch the moonlight, high cheekbones, an angular jaw, and almond shaped dark brown eyes that are concentrating intently on what the girl is saying to him. 

There’s something about him that paralyses me. I’ve seen nice looking boys before, of course I have. The best and the brightest have waited outside of our school for their girlfriends, but the boy on the balcony has an energy. It’s in the way he holds himself, the steadiness of his gaze, the aura that surrounds him feels static. I realise I am holding my breath and it’s burning my lungs. I can’t help but let it all rush out of me at once. The girl pauses her conversation and looks over her shoulder quizzically. I’m convinced she’s heard me. She turns back around though, and starts flicking her lighter. 

“Feck sake.” she says. “This one is out of juice. Here, I think there’s another one in that bowl downstairs.” They both turn and walk back inside, and they’re gone again. I take my chance to dash back up the beach then. As I’m running, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I thank God that it didn’t do that while I was literally spying on someone from the bushes one minute ago. When I’m far enough away, I read the message. It’s from Kelly. 

Where are you Evie? Can’t find you. 😦

 Another one pops up as I read 

We’re thinking of leaving. Turns out everyone here is a creep. lol.

I text her back as I hurriedly clamber back up the concrete steps. 

On my way, sorry… just needed some air.

I stop for a moment at the top of the stairs and look back down the beach. I can’t see the lights from that house anymore, it’s hidden from view once again, but my body feels alive, nerves tingling with excitement: about seeing the boy, about almost getting caught, the thrilling discovery of the little house… I won’t tell Claire and Kelly about it, I decide then in a more sobering moment. There’s no point, I will put it out of my head now. I’ll probably never see those people again.

Prev // Next

[ashthenerd]

Why do teachers like to torture disabled students?

Last week was autism awareness week. I'm autistic, I'm glad it happened. But what I am not glad about is what my geography teacher did for it.

She thought that it would be good to do a 20 min brain break. Where we had to do jumping jacks, hop on one foot, sit up and down a million and one times

I have excruciating chronic pain and chronic dizziness and am a frequent fainter. But the only teachers who know about this are my PE teacher and the teachers who've seen me pass out. My geography teacher didn't know and the thought of saying that I couldn't do it in font of my whole class was mortifying. So I joined in. I was so dizzy that I barely have a clue what happened for a couple of hours afterwards. I was in so much pain that I had to bite my hand so I wouldn't scream. I had to sit down anyway within 5 minutes and my teacher made a big deal about it.

I could barely stand for 2 days. When I got home the next day I collapsed onto the couch and was floating in and out of consciousness for hours and shaking like a leaf for hours and hours while sweating buckets yet feeling like I was in the Antartic. I was actually exhausted, not just "I'm so tired, I'm exhausted" as in my body was in an actual state of exhaustion so bad that 2 days later I was not in control of my own body.

This brain break was on Wednesday. It is now Sunday and I am on the edge of tears with every fucking movement because of the flare up that she triggered

For fuck sake

(Also my geography teacher is actually a really nice person. We have the craic, she runs greenschools, she unlocked a classroom for me when I left my stuff there. She is a really nice person, but I have been in absolutely agony and have been fainting twice as much as usual as well as the whole exhaustion thing which scared the shit out of me, so I am pissed of at her even though she didn't realise the harm she causedl

[mwolf0epsilon]

The Umbaran Pathogen - Day 29: Bargaining

Summary: Negotiations were often Obi-wan's forte when it came to resolving issues in a diplomatic manner. In these circumstances however, he doesn't know if taking Umbara is really worth the trouble... Not with everything that's come to light.

Warning: N/A

Dogma's design should give you an idea of what Cody currently looks like!

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[In which the events on Umbara are worsened by an unknown pathogen taking hold of both the 501st and 212th. These series of drabbles will follow a non-linear timeline based on the AI-less Whumptober prompt list for 2023.]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

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With communications reestablished, things had started going a little smoother. Enough so that, in the end, Obi-wan was forced to face the facts. Especially given the evidence Tacet had brought to him on such short notice.

This entire campaign had been a setup of the most treacherous kind.

Unlike with the incident with Sargent Slick however, the clones had not been the ones to perpetrate any of the sabotage that the Jedi had begun to investigate. Instead, what had started as a simple line of inquiry while he regained some of his strength, soon becoming a much deeper scrutinization of everything that had gone wrong after the 501st and 212th had gone their separate ways.

It had not escape his notice how all things inevitably led to Anakin's departure and Krell's arrival. The timing coinciding far too much for it to be mere chance.

And wasn't that a troublesome thought?

A Jedi Master of Krell's caliber suddenly going rogue without the Order noticing. It bare not think at all. Especially when it made some previous incidents that had easily been overlooked as innocent, take a much darker tone when faced with such damning evidence.

All those casualties, that waste of life, a warning that had gone horrifically unheeded...

Minute by minute, the overwhelmingly excruciating torment of unraveling all of the Council's accidental negligence left Obi-wan feeling weighted down by guilt. The facts had been right there. The Jedi had simply not seen them... So focused on the war efforts that they'd become somewhat complacent. Semi-willingly ignorant of things that seemed unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

When had they stopped paying attention to the suffering of others? When had they forgotten the core values of the Order? When had it become so easy to turn a blind eye?

He wasn't sure and was honestly mortified to find out just how deep the rabbit hole might go. But there would be talks of this once he got back to Coruscant. There would be measures put in place, once he managed to arrange a meeting with the other Council members. This sort of abuse of power could never come to pass ever again.

But first, Obi-wan had to deal with current affairs on Umbara.

Starting with weighing the pros and cons of carrying on with this particular campaign's goal of establishing control over the governing forces, before Umbara broke away to join the Separatist movement. A goal he did not particularly agree with, and which was honestly starting to feel less like something the Republic should strive for.

Peace should never be built on a foundation of violent oppression and takeovers. Diplomacy should be the first choice not the last. And, mulling over everything that had recently transpired in the world of politics, the Republic was starting to feel less like a benevolent union of worlds and more like a playground full of angry younglings that could not decide who was or was not a friend or foe...

The Chancellor certainly hadn't been making it easy to find common ground that anyone could work with to reach a peaceful conclusion of this war. Passing bills that, while outwardly seeming beneficial to all, came with long lasting effects that aggrieved both the Republic itself, GAR and anyone else caught in the crossfire.

And after he'd summoned Anakin away to do Force only knew what, he'd certainly made the efforts on Umbara all the much harder to endure. Not counting the parasitic take-over.

But those were not sentiments he could freely talk over comms. You never knew where those recordings and transcripts might end up, after all...

"I wish I had been down there with the men..." Ahsoka's pitiful sadness was easy to spot, even over the choppy holotable quality, as she processed all of what he'd been able to tell her thus far.

"Sincerely Commander Tano, the men and I are glad you aren't involved in this mess." Cody shook his head, voicing what Obi-wan himself had been thinking. That he was glad his Grand-Padawan was safely away from these horrific events. Away from both Krell's actions and the parasites that had so easily overwhelmed him, prior to discovering their susceptibility to mind tricks. "If you'd gotten hurt or worse, killed, none of us would have been able to forgive ourselves."

"Not to mention Anakin would certainly not take the loss well..." The bearded Jedi added, being more than a little aware of his ex-Padawan's very specific faults.

It's not that he thought his brother to be anything but kind and caring. Far from it, Anakin definitely cared for the well being of others. Sometimes a little too much. Which was often the root of many conflicts between himself and others, who had an easier time letting go of what upset them.

Well, that wasn't entirely true either. Guilt was something no Jedi could shrug off very easily. The weight of one's responsibilities as a guardian of peace was often crushing, especially if a mistake that yielded terrible consequences was made. Processing negative emotions in a positive constructive way was a challenge all beings went through. The Jedi just had to be extra mindful due to their extraordinary abilities. Which was why it was imperative that, should one find themselves beginning to lose sight of the light, that they seek the help of both their support network and a Mind Healer.

Something which Obi-wan himself was not entirely good at, at times. And something he'd never seen Anakin do outside of talking to Padme. He never pushed, not wanting to seem hypocritical, but perhaps he should also look into having a talk with his little brother after all of this was done and dealt with.

"I hadn't thought of that..." Ahsoka admitted as she lightly gnawed on her bottom lip, clearly worried about her Master's reaction to... Well, all of this mess. His battalion was worse for wear, and his men would likely need some time to be able to trust the Jedi again, once it came to light that Krell had been trying to get them all killed on purpose.

Not to mention the state of those who'd been infected...

"It bares not thinking." Obi-wan nodded in understanding. "Especially when we are still in the middle of this conflict..."

"If we can't wrap things up soon, I fear it'll only get worse..." The togruta crossed her arms, looking over her shoulder at two of the men who'd joined her for the call. Two veterans, Nax and Attie, who flanked her sides and listened to the conversation with solemn expressions. "The Umbaran forces have initiated several dogfights, and we haven't been able to send any supply ships as a result..."

"The pilots are starting to look a little worse for wear." Nax added, voice grave as he put emphasis on the main issues they were trying to deal with. "Many of the ships are down for repairs, and exhaustion is slowing down our best fliers..."

"Only way I see this going well is if the Umbarans called for a ceasefire... But, seeing as they're unwilling to give in so easily..." Attie sighed, clearly not believing this would end well. Even with the capitol in their hands, the enemy forces were not deterred by such intimidation tactics. "We have no idea what to do sir..."

"This is indeed a problem..." Obi-wan conceded as he stroked his beard in thought. Trying to figure out what the best course of actions might be.

Negotiations were often Obi-wan's forte when it came to resolving issues in a diplomatic manner. In these circumstances however, he doesn't know if taking Umbara is really worth the trouble… Not with everything that's come to light.

It might be that retreat was really the only solution, even if it would label them as cowards in the eyes of the Republic.

"Sir..." Cody went to put a hand on his shoulder before freezing, the aborted motion causing everyone on call to pause and look towards the Commander who's expression began to twist in pain. "A-ah..."

"Cody, are you alright...?" Ahsoka softly asked while Obi-wan frowned at the worrisome change.

"...I... A-ah..." The mutated trooper shook his head, expression pinched from clear discomfort and pain as he shook. His tremors so bad he stumbled and ended up on the floor. "I̵ ̵t̴-̴t̶h̸i̵n̴k̴ ̵I̶.̵.̴.̶"

"We're running out of time..." Obi-wan hissed as he knelt by the shaking trooper, realizing immediately what was going on with his friend. The parasite was beginning to wake back up. "Ahsoka dear, we'll have to cut our conversation short for now. The men need me... I will... I will think of something by the time of our next talk. Stay vigilant until then, would you?"

"I... Yes Master." She bowed quickly. "Take care."

As soon as the holo cut off, Obi-wan helped Cody back onto his feet and helped him to sit on one of the crates instead. He could see the way his second in command was struggling against the parasite as it regained its bearings. Trying to get him back under its control.

"I̸-̸m̴ ̵s̸o̵r̸r̷y̶ ̴s̴-̵s̶i̵r̸.̴.̸.̵ ̷I̸.̷.̸.̶.̸"

"There's no need for apologies, my dear Cody. This is not your fault." The Jedi reassured, all the while taking deep breaths himself and trying to steady his own mind. He needed to focus if he wanted to keep Cody in control of himself. "I should have not expected this to last much longer..."

Cody grunted in reply.

Whether from the pain or to acknowledge the fact, he couldn't tell. Instead he focused on clearing his mind before kindly requesting that the parasite go back to sleep. It took a minute for the commander to look a little less pained, as the creature's influence faded once more.

"Thank you sir..." Cody sighed in relief.

"Think nothing of it. Were you in my position, I am sure you would have done the same." Obi-wan smiled fondly as he noted the way his friend tilted his head. No doubt rolling his eyes.

"If I were in your position..." Cody mused. "I would have stunned you."

"Hm, very honest of you." The Jedi chuckled. "Even if a little rude."

"Seventeen raised me too well."

With one less thing to concern himself with (for the moment), his mind wandered back to the more pressing matter of deciding on what to do. And then, like a ton of bricks, it hit him.

Sometimes the easiest thing to do was to look towards the simpler option. Even if as a whole, the Republic might not like his choice.

"....I think I know what needs to be done." He sighed, looking to Cody with slight resignation to the consequences that may follow. The way the other might see him afterwards. "But it will definitely spell failure on our end..."

"Depends on one's definition of failure." Cody remarked, looking to him with mild curiosity as he massaged his aching temples. "Will there be further casualties?"

"Not if it goes as I expect it to."

"Then I'd say it's worth a shot." Cody crossed his lower arms, seeming satisfied with the answer. "What will you need?"

"Direct communication with the Umbaran Generals..." Obi-wan responded calmly, already beginning to organize his thoughts for what he was sure would be a rather long debate. "It's time to bargain for ceasefire. For the sake of our men..."

The Republic would not take this loss kindly. But perhaps the Umbarans might be more merciful in return.

After all, victory should not come as a result of such tremendous loss nor moral bankruptcy. And considering the state of both battalions and the fear the locals had of the parasites they were infected with, surely they could reach a mutually beneficial understanding.

[dragonmasterhiccup]

“Nothing of your concern,” she spoke, “Danielle will be fine, for now,” he lied, looking for the correct key to the chain wrapped around Hiccup’s ankle.

———

It was dark, and cold, but also very hot at the same time.

There was blood too, as well as venom, mixing together and coating the ground. It was dripping from her neck, her arm, some even trailing out from the corner of her mouth.

Everything hurt so bad. But at least she was back to being her, there was no longer that stuff coursing through her body. It was gone, but she still remembered.

And she was mortified. Hiccup, Astrid, Zephyr, even the Berkians that had been… killed during her ‘raids,’ she remembered all of it.

Hiccup… was he dead? Grimmel said he was taking him to go… get… Toothless? Yeah, yeah, that sounded about right… but what if he killed him too? It would’ve been all her fault for bringing him here in the first place.

It was getting harder and harder to think, the only things she could focus on being the excruciating pain and the loud, pained sobs she was letting out.

Her vision blanked, until she clicked back in and laid her head back down. Why… why was it wet? She probably threw up… again.

Gods, she just wanted to be done. She was a monster anyways, she didn’t deserve to be alive anymore.

She wanted her brother though, and her mom, it was selfish to even think about them being here with her, but she didn’t want to die alone…

———

After an hour long flight, Eret and the other dragon riders landed on top of some sort of ‘base.’

“We should split up; Astrid and Valka, look for Hiccup, Snotlout and I will take the north side while the twins and Fishlegs take the left.”

———

Even the smallest sounds and scents could be picked up by the Deathgrippers, and their heads snapped towards the door, low hisses coming from them. Grimmel whistled, sending them away immediately. It must’ve been the other dragon riders, he could welcome his guests with a surprise.

“Ah that must your wife, and your friends, how nice that they’ve come to join us. Don’t worry, my dragons will take care of them..”

Bending down, he went to unlock Hiccups ankle chain…

By the looks of the bloodstained blanket, Hiccup didn't believe one word Grimmel said.

Any moment now....

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

Astrid gave a curt nod. "Good plan. Let's go."

They started making their way inside, using silent hand signals to communicate.

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

Hiccup hadn't had a plan yet for the Deathgrippers, but he was relieved when Grimmel sent them away, until he heard why.

That's it, he thought, it's now or never.

As Grimmel knelt down to unlock the chain, Hiccup took the sharp metal and thrust it into the dragon hunter's neck, only pulling it out when he felt the man slump forward, hitting the floor.

Hands shaking, he dropped the weapon, he shaking the unlocked chain off before making his way towards the door.

That was when he ran into Astrid.

"Hiccup!"

"Astrid?"

The couple embraced each other, Hiccup holding his wife tightly. "What are you doing here?"

"Rescuing you, idiot. Where's Grimmel?"

"Dead."

She pulled away, looking past Hiccup at the fresh corpse laying on the floor of the prison cell. "Did you...?"

He could only nod.

"I...I had no choice."

"We'll deal with that later. Come on, we're taking you home."

"Not without Danny, she's here, somewhere..."

Astrid gave him a look. "She's not the Danny we once knew anymore."

"We just need to find the cure, I think it's some type of blue liquid, it's around here somewhere."

That was when Valka came in. "You two search for Danny, Cloudjumper and I will find the cure."

When they didn't move, she ushered them along towards the door. "Go! No time to waste!"

"What about the Deathgrippers?"

Astrid shook her head. "We haven't seen them, they must have gone after the others. We'll regroup and retreat once we find Danny."

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

They didn't have to search hard, they only had to follow the trail of blood to find Danny.

Opening the door, Hiccup rushed to his sister's side. "Danny! We're going to get you out of here, okay? Just hang on!"

Astrid tore a curtain down, passing it to Hiccup. "She looks like she's in shock, wrap her in this. I'll check with your mom, see if she's found that cure yet."

Taking the curtain, he spoke as he worked, "I know you don't trust me, that you hate me, but in getting you out of here and we're getting you some help, so just stay with me!"