#the other problem is NOBODY WAS SLACKING OFF

[coldflasher]

i went into the office and it was everything i thought it would be and less. it was awful. i have discovered that there’s something worse than having people try to talk to me, and it’s nobody trying to talk to me at all. not even to like. tell me where the kitchen is. i spent the first 4 hours trying to decide if it would be frowned upon to eat lunch at my desk and the last 4 hours mourning bc even if i was able to eat it at my desk, by that point it had been in my bag for hours bc i didn’t know where the fridge was, so it probably would have been disgusting and ridden with bacteria. and i didn’t have a key card yet so i needed ppl to let me in and out and fun fact: i have a deep-seated loathing of knocking on doors. it’s embarrassing. so i couldn’t leave or go to the loo or anything. just. 8 hours at my desk in silence with occasional whispering like we were sitting an exam

i thought the whole point of office culture was so the extraverts could get their daily dose of conversation. if i wanted to sit in silence for 8 hours i could do that at home with my cat and actually have a nice time

[pretty-circa006]

Mystery Man

Sugar Daddy! Coach! Negan x Cam girl! F! Reader

summary you finally find out who your mystery man is tags online relationship, meeting up with a stranger you met online, making out, almost sex, dirty talk, male masturbation, age gap

wc 3.7k words

part 1

note here's part 2! also thank you so much to all the people that follow me. it makes me really happy to know that that many people like reading what i write! and extra thank yous to the people that leave comments and repost. comments make me so happy, like kicking my feet and giggling happy!

*you are responsible for your own content consumption. if this is something you DO NOT like, simply DO NOT read or interact! :) *

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Ever since her video call a few weeks ago with the man online, they’ve been messaging each other quite frequently. It’s mostly flirtation and nudes, but it has quickly become her favorite part of the day. He even gave her his number so they can communicate outside of the camgirl website, but despite all this, they still haven’t seen each other’s faces. 

“Who’re you texting?” her friend asks as she tries to get a peek of her phone. 

“Nobody,” she snaps, turning her phone away from the other girl’s view. 

“C’mooon, lemme see!” she pushes trying to grab her phone. 

“Britney, stop it!” she urges and she hold her phone away from her nosey friend. Britney glares at her disappointedly, but stops trying to grab her phone. 

“Sorry, it’s just that I wanna keep this relationship kinda private until I know where it’s going, y’know?” she tells her friend half truthfully. 

“Yeah, whatever. I’m gonna go out before Coach Negan starts yelling at us again.” Britney leaves and she can finally resume her texting without any prying eyes. She reopens her messages and sees a picture from the man. He’s shirtless, revealing to her the tattoos on his chest, and palming his erection through his boxers, but of course his face isn’t in it. The text that followed reads Just watched some of your videos. She smiles to herself before typing back maybe one day you’ll get the real thing ;). Before she can get carried away, she shuts off her phone and puts it in her bag before joining the rest of the team out on the field. 

Coach Negan shouts her last name angrily and beckons her over with his hand. She rolls her eyes, feeling irate, and trudges over to him. He stands impatiently with his arms folded over his chest, his hazel eyes glaring down at her. 

“What?” she snaps, coming off a bit ruder than she intended. 

His glare hardens, but he doesn’t say anything about her attitude. “I just thought I’d let you know that this is the third time this week that you’ve been late to practice,” he states the obvious. 

“Okay? I know. Sorry, but things came up. What’s your problem?” she half truths. The things that kept coming up were more messages from her mystery man and she tended to lose track of time when it came to him. 

“It’s actually gonna become your fuckin’ problem because if you keep showing up late, you’re gonna put your track scholarship in jeopardy.” 

“Why is that any of your business‽” she asks defensively. 

“Despite you being my worst student, you are the best on this team, so it does benefit me to keep your rude ass around.” 

She glares up at him, matching the glare he’s already sending her. Shame washes over her, not only from slacking but from having Coach Negan of  all people call her out on it. Her scholarship isn’t something she can afford to lose, literally. Even though it only covers half of her tuition, it still helps a lot. 

“Well if keeping me around benefits you, maybe you should stop being such a dick to me.” 

He laughs sarcastically, exposing the dimples on his face along with his perfect teeth, before his face returns to a deadpan. 

“Or you can just get your shit together. Now go warm up with the others before you piss me off any further.” 

“Ugh!” she screams before leaving to join the others. 

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As soon as she gets to her apartment, she tosses her bag aside and flops down onto her couch. She pulls out her phone and checks her messages with the mystery man to see if she has any new ones. When she sees that she doesn’t, she opens the camgirl website to see if maybe he said anything there. Disappointment swells in her chest when she sees that there’s none there, either. She almost feels dumb for being so hung up on this stranger. The stranger she’s never met in real life and doesn’t know what he looks like. But talking to him makes her feel good, like someone actually cares about her. Even if their conversations were purely flirtatious and sexual, she can’t help but feel something for him. So she sends him a message. 

@ virginesque hey 

@ BigBadWolf Miss me already?

@ virginesque yes actually how was ur day?

@ BigBadWolf It was alright. How about yours baby? 

@ virginesque kinda shitty tbh. school sucks but talking to u makes my day better :)

@ BigBadWolf You must really want another tip, huh lol 

@ BigBadWolf sent $100.00

@ virginesque no, i rlly just wanted to talk to u :( 

@ BigBadWolf Well aren’t you just the cutest. What do you wanna talk about baby?

@ virginesque idk i kinda been wanting to get to know u better. u seem interesting 

@ BigBadWolf Well what do you want to know?

@ virginesque what do you look like???

@ BigBadWolf I don’t even know what you look like haha

@ virginesque fair. how old are u??

@ BigBadWolf 45, you?

@ virginesque 20 but i’ll be 21 soon 

Their conversation strayed away from the usual exchanging of risqué photos and flirtatious banter and instead they got to know each other by taking turns asking questions about one another. It’s almost two in the morning on a week day and their conversation is still going. 

@ BigBadWolf Do you accept gifts? I want to send you a gift

@ virginesque ooooh what is it???

@ BigBadWolf You’ll have to be patient and wait until you get it

@ virginesque fine :( u can send them to my PO box

@ BigBadWolf When you get it, I wanna see it in your next stream 

@ virginesque oh? no private video just for ur eyes?

@ BigBadWolf You can send me a few pictures ;)

@ virginesque cant wait :D

@ BigBadWolf Goodnight babygirl, it was nice chatting with you 

@ virginesque night! ♡♡

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Almost every day since the mystery man said he’s gonna send her a gift, she’s been checking her P.O. box on the way home from school. She’s gotten mail from her subscribers before, but it was usually weird stuff like disgusting fantasies about her, cumsocks, and other depraved things. But she knows her mystery man is nothing like those weirdos, which is why when there’s finally something in her P.O. box, she’s excited. 

As soon as she gets to her apartment she tears open the box and inside is a package from an expensive lingerie company. She tears open the package and inside is a quarter cup bra in a sheer white color with little flowers embroidered on it and a matching g-string. She hurries to the bathroom and changes into it. The bra doesn’t cover anything and even if it did, you could see right through it. What surprises her most is how perfectly each garment fits. She puts on some natural looking makeup before standing before the full length mirror in her bedroom. With her phone, she snaps a few pictures, each one a different pose. 

@ virginesque sent 6 attachments 

@ virginesque u like?

@ BigBadWolf Wow, it fits you perfectly. You look so fuckin sexy

@ virginesque thanks, i love it ♡

@ virginesque im gonna go start my stream now, maybe we can call after ??

@ BigBadWolf Can’t wait :) 

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“You looked so sexy on that stream, doll,” her mystery man compliments. This video call is a lot like their first one. Neither one of them showing their faces with only their bodies in the camera’s frame. 

“Don’t I always?” 

“Of course you fuckin’ do. Every picture you send me tightens my pants.” 

She giggles, smiling like a fool, but luckily he can’t see that. 

“I wish I could be there to help you out. I’d let you fill any hole you wanted.” 

He frees his cock from his sweatpants and from what she can see he doesn’t have any underwear on. 

“What else would you let me do?” he asks, his hardened dick in his large hand. 

“Hmmm, I’d be wearing a cute little dress with nothing underneath…”

“I’d never be able to keep my hands off you.” His hand begins pumping his achingly hard cock. 

“And I wouldn’t want you to. I’d let you take me whenever and wherever you want. Over my kitchen counter, the backseat of a car, the back of a movie theater, anywhere.” 

He lets out a grunt as he urges himself to his peak. “I’d love to fuck you on my motorcycle.” 

“You have a motorcycle? You just got even hotter.” 

“Sure do. I’d be happy to take you for a ride sometime.” He curses as he increases the speed of his hand, successfully making himself cum. 

“I…I know it’s all just dirty talk and fantasies, but would you really wanna take me for a ride?” she shyly asks. 

He pauses for a second, but the anxiety she feels during that pause makes it feel like an eternity. 

“I…I mean, yeah of course, baby, I’d love to,” he stammers. 

“M-maybe if we do…we can make all these fantasies reality,” she seductively suggests. 

“You are getting me hard all over again just thinking about it. I know you live in Virginia since that’s where your P.O. box is and lucky for you, I do, too.”

“I’ll text you my favorite restaurant and we can meet there!”

“How’s this weekend sound?”

“I’ll be there in my little dress with nothing underneath.” 

“And I’ll be there ready to take it off.”

“Five o’clock?” 

They agree on the time before wishing each other a good night and ending the call. 

Saturday felt like it took forever to get here, but when it finally did she started to feel nervous. She stands in front of her closet and looks at the few dresses she has. Deciding on a lavender colored mini sundress, she upholds her promise to her mystery man and wears nothing underneath. She even paints her nails and does her hair and makeup nicely. The reality of the situation dawns on her. She’s really about to meet up with a random man she met online, but for some reason, she trusts him. He’s nothing like the weirdo fans that have sent her weird shit or left creepy, almost threatening comments on her posts and streams. He’s charming, generous, and has a huge dick. What more could she ask for? 

It’s a quarter til five once she gets to the restaurant since she likes to be early. She grabs a table by the window and sends him a message telling him that she’s here and sitting by a window. Someone calling her name causes her to flinch and look up from her phone. 

“Coach Negan? What’re you doing here?” she asks rudely. 

“It’s a goddamn restaurant. I’m obviously here to eat.” 

She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Okay, whatever, bye.” she shoos him away with her hand and pulls out her phone to text the mystery man and ask where he is. He texts back that he’s here and asks where she is. She replies by telling him what she’s wearing. Coach Negan comes back over to her table, but this time he looks shocked and pale. He sits at the table, across from her and looks her in the eyes. 

“You…you’re not virginesque…are you?” he asks dryly. 

As she looks into Negan’s hazel eyes, it feels like her entire world came crashing down around her. Her stomach turns into knots and she’s not hungry anymore. 

“Y-you’re big bad wolf!?” she says shakily. Tears prick at her eyes due to the realization that the mystery man she’s been crushing on is her mean track and field coach. 

He sighs and runs a hand over his face. “Holy fuckin’ shit.” He holds his head in his hands and refuses to look at her. She can’t look at him, nor can she hold back her tears. At the sound of her sniffling, Negan looks up at her. 

“I can’t believe my coach has seen me naked,” she sobs. 

“This isn’t easy for me either. My student has seen my penis!” 

“Why didn’t you tell me it was you!” she asks incredulously. 

“I didn’t know you were you!” he argues. 

“Oh my god, I’ve masturbated in front of you…to you! I…I’ve sent you nudes a-and videos,” she cries into her hands. 

“I’ve sent you dick pics and thousands of fucking dollars!” he bemoans. 

Through their bickering, neither of them notice the waiter approach. “Hi, my name is Tyler and I’ll be your server for tonight,” he places menus, napkins and silverware on their table, “Can I get y’all started with anything to drink?” 

“Not now, Tyler!” she shouts between sobs. He looks at her, offended, before walking off. 

The atmosphere is incredibly and awkwardly tense. Now, Negan has not only seen her naked, but he’s also seen her cry. That man she met on her live stream was nothing like Coach Negan and to see that they’re the same person almost makes her nauseous. Coach Negan is a mean, foul mouthed dick who makes her contemplate dropping out of track and field every time she goes to practice. Her mystery man is caring, charismatic, a gentleman even. 

“Look,” he says, grabbing her attention, “I know this is weird as shit for you because it’s weird for me, too. But the attraction we felt to each other was fuckin’ real.” The more she hears him speak, the stupider she feels for not realizing how similarly he and the mystery man spoke. 

“Yeah,” she agrees, “and I appreciate all the money you’ve sent.” 

He sighs as if he doesn’t want to say what he’s about to say, but says it anyway. “And I do enjoy our late night chats and video calls.” 

“Me too. Talking with you was my favorite part of the day,” she admits, trying not to cry again. 

“I don’t want this to end just because we already knew each other,” he confesses. 

She looks away from him and down at the table, nervously biting her lip. “But you hate me and I’m not the hugest fan of you either. How could we possibly not end this?” 

“I do not hate you. You only know me when I’m your coach. Outside of that, I promise you I am the man you’ve been talking to.” 

She mulls over his words for a moment before taking a chance and letting her worries go. “Good, because I really like him.”

Negan waves the waiter over and they order their food. The atmosphere is less awkward when the food comes and she’s starting to feel comfortable with him being Negan. They finish eating and he covers the bill. 

“Y’know I wasn’t kidding about takin’ you out on my motorcycle,” he tells her with a smirk on his face as they walk out the restaurant. She follows beside him as he takes her to his motorcycle.  

“Wow, it’s nice,” she comments unsurely. 

“What’s wrong? I thought you wanted me to take you for a ride?”

“I do, it’s just that I also wasn’t kidding about wearing a little dress with nothing underneath…” 

He stops in his tracks and turns to look at her. His hazel eyes scan her body and a smirk spreads across his face, bringing attention to his dimples. 

“You are way sexier in person,” he compliments, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He takes off his leather jacket and ties it around her waist. 

“We won’t go too far, so that should hold you over.” He puts a helmet on her head before putting one on himself. She gets on the bike behind him and he grabs her arms and wraps them around his waist. 

“Hold on tight, baby.” 

He takes off, causing her to hold him even tighter. She watches the scenery pass by as he drives by the coast. The full moon shines beautifully over the ocean as the waves crash along the sandy shore and it soothes her. He stops at an overlook that has an even better view of the beach and climbs off the bike and takes off his helmet before helping her off. She unties his jacket from around her waist and hands it to him, but instead of putting it on, he drapes it over her shoulders, which she's grateful for considering the cool weather. 

"Wow, you really are different when you're not coaching," she teases. He lets out a laugh and wraps his arm around her shoulders and guides her to overpass' railing so they can get a better look at the view. She watches the waves and Negan stands behind her, watching the scenery too. He hugs her around her shoulders, holding her close to his chest. It's an oddly intimate position for people who just met, but when she's not thinking of him as Coach Negan, it feels right. 

"Any other fantasies you wanted to live out tonight?" he whispers in her ear. The feeling of his facial hair and soft lips brushing against the shell of her ear sends tingles down her spine. With his teeth, he gently nips at her ear before pulling away. She turns around to face him and smiles seductively. 

“If I remember correctly,” she bites her lip and slides her hands up his chest before holding onto his broad shoulders, “you said you wanted to fuck me on your motorcycle.” His tongue seductively swipes across his bottom lip before a smirk grows across his face. His big hands slide down her body before cupping her ass. 

“Oh, baby, I was hopin’ you’d say that.”

“Really? Even after you found out I’m the girl you were talking to?” 

“Doll, even before I found your cam girl account, I always thought you were undeniably sexy.”

Warmth spreads across her face at his admission, even though it contradicts the way he treated her during games and practices. 

"Yeah? Well, I can't say I'm disappointed to find out someone as good looking as you is my mystery man," she flirts back. 

He grabs her by the back of her head and pulls her in for a kiss. Having been caught off guard, she gasps, but wraps her arms around his neck and deepens the kiss. His tongue forces its way through her soft lips and she welcomes the intrusion. He picks her up by the backs of her thighs and she reflexively wraps her legs around his waist. She can feel his hard-on through his jeans against her bare pussy, causing her to moan into his mouth. The need to breathe forces her to pull away from him. 

“Negan,” she pants, “I want you to touch me, please!” 

“Patience, baby,” he urges. She pouts and grips his shoulders tightly as she grinds against his clothed erection. Negan lets out a repressed grunt, suddenly regretting asking her to be patient. He carries her back over to his motorcycle and sets her down. He pulls his jacket off of her and hangs it on the handlebars. 

“You look so goddamn delicious in that little dress,” he states as he ogles her. 

“Wore it just for you.”

“I can’t wait to unwrap my present.” A cheeky, dimpled smile lights up across his face as he unzips the back of her dress and peels it off of her body, revealing her naked body to him. Eagerly, she undoes his belt, then his jeans, then pulls his hard cock from his boxers. 

“Wow, it looks bigger than it did on video call.” 

“Just wait til you feel it filling that pretty little pussy.” He sits on the seat of the bike and pats his lap. 

“Wanna ride me on my motorcycle,” he jokes. Her eyes drop to his cock before smiling up at him and eagerly nodding. 

“Go grab a condom out of my jacket pocket.”  She does as he says and hands the condom to him to which he rolls it on. Excitement had filled her mind up until this very moment because now nervousness is taking over. He helps her climb onto his lap and positions her over his dick. He teases her slick folds with his tip, causing her to tighten her grip on his shoulders. Her heart pounds wildly in her chest once she feels him line his tip up with her entrance. 

“You okay?” he asks, his hazel eyes filled with concern. The tense look on her face didn't go unnoticed by him.

“Y-yeah.” 

“Baby, we don’t have to do this.” 

“No! No, I want to. It…It’s just that this is my first time.”

He pauses and rubs a hand over his face. She can’t read his expression as he stares into her eyes. 

“You’re a fuckin’ virgin?” 

“Uh, yeah? It’s kinda in my username on the cam girl site.”

“Yeah, but it’s virginesque, which kinda implies that you’re not really a virgin,” he explains. 

“I know, that’s the point.” 

“I don’t get it…” 

“Well, I’ve never had sex before, but with all the toys I’ve used and stuff I’ve done as a cam girl, I don’t really feel like a virgin." 

“Oh my fuckin god,” he sighs as he urges her to get up. She grabs her dress from off the ground and puts it back on as Negan fixes his pants. Her heart’s still racing, but this time, instead of awaiting Negan’s dick, she’s waiting for his next words. 

“I-is that a problem‽”

“Kinda, yeah. I can’t fuck a virgin on my bike at an overpass in the middle of the fuckin night. Isn’t your first time supposed to be special and with someone you love or some shit like that?” 

“Well what if this is how I wanna have my first time?” 

“There’s better ways!” He argues. 

“Like what?”

The look in his eyes is dark as a smirk spreads across his face. He steps closer to her, his tongue salaciously gliding across his bottom lip. He leans down to whisper in her ear, his lips gently brushing against the shell. 

“What if I fucked you on your livestream. Showed all those pathetic excuses of men you have for viewers that their tiny little cocks could never please you the way I can. Show them that I’m the first man to ever fuck you.” 

Her face blooms with heat and her stomach flutters at his words. She was afraid he was going to completely turn her away, but instead he embraced it. 

part 3 ➢

[rileyslibrary]

Imagine Ghost genuinely caring about you but struggling to offer comfort when you’re sad.

He senses that something’s bothering you but can’t figure out what. Not only that, but he doesn’t know how to handle such things in a delicate manner.

He tries to get you to open up in his own way, though. He cracks a couple of jokes, to which you manage to smile—they weren’t very good—but that frown doesn’t disappear. He even mentions that you seem “gutted”, a comment you brush off, insisting that you’re—you guessed it—“fine.”

He weighs his options and considers asking you what’s wrong, yet he’s afraid this will result in either a dismissive “nothing” or an overwhelming flood of emotions he isn’t prepared to handle.

He even thinks of jokingly telling you to “stop being a downer,” but he predicts that such a remark would backfire, and rightfully so.

He doesn’t like prying into people’s personal lives. He hates it when others do that to him. And he can’t just openly hug you and reassure you that everything will be okay. That’s not how he operates. He wants to identify the problem so he can target it and provide you with a solution. He wants to help you, not just soothe you.

And then one day, he passes you while you’re sitting on the staircase, taking a break. He nods at you and heads straight to Price.

He starts vaguely expressing his concern about you. Price, on the other hand, wants specifics about the problem, but Ghost doesn’t have any because he never asked. All he knows is that you’ve been sad for quite a while, and he can’t bear to see you that way. But, instead of saying that to Price, he takes a different approach. He begins reporting your “misdeeds,” implying something is wrong with you.

“They barely fulfil their duties; they skipped training yesterday, and all they do in their spare time is sit somewhere, holding their head like this,” he explains, mimicking the stance he saw you in earlier.

Price asks if you’re slacking off, which could cause problems given your responsibilities. Ghost replies with a firm “negative; they are pretty attentive. They’re just not jolly about it.”

And Price looks at him, puzzled, like, “Jolly? What do you mean, jolly? Nobody is jolly while performing routine tasks.”

Ghost starts to get agitated and urges Price to take action. Price, for his part, picks up on Ghost’s concerns and agrees to speak with you.

However, Ghost has two conditions.

“Don’t tell them who reported it, and please let me know what’s bothering them. You know, so that I can take the necessary actions.”

[luveline]

i love dad au’s! what about kbd!steve feeling a little overwhelmed and accidentally snapping and it startles one of the girls? like dove walking in their bedroom when you’re trying to calm him down. love your work❤️

thank u for requesting!! mom!reader, 1.1k

A hard knock on the door startles you. You don’t think one of the girls could emit so much force, so you assume it to be your husband. “Yeah, babe, I’m getting dressed.” 

“I need to talk to you.” 

“Okay,” you say, not worried, but not not worried. Nobody ever likes hearing that phrase without a quick follow up. You pull your pants over damp legs and leave the towel around your shoulders to catch any run off, opening the door for Steve where he waits on the other side. He looks strange; he’s not smiling. You go to touch his face and he ducks away from your touch.

“Steve, what?” you ask, confused. 

He peels away into the bedroom. You follow quickly. You want to close the door but think better of it —Dove is in her room with a faulty baby monitor.  

“I need more help,” he says tightly. 

“Okay. With what?” 

“No, that’s the problem. I can’t keep telling you everything.”

He sounds so angry so suddenly, it isn’t like him. You fight the urge to be defensive, and then the want to cry, holding out one of your hands to him in the universal gesture for calm down. “Okay. I’m sorry. Just give me some leeway, okay? Because the thing that you’re mad about right now has been stewing with you for ages, but this is the first I’ve heard about it.” 

He sits down hard on the end of the bed. You stand there for a few seconds, tense, but you really, really love him. You get down onto your knees and look up into his face, clasping your hand loosely around his ankle. “I’m sorry, H. Please don’t be angry with me yet.” 

“I’m not angry with you, I just need more help this week and you haven’t noticed, and that pissed me off.” 

“You think maybe I didn’t notice ‘cos I had all that stupid work stuff to do?” you ask gently. It takes more effort than you’d like to admit to be calm right now, but you’re trying because it’s you and Steve. He deserves your effort more than anyone else in the world, especially now that he’s telling you he needs it. “What do you want my help with, honey? I’ll only make you tell me once.” 

“But why do I have to tell you once?” he asks. 

“Because I’m busy too.” 

He shakes his head. “That pisses me off, though. We’re both busy, we’re both struggling, but I’m the one who ends up picking up the slack.”

“I’m sure it feels that way for you,” you say, trying to be patient, pretty close to losing it, “but I’ve been doing a lot this week. I have.”

He looks disgusted for a moment, just a split second, and you’re so worried he’s aiming that disgust at you that you duck your chin, eyes clouding with hurt. 

“Sorry,” he says. He covers his eyes with the back of his hand, pitch rising with emotion. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

“Honey,” you murmur, rubbing his thigh. He curls into himself, and you might not see it often but you know what he looks like when he’s going to cry. “Sweetheart, please don’t be upset.”

“I’m being mean,” he says. 

“No you’re not! You’re not being mean at all, you’re asking for help, and you’re telling me how you feel, that’s not mean, that’s the right thing to do, even if you’re angry.” You try to catch his gaze. “Hey, I’m sorry, okay? I know how much you do. I should’ve noticed, even if I’m busy. That’s not okay of me. I promise I’ll do better now you’ve told me. Won’t make you tell me again.”

He sighs as the first awful tear breaks from his lashes. “I think I’m really tired,” he says, half laugh and half sob. 

You encourage him into a bendy hug. He’s boiling hot under your hands, sniffling as you rub a line up and down his back. “I’m sorry. It’s not fair that you feel like this. I’m supposed to look after you,” you murmur. 

“I don’t even care that you’re not helping as much as I need you to,” he admits, “I’m just so tired.” 

“Why don’t you lie down? You don’t have to suffer in silence, baby. You told me how you feel and now I’m gonna pull my socks up and take care of you.” He shudders with tears. 

“Dad?” Dove asks worriedly. 

She’s standing in the doorway with her empty bottle in her hand, which she drops. 

Steve immediately wipes his face but it’s no use, she’s seen he’s upset already, and she doesn’t like the look of it. Her eyes fill with tears, staring at him in shock. 

“Oh, Dove, don’t cry,” he says. His own surprise prompts another tear to roll down his cheek. 

“Daddy,” she says, looking at you like you can fix it. 

“Come here, dad,” you say showfully, pulling at his face as you reach up from your kneeling to kiss his damp cheeks. “Don’t be upset! Let me kiss it better.” 

He cups the back of your neck and lets you kiss him all over. “Thank you, angel. Thank you, I feel better already.” 

Your kisses are sincere, if a little for show. You wipe his cheeks dry with your thumbs as you go, and take a hand through his hair as you lean back. He gives you a sorry smile. 

“Do you want to come and give him a kiss?” you ask from over your shoulder. 

Dove walks into the arm you hold out for her and climbs into your lap, then Steve’s. He sniffles and holds her, misery in his frame but the relief of having your kid to squeeze clear. “Sorry, Dove, did dad worry you?”  he asks in a murmur, lips near the top of her ear as he hugs her close. She’s small enough that his arm covers near the entirety of her back. 

You pat his thigh. He reaches for your hand to hold. 

“Crying,” she mumbles. 

“Sorry. I was just tired.”

“You okay?” she asks, like he’d ask her. 

“Yeah.” He threads your fingers together and leans away, smiling affectionately at Dove. She looks a lot like him when she smiles back, though you have to skew your head to see it. Same eyes, same dip in their top lip. “Mom kissed it better. Well, mostly. I just need, like, one more kiss, and then I will be perfect. Do you think so?” 

She knows what he’s doing, laughing warmly as she leans in to kiss his cheek. 

His eyes close as she ducks in, a small smile on his lips. 

Man, you think. If Steve’s out of commission, I have so much laundry to do. 

[xxlady-lunaxx]

Live for us | {SaneObaGiyuu}

Theme: Angst+fluff+angst!

Note: TW's!! self harm, suicide, self degradation, blah blah, ok you get it

they're already dating and tanji doesn't exist <3

×××

There was a thing about life that made it so unappealing. Several things, actually. But for one, you don't even make it out alive. What's the point? What do you live for if you're just going to die in a couple years? You don't even know if you'll make it past tomorrow. So what's the point?

The fact stood, however, that if Giyuu died, he would no longer see Sanemi and Obanai anymore. Which seemed to be the sole reason he was alive. He didn't even know if he should keep living for them. He was a nuisance anyway. He would only bother them and they were better off alone. He wondered, often, if they would notice if he died.

Though they did seem to notice other things. Like if he was quieter than usual—which was saying something, considering he was often quiet—or if he hadn't been eating. His eating problems weren't like Obanai's. They were selfish—Obanai's made sense.

Giyuu didn't eat because he hoped he would starve to death. He would waste Sanemi's carefully made food just because he wasn't happy. He was stupid.

He was so sure that Sanemi and Obanai were quite done with him. He figured that if they weren't so nice, they would've dropped his ass immediately. He had forced them into the relationship anyhow, right? He'd forced himself into theirs. Somehow, for some reason, they had let him. They acted as if they loved him—but did they really?

Sometimes, when he watched them, he could imagine that they would be perfectly fine without him. Smiling and laughing. They looked good together. They were better off without his presence. He was nothing but a river between to pieces of land, pushing them apart. He only ruined things. 

They insisted, for his sake, that he wasn't annoying. They said they loved him. They said they cared. But they couldn't truly, right? Shinobu had said it herself—nobody liked him. Nobody wanted to be his friend, much less his boyfriend. So how had he gotten two boyfriends? Simple. They were too kind to let him down. They probably figured he would cry like a fucking baby and follow them like a stupid child if they rejected him. He would. He probably would.

That was the worst of it. He knew why they hated him. But he couldn't let himself to accept it. Or, at least, leave them be. He stuck to them like glue, unwilling to leave their side. You see, they were the only people who could make him feel, even just for a split second, that he might possibly want to live. That he might be worth it. That life might be worth it. Just for a minute. And it was the most selfish thing he ever let himself keep. He refused to be selfish, typically, but he needed it. Wanted it. He longed for it. Yearned for it to last. A little longer. A minute more. 

×××

Sanemi knew what it looked like when someone hurt themself deliberately. He would know. He used to do it. But that was in the past. He hadn't given it much of a thought again after months—years—passed. He began to feel content again and mostly forgot that he'd ever had an episode like that. 

Obanai and Giyuu were his absolute pride and joy—and Genya, though he would never admit it to anyone. They made him feel as if he could lead a somewhat normal life, or at least die a content death. So he went along with his life just fine for a while. Until Giyuu stumbled into his house, face pale and arms slack.

For a moment, he got a sense of déjà vu. He didn't understand it at first and simply picked up Giyuu, asking if he was alright. Then it hit him.

The first time he had purposefully harmed himself, he hadn't been sure what was wrong with him. It was when Masachika was alive. Sanemi hadn't slept well that day and had awoken with a surge of guilt and pain. He didn't understand himself. He had grabbed his katana and numbly drew it down his own body, watching blood spill from the wounds. The blade had been sharp. And he had pressed much too hard. But the pain felt relieving, as if feeling some pain would make up for the loss of his family, his siblings he'd been unable to protect. It soothed his mind. But then Masachika had entered the room.

The katana had dropped and suddenly his wounds stung in a million other ways and he no longer felt the momentary comfort from them. He cried out, standing. He had wobbled towards Masachika, unsure what he was doing. He was sure, now, that he must've looked exactly as Giyuu did now. Collapsing into Masachika's arms, molded by the concern lacing his friend's gaze.

He must've looked the same. Pale and shaky. Wondering what the hell had he done.

Sanemi tugged Giyuu's sleeves up. When he had done it, it had been all over his body. His legs, his arms, his chest. But he had caught a glint of bandages from under Giyuu's haori sleeve. It hadn't been there earlier and he hadn't gone on any missions since they had last met.

The bandages were stained red. It was only one arm, but it was still one arm. It was still there.

He scooped Giyuu up, taking him to his room. He placed him down on the futon, ordering him to stay there before shouting at his crow to go find Obanai and scouring his bathroom for towels and bandages. 

When Obanai had arrived, they had mopped up Giyuu's arm, putting light pressure on the wounds as they dabbed the blood with the towel. The bandages were wrapped around his arm and then they pulled him under the covers of the bed, quiet. They stole worried glances, holding Giyuu in a tight embrace.

After Giyuu had fallen asleep, they had spoken to one another in hushed tones for hours. They hadn't known that Giyuu had been unhappy to the point he would do something like this. And Sanemi feared it wasn't a one-time thing. That it was worse. That it would spread. 

Obanai suggested they spoke to Giyuu about it. He said that they would have to help him, somehow. To make him have something to live for, maybe.

When they talked to Giyuu, the following day, over this matter, he had brushed it off.

"I'm alright," he had said. "I was just feeling bad yesterday."

Neither believed him. Giyuu had never been the best at lying. He hadn't suddenly gotten the talent to.

They ended up dragging him back to Sanemi's house for another cuddle session. This time, however, they involved Giyuu in the talking. The conversation went back and forth time after time, constantly revolving back to the fact that Sanemi and Obanai loved him dearly and then Giyuu denying it and assuming they didn't.

In the end, however, they were satisfied with the results. Giyuu ended up contently snuggling into their hugs and finally giving up with his argument. he seemed a bit happier after the talk and Sanemi and Obanai relaxed slightly.

Of course, they of all people should've known to never let their guard down. But it's only human to forget every now and then. Even when it comes at the worst times possible.

×××

It would've been a lie to say that Giyuu hadn't felt better after his boyfriends told him how much they loved him for an hour straight. But it would've also been a lie to say that it helped him on the long run. See, it made him feel better for about two hours after the talk. Roughly. And then his mind ran wild.

They must've been telling him that to make him stop being a burden to them. So they would stop having to help him. They probably felt pressured to do it. Yes, that was it. They didn't love him as much as they said they did. Words were empty, right? Promises didn't save Tsutako's life. Neither did they mean much when they told him "I love you." They didn't love him. They shouldn't. They wouldn't. Who would love him anyway? It was illogical. Unlikely. Stupid.

The thoughts molded his mind. They made up his thoughts. They made him want to curl up in a ball and cry. And maybe get dehydrated from that and die. Then in that moment he made a decision. It wasn't a sober one. He wasn't in the right mind. But it was far too late to stop him.

He was being ludicrous. Of course they didn't love him! Of course they wanted him out of their sight right away! Why would they care about him? There was nothing appealing about Giyuu; he was quiet and stubborn and annoying. He was nothing but another person to worry about because he was too childish and careless to take care of himself. So he was better off gone. Out of their lives.

His hand was on his katana, pulling it out of his sheathe. Then the blade was at his throat. He felt nothing more.

×××

It came, as would be expected from anyone but Giyuu, a shock. At first, the Hashira were confused. Was this a joke? It was the middle of the day. What had happened to Giyuu? How had he died? And then one word fell upon their ears and they were stiffened with shock. 

"Suicide."

The news reached Sanemi and Obanai first—who were on their way to Giyuu's house to hopefully spend some time together. They had been making their way idly to his house, talking lightheartedly. Then a crow swooped by. Was that Kanzaburou?

The word of Giyuu's death that he'd inflicted upon himself had barely left the bird's beak before the two had dropped their food—which they'd had to maybe convince Giyuu to eat lunch with them—and rushed to his house. The door was broken open—there was no use knocking.

The house was eerily silent for the middle of the day. Their footsteps, though loud, and their calls of his name didn't fill in the quiet that had befallen over the house. They stopped dead at his bedroom door, eyes wide but face otherwise slack with shock. Giyuu's body was slumped down, his head deattached from his body. His katana was held loosely in his hand, blood dotted vaguely on the blade. He was dead.

First came the shock. The processing. Then panic surged both Hashira forward and they stumbled towards his body, kneeling by his side. There was no hope on saving him. There couldn't be.

They searched the room. Had there been something to trigger him? No. What was it? Had they not done enough? Had they made it worse? What had happened? What the hell had fucking happened?

The news rippled through the Hashira. A death like this, though not uncommon for Demon Slayers, was the first amongst the Hashira in decades. Because of that, several Hashira were at Giyuu's house within minutes of getting the occurance. They found Sanemi and Obanai bent over Giyuu's body, clutching each other and shaking. Tears didn't seem to be coming out but silent screams rendered them useless as Tengen slowly pulled Giyuu from under them, wrapping him in a blanket to be buried.

Neither Sanemi nor Obanai knew what had happened. But both blamed themself. And the cycle began.

×××

« Word count: 1921 »

sun is shining, birds are singing, nice day to write angst!

[cosmic-ghost-hermit]

Pick a Card: Message from Aphrodite

I dedicate this reading to Lady Aphrodite. I deliver this message from her to the collective. Take what resonates and leave the rest behind, baby. But always be open to new experiences. Decks used are the star spinner tarot, the romantic Lenormand and occult tarot.

🌸Tip your Reader💖

_________

PILE ONE 🤍

Astrology: Leo, Libra, Virgo (maybe Scorpio)

Song: EVIL by Melanie Martinez

Vibes: Pink, dark purple, aquamarine, peacocks, lions, pheonix, whales, pixies, ship in a bottle, sunflowers, clear night sky, 1010, 2020, 2029

Cards: The Hermit, 10 of Swords, Queen of Wands, Queen of Cups, The Lovers (Gay), Sallos (2 of Cups), Woman, Garden

Hello, pile one. Lady Aphrodite is telling me that you aren't very kind to yourself. She wants this to change. I think you do too. Maybe you aren't sure what being nice to yourself really feels like. No one ever taught you. They taught you how to serve others. They taught you how to neglect your own needs. This isn't helping or working for you anymore. It is honestly just making life harder than it needs to be. I see this self-hatred could be leading you to depression. You try so hard to focus on other peoples problems so you don't have to focus on yourself. Lady Aphrodite says she wants to help you tend to your garden. She wants to nourish your soul. She wants you to learn about yourself and bring light to the darkest parts of your soul.

I am going to attempt to directly channel her.

"My dearest, you aren't undeserving of love. You bring the utmost sincerity to understanding every person and everything around you. I do so wish you would bring the loving energy you do to those topics to yourself. I want to fill your life with abundance. I wish to see you bloom, my flower. I wish to watch you flourish and grow past what you ever imagined was possible. Hear me, little flower. You are deserving of cherishing. It doesn't matter what the crowds say. It is truth. You are deserving of being known to your core. You don't have to fawn anymore to protect yourself. I will protect you from now on, my darling. Those previous lovers did you no good. Self-love is where you must begin. Start at your lust. It will lead you to where the hurt is. So, you may begin to heal."

Lady Aphrodite has seen your pain and wants to take away the pain you have been feeling. The pain you have been causing yourself isn't deserved. She knows you have been self sacrificing and is asking you to stop. Stop hurting the one person who has been looking after you this whole time. Yourself. Give yourself some slack and see yourself as the person you truly are. Don't filter your perspective of yourself through the lenses of others. All they know how to look at is reflections. You are not their reflection. The things they say are just their own self-hatred reflected off of you. You aren't what others see. You are more than that. Allow yourself to open your mind to experience yourself anew. Lay down your sword. You don't need to fight yourself any longer.

________

PILE TWO 💎

Astrology: Taurus, Capricorn, Pisces

Song: Nobody Else by Em Beihold

Vibes: Deep purple, deep blues, burgundy, yellow, gray, wheat, keys, time, clocks, gold fish, coy fish, bears, bulls, stars, alstroemerias, wishing well, thistles, 345, 78, 11

Cards: 8 of Pentacles, Hierophant, Empress, 4 of Wands, 7 of Cups, Whip, Fish, Balam (page of wands)

Pile two, welcome to you reading. Lady Aphrodite wants me to tell you a couple different things. First, why do you need to earn what you have deserved all along? I see how hard you work. She see's it too. You have this hyper independence and this unbridled need to prove yourself. These beliefs of yours are holding you back, love. Why do you think you need to be punished in order to receive? My dear these beliefs are from generational trauma that was passed to you. You don't have to work to deserve. You are inherently deserving of all that you need. You are lovable. You should be seen and recognized for all your hard work. Lady Aphrodite asks you to stop inheriting pain and start inheriting pleasure. Just for the sake of being happy. Just for the sake of your mental stability.

I will channel Lady Aphrodite directly so you can hear her clearly.

"My little dove, you can relax now. There is no one looking over your shoulder anymore. What are you trying to prove? You don't need to prove yourself to anyone, baby. You are just perfect. You will still be abundant if you take a second to breath. I'm so sorry your loved ones and career have made you feel like you aren't enough. You are more than enough. My love, I don't want you to think that you need to work so hard to get what you need or anything you want. You can take a minute to breath. I will take care of your desires, my dearest. I know you are getting all choked up about the needs and wants. Cry if you need to. Let all that built up pressure out. You don't always have to hold your composure like they all claimed you needed to. Relax your shoulders and unclench your jaw, my love. I wish you didn't feel the need to prove yourself. You have already proven yourself over and over. A thousand times you proved you could do anything. You don't have to anymore. Let go of spite. It doesn't matter if someone thinks you can't. Their opinion of you don't reflect the truth. It only spreads light onto their insecurities. You are perfect. You are perfect even when you aren't trying so please my dearest. Stop trying so hard. Just be."

Lady Aphrodite wants to take anything that is bothering you away so you may have the time to rest and recuperate from all that work you have been doing. You have done enough. You are enough. She can see it. She wants you too see it too.

___________

PILE THREE 🐰

Astrology: Cancer, Scorpio, Aquarius

Song: PUPPET SHOW by XG

Vibes: Sky blue, cyan, navy blue, indigo, green, purple, rocking horse, carrousel, apples, ibis bird, lilys, yellow roses, angels, mermaids, sparrows, unshed tears, circus, 45, 4444, 13

Cards: Queen of Pentacles, Knight of Cups, Star, 4 of Cups, 5 of Swords, House, Child, Berith (King of Pentacles)

Welcome, pile three to your reading. Lady Aphrodite has a very strong and stern message she wants me to tell you. You really might not like to hear this so continue if you desire but just know I warned you. You are 'playing house' with someone who doesn't want to play the role that they agreed to. You think if you coddle this person they will warm up and get back into playing with you but they won't. No amount of babying will make them play with you, my friend. This could be a romantic partner but more likely I see they are a FWB that you want something more with. This person is extremely childish and doesn't want to commit to you but wants all the benefits of being with you. I'm hearing you set up this persons doctors appointments and making their lunch. You are acting like a mother to this person. It is leaving you really disappointed and unsatisfied. You want something real with this person. You aren't scared to commit but the person only wants to take from you. They don't want to give. Lady Aphrodite thinks you deserve more than that. You deserve your desires to be fulfilled. This person can't do that for you.

Now I am going to try and channel Lady Aphrodite. She wants a couple words with you.

"I do not enjoy how that person treats you. Excuse my language but they are a bitch for not making a commitment to you. You deserve dates, flowers and A RING. You deserve the world and this person isn't giving that to you. All you are receiving is a second rate sexual experience and motherhood you never signed up for, my dear! I don't think kicking this person to the curb is going to work right away but you need to change how you think about this person. I would much rather you just leave them but I sense it wouldn't be safe quite yet. Don't worry, my dearest. I will set everything up just for you. Please, in the mean time while I set up your new love-life, start treating this person like a friend. They don't act like a lover so do not treat them like a lover. They will hardly notice, my love. There is nothing to fear. I will remove this person quickly from your life very soon so I can give you a new and better person. This new person will be perfect for you, just you wait and see. They are going to treat you exactly how you have always dreamed. I guarantee you some princess treatment and romance. I guarantee you a ring and a lovely life with this new person. You might have to leave some old behaviors and habits behind with the current person but I promise you good things will replace the things you will leave. Good luck, my love. You have me on your side."

You won't have to wish for your current situation-ship to step up for you because someone else will. You don't need to yearn much longer. You are a queen and you must be treated like one.

________

PILE FOUR 🌸

Astrology: Aries, Gemini, Sagittarius

Song: Please Please Please by Sabrina Carpenter

Vibes: Pastel pink, cobalt, cornflower blue, blonde, hawk, starling, rodents, garlic, cheese, peaches, walnuts, pecans, pineapple, dyed hair, orange peal, fish bones, illusion, 1212, 333, 5858, 55

Cards: Knight of Wands, Knight of Swords, 5 of Wands, 3 of Swords, 8 of Cups, Clouds, Mice, Gamigin (5 of Pentacles)

Pile four, I hope you are ready because this one is a doozy. Lady Aphrodite wants me to tell you that you need to run far away from whoever has been breaking your heart. She is telling me there is someone you are getting close with and have known for a while. It could be a romantic interest but not necessarily. They are probably an air sign. This person she is telling me about is changing into someone nasty behind closed doors. You have been seeing it too. You have been ignoring the red flags because you have known this person for a very long time but you haven't ever known them really. It has been little red flags or orange/yellow flags so you dismissed your own worries and haven't really entertained the thought that this person is turning into a pest. Those yellow flags are going to pile up, my friend. You will loose so much. Lady Aphrodite is really serious about this and wants me to say that if you don't break your own heart now. This person will do it for you and they won't be as kind as you are. They are growing close with someone who is a terrible influence on them. If you try to confront them about your concerns they will brush you off. Do not let them convince you. You aren't imagining anything. You are seeing the signs.

I will now channel a direct message from Lady Aphrodite.

"My dearest. Get away from them and their 'new friend'. While you still can. This person is a manipulative vexation and they are turning your friend into someone gross. This is the only way I can protect you from them, my love. You need to run. Hurry away. They are luring you into false security. Don't let this little rat of a person eat up your money, your time, your self esteem or anything else that is rightfully yours. Do not give away your power to these vermin. I know you might feel guilty, my dearest. Do not. I swear on the name of love that this person is not worth the guiltiness you feel. If you don't trust what I am saying. I suggest you find your person's new friend's previous partners and inquire about them secretly. Then you will have your proof. They have a pattern, my dear. They say the same pickup lines and take every person to the same date. They are not healthy for you or your friend but your person is in to deep now. I cannot protect you unless you help me protect you. I cannot save you if you refuse to save yourself. Please do not turn a blind eye."

I know it might be lonely at first, my friend but there will be new people coming in to take the spots that will be left empty. You will be provided for. You won't have to be alone forever. I understand that this air sign person you don't want to leave behind has helped you feel less abandoned in recent years. Lady Aphrodite won't let you be lonely for long. Your friend just has some lessons to learn that you don't need to be involved in. Please stay safe, my love.

[blueparadis]

okay okay hear me out here:

needy service top kaveh and power bottom reader, this man would definitely have a thing for femdoms and nobody can tell me otherwise!! Big watery eyes looking up at you as you rode him, begging to cum and asking if he was a good boy ;)

❝ MIDNIGHT SNACK ❞ + KAVEH

+. CWs —» f!reader, sprinkle of fwb tropes, power play, edging, orgasm denial, hand job, overstimulation, biting, cum-play, slight breeding k!nk,unprotected, implied voyeurism & mention of al-haitham, word count — 1.2k

+. NOTES —» the power dynamics in this (bites lip) and thank you for contributing to one of my sleepless nights with the thought of service dom!kaveh.

Maddening.

Impulsive.

Unheeding or all three of the above? Kaveh could not tell. He was trying to focus, focus on the font-face of rusted pages of the book, the sound of birds chirping, the soft swish of the warm afternoon breeze; anything other than the feeling of your delicate calloused fingers around his cock.

Kaveh was everything but not an envious man, but he caught himself cursing, gritting his teeth as you tapped the soggy tip of his stiff shafts that had been begging for attention.

He hated how your face was all stoic, his was too yet his mind was in shambles. Resting  his elbow on the table near the border of the book, turning the page he reclined his face on his palm so as to cover his mouth, his quivering lips that seemed to simmer with tension. 

Al-haitham, his roommate, his annoyance, his chamber of secrets was sitting opposite him and his girl, you. He was engrossed in that particular book that he discovered lately.

Kaveh knew al-haitham would not ever pay any heed to him or his girl or whatever was going on under the table. He secretly wished that something, anything would disrupt his rapt attention from the book so that he might just have a chance to irritate him; enough to leave this god-damn library.

You were an inch away from his seat as your fingers worked on his shaft. He would not have to go through this if he did focus on his book rather than your face. He was staring at you shamelessly and why would he not?

Especially after the recent midnight snacks he was getting from you. He was not unaware how much you hated that: him gawking at you hungrily as if the world around him had ceased to exist, especially in front of his roommate.

And so, to divert his attention you found the urge to teach him a lesson, a good one indeed, your inner voice praised what you are doing; as you rubbed his pre-cum around the tip of his cock.

Kaveh took all of it, silently. He had to. Even if he wanted to run he could not. He should have stopped you when you swiftly unzipped his pants and took out his cock yet he did not. Such was the magic of your touch. Maddening.

“What’re you thinking of . . .?”, Al-haitham trailed off as he noticed Kaveh's congested eyebrows and the wicked folds over his face.

Nothing. That is the problem. Kaveh could not think of anything at all except that he wished to fuck you on this very table so hard, so long that when you are alone you can think only of him, reek only of him, feel only him. 

“Haitham”, you drawled taking your hand out of Kaveh’s slacks, “you sound genuinely concerned for someone who claims to hate Kaveh.” , you finished without even sparing a glance.

Fury crawled under his skin, eyes flashing in annoyance al-haitham parted his lips to speak but the great scribe knew well better than to be provoked at such a silly remark. Besides, people learn from their mistakes or avoid them.

But Al-haitham was too used to your taunts so he chose the latter. “Oh! My fucking god. I can not do this right now.”, he barked before stomping out of the room in haste.

Kaveh’s patience was thinning. He was counting the scribe’s steps. Five, six, seven, eight, nine and he was finally about to experience that has been ravaging his mind for half an hour. He wasted no time on having you underneath him and before those dry lips of yours could protest he took them in between his. 

Hands bunching up the frills of your tulle, fingers desperately fighting to have a grip on your wrists while his lips suckled yours with precision. Slow yet roughly his fingers kept working on your wet folds as he swallowed your moans.

You bucked your hips searching for the reward you worked so hard for. A welp but then again Kaveh pushed your hands down sucking your lips with greater intensity, moans escaping his mouth as he bit your lower lip, hard enough to leave a bruise.

Eyes gleamed with rolls of pleasure, cheeks cherry tinted, mouth open ajar, panting as you sat to bring him in between your legs. He took out his rock-hard cock, pumping a few times so as to work on his foreskin. He was too dressed to fuck you but you have grown used to that but your body can be betraying sometimes. Your lips latched onto his neckline as your hand worked on his belt. “What’re ya’doing?”, he murmured.

“Kaveh…” al-haitham yelled. The sound of footsteps was becoming louder with each tick of the clock and his heartbeat seem to be at par with them.

Fuck.

“Kaveh ?”, al-haitham called again. Seeing the library empty he left immediately. Never in his mind, he can think that Kaveh could be hiding behind the bookshelves, half-clad, biting the soft flesh of your shoulders while pushing his cock inside your pussy.

You were as tight as a fist, even after all the fingering; even after all the wait. Watching you wince as he pushed up to the girth tempted him. Your nails gripping on his shoulders as you adjusted to his length.

Your eyes rolled white, mouth gasping for breath as he spoke, “You okay? Or should I pull out?” No way. That would mean he won, you lost in teaching him a memorable lesson. You looked at him with heavy eyelids, and then it fell onto his chest and his nipple: pink and pronounced.

“Why? Can’t you keep up?”, you muttered tracing the pink bead before giving it a lick. Kaveh shuddered, shoulder tensed as his fingers gripped your thighs harder. 

“Let’s find that, shall we?”, and he placed you against the wall, strong lithe arms adjusting you so that he can fuck you with precision, hitting deep and deeper with every thrust. “Who can last longer?”

He was denied of his orgasm once and yet your pussy clenched around him after each thrust. It was deep, strong and a pause in between each, reminding you of your torment toward him, relishing the feeling of your gummy walls squeezing around himself.

Kaveh could feel it, the knot in his lower belly. He was about to cum but he did not want to. He wanted to last longer, more than you. His strokes were getting slower and sloppier. “Kaveh, please , please i can’t stand. Not anymore.”, you mumbled as he kept jamming into your hole messily, your juices coating his cock.

He still hadn’t his fill. He sat on the chair cupping your ass cheeks, massaging, and soothing your aching muscles. You felt your heart flutter at his gesture. He has never done that before in all of the previous fucking sessions. 

You grabbed the frame of the chair and started grinding against him with calculated long thrusts earning groans of relaxation from him.

Kaveh unhooked your dress, enough to have a display on your boobs. As he bit your nipple and played with the other you gasped loudly and could feel your legs closing in, the knot in your belly getting tighter with each strong slide.

“Fuck, fuck…I’m close.”, Kaveh was way too vocal for someone who was used to fucking his girl in quiet places, in library, in the adjacent room of the scribe. “I can’t,mmgh ”, he choked as you felt your legs closing in involuntarily, shaking, mouth gaping to hold down the moans. 

“Fuck, can I-can i c-um?”, to which you nodded not stopping, not yet. You glanced at your him through the corner of your eyes, noticing tears pooling at the corner of his eyes.

Fuck. How long has he been holding back?

While Kaveh couldn't believe his eyes. You never let him finish inside of him. He made sure that he never did became that would put both of your lives in danger, maybe three who knows.

“you sure...?”, he checks thinking if he just fucked you to insanity yet all his senses could register was another nod and a begging yes.

Just the thought of filling you with his seed, filling breasts with milk turned him on. He came right away. Thick, murky and warm. You could feel the warm fluid,coating your walls as he growled. You wanted to get up by he landed his head on your shoulder, his hands preventing you from leaving him.

As he shot up, you noticed his almond eyes full of lust, maybe love. “was it good?”, he whispered against your ears running his fingers through your hair.

“what?”, you enquired being shocked at his display of emotions,as if it was slipping like sand in between your fingers.

“alright. Let me ask you again. Was I good?”

“yes you were.”, you hummed slouching against his chest, hiding your face from him,so that he doesn't know, doesn't know that your emotions are leaking through the cracks of your heart.

—

@tokyometronetwork

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I reported my manager for being inappropriate with me?

(🍰🍓✨️ to find this easier later)

I (24NB, AFAB only because I feel like it matters here) work an overnight stocking job, where all of my coworkers are cis men. I've never had a problem with it - they're all fairly nice to me and don't treat me any differently than they treat one another.

All of them except my overnight supervisor, who I'll refer to as M. From the moment I started working there, I've felt like he looks down on me for being the only AFAB person working with him. He's always nitpicked everything I do, especially when it comes to detailing (pulling product up to the front) shelves at the end of our shift.

In the beginning, I could understand it. I was new, and had never worked a job like this before, so I assumed M was just laying down expectations of how our work needed to be done. But now, I've been working there for nearly two years, and he still acts this way with me. He still talks down to me like I have no idea what I'm doing, when I've proven to be better at detailing shelves the way he likes than the other men I work with.

Now we get to the point of this whole post - being inappropriate with me. To clarify beforehand, I'm fairly certain I have GI issues and need to use the bathroom more often than most people. It's been an issue in past jobs, and I can remember it being an issue when I was a child as well. However, medical neglect has left me with no clear official diagnosis, unfortunately.

M approached me one night after leaving the bathroom and preparing to take out a pallet. He asks me, almost verbatim, "Why do you use the bathroom so much?" I was confused at first. Nobody had ever outright asked me that, so I responded, "What do you mean?"

M went on to say that he noticed I was using the bathroom more frequently than he would have liked, I guess? And made a point to say that I would "take 10 to 15 minutes in there every time" (not true at all, as an aside; I try not to take more than 10 minutes at the most), which made me incredibly uncomfortable. Why was he taking note of every bathroom break I was taking, and why was he timing me?

Feeling the need to defend myself, I explained that I frequently have "stomach issues", to which M responded, "Every day though?" I was flabbergasted. I told him I suspect I might have IBS and left it at that before getting back on with my work.

On some level, if my frequent bathroom breaks were causing me to slack off in my work, I would understand being concerned. For all he knew, I could just be hiding in the bathroom to use my phone or something. But the thing is, I would often do a great deal more work than he would. By the time M would have two pallets of stock done, I would have four. And he knows I use my phone while I'm working, too! We don't have a job that cares that much about phone usage, as long as the job gets done.

I don't get it. I'm a good employee otherwise, I was given employee of the month and my other managers don't ever have an issue with my work. Would I be the asshole if I told one of the higher ups about this situation? I don't want to get him in trouble, and I honestly don't know if I would be justified in saying anything. I feel like I'm overreacting, but everyone I've talked to about this agrees that it was inappropriate.

What are these acronyms?

[owlphibiaisthebest15]

Hi guys! I want to talk about a minor problem I have with Amphibia and how they could've been done better. I will not be talking about any of the big problems that people have already complained about, like Sasha and Marcy's lack of screentime, their character arcs, parents, nobody talking about Marcy after "True Colors", yada yada yada, because we don't need another post like that, and I want to keep this overdue rant as short as possible. This is based on my personal opinions along with a few others, but feel free to disagree with me if you want. But with further, let us begin...

Anne almost always gets way too easily forgiven for f*cking up.

Okay! This one may be a hot take because I have never seen another person complain about this. But this has been eating me away for MONTHS, and if no one else is going to say it, then I will. While this occasionally extends to some other characters depending on the episode. The one I want to talk about most is Anne. Now, at the start of the series, Anne was pretty much a jerk with a heart of gold. She was selfish, bratty, lazy, and irresponsible, but she did learn from the mistakes that she made and became a true hero by the end of the series. While some of these flaws and mistakes are not worth talking about, there are still others that are actually worse than what the show's narrative portrays them to be.

They may not be as bad as leading a toad army to invade the capital city, burying the only thing that could get Anne home, or sending your friends to another world on purpose. Anne has still made some pretty questionable decisions, even to the point where they often cross the line.

Here's a list of some of the worst things Anne Boonchuy has ever done from Season 1 and 2:

Breaking Hop Pop's favorite cane that also happens to be a keepsake of his father and grandfather all while making fun of him.

Manipulating Sprig into taking Bessie the family Snail on a Joyride without reading. Which is like someone taking a car out for a spin without a driver's permit.

Forcing Sprig to marry Maddie despite his obvious discomfort for Pizza Dough and later forces him to date Ivy while he's still engaged to Maddie.

Faking being sick to get out of farm duty, which led the Plantars getting sick themselves and even thought they were all going to die from red leg.

Slacking off while she was supposed to be protecting the frozen townsfolk, while aware of what happens to one of them while they're frozen. Which, of course, led to Polly almost getting eaten by a giant weasel.

Causes massive property damage with Polly while on the streets of Newtopia, and later breaks into Newtopia University in hopes of finding a rad college party. The second one was Polly's idea, but Anne had no problem going along with it.

A team effort along with her frog family. Sending a giant chicken to attack Wartwood. Which BTW can create tornadoes, breathe fire, and even turned their loved ones into stone, all because they forgot to buy everyone gifts. Sure, Anne was against the idea, but she still went along with it.

What do characters usually respond with when Anne admits her mess ups?! "It's okay! You're good! What you did was serious, but it doesn't matter that we almost died, as long as you learned your lesson."

Though Anne still at least got a lot better, as the worst things she's done in Season 3 were covering up some major plot points from her parents, robbing a museum to get a clue on how to find a way back to Amphibia, and tricking Blair the Balloonist into flying a hot air balloon. Though, the first one is still a little f*cked up, but she did have selfless reasons for doing these, and she came clean for 2/3 of these.

But still, 90% of this show is just a lighthearted slice of life cartoon, but when it shifts to its dark story driven and plot twisting side, this is where the narrative (and by some extent Anne herself) gets pretty hypocritical. It's pretty much when Anne messes up and lies to other characters. It's a simple error in judgment. But when other main characters such as Sasha, Marcy, and even Hop Pop do the same to her, first they gotta face hell for it, and then they get their redemption arc.

Yes! They did do some serious sh*t, and Anne had a right to be mad at them. But it seems that other characters are just not allowed to even stay mad at Anne when she does pretty similar sh*t. I mean, yes, she does try to make up for it, and yes, she admits what she's done most of the time, and eventually, she does become a better person from them. But so have Hop Pop, Sasha, and Marcy. But again, they didn't get the protagonists treatment. They got hurt and thrown around like ragdolls because of one or two big mistakes, and even that wasn't enough.

While Anne sometimes faces some consequences for her actions, like breaking Hop Pop's heirloom cane with HP giving her dish duty for a month (Cmon man! You should've given her way more than that!), gets banned from an arcade because she threatened to eat newt kids for cutting in line (which is not important), and most importantly, gets stranded in Amphibia after being peer pressured by her friends to shoplift it, all on her 13th birthday. Which I guess was enough for karma itself to feel so bad for her that she will hardly ever worry about facing any lasting consequences for her misdeeds ever again. While karma beats the cr*p out of others who would dare lie and betray our precious protagonists, even when they have sympathetic reasons for doing so.

Speaking of, this leads to me to clarify something that some fans have misinterpreted since the beginning of the series. The flashback scene in the second episode, "Best Fronds," was intended to show where Anne's distorted views on friendship and some of her toxic traits come from. Not to justify every single bad decision Anne has ever made, like what some fans think.

While I'm not gonna say that Anne was just as bad as Sasha before Amphibia, as it does show that Anne had her own personal flaws that she had to get through without depending on her friends. Who were more enabling her flaws than causing them.

However, while the show does try to show that Anne wasn't exactly much better in their friend dynamic than they were. For the reasons I mentioned earlier, it instead paints Anne as the least toxic one or not being toxic at all. With them only making a handful of moments that show that even after their betrayals, Anne still isn't much better than them. But the usual wacky slice of life narrative in her character development episodes downplays the severity of her actions, with Anne only just getting an emotional lesson after nearly getting everyone killed, and some of the said lessons being brought up in a few episodes to test her character or as examples to show others how much she has grown.

Now, I'm going to do some comparisons between Amphibia and The Owl House. While there are several things that Amphibia did better than TOH and about an equal amount of things TOH did better than Amphibia. One of those things that The Owl House did better than Amphibia was the writers treating each and every character fairly. The characters make mistakes and learn from them without the narrative downplaying the seriousness of their mistakes, and it isn't always "Okay! You're forgiven! What you did was serious, but it doesn't matter that we almost died. You learned your lesson, and that's what matters." While it doesn't give other characters the short end of the forgiveness stick for doing similar sh*t. With that, it also makes the character arcs a little bit better, in my opinion.

However, I'm not saying that Anne's character development was bad or that Matt Braly is treating Anne like how some see Alex Hirsch did with Mabel. The show did alright with changing a bratty teenager with flawed views of friendship into a true and selfless hero. All of what I described seems to what TV Tropes would call "Protagonist Centered Morality," and if I'm being honest, but because of that reason, I don't find Anne to be the most appealing character to me. I'm sorry! I know that a lot of you love her, and she's the second most popular character in the show; with the first being Marcy (my favorite), but I don't even dislike her either. I just feel that the narrative could've done better in treating the characters more fairly, like how TOH did with their characters. I really want to like Anne more than I do now, but for what I described, it makes it kinda hard for me to.

That's it for my opinions on this. This was longer than I thought, so if you read it this far or read it at all. You either think that I have a point and should do more of this or my analysis stinks, and I should never speak my dumb mind again. I'll probably see how this goes either way. If anybody else here still cares about this show.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

gax + corporate/law vibes + ‘The powerpoint was steadily taking over their relationship, something that Max was not willing to stand for.’

gax?? gax!!

power (you make some points): a gax ficlet

rated m, ~1.2k words now also readable on ao3

author babble:

bear in mind i wrote this before i knew more about the Gax Lore i.e. karting together, actually being nice to each other blablabla. you could also just retrofit the vibes and hopefully they still work. anyways!

will throw this up on ao3 when i’m not sitting bleary eyed in an airport

————

If there was one thing that Max Verstappen wouldn’t tolerate, it was George Russell having the monopoly on good PowerPoint presentations. Max had won all four years of debate in College, as well as the dubious title of “most radical deployment of Google Slides templates” at his MBA, and he was not about to be usurped by the other guy in his department who actually knew how to use an animate transition.

“You missed an indent there.” Max says, pointing at the monitor. Yellow and red lights wink at them from the outside, as if to say: you’re both in your mid-twenties, quit wasting it on a computer screen at 11pm on a Wednesday, maybe?

Max is not staring, very determined not to look at his teammate’s facial expression. But George is almost certainly rolling his eyes right now.

“Was coming back to that, alright?” George huffs back. Max is very professional most of the time. But something about how wound up George is, how insanely pedantic he is about everything from semicolons to coffee cup placement for the Directors to taking insanely detailed minutes that nobody except Max reads after the meetings – well. What is it that Nietschze once said? We hate in others what we most identify with about ourselves. Or was that from Twitter? Max does not really use Twitter except to look at Bloomberg News updates and cat videos, so he does not know. And anyway Nietzsche never made a six figure salary.

“It would just be easier if you would let me do it.” Max says.

“Fuck right off, mate.”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like me to.”

“Not now.”

“Just share the link to this. I’ll do it.”

“We agreed to take turns on this.”

“Yes, Russell. But sometimes, the rules are meant to be bent.”

George swivels his chair to Max, then. Fully attempts to pin him with his gaze, commencing an awkward stare-off that lasts way too many seconds and makes Max once again realise that George’s eyes remind him of the expensive fish tank he saw at the Partners’ sushi dinner once. Max doesn’t think those same fish were the ones they ended up eating. But he does remember that dinner because it was the one where the Partners had dangled the promise of a huge promotion if they could help carry the company merger across the line successfully. The problem is, there was only one spot.

George’s distracting aquatic orbitals aside, fortunately, Max (i) never backs down, and (ii) has been told that he has the dead-eyed emotional stare of a robot missing an empathy software upgrade sometimes.

And clearly, the powerpoint was steadily taking over their relationship, something that Max was not willing to stand for.

Max leans back in his chair, stance all mock-relaxed. “Do you want to be out of here before midnight, or not?”

“We’re expensing the Ubers either way, so it doesn’t make a difference to me, mate.”

Fine. If George is so hyperfocused on The Tasks that he’s forgotten the fun part of being Questionably Close Coworkers, so be it.

Max deploys the nuclear option.

He sticks his leg out, nudging the toe of his Pradas onto George’s slacks. And strokes his foot halfway up to a sensitive point on George’s thigh. Max may even flutter his lashes a little.

To his credit, George does not react. Merely swings his eyes like a lamp to Max’s face again. His hand does, however, goes still on the mouse.

“What exactly are you doing?”

“I don’t know.” Max feigns. He knows that George hates, more than anything, anyone getting dirt on his precious Ralph Laurens. But at least he has his attention now. “Was hoping we could move onto the more fun part of the typical evening activities. Maybe.”

“We shouldn’t be doing that again anyway.”

“George.”

“What?”

“That is not what you said the last, hm, fourteen times that we have done this, eh?”

“Who’s counting?”

“I thought you were the most careful of rule followers and data analysis, knapperd.”

George is a human being, but Max is almost certain the other man shakes himself like he’s preening right now.

“Well. It’s what the team likes me for, and it’s what I’ll keep doing.”

“Oh yes. Surely we must keep in mind the team. And the shareholders. They are very important.”

“Quite.”

“But should we tell them that you like it so much, George. When I do this.” Max says. Rising up, fully crowding George in, hands gripping the cool handles of the computer chair. Leaning in to nibble the side of George’s neck.

George swallows. Max watches his throat move.

Next, Max mouths the words onto the side of George’s jaw, stubble prickling his mouth. “And this.”

The click of the mouse continues steadily as Max moves his mouth to the shell of George’s ear. “And let’s not forget. This.”

Max tilts George’s face up fully, then. George’s face is flushed, eyes sparkling, all surprise at the sudden change of pace, but eager, too.

When Max seals his lips over George’s, George groans, and his hands shoot up to Max’s waist immediately. It doesn’t feel quite like winning a deal or a pitch does for Max, but the completion comes pretty damn close.

Max sweeps his tongue into George’s mouth. George opens willingly, like he always does. In the back of Max’s logical brain, a warning sign blares that the computer chair may not be able to support the weight of them both – because they spend a lot of time pretending they don’t work out together at the gym but Max knows exactly what George’s deadlift PB is and it’s pretty damn high for a scrawny looking dude.

And despite the keening protest of said chair, the two of them are both lost to it now. Max jams one knee between George’s legs, George nibbles hungrily at Max’s lower lip, Max thrusts his hips all needy, and maybe if Max is nice about it George might suck him off under the table, and–

Outlook chimes again.

“Blasted piece of shit.” George says, breaking away. His hands go still at Max’s waist. “Why we’re using G-Suite and Microsoft Office at the same time I will never know.”

George squeezes his eyes shut, as if making himself stop this is causing him physical pain. Maybe it’s that or the workflow incompatibility when George tries to move his custom Excel-Trello gantts into a third party API.

And Max won’t lie. He kind of likes it when George gets so irritated about these things. When he cares a bit too much. Because what is Max but exactly like that, too.

“Hazards of a merger, I guess. But without that, I would never have met you, no?”

George makes a noise like he knows what Max means. The other man straightens his shirt collar, and Max runs a hand through his hair. He’s been growing it out lately, because George had made a passing comment at the bathroom sink once about it looking good.

Sleeping with the person competing for the same Chief of Staff position is possibly the worst decision he could’ve made, and Max once dyed his hair platinum blonde. But, they’re stuck here together. Hell is a slightly more tolerable place when Satan’s right hand man looks this good. And knows his coffee order without asking.

Besides. Max is not bothered. He knows that the promotion is his. This is just a minor plot inconvenience.

Later, they will expense the uber back to George’s place, where Max will put his mouth on George’s arse, and give him a practical demonstration of the three different ways he’s learned to elicit pleasure from the male prostate.

George will whimper and whine the whole way through it, and after they’re both sated, they’ll both roll over to check their emails, barely concealing their smiles. They will pretend that what’s happening between them could be as clean as their zero-email inboxes. As if their connection is not violently seeping through containment.

All in the name of team bonding. For the firm. Yes.

(Or this is what they tell themselves, to maintain the illusion, anyway.)

[theresattrpgforthat]

Got any games about being a little creature out to cause chaos?

THEME: Chaos Gremlins.

Hello friend! I sure do!

Space Gerbils, by Penguin King Games

You are the galaxy's most famous bounty hunter, but nobody knows your real name, or what your real voice sounds like. In fact, you've never taken your helmet off in public, at least as far as anybody knows!

The interstellar tabloids have accused any number of public figures of secretly being you. They are, of course, all wrong. The real reason you never remove your helmet is that you're actually a bunch of space gerbils operating a human-size mech suit.

You're very keen on not letting this get out.

Space Gerbils is definitely the longest game on this list, with over 100 pages in the current iteration of the playtest. This is a game about teamwork, and the mech creation is the first indicator of that, as you’ll have to collaboratively create the robot the gerbils pilot in order to keep their identities a secret.

Play involves a series of phases (setup, operations, fallout, end) and a grid where your gerbils will strategically move in order to operate their bounty hunter effectively. While the premise of Space Gerbils is cute and funny, it has the potential for both humorous and dramatic scenes, you’ll likely find that your play table will approach the strategy of the game with dedication and the desire to succeed. As a result, I think Space Gerbils is going to produce a high amount of group investment.

Mutant Possum Cowboys, by It’s Eric! Games.

Mutant Possum Cowboys is a quick-play RPG where ya take the roll of talkin' possums who have taken it upon themselves ta help tha' townsfolk of tha' Wild West. 

Yer a Mutant Possum Cowboy. Yer posse is part of tha' Order of tha' Gun, dedicated ta wanderin’ from Town ta Town in “Roadkill County,” tha' Mutated Deserts of tha' Wild West, offerin’ help where needed against mutated critters and all sorts of Ne'er-Do-Wells. 

This game involves distributing points among three stats to indicate what your lil’ cowboy is good at. Your character also gets a special treasure in addition to their regular gear that gives them a little bit of kick - such as “Tha Rallyin’ Jaw Harp” which sounds like an instrument that can call for aid from miles away, or “Gold Lightnin’”, a famous double-barrelled revolver. The game feels like it draws a lot of inspiration from games such as Lasers and Feelings - particularly the roll tables provided to the GM to help them quickly generate a problem situation that the possums will have to wrangle with.

Sockgoblins, by poorstudents

You are a Sockgoblin! One of many loyal to the Great And All Powerful And Really Important Queen, living in the secret underground goblin city. Your Queen demands all sorts of items from the surface world; coffee, really big hats, the occasional hubcap. But what she craves most are Socks.

Every year, the Queen demands a sock tithe, which is where you, little sockgoblin, come in! Every other Sockgoblin has already got their Socks, but you have been slacking! You will need to venture up into the giant world of the humans and steal the last Socks! But the humans are ready. They have prepared their traps, trained their guard animals, and hired the dreaded Sockgoblin exterminator.

You and your crew of Sockgoblins venture into the world finding adventure, danger, and most importantly, Socks! No one knows where the Socks are now but you’re confident you know where they will end up; at the feet of your Great And All Powerful And Really Important Queen!

Sockgoblins is a Forged-in-the-Dark game inspired by media such as The Boxtrolls, Over the Garden Wall, and Home Alone, and provides adventures as little goblins stealing socks for the Goblin Queen. The danger of the each thing you try to do escalates in correlation to how many socks you’ll get out of it - and you can actually play using socks because they’re part of your inventory!

Sockgoblins can work as ether a one-shot or as an episodic campaign, so it’s great if you want to try out a game of it to see if your group wants to keep coming back to it.

Hotdog Princess, by jesthehuman

You are on a rookie team of Hotdog Hopefuls, wanting to join the ranks of HOTDOG: Hyper Optic Team DOG. There are a limited number of spots on the team, but one way to impress the Top Dog is by being crowned the Hotdog Princess at the local puppy pageant. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to infiltrate the Puppy Pageant and WIN. Alliances should be formed. Knowing when to break them is key. 

Hotdog Princess is full of puns and nods to various kinds of ‘dogs, with “Chili Dog”, “Veggie Dog” and “Danger Dog’ just a few of the dog options underneath the roll table that determines your character type. Players have two tracks: “hot” and “dog’, which you’ll fill out hangman-style whenever you fail a roll. Filling either one of the tracks prompts an end for your dog in some way. Your stats are, of course, “hot” and “dog”, with “hot” representing your charm, while your “dog” represents your jokes and pranks.

If you want a goofy game with an even goofier premise, you want Hotdog Princess.

Partners in Grime, by Michael Low

Partnerz in Grime is a story game in which the players take on the role of a crew of goblins: awesomely awful, magical critters hiding out on the edges of hooman society getting into all sorts of trouble.

The bones of this game is the Stories RPG, which is a one-page game that details some simple rules about how to use d6 dice pools to overcome obstacles or move the story forward. Partnerz in Grime is not just a story to run through with the base engine - it also comes with worldubuilding prompts, drama clocks, ways to power up your character, and a mechanic that improves’ players’ math as they play. The authorial voice is incredibly specific, sinking you into the goofiness of the game from the start, and character creation involves fill-in-the-blank prompts that fill out the character’s story.

If you want a game that is great for kids or that is really open about the kind of chaos you can unleash, you might want to check out Partnerz in Grime.

Heckhounds, by TheOtherTracy

Yours is a legacy of brimstone, fire, and damnation. You're a hunter of hell, sent to Earth to bring escaped damned souls back to the Eternal Fire.

You're also a good boy! Who's a good boy? You are!

Heckhounds is game of hellfire and tail wags. You and your littermates were sent to Earth to hunt an escaped damned soul. Business as usual, right? Except this time you got the bodies of mortal, Earth puppies rather than the hellhound bodies you'd normally get. The nature of the puppy in you is strong, and you've got to keep from blowing your cover while you hunt down your target!

This game feels directly inspired by the dog given to Adam in Good Omens, and I love the idea of it already. The three stats in Heckhounds are Hell, Hound, and Ineffability, with Hell relating to your infernal demon-dog strength, Hound relating to your puppy charms and virtues, and Ineffability relating to what the game calls “the odd surety of the unknowable.” The game is inspired by Honey Heist, which means that your stats will fluctuate in value and you are always at the risk of pushing a stat too high and triggering some kind of end-game state. If you want a game that sparks fun times by merging great cosmic power into an itty bitty life-form, then you want Heckhounds.

Games I’ve Recommended in the Past…

Cryptid TV,by yanahn.

Something Is Wrong With The Chickens, by Elliot Davis.

Geese At The Beach, by Justin Joyce.

I’ll Be Taking That, by porchlightdusk.

Mouse Cult, by Mint-Rabbit (that’s me!)

[specialagentartemis]

ah i see. so becky chambers has fallen into the “you don’t owe anyone anything = the bonds of community/the social construct are pointless oppressive structures” and “self care = doing whatever you feel like” traps huh.

also irt the person asking for antidotes to becky chambers: CANNOT recommend a memory called empire and a desolation called peace enough. The author is so so invested in exploring her alien cultures and iirc she has a linguistics/history/anthropology background so she can actually pull it off. And the main characters are all well developed and complex and deeply flawed while still being likeable! (Hopefully artemis you haven’t already read and hated these books lol)

Hah I simply haven't gotten around to reading those yet, no... they are On my List... 2 many books

“self care = doing whatever you feel like” is definitely there, but it's not even so much that the bonds of community are pointless, it's more... it's okay if you do nothing, because the Bonds of Community mean that other people will be okay with it and pick up your slack no matter what you do. Sort of? A Prayer for the Crown-Shy was so muddled in its themes that I wasn't fully sure what, exactly, she was going for by the end. Mosscap is on a quest to determine what humans need, and nobody can articulate anything in particular that they need or want, because they don’t know, because everything they need or want is provided by their perfect society. In this perfect society, nobody wants for anything, which means nobody wants anything. Except Dex. Who can't articulate what it is they want. And it almost seems like that's treated as a problem with Dex, something Dex needs to get over.

A surface motif of “I’m OK you’re OK we’re all OK and that’s OK” and “you deserve a chance to rest, you don’t need to know where you’re going in life, and that’s OK” is all well and good, I can support that, but the presentation was all over the place. At the end, she even seems to recognize it, and try to address it. Mosscap reveals that when it asked "what do humans need?" the most common answer it gets from people is "a feeling of purpose." But it just kind of makes everything more muddled. Do humans need a sense of purpose? Or is trying to find your Purpose just making you unhappy and you need to just, stop caring if you have a Purpose or not? Mosscap treats Dex's search for a Purpose In Life as almost disordered, like something they just need to reframe their worldview and then get over and be happy doing nothing and going with the flow. Dex's deep longing is almost addressed, but then just... not. Mosscap's position is that Dex should basically just get over it, embrace doing nothing, and hang out with it on the beach. And so they and Mosscap blow off their obligations to have fun on the beach.

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

Last Rites

a Vashwood fanfic, cross-posted on ao3

"What is wrong with you, blondie?" Wolfwood hit the brick wall with a closed fist, hissing as his knuckles split. "They don't give a damn about you! Whether you live or die!"

Vash stumbled, shifting his weight against the same wall as he cradled his right side. "That doesn't matter." 

"Like hell it doesn't matter!"

Vash flinched at the other man's intensity. The weak smile he offered Wolfwood slid sideways off his face with a new wave of pain. "You know how I feel, Wolfwood."

The undertaker shook his head in frustration. "Wish I did."

Vash's knees buckled, and he slid further down the wall. Wolfwood threw a strong arm around his shoulders before he hit the ground.

"Hey, easy, needle-noggin. Easy." Wolfwood's voice was soft gravel and warm gunmetal. "You don't get to die before I convince you you're a damn fool."

Vash blinked up at him, glassy-eyed. "Die?" He huffed a shaky breath. "You know I can't do that."

"So you say." Wolfwood didn't meet Vash's gaze as he rifled through his bag for first aid supplies. "Where's that damn gauze?"

"The bullet just grazed me. I've had worse, Wolfwood."

"Really? Because you're usually a drama queen and now you're actin' all tough. Got me scared as shit."

"Look at me, Wolfwood."

"No, damn it! We gotta get you patched up."

"Look at me!" Vash's jaw clenched with effort as he reached up to drag Wolfwood down by the collar. Wolfwood dragged his eyes down to Vash, his heart clenching as he took in the gunslinger's bloodless face. Vash didn't let go of his collar but kept pulling the man lower until they were nose to nose.

"You don't have to believe in me. But I'm not gonna let yourself get killed for me either. Nobody else gets hurt." Vash tried another smile, this one lasting a little longer before it trembled away.

"Believin' in you was never the problem, blondie." Wolfwood's mouth went dry this close to Vash. His eyes flicked from the Stampede's bright blue eyes to his tight-pressed lips. "Let me help you."

Vash's hand weakened and Wolfwood took the chance to pull gently out of his grip. "We gotta get this bullet outta you. You can argue with me later." He cautiously reached a hand down to the hem of Vash's tight black top. "Can I?"  Vash's eyes had fluttered shut, but he gave enough of a nod that Wolfwood kept going.

"This isn't how I wanted this to happen," he mumbled, carefully lifting the shirt over Vash's head as he searched for the bullet wound. "Fucking hell," Wolfwood swore. Vash's muscled torso was a patchwork of thick scars and metal grates, as if he had been taken apart and put back together over and over again. The undertaker's breath left him like a punch to the stomach. "What happened to you?"

Vash groaned and tried to curl around himself protectively. “N-nothing. ‘M fine, don’t look…”

“Oh, Vash…” Wolfwood couldn’t stop himself from gently running his calloused fingertips over the longest scar, a raised and jagged line that traced his ribs. Vash flinched and Wolfwood instantly removed his hand, cursing himself for the slip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-” 

“No, you didn’t do anything. I just…I don’t like people to see me. Like this.” Vash’s words were sharp-edged with pain. “Especially people I- especially you.”

Wolfwood’s dark eyebrows knit together as he shushed the other man. He couldn’t know how wrong he was. Vash’s body was an alien landscape, and Wolfwood longed to map every inch of unexplored territory. “Don’t be ridiculous, blondie.” His voice dropped, ragged with the raw edges of the truth. “You’re beautiful.”

Vash laughed, but the normally musical sound was out of tune. “Don’t feel bad for me, Wolfwood. Doesn’t suit you.” He shook with the effort of speaking, and it didn’t escape Wolfwood’s notice.

“I feel bad for you ‘cause you’ve got such a spiky head, needle-noggin. But you’re fucking beautiful.”

The blonde opened his mouth to reply but was wracked by a cough. Bright blood dribbled over his lips, and his jaw went slack. 

“Vash?” Wolfwood grabbed his shoulder and shook hard. “Vash!” He swore and frantically tore apart his bag until he came up with bandages. “You’re okay. You’re okay.” He couldn’t tell whether the reassurances were for himself or the other man. Wolfwood tore a strip of bandages with his teeth, his eyes locking on a seep of sticky blood from underneath Vash’s body.

“Alright Typhoon, you’re gonna hold on for me.” Wolfwood turned him over quickly, steeling himself to the task at hand. “This is gonna fuckin’ hurt.” He ripped his flask from his pack and dumped stinging liquor over his hands, sterilizing them as best as he could. “I’ll make this up to you, okay? I swear to God, if He gives a shit.”

The undertaker took a deep breath and plunged his finger into the wound on Vash’s back, carefully feeling for the bullet lodged inside. He whispered apologies as Vash moaned in pain, his body still limp on the ground. The moans trickled to whimpers, and slowed entirely. In the silence, Wolfwood grew more desperate, no strength left to spend on his self-censoring.

“C’mon, baby. C’mon Vash, you stupid pretty thing, hang on f’me.” He gritted his teeth when he brushed against the warm metal, crooking his finger to pull the bullet out without causing too much extra damage. Wolfwood was numb everywhere except the places where his skin touched Vash’s. Those places burned like stars. “You’re doin’ so good, love. Stay here with me. I have so much to tell you if you stay here,” he murmured. 

Wolfwood reached for the liquor and took a hard swig from the bottle, swallowing with a wince. The rest he poured onto Vash’s wound, shakily brushing his hand over the blonde’s hair as the pain made him thrash. “I’m sorry, so sorry…your hair is so soft…softer than I even imagined,” Wolfwood whispered, a little hysterical. “I’ll tell ya so if you wake up after this, okay needle-noggin? Maybe I won’t even call ya that anymore.” 

“Forgive me for this, okay?” Wolfwood pressed clean bandages against the gunshot wound, a half-remembered prayer falling from his lips as Vash let out a strangled cry. “Almost done, almost done, love.” His eyes burned. “Why do you care about these people so goddamn much?” He leaned harder on the wound, willing the blood loss to slow. “What about the people who care about you? ” Vash’s blood soaked through the first fistful of bandages, and Wolfwood added a second. 

“I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep losing you.” Vash’s blood covered his hands, and Wolfwood swallowed down bile. “Fuck you, blondie. Fuck you for leavin' me alone again.” He was leaning his whole weight on the wound now, praying the bandages would be enough to hold Vash’s life in.

“You goddamn bleeding heart, you aren’t on your own anymore! This isn’t fair!” Wolfwood was crying, sick at himself. He didn’t even know he could still produce tears, and now he was on his knees next to the only person that would ever matter enough to wring them out of him. Vash’s eyes stayed shut, his body still and soft except for the tension in his jaw and the throb of his pulse in his neck. 

Wolfwood bent over him like a guardian angel. He turned Vash back over as the bleeding slowed and tenderly wiped the blood from his mouth. He pressed a heavy palm to the metal grate over Vash’s heart. “I love you, Vash. It scares me to death and I still love you. I can’t help it.” A bitter smile flickered over his face. “I’ve tried. Just get through this for me and I’ll tell you myself, okay?"

Suddenly out of things to do, Wolfwood collapsed back against the wall. His hands shook so badly that it took him three tries to get his lighter going, and he dropped the first cigarette he held to the flame. When it finally took, he sucked the smoke into his lungs like a penance and held it till he choked. That way, he had a reason for his voice to crack and his eyes to burn as he whispered, “Vash, please.”

[radiance1]

Just saw a snippet of that Gotham War thing going around. I do not like it, and I have feelings, I should be asleep right now but I have feelings and I find myself not even trying to care about characterization or writing quality right now.

So it'll most likely be pretty fucking SHITTY.

===

"Jason!" Batman ran to Jason's side, crouching down as he immediately began to assess the wounds. "You'll be okay, just hold on for a bit longer."

"You're a shit father, you know that, Bruce?" Jason chuckled, a wet thing that spilled just a little more blood from his lips as he grabbed onto one of his father's arms. "Don't."

"Jason-"

"Nah, this is the end for me, Bruce." Jason grunted, pain flashing through his body as he shifted himself. "And for god's sake, take off that damn mask. Nobody's 'round to see your ugly mug." He half shrugged. "Besides me of course."

Batman barely even thought more of it as his hands moved upwards to push away his mask, leaving his face bare to the world. His face was pinched, as if he couldn't decide what expression to make as soon as the mask came off. "Jason-"

"Save it. You can't change my mind about this, Bruce." Jason tightened his hand around Bruce's arm, enough for that entire hand to go numb, either that or the blood loss. He couldn't tell. "Don't try and bring me back either, Bruce. Don't let anyone else try to bring me back either."

"It doesn't have to be this way. You have so much to live for-"

Jason hissed. "Don't give me that generic ass speech, Bruce. Tired of it." Jason shook his head, reaching a hand up to try and remove his helmet, he failed. So Bruce reached up to do it for him. "Thanks, I guess."

Jason breathed in a deep breath, his lungs burning in protest yet seemingly wanting more as he coughed. Specks of blood flying from his mouth as his body screamed in protest from sudden jostling.

"Jason-"

"Hey Bruce." Bruce shut his mouth. "I'm scared, you know, of what's going to be waiting for me on the other side. Pretty shit, not gonna lie, though dying once would've made it easier but-" Jason let out a pained wheeze in place of a laugh. "But I guess not."

"You don't have to die, Jason."

"I know." Jason tilted his head towards Bruce, his vision foggy and spotty. "I know I don't have to, but I want to. Alright, but I'm still scared, scared of death. Pretty fucking cowardly huh?"

"Everyone's scared of something, Jason." Bruce reached a hand forward, moving Jason's head into a more comfortable position that wouldn't strain his neck further than it already was. He made to move his hand away, but paused as he felt his son sink into his touch, however slightly.

His hand stayed as one of Jason's eyes lowered.

"You would know a lot about that, wouldn't you" Jason let out another pained wheeze as it got harder and harder to breath. "You make people piss their beds just from hearing your name, of course you would."

"Jason." He watched as his son's breathes got shallow, a longer and longer pause between every intake of break.

"I'm sorry, Bruce."

"What for, Jason?"

"For not being a better son." Jason coughed harshly, his chest convulsing with each and every one.

Bruce was silent for moment, before he sighed. "You're a fool, Jason." He moved forwards, pulling Jason towards his chest as he rested his chin on his son's head. "Because you were the one of the best goddamn sons I could've ever asked for, and if it were up to me." Bruce tightened his hold as he felt the body in his hold go slack. "I would've chosen you again and again."

Bruce could feel tears falling from his eyes as he held Jason close, finally managing to choke out the words he so desperately wanted to say, even as they now would fall only on deaf ears.

"I love you, Jason."

===

@stealingyourbones YOU. Get the FUCK over here, I've decided to make this your problem.

[dearestkong]

reflections // starting the summer term 🌷💌

(feel free to skip … just a lot of rambling about changes of mindset, i’ll sum it up later in my new pinned.)

it’s been more than a month since I’ve started this blog, and I’m really really glad that I did. not because my productivity has spiked or my anxiety has diminished or whatever (though there have been positive effects), but because just attempting to start something like this meant that I was no longer willing to suffer and rot in private. i talked about the “hole of dysfunction and self-hatred” in my old introduction: for so long, that hole was my best-kept secret and my greatest shame. being competent and ambitious was an aspect of my personality, and I couldn’t handle the idea that it wasn’t true.

but then…. dearestkong emerged!! and I started being completely transparent. telling strangers about every day of self-destructiveness. it was a good form of accountability, sure, but it was also a means of telling the truth. this blog has been a way for me to say: i’ve been struggling, and it’s not a fluke or a “flop era” or something entirely disconnected from the high achiever i used to be. the girl fighting off inertia and the girl seemingly doing everything with ease are the same person.

🌷☆彡

my posts have been getting more optimistic recently, and that isn’t a fluke, either. lots of things have happened: i’ve realised how many people support and believe in me, i started taking medication for a problem i’ve had for a while (it’s crazy how the world seems so much brighter now?!!?!), i started writing in my diary again. i’m now 27 days clean from a self-destructive behaviour (this blog isn’t about my relationship with that, but in the early days i used to make a note of relapses and just the fact of acknowledging it felt so freeing to me. it wasn’t something to hide anymore, but a fight i was making progress with.)

this seems like a rapid evolution for such a new blog, right?! but in the next six months, i’m going to be applying to university. i’m about to undergo some of the most rapid evolutions of my life.

🌷☆彡

for so long, i’ve had this vague and unspecified dream: “doing the best” “working my hardest” “impressing my teachers”. now my dream has a name and a face and admissions results attached to it and it’s making me so scared that i want to throw up. when i was in the depths of the hole i couldn’t stop seeing my life as a binary. either i get in, or i don’t. and if i don’t, what the hell is the point of living?

38 days later and i feel a little differently. i am someone who has climbed out the hole of inertia and lived. i have done many things and they’ve all turned out fine— great, actually. i have reason to believe that things will go well.

i still have a pretty nasty relationship with myself, lol. it makes me really happy when people on this blog interact and talk, but they’re all so nice and it makes me feel a little fake. in reality i’m standoffish, awkward, and often mean. i coast by on intellectual abilities while slacking off. i’m a judgemental egoist who is sometimes self-destructive. all of that is true—>

but at the same time, i still have this crazy belief that i deserve the best. it’s literally an overflow of egoism ;;;; there’s nobody i’m more in love with than myself. i think of the girl i’ll be in the future with such affection, and i don’t want her to feel ashamed or resentful of me. she deserves to have her hopes fulfilled!! she deserves the brightest, the best that i can give her.

in conclusion: even if i don’t like the person i am at the present, i have to do it anyway. 1 because there’s no other option and 2 because i love the person i’ll be in the future too much to stop.

🌷☆彡

so from now on, the purpose of this blog is changing slightly. it’s no longer “get out of the hole and survive” like it used to be. we’re past that, we’re already surviving.

now, the aim is to “do my best so my future self can live with no regrets”. that’s not very concise but I’ll work on it.

let’s do this! 加油！

[cats-and-fiction]

Okay, here I go, writing again. I‘m a bit rusty but determined to be active again so why not start with my recent obsession

Demise and Ascension

Human Quaritch x Human Reader

Part 1 (You are here)

You had been first sent to Pandora with the job to make sure with the Na‘vi was dealt as humanly as possible. You got a lot of slack for it, nobody really taking you searious to point yourself often questioned why you were there. Whwn you hear that they planned to burn down another forest to make the mines bigger you stepped in. The forests housed animals and were considered hunting grounds. An hour passed by with shouting in the office and you ending up leaving victorious. Your core argument from there on whenever something wouldn‘t be „humanly“ was that it wouldn‘t sell good. In the vening you sat in your little room, making a video entry of how your day was and what happened when suddenly a knock was at your door.

Curious you went to open it just to be faced with Colonel Miles Quaritch. He gave you a smile, not reaching his eyes, and just strode into your room. Inspecting the pictures on the walls with some friends you made at base and some Na‘vi. Scoffing at the latter. „L/N, you really like to make everything harder than it is“, he cut right to the chase. Turning towards you. Taking a step forward. „I‘m Just doing my job, Colonel“, you would stand your ground, thats was your plan but with every step he inched closer your back came closer to the now closed door. Your legs felt wobbly, your heart raced with every second this man came closer and was towering over you. To not lie, you had felt your heart race when seeing him the last couple times and now with Quaritch coming closer to you like a predator on the hunt it didn‘t get better. You goal to do your job and make sure this wouldn‘t end in a blood bath slowly vanishing in the shadows and begin swallowed by other thoughts. Thoughts including him.

„With all due respect, there are still people concered by the lives of Pandora and they don‘t think like the corporation guys. We just want-„, he cut you off, now standing inches before you, staring down into your face. You back was pushed flush against the cold metal of your door. Quaritchs hand came up and he softly grabbed your chin. His thumb caressing your skin. „Please, you know we will get our way. You just make unnecessary problems we could solve easily.“, his voice was deep and rumbling in his throat as he leaned down. His hot breath caressing your ear. „Why don‘t you go up there again and talk, this time more civilized and thinking more about our goal here, helping out earth.“, and with that he took a step back, hand vanishing from your face and his face neutral as ever. Now seeing more of him than just his face you could see his hand resting on his weapon. „Pandora is a dangerous place, L/N, it would be sad if there were any sorts of accidents.“, you gulped at his words. Quaritches eyes looked more like a tiger ready to kill it‘s prey and you knew better than ever that the accident he spoke of would involve you.

From then on his visits would be more often just to remind you of it again or when you two found yourself alone and while you did made alot of exceptions to the future missions and didn‘t report everything you couldn‘t deny that you liked how Quaritch was towards you. Though he got gently with you. Your feelings for him burning stronger than ever with every touch or word he said towards you, his manipulation working it‘s magic.

Part 2