#these two images were close in my gallery and I just had to take a screen

[jacqueline-01]

A Clue to the Heart

A.H x bau!y/n

Word count: 1,005

The soft hum of the café filled the air as Y/N stirred their latte, lost in thought. It was their favorite little spot in Quantico, a retreat from the whirlwind of life as a profiler for the BAU. The warm scent of coffee and the chatter of patrons were a welcome contrast to the grisly cases they often faced.

“You’re quiet today.”

Y/N looked up to find Aaron Hotchner standing at their table, his usual calm demeanor in place, though his eyes carried a rare softness. His presence was magnetic, commanding attention without trying, and Y/N felt the usual flutter in their chest.

“Hotch,” they greeted, gesturing for him to sit. “Just thinking. What brings you here?”

“Coffee,” he replied with the barest hint of a smile. “And maybe a break from the case files.”

Y/N smirked. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“I can be unpredictable,” he teased lightly, taking the chair opposite them.

The banter between them was effortless, a delicate dance that always left Y/N wondering if there was more to their connection. But Aaron Hotchner was nothing if not professional, and Y/N was never quite sure if they were reading too much into his small gestures.

Two hours later, Y/N found themselves back at the BAU headquarters, poring over evidence from their latest case—a series of art thefts tied to a suspicious death. The case wasn’t their usual violent fare, but it was still puzzling.

A knock on the conference room door drew their attention. Hotch stood there, holding two cups of coffee.

“Thought you might need this,” he said, setting one in front of them.

“Thanks,” Y/N said, surprised. “Is it bribery to make me work faster?”

“I prefer to call it motivation,” he countered, his voice laced with humor.

As Y/N chuckled, their phone buzzed with a text. A photo from an anonymous number popped up—a blurry image of Y/N and Hotch at the café earlier that day. Beneath it, a cryptic message read: “Trust no one.”

Y/N’s blood ran cold.

“What’s wrong?” Hotch’s sharp instincts kicked in immediately.

Y/N handed him the phone, their hand trembling slightly. “This just came through.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened as he examined the photo and message. “Do you recognize the number?”

“No.”

He stood straighter, his protective instincts in full force. “Stay here. I’m alerting Garcia.”

Within minutes, Penelope Garcia had traced the number to a burner phone, confirming their suspicions of foul play. The timing of the message, the photo—it all pointed to someone close to the case.

“I don’t like this,” Hotch said as they gathered in his office. “Whoever sent this knows where you’ve been and has access to information about us.”

“Us?” Y/N echoed, raising an eyebrow.

His expression flickered, as if he realized his slip. “You know what I mean,” he amended, though his tone lacked its usual conviction.

Y/N decided to let it slide—for now.

The next day, the team staked out the latest crime scene, an art gallery set to host a private auction. Y/N and Hotch were partnered, tasked with watching the back entrance.

As they waited, the tension from the text still lingered between them.

“Do you think the message was meant as a threat?” Y/N asked softly.

“I don’t know,” Hotch admitted. “But I don’t take risks with my team.”

Y/N glanced at him, noting the way his hand rested near his holster, his posture alert. “Aaron, you don’t have to—”

He cut them off gently. “I do.” His dark eyes met theirs. “You’re important to this team. To me.”

Before Y/N could process his words, movement by the door caught their attention. A figure slipped inside the gallery, carrying a black bag.

“That’s our guy,” Y/N whispered, adrenaline surging.

They moved in tandem, signaling the rest of the team. The suspect bolted as they approached, but Y/N and Hotch were faster. Y/N tackled him to the ground, while Hotch secured the bag. Inside were stolen paintings and a notebook full of incriminating details.

But what struck Y/N most was the final page—a detailed surveillance log of them and Hotch, dating back weeks.

Back at headquarters, the suspect confessed to everything: the thefts, the surveillance, and the cryptic text.

“It wasn’t personal,” he said with a shrug. “I just needed leverage in case the FBI got too close.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, but Y/N could sense his relief. The threat was neutralized.

As the team began wrapping up, Y/N lingered by Hotch’s office.

“You don’t have to babysit me anymore,” they teased, leaning against the doorframe.

Hotch looked up, his expression softer than usual. “It was never about babysitting.”

Y/N stepped closer, heart pounding. “Then what was it about?”

For a moment, silence hung between them. Then, Hotch stood, closing the distance between them.

“It was about this,” he said quietly, his voice steady as he cupped their cheek.

Y/N barely had time to breathe before his lips met theirs, a kiss that was as unexpected as it was inevitable.

When they finally pulled away, Y/N’s lips curved into a smile. “Well, that’s one mystery solved.”

Hotch chuckled, his forehead resting against theirs. “Let’s see if we can keep it from becoming another case.”

[ortofosforico]

YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND.

IT WAS A KEYCHAIN-

FROM HIS MOMMY.

AND HE KEPT IT FOR HUNDREDS OF YEARS.

[herecirmsims]

Gloomy Bear Hugs

These poses were a commission for VampyrieDoll! Six couple poses for use with a Gloomy Bear object, plus all-in-ones. Three of the poses use a tongue accessory, but I've also made versions without (there are also separate all-in-ones for tongue acc/no tongue acc). Sometimes I just can't be bothered to go into CAS and find an accessory so I'm catering to my future self here lmao. I seem to have used an older version of their tongue acc because that's the one I had; I haven't checked to see if the newer versions are compatible.

Poses were made with masc rigs and as always there may be clipping or floating depending on Sim body type or clothing.

Eyelids are still glitched in game and now seem to be worse after the 22/10/24 update, so the closed eyes in these poses may not appear in game as they do in Blender! 🥲

Edit: I completely forgot to take an image to show teleporter placement! Just place two teleporters on the same spot as the Gloomy Bear, all facing the same direction.

SECOND EDIT: omg I also forgot to include one of the poses in the pose preview. 🥲 My brain isn't working lately.

You will need: - Pose Player - Teleport Any Sim - Gloomy Bear object by CursedCC - tongue acc by RedHeadSims (optional)

Download here (always free): SFS | Patreon

TOU: you may adjust for personal use to avoid clipping etc., but please do not reupload/paywall/claim as your own.

I’d love to see them used! You can tag me on Bluesky, Instagram, or Tumblr. I repost. ❤️

You can easily browse more of my posepacks using my Ko-Fi gallery. Want to commission me and help support my work? Details here! Want to leave a suggestion for poses you'd like to see? Form here!

@ts4-poses @alwaysfreecc

[oval3000]

Chapter 3

Yandere Teacher Nanami x Student Reader

Warning: Abuse, Smut, Abduction, Violence, Rough play, toxic behavior, age gap, everything from all above. Mainly from his point of view...somewhat... modern au- idk. College teacher x student.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

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

He could hear the voice of his fellow female colleague, trying to get his attention. He could hear her light heels speeding up against the floors, "Mr. Nanami? Could you help me with the new test sheets? I have to print a lot and my students are going to come in a few minutes." He rolled his eyes. Not the first time his colleague asked for help even though it was her responsibility to do so herself.

"You were supposed to have them ready the day before," he turned around to face, having his head tilted a bit. He had things to do, and he was a busy man so when someone came in and stopped him, it irritated him dearly.

"I know, but I got caught with the time." She placed her hand on his biceps, she looked at him with a sad expression on her face, "Please."

At that moment he saw another colleague, "Mr. Yamagachi, can you help Miss. Ito with her work?"

"I'm pretty sure Mr. Yamagachi is busy." She smiled letting out a bit of laughter.

"So am I. Next time plan more so you can actually do your job." Nanami turned back around and exited the building. He got into his nice car and drove off.

He pulled up to his new two-story house brick, victorian, home. He closed the dark brown wood door behind him, dropping his briefcase on the floor. He took off his tan blazer off, hanging on the coat rack at the corner of the front entrance. He opened the door to his office and placed his items on the desk. He pinched the bridge of his glasses, pulling them off his face. As he sat down on his chair, his head swung back making him stare at the ceiling. He side-eyed his computer, moving the mouse to turn it on. quickly logging in and going through his gallery. He saw the portfolio of pictures and images of you. Pictures that he took of you during his class. They weren't clear pictures, mostly blurry due to the fact that he had to zoom through the lens to take the pic of you and no one else. A perk of having a bunch of students that don't pay attention is that students won't notice Nanami, sneaking, pulling out his phone, and taking a few pics of you. He made it seem like he was just using his phone, scrolling through whatever. Sure, he has the photo of you that you took when you got your school ID, but it just wasn't enough.

He looked around his desk and imagined the empty space to be filled with pictures of you and him together. Pictures of you holding children. If he wanted to go through this, he needed a nice home. A home that resembles having a family with plenty of rooms and space. He got up and went towards the master bedroom. He walked over to the windows, opening the white curtain revealing a big wood board that covered the whole window, behind the board was another set of white curtains. He tugged on the board to test the strength and smiled to himself to see how secure it was. It wasn't a permanent thing, he'll eventually take it off once you are comfortable. He doesn't even how you'll react towards this, towards him. Are you going to scream? Are you going to try and escape? Or are you going to accept him a be the perfect wife for him? Questions that he wants clear answers to, but the only thing he can get is theories.

He went towards the bed, tugging on the rope that was tied to the headboard, again smiling to himself on how secure it was. He quickly swept the empty side of the closet so it was ready for all of your things. He dusted off half of the empty drawers, ready to be stuffed with your undergarments. The room is fairly large. A nice comfy armrest chair in the corners with a matching stool at the front. The bed, a king-size bed, perfectly centered, the headboard up against the while, and two nightstands on either side of the bed. On the other side, across from the bed, is a door that leads to the bathroom. He picked up the brown, paper, bag from the chair and opened the door to the bathroom. He grabbed all the items from the brown, paper, bag and placed them on the bathroom counter. He crumbled the paper bag and tossed it in the trash. He placed the extra toothbrushes and toothpaste in one of the drawers. He placed the box of pads under the bathroom sink. All hygiene products, he placed them in their designated spot; shampoo, body wash, conditioner, and body scrub. He went back to the room and placed all other products into the white vanity that he built and got for you; hair brush, moisturiser, sunscreen, all types of serums, spray facial mist, hair ties, hair oils, hair blow dryer, lip oils, lip balms, and some nail polishes. The cashier who scanned of of his items was calling him sweet for getting all of this for his significant other. Nanami smiled and thanked her. It was sweet, so you would be happy to be here, right?

He quickly cleaned the rest of the house, settling everything in. Tidying up the kitchen and living room, leaving everything simple and clean. Of course, things can change once you're here. If you want to move things around or add things, Nanami made sure to keep it simple that way you can add your personal touch to the house. Nanami, resting on the couch, turning on the flat-screen TV, resting on top of the fireplace, pulled out his phone and went through your social media post. He never used social media, but he knew he was to get to know you a lot more, so he quickly downloaded them and made fake names. You kept things private so it was a hard time for him to get through, you had friends and relatives who weren't private and who posted things about you. He saw posts that your friends and relatives have put out like the day they took you to celebrate your birthday at a restaurant or when you went to the movies and they posted a 'best day ever' selfie with you in the background. He was lucky to remember the people you talked to when he saw you at the college campus or else he wouldn't know more about you.

He went through many scenarios in his head. Was this the right thing to do? Is this necessary? Would it be easier if he just talked to you and confessed his feelings towards you? After all, what's the worst that can happen? Him being rejected? No. He just can't accept that.

Not when he could feel your body heat as he leaned closer to you, hovering over you. "I'm having trouble with this one Mr. Nanami?"

He placed his hands in front of you almost caging you in. Your back was turned to him as you were sitting down, staring at the question with a wooden pencil in your hand. You were so oblivious about everything it made Nanami go feral. He leaned closer to you, his mouth near your neck, "What are you not understanding, sweetheart?"

"Which formula am I supposed to use when they didn't give the percent number on how much it's been missing?" You said, rereading the question in your head.

"Which one do you think would work the best when one variable is missing, love." His cock felt like it was going to explode with cum on how close and how cute you were to him. He loved this. He enjoyed this.

"This one?" You pointed to one of the formulas tilting your head a bit.

Nanami smiled, "Yes, correct. You're doing amazing." His lips parted, feeling his crotch area getting tight. He thought he was able to control himself by now but clearly, he wasn't. He was thankful that the chair was blocking his hard boner from your back or else his plan was going to come to an end and all of his hard work would've gone to the trash. he saw the way you quickly solved the question of how easily you cached on. His high hopes were showing. Maybe it wouldn't be hard?

Days would go by and eventually, you fully understood everything he had taught you that you miss. You asked Nanami if you were ready to retake the test and he was trying to insist that it's okay to take more time to study, but you told Nanami that you are ready. Nanami enjoyed these moments he had with you even though you had no idea what was going on, he didn't want it to end. He needed you.

He knew that his time was coming close, so when he saw you outside the campus building, sitting on one of the benches, he walked up to you. "Everything alright, (Y/n)?"

You looked up from your phone, "Yes, I'm just waiting for my cab"

"Well," he looked around to find no one. The time stamp during this moment is where there are fewer students, and less crowded. "If you want, I can take you? I'm heading out for my lunch break, I can take you home." You weren't really sure about it. Nanami could see that you were hesitant. "It'll be no problem. Besides you most likely have things to do. Don't want to waste time waiting, right?"

"Right. Okay." You got up, quickly canceling your ride." Thank you, Mr. Nanami." You followed him to his. He opened the passenger side for you. When you got inside his car you were quite surprised at how neat and clean his car was. "You have a nice car, sir."

"Really? I mean, it's just a car in average condition." He said, starting his car and pulling out of the parking lot.

"Well, I guess I've never seen a guy keeping his car in good shape." You said, trying not to keep things awkward between the both of you. You never head a teacher driving you home or anywhere. Yes, you went inside strangers' cars, mainly cab and Uber drivers that you contacted before, but never someone that you sort of knew and definitely never a teacher.

"Never seen a guy have a clean car?" He questioned, giving you glances.

"No. My ex-boyfriend was really messy. He always had a messy and smelly car." You clutched your bag close to you.

Nanami felt his throat a bit dry. His hands were gripping the steering wheel. "Ex-boyfriend?"

"Yeah, I used to date this one guy. He was my first boyfriend. We only lasted like three months so I wouldn't really call him a boyfriend. We hardly did anything together." You said. You looked out at the window and realized something. "Wait," Nanami pulled over to a curb in an area where it was isolated, and pulled out a white cloth while you stared out at the window, "I never even told you where I lived, I liv-" You couldn't finish the sentence because Nanami quickly covered your mouth.

The cloth had two pills in it, "That's it." Nanami felt his arm getting slapped repeatedly by you. He could hear your muffled screams, which made him pull you closer, lifting your head up so the pills could go down. You felt the small pills going down your throat. You felt like you were going to choke, so you had no choice, but to swallow them. It was painful and soon you felt weak. "Good girl." Eventually, you fell into your sleep. He got your phone and took out the memory card and battery before tossing it out. Nanami continued to drive off.

He pulled up to the house and parked in the garage that was connected to the house. He opened his door and quickly went towards yours. He opened the passenger door and carried you out bridal style. He entered the home and headed upstairs. He placed you on the bed and quickly tied your hands with the ropes that were tied to the headboard.

He finally took a deep breath, falling down on the bed next to you. He looked over his side and stared at you. He stared at the ceiling, feeling his heartbeat slowing down a bit. His palms began to feel less shaky and the sweat forming finally calmed down.

He sat up covering his face with his hands. "What the hell am I doing?" He got up and paced around the room staring at your unconscious body. He got on the bed and hovered over you. "You're driving me crazy," he whispered to you. He placed his hand on your waist, " You're doing this to me." He placed a light kiss on your lips.

He got up and headed down to the kitchen and decided to make a light sandwich. After he finished he went to the car and gathered the rest of your things. He went through your bag and found your wallet. He found your IDs and cards.

He heard light noises coming from upstairs. He got up from the chair and placed the cards on the kitchen table. The closer he got to the second floor the more he could hear more of the noises and groaning. He opened more of the bedroom door and saw you opening your eyes. You moved to your side buring your face into your hands. He saw the way you peeked at the entrance and saw him which made you quickly sit up. He saw the way tears were forming in your eyes. You curled yourself up, bringing your knees up to your chest. " Please don't hurt me."

He shut the door behind him.

"Please."

He walked closer to you. "I won't hurt you."

"Where am I?"

"You're at home. With me."

@black-swan-blog27

@srae123

@foggyturtleknightangel

[zhivaoverdrive]

Filling the Void Breast Expansion and Butt Expansion via Saline Expander Implants.

But you've seen the image, too late.

Each image from the poster wall is available in full on the extras gallery, some with their own small stories.

Have fun.

----- As I pushed open the door, my eyes widened in horror. Lani lay sprawled across her bed, her body resembling a collection of medicine balls that had been inflated one too many times. Her breasts hung from her chest like overfilled water balloons, threatening to burst at any moment. 

The soft light cast by the lamp on her nightstand danced across her skin, highlighting every vein and crease as if trying to accentuate the sheer magnitude of her transformation. The implants themselves seemed to be straining against Lani's skin, like four enormous balloons about to burst at any moment.

Lani's eyes snapped towards mine, wide with surprise and shame. She looked guilty, her face flushed like a person who'd just been caught cheating. Her gaze darted around the room as if searching for a way to make this situation disappear, but the evidence was undeniable. It was like trying to hide a skyscraper behind a curtain – impossible.

I took in the scene: her already-enormous frame now straining against the seams of reality; empty saline solution bottles littering the room like discarded confetti; and Lani's body... altered, distended by the relentless stream of liquid she'd forced into it. The four orbs of saline inside her seemed to be straining against their containment, as if desperate to escape were it not for Lani's stretched skin holding on with all its might.

"It's not that big of a deal," she said, her voice laced with justification. "I'm fine. Just... just this little bit more..."

I took a deep breath before speaking. "Lani, I know we agreed monthly would be the limit," I reminded her gently.  "But you know how close you came to... complications. And yet here you are again, doing it without supervision."

Lani looked at me pleadingly, her eyes welling up with tears. "Please," she whispered, the air thickening with shame and desperation.

The shame and desperation, struggled to come to terms with being caught. AGAIN.

On one hand, I was impressed by her willingness to take control of her body and push the boundaries of what society considers "OK".

But I was also worried about how far she was taking things. Like, expanders... that's some next-level stuff.

And not just that - Lani had taken her body modification game to a whole new level by having expanders in her butt as well.

I couldn't help but wonder what kind of discomfort she must be going through with those things implanted in her backside. And yet...part of me couldn't help but admire her spirit.

I get that Lani wanted to change herself, but this was just crazy. "You're not even trying to hide what you're doing," I said, shaking my head in amazement. "You're trying to turn yourself into a human balloon or something!"

But as soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I had spoken too bluntly.

"You're using expanders like they're some kind of...I don't know, saline-filled superpower or something!" I said, trying to lighten my tone.

"I just need this one more time," she said quietly, her voice filled with reverence.  "I promise I'll slow down after this. It's not like..."

She trailed off, looking down at the floor as if embarrassed by her own words. But that did not last long.

Lani gazed up at the posters on her wall. Her gaze lingered on the statuesque figures, their bodies seemingly defying gravity itself - their breasts rose up from their chests like mountains, butts jutted out far behind them.

"Look at them," Lani said quietly, her voice filled with awe and longing. "They're doing it... Just look at them - so many people adore them, that one's been on TV!"

As Lani admired these perfect forms of femininity, the competing idea inside of her believed she was still the waifish girl she'd been years ago stewed. Trapped between two conflicting realities unable to be reconciled.

"And honestly, what's another litre of saline when you're already..."

I didn't push her for more. Another unnecessary question. A different tack was in order.

"Lani, baby," I said carefully,

"You've never removed ANY saline before. I'm not even exactly sure if we can. What if this is a one-way process without going back to the doctor..."

Her eyes dropped, and she nodded slowly. "I know, but what's the worst that could happen? You'll still l-" "Ah," I interrupted her, trying to sound more reassuring than concerned. "The weight of... well, let me ask you this: how much saline are we talking about here?"

Lani looked down at her chest, a sheepish expression spreading across her face. "I've got 10 litres in each boob.."

My eyes widened in shock. Ten litres per implant? That was... that was a lot of saline. A lot more than last time.

"And?" I prompted, trying to keep my tone light despite the gravity of the situation.

Lani faltered for a moment before she spoke up again. "And... um... well, I might have also exceeded 10 litres in each butt cheek."

My jaw dropped. She couldn't be serious. Could she?

"Lani," I said softly, trying to keep my tone gentle despite the shock and concern I was feeling. "You're telling me that you've got a total of 40,000cc saline forced in your body?"

Lani nodded sheepishly, her face flushing with embarrassment.

I glanced at Lani's ass and saw the telltale signs of strain: deep creases in her skin, fine lines tracing the contours of each implant, and an eerie sheen that hinted at stretchmarks. Her veins stood out like blue highways, pulsing with effort as they struggled to deliver oxygen to her skin.

"The weight of this much saline is crushing you," I said firmly. "You've already been struggling with everyday tasks for months now. You're going to continue to struggle even more as time goes on. Your body simply can't keep up."

Lani's gaze faltered as she tried to consider the consequences of her actions.

"What does the future hold?" I continued. "Don't even get me started on trying to cook dinner or do laundry. You're being short-sighted! What happens when you can't even get out of bed in the morning?"

The silence between us grew thick with unspoken understanding – a tacit agreement that more caution was needed, but also a recognition that we were both too afraid to seek help.

She nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving mine.

"You're right," she said quietly. "I'll need you".

[bullet-prooflove]

5000 Follower Celebration: Postcards From My Heart - Terry Silver x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @thedeadsingforme @eddieslut69 @mia1653 @kimbergoldess

Companion piece to:

Attention - Terry hasn't been paying you enough attention.

Distance - Terry and you struggle with emotional distance as the embezzlement case continues.

Prequel to:

Twenty Four Hours - You come home from your trip to spend 24 hours with your husband.

The embezzlement investigation takes hold when Terry reports the crime to the FBI. He’s spent months trying to untangle it on his own and now it’s gotten to the point where he’s forced to hand over all the details to the authorities or risk looking complicit.

The unfortunate part to all of this is that he has to make himself available to investigators, which means he has to stay in the city while you undertake the gallery tour across Europe you’ve had planned for over a year now.

Ever since the exhibition with the paper airplanes went viral, galleries from around the world have been requesting both you and your artwork’s presence at their venues. They want to discuss the programs you’ve been undertaking and how to implement them in their own locations whilst showcasing your paintings.

You end up going alone and it kills Terry because things between the two of you, they’re still not entirely right after the night you asked him if he was seeing someone else. He’s tried to be more attentive but the embezzlement it’s eating up both his time and his energy. He doesn’t even get to see you off at the airport because he’s trapped in a meeting with federal investigators. You don’t say how much it disappoints you but he feels it viscerally as he tracks your flight right out of his orbit.

He worries that this trip, the distance between the two of you, it’ll be the thing that kills your marriage especially when he misses three of your calls in a row over a series of days. He tries calling you back but with the time difference, you just keep missing each other.

When the postcard arrives his heart sinks, it’s an image of the small chapel where the two of you married in Tuscany. He’s filled with an intense sadness because this was the real reason he wanted to take the trip, he’d been planning to surprise you, review your vows there and then the whole thing had gotten fucked up and now you’re barely exchanging texts.  

By the time the postcard arrives from Paris you’ve been gone almost a fortnight. Terry’s eating breakfast alone, preparing for another lengthy day of depositions when the call comes through.

“Guess where I am.” You say as you appear on the screen and something in Terry’s chest just settles.

After so many missed connections he’s been dreading this call because he’s adamant it’s going to be the one where you tell him you’re done with all of this but then he sees the expression on your face and for Terry, it could light up an entire room.

“Tell me.” He urges, his voice soft and you alter the camera to show him the bench in the gallery where the two of you met. You zoom in closely and there’s a tiny heart with both of your initials drawn in the corner in black sharpie.

“Georgia,” He says fondly. “Did you deface a bench in the Louvre?”

“I’m hoping they kinda take it like a Banksy.” You tell him before turning the camera back so he can see your face. “You know how he just turns up, graffitis something and then disappears. I’ve been doing it everywhere we’ve been together on this trip. I even tagged the church.”

“You did not!” He smiles because he realises what you’ve been doing whilst you’ve been on tour, you’ve been marking your relationship, making it indelible. He can’t describe how that makes him feel, to know that you’ve been thinking about him, that you’ve been leaving the evidence of your marriage on landmarks all around the world.  

“I did.” You assure him. “Right on the pew you got a little handsy that time whilst we were waiting for the priest.”

“You were wearing that white sundress.” He reminds you, propping his chin up on his hand. “Can you blame me for defiling you in a church?"

You blush then, the pink tinge climbing your cheeks because he’d made you come on his fingers on that pew, it had been embarrassingly easy because you’d gotten off on the deviance of it all.

“You look tired.” You say quietly as you settle yourself on the bench. “How are the depositions going?”

“Monotonous.” He tells you with a weary smile. “I feel like it’s taken ten years off my life.”

“Do you need me to come home?” You ask him, the concern evident in your features. “I’m sure there’s a flight I could grab…”

The fact you’re willing to cut this trip short if he needs it, it speaks volumes about your headspace about the relationship, just like your actions have. He can’t ask you to return to him, not when you’re doing such excellent work out there, not when you’re having so much fun.

“No baby girl, don’t come back until you’re ready.” He murmurs before he props his phone up against the salt shaker. “Now tell me more about your travels.”

Love Terry? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[demonslayedher]

Today I went to the Zenshuuchuu-ten (Total Concentration Exhibition) for the Swordsmith Village and Hashira Training arcs today!

This is basically a chance for Ufotable to be like, "remember that cool thing we did?" and for we the fans to be like, "yup, sure do, that's why we're here."

It's not quite as extensive as other KnY events I've been to, and it doesn't particularly provide any new information, but it's fun to see some glimpses of the process from animation cells to finished clips. There's always a handful of fun displays to interact with, scrolls of character designs, and nice panels to display screenshots, especially centered around character arcs and impactful moments.

This time it was roughly as follows:

1. A room with large screen shots of Muzan the Upper Moons that appear in time with lines from the show and twangs of a biwa

2. A small room with a small swordsmithing game that they hurry everyone through. You need to strike the sword with just the right amount of force to get a ball into the middle of three slots, which I did, so I got handed a little piece of paper which is my certification as a master. I mentioned this to a friend afterword and her response was "of course you did."

3. A room in two parts dedicated to Muichiro's arc in SSV, with a hazy curtain you pass through sort of like Muichiro gaining his memories, and a model of his sword backlit in turquoise

4. A room dedicated to Mitsuri's arc in SSV, including a model of her sword which curves all the way across the room, and a little Mitsuri whom you could challenge to arm wrestling. She beat me pretty easily.

5. A Genya room of screenshots, and models of both his short little sword and his gun. Forgot to mention that their lines were playing overheard in each room!

6. A Gyokko and Hantengu room. A Gyokko only appeared over a model of the vase if you took a photo with flash, and there was a little Hantengu figure to look for, and if you found it, they'd give you a piece of origami paper on your way out of the gallery (pretty much everybody found it, but it was tiny).

8. The dedicated to Nezuko's mastery was not in-your-face triumph, but instead had a TV screen playing the Nezuko tribute music video version of her song, with the lyrics as scattered across the grey walls as the stream-of-consciousness lyrics.

9. Right after that, the staff ushers you in to the Hashira meeting, as though you were late.

Next to the meeting taking place, there is a model of Tanjiro's new old sword.

8. After that is a room dedicated to Giyuu's back story. I liked the design of the hanging screenshots in this one. Although the overall image is "water" because of the blue, the water design with light cast on the floor, and water droplet sounds mixed in with Giyuu's lines, the half-and-half effect was perhaps not intentional, but it was there. When you turn back to look through this room, the hanging screenshots--memories of Sabito and Tsutako--are all black.

9. The rest is a room dedicated to the different stages of Hashira training, with 3-D displays like riceballs, paper airplanes, pancakes with honeycomb and a ribbon, a board with ropes and sword cut marks (yikes), scuffed wooden swords, and a boulder you could push on. Along the tops of these displays were some eyeballs scoping everything out...

10. After that they put you in a theater room with three wide screens and headphones. At the last Zenshuuchuuten they did a reedit of the Akaza and Rengoku fight across three screens, so I figured this would have has plunging into the Infinity Fortress. After a preview review of Hashira Training highlights and Muzan's walk, yup, sure enough things got explosive and they plunged us in via the big screen, including some extra disorientation by zooming really closely in on some moving shots, or having multiple things happen at once across the screens.

11. Then they funnel you into a place with a TV playing the announcement for the Infinity Castle movies. No new content or news.

12. After that, these things tend to have a bright and happy Kimetsu Academy room! You could take photos, but there was a chalkboard with the voice actors have let their signatures and messages for the fans. I appreciated how they seemed to reflect their characters in their comments and handwriting, to some extent (certainly not Matsuoka (Inosuke) or none of it would be legible, but Hayami (Shinobu) has very legible, handwriting, and Hanae (Tanjiro) has comments like "I hope you'll feel like GUWAAA and GAAAAA!"). You could not take photos of the signatures, but you could take a photo of Mitsuri's art and figment of her imagination who says disparaging things to her (despite how she wants her art to make the world happy?? Oh, the irony):

13. The gallery concludes with a hall eyecatch illustrations, and a hall of Ufotable staff art paying homage to their favorite characters and scenes. Always treat seeing things in Ufotable style, but with individual craft and taste!

14. After that, you buy things. This is where they get ya.

Kind of thankfully, it's late enough in the exhibition's run that they've already run out of a lot of the smaller items I was intrigued by, so I behaved myself. I got the t-shirts I was planning on (I love the simplicity of them so so much, and really had to resist getting the paper airplane one too), a Daki ribbon item leftover from the last exhibition (though what I really wanted was Daki shoelaces), and an official pamphlet of the event. My friend got a couple Osaka-only badges,but since she got doubles of Zenitsuup the Umeda Sky Building, she gave one to me.

I really love that "nanikore" ("what the...?") design. It's so simple, and if you don’t know KnY, you might think they're just silly little circus dudes. But people who know will be like, "!!!" and their day will be a little brighter for having seen it.

Gonna do a quick self-reblog now with some extra photos!

[weirdkpopgirl]

Smitten | Jaemin Imagine #7

Title: Smitten

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff that might make you want to throw up

Word Count: 594

Author's Note: Just another idea that came to my head. My inner romantic tends to take over whenever I write stories like this. Then when you combine that with Jaemin, it's kinda hard to stop me lol. Anyway, I hope you guys like it. Thank you for reading ^ ^

𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪

The gentle aroma of vanilla-scented candles, combined with the inviting coziness of your living room, enveloped you and Jaemin in a relaxing embrace. Nestled in the corner of the sofa, both of you found a comfortable position, arms, and legs entangled with one another. Your head rested against his chest, allowing you to feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, while his fingers delicately caressed your hair. As you cuddled, your attention was drawn to the phone in your hand, as you scrolled through the cherished moments captured in your photo gallery.

“Remember this one when we saw the cherry blossom trees?” You showed him the selfie you had taken of you two surrounded by the pink flowers.

Jaemin chuckled as he admired the picture alongside you. “Your eyes look like they’re about to burst with joy in that photo.” 

Amidst laughter, your thumb glided over the remaining photos. As you ventured to the latter segment of your gallery, Jaemin's gaze widened in surprise upon encountering an array of images featuring him—from electrifying concerts to captivating photoshoots, even selfies he had shared on social media.

"You save all of these?” Jaemin turned to you with a curious look.

A delicate hue of crimson rushed to your cheeks as if you had been unexpectedly caught doing something you weren’t supposed to. Feeling a touch of embarrassment, your eyes stayed anchored to your phone screen.

“It’s just this habit I have whenever I find a picture of you online,” you shrugged. “Sometimes I just like having something to look at when you’re away.”

Recognition swiftly lit up Jaemin's eyes, a sense of understanding dawning upon him. Your words had an instant effect, gently warming his heart. The reassurance that you held him in your thoughts mirrored his sentiments toward you—a comforting reciprocity he cherished.

A soft smile graced your lips as you casually swiped to the subsequent photo taken by a fan. “And how can I not when my boyfriend has a smile that could light up the whole room?”

Observing the love brimming in your eyes as you admired the image overwhelmed Jaemin’s heart with this delightful tingly sensation. You glanced up from your phone and met his affectionate gaze. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked, a renewed blush on your cheeks.

Unable to take his eyes off you, he leaned in until the two of you were mere inches apart.

“You are so adorable,” Jaemin whispered before closing the remaining distance between the two of you.

His hand gently cradled the side of your face, guiding your lips into a slow, tender kiss. Your eyelids fluttered shut as your fingers instinctively threaded through the nape of his neck. Surrendering to the moment, you savored the softness of his lips against your own.

You were the one to pull away first, not wanting to get too carried away. Jaemin still had that lovesick grin on his face that almost made you want to smack him. Bubbling giggles erupted from both of you, as you seamlessly eased back into your previous cuddling embrace.

“I love you,” he murmured into your hair.

Smiling, you squeezed him a little tighter. “I love you too.”

Na Jaemin stirred a whirlwind of emotions within you. Although your mind sometimes tried to trick you otherwise, what you had with Jaemin was real and extraordinary. You were so lucky to have him in your life, and he never hesitated to ensure you knew that he felt the same way about you.

𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚༝༚𓆩♡𓆪

[retrocesosdestacion]

FORMIDABLE MEMORIES OF US. | laura freigang

laura freigang x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none.

notes: idk i hope tumblr dies, enjoy it guys bc now it is ready. most german nicknames are related to cute things :)

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Your memories will never be obsolete, they were meant to be yours.

It's gonna be

You and me,

It's gonna be everything you ever dreamed.

Disclosure.

Going to every place on earth was wonderful, and it was twice as good when it came to going out with your beloved girlfriend.

But it was a thousand times better when you could remember all those trips, all the little details that turned those moments into gigantic memories.

And the best way for this to happen is when you can see it every day in your gallery and imagine each scene in your head.

❝  Liebchen, what do you think? ❞  It's impossible to forget the deutch accent in Freigang's english, even if you had your mind in a book.

❝ Hm? ❞ Your eyes fell towards where the call came from, gradually closing the book between your fingers, to mark the page.

❝ I made a little castle for you. ❞ In fact, it was just a pile of wet sand with molds made by the bucket and some random holes; but you love Laura's creativity and imagination.

You laughed lovingly at the situation, not because it was funny, but because Freigang looked like a nine year old playing.

❝ This is more like a tower than a castle, Liebling! ❞ Giggling, you slowly got up from the beach towel and crawled to where the midfielder was, a few meters away.

❝ Huh, use a little of your imagination. ❞ Freigang said as she clapped her hands, knocking the grains of sand onto her own body.

A year ago, the hot summer in Europe was huge and the two of you decided to spend the weekend at the beach. Laura loved going out with you to new places, especially to take pictures of you.

Watching the German girl take photos and building in the sand on the beach was your favorite hobby. And that's exactly what you were doing.

❝ So at least add some shells! ❞ You opined, as you pulled the small jar of shells from the top of your bag; the ones you two had collected a few hours ago. ❝ I don't want a boring castle. ❞

Picking up the diverse little shells on the shores was another thing you and Laura loved to do. Anyone would say that if they saw how many of you two collect them.

Freigang had a smile on her face, the kind you remember forever. She also had the adorable camera around her neck, hanging from a small band appropriate for it.

❝ Oh, I'm sorry, Eure Majestät! ❞ The blonde woman played with your demand, gesturing surprise.

❝ Laura! ❞ A playful laugh left your lips, accompanied by the fragile slap you gave the German woman's shoulder.

You collected the small shells from the pot and began to slowly stick each shell into the wet sand of the supposed Freigang castle.

The midfielder watched you carefully, admiring your every move to decorate the sand. It wasn't long before you heard the pleasant sound of the camera taking a photo.

❝ Hey. ❞ Your eyes went to the woman beside you. ❝ Hey, hey, hey! ❞

Laura laughed.

❝ I already told you not to take photos of me distracted! ❞ You released the shells and carefully brought your hand to the front of the camera.

❝ Oh, please. You look like the cutest thing ever, [reader]! ❞ Freigang said while waiting for the image to load. ❝ Check it out. ❞ She turned the camera screen towards you.

You gave a silly and embarrassed smile, finally releasing your fingers from Laura's camera.

The German kept her passionate smile as she spent long minutes looking at the photo.

❝ Why are you looking so much, hmm? ❞ You moved even closer to the midfielder's side, taking the opportunity to wrap your arm around Laura's.

❝ I'll keep this one. ❞

❝ Huh, but do you always keep my photos, no? ❞

❝ Hm… It’s special. ❞ Freigang sounds with an embarrassed tone. ❝ It's the first time we go to the beach together. ❞ Despite everything, she was adorable and cute; and still is.

She put her fingers on the back of her head; obviously, shames. You couldn't contain your laughter, Laura's smallest details were what fueled your happiness so much.

❝ So at least have a photo of the two of us together. ❞ You said, discreetly taking the camera from the German woman's hand, removing the band that comes with.

The blonde German girl always lets you touch and use her stuff, no matter what it is.

❝ I'll take it, [reader]. ❞ Laura slowly released her fingers from the camera, even though she was saying the opposite.

❝ No, no. You always take our photos. My turn. ❞

You turned the camera around before stretching your arm diagonally upwards, aiming at the two of you. You took one last look at Freigang, who kept the silly and nervous smile on her lips.

❝ Ready? ❞ You asked.

Laura shook her head, agreeing.

Seconds before pressing the button to take the photo, you turned your face and touched your lips to the midfielder's cheek. Freigang wasn't quick enough to react, as originally in the photo, it was as if this attitude was planned.

Taking photos with Laura every day is so good, remembering them is even better. Especially those that show how sweet they are.

It was the best thing that happened in your life, remembering your lips touching the midfielder's skin.

Laura's wide blue eyes that matched the color of the sky and yours bodies pressed together turned this photo into the best photo in the world.

She loves you, Freigang loves your unpredictable way.

The German smiled like you could be sure was one of those that hurts because you have it on your face so much. You still remember how red she turned, so red that she looked like she had just eaten the hottest pepper ever eaten.

Laura was ashamed to admit in words how much she loved you, but her body didn't know how to hide it. She loves, she adores - every detail and attitude you have.

She will never get used to you and your surprising actions, and she loves it.

Driving with Laura is fun, you don't need photos to prove it; She talks to you everytime, she misses the route even with GPS and she loves to tease you by saying she's going to stop to go to the bathroom every five minutes.

But sometimes, it could be a disaster. Not because Freigang was driving, but because you two didn't respect the order of the music playlists.

❝ Laura! Let me put my songs on now! ❞

She took a while to answer because she spent minutes concentrating on the road, but gradually turned to face you.

It wasn't always that Laura drove when you were out and about, it was usually you who was in charge of being the driver. But on that day, the blonde German volunteered for it.

❝ What? ❞ Freigang sounded like she didn't understand the question. In fact, she understood very well, just didn't want to change the song.

That was her way.

You accepted it with a distrust, since Laura driving was synonymous for danger.

❝ Disconnect your phone, it's my turn to put it on! ❞ You repeated in a humorous and threatening tone, looking at the German woman's face.

❝ But you've already repeated your playlist, [reader]. ❞ Freigang said with eyes only on the road. ❝ And the last time we went out, you were the one who put on the music! ❞

❝ You only have Frank Ocean and Kendrick on your playlist, Liebe! ❞ You had nothing against listening to them, but spending an entire trip listening to just them was getting tiring.

❝ And what’s the problem? ❞ It was even adorable how naive she was and almost never understood your tastes and opinions; especially when she kept that cute face.

You kept your mouth shut, since the last time you talked about one of Freigang's favorite artists, you had to listen to her argue for several hours.

Face turned to the window, you stopped watching Laura drive to patiently observe the landscape and enjoy the sound coming from the radio. Arms resting on top of the window area; such that it was completely open.

The wind hitting your face and the noise of cars passing at high speed was the only thing that dispersed you at that time.

And you stayed like that for long minutes, until the German woman stretched out her arm holding her own phone; delivering it to you.

❝ Ersatz. ❞ (change it) She spoke as if she were giving orders to a dog.

❝ Why? ❞ You turned back, showing enormous confusion on your face.

❝ Put whatever you want before I change my mind. ❞ Laura murmured without looking at you; Maybe because she was paying attention to the road or embarrassed to face you.

Suddenly, you had a huge smile on your face, the kind no one can't get rid of because it makes you so happy. You grabbed Laura's phone with the greatest desire and played any of your generic songs.

Freigang looked at you discreetly, putting a smile on that beautiful face. Despite everything, she loves to see you happy with every little thing.

❝ I must admit, you have good taste. ❞ You said as you slid your finger across the German girl's phone screen, looking at each song in her playlists.

Laura had great taste, it was undeniable. She listened to everything, but not everything. You two have different tastes - very different and distant tastes; like a line, where you were at one end and she was at the other.

❝ Glad you recognize that, Schätzchen. ❞ She laughed shamelessly, raising her hand again, but this time, to squeeze your cheek as if you were a baby.

❝ Ugh, hey! ❞ You grunted and laughed, carefully pushing the German woman's fingers close to your face. ❝ Stop being an idiot. ❞ You joked.

❝ I want an apology. ❞ Laura murmured, creating a pout on her lips.

You knew exactly what she meant by that.

❝ Apologies for what? I didn't do anything wrong, ma'am. ❞ You giggled.

❝ For complaining about my songs! ❞

You didn't answer, just looking at the shameless woman next to you. It was obvious what she wanted, Freigang always wants kisses from you.

And you couldn't deny them.

Your body automatically took charge of starting close enough to Laura, even though your belt was almost blocking it. Long fingers touched the midfielder's skin, so much so that she didn't take her eyes off the road, even though she knew what was getting.

Pressing your fingers to Freigang's chin and pulled her to your side, slowly so she wouldn't lose sight of the road. Your lips touched hers, like the thousand times this always happens.

Once, ten, maybe fifty times this has happened. You were totally used to giving her quick and magnificent 'sorry' kisses, and they always carried the same affection and love as always.

And Laura's reaction was always the same: laughing and blushing. Maybe she reacted like that because at that time it was playing some electric pop from the 90s.

❝ Stop laughing. You always laugh when we do this! ❞ You said giggling - in an embarrassed and angry tone.

❝ Sorry, but you tickle. ❞ What a lame excuse. In fact, Laura loves seeing how easily you give yourself to her.

You let go of the German woman's face with a little violence, returning to your seat properly. ❝ Pay attention to the road, Liebling. ❞ Your arms crossed automatically, obviously out of embarrassment.

She laughed once again ❝ Right. ❞

The last thing you remember is how Laura was smiling the whole trip and laughing to herself. It's funny how you always smother Freigang in a sea of ​​love and fun.

Well, this time, your songs stayed playing until the end. They stayed for so long that the German blonde memorized all the letters.

And you can say that with conviction, because to this day she sings these same songs. Maybe because these songs remind Laura of your kiss.

In the end, you remember every possible detail very well. Of everything Freigang has ever done to you, good or bad.

Casual moments that turn into formidable memories, memories that are stored in the touches between you and Laura; kept in your gallery.

You won't forget so easily, the same for your favorite German girl.

Stars don't disappear from the universe so quickly, much less your best memories with Laura Freigang.

GALLERY.

[sugartitstownley]

💙 A Trikey Lookbook 🧡

Here’s a collection of some fun Trikey stuff. I forgot Tumblr has a 10 image limit, so I had to combine some images, and there’s definitely going to be a part 2 and possibly part 3 because I have so many things in my gallery.

Warnings: Talk of violence but nothing too graphic, rude comments over weight, explicit language, sexual innuendos and but no actual smut.

Michael watches with a disapproving look as Trevor hangs up newspaper articles and images of their various dealings across town.

“T, do you have to hang it like it’s fuckin’ artwork?” Michael huffs, pointing at the paper on the upper left. “I feel like I’m comin’ too close to landing my ass in jail. That Lawrence guy named me for Christ’s sake — and it’s your fault!”

Trevor smirks. “Ah, come on, Mikey! It slipped out. Whats the big deal? We’ll be in a new town tomorrow.”

“The big deal is that I prefer not to have my name plastered on the evening news!”

“Relax,” Trevor rubs his hand up and down Michael’s tricep. “Wear it like a badge of honor. Your name is in the paper, and those idiots still have no idea who you are. You’re a fuckin’ legend!”

At that, Michael finally cracks a smile. “Yeah, I guess.”

“And you’re hot, too,” Trevor says while taping up the sticky note next to Michael’s picture, his smirk growing as he listens to the shorter man laugh beside him.

“Now that I knew already.”

“Don’t get cocky.”

Overplayed Christmas songs and the faint smell of gingerbread fill the house. Michael can barley make out the sound of Amanda griping to her father over his questions about her chosen profession and when she was going to “grow up.”

He knows he should be out there pretending to enjoy the family bickering and Christmas cheer, but he honestly feels like a fish out of water.

The family, the gift wrapping, the normalcy — it’s certainly better than any holiday he spent during his youth. Still, he can’t help but compare it to every year with his maniacal counterpart, Trevor.

“Mikey-boy, got those beers you were wanting,” Trevor says, dropping the six pack on to the motel bed. “I better be rewarded. It was hell out there.”

Michael glances over from his spot on the bed, his eyes immediately drawn to Trevor’s once-clean outfit that has now become disheveled and stained with dark red within the short time the man was gone. “The fuck happened?”

“This fucking family,” Trevor starts while stripping from his clothes, not bothering to warn Mike since it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before. “All I did was tell the father to watch his fucking kids before they get hit by oncoming traffic.”

Michael, knowing there’s way more to the story than his partner in crime is telling him, shoots him a look. “Jesus Christ. Did you kill him in front of his kids?”

“What? No! God, M. Who do you think I am? I killed the kids first obviously since he clearly didn’t give a shit about them,” Trevor shrugs, pulling on a fresh pair of sweatpants.

Seeing Michael’s face pale, Trevor quickly continues. “I’m kidding! Sweet Jesus. I hit a deer, so I gutted him a little for meat. You’re welcome.”

Michael sighs softly, relieved that Trevor hasn’t done anything to prematurely set off alarm bells to local authorities for their next score. “Sorry, T. Just on edge, I think.”

“Come on,” Trevor grabs the beer pack and pulls Michael up by his hand, leading him over to their portable oven. “Let’s bake some cookies, probably ruin them since that’s our tradition, and then just watch one of those fruity fuckin’ movies you like.”

A knock on the door brings Michael out of his flashback, and a few seconds later, Amanda‘s head pops through the door, followed by her hands holding two decorated Christmas cookies.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Amanda asks, gesturing to the letter beneath his hand.

“Nothing, nothing,” He stands up, dropping the marker, vowing to finish the letter later and send it out in the morning. “I’m coming.”

He grabs the sugar cookie out of her hand and takes a bite as he follows her back into the living room. Somehow, the golden brown cookie with a soft center and a delicate balance of sweetness is no match for the dry and crumbly cookie sporting burnt edges and artificial flavors that he’s used to tasting every year with Trevor.

God, he misses him.

“How the hell did you even get into my office without security stopping you?”

Trevor looks up from his office chair at the Vanilla Unicorn to see Michael standing over him. “What?”

“This,” Michael drops the paper in front of the other man. “What does this mean, Trev? I thought we were over this shit.”

“First of all, Michael, I will decide when we are over it,” Trevor snaps. “Second — can’t a guy joke around anymore without there being some deeper, psychological reason for it?”

“With you? I think there’s always a deeper, psychological reason,” he grins. “But c’mon, how’d you get this in the studio?”

“I’m a seasoned robber, pork chop. Don’t you think I could get in without anyone knowing?”

“Uh, you’re more the type to be so loud and brash that everyone ends up knowing you’re there.”

Trevor shrugs, knowing his running buddy has some sort of point. “Alright, I told them we were married, and I needed to see you.”

Michael laughs, but his amusement is short lived when Trevor’s face stays earnest. “You didn’t.”

“I sure did, Mikey. And a few of those assholes weren’t very supportive, so you need to watch the company you keep, man.”

“Trevor! I work with those people! They all know I’m married to Amanda. What did they say? Were they shocked?”

“Not one soul was shocked,” Trevor huffs out a laugh. “Eighty percent of Vinewood is in the closet.”

Michael falters. “But … I’m not. I’m not —”

“I think we both know that’s not true, sugar.”

First dates. They were one hundred and ten percent first dates — or were they? What even is a date?

Longing looks, some sort of nerves, maybe a sprinkle of sexual tension for a lot of people — Christ. By that definition, he and Trevor had been on nothing but dates their whole lives with one another.

It’s not that Michael didn’t know there is something between them, but what that something is often eluded him.

He had miraculously talked Trevor into going to a Los Santos Panic game. Neither guy was a sports fanatic — Trevor choosing to forgo watching sports altogether for the most part because, in his words, “if I wanted to watch a bunch of guys touch balls, I’d just watch porn,” and Michael was undoubtedly more of a movie buff since most games only reminded him of what could have blossomed out of his high school football career.

Nonetheless, Michael indulged in a game or two — if not for the game itself, at least for the buttered popcorn and greasy hotdogs.

“You know that shit is bad for you, right? One day, I’m going to have to call the paramedics to haul your fat carcass out of the bed after you have a heart attack in your sleep.”

Michael rolls his eyes before halfheartedly giving Trevor a shove. “Ha, ha. Very funny, cocksucker.”

“It’s not a mean insult if it’s true, Mikey.”

Their next “date” is at Beachwalk Bistro near Vespucci Beach. Both men slipped into some unspoken agreement that they are delicately walking the line between friendship and more.

Michael fidgets with his napkin, glancing over at Trevor who seems uncharacteristically uneasy as well. The air crackles around them with an energy, a blend of nostalgic and unexplored feelings.

Michael clears his throat. “So, uh, how’s life?”

Trevor smirks, his eyes glistening with amusement. “How’s life? You mean since you last saw me yesterday?”

Michael gives a subtle sigh before changing the subject completely. “Amanda and I are getting divorced.”

At that, Trevor nods. “Yeah, Jimmy told me.”

A look of shock crosses Michael’s face, but before he can ask, the waiter comes over and interrupts them. They hastily place their orders before retreating into silence.

As the night unfolds, their conversation sticks — for the most part — around work, upcoming plans with Franklin and Lamar, and anything else but the emotions lingering beneath the surface. That doesn’t stop Trevor from brushing his hand against Michael’s while grabbing at his plate for a taste or Michael from taking an extra long glance at his best friend.

With plates emptied and stacked, they both leave the restaurant, choosing to make the short trek to Vespucci Beach and walk.

There is a hesitant pause before Trevor breaks the silence. “This wasn’t terrible, Mikey.”

“It was different.”

Trevor hums in agreement, a small smile on his lips. “Yeah, different. In a good way.”

Their eyes met, a shared understanding between them. The unspoken tension that’s been building since Trevor made his way back into Michael’s life gave way to a warmth that only hinted at the depth of their connection.

Michael reached out his hand and tentatively linked his fingers through Trevor’s, and the taller man reciprocated immediately by giving a subtle squeeze.

“We’ve been through a lot of fucked up shit, Trev,” Michael says, stopping along the water to look at Trevor. “I know we’ve worked through most of it by now, but I didn’t really expect things to turn out like this.”

“Life’s full of surprises, sugar.”

Their eyes meet, and suddenly one — or both — are leaning in to finally close the distance. The first brush of their lips ignits the metaphorical spark that has been smoldering for months.

As they pull back, neither man is quick to say anything. Instead, Michael just tugs on Trevor’s hand, and they head down the beach once again.

“So, Mikey. Kissing your best friend on the beach under the moonlight. A little cliche, even for you, don’t you think?”

Michael just grins and shakes his head. “What? You’ve never had a fantasy?”

“Well, there was one,” Trevor starts. “We kill a bunch of those bikers, dump their bodies in the river, then fuck in their van — or keep their bodies in the van … you know, if you’re into that.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Michael mutters. “Let’s just keep our thoughts to ourselves from now on.”

“Your loss.”

Yeah, they were definitely dates.

“You’re ‘embarrassed’ for us? You’re the one who spray-painted that in the first place!”

“I was trying to be loving,” Trevor huffs. “At least I didn’t take a picture of my meal like I’m a middle-aged white mom on Lifeinvader.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Michael says, running his hands through Trevor’s grown-out hair. “Make fun all you want. You wrote ‘Trevor plus Mikey’ on the wall. You love me.”

“Shut the fuck up before I tell Amanda about the time you wore her underwear.”

Michael points a finger at his boyfriend. “That was one god damn time, and it was only because you asked.”

Trevor laughs. “You looked pretty, sugar. Don’t worry.”

“You can’t avoid her forever, Mikey.”

Michael groans, his head resting in his hands as he lays on their shared bed. “Tracey saw the notes, T. She knows.”

“Well, we do live together now. I’m pretty sure she already knows.”

“No,” Michael drops his hands to meet Trevor’s eyes. “Christ. She knows what the notes said. How the fuck can I look her in the eyes now?”

Trevor’s face scrunches up in confusion. “You divorced her mom to shack up with her uncle. How the fuck could you look her in the eyes before?”

Michael tries to glare at him, but it doesn’t come off as menacing as years prior — it never does now. “I know you ain’t wrong, but you don’t have to say it.”

“She loves you. Stop worrying.”

“But —”

“‘No buts,” Trevor cuts him off, placing a kiss on the top of his head. “She just wants you happy. So stop moping like a sad sack of shit and come cuddle me.”

“Now who’s the one hanging shit like it’s art?”

Michael feels Trevor wrap his arms around him from behind and place a kiss on his neck. “What do you mean, T?”

“Has your memory deteriorated already? You used to hate when I’d pin up pictures of our various … activities.”

“That was different,” Michael links one of his hands with Trevor’s, who are still wrapped around his waist, and uses the other one to sort through more photos before landing on one. “Do you remember this night back in North Yankton?”

Trevor lets his gaze fall down to the photo, which shows a young Michael and Trevor sporting a buzz cut and long hair respectively. They’re standing in front of a fire, the soft glow from the flames highlighting their features. Trevor, who has one arm around the shorter man’s shoulders is flipping off the camera, and Michael is smirking up at Trevor like he just said something amusing before the flash went off.

“Sure do, pork chop,” Trevor says. “Think Brad took this one. More importantly, I couldn’t forget this night if I tried. Your questionable singing still haunts my nightmares.”

Michael chuckles, reaching for another photo. “I thought I sounded pretty good.”

“Keep dreaming,” Trevor unwraps his arms around Michael to look through the remaining photos. “Can I add stuff to this board too?”

“So long as it doesn’t scar anyone,” Michael jokes.

“No promises, Mikey.”

[carlosainzgf]

till the sun comes up

part 2 of handle me if you can

miguel o’hara x f!reader

warnings: unprotected piv, degrading, dirty talk

through the meeting all you could think about was how he felt on your skin. he left you waiting and even though he said you'll get what you want when you stop being a tease but that wouldn't stop you. so as he exchanged ideas with the team as the sun went down. you pulled out your phone to send a photo to miguel. a suggestive photo, to be exact.

you scrolled through your gallery to find the perfect image to send him. you decided on sending him a photo of you wearing a red lingerie set that covered, oh, so little. the red fabric only covered your nipples and the smallest amount of meat of your pussy. you hit 'sent' and heard his phone ding and immediately looked at him to see his reaction.

he looked at his phone and then looked at you questioningly when he saw your name. you just raised your eyebrows innocently in response. he rolled his eyes and clicked on the notification. his half lidded eyes widened in surprise and immediately closed his phone and slapped it on the table. everyone turned their head to look at him due to the loud noise caused by him as you just giggled silently.

"we can, um- that's all for today. you can go...thank you guys." he stuttered out as his eyes shot daggers at you.

everyone gathered their stuff and walked out while you took your time because you knew you and miguel had something else to take care of. as you slowly walked towards the door you felt miguels big hand holding you by the back of your neck and harshly turning you around for you to face him.

"what do you think you're doing? sending me those pictures... fucking attention slut." he gritted out between his teeth as his grip on your neck got harder.

"well if you hadn't left me on your desk waiting, i wouldn't have done that." you said as you batted your eyes at him, looking all innocent.

"you don't have to wait no more now because i'm gonna fuck you till the sun comes back up."

he bent you over the desk and leaned in close to your ear.

"gonna make sure this pussy is raw and thoroughly fucked, baby... gonna fill you up so good, you'll be dripping with my cum for days." his words alone made you moan. he chuckled at the sight.

the room smelled strongly of sex and sweat, loud moans along with praise mixed with degrading echoing from the walls. you've been at it for hours, the desk -where your teammates and you will have a meeting at- were wet with sweat and other bodily fluids, your ass felt hot from all the spanks Miguel generously delivered. your throat felt sore from all the moaning.

miguel yanked your hips up higher, getting a firm grip on your waist; he shifted a bit, placing one foot on the desk for better range of movements. a string of loud mewls along with shameless moans poured out of your swollen lips.

he pounded your poor dripping pussy with so much force that your body shifted forward with each thrust, heavy balls slapping against your clammy skin with loud smacking sounds.

"love this needy fucking pussy... taking my cock like the slut you are—shit!" he said between gasps. the pads of two of his thick fingers reached down to your clit, rubbing smooth circles into the sensitive bud as he looked at the curve of your waist and the fat of your ass moving with each of his firm thrusts.

you pathetically held onto the edges of the desk, trying to balance yourself as you were reaching your climax which made your legs shake. his eyes went soft before he leaned down to kiss your shoulder, "my pretty girl... that's it, let go f’me.”

your eyes snapped shut, hot waves of pleasure washed over you, your fucked out cunt squeezing around miguel's cock, coating your thighs and his body, too.

he groaned deeply at the feeling of you, as his thrusts picked up speed, the slapping of your skin louder due to your slick. his heavy balls smacked against your ass, tightening as he edged himself closer and closer to finishing.

his hips stuttered, a low set of curse words left his mouth as he pulled out. his hand stroked his length once or twice and he was spurting thick loads of warm cum on your ass, coating it.

as you both rode through your orgasms you saw sunlight coming in from the windows. “look at that, miggy…you really did fuck me till the sun came up, huh.”

[xycuro-illuminati]

Bitter exes stuntdevil lore masterpost

Ok so here's the full lore of the bitter exes stuntdevil (Daredevil/Stunt Master divorce) story with how it went down and everything lol (images have alt text)

Big reminder that this would be my version of DD so keep in mind that Matt is Latino here and that I will be taking certain elements from shadowlands here (I'm sorry fellow dd mutuals I just like the whole demon possession aspect by itself. I don't like shadowlands and I think it sucks I just wished they made him into an actual beast demon yknow).

To give a summary of how it goes: The Hand is not involved with the Beast demon at all, they're not going to show up whatsoever. In this version, the beast demon is just a parasitic demon that was hiding in a flower that a group of cultists summoned and when Danny Rand and Matt went to investigate, Matt got too close and was exposed to the pollen, therefore, got infected. The beast demon would shut off his nervous system over time and made Matt unaware of things before completely taking over and transforming him into a monstrous demon that acts like a zombie. Matt would be in a comatose state while the Beast demon was using his body and did whatever it wanted and fed off negative energy. Shadowlands isn't a big marvel event, it just lasted for a short time with only the Heroes for Hire involved and after the exorcism (here's the art showcasing that), Matt was left in a distraught state where he wanted to rebuild himself and clear his head since all he could remember was strangling Foggy (comic here). It made him feel not only horrible and guilty, but he also felt like a burden bc Foggy was juggling between running the law firm and visiting Matt to help him recover. During this, Matt wanted to go back to San Francisco to try to regain his footing again and Foggy decided to let him do so thinking it might help him. It would be this version of the Daredevil Reborn arc (or at least, takes place after it).

And that's where Stunt Master comes in.

For those that don't know who Stunt Master is, George Smith was one of the early villains in Matt's rogues gallery dating all the way back to volume 1. He's a classic vol 1 type villain that wants nothing but fame and fortune, along with getting in Matt's way. His dynamic with Matt during that time was standard antagonist interaction but they also held a playful banter along with some really strong trust bonds and some homoerotic dialogue as per usual.

However, during the Death's Head arc, George has a change of heart after being forced to kidnap Karen Page and wanted to be good. He lead Ghost Rider (Johnny Blaze) and Matt to Death's Head and the three of them stopped him. After this interaction, George was no longer considered a villain and even becomes friends with Johnny during the older runs (which he originally met up with Ghost Rider bc he wanted to make up to Matt for his kindness).

George doesn't show up that much again but going back to where Matt is going through it post demonic possession: the two of them meet up. Matt tells him his identity as Daredevil and what happened during their catching up, and George tries to help him out by going on stunt rides to help get Matt's mind off of things. Since Matt had felt like a burden before, for George to treat him as if nothing changed, it made Matt feel better in some weird way. That was how Matt fell madly in love with George. All those wild stunts and running around as vigilantes, plus Matt being in a vulnerable mental state, it all added up for Matt to quickly attach himself to George and would do anything for him.

Matt and George began dating and Matt adopted some of George's cowboy aesthetics into his costume.

At first, they were doing a few good things here and there trying to do the right thing. But George has always wanted fame and fortune, so that fame got to his head and he started to fall back to his old criminal ways. Unfortunately, because Matt was so down bad and lovesick, he went along with it without acknowledging the repercussions. Matt returned to NYC to reunite with Foggy, but after Foggy learned about what George was doing, he wasn't a fan of this relationship (literally the smartest mf here and yes, Foggy was PISSED OFF rightfully so). Matt was getting worse and worse over the few months, and he eventually ditched the law firm and left Foggy to deal with work by himself while he and George went on a road trip to Las Vegas where they eventually got married there. Matt fully adopted the cowboy aesthetic and had a criminal cowboy daredevil suit made for him as both a wedding suit and a vigilante costume.

The two idiots kept causing a shit ton of crime including vandalism and theft, specifically robbing trains. Some of those crimes eventually caught Johnny Blaze's attention, making him surprised that his good ol' friend George was going back to being a criminal again. When Johnny confronted them, George rambled about wanting fame again and that any attention is good attention no matter what. Matt had even convinced George that Johnny's disapproval shouldn't mean anything to him, to which made Johnny believe that Matt was enabling him (here's the full comic that I drew here).

(It's also a little secret addition to this little exchange where Johnny expresses how he feels about Daredevil when asked:

Doesn't wanna say anything about the whole cowboy phase so he says this instead lol. But that's just me).

The three of them started beef with each other so whenever Ghost Rider was involved, it was a whole shit show.

(Full post of this image here)

Matt and Johnny fought the most while George would either watch from afar and root for Matt or continue with whatever scheme they were up to. Along with all of this happening, post marriage was starting to make Matt slowly wake up from his lovesick phase and he was realizing that George was not a good partner after all. The two would get into petty arguments while also doing some headass shit to spite the other. George was insensitive to Matt's feelings while Matt would constantly ignore George whenever he tried talking to him. Not only that, George was so bad at sex that Matt completely lost his sex drive. These two were not a good couple and over the year, Matt was slowly figuring that out.

George has done shit from putting the motorcycle in the bed, only caring about The Mets and watching their games during sex, played the worst disco songs Matt has ever heard, and he was overall just a shitty partner. The two of them eventually fell out of love and barely tolerated each other, whether it was during domestic moments or during their crime schemes.

At one point during a fight, Ghost Rider ruined the veil on Matt's suit along with using a heated chain on him and burned a section of Matt's left bicep. After that fight, Matt realized that fighting Ghost Rider for George wasn't worth any risk and refused to fight Johnny no matter what George says. George went after Ghost Rider by himself only to get absolutely smoked while his costume got tarnished in the process.

Matt later on went back to NYC to visit Foggy, and by visit, he basically showed up at Foggy's doorstep in the middle of the night during a rainstorm while still wearing the cowboy outfit.

Foggy was reluctant at first, but Matt admits being a stupid fucking idiot and apologizes for leaving Foggy to run the law firm by himself. After being let in, Matt begs Foggy to help him divorce George, and Foggy agrees to help him out just this once. Matt goes back to George to talk to him and after another argument, they both agree on getting a divorce since at this point they can't stand being around each other anymore.

After the divorce, Matt was finally improving on himself and then the events of vol 3 and 4 starts. During Matt's whole identity-being-revealed, whenever someone asks him about the whole cowboy Daredevil fiasco back in San Francisco, Matt made up the excuse that the cowboy Daredevil wasn't him but instead some random guy. A faker. An imposter, if you will.

George comes back during vol 4 in issues 11-12 where he decides to take the opportunity for more fame and fortune by orchestrating the entire Kid Stunt Master arc where he faked his own suicide and took drugs to make sure Matt couldn't tell he was lying. He also did this to spite Matt as well so there's that to add onto.

Since it's been a few years after interacting with each other and George (pretending to be) being desperate for his help, Matt decided to give him a chance and had truly believed that George had changed over the years. And Matt was genuinely sadden over his (fake) suicide.

Matt started reminiscing the good ol' days when they were friends and even the beginning days of their developing relationship. Of course, after finding out the truth of George orchestrating the entire thing, Matt quickly snuffed out those reminiscing feelings and went straight back to completely hating on George.

After that ordeal, he wants his ex husband to get hit by a truck. He wants nothing to do with George Smith whatsoever.

After Kirsten learned about the entire divorce, her, Matt, and Foggy decide to celebrate the divorce date as a fun little anniversary. A few years later, Johnny and Matt finally sit down and have a conversation about the whole criminal cowboy phase and after learning both perspectives, there was an understanding (comic I drew here). But despite learning the truth, Matt and Johnny still have some grievances between each other, they just learn to keep a distance and be respectful when necessary.

Which is why there's a hate triangle guide I made for the three in the first place lmao.

There you go, that's the entire lore for this crack hateship of mine. If I were an official Marvel writer, I would definitely use this to reveal Matt's bisexuality being canon. It would be the worst way to reveal a bi character but it would be so funny and so worth it.

Here's a playlist of it. If you have any cheesy, funny, or over the top dramatic bad break up songs lmk I'll add it to the list.

[just2bubbly]

I know this can be a bit distressing but I want a story where Kai is older where he remembers his love what he still feels for Cinder, this is just a story please thanks for the answer

Masterlist

Thank you for sending in this ask, nonnie, it was a bit distressing since I couldn't find a new reason to make these two fall apart but not to worry about that, I used my big brain and was creative enough to make something up. Hoping it serves you well! :)

Old Roses on a Summer Breeze

Ship: Kaider

Words: 1.7k

Genre: Angst

A/N: SOSN isn't canon in this fic, Future fic

Kai's Perspective:

"Yes, Torin. Do make time on my schedule for this coming Saturday evening. There's an event at Tara's school." He informs, shuffling through the pages of the manuscript Torin had brought.

"Are you the guest?" 

"Ha, for once I'm not. They have some school performance, I'm going to see her," he says.

Torin smiles fondly, both the men thinking about the little kid that made Palace delightful. 

"Boo!" someone cheered loudly.

"Fu- oh my stars," he cuts his swear word as he sees Tara," we did talk about this, no coming here alone."

"But Da, I wanted to surprise you," she reasoned.

"I mentioned it multiple times, Da's office has important documents." 

"Well I came in to show you something," she said, trying to save herself from scoldings.

"And couldn't it wait till we sat down for dinner?"

"Maybe not," she goes, coming ahead to sit in the chair before him.

Kai nods at her antics, Torin eyeing him. 

Sighing he closes the document he was reading, "Then off it with, love."

"Can Torin-da give us a moment?" she asks politely.

"Tara, are you sure it can't wait till dinner, I have some work to complete."

"I'd take only 5 minutes," she begged, making puppy eyes at him.

"Kai, it's ok. I'd come back again in a while. Does that work fine for you Tara?" Torin chuckled, coming to rescue the child.

"You are the best, Torin-da!" she announced, giving him a cheeky smile.

Exasperated, Kai gave in to their schemes, signalling to his advisor that he would ring him once he was done with Tara. His daughter brought her precious thing to his table as soon as Torin was out of the room. 

"I drew us," she says with pride lacing her voice, "You, me and Mama."

"That's wonderful. Can I see it?" He requested.

"Obviously," Tara murmurs, her words carrying a trace of sarcasm, a trait she had inherited from him.

The picture she drew was wonderful and he wasn't biased towards his daughter. She had a certain level of artistic skills that was beyond her age. She drew pictures better than her parents, provided none of them were good artists themselves.

"You will be such a fantastic artist in the future. I have to admit you look very beautiful in this," he comments.

"You always say I look beautiful," she said accusingly.

"Because you always do," he chuckled.

"Would you like to hang it?" she questioned. 

"Maybe. We can put it in the drawing room or the living room."

"I mean in the office," she clarifies.

"Oh," he says," You think so?"

"Yes, you have a portrait of you and Mum and me when I was a kid. You don't have a family picture at your desk," she explains.

"That's quite thoughtful of you."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you are clever to notice I don't have a family photo at the desk."

She nods and remembering her manners she thanks him.

"I think my desk has too many pictures already, how about we hang it on the wall? So every time you come here you can see it."

"But you said not to come in here."

"And let's change that to when 'you come here accompanied'."

He cleared as they walked towards the gallery in his cabin, where he had hung images of significant events in his life. His parents and him, later his dad and him, Torin and his family, his wedding day, Tara's birth and so many uncountable events.

"We would have to remove something for this to fit in?" he said aloud.

"We could remove that one," she said pointing out to a frame in the top left corner.

"Let me see," he said looking towards the picture she pointed. It was the Rampion Crew on Scarlet and Wolf's wedding day, young people with dreams of immense happiness. 

"That has many of Da's friends. Maybe something else," he convinced, trying to not think much about the picture.

"I have never seen them. Why don't you invite them for New Year like we invite Mum's friends?"

"They live far away and are just too busy to come, Tara."

"Friends make time for each other, that's what Mum says," she countered. 

Having nothing to say to that, he changes the topic," Let's find some other picture."

"This one? " she suggested to the set of the same individuals in different places.

"Maybe we could take that one down," he concedes unwillingly.

They do remove it, much against his wish. Once they do, he smoothens the corner of his daughter's drawing to put in the frame. 

"Tada," she cheered when their work was done, both staring at the wall. 

"It does look nice," he admires.

"I'm born talented," she bragged, drawing a chuckle out of Kai. Tara is lost in her moment of glory and pride, her father holding himself from going down a path of nostalgia and grief. 

"Are you sad because we removed your friends from your gallery?"

"No darling, Da is so happy to see your drawing in his gallery."

"Then do you miss your friends?"

"Yes, Da is sad because he misses his friends," he says, trying to keep his sorrow from coming back to him. 

"Then you can call them and tell them you miss them," she suggests like a wise lady. He wishes he could find enough courage to do so.

"This New Year, we will invite them over. What do you say?" he asks, taking his child in his arms and carrying her to the couch. 

"Yes, I'm excited to meet all your friends," she cheered, her hands taking the old photo from the table and looking at it closely. 

"I know this lady. Teacher Yamin taught us about her. She is the Queen of Luna before forming a demo-mo something," she fumbles "--democratic government," Kai provides.

"Yes, she is the Queen Selene Blackburn of Luna, the last of her lineage," Kai explained, but to him, she was just Cinder, the mechanic, the revolutionary, one of his past mistakes- nothing that Tara needed to know. 

"I didn't know you were friends with the Queen, Da."

"I'm friends with the Queen, I'm friends with a lot of famous people. Even Queen Camilla."

"You don't have Queen Camilla's picture on the wall," she pointed. 

His daughter was a wise lady he thought.

"Queen Selene was better friends than Queen Camilla," he explained. 

"How is she?" she asked incredulously.

"Like all Queens are, Tara." He gave away nothing, Cinder had no place in his present especially not as a role model for his daughter. Daiyu was enough of a role model for her.

Before she could go on being a curious child, Kai decided to cut the conversation short. Glancing at the time and in relief said, "Your time's up, love. Torin must be waiting for me. I'd see you at dinner."

She said her goodbyes and walked out of the room, leaving Kai sitting behind on the couch. 

Going against his better judgment, he picked that photograph. It was years ago- when Kai's only worry was being able to follow in his father's footsteps. Cress had clicked it while Thorne and Cinder had teased him to no end about his first time eating street food. Those were some happy days, he remembered. 

He stood up, walked towards the wall and smiled proudly over his daughter's drawing. His eyes were drawn slowly to the other pictures on the wall, the ones he hadn't paid much attention to in the latter years.

Scarlet's wedding, Cinder's coronation, the first Lunar Ball, Kai's failed attempts at baking cakes- some scattered images of friendship and love all hung around on this very wall. 

With how slowly things fell apart, Kai didn't have much scope to pinpoint where things went wrong. One moment there were talks of forever and the other moment he had just never found time to know her, for her to know him. When visits became infrequent and talks always began with 'talk to you later', Kai knew it was a slow change but it had crept on them like dust being ladden on old clothes. And just like that he didn't feel so giddy about proposing and when they had opportunities to meet his excitement had a lingering feeling of impending doom. 

Kai was 18 when he fell in love with Cinder, 6 when he was fascinated with Selene and at 25 he had fallen out of love with both Cinder and Selene. Somewhere along the way she did too. No one to blame but themselves- not the distance or prejudice that separated them. Just not quite knowing each other after years of dating, "You were the best thing that happened to me, Kai." She had said the last time they had talked. 

From what he had learned, Cinder had moved on quickly too. Just because you find new people doesn't mean you stop loving old ones, Kai even after his marriage and children was still harbouring a soft spot for Cinder. No remorse over his situation now, he won't change his wife and daughter for anything in the world. He just felt sad over a possibility that could have happened if he was a simple man with basic needs. He had found his love in Cinder and his forever in Daiyu, his feelings for Cinder were just a recollection of the past like old roses on a summer breeze. Something pain strikingly beautiful but not meant for you. 

The phone rang and saved him from further getting carried down an old road he had memorised by heart. It was Torin.

"Yes, she went. You can come along. Also could you please arrange a box for me, I'd like to keep some things aside," he requested.

He collected all of the images of his friends and set them aside. If Tara continued her musings, he would need a bigger space to hang her paintings. Only one remained, Cinder's coronation with all of them smiling down at the camera thinking they had seen the worst of days.

_

A/N: This fic felt like writing about 'Sometimes Love Stays' from Kai's perspective and it's just better to accept things and move on than lament over it and I know it's easier said than done but it's the harsh truth, I hate it too.

Taglist: @gingerale2017 @salt-warrior @slmkaider @cinderswrench @cindersassasin @impossiblesuitcase @kaider-is-my-otp @cosmicnovaflare @fangirlforever0704 and lemme know if anyone wants to be tagged.

[g0dspeeed]

A Taste

John Seed told her he was simply "curious". A hookup with her ex's sibling proves to Cappie De la Costa that there might be more to it than that.

Sexual content ahead

Cappie couldn't tell what it was that stirred her, but upon feeling something warm tickle her inner thigh, she knew the answer wasn't a complicated one. 

Her head rose from the cold, wood floor, the effort sending it swimming with the familiar aches of a hangover, all to regard a very sleepy, very naked, John Seed snoozing between her legs, his cheek rested on the soft skin of her inner thigh and breath fluttering against her sex.

"The fuck?"

Voice was raw and her throat stung, the act of swallowing monumental for Cappie. Everything hurt from her thighs, her neck, and her arms. As she laid out on her back, her bare skin was chilled by what she recognized to be the floor of his bedroom. Their clothes were scattered about the sunlit room amongst broken wine glasses, a knocked over crystal decanter beside what she guessed was a puddle of bourbon, countless cigarette butts, a lotion bottle, two dabs, condom wrappers–

Her green eyes zeroed in on the last items, the scraps of thin foil.

"No…"

"Oh, yes."

Horrified, Cappie stared down at the bright blue eyes peering up from the apex of her thighs, unaffected by his position inches from her pussy.

"Good morning," he crooned in a rasp. 

John then had the audacity to regard her crotch, eyes hooded and dreamy.

"Good morning to you, too," he whispered.

Her legs snapped shut, closing his head in a vice grip. Twisting her hips was all it would take to end John's life, to crack his neck, but Cappie had enough impulse control to override the automatic thought.

"Don't ever talk to my pussy again," she hissed.

The hold loosened and of course John responded to her warning with a grin.

"Last night teemed with riveting conversation, at least what I recall. And I can still taste you. I hope I don't forget–"

His words were cut off as Cappie made a move to rise from the floor with shaking legs.

She could feel John scrutinize her, and when her own eyes observed where his landed, Cappie flinched.

Her skin was a muddied canvas of their late night affairs. Bruises the size of fingertips speckled her wrists, hips, shoulders, and thighs, along with a smathering of suck marks all over her neck, breasts, and legs. Cappie became aware of the burning sensation at the cheeks of her ass, no doubt that the flesh there, too, would bear a gallery of–

"You're disgusted."

The words were spoken aloud with a smile, but Cappie was observant, too. In his voice lived an anger. The voice stirred with accusation in it's cadence.

So she laughed.

"Nah, ain't disgusted," she breezed. "Just shocked, I guess."

His smile faltered, and in the rare speechlessness of one John Seed, Cappie saw her own handiwork. His skin bloomed with bruises, scratches, and nips of teeth, a trail of hickeys from his neck to the border of his sparse, pubic hair. Her brows lifted at the line of purple on his right wrist.

"Kinky shit," she blurted.

"Hardly," he sniffed. "But your enthusiasm was certainly enamoring."

"Oh, enamoring? Ha! You were pretty excited yourself there, pretty boy."

John rose from the floor, his joints popping as he straightened and stretched. He chuckled at the way her cheeks warmed, at the coyness daylight brought.

Cappie De La Costa was far from his typical interest. Lean with the toned frame of an athlete that had no business for someone who drank and smoked so much, she lacked the softness John usually found himself drawn to, save for her full ass, he could admit. 

Blunt, brazen, and impulsive. An arbiter of mischief and a grater of his nerves, she repulsed him on purpose and flirted with his temper.

Never would admit it to her face, but John, too, found himself shocked at how erotic their coupling was the night before, his mind supplying images and sensations from the fun and games in rapid fire.

"Maybe I still am," chided John, his eyes drifting over her breasts and sex. Cappie could see how his pupils already started to swallow the blue.

Not to be outdone, Cappie took a step closer. Their smiles matched, devilish and wont for tasting, as her hand reached out to cup his balls and tug at his half hard cock. She relished in the small gasp that left him.

"Sure you are," challenged Cappie. "All talk–"

Fingers then dug into her scalp as John pulled her mouth to his, his trim nails tangling her hair and scraping the tender skin. The kiss hurt before she allowed him more access, his tongue urgent as a groan hummed in his throat.

Their kiss broke as Cappie moved back to the untouched bed, her thighs hitting the edge of the king sized mattress and the cool softness of the navy silk topper. John allowed no more than a foot between them, already following and making her move up the mattress in a rush, blue eyes committing to memory the way her chest rose and fell with hardened nipples, green eyes dilated, and how that signature cheeky smile spread across her plump lips. His own latched on to her throat as Cappie settled back with a sigh, enthused as she gasped when his fingers, those twitchy things, dipped to her sex and found her wet. He sucked hard on her pulse to leave a bruise atop a bruise.

Cappie writhed at his touch, at how he worked her quick and to the point without any fanfare. That's how it was the night before, she remembered, between dabbles of substance use they fucked each other into oblivion, smearing pleasure and pain like watercolors. 

Dark locks of hair were gripped in her hand to yank John away from her throat. The muscles in his face twisted at the discomfort.

"Just do it," she groaned in the shell of his ear. Her hips rolled, starving for stimulation and earning a circling of her clit with the heel of his palm. "Just, just do it–"

John silenced her with his mouth again before rasping, "Take a deep breath."

Cappie did just that as his cock shoved all the way inside her, leaving no time for adjusting. She arched at how he filled her, at the sting of his fingernails in her thighs, the heat of his own gasp.

"Fuck! " he bit out with clenched eyes.

She laughed something breathy and cupped his cheek.

"You almost lost it, didn't you?" Cappie teased, rolling into him. "Almost came like a, like a fucking teenager–"

His hips snapped, burying himself deeper, and shutting Cappie up.

"Please," mocked John while moving to seat her in his lap, lifting her so he could kneel on both knees. "Don't flatter yourself."

The annoyance in his features fell away with each thrust and the lift of her cries.

He knew what he was doing, Cappie could give John that much, and boy was he a sight. 

Locks of dark hair that were typically stylized in top dollar pomade stuck to the sheen of sweat on his forehead, if not falling over blackened, hooded eyes. The gallery of scars and tattoos glistened in the sun, flesh flush and lean muscle flexing underneath. His full lips, swollen from her own, gaped as he worshiped her, at their joining, at the way John made her breasts bounce with each harsh snap of the hips and the little curses that fell from her mouth like prayers.

And when John caught her, caught Cappie marveling at his body, at the fullness, the friction, drunk on how he made her feel, his pace slowed.

"I get it now," he breathed.

Fingers rubbed at her clit, harsh, forcing her eyes shut and her body to arch.

"I get what all the hype was about. Why Jacob neglected his part so much. You're fucking addicting."

In a last ditch effort to shut John up and to chase that delicious end that he teased so well at her core, Cappie shifted her leg to rest against his shoulder. A warm hand steaded her thigh, grip tight and massaging the thick muscle. John spread Cappie to slot himself with a sloppy kiss against her calf.

A flicker of uncertainty, a foreign thing that didn't seem to belong there, danced across the features of John's face.

Cappie smirked and pat his hip.

"Spit it out, Johnny."

Little crescents joined the bruises on her legs, a punishment for her teasing, she knew, but Cappie didn't care. Her emerald eyes held their playful light, much to John's chagrin, and didn't break the magnetism in the pull of his stare.

"You can."

The words were small and quiet.

But she said them again.

"You can," she whispered with a roll of the hips. "Just fucking fuck me ,  John, Christ."

Never until meeting John Seed did Cappie see madness spread like wildfire so fast in the mind. It overcame him the moment her words registered, in the blues of his eyes, the twitch of his lips, the pace quickening and brutal. The fire that had dulled from his uncertainty roared as his heated body crowded hers, as he folded her because holding her leg just wasn't enough, John had to kiss her, to bite her, to taste her as he buried himself deeper and deeper.

Cappie came in a cry, in writhing, and against a rough kiss. 

A hand snatched her jaw, forcing her to face him, to witness. 

In her sweaty, twitchy high Cappie grinned up at John, watching as his face twisted and his hips stuttered, becoming erratic and wild like his thoughts. He came against her throat, against her fluttering pulse, buried inside her and with a sharp 'Fuck'. John all but collapsed on Cappie, panting and running an open palm up and down her body.

Green eyes observed the elaborate woodwork of his bedroom ceiling, at the twisted iron of the overhead light. Dramatic, but Cappie didn't know why she was surprised.

John still was inside her, softening and quivering. His arms trembled, but he seemed resolved to make their coupling last.

Her tongue wet her lips before she spoke.

"Never thought you as a cuddler–"

"And I never thought you to be so quick to move on from a breakup, but alas, I don't want to let you go. Don't think I could now."

She winced at the wetness of his pulling out, at his victorious smile, and how his words both excited and wounded her tender feelings at the same time.

John laid on his side to hold her face in the palm of his hand, against the scarred cheek to loom over, to pick through her thoughts like a scavenging animal. 

"A stranger to tenderness, aren't you?" she replied. 

He laughed, but there is no humor in the echoes of his high ceilings.

"You're deflecting," cooed John.

"Mm-hm–"

"Horribly so."

"'Kay, ass, then why did you come to the Spread Eagle last night?"

John grinned, all white teeth and vibrant blue eyes.

"I was curious."

Her brow knit, but he continued on. Those devilish fingers found her hair, twirling a curl.

"Jacob just seemed so… sad and told Joseph that he was committed to our cause now more than ever before."

A lump as thick as wet sand formed in her throat, but Cappie shook off the sting of his explanation.

"He, he said that?" she asked.

John paused to think, to torture her, and cocked his head.

"In less words, but yes. And I thought it odd. So 'busy' in the last year, and suddenly so dedicated."

"You're such an asshole–"

"Fine, sure, I'm an asshole, but I had to know–"

"Know what?"

His mouth was upon hers the moment the words fell out, capturing whatever upper hand Cappie thought she had. She gasped at the prick of pain she felt from his teeth to her bottom lip.

"I had to know," he breathed, hot and rasped in the shell of her ear . "I had to know if your madness matched mine. If you're as unhinged as me, as trapped as me. And I think it does. And I meant it. Oh, did I mean it! Now that I have a taste, I don't think I could quit you. I don't want to let go."

Before Cappie could find any words to respond to that , John released her. He pinched a nipple, laughing as Cappie cried and failed to slap him.

"Come shower with me, darling," he sang. "Let me take care of you!"

The echoes of his light footfalls quieted, leaving Cappie in a stupor of a good fuck and turmoil.

"Fuck."

[ramblinganthropologist]

N7 24 16 and 17 - Place and Privilege

Summary: Al reflects on the many privileges that come with being the Normandy's CO... like not being allowed to help fix the damn thing because he's technically on shore leave after nearly getting killed by his clone.

---

The hard part about determining how long it was going to take until the Normandy got fixed was that they had to now factor in the repairs that came from his clone turning it into a shooting gallery. As it turned out, two Shepards just did not shoot better than one.

“So it’s going to take two extra days?”

“Afraid so, Commander. It might be more, we discovered something below deck that the clone might’ve deliberately messed with. I’ll update you with more information when I’m able to run a proper diagnostic.”

Alistair sighed as he looked down at his omni-tool. The tech on the other end of the line was currently on the Normandy, while he was in Anderson’s apartment waiting on updates. With how his bruises were healing, there wasn’t much else he could do.

It was maddening, considering the galaxy was on fire and it was spreading by the minute.

“Are you sure I can’t swing by to help? I might not be an engineer but I’ve done every course the Alliance has on tech…”

He did his best not to sound too desperate – it was hard because he felt like ants were crawling under his skin as he sat thee, jiggling his leg and waiting for more info. Everything was so damn calm on the Citadel still – not that he wanted things to be chaotic, but it just felt wrong to him. He needed to get back into action and fast or he was going to go insane.

The tech sighed on the other end. “Commander Shepard, as much as we’d appreciate your help, we have specific instructions to complete this ourselves. It comes straight from Admiral Hackett to not let you back on the Normandy until everything is complete.”

Hackett was ratting on him too now? That was the last time he’d ever do the man a favor…

“Right, I understand.” He sighed too. “I guess I can’t ask for more than once-a-day updates either?”

Judging by the request denial he was getting on his omni-tool, that seemed like something the Admiral had thought about too.

“Like I said, specific instructions when it comes to you.”

The noises on the other end of the line made it sound like the conversation was drawing to a close. “Just try to enjoy your shore leave, Commander. The Normandy will be waiting for you when you get back.”

“No promises there.” He nodded even though nobody could see him. “Best of luck fixing him, then. My boy’s been through it lately.”

At least the tech didn’t ask why he was calling the Normandy a man. People still questioned him about that, especially considering EDI. In the end, he shrugged it off and concluded it was just how gay he really was.

Besides, it was his ship. Joker could learn to be a little bisexual, it wouldn’t hurt him.

“Understood.”

With that, the call ended and Alistair was left to his thoughts and the collection of aches and pains that had come courtesy of fighting his mirror image. His neck was the worst of it, but everything hurt as he tried to get comfortable on the couch.

No one could hurt him like he could hurt himself, he supposed. Dr. Hunter was going to love this one when he spoke to her again…

“If I speak to her again.” He sighed, closing his eyes. Their meetings had always tended towards virtual due to his schedule, but lately things had been a little off. No doubt his therapist was as worried as he was about how things were going, even if she was on the Citadel.

“I hope any family she has is ok…”

The apartment door slammed open as he mused, making Alistair nearly jump from his seat. His neck ached as he swiveled around, powering up a barrier on instinct. There was no need, of course. It was only Bo.

She grumbled as she slammed the door closed and set some bags on the floor. Then she joined him on the couch, almost making him launch into the air as she applied her full body weight. Her jaw was tight, and she looked ready to punch someone.

Well, she always looked ready to punch somebody, but this was more active than passive.

“Everything ok, Bo?”

She got up, heading to the kitchen. “Nuggets first.”

Alistair got to listen as she rummaged about for her ever-present family sized bag of dinosaur nuggets from the freezer. Soon they were in the microwave, and before long the ding let him know they were done. It had been the longest and shortest 3 minutes of his life, give or take the few times his shields had gone down over the years in the middle of a fight.

Nobody was shooting at him – yet – so he would take this one in stride.

Luckily for the both of them, he was patient. So as Bo settled into destroying some dinosaurs, he sat there waiting for her to begin the conversation. All the while, his mind wandered as to what might have caused it. It wasn’t the angriest he had ever seen her – he had caused that, thank you very much – or the second angriest – probably had caused that one too if he was thinking about it.

So, it might have been something he had done, but it wasn’t anywhere near as mad as she had gotten when he had gone and woken up Legion (Rest in peace? Pieces? Applying Catholicism to geth was confusing and not highly recommended) back on the Normandy.

Eventually, about a tenth of the way through the bag, she grumbled.

“Fuck.”

Alistair picked up his head. “Get a bad nugget?”

“No, this one’s ok.” She shook her head. “A fucking reporter was nosing around the Silver Strip as I got some shit for the stupid party.”

Ah. He winced in sympathy, not for Bo but for the poor idiot who had decided to try soloing the Alliance’s Angry Pink Monster. Normally, they steered clear of her and directed any questions to him in order to keep their sanity, bones, and equipment in check. Without him there, it got a little dicey.

Maybe that was why he did a quick check of local updates for the area. There were no reports of evading arrest in the last twenty minutes, so… it wasn’t that bad?

“That was a mistake on their part.” He shook his head. “What, were they asking about how things shook out on Rannoch or Tuchanka?”

Simple – they cured the genophage and ended centuries of hostility between the quarian and geth. No big deal, honestly. He still had no idea why Allers had insisted on speaking to them after it had wrapped up…

Bo scowled as she reached for another nugget. “No. It was for the Citadel Daily Star.”

Alistair found himself pinching the bridge of his nose as soon as he heard the name. CDS as it was commonly called was, to put it bluntly, a gossip rag. It was all about getting salacious details on various celebrities or outright making them up if they couldn’t find any. They had both had small pieces over the years, but it never accounted to them having to take a visit to correct things.

A well placed virus had solved his CDS problems in the past. They were the sensible ones, unlike others he could name that suggested he and Bo were married…

“And what did they want?”

His sister was busy destroying a breaded t-rex, so she couldn’t speak. That gave him the chance to search the extranet for what might’ve provoked her ire. The tabloid’s website was gaudy, but there was no surprises there. And a quick search showed that their names didn’t appear.

So… yeah. Had she killed the story over taking out the reporter? She was really developing restraint in her mid-20’s.

“They wanted to know if you jumped to help the primarch because you’re fucking Mandibles.”

Alistair blinked, taking it in. “They… what?”

“Apparently, they think he’s got you by the artificial balls or something and held sex over your head to get you to help the turians.” Bo rolled her eyes. “So, they’re dumb on top of being stupid.”

Clearly – his artificial balls were in his pants. But he had to admit he took some grim amusement in them thinking his boyfriend could extort helping a planet and its people out of him by withholding sex.

That wasn’t either of their kinks, to put it bluntly.

“At least we know where they fall on the “is Commander Shepard a sub” discussion.” He rolled his eyes in response. “Seriously, I spend 2 years being the galaxy’s biggest boy scout and they think having a boyfriend is going to break my reinforced spine that easily?”

He would’ve helped Palaven either way. They were a people that needed help, and he had been able to give it. Besides, anyone who had ever spoken to him about the genophage would’ve known where his thoughts lay on the matter. He had always been against it – and always would be – so the fact he helped cure it should’ve surprised no one.

Then again, he didn’t exactly expect a rag like the CDS to keep up with his political and social opinions.

“That’s not the only thing.” Bo’s eyes narrowed. “They think I’m using my relationship with Tali to get the quarians to agree to help with the geth.”

…

“They fucking did what?”

Alistair’s fist curled at his side. Thoughts of spending a quiet afternoon at home brooding over not being able to be on the Normandy evaporated in a second. Instead, he found himself standing and grabbing for his hoodie. This time, he was going for his N7 one.

They had surpassed the right to kid gloves hamster hoodie Shepard.

Bo cocked an eyebrow as he pulled it on. “Seriously, that’s what pisses you off? I thought you’d be defending your honor.”

“I know where my honor is, that doesn’t bother me.” He zipped up his hoodie. “What annoys me is them implying you would do anything to help the bloody geth. That’s outright character assassination.”

After all, Bo was practically the number 1 geth hater on the Normandy. It was one part analogue thinking, one part quarian appreciating, and one part her personality that made a mix from hell towards sentient tech. Hell, it would’ve been easier to get the krogan to agree to switch from mercenary work to fostering puppies than to expect she would willingly help them.

“Look, if I’m not bothered by it, you shouldn’t be either. I glared him down and I’m pretty sure he pissed himself as he ran off.” His sister tugged him by his belt back down onto the couch. “We both know I’m no tech sympathizer anyway. I just went to Rannoch to punch geth and help Tali out.”

And pick out the spot for their eventual house – Tali had pointed out a few in a quieter moment. With any luck, she would get first pick being an Admiral and helping to save her planet. He could only hope the quarians would honor that when it came to planning neighborhoods.

And if they didn’t, he’d be happy to remind them how she had saved their collective asses until they did.

“I know, it’s just… it’s ridiculous.” He sighed. “You think they’d have more to worry about than us using our relationships to make the galaxy a slightly safer place.”

Bo snorted in response as she dug for more nuggets. “I’m pretty sure there’s a whole course I ignored from the Alliance about how chaotic situations cause people to latch onto the weirdest shit. Check your class history, you probably aced it.”

He had, but that was beside the point…

“I guess that’s the privilege that comes with being a public face to this circus.” Alistair shook his head as he started to tap into his – totally legal, he had designed it himself during one of their many forays into FTL space – virus to make sure CDS didn’t get too cocky. A few clicks later, and he was sending it off. The Alliance had also taught him to plan ahead in those courses, so he was earning his A in that too. “We get to be in the center ring.”

“I wanna be the guy who lifts the heavy shit.” Said the guy who lifted the heavy shit on the regular. “Are you gonna be the lion tamer or something?”

Whoa, they were going pre-21st century circus now? Did that mean he got to wear a cool hat and ignore all the suffering that came with it?

“I think I’ll stick to being an acrobat or something, thanks. Admiral Hackett wouldn’t like it if we got busted for animal cruelty.” His tone came out rather dry as he quirked an eyebrow. “Anyway, you said you got stuff for the party?”

Right – they were supposed to be working on that. Since they were technically the residents of the apartment, that made them the hosts. Alistair had to admit his party planning skills were… nonexistent, to say the least. He didn’t even really go to parties much; he had skipped that part of high school in order to study more.

If that didn’t forever get him put in the locker, he didn’t know what would.

“Just getting stuff for Garrus and Tali because shit that’s safe for them is a pain in the ass to find.” Bo nodded towards the bag. “I found her favorite soda and I think I got those weird turian not-cheese puffs that your boyfriend seems to like.”

Alistair craned his sore neck to check. “Oh, is it the green bag with the weird looking yellow animal on it?”

“They all have weird looking animals on it, shit’s freaky on Palaven because of all the radiation. You should keep that in mind when you go to meet your in-laws for dinner when this is all over.” A playful elbow found his aching side. “After all, you probably need to know if you need your combat training to eat there.”

No, he was pretty sure turians killed their food before they cooked it…  the early days of first contact would’ve been all over the notion if they had eaten anything alive. It was an easy point to score.

“I think I’ll be fine with whatever they use for utensils, thanks.” He rubbed his side. “And right back at you, Rannoch’s got plenty of weird things too. Maybe you’re the one who’s going to need combat training for dinner when you move there when we’re finished up.”

Bo was going to needle him again, but she stopped. Briefly, her eyes seemed to look past him – to the future, maybe? He had to wonder what she was seeing in that moment. Maybe it was her eventual life with Tali?

He hoped it was nice. His sister deserved that much.

“I’ll live.” She brought her elbow into his side after the moment broke – oww. “But if you can snark, you can help me get everything put away. The party was your idea anyway.”

Alistair grimaced as he stood to provide aid. “Technically, I just said ok. Everyone wanted to do something, I just rubber stamped it.”

“And since you’re the commanding officer, it means it’s your idea.” Bo stuck out her tongue briefly as she grabbed for a bag. “Now, come on. I don’t know if this shit blows up if it’s exposed to the yellow light of the sun.”

Well, technically, there was no yellow sun on the Citadel. It was a space station, and all light was artificial-

His head suddenly was forced down to his chest by a strong hand. “Keep your magic science thoughts to yourself, Al, I saw the look you were getting.”

Man, did his neck NOT appreciate that…

Still, she had asked for help and he was going to give it. With only a slight grumble as he rubbed his clone-mangled neck, Alistair picked up a bag and followed her into the kitchen so they could put everything away. Later, they would look for regular things to eat for the rest of the crew. That would be easier.

The only problem was the drinks part. Neither he or Bo drank much… or at all… so it wasn’t really their area of expertise. Maybe he could ask James or Kaidan about that in a way that wouldn’t be too weird coming from their CO…

Oh, hell. It was going to be awkward either way. He might as well bite the bullet and just get it over with. They would be the ones drinking it either way, they were the ones with a stake in it, not him.

But first… time to figure out if Garrus’ not-cheese puffs needed to be refrigerated. Hopefully, it had non-Palaven instructions somewhere.

[xtrablak674]

The Fall of Flickr:

The Beginning of the End of My Social Media Life

Before I knew what social media proper was I was on a photo-sharing platform called Flickr. For clarification this Tumblr blog isn't necessarily about historical accuracy but I believe I was on the first version that was owned by the creators right before Yahoo acquired them back in the mid-aughts.

For some bizarre reason I woke up at around half-past midnight and try as I did I couldn't get back to sleep. I had done all the cultivating of what remains of my social media garden, and thought let me get that thumb-drive that failed so spectacularly in backing up the files I wanted from my early two-thousand eight MacBook Pro.

I ended up in the folder of images I had saved from Flickr originally called "ordinary people" after the screenname of one of my Flickr-crushes whose photos I was always downloading. I browsed through their photostreams, thats what they were called, like some kind of waterways for images. All these memories came rushing back of all the parasocial relationships I had with the other users, curiously some of the relationship continued IRL. I remember when Erick and Paul came to the opening of my solo exhibition in Bedstuy. Erick had the Flickr account, but a subject of a lot of his photos was his husband Paul. I had developed a crush on Paul that I was very honest about sharing in the comments of the photos posted of him. So catch my surprise when they showed up to my exhibition and also bought a small framed print from my first exhibition. I am pictured with Paul above on the very day.

I am not sure if I ever got his real name, but he was an allegedly bisexual guy from somewhere in the United Kingdom, I think our relationship was a bit more than parasocial with some of our interactions bordering on sexting before that was a thing. I still have some of the very explicit videos that he said he created just for me. I just loved his slim fit form, he biked a lot, but he was also a smoker which was a turn off for me. And to be frank I didn't think he was that handsome, but I found him very sexy and we would tease each other incessantly.

Flickr was the place my artistry really took shape, I was one of those "hobby" photographers, but the encouragement I got in the various groups, forums and ending up on the Explore page really encouraged me to do my first exhibition at the Zion Gallery in Bedstuy with I think ten pieces, it would be the start of a short-lived but immersive fine-art photographer artistic career, I would exhibit everywhere from museums, internationally and nationally and would get a review from The New York Times for my Brooklyn-based solo exhibition.

But Flickr also encouraged my lust, I recall reviewing these self portraits of this guy from Manchester who had such a succulent foreskin, an absolutely massive derriere, the lowest hanging set of testes and meaty soles on bare feet that he would feature in these short videos of himself gardening in the yard in the buff. I watched him as closely as I did those early mini-cam streaming stars, I remember I noticed his wedding band and inquired about it. This was one thing he wasn't open to discussing, but I couldn't help it that I had explored every aspect of his body that it had felt like I had actually touched him myself. But there was one boundary he wouldn't cross and that was his marriage to whomever that might be.

He was another man who I didn't think had a handsome face, his hair was clearly thinning and he had an under-developed chest just like myself that was smooth and flat. But his happiness gardening naked, his endless amounts of pre-ejaculate which seemed to keep his glans constantly wet as it peaked out of his ample foreskin, his love of taking baths and watching his genitals float to the top of the suds and his photos afterwards of seemingly always wet skin. He also had a penchant for a lot of travel photos of him in a full suit with just his penis on display very Mapplethorpian. His photographs were titillating and filled my mind with the idea of this possibly queer salesmen who had a very public private-life always on the road, and interesting fetishes which primarily involved his own body.

There were some friendships that felt more meaningful there was a German about my age who seemed as fond of me as I was him, there was another German New Yorker who had actually approached me on one of the many sex-sites I was on back in the day, but I didn't follow through because I knew about his boyfriend Stuart and wouldn't want to get in the middle of this couple I admired from afar via their separate Flickr accounts.

Even years after Flickr I left Instagram because this Swedish guy who I was quite fond of and I thought was fond of me too would seem to at least once a year be in New York and never offer or consider a meet up. The fantasy and the reality didn't line up so I decided to leave it all and shuttered my account and his teasing but never delivering. The funny thing to me is to see a body part of a person and realize I had very strong feelings for them like this Canadian man who was so skinny he always had those two little marks on the bottom of his bum, a common sign of the extremely thin because they just didn't have enough padding down there.

There was this French red-head who enjoyed dressing up in period clothing, and would sporadically do nude shoots with other Flickr photographers, always tasteful of course. Seeing folks you followed on one Flickr account show up on another one was like having your favorite actor guest star on another series, you always wonder what the experience was like and marveled in the unique pairing. Clearly these folks weren't want the influencers and OnlyFans folks are today but they were fore-daters to how the internet would change and be controlled by the 'popular kids'.

I enjoyed getting stories from Knitboy who actually came to my house to shoot me and share tea about David this New York lawyer with a well-shaped backside he loved to share in various places around the city and on vacations, that was actually squishy to the touch. John never told me how he knew what texture David's ass was. But he also shot this New York ginger who held a special place in my heart for all things red-headed and freckled.

In two-thousand and eighteen long-past the early aughts heyday of Flickr, the platform which hadn't seen as much as an app update in over ten years was purchased by SmugMug who made huge changes and even though I had finally gotten up off of my pennies and paid for a FlickPro account, the days of unlimited images and video posting was over. But Flickr had become my personal archive of over a decade and a half of my images, it was the place I used to give my work official titles and I would usually head to it when it was time to put together a proposal for an exhibition.

I can't remember exactly why I was only sent an email after the fact but in May of twenty twenty-two SmugMug deleted my account! I was stunned and devastated. I had started the neighborhood group Prospect Heights which is still around today, I managed so many other groups one with just my photos in it. All the folks I followed and spoke to, gone. I can now understand the anxiety TikTok users are facing at the potential shutdown of their favorite app.

Mind you by the early tens the site wasn't anything like it used to be, and I will admit like the platform formerly known as Twitter it was the wild west on Flickr, but amongst that there were also some serious artist and some hobbyist who were on the edge of becoming fine art photographers, most importantly it was a digital third space where I felt welcome as a whole person. My account held my intimate photography right along side my more popular abstract work and folks could see me as a whole individual. I remember when I went through this phase of blogging in the descriptions of my photos, all of that was lost.

This was the beginning of the end for me and all my social media, not within a few years, I would retire both of my Facebook accounts, shut down my Instagram, abandon my, oh no thats right SnapChat deleted my account, and Ello would go out of business, the social media network for creative people.

I am still on Tumblr, I have three Tumblr accounts one strictly for my intimate work, one that is my digital obituary where I talk about my life and personal and professional accomplishments, and a last that is all my public-facing work like my abstracts, portraits et al.

Social media died in my household starting with Flickr, I could never come back from the betrayal, I could never recapture the place this community used to be for me and so many others. More importantly I had went through my internet puberty and didn't need to be on the web arguing with folks anymore or lusting after them. Albeit I have never recovered the community I had, Tumblr at least allows me something to do with my fingers a few times a day. I am apathetic to socializing on the internet, having my very small amount of friends text me if they are trying to get in touch with me. Its nice to get caught up in the nostalgia of a moment, but eventually we all have to grow up and move on.

[Photos by Brown Estate]